#The loneliest there is (Hulk) | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

unitivemossagain · 5 days

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Virga Draft 1

Last weekend I went back to my old college town. There was a concert going on, two artists I vaguely knew and halfway listened to, but I was excited nonetheless. I graduated a year early and my roommate's boyfriend was a senior, so it wasn't like I didn't go up there often.

It always feels weird, going up there again. I still know things, can drive around without a map. The dining hall workers still know my name. But things are different, too. The intersection down the hill has new pavement and planters. One upperclassmen dorm has been replaced with a grassy, fenced-off field. My best friend lives in my old bedroom.

But I have a good time. My best friend is my best friend, after all, and it is always so refreshing to see her. I have lots of friends who I miss dearly who still go there, and it is equally wonderful to see them too. I always feel so nostalgic, bittersweet going up there.

I miss it but I don't. I live in a city now, if you could even call it that. Pittsburgh, the steel city, the fastest growing tech center in the nation. Not that it really mattered to me, I was an aspiring biologist, but the concrete jungle lacked a certain charm that my college town had in spades. Everything I complained about while living there, the hills, the classes and people, the unfairness of it all, it wasn't so bad in hindsight. I missed it.

So going back, it always brings up this mess of emotions. I'm anxious and nervous one second, feeling like a cock in the henhouse the next. I am unstoppable, limitless, and one mistake away from completely failure. I have no idea what I am doing with my life.

So on Sunday afternoon at about 3:00pm, I was feeling rather dismal. The prospect of going home was exhausting, especially given that the pot at the end of the rainbow looked like a brick-and-linoleum-floor-bedroom-with-no-windows-and-no-friends-and-probably-some-bugs. And I was coming down from being stupidly high, which infected me with a sinister energy. To make matters worse, the route home was littered with severe thunderstorm warnings, and I was driving alone.

Coaxing bell boy duties and setting my destination to "Loneliest Up and Coming Tech City on the Map," I began to make my trip home in silence. It is rather peculiar for me to not listen to music, but the thought of the sound filling the car and settling in my ear drums was too much in my melancholic state. I thought of calling someone to help the time pass, but the idea of speaking at all felt similar.

So I drove in complete silence, eyes locked on the road and fighting through that post-high haze. I could feel the storms building in the air, and kept a close eye on the dark skies around me. The clouds were towering, looming, and every moment it didn't start raining felt like the one right before it did.

I thought about a lot of things while I was driving, but I mostly thought about that storm. I kept waiting and waiting for the rain to fall, for the downpour to start pouring down, but the closest I got was a brief shower about halfway through. The world seemed to hold its breath as my 2014 Chevy Sonic sped down 79.

It was like driving on a tightrope. To my left were these massive, hulking monsters in the sky, bent arms and legs of clouds clawing their way from the eye to reach the cloud shore. They were rough and tumbled, everything knotting together and pulling on itself, winding tighter and tighter and tighter. The air felt like it could be cut it you could catch it, charged and anticipating. I felt it over me in an ancient sense, the way I imagine the men on the frontlines of the armies of old felt as their enemies charged towards them.

To my right though, the sky was brilliant. It was hazy, the air holding its water in a thin sheet that covered the earth. The setting sun shone brilliantly through it, its frosty rays feeling as though they beckoned you towards them. They stretched out to the storm behind me, pulled it in and invited it closer. In some more fun, dramatic universe I imagined myself veering off the road and straight into the light, off to find whatever they where the storm was heading.

It was so strange, that drive. Being on either side of the storm, being right in the center of two true, opposing things, I felt myself split clean down the middle. I could feel which side of me was on the storm side, which side roiled and wrapped itself inside out. I could feel which side shone and reached out into nothing, could feel that hopefulness and wonder and a desire to hold on to something that was only holding on to itself.

I thought again about the old days, about days before cars and steel and cities and the weather channel. I thought about two people, my sister and I, feeling the heaviness in the air and the static in our mouths when we laughed and knowing there's a storm coming. I thought about sitting out, feeling it get closer, knowing something bigger than yourself. I thought about siting outside until just after you feel that first drop, and I thought of the mad dash we would make home, trying only a little to outrun the rain.

I don't know what it was about that drive. Maybe there was something in the air, maybe it was some sort of after high, or maybe I am a girl in her 20s searching for meaning anywhere. But I felt so lucky in that moment, like me and everyone on highway 79 were being shone something important. I spent that entire drive thinking about what it would be like to live in those clouds, both sides, to live in towering spires of storm gray clouds that thundered around you. To lounge around on ash white dew drops that held perfectly in a ray of sunshine, fade through the air like pollen on the breeze.

It mostly made me feel important. Something about being in your 20s is so jarring. Once you graduate college, your life is just like being woken up and told you're late for school, everyone is there and knows that you aren't. Everything is a game of catch-up, everyone knows more than you, and even when they don't they will make you think they do. But driving down the edge of that storm, seeing something so entirely separate from myself and yet so tied up in everything I am, I felt like I did have a place, and it was right there in the middle.

#virga #sublime

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missmonsters2 · 2 years

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In Wanting, There's Only You

Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x Reader

Please do not repost/translate anywhere. Reblogs/Comments are much welcomed ♥

Masterlist || Taglist Blog

Summary: Sometimes love can be the loneliest place to be. And yet, when you're with Natasha, you can only think about how there isn't any other place to be.

Warnings: soft angst, hurt/comfort, panic attack, post endgame ptsd, pining, yearning.

Notes: I miss natasha so much lmfao I'm gonna go cry about her.

Count: ~2.4k

There's a certain loneliness in loving someone. You spend so much time around one person, and suddenly, there's a heavy pull on your heartstrings when you're away from that person. Grieving is just a part of yearning.

You could probably pinpoint the moment you realized you were in love. It was many months after defeating Thanos—months after losing the people you loved. You remember Vision's words of how grief was just love persevering and wonder if these feelings were just that.

Grief blinding you.

You always had been close to her. It was hard not to be. She was lovely in every way when you met her, but she had always been off-limits. For a long time, she was Steve's girl. Or something was going on with Steve; it was really confusing.

Then, for a moment, she was Bucky's. The familiarity between them was something you couldn't encroach on, not that you had ever thought to. She was your teammate and good friend. Nothing more and nothing less.

Until Thanos.

Until Steve left everyone for Peggy.

Until Bucky admitted with devastation that he didn't have the emotional or mental capacity to be in a relationship just days after Tony's funeral.

At that moment, there was no one left for Natasha to turn to. Tony was gone, Steve was gone, Clint was gone, Wanda was missing—everyone was just gone.

And there was just you.

It hadn't been anything crazy, no life-changing revelation or anything like that.

Just weekly dinners every Monday. Then it turned to two times a week, and then three. Just dinner turned into staying a couple of hours after to watch a movie. Just a couple of hours turned into long nights of chatting.

Natasha was your teammate and friend. There was plenty you had known about her, like the Red Room, Yelena, her very brief fling with Bruce, and the—whatever it was—with Steve. You knew about Bucky, Liho, and her lack of skill for cooking. You just—you had already known things about her.

But as you spent more time with Natasha, you had discovered more things. How Natasha felt and survived in the Red Room, the guilt of never contacting Yelena even though they have a good relationship now. How she had still been partially scared of the Hulk even while she was seeing Bruce, and how she believed he knew deep down.

You kept learning more things about Natasha, and you had no idea what to do with this knowledge of her. Just like her for you.

Despite the time spent together, there seemed to be a line that neither of you crossed. You never stayed the night at her place, and she never stayed the night at yours.

Until tonight.

You knew it was a mistake to take her back to Vormir, but you had a short mission for a drop-off there, and Natasha had insisted on coming. You asked her probably a million times if she was sure, and each time, Natasha said she wanted to face her demons. She wanted closure.

It had been fine at first, nothing more than a slight discomfort in her muscles and guilt upon her face. She wandered a little as you completed your mission.

It wasn't until it was over that you noticed something was wrong. You took off to find Natasha, only to find her sitting a few feet away from the edge of the cliff, shaking and hyperventilating.

There was nothing there when you looked over the edge, but Natasha was crying and muttering Clint's name.

"Shit," you cursed quietly as you picked Natasha up in your arms. "It's okay, I'm sorry. I'm here," you cooed to her softly as she wrapped her arms around your neck, hiding her face into the side of it.

"Home—take––take me home—need t-to go. Now." That was all Natasha stuttered.

You took her back to the jet, but Natasha refused to let you go, holding your neck so tightly that when you tried to set her down in her seat, you nearly toppled over her.

Natasha was having a panic attack, and you had no idea what to do.

Nat—she was the type to cry and be vulnerable alone. If she had ever had panic attacks before, no one had ever witnessed it.

Except for Clint, maybe. But he was gone and could provide you no answers.

"I can't take you home if I can't fly the jet," you said softly to the redhead, but she kept shaking her head.

All Natasha could see was that day she and Clint were at the cliff, sitting and debating what to do.

She knew what they had to do, and she had made a decision.

Unfortunately, so had Clint.

All she could see was desperately gripping Clint's hand as they dangled.

All she could hear was Clint telling her it was okay to let go. Even when Natasha tried to appeal to him that it should be her because he had a family.

Clint said she was his family too.

And then he asked her to take care of Laura and the kids. He asked her to not tell them what he'd become while they were gone.

And then Clint used his other hand to pry hers off him.

All she could see was his body falling.

Natasha choked on a harsh sob, clinging tighter to you.

"Okay, okay," you rubbed her back. "It's okay. We're gonna leave, I'm gonna take you home. I swear," you promised her.

You somehow managed to keep Natasha in your arms and lap, delicately balancing her as you fly the jet at an illegally fast speed home. It was dangerous, but you managed.

When you carried her inside, you placed her on her couch, but Natasha was still choking on her own breath.

"We're home," you told her, but she was still far gone. "What can I do to help? What should I do?" You asked her desperately.

Natasha tried to think about the last time she had a panic attack. The last time she remembered someone being there with her and the only word that came out of her mouth was: "Bucky."

"Bucky?" You asked confusedly, but Natasha didn't answer. She curled into herself, knees bent to her chest as her knuckles turned white, holding herself together.

You went to touch her but stopped yourself.

Natasha asked for Bucky.

You dropped your hand and pulled your cell out of your pocket, dialing immediately.

"Hey?" Bucky answered the other line, a little confused himself. You rarely called him. Texted him to check up, but seldom called.

"Natasha's having a panic attack. She asked for you," you said without any pleasantries.

"On my way," Bucky answered without asking any questions, hanging up with a click.

It was less than 10 minutes when Bucky arrived. He stepped through the door forcefully until he spotted Natasha sitting curled on the couch.

"Fuck," Bucky cursed, and you could hear from his tone that this was something he's seen before with Natasha. How many times? You'd never know. But maybe even once was enough.

He was immediately beside her, pulling her into his broad shoulders and her face pressed into his neck like it had been in yours.

"It's okay, Nat. We're safe. We're okay. See how warm I am? Keep you warm too. We've got the world," Bucky said softly, and you felt like you were an intruder.

This wasn't for you to see.

But before you could even decide to leave, Bucky looked at you. "What caused this?"

"We went to Vormir," you said quietly. "I had a mission, she wanted to come along."

Bucky merely nodded slowly before he turned back to Natasha.

"I know it hurts, but everything is okay," Bucky rubbed the back of Natasha's back. "Laura and the kids miss him but they're doing fine," he reassured her. "Laura even sent everyone a card and pictures last week. They're okay and no one is blaming you. They miss you, if anything."

The shaking in Natasha slowed down, and you swallowed hard.

Something in your chest was tight and uncomfortable. Most of it was because it was hard to see Natasha in such pain, so openly baring her wounds out. You wished you knew how to make it better.

No matter how tiny, the other part knew that you felt uncomfortable and envious knowing that Bucky knew what to do—that he was the one Natasha asked for.

Suddenly, Bucky's phone went off, and he checked the screen before answering. Bucky mostly grunted in response, so it was rather hard to decipher what it could be.

"Shit," Bucky sighed after he hung up. "That was Sam. Got a lead on that kid."

"I can go with Sam," you offered, grabbing your jacket from the chair.

Natasha stirred from her position, and Bucky frowned.

"No, you can—you can go," Natasha's words were broken and hoarse. "I didn't mean to call you here."

Bucky shook his head as he rubbed her arms up and down. "Just because we're not bumping uglies anymore doesn't mean I won't be here for you as a friend when you need me."

You crinkle your nose at his words while Natasha let out a throaty chuckle.

"You can go," Natasha told him reassuringly before she looked at you. "I won't be alone, right?" The way she asked sounded so vulnerable; you wanted to punch a hole into the wall.

"Of course," you said as you walked around and sat on Natasha's other side. She immediately released Bucky and went back to wrapping her arms around you, burying her face into your shoulder, crying again.

"What do I do?" You asked Bucky as you held Natasha.

"Just remind her that we're all okay, that no one blames her, and nothing like that is going to happen again," Bucky told you as he stood up, getting ready to leave. "I don't know how long this thing will be with Sam, but text me if there's anything, okay? I'll try to come by later tonight if I can."

You nodded.

As soon as you heard his motorcycle leave the driveway, you pulled the throw blanket over you and Natasha and rubbed her back.

"Nothing like that is ever going to happen again, okay? Don't care if the world is ending again. I'll throw my grandpa over the edge before you ever have to make that choice again."

You felt Natasha choke on a chuckle, but she didn't move her face away from you.

"That's terrible," she hiccuped.

"Yeah, well, he's like 82 and cries all the time about how his bones hurt and he's mad he somehow still wakes up each day. I think he'd be more than okay with a noble sacrifice," you smiled, holding Natasha tighter.

"That wasn't your fault. Clint made a choice to save you and everyone else and we need to be okay with that, otherwise it'll be waste of what he did."

Natasha sobbed, her shoulder shaking as she gripped your shirt tightly.

"I miss him so much," she choked, and you could feel her tears soaking through your shirt.

"Yeah, me too," you said quietly. "But everyone's okay. I swear I'll make sure we're always okay. I'd do anything to make sure we'll both be here."

Natasha finally lifted her head just slightly. Her eyes were wet and red, and she looked so small, and it was so strange. And beautiful.

Natasha was beautiful.

"Because you'd throw your relatives over the cliff?" She smiled, and you laughed as you kissed her forehead.

"Exactly. I have a couple cousins and uncles that I would gladly throw off the cliff for you. It'd work. I know I love them...just really deep, deep down."

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⋆⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷

It takes an hour for Natasha to settle herself. The tears subside, and her shaking finally comes to a stop. You had done nothing else but put some random movie on in the background and chatted with her quietly through it.

"I'm so sorry," Natasha said quietly as the credits rolled.

"For?" You asked distractedly.

"This," she said with emphasis. "For making you see and deal with this."

You rubbed her arms up and down before gripping her elbows gently. "Don't say sorry about that. Ever."

Natasha gave you a small smile before she sighed. "I'm really tired."

"You should probably head to bed," you nodded.

"It's so far," Natasha whined, and you couldn't help but laugh as you adjusted your arms to scoop her up when you stood, grinning when she yelped.

You walked her to her bedroom, setting her gently down on her mattress.

"Will you—stay?" Natasha asked, her hand drifting down to yours.

"You want me to?" You asked, a tinge of surprise in your tone.

"Don't want to be alone," Natasha says softly.

"Never," you smiled at her. "It'll either be me or Bucky here when you wake up most likely."

"Not Bucky," Natasha shook her head. "I want you here. You."

You swallowed, nodding almost a little too stiffly before you took off your sweater and climbed over her carefully. Settling into the sheets and pillow that smelled too much like her, you felt something pull against your heartstrings.

Natasha faced you, and you pulled the blankets up to her shoulder.

"G'night," Natasha slurred before promptly falling asleep.

You stayed on your side, gazing upon the redhead before lifting your fingers to grab the blonde ends of her hair, twirling it around your index finger.

Absently, you wondered how people could ever think Natasha was cold-hearted. How could people ever believe that Natasha was one-dimensional—that she was just one thing?

You pondered what it was like to be loved by Natasha Romanoff. What was it like to be wanted by Natasha? To be that person that she allowed herself to desire.

Seemed almost stupid that Bruce, Steve, and Bucky could let someone like Natasha slip through their fingers.

Seeing Natasha's peaceful face as she slumbered pulled something so deep in your chest, it felt like pressurized atoms ready to combust into a new universe that you were wholly unprepared to be a part of. At that moment, it felt like something was falling and you were scraping against the edge of sharp glass and ready to become stardust because—

"You. I want you."

A quiet confession in the dark of the night, unheard by no one but yourself. A harsh, nearly painful admittance because this is where it starts.

The loneliness of wanting alone.

Because more than anything, you want—

"Please want me too."

#natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff imagine #natasha romanoff x you #natasha romanoff angst #natasha romanoff fluff #black widow x reader #black widow imagine #natasha romanov imagine #natasha romanov x reader #avengers imagine #natasha romanoff fanfiction #natasha romanoff oneshot #natasha x you #mm: my fics

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entertainment · 4 years

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Entertainment Spotlight: Louis Ozawa, Hunters

Actor and producer Louis Ozawa stars as Joe Mizushima in Prime Video’s Hunters, from executive producer Jordan Peele. An actor by trade, with an MFA in Theatre from Brown University, he has played roles in popular shows like Kidding, Blindspot, The Man in the High Castle, Supergirl, and Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D.. On the film front, he was in The Bourne Legacy and Predators. Louis took the time to chat with us about the show, his kids, and his passion for photography. Check it out:

How would you describe the character that you play on Hunters?

Joe Mizushima is possibly the loneliest member of this group of outcasts. A decorated Vietnam Vet, he’s rescued in his darkest moment by Meyer. And although he has finally found a family that appreciates him for who he is, Joe can’t seem to shake his violent and traumatic past.

Is there a specific moment or episode from Hunters that you’re most excited for audiences to see?

I love every episode. The pilot is a movie. One of the better episodes of TV you will ever see. But I have a soft spot for episodes 6 and 7. The audience may finally get to know Joe a little better. The show really starts cooking from episode 5 and does not let off the gas until it’s over.

How did you prepare for your role on the Hunters?

I read books and watched a lot of movies about Nazis and Operation Paperclip, but most of my preparation was devoted to studying the behavior of Veterans. Especially those of the Vietnam war. Physically, I had to stay in shape, but this show takes place in the 70’s. Joe stays fit but does not body build. He’s more interested in being an inconspicuous and efficient assassin.

Can you take us through a typical day on the set of Hunters?

We are fortunate to have a lovely family of veteran actors. Everyone is prepared to throw down as soon as the cameras roll. So... our day usually starts on set over a hot cup of coffee telling jokes, talking about world events, art, music, and our loved ones (family, children, pets). Then we rehearse and get on with our business.

You wake up tomorrow in the world of Hunters. What do you do first?

Coffee. Painkiller. And then an hour walk to Meyers. Work. Sleep. Repeat.

If Joe Mizushima had a spinoff show, what would it be called and what would it be about?

The Deer Hunter. Or The Hulk. It would be about a very haunted soul trying not to hurt the people he loves most.

If everything that you did was narrated, whose voice would you want narrating your life?

Tracy Morgan.

What are you most excited about right now?

My 4-month-old son Tyrus lights up my soul. He’s such a peaceful and happy baby. My 4-year-old Bodi cracks me up. He’s got such an active mind, it’s hard to keep up. Also, it is possible that I’m in love with my new camera. I just bought a Leica and I’m obsessed with taking photos with it. In a previous life before acting, I was a photographer.

Thanks for taking the time, Louis! Hunters is now available to watch on Prime Video.

Photo: The Riker Brothers

#entertainment spotlight #hunters #louis ozawa changchien #louis ozawa

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ironharvests · 3 years

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creature of desire, you’ve a fever for the fire.

@bredfaith yajuu snickered, “the first step to any murder is to have fun & be yourself. "

mini-ficlet: in which godhood is a thing with teeth, sainthood was made to block the light, and kimimaro is just a man looking for divinity in the flesh.

“God is terror,” the old man used to say. his pupils blue skies were cloudy with cataracts and jaundice, but he always knew precisely where to bury his knucklebone blade in kimimaro’s flesh, subtle as a camellia, to really hurt. “She is thunder and lightning and boiling seas.” a petal blooming from his ribcage. “She is phantasm, she is black rot and sour things, she is pain and suffering and the ecstasy hidden in their blood-soaked dirt.” a bouquet, furious and glittering with rubies. “She is beautiful and sublime, glory and gore, and you are our offering to her: bone of her bone, made in her image.”

“’I am the bone of her bone,’” kimimaro whispered the clan prayers as the elders folded his spirit into his body and broke them in both in unending strokes. “In bleeding me, I am filled with her pain. In my brokeness, I am beautiful. In shattering me, you bring me closer to the Moon-eyed One.’”

beautifully broken. the child squirms under the lash, but does not whimper. beautiful. oh, how he wants to be something so simple as beautiful.

ii.

on the outskirts of water country, the boy meets a creature with a face like heaven and eyes deeper than any hell.

“God is a dream spun by the desperate,” lord orochimaru had laughed when kimimaro asked if they believe in heaven. their hand was long and smooth and cool to the touch when kimimaro fised his tiny hand around two of their fingers, and he had known in an instant that his hands were made to cling to theirs like a river-worn rock, like a knife handle, like prayer beads.

they were still in water country’s backwater wasteland where war was a cicada in summer, constantly shrieking its background song, and dead bodies were as common to see on the side of the road as toadstools. lord orochimaru thought nothing of making more of the dead. a band of bandits and the caravan they’d been attacking were cut down in a single stroke of blood and steel. kimimaro clung to the back of lord orochimaru’s robes as they led him through the carnage, stepping over the dead and onto the dying.

“Any man dreaming of god deserves to be sent to him, hm?” lord orochimaru pressed their delicate sandal against a dead girl’s cheek, running their eyes over her long black hair, her full cheeks, the maggots creeping from her fever-stretched mouth. “With all the other delusions. If the gods exist, I will kill them.”

kimimaro chewed his bottom lip, wrinkling his nose against the labored droning of horseflies. “I think. . .” lord orochimaru had looked sharply at him then, and it had taken kimimaro a moment to realize he had squeezed their hand hard enough for his wrist bones to break skin brush against their palm. still, he could not look away from their burning eyes — so like gold coins, or scorched suns, or divinity. “. . . I think that is what a god would say.” orochimaru had stared at him for a long unblinking moment before a smile eclipsed across their lips.

“Come along, Kimimaro-kun. Night will not wait for us.”

kimimaro knew in that moment that he was right: here before him stood god sheathed in snake’s skin, and it was his duty to love them in beauty and in horror.

iii.

for nine years, his was the path of the righteous man. where he walked, no doubtful weed could take root. where he lay his head, no dark dreams troubled dared trouble him. he basked unflinching in the violent brilliance of divine radiance, and he learned that a god hungers only for knowledge. the oldest fruit still proved ripest.

for nine years, kimimaro believed he knew the true face of god.

their hair was a river of his black blood. their eyes, midnight suns. their beauty was as elegant as the finest blade, and they knew him by his name. he questioned nothing. it was not the role of the devout to spit in god’s face.

it was only after his near-death that the truth had been revealed to him.

orochimaru was no god. they were terribly mortal, and their destruction was neither wanton nor ecstatic like the elders had foretold; they were cold-blooded and conniving where god was supposed to be hot-blooded and manic. the righteousness in him fermented over night. a false god. his purpose was a lie. his world folded like cards.

he dragged himself into the woods to die.

but of course he couldn’t get that right, either.

iv.

this is the part of his life he remembers little of: the wandering. the world is a smear of water colors. he weeps exactly three times over three years, and the weight of it nearly kills him. he’s dying, slowly. another thing he can’t do right.

and then, at his loneliest, he meets jūgo again; and it’s funny, really, because arguably jūgo is kimimaro’s greatest failure.

of course it is jūgo who saves him. he falls in love with him. of course: it’s the fairytale formula.

except there is a monster living inside jūgo with eyes like violence and a mouth dripping with blood, and when jūgo takes his hand kimimaro swells with pride, but when yajuu surfaces to wear jūgo like sheep’s skin, kimimaro’s skin waxes hot, wanes cold, and every nerve ending roils and sparks like a festival night sky.

kimimaro falls in love with the monster.

of course. of course. of course.

tonight kimimaro wanders through the woods, indifferent to the bite of mountain air. he moves through the trees like a breeze, following the spattering of innards and sweetmeats left in yajuu’s wake. he keeps his distance today, allowing yajuu to have their fun hunting. the cold cramps his right hand, and his knuckles split the skin just for the comfort of a familiar ache. for all the havoc it’s wrought on him, he doesn’t pay much attention to the pains of the body when there is so much to wonder about. he thinks about god and if she can hear him and if so, what does she want? he thinks about the moon and how if he raises his hand at just the right angle he can grasp it, and he thinks about how he does not know if that means anything, but it feels like it should. he thinks about insects and meat and rot and bile and—

a roar reverberates through the trees. kimimaro steps out of the copse and into a clearing, and there is yajuu.

yajuu’s hulking mass crowds a bear’s carcass, large hands that can crush boulders reaching into the sneer torn into the bear’s belly and wrenching out fistfuls of offal, viscera, sweetwet. the bear is still dying: its eyes roll sluggishly in its massive head, the droop of its eyelids matching the outpouring of its blood ( ecstasy; this is what it must look like, yes? ) and as kimimaro approaches he makes eye contact with it and holds its gaze as the lights go out. he lays a hand on its head and runs his hands through its thick brown fur, sinking his fingers into the warmth as he watches yajuu give worship to something much bigger than anything kimimaro has prayed to. yajuu notices him, and leers.

“Y’know, the first step of any murder is to have fun and be yourself,” yajuu snickers. kimimaro can feel the electricity spiking down his spine, can taste his heartbeat in his own throat.

covered in sweat and blood, their laughter wicked and dark as they spread the bear’s remains across the grass — it dredges up forgotten memories of his time imprisoned by his clan. little flashes of dancing and howling and screams around fire pits and human prisoners begging for release, and the crazed smiles on the kaguya’s faces as they nodded sympathetically and promised to release them with the edge of a knife as soon as their god had heard them.

but yajuu — yajuu is different. yajuu worships chaos without knowing they are its greatest disciple. they are not god, but they are something that would brush against her ankles; kimimaro’s sure of it.

and yajuu chooses to follow him. him. he does not follow the thought to its logical conclusion. he can’t.

instead, he touches his throat. brushes the warm skin there and thinks about the hot press of large fingers crushing down around it as he prays. kimimaro loves jūgo, but what he feels for yajuu is something a hundred times darker.

This furious love will choke me, he thinks, and the hopeless excitement of it all echoes through every inch of him. It will break me. And in breaking, I shall be made whole.

“Come, Yajuu, flesh of my flesh and bone of my bone,” he says instead, seafoam green eyes whipping themselves into summer storms as they fix on the ring of blood around yajuu’s mouth burning with cold heat. “Let us play a different game.”

#drabble.#drabble: kimimaro.#HEAVY TRIGGER WARNINGS !#tw animal death /#tw religious delusion /#tw child abuse /#tw cults /#tw cult think /#lmk if this needs more tags #i was really proud of this and i decided to give it a quick polish #headcanon.#headcanon: kimimaro.#bredfaith

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the-telescope-times · 4 years

Photo

L: American explorer Robert Peary R: Minik Wallace (1890-1918)

Minik and the Meteor

Behind the American Museum of Natural History’s most venerable artifact is the shameful tale of a relentless explorer and a young boy’s torturous journey from Greenland to New York.

The hulking, craggy rock that looms largest in the Arthur Ross Hall of Meteorites at the American Museum of Natural History seems immovable, and is in fact so heavy that its supports go right down to the bedrock of Manhattan beneath the museum. Of course, the hefty iron meteorite didn’t just plummet from space right into New York. Along with the two smaller meteorites placed alongside it, the rock has had a long journey from its original place of impact. Its journey is the story of a determined leader in the Age of Arctic Exploration, and the tragic life of a young Inuk boy, quite possibly the loneliest boy in nineteenth century New York, who briefly lived at this very museum.

Read more ~ getpocket.com/explore

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paragonrobits · 4 years

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today’s sudden revelation: Hulk makes a better Shakespearean protagonist than Thor.

Hulk’s existence is tragedy incarnate; Bruce Banner was born into an abusive household. his formative memories were that of a tyrannical father who inflated his self-worth by hurting his wife and his son. he believed that feeling anything made you into a monster.

and his problems with his capacity for violence and feeling culminated in those becoming a physical form, mixing with his neurodivergent status, to create the Hulk.

and the hulk, when viewed as a distinct character and not just Banner’s inner destructive impulse, is a deeply tragic character:

Savage Hulk? A traumatized child screaming at everyone to leave him alone, because he’s too scared to ask people not to leave him. the loneliest one there is.

Devil Hulk: the monster who protects, the father Bruce needed. he is punishment for all your sins, and he is what humanity deserves; the torment we have earned.

Joe Fixit: ...okay he’s kinda the odd one out, but he’s funny

Green Scar: THIS BOY. THIS IS THE ONE. HE WILL BREAK YOUR WORLD AND EVERYTHING IN IT, because he has suffered so long, known nothing but misery and loss and betrayal, that the only thing he can think of to hold together that big open hole in his heart is to just lash out at everyone responsible. he screams he doesn’t have any friends, because all his friends stabbed him in the back. and just when he has a family, when he is loved, something tears it away from him.

and yet, in the end, he can’t kill anyone who doesn’t deserve it. he doesn’t really want anyone to die. he’s a hero, no matter how hard it is to see beneath the rage and the bitterness. he is in despair, and at some level, he will always remember the scared little boy who watched someone he loved in pain and wished he was strong enough to save her.

and Hulk is the strongest one there is.

#hulk #marvel #bruce banner #analysis #queued

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getreadytosmash · 7 months

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Halloween Costumes (2023)

Skaar: Samurai Jack

Rick: A Disney Prince

Jen: Cowboy Barbie

Red: Zombie

Hulk: A highland cow

Samuel: Cruella De-vil

#agents of boo (Halloween)#found in body but lost in mind (Skaar)#movie star (Rick)#green goddess (Jen)#one man army (Red)#the loneliest there is (hulk)#he swims in a sea of regret (Samuel)#HALOOWEEEN BABYYY #posting this now and i will reblog when he Time comes

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at-the-exd-of-everythixg · 4 years

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Answer these 21 questions and tag people you want to get to know better

1. Nickname: Belle

2. Zodiac sign: Scorpio

3. Height: 5'3 I think? I'm hopefully taller

4. Last thing I googled: How to peel a pineapple. Which is funny seeing as I've never eaten a pineapple before. I just wanted to know how to peel one if it was possible.

5. Fave musicians: My favourite musician tends to change a lot but right now its Dolly Parton! I've been listening to 9 to 5 for days.

6. Song stuck in my head: Carless Whisper - Seether!

7. If you had a time machine, would you go back in time or to the future? I think I'd go back to Greek times? Mostly because I'd love to see the statues when they were first made and maybe around the time they Pompeii existed before it got destroyed. I like the idea of going back to a time where Sappho wrote her poems.

8. Do you get asks? I'd say fairly regularly!

9. Following: 538. Though a fair amount haven't been acted for a year or two.

10. Would you rather be rich or famous? Rich since I could always make sure I was okay, help others and I wouldn't have to deal with mental pressure from being famous XD

11. Amount of sleep? 4-6 hours, most of the time its four.

12. Lucky numbers: 4 and 8? I don't really like lucky numbers since maths has always been so awful for me. I just think evey number is another number for satan.

13. What are you wearing? My hulk sweatpants and a cotton pride shirt with one of those giant blanket sweaters!

14. Dream job: Honestly just let me have many cat children at a shelter. I guess a writer too but I'd have nothing good to write about really s o.

15. Dream trip: I've actually been to a lot of places (my mum had an awful habit of hearing me say I liked something and then she'd book a trip without telling me until the day we left) so I guess I want the "Big Apple" experience and see the Percy Jackson musical!

16. If I were an animal I’d be: A capybara! I am just...a big creature who wants to sit about and rest my head on smaller animals.

17. Fave food: I love breaded chicken but god damn I have and I will eat 7 pancakes in one sitting if I can get away with it.

18. Fave books/films/shows/games:

I love all of Rick Riordan's books, The curse worker series, The loneliest girl in the universe, The art of being normal, The surface breaks, The wolf princess, The world brother series, Deep water, The next together, Ice twins, Sweet pea...basically anything that's fantasy and about magic and myths XD

My favourite film for sure is The shape of water but I also like wolf children; Ame and Yuki, all the studio Ghibli movies, The lovely bones, Monty python's films and legally blonde!

My favourite shows are obviously Steven Universe, The good place, X-men evolution, A series of unfortunate events and Brooklyn 99.

Stardew Valley, pokemon games, Dream Daddy, Detroit become human, Life is strange and what remains of Edith Finch!

19. Do you play any instruments? Nope, I have two left hands. And I tend to forget stuff easily in music.

20. Languages? Just English! Like music, I’m really bad at remembering stuff like languages.

21. Describe yourself as aesthetic things: When you’re walking home and everything is casted into a shade of blue, Waking up and seeing that you have another hour of sleep, fallen flowers, reaching for a hand and finding that it was never there, rainy days, large sweaters, worn out trainers, uncut hair, anxiety in the night, a crooked smile, faded scars from countless accidents, held back yawns, pale skin, neatly loved old books, bobbing your head to old songs on the radio, greeting every cat you see, playing about with loose ends of your clothes, daydreaming of more in life.

Tagged by: @blind-mutant

Tagging: @thecorteztwins @awkward-snake-girl @the-ncighborhood

#ooc post #blind-mutant #thecorteztwins #awkward-snake-girl #the-ncighborhood #I'm v lame cjcjjc #but oof I do love memes like this!!

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alexeishostakoff · 5 years

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okay guys but: au where mj is the one bitten by the radioactive spider, not peter

when mj gets bitten by the spider, she ends up going home sick

she has a fever, she's throwing up, shaking, so dizzy that she can barely stand

but she walks home, brushes off the receptionist with a lie that's bought too easily, shoulders her backpack, and prays she doesn't collapse before she makes it back to the apartment

there's no one at home to help her.

she takes care of herself, works through the pain like she always has, and goes back to school the next day. doesn't talk about what happened.

when she realizes how strong she is now, she doesn't freak out, because she simply can't afford to freak out

she just wedges the door to the supply closet back in place, and walks away

(later that night, she has a panic attack, gasping for air in her bedroom, alone and afraid, wishing she knew what the hell was going on with her, what else might happen, if she would survive-but she doesn't talk about that, either)

mj holds herself together with cold silences and sketchbooks, adapts to the changes, the heightened senses, the strength, and the fear

because god she's so fucking afraid

she doesn't have anyone to go to, nobody to figure out what's going on with her and try to help

she feels helpess, and she hates it

she doesn't want anyone else to feel like that.

and so one day, she sees something

a robbery

and for once, mj doesn't think, she just reacts

it's the best fucking feeling in the world

sure, she gets in a fight, and sure, she gets a black eye and a bloody nose

but she helped someone!

she stopped the robbery!

she used these powers, these terrifying, spider-caused things (she always knew she had a reason to hate those eight legged demons), for good

and so mj thinks it through for awhile, weighs the pros and cons, doesn't rush into any decisions

she doesn't have much training when it comes to fights, but she can hold her own

and with these powers...

it's dangerous

and more than a little stupid

but mj decides to be a hero.

like the avengers

except she's not a supersoldier, or a genius, or a god, or a hulk, or an assassin

she's a kid from queens with some heightened senses and a wicked right hook

but superheroes need costumes, and that takes a little more time

first, she has an idea

for a sort of web fluid, you could call it

(she's decided she's just rolling with the whole spider thing)

and she's got the outlines for the formula, it's only lacking a few little details, to make sure she can dissolve it if she has to, that she won't leave anyone stuck who doesn't deserve it, and so that it's definitely safe to experiment with and won't, y'know, fucking kill someone

normally, she'd trust herself to get this right, but this is Important-so she enlists some help

the boy's name is peter

he doesn't know she has powers

but he does know that mj knows he likes this girl called liz (mj can't blame him, liz is cute as hell. and she wouldn't spill that he liked her, she's not that mean, but peter doesn't know that), and that she'll give him 25 bucks and a forged hall pass if he helps her perfect this design

and he's always loved a challenge, so he accepts the offer

he asks about a hundred thousand times what she needs it for, but she doesn't tell, simply fixing him with a cold look or, eventually, muttering something about a side project

peter still seems a little suspicious by the time they've finished making the first batch of web fluid, but mj doesn't think he'll remember it for long

(she's right-though not completely)

and now for the costume

given her limited resources, she's pretty proud of it

patched together pieces of black and blue leather and cloth

and mask and a hood to cover her face

it suits her, she thinks

a patchwork hero, nothing fancy or even particularly safe, but getting the job done nonetheless

(doesn't stop her from wishing it was a bit better, though)

that's how mj becomes the not-always-friendly neighborhood spiderwoman

and it's one of the loneliest jobs in the world.

because mj doesn't have a best friend to catch her in costume, or an aunt to love and protect her

until a man called tony stark bursts into her life, with a new suit and a fight he needed her to be in

and she almost told him to fuck off

almost

she wanted to, at first

but she didn't

and that made all the difference.

she's careful, as spiderwoman

tries to stay away from fights she won't win, but god knows she's never been willing to back down after getting in the ring

so yeah, she hunts down some dangerous criminals, disables some of her suit's safety protocols, rescues her classmates in the washington monument (even though stops her from protesting in front of the embassy), and gets that ferry torn in half

and when tony takes the suit away?

she doesn't say she's nothing without it

because mj knows herself. she knows damn well that she was spiderwoman before she got that suit, and she knows damn well she'll still be spiderwoman without it

because mj is a bit of a darker spidey than peter. she's still a kid, still young and learning how to be a hero-but she's seen more of the worst of the world than he has. she knows how bad it can sometimes be, and she knows she has to find her own identity, and stick with it, be who she is no matter what she's being told because of it

but she still keeps her head down, goes back to being a kid for awhile

(though she's always ready to swing back into action as spiderwoman. she always will be. because this is her chance to make change, dammit, and there's no way in hell she's not taking it)

she lets liz flirt with her, says yes and hides a blush when liz asks her to the dance

and then she fights adrian toomes.

and if her mask comes off, and if those boys, ned and peter, see her, and lose it, and then actually help her-well, mj won't admit it, but she's grateful. she needed someone else to know, someone who wasn't a billionaire or one of his workers, someone who was like her.

(peter's more than a little happy that mj's spiderwoman-he'd guessed it, once, when she first appeared, but soon forgot it, because she was Just MJ. sure, she was a little odd, but he didn't think she seemed like the superhero type)

that night, mj proves herself.

to tony, yes, but more importantly, she proves herself to herself, she brushes aside the little voice in the back of her head saying that, no, she can't do it, that she's just an idiot running around in a stupid costume getting in fights, that she'll never do or be anything important

getting rid of that voice-it's freeing

so is getting the suit back-and it's not because she missed karen, shut up. it was definitely just because of the tech.

and even more freeing is when she turns down joining the avengers

yes, she knows the offer's real, that she could be in the big leagues

but she doesn't want that, not yet

the avengers were just proof to her of how bad things can go if you trust the wrong people (facts backing up her paranoia, yay!), and she's not so sure she's quite yet ready to try and start a new one

so she goes back to school. heads the academic decathalon team. and slowly gets more friends, not just peter and ned-because yes, they're her friends now. they know who she is, and, sure, they might be overexcitable dorks, but maybe she likes that.

and tony knows three things about this girl, his new protegé, it seems:

she's never going to turn down a fight, not if it's one she believes in, one she knows she needs to fight, and, god, any fight for justice is something she needs to fight

she needs a family. badly. because loneliness isn't good for anyone, and she's too sharp and too brilliant to be abandoned like this

she's been through Bad Shit already, he can tell, and someone needs to be there to help her stop it from making her colder and harsher than she needs to be, to stop it from breaking her and making her give up on the good fight, on what she believes in so fiercely that it almost reminds him of steve.

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giovannimanublog-blog · 5 years

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When I was A kid

When I was a kid I was homeschooled and my parents were superheroes. My dad was hulk and my mom was wonder-women, they would spend most of their time going around the universe helping and saving planets. My parents would always act like I never knew what was going on, they would try and hide what they were doing from me while they were going out to save the universe. My parents would always tell me that they were going on business trips but they were really out saving the universe. I was homeschooled because my parents told me this was the best way to be taught and it would avoid bullying and mean kids. But I have realized it’s because they don't want the world to know about me because if the world knows my mom wonder woman and my dad Hulk has a child all villains and criminals would come after me. Spending most of my time at home being tutored by a teenager that my parents have told me that is really smart and can make me smart, I have developed a bound with my tutor a close bound that makes him look like an older brother to me and my only friend. I have went on to notice that my tutor is spider-man and my parents hired him to tutor me because he can protect me while they are out saving lives. I always feel lonely when my parents are gone out to save the world, I never have time to watch cartoons with them or be with them for a whole day. Even though my tutor is spider-man and i have confronted him about it he still does not come out to admit it, but he understands how lonely I get when my parents leave me so he steps in and try to make me feel happy which is why he is like a big brother to me. My parents would always come back home tired and sore I know it's from fighting all those super villains. When my parents would come home I would be the happiest child on the planet because I get to see them but they were just always too tired or sore and never want to watch a movie with me or do something fun with I felt as if I was not there child and i was just a nobody. One day when my parents were out fighting the strongest villain named Thanos and were gone for a whole week was the loneliest I have ever felt. When they got back I decided to confront my parents because I have had enough of being alone all the time with spider man and not always being with my parents. I told them I knew there real occupations and they should just start just telling the truth to me, I poured my heart out to them and how I felt. After telling my parents how I felt they felt bad for themselves and decided to spend more time with me they even started to take me out to see all the other superheroes which was cool I even went on missions with them. I have never felt happier in my life as a child.

#superhero #hulk #superwoman #spiderman

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chillahead-bridge · 6 years

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Reunions

Post-canon fic of season 3, length of 4,121 words, contains every spoiler imaginable. Also on AO3 and part of an eventual larger series.

Summary: Months after beginning the establishment of New Trollmarket, the gyre station is finally complete. And Jim isn't the only one who's antsy to see their missing family members returned.

Blinky, no matter how many centuries pass, will always eagerly await a reunion with his bonded partner.

Watching the gyre start up, Blinky puts a hand on Jim’s back. His young charge is practically vibrating; eyes fixed on the machine as it winds up, and- shoots off down the tunnel, blindingly fast and gone in less time than the blink of six eyes.

Blinky is pleased. Not only is the gyre station hopefully now finished, and its tunnel to Arcadia complete, but it didn’t explode even a little during this half of its test run.

The trolls spectating its final stage of installation give a short round of applause and cheer, then moving on to continue their night. It’s just Blinky and Jim within a few moments, with their resident Trollhunter staring down the tunnel intently. As though just by watching, he can make the gyre return faster.

“It works, right? They’ll be here soon?” Jim asks, eyes still not moving from the wide mouth of the gyre station’s tunnel. He’s sinking slowly, almost certainly subconsciously, into a crouch on the balls of his feet; ready to spring forwards at any time, but also ready to watch and wait for his prey however long it takes.

Well, if long-distance friends Jim hasn’t seen in months can be counted as ‘prey’.

“With any luck, yes,” Blinky replies, moving his hand up to pat Jim’s head between his horns. With majority of the passing gawkers uninterested now that the potential explosion has passed, it’s a private enough moment to express the affection. “But it’s like humans say, James. A watched pot never boils. It will be at least another few hours before we’re certain the gyre is completely safe; I’d suggest you find something to occupy your time with until then.”

Jim makes a frustrated huff at that, a quiet growl in his throat. Blinky puts one of his lower arms around Jim’s shoulders, while still petting the top of his head; a bit more than is entirely comfortable to do in public, but Jim very much seems to need it.

“I could’ve gone with them,” Jim says, half to himself, “then I’d…”

“You might have seen Claire and Tobias sooner, yes, but you also might have blown up in a spectacular failure of engineering,” Blinky reminds him. Jim is clearly annoyed by that information, but is still leaning into Blinky’s hands; some of the tenseness in his shoulders easing for the contact. Blinky counts that as an improvement. “Trollmarket needs its Trollhunter hale and healthy, Jim. You might be strong enough to best Gunmar himself, but a gyre crash will wound even you. Best to leave it to the professionals; who are much more heavily armored than you, if I may add.”

Gyre station engineers are of the rarer sorts of trolls. Both big and heavily armored enough to survive the unfortunate crash of a gyre, but also well-learned and educated enough to put the whole thing together. Blinky may have the skill to drive a gyre, but he certainly doesn’t have what it takes to build one.

“I have armor, too,” Jim mutters stubbornly. Blinky smiles, affectionately patting the young troll-boy’s coarse hair.

“Indeed you do,” Blinky agrees. He gives Jim a tight two-armed squeeze, then stepping away; knocking his staff against the stone ground as he walks. “Come, then. Let’s put it to good use on the training grounds why don’t we? I’m sure you will find any number of willing opponents to blow off some steam with.”

Blinky waits a few seconds, flicking an ear backwards to listen for Jim’s following steps. After a few beats, a rather forlorn sigh is heard and Jim does indeed come trailing after him, if reluctantly.

Their Trollhunter does make for a mopey sight, dressed in loose pants and a baggy shirt; the loneliest body language possible as he pads along barefoot. Claire’s presence on and off the past months has been a big part of what kept Jim’s negative moods from being permanent. But with her family needing to see her, and higher education apply for, and her humanity dictating she seeks out her own kind for company… Claire can’t be Jim’s girlfriend constantly. The fiery young sorceress in-training has her own life to live, and sometimes the diverging paths of bonded partners can be a difficult hurdle.

Toby’s absence does nothing to help the state Jim works himself into; quicker to the rise of a conflict and pushed to uncharacteristic snaps, dogging Blinky’s heels even when Blinky has no use for a twitchy warrior in his library, or simply running himself ragged with a hundred different mundane activities in one night. All to keep his mind off the missing persons from his side.

Truly, as Blinky long suspected, the three of them are better kept as a trio. Separations are so very hard for younglings, even when they’re necessary. And for Jim, grappling with troll and human instincts both, it’s been doubly lonely.

Blinky sympathizes greatly. The hulking shadow that should be following his has been gone for months, and while they’ve gone years being apart… Blinky misses Arrrgh more with each rise and set of the moon. He misses the deep bass of Arrrgh’s voice, the unusual and unique perspectives he has of situations, the quiet comfort of them in their cave together, away from the world with only each other for company…

Yes, Blinky understands Jim’s pining loneliness quite well. And as he’s learned over his centuries of life, the only way to cope with it is to keep one’s self busy.

Hence, having his adopted son suit up and spar for the remaining time before their family arrives.

A perk of being Trollmarket’s leader is that when Blinky asks for a spar partner to present themselves, his request is fulfilled promptly. Jim himself holds appeal, given his reputation and prowess, but he is not even an adolescent by troll standards and that sometimes is enough to earn him subtle dismissal.

Thankfully tonight he receives no such slight, and Blinky is pleased to see five volunteers. Two nearly thrice Jim’s size, one of equal stature and svelte musculature, and the latter two in between. A good array of opponents for Jim to further hone his skills against, and more importantly to distract himself with.

Blinky settles himself on the side of the training grounds, sitting on a spectator bench; watching the first spar begin. While Jim says the incantation of his amulet, wrapping himself in the blue glow of it, Blinky takes in the training grounds as a whole.

It’s not as grand or impressive as the ones of Old Trollmarket, but it’s functional and frequented nonetheless. The lost history of the old training grounds will sting for a long few decades yet, but here they are already in the process of building a new Hero’s Forge. A place for future legacies to be born.

As such is why many newcomers to the market gather here, staking their place among their peers and proving their strengths. With the news of Gunmar and Morgana’s defeat travelling through troll communities across the globe, Blinky has been unsurprised to find many making the journey to join the one who can claim hand in that defeat. Trolls are predictable in their attraction to power and reputation, and the collective Blinky is responsible for can boast quite a lot of both.

Add in that the Trollhunter has a permanent residence among them, and the draw is more than tempting. Even if when they arrive… some trolls are not quite so accepting of a hunter than is not fully troll or human.

It has been a hard transition for Jim, with some weeks when Claire is away in the human world leaving him near despondent. With his body’s changes to adjust to, and the peace after a brutal war only just beginning to sink in… Jim has rougher moments than he would ever admit.

Peacetimes after war, as Blinky came to know hundreds of years ago, are not so easily accepted as one would like. Especially when you’re grieving, and in Jim’s case, as young as a troll child.

Jim grieves for his humanity, for the life he gave up, and for the trolls and humans he couldn’t save. He is only just beginning to age by troll standards, but by human… he is old enough to fight and die for his country, and fight he has for the world he gave everything to.

It’s still a heavy weight, the responsibilities and lives Jim has shouldered. Blinky will admit that he himself feels a tad weighed down these days, carrying the leadership of Trollmarket both old and new with all the gravity it deserves.

Between the two of them, coping with every burden they’ve chosen to take on, the presences of their family are a sorely missed feeling.

How glad Blinky is that the tunnel and gyre station are finally complete. He’ll be even gladder once Claire and Tobias return to Jim, and finally calm their Trollhunter. Of course, not that Blinky won’t be extremely happy to have Arrrgh back as well… but Blinky is capable of self-control in Arrrgh’s absence. Jim meanwhile is as unnerved and squirrely as possible.

Younglings, honestly. As endearing as he may be, Blinky does find his patience tried at times by his adopted son.

Not at the moment, though. As Jim is practically yowling with gleeful triumph as he bests one of his opponents- defeating one of the much larger trolls using nimble tricks and sneak attacks. His armor shines in the overhead lights as his broad falchion whirls; the flat of the blade smacking his opponent in his nose at just the right moment, and sending the troll toppling backwards.

Jim dissolves his sword as he flips away, using his bipedal and quadrupedal forms of maneuvering to his advantage; just as the sveltely shaped troll takes up the fight, his crescent blade similar to that of Nomura’s twin ones. Though this is a full-blooded troll, and not one of the Changelings that flit in and out of Trollmarket’s territory.

Blinky claps his upper arm’s hands, calling out, “Good show, young master Jim! Now give us an encore!”

“Working on it!” Jim yelps, scrambling on all fours out of the path of a blade that burns bright green.

“I wouldn’t be so certain of victory, Trollhunter whelp,” taunts his grey skinned opponent, and ah yes, this is one of the newcomers Blinky remembers welcoming a few weeks ago. Taka, Blinky thinks. A gentile fellow until he’s decided to stroke his ego.

Jim is in the process of cutting him down to size again, though, so Blinky chooses not to speak out against the mild insult. It’s nothing Jim hasn’t been called before, and Blinky has gotten practiced at swallowing the defensive growl that bubbles in his throat each time.

Blinky shouldn’t show too much favoritism towards the Trollhunter, given his position as Trollmarket’s elder leader (though he’s not that old yet), but he can’t help the reflex to defend someone he claims as his own. And it’s heartening to know that if someone badmouths his leadership choices within Jim’s hearing, the troll-boy tends to firmly remind them that disrespecting their elders is a real buttsnack thing to do.

Blinky smiles to himself, watching as Taka winds up with Daylight’s edge pressed to his throat. Jim’s smug grin is a welcome sight to see, rather than the pensive curling frown it’s been since Claire’s departure.

A tap on his shoulder, and Blinky turns his six eyes from Jim’s victory to the troll behind him. For a moment, the large size of said troll brings a soft pang to Blinky’s chest.

Soon, Blinky reminds himself.

“Blinkus,” greets the larger troll respectfully. His expression, however, is deeply annoyed. “There’s been another… disagreement over rations.”

Blinky sighs. “Socks or Glug this time?”

“Both, actually. Which is the problem. Not everyone wanted smoothies.”

And once again, Blinky finds his honored position as Trollmarket’s leader being called upon to settle a squabble. He really does understand now why Vendel had been so grumpy all the time.

“Right, then,” Blinky says, and stands from his bench. “Lead the way. Perhaps this time we’ll get matters solved before someone loses a digit or four.”

Blinky gives a brief wave to Jim, who is well and truly occupied by taking on his medium sized opponents both at once. The troll-boy distracts himself for a moment to wave cheerfully- seeming miles better than he’d been earlier, moping in front of the gyre station- and then dives back into the fight with his twin daggers drawn.

Blinky smiles warmly, and then turns to meander to wherever the largest crowd of trolls has gathered. Where there’s a crowd, there’s a fight. It makes tracking the conflict down easier for Blinky and Jim both.

The resolution of the fight turns into the resolution of another, and then a consultation with a different pair of trolls, and then an advisory about a cave’s structural plans, and then a brief assist in locating someone’s errant hatchling (always check the pantry first), and so on and so on and before Blinky knows it-

“Blinky!” someone yells down at him, and Blinky looks up from his work to see a certain youngling racing past. Jim’s fangs are on full display as he bares them in an overjoyed grin, which Blinky nearly misses entirely at Jim’s speed. “They’re here, the gyre is here! C’mon c’mon c’mon-”

And Jim is gone before Blinky hears the rest, as the troll-boy vaults over a food cart and several trolls and drops to all fours; continuing his sprint for the gyre station on the western side of Trollmarket.

Blinky feels a swell of emotion in his chest, and barely contains his own joy. A quick exchange of eye contact with the troll he’d been speaking to, and Blinky is waved off with an exasperated smile.

“Go, follow after the boy,” shoos the elder troll lady he’d been speaking with, and her nearly blind old eyes crinkle as she laughs at him. “Both of your pining is sickening, I can’t stand looking at it any longer.”

“Thank you, but excuse you, Dar,” Blinky snaps without heat. “I distinctly remember you being the same way the last time Tumelt visited her family up east.”

Dar’s many bead and skull accessories clack as she waves him off sharply. “Ach, your memory is failing you already, Blinkus. I’m sure such a thing never happened. Now get on with it! Arrrgh will be waiting.”

Blinky rolls all six of his eyes at her teasing, but does as told.

There’s no hope of him catching up to Jim’s progression- his son is as speedy as any of the troll ilk Nomura hails from- but Blinky does his best to keep up a steady jog until he’s reached his destination. No one bothers him as he goes, no one calling out for assistance with any little problem they’ve created for themselves. Blinky suspects they’re being respectful enough to give him time to reunite with his bonded partner, and for that he is grateful.

After all, with the way his heart is swelling and pulling him back to the one he’s shared it with- Blinky very much doubts he’d stop for anyone at this point, leaderly responsibilities or no.

Getting through the crowds closer to the gyre is aggravating, but all the irritation at being slowed down vanishes once Blinky breaks through and lays his eyes on the individuals clustered around the station.

For a moment, their surroundings are of little consequence to Blinky, and the only thing he can look at is the familiar green-grey hide of Arrrgh.

Arrrgh, who catches Blinky’s scent, and whips his head towards him with a grin so wide it must hurt.

“Blinky!” he bellows, and comes charging forwards. Blinky is forced to drop his staff in order to wrap his four arms around the neck of his partner, but the dull clatter of its fall barely reaches his ears.

The thick bristle of Arrrgh’s neck is an achingly familiar sensation against Blinky’s cheek, and he has missed it more than he thought he had, finally feeling it again now. Arrrgh’s chest is filled with sound as he gives a rumble of a purr, so happy that his words have deserted him and all he can do is hold Blinky tightly.

Blinky accepts the crushing hug happily. He has missed every aspect of Arrrgh, from the part of his scent that reminds him of rocks from deep beneath the earth, to the enormous hugs he gives when overexcited.

Blinky then lets out a startled laugh as Arrrgh lifts him off the ground, bringing him to level and looking Blinky right in the eye. Blinky feels himself smiling as wide as Arrrgh is, and that smile becomes something softer as they put their foreheads together; knocking horns and taking a slow inhale of each other’s scents.

Arrrgh smells like Arcadia, like Toby, like cats and tunnels different from the ones in the new Trollmarket territory, and he smells like Arrrgh. Like the troll Blinky isn’t ever sure how he managed to be without for any period of time.

Every time they have to separate, for whatever reason or for however long, the act of coming back together never ceases to jerk on every single one of Blinky’s heartstrings.

“…missed you,” Arrrgh sighs, words barely making it through his purring.

“And I you, old friend,” Blinky replies without missing a beat, his own quiet purr working its way up his throat. For as long as they can, they stay like that; re-familiarizing themselves with one another and beginning the process of mingling their scents together again. Blinky stopped being able to smell Arrrgh on himself not two months after leaving; it’d been a low night indeed, having discovered that.

But Arrrgh is here now, even if just temporarily, and that erases everything else.

Reluctantly, Blinky remembers his position in society and the dictation of public manners. Arrrgh makes a disappointed noise at the gentle tap for him to put Blinky down, but does as asked. He remains in contact though, even after setting Blinky on his feet. Blinky doesn’t mind in the least that Arrrgh is pressed in close to his shoulder and back; if anything, the looming presence is a great relief to have once again at his side.

Arrrgh picks up Blinky’s staff, offering it to him with a smile that’s always made Blinky’s ears perk in embarrassed happiness. Arrrgh is stronger than nearly every troll in Trollmarket- perhaps even across the whole continent. And of all the other trolls, including those that might equal him in strength, Arrrgh chose Blinky. Blinky, who is capable in a fight, yes, but nowhere near level with some more brutish trolls.

Blinky remembers their friendship started rocky, due to their former divide in allegiances. How far away do those first nights seem now - Blinky coming face to face with the revered, feared traitor champion of the Gum-Gum army, who’d been chained up and wide eyed as he met Blinky’s gaze.

Never had Blinky thought that someone so strong and infamous could be scared of him.

Blinky’s only regret of their budding friendship back then… has to be that it took him weeks to get over his own suspicions, and just accept Arrrgh’s efforts to change as the sincere attempts they were.

He is so very glad that he did.

Blinky takes his staff from his partner, saying, “Thank you, Arrrgh.”

Arrrgh leans his head down sideways, sneaking another knock of their horns in before straitening up and acting appropriately. After all, they need to set an example for a certain troll-boy, who is clearly in need of one.

Jim has all but wrapped himself around Claire and Toby- Toby perhaps especially, as they haven’t seen each other in person in months. As much as it warms Blinky’s heart to see the trio reunited, it really doesn’t do to have the fearsome and noble Trollhunter letting his instincts get the better of him in public. With strength and size on both his humans, Jim has easily scooped them in close to himself and is very near cuddling right then and there.

Blinky sighs to himself, seeing Jim attempt to knock horns with Toby and realize right after that it isn’t possible. Embarrassment and something like shame flicker across his features, and Jim quickly buries that under a happy grin. Toby just rubs his head, visibly complaining to Jim about bonking his skull.

Arrrgh is laughing about the whole awkward show, and while Blinky does love having the vibrations of that deep laugh at his back once more, they really should go rescue Jim from himself.

“Don’t make fun of the boy,” Blinky chides lightly, tugging on a tuft of Arrrgh’s fur, “he’s practically a hatchling like this.” A few short months of adapting to an entirely different way of life has not been nearly long enough for Jim, and this is yet another example of that. A struggling transition for everyone involved.

But Blinky always did want children, anyway, so it’s not a struggle he’ll ever complain about.

“Jim’s happy,” Arrrgh laughs. “Wingman, Claire, you- us. Very happy.”

Blinky’s mouth turns up in a fond smile, and lets Arrrgh put a huge arm around him. “Yes, that we are, Arrrgh. I couldn’t have said it better myself.”

“Could’ve,” Arrrgh says, and well, Blinky certainly would have chosen different words, and have used twice as many as Arrrgh did, but…

The succinct and straight forward way Arrrgh addresses their happiness is all that’s really needed to be said.

“No, I could not,” Blinky refutes mildly, to which Arrrgh snorts disbelievingly. Blinky simply reaches up to pat the side of Arrrgh’s face, and then steps forwards to get them moving. “Come along, I’m sure Tobias is quite eager to see the market and Jim may very well start nuzzling at this rate.”

Arrrgh laughs loud enough to draw the attention of the trio, and at their approach Jim seems to remember how to reign himself in and release his partners. The way Jim holds himself apart from the two humans right after… it speaks volumes of his discomfort with himself. Blinky knows sooner than later he’ll have to finally force Jim to sit down and listen, and give his adopted youngling an overdue talk about the differences between troll romance and human romance.

But, as trollish as he is now, Jim is still part human teenager. And everyone knows teenagers are deathly allergic to speaking about feelings.

(Not literally, thank goodness, but Blinky did have a momentary fit of panic after hearing that phrase from Jim’s mother.)

“Miss Claire, master Tobias,” Blinky greets, opening his three free arms to them. “It’s good to see you again.”

“Blinky!” they both shout, and transfer their hugs from Jim to Blinky. He catches them both easily, and laughs as Jim practically launches himself at Arrrgh. While the two of them begin wrestling, happy growls and playful snarls starting up immediately, Blinky opts to give a more human friendly welcome.

“Jim and I have missed you fiercely,” Blinky tells Claire and Toby, hugging them close. “Well. Perhaps Jim more than I.”

“Yeah, he kiiinda almost flattened me,” Toby says, but the exasperation is as fond as any Blinky has ever heard.

“Get used to him clinging to you now, because that’s going to happen a lot,” Claire warns with a smile as fond as Toby’s tone.

“Eh… I can deal with that. I missed him, too.”

Blinky pats both of their backs; satisfied that even if Jim’s behaviors get a little out of his control sometimes, his partners will still accept him wholeheartedly. Now if he could ever get the three of them to hold still and let him help them put the actual name to the changes in their relationships… but that’s for later. For now, the time is for their reunion and all the joyous things that come with it.

And as though summoned by that thought, Arrrgh and Jim crash into them all; the two of them wrapping everyone else up in a big hug. Blinky finds himself squished in with Claire and Toby, a little short of breath, but nonetheless laughing along with the rest of his family.

Things have changed greatly in recent months, but at the same time stayed very much the same. Even with their life paths taking them different directions, they still intertwine enough that their connection never breaks.

Blinky more than happy to have his family back together, and for as long as it lasts, he will cherish every moment they have.

#Trollhunters #trollhunters season 3 #trollhunters season 3 spoiler #arrrgh/blinky #blinkus galadrigal #arrrgh #jim lake jr #jim lake jr/claire nunez/toby domzalski #My writing #see my ao3 for the full extent of my notes on Why This #i'm here for the troll dads and Especially for jim's crash course with troll instincts #watch me take every liberty possible with my headcanons

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