#You can just explain it as their souls going through Reincarnation very rapidly | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

marigold-doms · 3 years

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mystic destiny || choi san ||

[ ep. 3 ] >> [ ep. 4 ] >> [ ep. 5 ]

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Written by: MIKA🌻

Word Count: 2.8k

Warnings: death, blood, betrayal

Tag list🌻: (no obligation to reblog or read but if you do like it, leave a comment!!~) : @nctrenjunie @sakura-mars @owljungeun @yunhoiseyecandy @wsrod-deszczu @allyreactions @jonghyuns-gurl @inavocados @hwilson16 @yeo-dream-inactive @xiuminswifeforever @moongaera @serendipityunho @twancingyunhoe @hwanderlands @starryjoongs @sunlightwoo @domjungwoo @serendipityunho @multidreams-and-desires @astralsweetness @k-pop-boy-scenarios @neodreamwaves @neo-wonderland @saranghey-you @bonbonhwa @sleepychimm

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|| Ep. 4 || Theatrics

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50 years ago (1970)

Cold air had kissed their breath before they raced to get into the car.

The night was fun.

But that wasn’t the end of it.

Oh, no.

The despair that was to come couldn’t have been foreshadowed.

—The speed of the car was too fast.

The road, slick with unsteady ice.

The street lights, too dim to drive on.

Yeosang drove through the winding road of the steep mountain.

They had just come back from the peer—

Why was it so wet all of a sudden? Why are his ears ringing? Where were they?

“Yeosang-” San pleads quietly, eyes wide and scared. Just when his senses give him the ability to process what he's seeing, his body is betrayed by the seat belt across his chest, embracing him tightly.

The amount of water flooding into the car was rapidly decreasing the air around them.

Wooyoung’s torso floats above the water line. His blood pooling around him like red paint mixing in with the dark water.

San’s stomach turns.

Wooyoung never wore his seatbelt.

“Shit shit shit, he’s fucking dead!” Mingi’s having a panic attack. “Dammit, THEY’RE BOTH DEAD. The door won’t fucking open, fuck— we’re gonna die here in this fuck ass lake-”

It’s not two seconds later when Yeosang turns, finally seeing her. Hair splayed in the water and limbs still.

She was dead.

Lifeless like Wooyoung.

He forces back the bile threatening to leave his throat.

Yeosang’s world stops and the only thing he could think of was land. He needed to get to land. The gears start turning in his head but it’s hard to focus with Mingi losing his mind in the back.

“SHUT THE FUCK UP!” Yeosang blares. Roaring from the front seat as he tries not to look at his dead friends. Desperately ripping off the leather belt holding him against the seat. He pops the steering wheel up to give himself room to move towards the center console, ignoring the dead stillness of Wooyoung’s corpse in the passenger seat.

In the back, San was starting to feel a hot, metallic liquid seep into his mouth. Intruding his senses with the horrible taste of blood. He was dying. He knew it. His body was too weak to move. He barely has enough energy to lift his hand—somehow he manages to catch Yeosang’s eye.

“T-there…” San points to the sunroof, weakly. Mingi is too busy banging on the window to hear but Yeosang is quick to find the crank. Turning it in a rapid recession.

Next to him, Mingi thrashes around in the water, causing the car to sink deeper into the lake.

“Mingi, we don’t have much time, calm the fuck down!” Yeosang shouts, grabbing the tall man’s arm. “Go!”

Mingi scrambles to get himself over the console. Involuntarily shoving her dead body towards San.

The water is at San’s chin and he realizes that soon, he won't be able to breathe.

It’s kind of nice… maybe, I’ll drown… He starts thinking.

Mingi is the first one out. Swimming his way to the top. Making no effort to help the other still in the car.

Yeosang then turns back, stifling the sob that wants to escape his body.

She was gone.

Dead.

Erased.

He sucks in a shallow breath and yanks himself from the seat and reaches toward the small, rectangular opening.

“Yeo..” A weak voice turns the moment cold. “Hel-help…”

Yeosang pauses. Turning from the sun roof, down to the back of the car. This couldn’t have happened any slower than he was imagining it to be. His gaze follows where her lifeless body floated and where his friend was reaching out for his aid. The water, now flooding around San—desperate to breathe in air—bubbles around to fill the back seat.

“Help?” Yeosang spitefully glares at his friend right beside his lifeless flame. “You were dead to me before all this happened...”

San’s eyes fill with tears and he shuts them tightly. I guess I do deserve to die.

“...Go to hell.” Then, he’s gone.

Gods, please kill me.

Knives.

Sharp edged blades sheering his skin.

His lungs were holding in borrowed air.

San couldn’t take it. He couldn’t move. His strong arm bumped into the limbs of the body next to him.

He cries out, allowing the water to force itself into his airways. Intruding and infiltrating his lungs. Suffocating him with her coldness. The mixed taste of blood and empty despair.

No human could hear him.

*****************

The God of Light observes and glances at his brother, The God of the Shadows, who’s standing next to him with an amused expression on his face.

“Reserve the girl in the back and the boy in the front seat.” (You and Wooyoung)

The God of Shadows blinks before he flicks his silver fan open. “You select now to instruct such a request?”

“God of Shadows, do your job-”

“-It’s Hongjoong. Father gave us names, Seonghwa. ” The God of Shadows glares before closing his eyes and guiding the young ones into the reincarnation gateway. “For how long?”

“In 50 winters for the girl. And a year before her, for the boy.”

“Why don’t we just let them die?”Hongjoong proposes blandly, eyes still closed.

Seonghwa does not answer him. “The boy and girl have a destiny to fulfill.” (Referring to you and wooyoung) The God of Light doesn’t bother to further explain. “Did the other boy enter yet?” (San)

“Yes, he’s opening the door.”

“Close it.”

“Fine. It’s closed.” Hongjoong can’t conceal his curiosity. “Which door do I send him to?”

“Send him back to earth as a merman.”

Hongjoong opens his eyes.

“God of Shadows! What are you doing?” The God of Light exclaims, rushing closer to his brother. “Close your eyes!”

“He’ll have to stay in that body of water. Mermaids are created and live in the ocean. Not in freshwater. We have never created immortals like that!”

“Do it!”

Hongjoong finally shuts his eyes. Once he does, he realizes that the boy’s soul has been out of his body for too long that his memories have partially been erased. “The boy has been gone from his body for far too long than I can control, he will barely have any memories when he revives.”

“That’s why we need the other boy to live another life in 49 winters.”

A long pause happens before Hongjoong lets out a concentrated huff. “He’s entering his new form.”

The God of Light nods in relief. You see, Seonghwa has knowledge. He knows how the minds of these humans work. If he was honest with himself, he took pride in the stories that he painted utilizing their lives. It made operations here in the heavens more… entertaining. This one would soon develop to be one of his favorites.

A booming cry echoes in the Terra Conservatory of Humans. The Gods turn their attention to the grieving man on the dirty shore of the lake. The God of Shadow’s eyes are now open.

“Fuck the Gods! What have you offered in this shitty life, huh??? BRING HER BACK.” Yeosang curses and shouts into the heavens. “BRING HER BACK. KILL ME!!! YOU THINK YOU’RE SO POWERFUL?? YOU THINK YOU’RE ABLE TO HAVE A LAUGH AT ME? GIVE HER BACK!”

“What a pathetic soul…” Hongjoong fans himself. “Should I strike him?”

“Yes,”

“Gladly-”

“We will make a deal with the mortal.”

“Excuse me?” Hongjoong shuts his fan shut. “He just cursed our existence and you wish to make a deal with the blasphemer?”

“He will offer his mortal life for her return.” The God of Light places his hands behind his back before lifting his golden stopwatch. “I’m sure you understand that I possess the power of foresight. Do you not trust me with the very power that I was created to use?”

The God of Shadows presses his lips into a thin line.

If there was an emotion that he was required to list as commonly projected towards his brother, he wouldn’t hesitate: Aggravation.

A moment is shared before Hongjoong follows through, closing his eyes while opening his fan with a flick of the wrist. “You and your burning passion for theatrics.”

******************

Yeosang’s body crumbles to the ground and his jarred friend frantically shakes him.

“Dude! Yeosang! Get the fuck up!” Mingi doesn’t know what to do. In this state he has to force himself to calm down. Rocking himself back and forth on the floor as he tries to process everything that just happened tonight. All of his friends are dead. Mingi witnessed two of their deaths. He left everyone behind to escape. He almost died with them.

It’s minutes before Yeosang gasps alive. Throwing his new body into the water to finally allow himself to breathe.

Once Yeosang looks down, his eyes are wide and his skin reflects the light from the moon.

He felt...enchanted.

Mingi stands. Speechless and blank. Completely drained of emotion with tears still running down his dirty cheeks.

Yeosang smirks. Those Gods sent him back. They told him what he would become. They gave him a new life. New power. Finally, he was alive.

He was a siren. A gorgeous, enchanting siren.

Meaning: he was immortal and that he was given time to wait for her return.

For her life... to be his.

****************

Present Time: The Night of the Engagement Party

San’s surprised that he’s able to use the keyboard and magic rectangle that was sitting on y/n’s desk.

He could form words. The group of words that lined in huge sections made sense to him. They formed ideas that he could comprehend and piece together. He was learning about the new human world. Of all the newer things this world had to offer. He could search for things that made him curious. Things that he might find answers to.

“If the government has access to a lot of things…” He tilts his head after hours of typing, reading, and watching. San’s quick to soak up everything he discovers. It’s almost like the questions and links never stop popping up on the screen. “I wonder what happens if I search y/n’s name…”

The headlines are huge and your picture is splayed across the screen.

‘Daughter of Karat Holdings spotted outside CEO’s main building’

‘y/n leaving her family mansion in a hurry’

‘Son of American Prime Minister, Kang Yeosang spotted with y/n on an extravagant date’

‘Which designer will dress y/n in this year’s gala?’

‘Will the engaged couple release their official marriage date?’

Knowledge in this age seemed faster. Instant.

The more San searched. The deeper his heart sank. He didn’t like knowing things now.

Y/n was smiling in these pictures. Looking so casual and beautiful. But when he zoomed into her eyes, he could see it.

Her pain. The cry for help.

Are humans stupid now? Do they not understand that y/n hates that? How could they ignore such a simple emotion? That sadness has been the same sadness he’s known for as long as he could remember.

San closes the laptop angrily.

A huge tear leaves his eyes and it clinks against the white wood of y/n’s desk.

His iridescent pearl glimmers and he plucks it into his two fingers. “This is currency here...I wonder how much this is worth.”

He puts a mental pin into his head on that question because he didn’t want to open the laptop again.

He doesn’t know how long it’s been but when he enters into the bigger space near the kitchen, the sky is a dark shade of blue and he notices that his anger might’ve made him hungry. He’ll have to search the worth of his own pearls for a later time. For now. He was starving.

He goes to the fridge and searches for something that he recognizes.

The front door beeps a couple of times before it swings open.

Sleepy one—Macy— scans the condo before catching San shove a leftover sub into his mouth.

“San!” Macy smiles, rushing over to him. “Wanna help y/n out a bit tonight?”

“Help?” San’s mouth is full. “Is y/n in trouble?”

Wooyoung finally runs into the condo. “Damn, baby! You’d think I’d be able to catch up with all the cardio I do—”

Macy pretends not to hear her boyfriend. Continuing to wait for San to finish chewing his food.

But San’s focus has shifted to her boyfriend and her boyfriend mirrors the same expression back.

A vibrating silence sweeps through the air and San swears that he feels the same uneasy feeling in his gut that he felt with Yeosang earlier that day. The sub that he’s chewing on becomes less and less appetizing.

Wooyoung slowly backs away.

With no idea of what's going on between the two men, Macy stares at them back and forth.

“Are you…” Wooyoung’s eyes are suddenly wide.

San swallows and blinks.

He doesn’t understand why he’s nervous.

“Are you wearing my clothes?” The intensity falls through and Wooyoung breaks the energy by turning to Macy. “Why is he wearing my sweater?”

“Oh,” Macy sighs, hitting Wooyoung in the arm. “Stop being so dramatic, Woo. You’re freaking him out.”

Wooyoung rubs his arm before pointing to San. “You’re not keeping that.”

“Do I take it off?” San starts to lift one side of the shirt. The prominent v-line now in view.

“No!” Wooyoung covers Macy’s eyes, practically mushing her. For a second he admires San’s toned stomach. “Dude, nice b—I mean, Mace, are you seriously gonna let y/n keep this guy around?”

Macy wrenches Wooyoung’s hand from her face.

San observes what happens next.

With her eyes and not a word from her mouth, Wooyoung visibly shrinks and slowly waves his hands in the air. “I’ll sit down, my love… No worries. Stopping, right now.”

“Look San, y/n’s going to this big uh- party—“

“The Son of the Prime Minister’s engagement party, right?”

Macy did not expect San to know what was going on but it made sense after giving it a second thought. Y/n was practically a celebrity couple’s daughter— political, and extremely influential celebrities to be exact. Of course San would know.

“Yeah. That one.” Macy takes a deep breath and gestures to the black sling around her arm. “We might have a way to get in, but I need you to wear something much… nicer.”

****************

San?

Were you hearing things?

You’re afraid to scan the room— you didn’t have to. San is striding up the white marbled stairs and past the audience of white collar professionals. All of the women’s eyes drinking in his red suede suit, lining the sharp angles of his exquisite body. Each step was like a trigger setting off a million fireworks through your chest.

How—Just how could you feel such a gravitational force emit from his aura alone?

He was inevitably perfect.

San’s hair laid so effortlessly, styled to cover parts of his eyes and from the black curtains falling over them, you could feel his gaze embracing you.

“Who are—“ Yeosang pauses, then what sounds like a curse word escapes his mouth before he positions his body in front of yours, protectively. On the contrary, to Yeosang’s disposition, your attention is glued to San. “The last I remember, the invitation was never extended to you. Security!”

Your body betrays your mind when you react to Yeosang’s command a second too late. “No, wait! Stop!I- I invited him!”

An audible gasp cannons around the ballroom. You can practically hear your mom’s heart fall to the floor. How much you’ve probably disappointed her just from raising your voice above speaking level.

The guard—who’s struggling to hold San back—releases and allows San some space to collect himself. “He’s my friend.”

San’s brows, furrowed in concentration are now soft. Relaxed.

“You deserve to be happy.”

For some odd reason, communication like this—through his mind—doesn’t bother you one bit. This brings you more comfort than you bargained for tonight.

“It’s okay, Human. Your San is here to help.”

When San sends you a gentle smile, you simply cannot describe this feeling so your human body does its best to register it. The only way to put it into words is: pure, effervescent warmth.

Your San...

[ ep. 3 ] >> [ ep. 4 ] >> [ ep. 5 ]

Please lmk if you want to be added to the taglist!~

⭑･ﾟﾟ･*:༅｡.｡༅:*ﾟ:*:✼✿　　✿✼:*ﾟ:༅｡.｡༅:*･ﾟﾟ･⭑

[For those that didn’t catch the dates in the beginning of the prologue— or if you just skimmed over it like most people do— the deaths and births of each character is written there so it should make more sense to read it now than the other chapters. ]

[ Prologue: Character Profiles ]

#mystic destiny #mika’s works #ateez #ateez imagines #ateez scenarios #san #ateez san #mermaid!au #san imagines #san smut #choi san #choi san smut #fantasy!au #san series #ateez series #ateez masterlist #masterlist

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unknownblanked · 3 years

Text

Shameless self promotion

Main character: OC

Pairings: OC x Reborn

My fic:

*Fandom: Katekyo Hitman Reborn*

*Rating M*

Summary: I have never wanted anything other than to be a boss. Sorry dear brother of mine, but I will become a better boss than you would ever become. Warning: M for a reason, not for innocent souls. 2 days updates

Kinda BL since MC who used to be a girl became a guy after transmigration. But idk what to even say at this point

Genre: fantasy/adventure/romance

https://m.fanfiction.net/s/13908034/1/

First chapter preview:

Chapter 1

"Eff you! Eff me! Eff the world!" She shrieked with her lungs, hand pointed at the sky.

"I wanna hold guns and look cool in suits! I wanna be pardoned by university to become a boss! I wanna have a gang while playing background music!"

"IF I EVER REINCARNATE TO KATEKYO HITMAN REBORN, I'LL BECOME VONGOLA DECIMOOOOOOOO!"

Darkness enveloped her as she sunk deeper into the abyss, not knowing what was going on after that flash that blinded her eyes. Could it be isekai truck-kun? She scoffed at her own words, not believing a single thing that came out of her own thoughts. She felt a shuffle, then a thump as her whole world lifted in the air. Suddenly, a baby's cry chortled beside her, screaming.

What was going on? Was she being carried into some kind of ambulance? A hospital? Did she give birth-What? But she was still 19 years old and never touched a man's hand! The baby's cry grew louder, almost piercing her in the ears.

Was it even possible for her to remain conscious even though she couldn't open her eyes? She tried lifting her eyelids, but it remained glued shut, as if this impenetrable force was clamping down her eyes, telling her not to look.

A waft of air blew on her chest.

"[Papa! Look at them! Twins!]"

A woman's voice rang out loudly, but her tone was soft and melodic as the sounds of humans floated into her ears.

'...Japanese?'

"[Ah, but one isn't crying.]"

A man's voice rang out this time in front of her as she tried deciphering the words with all her experiences of watching anime for over 10 years. Crying? Did the man just say that 'one isn't crying?' Was he pointing to someone in the room?

She felt her whole world tip over before trying to flail, confusion ringing inside her mind before-

Slap!

"Waaaaaaaaah!"

'What the eff, bro?!'

She felt so sensitive-so...naked!

'Call my lawyer! I will sue you till you don't even have the freedom of speech! Lawyer! Lawyer!'

"Waaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaalw!" She yelped her syllables that couldn't pop out of her mouth and tried again.

"Wawawawa-"

Something was weird. Very weird.

"[I think we've got ourselves a little weirdo from the get-go!]"

Her butt stung as she tried blinking her eyes, gasping twice and shaking her head to wake her up from this bad dream. Her vision stung the moment she did, lights blinding her as she screamed again, trying to bat away the light with her flimsy small fists. Through her blurry vision, she saw a man grinning from ear to ear before throwing her over his shoulder and patting her on the back. She humped, dry launching from the action as the woman's soft laughter rang from behind as her own eyes closed shut again.

What did she see? She didn't see clearly, but the world was so...colorful.

"[I think I have a name for this little weirdo already!]"

Name? What name? What the hell were these two strangers talking about? And why in the hell was she able to understand Japanese so clearly? And they messed up her pronouns-and-

She tried hard, fighting her clamped eyes, 'Almost there!'

"Sawada Isago! Golden dust for my career!"

Isago slammed his eyes open, blinking rapidly at the man who was now throwing his small body into the air, his golden-amber eyes completely dazzling Isago.

"Waah da dak."

His first words were swear words in English.

She stared absentmindedly out the front porch. No, he stared absentmindedly out the front porch this fine morning. The sky was bright blue while Isago glanced at the buzzing street of Namimori, a small town located at the edges of Japan. In the corner of his eyes, he saw a small bird land on one of the tree branches before someone tapped him on the shoulder.

"Isa..go! Let's play!" Tsuna smiled sweetly at his younger brother, holding up his teddy in one hand. They were at the young age of four, Tsuna being born just minutes earlier than Isago. They seemed like twins, but one preferred a shorter hairstyle than the other, and their hair was in different colours.

"Hm...sure! What do you want to play?" Isago answered like how a four-year-old should and pushed himself onto his feet. Tsuna squeezed his teddy, pondering a bit before tilting his head to the side.

Tsuna was exactly the same in the anime, with spiky brown hair and brown eyes that shone brightly in the sun, his soft features held more of some baby fat than what was portrayed in the graphics, but still, Tsuna resembled Vongola Primo.

'Definitely a descendant of the Vongola family,' Isago quirked his lips as Tsuna explained his game of hide and seek, except the purpose was to hide and find teddy.

"Sure!" Isago chirped, holding his hand out for the teddy. "I'll go first then, since you never do, Tsuna."

Tsuna beamed brightly at his younger brother, giving his teddy over before Isago pointed to a wall in the corner of the room and Tsuna plodded over, covering his eyes as he started to count down from 100. Isago smiled slightly, tip-toeing to the washroom and turning on the lights to hide the teddy behind the rows and rows of shampoo bottles in one of the cupboards.

Isago frowned a bit when he realized that he couldn't reach the board, placed the teddy on the table and walked to the toilet that was beside the sink. He stepped onto the toilet, using it as his stepping stone and slammed his small hands onto the table, heaving himself upwards. Snatching the teddy from the original spot, Isago opened the cupboard and organized the bottles as a coverup, arranging the bottles so that not even the ears of the brown toy were visible from an adult's point of view.

Isago stepped down the table, plopping quietly onto his feet before listening to the countdown from Tsuna's mouth at the number 40. Isago smiled carefully, closing the lights as his gold eyes flashed through the mirror once, and Isago made his way to Tsuna's bedroom. Mom was cooking in the kitchen and humming about dad's arrival today.

Isago had retained his father's golden eyes, and yet had a shade of mocha as his hair color. Neither dad nor mom had the hair color, but Nana assumed that it was because her predecessor's hair color was close to black in the past. In contrast to Tsuna's spiky hair, Isago had flatter hair and was long, to the point that it was possible to tie it into a semi-ponytail. He had bangs covering the front in a slanted way, almost completely contrasting to Tsuna's cute and fluffy hair. Well, not that it mattered to Isago.

What was concerning to Isago, was that he was born as a boy.

"Ready or not, here I come!"

Isago heard Tsuna call from the bottom of the stairs before his small footsteps plattered onto the wood. Isago stared momentarily at the door before purposefully closing it and plopping down on Tsuna's bed. The bedsheets ruffled, crinkling a bit and Isago stared at his own crotch.

What the heck, this was so weird to have. It was so tiring to constantly have a thing dangling in between his legs. Even though it didn't hurt or feel uncomfortable, this new addition was a very mind-blowing...experience. Manspreading was also a new thing.

"Isago…?" Tsuna's face peeped into his own room and giggled before skipping over to his brother. "You must have placed teddy here!"

"I don't know," Isago replied with a small smirk. "Why don't you try and find it?"

"Teddy! Teddy!" Tsuna called cutely as if the bear was able to reply back to him.

"Tsuna, if you can find it then I'll ask mom to make your favourite Salisbury steak that she only makes when dad comes home!" Isago called as Tsuna's eyes fired up intensely.

"Steak! Steak! Steak!" Tsuna batted his fists on his crouched knees and started to chant it like some kind of song. Joy could be seen all over his face as he rustled his piles of stuff in the closet, then turned over to his desk and started rummaging in the drawers.

"Steak, steak, steaky, steak-"

Isago smiled secretly, knowing that Tsuna had no knowledge of dad coming home today. Honestly, Isago didn't know what to describe his dad. A good dad? No, he left his wife basically widowed from the moment they were born. A bad dad? You couldn't say that either.

Then again, mama never worked, so it was plausible to think that the house was bought and supplied with money from dad every year. Not to mention that the house was quite large for a family of three. Dad was probably also preparing the house to be the main hideout for the future Vongola.

"Iemitsu Sawada, huh?" Isago murmured his dad's name under his lips.

There was a reason why his dad stationed his family near the unknown town of Namimori. It was probably in order to protect them from the mafia. So in the end, was he a good dad? Isago watched Tsuna's fluffy hair swish in the lights as the sound of tires echoed into the neighborhood.

Isago lifted his eyebrows at the sound, turning his head to Tsuna's open window to see a short black car parked a few meters away from the Sawada residence. Isago stood up slowly, walking towards the window and hopped onto a small step box and leaned on the wall, crossing his arms together as he peered outside.

"Tsuna, let's rank this game harder. You have exactly 100 seconds like the countdown to find your teddy, or else the promise is off," Isago turned to Tsuna who's eyes widened like saucers, gasping before throwing his hands into the depths of his drawers.

"That's not fair, Isago!" The boy whimpered as Isago started to count the numbers from 100, forcing the small boy to sweat. Inside, Isago spotted a blond head popping out of the driver's seat.

The man was wearing orange overalls that were only pulled onto his waist. His dirty sweatshirt was worn in a fashion that showed his armpit hair clearly even from far away. The sight was disgusting.

"Men," Isago made a face, recognizing that it was his father. "66...67...68...69…"

"Isago! Slow down!" Tsuna wailed and rummaged through his toy box, tears streaming down his face at the decreasing numbers. Iemitsu pulled a construction hat out of the front side, then walked to the passenger's seat, opening the door to reveal another man wearing a blue vacation shirt with pink flowers on it.

The man stepped out of the car, smiling widely at his assistant who passed him a straw hat. As if the man noticed, his eyes flashed to the window, meeting the gaze of Isago. There was curiosity and wonder that passed through the male's eyes, but then greeted the child by lifting his hat and giving a salute which Isago returned with a polite nod.

'Vongola ninth,' Isago addressed the man quickly, curling his lips at the status before turning back to Tsuna, the numbers ending with the last count of zero.

"Isaaaagoo!" Tsuna sobbed into his long-sleeved sweater, sniffing as the sleeve soaked up his snot. "I couldn't find it-I'm sorry!"

Isago's eyes softened at the small boy, hopping down from the stepping box before crouching next to Tsuna who was on his knees.

"Tsuna, Tsuna, why are you sorry?" Isago patted Tsuna on the shoulders. Tsuna threw his arm down, staring at Isago who had a soft smile on his face.

"Be-because Isago's favorite...also steak…" the young boy blew his wet cheeks and Isago chuckled, pulling his brother into a large hug. That was not exactly true, Isago's favourite was sweet parfaits rather than savory main course meals, but Nana had never brought the two to a sweets cafe so Isago had made up his preferences to match Tsuna's.

"How about this, I'll magically transform the steak onto the table if you promise me one thing," Isago patted Tsuna who blew into his shoulder. Momentarily, Isago made a face of disgust, but once thinking that they were from the same blood, a smile was forcefully plastered onto his soft features.

Tsuna also realized his own misdoings, instantly freezing before wiping his own sleeve on Isago's shoulder, trying to correct the snot, only to make it smear even wider on the hoodie.

"I'll have to change my clothes," Isago sighed before pushing Tsuna away and walking to his own room. Tsuna followed like an abandoned puppy. His two fingers fiddled as he watched Isago pull his T-shirt off, and grabbed a random sweater before pulling it over his head.

"Mm sorry Isago…" Tsuna trailed off, staring guilty on the ground as Isago's head emerged out. "I will promise anything that you want! Forever!"

'What a dangerous promise, Tsuna,' Isago's eyes glimmered before turning towards his brother. The shadows in his room casted upon Isago's face as his grin widened almost too maliciously.

"Then promise me Tsuna, no matter what the circumstance you must not harm me. If you do, then our relationship as brothers are over." Isago's hair fell over his eyes as he brushed it back, getting a clear look at the boy's small face.

"Harm?" Tsuna tilted his head curiously at the word, repeating to make sure he pronounced it correctly. "What's that?"

"It means that I will be gone from your life forever, Tsuna," Isago's voice deepen with glee at the horror that flashed through the boy's face. Tsuna's hands instantly clutched the sides of his shorts, shaking his head furiously.

"I will never harm you! I will never! Never!"

"Good," Isago walked closer to his dear brother, jerking his thumb under Tsuna's teary eyes. The young boy looked fragile and broken at Isago's words, almost as if he couldn't imagine living without Isago.

"Because I love you so much that it may serve as a double-edged sword to both of us," Isago gave little Tsuna a small peck on his cheeks, smirking at Tsuna's pouting face as his fingers clutched the edges of Isago's sweater.

"I wove you too," Tsuna buried his face into his brother's sweater, murmuring the phrase until the front door was pushed open and mama's clear voice rang through the house, calling the two boys down.

It was true, Tsuna was a precious little brother to Isago, even if Tsuna was legally the older one. But that didn't matter in front of power. If Tsuna stood in the way of succession, then Isago would cut off Tsuna's arms and legs to prevent Tsuna from overtaking the throne. That was how cold-hearted Isago was.

But then again, was Isago able to do it?

That's why Isago would give Tsuna the choice. He would not harm Tsuna until his own brother decided that Isago was a threat to the family and his life. He would let Tsuna break their relationship, and make him wallow in despair. As long as Tsuna loved him, Isago would let him go. But if Tsuna disobeyed, then everything will be over.

"Come on, brother," Isago gestured towards the door, stepping forward with Tsuna holding him. When they reached the bottom of the stairs, Iemitsu was grinning at both boys, arms extended.

"Weirdo Isago! TsunaTsuna! Papa is back home!"

The two boys huddled over to their papa, Tsuna waddling towards him while Isago was pulled into a large embrace, dad's hand ruffling in his hair as Isago grinned at the man. The smell of sweat and tobacco filled Isago's nostrils, instantly making him suppress a sour face at his own father. Mama giggled at the family reunion while Isago's eyes trailed to her, gesturing for a group hug.

"Oh, dear!" Mama threw herself into the group hug and Iemitsu kissed her sloppily on the cheeks, rubbing her face with fondness. It was then Tsuna noticed a stranger behind dad, smiling sweetly at the family after Tsuna opened his mouth with quivering fear.

"Oh, Tsuna! Don't worry, this is Timoteo-" Dad looked over at the grandfather figure, releasing all of us as he gestured politely at the man. "-My boss."

"Welcome!" Nana grinned, lowering her body into a 90-degree bow. "Thank you for taking care of my husband all this time!"

Isago glanced towards his mom, then followed, repeating the same words of thanks. Tsuna only stood there, confused and not knowing what to do and hid behind his mother, clutching her apron.

"Tsuna!" Mom bickered with a sigh but smiled soon afterwards. She patted me on the head as a 'good job' before apologizing for her son's imprudence.

"That isn't a problem," Timoteo said, softening his eyes at us before crouching down to our eye level. "I have to thank you for having such a wonderful father that I can trust."

'Of course, you're literally naming his son as successor,' Isago thought bitterly before pulling Tsuna out from behind mom. 'So who is it going to be? Tsuna, or me?'

Vongola ninth had to choose between the two of them because they were the only ones that would be left in the Vongola bloodline. If what Isago remembered was correct, there was more than one successor to the Vongola line, but they all died, which left Tsuna being the only one that could inherit the family.

Tsuna's hand started to quake before Isago squeezed it reassuringly, giving him a small nudge. Tsuna was still hesitating so Isago started first.

"I'm Isago, this is Tsuna, my older brother!" He deliberately said, lowering his head as Tsuna, this time, followed his younger brother's lead.

"Oh, he's the older one, huh?" Timoteo turned his gentle gaze towards the older brother and nodded. Isago pleaded that they were going to leave the throne of successor to the worthy, not the older. Isago was going to prove himself worthy, prove himself, to be a better leader than his brother.

Tsuna was not suited as a leader, maybe in the long run of taking care of his family members, yes, but Isago was more of a leader in the expanding and influential way.

'Give the role of successor to me, and I will hold Vongola to its glory. I will make Vongola the strongest in history, and it will flourish more than the past ten generations combined.'

Isago wanted the Vongola position. He wanted it desperately.

As if Timoteo could hear Isago's thoughts, the grandfather's eyes turned to the younger sibling, staring at him hard. Isago didn't move his eyes, only stared back and tried to convey the message through his gaze.

'Give it to me, I want it. I need it.'

Timoteo's gaze deepened, opening his mouth to say something as conflict passed through his face, then clamped his mouth shut. Iemitsu, sensing that something was sort of amidst, invited his boss into the house, telling the group that he was famished. Nana gasped, pardoning her forgetfulness before guiding the guest to the table.

Isago let go of the breath he held inside, looking towards Tsuna who was staring at the grandfather.

#katekyo hitman reborn #romance #fanfiction #ambitious #original character #reborn x reader #sawada tsunayoshi #katekyou hitman reborn fanfiction #katekyo home tutor #fanfic

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midnightactual · 4 years

Text

Story

“Oh? You want me to play at being Scheherazade?” Yoruichi asked, her eyes twinkling with amusement. “Fine, I’ll tell you a story. How about... How I came to exist.”

“Whatever you might’ve heard about the history of Soul Society is a bunch of propaganda designed to puff it up and make it sound good. Soul Society wasn’t around for a million years, nor did Shinigami exist before it. It all began about 70,000 years ago.”

“Soul Society’s never been interested in archaeology, so these dates are nebulous and’ve been determined through rather arcane means, but bear with me. Some 5 or 6 million years ago, the ancestors of humans split off from the ancestors of chimpanzees, and began their own evolutionary course. As they grew more complex, they began to develop more and more reiryoku. This led to a certain kind of reishi accumulation on Earth. This accelerated dramatically with the emergence of anatomically modern humans 200,000 years ago. It finally crossed a critical threshold when humans became recognizably behaviorally modern, around 80,000 years ago.”

“This concentration of reishi had strange and unusual effects. The reiryoku and reiatsu of the human population soared. For a time, death ceased to meaningfully exist. The bright beacons of human reiatsu also attracted other spiritual entities—now called Yōkai—and many hybrids emerged: Hanyō. For a time there was peace, and no difference between a human and a Plus. It wouldn’t last.”

“Something about this configuration was unstable. Hollows began to appear. With no effective means of stopping them, they began to replicate out of control. What are now called Menos were soon roaming the planet, and it seemed humanity and the Yōkai alike would quickly go extinct, with all souls being absorbed into a single Menos.”

“That’s when what’s now known as the Soul King arrived from... somewhere. It was a thing which might be called divine. I can see your reaction: yes, there are ‘Gods’ out there. Many more than one. No, they aren’t exactly pleasant or necessarily benevolent.”

“Although it destroyed the existing Menos, the remaining humans and Yōkai were terrified by the implications. That was when they discovered the closed cycle of reincarnation, and learned that the Soul King’s powers could obliterate souls.”

“Five individuals chose to act. Each had their own plan. One was afraid the Soul King’s powers would be used against humanity, and that they must take it for themselves. One concerned themselves with Hell, which had already come to exist after a fashion by that time. One wanted to restructure the world to bring permanent balance. One wanted to find a way to purify Hollows and turn them back into souls. And one wanted to expand the cycle of reincarnation to other beings, like Yōkai.”

“The last three were the ancestors of the Kuchiki, the Shiba, and the Shihōin, although they weren’t called that at the time. The third was a Hanyō man—half human, half cat Yōkai—named Yuvan. In the end, the five met and agreed to pursue all five of their ideas. They devised a ritual to bind the Soul King and split existence into realms, thus creating Soul Society, Hueco Mundo, the various pockets of the Dangai, and leaving Earth reishi impoverished.”

“Those five became the progenitors of the Five Great Noble Families, and they and their supporters, such as Hyōsube Ichibē, became the first Shinigami. Their ritual created a great cataclysm and left scarcely more than 1,000 humans alive on the planet. It also dispersed some of the powers of the Soul King and Menos in strange ways, leading to the eventual emergence of the Quincy and Fullbringers.”

“Things would go on rather quietly for almost another 60,000 years. The Five Great Noble Families identified and interbred with powerful humans and Pluses who emerged during this time in order to strengthen their bloodlines. All of them claimed different regions of old world Earth to ‘recruit’ from. The Yuvan—the later Shihōin—were particularly fond of South Asia at this time.”

“Eventually, 10,000 years ago, the Neolithic Revolution on Earth caused human populations to rapidly expand. Soul Society became increasingly organized in response. Around 6,500 years ago, in various river valleys, human civilizations entered the Bronze Age. It was at this time that Soul Society was split into theoretically coequal Eastern and Western Branches.”

“To begin with, the Eastern Branch looked after the civilizations of the Indus and Yellow Rivers, and all surrounding regions. The Western Branch looked after the same around the Nile, Tigris, and Euphrates. There was an effort at this time to associate the Yuvan with the Western Branch on the basis of ‘shared development’. However, perceiving that Ichibē already favored the Eastern Branch, the Yuvan demanded they be associated with it instead. Two of the Five Great Noble Families were initially assigned to the Western Branch, two to the Eastern Branch (the later Kuchiki and Shihōin), and one to go between them (the later Shiba). Minor branches could come and go more freely.”

“As you might expect, the Western Branch began with an aesthetic like that of the Fertile Crescent and Egypt, while the Eastern Branch had one like that of India or China. Over time, these would evolve. The Western Branch’s evolution was rather more pronounced. All this would come to a head around 2,500 years ago, when Ichibē declared he had discerned the ‘true names and natures’ of both branches, and the Five Great Noble Families themselves.”

“For the Eastern Branch, this was when the focus on Japanese aesthetics was established. It was also when the names Kuchiki and Shiba were given out, and the Yuvan became the Shihōin. The name was Ichibē’s way of referring to our profession and penchant for soldiery; although it means ‘Four Maple Court’, his intended allusion was apparently ‘Bloodshed Institution’. During this time, the newly minted Shihōin changed their primary focus to Ryukyu and Kyushu, while the Kuchiki concerned themselves with northern Japan. It was only in this time that intermixing with ‘commoners’ began to be restricted. Shortly thereafter, the Gotei 13 and the Shin'ō Academy were founded.”

“The Western Branch... well, that’s its own story. But by 500 years ago, interaction between the charges of the Eastern and Western Branches was growing more common and intense, and various additional reforms were undertaken. It was in the aftermath of those, on what by the reckoning of the Gregorian calendar would be January 1st, 1591, when I was born.”

Yoruichi gave a little grin. “Of course, that’s only how I got here.”

...

These are just my thoughts and should be taken with a grain of salt. I’m sort of working off what Can’t Fear Your Own World has revealed about the history of Bleach, while also strongly disagreeing with a lot of it and providing my version of it. (This post seems to be largely identical. This one’s accuracy is debated somewhat, but I find a few of its ideas interesting.)

Although I would admit that it certainly seems that Kubo decided to move to pattern the cosmology of Bleach off of Buddhism’s, I would argue two points against assuming that Buddhism is “true” in Bleach and that this structure is immutable and eternal. First, within Bleach’s verse Buddhism would clearly have been derived from this structure, not the other way around. (That is to say, while in real life Bleach is based on Buddhism, in Bleach Buddhism is based on Bleach; presumably as propaganda by Ichibē.) Second, Bleach presented itself as a kind of urban fantasy to begin, and repeatedly invokes scientific concepts, so I feel it’s appropriate to treat it from a realistic perspective rather than a spiritual one. Notably, Buddhism also doesn’t seem to much care about creation mythos.

The existence of Shinigami and Quincy prior to the emergence of humanity is fairly illogical given that humans can become both. This would require the fragments of the Soul King acting like miniature Hōgyoku and synchronizing humanity to function as vessels for these abilities, or something. In addition to being convoluted, I think that removes the human element from both groups, which are otherwise very clearly depicted as human, so I’m going to say that neither existed before humans did. Almost everything in the Bleach universe should, thematically, derive from baseline humans in my opinion.

The exception is my decision to include Yōkai. The idea that Sajin just comes from a line of cursed were-people strikes me as the most boring method of handling his backstory, and this fails to explain things like Hiyosu, or Akon’s horns, or some of the wilder phenotypic aspects of the population (strange hair and eye colors, gigantism, dwarfism, and so on). Introducing a non-human element that has largely been eliminated or suppressed solves all these issues handily. (Soul Society is probably pretty racist against most of their descendants, and they tend to be left to rot in Rukongai or imprisoned in the Maggot’s Nest. My feeling is the Shihōin are sympathetic for obvious reasons, and this is why they associate with the Shiba, who are generally anti-authoritarian.)

The existence of a permanently deathless realm for all eternity doesn’t square too well with things like evolution, so I regard it as being a temporary circumstance brought about by the emergence of humans. Anatomically modern humans have been around for about 200,000 years. That said, there were still some tweaks left to be made. Humans didn’t become “behaviorally modern” until approximately 80,000–40,000 years ago. Likewise, the human population was also severely bottlenecked 70,000 years ago, going perhaps as low as 1,000 individuals. I’ve decided to combine these things together.

The history of Soul Society going back one million years is also nonsensical, as Yoruichi indicates. This would give the Kuchiki an average Clan Head leadership time of 35,714 years (across 28 Heads), and the Shihōin an average Clan Head leadership time of roughly 45,454 years (across 22 Heads, as Yūshirō’s tenure as the 23rd has been so short). Those are averages, meaning you could expect both longer and shorter ones. That’s a problem when, given Yamamoto appears to have aged 20–40 years across the last 2,000 or so years, a Shinigami can be generally inferred to live around 5,000 years, or perhaps 10,000 on the outside. (If longevity is correlated with reiryoku, we might expect Yamamoto to be one of the oldest. The Clans also seem to have existed from the start. The major exception to this would be Ichibē, who is clearly kinda weird anyway.)

Picking 70,000 years gives the Kuchiki an average Clan Head leadership time of exactly 2,500 years, and the Shihōin an average Clan Head leadership time of roughly 3,181 years. That first, very round number, speaks to me given the Kuchiki were the first Clan introduced within the narrative, and fits in very nicely with the above observations. This would also make Yoruichi’s abdication after only about 100 or so years far less scandalous.

The Soul King here (and the other “gods” in Bleach, such as the Quincy’s “God” or Giriko’s “God of Time”) can be thought of as Lovecraftian in nature. To draw a contemporary analogy, if the Soul King is like Jenova in Final Fantasy VII, then Quincy would be like Sephiroth. Another analogy to make might be that of Godzilla: Planet of the Monsters. Over the trilogy it starts, it’s revealed that Godzilla is a sort of natural and universal occurrence. Planets that can support life come into existence, life evolves to a certain level of complexity, and eventually a civilization appears which experiments with powers beyond its control or understanding (e.g., nuclear weapons), which produce something like a Godzilla: an apex lifeform that can reconfigure the entire planet around its existence. A Godzilla, in turn, is like a fruit produced by a plant, and the thing that comes in to eat the fruit is Ghidorah, a transdimensional horror. Here, Hollows are the fruit like Godzilla, and the Soul King is the eater like Ghidorah.

Soul Society having permanently had a Japanese aesthetic from a million years before Japan even existed is also nonsensical, given Japanese culture clearly evolved from domestic iteration upon Chinese and Korean inputs. (It implies there is something “uniquely special” about Japanese culture in a Manifest Destiny way that is more than a little problematic.) Setting the adoption of Japanese mores some 2,000 years ago alleviates this somewhat, but one must still imagine that either Soul Society evolved “along with” Japan, or that Japan’s history “conformed to” Soul Society’s existing image. This is still less bad than “Japanese culture is quasi-divine.”

Ichibē’s selection of Japan and the timing given here could be reckoned to play into the foundational myth of Japan, but I didn’t really want to go too deeply into that.

I kind of ignore the Tsunayashiro in this formulation as, in my opinion, it’s very clear they’re a retcon introduced in Can’t Fear Your Own World, did not actually exist “behind the scenes” in previous material, and were rather narratively inserted to tie events together and provide a new antagonist. They could be fit into this formulation, but I’m not particularly interested in doing so.

Likewise, although the “Western” Soul Society could be tied to what’s shown in Burn The Witch, I don’t find that depiction to be particularly interesting, engaging, or creative. I don’t think it “fits,” as it were. So I’ve made my own, although they could theoretically be united. (I imagine the Western Branch Shinigami would look more like Men In Black or Kingsmen in the present, personally, although some might still have affects like Valkyries or what have you.)

The first Shihōin, Yuvan, being a Hanyō is pure conjecture, but it’d handily explain their yellow eyes, and Yoruichi’s (inherited) ability to become a cat. You can basically think of Yuvan as the cat version of Inuyasha, probably with black hair and dark skin.

Given that the change to Japanese happens later, the name Shihōin (along with the others) is to be taken as an invention. On the one hand, you might think of this as like “the House of Saxe-Coburg and Gotha” becoming “the House of Windsor.” On the other, you might think of it as like Ichibē renaming shinuchi into bankai (indeed, I’m attributing it to him). Shihōin means “Four Maple Court,” but I think this wasn’t chosen at random. Maples are most known for how they change color in the autumn. Maple leaves have a kind of outward spray shape, and are often red. Falling red, spraying leaves... sort of evokes bloodshed. Their name could be read as evocative of “Bloodshed Institution.” Considering they’re soldiers, this feels very appropriate. It also fits Yoruichi’s poem quite well. (Some additional commentary on that here.)

As to what the older or original name for the Shihōin was, I find the simplest answer to be a patronymic surname based on the name of the first one. Nobody has any idea what human language was like 70,000 years ago, as even the Proto-Indo-European language only dates back to approximately 6,500 years ago. So, I looked at Sanskrit names and picked Yuvan, which can mean (among other things), “young king” or “heir apparent.” I doubt anyone really cares about this.

Shinigami aging is poorly defined, but it seems to proceed at normal rates for at least the first five years before starting to slow down, meaning that one doesn’t spend decades as a baby or toddler. If we take Rukia as an example, it seems to take roughly 150 years to go from an infant to being approximately 16 physically. If we take Byakuya as an example, it seems to take about 50 years to go from being approximately 16 to being in one’s early 20s, and a further 50 years to reach one’s mid-20s. After that, it seems to move at a rate of about 1 year physically per 100 years elapsed. Considering that humans fully (cognitively) mature at around 25, this makes sense. So we can say it probably takes about 250 years for a Shinigami to completely mature (10 times as long in total), and from then on they age at about 1/100 the normal rate.

I’ve always felt Yoruichi is around 27, physically, so this gives her an age of around 400–450. Since Bleach seems to pay at least some token attention to the Chinese zodiac (e.g., Ichigo, being born in 1985, is an Ox, which fits his Full Hollow form in an interesting way), I decided to describe her exact year of birth largely based on that. My answer is January 1, 1591. This makes her a Yang Metal Tiger by birth year. January would make her “inner animal” an Ox. The 1st was a Tuesday, making her “true animal” a Dragon. Given her name I think she would be born between 11 PM and midnight, making her “secret animal” a Rat. I think all of these aspects suit her quite well. She would be 429 years old today as a result.

(As a random piece of errata: Metal is associated with the autumn, old age, and white and silver, while one of the Tiger’s lucky colors is orange; these nicely dovetail with her using the personal pronouns of an old man, and her preference for orange and white.)

This all means that Yoruichi’s ethnicity is essentially Indo-Japanese (over the last several generations anyway) with a dash of Yōkai blood.

The Shiba going back and forth between the Eastern and Western branches is a reference to their odd phenotypic expressions (e.g., Kaien and Kūkaku having green eyes, Karin having gray eyes, Ichigo having orange hair and Yuzu being blonde when Masaki’s lighter hair should’ve been recessive which implies Isshin was carrying a recessive gene, etc.) and their preference for Chinese-style clothing.

The Eastern Branch’s backdrop is not exclusively limited to India and China, or later Japan. (Nor would the Western Branch’s be to its starting locations.) I imagine things like, say, Hachigen’s Balinese demon mask, or Shinji’s Pharaoh mask, could be reflections of this.

There are probably some more things I wanted to say, but forgot, so I might make additional observations on this later.

#In Character #Drabble #Long Post #Headcanons #[ OOC Notes are under the cut ]#[ to explain/substantiate ]#[ I spent a fair amount of time discussing and contemplating this ]#[ so I'm pretty pleased with it ]#[ kudos to ]#mysteriousshopkeeper #[ for listening to me prattle on ]

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duhragonball · 5 years

Text

Dragon Ball Z Movie 12: Fusion Reborn (2/6)

This time around, I’ll try to explain just what Janemba is, exactly, and why he’s a big deal. But to do that, we have to get through the first ten minutes of this movie, so...

Movie 12 opens at the Grand Kai Planet, then pans to an asteroid orbiting the planet, where there’s a stadium hosting a tournament. I never really paid attention to it before, but this is a whole other venue than the one used in DBZ 196-199. If nothing else, this arena has a big green ring. It looks like it’s made ouf of jade or something. It’s a really nice touch.

I always assumed that the idea here was to hold a second Otherworld Tournament, since the one from Episodes 196-199 ended without a winner. Then again, it’s been seven years since that event, so it seems odd that they would have waited so long. On the other hand, everyone involved is either dead or a Kai, so seven years may not seem like that long a wait.

King Kai, also known as the North Kai, is feeling really confident, since his top fighter, Goku, dominated the last tournament. As before, East Kai and South Kai’s camps aren’t doing very well at all.

But South Kai is still confident, since one of his fighters is still in the semifinals. The subs refer to him as “Clove”, but I’m pretty sure he’s talking about Frog, or “Frogue” as he’s credited in the Funimation version.

So he and King Kai bicker about who’s gonna win, but Goku beats Frogue with a single kick, and I’m pretty sure the bout was shorter than their argument.

Meanwhile, Pikkon defeats Aqua, aka Argua, in the other semifinal match. I guess Aqua must have improved over the past seven years to have made it this far.

So that eliminates the East and South Galaxies from the tournement. South Kai immediately starts rooting for Pikkon just to spite King Kai. It’s kind of weird how Pikkon is a West Galaxy guy, but we don’t hear a lot from West Kai in this movie. Maybe South Kai got the nod because he was actually in the manga, so he’s more “canonical” than the West or East Kais.

So the final match is Goku vs. Pikkon, in a rematch of their epic match from Episodes 198 and 199. That ended in a draw when both men touched the ceiling of the arena, and maybe that’s why they switched the venue this time.

Both men do Respect Knuckles and the match begins.

What I like about this movie is that this isn’t even the main story, but it totally could have been. Toei did a five episode arc about the Grand Kai holding a tournament of all these dead fighters. They could have done a movie that was just a sequel to that arc. I don’t know how well-received it would have been, but I would have gone for it. Maybe a new fighter dies and joins this group in the afterlife, and Goku has trouble against him. Maybe you have Broly escape hell and crash the tournament. There’s a lot of cool things you can do with this, but you could just have Goku and Pikkon fight some more.

But Movie 12 has even bigger things to get to, so this is just a scene to establish some of the characters. And that’s how this movie rolls. You could expand this story into a twenty-or-thirty-episode saga very easily.

So we move on to King Yemma’s place, which the dub refers to as the “Check-In Station.” I’m not super-familiar with Japanese mythology concerning the afterlife, but my understanding is that when you die, you go to King Yemma for judgement. DBZ satirizes this idea by having the dead people’s souls wait in line, and all the oni who work for Yemma are like white collar wage slaves, and King Yemma has a desk with a big rubber stamp to notarize each soul’s fate.

In this particular scene, they’re having a busy day, probably echoing the episodes from the Buu Saga where millions of people were showing up every few minutes while Majin Buu was wiping out the Earth’s population. Yemma’s basically zipping right through these guys, which I think is meant to be ironic. I feel like the real King Yemma is supposed to take longer to examine a person’s moral character.

Anyway, if you get sent to Heaven, you’re escorted to this big aircraft that flies you to a planet somewhere in Otherworld. We’ll see it later in the Fusion Saga, but the plane was last seen in Episode 195, although Goku used a second, smaller plane to travel to the Grand Kai Planet.

On the other hand, I’m pretty sure this hole that opens up in the wall is new. In Episode 195, Goku and King Kai just walked through a doorway.

If you’re condemned to Hell, you have to go through a machine to cleanse your soul of evil. I was under the impression that hell itself was meant to do that, but this franchise can never make up its mind about how hell works.

According to Episode 237, when you’re a bad person and you die, you don’t get to keep your body like Goku did, and your soul is eventually purged of memory, and reincarnated as a new life form. I don’t know how much of that is based on actual Japanese mythology, if any, but at least in DBZ, the idea of hell is not to act as a place of eternal suffering for the wicked. It’s more like a very long jail sentence, designed to redeem the wicked so that they can proceed onto reincarnation or maybe some other phase of existence. The suffering is part of the rehabilitation process.

I think that’s why Frieza still had his body in Movie 15, even after so many years in hell. They let him keep it, but only so he could experience greater torment. In theory, he would get so worn down that he would come to accept his punishment as the rightful consequence of all his evil deeds, and then his body would dissipate and he would lose his memory and identity. But Frieza’s such a hateful bitch that he hung in there long enough to get wished back to life.

On the other hand, these souls are all formless clouds. It seems like only important characters get to keep their bodies in hell. That may just be a convenience for the audience, or maybe stronger bad guys can maintain their physical form more easily. Maybe that’s why they didn’t send Frieza through this machine. He would have gummed up the works and broken it. Maybe it’s only used for the not-so-evil souls who are easier to deal with. Instead of spending 100,000 years climbing the needle mountain, they can just go through the cleansing machine and move on.

Whatever the case, this movie establishes that a machine cleans souls and extracts their evil residue in the form of a dark purple liquid that gets stored in special tanks.

And they have an oni on duty to keep an eye on things and switch out the tanks when they get full. But it’s a dull job, and the pay sucks, so he listens to a Walkman and plays air guitar to help pass the time.

But King Yemma’s sending an awful lot of people to hell today. He’s not even taking a break for lunch. So that waste tank’s going to fill up quickly.

Okay, I just realized that all of these guys wear tiger-striped clothes, and I think that’s because oni in folklore wear tiger-skins. They do in Yu Yu Hakusho, and I assume they dress a little more authentically there. Their version of King Yemma is treated like a bigger deal. Anyway, one of the older workers scolds the Tank Clerk for slacking off, and threatens him with a pay cut.

He also points out the rapidly filling tank, and the clerk seems enthusiastic about switching it, but he never actually does.

I really dig this guy’s jacket. That skull and crossbones looks cool.

But soon enough, there’s an overload on the waste system, and the line breaks. I guess the oni don’t believe in relief flanges, but maybe spiritual waste is too hazardous to release into the atmosphere. Well, it’s happening now.

Tank Clerk knows right away that he’s screwed. He’s worried for his job, and he has no idea what to do about a spill this big. I think it’s more than just the one tank breaking. Like, somehow it set off a chain reaction that blew all the other tanks they had sitting nearby. Man, OSHA would have a field day with this place. Why is Tank Clerk wearing shorts to work when he’s surrounded by toxic waste? What good is a fire extinguisher going to do? Does he have no idea how to respond to this situation? Who here does?

But then things go from bad to worse, as the spirit waste mutates him into some sort of bizarre creature.

Yeah, you might want to have a doctor take a look at that.

As soon as King Yemma hears what’s going on, he shits a brick. Those tanks contained accumulated evil from countless souls that have been through that cleansing machine. Why didn’t they dispose of any of it? Can it be destroyed? Is that Beerus’ job? Like he just shows up every hundred years and zaps the full tanks into oblivion? Well, he won’t be invented for another 18 years, so Yemma’s on his own for this one.

As for Tank Clerk, well he looks like this now.

Then he sits on top of Yemma’s building and... I’m not really sure what this is. Let’s start over. So this monster that was once the Tank Clerk only says one word, and that’s “Janemba”, which isn’t even a word, I think. So everyone calls him that like it’s his name.

Apparently his power is some sort of reality manipulation? That’s pretty vague, actually, since manipulating reality implies you can basically do anything, but what else can I call this? Janemba creates all these huge jellybean-looking crystals, and some of them used to be other objects, but maybe others were created from nothing. I think he encased Yemma’s palace in a crystal, but it sort of looks like he distorted the building at the same time.

Inside, things look pretty normal, but there’s some crystal formations within the building, and one of the ogres gets encased in it himself.

Also, Janemba can project his image in different parts of these crystals. Maybe this is meant to be simple reflections and refractions, but it seems more magical than that.

Yemma seems to understand what’s going on better than I do, but there’s nothing he can do about it. Janemba is the result of the tank clerk being possessed by the evil ki in the spirit waste. This gave him the ability to surround Yemma’s domain with a barrier, and that barrier has suspended Yemma’s control over the boundary between the living world and the afterlife. The only way to stop it is to defeat Janemba, and Yemma can’t very well do this while he’s trapped in his own stronghold.

As I think about it, I sort of wonder if it’s not just the spiritual waste and the evil ki it contains that gave Janemba this power. Maybe it has something to do with the Tank Clerk as well, since he’s an oni. Alone, he’s just a lowly subordinate of Yemma, but he must have some sort of power in matters of the living and the dead, and maybe all this evil ki amplified that to make him strong enough to thwart King Yemma.

But that only explains “how”. There’s still the question of “why?” It’s often pointed out that Janemba is a pretty weak villain because he doesn’t talk and he has no apparent goals or motives. But I think that’s a common trait with a lot of Dragon Ball villains.

Pilaf and Piccolo wanted to conquer the world, but I’m pretty sure both guys only said that because that’s such a stock answer. It’s a vague expression of desire for power and control, but Pilaf can’t even run more than two people at a time, and Piccolo only wanted to rule the world so he could destroy its people and stick it to Kami. I think you can lump in with that all the bad guys who wanted to be immortal: Garlic Junior, Frieza, Vegeta. Lord Slug only wished for youth, but that’s just because he lacked the imagination to wish or immortality. The ultimate point was just to eliminate any threats to their existing power.

Then you have guys like Turles and Dr. Wheelo, who only seemed to be interested in acquiring greater power for themselves. There were hints in Movies 2 and 3 about what those guys would do with their power once they had enough. Wheelo would probably continue doing evil experiments on the world, and Turtles maybe would have overthrown Frieza, but Turles strikes me as a free spirit, and he only wanted to be strong enough to keep guys like Frieza from hassling him. For all we know, Dr. Wheelo only wanted Goku’s body because he missed having sex.

Then you’ve got the revenge squad: Dr. Gero, Cooler, Crane Hermit, Paragus, Broly ‘93, Lord Jaguar, Babidi. All of these guys wanted blood in exchange for some personal slight that really isn’t worth it. Well, Jaguar didn’t actually want to kill anyone, but that only makes him an idiot. You don’t clone an army of bio-warriors unless you want someone dead.

The point I’m getting at here is that most of these guys have really lousy motivations, and that doesn’t even get into the villains with seemingly no motivations at all.

Commander Red wanted to be taller, which is so stupid he kept it a secret because he knew it was stupid, and the only guy he told ended up shooting him in the face because of how stupid it was.

Mercenary Tao was in it for money, even though he famously never paid for anything.

Tien wanted to kill people because he looked up to killers until they started killing people he liked.

Android 17 and Cell wanted to have fun. I’d throw 18 into that group, but honestly, I think she just sort of went along with whatever 17 did, which is almost sadder.

Who the hell knows what Bojack wanted? He got killed before he could really spell it out.

And then you have Majin Buu, who doesn’t even understand his own motivations. He thought he only killed people for fun, and then when he decided it was wrong, he stopped, only to transform into another form who wanted to fight, and then another form who killed people for its own sake.

Now these are all really shitty motivations, and yet at the same time a lot of these guys are classic villains. That’s because the thesis of Dragon Ball is that power without purpose is self-defeating. Goku uses his strength to improve himself and help others. The bad guys always try to use their power for selfish reasons, and it always leads to empty achievements. Conquests they can’t enjoy, endless searches for fulfillment, and pointless scrambling for even greater power. Any fool with a weapon can murder someone, so what difference does it make to rule the world or be the strongest in the universe if that’s all you know to do with your time?

What’s all of this have to do with Janemba? Remember, he’s been possessed with evil ki from a multitude of wicked souls. In other words, he’s got the distilled essence of the same thing that made all those other bad guys tick. Frieza, King Piccolo, whoever your favorite is, Janemba’s got the same urges times a billion. And this is what he’s become:

Just some goofy man-child-thing that only knows how to hit people and say his own name. He’s powerful, sure, but he doesn’t know what to do with all that power. I think it’s safe to assume he could do a lot more than we see in this movie, but this is as far as his imagination goes.

And that does resemble Majin Buu in a lot of ways. Let’s face it, Janemba is clearly a knockoff of Buu. I don’t think that’s a big shocker from a movie series that gave us such bold ideas as “Evil Goku” and “Frieza’s Brother” and “More Androids.”

But I do think Janemba has a bit more to offer than that, because unlike Buu, we get to witness his origin. Think about all the souls who went through that spirit cleansing machine. All of their evil desires were stripped away and concentrated into Janemba. What was their one common thought, the one sentiment that united them all? What was the one experience they all shared and would want to avenge? Here’s a hint:

I submit that Janemba represents the combined loathing of millions of souls towards King Yemma. But Yemma’s not their enemy; he’s just doing his job. The universe is designed to have Yemma pass judgement on the dead. That’s just the way it works. And once those damned souls pass through the cleanser, they can appreciate that with a newfound clarity. But the evil residue they left behind? That stuff is still sore about it.

And, to a point, I think that spiritual waste can find a kindred spirit in Tank Clerk, since he’s also kind of frustrated with the Way Things Are. He’d rather goof off and listen to his tunes, but he has to go to work and pay attention to his job. That’s no one’s fault, that’s just life. I don’t think Tank Clerk was ever angry about it, but the spirit waste comes from people who were, and when they got mixed together...

... You end up with a monster who’s made it his business to rebel against the natural order of the universe. He traps King Yemma, but doing so causes dominoes to fall all over creation. Maybe Janemba understands the consequences of this, or maybe he doesn’t, but he isn’t concerned with consequences. He’s just lashing out like a child who’s mad that he can’t have his own way. Well, your own way wrecks things for everyone else, Janemba, as we’ll soon see...

#dragon ball #2019dbliveblog #dbmovieliveblog #movie 12 #fusion reborn #the return of fusion!! goku and vegeta #goku #pikkon #janemba #king yemma #king kai #grand kai #south kai #east kai

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sunsetscurving · 5 years

Text

CHASING STARS

Ch. 3

ao3 link

In a world where reincarnation is common and expected, people stopped to care for a reason or how many times they already lived – they have no memory of their past life anymore.

But Lucas Lallemant can feel that this isn’t his first life, some shreds of his former life still present in his new one. He has this feeling that something from his past life tied him so much to it that he has to find it again in his new life.

Something. Or someone.

Lucas liked it to be a student.

Often, his friends told him that college sucked and that they only were still there because of all the parties.

But Lucas really enjoyed it.

He enjoyed it to be in this beautiful, old building every day. He enjoyed it to learn new things about media, his major, and gender studies, his minor. Ever since he figured out that he was gay, he was even more interested in the history and the structures of gender, wanting to learn more about himself through this also.

And he enjoyed it because it was an escape from his “real” life where his father was a famous politician.

An escape into normality.

Lucas followed his friends into the cafeteria, holding his backpack on his shoulders and laughing with Basile who said something dumb again.

“I don’t know about you, but I haven’t been to a party for a long time”, said Basile and rubbed his hands against each other like he couldn’t hide the anticipation of the next upcoming party.

“Basile, there had just been one two days ago”, said Yann while all of them were sitting down, their plates with some strange-looking food in front of them.

“As I said: long time ago.”

Lucas laughed and shook his head.

“You’re really only here to find some girls you can hook up with, huh?”

“Not everyone is lucky enough to be gay, being surrounded by girls who think of this as ‘cute’”, said Basile now and threw his hands in the air, “I wish I was gay too.” Basile sighed dramatically while shaking his head. Yann only laughed and looked at Lucas who was biting back a retort.

“By the way: There is a party tomorrow.”

Everyone looked at Arthur now, Basile raising his eyebrows in confusion.

“And you only tell us about this now?”, he asked with played shock in his voice.

Arthur only shrugged and grinned.

“Surprise, I guess.”

“We’re all going, right? Who’s gonna get the weed? It’s Lucas’ turn, isn’t it?”

Lucas was about to eat something from his burger as he heard this and shook his head immediately.

“No way, guys. You know how all of this ended the other time when my dad heard about this. And if you want to get invited to the next party, you have to do this on your own.”

Basile groaned and laid his head back.

“This is the worst threat I’ve ever heard. But I don’t want to take any risks. Your parties are the best in town.”

“The parties from my dad. Not mine”, corrected Lucas and took a bite from his burger now. This was the only advantage of his “exclusive” life – he could take his best friends to any party and have fun with them on there. This was also the only reason he attended feasts like that after all.

“From you, from your dad, it doesn’t matter”, said Yann now and laid an arm around Lucas playfully, “We are glad that your dad still allows us to be there after everything we’ve already done.”

Lucas laughed and rolled his eyes, remembering all the shattered glasses and the “accidents” from the past parties. His mother liked this friends a lot, he was glad that Lucas found some “normal” friends who took him the way he was without seeing his fame. But his father was always on the edge of annoyance when he saw Basile, Arthur and Yann joining the party. But as long as his mother lived with them, Lucas would always be allowed to bring his friends and have fun with them on the otherwise very dull and boring parties.

“True story, I’m surprised that he didn’t already forbid me to be friends with you.”

Everyone laughed but suddenly, the mood in the cafeteria changed rapidly. The voices went quiet, only hushed whispers filled the tension-filled air. Lucas frowned and looked around, trying the find the source for this abrupt change in this room.

“Oh, look, who’s here again”, said Arthur quietly and leaned forward, pointing with his head to the entrance of the cafeteria where everyone seemed to have their gazes on. Lucas was still frowning as he turned around.

And suddenly, he understood why everyone was staring.

The man who just entered the room was the most attractive guy Lucas ever laid eyes on.

And he already saw a lot of guys in his life.

He was tall and dressed all in black except for his caramel brown bomber jacket. His hair was messy, hiding the color of his eyes. There was a little smirk on his face as he talked with another tall guy next to him, holding the tray with food in front of him.

Lucas leaned over to Yann, whispering a quiet “Who’s that?” without taking his eyes from the stranger who seemed to capture him by only fucking existing.

And who actually didn’t seem like a stranger to him at all.

The way he walked, the way he tilted his head while listening to someone…

Suddenly, Lucas seemed to zoom out.

Lucas always knew from the way he walked that it was him.

And he loved it.

He loved to know that this was his boyfriend, coming towards him, whenever Lucas waited for him. His footing was sure and yet light and whenever Lucas was talking, the other boy leaned down to him, looking into his eyes, or better, straight into his soul, as if not wanting to miss any word Lucas had to say.

Lucas was ranting about some film project he was currently doing in his course, passionately gesticulating while explaining the other boy the concept of it all. Lucas halted in his speech, as he realized that the taller boy had been leaning down the whole time since he started talking.

“You don’t always need to lean down to me, this always reminds me of how tall you are and how small I am”, said Lucas while laughing quietly, taking the hand from his way taller boyfriend.

The other one only smirked.

“I love it when you talk about the things that you love and I don’t want to miss a single thing about it.”

Lucas gasped, grabbing Yann’s arm who apparently said something. But Lucas didn’t listen to him. It was like time stopped, pictures playing in his head, a situation which never happened in his life.

Not in this life at least.

“Lucas? Are you okay?”

Lucas couldn’t answer because he just didn’t know if he was okay. This was the first time something like this happened. It was like a vision, like a… flashback. And all of, that because of the guy who just entered the cafeteria, catching everyone’s attention, including Lucas’ own.

“Who’s that?”, asked Lucas again, his eyes slightly widened while breathing faster. The other boys were watching him curiously.

“I know that look, Lucas”, said Yann now, grabbing his arm harder so Lucas would turn around to him.

“This is Eliott. Eliott Demaury”, started Yann, as Lucas finally turned around to him and concentrated on his best friend.

Eliott. What a beautiful name for a beautiful boy.

Lucas nearly wrinkled his nose at this cheesy thought.

“At least half of the college wants to hook up with him. And you, Lucas, should stay away from him”, said Yann with a warning tone in his voice. He was poking Lucas’ chest by now. Yann was always a little protective over Lucas, who was two years younger than him. He was not his best friend, he was more like an older brother and most of the times, Lucas was thankful for Yann caring so much. But you had to experience some things for yourself without any protection.

“Why should I stay away from him? Did he murder someone?”, asked Lucas with a slightly amused voice. Yann rolled his eyes, signaling Lucas that he acted like a child again. But Lucas was not master of his own reactions, his own senses anymore. The guy in his vision looked painfully similar to Eliott who was now sitting down at the end of the room with his friends.

And Lucas didn’t know what this meant.

He was not sure if he even wanted to know what this meant.

“Maybe he murdered someone, no one knows.” This was Basile, lowering his voice conspiratorially, “But he is a mystery. Nobody knows something about Eliott Demaury, no one knows how long he already visits this college and no one knows anything about his past.”

“He is kind of creppy”, added Arthur.

“He’s only creepy to you because he’s not an open book, spilling everything about him the first time you meet him”, murmured Lucas now, more to himself than to anyone else.

Lucas looked back to Eliott now, the voice of Basile and the others fading away into the background. As Eliott laughed at something his friend just said, a smile formed on Lucas’ lips too. His laughter and his smile were contagious and Lucas could understand every single soul in this room who looked at him like he was something like a god.

“Lucas? Did you even listened to one word we’ve said?”, asked Arthur now, waving a hand in front of Lucas’ eyes.

But Lucas couldn’t answer just now, his gaze still on the so called ‘mysterious guy’. He couldn’t deny the feeling that he seemed to know him from somewhere, the boy in his vision looking so much like him that it was unbelievable. He was sure that he hadn’t met him before, he would never forget a face like this. And yet…

The girls in the cafeteria were whispering about him, giggling as he looked their way. The boys were throwing admiring glances at him, wanting to have some of his mysterious attitude for their own. He surely wasn’t gay, with this look, he couldn’t be. And if so, this man would not be interested in someone as unimpressive as Lucas.

But suddenly, Eliott lifted his head and looked straight into Lucas’ eyes. Lucas breath caught in his throat for a moment, his heart racing and beating frantically against his rips. He couldn’t make out the color of his eyes from where he was sitting, but he would go for a grey-blue, his favorite combination. Lucas was caught in the other boy’s gaze, not being able to answer to his friends who kept asking him something, Yann even started to shake him by his shoulders.

Lucas’ hand automatically wandered to a place on his chest as Eliott kept looking at him, slightly rubbing it like he so often did, not even being aware of it.

And suddenly, Eliott smirked at him.

“Lucas?”

And Lucas…

Lucas smirked back, a smile forming onto his lips which reached his eyes, making them sparkle.

They said he was a mystery?

Well.

“I like mysteries”, was everything that Lucas said while smirking at the other boys.

#you wanted to know how lucas first sees eliott?#well my mecs #you asked #and i deliver #WHOOP #enjoy #it‘s a short chapter again #but the next one will be loooong #skam france #lucas lallemant #eliott demaury #skam france fanfic #skam france fanfiction #elu fanfic #elu fic #chasing stars ff

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shira-shiragiku-ookami · 6 years

Text

Bound Chapter 2: Second Chance

“Where…am I?” he muttered, thinking that he may, in fact, be dead.

“You’re in my temple, dear!”

Kageyama flinched and turned around abruptly to be greeted with the smiling face of what seemed to be a young blonde-haired girl. She was wearing a white cloak trimmed with gold with her hair tucked within. Her hands were holding her cheeks and she seemed absolutely giddy.

“Who-“

“You can call me Fate,” she interrupted then giggled, her green-blue eyes sparkling. She suddenly sat down on the ground in front of Kageyama, making him finally notice that she was floating seconds before.

Kageyama tensed when she grabbed his hands in hers.

“I’ve been following you since you met your soul mate, and I…” she started, her eyes watering. “I was shipping you two the whole time! It was devastating how your lives ended!”

Shipping? Kageyama arched a brow. He rapidly went through his past actions seeing if he did anything so bad that the gods would put him in an eternal state of insanity. Wait, “lives?” Before Kageyama could ask about Oikawa, Fate continued on with her speech.

“But I couldn’t let it end this way!” she claimed dramatically, throwing an arm over her eyes. “So I saved your soul and I’m going to give you a second chance at being with your beloved!”

“What?” Kageyama breathed. He stared at Fate intently. Thinking about Oikawa was suddenly bringing back painful memories. He prayed Oikawa was safe and that he was successful in his mission.

“I’m going to reincarnate you so you can meet your soul mate once more,” Fate explained, a little more calmly. Her eyes were still watery and her cheeks flushed with excitement. “Even I can feel the strength of your bond with him, and it’d be rude of me to completely cut you two off.”

Kageyama felt dazed. This was so much to take in. Half of what she was saying made no sense to him.

“Thank you,” he finally said. “I still love him, so thank you very much.”

Fate squealed with delight, not noticing that the sound made Kageyama wince.

“Of course! Of course!” she said, but suddenly her face turned serious. “When you are reincarnated, you and your soul mate will chance upon each other and because of your bond the attraction will be immediate!”

“Immediate?” Kageyama repeated. “Will it be that easy?”

“I’ll ma-“

“It won’t.”

Kageyama looked at the hand that suddenly appeared on his shoulder. His eyes traveled up the arm to its owner, a tall male with brown hair. He was grinning and had a mischievous look in his gold eyes.

“Mischief! Don’t you dare try to do anything!” Fate warned, wagging her finger at the taller male.

Fate looked hilariously smaller than the man she called “Mischief.” She was practically half his size.

Mischief held up both hands nonchalantly. “Look, kid,” he began, eyeing Kageyama. “Your little soul mate love thing is cute, but the way Fate is going about things is really not what’s supposed to happen.”

Fate pouted and threw her arms around Kageyama. “He’s precious, Mischief! He deserves to be happy!” she said, valiantly defending her effort to help Kageyama.

Mischief rolled his eyes and crossed his arms.

“I’ll do anything if I can be with Oikawa-san,” Kageyama declared, staring up at Mischief.

“Hmmm,” Mischief hummed, clearly amused. “Even deal with some conditions to being reincarnated?”

Without any second doubts, Kageyama nodded his head.

“I’ll let Fate reincarnate both yours and your soul mate’s souls,” Mischief said, kneeling down so he was eye level with Kageyama. “But.”

“But?” Kageyama prodded, holding his breath. He glanced sideways and made brief eye contact with Fate, who seemed more than just annoyed.

“Your soul mate will not retain any memories from your past life, however, you will,” Mischief finished. Rubbing his chin, he suddenly added, “And three months. You only get three months to win him over.”

Kageyama nodded slowly. He wasn’t so sure about what to do if Oikawa didn’t remember their past relationship. Their bond seemed to be the only thing tying them together.

“What happens after three months?” Kageyama asked slowly.

Mischief smiled. “You die.”

Read the rest here!

#OiKage #abo dynamics #oikawa tooru #kageyama tobio #Alpha!Oikawa #Omega!Kageyama #Fangirling

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tilltheendwilliwrite · 7 years

Text

Sledgehammer

Chapter Ten

Previous Chapter

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Reader | Word Count:2567 Warnings: Swearing, Angst

Song: Broken Crown by Mumford and Sons

Faye stood with her arms crossed, staring at all the screens, boards, files, documents, and information they had compiled in the past eleven days, her concentration complete until a flicker of movement at the corner of her eye broke it for the fifth time. Along with the break in her focus, came the break in her temper. “Captain!” she barked, turning on Steve.

“You got it?” he asked, hope shining in his eyes.

It was the hope, barely masking the fraying control and thread of despair which had her reining in her annoyance. “Captain, I need you to leave the room.”

“What?” he stiffened, face hardening.

“You’re continued need to pace, to move, is breaking my focus. I can’t do this with you in here. You want this done right? You want us to get in and get (Y/N) back? Then get the hell out of my workspace.” She pointed at the door.

He looked ready to argue for a moment before a sharp nod was given and he stalked away, door banging shut with his exit.

“You could have been a little nicer,” Grant chided softly, rising from his chair in the other corner.

Faye’s shoulders sagged. “I could have, but what good would that do? He’d just come back in twenty minutes, demanding answers I haven’t finished calculating yet. You’ve seen the size of that place!” She turned, waving her hand at the complex and the blueprints they’d managed to pull from Agent Hill’s files. “It’s millions of calculations, of possibilities, and if I don’t…” her breath hitched, “if I don’t get it right… if I make a mistake…” she wiped furiously at the tear trickling down her face. “(Y/N) could wind up dead.”

Crossing the floor, Grant took Faye by the hand and led her back to her place from before. “You can do this, Faye,” he said softly, wrapping his arms around her.

He was so big, Faye felt indestructible when he was with her. The day they’d met at basic, he’d walked across the room, this mountain of a man, took her hand and said simply, “You and I are partners. Together we can do this.”

She’d been his ever since. Taking a deep breath, she shifted his palms to her waist and lifted her hands back to the screens before her as she started again. “I just wish this wasn’t my first real mission. I don’t want to fail.”

Rubbing his nose in her hair, Grant murmured, “You’ve never failed.”

“There’s always a first time,” she whispered, fear tripping in her heart.

***

Steve paced the common area, his hand opening and closing, heart racing as he prayed. Prayed for guidance, for success, for help of any kind. He didn’t think he’d ever prayed so hard before. So, when the sky darkened, and the thunder cracked hard enough to shake the building, it shocked him into jumping.

The second shock came when Loki appeared out of nowhere and punched him square in the jaw, sending him reeling. “What the hell!”

“You snivelling human! What have you done?” Loki snarled, green whips of magic filling the air around him.

“Brother!” Thor bellowed, striding through the door. “It is not the Captain’s fault.”

“It is his fault! If he were truly hers, she never would have been taken from him!” Loki screamed.

“You’re here about (Y/N)?” Steve gasped, straightening up. “How did you…”

“Heimdall,” Thor said, eyes sharp as he turned them on Steve. “She called out to Heimdall. My question, Steven, is why didn’t you?”

“I…” He had no answer to give and sat gracelessly on the couch.

Thor moved forward to place his hand on Steve’s shoulder, knowing a man broken when he saw one. “It is alright, Captain. We shall find her. Heimdahl has his eyes on her even now, but the time grows short. Her… essence is changing.”

“What does that mean?” asked Clint, coming through the door with the rest of the team.

Thor looked them over with hard eyes as Loki paced. “I understand Steven’s inability to think beyond his grief, but what of the rest of you? You should have sent word immediately.”

“What is it with you two and her?” Bucky asked. “I never really got it, but from the moment you met, you two have been… protective.”

Steve looked up, a frown pulling at his brows for Bucky was right. Thor and Loki, especially Loki, had always treated (Y/N) far more like a sister than simply another teammate.

“You mortals understand nothing!” Loki hissed, striding to stare out the windows at the down pouring rain.

“Then maybe you should explain it to us, reindeer games!” Tony barked.

“Everyone cool it!” Steve said. “None of this is helping.”

“Steve is correct,” Thor sighed, sitting on the couch and dropping Mjolnir to the ground. “We are as much to blame for what has happened. We should have explained who she was to us long ago.”

“We shouldn’t have to explain anything!” Loki snapped.

Thor sighed. “Brother, do shut up.”

“We know where she is! We should be tearing down walls, not catering to the people who lost her.”

“Loki! Do not make me muzzle you again!” Thor bellowed. “I love her just as much as you do, but going after her on your own is foolish. You will get her killed!”

Loki huffed but fell silent, his mood sullen.

Steve could focus only on one thing. “You know where she is? Exactly?”

“Yes, but it is not that simple. Heimdall spent the better part of yesterday seeing all he could in regards to her captivity. She is under heavy guard and deep within the facility. It will not be easy to reach her.”

“I could reach her,” Loki mumbled and was ignored.

Sitting across from him, Bruce asked, “What did you mean they are changing her essence?”

Thor scrubbed a hand across his mouth. “They are giving her something, I know not what it is, but it is changing her very nature, making her… different.”

“Different how?” Steve gasped, fear filling him.

“I don’t know.” Thor shook his head. “All Heimdall can see is the substance, the change in her…” he looked at Wanda.

“Aura, you mean her very spirit?” she asked, clearly shaken.

“Yes. And with that change comes great… pain.”

Steve jumped to his feet with Thor’s final word. “We need to go, right now! No more waiting!”

“Cap,” Natasha held up her hands. “You know we can’t do that, not yet.”

“She’s right, Cap,” Sam said, coming around to grasp Steve’s shoulder, shoving him, unresisting, back onto the couch.

He knew they were right, but the pain in his chest only intensified. “We need to get her out.”

“We will,” Wanda soothed.

“Back to how you two know her. Who is she to you?” Tony asked, fixing himself a drink.

“It is not so much who she is today, but who she was.” Thor huffed when everyone looked at him blankly. “She is the reborn Valkyrie, Sváfa. The leader of them all.”

“What?” Steve gasped, eyes wide. “What? How?”

“She is reincarnated!” Loki growled, wandering closer. “She has always, and will always, be reborn.”

Thor motioned to his brother. “She and Loki were friends in her first life, as were she and I.”

“Does she… know?” Vision asked.

“She does not.”

“Why not?” Steve questioned.

Loki shrugged. “She had no memories of her past lives. None. Sváfa she may have been, but in this life, she is (Y/N). We were content to watch over her, see she was happy, make sure she found-”

“Loki!” Thor barked, cutting him off.

“Found… who?” Steve asked.

“It matters not,” Thor stated.

“Helgi, her true love,” Loki said before Thor could stop him.

Steve felt as if the Trickster had punched him in the face a second time. “I… don’t… understand.”

“That matter is something to be discussed later, Loki.” Thunder crashed with Thor’s anger.

“If you say so, brother.” Loki turned back to the windows.

Before Steve could ask any more questions, Faye and Grant came through the door. Head down looking at her tablet; it took a moment before she looked up. Her eyes were dark, nearly entirely black as she took in the gathered faces. The frown she’d been sporting cleared, a smile bloomed, and Steve felt the pain in his chest lessen.

“Well, now that makes more sense,” she said, rapidly tapping in new data.

“You’ve got it?” Steve choked out, the lump in his throat so tight he could barely speak.

Her smile softened when she looked up at him. “I’ve got it.”

Rising slowly to his full height, he looked at the entire team, the newbies coming through the doorway to spread out around Faye. “Everyone, suit up.”

It was time to get his girl back.

****

Again you woke from a strange dream, this one of battlefields and men, flashing swords and the cries of the dying. Women in armour, beautiful and intimidating, rode sleek horses, pegasi with wide swept wings, but it was the warrior who fought alongside you who held your attention.

Big, tall, broad of shoulder, he swung a sword wrapped in serpents, the same one from your previous dream. Hair of spun gold was slick with sweat and blood, but still, it gleamed like the finest metal beneath the sun.

He faced away from you, but you knew him, your heart beat for him. He was the one for whom your soul belonged.

Helgi. The name whispered through your mind as the images changed.

Bathed in firelight, the big warrior laboured above you, his body causing yours to sing with pleasure so profound you cried out, raking your nails down his spine. Words of love in a language you shouldn’t understand fell from his lips, his voice a croon, deep and sultry.

Burying a hand in his hair, you pulled against the damp locks, wet still from the bath you’d shared. Pulled until his head lifted. Until you could catch a glimpse of his eyes, his face cast in shadow. They were blue, bright, burning blue and so filled with love your heart swelled.

As your end neared, he tucked his face back against your throat, the whiskers of his beard tickling your flesh, his hair falling like a curtain to block out the light, but you awoke when the door opened, body aching from something other than pain for the first time in days.

Doctor Dick walked in holding a syringe full of clear fluid.

“Now what?” you muttered, head lolling his direction, annoyance in your tone as you wanted nothing more than to return to the dream you’d been torn from. “What’s that?”

“Just something to keep you quiet,” he smiled, eyes bright.

Weren’t you always quiet? “Quiet for what?”

“Can’t have you fighting us and doing further damage to yourself when we put you in the machine,” he said, pushing down the plunger and sending the drug singing through your veins.

Jerking against the bindings, you fought futilely, eventually succumbing to the paralytic which slowed all your muscles to a sluggish crawl.

Leaning over, the doctor shone a light in both your eyes, then gripped you firmly by the chin. “Now, listen closely, sunshine. The drug slows everything including your heart and breathing. If you try to fight, if you struggle at all, you could suffocate or put yourself into cardiac arrest. Once you’re situated in the chair, I’ll reverse the effects. Blink if you understand.”

It felt like it took forever to close and open your eyes, but you managed. You wanted to panic, time was growing short for the others to find you, but if what Doctor Dick said was correct you had no desire to stroke out.

He patted your cheek. “Good girl.” Turning, he walked out the door as two women walked in.

The next thirty minutes were mortifying as they stripped you, removed tubes and things you’d rather not think about. They held you up and washed you down, scrubbing until your skin was red. Fresh bandages wrapped around your road rash. They'd even cleaned your hair.

Limp as a rag doll; you hung between them as they dressed you in a black sports bra and shorts, plopped you barefoot in a wheelchair and pushed you out the door.

You counted doors, turns, corridors as you went, the panic you were fighting down getting harder and harder to control. The need to run, fight, escape was so strong, it was leaving a metallic taste in your mouth.

When they wheeled you into the final room, a big steel space with the most terrifying apparatus you’d ever seen sitting in the middle of it, you felt your heart give a hard thump and stutter knowing what it was.

It was the chair. Bucky’s chair. The Winter Soldier’s chair.

Garry had said he was going to do it, but you hadn’t believed it until right this second.

With your panic growing, you felt you heart kick and pull in your chest as it worked to keep beating in its sluggish rhythm.

“She’s panicking! Get her strapped in!” Doctor Dick hollered striding forward.

They rushed you to the seat, dragging you from the wheelchair to thrust you into the machine. It was getting harder and harder to breathe all the time.

“Strap her down!” he cried, filling a syringe and injecting you with the counter agent.

The women who’d bathed and dressed you strapped your arms, legs, and head down tight, finishing as you gasped in a deep, full breath when the drugs wore off. “Don’t do this. Please, please don’t do this!” you begged, eyes filling as you stared at the women.

Neither of them looked at you, only nodded to the doctor and walked away to ready the machines.

A group of men walked in, with them came Garry.

He swaggered his way toward you, kitted out in full tactical gear. When you looked him over, hope blooming, he smirked and laughed. “Just a precaution, my pretty one. No one is coming for you. No one knows where you are. Soon you will be screaming your agony, and then you will be mine!” His hand closed over your jaw, keeping your mouth shut.

Groaning, you forced your lips to work. “You never… told me… why?”

“And I won’t. Why should I? The you that is (Y/N) won’t be around much longer as it is. Why waste my breath?”

His hand came free, and you screamed, “Garry you fucking bastar-”

He shoved a ball gag in your mouth. “None of that now.”

As he walked back toward the other men, you heaved breath in and out your nose. Tears had begun to leak from the corners of your eyes, and saliva the corners of your mouth.

This couldn’t be happening. It couldn’t. It had to be a bad dream.

There was no way Steve wouldn’t come for you! He’d promised, and Captain America never broke his word.

As the machine started to warm up and the chair drifted back, your panting intensified. This couldn’t be it. This couldn’t be how it all ended for you. As your eyes met the ceiling and the metal touched down against your skull, you screamed a muffled, “Steve!”

Next Chapter

#sledgehammer #steve rogers #steve rogers fanfiction #steve rogers x reader #captain america #captain america fanfiction #captain america x reader #avengers #avengers au #avengers fanfiction #fanfiction

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green-eyeddragonfanfiction · 7 years

Text

Time: Chapter 13

Summary: Soulmate!AU/Reincarnation!AU. Female!Reader lives in a world where alien invasions threaten Earth, hordes of death robots destroy entire towns and past lives and soulmates are very real. Like most people, she gets brief glimpses of her past. Although a person’s past lives and their current life may have little to nothing in common, soul mates tend to transfer between lives, the core of a person staying the same throughout the eons. What happens when reader’s soulmate from her past life, Steve Rogers, shows up out of the blue? Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female!Reader, Steve Rogers x Female!Reader Warnings: Language, angst, fluff Word Count: ~3,097 A/N: Look at this cute dork. So precious.

Masterlist // Previous Chapter // Next Chapter

“Goodnight, (Y/N),” he whispered, brushing a piece of hair off of your cheek. Unable to look at him for a moment longer for fear of what you might do, you turned away from him. A moment later one of his arms wrapped itself around your waist and reeled you into his chest. You smiled, resting your head on the bicep of his other arm as his legs moved up, spooning you. You should have been alarmed at how normal if felt to lay there like that with him, but you were so tired and happy that you didn’t question it, once again drifting off to sleep.

“This is a terrible idea,” you hissed.

Steve glanced at you out of the corner of his eye before his gaze snapped back to smile at a woman exiting the store. He gave her a polite nod and half smile then reached for your hand. She passed by without recognizing him, a feat in and of itself. It was shocking how many people couldn’t see the great Captain America past a pair of thick rimmed glasses and baseball cap. His fingers wove with yours and he gave you a comforting squeeze as you stepped through the sliding glass doors of a local grocery store.

“It’s going to be fine,” he whispered as he grabbed a shopping cart.

“And how often do your plans actually work?” you asked, leveling him with a steely gaze.

He thought about it for a moment before he smiled guiltily. “It’s a toss up,” he said jovially, leading you down the closest aisle.

“I still think Scott should have come with me. He isn’t as recognizable so this isn’t as-” an older man turned down the aisle and you bit your words off, suddenly pursuing the shelves so scrupulously it was definitely suspicious. Steve chuckled, grabbed a box of cereal, and threw it into the cart. When the man had safely turned the aisle Steve turned to give you a reassuring smile.

“We tried that already, remember? There was screaming over cake?” he asked, raising an eyebrow at you.

“I meant- He’d be normal sized, not tiny,” you explained, exasperated.

“You do realize he’s a normal guy, right? A great guy, but a completely normal one without his suit? If anything happened you’d only have his questionable hand-to-hand capabilities as backup,” Steve said, eyebrows raised in question.

Your eyebrows knitted together into a glare, which you leveled at Steve. “Fine,” you said grumpily. “This is still a terrible idea, though,” you insisted.

Steve grinned down at you as you continued down the aisle. “Yeah, I heard that the first fifteen times you said it,” he said, pausing to reach above your head and grab a box of granola bars from the shelf. You wrinkled your nose at his selection, grabbed a box of a brand you liked better, and tossed it into the cart.

“Just as long as we know I’m not the one to blame when this goes to shit,” you griped, staring up at the aisle signs in search of the next items on Clint’s list.

Steve spotted the right aisle before you did, turning the cart one handed while he pulled you in the right direction.

“Relax, (Y/N). I won’t let anything happen to you,” he said, gazing at you fondly.

“Steve, I survived the battle of New York in a coffee shop with two baristas as backup. It’s not me I’m worried about,” you said, exasperated.

Steve looked taken aback. “You never told me- Wait, you were in New York when-”

You rolled your eyes, shushing him as you glanced around to see if anyone was watching. “One question at a time, Steve,” you said, taking the cart from him. It seemed he was so shocked he’d stopped walking. You were still holding his hand. He was so strong it was like trying to tug an industrial cinder block behind you so you stopped, too.

“You were in New York when the Chitauri invaded?” he asked, alarmed. He realized he was talking a bit loudly because he looked around, wary.

“Yeah, of course. I live.... lived there, y’know? I ran a coffee shop. I couldn’t just up and leave. The shop was on shaky ground at time and I was worried if I left it’d go under. Then... shit hit the fan and I got out as soon as I could... although ‘as soon as I could’ ended up being two years later,” you said, grumbling at the memory of bureaucratic red tape bulllshit.

“Oh,” Steve said simply. You glanced at him and immediately felt guilty; his face was shadowed. He’d done the math and realized that around then was when you met him at D.C.... and consequently left just days later, not contacting him for two years... until just a few days ago. He stayed locked away in his head for a moment before he returned to earth. “You said you defended the shop with... two baristas? How did you and two baristas survive a Chitauri invasion?” he asked, sounding genuinely curious.

“A lot of guns, luck, and basic strategy,” you said, grimacing at the memory.

“Tell me more about it when we get back?” he asked, excited.

You frowned, apprehension lining your features. “It’s not my favorite story. One of my baristas, May, didn’t make it through the fight. It was a dark time for me and Dean, her soulmate,” you said, trying hard to black out that part of the memory.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have asked,” Steve said, contrite. “I’m sorry we couldn’t stop the invasion fast enough to save her,” he said, frowning. You turned to look at him and sighed. He looked like a sad puppy. You threw your arms around him, and he looked down at you, startled.

“I can see it in your eyes. You’re blaming yourself for not being able to save May and so many others. Don’t. Just don’t, Stevie. It’s not your fault. I know how hard you try,” you said, thinking back to when you found him half dead on the bank of the Potomac. He considered your words for a second before he wrapped his arms around you, squeezing you gently to his chest. “Half the bastards you save don’t even deserve it,” you grumbled bitterly into his shirt.

He chuckled and leaned back enough to look down at you, smile dancing on his face. You couldn’t help but blush. You were still getting used to seeing Steve in civvies, and the glasses weren’t helping. You were so used to seeing him that you sometimes forgot how attractive he was (though those instances were few and far between). You were surprised to see Steve seemed to be thinking along the same lines about you. His gaze roamed your face, pausing on your lips. He tore his eyes away after a moment, focusing on your eyes, instead, making you smile. It looked like that had taken a lot of effort.

Was his face getting closer to yours? Were you tipping your face up to him or was he leaning down to you? You were definitely getting closer. You were just about to bridge the gap when he stepped back, eyes wide.

“We should probably- Clint’s shopping list-” Steve sputtered, dropping your hand as he grabbed the cart and turned down the next aisle.

“Ah, you’re right,” you mumbled, trailing after him, face hot. Fifteen minutes later you and Steve headed out to Laura’s car, Steve carrying most of the bags by himself. It’d begun to get dark out while you were in the store; the sun was just beginning to set. It was your turn to drive so you happily hopped in the driver’s seat once all of the bags were safely stowed. “We should go back a different way than we came,” Steve said, looking at the GPS app on your new phone that you’d taught him how to use.

You followed Steve’s directions. It’d taken him a while to get used to the tech but he proved himself to be a capable copilot. You’d made it fifteen minutes out of the parking lot when you spotted them. Twinkling lights in the distance. The rapidly darkening sky made them easy to spot and it took you only a second to identify what they were.

“It’s a fair,” you murmured as you got closer and closer to the fairgrounds. Traffic was getting heavier and tons of people were crossing the road on foot; Everyone from families with young children, to couples, to groups of seemingly drunken teens and young adults seemed to be attending.

You eyed the tiny ferris wheel and other amusement rides, trying to remember the last time you’d gone to a fair of any kind.

“We could go, you know,” Steve said, smiling knowingly at you.

You whirled around to look at him, then remembered you were driving and snapped your attention back to the road. “No, no. It’s alright. We should get back,” you said, shooting Steve a reassuring smile.

“We’re ahead of schedule. We can stop for a little while,” Steve said, looking around. “There’s parking there,” he said, pointing to an empty spot halfway down the block.

“We have groceries in the ba-”

“There aren’t any perishables. It’ll be fine. Besides, this is our last night in town,” he said, smiling softly at you. Your traitor heart thumped loudly in your chest at the sight.

“Stop giving me that face. It’s not fair,” you said, groaning.

“What face? I’m not making a face,” he said, brows furrowing in confusion.

“Oh great, you’re not even aware you’re doing it. That almost makes it worse,” you groaned. “But you’re right. I’ve been a tense mess since we got here and a local fair might be just the remedy I need to unwind a bit,” you said, pulling into the parking spot Steve had pointed out. He grinned at you, happy he’d convinced you to go.

“Where to first?” Steve asked, stepping out of the car.

“Tickets. Rides before food, always,” you said resolutely, remembering all the horror stories you’d heard from your friends who hadn’t been wise enough to eat fair food after they went on rides for the day.

“You have a particular ride in mind?” Steve asked, raising an eyebrow at you.

“The ferris wheel and roller coaster, mostly,” you said, squinting up at the two rides as you spoke. You could just barely make out the coaster cars plummeting down the biggest drop. It seemed like they managed to get a decent coaster at this fair.

“The coaster?” Steve asked, sounding suddenly unsure. You dodged children as you walked to the ticket booth, Steve trailing behind.

You handed a twenty to the lady at the counter and she handed you a small sheet of tickets. You thanked her and turned to Steve, eyebrow raised.

“Yeah, the coaster. Is that a problem? I know it’s hot a huge one but-”

“No, it’s alright,” he said, not meeting your gaze.

It was clear from his tone it wasn’t alright.

Suddenly, something clicked. “Steve... are you afraid of roller coasters?” you asked quietly. Something in the back of your mind was nagging at you that you were forgetting something.

Steve’s gaze snapped back to yours, eyes a little wider than normal. “Well, no. I wouldn’t say I’m afraid, but-”

“Steve, you jump out of planes. Without a parachute,” you said, deadpan.

“I know that! But something about being strapped into a speeding death trap just makes me-”

“Coney Island,” you said suddenly, interrupting his excuses. The memory hit you like a ton of bricks.

“What?” he asked quietly, though you had a sneaking suspicion he knew what you meant.

“Coney Island. The Cyclone. He... made you ride it with him. You puked. You told me... her... the story. But everything’s fuzzy... I can’t remember everything,” you said, fingers massaging your temples.

He surprised you by wrapping his arms around you, pulling you into his chest. “I’ll tell you the whole story later if you promise to forget about it for now and enjoy the night,” he said, batting his unfairly long eyelashes at you.

“Fine,” you mumbled, avoiding his gaze.

It was well and truly dark by the time you left the fair. Steve had braved the roller coaster, although he looked sick the entire time up until he actually got into the coaster car. Once he was in, his jaw was set in a hard line, his fingers gripping the safety bar until his knuckles turned white; you were surprised the bar survived, honestly. Once the ride started with a jerky thunk forward, you reached for his closest hand, wrapping your fingers around it. He’d had enough time to look at you, a small smile chasing away the worst of the uneasiness, before the coaster plummeted off of the first drop.

After the roller coaster you rode the ferris wheel. It was only when you made it to the top that you remembered you were petrified of heights. When Steve leaned over the side to look down at the fair below, you let out an undignified squeak, going completely rigid with fear as the gondola swung on its hinges. Steve looked at you, alarmed, but his gaze softened the moment he studied you. “Heights, right?” he’d asked, smiling knowingly. You’d nodded stiffly, not wanting to move any more than necessary for fear of rocking the gondola more. He’d moved closer, looking to comfort you, only to cause it to sway ominously. You’d yelped and lunged to him, jumped on his lap, and shut your eyes tight, clutching him for dear life. He’d held you close and slowly convinced you to open your eyes, promising you that you were safe in his arms. You had to admit, seeing the town and the fair from that high up had been stunning.

When Steve spotted you staring at a particularly cute stuffed animal above one of the carnival games, he’d won it for you easily. He’d knocked over all three milk jugs with all three attempts his five dollars had bought, surprising the attendant at the booth. She’d said you could take home the huge stuffed animal that loomed over the booth, but Steve chose the tiny plush you’d been eyeing earlier and handed it to you, smiling when you beamed at it and thanked him profusely. No one had ever won something for you at a carnival or fair before.

“You didn’t have to do that, you know,” you said, smiling at him as you started walking out of the fair. Rides were starting to shut down and the fairgrounds were getting dark rapidly.

“I know... But I wanted to,” he said, smiling softly at you as you crushed the stuffed animal to the side of your chest with one arm. Your cheeks grew hot under his gaze. The ride next to you shut off suddenly, plunging the area around you into darkness. You looked around, alarmed, unconsciously reaching for Steve’s hand with your own free hand.

“Let’s get back. The team’s probably wondering where we are by now,” you said, walking faster towards where you parked the car, dragging Steve along behind you.

He pulled you back suddenly, spinning you to face him.

“Play along,” he whispered. You had a half second to wonder at his words before he cupped your face in his hands and his lips crashed against yours. Your mind went blissfully blank as his lips melded to yours and the world fell away around you. You kissed him back eagerly, arms wrapping around his neck.

A moment later Steve pulled away, panting slightly, eyes glazed over. You followed the movement, leaning forward slightly, not wanting to part from him just yet. He glanced over his shoulder and nodded.

“All clear,” he said, taking your hand in his, and started walking towards the car again.

“What?” you asked, still dazed.

“Sorry for not giving you more of a warning. There were two policemen patrolling, likely stationed here temporarily to keep fair-goers safe. I had to think quick and, well, I was told once that public displays of affection make people uncomfortable,” he said sheepishly. “I hope you’re not upset with me,” he said, turning his head to smile down at you.

You shook your head violently as you spoke. “No, no! Of course not, Stevie,” you said a little too quickly.

“I’m glad,” he said, unlocking the car from a few feet away. You felt your pockets, confused. You were supposed to have the keys, not Steve.

“When did you get those? I thought they were in my pocket,” you asked, confused.

“I took them while you were distracted a minute ago,” he said, chuckling as he opened the passenger door for you.

You glared at him as you got in the car. “Who are you and what have you done with Steve,” you said, mock anger coloring your tone.

“He died on that roller coaster. I’m Steve’s evil twin, Fred,” he joked, grinning wickedly for show before he closed the door and walked to the driver’s side. You snorted at his terrible sense of humor, grin lighting up your features. He got in and turned the car on, deftly maneuvering out of the parking spot, and pulled out onto the main road.

“A joke, huh? I thought you’d forgotten how to make those,” you said, resting your head on your hand, elbow propped up on the armrest.

“Ah, I’m wounded,” he said, grinning. “I happen to have a great sense of humor,” he said, raising an eyebrow at you in challenge.

“I’m pretty sure every funny bone in your body got replaced by justice, freedom, and kickass,” you said, rolling your eyes. Streetlights flashed above you as Steve drove towards the Barton house.

“Hey, I’ve always had the justice and freedom genes,” he said, sounding a little offended.

You snorted. “Does getting beaten up in back alleys by neighborhood bullies really count as being a shining example of American ideals?” you asked, eyebrow raised in question.

“Yeah. 100%,” he said matter-of-factly, grinning broadly.

You groaned and rolled your eyes. “At least you have the kickass gene to back the other two up now.”

“Yeah, that does help a bit,” he said, smiling over at you.

“Come on, wonder boy. We need to get back asap so we can pack for tomorrow,” you said motioning vaguely to the road in front of you.

“Yes ma’am,” he said, throwing you a winning smile as the car picked up speed.

Chapter 14

This series is finished, but if you want to be tagged in my other fics, check out this post! Sorry, but responses to this post asking to be tagged will be ignored, so send me an ask or like one of the taglist posts!

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#steve rogers #steve x reader #steve rogers x reader #Bucky x Reader #bucky barnes x reader #marvel fanfiction

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lovehaswonangelnumbers · 4 years

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New Post has been published on https://lovehaswonangelnumbers.org/the-undoing-of-the-piscean-era/

The Undoing of the Piscean Era

By A Gift From Gaia

Well what a surf this is showing to be and we have only just begun.

Whilst we have now passed the Capricorn Council they still sit and watch and the energy is set to continue, throughout this year and beyond, Pluto doesn’t leave Capricorn until 2024 and he is sitting to welcome the initiates into the underworld to learn it’s secrets before passing through.

The undoing of the Piscean era is well underway and obvious as we witness the fallout of old and the breakthrough of the Aquarian way.

Truth is what is surfacing, however many do not understand that truth is also a spectrum, it’s a behaviour, a frequency, and in its lowest octaves it is opinions, beliefs, points and statements, its emotion, and this is why the Piscean race wear masks to cover it up. Truth in the highest of octaves is a path, of alignment that holds no beliefs, simply acceptance of the laws of light and it is followed just the same, as a path, however the baseline never changes, as the law is that of unconditional love.

What we see, once we leave these old octaves and data dump the Piscean beliefs, fully accepting the movement and expansion of truth is that those out dated beliefs create nothing but loops, suffering and pain, strangely also accepted in the Piscean belief programming. We witness, especially in the spiritual belief systems something so very stagnating. Each knowing deep within that the tools, the ways, really don’t work as the packaging told us, and once these octaves are removed from our being we see with ease the spectrum.

Like a rainbow, red would represent the most lowest of heavily embedded beliefs and blue being the enlightened ray, the most expanded awareness, and what do we find when we see this pattern? Many holding their belief of existing in a ray not held or even understood.

Speaking as a blue ray when in fact the truth of the person fully exists, in the red, here lays the twisted truth that the spiritual arena will teach about soul fragmentation, half truth, half twisted, due to the vibration translating the Divine Truth, the Divine Law.

Through this internal lie being told the ability to progress is impossible, it is true, there are fragments, a want and a need to exist in the blue ray and yet everything and all is held in a lower frequency, it’s a little like dreaming of a journey to a far away land, and telling everyone of your experience as though it was true and real.

One could liken it to the reincarnation process, the spirit caught between worlds, too heavy to pass into light through the attachment to programming, to regret, to judgement, to fear…..karmic looping to constantly come back to perfect into the most Divine, wholesome you.

There is no fake it till you make it, and the ability to experience fully the colours of the spectrum, the growth from red, to yellow to pink and green through to purple, orange and then blue can never be experienced until the truth of the frequency is owned, otherwise it’s like trying to chase and catch a shadow, it can keep you entertained for lifetimes, but you’re never going to catch it….science tells us this, sense tells us this, but still the chase continues.

The first major conjunction (yes there are so many more important ones this year, earth shakers, truth revealers) has begun to flip the poles, increasing the light, powering up the spectrum to reveal its truth, the laws, the cosmic laws of how this all works in the Age we are now moving into and to resist will heighten the dis-ease so that the new era can begin, individually as people this energy doesn’t give one iota, it’s not personal but as a race we are now to purify so that the karmic Age of Pisces can be dissolved in its entirety.

Each has a choice, to listen, to learn, to accept their truth, to own that the hocus pocus, separated teachings will rapidly highlight the death cycle they hold.

It’s manifesting now, it’s easy to see once the Eye is open to the cosmic patterns now moving through each beacon of light now established and grounded in their Aquarian wisdom.

Age, as you may have seen from a recent post has been shown to me and as the new age enters what we will see is the lower frequencies and beliefs held in the decaying fishes of the Piscean Age will mirror, as we speed up into the new, fresh baby face of the water bearer now making itself seen.

The death cycle, again a Piscean belief, the stop start idea of rebirth and death, is a reflection of the karmic wheel and this will now be released, through choice, or through the need to hang on so that the purification can manifest itself to show exactly it’s power of destruction, and fast.

The Aquarian energy is fast, super fast and the need to abide it’s laws is essential for the magic of rejuvenation to begin, physically a mirror, us as a race and our Earth. We can no longer say we support the earth when the truth is the destruction is still held in the physical body, all is a reflection, all is a pattern and all is One.

Lumps and bumps, rapid aging, cancers, unexpected passings, depression, suicides it’s all about to become loud. The medicine is to come back to the octave of the red, your truth, the truth that you know nothing other than what has been spoon fed from an era of just over 2000 years old and to accept the frequency that your physical is fully rooted into and unable to move from until each stops the ego desire to be in the ray of the blue and chooses to come back home to base and start again, which in fact, this release, this letting go, this false mask once taken off creates light speed which in fact takes you through the magical journey each has been trying so hard to exist in and super fast

This all may sound confusing, and in many ways it is meant to, those who have surfed the rainbow of Divine Truth will completely understand and will be smiling at these words, knowing the trickery of those slippery Piscean fishes, and those who’s eyebrow raise with a big “HUH?” Will soon realise the separation as it begins to play out and in time the “oh I get it” will come, don’t worry, I don’t share transmissions for ego minds, this transmission will hit the coding within the DNA and begin the activation…all will see, especially throughout these next 4 years specifically.

Your passcode for release this year is – Attachment

And if there is any confusion during your journey, any frustration at being or feeling stagnated then use the passcode to reveal your anchors.

This now leads me to some super exciting news, some long awaited news that I am just a stone’s throw away from sharing, that will assist in this transition should you choose to experience LIFE as it was intended.

There are soon to be many changes here at A Gift from Gaia and I will explain very very soon.

I may be a little quiet over these next few days as i prepare, but also more and more emails are coming in to join the SOUL-AR Alignment space, however what I would like to say here is if you do not value the gift of transformation, that these keys offer, if you are not prepared to invest in self with the exchange then may I ask not to email me asking for free.

Let me explain a little, these keys are my journey and they create momentous shifts for those who value light, however the light appears, my journey has been one very dramatic exploration around my globe, literally blood, and a lot has been shed, sweat and buckets upon buckets of tears, my life has been dedicated to the discovery of light, and not from outside but from within, those who know me, those who have been with me when the codes begin pouring through and I translate new keys, materialising the formless into form would happily tell you what it is like to experience the magic I have found, and each, who valued this light have all been experiencing the release of the old loops, miraculous healing and new fields of amazingness. There are also those who are not able to commit and they fall back to their old Piscean ways, I hold no attachment to anyone’s journey and I send so much light, however this most often begins to create more distortions to their resistance to what their soul requested…. keys.

Learning to value light is crucial, wanting it all the easy way, the free way will never bring the results as the ego will show.

So I ask with Divine repsect, please do not waste this precious time with requests of assistance with no want to invest in yourself or the light, I currently have so much moving now, expanding to share with the masses and if I spend any time with individuals then it must be those who understand the importance of valuing energy, light and love.

I will also let you know, that A Gift from Gaia will soon be moving away from Facebook, somewhat, the distortion here is the distraction and the addiction, how can I guide people through these phases when the work all exists in a space that many have become so attached too? I’m not prepared to contradict my keys.

So a website is the answer, there will be a space for free subscriptions in which you will receive by email weekly and monthly energy reports however the daily reports and extra gems will be moving to a paid subscription, where there will be so much more information, as you are aware the work I share takes a lot of time and my field will simply not allow me to put that amount of energy into a space that doesn’t support this, especially as it’s time for A Gift from Gaia to grow and expand the platform for so many more to experience the love and light I have to share. I am keeping this minimal at £7.77 per month, and, something a little different to most who offer these services, I plan to reduce this as the numbers grow to £5.55 once we reach a certain size.

The website will also be launching The Alignment Program which is the space where each receives ALL, and also provides a space, currently a private group on Facebook but in time, the space will move to the website, this kind of space of course will cost a lot which is where I will be focusing the paid subscription money so that I can continue to expand the website and deliver everything away from Social Media, which is perfect for those committed to their path as they have all found that the cocoon space of transformation happens much swiftly away from this field, less distraction and more focus.

The exchange for this ultimate life changing experience with me will be set at £33.33 again I am looking to place this on a sliding scale down each year that is spent with us, I say us because the space is already filled with 65 amazing light beings who have been surfing the SOUL-AR Alignment course, which is soon to dissolve and merge into the all inclusive Alignment Program.

So, during the remainder of this month, as you can imagine I am super busy getting all the finishing touches in place before the opening which is why I ask that all emails sent hold the responsibility and respect for how this all works.

However, during this merger and time I am holding the doors of the SOUL-AR Alignment space open and if you choose to migrate with us then I am happy to offer a year subscription at a super discounted rate and if you would like to find out more then please send an email to [email protected], I have many to get through and answer so please bear with me, I will get to you all

I know there will be some who still don’t understand abundance blocks and haven’t discovered their value, and this kind of talk often brings ego debates, and so if this triggers you and you hold no wish to expand and open these stagnating beliefs then may I ask you hold the respect and responsibility and remove from this space, rather than spewing statements and opinions into this field, all are welcome to return, to come and go as they please, I hold no judgement for the journey and so let’s not make this personal.

Also, for those who left the space over the last two years, if you wish to receive the full 12 keys then please do stay in touch, key 10 has now been delivered and it’s called the Divine Union.

Thank you to all who have supported the page, there still will be content, but if nothing else I would recommend once the website is open to subscribe to the Sapphire Portal so you can continue to receive the energy reports you have all come to love.

I am sending so much love to All

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chrysanthmilk · 5 years

Text

a guide to being death: chapter 6

by staccato

“Death is very, very tired of its Master’s strange wants and whims. This is the last time it does something he wants.”

aka: a apocalypse fix-it, featuring a master of death who has been reincarnated into a winchester. things can only go up from here.

chapter 6: pamela goes blind, but don‘t worry, harry is there to heal her. dean remains unconvinced of castiel’s powers, and challenges him to a gun (and knife!) fight

read it below, or on ao3

Harry woke up from his nap when the Impala came to a stop. He stretched, feeling the pop of his bones. “We arrived?”

“Yeah. Come on, imp. Let’s see what this psychic has got for us.”

Pamela Barnes was beautiful, witty, and she was going to die in a few months.

But first, she went blind.

The ambulance came quickly. Bobby rode with her to the hospital, while Harry followed along in Bobby’s truck. After he parked, he found Bobby in the waiting room, being questioned by a nurse. She was trying to figure out how Pamela’s injuries came to be, but Bobby avoided answering by speaking rapid Japanese and flailing his arms around. Harry stifled a laugh, and joined him.

The nurse gave up a few minutes later, and they were left to wait in peace.

“I didn’t know you could speak Japanese,” Bobby said, in Japanese.

Harry shrugged, and replied in the same tongue. “It was a boring four months.”

That was true, but that wasn’t when he learned the language. He learned it sometime in the 18th century, when he had been reborn as a peasant farmer. So even though he could speak the language, he couldn’t read or write it. That just hadn’t been a priority for his station in life.

But Bobby didn’t know that, and misunderstood his answer, as Harry had intended for him to do. He squeezed his shoulder, an act of brief comfort, then pulled away.

And, okay, as Harry Winchester, he would have found this acceptable, perhaps even a little too much; but as Harry, the immortal being who had been reincarnated into thousands of lives, it was not. He just insinuated, to his surrogate father no less, that he had learned Japanese to keep busy and avoid thinking about Dean’s death. Shouldn’t he at least get a hug?

But he doubted that this was the best time to open that can of worms, so he kept quiet, fiddling his ring and listening to the angel radio. Castiel seemed to be feeling some smidgen of guilt for burning out an innocent woman’s eyes, and some higher-ups named Zachary was comforting him.

By which he means, Zachary was telling Castiel that humans were nothing more than mud monkeys, who did not deserve an angel’s sympathy.

‘It’s not your fault she foolishly disregarded you warnings and continued with the séance. Really, it was like she was asking to be burnt. And she was being impertinent, anyways, demanding to see your true face.’

‘But…’

‘No buts, Castiel. You’re an angel, she’s a human; we’re superior, and they’re inferior. Do you understand?’

‘…yes, Zachariah. I do.’

Harry closed the connection, shaking his head in silent disgust. And they said angels were supposed to be compassionate.

Why did you leave, Chuck? He wondered. Are you really satisfied with the world, as it is right now? Is it everything you had envisioned?

A few hours later, a doctor stepped out, clipboard in hand. “Family of Pamela Barnes?”

He told them that they’ve stabilized her conditions, although it was certain that she’ll never be able to see again. She had been moved out of ICU, and can accept visitors, but only one is allowed in the room at a time.

Bobby went in first, while Harry called his brothers to tell them the good news. The two of them had stayed behind, cleaning away any evidence of the séance. Judging by the sound in the background, they had now relocated to a diner.

“I think we’ll leave pretty soon,” he said. “Save me a milkshake, won’t you?”

“You bet,” Sam said, with the tone of someone who had absolutely no intention of doing so, and hung up.

Well, he was the health nut of this family.

Soon, Bobby came out, and Harry slipped inside. Pamela was lying in the middle of a hospital bed, pale-skinned and weak, nothing like the feisty woman he’d just met, half a day prior. A roll of bandages had been wrapped around her skull, covering her eyes. She jolted when she heard the door open.

“Is that you again, Bobby?” She called.

“No, it’s me. Harry.”

“What do you want?” She asked, words tinted with bitterness. Harry doesn’t blame her. She wouldn’t have lost her eyesight if it weren’t for them.

“I just wanted to apologize,” he said, “and to see if I could fix things.”

Pamela scoffed. “You certainly can’t make things worse.”

Harry moved forward, stopping mere inches from her bed. He raised his hands, hovering them above her eyes, and murmured a spell. Somethings were capital-F fated, which means if he messed with it, he’ll draw attention to the divergence and thus, himself. But her blindness wasn’t—if she had just backed off when Castiel asked, she would have been fine—so Harry healed her.

(He’d even corrected her eyesight, because why not? The woman was going to die in a few months. For putting up with their shit, she deserved to live the rest of her life in 20/20 vision.)

Immediately, Pamela gasped, hands flying up to her face and unraveling the bandages. She blinked rapidly, trying to adjust to the harsh fluorescent lighting. “What…? How did you—what the hell are you, boy?”

Harry shrugged, tucking his hands into his jean pockets. “Well, I’m not a demon, if that was what you were worried about. But you would have known that already, right?”

She studied him, gaze roving from the soles of his shoes to the wispy strands of his hair. “You definitely don’t feel like a demon…and even a demon wouldn’t have been able to do that. It wouldn’t have wanted to, either. But then…”

“Don’t worry about it,” he said, with an exaggerated wink. “For now, why don’t you just think of me as someone with a little extra juice, trying to protect my brothers and fix their mistakes?”

“Do they know?” She pressed. “Does Bobby know?”

“It’s just between you and me for now, love,” he paused, and cocked his head. “Of course, if it’s too big of a secret for you to handle, I can erase your memories.”

She shook her head, shifting away as much as she could, as if an extra feet of space could deter him. “No, no, no, that won’t be necessary. You don’t need to do that, I can keep quiet. I owe you one, right? For the eyes?”

“Sure,” Harry agreed, even as he discretely wiggled his fingers. Now, if she tried to speak of this to anyone, she’ll suddenly find herself mute, though that would only last a day. Still, it’s a neat little spell, just in case someone decided torture the information out of her. After all, this was bigger than things that go bump in the night. Angels and demons were involved, and he knew better than to underestimate either of them. “Well, I’m glad we could reach an agreement, love. Bobby and I will take our leave now. We’ll try not to bother you again.”

“Wait!” she cried out, just as his hands closed around the doorknob. “Do you know…that thing I summoned…do you know what Castiel is?”

“Of course I do,” Harry said, not turning around. “But the less you know, the better off you’ll be. Have a good day, Ms. Barnes.”

Harry had no idea what happened between the phone call and them arriving at the motel, but whatever it was, it couldn’t have been good. Because when Bobby pulled up in the parking lot, Castiel was yelling at Dean, trying to tell him that Sam had returned to the diner to kill the demons. Unfortunately, all Dean heard is static and high-pitched ringing, so Castiel was forced to stop, frustrated. Bobby and Harry burst into the room just as the last of the mirrors exploded.

(They were kicked out of the motel, obviously.)

This must have been the straw that broke the camel’s back, though, because Dean announced that he was going to try and summon Castiel. Or, as he knows him, a super powerful, supernatural creature capable of pulling someone out of hell, terrifying the demons, and burning out eyes. He has no guarantee that Castiel won’t harm him at first sight, nor does he have a way of defending himself from such attacks.

And he still wanted to summon him.

What. An. Idiot.

Bobby obviously agreed, peering at Ruby’s knife doubtfully. But like Harry, he also doesn’t want anyone else to be hurt, so he relented, directing his truck to an empty warehouse on the outskirt of town.

“We could really use Sam on this, Dean,” Harry suggested from the backseat.

“Nah, he’ll just try to stop us. He’s better off where he is.”

Well, Harry knew that wasn’t true, but he also didn’t want to explain how he knew, so he kept quiet, twisting his ring.

This time, Dean noticed, zeroing in on the action through the rear view mirror. “Didn’t know you were into jewelries, Henry. Where did you get that from?”

“An old friend gave it to me,” Harry said. “Supposedly, it can bring back the souls of the dead.”

“Oh,” Dean said, and Harry suddenly realized the implication behind his words. He thought about backtracking, about claiming that he never tried to summon Dean’s soul, but he wasn’t sure Dean would believe him.

“Well,” Bobby said, interjecting false cheer into his tone. “At least if this turns out to be a disaster, I can bring you back to kill you again.”

It was a disaster.

Harry had presumed that, since Castiel didn’t mean to do Dean any harm, the encounter would go smoothly. They’ll have a chit-chat, Castiel will explain and apologize for his mistakes, and then inform Dean of his role in the upcoming apocalypse. They will part ways, somewhat peacefully.

What a stupid presumption.

The problem began after Bobby completed the ritual, and all them stood back, hands on their respective weapons, waiting for him to appear.

And waited. And waited. And waited.

Harry glanced at the ritual circle, frowning. Bobby definitely did the ritual right, so why wasn’t Castiel responding? Wasn’t he the one who tried to reach out to Dean in the first place?

He tuned into the Radio, and immediately received his answers.

‘…leave a good impression on him.’

‘But I have already impressed my handprint on his arm. Is that not enough?’

‘No, no, it’s a different kind of impress. You want him to like you, right?’

‘It would be an honor to be favored by the Righteous Man.’

‘Exactly, which is why you got to make a cool entrance, okay?’

‘What is this “cool entrance” you speak of? How do I make it?’

Harry left the conversation, biting his cheeks to stop from bursting into laughter. It seemed like they were going to be waiting for a while. He abandoned his spot beside the ritual circle, and jumped up to sit on one of the tables. His gun was returned to its holster.

Dean and Bobby gave him disapproving looks, but eventually, both of them gave in, joining him on the tables. They swung their legs back and forth silently, chocked by the anticipation in the air.

Harry was the first to break. He hopped off the table and headed for the door, waving a pack of cigarette as an explanation. The other two moved to stop him, but he was gone because they could speak.

Leaning against the side of the warehouse, Harry lit up a stick, inhaling and exhaling the smoke gratefully. He had been trying to quit but, fuck, this day had been very, very stressful. Besides, he’s the Master of Death. What’s a cigarette going to do, kill him?

And, because he had been looking up at the bright sky, he saw a sight he was never going to forget.

One second, there had been nothing above the warehouse; in the next, a figure appeared, large wings extending from his back. Harry expected Castiel to land on the roof, perhaps survey the area before entering.

He didn’t.

Instead, he stumbled in mid-flight, rolling down the slanted roof until the concrete gave up, and fell straight down to the ground with a thump.

Harry gaped.

A second later, Castiel stood up, cocking his head in the direction of the warehouse.

“Why couldn’t I get through?” he muttered to himself, but the night was quiet enough that Harry overheard the words.

He blinked.

Oh.

Castiel must have intended to fly through roof and land straight into the ritual circle, which, to be fair, would have been quite the ‘cool’ entrance. Unfortunately, Bobby had come across an angel-warding sigil in one of his books, though neither he nor the author knew its purpose. Still, he had painted it on the walls, which prevented Castiel from phasing through like he had intended. Instead, he had been tripped up by the ward, and fallen.

Once he and Castiel become friends, Harry was going to give him so much shit for this.

For now, though, he simply wiggled his fingers. The ward disappeared. Castiel frowned harder when he registered the change.

“Whatever,” he said at last, almost petulantly, and blasted the warehouse doors open. He sauntered forward, and the sound of shotguns firing filled the air.

Harry vanished his cigarette—he knew better than to litter, considering the state this planet was already in—and rushed in behind Castiel, who was now looking down at Ruby’s knife in a bemusement. Ruby’s knife, which had been jammed into his heart.

Oh, Dean.

Unconcerned, Castiel pulled it out, letting it drop to the ground with a clatter. The wound healed immediately, and Dean stared, shocked. Bobby, however, jumped into action, swinging a crowbar at Castiel’s head. But Castiel caught it without looking, using the momentum to swing himself around. He touched Bobby’s forehead with two fingers, and sent him to sleep.

Wow, Harry thinks, not even bothering to bring out his gun. That was very, very cool.

“We need to talk, Dean,” Castiel said. “Alone.”

Unwittingly, Dean’s gaze flickered to over his shoulders. Castiel followed his line of sight, to where Harry was standing by the doors. There was the sound of wings fluttering, and Castiel disappeared from view.

“What the hell?” Dean whispered.

Too late, Harry realized what Castiel was planning to do. But by then, Castiel had already landed in front of him, fingers extended to brush against his temple. Unprepared, Harry’s awareness shut down, and he crumpled to the ground, asleep.

#harry potter #supernatural #apocalypse fix-it #fanfic #ao3 #agtbd

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ppaia · 7 years

Text

Souls

Warnings: mentions of suicide Genre: fluff but mostly angst Pairing: Min Yoongi/reader Side note: italic is the narrator’s speaking Soulmate au -

Some say souls never leave earth. I never thought of that, in any case I never cared. But then I understood that they actually don’t…because I never did. After being around earth and humans and what? Non-dead nor-human souls I’ve come to understand what it seems to be the real afterlife. It seems that when you die, its only your body that vanishes, your soul stays glued to your planet and can’t go anywhere but that’s just until you meet your soulmate thats why its called it that way I guess? But what happens next? Well not a nice love story like most of us used to be told. If you get the pleasure to meet your soulmate you both stop being in that limbo between life and dead and come to life again through reincarnation but wait, you will have to go through shit to find each other in the new lifetime you got and then finally be happy. I guess that when you they say ‘enjoy this life’ was because they knew something awful would await. For me it’s been… I don’t know, ages? I’m still walking I don’t even know if I’m searching for someone, nevertheless I walk, and walk. No fixated destination. It is April,the calendar said so, 2119. Oh by the way, name’s Min Yoongi last time I checked I was 26 when I died and now I’m probably over 100? Maybe, maybe not? I’m trying to keep on writing this diary but I fail miserably because I forget about it after writing on it for 2 days or even just one. Life as a non-existent thing is… well boring kinda but also nice I guess. I get to scare people sometimes but it’s a lot of effort i have to put on so no. I found out one of my closest friend died in a car crash, haven’t seen him around. Probably will go out and find him very soon. Its May now, can’t believe that even if I have endless time I can’t keep up with such a stupid task as this one. To the point. I met a girl. Well not really, I saw her… from afar. I was out for a walk around an abandoned building I mean, I’m a ghost right? That’s where ghosts go. And she was there, she had some pinky big headphones on and I could hear the music just fine. She was crying. All of the sudden I felt like I could feel her sadness, as if it was my own. My chest felt heavy to the thought of her being this sad, so I ran away. June,time sure flies when you’re dead huh? Its Tuesday and I felt the need of going around the abandoned building, I didn’t know why but I did exactly know why. She was there again. Crying her heart out to some oldie song. She had red lipstick on, I got to see her ugly crying face and much to my surprise, it wasn’t ugly at all… but the tears wouldn’t stop and I wanted to help her. I guess this is the price a human pays for its sins right? I keep on thinking how would it be to touch her hand, when was the last time I felt someone else’s heartbeat? When was the last time I felt something? She was making me anxious but at the same time I liked ‘feeling’. I came to realize that we, limbo creatures, have no special needs. Just sleeping and no more. You can imagine why I brought that up, I’ve dreamt about her most of the days since meeting her. It’s July.It’s already July and I’ve seen her a total of 7 times. Number 8 was yesterday. And she saw me. Or so I think. I wasn’t careful enough I tripped over some wood and made a loud noise, she rapidly turned to see what was going on and her eyes met mine for a split of second, but again, I ran away. Am I running away from the fear of knowing this girl means something to me? August. Her name is Y/N. She is indeed my soulmate, but she doesn’t know. I know. I have to explain to her that. She’s not dead tho. But she can indeed see me. Yoongi had taken the habit of going to the abandoned building quite a lot. She wasn’t there all the time but most Tuesdays she would go. After the day their eyes met he felt the need to show himself to her. She saw him, at firsthand she thought she was insane because the pretty boy who tripped over wood had disappeared just like so before her eyes. On a Tuesday she went with something in mind, she would make him appear, maybe he was her guardian angel or something. - I saw you already, please show yourself. - she calmly said to no one in particular. He hesitated but the feeling of vulnerability when hearing her voice and the need to see her from up close were harder than his fear. So he did as she said. And boy was he shocked to the bone when standing so close to her. Gorgeous. He thought. - So you do can see me… - he said trying to break the ice. - I won’t lie to you, I’ve seen you around here a lot. Alone and with others. I was curious as to why you liked this place so much and then Every time I came around I couldn’t help but cry. I guess many souls have been wandering around this place. - He couldn’t say a single word, what was this girl? She was looking at him and looking everywhere while speaking and Yoongi thought of how amazing it would be to kiss her. - So you’re dead right? - I am… but you are not, how.. how is it possible for you to be seeing me? - Yoongi was lost of words, all he did was stare at her. - There must be a reason…- you’re my soulmate he thought, but couldn’t bring up the courage to tell her. September is here. Y/N is the most clever person I’ve ever met, dead or alive period. I haven’t told her about the whole soulmate deal yet. I want to do it soon. October.It’s weird to think people celebrate Halloween as the day the dead comes to earth and like we’re always here, hi. I don’t wanna be cheesy I know I’ll come and read this and cringe like never before but my time with her is always magical. After having no feelings at all this is all brand new to me, the bubbly feeling inside, the anxiousness I get whenever I’m going to see her. It pains me to be this cheesy but I would go life after life after life trying to find her and spend my days with her. Even though I’m dead and she’s not, I don’t want anything bad to happen to her. I came to know that she was always crying because of family and school problems. It made me really mad to not be able to do a single thing, but she told me she would handle it just fine. Eventually I’ll tell her about us being soulmates, I just don’t want to scare her. November is a nice time of the year, its almost ending but its not. I haven’t seen her cry for almost 4 weeks, at least not when we are together and I must say I’m proud of how she’s doing so well. I got to hear her singing, it made me feel complete, it felt so right I wanted to cry. I knew I wanted to spend my remaining lives with her. - Would you date me if you weren’t dead? - Yoongi choked on his non-existent saliva . She was so unpredictable sometimes. - Well… yes, you’re pretty…. I mean pretty interesting to being with. - Hey Yoongi do you have a favorite color? - I guess white? - Because you’re a ghost? - She chuckled while he rolled his eyes. - What about you, favorite color? - Brown - Brown? - he incredulously asked. - Brown. Just like the color of your eyes…. and everyone else I love. - They stared at each other for what it felt like years until both smiled like fools. They loved each other and both of them knew it. I don’t like December anymore. It doesn’t feel right anymore. The snow I can’t touch, the smells I used to like, a heartbeat that didn’t last. On the 19th she decided it was right to end her life. It was never known for me, her intentions I mean. She couldn’t handle it anymore, so she killed herself with a rope. A week before I was able to tell her all, about the soulmate thing I came to love. - Why did you do it?! - Yoongi screamed at the top of his lungs to the girl smiling before him. - I’m sorry love, I couldn’t take it anymore… - her eyes were sad even though she was smiling. She never felt like this before, she was finally free. - Does this mean we can finally find ourselves in another life? December ruined me. I was selfish to want her death to be natural, but all I wanted was for her to live life the fullest until her time came and we could start our journey to the other life. She told me she knew I was her soulmate, doesn’t know why but when she saw me she felt it. December came crushing down. Because it seems the soulmates thing doesn’t work when suicide is involved.

A/n: this is something I came up with today, I was thinking about Yoongi and then soulmates and well this came in mind. I’d be glad to write some more if you want to. Sorry its sad but that’s how I’m feeling right now. Thanks for reading

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witchyrobot · 7 years

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My Greatest Influence

So just now, I finished watching Channel Frederator’s 107 Facts about Yu-Gi-Oh! and it got me to reminiscing and now I felt a need to type this up.

Very few people will ever understand how deeply this anime influenced me.

Hell, I don’t even think about how much Yu-Gi-Oh! influenced me until I give it some really deep thought.

For starters, I was a tomboy growing up, and I was heavily bullied for it-- I was especially bullied because I loved YGO as deeply as I did. I was even emotionally abused by my older sister over it--constantly I was told “That’s for boys” and “you’re too old for children’s cartoons” and “it’s just a cartoon” ect. It hurt-- it hurt as much as you could imagine and more.

But it didn’t deter my love for the series.

And through that love, I made friends on the internet. Friends that mattered more to me and were there for me the way nobody else ever were for me in real life, at times, not even my parents. Through these friends, even if one friendship died and another friend vanished, I accidentally discovered roleplaying--though we didn’t call it that at the time, it was just “playing around” that evolved into it. These friends also gave me love and purpose-- I was bullied to the point of wanting to commit suicide, but every time I spoke to them, they gave me love and strength through thick and thin.

Through them, I stayed alive. I would’ve never met them without YGO.

I started writing fanfiction. Bad, horribly written, gagworthy Mary-Sue-filled fanfiction. You know that stage-- the stage in a young writer’s life where they ship themselves with the Pharaoh and are the niece of Chase Young from the completely unrelated show Xiaolin Showdown! *shudder* But I improved. Slowly at first, then more rapidly, and then eventually writing my own, original works.

I became a writer through YGO.

Through my new fandom friends, I started to draw. My drawings weren’t good by any means. I borrowed an IRL friend’s “How to Draw Anime” art books. I bought my first pair of leather pants thanks to Little Kuriboh’s YGO The Abridged Series--and now I always own a pair, I absolutely love how they look and feel. Over time, I developed as an artist and challenged myself, but I still have that clear anime influence-- some people have commented that the way I draw eyes reminds them of YGO.

YGO made me an artist.

My few IRL friends started to introduce me to other mangas. Formerly, my mom was a book hoarder-- I hated books and I thought they were the embodiment of Satan himself. With mangas and graphic novels, though, I found myself liking reading--in fact, by high school, I had discovered comic books and fallen in love!

I fully embraced a geeky lifestyle.

I also became fascinated with the spiritual concepts behind YGO--the idea of reincarnation, magic and souls. Eventually it lead my dad to teach me how to read Tarot cards. Through Tarot cards I went down a rabbit hole that introduce me to a massive world of ghosts and magick. (real Magick)

I became spiritual and recently, identified as a witch.

I have no idea what my life would be like if I had never watched YGO as a kid. Yes, the 4Kids dub is awful and botched--nobody can deny that. I still loved it anyway, and I still do. I might’ve not watched it for a very long time, but the series still means so much to me. It influenced so many aspects of my life, I don’t even really know how to fully explain how much it means to me without going into my life’s story.

For this reason guys, you should never, ever degrade something someone loves to their face-- you have no idea how much that thing might actually mean to them, no matter how silly or stupid it might seem. Or at least, if you’re going to criticize it, actually be fucking nice and constructive about it. That shit can really, really hurt.

tl;dr; Hey you guys YGO is like super important to me and kinda defined my entire artistic being so media is actually really fucking important to some people so be nice about people’s interests please.

#Yu-Gi-Oh!#artistic influence #Archive rattled nonsense #anime #childhood

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ladynancelot · 7 years

Text

Death - a luxury

Neil was a goddamn miracle. No, not because he was a medical marvel that had survived a rather complicated birth that left his parents wailing for joy. Neither was it because he was the reincarnated soul of Florence Nightingale that everyone loved and adored. Simply because, he should have been stone cold dead and yet the adrenaline in his veins told him he was very much alive and breathing unless this is what dying felt like – which was, as similar to life as he could comprehend.

He opened his eyes rather reluctantly. He was lying in a pristine hospital bed with an IV drip leading into his arm. Unfortunately, he remembered exactly what got him here, even though he much rather he didn’t, because he now knew very well the meaning of the phrase “Don’t do anything you wouldn’t want to explain to the paramedics”. He had tried to end his life by flinging himself off the 44th floor of his office building and, well, survived. Why?

He didn’t want to live. It really was quite as simple as that. He found no joy in existing and was suicidal for as long as he could remember, which was way back to his 6th grade; an age where most kids are blissfully unaware of their own bodily functions, let alone acknowledging that there is no purpose in life but to temporarily occupy space and consume earth’s resources up until life decides your time is up. This nihilistic point of view had made him a rather forlorn kid all though school. Nothing much changed as he graduated high school, got into college, graduated yet again, got a job, bought an apartment, paid his bills, did his taxes and went about with his life like every other mortal on the planet. He wasn’t particularly upset that he was saved. But he did wish people had just let him bleed to death on the pavement than rush him to the ER and get him stitched up. “Mr. Chendell, how are you feeling?” asked the doctor that came in to check up on his vitals. “Quite alright, really” mumbled Neel, feverishly hoping for limited questions and interrogation from the concerned doctor. “We had witnesses recount the incident for us, and most of them say you willingly jumped off the ledge of your office window. Is that true?”

“Yes, Doctor. I was just..”trailed off Neil, not sure how to explain his existential dilemma. “Why don’t we get you to speak with our specialist, Mr. Westin, and see how it goes? He is a wonderful doctor and I’m sure he can help”. James Westin was the psychologist. ‘Surprise, surprise’ thought Neil. Like he hadn’t dealt with enough of them all through his childhood, and the better part of his adulthood. ********************************* When he was finally discharged and was ready to go home, Neil was extremely determined to finish what he started. His wallet was one “specialist” business card heavier and his unbreakable will to die was nowhere close to being shattered. Reaching home, he decided that the best course of action would be to try methods of pain, since quick deaths had clearly failed him before. That night, Neil slipped into the bath along with the sharpest steak knife he owned. After a quiet two minute thoughtful pause that seemed to breathe with the anticipation of what was coming next, he swiped the blade in one swift motion across the pale skin on his wrists. He stifled his scream and felt warm, crimson torrents pour into the tub, turning it into the perfect “bloodbath” he knew his aesthetic senses would be proud of, if he wasn’t dying rapidly in toe-curling agony. As he closed his eyes and welcomed the metaphorical light at the end of the tunnel, he glimpsed a figure tumble into his bathroom, slipping on soapsuds on the floor. He heard a thud, a metal ‘thunk’, and a whispered “Shit, dude, no” before darkness and pain engulfed him into oblivion.

#writing #short story #part one #spilled ink #Spilled in prose #fiction #writers of tumblr

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green-eyeddragonfanfiction · 7 years

Text

Time: Chapter 10

Summary: Soulmate!AU/Reincarnation!AU. Female!Reader lives in a world where alien invasions and hordes of death robots occur and past lives and soulmates are very real. Like most people, she gets brief glimpses of her past. although a person’s past lives and their current life may have little to nothing in common, soul mates tend to transfer between lives, the core of a person staying the same throughout the eons. Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female!Reader, Steve Rogers x Female!Reader Warnings: Language, angst, fluff Word Count: ~5,510 A/N: I think I wrote a sitcom on accident. Oh well. This chapter is 15% Steve fluff, 20% angst, and 65% Team Cap banter.

Masterlist // Previous Chapter // Next Chapter

You looked inside of yourself, trying to assess the damage. You were shocked to find nothing there. You felt nothing.

Bucky hadn’t broken your heart, he’d obliterated it.

You hadn’t realized you’d fallen asleep until Wanda’s quiet voice woke you from the doorway.

“We have to leave, Steve. We’ve been here too long as is,” she said, apologetic.

“I know, Wanda. Just a little long-”

“You’re leaving? Now?” you asked, alarmed, as you sat up and rubbed the sleep from your eyes. It had gotten dark out while you’d been asleep. Light had been streaming in through your windows, filling your room with a warm glow when you’d first come in, but now shadows painted the walls of the neighboring buildings. It was dusk.

Steve looked down at you and frowned, regret clear on his face. “Sorry, darling. We can’t stay any place too long, least of all New York. This was only supposed to be a quick stop, anyway,” he said as he began untangling himself from the blankets and sheets.

“Please don’t go,” you whispered. You needed to reach out for him, make him stop, but your body wasn’t listening to your orders.

Something in your voice made him freeze. He pulled his arm from around you and cupped your chin with his fingers. “I can’t take you with me, (Y/N). It’s too dangerous,” he said, sorrow clear in his voice. This close, you could see the flecks of green in his captivating blue eyes.

You shook your head stubbornly, jaw set. “I want to go with you, Stevie. It’s my choice. I was in New York and D.C. I watched the videos of Sokovia. I know the kind of danger you get into. I don’t care,” you said as you took his hands in yours. You squeezed his fingers hard, willing him to understand. He didn’t seem convinced and opened his mouth to say something else, but you spoke before he could say anything.

“I can’t lose you, too. Not after everything that’s happened. I know you understand that. Please, Stevie,” you whispered, tears filling your eyes.

His face twisted in sadness. That had been a low blow and you knew it. Steve had dealt with your and Bucky’s deaths once before. His best friend and soul mate both gone before thirty, and he’d watched both times; you’d died from disease and Bucky had plummeted from that train in the mountains. He still probably blamed himself for Bucky.

Steve glanced at Wanda, who stood in the doorway, question clear on his face.

She looked between you and Steve before she sighed and shrugged her shoulders helplessly. “I don’t care what you decide; It’s really your decision anyway. Just choose quickly,” she said, then walked back towards your sitting room.

“It’ll be dangerous,” he said, turning back to you. “I don’t know if I can keep you safe,” he said softly, worry clear in his voice. He wished you’d stay. You’d be safer here, without him. But he knew how much you had to be hurting right now. He didn’t have it in him to leave you alone.

“I know,” you said, lip quirking into a tentative half smile as a tear slipped down your cheek. He gently wiped it away with his thumb and kissed you on the forehead.

“Get packed. We’ll leave in fifteen,” he said, finally extracting himself from the bed.

“Ten, Steve!” came Wanda’s voice from the living room.

“Ten, then. Need any help?” he said, extending his hand to help you up. You took it gladly, his warm, well-worn hand helping to keep you grounded. Now that you knew he wasn’t going to leave you, your heart felt lighter, even just a little bit.

You shook your head as you hopped off the bed, swaying slightly. His hand came down to steady you and he eyed you with concern. “I’m mostly packed already. Never really unpacked, actually,” you explained, trying to ignore the way he looked at you as though you were about to break.

“Alright, if you’re sure, I’ll be out in the sitting room with Wanda,” he said, giving you a peck on the cheek, which made you blush. He gave you a melancholy smile as he walked out of the room and went to join Wanda on your squishy couch.

Nine and a half minutes later you walked into your sitting room, bulging duffel slung over your shoulder, a dirty manila folder clutched at your side in your free hand. Wanda and Steve were already standing by the door. Steve smiled at you, taking your bag wordlessly. “Thanks,” you said, giving him a small smile.

“Are we ready?” Wanda asked, raising an eyebrow at you and Steve.

“I have one last thing to do. You guys go ahead, I’ll be right behind you,” you said, opening the door for them.

Steve seemed unsure and didn’t immediately follow Wanda down the stairs.

“It’s fine, Stevie. I’ll only be a minute, I promise,” you said as you clutched the manila folder to your chest.

He studied you for a moment before he nodded his head. “Alright, get outside as soon as possible. Wanda seemed nervous, which makes me nervous,” he said. You nodded in agreement, and he gave you one last smile before he closed the door. You could hear the stairs creaking under his weight as you opened up the manila folder in your hands and placed it on the small table next to your door. You grabbed the pen off the table and quickly flicked through the documents, signing your name and initialing wherever it told you to. With one last flourish of your pen you snapped the folder closed and grabbed the keys to your apartment. You yanked the door open and bounded down the stairs. You weren’t sure if it was luck or not, but Dean was in the back, likely getting ready to close down for the night.

“Dean!” you said, jogging up to him.

“Hey, what’s up, (Y/N)? When did you get back?” he asked, looking from you to the staircase that led to your apartment then back to you. He spotted the manila folder in your hands and the look of confusion on his face only grew.

“Doesn’t matter,” you said as you grabbed his wrist and dragged him over to the nearest counter. You pulled out your pen and opened the manila folder. “Sign this here and here and initial here, here, and here,” you said, marking the spots you mentioned with x’s.

“What’s this all about, (Y/N)?” he asked, glancing from you to the papers.

“Trust me, please, Dean. I don’t have time to explain,” you said, desperate. You didn’t know how long Steve and Wanda would wait.

“Alright, alright,” he said, quickly filling out the paperwork.

You beamed up at him. “The cafe and apartment are yours now, Dean. For real, this time. The apartment’s been paid for till the end of the year,” you said. The look of delighted shock on his face was something you’d never forget.

“What? Wait, (Y/N)- What-!” he tried to get your attention, but you were already headed through the door to the cafe’s main room.

“Take good care of my damn cafe, Dean!” you yelled back to him. “You too, Tali, Kate!” you said, waving to them as you opened the door. Not understanding the situation they happily waved back, promising they would with yes, ma’am!’s.

You stepped through the door, Dean hot on your heels, but when he stepped through the doorway and blinked against the light of the sun, it was like you’d vanished from right in front of him. He looked up and down the sidewalk in alarm, but you were nowhere to be found. A car came down the street and something about it caught Dean’s attention. He glanced at it and he swore he saw you waving at him through the back window, index finger over your lips in a conspiratorial smile. He also thought he saw Captain America throw him a salute from the seat beside yours in the back. Was that the Scarlet Witch driving?

Dean blinked rapidly, but, just like you had a moment ago, the car seemed to vanish; there one minute and gone the next.

“I trust Captain America,” came your voice in his memories. You’d said that a few days ago when he’d insulted the Winter Soldier and the Captain.

“Oh, you sly bitch,” he said, grinning. “You could have at least introduced me,” he said, laughing as he turned back to the cafe. His cafe. “Can’t even tell anyone that Captain America was in the damn place,” he groaned quietly, resigning himself to the fact that telling people Steve had been there would only cause problems. “Stay safe, Boss,” he whispered, throwing one last glance over his shoulder before he went back inside.

You made it out of the city and began traveling west. Steve dozed quietly in the seat next to you and you briefly considered joining him in his napping endeavors, but decided to try to get to know the other person in the car a little better, instead. You carefully clamored towards the passenger seat up front, deftly avoiding bumping Steve’s outstretched legs. Wanda watched you with amusement as you not-so-gracefully plopped down into the seat next to her.

“Hi,” you said lamely. You were careful to speak quietly so you wouldn’t wake Steve.

“Hi,” she said, smirking at you.

“Where are we headed?” you asked, peering at the road ahead of you. You were out of the big city now, so trees and residential areas lined the freeway.

“We’re meeting up with the rest of the guys, then we’re headed somewhere safe... Well, safer,” she informed you.

“’The rest of the guys’?” you asked, confused.

“Ah, yeah. The rest of the pariahs on the run from the combined might of the world’s governments. Scott, Sam, and Clint,” she said, ticking them off on her fingers.

“Clint is Hawkeye, right? And Sam is the Falcon?” you asked.

“Yeah, that’s right,” she said, smiling at you.

“I have no idea which one Scott is, though,” you said, racking your brain for a face to place the name to.

“New addition as of a few days ago. His alias is Ant-Man,” she said. You snorted and she grinned at you. “Yeah, I agree, not the best name, but he’s not someone to mess with. He can make himself so tiny he could kill you and you’d never see him coming... or he could make himself one hundred feet tall and squish you under his foot. Plus, he’s a good guy,” she said, chuckling at your stricken expression.

“Right, don’t cross Ant-Man. Got it,” you said, sighing as you leaned back in the seat.

She bit back a laugh, glancing into the back seat to make sure your conversation hadn’t woken Steve up. “No, they’re all softies. They’re excited to meet you, in fact. It’s not often Steve throws tactical logic to the wayside. There’s always a good reason for it, though,” she said, smiling softly at you. You felt your cheeks heat and looked out the window in lieu of facing her.

“We’re almost to the exit,” Steve said suddenly. You jumped at his deep voice, not expecting it.

“I know, I know. Stop backseat driving, grandpa,” Wanda said, turning on her blinker to merge into the right lane.

“Hey, I just want to make sure we don’t miss the exit. We don’t have time to turn around if we miss it,” he said leaning forward between the front seats. You turned to look at him and he smiled at you, but the smile didn’t quite reach his eyes and you could tell he was trying to gauge how you were feeling. Not willing to disappoint him, you put on a brave smile.

“And whose fault is that?” Wanda asked, rolling her eyes as she turned off the freeway.

Steve winced slightly and turned to give Wanda an apologetic smile. “Yeah, you’re right. Sorry about that,” he said amicably.

“Apology accepted,” she said, smirking at him. “They said they’d meet us at the Waffle House, right?” she asked, peering at the freeway sign that directed travelers to the nearest food and lodging.

“Yeah. Looks like it’s a left at the light,” Steve said, ducking his head to look at the sign through the windshield.

A few minutes later you pulled into the Waffle House parking lot. A few cars were parked here and there, but Wanda pulled up next to a large nondescript black SUV.

“Why is it always the large black SUV’s? Don’t you people realize they’re conspicuous in that they’re always thought to be inconspicuous?” you asked, looking at Wanda and Steve in exasperation.

Wanda laughed and Steve opened the door and hopped out, opening yours before you had the chance. Ever the gentleman, your Stevie.

“Actually, that’s our ride,” Steve said, pointing his thumb over his shoulder and you laughed.

“Nice one, Stevie,” you said, walking over to the black SUV.

“Uh, (Y/N)... I wasn’t joking,” Steve said, raising an eyebrow at you.

“Though I wish he was,” Wanda said, grimacing at the monstrosity Steve had pointed at.

Across the parking lot was an ugly, decrepit yellow and white van straight out of the mid 70′s. The paint was peeling at the bottom and you could tell from here the current paint job was hiding countless ones before it. You could still barely make out giant, loopy flowers all over the sides.

“Well, I suppose I’d never expect to find an Avenger in there,” you admitted, glaring at the van as though it had killed your dog.

Steve grabbed your bag out of the trunk of the car and together you, he, and Wanda walked over to the vehicular eyesore. Steve knocked on the double side doors, glancing around as he did so. You glanced over your shoulder, too, suddenly aware you were with the world’s most wanted people on earth. This wasn’t how you expected today to go.

“Password?” came a voice from inside, the source of which you could see moving behind the bright orange curtains that seemed to be on every window but the front three. The person who said it seemed to be going for a Gandalf-esque voice.

“Scott, is that you? Open up,” Steve said, shifting uncomfortably as he threw another look over his shoulder.

“Incorrect, try again,” said the voice again.

“Scott, it’s me, Wanda, and-” Steve began

“Man what are you doing? Open the damn door,” said a different voice.

“Hey, it could be a-” the voice’s protests stopped abruptly as the door swung open, squeaking horrifically.

“Shit, I need to oil that thing,” one of the men behind the door said. You recognized his voice as the one asking for a password.

“Man, you need to do a lot of things to this rust bucket. Maybe get your head checked while you’re at it, too, Tic-Tac,” said the second man.

“Scott. Sam,” Steve said in greeting, tossing the bag to the second man, who threw it behind him into the back of the van.

“Oh, hey, Cap. Wanda. You must be (Y/N). I’m Scott, AKA Ant-Man,” the first guy said, nodding his head in greeting. You nodded back, smiling slightly. You recognized the other Man as the Falcon; Sam Wilson.

“Move over, Scott,” Wanda said as she clambered into the van.

Your eyes adjusted to the dim light inside and you laughed out loud. It was covered from top to bottom in atrocious orange shag carpet. Only the front two seats remained. The rest had been gutted to make room for a huge, equally orange and atrocious couch. A smaller loveseat behind the driver’s seat faced backwards. It was, at least, not orange. It was, instead, a hideous, stained zebra stripe pattern.

“You guys are running from the world government in a shaggin wagon?” you asked, hand clamped over your mouth in an attempt to stifle your giggles as you climbed into the van.

“Yeah, well, it was all we could get on short notice,” came a voice from the driver’s seat. “I’m Clint, by the way,” he said, extending a hand to you. You hunched over so your head wouldn’t hit the ceiling and shook his hand.

“I know. Nice to meet you, Hawkeye,” you said, winking at him. He beamed back at you.

“See? She knows who I am,” he said, inexplicably proud.

“Yes, we’re all very happy for you, Clint,” Wanda said, rolling her eyes as she sat down in the passenger seat. “Are you still upset about what T’Challa said?” she asked, raising an eyebrow at him.

“No,” he said obstinately. He was clearly still upset.

“It’s okay, Clint. I still don’t think anyone on their team knows who I am,” Scott said, shooting Clint a commiserative look in the rear-view mirror.

“Thanks, Scott,” Clint said, grinning. “Are we all ready?” he asked as Steve hopped in after you and closed the doors.

“Yeah, let’s get out of here,” Steve said, taking a seat on the bright orange couch. The van jolted as it came to life. The engine didn’t sound healthy and you wondered for a second if it would explode, but Clint shifted gears and soon it was rolling out of the Waffle House parking lot towards the main street.

You took a seat next to Steve on the couch, not entirely comfortable around the others yet. They seemed nice, just like Wanda said, but you weren’t up to snuff yet after everything that had happened today. You weren’t sure you ever would be, but Steve’s presence offered you some relative safety. There was a short scuffle for the Zebra seat, which Scott lost. Sam plopped down in it, looking superior as Scott sat dejectedly down on the floor.

“Better luck next time, Tic-Tac,” Sam said, shit-eating grin plastered on his face.

“You say that, but I’m pretty sure those stains should be considered bio hazards,” Scott said, smirking up at Sam, who suddenly looked much less pleased with himself.

“Sorry for showing up so late,” Steve said, scratching the back of his neck guiltily.

“Don’t sweat it Steve. You still had a half hour to spare,” Sam said, throwing his friend a grin.

“Yeah, and now it’s obvious why you arrived so much later than we expected,” Clint said from the driver’s seat. You saw him glance at you and Steve and wink to the blond beside you. You glanced at Steve out of the corner of your eye and smiled. His cheeks were distinctly tinged pink.

“Gear safe in the back?” Steve asked, glancing over his shoulder, eager for a change of topic.

“Yup, loaded it all myself,” Clint said as he turned onto the freeway. “Did you stay out of sight in New York?” he asked, glancing at Steve and Wanda.

“Define ‘out of sight’,” Wanda said, grimacing.

“Really, guys?” Clint asked, exasperated.

“Wanda made sure no one noticed us,” Steve said defensively.

“Do her powers work on street cameras now, too?” Clint asked.

“Well I short-circuited the ones I noticed. But no, I can’t guarantee I fried all of them. It’s why I made sure Steve didn’t dawdle any longer than necessary,” Wanda explained.

“Well, what’s done is done. We’ll just have to hope Tony and Nat still like us enough to keep the government off our trail long enough for us to get underground,” Clint said as he cajoled the van into a legal freeway speed.

“Sorry,” you said quietly.

“Hey, now. This isn’t your fault. It’s that big blond idiot next to you’s,” Sam said as he crossed his arms and smirked at Steve.

“Thanks, Sam,” Steve said sarcastically, grinning back at Sam.

“No problem, man,” Sam said, toothy grin lighting up his whole face.

“How far out are we?” Scott asked Clint from where he laid on the floor.

“If you ask me ‘are we there yet?’ I swear I’ll kick you out of this car while it’s speeding down the freeway,” Clint threatened.

Wanda snorted. “Does it count as speeding if we’re only going-” a pause as she checked the speedometer “- fifty-three?”

“Yeah, I think I’d probably survive that. It might not even hurt,” Scott said, brows furrowed as he, presumably, played the situation out in his head.

“Not the point, Scott,” Clint said, sighing.

“Looks like we’re about eight hours out,” Wanda said, looking up from the road map you’d only just noticed.

“A physical map? Why are you traveling so low tech?” you asked, eyebrow quirked.

“Oh, right. Can I see your phone?” Steve said, holding out a hand.

“Which one?” you asked, pulling them both out of your pockets.

“Both, actually,” Steve said as he took them from you and threw them up to Wanda, who caught them with her powers. She rolled down the window with one of her hands and you enjoyed the fresh air for about .3 seconds before Wanda crushed both of your phones and threw them out of the window into the roadside brush.

“What-” you began, shocked.

“Tracking devices, built in GPS, all that shit,” Scott said. Sam nodded along as he spoke.

“Yeah, but why my-” you began again.

“There’s a chance there’s footage of you with us. Of your own accord. Can’t risk your phones being tracked,” Wanda said, smiling apologetically at you as she rolled up the window.

You let out a long sigh, wiping a hand over your face in exasperation. “Fine, fine. I understand,” you said as you leaned back into the lumpy orange couch.

“Hey, how did you find Steve in Berlin, anyway?” Sam asked, leaning forward to stare at you.

You squirmed at the sudden attention as everyone but Clint turned to look at you. Even Steve looked at you expectantly.

“Well, uh, you see- that’s a funny story-”

An hour later you’d told them about everything that had happened to you starting from the Battle of New York. You made them promise to keep their questions till the end.

“You mean you fought off those Chitauri bastards with two teenage baristas?” Clint asked, clearly impressed.

“And a small army’s worth of ammo,” you said, embarrassed.

“Huh,” Scott said eloquently, looking at you with newfound respect.

“You were the one who found Steve on the riverbank in D.C. after everything had gone to shit?” Sam asked.

“I just stumbled onto him by accident,” you said, cheeks heating as you remembered him latching onto you as though he was still drowning. You realized now the man you’d seen leaving the clearing was Bucky. Steve seemed to sense your tempestuous emotions because he reached over to hold your hand in his. The gesture wasn’t something the rest of the team missed, but they didn’t say anything.

Instead, Scott spoke up. “Wait you really didn’t know you’d been hanging out with the Winter Soldier? His face was plastered all over the news,” he said, raising an eyebrow at you.

“I, ah, don’t watch the news much. I was pretty busy moving during the time the news about D.C. was airing.” You had more to say, but you couldn’t do it. Even thinking about Bucky was starting to bring back that dark feeling in your heart. You squeezed Steve’s hand. It was, once again, the only thing keeping you grounded. He realized you were starting to spiral so he pulled you into his lap, hugging you to his chest.

If you were able to see anything but Steve’s broad chest you would’ve seen the matching looks of surprise on Scott and Sam’s faces. Wanda had already seen Steve act like that around you, so she wasn’t surprised, and Clint nodded his head as though a question he had had just been answered.

“Wanna take a nap, Dollface?” he asked, the nickname he and Bucky used for Rosie slipping out.

If you noticed, you didn’t show it. You nodded, cheek rubbing against his chest. He smiled and cradled you in his arms as he stood, careful not to hit his head on the van’s low ceiling, and placed you gently down on the couch. You reached out and grabbed his hand, pleading with your eyes for him to stay within reach, not wanting to say it aloud around so many strangers. He smiled sadly down at you and sat in front of the couch and leaned up against it. He sat close to your head, slightly blocking your face from view of the others. You threw an arm over his shoulder and he reached up and held onto your hand, rubbing your palm gently with his thumb.

You fell asleep more quickly than you thought you would. Your mind seemed to choose to knock itself out rather than have another breakdown and you didn’t feel like fighting it on its choice, the gentle sway of the van helping to lull you to sleep.

Steve’s POV

Steve didn’t have to look over his shoulder to know you’d fallen asleep. Your grip on his hand had loosened and your breathing had evened out, but he continued to rub your palm gently.

“There’s more, isn’t there? Stuff she left out?” Sam asked quietly, eyeing the way you and Steve sat together.

Steve let out a sigh. “Yeah, there is,” he said quietly, not wanting to wake you.

“Wanna start with... this?” Sam asked, gesturing to the two of you.

Steve sighed, glancing back at you before he gently released your hand. You frowned a little in your sleep but otherwise didn’t stir. Steve pulled back his left sleeve and held it out for the others to see.

“Your... brand? RAF? What does that have to do with anything? Those aren’t even her initials,” Scott said, brows furrowing in confusion.

“No, they’re not... but they were,” he said, frowning. Comprehension dawned on Scott, Sam, and even Wanda’s face from where she sat in the front seat, listening in on the conversation.

“You mean she’s the reincarnation of this RAF?” Sam asked, stunned.

“Rose Alice Foster was her name back then. We met when we were five. I knew the second I saw her she was my soul mate. Still, we didn’t show each other our brands right away. We were both scared they might not match, y’know? But when we were eight Rosie convinced me, and, sure enough, they matched.

“She loved reading. She’d read while I’d draw. Bucky would join us sometimes and read comics. She loved lilacs and hated celery. She was fascinated by cars and technology; it was her dream to meet Howard Stark,” he said, his gaze eighty years in the past as he reminisced.

After a moment his gaze darkened. “She was always kind of unwell. She had a lot of health problems, like I did, back before the serum. But hers were worse, and by thirteen she had trouble going outside. She couldn’t go to school anymore for risk of catching something and getting even sicker. By fourteen she was in the hospital year-round. For two years I watched as she lost the fight to the diseases that ate away at her until she finally passed in her sleep the day after her sixteenth birthday. Her family, Bucky, and I had had a get-together in her hospital room for her birthday. She didn’t even have the energy to blow out the candles on her cake. Bucky and I did it for her. Her parents had smiled as they cried, not wanting to make her sad, too,” he said, staring at the ground. Eighty years hadn’t done anything to soften the pain of that time.

There was a long pause. “Jesus, Steve, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to dredge all of that up,” Sam said, voice solemn.

“It’s alright, Sam. I know you didn’t,” Steve said, giving Sam a sad half smile.

“There’s still more, isn’t there?” Wanda said, eyes searching Steve’s.

Steve let out a year’s worth of sighs. “Yeah, there is,” he said.

“You don’t have to-” Scott began but Steve shook his head.

“But I should. I think it’s better you guys understand what’s going on so you don’t say anything to set her off accidentally, but I think it’s too painful and fresh for her to say it herself,” he said, taking a deep breath. His team members frowned, but they trusted his decision.

“Back when we were ten or so I was staying over at Bucky’s house. In the middle of the night I woke up to Bucky hitting me in his sleep. I moved his arm off of me but not before I noticed his soul brand. I’d never seen Bucky’s brand because he just told me what it said, instead. I remember he told me it was ‘HRL.’ That was a lie. On Bucky’s left wrist was an exact copy of the letters on my wrist,” Steve said.

The was a collective gasp from the others. “I’ve... never heard about that happening before,” Wanda said, raising an eyebrow at Steve.

“Me neither,” Scott said, confused.

“I hadn’t either at the time. I never said anything to him about it. I didn’t want to lose my best friend. I didn’t want Rosie to lose hers, either. Bucky meant as much to us as we meant to him, I think. Still, a part of me always wondered why he never cut us out of his life. It must have been painful. A lesser man would have been broken by it, I think. But not Bucky. He was with me, no matter what happened. Always there to help me, especially after Rosie passed. He was the only other one who understood how much she meant to me,” Steve said, glancing back at you. He smiled softly and brushed a piece of hair out of your face. Your frown lessened slightly as you slept.

“Hell, I think I owe that stupid tin man an apology... and a beer,” Sam said, shaking his head in disbelief.

Steve nearly let out a chuckle at that. “If I knew all it took to get you two on good terms was to tell you about our tragic pasts I would have sat you down for story time a long time ago, Sam,” Steve said, smirking.

“Oh shut up, Steve,” Sam said, smiling, and turned his head away, waving a hand dismissively.

“She wasn’t just hanging out with him in Bucharest, was she?” Scott asked from his spot on the ground. Sam gave him a swift kick in the side. “Ow! Dude!” he protested.

Sam gave him a distinct what the fuck gesture, throwing up his hands in exasperation.

After a second they both turned their attention back to Steve, who stared at the ground. After a moment he shook his head slowly, mouth pulled in a tight line.

“Man, you’re not even mad at him, are you?” asked Sam resignedly.

“How could I be? He loved her just as much as I did. Should I hate him for falling in love with her again? Should I hate her for falling in love with him?” Steve asked, heart heavy.

After a moment Sam let out a long sigh. “Fine, fine. I still don’t like it, though,” he said, crossing his arms.

Steve opened his mouth to respond, but Clint cut him off. “We’re getting off at this exit for food and supplies. We could really use your girl’s help, Steve. She’s much less conspicuous than us,” Clint said, glancing at your sleeping form in the rear-view mirror.

“No, I’m not putting her in danger like that,” Steve said obstinately. Something in his voice roused you from your sleep. You let out a small noise of discontent as you sat up, rubbing sleep from your eyes. You stretched, grimacing. There was a horrible crick in your neck.

“Wuzz goin’ on?” you asked eloquently, glancing around the van.

“Mornin’ sleeping beauty,” Sam said cheerily. Scott gave you a little wave which you returned absentmindedly.

“Wanna go shopping?” Clint asked from the front seat.

“Clint,” Steve said, warning clear in his voice.

“Shopping? For what?” you asked, glancing between Clint and Steve.

“Food and supplies, mostly,” Clint said, smiling.

“Clint-” Steve began again.

“It’s a shopping trip, Steve. Not a mission to break into the Pentagon. It’ll be okay,” Clint argued as he pulled off of the freeway.

“If anything happens, we’re better equipped to deal with it,” Steve argued.

“Wait, I have an idea that’ll make everyone happy,” Scott piped up from the ground.

“Well, let’s hear it, Tic-Tac,” Sam said, eager to end the bickering.

Chapter 11

☕ Buy Me a Coffee! ☕

#steve rogers #steve x reader #steve rogers x reader #Bucky x Reader #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #marvel fanfiction #wanda maximoff #sam wilson #scott lang

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