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letstalksymphogear · 5 years

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Symphogear, EP. 4 (Cont)

The gremlin challenges Tsubasa, a Symphogear, whose entire shtick is to sing to channel power, to sing.

It dawns on her, however, that Tsubasa is part Greninja. Tsubasa used Shadow-Weaving! It’s super effective.

“tell me, you jellyfish looking weirdo...”

“hey- hey, time out. are you gonna do what i think you’re gonna do. this is gonna like, kill you. you know that, right? that you will literally die? you do understand you can just retreat now or- or just take hibiki away, right? i even told you that was the whole point of this... uh... oh shit.”

“ARE YOU READY TO JAM”

“tsubasa please i will literally lend you my remaining brain cell to stop you from this really stupid mistake”

Dad has entered the server.

“oh my god. oh my god. oh my god. oh my god. o- ryoko. stop breathing on me. this isnt helping my anxiety over my adopted daughter figure literally preparing to kill herself over my commands.”

“sorry babe its just the asthma, forgot my inhaler”

“i cannot FUCKING believe of ALL the opponents i had to fight i had to fight the DUMBEST one on the goddamn block, you idiot, you absolute dunce, RETHINK THIS”

“OH GOD SHE’S DOING IT! SHE’S DOING IT! THE ABSOLUTE MADWOMAN- FUCK- FUCK! GET ME OUT OF HERE! FUCK! FUCK!”

“just used up my last brain cell for this attack, pal. you’re through.”

“NAH, EAT ASS YOU- YOU GODDAMN MANIAC”

“HAHA YEAH, GOT YOU NOW, SLOW WALKING, DRAMA INDUCIN’, PURPLE RAIN CHANN-”

“OH GOD! YOU TELEPORTED! YOU’VE GOT SV_CHEATS SET TO 1, DON’T YOU! NOCLIPPING LIKE NOBODY’S BUSINESS GET OUT OF MY FACE”

“WHOA WHOA WHOA WHAT THE FUCK WHOA I KNOW I CRACKED SOME JOKES BUT WE LITERALLY JUST MET AND I- I GOTTA KNOW PEOPLE FIRST BEFORE THIS SHIT AND- OH GOD PLEASE STOP”

“OH GOD! THIS... RAW, GAY, REPRESSED ENERGY... IT’S... TOO STRONG...”

The gremlin could not begin to comprehend Tsubasa’s intense love for incredibly well-built redheaded women.

Hibiki can, though.

“SO......... MUCH........... SAUCE...................”

“.................................................”

The gremlin retreats after getting her licks. This scene subtly implied something; the Nehushtan armor she wears regenerates over time, which means no matter how much damage it sustains, it will always return in one piece. The same can’t be said for the user, though.

Hibiki runs to Tsubasa, checking if she’s okay, totally oblivious to the gravity of what just happened.

“i came just as i could and ive brought happy meals for everyone”

Genjuro asks if Tsubasa is okay.

I dunno man, this is a pretty tough judgement call here. I mean, is she okay? Pain is a pretty subjective experience, after all.

“oh my god i get it. i get the joke she implied. she wanted to jam. she’s jammed! cause it- it looks like jam! no, wait, its more like sauce...”

It dawns on Hibiki that people actually do die during this job.

Tsubasa, as it turns out, survived her Swan Song. It makes sense that she would because she was naturally receptive to her relic, Ame-No-Habakiri. Still, the injury comes with great gravity. She’s benched for the next season, and it’s likely she’s gonna miss the playoffs.

Stuck on a respirator on the edge of life, Tsubasa will probably look back at this and go, “Gosh, I was such a wild child. Haha. Almost dying and all.”

Hibiki wraps her single braincell around the idea of death. Most main characters aren’t familiar with the concept of death, you see, because most don’t die. But this is Season One Symphogear. Flirting with death is common.

Ogawa comes in to comfort her.

“dumbass had her opponent bound and the gremlin still escaped anyway”

Ogawa then explains shit we already know. Thanks, Ogawa.

“in summation: i get where you’re coming from, but stop fucking saying ‘im gonna replace kanade’, please, im begging you”

Hibiki FINALLY gets it, and naturally upon realizing, feels really bad for it. A real right and true asshole.

“oh thank god i was worried not even that was going to get to you”

Meanwhile, in Tsubasa’s mind...

“ah fuck me. im trapped in metaphor limbo. see, im falling because i clipped my wing, cause i nearly died, you know, like icarus and shit”

“hold up my gay senses are tingling”

Her senses confirmed. Kanade is in her mind, in probably the most romantic metaphor possible. There is absolutely no way to interpret all of this platonically.

Tsubasa is literally submerged in a sea of her own emotions...

Involving Kanade, and how she strives to be like her and honor her memory.

SHE LITERALLY DROWNS IN THOSE EMOTIONS, SUBMERGING DEEPER INTO THE WATER.

youtube

Tsubasa, in her Symphogear Brand Medical Cocoon for the Dumb and Beaten Down, quietly slumbers in her semi-comatose state as she wrestles the water metaphors of her own sexual identity.

The poor thing just misses her girlfriend.

Meanwhile, Hibiki sits and thinks more than usual. In a flashback, Genjuro muses about how The Gremlin wanted to kidnap Hibiki.

“i dunno maybe The Gremlin’s super lonely or shit”

“i mean if thats the case ill just adopt her too”

Since Tsubasa is away, Hibiki has to pick up the quota for teenage angst in the 2nd Division. Unfortunately, she has very big shoes to fill, but Hibiki isn’t one for slacking in the misery department. She blames herself for everything.

“im really going to fire the therapist we have around here for being pretty damn useless”

“can i be the therapist?”

“ryoko i am absolutely begging you to filter your bad ideas given the several teenage crises we’re dealing with right now”

Hibiki then yells out, for what is possibly the third time, out of the blue:

“I HAVE PEOPLE I WANT TO PROTECT”

The flashback ends.

And speaking of girlfriends.

“there is no force on this planet stopping me from having some quality fucking time with my girlfriend damnit”

Miku points out Hibiki has been pretty lonely. Says she heard it from a friend who, heard it from a friend who, heard it from another she was messin’ ‘round.

Unfortunately, Miku is a goddamned chad.

Immediate handholding. Make no mistake. Behind those soft-spoken eyes lies an absolute master.

“o-oh, my hand, you’re holding it, so smoothly”

“hibiki, you’re my sunshine. i want to soak up your rays so hard that every piece of flesh of my body is horribly mutilated from skin cancer.”

“jesus christ miku at least use sunscreen in your metaphors”

“ill use them just for you, hibiki. just for you.”

Their relationship is interesting. When one of them is sad, the other sorta acts as an angst vacuum. You’ll see them flip flop with their points of misery with each other, but when together, those problems always melt away.

Of course, emphasis on being together. Season 1 is the worst with keep them away from each other.

“Just Be Yourself!” Miku Kohinata, Symphogear, 2012.

“fuck me, you’re right. im the protagonist. i cant just eat shit here the whole time. i gotta do protagonist things!”

“was that an invitation?”

“another time. but now... let’s just catch up.”

And so, they laugh together about how the recorded footage of the meteor shower was all black. Truly the greatest couple of all time.

It is this realization of being her own self, coupled with her renewed gay energy, and new perspective on what she must do, that causes everything to go uphill for her from here. Take note.

Here is where a God is truly born.

Tachibana Hibiki.

The end of this episode cuts to a specific dojo.

Genjuro’s dojo.

“i dont fuck around with training, even though i probably should have trained you sooner. you sure about this?”

“dadman either you do this or i will most definitely die next time”

Part of their training involves watching action movies, because Genjuro is so unreal that he should frankly be a fictional character in the very universe he exists in.

Fucking adorable.

“im so conflicted its so clear she’s part of /fit/ now but i cant help but imagine her washboard abs”

Hibiki balls even harder at karaoke now, due to her Symphogear training, and not because she’s secretly Aoi Yuki playing a recolored version of Madoka.

Her significant other is mildly terrified at the superhuman that is slowly unfolding her powers before her eyes.

In the end, things all reach their logical conclusion.

Hibiki becomes a Tekken character, just like Genjuro.

Of course... Miku pushes the fact very subtly that she would never hide anything from Hibiki...

Turmoil brews in the worst way... soon...

#symphogear #symphogear season 1 #recap #anime

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yeunarchive · 5 years

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hello , hello my name is veer, she/her and living in the gmt+1 timezone. anyways this is yeun minsu / hellcats mechanic and fighter , resident firestarter , who won’t hesitate to light up your car if you are mean. here is a pinterest board and under the cut , you will find his biography , and some wanted connections ideas at the end. i hope to go through all the intro posts in the tag , but in the meantime give this a like / hmu in the ims or discord V.#6252

┅ ☆ ★ ✮ ∟ ‖ jeon jungkook. 21. male. he/him ‖— the familiar scent of ash coming from a car engulfed in flames , the match in his hand , a kiss on the throat. 」YEUN MINSEOK “MINSU” is planning on attending the next race ?! i won’t lie, i’m pretty excited to see their BLACK & YAMAHA YZF-R1M in person. i know people say they’re really QUICK-LEARNER , PROUD & DETERMINED , but don’t you think they come off way too IMPULSIVE , CORRUPTIBLE & RESENTFUL ? i hear they’re always blasting GOOSEBUMPS by TRAVIS SCOTT ? oh well, they’re a member of the HELLCATS so i guess i shouldn’t complain. ┠ veer , gmt+1 , 21 & she/her ┨

trigger warnings for arson and infidelity.

the runt of the litter, the black sheep in a pack of wolves. from a young age, minsu was disdained by his mother ; an animosity that began shortly after his birth, as the infant was a result of a wayward affair that his father had with one of his secretaries - and his mother never made a secret that he was no son of hers, words sharp and cutting as diamonds through teeth. yet in many ways, she was the only mother he has ever known. she never mistreated him, but was cold and avoided him whenever possible, viewing him as a living reminder of the one time that her husband had dishonoured her. though his mother was not his birth-mother he would still be raised alongside his three-elder siblings ; attend the same private schools they had, subjected to violin lessons , private tutors , but he would always be marginalized, it was an unique experience, minsu would sit at the dinner table alongside his family, but when important guests came to visit the the manor, in order not to offend him, he would be hidden in one of the many rooms or shuffled off to stay with his crooked uncle. this way of upbringing was the root of his selective muteness, an unwillingness to speak around members of his family - he would speak to the maids, the stranger on the street and sometimes with his father, but that was very few words at best.

II.

in a family of cut-throat politicians, minsu was not the only black sheep - his uncle having always felt short of his brother’s accomplishments grew his envy into benevolence, but for the wrong sort of people , running an illicit automobile shop out of spite and where the back of the shop turned into a fight club at night welcoming all degenerates, misfits, and hell-seekers. but most of all welcoming him. god help the outcast, for he fell as icarus had for those who gave him a little bit of love. Weak-willed and naive he was ; his muteness hadn’t given him a chance to find his voice and personality until much later. it was easy then, for the scorned brother to manipulate him and turn him against his family. at first, minsu observed with crossed arms from the sidelines of the shop ; watching how his uncle went about his work and observing how he had a team of 5 men working on the cars in the front and another select 3 arriving at late hours with random cars, which minsu later realized were stolen from the streets.

he was thirteen and for the first time, he spoke to someone within his family that was not his father - asking his uncle if he could teach him. after that, it did not take long for some sort of father-son relationship to be build - with his uncle learning him the workings of a car ; tidbits of basic restorations ; changing tires and engines. once, he was fifteen , he got to learn more about the illegal side: how he had to cover an entire track of stolen cars very carefully, how to make fake receipts from a manufacturer for part items of a car and sell the rest of the parts to a wrecking yard. and between the hours were the work in the shop ended and the fighting hadn’t begun yet , his uncle trained him , passed down his technique for a powerful right hook. at the car shop, minsu became was he was. kept his lips shut now even towards his father - never talking about the corrupt things he saw, but waiting with beating heart to return again.

IIII.

his affiliation with fire began in his childhood. locked inside his father’s office and not allowed to leave until the guests were gone , minsu found a gold zippo lighter in one of the drawers ( which he soon claimed to be his ). playing with the lighter too much and tempting his bitterness to be relieved with each on and off flick as he watches with a sort of amusement. eventually, the leather armchair flared with beauty ; orange and red flames burning like the pits of hell.3 he was so captured, that he didn’t notice the fire alarms above his head , until he was drenched from head to foot , until the maid stormed in and there was no choice for him, but to be exposed to his family’s guests. not soon after he became fixated with the thrill of creating fires , through his bad habit minsu was able to expel some of the rage and frustration that he had within him.

IV.

ripe in his adolescence , his uncle’s drinking caused him to swerve down the wrong road and he went comatose for months. his father hid the scandal from the tabloids like they had hidden him. never coming to visit at the hospital and leaving minsu to be the only one to take care of him. screw the upper class ; all it would take was a match and a few cunningly words planted in his head by his uncle and a war against his own family was declared. he stole 2 million dollars from his family and watched the white manor go up in flames. the world was exploding in violent red and the match had been in his hand. “bravo.“ he could hear his uncle’s voice in his head, and minsu could not help but be proud, and as the hours ticked by he found himself on the rooftop of an obscenely high building, his arm outstretched like an angel ready to fall from the sky.

that night he killed a part of him - minsu never truly felt that he belonged amongst his pretentious family and their position in the 1%. his approach to life was far grittier , harsher, his own personal violence. he was a boy like arsenic with a cigarette tucked between pouted lips. a young rich kid , ( who never belonged in his family’s house ) had been given his uncle’s shop to rub shoulders with criminals. the hellcats found him in the center of glory and gore , the same boy who had been fixing their car was participating in the raw underground fight , and there were plenty of old rich men willing to bet on him.

wanted connections :

THE INFLUENCE ( closed m/nb. kings. ) : it was terrifyingly easy for minsu to fall in the need of someone to look for as guidance. it was the blame of how he had been raised , a way of growing up that allowed him to find his own voice far too late , leaving him with a certain want of having a role-model. for a while it had been his uncle to whom he had displayed a certain devotion , but now it is your muse. must be a member of the kings , just because i love drama and minsu has always been the type of person to pit the world against him , believing that it his crime to have no place on earth where he belonged. which also means that he is not totally devoted to the hellcats.

WATER IS THICKER THAN BLOOD ( open m/f/nb. hellcats. ) : they carry themselves like siblings , and have a way of capturing attention. they are often found not far apart from one another. your muse is someone who pulls minsu back when he gets too far , but also won’t hesitate to step in during a fight. however , even friends need a hard punch to the face every now and again , and minsu definitely put your muse through a lot. your muse is someone who has been known to loudly stick up for minsu even at the worst of times , when he does not deserve it.

with that said, i’m open for any other plot you had in mind !!

#tempointro #probs forgot something but yeah hope everything is clear

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dumbledearme · 6 years

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chapter thirty-five—return to the sea

read Child of Land and Sea here

Act IV — To Stop The Tide

Part X — Your hocus-pocus isn't tough enough and your mumbo-jumbo doesn't measure up.

The room was small, but Andy sat as far away from the others as humanly possible. The gladiator fight had somewhat broken her spirit. Usually, she didn't feel bad about killing monsters, but just the thought that it was for entertainment, that people were amused, it made her feel sick.

Anthony didn't try to comfort her. He seemed thankful she didn't want to be close to him which saddened her even more. He kept his mind on Luke. "Something was wrong with him," he kept saying. "He was acting so strange."

"He looked pretty pleased to me," she answered. "It was a nice day torturing heroes."

"No. There was something wrong with him. He looked... scared. I know him. He wanted to tell me something."

"Probably wanted to invite you to stay and watch him kill me. He has a great sense of humor."

"Whatever, Andy," he said and looked at Rachel. "Which way now?"

Rachel didn't respond right away; she'd become quieter since the arena. "We'll follow the path," she said. "The brightness on the floor."

"You mean the brightness that led us straight into a trap?" Anthony asked.

"Just leave her alone, Anthony," Andy told him. "She's doing the best she can."

"Right," he said getting up. "Since you girls don't seem to need me, I'll take a walk." And he marched off into the shadows.

Andy rolled her eyes. "Something is wrong," she said, "but with him! Like this place isn't horrible enough. I don't know how much longer I can take."

"I think he's afraid," Rachel declared.

"Afraid of what?"

"You're gonna think I'm crazy," she said softly, "but I think he's afraid of you."

Andy blinked. "Of me? Why would he be afraid of me?"

Rachel shrugged like she thought that was something Andy should find out by herself. "You were right to bring me here," she said. "I can see the path. I can't explain it, but it's really clear." She pointed toward the other end of the room, into the darkness. "The workshop is that way. The heart of the maze. We're very close now. I don't know why the path led through that arena. I... I'm sorry you had to do that. I saw your face when... I thought you were going to die."

"I'm usually about to die," Andy told her. "That wasn't the bad part."

Rachel studied her face. "Do you do this all the time? Fight monsters? Save the world? Don't you ever get to do normal stuff?"

"I don't even know what normal is anymore," Andy admitted. And then something occurred to her. "Hey. How about your family? Won't they be concerned?"

Rachel's face turned bright red. "Oh... they're just... Not likely, you know? I could be gone a week and they'd never notice. I'm really tired, Andy. I'll sleep for a while, okay?" And she curled up, using her backpack as pillow.

A few minutes later, Anthony returned. "I'll take first watch," he said. "You should sleep."

Without arguing, Andy lay down, feeling miserable.

She woke up with Anthony shaking her shoulder. "Andy, wake up! Earthquake!" Sure enough, the room was rumbling. The three of them grabbed their things and ran. Hundred tons of marble was crashing down behind them, but they kept moving. The earthquake only stopped when they reached a stainless steel hallway.

"This way," Rachel said, beginning to run. "We're close!" They arrived at a set of metal double doors. Inscribed in the steel, at eye level, was a large blue Greek delta. "We're here," Rachel announced. "Daedalus's workshop."

Anthony pressed the symbol and the doors hissed open. Together, they walked inside. What shocked Andy the most was the daylight – the blazing sun coming through giant windows. The workshop was like an artist's studio.

"Di immortales," Anthony muttered. He ran to the nearest easel and looked at the sketch. "He's a genius. Look at the curves on this building!"

"And an artist," Rachel said in amazement. "These wings are amazing!"

The wings looked exactly like the ones Andy had seen in her dreams, so much so that Andy couldn't bare to look at them. She walked to the window and stared at the view. "Where are we?"

"Colorado Springs," a voice said behind them. "The Garden of the Gods." Standing on the spiral staircase above them, with his weapon drawn, was Quintus.

"You!" Anthony said. "What... Where is Daedalus?"

Quintus smiled faintly. "Trust me, boy. You don't want to meet him." He walked pass them and stood beside Andy by the window. "The view always changes," he told her. "Everyday is something new."

"It's an illusion?" she asked.

"No," Rachel answered for him. "It's real. We're really in Colorado."

Quintus regarded her. "You have clear vision. I knew a girl like you once. Another princess who came to grief."

"Oh my gods," Andy breathed out. Now that he was so close, she could see clearly too. "You're Daedalus," she accused. "I've seen... You're an automaton. You made yourself a new body."

"That's not possible," Anthony whispered.

Quintus glanced at him. "You know what Quintus means?"

"The fifth, in Latin."

"Yes. My fifth body."

"You found a way to transfer your animus into a machine?" Anthony asked. He sounded extremely disgusted. "That's not natural."

"It's still me," Daedalus said. "Our mother makes sure I never forget that." He tugged back the collar of his shirt. At the base of his neck was the mark Andy had seen before.

"A murderer's brand," Anthony said.

"For your nephew, Perdix," Andy guessed. "The boy you pushed off the tower."

Daedalus's face darkened. "I did not push him. I-"

"Let him die."

Daedalus gazed out the windows. "I regret what I did, Andy. I was angry and bitter. But I cannot take it back, and Athena never lets me forget. As Perdix died, she turned him into a small bird – a partridge. She branded the bird's shape on my neck as a reminder. No matter what body I take, the brand remains."

"Why did you come to camp?" Andy asked.

"To see if your camp was worth saving. Luke gave me one story. I preferred to come to my own conclusions."

"So you have talked to Luke."

"Several times. He is quite persuasive."

"Well, whatever he said, he lied," Anthony said to Andy's surprise. "You can't let Luke through the maze!"

"The maze is no longer mine to control. I created it, yes. In fact, it is tied to my life force. But I have allowed it to live and grow on its own. That is the price I paid for privacy."

"Privacy from what?"

"The gods," he said. "And death. I have been alive for two millennia, hiding from death."

"How can you hide from Hades?" Andy asked.

"A clever man can do almost anything. The gods don't see everything. I have buried myself very deep. Only my greatest enemy has kept after me, and even him I have thwarted."

"Minos?"

Daedalus nodded. "He hunts for me relentlessly. Now that he is a judge of the dead, he would like nothing better for me to come before him so he can punish me for my crimes. After the daughters of Cocalus killed him, Minos' ghost began torturing me in my dreams. He promised that he would hunt me down. I did the only thing I could. I retreated from the world completely. I descended into my Labyrinth. I decided this would be my ultimate accomplishment: I would cheat death."

"And you did," Anthony marveled, "for two thousand years."

A loud bark echoed and Mrs O'Leary appeared. "There she is," Daedalus said. "My only companion all these long lonely years."

"You let her save me," Andy said.

"Of course I did, Andy," he replied. "You have a good heart. And I knew Mrs O'Leary liked you. I wanted to help you. I felt guilty..."

"Guilty about what?"

"That your quest would be in vain."

"What?" Anthony said. "But you can still help us. You have to! Give us Ariadne's string so Luke can't get it."

"I told Luke that he needed the eyes of a mortal girl, but then again, who would love him enough to come down here? He was so focused on the idea of a magical item. He can't understand that love is the best guide, that love sees all. And, of course, the string works. Though it isn't as good as your mortal friend here."

"Where is it?" Anthony asked.

"With Luke," Daedalus said sadly. "I'm sorry. You are several hours too late."

With a chill, Andy realized why Luke had been in such a good mood. Anthony's face was turning a bright shade of green. He seemed about to puke.

"Kronos promised me freedom," Daedalus said. "Once Hades is overthrown, he will set me over the Underworld. I will reclaim my son Icarus. I will make things right with poor young Perdix. I will see Minos's soul cast into Tartarus, where it cannot bother me again. And I will no longer have to run from death."

"That's your brilliant idea?" Anthony growled. "You're going to let Luke destroy our camp, kill hundreds of demigods, and then attack Olympus? You're going to bring down the entire world so you can get what you want?"

"Your cause is doomed. I saw that as soon as I began to work at your camp. There is no way you can hold back the might of Kronos. I'm doing what I must. I'm sorry."

Anthony violently pushed over an easel. Architectural drawings scattered across the floor. "I respected you. You were my hero! You... You built amazing things. You solved problems. Children of Athena are supposed to be wise, not just clever. Maybe you are just a machine. You should have died two thousand years ago." Although he was clearly on the edge, he didn't raise his voice once. Andy was impressed by his self-control.

Daedalus looked down. "You should go warn your camp."

Suddenly, the doors of the workshop burst open and Nico was pushed inside. Then Kelli and two Laistrygonians marched in behind him, followed by the ghost of Minos. He fixed his gaze on Daedalus. "There you are, my old friend."

Daedalus's jaw clenched. "What is the meaning of this?"

"Luke sent his regards," Kelli said, repeating what one of the princesses had said before killing Minos. "He thought you might like to see your old employer."

"This was not part of our agreement," Daedalus said.

"No, indeed," Kelli agreed. "But we already have what we want from you, and we have other agreements to honor. Minos required something else from us, in order to turn over this fine young demigod. He'll be quite useful. And all Minos asked in return was your head, old man."

Daedalus paled. "Treachery."

"Nico," Andy called. "Are you okay?"

He nodded morosely. "I'm sorry. Minos said you were in danger. He said you needed... my help."

"You wanted to help me?"

"I was tricked," he said.

Andy glared at Kelli. "Where's Luke? Why isn't he here?"

The she-demon smiled. "Luke is busy. He is preparing for the assault. But don't you worry. We have more friends on the way."

Then all hell broke loose.

Anthony stabbed the empousa in the stomach and with an awful screech, Kelli dissolved into yellow vapor. Minos called other spirits and Nico tried to stop him.

"You do not control me, fool," Minos said. "I've been controlling you!"

"I am the son of Hades," Nico insisted. "Be gone! All of you."

Minos laughed. "You have no power over me. I am the lord of spirits! The ghost king!"

"No." Nico said, this time very softly, in such a threateningly way that Minos stepped away from him. "I am." And with unimaginable power, he somehow made a crack on the ground and Minos and the other spirits were sucked into the void.

Rachel grabbed the nearest chair and threw it at the windows that broke into a million pieces all around them. Andy breathed in. She focused on the water below.

"Brace yourselves!" she warned. And then she shouted, letting her power take over. Not a minute later, water erupted into the workshop. Andy tried her best to control it. She made the water grab her friends and get them out of there, returning to the sea. She stayed behind and trapped the monsters into balls of water and pressed them until they exploded.

Then everything stopped. Andy was in the destroyed workshop with Daedalus coughing in the corner. She glanced at him one last time. The inventor was cut in a hundred places and bleeding golden oil instead of blood.

Andy turned her back at him and threw herself out of the window into the ocean.

They were all wet and extremely upset.

"The workshop moved," Anthony said looking up to Daedalus's hill. "And there's no telling where."

"How do we get back in there?" Andy asked.

"Maybe we can't. The empousa said there were others coming. If they found Daedalus and killed him... he said his life force was tied to the Labyrinth. The whole thing might've been destroyed."

"He isn't dead," Nico said with certainty.

"How do you know?" Andy asked.

"I know when people die," he said giving her a glance that made clear he hadn't completely forgiven her yet.

"We need to get into town," Anthony decided and the others agreed.

Rachel found another entrance to the Labyrinth easily. The dirt tunnels turned to stone, but Rachel had no trouble guiding them. To Andy's surprise, Anthony and Rachel started up a conversation as they walked. Turned out Rachel knew something about architecture from studying art.

Andy took the chance to focus on Nico. "Thank you for coming after us," she said.

Nico's eyes narrowed. "I wanted to see Daedalus," he said but it sounded more like an excuse. "Minos was right. He should die. Nobody should be able to avoid death that long. It's not natural."

"You were after him," Andy guessed. "A soul for a soul. You were gonna trade him for your sister."

"It hasn't been easy," he admitted weakly. "Having only the dead for company. Knowing that I'll never be accepted by the living. Only the dead respect me, and they only do that out of fear."

"You could be accepted," Andy told him. "You could have friends at camp. If you want."

He stared at her. "Do you really believe that?"

Before Andy could answer, everybody stopped. There was a dark tunnel to their right. Wind was coming, as if an exit was near, and it brought the smell of eucalyptus.

"There's something evil down that tunnel," Rachel said.

"And the smell of death," Nico added.

"Luke's entrance," Anthony guessed. "The one to Mount Othrys." Unable to stop herself, Andy started forward, but Anthony held her arm. "Don't."

"He could be right there," she said. "Or Kronos. We need to see what they're doing."

Anthony hesitated. "Then we go together."

"No," Andy said. "I'll go. You guys stay. They can't have Nico or Rachel. You stay here with them. I'm just going to check it out. I promise."

With a miserable expression, Anthony handed her the Yankees cap. "Be quick about it."

It was like a stab to her back seeing Ethan Nakamura there with a bunch of telkhine. "At least we salvaged the blade," one of the monsters said. "The master will still reward us."

"Great," said Ethan. "Now, if you're done with me, I-"

"No, half-blood," another one said. "You must help us make the presentation."

The weapon was a scythe – a six-foot-long blade curved like a crescent moon. It was the weapon of Kronos, the one he had used to slice up his father, Ouranos.

"We must sanctify it in blood," a telkhine said. "Then you, half-blood, shall help present it when the lord awakes."

Andy dashed into a main hall and found the sarcophagus. Luke wasn't there. No guards. No nothing. It was too easy. Andy stood over the coffin. Her hand touched the lid. With a single move, she pushed back the golden lid and it fell to the floor. She lifted her sword, ready to strike, but when she looked inside, she didn't comprehend what she was seeing.

Luke was in there. Eyes closed, skin pale.

Then the voices of the telkhines were behind her. "What has happened?" one of the demons asked.

"Careful," the other one warned. "Perhaps he stirs. We must present the gifts now. Immediately."

They shuffled forward and knelt, holding up the scythe. "My lord," one said. "Your symbol of power is remade."

Silence.

"He requires the half-blood first," the other one said.

Ethan stepped back. "What do you mean?"

"Don't be a coward! He does not require your death. Only your allegiance. Pledge him your service. Renounce the gods. That is all."

Andy took off the cap. "No! Ethan, don't!"

"Trespasser!" The telkhines bared their teeth.

"Ethan," she pleaded. "Don't listen to them. Help me destroy it!"

"I told you not to spare me, Jackson," Ethan said sadly. "'An eye for an eye.' You ever heard that saying? I've learned what it means the hard way. When I discovered my godly parent. I am the child of Nemesis, Goddess of Revenge. And this is what I was made to do." He turned toward the dais. "I renounce the gods! What have they ever done for me? I will see them destroyed. I will serve Kronos."

The building rumbled. The coffin began to shimmer. Luke sat bolt upright. His eyes opened but they were no longer blue – they were golden. He leaped out of the coffin and looked at Andy. "This body has been well prepared. Don't you think so, Andy Jackson?"

She stared at him open-mouthed.

Kronos laughed. "He feared you, you know," the Titan said. "His jealousy and hatred have been powerful tools. It has kept him obedient. For that I thank you."

Ethan collapsed in terror. The telkhines trembled. Then Andy lunged at the thing that used to be Luke, thrusting her blade straight at his chest, but his skin deflected the blow like he was made of pure steel. He looked at her with amusement. Then he flicked his hand and she flew across the room.

Andy slammed against a pillar. She struggled to her feet. "What have you done to Luke?"

"He serves me wit his whole being, as I require. The difference between us is he feared you, Andy Jackson, and I do not."

That's when she ran. Time slowed down around her; the power of Kronos was slowing her down. Then Rachel called her name. Something flew past Andy and a blue plastic hairbrush hit Kronos in the eye.

Andy limbs were free and she ran straight into Rachel, Nico and Anthony, who were standing in the entry hall, their eyes wide with dismay.

"Luke?" Anthony called. "What-" Andy grabbed him by the shirt and hauled him after her. She ran as fast as she could, straight out of the fortress. They plunged into the Labyrinth and kept running, the howl of the Titan Lord shaking the entire world behind them.

#andromeda #andy jackson #child of land and sea #fanfic #genderbend #dfcrosas #to stop the tide #andong #anthony chase

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shintaroux · 6 years

Text

YOUR BREATH SETS FIRE TO THE AIR

Midorima Shintarou was scowling.

“Shin-chan, you’re repelling the customers again,” Takao, his co-worker and a friend, complained and bumped their hips together as if that would ease the crease between Midorima’s brows. “You should smile more.”

Midorima, who was busy stocking cups on a pile after the third customer who had approached him made a sharp turn and ended up being serviced by Takao, sombrely glanced at him, gave his advice a moment’s consideration, and then stretched his lips to the best of his abilities.

All he got from Takao in return was a pout. “That smile is the reason why all customers come to me.”

Midorima was aware of the distinct incompatibility between this job’s requirements and his personality, but he couldn’t quit now.

Or rather, he had a reason not to.

That reason walked into Starbucks at exactly 1:25pm one day.

Midorima was attracted to red hair; he liked the way it seemed to set fire to the air and how it contrasted with black clothing. Needless to say, Midorima hadn’t crossed paths with many red-heads in his life so when one of them walked into the shop, he might’ve stared hard enough to have a few customers scurry away from the counter. However, the red-head fearlessly sauntered to Midorima and ordered a grande iced latte with extra foam.

Midorima carefully assessed the order, trying to analyze the ingredients for a clue or two about the person ordering, but he came up empty-handed. While he was filling the cup, he couldn’t resist stealing a glance at the red-head but even though he tried to hide his sneaky eyes behind his long eyelashes, he was caught by a pair of icy mismatched eyes.

Chills poured down his spine.

The red-head never once looked away from Midorima. It made his work a bit harder, but at least he was working.

“Here you go, sir,” Midorima said and put the cup on the counter. “Shall I write your name on it?”

The red-head touched his chin with his slender index finger and thumb. “Hm,” he hummed softly for a few seconds before he continued: “Could you write: ‘To be prepared is half the victory’?”

Midorima snorted before he could stop himself. The red-head cocked his head to one side.

“Something the matter?”

Nothing. Except that an actual, living person of the 21st century just quoted Cervantes. “It’s unusual to find someone who knows of Cervantes, let alone someone who wants his quote on a cup of coffee.”

The red-head smiled, lightly; a smile tinged with smugness. “Perhaps you’ve been looking in the wrong places.”

Midorima couldn’t help but return the favour. “Perhaps.”

He wrote the quote as neatly as he could (he had yet to get used to writing on convex surfaces) and handed it to the red-head whose fingers ghosted over Midorima’s a split second longer than necessary, provided it was necessary at all.

As he was walking away, the red-head glanced over his shoulder and said: “It is also very unusual to find someone who recognizes a Cervantes’ quote and is still willing to write it on a cup of coffee.”

Midorima smirked as he recognized challenge in his voice. “Perhaps you’ve been looking in the wrong places.”

“Well, perhaps I’ve finally found the right place. Good day.”

“Good day.”

Midorima watched the red-headed stranger leave and when the sound of doors closing merged with the chattering of other customers he was shaken back to reality; a reality which involved his co-worker’s elbow poking him in the ribs.

Midorima looked to his left and saw that Takao was sneering.

“Oh~ did my hawk eye just see Shin-chan take interest in someone?”

“Shut up, Takao.”

III

After that, the red-head kept coming back day after day and ordered the exact same thing. He engaged Midorima in a conversation just long enough to get him hooked on his words, but not long enough to reveal anything substantial about himself; Midorima found it awfully unfair considering the red-head has read his name on his name plate.

“Shintarou-kun,” he pronounced. Midorima’s first name rolled off his tongue like syrup, there was something sweet and sensual attached to the last syllable.

Midorima had to keep his shoulders from melting. “Shintarou is just fine.”

The red-head smiled and tipped his cup as ‘cheers’ before he left. “Goodbye, Shintarou.”

One Thursday, the red-head sat at one of the tables in the corner. Takao went to service him because Midorima had made it a solid point not to move from his position behind the counter since his height and build tended to bring discomfort to some customers.

The red-head kept his hands clasped on the table; his back was slightly bent forward as he looked up at Takao and said something with but a barely-noticeable movement of his mouth. A few moments later, Takao came back with a sullen look on his face.

“Mister Picky wants to be served by nobody except you. I can’t even be angry at him because he asked for you so politely that I felt like I was being flattered and intimidated at the same time.”

Midorima offered no reply and walked to the red-head’s table, well aware that his every movement was observed by those alluring, predator eyes.

“May I have your order?” he said in a matter-of-fact tone.

Red-head leaned back into his chair and Midorima jotted down in his mental notes that tight-fitting sweaters do wonders to his notably smaller figure, when compared to Midorima’s.

“You seem much taller when you’re not behind the counter,” the red-head said, his voice revealing not a speck of his intentions.

“That’s the idea. May I have your order, please?”

“A grande iced latte with extra foam.”

“Coming right up.”

When the red-head had gone, Midorima was left staring at his tip. His rich tip.

Takao squeezed his way underneath Midorima’s armpits, much like children do when they want their parents’ attention, and gaped at the bills in Midorima’s hands.

“Whoa.”

“Shin-chan, according to my calculations, if he continues tipping you like this, in exactly 621 days we’ll be able to quit this job and live comfortably in Las Vegas for the rest of our lives.”

“Shut up, Takao.”

“I don’t want to be rude, sir, but I don’t think that such a copious tip is necessary.”

“Why not? You do your job well.”

“I press buttons on a coffee machine.”

The red-head’s lip quivered as if he was holding back a smile. “Indeed, but you also press my buttons. If you ask me, I’m not tipping you enough.”

Midorima pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose in a poor attempt to hide his flushed cheeks.

“I still cannot accept this amount,” he said. He might’ve been obstinate; it was not on him to decide what amount of money a customer should leave, and maybe he would’ve accepted it if it was from somebody else, but when he received tips from the red-head, he felt like there were hidden motives behind them; motives he couldn’t read yet.

The red-head intertwined his fingers, his elbows were propped on the table that had become ‘his table’, and rested his chin on them. “Is there anything I can do to change your mind?”

No, Midorima wanted to say… but there was something he wanted to know. “Your name. You could give me your name.”

The red-head’s lips formed a thin smile. “I would like to place my order now.”

VII

The next day, Midorima felt cross when he saw the red-head walk through the door. Even as he was leisurely approaching Midorima’s counter, Midorima kept his gaze firmly at the counter he was wiping.

“I would like to order a grande iced latte with extra foam.”

“Coming right up, sir.”

Not once did Midorima lift his gaze from the cup he was pouring beverage into. He wanted to; because taking in the red-head’s appearance was like a daily drug for him. He craved to see those knowing eyes seizing him up; he craved to see what outfit graced his shoulders and how it hugged his sinewy figure; he craved to make those thin, pink lips stretch even in the smallest of smiles…

But Midorima was feeling annoyed at him and he ought to hold his ground.

“You’re angry at me,” the red-head interrupted the silence. Midorima didn’t say a word. He continued adding foam to the drink. “You’re angry at me because I won’t tell you my name.”

Midorima put the cap on the cup and pulled out a permanent marker.

“All in due time, Shintarou.”

“What shall I write for you today?”

Midorima peeked at the red-head, just a bit, and saw an expression that was equally amused and perplexed.

“You may write anything you desire.”

Midorima didn’t question the red-head’s decision. He popped the marker open and wrote the first thing that came to his mind: “There are several good protections against temptation, but the surest is cowardice.”

When he finished writing, Midorima handed the drink to red-head who read it with a single sweep of his eyes.

The corner of his lips curled into a smile. “I can’t believe I am being lectured by Twain.”

“Good day, sir.”

VIII

Midorima didn’t stay annoyed for long. In fact, the next day he had put it past him to look away from the red-head. Their time “together” was limited after all, and he couldn’t waste it on irrational feelings. He would serve coffee and feast his eyes, nothing more and nothing less.

That day, like any other day, the red-head approached Midorima’s counter.

“A grande iced latte with extra foam, sir?” Midorima asked before the red-head could even open his mouth. Midorima’s assertiveness seemed to have amused him greatly because his lip trembled, like a broken guitar cord, as if resisting a smile when he placed his elbow on the counter and leaned in, suggestively, crossing the borders of Midorima’s personal space.

“Actually, Shintarou, I was wondering if you could recommend something different for me,” he said, his warm breath coaxing Midorima’s lips with provocation; with sin.

Midorima felt like Icarus and the red-head was the sun.

The list of drinks had escaped him somehow.

“Or maybe your favourite drink?” The red-head noticed this; of course he did.

“Grande caramel brulée frappuccino.” Midorima dictated like a machine, noticing how his eyes had betrayed him when they travelled down to the red-head’s lips. The red-head lifted an eyebrow. “That’s my favourite drink,” Midorima added.

The red-head stepped away from the counter, back into the customer zone. “Then I shall go with that. Write whatever you please on it, again, thank you. ”

Midorima deftly prepared the cup with the hot beverage all the while thinking about how never he had embarrassed himself so thoroughly. He could hear his heartbeat reaching crescendo in his ears.

The-red head walked out with Midorima’s favourite drink in his hands (and the most pretentious, challenging quote Midorima could think of).

“What do you think his name is?” Midorima asked even though Takao was too busy counting change for a customer.

“Mister ‘Stick So Far up My Ass I Have No Choice but to Sit So Straight’,” Takao replied.

Midorima should’ve never asked.

“I would like Grande caramel brulée frappuccino, please,” the red-head ordered. It was the second day of summer and he was wearing a v-neck black t-shirt that made Midorima want to take him out for some ice cream. Or take a sneak peek under what the fabric is hiding.

“Took a liking to it?” Midorima inquired, suddenly feeling a bit smug about recommending something that piqued the red-head’s interest enough to ask for it himself.

“You could say so.”

Being as well-versed in preparing his favourite drink as he was, it was in red-head’s hands in a manner of minutes.

“Good da—“

“May I get that marker you write with?” The red-head interrupted. Midorima, albeit puzzled, handed the marker without asking any questions. The Red-head scribbled something on the cup, put the marker down and then extended his hand as if he wanted Midorima to take the cup.

Midorima, nervous, pushed his glasses up his nose even though they were already in their place.

“For you,” the Red-head said.

Midorima took the cup. Its surface was warm; he rotated it until the text the Red-head wrote unfolded before his eyes. It was a short message scribbled in neat hand-writing.

Akashi Seijurou.

And a phone number.

Midorima lifted his head to meet that smile on the red-head’s, no, Akashi’s lips that he could revere forever and never get bored of it.

He felt confident, at peace. It was the feeling Midorima didn’t get to welcome often.

“I’m glad you decided to keep this place,” Midorima said as a warm surge of memories of their fateful (slightly pretentious) first encounter came flooding into his mind.

Akashi was already on his way outside, without a cup in his hands this time, when he added: “It took me long enough to find it.”

#midoaka #knb

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