#dark era is so special. somehow it always reminds me of the first time i watched bsd | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

dameronology · 3 years

Text

pancakes & promises {finnick odair}

ok i don’t normally write for the hunger games but here is some morning fluff for 2 of my faves, @karasong & @megmeg-chan (based on meg’s request). i hope you enjoy💕

warnings: none...except swearing

The mornings were always one of Finnick’s favourite times.

Things were quiet; calm and quell, worlds away from his hectic past and tainted memories. Finnick was never without a charming smile or flirty comment but behind his endearing exterior, there was a vortex of dark memories. The warm blue eyes you often caught staring at you had seen worlds of pain. The large hands that were the source of half his affection had once wielded weapons. He’d become so used to the noise - of the arena, of the war, of his own thoughts - that the silence was almost strange. He’d spent years trying to escape it, trying to fill it with the sound of gentle music and white noise and the low fuzz of the radio but nothing had worked.

Then there was you. Between his arms underneath cover of the darks, head buried in his neck as you gently snored. The tickle of your breath against his bare skin and hands softly gripping onto his arms was an anchor. With your legs tangled underneath the sheets with his and your warmth beside him, he wasn’t afraid of the silence anymore. If anything, it was something he began to appreciate. It was a sign of change - change for the better. Most of which had been brought on your presence in his life. You were a barrier to the past, really. A definitive and constant existence intertwined with his that protected him from the bad parts of history. It was contained nicely in two parts: before you and after you. It was the latter he was so desperately holding onto, more than willing to throw the other into the abyss.

Finnick had woken that morning as usual; naturally, thanks to the sunlight leaking through the blinds. If you weren’t wrapped up in his arms, usually thanks to your tendency to roll away in the night, he’d reach out for you without thinking. Instead of being met with your warm skin, his fingers came into contact with the sheets. They were cold - you must have been gone a while. He immediately sat up, a frown etched on his features. You were never gone. Why were you gone?

Then he heard you - in the kitchen, kettle going and singing quietly. That was another thing he wasn’t used to: domesticity. Someone to look after him, instead of it constantly being the other way around. Finnick made a point to care for you and look out for you, and he would have done it even if you’d completely denied him of love, but you didn’t. It was a relationship of equals. And equals didn’t often come along in these times.

Wrapping the sheet around his waist, he slipped out of bed and padded through to the kitchen. You were stood by the cooker, his shirt hanging off of your shoulders and a song playing quietly on the radio.

It was one of those moments he couldn’t really explain; it was so simple, so domestic and sweet, but one he was happy to stay in forever. He’d experienced everything else in life - moments of heroic grandeur, moments of great loss - but somehow, it was the little things he wanted to hold onto. The sight of you in the morning; the smell of your body wash on your skin after a shower; the feeling of your soft hands tracing the scars that littered his skin. It was normal to remember all the big flashpoint moments, but what about all the tiny ones in between? The things that interconnected all the different eras of his life? Ones like this, where nothing in particular was happening, but that were so worth holding onto.

He leant against the door frame, watching you for a moment. Finnick didn’t want to disturb you - or maybe he wanted to savour the moment. He woke up to you every morning but he wanted to remember each and individual single day. That was something he’d come to learn, having been reminded of his mortality so many times. He’d be damned if he was going to hold onto the moments that made him stare death in the face and tell it to back the fuck down so many times.

The floor-boards beneath creaked slightly as he re-adjusted himself, causing you to jump slightly. You glanced over your shoulder at him, a smile playing on your lips as your eyes caught his. The morning sun was coming from through the kitchen window, pouring over you in a way that you made you seem almost other worldy. It was fitting, really.

‘G’morning.’ You greeted him through a mouthful of pancakes. ‘I made pancakes. Or I tried to make pancakes.’

His eyes followed your hand as you gestured up to the ceiling. There two or three half cooked pancakes stuck up there, clearly hanging on with all their might.

‘What’s with the splatters on the wall?’ Finnick raised an eyebrow at you.

‘Oh, those ones hit the ceiling fan.’ You bit your lip to suppress a laugh, eyes falling to the floor. You could feel your cheeks heating up his intense gaze, even as a grin broke across his face.

‘You never cook.’ Finnick said. He made his way over towards you, broad arms snaking around your waist as he pulled you into him. ‘The oven in this house is purely for decoration.’

‘I wanted to surprise you.’ You admitted. ‘I know you love pancakes and it’s been a while since we’d had them. Thought it might be a nice thing to wake up to.’

He could have sworn that his heart stopped at that. Finnick had spent so much of his life running from people, watching his own back and constantly looking over his shoulder. To have someone to actually do things for him, to (try and) cook for him with his favourite food in mind? The feeling was still entirely new to him. You were still entirely new to him. You did things for him without even thinking about just...because. Your love for him was reason enough.

A silence fell over you for a moment as he just stared at you, intense blue gaze holding your own. He still couldn’t believe that you were real, even with your hands resting on his shoulders and your presence right before his eyes. The funny thing was that it wasn’t like the moment was particularly special, or big, or even interesting. It was just you and him in the kitchen, something which was quite mundane, truth be told. But maybe that was it: the fact it was mundane. His entire life had been so fucking crazy, so filled with panic and blunder and change, that to have something constant enough to even be considered mundane? That in itself was extraordinary. You were extraordinary.

‘Hey.’ You gently brushed your hand over his cheek. ‘You’re staring.’

‘Yeah, I know. At you.’ He replied.

‘Okay, maybe let me rephrase that.’ You softly laughed. ‘Why are you staring?’

‘I just...’ he trailed off, biting his lip for a moment. ‘I just really love you.’

‘I love you too, Fin.’ You leant forwards, brushing your lips against his.

Finnick was a good kisser; you knew that better than anyone. Somehow, every kiss felt like your first. His lips were always soft, always warm and welcoming. That, paired with his hands on your hips and the way he ran them up and down your sides, was enough to make you forget the entire world around you. He was enough to make you forget the entire world around you. As far as you cared - and as far as you wanted to care - it was just you and him, and nobody else. You were the center of his universe and he wasn’t willing to let anybody else in.

‘Oh, shit.’ You suddenly pulled away when the pancake on the stove started to spit smoke. ‘This one was gonna be good! And you distracted me!’

‘Darling, I always distract you.’ His cocky grin returned as he leant against the counter beside you.

‘You were being so soft a minute ago.’ You quipped, jokingly rolling your eyes.

‘I can be both.’ He grabbed your arm, yanking you back towards him. He wrapped his arms around your waist,

‘I liked it when you were confessing your love for me.’ You softly murmured, pressing your forehead to his.

‘Want me to do it again?’

‘I certainly won’t complain.’

‘Okay.’ His grin faded to a thoughtful smile. ‘I love you so much that it’s almost overwhelming. In fact, it might be completely overwhelming but I don’t even mind.’

‘That’s better.’ You pressed another kiss to his lips. ‘And I love you too, so much that it is also almost overwhelming.’

‘Almost?’ Finnick quipped. ‘I’d argue I’m entirely overwhelming-’

‘- I also fell in love with your humbleness.’ You shot back.

‘I will accept your declaration of almost overwhelming love so long as you promise it’s forever.’ He replied. He knew how cheesy he was being, but it was one of the things he was good at.

‘Of course.’ You grinned. ‘Forever?’

‘Forever.’

#finnick odair x reader #finnick odair imagine #finnick odair fluff #finn odair imagines #finn odair x you #hunger games imagines #hunger games x reader

606 notes · View notes

magioftheseas · 3 years

Text

Gundham & Yasuke

Summary: The Forbidden Tanaka’s FTEs in the SDR2 Protagonist Matsuda Yasuke AU. YES.

Rating: PG

Warnings: Language and blood/injuries.

Notes: Unsurprisingly, Tanaka was the winner of the poll for which FTEs were to be done next. So his FTEs, quite hilariously, are getting posted on the anniverary date for sdr2′s initial release. That feels pretty...fitting. Writing Tanaka’s dialogue was really hard but I did my best. Despite my best efforts, these two don’t get along the best that they could. Cursed.

Read this fic among others HERE

Main story is HERE

Commission? Donate?

It went without saying that he didn’t have a normal middle school experience so he didn’t interact with a lot of people who exhibited the so-called eighth-grader syndrome. But he knew that once kids had the cognitive ability to identify their lot in life and long for more, such desires could get...twisted, to say the least.

Just about everyone wants to be fucking special if they’re not too focused on surviving. And most people grew ashamed of the lofty aspirations and special interests they developed in that delicate era. Matsuda understood that much, even if he was considerably detached from it. In some ways, those people were like animals. Strange beasts that acted on impulses and instincts. That still had intelligence but not, like, awareness. When it came to engaging with these types, Matsuda had no choice but to accept them even as he shook his head at their delusions of grandeur.

He understands he’s supposed to do that in theory.

In practice, however...

“Sharp-tongued fool!” Tanaka bellowed. “You draw too near to the barrier of the Ice Kingdom!”

It’s a beautiful day outside. It’s always a beautiful fucking day. Clear, sunny sky. Warm but with a pleasant breeze to keep it from being too sweltering. It’s such a nice day—and Matsuda Yasuke does not want to be here.

Without another word, he turns on his heel.

“Aha!” Tanaka sneered. “To think just the warning prose would be enough to make you turn tail and run. A cowardice I did not expect, but perhaps... I should have.”

While walking away and listening to that guy cackle to himself, all Matsuda had in response was to flip him off.

He proceeded to avoid Tanaka for the rest of the day—and would’ve avoided him for the rest of his life had fate not had something else in store.

It was another beautiful day. The perfect day for a walk. He was thinking by the ranch so that he could admire the chickens as he passed. Unfortunately, he not only came across chickens but also the cow that used to be a chicken he quite liked.

Also Tanaka Gundam.

And their eyes ended up meeting.

There’s no real point in reasoning with someone who exhibits grandiose delusions, he reminded himself. It’s no good to denounce them, but it’s also no good to enable them. It’s a delicate line that I do not want to fucking bother with.

Matsuda does look away, intent on ignoring the other. Despite that resolve, his thoughts don’t shut up.

I didn’t have any peers in middle school for obvious reasons. I never actually spoke to someone my own age who felt this way. I was too busy being fixated on my own goals and lofty aspirations.

A couple of steps forward. It’s fine. If he continued the way he was already going, he can just pass Tanaka. It’d be easy. Simple.

...

Fuck.

He pauses. He turns. Tanaka has already turned away, but as if guided by the third sense of a fucking Evil All-Seeing Eye, he turns back to Matsuda. His brow quirks.

“Has the barrier truly weakened so?”

“I don’t know,” Matsuda replied intelligently. “For some reason, I feel too worn down to go through the effort of pretending you don’t exist.”

Tanaka cackled lowly.

“Such an insolent remark. It seems you do not truly know your place. But that is just as well. Even now, your true name is one that seems out of my grasp.”

“I’m Matsuda Yasuke. Nice to meet you.”

Tanaka clicked his tongue, scowling at Matsuda’s blank expression and his deadpan tone.

“That,” he snarled. “Is merely a brush against the surface. It does not encompass the deepest depths of your rogue soul.”

Alright. So he wants to know what makes me tick. If I had to guess.

“Your true name,” Tanaka requested impatiently. “I have no need for superficial titles.”

“That’s cold,” Matsuda huffed. “The name my mom gave me isn’t superficial.”

...even if it is ironic.

For some reason, Tanaka does perk up. He gives a nod of approval.

“A fair retort,” he concedes. “That maternal bond is its own scarring shackle.”

That admission was the first true crack in the wall between them. Or so Matsuda supposed, and he felt himself slip just a little bit further.

What a headache...

“Anyway,” he went on with a wave of his hand. “It’d be incredibly foolish to give you my true name, right? If telling a demon my name gives them possession of my soul and telling them my birthday gives them control of my life... Then telling someone like you...”

Tanaka nodded again, grinning so widely it was damn near grotesque.

“I see...the sharp-tongued fool is still retaining a sharp mind...”

I shouldn’t have played along even in jest. Fuck.

“What special abilities do you possess?” Tanaka purrs, drawing closer now. “What hidden capabilities have you acquired?”

Tanaka stalks even closer, his eyes are flashing with curiosity and hunger. Probably because this fucking weirdo wouldn’t understand a normal interaction if it bit him in the face.

I still hate that stare. I fucking hate that stare.

“You already know that,” Matsuda snapped, forcing himself to stay relaxed. “Neurology is my talent. You even know my name and birthday because of those damn student files...”

Calm down, calm down. It’s just fucking Tanaka—

Tanaka does halt. His head tilts quizzically.

“Hmph.” With nostrils flaring, Tanaka seemed to duck into his own scarf. “I suppose you are human after all.”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

“Simple.” Tanaka chuckled. “I sensed your apprehension, Matsuda Yasuke. I sensed—and yet, I could tell it was not a chill brought about by the Ice Kingdom.”

Matsuda does flinch at that.

“I shall take my leave for now so that you may re-gather your peace,” Tanaka declared. “Till next time, sharp-tongued fool.”

Tanaka gave him a salute. Matsuda barely had a chance to wave back before Tanaka flipped his scarf and coat so that it would dramatically billow behind him as he made his overly dramatic exit. So fucking extra, and yet—

He left so that I could take the time to calm down.

And how the hell was he supposed to feel about that?

“Even now, I can hear the crackling of the Ice Kingdom’s barrier.” Tanaka was cackling. Another beautiful day. Yet somehow this weirdo was set on shrouding himself in asinine mystery as well as his own dark layers. How the hell was he not burning up?

Tanaka noticed his staring and merely smirked. “What brings you today, Matsuda Yasuke?”

Aah. Even with that pompous fucking tone, it’s an understandable question.

“I don’t like things to be unbalanced,” he said which was a bald-faced lie but sounded persuasive enough. “Since you interrogated me last time, I thought I’d ask you a few questions of my own.”

“Hmph!” Tanaka snorted. “You seek a comprehension that may underlie a deep terror that cannot be contained! Do you not fear for your sanity?”

“No, I’m insane already,” Matsuda said flatly. “I drove myself insane years ago.”

“Is that SO?!” Tanaka boomed, incredulous or admiring, Matsuda wasn’t sure. “Your humanity is one that only hangs by a thread, then?!”

I...can’t disagree with that, huh.

Matsuda shrugged.

“We’re not supposed to be talking about me. Let’s talk about you.”

Tanaka remained guarded but gave a nod.

“Very well. Demi-human or no, I shall not lose to you.”

That’s more like it. You’re much less annoying this way.

“What talents do you have?” he settles on since it’s only fair. “Even if it’s not the full roster, I’d like to know some...special abilities.”

“You shall only get a portion,” Tanaka said, sniffing. “Despite my appearance, I’m an active fiend. Between sorcery and human hunting, I manage my website.”

Matsuda blinked, trying to imagine this guy at a computer. Actually, it was really easy to imagine. There’s no way Tanaka learned to talk like an edgelord on his own.

I bet he spends a lot of time looking up stupid shit like Norse mythology. But, if he has a website, then...

“I have encrypted my research with magic,” Tanaka informed him. “Thus, only those worthy can gain access.”

...if he means through password then I could probably hack in with ease.

“If I had to guess what kind of research it was,” Matsuda mused. “Then—probably something like a pet diary, right?”

There were a series of muffled squeaks from Tanaka’s scarf. Tanaka burst into a boisterous boom of laughter.

“Even with your wits, you would only be able to access the dummy site!” Tanaka grinned victoriously, even though no conflict had taken place. “Your skill level would only open the gates of the Exciting Breeding Journal.”

“...Alright. That’s fine by me.”

You’re literally here because of your talent in animal husbandry.

“Favorite food?” Matsuda asked next. Tanaka stiffened. Growled, even. Because he was pissed off about getting such a lukewarm response? Matsuda didn’t bother inquiring, instead pressing, “Do you have one?”

“The orange melon that bears the face of the devil,” Tanaka huffed, put out. “No other food compares in terms of high nutrients or versatility in cooking methods. More importantly, its seeds are the most effective food source for my Four Dark Devas of Destruction.”

...a pumpkin. He’s talking about a pumpkin, right?

“However! Those seeds must be carefully washed, carefully dried, carefully peeled,” Tanaka rambled on. “And lightly fried.”

“How meticulous,” Matsuda muttered. “But nothing less for...them.”

“Indeed. A difficulty that beguiles pain and pleasure alike matters not in the face of a grand purpose.”

I can agree with that even if I hate how it’s worded.

“There is more when it comes to the caring of beasts,” Tanaka rumbled. “Shall I lead you deeper?”

“Uh.” Matsuda waved his hand. “Next time. Let’s talk more next time.”

Tanaka gave him a truly wicked grin. For once, it actually felt malicious.

“Take as much time you need to prepare yourself, sharp-tongued fool.”

Matsuda made a face but bit his tongue.

Piece of shit.

Tanaka wasn’t out and about today at the ranch. He wasn’t in the diner, either. It went to reason that he was likely in his cottage.

It’s only because I found some pumpkin seeds that I’m even going...

When he knocked on the door, he found it unlocked. Since he wasn’t an animal, he was going to wait for Tanaka to answer the door rather than barge in but...

“Ku—!”

He heard a noise. A sharp, strangled sound that was undeniably made through gritted teeth. Matsuda opened the door immediately.

“Is everything alright?”

And indeed—Tanaka was holding his bloodied hand in a death grip. The hamsters were chirping and chittering, but unaffected. What happened was clear, especially in how Tanaka’s shoulders were hunched.

Thankfully, Matsuda carried around packets of wet wipes. He rummaged through his pocket for one, stepping forward and reaching out.

“Let me...”

“NO!” Tanaka shrieked, and like a startled beast he scrambled away from his hand. He was panting, still gripping his injury with a wide and wild-eyed stare. Seeing Matsuda there did little to calm him down, as he growled, “The blood that flows through my veins bears a fearsome curse. You must step away now to spare yourself their potency.”

Thankfully, Matsuda carried around disposable gloves. He slipped them on, tearing the wet wipe packet open, and made his way closer.

“Come on. We really don’t want that bite to get infected.”

“This is not my first blood sacrifice,” Tanaka snarled, even showing his teeth. Gross. “I have no need for your medical sorcery. And furthermore, that meager covering...!”

“Oh my fucking god, shut the hell up.” Matsuda snatched up his hand, prying the other off as Tanaka shrieked some more. Thankfully, Matsuda was able to pull it away and got to work dabbing and cleaning the wound. Tanaka had completely frozen now, but Matsuda was still fuming.

“Don’t ever fucking call me meager,” he snapped, and thankfully Tanaka had spare clean bandages for him to re-wrap his hand with. “Crude and foolish I’ll take. Meager I won’t.”

Tanaka finally scoffed as Matsuda made sure the bandaging was secure.

“A demi-human like you has such pride.”

Look who’s fucking talking.

“You should not have endangered yourself, however,” Tanaka went on. “I was not telling falsehoods about my poisonous blood. It is only by a thread that you have not already deteriorated. As crude and foolish as you are, I do not desire your demise.”

“I’ve dealt with my fair share of poison, so you’re worrying too much,” Matsuda replied but winced from a sudden headache. As he rubbed removed his gloves to rub his temples, Tanaka stood up.

“You once again face the ramifications for your hubris!” he exclaimed and rushed back to deal with his hamsters. “I grant you relief, and I advise you to take your leave immediately.”

“I’m fucking fine, it’s just a migraine,” Matsuda griped and disposed of the gloves and wipes. “Should you really be handling those hamsters again so soon?”

“They are not mere hamsters!” Tanaka bellowed. “The fangs I have taken are that of the Crimson Steel Elephant, Maga-Z!”

Maga-Z blinked its bright beady eyes at Matsuda.

“For the sake of the Invading Black Dragon, Cham-P,” Tanaka went to coo over the largest hamster which was orange, not black. “A golden demon, one who understands fear all too well... Much attention should be heeded to make sure they do not get overly stressed out... While many devil beasts of this ilk are aggressive and fearfully territorial, the golden variant is the most docile and intelligent. They recognize me as...”

He trails off. It’s as if he’s too moved to speak.

I have heard hamsters had an unnaturally high rate of cannibalism, Matsuda thought. But I suppose like with dog breeds, they come in all sizes...and temperaments...

It was obvious Tanaka knew his shit, being an Ultimate at all. But seeing it firsthand, watching him dote on the beasts with a cottage interior largely dedicated to their cage and tube, the guy definitely loved animals. Like, a lot. Despite his delusions of grandeur, he at least seemed to love animals a healthy, non-obsessive amount.

“They’re living well,” Matsuda commented blandly.

Tanaka scoffed at him.

“For demons that live a mere 1095 days, the luxuries in life mean everything. I would never settle for less.”

“I see...” He scuffed the end of his shoe against the wooden floor. “That’s good.”

Shouldn’t have worn open-toed shoes, but I don’t have any alternatives. Oh, right.

“I got pumpkin seeds.” He tossed the bag and it landed on Tanaka’s lap. The hamsters jumped, and even Tanaka flinched. Matsuda, however, turned on his heel. “Sorry. Bye.”

With that insincere apology, he headed out. He could feel a disproving stare on his back but that didn’t lessen his steps in the slightest.

His favorite chicken-turned-cow was in a good mood today. She was accepting pets and even nipping at his fingers. All he had on him was candy. Not any fruit much less hay although...

“If you plan to feed that creature, you should be wary of apples,” Tanaka rumbled from behind. Where the fuck he came from, Matsuda wasn’t sure, but he wasn’t surprised to be hearing from him. “You can risk over-eating which will cause a bloated stomach for the animal.”

“Ah, thanks for the advice,” Matsuda said sincerely, turning back and frowning when he noticed the other’s own hanging head. “What’s with the long face?”

“I would hope that you do not consider that creature to be your familiar, Matsuda Yasuke,” Tanaka murmured sullenly and solemnly. Like he had come across something truly pitiful to the point of depressing.

Although he seems more focused on the cow itself...

“I don’t have a familiar,” Matsuda huffed.

Tanaka quirks an eyebrow at him. Furrows it, even, as if Matsuda is the one not making sense. How seriously annoying. But rather than inquire further, Tanaka just shakes his head.

“Creatures like that one are born to be slaughtered,” he said, turning on his heel. “What a wretched fate, one that cannot be escaped even with the use of the Evil All-Seeing Eye. If one is to form a bond with such an unfortunate beast, they will invite only calamity.”

“That’s...” Not necessarily true. There is livestock out there allowed to live full lives. But they’re exceptions that prove the rule, I suppose. And the fact that I even thought to use a word like allowed... “Woof.”

Tanaka barked back. “This sentimentality only arose because I have not encountered any new beasts. I shall go searching as to put my mind at ease.”

He walked on, and Matsuda found himself following. Tanaka didn’t seem to mind at all. The opposite, in fact.

“There are many creatures I’ve tamed, sharp-tongued one,” Tanaka went on to say. “The Cerberus. The Phoenix. Even then Midgardian Serpent.”

Looks like I was right on the money about him looking up Norse shit. That’s just another fucking word for Earth, asshole. I’ve read enough shitty fantasy manga to know.

“I saw a toucan one time,” he commented in lieu of verbalizing his thoughts. “And I guess there are the seagulls. Or those mascots.”

“Those uncute fiends cannot be trusted with their speech,” Tanaka hissed. “As for the others... Ah, the ravenous, feathered beasts.” Tanaka nodded sagely with approval at that one. “They are a perilous project as they are quite fearless and impulsive. Even when greater threats arise, they gather like a court waiting to hand down judgment.”

I think...that’s more something that crows do rather than seagulls.

He does think about it though, birds judging one another. If he looked up, he’d even see a seagull or two soar overhead. A phrase rose to his mind, unbidden.

When the seagulls cry...

“Hm?” Tanaka paused when he noticed that Matsuda had stopped dead in his tracks. He turned, and whatever expression was on Matsuda’s face—whatever that was had Tanaka clicking his tongue. “What is on your mind?”

“Something stupid,” he grumbled, shaking his head. “Even in peaceful times, I can’t help but worry about how easily things fall apart. Sometimes for something as petty as a broken promise.”

Is it speech alone that gives us the means of betraying one another?

Tanaka did stiffen.

“It sure is fortunate for us that we’ve yet to deal with any storms,” Matsuda went on to say. “In fact, it’s perfect weather every single day. Isn’t that strange? It almost doesn’t feel real, and if it’s not real... Does anything that happens here matter?” He paused again. “Like I said. It’s stupid.”

“Your inane ponderings still have an air of malice,” Tanaka muttered darkly.

Huh.

“Are you saying I’m someone to be on guard around?” He cracked a dry smile. “I’m not that fucking interested in messing with people. I just lack patience.”

Tanaka gave him a look. Wordlessly, he shook his head.

“I think... I will seek solace elsewhere. Do not follow me.”

Matsuda didn’t. Simply watched the other go. It might’ve been one of those annoying situations where the person was saying the exact opposite of what they wanted, but even if he could tell that was the case, he still wouldn’t have followed.

After all.

He lacked patience.

Tanaka seemed especially moody today. Although no matter how sullen his air was, the island sun wouldn’t let up in the slightest. In a way, that was pretty cruel, right? In that much light, it made it difficult to hide. Or something like that.

Wonder what he’s being so fucking temperamental about...

Matsuda makes his way over, waving as he does. He stops, however, when Tanaka regards him coldly.

“Matsuda Yasuke,” he rumbled in a gravelly tone of voice. “The sharp-tongued fool whose practices engage in the constitution of the mind... Would you like to duel?”

Huh?

Matsuda dropped his hand.

“...have you finally fucking gone actually insane?” He sighed. “Don’t answer that. No, I don’t want to duel. And if you push it, I’ll leave. I don’t have time for that bullshit.”

Tanaka’s cold stare became more of a glare.

“I’m afraid I do not have such luxury around you,” Tanaka said sharply. “You grind down my defenses with this continued, unsightly association. Despite wearing the face of a human, you, Matsuda Yasuke are...!”

“I’m just human,” Matsuda replied before he could finish. With an unimpressed shrug, he added. “And if you wanted me to stop bothering you, all you had to fucking do was say so.”

“I allowed these exchanges out of a sense of curiosity, arrogantly unheeding the danger,” Tanaka went on, muttering as he did. “Truly, I have been foolish.”

The sun shone down on him. On a day this bright, there wasn’t anyone to hide. Tanaka ‘Gundam’ looked a bit ill. When Matsuda took a step closer, however, he recoiled. With a sharp hiss, Tanaka held up his hand in warning.

Like an agitated cat.

Matsuda drew back with a sigh.

Someone like this—really is so needlessly fucking difficult. And for what? An inflated sense of importance? Wasn’t getting into Hope’s Peak enough?

...if he complained too much, he’d veer uncomfortably close to hypocrisy.

Hope’s Peak was just another step for me, but I wonder what it was for someone like this? Where the hell would he be if he didn’t get in? Honestly—I doubt it would’ve been all that significant.

“Alright,” he said. “Did you get anything out of our interactions at least?”

Tanaka stared at him, but being a normal fucking person without magical powers, Matsuda was more than capable of staring back, unaffected. For some reason, Tanaka did shy back a little.

“I have keenly observed you,” he said lowly. “Namely how your regard only shifts when directed towards creatures already marked for death. I suspect—you are a creature of calamity. The eye of the storm.”

“So, what,” Matsuda drawled. “Like a demon?”

Tanaka hummed, seemingly considering it. “No... That is not quite right.”

“I’m not sure what you mean, then,” Matsuda huffed, waving his hand dismissively. “But—I think I get what you’re saying. I just think it’s funny coming from you—and that you don’t understand.”

Tanaka’s stare blazed with an offense, and Matsuda paid no heed at all.

“How I regard creatures marked for death...” Matsuda snorted. “I’m a fucking doctor. Obviously, I treat them differently. It’s part of my fucking job.”

Although he’s referring to the cow, isn’t he? Seriously...

“I guess it’s weird,” he admitted. “With how shitty of an attitude I have. But I take my job seriously. If you can’t get something that simple, then your Evil All-Seeing Eye is pretty fucking lacking.”

“You...” Tanaka growled. “You’re truly impertinent. You wield your blade recklessly and foolishly. You and I both know—that it runs deeper than mere duty for you, Matsuda Yasuke.”

...so what if it does?

He supposes he should be impressed that Tanaka isn’t that fucking dense. That the animal freak is, in fact, a little perceptive.

Smiling mirthlessly, Matsuda reached out to pat the flinching other’s shoulder. He gripped him for just a moment.

“That’s all you need to know about me,” he murmured into Tanaka’s ear before pulling back. “I think we’re at enough of an understanding. Thanks for your time.” He gave a salute as he headed on his way. “We don’t need to talk again. We especially don’t need to duel. Have a wonderful fucking day.”

“One day,” Tanaka swore. “You will meet your cruel, disastrous end. That is the decree of the Tanaka Kingdom!” As Matsuda got further away, Tanaka boomed after him. “Mark my words, sharp-tongued FOOL! You are MARKED for des—!”

It was such a headache that Matsuda tuned him out. But as he found himself alone, he did wonder.

Marked for destruction? Or something else? Despite all that time, rather than growing close, that weirdo is now convinced that I’m hopeless. He might be right. Actually, I’d still consider us closer if he can recognize that. I still don’t really care. I don’t.

He walked on, moving forward because he had nowhere else to go.

Decree. What a fucking riot. If I do die, it won’t be because of an idiot like him. But whatever makes him feel better I suppose.

Matsuda shook his head, brushing the whole thing aside except...

If I die... It won’t be until I reach the very fucking pits. I won’t settle for anything less.

#sdr2 #yasuke matsuda #matsuda yasuke #gundham tanaka #gundam tanaka #Magi fics #Protag Matsun

17 notes · View notes

ashes-in-a-jar · 3 years

Text

Tma relisten Episodes 6-10

(Still really long)

Alot of really important details that are going to be very relevant later on. Very facinating how early on you find these out. Relistens are good.

Episode 6 squirm

It's a good thing tma doesn't do much of sexual encounters and their connection to entities. While I'm sure that's a thing that in any realistic universe would exist avoiding it was a good choice. This statement was *shudder*

Interesting that she had no visible mark on her. Also being repulsed by police stations because the sectioned officers could have helped.

Naked in the streets after lighting his apartment on fire. What an image.

So technically the worms were in the archives 3 times: when Jane made her first statement, when Timothy hodge made his and when Jane attacked. The worms are very familiar with the magnus institute.

"This story is concerning. Not because of Mr. Hodge’s experience, although I’m sure it was very upsetting." ace Jon talking very technical about "experiences"

" though obviously it’s a tragic loss of life, etcetera, etcetera." Jon being Jon.

Ecdc are aware of Jane and corruption typical attacks which is off the bat interesting world building.

He's skeptic here because of lack of evidence but does admit the existence of a threat in Jane Prentiss

Also! He knows of her from before probably when he was a researcher. This confused me on first listen because I was trying to remember if she was ever mentioned before this. But she wasn't.

Episode 7 the piper

Wilfred kind of sounds like martin in some way but maybe it's just me assigning poetry to anyone like him.

But he hated apathy which might be very Martin like

Gentle sadness and creeping fear from the music. For violence of war... Is that what it means to immortalize it?

It's really cool that the concept of music in this podcast is associated specifically with war and unwarranted violence. There's a very strong statement in there somewhere that needs to be explored.

God this statement was intense. Lying for such a long time in that trench surrounded by violent death. But what's most interesting is that this statement doesn't feel like a supernatural one and yet... The piper was with Wilfred throughout the various battles and bouts of violence until the moment it was officially over. But in a very subtle way.

The description of the piper is really intense with the 3 faces. I think I missed it the first time but hearing that representation of war and fear is something I'm going to look for in artistic depictions now.

Wait. Who is Joseph Rayner? I know of Maxwell but never heard of Joseph.a victim instead of Wilfred? Collaborator with the Slaughter? Hmmm

I wonder how Accidental it was that the statement from 1922 was filed in the 2000s. Maybe to show that the piper never really leaves and the war never really ends. Ever.

Episode 8 burned out

Wow Hilltop Road already! I forgot how many of the first episodes were so important to the plot later on.

"That side of the road backed onto South Park with fences marking the bottom of each garden." this is wrong btw. Hilltop Road in Oxford does not run along Sount Park but is perpendicular to it, meeting it in the corner with Divinity Road which meets with Morrell Avenue which is the road running along South Park. Just FYI because I had to look this up to get a good picture. But I guess Morrell doesn't sound as exciting as Hilltop (which isn't even at the top of the hill smh)

Ivo lensik describes Raymond fielding as white which makes me automatically think he is not. Just a thought that popped in my mind.

Huh. His family had a history of schizophrenia. And his dad was obsessed with fractals. Being followed by The spiral (all the bones are in his hands) was also part of this story really interesting.

Agnes had mousy brown hair and looked like Raymond! Not red hair ( at least at first) like I pictured. Also she was a hell of a creepy child...

So did he time travel? Seeing the moments of Raymond's end? Seems like time doesn't work right in that place anyway.

Web person being devout church goer is also an interesting touch

Father Edwin Burroughs! I forgot he was here too! The knock reminded me of Mr Spider *shiver*

The priest explaining that the church exorcized demons but what not decisive if ghosts exist was hilarious. Jon dismisses paranormal but asks Martin if he's a ghost is opposite of the church.

Hmmm the web pushing him to cut the tree to uncover box from antique table...

Apple full of spiders ugh. Maybe something web was trapped in there by Desolation and ivo managed free it as Agnes was dying.

"We cannot prove any connection, but Martin unearthed a report on an Agnes Montague, who was found dead in her Sheffield flat on the evening of November 23rd 2006, the same day Mr. Lensik claims to have uprooted the tree." wow that's an obscure thing to find well done Martin!

Jon still looks for credence for this story despite the schizophrenia that could leave him skeptical.

"while I trust Mr. Lensik’s testimony of his own experiences about as far as I can throw a bleeding tree," again Jon with his special brand of jokes.

Episode 9 a Father's love

The Montauk's story! I always thought their family had one of the most tragic ones. The hunt is a really cruel patron with its forced hunger and having other entities use them as tools.

Julia telling the truth of the story to the Magnus Institute instead of the police is also heartbreaking. How desperate and alone she must have felt drowned in that awful literally unbelievable story. The magnus institute feeds off of those people too.

So many of the hunt end up in police it's just... Such a strong statement against that establishment. What do we do to make that less of a horrible, unjust, all consuming system? That feeds on the hunger of some and the abject fear of others? And it doesn't have to be supernatural. It's interesting how season five, of all seasons, is the one that gave us that perspective. The non supernatural one on the subject while the world itself is so far away from the natural. God everything about this idea is so heavy and painful.

I kind of hate Julia's fate because of her background and how much alot of its beginning was out of her control. It's like Daisy. The hunt can never be forgiven no matter how compulsive it is.

The dark that took her mother turned her into part of it? Like the dark liquid?

A dark room to develop his photos of his victims huh? A play on words here.

Oooh they put a heartbeats in the soundscape really cool actually.

So Montauk killed other dark members that tried to leave? For the ritual? Like Julia's mother?

The hunt compelled him to keep the hearts as trophies? which is very self destructive of the hunt to do. Or is it part of the dark ritual with the sacrifices that the heart had to be kept?

I think Montauk was trying to slow down the ritual as revenge that night, rendering the sacrifices he helped create useless. Which is why pitch came after them that night and dissappeared once Montauk finished his ritual.

Sourcing the Serial killer enthusiast community. Love that the archives use whatever source of info they can access.

So Maxwell dissappeared in 1994 from public eye land yet the cult kept working towards a ritual. But now in secret? Their timeline always confused me.

Episode 10 vampire killer

I never noticed Trevor came right after Julia! Oooh this is so much connecting the dots so early on!

Vampires are so disturbing here makes you ever wonder how the hell media like twilight were ever created. But hehe the monster ****er community has always been a vibrant one. Not these vampires tho.

Trevor is so sassy I love his statements. Like Julia it really makes me sad how consumed he became at the end and how awful his death was. Once again the tragedy of the Hunt.

"I taught myself to read, I read as much on the subject as I could, and it isn’t covered often or clearly in those books I have found." can you imagine what kinds of books he might have found during the sexy vampire Era? This is a hilarious picture to paint.

So vampires feed off of blood and not fear which is an interesting creature to have in this kind of universe. Although hunters are also like that but there is still alot of fear and awareness involved with that while the vampires try to conceal themselves until the last moment.

There's alot of mosquito imagery in these vampires which is... Ugh

Also interesting how many time Trevor just uses the vampire's full name. Never shortened and never talked about in another title. Sylvia McDonald this Sylvia McDonald that. Also the other vampire. They always had a name that was psychicly imposed on the victims to be remembered fully. Very Stranger behavior.

Ahhhh the one vampire weakness... Drrrugs.

It's also very flammable which sets interesting precedence to setting unnatural things on fire to make them disappear.

Alard dupont comes in a later statement right? Yeah in 56

Martin was there when the statement was given which was 2010 and in 2016 he's 29 so he worked there for a while! At least since age 23 perhaps we'll find out even earlier. And he was still scared to be found under qualified after all this time! Oof...

I wonder how draining it is to give a statement that it kills someone who is sick.

The government is in on this! Looking for the teeth Trevor gave the institute... Somehow that strikes me as hilarious in the world building of this podcast. And it really leaves Jon no choice but to concede that there is something to the statement even if he refuses to use the term vampire like Trevor did so freely.

#Pfft i was so into this one i forgot to tag #Tma #jonathan sims #Tma hiatus liveblog #magnuspod #julia montauk #trevor herbert #Jane Prentiss #The magnus archives #hilltop road

23 notes · View notes

mxliv-oftheendless · 3 years

Text

Lovers Eye

Happy Valentines Day, everybody!! Hope you’re having a great day and finding great ways to celebrate love even if that love isn’t the romantic kind of love that society pushes is the only kind of love worth celebrating. Ironically, that’s what I’m doing here lol. But I’m also celebrating the platonic kind because IT’S @cosmicrealmofkissteria‘s BIRTHDAY!!!! So I hope you like this humble birthday present I wrote for her!

So a fun fact for everyone: in the early 1800s during the Regency Era in England, there was a trend where a person would give a loved one, usually a romantic partner, a necklace that had a close-up picture of their eye. It was called a “lovers eye”, and it was a way for their identity to stay a secret because only their eye was shown. It’s pretty dang romantic, if you ask me, and that’s how this story was born! Enjoy!!

Was it possible to feel like you were floating even though your feet were firmly on the ground? Because that was how Tomaziel had been feeling lately.

He just couldn’t help feeling so happy, especially when Starchild was there. They had exchanged so many letters by now, so much he had lost count. But all of them were saved, tucked away in a dresser drawer if he ever wanted to reread them. And he had, many times.

Even after months, a part of him still wondered if he was dreaming. He never thought in a million years Starchild would ever take a chance on him, and had been happy to simply be good friends and nothing more. He had even cherished that good friendship. And now, to have them become something more... it still felt like a dream.

But it was real. The Spark was real. The romantic words Starchild wrote in his letters were real. The sensation of his heart fluttering whenever Starchild laughed was definitely real... and he knew because he was experiencing it right now as he watched Starchild clap a hand over his mouth to control the laughter threatening to burst out.

It was late at night and they were in Tomaziel’s chambers, sitting on his bed and talking. Starchild was on a rather impromptu trip to Jendell, due to Princess Monique practically begging Ace to ask if he would visit on her birthday. It was only a day-long visit, and he would be leaving in the morning, but Tomaziel was willing to savor the time he could spend with him.

Tomaziel couldn’t help smiling at Starchild and quipping, “You do realize it sounds like you’re laughing at Eric being hit on, right?”

“I’m not laughing at that,” Starchild sniggered. “I’m laughing at what ended up happening.”

“Well, what happened?”

Starchild pushed back his hair and tried to control himself. “Okay. So Eric told Ace that the man was trying to come onto him, and Ace said—” he wheezed and doubled over. “He said—I’m sorry,” he snickered.

Tomaziel couldn’t help laughing himself. “Come on, tell me! What happened?” He wanted to know what was so funny.

“Sorry, sorry,” Starchild giggled, pushing back his hair and trying to control himself. “Ace said, and I quote, “Let’s make out so he thinks we’re together and he’ll leave you alone.” And they did.”

Tomaziel’s jaw dropped open in disbelief. “They made out?”

“They made out.” Starchild looked like he was going to burst from the laughter he was holding in.

“Right there in the club?” A wide, incredulous smile was forming on his face. Honestly, it did sound like something King Ace would do, but it was still a bit of a shock to hear.

“Right there in the club!” Starchild finally gave up and burst out laughing, doubling over to hide his face in his knees.

Tomaziel threw back his head and started laughing. “Was there—” he had to take a moment to contain his laughter long enough to finish. “Was there tongue?”

“I didn’t see, but I’m pretty sure there was.” Starchild giggled at the memory. “Oh, you should have seen Eric. He was shocked speechless. And Heather...” His smile faded for a moment, then reappeared with a light laugh. “She was laughing so hard.”

“Ace just went for it, didn’t he?” Tomaziel asked knowingly.

Starchild laughed again. “He did. He just swooped in and made out with him right there.”

“I wish I could have seen that,” he snickered. “Should we tell the Queen what Ace did?”

“I’m not sure... Do you think we should?”

“Oh, definitely. She would have a field day with this.”

Starchild giggled. “I can tell her at breakfast tomorrow before I leave,”

At that, Tomaziel’s smile faded a little. He didn’t really want to be reminded that he couldn’t spend more time with Starchild, not until he either went to KISSteria or Starchild found a reason to go on another trip to Jendell.

He couldn’t help sighing and reaching out to graze Starchild’s fingers. “I do wish you could stay longer,” he said aloud. “I mean, don’t get me wrong, I’m so happy to see you, but I just wish you didn’t have to leave tomorrow.”

Starchild took his hand with a sympathetic look and squeezed it. “I know,” he agreed. “I’m sorry I never get to see you as often as I would like. Do you... Do you want to keep writing letters?”

“Of course I do,” Tomaziel nodded immediately. “I love writing to you.”

The smile that graced Starchild’s face made his heart flutter again. “So do I... I do understand wanting to see each other more.” He let out a sheepish laugh. “I keep sketching pictures of you.”

Tomaziel grinned widely. “Really? Can I see them sometime?”

“Of course; I can send them with letters.” Then Starchild’s eyes suddenly lit up. “Oh, that reminds me! I wanted to give you something before I left.”

“Starchild, the Princess is the only one that’s supposed get gifts today,” Tomaziel reminded him jokingly as he swung his legs to get off the bed.

Starchild laughed as he went over to his jacket, which was hanging off a bedpost. “I don’t think she’ll mind. Besides, it’s a special gift.”

Tomaziel leaned in curiously as he moved to take something out of his jacket pocket. “What is it?”

He took out a small black box and moved to climb back onto the bed, then handed it to him with an eager smile. “Open it,”

When Tomaziel opened the lid, he found a gold chain necklace sitting on a bed of dark blue velvet. The pendant was a simple gold oval shape, and contained an image of a beautiful brown eye with strands of dark hair falling over it. It suddenly occurred to him that the eye looked familiar...

He held up the necklace beside Starchild’s face and looked between the two. “Is this your eye?” he finally realized.

Starchild smiled and nodded. “It is. It’s called a lovers eye necklace. I had it made with an image of my eye for you. I thought... well, I thought it would be a nice gift. Do you like it?”

Tomaziel’s heart swelled as he gazed at the necklace. Somehow it was made even better by how it wasn’t too extravagant; just a simple gold necklace. Starchild knew he wasn’t the extravagant type. No one had ever given him a gift this meaningful before.

“Starchild, this... this is wonderful.” A touched smile bloomed across his face as he looked at Starchild. “I love it.”

Starchild smiled happily back, then laughed as he unfastened the clasp on the chain. “Are you putting it on right now?”

“Of course,” Tomaziel grinned at him. He fastened the clasp around his neck and turned the pendant around to look down at it with a smile. “I’ll never take this off.”

His smile widened a little when Starchild’s cheeks turned pink and he let out a giggle. “Smooth talker,”

Tomaziel chuckled. “Really, this is amazing. Thank you...” He gave a sheepish laugh. “I don’t know how I can repay you for this.”

“You don’t have to repay me,” Starchild shook his head. “It’s yours; don’t worry about repaying me.”

“But it’s beautiful... I feel as if I should.”

“Well...” Starchild’s smile turned impish. “If you insist... you can repay me with a kiss.”

Tomaziel laughed. “I can definitely do that.” He cupped Starchild’s cheek and leaned in to give him a soft kiss. He could feel the necklace around his neck and smiled into the kiss. Starchild probably thought he was joking, but he meant what he said; he was just so touched by this gift that he really never wanted to take it off.

-KISSTERIA-

MANY YEARS LATER

It was early in the morning, too early to get up just yet. And yet, Starchild was awake and sitting up in bed. His head was leaned back against the headboard and his eyes were closed, savoring the quiet and calm before he had to get out of bed and be King for the day.

At that thought, his eyes opened and he looked down at the man lying beside him and his lips drifted up in a faint smile. Tomaziel lay in bed, still sound asleep, and Starchild simply observed him, not having the heart to wake him up. He couldn’t help admiring his face in the daylight seeping through the windows, and almost wanted to get out of bed to grab his sketchbook so he could capture the beautiful, tranquil image. Even after being married to Tomaziel for many years now, the sight of his beautiful husband still took his breath away.

His eyes traveled from his face down to his bare chest, and he smiled as his own eye gazed back up at him. The necklace showed signs of age; the gold had darkened, even after being polished many times, and if he looked hard enough he knew he would see a couple small dents. But there it was in the same place it had always been, still around Tomaziel’s neck and resting on his chest like it really did belong there.

He watched the necklace rise and fall with Tomaziel’s breathing with a fond smile. He had always figured Tomaziel would at some point take off the necklace. Maybe there would even come a day where the necklace was taken off and never put back on again. But that day never came; the necklace stayed around his neck, never taken off. Even after years, whole decades, Tomaziel really had kept that innocent little vow he’d made when Starchild first gave it to him.

Starchild reached out and gently brushed away a few strands of hair that were stuck to Tomaziel’s mouth. At his touch, Tomaziel stirred, and after a few moments he turned his head and slowly opened his eyes. Starchild smiled at him when he met his eyes. “Good morning,”

“Mmph... Good—” Tomaziel was interrupted by a wide yawn, making Starchild smile affectionately as his entire face scrunched up. “Mmm, good morning,” he finally said, his voice low from sleep. “Is it time to get up?”

“Not yet,” Starchild smiled playfully. “Have I ever told you how pretty you are?”

Tomaziel gave a snort of a laugh. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say the King of KISSteria was flirting with me.”

“Oh, I only flirt with my husband.” He grinned at him and tapped his nose. “Oh wait, that’s you.”

“Lucky me,”

They shared a laugh, then Starchild fell quiet again as he looked back down at the lovers eye pendant.

“I’ll never take this off.” His heart fluttered at the memory of Tomaziel saying the words. It was an innocent little promise, said in the heat of the moment, and yet...

“What’s on your mind, love?” Tomaziel asked softly.

Starchild couldn’t help smiling at the tiredness in his voice. “Just thinking...” he delicately picked up the pendant. “I can’t remember the last time you took this off.”

“Neither can I,” Tomaziel smiled. “Have I ever taken it off?”

“You might have...” Starchild chuckled. “But I can’t remember.”

Tomaziel chuckled softly. “Well, I did say I would never take it off.”

Starchild smiled lovingly at his husband. “You did.” He kissed his forehead. “Why don’t you sleep a little longer?”

His husband’s eyes were already drifting closed. He settled back into the pillows with a sigh, then mumbled, “I never did repay you for the necklace,”

Starchild couldn’t help rubbing his thumb over the edge of the pendant. “Don’t worry, my Knight,” he murmured. “You’ve more than repaid me.” He smiled down at his husband as he dozed back off to sleep and kissed his forehead again. “I love you.”

A smile crept over Tomaziel’s face. “I love you too,”

#Shandi's KISSteriaverse #spacechild #there was literally no way i could top what i wrote last year lol i mean c'mon #but this is just as great and just as disgustingly romantic #you cannot deny starchild would totally do something like this and give tomaziel a lovers eye necklace #it's just so romantic #also the picture is what the necklace starchild gives tomaziel is supposed to look like #happy birthday shandi!!! love ya!!#valentines day #kiss au writing #my writing #thanks for reading!

10 notes · View notes

onwesterlywinds · 3 years

Text

Where Flood Waters Ran

Part of my Godhands series, set roughly in the year 1544 of the Sixth Astral Era - thirty-three years before Hydaelyn’s present-day, and thirteen years before Ala Mhigo’s fall.

GODHANDS IS NOW ON AO3! If you like it, send over some kudos!

Despite all their digging, Ashley and Marco might well have been the last people in the Undercity to learn in full what had happened to Elza. The Blackram Knights had taken her deep into the Iron Maiden for more than a week, mere days after she'd offered her hideout to two teenage boys in need of shelter. The screams had been horrific, or so they'd heard, and the smell of gore and shit had overtaken the Undercity's lower reaches by the end of it. To finish with her, the Knights had welded an old Skallic diving helmet over her head, leaving her with a few slits in the metal through which she might eat or drink or breathe, and only then had they released her from their captivity.

For a dubious mercy, Elza was not yet dead, and yet much of the Undercity seemed to have written her off as such. She had attended no meetings with her fellow sigil-bearers; none of the young ones had taken errands from her. No one spoke to her wellbeing, let alone her whereabouts. She was a living ghost, a memory most had already seen fit to discard.

"We have to go find her," Ashley whispered.

They could speak with some freedom from their present surroundings. It was Flood Day, and a throng of nearly two score shouting children had gathered in one of the great storerooms up a ways from the ancient canals, both to avoid the black water when it surged over its banks and to have a proper vantage for when it did. The littlest ones had settled into some massive game of tag with rules Ashley didn't pretend to understand, except that in such tight quarters, it seemed to mimic the ebb and flow of the river not so very far below them.

Ashley stared out across the room, to where K'tobha and some of the other boys were tearing apart shipping crates apparently for the hells of it. "She helped us at our worst. It isn't fair for her to take the fall for us."

Marco's face was fixed in an uneven scowl; he made no attempt to keep his face pleasant for the children, as he so often did. "If she's keeping her head down, there's nothing we can do for her," he said. "She knew what she was doing when she helped us, and she's got her reasons for staying away now."

"Why can't we go to her?" Marco turned to him as if to tell him off, but he pushed on. "I know she's not stupid enough to still be in her hideout, but she can't be that hard to find, with that thing over her head-"

Ashley cut himself off as a familiar shape sidled up alongside Marco, his face cloaked in shadow until the moment he clapped a hand on Marco's shoulder.

"It's pointless," Hawthorne said by way of introduction. "Overheard Palolo, the little shite, telling a few Blackram Knights all about that 'careful' conversation you had with her ma about Elza's meetup with the Maiden." Then, with one of his signature grins, he added, "You fucking loudmouths."

Marco swung an elbow toward Hawthorne's general direction, albeit without much enthusiasm; the boy dodged the swipe easily and reappeared at Ashley's side. "Anyway, Elza's off to wherever she's off to, and the Knights know you're looking for her now. They were staking out her place when I passed by just now; think they're hoping to find her first to get the jump on you."

Ashley let out a growl of frustration so loud that a few of the nearest children turned to him, momentarily distracted from their play. "How can they just let him do this?!" he fumed. "Any of them!"

"Listen." The voice was low, and he nearly mistook it for Marco's - but it was Hawthorne, deadly serious for perhaps the first time in Ashley's memory. "Marco's got it right. Elza knew what she was getting herself into. You think she'd lose her man, and her boy, and still think Blackram couldn't touch her?"

"No."

"Fuck no," Hawthorne confirmed. "Best thing you can do to repay her now is keep the hells away. She isn't dead - and with a bit of luck and a whole lot of minding your own business, she could stay that way."

With a hearty blow to Ashley's back in farewell, Hawthorne left the chamber, dodging a charging throng of sprats as he did so. For a time, he and Marco stood in witness to the chaos, both of them with their arms crossed tight over their chests. It would not do to leave so soon after an argument - especially not when anyone sparing them a whit of attention might guess what they had fought about - but far more practically, neither of them had anywhere better to be.

"I felt the same way when Sigrid died," Marco said to him at last. "Was so mad I couldn't even grieve her. The other sigil-bearers all knew the bastard had an eye on her, and they did fuck-all to keep him away from her. ...Even Elza."

Ashley mentally thanked him for not saying Blackram's name aloud, as Hawthorne had. "Were the two of you close?" he said, softly. "You and Sigrid."

Marco shook his head in vehement denial. "We didn't ever really talk. But she did a lot for me, 'specially when I was a lad: letting me stay in her territory up by the palace a few times, and always giving me coin for my tips, even when we both knew they were worthless. Probably kept me alive more than once."

"Hells, that's something," said Ashley.

His remaining thoughts scattered as a child careening away from the others tripped into his side; he immediately reached for his pockets to ensure their integrity and, for a blessing, found them uncompromised. Together, he and Marco revisited their familiar silence.

The patterned batiks of a Fist-in-training reemerged through the crowd to lean beside Ashley once more, and Ashley's only indication that this was Gelva and not Hawthorne was the prodigious depth of her scowl from under the hood.

"Since my brother won't shut up-"

Marco gave a little snort of laughter. Gelva's frown deepened, but she did not turn to face him. Whatever reason she had for joining them, it wasn't to start a fight.

"I have no idea where I'd start looking for a deposed lord with no options, who's got the Undercity's worst dogging her steps, and who's already had every last secret beaten out of her. By her own account."

His heart leaped, despite himself. Despite everything. "You're saying-"

"Not a single fucking word out of you, or I'm gone. If I'm saying anything, it's that Dad's been keeping a new shipment in one of our warehouses. I told him it was useless and more trouble than it's worth, and he called me an idiot for it. So there's that."

Ashley could only stare at Gelva's face as he rushed to piece together the implications of her words. "Thank-"

"That's a word," she snapped. She left as quickly as her brother had, albeit in much more of a huff and with less resistance from the crowd around them.

His ears were ringing long after her departure. When he stared over at Marco, he saw some trace of hope on his features as well. Still, Ashley could not concentrate through the noise and cheer around him, and his mind and heart were unable to settle.

"I'm gonna go," he said to Marco at last. "Need some sun."

"'S probably past midnight by now," his friend reminded him.

"Some fresh air, then."

He pushed off the wall and stretched as he waited for an opening in the children's game to make an inconspicuous departure. Before that chance arrived, a cry tore through the tunnel outside the storeroom. Every head turned, almost in unison, to note its origin, and a man in leathers threw himself through the doorway, drenched all over and sporting a deep gash to his bare forearm.

"Marco!" he yelled, then- "Marco's friend! Crusader, in the canal!"

The storeroom settled into an odd calm. As Marco ran for the door, with Ashley following close in his wake, the children seamlessly cleared a path for him.

"Barricade the doors!" Marco shouted over his shoulder. "Big ones up front, little ones in back - you know how it goes!"

The man who'd shouted the warning nodded and staggered in, back toward the ruined crates to lend himself to the defense, while Marco and Ashley slipped past him to meet the danger head-on.

The floodwater was already lapping over the canal's banks, stretching wide across the white stone of the landing station a few ilms deep. On the opposite side of the rush of dark water lay two bodies with a heavy net floating near them; between him and Marco and the current, a towering suit of ancient armor turned.

It was wrought entirely of metal and somehow no less hideous for it. It had no head, let alone any semblance of flesh to speak of - and yet the longer Ashley stared at it, the more clearly he could envision a ghastly face twisted in agony, and a frame racked by the spasm and twitch of rogue muscles, driven by whatever fell magicks compelled the armor to attack.

"AIM FOR ITS CORE!" Marco called - and at those words, Ashley's eyes fell upon a glowing, pulsing crystal, smaller than his own clenched fist, hovering at the center of its two massive pauldrons.

"How the fuck are we supposed to reach-"

The crusader raised a greatsword covered in glowing runes and charged, the ringing of its steps dulled by the floodwater lapping out across the stone hall. Marco feinted to its right and submerged himself in the shadows; the armor's torso pivoted, tracking him with nonexistent eyes.

Ashley ran at it from the side. The core lay in position well above the height of his head: he could perhaps reach it if he extended his arm in full, though doing so would expose nearly the full length of his body to the crusader's blade. Almost as an afterthought, Ashley drew his knife from his waistband and stabbed into the closest available gap between plates of armor, somewhere near where the crusader's thigh would have been. A dark swirl of aether, thick and shimmering like oil, gushed from thin air and a hellish roar burst forth to resonate against the walls, and then the crusader raised its arm-

"ASHLEY!"

A gauntlet collided with his ribs and sent him flying, stunning him even before he landed hard against the wet stone. The whole side of his face seared with pain, his nose and mouth stifled with blood and saltwater. Somewhere from up above came the slosh and clang of the crusader's steps, getting closer and closer - then an otherworldly hum.

A deep purple magick enveloped his arm and subsumed his knife. Ashley braced for some new agony to reach him, only for the magick to fade almost at once - and when it did, his knife's blade dissolved into the water beneath him in a shower of rust.

The crusader took another step closer, and another, and all the while Ashley staggered to his feet in a vain effort to ignore the screaming pain along his side. He had no weapon and could not retreat back to the storeroom without the crusader following him, without it reaching the children.

From dead ahead, Marco loosed a loud cry and leaped onto the crusader's back. He fought the armor's movement with all its strength, straining to hold just one of its arms, and yet the other arm reared back as if preparing to gore him.

At once the pain retreated to a place within Ashley's control. He lunged forward and grabbed the crusader's sword arm in both his own, standing fast even as the flood water surged against his legs and the monster howled in outrage.

He could barely see Marco, covered in sweat, leaning over the crusader's headless shoulders; he watched his friend stab once, then twice, and miss both times. Then the crusader shuddered with some desperate strength, and it was all Ashley could do to continue pulling at the arm with the greatsword, diverting its swing away from Marco at all cost.

He did not see Marco land the finishing blow. He only knew the crusader was defeated when it lost its strength, when its sudden lack of resistance sending him lurching forward. One by one the plates of ancient armor splashed into the water at his feet - and when he turned around to ensure Marco's safety, his friend stood with his chest heaving, holding up his knife, upon which was skewered the crusader's dark and lifeless core.

***

As Ashley returned up to the canal storeroom to try to find something for his face, a handful of Undercity leaders had already arrived to take stock of the crusader's defeat: a Duskwight matriarch, a merchant clad in blue who swept several of the children into his embrace, and the respective keepers of the Laurel and Kalmia Sigils. When the storeroom became too crowded for comfort and the only healing to be found was a grimy rag from a nonetheless well-intentioned little girl, the pair of lords followed Marco and Ashley back down to the canal, where the water had already risen up past their ankles. As Marco helped him splash water onto his scraped cheek, the lords worked in tandem: the Laurel Sigil leader, a conjurer with a halo of dark hair, chanted over the empty armor and scattered consecrated salt in wide but calculated circles; the Kalmia Sigil's keeper, a tall and imposing warrior with a crossbow strapped to their broad shoulders, traced out the crusader's battle in the gouges its sabatons had left upon the stones of the landing.

The warrior glared over at the other side of the canal, to where the bodies of the crusader's two victims lay entwined in their own net. "Idiots," the warrior whispered, then: "That cave-in up by Aster's has closed off the other bank, and there's no chance of crossing the water until the flood subsides. We'll have to let the river take the corpses and pray for the best."

"Mmm," the conjurer responded. "I don't like the chances of them coming back."

"We're talking ghosts at worst, Dagmar. Things don't come out of the river. The only reason that armor did was because those scavengers decided to test their luck on Flood Day." They shrugged. "I'll take it with me, if it makes you feel better."

Dagmar frowned but nodded. The warrior procured a length of rope and set themself to binding the crusader's empty armor into a single tight bundle.

"Wait," said Marco. The warrior did not stop their movements. "Dagmar, Neele. We have to talk."

"Shhh," Neele, the warrior, shook their head. Neither they nor Dagmar looked at him or at Marco; they were pointedly staring up toward the ceiling, or at some intricate tilework along the canal wall. They might have resembled Heart-Seers for their lack of eye contact, were it not for the fact that they were not listening - not to the water, not to the stones, and not to anything the two boys in front of them were saying. "You lads did good work today. That's forty-five children you've saved."

Ashley managed to take a single step forward without his hip giving in to the pain. "What are you-"

"You've every right to hate us," Neele continued, looking down the tunnel where the rush of water disappeared, "for how things have transpired. I'm sorry we weren't there for Elza, and I'm sorry we can't be there for you."

Marco let out a strangled sound that might have been the beginning of a growl of frustration; instead, he spoke only one word. "Why?"

The conjurer, Dagmar, spoke up for the first time. "It's quite the omen," she said. "I, too, have forty-five souls in my care. At least for now. Forty-five souls to cull the Undercity's legions of undead, and that's with the Knights picking us off at a whim. If I cross their master, we'll doubtless pay an even greater price."

"The last time I opposed Blackram at the Quorum," Neele chimed in, "one of my border-fighters went missing the first day. Then two. Then four. We're strapped as it is, but I'd be a liar if I gave you any reason for keeping my hands clean of you save that they're my people, and I'll do whatever I must to keep them alive."

"And this way," Dagmar added, blinking pointedly up at the ceiling, "we never saw you."

Marco shook his head. "Listen," he said, and his voice wavered with a desperation Ashley had never heard from him before. "Ashley won't bring you any trouble."

"Marco," Ashley interjected.

"I don't care if you leave me be, but just give him a chance, and-"

"You're not that daft, lad," said Neele. "Trouble's all he'll bring - Blackram's already seen to that. And the longer you stick with him, it won't matter how many young ones you save: you'll only bring trouble, too."

With that, Neele hoisted the bundle of armor over their shoulder, and they and Dagmar left the canal as one. Marco paced the landing for another minute, until the flood reached up to their knees.

"I can just-" Ashley began.

"Nah," Marco said, albeit without his regular levity. "We'll find somewhere to collapse. Good thing we don't need their permission to watch each other's backs, right?"

#Godhands #Ashley Rosenheim #Marco

4 notes · View notes

luckystarchild · 4 years

Text

INUYASHA Volume 01, Scroll 01: “The Accursed Youth”

Welcome to Lucky’s INUYASHA recap—a recap of the Inuyasha manga by me, Lucky, an anime fan who has somehow never read it or seen the anime before.

Over the course of these posts, I’ll be recapping and reacting to the events of a chapter (or series of chapters) of the Inuyasha manga. I’ll be using the official VIZ manga volumes as my source material. References to Not Quite Kagome (“NQKagome”) pertain to my ongoing fanfiction series, Lucky Child.

And without further ado... chapter 01 of Inuyasha (or volume 01, “Scroll 1,” as VIZ titles the manga chapters.)

We begin in media res; Inuyasha has stolen the Jewel of Four Souls (the “Shikon Jewel”) and is rampaging through a village. He wants to use the jewel to become “a true demon.” Kikyo, mortally wounded, shoots him with an arrow and pins him to a tree. Her body is burnt along with the jewel by her young sister, Kaede.

I don’t generally like prologues that employ flashbacks in writing, as they sometimes seem like a way to shoehorn in backstory that either isn’t necessary OR backstory that could be imparted through the reader more organically. (They’re all-too-often lazy, basically.) But this is a manga, so maybe it’s not so bad. Not sure how I feel TBH.

Was sort of surprised we learned what Inuyasha’s goal concerning the jewel is so soon; thought maybe that would get dragged out a bit longer, though IDK why I got that impression exactly. I’ve seen a few random eps of the anime and know he isn’t fond of his own half-demon status. Perhaps I feel like we should’ve earned this revelation during the narrative and on Inuyasha’s terms, rather than have it handed to us right off the bat by a faceless narrator. But that’s me being overly critical, perhaps.

Flash forward to 1997. The day before Kagome’s 15th birthday. Her grandfather tries to tell her a legend about the Shikon Jewel, but she shrugs it off.

Kagome’s family lives inside a big temple, and everything has a legend attached to it (including the massive 500-year-old Go-Shinboku God Tree), but Kagome never pays attention to them. Later, her brother loses their cat in the mini-shrine, specifically in the well house (which a sign declares the home of the Bone-Eater’s Well). Kagome bravely ventures inside to search for the cat.

Right off the bat, we get the impression that Kagome is a pretty average teenage girl—a bit of an airhead with a sharp sense of humor who isn’t afraid to get her hands dirty or shy away from a dark and spooky well house. Nice bit of characterization in just a few panels. Well done, author-san.

NQKagome Bonus: She’d probably pay more attention to all the legends her grandfather tells, which could give her an edge in the Feudal Era.

Kagome hears odd noises coming from the covered well; the cover pops off the well and a horrible, Noh-mask-faced women with a skeletal snake body to leap out and drag Kagome into the darkness.

Her body regenerates, turning into a... centipede body. Not a snake. D’oh. Frightened as they fall, Kagome emits a light from her hands, breaking off the woman’s arm and sending her careening away into the dark as she cries something cryptic about the Jewel of Four Souls.

Soon Kagome stops falling and finds herself at the bottom of the well, but upon emerging, she’s lost in an unfamiliar forest.

I gotta say that as far as first-chapters go, this one is pretty good! We immediately know who Kagome is, where she’s from, what she’s like as a person, and this introduction to the supernatural is spooky and interesting. The stakes are high and the action is fast-paced, without an overload of exposition.

Kagome spots the God-Tree and hurries toward it, noting that she always used it to find her way home in the past, but she does not find her familiar home at its base. Instead she finds Inuyasha pinned to the God-Tree.

We’re treated to this gorgeous two-panel spread:

She notes that the boy pinned to the tree has inhuman ears before some villagers find her in “Inuyasha’s forbidden forest” and bring her to Kaede, the younger sister of Kikyo (who is much older than she appeared in the earlier flashback). Kagome realizes she is in the Sengoku Period (1467 to 1615 CE). The villagers theorize that she’s a spy, a kitsune, and similar before Kaede realizes that Kagome looks identical to the deceased Kikyo.

Kaede tells Kagome briefly who Kikyo was before the centipede woman attacks the village.

That bit where Kaede tells Kagome about Kikyo is where I would’ve placed the flashback from the start of the chapter, FYI. Would’ve given the earlier parts of the chapter more mystery to withhold some information from the reader.

Also we have TOO MANY K-NAMES. Already three of the four named characters start with K, and two even start with the “ka” sound in Japanese. We have this problem with YYH and I foresee it being a problem as I type these names a ton, LMAO 🤣

So... Kagome realizing what time period she’s been magically dropped into after approximately seven seconds seems… IDK, kind of handy? Easy? The only info she has to go on are the vague references to “battles” a few villagers shout at her, and maybe the way they’re dressed. She supposedly doesn’t pay attention to old legends, so it doesn’t seem plausible that she’d pay enough attention in history class to discern what period she’s in now based on the cut of a kimono.

(Disclaimer: I’m American and the American education system is notoriously horrible at teaching the subjects of history and science with any accuracy, so I might be projecting my experience onto hers to some degree. Maybe Japan is better about this stuff. IDK, but thought I’d mention it.)

ALSO, Kagome jumps to the possibility of time travel really fast. I would jump to “this is a dream” or “I have fallen into a historical reenactment amusement park in which no one will break character” (a special hell of its own) first. Again, though, this chapter is moving quickly to draw in readers, so I can see why they didn’t give her confusion more screen-time. Especially with serialized manga, you have a handful of chapters (if that) to grab readers, so it’s gotta move fast as a matter of necessity.

I appreciate that some of the villagers mentioned “kitsune” in this section (and not just because it reminds me of all the reasons Yu Yu Hakusho is so easy to cross over with this manga). It shows that the supernatural is something the locals consider on a daily basis, which helps with worldbuilding.

Also, I wasn’t expecting the nipples on the centipede woman??? In her first panels, her breasts were covered up a bit, but now we’ve got detailed nipples. I’m guessing the scant few episodes of the series I watched were censored quite a bit. I’m wondering if there’s going to be more fanservice in this series than I expected, especially after reading that the series’ author, Rumiko Takahashi, advised the anime team to avoid using Kagome for any pantie-shots…

The centipede claims Kagome has the Shikon Jewel, and Kagome flees the village (toward “that light” in the east, which Kaede notes she shouldn’t be able to see) as the centipede woman gives chase. Elsewhere, Inuyasha wakes, stating he can smell the scent of the woman who killed him.

So I know a few things about this series already thanks to the research I did for Lucky Child, and chief among these things is that Kagome is Kikyo’s reincarnation. We can already see this tidbit coming through in obvious ways: Kagome’s resemblance to Kikyo, the Jewel being connected to her somehow, etc. Kagome seeing that light is probably a power she got from Kikyo, too.

It’s interesting that these connections are as physical as her having the same scent as Kikyo, though; scent is informed quite a bit by genetics. Obviously we’re dealing with magic and not science in this story, so I’m not looking for infallible logic when it comes to this reincarnation plot device… but it’s almost like the magic here overrides things like genetics and the extreme differences in what Kagome and Kikyo must’ve eaten in their respective times when determining their scent and appearance. The soul is more important than the body, etc. Wondering how consistent that will remain over the course of this admittedly massive story.

And that’s it for chapter 1. This was super fun! I’m guessing I’ll have more to say once we get past the set-up and are introduced to more characters, but overall I think this was a really strong start to this feudal fairy tale.

If you enjoyed this recap, feel free to buy me a Ko-Fi☕, and subscribe to the tag “lucky’s inuyasha recap” to see more!

NEXT CHAPTER

#lucky's inuyasha recap #inuyasha recap #inuyasha manga recap #inuyasha manga #inuyasha anime #inuyasha #kagome #higurashi kagome #kagome higurashi #kaede #kikyo #luckychildfanfic

10 notes · View notes

secretsantasides · 4 years

Text

Gift #5: Sun and Moon

Gift for: @okay-finne

Prompt: Deceit/Logan, Unsympathetic Virgil/Patton. Gods AU, tw blood, body mutilation.

"Sun"

---------

He can hear their cries.

It distracts him from his own pain, the pain of having something so important ripped out of him.

It also makes his torture a million times worse.

Listening to the cries of his children in the room next door, not knowing if they're actually being hurt or if they're just scared.

He prays that they're just scared. Losing this integral part of him is one thing. Losing the children he already has is another.

"Stop- stop- don't hurt them, please don't hurt them! They're chil- they're children!" He yells out as best he can, panicked and thrashing on the bed he's strapped too. It’s too hard to lie right now, too hard to put up the harsh and cocky mask he usually puts up for the beasts near him.

Blood soaking the gauze around his abdomen.

Blood, everywhere.

The 'doctor' the gods had sent stands, grinning to himself, on the other side of the room, dark circles under his eyes and purple hair his most visible features. He smells like lightning.

Pain, everywhere.

In his head, in his body, in his heart.

The screams cut off in the other room, and his breath catches.

They should still be screaming. They should still be scared.

His own cries cut off as his panic mounts and chokes him, grief overwhelming him even as he denies it.

Maybe the screaming wasn't his children. Maybe it had been just another cruel method the gods decided to use to punish him more.

"Please, my- my children." His voice breaks on the last word. He can't convince himself that it's true; that the terror stricken voices hadn't been his treasures.

Not with blood caked against his dark skin and in his golden hair, against the scales that he had always prided himself in keeping in perfect order.

Not when they'd already gone farther than he'd thought they would.

Why take away his womb and leave him with his children?

What point would there be to take away his ability to give life while leaving him with the life he's already made?

_____________

The first ice age is caused by his grief. He stays locked within the depths of his palace, away from the servants who are only trying to help.

He gets punished for this too, of course.

Anything that affects their mortals.

And so, the unblemished skin of his face becomes puckered on one side, burnt by a fire specially made to be so unnatural that it could wound the very Sun. The scales that had been there damage, some fall off completely and some meld into his skin grotesquely. It leaves his skin patchy and scarred, and dry, and far from the beauty he had once prided himself in.

His right eye is lost to the flames as well. This, he doesn't mourn. He can't bring himself to care. Not with the gaping hole he can feel inside of him- both in his body and in his heart.

Word gets from his Moon to him, somehow. The servants, he thinks. Usually it would be too risky to do it, but with their Lord on the verge of giving up, it may be well worth it.

______________

The letter has been the only thing that has kept him going for longer than he cares to count.

Day after day. The one letter that has been able to slip through the tighter security put around his palace since his mistakes.

Now, it's worn to the point of being so fragile that he will have to copy it over again soon. He's worn through so many copies that it's obscene. He can't help it. The words and the one who sent it mean everything to him now.

The letter reminds him that even if he's lost greatly, someone shares that loss with him. And if he were to give up, he would cause him even greater tragedy.

'My Sun, We will be brought together once again. I am sure of it. Think less of our loss, as much as it pains me to say that, and think more of what may have been. Do not lose yourself in sadness in grief. Let your anger fester and pull you together and push you forward, so that we may be united again, as we should be. Hold on. The mortals will be the death of themselves one day, when the gods refuse to come to their aid. We will be released. Do not do this to yourself. You will take away the very last piece of me that the gods have not completely stripped away. Let me be that piece for you as well. Your Moon'

He will be holding on, for forever if he has to. He has to keep hope that he will be able to see his Moon again.

Not as much hope as he had last time. Not enough to make him foolish enough that he considers doing something about it himself again.

Just enough that he can convince himself that there is a reason to keep going.

_____________

More copies of the letter come and go.

More days.

More glimpses of night. Of the Moon Palace on the horizon, just out of reach.

Finally, word gets to him of the fulfillment of what his Moon had said would take place.

The Mortals will reach their end soon.

This is the first time in a long time that the servants kept in the Sun Palace see their Lord break down.

The current copy of the letter gets crushed to his chest, and the ink smears where tears dare to touch down on the creased paper.

Soon.

Soon, it will feel like this had all been for something, that his pain and perseverance hadn't been for nothing.

He will see his Moon soon, and he will be able to heal properly this time.

_______________________

“Moon”

----------

“My lord! My lord! Have you heard the good news yet?” A servant’s cry echoes through the palace, rushing into the throne room where almost everything is plated in or made of reflective minerals and polished well enough that you can see every thread of the staff member’s clothing as they scamper by.

“The good news of what? That my father will not be joi-”

“That the other gods have given up on the mortals!” The servant cuts their lord off, but such a thing is not worried about in the palace of the Moon. He does not care for the silly social rules the other gods put in place, even if the one he so sorely misses, does.

The god is frozen now- much like he has felt inwardly all these years, separated from his warmth. The gods- especially one like… him, Patton- giving up on their mortals? Now? Finally? It can’t be true. They uprooted whole lives, turned over everything and rewrote fate herself to put these mortals here.

“The gods have given up on their mortals? On their Earth?” “Yes! Remus says he’s heard the mortals are to die out within the week! He’s said you’re going to be allowed to leave your palace!”

The Moon Palace. More like a prison, he thinks. A silvery, reflective castle on top of gangly legs that does nothing more than stalk around the earth. A palace he had thought would never be able to do more than that. But with the Humans perishing, if this is true…

“You’re sure about this, Zero?” The servant hesitates when they’re addressed by the robed figure upon his throne. “I.. It’s hard to be certain. But I have heard this from Remus and his place by the throne in-”

“- Remus is far from where orders originate. Send word to the Light Council and ask for confirmation for me.” There’s no use getting his hopes too high just yet. He can’t afford to. He remembers what happened last time someone had stretched their hopes a little too far; a little too soon. It hadn’t been him, of course, last time. But it reminds him, all the same, to be much more careful with his feelings.

“Of course, Sir.” They bow before heading back out of the throne room; their steps echoing in the nearly empty halls. The Moon Palace isn’t one you would imagine a god would be living in. The walls empty, bare. Very few furnishings interrupt the mirrored structure of the castle, making the interior like a maze to all those who don’t know their way around by heart.

The servants closer to the god say that his castle is much like him. Unyielding for those not in his heart.

The god stands from his throne and goes to stand by one of the few windows in his home. He always sees the Sunset from here. His castle ever chasing after the Sun palace; his mind and heart ever chasing after someone he had once and may not be able to ever have again.

He can keep hope, now. He allows himself a small sliver of it.

Soon, he may get to be in the embrace of the Sun once again. Feel his warm embrace. Smell the slightly dusty, warm scent that not many mortals have the ability to catch a whiff of. Even the prospect of just catching a full glimpse of his Sun excites him.

It’s been so long. Ages. Epochs. Periods. Eras. Eons. Supereons. Further. He isn’t sure there’s a word for how long it’s been.

All he knows is that he’s only left with the faint memories of warm days and cooler nights spent with his lover, of the way they touched back when they actually could.

Of how he now is doomed to spend eternity only chasing after his Sun, never to catch him, for the sake of the mortals that reside on the Earth the Elder gods had given to him and his Sun.

The Moon resents the Mortals for the job the gods have given him, and resents the gods for having taken his Earth and placed mortals on it in the first place-- then having the audacity to ask for him and his Sun to do this; to be separated until their whims decided they could be together once again. He resents them for what they did to his Sun when they had said no at first.

The Moon will wait and bide his time until he is allowed to reunite with his Sun, for his Sun’s sake.

And then there will be hell to pay.

#loceit #logan sanders #ts logan #deceit sanders #ts deceit #unsympathetic patton #unsympathetic virgil #virgil sanders #ts virgil #fanfic #gods au #sanders sides #thomas sanders #secretsantasides #tw blood #tw body mutilation

41 notes · View notes

ironwoman359 · 5 years

Text

EMBARRASSING PHASES: The Endcard and what it means.

Greetings Guys, Gals, and Non-Binary Pals! Tis I, Taylor, resident theorist and Screenshot Queen, here to talk about the endcard to the latest Sanders Sides video! This endcard was short, but it had a lot of information squeezed inside it that I’m really excited to unpack! Now, there are a lot of different theories that could be based on this information, but for this post, I’m going to try and stay away from speculation (as much as possible, anyway) and stick with what we can safely say for sure is canon based on the data provided and using deductive reasoning, and deliver my own personal theory as to what’s happening storywise at the end.

Without further ado, the game is on!

SO, our main dilemma with this whole segment is that it’s hard to understand anything that comes out of Deceit’s mouth. He has a tendency to speak in opposites...but he doesn’t do so in canon the way he often so clearly does in fics. It’s more fluid, more confusing, more difficult to understand what he really means. But fortunately, we have an advantage for this analysis...we have Virgil. Virgil, who doesn’t seem to have any trouble understanding Deceit throughout the entire scene. Using his responses, things we know from past videos, things we learned in this video, and a small amount of deductive guesswork, we can piece together what exactly Deceit is hinting at at the end of this video.

We start with what seems like some typical, unfriendly banter between Virgil and Deceit, which can actually reveal a lot about their relationship.

“Very well done, Virgil.”

“You’re so...”

“...evolved.”

Once again, we get that glare from Virgil that seems to be specially reserved for Deceit. Compare the look Virgil shoots Patton when he’s worked up and stressed and Patton calls him a cutesy nickname:

To the glares he gives Deceit:

One is the exasperation you shoot a parent who, for the hundredth time, has said something embarrassing in front of your friends, the other is pure contempt.

That being said, the familiarity with which they talk to each other, in my mind at least, all but confirms our previous theories that Virgil and Deceit used to know each other very well.

“Oh, you are HILARIOUS, Virgil, you always have been!”

This line is not just said for the sake of Deceit making fun of Virgil (though I think that is his main intent here), it once again implies a familiarity between the two. I also think this is one of Deceit’s mirrored statements, he’s saying Virgil never has been the funny one (which really, he’s right. That’s not really a big part of Virgil’s character).

“What are you doing here?”

“Hm, a bunch of talk about Halloween...a season for dressing up and pretending to be something or someone else. You’re right, a master of deception such as myself has no place in that kind of discussion.”

Oooooh, this line is so fun to take apart. First off, on the surface, Deceit is saying that, because he is the embodiment of pretending to be something you’re not, he should have had a seat in the Halloween video. And while that is a point he could be making, I don’t think it’s really what he’s talking about, and I think Virgil knows that. (Remember, we’re operating under the assumption that Virgil has a lot of experience dealing with Dee, so he knows how to navigate what he’s saying. As @what-even-is-thiss pointed out, “We’ve now seen a full conversation with Deceit. Not only that, but both sides seemed to understand what was going on. Showing it’s possible to work past Deceit’s lying thing enough to get info out of him.”)

So what is Deceit really talking about here? Well, look at Virgil’s face when Deceit says “pretending to be something or someone else.” He rolls his eyes:

But then for a moment, he looks uneasy:

And that moment is exactly when Deceit says “something or someone else.” Besides, the video wasn’t really about Halloween, Halloween was just the catalyst for Virgil trying to get them to see why it was a big deal to him that they were ignoring his past, and also that he still has his ability to be scary (which Logan points out is important to his function as Anxiety).

No, the video is about phases, and how they shape you as a person. And if Deceit was a big part of Virgil’s past phases, this could very well be his way of reminding Virgil of that past. I think that Deceit is trying to tell Virgil that, because he’s still trying to be scary, he’s not really changed in the way he says he has. “Pretending to be something or someone else” could very well be Deceit’s way of trying to tell Virgil “you’re fooling yourself if you think you’ll ever be anything more than Anxiety, if you think you can change and be better than the rest of us Dark Sides.” And then, we get Virgil’s response:

“Okay, me being able to elicit fear doesn’t take away from the fact that I’ve grown. So don’t even try me with that, Harvey Dense.”

That’s really Virgil’s whole thesis statement for this video: I can still be scary, but I’ve grown. I still was who I used to be, that was real, but I’ve moved beyond that. To Thomas and the others, the message was that they can’t pretend everything is perfect now, because that undermines everything he struggled with. But to Deceit, the message is I’ve moved on. Perhaps even a final, I don’t need you anymore.

From this video, I think it is now safe to assume that Deceit and Virgil used to work more closely together. So now since Virgil is working with the Light Sides instead, how often do you think Deceit has tried to get Virgil to come back to his old ways? What kinds of things do you think Deceit likes to whisper in Virgil’s ear? How much has Deceit been bothering Virgil since the Can LYING Be Good video? We can deduce that it has been at least somewhat regular. Because while in CLBG, Deceit compliments first Roman’s new outfit, then Virgil’s new makeup look, implying he hasn’t intentionally interacted with any of the sides since before Fitting In, when here we get this interaction:

“Clever retort! And convincing statement. And cool costume.”

“You know this is what I normally wear.”

Deceit wouldn’t know that, if the only time he’s seen Virgil recently was CLBG. Virgil had two outfits in that video, and Deceit wouldn’t know what his usual one was...unless he’s been coming around more. Unless he’s been pressuring Virgil off camera for months.

“Don’t even try that with me” implies that this is indeed the case, and that Deceit has been trying just that for awhile now. But why would Deceit be so invested in trying to convince Virgil that his change isn’t real, that his growth is just a facade? Deceit is accusing Virgil of “pretending to be something or someone else,” and why?

Because Virgil has the capability to be the most influential side out of all of them.

I think we can all agree that currently, while all four main sides have a “seat at the discussion table” as Thomas puts it, Patton, as Morality, is actually the side with the most influence, at least when it comes to Thomas’s decisions. But this video confirms something for us: That side used to be Anxiety.

When talking about his emo phase and teenage years, Thomas said that he was “terrified out of his mind” in those days, and later he tells Virgil “You work with us now. You’re not in the driver’s seat anymore...” which implies that Virgil at one point WAS in the driver’s seat.

And when you’re afraid, when you’re driven by your fears and anxieties and insecurities...isn’t it more likely that you’d listen to that voice in your head that tells you to lie? Isn’t it easier to succumb to the darker parts of your mind when you’re confused and afraid and lost? Not saying that you will, of course. Thomas certainly didn’t. But if Thomas is Anxious, I mean really Anxious, I think it stands to reason that the other Dark Sides’ power could be much more pronounced.

Thomas said something while he was talking to Patton that caught my attention:

“There’s a lot that Virgil could do that I don’t want him to do. He knows exactly how to push my buttons.”

If Virgil wanted to, he could absolutely wreck Thomas. He could wreck all of them...but the thing is he doesn’t want to. All Virgil wants, all he’s ever wanted, is to protect Thomas. And here, we come to the question of what exactly is it that a Side wants?

Simply put, every Side wants what is best for Thomas, but every Side is extremely biased in what they believe that is. For Roman, it’s creative fulfillment, for Logan, it’s a healthy lifestyle and the pursuit of growth and knowledge. For Patton, it’s a happy life built on love and kindness, and for Virgil it’s safety, both physical, mental, and social/emotional.

So what does Deceit want? He wants all the things the others want, safety, happiness, success, but he wants it done his way. He wants bliss born of ignorance, security born of secrecy, and prosperity born of lies. That’s what separates him (and I assume the other Dark Sides) from the main four, he is utterly unwilling to compromise on his desires and his methods.

And that is what also separates Virgil from the other Dark Sides, he was willing to compromise. He did see things the others’ way, and it was through that ability to see another perspective that he first decided that he must not be good for Thomas and quit, and then came the new era of him being able to work with the others successfully, on an equal footing that he’d never experienced before.

But Deceit doesn’t have that equal footing, and none of the other Dark Sides do either, because they all refuse to compromise.

Deceit, at least in my interpretation, clearly believes that he can use Virgil somehow to extend his own realm of influence over Thomas. And with that information in hand, we can try and interpret this last, and most confusing, line.

“Just be sure to keep up that personal growth, Virgil. Who knows? Maybe soon, you could be rid of us all...”

SO what does this mean? Is he speaking in an opposite? Is he telling the truth? Is half the statement true and half an opposite? Who is the “us all?” The Dark Sides? The Light Sides? It’s a lot to unpack, and is the most speculative part of this analysis, because really, we’re not meant to have all the answers from this. It’s clear this endcard is a teaser for things to come in the Sanders Sides storyline, and I’m sure in a few months we’ll all be nodding in understanding and praising @thatsthat24 and @thejoanglebook‘s genius, but for now we’re a bit in the dark. So, to figure out what Deceit means, we have to figure out where his truths and where his lies reside.

“Just be sure to keep up that personal growth, Virgil.” To me, the way Deceit places emphasis on the words ‘keep up,’ making them sound almost sarcastic, indicates that this is the lie in his statement. He’s telling Virgil to keep growing, but Deceit doesn’t actually want Virgil to grow. Based on this analysis, it is in Deceit’s best interest that Virgil does not grow, and reverts back to his old tactics.

“Who knows? Maybe soon, you could be rid of us all...” Now here, I think the lie is ‘rid of us all,’ which is based on my assumptions of their character motivations. I believe the “us all” to be the other Dark Sides, and Virgil would be happy if Thomas was rid of the influence of the Dark Sides. Meanwhile, Deceit wants the Dark Sides’ influence to grow stronger, and Deceit’s entire manner in this scene has been vaguely sinister and threatening, which is a conclusion supported by Virgil’s extremely defensive attitude throughout the segment. I think through this sentence, Deceit is saying that soon, the opposite of getting rid of the Dark Sides is going to happen.

So putting the entire statement together, we have “Just be sure to keep up that personal growth, Virgil. Who knows? Maybe soon, you could be rid of us all...”

I believe that to be a threat from Deceit to Virgil: “If you don’t quit this silly personal growth nonsense and go back to doing your job the old way, you’re going to have a much harder time dealing with Us.” It’s intended for Virgil to hear this threat, panic, and go back to his old ways in the hopes that it will protect Thomas from the Dark Sides, which will in turn only make them stronger.

The funny thing is though, if you take his statement completely literally, it gives away how to beat Deceit and his plan. If Virgil keeps growing and learning and becoming closer with the others, it may be even harder for the Dark Sides to gain more control, effectively “getting rid” (or at least diminishing) of their influence.

Deceit’s lies aren’t always based on fact, they’re based on perception. When he tells Thomas “You’re a good person. Everybody says so,” he was intending it to be a lie. The kind of lie you tell yourself in order to stay sane. But that isn’t a lie. Thomas felt like a bad person in that moment, so his inner voice of deception was telling him he was a good person, but as Logan said, “Belief doesn’t always translate to reality.” Thomas is a good person, so Deceit therefore inadvertently (and unintentionally) told the truth.

I believe this is what’s happening here. He doesn’t mean to give away how to beat him, he means Virgil to believe that the Dark Sides are more powerful than they actually are, and that if Virgil doesn’t do what Deceit wants, they’ll make life more difficult for him and for Thomas. But this isn’t actually true. What’s true is that the Light Sides have the most power right now, and the person who holds that balance between the two is Virgil himself. Virgil has shifted his influence to the Light Sides, and Deceit desperately needs that influence back, which is why he wants to stop Virgil’s personal growth right in its tracks.

Only time will tell if I’m right...and only time will tell which Side will win this battle of wits. I don’t know about you all, but my money is on our resident Emo Knightmare.

#sanders sides #sanders sides theory #sanders sides theories #ts theory #ts theories #virgil sanders #deceit sanders #villain deceit #manipulation #ts phases costumes #ts spoilers #sanders sides spoilers #screenshot queen #sfw

3K notes · View notes

paramounticebound · 4 years

Note

Plots please lmaooo cuz yknow we always need a minimum of 10 more

⤏ send me “plots please” ... || @vuulpecula asked for this || probably accepting.

A read more to save the dash:

okay but CLONE WARS ERA FOX & KHAN

The height of his life-- primed for battle, and failing spectacularly at bending to the rules. He's getting awfully tired of being treated like something less-- he's better. His brothers are better. Instead of being cast away, frozen in stasis for centuries like in his main SW verse, he fights through the Clone Wars up to and through Order 66.

Padawan and Clone Commander Fox is too young for this-- too young to be leading such an elite group of clones especially. But that’s how the galaxy is: unfair, cruel. It is how they meet, and despite Khan’s best efforts, he does begin to care for the Jedi, though ultimately he cannot understand why supposed peace keepers are now militant agents. By the reckoning of Order 66, Khan’s already pushed away from the Republic in all but distance, having already removed his biochip in preparation of defecting. He’s able to protect Fox from the order, though at the greatest cost: his brothers.

The two escape into the underbelly of Coruscant, lying low, attempting to reconcile with a new Imperial reign and the chaos of the galaxy.

Okay, so this is more of a situation than a plot but WE CAN WRITE IT OUT OKAY?

Bonus: Sith Lord Alexei knows about Khan and has a special hatred for him for reasons

ii.

Princess/Rebellion leader of Ruushya SW thing:

Likely the only time that Khan would ever give more than zero fucks about either side. This time it’s because he’s a refugee himself, having defected from the Clone Army, finding his way to Ruushya as a means to decipher just what it means to live his own life.

But despite himself and all of the rage he holds, he can’t always remain apathetic in the face of tyranny. As the separatists continue to encroach on the planet, he’s drawn into battle once more. After one particular instance that reminds him that loss is a constant of war-- for everyone-- he begrudgingly joins Fox’s rebellion.

This is just a bare bones idea, sorry.

iii.

Another 1920′s au, but instead of a bootlegger/gang leader, Khan is a WW1 vet that became a wolf of wall street, coping with stress and PTSD alike by drinking (illegally) and consorting with flappers and women of the night.

And what if, what if, Fox is a flapper or a woman of the night or anyone really that he’d stumble across-- and they knew each other from the war, but were separated. :’)

Extra angst points for experiencing the Wall Street bombing together too, and all of the terrible war memories it would conjure up.

iv.

College professor and teaching assistant au. My garbage heart lives for this and every detail can be discussed sfklsdjf

Preacher-inspired southern gothic au:

Khan is an escapee from a cult that somehow, against all odds, found himself still holding faith in something greater than him. At least-- for a while. The horrors of the world and the demons of his own past erode his faith over time, and he copes with alcohol and chain-smoking, though still manages to give his sermons every Sunday. One of his congregations most faithful is Alexei Alkaev, who also remains a thorn in his side with his constant need to pray at the altar after hours. Khan knows there’s something off about the man, but he ignores it in favor for his daughter, Fox, who is likely the last person a failed preacher should have eyes for.

As an interesting side note, Khan escaped his cult because everyone else that was in it is dead. There weren’t any leads, and although he was the only survivor, nothing could be concretely died back to him. Not really a great ice breaker.

vi.

The Master of the Vanishing House: another eldritch/horror au that’s obscure and strange but here we are.

Legends are told of a decrepit house that appears and vanishes at will among the Russian hinterlands. Locals from the nearby villages, the closest that the house allows itself to be, warn children and strangers alike to stay away. The house has been in existence longer than legend can recall, seemingly without beginning, shaping itself to the architecture of the era.

And those that are curious enough, foolish enough, to venture inside of the bizarre structure? They disappear into the darkness and are never heard from again-- and shortly after the house has had its fill, it too vanishes again, only to reappear when hunger wills it.

Stories are only stories until they become real.

Sasha and Fox know of the legends, and with that cutting edge of youthful bravery, still sought ought the house. Whether or not it would appear was never something they’d planned-- the adventure, running through snowy forest like creatures that might have been free, was the only true intent.

So, when it appeared just behind a snowdrift, half-hidden behind trees, they hadn’t known what to do. At least, not for long.

Sasha went first, with Fox mere yards behind-- she’d paused on the steps to the house. With a valor only children know, he’d tested the structure, hovering near the entrance despite his friend’s hesitance. As he approached the door, hand only just hovering above the handle-- then a click, and it opens of its own accord. Darkness, pure and raw and otherwordly, meet him from inside. Light cannot seem to penetrate. Sasha swallows, turns to look back at Fox, by then it’s too late. He’s all but swept back into the darkness, the door slamming shut behind him. No matter of pounding on the doors or windows will give her entrance, and when Fox runs back to find help-- anyone--- it’s already too late.

The house has vanished.

Obsessed with the house, with finding whatever evil had stolen her friend, Fox waits and waits and waits. She’s twenty years older (or w/e idk) when it reappears, and this time, she will be allowed to enter.

Cliff notes:

- Khan is the master of the vanishing house-- as in, the house itself is not an entity, but rather a “trap” set by him. He needs the life force of his victims to continue, but he’s a dying creature, too ancient for the modern world with people less and less inclined to chase after urban legends.

- He’s likely a K’n-yan and an abandoned avatar of Nyarlathotep: this is why his power has dwindled significantly as well, though it opens up more of a path to redemption (if we want that lmao)

- There’s unless the concept of cosmic beings looking for a spouse but that would be weird (.... unless??)

- anyway there’s a lot more that could be added: Fox escapes the house but is now ‘haunted’ by a lesser cosmic entity because his house is gone lmao; Sasha is somehow still alive but likely pretty scarred (and/or unaged); etc, etc

#vuulpecula #x: STILL ASLEEP (ooc.)#it's not ten but it is good enough #x: you should have let me sleep (queue.)

2 notes · View notes

lovergurrl411 · 5 years

Text

The Unbelievable Beginning (one-shot)

The first time that Steve ever met Tony, he thought he’s definitely Howard’s son. It was neutral, in that way that he wasn’t quite sure what to make of him yet. But there was a clearly inherited grand sense of self, arrogance beyond Steve’s wildest dreams. But that was okay, as long as that arrogance was measured, as long as Tony kept himself in check while on a mission. Steve truly thought they could be okay, but that didn’t last, and Steve was suddenly so sure that Tony was a grade-A jerk.

“Big man in a suit of armor--take that off what are you?”

“Genius, billionaire, playboy, philanthropist”

Tony was quick with a quip, and on any other day, in any other situation, Steve would’ve spared him a small smile. He might’ve been indulgent, except--

“I know guys with none of that worth ten of you. I’ve seen the footage. The only thing you really fight for is yourself. You’re not the guy to make the sacrifice play. To lay down on a wire and let the other guy crawl over you”

“I think I would just cut the wire.”

Tony’s eyes had been like fire, raging, begging Steve to make a move. His words were meant to push Steve to the edge, but they had the opposite effect. In a way, he could respect a person who thought outside of the box. But sometimes there wasn’t an outside to the box. Sometimes all there existed was the box, and a choice--live or die. Sacrifice or not.

Steve knew war in a way that Tony never could, because wars weren’t fought the same anymore. Now there were drones that traveled thousands of miles and simply landed--the only casualty the enemy. There weren’t as many night filled with hunger and bullet sounds as there used to be.

War was measured now by everything outside of the box--endless possibilities--that hadn’t been possible during his own era.

So Steve smiled, looked at Bruce, who waged a personal war everyday, every second, that was so similar to war in the 40′s. To war as it had always been before this new century. Steve knew Bruce understood the box. He knew Bruce understood the void outside of the box--either be the hulk or don’t be. There was no in between for him either.

“Always a way out. Y’know, you may not be a threat, but you better stop pretending to be a hero.”

“A hero? Like you? You’re a laboratory experiment, Rogers. Everything special about you came out of a bottle.”

Maybe Tony wasn’t completely wrong, but Steve knew that he hadn’t been completely right about Tony either. Steve couldn’t stand Tony though. Not really. And yet, when the helicarrier shook and trembled, and they both fell, Steve helped Tony up.

There was something in his rage, that stuttered and cracked when Tony hadn’t gotten up fast enough. It reminded Steve that Tony was so damned human that it almost hurt to recognize.

This pain was strange and harsh in the light of day as the Chitauri invaded New York City, and they all fought tirelessly.

Through the com links, Steve could hear every hit that Tony took, and somewhere during the battle, his brain began a constant loop of he’s okay, he’s okay, he’s okay.

It was downright unreasonable that Steve’s brain should fixate on Tony’s lifespan, but the rage had started with him.

They’d squared off as enemies earlier in the day, and somehow, Steve thought, Tony wasn’t allowed to die by anyone else’s hand but his. Tony owed Steve a no holds brawl. But--

“Call it Captain.”

Tony’s voice vibrated through Steve; it wasn’t strange, like the rage had been--this vibration set Steve into motion and he began giving orders. His commands sent them into a rush of action, and they were a team.

They were a team.

Steve finally had a team, and it took Tony’s acceptance, finally, to help Steve feel the warmth of that in his bones. It was nice.

But sometimes, there was only the box. And the box was inescapable.

“Stark these things are still coming!”

“I’ve got a nuke coming in. These things are set to blow in less than a minute. And I know just where to put it.”

“Stark, you know that’s a one-way trip.”

Steve felt in irrational hope in his chest that Tony would make it through okay, because Starks dealt in the impossible. There was no reason why this should be any different. Yet, the hope felt brittle as he landed and didn’t move.

Tony wasn’t moving--why wasn’t he moving? Steve touched the dark reactor in the center of Tony’s chest. Wake up, wake up, wake up.

Didn’t Tony know that Steve was the one who was supposed to kill him in a fit of rage brought of by Tony’s high level of assholery? Didn’t Tony know that Steve had stopped hating him sometime during the day?

Steve wasn’t sure how he felt--there was a deep despair that had etched itself onto the lines of his face. Tony was dead.

Tony was dead, and Steve wasn’t sure what he was supposed to do now because Tony was never supposed to die.

You’re not the guy to make the sacrifice play.

Steve had been wrong. Steve had been so wrong, and his eyes burned because Tony had made his heart warm when he’d called him captain.

They’d gone from strangers, to enemies, to friends in the space of a long heartbeat. Steve hadn’t been ready to let that go. Not when he’d just found it. He wasn’t the only one because Hulk screamed in frustration and sadness. And then--

“What the hell?! What just happened? Please tell me nobody kissed me.”

“We won.”

“Alright--heyy--Alright. Good job guys. Let’s just not come in tomorrow. Let’s just take a day. You ever tried shawarma?”

Steve couldn’t help but smile and give an exasperated huff. The constant thrum of he’s alive, he’s alive, he’s alive, sinking into him. The warmth in his chest, the rage that had felt so strange, the crippling sadness that had turned into crippling relief when Tony gasped for breath--

This was how Steve Rogers fell in love with Tony Stark. Over fucking shawarma.

#stony #steve and tony #stony fanfiction #stony fandom #one-shot #Avengers #marvel #mcu #this is how they fell in love #no one shall convince me otherwise #enemies to friends to lovers

71 notes · View notes

notyetneedcoffee · 4 years

Text

The Letter

Answer to Eliza’s challenge

Prompt: The Ludlows

No warnings

The rain pelted against the storefront windows, blown sideways by the heavy wind. Being late afternoon in the middle of the week, there were only a few people in your little Brooklyn shop. A college kid who came in a couple times a week looked for another edition of the old seventies pulp scifi he liked for some reason. An older woman sat at one of the little tables, drinking a pot of tea and filling out the handmade cards she’d purchased. Your favorite regular sat in the old leather wingback chair in the corner. He took his coffee black and read for hours.

You poured yourself a cup of coffee, preparing to dig through the boxes you’d bought at an estate auction upstate the day before. Only a little remained in the pot so you took it over Mr. Blue Eyes. His longish dark hair fell over his face as his slumped in the chair with a beat-up copy of Gaiman’s Stardust. He glanced up when you approached.

“Refill? I want to start a new pot.”

“Yeah, thanks.” He held out his cup. Even though it was plenty warm in the book shop, he always kept on his coat or sweatshirt. He always wore well used, but expensive looking leather gloves. You did ask why.

“What do you think?”

In the last year you discovered his taste ran the gambit from non-fiction history to modern scifi and everything in between. He’d come in today needing a new read. When you asked what he was in the mood for, he’d said something light and fun, with some adventure. Something to make him feel better. You knew he didn’t shy away from a romantic tale, so you pulled Stardust off the shelf.

“It’s good.” He smiled. His face lit up when he smiled. “Your recommendations are always good.”

“Not bad considering I don’t even know your name.” You teased as you turned back to the counter. He always changed the subject when you asked, so you gave up ages ago.

You got about three steps when he called your name. Looking back, he granted you with a soft smile. “It’s Bucky.”

Smiling you returned to the counter, hoping you weren’t blushing. Your face felt warm, so you probably were. It was so simple, but it felt sweet and satisfying. There were plenty of long term customers you didn’t know by name. Somehow, though, this made you happy.

As you sat down on the stool and sipped your own coffee, you caught Bucky watching you over the top of his book for moment more before he began to read again. Content with the little step, you pulled one of the giant boxes of books closer.

The boxes were auctioned as a lot. You did not get to look through them. Still, the house had been grand and the library large, so it was a good gamble. The only thing you knew of the owner was she was in her nineties and died without any family.

Several old medical books were on top. A beautiful leather bound edition of Kipling’s poetry lay below. You flipped through the pages, just the smell of old print hitting your nose. No musty mildew or foul odor meant they were likely well tended.

Towards the bottom of the first box lay a book with loose pages sticking out. It was A Tree Grows In Brooklyn. Unlike the expensive leather-bound and hard cover books in the collection, this faded old paperback was held together with ties of ribbon.

Laying it carefully on the counter, you untied the buddle. An old photo of a woman in wool pants and a military jacket smiled at the camera as she leaned against an old WWII era jeep. Letters lay nestled between the pages. “Wow,” you breathed quietly as you opened the first one. The creases cut through the paper deep, as if some read the letter again and again.

14 August, 1943

Dear Rose,

I ship out with Steve in the morning and I don’t know if I will have the chance to give you a proper farewell.

This last week has been heaven. My body may have been beaten. I may have been starving and sick. But, having your beautiful face smiling down at me every day was like the sun shining after the storm. It made me feel washed clean and eager to grow under such a shining light.

I can’t thank you enough for the way you would read to me after the nightmares had me screaming and sweating like a kid. You never let me feel embarrassed or looked at me like I was weak. You just calmed me down with your lovely voice until I could rest again.

You listened to all the horrors without flinching. You just held my hand and touched my face, like cool balm, bringing me more relief than the breaking of my fever. Your care did more to heal me than anything the doctors tried.

Every day I just wanted to make you laugh because it chased away all darkness. I know I wasn’t all the funny, but you laughed anyway. Thank you for humoring me.

I wish the situation was different. I wish we weren’t stuck in a ratty tent hospital close enough to the front to have the artillery keep us up at night. I wish we could get spiffed up and I’d take you on the town. I wish I could take you dancing just for the chance to hold you close for a bit.

If you don’t get this until after I go, just know that you will forever be my special Rose. I’m certain there’s a lot of fellas you take care of that fall hard for your kindness and beauty. Still, for a little while I got to have you at my side. I got to have you smiling at me.

All my love,

James

“You okay?” A rich deep voice pulled your attention from your musings over the letter. When you looked up into Bucky’s face, you realized your eyes were wet.

“Um, yeah.” You smiled. “I just found this old letter in the lot off books I got from this lady’s estate.” You passed it over. “Looks like she was a war nurse. Look I think this is her.”

Bucky’s hand covered his mouth. You watched his eyes grow wide and glassy. The paper quivered in his hand. He seemed to be reading the letter again and again.

“Lovely, isn’t it?” You smiled.

“How much do you want for it?” His voice was thick.

“What?”

“Can I buy it? I don’t care how much.” His eyes never left the page or the picture. You could see the intensity in his eyes, like it reminded him of something important or triggered an old memory.

“You know what.” You smiled. “You just keep it.”

“Really?” Bucky’s breathed, looking up at you in total surprise. When you nodded, a bright smile crossed his face. He gingerly folded the letter and tucked into his book with the picture. They all went into the inner pocket of his jacket. His hand covered the place where they rested. “Thank you. Thank you so much.”

“Sure. See you later?” He nodded and left. That confirmed it. You knew Bucky was a romantic.

TAGS

@rainbowkisses31 / @dsakita / @geeksareunique / @lbouvet / @buckybarneshairpullingkink / @theneuropsychwriter / @vanillabunn21 / @sammghgecko / @beautifullungs / @badassbaker / @the-omni-princess / @sebbysstangirl / @jesseswartzwelder / @unadulteratedwizardlove / @the-reading-octopus / @bangtan-serendipity / @kiki5283 / @mindtravelsx / @josie605 / @ladifreakingda / @dawnlaufeyson / @wildmoonflower / @rynabarnesrogers / @notyourtypicalrose / @sllooney / @wwe-fanfiction-queen /@wwe-fanfiction-queen / @thorfanficwriter / @scarlettsoldier / @morganhoran1671 / @michelehansel / @sexyvixen7 / @readermia

#Eliza’s 15k Challenge #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes #bucky fic #bucky barnes fanfiction #mcu

29 notes · View notes

eternalnight8806-3 · 5 years

Note

60 :3

OMG LOOK I’M BACK!!!!!! IT ONLY TOOK ALMOST 9 MONTHS BUT I’M HERE WITH SOMETHING NEW FOR YOU GUYS!

I’m just gonna call this Dya’s Prompt because I suck at coming up with titles so there ya go.

Note: The baby’s name roughly translates to “dark snow”.

Category: SFW, One shot, canon continuation, fluff

Word Count: 2,013

Pairing: InuKag

Rating: T for language

I’d like to thank @cstorm86 for pushing me and helping me to finish this. It’s not my best, but it’s here and right now that’s what’s important.

Also tagging: @keichanz @noviceotakus-blog @hinezumi @morikothehalfangel

If you want to be added to my tag list, please let me know.

I hope you all enjoy!

Dya’s Prompt

(You’d be a great dad)

The

time since returning to the feudal era had seemed like nothing to

Kagome. Before she knew what was happening, two whole years had passed.

She and InuYasha had married soon after her return, this being the

happiest day of both of their lives. Until now.

she looked down at the face of her newborn daughter, Miyukiyoru, Kagome

couldn’t help but smile. She was exhausted beyond anything she’d ever

felt before, having had an intense 18 hour labor to deliver the treasure

she held in her arms, but the happiness she felt was the strongest in

her memory. Claw tipped hands came into her view, stroking back the

wispy silver hairs from their daughter’s face and tentatively touching

one of the tiny triangular ears atop her head. The resemblance to her

father was uncanny, with one major difference. Her ears were jet black, a

stark contrast from her pure white hair. InuYasha leaned in and kissed

the foreheads of both of his girls, the smile on his face telling Kagome

all she needed to know.

The

first few weeks after Miyukiyoru’s birth were a whirlwind of activity.

InuYasha always made sure to get up with her at night whenever possible,

knowing he could get by with less sleep than his wife. When Kagome had

told him about bottle feeding and pumping breast milk from her time, he

and some of the village women had fashioned a few makeshift bottles from

animal hide, complete with removable nipples for the baby to suckle

from. Kagome always purified these before filling them with milk

throughout the day to ensure her baby’s health.

She

was able to pump using these same bottles and a wonderful contraption

Miroku had somehow managed to scrape together, though she had no idea

how the thing actually accomplished what it did. She was grateful for

the respite and she loved that InuYasha could experience the bond of

feeding his child like she could.

This

particular night, about 4 weeks after her birth, was a tumultuous night

for the new parents, however. Miyukiyoru would not stop crying no

matter what the couple tried. She wailed deep into the night, frazzling

the nerves of even the ever patient Kagome. She was nearly in tears

herself when a miracle happened as she stood a helpless onlooker,

listening to her beloved speak softly to their daughter.

“…

didn’t like eachother very much at first, you know. She was this spit

ball of fiery energy that stood in the way of me getting the Jewel of

Four Souls. This was gonna make me a full fledged demon, ya know.

Something your daddy thought he always wanted,” he looked up at Kagome

then, “until your momma showed me I didn’t need to change who I am to be

worthy of love.”

Kagome stood, astonished, as slowly Miyukiyoru slowly stopped crying and started listening intently to her father’s story.

“…I

woke up on that tree after 50 years with your momma pressed against me,

smelling like the sweetest flower to ever grace the Earth, though I

wouldn’t tell her that for a long time. She looked a lot like the woman

who pinned me to that tree, so I was angry and bitter at her for a long

time, until she beat some sense into me.”

Kagome

smiled as she listened. She no longer minded being reminded that she

looked like her previous life, Kikyo. She had long ago let go of those

feelings of jealousy and regret. InuYasha had more than proven to her

that she was his choice, not someone who was thrust upon him by chance

or simply second best to his former love.

“…So

your momma took that claw and attached it to the arrow, she’s so

clever, isn’t she?” InuYasha winked at his wife, making Kagome barely

stifle a giggle. “But when the arrow hit that damn bird it shattered the

Jewel into a whole bunch of teeny tiny shards and scattered them all

across the country. And thus began our year long journey to find them,

and defeat Naraku,”

Miyukiyoru’s

eyes lit up when he spoke Naraku’s name and she cooed happily. Kagome

rolled her eyes. She’s going to be a little reckless fighter, just like

her daddy, and Kagome wouldn’t have had it any other way. She slowly

lowered herself down onto the futon and curled up to listen to her

husband tell the story of their adventure to their baby girl. It was

around the point that Kagome met Sesshomaru for the first time that

Miyukiyoru finally closed her eyes and slept.

Slowly,

InuYasha placed the tiny bundle down in her makeshift bassinet and

backed away from her tentatively, almost expecting her to begin howling

again. He slumped down next to Kagome and sighed.

“Geez,

when a little brat can even wear out a half demon it makes me wonder

how you damn humans do this,” he teased as he wrapped his arms around

her and pulled her to his chest. Kagome chuckled softly.

“Patience, young padawan. You will learn the secrets in time.”

InuYasha’s eyebrow quirked. “Padawan?”

Smiling,

Kagome shook her head. “Nevermind. Go to sleep, while you still can,”

she retorted before curling up against him and closing her eyes for that

much needed sleep.

The

next night was more of the same. Miyukiyoru just would not go to sleep

no matter what they did. So finally, InuYasha decided to continue his

story from the previous night, if only to test his theory.

“Alright

babygirl, wanna hear about your asshole uncle Sesshomaru?” In response,

she giggled and raised her arms out towards her father’s face. Smiling,

he began his tale again. “So, there we all were, your momma,

Sesshomaru, the toad Jaken, and me, all inside my dad’s, your

grandpapa’s, bones in this huge demon graveyard.” InuYasha laid her down

in her bassinet but didn’t stop talking. If anything, he became more

excited, using his hands to express his excitement. Miyukiyoru never

took her eyes from him as he walked around her telling the tale.

“He

wanted Tetsusaiga, see. He’d wanted it ever since dad had died all

those years ago. But see, your grandpapa was much smarter than your

uncle and wanted your daddy to have it because he knew that Uncle Stick

In The Mud would never be able to use it properly, atleast not until he

learned some compassion. So, he went through all that just to get this,”

InuYasha pulled Tetsusaiga from it’s sheath, revealing it to his

daughter for the first time in all it’s glory. Her eyes widened and she

cooed as she watched him lightly swing it around.

“But

Uncle Sessy couldn’t even touch the sword, babygirl. Full demons can’t

touch it because of a special barrier your grandpapa put on it to

protect it. He was so mad when he discovered that, he attacked your

papa, because we didn’t really get along real good back then. Amidst all

our fighting we didn’t even hardly notice your momma and when she

pulled the sword from it��s spot in that rock your Uncle Sessy nearly had

a heart attack I think.” Miyukiyoru giggled at that.

“He

went after momma then, attacking her with his poison claws. If not for

Tetsusaiga she would’ve died right then. But this sword protected her,

because that’s what it’s meant for babygirl. Protecting the ones we

love, so long as we have compassion. Your uncle and I had a big fight

after that, and I transformed Tetsusaiga for the first time that day,

though it would be a while before I figured out how I’d done it. Your

momma knew though, because she’s always been smarter than me.”

Kagome

smiled to herself. She loved hearing him talk to their daughter, even

about battles and swords. She couldn’t help but sit quietly herself and

listen to him tell the familiar tale. The way he told it had her

riveted. She’d never known he was such a good storyteller.

“…sliced

him right through his arm, cutting it right off!” InuYasha sliced the

air with his sword to emphasis his point, pulling a loud ‘ooooo’ from

his baby. “Uncle Sessy ran away with his tail between his legs. I don’t

think he ever expected your daddy to actually be able to injure him like

that. But I did, babygirl. And that’s how I ended up with Tetsusaiga.”

He looked down after that to find she had finally drifted off to sleep.

He sheathed his sword and stuck it in its usual place by the door.

“You know, she’s gonna be so spoiled with you talking to her like that,” Kagome teased quietly.

“Keh.

She’s my daughter. She can be as spoiled as she wants to be, so long as

she can hold a sword,” he quipped back as he settled down next to her.

“With you as her father, how could she not?”

InuYasha

looked seriously into his wife’s chocolate eyes. “I want to be there

for her, always. I never want her to have the life I had. She’s too

precious for that.”

Kagome

took his face in her hands. “She won’t. Nothing is going to happen to

us, InuYasha. Our village is relatively safe, considering. Besides, with

a demon slayer and a trained monk as her godparents, nothing is getting

near her even if something did, which it won’t.”

InuYasha

grabbed her hands and smiled at her tentatively. “Yeah. I know. I just

worry s'all. The thought of her growing up the way I did makes my

stomach churn. I know I ain’t gonna be the best dad, but I still want to

be here, ya know?”

Kagome’s

lips pursed in an angry scowl. “Listen here, InuYasha. I don’t ever

want you to say that again, you hear me? You are the best goddamn father

that baby girl could ever hope for. And anyone who says different will

have me to deal with. You understand me?”

Smiling,

InuYasha simply nodded before settling down and pulling her down with

him. “Go to sleep, wife. Or else you won’t have the energy to fight all

these naysayers.”

From

that night on, InuYasha told his daughter the tale of the Jewel of Four

Souls, it becoming their nightly ritual. Whenever she refused to quiet,

the story would always hush her, but only if daddy told it. Every time

Kagome tried, she just cried harder. Kagome didn’t mind, however. She

thoroughly enjoyed seeing InuYasha spend time with their baby. The story

was theirs and theirs alone, and she respected that.

Every

night InuYasha became more brazen with his story telling, including

Tetsusaiga more and more, much to the delight of his daughter and the

chagrin of his wife. Kagome made him promise never to actually use any

of his attacks while telling the story, only using the sword as a prop.

She often had to remind him of this mid-swing of his sword. He loved to

get carried away, if it made his babygirl smile.

Three

months passed before he concluded the story for the first time, ending

it with his marriage to Kagome. As he settled her down into the crib he

had just finished making for her, Kagome wrapped her arms around his

waist and pressed her cheek against his back. He squeezed her hands

before turning around in her arms and wrapping her up in his own.

“You know what?” She whispered to him.

“Hmmm?” He mumbled back to her.

Kagome

looked up into his golden eyes, “Even when you were trying to take the

jewel from me and acting recklessly all those years ago, I always knew

you’d be a great father. And I’ll tell you everyday until the day I die

if I have to to get you to believe it.”

Smiling, InuYasha dipped his head and brushed her lips with his own. “I believe you, wench.”

#asks #dyaz stories #my writing #inuyasha #kagome #one shot #inukag #inukag one shot #inuyasha fanfic #inuyasha fanfiction #dyas prompt #fluff

82 notes · View notes

parkchuuya · 4 years

Text

Foreword: The interpretation better known as unpopular opinion by the blogger seeks to give the reader another point of view but mainly to share the blogger's thoughts. It does not necessarily mean to disregard other opinions from the experts. The blogger is just a casual fan who in many reasons can't put down a pen. It may or may not resonate with your own interpretation. If it doesn't, I apologize. Just scroll down. But if it does, welcome to the club.

Date Written: June 3, 2020

Atsushi and Akutagawa has always been ride or die for Dazai.

Dazai's kids are more rampaging than Odasaku's orphans. They just don't go well together. In fact, they would be willing to kill each other when lazily pushed. But these two no matter how much hatred they have, they could create a blast when they work together, so yes Dazai being a fan of "teamwork makes the dream work". But it was not that these two were made for each other to be a younger version of Double Black. In fact, their representation to their senior is much more than just a Shin Soukouku. They both reminded Dazai of his past and present and possibly future.

Back in his Port Mafia days, it's always been fight or die so Akutagawa had to be strong or stronger in order to live because that's Port Mafia. Imagine having the power to control the underground, you have to be strict and merciless and more authorative. Akutagawa's health is crucial that's why Dazai had to break his bones before anyone could kill him for good. This rather cruel treatment Akutagawa received from his mentor crafted a somewhat goal to him as his motive to fulfill the standards Dazai had set. It became his ultimate goal that later gone wrong and bloomed a feeling of anger and hatred. This became more intense when Dazai had gone MIA, abandoned his mission, and left Port Mafia. It's as if Akutagawa had lost all strands of hopes he was willing to build to get that approval and of course who wouldn't get hurt like that. He's ghosted.

But did he really not care about his eldest son?

I think Dazai purposely left that kind of impression to Akutagawa so he would hate him and continue to get stronger and one day prove to him how he gotten strong; and that he would match his soon-to-be partner in crime, Atsushi my baby. That's why whilst fighting his own demons, Dazai managed to escape before anyone could notice that he's sinking... and he wanted Akutagawa to apply all he has taught him since day 1 and one day, be able to finally realize what it meant to be "strong".

On the other hand, Dazai had to tame the beast and recruit him to become a member of Armed Detective Agency. While Akutagawa is in the dark side, Atsushi with his naive, innocent and pure posture needs to be on the lighter side since opposite attracts. Dazai knows Akutagawa will do everything to surpass his goals so he thought he should be fine in the Port Mafia- secretly hiding his intention of preparing the two as mini double black version for the bloody battle against Fyodor the rat Dostoyevsky. As a detective, Dazai's treatment to Atsushi is soft compared to Akutagawa who sufferred in a lot of killings. By murdering people, Akutagawa had somehow found a reason to live not for himself but also for his sister, Gin. Unlike Akutagawa, Atsushi was more vulnerable, more tender that if he's been told to kill himself, he would arguably, eventually rather do over a period of unfortunate time. So Dazai had to carefully mold him and build barriers to Atsushi's fragile vessel sans giving him the idea of being "privileged".

That does mean different treatment means biased?

I don't think that's the case.

Dazai Osamu and The Dark Era, Chapter 3

In the Dark Era, when Odasaku asked Dazai about his subordinate Akutagawa I was convinced that Dazai already "approved" Akutagawa's strength because if not, then there's no need for him to passively invite him in Port Mafia. There's no need to waste time of hard training without special treatment. And the question still lingered at the tip of my tongue waiting to recall of what we known as an excuse or "reason". I think Dazai saw Akutagawa in him. No emotion at all. Just a powerful stray dog running around the alley slums, doing everything to survive. He's filled with anger and revenge and that's what keeps driving him to hold on. Even if it's cruel, even if it's painful. Back to history, Dazai Osamu appreciated Ryunosuke Akutagawa and he looked up to him so bad that it affected him when the latter committed suicide. This drove the aspiring author to follow the footsteps of his idol. In BSD, their roles are reversed. It was Akutagawa who was longing for Dazai's appreciation and Akutagawa seems not a fan of his mentor's suicidal habits.

The rather odd truth I found by their relationship was simply assuming. The retrospect taught me to look again in another point of view. Akutagawa is Dazai's past self, emotions, feelings, even boredom. He reminds him of what was the smell of bloodlust and violence again before he realized it was too late. It seems he "hates" Akutagawa because he still could not forgive himself for what happened though no one was saying it's easy. But after the exasperating fight with The Guild, he pulled off his mentor status and finally after a long period of time, he delivered the words by himself in person, "You've gotten strong", a few words enough for Akutagawa to realized Atsushi was right all along and his view of the world was twisted and wrong. Dazai knows it was the only resolution to pave a way for Akutagawa's character development and it needs to be him as his superior.

I think the miscommunication between these two were notably shown. It was like:

For Dazai: Action speaks louder than words; but

For Akutagawa: The pen is mightier than the sword.

Akutagawa's jealousy or should I say, envy as we follow the chapters and the episode was enormous that it blinded him from the very path he wanted to take. The paces became blurry and muddy it was like he stepped directly on a quicksand and he forgot what he should do at times of chaos that killing is not always the right solution. This is why Dazai could not reach him in the first season's ending song. He does not know when enough is enough and because they were both a shadow of darkness in the past, there was only one boat eligible for one person and Dazai chose to save no one nor himself. This could also explain at least for me, when Dazai touched Atsushi's head, Akutagawa cried in blood. The blood represents his anger saturated with confusion and betrayal. Why did it have to be Atsushi and not him. But this could also explain that the both of them were submerging and they needed someone whose heart is strong no ability could ever tear, someone whose soul is pure and innocent. Someone who understands both good and evil but proceeded with kindness. He did not choose between them. He simply sought salvation and by faith, he met Atsushi.

Changing the focus to Atsushi, who's been tortured in his childhood, tormented, and broken, he was way unfortunate than the both of them. For the sake of his mental health, Dazai had to guide him into the light even though it means staying with him in the present. He even let himself captured by the Port Mafia to obtain information regarding the 7 billion bounty put on Atsushi's head. If someone asks me, I think he's already melting the brick facade he built for himself and Atsushi was the only one who notices that he's trying to get better. Atsushi is the living proof of Odasaku's last words, to be on the side that saves the poor because his life will at least get better, that is... if you're trying to live. Why did he obey Odasaku aside from the fact that he was his only true friend? Wasn't it because he felt guilty or he's just sentimental? No. It's because... he actually wanted to taste how living actually is. And he did. Now, things are going to change. For him, for Akutagawa and also for Atsushi.

And for Dazai, he caught himself tangled by Atsushi's healing abilities. He reminds Dazai of the beauty of the world without violence. Atsushi's view might find argumentative but at least it's philisophical. Atsushi always find the right words whenever Dazai talks to him. A simple nod, and "yes" brought a slight suprise to him. It's Atsushi's nature that even knowing the good and evil, Atsushi wish to perceive good and kindness. And to this extent, the rotten past Dazai was trying to conceal felt a permission to be forgiven. It took only one touch in the forehead for him to approve of Atsushi and as he tried to get along with him, he is also learning and developing. Atsushi might open doors for Dazai and also for Akutagawa to completely move forward.

After the war shin sokoukou had gone through, Dazai showed us that these two when guide together, is like a perfect harmony that without realizing, compliment each others' strength and value thus also discrediting his contribution, for us to realize that one does not need any appreciation or recognition to realize your own worth.

You are worthy and it's something you should NEVER ask validation from nor apologize for.

That's all for today, I'm beat, notice me Chuuya senpai ;-;

Follow me on my anime amino account where I post all my bsd stuffs ;-;

http://aminoapps.com/p/y0iwdr

#bungou stray dogs #bsd #literary heroes #ryunosuke akutagawa #dazai osamu #bsd analysis

3 notes · View notes

darkangeldesignstudio · 5 years

Text

Dark Horse

*I am warning you all now, this chapter made my Beta cry.*

Setting: Post Civil War era USA. Marvel Cowboy AU.

Preface: Your home is attacked by the Hydra gang and you are rescued by Steve, Bucky, and their group. The government agency, known as Shield, wants them captured and Hydra wants them dead. With nowhere else to go, you join their ragtag group and set out on the adventure of a lifetime. Helping those less fortunate along the way, your small group grows and so does your affection for these two rough and tumble outlaws. When the chips are down, will you all be able to escape unscathed? Or will the boot drop and leave you heartbroken and alone again?

Song: Drowning by Chris Young

Previous / Next

Chapter Four: Saying Goodbye

Striding back towards the house, you met Steve inside where he was grabbing up the last bit of supplies from your pantry. It was so empty inside now that everything was packed up. The house seemed foreign and spooky now that it was empty. It sent a shiver down your spine. Looking to Steve, you said the one thing that had been on your mind since deciding to leave with them an hour ago. “Please, burn it.”

Your shaky, whispered plea was so quiet that Steve had to ask for clarification, not believing what he was hearing. “Are you sure? We can bury your brother, you don’t have to burn the place down.”

Shaking your head, you looked to Steve with tears in your eyes. “No, it’s what he would want. Lay him in his bed and burn it to the ground.”

He watched you, his heart breaking as your chin quivered, trying to hold back your emotions. He couldn’t allow you to hurt like this and stay sane, it wasn’t in his nature to wait while someone suffered. Stepping into your space, he held his arm out to you, asking for permission to touch you.

As soon as you nodded, he pulled you into the tightest bear hug, crumbling your last wall of defense as you broke down in his grip. You wrapped your arms around him, gripping onto his sides like a lost child, tears soaked his jacket as he tried hard to prevent his own tears from falling. It physically hurt him to see you so fragile and broken, after seeing you fight so hard against your attackers in the yard, there was no doubt in his mind that you were a strong person and to see you so broken, reminded him of memories better left in the past. Looking up to the ceiling, he was trying hard to breathe through the emotions that constricted his heart, but then he caught sight of Bucky through the broken window over your shoulder and had to start all over again. He tucked his nose into your hair as a few tears slipped their leash and he smiled a watery smile, just now noting that you had already calmed in his arms.

“Are you better now?” He didn’t want to let go, but in order to head back to camp, he knew he would have to.

“Yes, I think so. Thank you, Steve.” You gave him a final squeeze as thanks before stepping back to wipe your tears away.

“I put your brother’s body in one of the back bedrooms. I wasn’t sure whose room it was since they both look the same, but I can go with you if you want to see him before we do this.”

Shaking your head, you assured him again that you were fine. “I would like to say goodbye in private if that’s okay with you?”

“Sure, Y/N.” With a tip of his hat, he exited the house, taking the last bit of food with him.

You walked into the back bedroom that belonged to your brother, his body was laid out on top. Someone had covered him with a sheet and for that you were thankful.

Turning to take one last look at the surrounding room, you smiled. All of his favorite things were here. A few pictures graced the table to one side of his bed, one of your mother and father smiling together, another of John and Duke in the meadow behind your father’s ranch - taken before he moved to Colorado - and, lastly, an older photo of a twelve-year-old John holding you in his arms. You were only four at the time but you remembered it like it was taken yesterday.

“It’s funny.” You laughed, picking up the photo. Careful not to tear the already frayed edges, it appeared as if the photo had been folded and unfolded multiple times over the years and the thought brought a sad smile to your face. “You didn’t want to take this picture with me. I thought it was because you hated me, that you were jealous because you weren’t the only child anymore, and when I cried to Momma, she just turned to you and said ‘fix it’ like it was that simple.”

Shaking your head at the memory, you began to feel the tears well up again. “You told me a story that day, about the time Momma and Daddy went crazy over taking pictures of you. That it wasn’t me you hated, but the pictures themselves. You were all ‘memories are more precious in the moment’ and ‘I don’t need no darn picture to remember my little sister’. But, you let me talk you into this one photo and pretty soon we were going out and taking more together. Out of all the pictures we took, you always held onto this one and it made me love you all the more for it. That day, you became my confidant and my shoulder to cry on.

“I guess what I’m really trying to say is…” Looking down at his too still form, you felt your courage waver a bit. You didn’t want to say goodbye. Then you had a familiar feeling of a hand on your shoulder, you turned to look, expecting to see his smiling face there, encouraging you to continue. But, though you felt his presence, John was not there. Tears tracked down your cheeks again as you spoke, your voice shook and stuttered, but you would not let the fear of goodbye stop you again. “You are my brother and you always will be. Even if I don’t have a picture to remember you by anymore, I promise that I will never forget you. Or the special place that you hold in my heart.”

Leaning down, you placed a kiss on his covered forehead and turned towards the door. Pausing, you saw your brother’s most prized possession, his white cowboy hat hung on the hook by the door, its black band held an eagle feather that your grandmother had gifted him. He loved that hat, you couldn’t remember a day that he didn’t wear it, cleaning the dust away after every ride. It was battle scarred. The leather was soft and worn, more tan than white after so many years.

Looking back towards your brother’s body, you smiled. “I hope you don’t mind, but I’ll be taking that with me. Think of it as payback for you leaving me too soon.”

With that, you donned the hat upon your head, pulling the brim down to cover your tear-reddened eyes as you went to join the others.

A few moments later, you were all mounted up and ready to leave. The blizzard was starting to bear down, snow beginning to pile up in places. Lighting a torch, made from tar and linen, you rode Boda up to the front door and threw the torch inside. It wasn’t long before the bloodstained wood of the house caught and began to burn.

With one final tip of your hat, you drove back to the group, each taking turns to throw their own torches on the steadily growing fire. You really were lucky to make such great friends so soon after your brother’s passing, It assured you that you didn’t have to be alone again for some time and that was just fine with you.

Shifting away from the burning homestead, Natasha began to lead the way back to camp with Duke in tow. Tony followed close behind as Mark II was overly eager to get back. Steve and Bucky rode just ahead of you, giving you a bit of space to let your thoughts settle.

Looking back one last time, you observed as the flames began to lick through the windows and up to the roof of the house, but something seemed off. You felt as if eyes were following you from the trees, it made you uneasy. Turning Boda, you pushed him into a swift trot, trying to catch up to the others while sparing his legs from too much strain in the deepening snow.

Just as Bucky and Steve turned to see what was amiss, a shot rang out and pain radiated through your right shoulder.

Seeing you begin to fall, Steve ran to your side as Bucky looked for the one responsible. Natasha spotted the man first. It was the one that Tony had knocked out and tied up. He must have escaped from his bindings somehow.

Bucky kicked Sergeant into a gallop, chasing the escaped thug down and putting a bullet straight through his skull, executioner style. Running back to the group, he could only watch as Steve pulled you up from the snowy ground.

Drawing his belt from his waist, Bucky dropped from Sergeant’s saddle and ran to your side. Steve cradled you in his arms, trying not to jostle your wound as Natasha calmed Bodaway as best she could. He used his belt as a tourniquet, slowing the bleeding as best he could before he turned to grip Boda’s reins.

“Calm down, Bodaway. She needs a doctor and I can’t carry her with me on Sergeant. You will need to let me ride you if you want to see her survive.” He felt a bit crazy, speaking to a horse this way, but it seemed he understood what Bucky was saying.

Natasha moved the saddlebags and bedroll from Boda’s saddle and onto Sergeants as Bucky mounted up. The horse didn’t dare move an inch until you were safely in Bucky’s arms.

“I’ll go on ahead, let Bruce know what happened. You guys follow as fast as you can, but don’t risk your necks any more than you have to.” Gripping Steve’s shoulder, Bucky saw the worry in his eyes. “She will be fine, I will make sure of that.”

Steve nodded, patting Boda’s neck and watching as they rode away as fast and as smoothly as they possibly could in the rough, snowy terrain. He only prayed that they would make it in time.

The pain in your shoulder was excruciating. You whimpered with every small bump and jolt as Bucky drove Bodaway through the snowy trails and up the mountain. “Bucky, be careful. Wolves here.”

He smiled down at you. “Did you forget, doll? I have a wolf of my own.”

Bucky let out a piercing whistle that cut through the mountain pass with ease. He only hoped that his white wolf would hear it and make it to them in time.

_______________________________________________________________________

The whistle echoed over the stone faces and travelled back to camp where Soldat was waiting. His ears perked up at the faint sound, but he knew it could only be one person.

He sprinted out the door, the shouts of Bruce and Jarvis trailing behind him, and howled back to his human companion. The sound was both a promise and a threat.

The promise to arrive as soon as possible and the threat to kill anything that stood in his way.

_______________________________________________________________________

Bucky smiled when the familiar howl reached his ears. Soldat was on the way and he meant business. Boda didn’t even flinch. He had one focus, and that was to get you to a safe place.

A clear area between the trees came into Bucky’s view just as Soldat reached them. “Hello friend. I need a favor.”

Soldat cocked his head in question, it looked a bit funny as they were in a full sprint towards camp. “Go, find Steve and the others, and lead them back to camp. The snow is falling harder and I’m worried that they will become lost.”

A bark of agreement was given and Soldat turned, going back the way Bucky had come. He would lead the group home safe and sound.

Bucky turned his attention back to you, realizing that you had gone silent in his arms. “Y/N, doll, don’t go to sleep on me now. We are almost there.”

Your eyes slowly blinked, fighting against the blackness that hovered at the edges of your vision. You knew you needed to stay awake, even if your body protested heavily. “I- I’m s- still here, Bucky. D- don’t worry ab- about m- me.”

Your body was shaking, growing worse by the second. You were going into shock and Bucky knew he was running out of time. “Y/N, don’t fall asleep. We are gonna have to make a run for it and I need you to hold on to me as tight as you can.”

Nodding, you wrapped your left arm around Bucky’s back and gripped his coat in your slowly weakening grip. You wanted to tell him to hurry, you could feel the darkness encroaching on your mind, but your voice wouldn’t obey. You only hoped that Bucky and Boda would be able to make it to camp before you passed out entirely.

Bucky urged the big stallion onward at a breakneck pace, soaring over the ground like an eagle in flight. The ride would have been exhilarating if only you weren’t dying in his arms at that moment. A few minutes passed and the camp was finally in view. The windows, lit up from the fire inside, were like a beacon of hope as you got closer. A sigh of relief left your lips and Bucky stared in horror as your grip loosened and your eyes closed. Bucky thought his heart would stop. But he and Bodaway soldiered onwards, entering camp only a few seconds later.

Bruce stormed through the door to see who the strange horse belonged to, causing Bodaway to startle violently. Bucky soothed him, calling out to Bruce to stay calm as he approached. “Bruce, I need you to come get Y/N from me as quickly as you can.”

Bruce looked wary of the wild black horse, but the panic in Bucky’s voice put steel in his spine. Bucky would never ask for someone to risk injury unless the decision was a matter of life or death and, from the look of the blood on his clothes, this case was dire.

Bruce nodded, approaching calmly but swiftly. Bucky slowly lowered your body into Bruce’s arms before dismounting. Upon closer inspection, Bruce could see that Bucky’s clothes were soaked with blood, making them glisten in the lamp light. Gesturing back towards the house, Bruce shouted for Jarvis, he would need the man’s help if he was going to get you patched up.

Bucky tried his hardest to take Boda towards the barn where the wagon horses were, but Boda refused to move. In a panic, Bucky threw all sense out the window and decided that logic would be the best way to get the horse to cooperate. He seemed more intelligent than most horses, so it was worth a shot. “Please, Boda. The last thing Y/N would want is for you to get sick or hurt by staying out in this weather. Please, just come to the barn where it’s safe and I will bring her to you as soon as she is better. I promise, no one will hurt her while I am here.”

Boda, slowly relented with Bucky’s pleas. His head hung low, worry setting in for his beloved owner. Bucky scratched the male’s neck, trying to reassure the handsome beast. “She will make it, my friend. I give you my word.”

The wavering in Bucky’s voice was disconcerting, but Bodaway believed this strange man. He was strong, the group was strong and determined. Y/N would be safe here.

Bucky put Bodaway into an empty stall inside and relieved him of his tack. His hands shook as he examined the splatter of blood that matted Boda’s shiny coat. He would have to get that off soon, but as long as Boda stayed in the warmth of the barn, it could wait until the morning. With another round of reassuring words, Bucky exited the barn and shut the doors.

Leaning his forehead against the rough wood, Bucky took a few calming breaths. Usually, keeping a cool head in dire straights was easy for Bucky, but this time appeared different. There was something special about you, but he just couldn’t put his finger on it. Looking back to the trees, in the direction that the others would be arriving, he whispered one more plea into the freezing flurry of snow and wind that rushed around him. “Hurry Steve. I don’t know if I can do this without you.”

Jarvis’s voice shook Bucky out of his thoughts and worry soon took hold of his heart again. “Bucky, we need you in here!”

When Bucky reached the house, the smell of blood permeated the air. Following Jarvis into a back bedroom, he gasped at the gruesome sight before him. Covered, from the chest down, in a thin sheet you appeared so frail and broken on the bed. Your arm had been cleaned, but the wound was dripping blood onto the sheets and into your hair. A dull roaring filled his ears, drowning out Bruce’s questions.

“-cky, -ucky, BUCKY!”

Startled, Bucky whipped his head around and met Bruce’s concerned gaze. “Sorry, Bruce. What do you need? I want to help in any way that I can.”

“Tell us what happened, first. We will go from there.” Bruce tried to put Bucky at ease as he continued to work over your body, but he could tell that it wasn’t helping. This girl must have been important if Bucky was this shaken up. Bruce hadn’t seen the young man this panicked since the last time Steve was injured. And if Bucky was this bad, Steve wouldn’t be much better.

“Hydra attacked her farm, killing her brother and taking her hostage in the process. She fought them, killed about half of their men before she was captured.” Looking back to your now frail form, he closed his eyes as guilt washed over him. “I was so stupid. It should have been me that got shot.”

“Bucky, I need you to focus. There will be time for guilt and pity later.”

Nodding, Bucky finished his retelling as he paced like a caged animal. “She was coming back with us. We set the house on fire like she wished and we were leaving. The last Hydra man, the one that was knocked out, somehow he got out of his bonds and he shot her. He shot her and I couldn’t do anything to stop it. Steve and I were right there, but we couldn’t do anything to stop it. By the time I killed the man, she was on the ground in Steve’s arms and losing blood. We tried to stop the bleeding but with where it hit, it was an awkward area for the tourniquet. I took her horse and raced here as fast as I could.”

“But, why did you call Soldat?” Bruce could guess why, but he had to keep Bucky talking if he wanted the man to stay calm.

Halting mid stride, Bucky turned to look at your body with a faint smile. “She warned me. Through all of the pain she was in, she was more concerned about me and the horse than herself.”

Bruce smiled, so that was why Bucky was so concerned. Sadly, the young man had had a hard life. No one had cared much about the boy’s wellbeing after his mother had died, leaving him to fend for himself until he met Steve. Steve was the first person to care about Bucky over himself and to see that quality in this woman would definitely bring back memories for the man.

“She said there were wolves in the woods, so I called Soldat to guide the others back safely. It only took a few more minutes to get here, but by the time you came out to meet us, she had passed out.”

Nodding, Bruce was back to business, working over your injured shoulder. Bucky’s explanation was more for Bucky’s sake than Bruce’s need for information. He could already tell you had been shot from the obvious bullet hole in your right shoulder, but there was something amiss.

“Well, the good news is, the bullet was a through and through. But, the bad news is, she lost a lot of blood and it seems a piece of the bullet fragmented when it hit her shoulder blade and is lodged in her muscle. I can get it out, but she will be in a lot of pain.” Bruce looked to Bucky, determination was etched on his face.

“Do whatever you can, Bruce. Just, don’t let her die.”

A sharp bark echoed through the house, followed by heavy footsteps as Steve rushed into the room. Bucky moved toward his friend, embracing him in a tight hug as Steve’s eyes landed on your body.

Tearing away, Steve approached you on the bed before turning on Bruce. “Why aren’t you doing anything? She’s dying. You have to help her, Bruce.”

Bucky jumped between the two men, trying to calm Steve before he decided to knock Bruce on his ass. The doc was not one to anger in these situations and this really wasn’t the time for an all-out brawl. “We were just talking about what to do, Steve. Bruce is pretty sure he can help Y/N, but there are a few complications to consider before he jumps into the surgery.”

“Surgery? Have you even done this before, Bruce?”

“In a sense, yes.” Bruce took a calming breath, dealing with an irate Steve was never easy. Best to let Bucky handle it.

The two men looked at Bruce with concern and confusion. “What do you mean by, ‘in a sense’, Bruce?” Bucky’s voice wavered with his question. “Can you save her or not?”

Bruce sighed, they were wasting time with these questions, but they deserved a straight answer. “I’ve never done this surgery on a human. I’ve only ever treated animals, but this should be a simple fix as long at Jarvis helps me.”

Steve looked like he was about to protest, but Bucky knew they had no other options here. “Steve, we don’t have time for this. Y/N is going to die if Bruce doesn’t help her. We are wanted men, it’s not like we can shop around for a doctor. Just, let Bruce do his job.”

With a nod, Steve and Bucky exited the room together and Jarvis went to help Bruce start surgery. Only time would tell if you would make it out of this alive, but both men, despite their panic, believed that you would. There was no way they could lose you so soon.

#Dark Horse #Marvel AU #Marvel MCU #reader fic #western au #cowboy AU #slow burn #Steve x Reader x Bucky

30 notes · View notes

idiopath-fic-smile · 5 years

Text

5 conversations had around w.a.r.-era enjolras’s family dinner table, part one

"So, how was your first day of school?" asked Mom.

Enjolras swallowed a mouthful of sweet potatoes and frowned.

"How hard is it to pass the GED?" he said. "Because I think if I studied—"

"That bad?"

"I did pick him up from detention today," said Dad gently, cutting his asparagus.

They hadn't talked about it much on the way home, but Enjolras had known this conversation was coming, and he'd spent most of the ride trying to map out how he'd explain his first-ever detention to his parents, how he'd tell the story and argue his points and hopefully minimize the part where he threw a shoe.

He hadn't thrown it at anybody, he'd just thrown it. He couldn't really explain.

"I got into a fight with my teacher about transgender rights," he said. "He tried to tell me there were no trans kids in our school, and that if there were, any accommodation for their safety was 'special treatment'—"

Mom put down her fork. "What subject does he teach?"

"U.S. History," said Enjolras, and then at her face, "I know."

"Crying out loud," she muttered.

Enjolras saw his window. "Please," he said. "My whole day was like that. People saying hateful things with no consequences whatsoever. I literally didn't meet a single person who acted like they would even consider wanting to be my friend. I am so, so unhappy here, so why can't I just take the GED and—"

"How many kids go to CHS?" said Dad.

"Twenty-four hundred," said Enjolras sourly.

"And you can already tell that none of them want to be friends? Doesn't that feel like a little bit of unfair generalizing?"

"But the majority—" Enjolras started.

"The majority of voters picked George W. Bush," said Mom. Enjolras opened his mouth to bring up Gore and the electoral college and she added, "Would you want someone saying that not a single American—"

"Every single kid I saw today," said Enjolras. "The vast, vast majority. Ninety nine percent.”

"But oh, that other one percent," said Dad. He smiled, trying to make Enjolras laugh. It wasn't going to work.

"One percent," Enjolras said, struggling to channel all of his wild, flashing frustration into that single number. "One, dad."

"Okay," said Mom, "let's assume it is one percent," and Enjolras tensed because he knew from long experience that when she started out by agreeing with part of his point, it usually ended with her winning the argument. "One percent of 2400 is twenty-four," she said. "Honey, that's twenty-four people who want to be your friend. I want you to think about those twenty-four kids for a second. You’ve admitted they exist. Think about the kind of people they probably are. What do you think it’s been like for them, going to this school for years?”

“An unending nightmare,” he conceded. It wasn’t as though he didn’t know that others had it worse. He still felt like he had the right to—

“Don’t you think,” she said, “they could use a friend like you? Don’t you think they would all love to know someone so kind and smart and brave? Don’t you think you could make their lives easier just by being you, and being completely unafraid to stand up for what’s right?”

Enjolras frowned. Talking back to Mr. Walker hadn’t felt like bravery. It hadn’t even felt like a decision. He couldn’t imagine not doing it; his mind couldn’t bend that far. It was literally harder to picture than it was to dream up a future in which Enjolras managed to somehow make friends. Still. He hated how quickly she could shut him down. He knew—he knew!—he was right, but he had to watch her pull ahead on her superior arguing skills.

“You want to make a difference,” she added. “Don’t you think this could be a place to start?”

“You didn’t force me to move and change schools so I could help people,” he said waspishly.

Dad sighed. “No, bud. We moved because the economy’s in a slump right now and we had to go where the jobs were.”

Enjolras had gotten multiple versions of this talk already. He understood on some level it was true, and he wished he wasn’t still angry—it made him feel like such a cliché, such a child—but he was.

“We have to make new friends, too,” said Dad.

“That’s easy for you,” Enjolras muttered. “You two have social skills.”

Mom tapped her chin, mock-thoughtful. “Gosh, if only there was someplace you could practice, where you’d be surrounded by people your age—“

“Where 99% of them don’t want to know me,” Enjolras reminded her.

“Then they’re idiots,” she said, so definitively that he had to bite the inside of his cheek to keep from smiling. “Which means their opinions don’t matter, which makes them the perfect people to practice on, so when you do find someone you want to befriend—“

“Meeting people is always hard,” said Dad. “Your mom is joining a Jazzercise group and she doesn’t even like aerobics.”

Enjolras immersed himself in cutting the rest of his asparagus into even pieces. He wasn’t ready to give up being mad, but they made it unfairly difficult.

“They play the cheesiest songs,” she said. “For crying out loud, how hard is it to get some Bonnie Raitt in there?”

“Hey,” said Dad. “Want to catch a movie this weekend?”

“Let me check my schedule,” Enjolras said, and then immediately regretted his sarcasm. “What’s the word for a seventeen-year-old whose best friends are his parents?”

“You mean, a guy with the coolest parents imaginable?” said Dad.

“Don’t hide your light under a bushel,” said Mom.

“I promise you, that’s not what I’m doing,” Enjolras told her. More like burning all his fuel at once, the night exactly as dark as it was before.

Mom and Dad exchanged a look.

“You’ll find one of those twenty-four by the end of the year,” said Dad. “Faster if you go out of your way to look for them.”

“And you won’t even have to put on a leotard and grapevine to bad country,” said Mom.

A month later, Enjolras noticed that the loud, chatty kid who sat next to him in Pre-Calc quoting from an SNL sketch where George W Bush came off appropriately buffoonish, and after rehearsing an opening line four times in his head, Enjolras managed to start a conversation without sounding like too much like an old person trying to go undercover as a teenager.

“Hey,” said the guy, with infinite grace. “Yeah, Will Ferrell’s hilarious. Really captures the dead-eyed squint.” And, “Are you reading A People’s History of America? Badass.” And, “What do you think of chapter seven?” And, “Are you sitting with anyone at lunch yet? Because there’s some people you have got to meet, okay.”

And, “Oh yeah, my name’s Courfeyrac, in case you don’t remember, which is fair.”

So in the end, Enjolras would have to concede that Mom won the argument anyway. He didn’t exactly mind.

#in which enjolras's parents and whole relationship with said parents is so transparently cribbed from my real life it's embarrassing

187 notes · View notes