#righteous in his decisions. but with the human... the human only came down to the devildom due to the decisions lucifer had made | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

tunglo · 2 years

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Re-Read Break again and I just. Have a lot of emotions. Was also listening to TS' Exile and the emotions tripled. Now I'm wondering what happens to anakin. Will he heal? Does he find his own way? Will he find peace, somehow? He was awfully aware of what's gonna happen to him if he stays - so what does he do now? Swear off the Force, find a spot of galaxy with lush flora and try to (finally) live for himself? I'm invested in the obikin, but I also have money on a relatively content Anakin - even if he's always gonna be a little heartbroken. What of Obi-Wan? What went through his head? What is //going// through his head? I imagine he knows where Anakin is but chooses to stay away. He does, however, send anakin little notes that he's sure Anakin deletes (he's not sure why anakin hasn't blocked him off completely) - just anecdotes. I don't think he would apologise in those missives. Too impersonal, too imposing, not nearly enough sincerity, etc. Idk man. I just have. A lot of feelings for this one.

<3333 anon, this was so exciting to get - just, that it's playing in someone else's mind, wondering what happened... It's extremely cool to me!! I keep saying I will write a sequel for it one day and hopefully I will... But as my track record is, er, not good, I will at least ramble about what I planned!

Anyway, this one came from my kind of headcanon fix-it verse where Anakin's at about the last possible point of getting out before inevitably Falling. It would have to be a big enough break to stay away from the Jedi, and Palps, and Padme, etc. So Anakin would do what everyone does in SW when left to their own devices for 5 mins - get involved with some kind of criminal enterprise.

Pirates, bounty hunters, who knows. I picture him spending a couple of years being fairly wild and turning his back on all forms of responsibility/duty. In the tiny bit of the sequel I have written it's glossed over as:

Here he wasn’t The Hero with No Fear, or The Chosen One, or even General Skywalker.

He didn’t have to live up to some ancient prophecy, or down to the worst fears of people who had only ever been waiting for him to fail.

Because he had tried being good and just and righteous. And when that hadn’t worked he had been wild and wanton and feckless.

Raced pods, and sniffed spice, and kriffed his way across the galaxy.

Anyway, after a suitable amount of time I've handwaved away, and the good guys have uncovered Palps' plot and brought him down - Anakin probably helped in some way on the sidelines with ferrying information or suchlike - Anakin would end up settling on Stewjon which he likes because it's got a temperate climate, fairly laid back vibes, and (though he won't always admit to it) he knows it's where Obi-Wan was born which makes it ~special~ to him.

By the time the sequel opens his view on life is that he might not exactly be happy but he is mostly content. He's doing a job he likes (fixing ships or similar), in a place he likes, surrounded by people who don't expect anything from him but to be a decent fellow human being sentient.

I always think that the thing Anakin most needed was to learn to value himself, not the perception others had of him. He badly needed some time to be able to make his own decisions and live life on his own terms, and generally work out who he is and what he actually wants. So, yeah, the sequel would open with him having had a decent bash at that and being fairly chill with everything.

Then there is an ~event~ that brings Obi-Wan back into his life. Anakin would have kept in sporadic contact with Padme, and Ahsoka, and possibly others, but though he's kept distant tabs on how Obi-Wan is, they haven't actually spoken since he left. Anakin because he thinks it'll only re-open old wounds as he has faced up to the idea that he will always want more than Obi-Wan can give, and Obi-Wan because he'll have been busy drowning in his own guilt and interpreting Anakin's radio silence as proof that he hates him.

My still fairly vague idea for this is that Stewjon is basically space!celtic fringe and is renowned for its ancient ruins, etc. Generally the best finds are in one of the other sectors than where Anakin lives, but there's still plenty of interstellar traffic brought in, especially of students and historians and space archaeologists who are presumably good at what they do but terrible at maintaining their engines.

Anyway, a particularly spectacular find is dug up and everyone's excited because they're going to send out a ~high ranking~ Jedi who, under the terms of the new and improved Republic (aka trying to get over all of Palps' galaxy wide propaganda), have to now recompense the locals fairly for anything they want to take back to the Temple. Then even greater excitement because there's a complimentary find in his own sector. (Mostly so I can write about his new neighbours/local officials/etc being like, omg you need to raise your price for everything by at least 50 credits. Posh people with deep pockets from the Core are coming! And Anakin thinks about his own time with the Jedi and the hospitality they received, who must have paid for it, etc.)

[Something, something, something, the two ancient finds will represent Force balance in some way and trying to remove them causes problems I've yet to plot. The important thing is that it will kind of symbolise Anakin and Obi-Wan balancing each other out.]

The important thing is that they obviously send out Obi-Wan who, actually being Stewjoni, surely has the best chance of securing a good deal on this stuff. But of course, Obi-Wan actually knows next to nothing about Stewjon. So inevitably he ends up reconnecting with Anakin, while Anakin explains to him what the people care about on his own home planet. (Because during all the time he's been 'over' Obi-Wan he has nonetheless dedicated much time to thinking about how much his old Master would enjoy x, y, and z about Stewjon, and whether or not Obi-Wan might have understood him better if he remembered anything about his birth family, etc, etc.)

It's all very sweet and grown up and lovely, and then Anakin realises he's getting in over his head because Obi-Wan is just going to go back to the Temple, and he's going to be stuck desperately in love with him all over again. All the hard work he's had to put in to get his head in order, to carve out a place for himself, it's all put at risk by what he feels.

But this time it's Obi-Wan who won't stop pushing. Who keeps finding reasons to see him, sitting too close, etc. Culminating probably in some kind of accident / care taking situation where a recovering Obi-Wan tries his best to ~seduce~ Anakin, as much as a guy who's never got past witty repartee with people trying to kill him can. Ultimately Anakin refuses because he knows it will only make everything more complicated / hurt worse when Obi-Wan still picks the Order over him. Cue much angst.

Then more stuff happens than I'll probably ever have patience to write, with the endgame being the pair of them getting together and learning lessons about compromise, and balance, and living for more than duty...

#obikin #ask

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itsyourchoicedevotionals · 2 years

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Point Of Giving Up

“Brothers and sisters, you need to know about the severe trials we experienced… All of the hardships we passed through crushed us beyond our ability to endure, and we were so completely overwhelmed that we were about to give up entirely. It felt like we had a death sentence written upon our hearts, and we still feel it to this day. It has taught us to lose all faith in ourselves and to place all of our trust in the God who raises the dead. He has rescued us from terrifying encounters with death. And now we fasten our hopes on Him to continue to deliver us from death yet again,” 2Corinthians 1:8-10TPT

Historians and Commentators can only guess what occurred in Paul’s life, which overwhelmed him to feel at the point of death. They agree, on the fact, the Corinthians had been aware of the occurrence. Beyond that is speculation— a severe bodily illness; perhaps the rioting at Ephesus which forced him to flee for his life to Macedonia, (Acts 19). My thoughts went to Acts 14, when they stoned Paul.

Have you ever said, ‘I thought it would kill me?’ There’s been many instances where I thought something would ‘kill me.’ I’ve voiced those words. Physically, I’ve floated down the tunnel of death to the most glorious Light and peace in a near death experience. Through Mom’s intercession, I lived.

Heartaches, finances, personal illness, Dad’s two almost-death experiences, family’s rebellions, children’s drugs, auto accidents all brought me to despair. Being totally overwhelmed more times than people can believe. During those storms I stayed in front of God in prayer. There was no other way for me to be able to endure. When a beloved relative turned on me, I hit bottom. Pain in that hole convinced me, it would kill me. For over two years, I couldn’t sleep over three hours before arising and returning to God about the situation. He brought us all through, restored relationships and gave us a future together. Praise His name forever.

The future is going to be rough and glorious. Matthew 24 promises persecution. Do you thrive on persecution? I don’t. Bill Gates and the Cabal want to kill off six billion, and tag the rest of us like dogs— aka mark of the beast. The Democrats are doing their best to: — remove our personal freedoms — tank the economy and escalate inflation — take away of our personal weapons and ammo all this since they got rid of Trump, etc.

Meanwhile, God promises us good. see Haggai 2:6-9, Proverbs 13:22TPT “… but the wealth of the wicked is treasured up for the righteous.” Psalm 23:1ESV “The Lord is my shepherd; I shall not want.” Matthew 24:22ESV “And if those days had not been cut short, no human being would be saved. But for the sake of the elect those days will be cut short.” Psalm 55:22ESV “Cast your burden on the LORD, and He will sustain you; He will never permit the righteous to be moved.” Hebrews 13:5CEV “Don’t fall in love with money. Be satisfied with what you have. The Lord has promised that He will not leave us or desert us.” Isaiah 26:3NT “You will keep in perfect peace all who trust in You, all whose thoughts are fixed on You!”

Bottom line: Every single time, I was overwhelmed to the point of giving up, God stepped in…… Otherwise, I know I wouldn’t be here. When I came to my end, Jesus carried me through to a better end.

Really serious heartaches and troubles bring us to the place of decisions. Will we trust? Have we learned this truth— HE IS ENOUGH? Hopefully, you’ll decide without the difficulties. It’s your choice. You choose.

PRAYER: Abba Father, thank You for being enough. Help us to stand in this truth You are enough in the rough seas ahead, in the name Jesus Christ I pray.

#Jesus Christ #lord of lords #Word of God #Holy Spirit #God #it's your choice #devotional #give up #point #overwhelmed #despair of life #let go #trust #love #hope #faith

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girlucifer · 3 years

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“tell me you love me

...because i don’t think i could handle it otherwise.”

one of my favorite quotes in the game is when lucifer and the mc are alone, where they choose to hug him after they returned to the devildom, and he whispers how he wants the human to tell him they thought of him everyday they were away- not of his brothers, but of him alone. because he ‘couldn’t handle it otherwise.” i love that soft, wanting aspect of lucifer, a side we don’t really see often. i wanted to expand a bit on this, so here is a small fic, lucifer x gender neutral mc, under the cut!

word count: 1200 or so

tags: lucifer x gender neutral mc, obey me! angst, fluff, romance, tension, slow build, spoilers*** for lesson 20 and below

they knocked on the study's door that towered over them, its very aura dominating, fearsome- behind this door leads to him and his gaze, as sharp and red as the thin thread that ties the two together, cutting and suffocating. his gaze always lingered in the human's mind behind closed eyes, behind closed doors- his gaze, red as blood, as marks left on their neck after a daring evening alone, as red as the human's heart that beats wildly as they raised their hand to knock upon the door. warm firelight spilled through the crevice underneath the door. they knew he was inside- he had been avoiding them ever since the night they spent together- this much, the human could tell. he was a hard one to decipher; he always had a sort of cloudiness hovering over him, always a bit restrained, a bit hesitant. he would look over his shoulder, never wear his heart there. it wasn't until that night the human must've said something small, something innocent, an accidental graze of fingertips, a mistakenly seductive glance. parted lips, inching noses... he had revealed what really lurked in the depths of his soul with shallow gasps and light moans, interlocked fingers across black silken sheets.

the smell of wooded musk lingered in the air- his candles were lit. the forest from home, the human thought- he always seemed to smell of fresh orchards. it was fitting he'd smell of such, after all, the human reflected, as every moment with him seemed akin to taking a bite of a fruit from a forbidden tree- he was the first prince of hell, second only to the devil himself. lucifer, a name feared throughout the human world just as much as the underworld- a taboo name, malevolent, a name called by the evil and wicked. the human remembered the fear that took hold of their heart when meeting the brothers- six demons stood behind a particularly shining one, his presence far more immutable than the others. lucifer, the morning star. poison to the soul, pomegranate seeds to the tongue. they knocked once more- the door finally opened.

their eyes met immediately, as the human drew closer to him. he sat on one of the small couches that accentuated his study, holding a glass of dark, almost jet-black liquid. the top two buttons of his dress shirt were undone, his tie hanging down his chest, his collarbone just slightly exposed- enough the have the human avert their gaze, face flushing as if exposed to something far too indulgent. without another word, lucifer took another glass, pouring demonus for the other as they sat besides him. he reached out his hand, to which the human accepted the glass. no words were exchanged as the two drank silently, the human stealing glances towards the demon. the lit fireplace quietly danced behind him, his silhouette outlined with the warm orange color, flooding his features. in his light, he almost seemed holy, heavenly, like a fragment of his previous celestial incarnation was shining through.

"you're avoiding me."

"is that what it seems like to you?" his lips balanced on the edge of sneering and smiling. then like a flicker of one of the candles dotting his small study, he turned his head, downing the rest of his liquor.

"do you think... do you think I can be a bit selfish and ask you to listen to me? I might say things that don't quite make sense, or run off on long tangents, or maybe circle back and say nothing of any use. but maybe, maybe I'll say what I need to and we'll both be better off. could you? could you listen to me?" he reached out his hand, it wavering every so slightly before falling short just inches of the human's fingertips.

"my life is simply full of mistakes. just, utter grievances, embarrassments, all plunders on my part. I never acknowledge them- I'm the first prince of hell- I take pride in everything I do, even the mistakes. but, by heaven and hell, I regret so much. the fall- one of my most grand achievements, inspiration to renaissance painters, punishment to god-fearing populace, martyrdom to revolutionaires, but to me- a failure. the death of my sister... meant the death of me, my brothers. the one person who didn't deserve a single hair on their head harmed- they lost their life for my stupid, arrogant cause. at least, out of that wrath towards myself, satan was spawned, and seeing him grow to be a wise, powerful demon, it gives me solace that something came out of my foolishness. but, lilith's death could never be repaid. I remember thinking that, over and over, as she laid in my arms, her lifeless corpse... growing cold. lord diavolo, he saw the despair in my eyes, my heart, and he offered a resolution. something that just maybe, maybe I can redeem myself, if it meant lilith could have a chance at normal life. a life as a human, as a daughter, a lover, as a mother. if she could live in bliss for thirty-odd years, well that's all that I could ask for. my undying loyalty for all of eternity... a small price to pay for knowing she smiled one more time before my pride got her killed. but, after millennia, it's hard to remember what it was all for. living day in and day out for the prince, to subject myself to bootlicking work, to be a puppet to the most powerful demon in the devildom- what an ironic fate for the avatar of pride. some nights, I forget what it was all for- the pledge of allegiance to the demon king, twisting my brothers to do his bidding, locking belphegor away, spending nights in here," he raised his arms, drawing attention to the stuffy room, paperwork stacked atop his desk like endless buildings across the horizon. "it's all for lilith, it's all for her- like a mantra in my head every time diavolo asks for a kiss upon his boots, every time he embraces me with a whisper of an order to my ear. but, its just words- something to tell myself, lest I go insane. I never did have that closure that she did live her life, a grand life, full of love and happiness. I had no idea what had become of her, how she met her humanistic fate. until..." he trailed off, his hand clenched, knuckles white.

"until me," the human finished for him, their thumbs circling around each other as they looked down, intently focused on the wood flooring. "yes, you're living proof she lived, she loved. you're... comfort to me, that at least once in my miserable life, I had made the right choice." he raised his hand, brushing his fingertips across the human's cheek, a strand of hair falling over their eyes. like gravity, their very souls the source of attraction, the two inched closer, slowly, bit by bit, a journey to a land of milk and honey. his face was flushed- either from the demonus or because their faces were so close, they couldn't tell. lucifer took the fallen lock of hair, tucking it behind their ear, a soft smile gracing his features. "could you kiss me? kiss me once and tell me i'm doing fine? that lilith would be proud- that my brothers are too? tell me you love me. tell me, because I don't think I could handle it otherwise." and the human closed the gap between their lips, kissing him again and again and again.

#im sorry if this doesnt make any sense. my explanation -->#i think lucifer holds a lot of insecurities on how he conducts himself. he has made extremely questionable choices. all stemming from his #committment to diavolo. naturally he must regret somethings perhaps everything #but in some ways. things arise to right the wrongs- to provide meaning to his blunders. for example #satan's circumstances of his birth. he is only alive because of lucifers intense wrath towards the events of the celestial war #as well as lilith having a second chance to live as a human and to love as a human/love humans = only possible bc he accepted diavolos #proposition #anyway. lots of feelings. i think ultimately he struggles coming to terms with his mistakes solely because he is suppose to be proud and #righteous in his decisions. but with the human... the human only came down to the devildom due to the decisions lucifer had made #its due to the fact he allowed lilith to be reborn as a human #that he helped lead the revolt against god. that he didnt betray diavolo. it all culminated into the human mc being born being raised being #brought to the devildom #and naturally. if he can gain the love of this human. if the human can kiss him and mean it. it had all been for something---#anyway im in love with morally gray characters especially them finding solace in loving another. i wrote another fic #just like this of kent sdv LMAO i love his character......... i wrote how he feels evil due to his past crimes as a soldier #but if the farmer... life herself can find it in herself to love him. to forgive him.. he can forgive himself #anyway. lots of thoughts! thank you for reading if you did.. <3 #obey me!#obey me lucifer #obey me mc #text

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illusionsofdreaming · 3 years

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would it be okay to request headcanons with the main trio from TCF who aren't in a relationship with the (fem) reader yet but they like each other, the guys get hurt or something and the reader is so scared of losing them or was so anxious that she ended up kissing them? You can edit a few parts if you'd prefer! thank you, i know you have a lot of requests but you're the only one who writes x reader for them-

Notes: It took forever+forever but I finally gave up trying to perfect it- y'all just going to have to deal with these half baked potatos as I sob in the corner for my lack of functioning writing braincells.

+ 'nonny I know you asked for Fem reader but I'm just so used to writing gender neutral nowadays I actually forgot to write Fem reader in. Uh. I mean it's gender neutral so it should work regardless?? I'msorrypleaseforgivemeforthisblunder

Ft: Cale, Alberu, Choi Han

Cale Henituse

He’s covered in blood.

Again.

He glanced down at his shirt, once white, now completely soaked and rapidly losing warmth. The icky feeling of sticky cloth stuck on skin caused goosebumps to break out all over his arms. The lethargy that weighed on him was hard to ignore, but expected after using his ancient powers-

“Cale!”

He turned just as the full force of you barrelled into him and he staggered, unbalanced and would’ve fallen had you not pulled him back. He barely had time to protest at your rough greeting when you began frantically patting him down as if scouring him for weapons.

“There’s so much- where are you hurt?” you demanded harshly, your tone pitched higher than normal. “Raon call for Saint Jack and the others, medics- anyone that can help!”

“Y-yes! I-I will! Weak hu-human you better not die or I will destroy the kingdom!”

“Wai-“ his protests were ignored as the dragon flew off, leaving Cale dumbfounded with his jaw hanging down in disbelief. “Wait you don’t have to find the others, I’m fi-“

“Cale Henituse, if I hear you say ‘I’m fine’ I’m going to sock you to kingdom fucking come.“ you seethed. His lips snapped shut obediently, swallowing the aforementioned phrase down as a foreboding chill crept down his spine.

But I am..?

“How could you..” your voice shook even as you clung onto his soaked shirt so tightly your knuckles turned white. “You’re always doing stupid things like this…”

Cale frowned, feeling a bit indignant. Sure his plans weren’t the most thought out at times, but to call them stupid…

“If you waited for us to come, then you wouldn’t have to- why do you keep sacrificing yourself like this?”

That triggered an alarm in his head. What strange things were you talking about? The act of sacrifice were done by martyrs and selfless heroes and Cale Henituse was neither of those. He wanted to correct your misunderstanding but you were worked up and hysterical and it was with horror that he realised you were crying.

“________-“

“Don’t talk! Please, just conserve your energy- I won’t let you die, I promised the kids and the others- I won’t let you-”

The alarm bells in his head rang even louder and he fought to be heard over your rambling, “_________- no one’s dying, I’m fine-” it felt as if his heart had leapt to his throat as he stopped your fist before it could make contact. You really weren’t joking when you said you’d punch him. He tightened his hold on your wrist when you tried to twist out of his grip and swallowed nervously. “I’m not hurt _________,“ he emphasised, willing you to meet his eyes.

“Stop bullshitting me Cale- how much of a fucking idiot do you take me for? How can anyone be fine after losing this much blood-“

“It’s not mine.”

You stilled in his grasp.

“…W-what?”

He frowned. Was it really that hard to believe his words? “The blood’s not mine.” he repeated and made sure to meet your disbelieving gaze head on so that you could verify the truth in his words. “They were cut down before they could harm me. None of this blood is mine. I was not hurt.“ It was a partial lie. He did cough out some blood after instinctively activating the shield for protection but he felt that that was knowledge you’d be better off not knowing.

The coiled tension in you leaked out and Cale slowly released his grip on your hand and took a cautious step back - just in case. It was a good thing he managed to deescalate the situation before the others arrived. Just convincing one person was hassle enough and from experience alone, he knew the others weren’t as merciful when it came to learning about his injuries, regardless of severity or his protests otherwise. Cale shuddered. He really didn’t want to be on the receiving end of Ron’s cold smile again. He glanced up and saw Raon’s flying figure and he waved lazily to the dragon hoping the young one would understand that the healers were no longer necessary, it had only been a false alarm.

“..ot.”

“Hm?” He looked down, hearing you mumble but didn’t quite catch what you’d said.

He was not prepared to be yanked forward and for your lips to mash against his. There was a brief sting where your teeth had caught on his lip and the uncomfortable sensation of having your teeth clack against each other, noses in the way. He froze, like a deer caught in headlights, thoughts reeling but before he could think of acting, to push or pull you in even closer-

You let him go just as abruptly and he staggered, breath stolen, mind in absolute disarray.

Then you slapped him. Which definitely cleared his thoughts. “You idiot!”

Stupefied, he watched as you stormed off, stuck in a daze as he cradled his face where his cheek and lips tingled for different reasons.

“…What..?”

Choi Han

Choi Han didn’t know what Cale saw in you back then, a complete stranger whom they saved by chance and nursed back to health with utmost care. You, who Cale insisted was the final key to their masterplan and then asked Choi Han to act as your escort.

There were many things Choi Han didn’t understand when it came to Cale-nim’s decisions. But that wasn’t so unusual and he’d never made it a habit to question Cale’s reasoning, having learned to be patient, knowing the pieces would eventually slot together in the grand picture. So although initially wary he was of your unclear history and affiliation, he stayed by your side and did his duty without question.

And perhaps after weeks of accompanying you, he’s beginning to see what Cale saw. Though powerless and weak, you were righteous and passionate, holding true to your belief even in the face of adversaries. You were the perfect replacement for the tyrannical ruler of the country, someone capable of salvaging the crumbling system of a neglected, abused society and lifting it to new heights and glory.

With the flames of revolution ignited, everything hinged on getting you safely to Cale on the final stage. While the revolutionaries fought and acted as distractions above ground, he escorted you through the abandoned waterways.

The undergrounds were dark and cramped, incredibly disadvantageous to a swordsman such as himself. When assassins leaped out in an ambush; Choi Han didn’t hesitate. Without time nor space to draw his sword, he pushed you behind him and raised his arm to block the strike.

As the momentum of the assassin’s blade stopped, it became simple matter to quickly disarm and finish them. Having checked and affirmed that there’s no forthcoming attacks, he urged you to hurry, now worried as they weren’t expected to be discovered so soon.

Something must’ve happened, we should hurry to Cale-nim’s side-

He was halted with a firm grip on his other hand and was pulled back as he was met with your stern, unwavering gaze and declaration that you will not move another step from this spot until his arm got treated first.

Which was a ridiculous request considering they were running on a tight schedule. He frowned and his fingers flexed against the hilt of his sword as you pulled him to the side.

When none of his objections were being heard, he tried reasoning with you. The wound may look horrible, but he’d assured you he’d angled his arm just so that the blade would’ve caught on his bone rather than tendons. It was a strategic move that not only blocked momentum but also kept damage to his non-dominant arm at the minimum. He would not have bled to death nor would he be crippled from it, something that barely needed the emergency care you insisted on.

“It’s not necessary, we need to get to the tower room first.”

“The room is not moving anywhere, I’d rather not risk having you develop an infection because you neglected to care for your wound.“

He flinched when alcohol was poured on the cut and Choi Han breathed out slowly, his frustration mounting as precious seconds passed. Something in his chest stirred uncomfortably. He’s not accustomed to having others care for his wounds, having spent so many years caring for them himself whilst hiding his weaknesses from monsters in the Forest of Darkness.

“I will attend to it after I’ve brought you to Master Cale’s side, we must-“

Your eyes flashed with anger as your grip tightened painfully around his arm. “So many things have been lost to reach this stage, I’d rather not lose more on the way there.”

“Cale-“

Perhaps you’ve had enough as well as the next thing he knew, your fingers dug into his arm and he found himself yanked forward and you pressing a hard, determined kiss that stole whatever he was going to say from his lips.

“Cale Henituse,” you said sternly when you parted and picked up a roll of bandages, “can afford to wait a bit longer.” you glared at him as if daring him to argue otherwise.

Not that it was necessary, considering he’d doubt he’d have the coherency to answer anything with the way all the blood in his body was rushing to his face.

Alberu Crossman

He didn’t feel anything upon the moment of impact. Only the shocking cold of metal being slid into his side and the vicious gaze of the perpetrator pressed up to his front.

The pain ripped through a moment later and he gritted his teeth, red spilling down his lips. It hurts.

Activity bursted around him, screams of fear echoed through the ballroom as guards rushed to his side. However one voice in particular caught his attention and he looked up to catch your horrified expression, lips parted in a desperate cry.

His forehead furrowed as a strange sense of guilt washed over him- he didn’t want you to see this- but he didn’t have time to explore the feeling as his hand latched firmly on the hand which still held the weapon in his side, preventing their escape.

His smile was red, “Caught you now, rat.”

═════☩══♛══☩═════

He tousled his hair dry with a towel as he read through the reports in his hand.

Alberu was exhausted, the fight to rid his side of his enemies’ spies had always been an ongoing and tedious project. His enemies were cunning and always played things safe however their impatience this time would cost them. Now that one of their own has fallen into his hands, they can start pulling in the net.

A knock sounded on his door and he didn’t bother looking up from his reports as he gave permission. “Come in.”

“Did you manage to find any new information from them?” he asked immediately as the door opened. Anything gleaned from the assassin would be beneficial to his cause. Not that he truly expected any confessions to be given this night. Any hired killer worth their salt would know not to betray the mastermind behind a hit. But there were more than one way to find credible information aside from words torn directly from the lips of a captive.

When no answer came, he looked up and immediately dropped the papers he was reading.

“___________…”

In the aftermath of the attack and the capture of the assassin he’d been immediately escorted to the healers for first aid. With the bare minimum done he’d left quickly to take control of the situation, calming the aristocrats and giving orders to assign all guests to be escorted to a room in the palace to rest from the unexpected development - the smarter ones would know this was just a way to keep all suspects in one place, stalling for time so that his trusted aides may work to narrow down the most likely suspects. He had been meaning to find you and explain once everything settled but this time you took matters into your own hands.

Your eyes glanced at the documents he dropped. “Am I disturbing your work?”

“No,” he replied instantly, fighting back the urge to shuffle the papers behind him. “No, you’re not.”

The room lapsed into silence once more as neither of you seemed keen to address the elephant in the room.

“About tonight…” he started slowly, “they had to believe I had my guards lowered.”

The truth was, though he believed you would not have been behind the attack, you had to be tested all the same. Should it be known you’ve been partial to this plan, it would’ve given the real culprits leverage to use.

You approached him and he wished you would say something. He noted the redness in your eyes and felt a stab of guilt lodge in his chest. “It had to be believable.”

You didn’t meet his eyes and your hand hovered over where his wound had been.

He lifted the edge of his shirt up to reveal the pink scar tissue underneath. It was ugly and badly healed due to the rush he had been in. “I wasn’t in any real danger.” he said softly, staying still and resisting the urge to shiver when your fingers traced the scar.

“You’re picking up bad habits from Cale.” You said so softly he would’ve missed it had he not been paying attention.

“The padded shirt under prevented the blade from going too deep.” he explained, hoping you’d understand that he hadn’t been reckless. Everything had been planned carefully. He slowly tucked his shirt back in as you withdrew your hand, already missing the warmth you brought to his skin just moments ago.

“__________…”

You leaned in and placed a small kiss on the corner of his mouth. “Don’t do that again.” you whispered against his cheek.

He could only watch in astonishment as you turned away and exited his room.

“..Okay..” he said hoarsely to the empty room.

#tcf #trash of the count's family #imagines #tcf x reader #cale henituse #alberu crossman #choi han #kiss #pre relationship #confession..?#i honestly don't have enough brain power to tag things rn #i also have not proofread this much so #it's A MESS #i'll come back to edit this when I'm more awake or something #ngl the whole time while i was struggling with this #i was thinking how ridiculous that i've spent so long agonising over writing with words #but consuming it would only take less than a minute LOL #now im back at 0 and im feeling a bit sad

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writingtoforgetreality · 3 years

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New World Order - TFATWS Rewrite Chapter One (Bucky Barnes x Reader)

[Marvel-Masterlist], [TFATWS Rewrite-Masterlist]

Next Chapter

Summary: You were an Avenger. That was how the world viewed you. Nobody else knew about your past & it was for the better. After all, you had Sam. You had Bucky. That had to be enough. At least for now.

Words: 6,214

Warnings: language, sarcasm, expect some sort of slow burn, there are hints already, this is a Bucky fic, which means that it'll focus on his scenes more, spoilers for TFATWS, (Y/E/C) = your eye color

If you like my work & wanna support me: a coffee would be highly appreciated ❤

You were no superhero. At least, you would never say you were one. Your past was filled with actions you regretted. None of it was your fault. It was not your decision to be the child of the leader of a HYDRA base. It was not your decision to grow up like a warrior. Fighting. Killing.

Your father was the bad guy. You knew that now. As a child, you did not see through his facade. How could you? He was your dad. Someone who was supposed to love you endlessly. Those years had shaped you. Into the person you were today.

Deep down, you wished there was a way to make you forget. Forget about your past. Forget about the pain. Forget about it all. Hell, you were a laboratory experiment. Those powers did not come from nowhere. No. They came from tons of needles, pumping a toxic serum into you veins. You should not even be alive anymore. Not by what now flowed through your body. Apparently, it was for your own good. That was how your dad put it. Absolute bullshit. Growing up isolated from the world, being trained to fight, to kill, daily. Your own good my ass. If it did one thing, then it ruined your damn life.

But at least you had powers, right? Blue flames you could control. Those blue flames that were hotter than anything else in this world. It took an awful lot of time to fully have control. Truthfully, you hated that part of you with every fiber of your being. It had been the cause of one too many deaths. You had been the cause. But weakness was not in your nature. If you did not show strength you would be a disappointment. Something you really did not want to be.

Bucky was the reason you got out of this life. He was the one to rescue you out of this hell hole. He was the one to show you an entirely different part of this world. And for that, you could never thank him enough. If it were not for Bucky, you would have gone insane ages ago. Who knew if you were still here today?

The Avengers were aware of your past. Of you being a part of HYDRA back in the days. Yet, you had never elaborated this any further. If there was one thing you were good at, it was keeping things to yourself. No need to burden others with your struggles. And you did struggle. Every single day. Because your mind was filled with memories. Memories you had tried to burn. Memories you wanted to erase. Memories of you being the bad guy. Just like your dad had been.

Your life changed when you were introduced to the Avengers. They did not trust you. Not right away. But during the fight with Thanos, the one after the Blip, you proved yourself to be worthy of their trust. Especially Steve. He had been there for you. When everyone else failed to believe in you. He was gone now. And it hurt like hell. Giving up was never an option. And the universe did not plan on giving you a break anytime soon. For now, you had to bury your feelings as deep as possible. Your focus should solely be on the new threats of this world. Threats, that seemed to increase daily.

“Bucky is an asshole.” you were on the phone with Sam & the fact that the super soldier had been ignoring him for a while did not leave a good feeling inside his chest.

“What a revelation.” sarcastic comments were part of your life. It was your way of coping with everything. Frankly, it worked. More or less. “Give him some time.”

“More time? No.” sighing loudly. “I have other things to focus on.” he was referring to the mission he was about to perform.

“You sure you’ll be fine on your own?” it was not like you did not believe in his abilities. Just, life had not been the same ever since billions of people came back.

“When have I ever not been?” you could think of a few times but Sam ended the call before you even had the chance to answer. Typical.

Luckily, Sam usually told you about his missions. And you were proud of him. You really were. The situation you found yourself in? With Bucky & him? Well, it was everything but good. Bucky called you. You called Sam. Sam called you. You called Bucky. A circle you kept alive. And it sucked to be their only way of communication. For now, though, both of them were too stubborn to change anything about it.

“Enjoying the Tunisian sun I hope?” whenever Sam went on a mission, you had him call you after it. Simply because he knew you worried.

“You know it.” in the far background you could hear him working on something.

“Is everyone alright? That trainee of yours? What’s his name again?”

“Torres.” he sighed, frustrated by your question. You had asked him about a million times & apparently, you still had no clue. Truth was, you just liked messing with him. “Redwing is hurt.”

“Naaaw, poor baby.” giggling slightly. That man cared more for a piece of tech than he should.

“Shut up.” okay, better not mess with Wilson if it came to Redwing. Got it.

“When are you coming back?” your voice turned serious again. Having him gone for so long did not stick right with you. Obviously, you knew he was doing it for the greater good. But still. “I swear to all the Gods, if you say when we’re done here…” mumbling quietly but loud enough for him to hear.

“When we’re finished here.” a chuckle could be heard from his side. By the way it sounded, you assumed Torres was laughing as well. Rolling your eyes at his antics. He could be such a child sometimes.

“Oh, fuck off, Wilson.”

“Hey, language!” Sam had fun. Yeah, you were the one cracking jokes all of the time but he could deliver, too.

“Okay, you know what? Bye. Text me when you’re back.” now, it was you who did not give him enough time to respond. After all, he would have clapped back with another snarky remark & you were not in the mood for it. At all.

“Steve represented the best in all of us. Courageous, righteous, hopeful. And he mastered posing stoically.” everyone chuckled at Sam’s description. Of him. Steve. Rhodey was standing right next to you. In that suit of his. The one that made him look way more approachable than you. No need for people to approach you. They did not know who you were before. And they sure as hell did not need to. It would turn things complicated. Humans did not like complicated. You did not like it. “The world has been forever changed. A few months ago, billions of people reappeared after five years away, sending the world into turmoil. We need new heroes. Ones suited for the times we’re in. Symbols are nothing without the women & men that give them meaning. And this thing…” he paused briefly, let out a short chuckle. The shield. “I don’t know if there’s ever been a greater symbol. But it’s more about the man who propped it up, & he’s gone. So, today we honor Steve’s legacy. But also, we look to the future. So, thank you, Captain America. But this belongs to you.” the crowd erupted into cheers. Applause was filling the room & you felt out of place. What was he doing? When Sam asked you to join him here today, he left out the fact that he wanted to give away the shield. The shield Steve had trusted him enough to own. And the people surrounding you? They…celebrated him for it? This entire speech was proof enough that Wilson was worthy of this job. So why the hell did he make that decision? Watching the shield being put into the showcase, you could hardly hold in the tears that formed at the corners of your (Y/E/C) eyes. Rhodey nudged you, sensing that something was wrong. Head hanging low, you ignored him, walking out of the room as fast as possible. If you stayed here any longer, Sam would have bruises for sure. Bruises caused by you. You would not risk that. Though, he kind of deserved it.

“Where’s (Y/N)?” Sam asked Rhodey when he finished with the press. You had told him you would wait here for him. There was no sign of you.

“Left a while ago.”

“What do you mean “Left a while ago.”? Did she say where she was heading?” why did you decide to leave? Had anything happened while he held his speech? All Rhodey could do was shrug. An explanation was not given by you. And he knew better than to ask.

“Take a walk?” Rhodey suggested, completely unaware to your weird behavior. The two of you were not that close. So he did not know you like Sam did. You were an adult, after all. If you wanted to go somewhere without asking someone first, then you were allowed to do that.

Disappointment was flooding through your body. Friends told each other stuff like that, right? So why did he keep it a secret that he planned on giving away the shield. With that action, he broke Steve’s trust & you were livid. If only Steve were here right now. You missed him. So much. Next time Sam met you, you could not promise anything. Because anger was all you felt. Anger & disappointment. Grief. But that one you could keep to yourself. At least for the time being. Shit. Bucky. One hundred percent did he watch Sam giving away the shield. Oh, he would be filled with hatred. Compared to that, you were only a small threat. Bucky was the one Wilson should keep an eye on. Well, he had been trying to get a hold of him. So far, without luck.

A gunshot blasting woke Bucky up from another night invaded by nightmares. His changed hair did not put his demons at bay. His look was different but there were some things he could never get rid of. His past. The past he dreaded as much as you did. Probably what you two had in common. Being part of HYDRA & all. His breathing was irregular & there was no way in hell he could go back to sleep. It was in the middle of the night & he hated himself for relying on someone else. But he would go insane if he did not call another person right now. If he did not call you. The only one who seemed to understand what he was going through. The only one who never judged him because of his nightmares. The only one who made him feel like he was a good person. Not the killer he once had been. When HYDRA controlled him. Back, when he was called “The Winter Soldier”. Would he ever move on from that? Grabbing his old phone, he did not overthink too long & dialed your number. One, he knew by heart. Because he had called you so many times. It stuck in his head.

“Buck? Is everything alright?” concern was present in your voice. Usually, when you got a call in the middle of the night, it was him. And you were fine with it. If he trusted you enough to help him with his demons, than you were more than happy to come to his aid. No matter the time.

“I-I…it’s just, ugh, I-“ still shaken up from his nightmare, you did not need him to finish his sentence. You had been in this exact situation so many times. You knew what he needed. Your presence. Your voice. Your comfort. You.

“I’ll be there in a few.” assuring him, you were already grabbing the stuff you needed & walked out of your apartment. Only one destination in mind. Him. “Do you need me to stay on the phone?” it was a simple question. A stupid one, too. Usually, he would not say a word until you were with him. But it felt right to ask him what he wanted you to do. Needed you to do. When he did not answer for a few moments, you guessed he only nodded, not realizing that you could not see his motions. Yet, he did not hang up. Neither did you. Your breathing was enough for him. At least until you were in his apartment.

Knocking softly, as to not wake his neighbors, the door opened almost immediately after. Squeaking ever so slightly. Taking in his appearance, you could tell that it had been a bad nightmare. No, not a nightmare. A memory. You knew that because it was the reason you woke up most nights as well. If it were not for him feeling miserable, you would have drooled by the sight of him. No shirt. Hair sticking around so beautifully. Eyes you could lose yourself in. But it was not the right timing. Besides, Bucky & you were just friends. That was it. Just friends. Though, you would lie if you said that you did not feel butterflies whenever he shot you one of his charming smiles. Whenever his body brushed against yours on accident. Yes, he did have that effect on you. Hell, that was not what he needed right now. Your feelings could be dealt with later on. Bucky was all who mattered now. There was no conversation. No words exchanged. It was enough for him if you were with him. A sign that he was not alone. That he still had you. Even after everything. Even after calling you, night after night, disturbing your own rest. Not that you got much to begin with but he did not need to know that. It had always been a mystery to him. Why you stuck around still. Though you had assured him thousands of times that you were in this for good. If he needed you, you were only one call away. And he appreciated you for it. More than he would ever like to admit. Friends. You were friends.

“So, Mr. Barnes, are you still having nightmares?” another session with Dr. Raynor. Another dreaded session. It was stupid to Bucky. But there was no way out of this. He had to. Seconds of silence went by before she spoke up again. “James, I asked you a question. Are you still having nightmares?” what kind of question was that? A stupid one. That was for sure.

“No.” simple, short. Sufficient. Not for his doctor, though.

“We’ve been doing this long enough that I can tell when you’re lying. Well, you seem a little off today. Did something happen recently?”

“No.” what an answer to move this session forward. Clearly, he was not in the mood to talk today. Not even you were able to get his mind off of things. Though, you definitely made his night easier.

“You’re a civilian now. With your history, the government needs to know that you’re not gonna…” her hand motioned stabbing. Awful action but who were you to judge? Bucky nodded with that look on his face that showed how completely done he was with this situation. Yet, she kept going. “It’s a condition of your pardon. So, tell me about your most recent nightmare.”

“I didn’t have a nightmare.” well, it was worth a try. After taking a deep breath, she grabbed the pencil, ready to start writing into that notebook of hers again. “Oh, come on. Really? You’re gonna do the notebook thing? Why? It’s passive aggressive.” looked like the two of them were going back to the roots.

“You don’t talk. I write.” Bucky sighed at that. He knew he would not get out of this.

“Okay. Okay. I crossed a name off the list of my amends yesterday. Don’t worry. I used all your three rules. Senator Atwood. She was a HYDRA pawn for years. Helped her get into office when I was the Winter Soldier. And after HYDRA disbanded, she continued to abuse the power I gave her.”

“So, rule number one, you can’t do anything illegal.”

“All I did was give some intel to the aide to convict her. And I wasn’t involved in anything else.”

“Rule number two?”

“What was rule number two?” his gaze drifting off, showing he thought about it deeply. How ironic.

“Nobody gets hurt. It’s a big one.”

“Then why isn’t it rule number one?” he did have a point there. No room left for arguing about that. “I didn’t hurt anybody. I promise.”

“And what about rule number three?” Bucky’s mouth opened, yet, nothing came out. “The whole point of making amends is to fulfil rule number three.”

“You know, you’re a cynic, Doc. Of course, I completed rule number three. I am James Bucky Barnes & you’re part of my efforts to make amends.” words followed by that smile of his. That smile everyone could tell was fake. Almost creepy. But efforts, right? It was all about the efforts.

“So, you did it all right, but it didn’t help with the nightmares.”

“Well, like I said, I didn’t have any.” Bucky Barnes, everyone. Still trying to fool his doctor.

“Look, one day, you’re gonna have to open up & understand that some people really do want to help you & that they can be trusted. People like (Y/N).” the mention of your name made his eyes snap up.

“I trust more people than her.” it sounded more like he tried to convince himself more than anyone else.

“Yeah? Give me your phone.” an order. Grabbing it out of his pocket to hand it over. A short look was enough. “You don’t have ten phone numbers on this thing. Oh, & you’ve been ignoring the texts from Sam. Look, you gotta nurture friendships. I am the only person you have called all week. That is so sad…Oh, that’s not right. You called (Y/N) last night. Anything you wanna tell me about that?” closing the flip phone, she threw it over to Bucky which he caught with ease.

“What? Do I need to justify calling a friend?” chuckling & shaking his head slightly, he brushed his hands over his thighs.

“If you call that friend at 3 am, then yes. Because you should sleep at that time. Except if you had a nightmare which you claimed that you didn’t.”

“We just talked. That’s all.” he thought that brushing it off as if it were nothing was enough to get her to shut up. Hell, he had brought you up during his sessions way too many times. After all, he still wanted the situation between you guys to be subtle.

“You’re alone.”

“A minute ago, you said I had (Y/N).” he tried arguing but his attempts failed.

“You’re a hundred years old. You have no history, no family…” right, pouring salt in the wounds. That usually worked.

“Are you lashing out at me, Doc? Because that’s really unprofessional, you know? When did that start? Yelling at your clients?” she seemed to have enough & again went for the little book next to her. “Oh, the notebook. That’s great.” sighing deeply, he braced himself to take her more seriously. “All right, give me a break. I’m trying, okay? This isn’t…This is new for me. I didn’t have a moment to deal with anything, you know? I had a little…calm in Wakanda. And other than that, I just went from one fight to another for 90 years.”

“So, now that you’ve stopped fighting, what do you want?” he had an answer in mind right away. Never ever would he say it out loud. It took him a second to reply. Because what he was about to say came in union with his first thought.

“Peace.”

“That is utter bullshit.” what a nice way to bad talk his answer. Maybe she was expecting something else from him. Maybe she knew the answer just as much as he did. The real answer.

“You’re a terrible shrink.”

“I was an excellent soldier, so I saw a lot of dead bodies, & I know how that can shut you down. And if you are alone…”

“Which I’m not because I have (Y/N).”

“…that is the quietest, most personal hell. And, James, it is very hard to escape. Look, I know that you have been through a lot, but you’ve got your mind back, you are being pardoned. I mean, these are good things. You’re free.”

“To do what?”

Wednesday. Bucky usually went to Izzy. Today, he asked you to join him & Yori. Why he wanted you there with them? No clue. But it was not often he asked you to go somewhere with him so you agreed on meeting them there.

“Take a look.” Yori was a cute, old man. Reading his newspaper like a good citizen. Bucky had yet to give you an explanation as to why you were here right now. But for now, you just sat next to him, quietly observing your surroundings. “Nobody made it past 90 this week.” it was funny, to see Bucky trying his hardest to sound interested. Like he understood.

“So young. Such a shame.” his words made you scoff. Apparently, once you hit the 100 mark, you turn into a sarcastic piece. If you were not one before. If you ever made it to 100? Only the Gods knew what would come after that. Most people called you a sarcastic asshole now. Could that be topped?

“You guys didn’t order the usual, huh? Feeling a little adventurous?” the woman behind the counter directed her words at the three of you.

“Um, actually, I’ve never been here before, so…” you chuckled to avoid the awkwardness that would sure as hell build if you kept quiet now.

“You should ask her out.” Yori leaned over to Bucky & you almost choked on your food at his words. Bucky asking her out? Her? Yeah, she was beautiful & all. But her? Really? Seemed like that Yori dude did not know Bucky as well as he claimed to. You, on the other hand, were aware that nothing good would come out if it. Besides, they would not even make a nice couple. Shit, were you jealous? Oh no. Glancing over at the man next to you, his face showed just how much he despised this idea. At least something.

“Mm-mmm…” shaking his head frantically, he shot you a quick look but before his eyes locked onto yours, your gaze fell down to your plate. Slightly embarrassed. Scared that, if he looked at you, he would notice something behind your look. Something more. Something, that you wanted to keep hidden. For everyone’s sake.

“He would like to take you out on a date.” oh fuck off, Yori. You had nothing against this man but he was pushing your buttons. Could he not see that Bucky was incredibly uncomfortable with the idea of going on a date? With her? “Maybe to bingo or a night of pinochle.” hiding your laugh behind one of your hands, you could not believe that he was serious. Bucky & bingo? Well, it was for old people so you guessed it fit quite well. Not with her, though. Oh no, you really were jealous.

“I’m really sorry about him.” Bucky apologized for his friend’s behavior. Yes, you were sorry for him, too.

“Why are you sorry?” of course, now the woman was flirting with him. It got better & better. Taking a deep breath, you tried to keep your emotions at bay. You could not lash out in the middle of this restaurant, after all. Even though you were this close to doing just that. Deep breaths, you got this. “I’m game.” sure she was.

“Wow.” really? Bucky was impressed? By this? Oh come on, why would he settle for less when he could have so, so much more. But it was not your decision. He was not yours. You did not own him. Neither did you make the decisions for him.

“Tomorrow night, then?” Yori leaned over the counter.

“Tomorrow night’s great.” she replied with a bright smile.

“Hey, I just remembered something.” you spoke up all of a sudden. Bucky’s eyes met yours now & he saw that you were uncomfortable. Though, he could not pinpoint why. “Um, I-I need to go. See you, Buck. Bye guys.” sprinting out of the restaurant, you hoped nobody would follow you. Not in the mood to deal with anyone right now. All you wanted was to be alone right now. Your mind the only one keeping you company. But your mind was not really the kindest to you. Not in this particular moment. So what? Bucky had a date. You knew that would happen sooner or later. He was a good looking man. More importantly, you just wanted him to be happy. Genuinely happy.

Fucking great. Who could you talk to? You still were not done being mad at Sam. And now you were mad at Bucky for something he did not even do. He sort of did. He could have said no. If he really did not want to, he could have said no. Bucky was enough of a man to speak his mind, you knew that. Maybe he did want to go on a date with her. What was her name again? Not that you cared too much. But still. Blinking away the tears that had formed at the corners of your eyes, you kept on walking. Without a real destination. You were stupid. Friends. Why could you not accept this? Usually, you would call Steve in such a situation. Or even Tony. But it was too late now. They were not here anymore. You had to deal with that sooner or later. Whether you liked it or not. Contemplating calling Sam, you eyed your phone carefully. One more button. But nope. The anger was bigger than the need to talk to someone. Stubborn you. Wilson could make you feel better. But you would most likely end up yelling at him. And you knew you would regret your words later on. So might as well stay silent for the time being. Until you calmed down enough.

It was 10 pm. Date time for Bucky. That same restaurant. Being the gentleman that we was, he even brought her flowers. Like it used to be back in the 40s.

“Well, if that’s not the most adorably old-fashioned thing anyone’s ever done.” Bucky felt lost. In her company. “Grab a seat, I’ll be done in a few.”

“Okay.” he could up & leave. It would not be too late. All he knew was that it felt wrong.

“So, have you dated much since half the fish in the sea came back?”

“Not really. I, um…tried the whole online dating thing. (Y/N), the girl who was here with me yesterday, she set up a profile for me because I didn’t understand a single thing.” laughing at the memory, he thought back to when he called you to ask you for a favor. How you laughed at him for wanting to try this whole bullshit. “It’s pretty crazy. A lot of weird pictures.”

“What kind of weird?”

“I mean, tiger photos? Half the time I don’t even know what I’m looking at. It’s…It’s a lot. When I showed (Y/N), she simply said that this was what I signed up for.”

“You sound like my dad.” definitely something a man did not want to hear while on a date. On the other hand, he did not even want this to be a date. “Wait. How old are you?

“A hundred & six.” only he could make it sound so casually. Like it was the most normal thing on this planet. Both laughed at his words. Simply because it was so absurd.

“What’s up with your big gloves?” a sensitive topic she just touched.

“I, um, have, uh…poor circulation.” sure thing.

“Hmm…Hey, what is it about this (Y/N) girl & you?” his eyes widened at her question. What was she getting at?

“She’s my friend. Why?” his dumbfounded expression made her chuckle.

“A friend, huh?”

“Um, yeah.”

“You sure about that?” an eyebrow raised. A questioning stare was sent his way.

“Why does everyone think I don’t have friends?” throwing his head back in frustration, he let out a long sigh.

“It’s not that.” she stopped briefly, thinking about her next words carefully. “Just, you guys seem pretty close.”

“Well, we’ve known each other for years.” he reasoned, gesturing with his hands to bring his point across.

“Yeah? And the looks you’re shooting each other when the other one’s not looking?”

“What are you talking about?”

“You two aren’t really subtle about this, you know?” she wiped the counter & did not even look at Bucky. He, on the other hand, started sweating.

“Subtle about what?”

“Oh, come on. Who are you kidding? I don’t even know why you’re here right now.”

“Because Yori set you & me up on a date.”

“And why did you agree?” she crossed her arms over her chest, waiting for an explanation from the man in front of her.

“I-I don’t know.” he responded truthfully. Because he thought it to be polite? Because Yori was the one who suggested it? Honestly, he was not sure.

“That’s what I thought. Look, you’re a nice guy & all but…just, listen to your heart from time to time. It’s late. You should head out. See you.” she turned around & walked further into the restaurant. Leaving Bucky alone with his thoughts. It was clear what she intended. Did not mean that it made this entire situation any easier. Bucky left without another word. Fresh air would help him think straight.

Your phone rang & you sighed when you checked who decided to annoy you. Bucky. Of course. But wait. Should he not be on his date right now? Did something go wrong? Not that you wanted it to but if you were entirely honest, you would not be mad about it either.

“Hi Buck. What’s up?”

“I need your help with something.” there was no hesitation in his voice. Just him being straight forward.

“Please don’t tell me you need help on how to get the girl.” it was your way to lighten the mood. You did that because you could tell that he was incredibly serious. Usually, this was never a good sign.

“Can I send you an address? Can you meet me there as soon as possible?” his voice was low, deep.

“Um, sure thing. But just to set things clear…I won’t join in on your fun, Buck. That’s between you & her.” again, sarcasm was your way of coping with emotions. Though, it was not the right time to use it right now. His next words were proof enough. You should not mess with him. Not in this moment.

“Can you be serious for a second?” he raised his voice a little. It was not much but it was enough to leave you confused. Bucky was not the person to yell at you. Especially not like this.

“I’m sorry…Um, yeah, tell me where & I’ll get there as fast as I can.” gulping down, you waited for him to give you more information.

Arriving at an unfamiliar building, you could make out Bucky’s form in front of it. Why would he want to meet you here? Where was his date?

“Buck?” your voice barely above a whisper. The night sky only illuminated by the moon that shone brightly. Providing just a tiny bit of light. Enough, to let you notice your surroundings.

“Thanks for coming.” you could tell that he was stressed, tough, you were not sure why.

“Is everything alright? Because I swear, if that woman did anyth-“

“No, she didn’t. Promise.” his warm smile was encouraging enough. It was clear that he was not lying to you. “Just…didn’t work out. But that’s not why you’re here.”

“Okay?”

“My last nightmare. Do you remember?” nodding for him to continue. “How I killed that innocent man?”

“It wasn’t you, Buck. You were being controlled.” touching his shoulder softly, squeezing it to reassure him.

“Whatever…That guy, it was Yori’s son. I want to, need to, apologize. Even though the apology comes way too late.” you nodded at him, your eyes meeting his briefly. Now you knew why he called you. He did not want to do this alone. No. He wanted you by his side. To support him through it. Entering the building together, Bucky led you to the apartment Yori lived in. His hand raised to knock on the door. Surprisingly, he did not waste any time. He wanted to get this over with. Understandingly so. No words were exchanged. You being here, with him, that was more than enough.

“Hey, what are you doing here?” Yori opened the door, his face showed confusion by the appearance of you two. “How was the date?” you could not help but roll your eyes at the old man in front of you. Looking at Bucky, you were worried when you saw him having an internal conversation with himself. Mouth opening & closing again. No words coming out. Risking a look inside the apartment, you noticed a small picture frame with who you assumed to be his son. The one Bucky killed. No. The one the Winter Soldier killed.

“It was…It was good.” Bucky mumbled.

“Bullshit.” you followed after. None of them heard you, though. Luckily.

“Forgot I owed you for lunch.” Bucky handed him money. If you were not mistaken, this was not a form of apologizing. He had a hard time, though, that much was obvious. Afterwards, Bucky turned around & walked away without another word. Which left you alone with a confused looking Yori.

“I’m sorry for the disturbance, sir. Have a good night.” plastering on the sweetest smile you could offer, you followed Bucky outside. Jogging to keep up with the super soldier.

Back outside, you saw Bucky holding his little notebook in his hands. You knew about it. Because you were the only person he talked to when it came to his therapy sessions. A look over his shoulder could tell that his eyes were trained on the name being circled. His body was tense. That was not what he planned.

“It’s okay, Bucky.” your hand stroked over his lower back in a comforting way. Your forehead rested against his shoulder, hoping, that it would ease him a little. You could feel him calm down at your touch. “Give yourself some time.” you mumbled quietly, knowing he could hear you clearly due to the calm night. You just hoped that he would not beat himself up too much. Not more than he already did.

You were back in your own apartment. Still no words from Sam. But that was nothing new. Sometimes, he would go radio silent for a few days but after that, he would always check in with you. Maybe he figured that you were mad at him. For giving away the shield & all. And he probably was busy with work. The work he did with Torres. If he needed your help, he would call you for sure. Your TV got your attention again. Something told you to watch closely. So you did.

“Unrest, in the wake of recent events, has left us vulnerable. Every day Americans feel it. While we love heroes who put their lives on the line to defend Earth, we also need a hero to defend this country. We need a real person who embodies America’s greatest values. We need someone to inspire us again, someone who can be a symbol for all of us. So, on behalf of the Department of Defense & our Commander-in-Chief, it is with great honor that we announce here today that the United States of America has a new hero. Join me in welcoming your new Captain America.” the crowd cheered loudly & someone walked through the door. You could not believe what was happening. Please, this had to be a bad dream. When would you wake up form this hell? A man, wearing his suit, holding his shield, greeted the people. Looking at your hands, you could see small, blue sparks forming at the tips of your fingers. That only ever happened when you had no control over your emotions. Right now, you were everything but in control. Of course he had to wink at the camera like the sick person he was.

“Oh, you’ve got to be kidding me…” breathing out lowly, you put your head into your hands, completely ignoring the sparks there. You did not feel them anyway. If you ever met this son of a bitch it would not end well for him. And the next time you would meet Wilson? Fingers crossed he could deal with your angry & disappointed self. Because you were seething.

~to be continued~

Next Chapter

Published (04/02/2021) by Cathy

Tags: @taina-eny, @tanyaherondale, @cool-ultra-nerd, @toribentleyva, @buckyandlokirunmylife, @annadier, @howlongtillidie, @mizz-kraziii, @theetherealbloom, @millenniumloki, @marvelbros-oneshots, @ajbwasnthere, @bilesxbilinskixlahey, @mystictimetravelcolor, @dbrees256, @sxpxrnxturxl, @dreamydreamerwriting, @dolllstyles, @angelicastiel, @prettysbliss, @infinitelyforgotten, @sweetserendipity65, @lilystilinskicullen, @partypoisonsblog, @btdsprayberry, @sarai-ibn-la-ahad, @deamus-liv, @simplybarnes, @sethcohenluvr (let me know if you wanna be tagged <3)

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rainbow-shine · 3 years

Text

we found love in a hopeless place

@spnprideweek's day 2: mlm/pride

Castiel wasn’t made to love.

Angels were perfect creatures. Beautiful and deadly, with extraordinary abilities and without feelings that could cloud their judgment. The angels had been created to obey, to praise their father and to fulfill all the missions that were entrusted to them. They were the firstborns of the universe and who wishfully believed that someday they would inherit the paradise that his father had designed.

Angels weren't made to love.

Love, after all, was what made humans imperfect. The love towards themselves, towards others and even towards insignificant things made them vulnerable and often unpredictable. Every decision made by humanity had been, in one way or another, influenced by love.

Castiel isn’t supposed to love.

For millennia, Castiel saw civilizations rise and be destroyed, people born and die, humanity love and hate. His superiors used to tell him that there was something different about him, a compassion and mercy that angels shouldn't have. Castiel lost count of how many times he tried to do something that went against his mission, how many times he tried to break the rules, and how many times he was reprimanded for being too emotional.

Over and over again they told him that angels weren't made to love.

It’s for this reason that it was almost poetic that an angel who wasn’t made to love, found love in hell.

And then, well, everyone knows how the rest of the story goes.

"You should be sleeping" Dean's sleepy voice snapped Castiel out of his thoughts. “Are you okay?”

"I'm fine," Castiel replied, smiling softly and feeling something inside his chest ache at the beautiful image that Dean Winchester represented: sleepily leaning on his chest, with his messy hair and his lovely eyes blinking slowly to try to be more awake. Every night and every morning, Castiel felt that he could die happy at finally being able to held Dean as he had always wanted to.

"You don't sound fine," Dean said, resting his chin against Castiel's chest so they could maintain eye contact. “You know you can tell me whatever is going through your pretty little head, right?”

Dean, his precious Dean, always willing to listen and sometimes bear the problems of others. At first, Castiel hadn't understood how a man had been able to sell his soul for the life of his younger brother. But now, years later and having committed that same kind of sacrifice on more than one occasion, Castiel understood that one was capable of doing all kinds of crazy things for love.

Castiel's experience with love was absolutely and completely terrifying. Feelings he didn’t understand arose at the worst of times and never seemed to stop growing. It was then that Castiel stopped being the perfect creature that his superiors were waiting for him to be, it was then that he began to make mistakes and make decisions that ended in disasters just trying to keep the people he loved safe.

Every decision he made, from the moment his grace made contact with the brightest soul he had ever seen, was influenced by love, even if he hadn't realized it at first.

Of course, by the time he was able to name what he was feeling, it was impossible for him to talk about it again. For years, Castiel kept the love he felt in the deepest part of his grace and tried to ignore his existence. However, as time went on it became more and more difficult to keep his emotions at bay, especially when Dean gave him a smile as bright as the sun, or when they both had a movie night and Dean fell asleep leaning against his shoulder, or when they both shared moments when they could talk about everything that they had never dared to confess to anyone else.

At one point Castiel could no longer stand it and he couldn’t think of a better way to confess all those feelings that using them to save the man he loved.

So he did it and then the most extraordinary thing happened:

Dean loved him back. Dean saved him.

Dean who was still watching him with concern, his green eyes shining with the dim moonlight that filtered through the curtain, one of his hands beginning to trace the enochian symbols of the tattoo that Castiel had on his lower abdomen.

"I love you," Castiel eventually exclaimed, smiling with pride at the exhilarating happiness he felt not only being able to say those words, but also knowing that they were reciprocated. “I was just thinking how much I love you”.

A beautiful blush came over Dean's face, highlighting his freckles and Castiel was once again overwhelmed with how much he loved that man. Michael's sword, the righteous man and god's favorite, titles Castiel was sure paled in comparison to what Dean truly was: the man who had accomplished the impossible, defying fate and the expectations that everyone had from him again and again, the man that had done everything for love.

Seen from this angle, it wasn’t a surprise that Dean was the one who managed to teach an angel how to love.

"Sap," Dean muttered, turning his face so that now it was his cheek that was resting against Castiel's chest. “It shouldn't be legal for you to be this sappy in the middle of the night”.

Castiel chuckled softly before leaning down to gently kiss Dean's forehead, settling him in his arms and laying back down to go back to sleep. After a few seconds, Castiel felt Dean's arms wrap around him, at the same time that one of his legs was positioned above his. It was almost as if Dean was making sure he wasn't going to escape in the middle of the night.

As if he would, as if he could.

Just when sleep was about to capture them both, Castiel heard a soft whisper:

"I love you too, Cas."

Angels weren't made to love, so it was lucky that Castiel never liked to follow the rules.

#spnprideweek #castiel #dean winchester #destiel #deancas #supernatural #destiel fic #deancas fic #spn fanfic #rambleoncas #userstarry #my writing

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mitsungo · 3 years

Text

　∧＿∧

（｡･ω･｡)つ━☆・*。

⊂　　ノ　　　・゜+.

しーＪ　　　°。+ *´¨)

　　.· ´¸.·*´¨) ¸.·*¨)

(¸.·´ (¸.·’* ✫⌒*･ﾟ

　　I didn’t expect the second part to become more popular! It honestly shocked me! I kinda have an idea of where I’ll be going with the ending—kinda don’t. Idk. We’ll just wait and see how this progresses! Also just go with the flow on this please 😵‍💫

　　✧༺🔥༻∞　🌸　∞༺❄️༻✧

Kyojuro had never wished for nothing more than to live a peaceful life with Y/n after retiring from the demon slayer corps. She was a wonderful person, ever since he had met her, he had known that she would be the girl he would one day call his wife, and she would call him her husband. He and his fellow hashira, named Uzui, would talk about marriage and occasionally talk about children and retiring. Though Uzui would get carried away when it came to the children part, adding more to the conversation about making the children and not imagining how the children would be like. When Uzui talked about that topic, Kyojuro would get startled and start sweating, before he would change the topic as fast as he could. But heaven knows that Uzui would pick up the idea that Kyojuro was still, pure, as Uzui would put it. So what if he was? He and his fiancée agreed that they would consummate their marriage duties once they got married. But then again, Uzui would tell him about how wonderful it felt to, be intimate with a partner.

“Y/n, may I ask you something?” Kyojuro asked, his eyebrows furrowing a bit, to show off that he was going to be serious in the conversation. “Of course Kyo, what is it that you wish to know?” Y/n replied gently, her eyes now fixated on his own. “Have you ever thought of, being intimate…on another level?” Kyojuro felt his cheeks heat up in embarrassment at the question he had just asked his fiancée. Y/n abruptly stopped sewing, she didn’t move for a good minute, before she put the needle and kimono down on her lap. “Well, if I am completely honest. I don’t really know what you mean by that dear. What do you mean, ‘on another level’? Are you trying to say…” she paused, her cheeks turning bright red as she realized what he meant. “I hope I didn’t make you uncomfortable by asking you that. But I just, wanted to know. You know? I mean, the farthest we’ve gone to is kissing and occasionally leaving small marks on one another.” Kyojuro said, he really hoped he hadn’t made y/n’s opinion change on him. What if she thought he was a pervert now. How embarrassing. As he was lost in thought, y/n burst into laughter, starling Kyojuro in the process. “You could have just asked me if you wanted to make love Kyo. No need to be shy with me! We’ve known each other since we were children darling!” She let another fit of giggles escape her mouth as she desperately tried to cover it with a hand over her mouth. How cute. “Guess you’re right! I’ll try to be more straightforward next time!” He shot her a bright smile, causing y/n to stop giggling and stare at him in awe. Kyojuro made his way over to y/n, kneeling down in front of her and taking out a small picture of her and him together in kimonos she had made for them. “Always and forever, my beautiful wife.” He felt y/n gently put the picture back into his pocket, her fingers entangling with his own. “Always and forever, my handsome husband.” Kyojuro looked into his future wife’s eyes, those beautiful shining orbs of life and color. She leaned in closer to his face, her lips touching his. “Let’s get married here now then. And we can consummate the marriage before you depart tomorrow for that mission of yours.” Kyojuro closed his eyes, placing his forehead onto her own, smiling gently at her, “Very well. I will marry you here. And you will marry me here. Together, we will bring our two families and more importantly our souls together.” She nodded, smiling back at him with a warm smile like the sun. They both leaned in, closing the gap between them. Just how lucky was he to have such an amazing woman in his life? He would never know.

Now looking at the situation he was in, with upper rank 3’s arm piercing through his stomach, he wished he had married y/n sooner. They had only spent two months secretly married together, he was hoping to be spending his entire lifetime with her. He couldn’t give up now, not without a fight, not until he cut this demon’s head off. Kyojuro knew y/n would want him to fulfill his mission, just as his mother would too. He had to do it now. “I WON’T LET YOU ESCAPE! NOT UNTIL I CUT THAT HEAD OF YOURS!” He yelled at the demon, who had began to panic due to the sun rising. “LET GO! I SAID LET GO!” Akaza screamed, but to no avail. Kyojuro could feel his body start to succumb to his wound, no, he had to continue fighting. His mind started to get a bit fuzzy his vision on his right eye following right behind. Kyojuro felt Akaza rip himself away from his grasp, so this was it. The fight was over. He could finally rest. He had also lost the picture he always kept near his heart of him and y/n, how much he wanted to cry from not being able to see her face one more time.

“You will, live on without me. I will see you again.”

The day after Kyojuro’s funeral, she locked herself up in her room, ignoring her aunt and uncle’s plea for her to come out and eat or be in the garden. How could she eat or do anything when the man she loved had just died? Y/n undid her hair, throwing the pin away in a corner of her room. The sound of it hitting the wall harshly, she didn’t pay no attention to it, nothing mattered anymore. Nor she, or anyone. Her eyes started to tear up again, she looked up and saw one of the unfinished kimono’s in her room. Y/n grit her teeth in anger, yanking the kimono from the rack, grabbing a pair of scissors and tearing it apart. The one beautiful piece of fabric was now a torn up piece of cloth. She fell to her knees, her head starting to hurt from the anger and grief.

“Kyojuro! Why did you leave me all alone? Now who will be my other half if not you? Gods, what have I done to anger you enough to take away my husband from me? Please, take care of him for me until I go with him and my parents. Who am I to judge you for your decisions? Even then, I can not live without Kyojuro!” She proclaimed to no one, her hands gripping tightly on the kimono she had just shred into pieces. Why was this world so cruel to her? To everybody? She knew others had gone through much worse, and only now did she understand those who have lost their entire families, friends, and even themselves. How tragic. Her uncle and aunt were shocked when she had come down later in the night to the garden. Y/n looked up at them, her hair a mess, eyes red and a shredded kimono in hand.

“I renounce my title as a seamstress.”

A whole month has passed since Akaza had met Y/n. The two have gotten closer to one another, almost as if they were best friends. He had just arrived for the night at her home, the scent of her perfume in the room.

“Oh, Akaza. You’re here. Please. Take a seat.” Y/n said, gesturing for him to sit down in his designated spot. As he walked over to the small tea table, his eyes caught a certain picture frame that was placed in between a small shrine. Akaza picked up the frame, glancing behind his back to make sure y/n was not there, he studied the picture, it was Y/n and Kyojuro. Both of them smiling softly with their hands intertwined. It made him a bit jealous seeing kyojuro there with her, he didn’t deserve a woman like y/n. “So, are you going to teach me how to sew details into a kimono today or are you just—.” He stopped mid sentence, his mouth covered by y/n’s hands. She leaned into his ear and said, “I know you were the one that murdered Kyojuro.” He felt his eyes widen. “But don’t worry, I do not hate you. Humans and demons are sworn enemies. One may say that you are evil, doing unspeakable things to mankind, but even so, you are still a living creature, as I know you do not age, and you can be killed. Any living thing can be killed, though your morals are different than ours, I understand. What you think you do is righteous , and what the demon slayers think they do is righteous, it will in the end be the same. Killing one another because of different perspectives.” Y/n pulled her hands off his mouth, and backing away slowly. Akaza turned to face her, his face written with confusion and thoughtfulness. “You truly are an odd woman.” Was all he said in response. “They say the best people are a bit odd.” She giggled, taking his hand into her own. “Come now, let me show you how I do these details.”

The wind had began to pick up more now. With the petals of fallen wisteria flowers being taken away by the air and into the unknown. Akaza had just had a hard night, first he was summoned to an upper moon meeting, it seemed that an upper moon had died and their master was not happy at all, then that idiot with the blood stained hair had to go and bother him. How irritating, if only he could beat that parasite. But at least he would be going to go visit y/n today, since he didn’t have much do to. Akaza arrived in a matter of time, he poked his head into her room, his eyebrows furrowed when he noticed y/n’s scent was different today, sickly almost. He began to panic.

“Y/n? Where are you?” He took another look around the room and ran towards the end of the hall. “I’m downstairs, in the study room.” Akaza heard her say, he quickly made his way down to the room she said she was in. He slid open the door and saw y/n sitting down with her hand over her stomach. “Akaza, I found out, today, that I am pregnant.” His jaw dropped at the news, what the actual fuck? “How are you pregnant? I mean, is that even possible? Who’s baby is it? Have you been seeing men behind my back?” He started asking her, though he knew that couldn’t be the answer, as he would have smelt the scent of another man sooner. “I’ve only ever slept with you and kyojuro. This is very hard for me to even understand.” Akaza frowned when he realized that the baby growing inside had to be Kyojuro’s, it irritated him, now this day has truly become the worst one. As he was lost in thought, he snapped back to reality when he felt y/n’s soft hand tightly grip his. “I do not know why, but I have a feeling that there are two babies in me. And you are the father of one of them. You don’t need to stay by my side anymore. I understand. I wouldn’t stay either.” She happily said. Akaza’s eyes widened at her words, could that be a possibility, and would he actually want to keep staying here with her? Perhaps it was, or not. Only time will tell. As for staying with her, he didn’t know how to feel anymore. Y/n looked at him, her gaze slowly breaking away from his own, as if she was getting the aura that he wasn’t so sure anymore about anything. Y/n felt a smile creep up on her face, she pulled her hand away from his and slowly got up. But Akaza quickly yanked her back and embraced her, not too tightly, as he was worried he would hurt her and the babies. Akaza closed his eyes as he felt her arms wrap around him. This was a familiar feeling. He opened his mouth to finally give a response,

“I will stay with you no matter what.”

#demon slayer #rengoku kyoujurou #akaza x reader #kyojuro x reader #rengoku x you #fanfic #akaza kimetsu no yaiba

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mithrilwren · 3 years

Text

I really, really wanted to contribute something to Essek Week, but unfortunately with two essays and a novel chapter due by Monday, I didn’t have the time or mental energy to write anything new. Cue me remembering that I’d actually started working on an Essek-centric shadowgast Pirate!AU last summer, that never saw the light of day! Though I did a whole bunch of research for it, summer ended before I could get farther than the first couple chapters. Still, I’m very fond of the premise, and I’d like to finish it one day. I can’t guarantee I will (life’s too busy to commit myself to another Big Fic Project atm) but in the meantime, here’s a little taste in the form of the first chapter.

-------------------

For @essek-week Day 7: AU

Courts of Silk (Chapter 1)

Essek startled from his trance to the crackle of blistering thunder overhead.

Mind bled of all drowsiness in an instant, he unfolded his legs and slid off the berth, drifting to the center of the room and tilting his ear towards the boards above.

A storm… but the skies were meant to be clear for days, and he trusted Avus to know it. Could the weather have turned so–

Boom.

Essek’s eyebrows flew up as the deck visibly lurched below his feet.

Not thunder.

Cannon fire.

More sounds now, hurried ones – an erratic tempo of feet pounding through the corridor outside his little room, the floorboards creaking dully under the weight of the crew scrambling over the deck above. He flinched as a louder noise pierced through the commotion: the rattling of a heavy fist falling against the door of his cabin, hard enough to shake the wooden frame.

“We’ve been boarded!” Zel’ra’s guttural shout startled him out of his confused stupor, and he flew to the door and flung it open. The quartermaster stood outside, her snarling jaw dripping with whitish battle foam, the kind that bugbears of Rosohna so seldom have occasion to sport within city walls. “Come on, magic boy, time for you to earn your– Shit!”

Then she was gone, and Essek was left staring dumbly at the empty corridor, as Zel’ra raced back the way she came. A moment later, there was a yelp, and the grisly crack of metal hitting bone. Then there was no sound at all, save the rocking of the ocean’s pulse against the hull, and the thump of confident, unfamiliar footsteps, coming closer and closer to his open door.

He had only a few moments to make his decision. The fight might still be going on above deck, but if intruders had already made it below, there was little hope of a favorable outcome for the crew of the Barren Bow. He hadn’t thought the Empire would be brazen enough to attack a diplomatic ship in open waters, but there were soldiers of all ilks on the open sea, and no government to hold them to account so far from land. He would not put it past a Dwendalian crew to sight a Dynasty flag on the horizon and decide to take the matter of revenge in their own hands. If so, there was no telling what treatment they might expect at the hands of their attackers. Rage was rarely tamed by abstract rules of engagement, and he doubted anyone would care to ask what the nature of their mission was, once the killing began.

But perhaps…

Quickly, Essek drew aside his sleeve and materialized the leather–bound contents of his wristpocket into his hands. His spellbook lay beside precious components in their embroidered fold, and there, at the bottom of the pile: the folio. He whispered a quiet word and the paper folded apart, revealing its damning – and perhaps, in the right hands, lifesaving – contents.

The letters.

If the tides were so unfavorable that he could not fight, perhaps that might be enough to–

He vanished the whole affair back into the ether as two shadows fell across the door.

From the darkness of the hallway, two figures stepped over the threshold. In front was a young woman: human, with swarthy skin made darker still by the weathering burn of long days at sea. Her hands were tucked beneath bare arms and her hip turned out to an unconcerned jaunt, adorned by a sash of deep blue. Behind her, and looming so tall that she had to hunch to fit through the frame of the door, was a giant of a woman. Taller even than Zel’ra, her bare shoulders glistening with rippling muscles and sweat, pale as moonlight – or as the steely glint of the broadsword at her back. The younger woman swept him over with piercing eyes, her confident grin not quite masking the focused gaze beneath. Though she bore no weapons, Essek could feel the stain of threat in every taut sinew of her body. He held still, waiting to see who would make the first move.

Her eyes finally paused, centered on the floor beneath his feet, and her grin dropped into something more like a startled ‘oh’. Too late, he realized his mistake – that his levitation, as natural and instinctive as standing on his own two feet, had just given him away.

“Mage!” she sputtered, and her hand was gripping his arm and twisting it behind his back before he even realized she’d moved. Essek dropped the levitation spell, hoping to get enough leverage from the sudden height difference to slip out of her grasp, but before he could so much as shuffle to the left, the taller woman was at his right, clutching his other arm with a grip strong enough to break bone.

“Shit,” the first woman spat as she stepped back, allowing the second to take both of his arms into custody. “Who the fuck did we just board?”

Essek kept silent, staring at her, searching for any sign of weakness and finding less than nothing. If he had just had his hands free for a moment longer… but that didn’t matter now. There weren’t many spells without a somatic component at his disposal, and cantrips wouldn’t save his neck, should the giantess move quicker to snap it than he could speak.

Without a means of immediate escape, he looked next for any way to identify his captors. They were human, but their loose, subdued dress – for the younger woman, a vest of blue cotton, the other, a braided grey tunic, and frayed ribbons in both their hair – was nothing like the silver and crimson finery of the Righteous Brand.

If not from the Empire, who were these people? Hired thugs? Mercenaries?

“Are there more of you skulking down here?”

He didn’t ask the woman to clarify, though he wasn’t sure exactly what she was asking. More drow? Yes, but he was not about to reveal the nature of the delegation travelling under his protection to her. More mages? No. As always, he had convinced the Bright Queen that his effort alone would be sufficient. For the first time in a very long time, he wished he’d been a little more conservative in estimating his own skills. Given the current situation, someone else’s power at his back might actually be welcome, rather than distracting.

Her burning gaze made it clear that he had to say something, and soon, but for once, the right words did not come. The truth did not matter: he knew that any unfavorable answer would be taken as a lie.

Still, Essek would not panic. The only way to regain control of the situation was by carefully gathering information, finding something that he could use to shift the balance of power at a more advantageous moment. That was his particular specialty.

“I do not know,” he answered coolly. “For I do not know who is above and below deck at all hours of the day. I can only speak for myself.”

“Beau! Fjor– fuck– Captain Tusktooth wants you on deck!” A new voice, its timbre high and grating, like glass against cold iron, echoed from around the corner. The woman – Beau, he filed away – turned her head and shouted back out the door.

“Just a second, we’ve got one more!” Then, “Tell him to get Caleb over here, we’ve got a goddamn mage to deal with!”

The giantess at his back leaned down, so close that her dreaded locks nestled amidst the silver chains that hung from tip to base of his pointed ear. “You aren’t going to give us any trouble, are you?” she murmured, and despite every ounce of training he’d undergone for exactly this sort of intimidation, he still couldn’t help the way he shivered at her dark tone. There was a deep quality to her voice that sung of violence, for violence’s sake, and though he wasn’t yet truly afraid, he had no wish to provoke her.

“How could I?” Essek gently flexed his arms in her grasp: not enough to challenge, but enough to reassure her of his helplessness.

Her lips curled back, and… yes. There was a little fear gathering there, in the back of his throat. A good kind of fear – the prudent kind. It would keep him alert, and focused, and ready to strike back when the moment was right.

When she started pushing him forward, he followed her lead willingly, and the two of them shadowed Beau into the corridor and up the steps that led back above deck. Essek winced as the bright noonday sun slipped into view, already anticipating the stinging burn that was sure to follow. He’d managed to avoid the deck for most of the voyage, much to the chagrin of the Assarian crew. He was not born into a body made for manning rigging, and certainly not under an unrepentant sky determined to scorch his face and hands and neck and leave him itching and miserable for days without relief. His better use was below deck, planning for the engagement ahead, and his hours of fresh air better taken in the evening, when the gentler light of the moons was merely a prickle beneath his skin, rather than a flame.

Everywhere he looked, he saw mismatched bodies. Though Essek hadn’t met the entire complement of the Barren Bow’s crew, he had to assume most of the scattered orcs, goblins, and bugbears belonged to their side. Most of the ones on their feet were being held in the shallow recess at the centre of the deck, where great cannons might have been lodged on a more modern ship. A handful of unremarkable humans, each equipped with a rapier – or, in one man’s case, a salt-encrusted retort – stood above them, keeping watch. Amidst all that humanity stood a wild–eyed goblin in a blaring yellow dress, hefting a crossbow composed of whirring gears and levers of an intricate make that rivaled Waccoh’s own craftsmanship. She was currently in the process of shouting threats down across the heads of his cowed compatriots. Some were clutching broken arms or wiping blood from contusions and burnt welts. Lying at the center of the group was an unconscious Zel’ra, the goose egg at the back of her skull already angry and red.

Finally, he spied the remainder of the drow contingent clustered by the ship’s rail. Diplomats, all of them, bound for a parley at sea and not trained for conflict beyond what it took to hold a dagger right-way up. He was the only one among them battle-tested, and even then, his means leaned more towards subterfuge than outright combat. Theoretically, the Assarian crew was meant to be their main line of defence in case of attack. Clearly they had not proven up to the task.

Essek would be filing a very unfavorable report with their commanders upon his return, if any of them survived the day.

“Captain!” Beau shouted, and a tall half-orc stepped away from the railing, his wide-brimmed hat only partially disguising the many scars that littered his face.

“Weather’s turning,” he said, casting his eyes towards the – as far as Essek could tell – clear horizon. Those same yellow eyes flickered up, above Essek’s head, and for a moment seemed to narrow before turning back to Beau. “You finished clearing the hold yet?”

“Didn’t make it that far.” Beau jerked her head, and Essek was thrust into the sunlight all at once. The glare was blinding, and apparently not just to him. The giantess’s hands jerked around his arms, like they wanted to fly up and shield her eyes as well. That was all the opportunity he needed.

With one quick motion, he jerked his arms from her grasp and drew his hands together, tracing familiar glyphs out of nothing but muscle memory as his mouth uttered an incantation, and the world exploded around him. The giantess was flung back against the doorframe, wood splintering beneath her weight, and both Beau and the half-orc slammed into the deck and began to hurtle towards the side of the boat. Forcing his eyes to stay focused amidst the chaos and the harsh light, Essek caught the glitter of a cutlass skittering along the boards as he took stock of his position on the newly reborn battlefield.

Nearly all of the boarders were in a concentrated area in front of him, and the rest of the Assarian crew were protected by the lip of the recess in the deck. The terrain could not be more advantageous. Essek allowed himself a small smirk as he raised his hand and prepared a vacuum blast that would level the whole of the upper deck, and deliver them all to safety in one swift stroke.

How arrogant, that this petty group of mercenaries thought they could capture–

“Counterspell.”

The magic sizzled and died in his hand, and Essek whirled, searching for whoever had spoken behind him. Thugs he could handle, but it was always best to deal with a mage first, when they could do such infuriating things as what had just occurred. But once he turned, he found himself facing an empty doorway, and an empty deck above that. No trace of whoever had cast the counterspell.

The giantess was gone as well.

He heard the click before he could parse what cold and heavy thing was tugging on his wrist, but he was horribly aware of what was happening by the time his other wrist was wrenched behind his back and small hands clasped the second iron band shut. A stomach-churning wave of exhaustion passed through him from scalp to toe, and he staggered, only barely holding on to consciousness. Head lolling towards the floor, he saw two soft-soled boots landing lightly on the deck in front of him.

With great effort, he managed to drag his head up from his chest, and found himself staring into blue eyes and dusty freckles, lips pressed into a thin line, all framed by tangles of copper-red hair.

“Good work, Nott,” the man said. His accent was one Essek had only heard once before, though through the mire of exhaustion he could not remember where.

Behind Essek, the half-orc groaned and pushed himself up off the deck. “Next time you have a brilliant plan for subduing the prisoner, maybe let’s try not putting us all in the line of fire, hm?”

The man ignored the sarcasm, still looking all too carefully at Essek.

“Are you finished?” he murmured, and though his body was lithe, his soft voice sung of as much violence as the giantess’s darker growl.

With a sigh, Essek let his shoulders drop. He could still feel the pulses of magic coursing through the iron bands around his wrists. Even if he got his arms free again, the cuffs would not be easily slipped, or broken. These people, whoever they were, came equipped to handle wizards like himself. Was that what they were, then? Assassins in disguise? Privateers? The blunt instrument of some government or another?

Not that it made much difference now. Whoever they were, he was at their mercy.

“Spin him around.”

Essek felt himself being maneuvered away from the man’s incisive gaze. Through bleary eyes he caught the looks of frustrated disbelief from the four drow delegates, lamenting their crushed hope in silent, huddled unity. He was meant to be their protection. Now that Essek was taken, what else could save them? Not one of them was brave enough to attempt it themselves. A shiver of disgust ran through Essek, as heady as the self-recrimination it concealed at having allowed himself to be captured so easily.

The half-orc strode up to Essek, the sword in his hand now replaced, though Essek hadn’t seen the man move to retrieve it. It was a silver cutlass, fine enough to cleave a person clean through and leave one half still propped up on the other. Too rich a prize by far for a simple mercenary – he must have come by it dishonestly, or been given it as boon or bribe. Neither prospect boded well.

The hand that gripped the sword told an equally foreboding story, for only the thumb was composed of green flesh. The rest of the fingers were severed at the third knuckle, and replaced by metal imitations fixed to the wrist by a harness of leather cords. Still, he held the hilt with all the confidence of a trained fighter, and the surety of his grasp left Essek little doubt as to its effectiveness, mechanical augmentation or no.

“My name,” said the half-orc, “is Captain Tusktooth.” A hint of bright teeth flashed from below the wide brim of the hat. “And this ship is mine now. Its cargo, mine too.”

The answer about the identity of his captors, at last, became clear, for what little good it did him.

Pirates.

“By whose authority?” Essek shot a harsh look at the foolish dignitary who had chosen this moment to find their courage, but Tusktooth only grinned harder.

“By my own.” Behind Essek’s back, Nott and Beau slipped back through the splintered doorframe and down into the depths of the ship once more. “Now, my crew is going to finish taking a look through your cargo. I trust that your captain has been honest about the contents of your hold. Are there any other surprises I should be warning my people of? Anybody else looking to make trouble?”

Would that there were. “You will find little of value to take. We travelled light.” He spoke the truth, having no more useful lie at his disposal. His tongue felt heavy in his mouth, and another wave of exhaustion teased at the edges of his mind. He fought it with all the strength he had – which was growing less and less by the minute.

“So your captain told me. But that wasn’t my question.” Tusktooth’s voice grew as keen as the blade in his hand as he lifted it and placed the edge to the shallow of Essek’s throat. “Are there others like you aboard?”

He did not flinch. Torment and torture were old friends: his own cherished instruments. He did not fear what this man would do to him, any more than he feared death itself. At least, that is what he told his errant heart, as sweat began to bead at the nape of his neck.

“No.”

Tusktooth stared him down for a minute longer, and Essek held his gaze as best he could with the sun still searing his eyes. But at last, the sword withdrew, and Essek’s breath came a little easier. “Then let’s call this an exercise in… mutual trust.” He smiled once more, and Essek returned the expression with a vague twitch of lips.

The tense exchange was followed by ten excruciating minutes of silence, during which Essek did his best not to fidget in his heavy robes, even when his exposed skin grew so heated he felt liable to burst into flames. As they waited, the redheaded man pulled Tusktooth aside for a private conversation, and Essek sweated, and watched, and tried to formulate a plan.

The pirates would find nothing of value to steal. The Barren Bow had provisions for the voyage, but anything else aboard was the purview of the Assarian crew, who had planned to head back towards the shores of Igrathad as soon as the parley concluded. There were no scheduled stops for trade, and thus, no trade goods in their hold. There weren’t even guns to offer. Essek would never dare to admit it aloud, but the Dynasty lagged sorely behind the rest of Wildemount in outfitting its fleet with the relatively new technology of cannonry, at least of the type that lacked a magical component. Firearms had only entered the sphere of weaponmaking some thirty years prior, and with Xhorhas primarily landlocked, the navy hadn’t been high on the priority list for refurbishment.

His best hope was that some of the crew had hidden stashes of coin in their quarters. Otherwise, there would be nothing for the pirates to take, and without anything to satisfy them, well… he did not want to be in manacles when that news was delivered to a man who’d already put a sword to his throat.

If only to convince himself he was not totally beaten yet, Essek watched Tusktooth and the redhead carefully, seeing what he could glean from body language alone. Their conversation was hushed but tense, and every few moments the redhead would turn his eyes towards the drow delegation, and then to Essek himself. He made sure to drop his own eyes before they could meet again, not wanting to spark another confrontation by appearing insolent. As for the pirate captain… there was confidence, yes, but the unwavering edge of confidence seemed to drop away from his shoulders as he spoke to the other man. His arms moved more wildly; his words were more rapid, and at a higher pitch. Perhaps his earlier confidence was not so unshakeable as it at first appeared.

At last, Beau and the goblin re-emerged from the staircase. “We got shit all,” Beau said, tossing down a half-empty sack by Essek’s feet. He winced as a few bruised tubers rolled out across the warped deck.

“...Shit.” Tusktooth ran a hand over his mouth. “Shit. Nothing?”

“Nott and I checked every inch of that hold, the crew quarters, everything. No money, no timber, no – fuck, I don’t know – fine silks or–”

“No cannons,” Nott added mournfully. “No black powder.”

“We went through all this for nothing?”

“Maybe someone’s holding out on us,” Nott said, brandishing her crossbow. “I could make ‘em talk for you, Captain. Make them squeal–”

“Oh–kay, Nott,” Tusktooth said, “let’s take it down a notch.” But despite his placating tone, his look was thoughtful. Again, he turned to Essek. “You never never did say what you all were doing out here, so far from home. You don’t look like a sailor to me.”

“Yes, friend,” said the redhead, stepping up to Essek from Tusktooth’s other side, alarmingly calm, and placing altogether too much emphasis on the second word to be trusted, “what is it you do here?” Essek took a half-step back, not liking the feeling of being pressed in from all angles, and walked himself straight into the chest of the giantess.

Nowhere to hide. And with his hands bound behind his back, no way to levitate up to a level where he didn’t feel every inch of height his captors had over him. Which, at his firmly average height for a drow, was many.

Focus, Thelyss. Focus.

“Why should I answer your questions,” he sneered, “when you have not done me the same courtesy? Who are you, to board a vessel commissioned lawfully by the Bright Queen herself?” It was a dangerous ploy, but a considered one – a hastily calculated risk. If the pirates could not be convinced there was nothing of value to be found, they might decide to punish the crew for concealing their rightful prize, and when even a beating couldn’t drive his compatriots to forfeit non-existent gold, the pirates might well scuttle the ship and leave them all to drown at sea. He doubted simple brigands would care much for the particulars of a diplomatic mission if there was no treasure involved, so there was little harm in broaching a subject that might be far more dangerous to discuss with more educated captors.

But apparently, some aspect of Essek’s logic had failed him again, because the redhead immediately shot a wide-eyed look at Tusktooth, before looking back to Essek. “The Bright Queen?”

Essek gave a little bow. His head swam as he dipped back up – the handcuffs, no doubt, though it could just as easily be the beginnings of heatstroke – and he had to swallow twice to find the fortitude to speak without slurring. “Essek Thelyss, Shadowhand of the Kryn Dynasty and ambassador of the realm.” The last part was an… embellishment, and if he chanced a glance over at the true ambassadors, he imagined there would be many offended looks. But thankfully, all attention was solely focused on him. “I assure you, you won’t find the prize you’re looking for on a diplomatic vessel, gentleman. Your friends have already given you proof – we carry nothing beyond our own provision. Unless you have a particular taste for the delicacies of Xhorhasian fashion, I’m afraid we have little to offer you.”

Nott snarled, but the redhead put up a hand. “Captain,” he said slowly, looking at Tusktooth. “Might I… make a suggestion?”

“You may.”

“It’s not something I’d usually propose, but times being what they are…” Tusktooth nodded grimly.

“We haven’t got many options left.”

“Precisely. I believe that our friend Mr. Thelyss here has lied to us.” He could laugh for the irony of it all; this was the most truthful Essek had been in years. “There is indeed something very valuable aboard this ship.” His blue eyes pierced through Essek, and it was only his determination to keep the – now violently pitching – contents of his stomach where they belonged, that stopped him from speaking up in his own defense.

“And that is...?”

“Himself.”

#critical role #essek thelyss #shadowgast #essek week #my writing #also since plank king essek is a... thing??? now #the timing seems appropriate lol #this fic is not that but it is still (eventual) pirate!Essek #and who doesn't love that

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sixteenthshen · 3 years

Text

post-finale stuff

Possible spoilers. Beware

Last night, I happened to check the scriptwriter's Weibo and saw that she had liked this fan's post. It's the only non-work related Weibo post that she had liked, so of course, I went to read it.

The fact that this is the only fan post she's given her approval to must mean that it is on point and she agrees with the characterisation. I thought it's pretty good, so I've gone ahead to translate it here. I own 0 rights to this. I just thought it's a good perspective that may help others like me who struggled with the ending.

I think I've mostly made my peace with it now, and to sum it up:

Just because someone doesn't love you the way you want them to doesn't mean they don't love you with all that they are.

A-Xu never once blamed Lao Wen for how things turned out because he understood that. And he’s clearly a better person than I am (lol).

Let me be clear about my stand - the real victim of how the drama unfolded in the last six episodes is WKX. When we feel our hearts ache for ZZS, it's because the show let down WKX (the character). If your heart is only hurting for WKX during episodes 33-34, you should try to ship WKX with someone else, ok? If you think the last six episodes were great and that WKX was very romantic (and only romantic), then I honestly don't know what to say.

I ship wenzhou. That means I like both Wen Kexing and Zhou Zishu. I want them to love each other, be good to each other and live happily ever after. And I want them not to be OOC.

The rest behind the cut. Spoilers for the whole drama.

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First, the source. Here is a link to that Weibo post, by 爱吐槽的栗小姐. I will delete this if requested by the OP - because this is really in a grey area imo. But I think the intention of a public post is for it to be shared? (especially something like this, which argues a point)

Secondly, the poster does try to be fair in her post, but as the problem here is WKX's ruined characterisation, ZZS's character is analysed primarily concerning this issue only. There's quite a bit left to ZZS's character and backstory that isn't relevant. I believe that's why the post doesn't elaborate on it, or so I hope.

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Ever since WKX faked his death, I received three to four waves of fellow sister fans' mournful wails: "Lao Wen actually faked his death; does he have a heart?" "They were supposed to be of the same heart and treat each other with honesty. How did they regress?" "What happened to their innate soulmate-ness?" "Why does A-Xu always say to face things together, yet Lao Wen always keeps his plans from him?" "A-Xu loves Lao Wen, yet Lao Wen only loves himself"…….

Wait. What have you guys misunderstood about the meaning of soulmates?

Soulmates are about values, but a person's behaviour… that's methodology FFS!

(Do they no longer teach this in political affairs class in high school anymore?)

Wenzhou, these soulmates, are incomparably compatible and mesh well in terms of values. According to the scriptwriter, the entire jianghu wants and tries to get the pieces of Glazed Armour, save the two of them. Not only do they not care for the peerless martial arts, immense power, nor the massive wealth that the Glazed Armour represents, they don't even care for the power they hold in their hands –Ghost Valley and the Window of Heaven. Both of them willing to give it up without a second thought.

Before they met each other, they were so tired of (ZZS) and so angry at (WKX) this earthly world that they didn't even want to live on anymore.

After they met each other, they gradually began to feel the warmth in this world again. How nice it would be if they could live in seclusion, hand in hand and just bask in the sun.

In this world, where everyone else is fighting for power or wealth, they are true soulmates. To intelligent people like them, whether or not they're honest about their identities or secrets is merely a matter of formality. They had already determined their attraction to the other's soul early on and have never doubted it.

There may be some here who would criticise loudly at this point, "Then can't you be more considerate for your soulmate (the actual phrased used is "spiritual companion")? A-Xu has said many times, let's face everything together, I'll bet that you will be honest with me. If you really love him, then why can't you care for his feelings?"

----- You guys, you've never been married.

If two souls meeting can naturally resolve all behavioural conflicts and disagreements, then the theory of "breaking in" * would not exist.

Let us take a look at what kind of a person WKX and ZZS each are.

Wen Kexing, he's a lone wolf.

After his parents' death and his entering the Ghost Valley, his smooth sailing life suddenly fell off a cliff. Ever since then, the only person he could rely on was himself. That deep-seated hatred is carved into his bones, yet he can't speak of it to anyone else. He isn't the same type of person as the rest of the ghosts in the Ghost Valley; he isn't the same type of person as A-Xiang, who he raised. If we talk about the world and everyone who lives in it, he doesn't have any fetters or feels any (positive) emotions.

His supposed craziness is a form of indifference. He's indifferent to others' lives, nor his own, because he just doesn't care. (T/N: I think he does care for his own life, but only for revenge, after that, he's indifferent. Indifferent isn't suicidal. I don't know why some fans seem to be confusing the two. Although he didn't plan to, if he somehow manages to stay alive after getting his revenge, WKX will continue to live on, even if it's only to keep A-Xiang happy because he is indifferent.)

Growing up like this, being solitary became his style. He's used to doing everything alone, used to making his own decisions, used to digesting all his emotions himself.

Every time he argues with A-Xu, he digests his emotions himself. The next day, he faces A-Xu with a smile again.

This is how he loves, to take it upon himself to face danger, difficulty and pain alone. It's how he had supported A-Xiang all these years in the Ghost Valley and what he's used to.

While Zhou Zishu, he's a lead horse (of a herd). **

Since a very young age, he's taught to take responsibility. He's used to bearing everything on his shoulders, be it the responsibility of his family or the responsibility for the Four Seasons Manor, even the responsibility for saving commoners from disasters.

Unlike the lone wolf, the lead horse is ultimately a social animal.

Regardless of his identity as the Manor Lord of the Four Seasons Manor or the Leader of the Window of Heaven, he's always the one to lead the herd and rarely fights alone. So, A-Xu not only has leadership ability but more than that, he also knows how to be tolerant and accepting of the differences of his team members. You can see the various ways he managed to influence Lao Wen along the road; he's firm when he needs to be and soft the other times. It's absolutely textbook in managing your lover workplace management.

Zhou Zishu believes in communication whenever there's a problem, that they should be open and honest. So, teamwork is what he's used to.

Does it mean that when a horse and lone wolf fall in love, that there won't be a breaking in period?

Obviously not.

I guess this is where some may say again, "isn't this part of a character's arc/development? The two of them quarrel time and time again. Did WKX not grow at all from it?"

Of course, after meeting each other, they both grew and saved each other.

When he first left Window of Heaven, A-Xu was lonely with regret. Unlike the lone wolf who's used to doing everything alone, a lead horse without the last of his herd has no way to bear the bone-deep loneliness and merciless self-recrimination.

ZZS wandered around this world aimlessly until Lao Wen started pestering him, until he picked up Zhang Chengling, right up until he felt he hadn't singlehandedly destroyed the Four Seasons Manor. This lead horse finally regained a goal in life. He gained a partner and a lover. Lao Wen sticks to him, Chengling relies on him, and the abandoned Four Seasons Manor became like-new in his hands. He finally reconciles with himself.

When he first came out of the valley, Lao Wen carried a rage strong enough to burn the world down. But when he met A-Xu, he also met the beauty of the world.

When the Four Sages of Anji died, WKX understood how he caused innocent suffering. When Gao Chong walked to his death knowingly, he understood that although some may desire power, they could still be righteous and upstanding people. When he learned of everything Long Que sacrificed to protect his family***, he finally relaxed his guard.

There were so many types of good people and things that he saw along this journey that he hadn't seen in the Ghost Valley. When A-Xu told him he was a good person as they basked in the sun, he genuinely wanted to return to the human (vs ghost) realm and be a good man.

Along their journey, A-Xu made up for the morals and values that WKX lost in the Ghost Valley and showed him a new world outlook. He appeased Lao Wen's anger, tempered his extremism. The process wasn't easy, but not that difficult either, because, in the end, Lao Wen is kind at heart.

But in the end, being a lone wolf is how he survived and succeeded in a place like the Ghost Valley. When A-Xu was so heavily injured and needed a lot of rest (for Wu Xi) to save his life, Lao Wen suddenly recalled his enemies and how such an excellent opportunity to take revenge just fell into his lap. Everything was in place, and all he needed to do was hide it from A-Xu; he could leave for a short while and have it settled quickly. Upon returning, he could then live happily ever after with his wife. To a crazy lone wolf, why would he not take a gamble?

What he couldn't predict was the news would've been leaked (to A-Xu), and he didn't know that by doing so, he would've forever lost his love.

Both of them were using their own methods to love the other person. Zhou Zishu is more forgiving and accepting because being forgiving is in his blood. While what WKX learned in his years in the Ghost Valley is -- love needs to be protected, like how he has A-Xiang, who he considers a sister, call himself master (to protect her).

Only when faced with painful consequences can a person's deep-rooted habits and approach to things change. So I don't think faking his death ruined the characterisation of Wen Kexing, but I regret that the last two episodes did not have a scene to show us Lao Wen's heartbreak when he learns the truth.

Until I know what it feels like to have lost you, I will only love you in my own way.

T/N:

*I can't think of the correct phrase for this as I don't read all that much about relationships >< please let me know if you know of it. Here, I'm referring to the process of wearing something new (like shoes) that will hurt at the start until it becomes soft and comfortable.

** I did some side-reading, and omg, A-Xu is TOTALLY the lead mare. Although he's not the stallion and weak/dying for most of the show, he's the head of their little family, and he expects "to be obeyed", aka, I'm not going to learn how to cook. Call me for dinner. Kthxbye.

From Rutgers' website: A herd of wild horses consists of one or two stallions, a group of mares, and their foals. The leader of the herd is usually an older mare (the "alpha mare"), even though one stallion owns the herd. She maintains her dominant role even though she may be physically weaker than the others. The older mare has had more experiences, more close encounters, and survived more threats than any other horse in the herd. The requirement of the lead horse is not strength or size; if this were so, then humans could never dominate a horse. Dominance is established not only through aggression but also through attitudes that let the other horses know she expects to be obeyed.

***I think this is important here because WKX wasn't crying for his loss. I think a big part of him was realising not everyone in the world was callous and turned their backs on his parents, that he could've gone his whole life without ever discovering what sacrifices some people have made. Good people suffer quietly and in silence. It's a big moment to realise he was wrong about many things that he had let hatred blind himself to the world. Because although he was sad about the Four Sages and somewhat shocked by Gao Chong's death, he hadn't truly faced up to his actions until now.

(screenshot of the scriptwriter liking the above post)

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To add:

I'm not sure how many of you read my "opinion" posts, but I've been struggling to find a way to accept the last six episodes of Word of Honor. I first tried looking at open forum postings, comments, and Tumblr posts. None of it worked because it was just arguing and emotions and no one made points good enough for me to accept things.

So I gave up and went back to reading Chinese sites. I found many posts discussing the plot. Some I liked, some I didn't, but none satisfied my need for a reasonable explanation. I felt they had biases (both ways), or else it lacked logic. After a time, I realised that I should be looking for WKX-stans (or pro-WKX fans) because they would be more motivated to explain his side, but also because well-written posts by wenzhou-fans & ZZS-stans made me super sad.

I'm sorry, but those who keep trying to explain why the ending was good completely missed that episodes 32-34 are the real problem to those who don't like it and only focused on 36. I can understand if people don't think those episodes are a problem, but no one could provide an articulate and sensible reason. There are just too few well-reasoned plot-focused posts in English (sorry). I've seen too many examples of WKX-fans arguing with people who are upset about the ending, backed by nothing more than "look how much WKX suffers, woe is him. And how romantic is this????" *dies*

Lastly, if you spot anything inaccurate, let me know & I will correct it.

#word of honor #word of honor meta #wenzhou #opinion #i think this counts as meta #if you think the drama did WKX justice #and that he can do no wrong #in the last 6 episodes #....#......#srsly #you can't claim to ship wenzhou #& think the last 6 eps are perfect

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comfyswitcherblanketfort · 3 years

Text

Pomegranate Seeds 3

well we got some BIG projecting going on here. if yall didn’t know i had mommy issues before, you sure as fuck do now 😂😂😂

Warnings: insecure Jask, allusions to verbally abusive/manipulative parents, lmao rebellious jask, good ole miscommunication between jask and geralt - but solved quickly, lol swearing

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Letter after letter reached Jaskier in the underworld, and time after time, he destroyed them. He didn’t tell Geralt, telling himself it was because the ruler of the underworld had more important things to deal with. He didn’t want to admit he was scared Geralt would send him packing.

Eventually, Demeter resorted to threats. Threats of famine that she followed through on. She underestimated just how like her Jaskier was, though. He didn’t dignify her tantrum with a response.

When she sent messengers, he started to worry.

He told Charon to alert him, not Geralt, if another god or goddess came to visit, even one of the more senior demigods. He didn’t want to take any chances. Geralt didn’t need to know anyway.

But Geralt noticed something was off.

Jaskier would say he was tired, or he couldn’t perfect a specific verse of the song he was writing. Usually it worked, but it was only ever a salve, never a cure, for Geralt’s suspicions.

“What’s wrong, love?” Geralt cradled him in his lap, lounging in the now lavish courtyard under the pomegranate tree Jaskier had brought back from the brink of death.

Jaskier nuzzled closer, “I’m just ti-”

“No, I asked you what’s wrong,” Geralt insisted, giving him a gentle squeeze and placing a kiss to the top of his head.

“It’s nothing,” Jaskier lied, hoping the sigh he accidentally let slip didn’t register, “You don’t need to worry about it.”

Geralt hummed and went quiet for a moment before he curled a bit tighter around Jaskier and whispered, “Do you want to go home?”

Jaskier scrambled up, sputtering and terrified, “Did she get to you?!” When Geralt just looked at him with an unreadable expression he started to panic, feeling hot tears welling up in his eyes as he did his best to keep his voice steady, “Don’t send me back. Please, Geralt. Anything but that.”

“I’d never,” Geralt soothed, standing and hesitantly reaching for Jaskier’s hand.

He eyed the offer warily, sniffing and trying to calm himself, “Then why would you say that?”

“I thought you were unhappy. You’ve been… acting strange.”

Jaskier ignored Geralt’s outstretched hand, choosing to wrap himself around Geralt’s torso and bury his face in the crook of his neck, “I’m sorry. I’ll be better tomorrow. It’s just, uhm. I’m just a bit off.”

Geralt instinctively held him tighter, “Jaskier I want you to be happy, not ‘better’.”

Jaskier just hummed, swallowing back his unshed tears.

“Who were you talking about?”

For a moment, Jaskier had to remind himself to breathe before he could respond, “Hm?”

“You asked if someone had ‘gotten’ to me?”

Tears spilled regardless of Jaskier’s best efforts, “My mother. She wants me to come back. She’s been sending letters and messengers.”

“And you don’t want to?”

“Never,” Jaskier insisted, “This is the most freedom I've ever had. I don’t have to hide in the treetops to feel any sense of calm, I get to make decisions, I make things grow when I want, for whom I want.”

Geralt ran a hand over his hair, resting it at the base of his skull and brushing his thumb through the little hairs behind his ear, “You don’t ever have to leave. I love you. I want you here.”

“I love you too,” Jaskier whispered, “I’m just scared.”

Geralt gently pushed him back just enough to look into his eyes, “There’s a way you could stay forever…”

The hopeful glint in his eyes told Geralt everything he needed to know, so he continued, “If you eat even one pomegranate seed you will be tethered to the underworld. You can stay and do whatever pleases you. But it is irreversible. One bite and your fate is forever tied to this place.”

Jaskier thought about it for a moment, searching Geralt’s eyes for something, anything, that could make the decision for him, “I could never leave?”

“Only if the both of us willed it and only for a short time,” Geralt explained, tenderly wiping his tears away, “I could never keep you here if you were miserable. Try as I might to think about anything else, your happiness consumes much of my thoughts.”

“Hmm,” Jaskier leaned into Geralt’s touch, turning his head to kiss his palm, “Do I need to decide right now?”

Geralt kissed his forehead, “Of course not. It’s just an option.”

“Okay,” Jaskier sighed, curling his fingers around the robes cascading down Geralt’s back, “I like it - the idea. I just… I want to take my time?”

“Absolutely.”

Time wasn’t something Jaskier was allowed apparently.

The two of them were just climbing out of a lovely bath when a chattering skeleton announced the arrival of a visitor.

Demeter stood in the throne room with her back turned to them, examining one of the glowing diamonds when they entered. She looked so small, almost insignificant. Her hair was in an intricate braid, she wore a cream toga, adorned with gold that made her look more like a savior than the horror she really was.

Jaskier gripped Geralt’s hand tightly and pulled them to a halt, knowing very well Demeter wanted him to speak first. It was a stand off he was familiar with. If he spoke first she had the upper hand, hearing his tone and picking apart his words. She always knew how particular her son was with words.

“Julek. It’s time to go.”

Her voice echoed off the stone walls as she calmly stated her order, not even bothering to turn and look at him.

Jaskier took a deep breath and squeezed Geralt’s hand, not looking at him for fear of crying, “No.”

“Playtime is over. You have duties. The humans did not prepare for you to leave. They’re calling it winter,” she snorted as if the idea was as ridiculous as standing on your head in a temple.

Jaskier grit his teeth, feeling the rage bubble up in his chest, “I don’t care.”

“Clearly,” She rounded on him with a condescending look of disappointment, “It doesn’t matter if you care. They’re still your responsibility.”

Jaskier took a step forward, “A responsibility you assigned me. You fixed it before, fix it now.”

“I cant.”

“Tough shit.”

Jaskier wasn’t sure how any of his words were coming out without sounding absolutely hysterical, but he was glad for it. He glared at her, daring her to try again while internally he was scrambling for a plan.

“For this particular magic, I need you. Seasons will take more work than a year round harvest, but you have set them off nonetheless.” Demeter’s voice was softer than usual, though Jaskier didn’t miss the incincerity of her words. She’d raised him. He knew her, probably better than she knew herself for all the introspection she refused to take part in, and he knew she was playing games.

"Oh? Are you no longer capable?" Jaskier laughed bitterly as he turned to walk toward the courtyard, "The great goddess of plenty and harvest can't sustain what she's built? Unfortunate. I am good at what I do here. I am so good at caring about the souls that end up in our audience-"

"Our!?"

"DONT interrupt me," Jaskier shouted, turned and stomped his heel into the ground making vines burst forth from the marble beneath them, wrapping around Demeter's waist and mouth, "I have also found I'm rather adept at torture when necessary. I love it down here! I love being able to right wrongs and show the righteous to Elysium. I love having a purpose to my actions, not just being someone's unappreciated trophy! And I love Geralt. He treats me so well and loves me so sweetly and wants only to make me happy. Nothing about your 'seasons' and 'bringing life' interests me in the slightest, Demeter. Because that's not who I am. I am rage and justice and I am to be feared, not manipulated. Take your failing crops and go." Jaskier waved a hand dismissively and the vines disappeared back into the ground.

Without looking back, he strode toward the pomegranate tree in the center of the garden, plucking a fruit from the nearest branch and turning to glare at his mother. Geralt was hot on his heels, glancing between the two but keeping quiet. Jaskier had told him he wanted to confront her himself, without her thinking he’d been told what to say. So Geralt stood by and seethed.

Jaskier pulled a knife from the holster in Geralt’s belt and sliced a nice section out of the pomegranate.

“Don’t you dare.” Demeter snarled, standing at the edge of the courtyard.

Jaskier smirked and peeled the white fiber from the blood red seeds with a casual sigh, “I don’t think your opinion matters much here.”

Jaskier flipped the knife in the air and caught it by the blade, maintaining eye contact with Demeter as he handed it back to Geralt.

“Are you sure?” Geralt’s voice was just a whisper as he took the blade.

Jaskier picked a particularly dark red seed from it’s home and turned to look at him, “There’s absolutely nowhere else I’d rather be, my love.”

With that he popped the seed in his mouth.

#geraskier #geraskier greek mythology au #geraskier greek mythology #geralt as hades #jaskier as persephone #hades and persephone #geraskier fic #geraskier au #the witcher fic #the witcher au #geralt of rivia #jaskier #geralt #jask #jullian alfred pankratz #god i wish i had a greek god sugar daddy to live with like jask so i could throw down like this #but alas #i live in reality

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somethingvaguetodo · 3 years

Text

Program: Outreach

For @into-september who requested “value me” from this prompt list. Read on AO3 here.

~~~

“Adrien A-Agreste?”

Adrien winced at the stutter that preceded his last name, but stood, straightening his jacket before turning to the woman with what he hoped was a sincere smile.

“That’s me.”

She bit her lip before smiling tentatively back. “I’m Lena LaRoe.” Adrien held out his hand to shake hers and she stared at it, as if he had offered her a snake's head instead of a regular hand. Self-conscious, he let his fingers ball into a fist and dropped his arm to hang uselessly by his side. “You can come with me.”

She spun on her patent black heel and walked toward a door past the reception area. Adrien hurried to follow her, nodding politely at the receptionist who quickly tried to pretend she wasn’t just staring at him in shock.

Adrien breathed a sigh of relief once the door closed behind him, and the hall was wonderfully absent of any inquisitive eyes.

Adrien absolutely loved the Miraculous Center for Emotional Support. The non-profit was established by Paris’s heroes and funded by the government and generous donors, with the intention of serving the emotional needs of Paris’s citizens, especially those who had been akumatized, targeted by akumas, or generally traumatized by the terror that had gripped Paris for years. And normally, everyone at the Center loved him too. But that’s when he was here as Chat Noir.

Right now he was Adrien Agreste, son of the infamous Hawkmoth.

He could see the difference in everyone he had encountered already. Gus, the security guard, had given him a dirty look while he checked in. Carlie at the reception desk didn’t attempt to hide her slack-jawed expression. Lena, who was normally professional but friendly to Chat Noir, couldn’t meet his eye, and stumbled over his last name like she was uttering the most offensive curse.

It was nothing new, but it didn’t hurt any less.

Lena stepped aside and let Adrien pass into her office. She followed him inside, almost closing the door. She stopped before it clicked closed, swinging it open again and leaving it a few inches open. It was almost as if she was afraid of being closed into the room with him - like he was going to akumatize her just by being near.

Adrien swallowed back a scream of frustration and sat down.

“Well, M. Agreste,” Lena said, managing not to choke on his name this time, which Adrien hoped was a good sign. “Thank you for coming in to talk with me today.”

“Thank you for offering me an interview,” Adrien countered. As upset as he was at the reaction he had gotten so far at the Center, it was nowhere near as bad as all of the other places where he had applied for jobs. It seemed like, no matter what industry, and no matter what qualifications he had, no one wanted to hire a terrorist’s son.

It was a little crazy of him, applying for a job at the Center when he was often here as Chat Noir. But it was work he loved, a place he was happy, and… well… his dwindling trust fund could only last him for so long.

He wondered, briefly, what Ladybug would think if she knew.

“I...well…” Lena looked uncomfortable, like she didn't really want to offer him an interview but wasn’t given a choice. “Of course.” She took a deep breath before pasting on something of a smile. “Why don’t you tell me about what makes you interested in this position?”

“Of course. I have my degree in…” He trailed off, realizing that reciting his resumé wasn't going to get him anywhere. It never did. He went for some form of honesty. “Listen, you’ve got my resumé, you don’t want to hear that from me. I’m here because I think this is the most worthwhile work I could do. I want to help people. I know what it’s like to feel overwhelmed by your emotions, and to feel like you have no support and no one to turn to. I’d like to do anything I can do to help people who are struggling in that way.”

Lena gave an uncomfortable sigh. “That’s a wonderful sentiment, Adrien. I just… can I be honest with you?”

“I would appreciate that.”

She leaned both elbows on the desk, resting her chin on her folded hands. “Do you really think that it would bring people comfort to come here and see…?”

“The son of Hawkmoth,” he bitterly finished her sentence.

Lena winced, but didn’t back down. “I’m sorry if that seems harsh, but it’s reality.”

Adrien felt his carefully crafted professional façade start to crack. Maybe he should have thought this through before coming here. Now, he would never be able to think about Lena, or anyone else here, the same.

“Right,” he said, before he could let something more frustrated slip out. “Well, I guess I’ve taken up enough of your time.” He started to stand, but Lena gestured him back down.

“Not quite yet. The boss wants to speak with you.”

Adrien was confused - Lena was the head of human resources, she really didn’t have a boss - but made sure he didn’t show it. She pressed a button on the intercom, and they sat together in tense silence. A moment later there was a light knock on the door, and it was nudged open.

Ladybug walked into the room.

That was unexpected. Adrien was worried - did his presence in the building really warrant calling in the big guns? But at the same time, he felt a million times calmer. How could he not; after all, his best friend just came in.

“Hello,” Ladybug said, her voice and her eyes soft. She took a seat in the empty chair next to him.

Lena looked between them, clearly waiting for Ladybug to start talking. Ladybug looked back, annoyed, but if he didn’t know her so well, he never would have detected it. “Your application created quite the stir here, Adrien.”

“I didn’t mean to…”

“I don’t really understand why I was called in, though,” Ladybug steamrollered over him. “I’ve never made hiring decisions before.”

“It’s not that,” Lena finally spoke. “We just thought that it would be helpful to have you on hand in this instance -”

“What?” Ladybug cut her off. “In case he akumatized someone?” Ladybug’s eyes were hard, and her tone was sharp. She was radiating righteous fury. “Might I remind you, Mlle. LaRoe, that Adrien was never accused of association with his father? That he was a minor at the time when Hawkmoth was active and apprehended, and by all means was just as much a victim of his father’s cruelty as the rest of Paris, if not more so? This entire organization was founded on the basis of understanding and respect, and I’m extremely disappointed to learn that this is the approach you had to Adrien’s desire to work here.”

“By showing a desire to come here, Adrien is demonstrating compassion, kindness, and empathy. The desire to help others and do something bigger than himself. By coming here, meeting with you, walking through the halls of this building while people looked out of the corners of their eyes and whispered and gossiped, Adrien is showing that he has the mental fortitude to overcome any adversity. Why, I think he’s the bravest, strongest, and most admirable person I’ve ever met. And if you don’t believe that that is the kind of person that I would want to work alongside, then you have no idea what true bravery and heroism really is.”

Ladybug was staring down Lena, who at least had the decency to look ashamed. Adrien couldn’t take his eyes off his partner, who had defended him with such ferocity, even though she didn’t know him. If possible, he fell a little deeper in love with her.

“I’m sorry,” Lena said, properly chastised.

Ladybug blinked, as if just realizing what had happened. Her cheeks pinkened slightly. “Well… I think that covers it.” She looked down, clearly embarrassed and scraped her toe along the edge of Lena’s desk.

“Of course.” Lena turned toward Adrien. “I think you would make a wonderful addition to the team, Adrien. We’ll do some research into which department would be the best fit for your skills.”

Adrien could barely believe his ears. Ladybug’s fierce exclamation on his character had earned him a job offer on the spot? “I… wow… thank you.”

“Actually,” Ladybug spoke up again, the coloring in her face now back to normal. “I was thinking of having him work with Mlle. Dupain-Cheng.” She turned her body toward him. “Marinette works in program outreach. I think you two will work well together.”

Adrien held her gaze, feeling like something was passing between them. He wondered what it meant that she had come in with an idea of what department she wanted him in, and with someone in mind to work with.

“I’ll be in touch with an offer letter,” Lena said, standing. Adrien rose to meet her. This time, she was the one to reach out a hand for him to shake. He took it, feeling a million times better than when he first came in.

“I’ll walk you out,” Ladybug said, leaving no room for argument. He followed her in silence out of the office, down the hall, and past the reception desk. Carlie still didn’t hide the fact that she was staring, but her gaze meant nothing to him now.

Adrien didn’t speak until they reached the front doors. “Thank you, Ladybug, for what you said about me in there.”

Ladybug waved him aside. “I was just speaking the truth.”

“Not many people feel that way about me.”

Her eyes softened, and she reached out to touch his arm. “It's the truth that I see. I guess I never realized just how prejudiced people are about you until it hit home here.”

Adrien smiled at her. “So that’s why you went to bat for me like that?”

“Can I make a confession?” Ladybug bit her lip and waited for him to nod before continuing. “I was standing outside the office the whole time, and I heard what you said to Lena about feeling overwhelmed, and unsupported. That’s exactly why this company was started, and that’s exactly the type of people Chat and I envisioned staffing it.” Ladybug’s eyes gleamed suddenly, like they were sharing a private joke. “Speaking of Chat… you reminded me of him.”

He felt the old panic of his secret identity rising. “Chat? Chat Noir? Really?”

Ladybug’s smile was sheepish. “In a way. He… don’t tell him I said this, but he puts on a show. His big personality is there to hide just how vulnerable he can be sometimes. I know him pretty well and... let’s just say he didn't have the best upbringing either. So, you reminded me of him.”

As his heart rate settled back down, Adrien thought about it. Would it really be so bad if she knew he was Chat Noir? He knew that she cared for Chat, but after everything that happened with his father, he always feared that she would shy away from him if she learned that he was Adrien Agreste. But maybe today, he learned that he really didn’t have anything to worry about.

“That’s quite a compliment.”

Ladybug shrugged. “It's the highest compliment I can think of.” It looked like she wanted to say more, but couldn’t find the words.

He decided to let her off the hook. “I should get going.”

“Of course,” she agreed, reaching out to shake his hand. He let his fingers envelope hers, the smooth texture of her suit sliding against his skin. “I’m glad you’ll be joining us.”

“You think I’ll be good in program outreach?”

She smiled again, this time full of warmth. Their hands were still connected. “I think it’s the perfect place for you. And I know Marinette will be eager to work with you.”

There was something there, a secret wrapped in her words and her smile and the glint in her eyes, but Adrien figured that he could start figuring that out once his job started. For now, he let himself bask in the warmth of Ladybug’s approval, and the knowledge that no matter what people did and said, she would always be in his corner.

#my writing #mlb #fanfiction #ml fanfiction #ml fanfic #adrien agreste #marinette dupain cheng #ladybug #chat noir #ladrien #ladynoir #ladybug knows?#maybe?

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lostsoulaltair · 3 years

Text

OnS Character Analysis - Mikaela Hyakuya/Shindo

Hello everyone, after a good while, I feel inspired again to update analysis and theories, therefore, let’s talk about something very sensitive, this character analysis will dwell around Mikaela Hyakuya, therefore, let’s begin!

P.S: Analysis are held within a neutral view and ships are excluded

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CKerqp5yOGo (fitting the mood)

Mikaela Hyakuya is known to be as one of the characters carrying a painful life ever since he was a child; many might know that his parents weren’t the best one for him, along the fact they were followers of the Hyakuya Sect. Of course, there was a time of blessing for him since he was able to find a beautiful family filled with kids; that made him feel responsible for them, specially when Yu arrived to his life and the vampires appeared.

It could be said that, despite the outcome of his childhood life, he was able to smile again thanks to the help of the Hyakuya orphanage kids along Yu’s arrival which only increased that happiness within him:

Image taken from Seraph of the End: Vampire Reign - Chapter 01

Of course, such happiness and peace didn’t last forever due to the arrival of the virus and the vampires; such events only made them become food for the vampires, they were gathered in order to keep them in order to not lose resources, and of course, such events would unleash a tragedy, a tragedy that would crush the minds of two kids, being Mika and Yu:

Image taken from Seraph of the End: Vampire Reign - Chapter 01

As many might recall, we’ve seen Yu’s side but, what about Mikaela?

After Mikaela became a vampire, his happy demanor changed drastically, as a half vampire, he was disgusted with himself, he hated living with the curse he was imposed with even if such curse would lead him to meet Yu again, but within this, he saw the hidden truth of the world, which was about how humans performed secret experiments which eventually would lead him to not trust humans:

Image taken from Seraph of the End: Vampire Reign - Chapter 39

But within this, after reuniting with Yu, he aimed to live, he aimed to trust even a little the humans Yu labeled as family; but of course, due to his distrustful nature along the fact of what happened in the past, he wasn’t able to open up to them, he wasn’t able to communicate better with Yu’s friend even if they respected him and treated him as an equal.

Image taken from Seraph of the End: Vampire Reign - Chapter 43

Within the short period lived with the squad, he did grow to the point he did care about what they thought and decided. Mika could have taken different paths against them but at the end, he followed them and walked down as a family even if he couldn’t forget his first important family.

After some time, Mika would fight all together with the squad when it came to face down enemies; and of course, within the story, we’d see his hate towards Guren Ichinose, which, to certain extend is justified since he only saw one side of Guren in the whole story, he didn’t see the side Yu managed to see back when he was rescued or picked up outside of the vampire capital.

It could be said that, before the tragedy, Mika’s mentality was all focused on protecting his last remaining family and important person. All he aimed was to have a bit of peace instead of fighting aimlessly, but of course things went down. Peace wasn’t something that could be achieved easily.

But, when exactly were we able to grasp Mika’s mental health or rather what he felt towards his own self?

The first time we were able to see his real emotions were back in this panel:

Image taken from Seraph of the End: Vampire Reign - Chapter 89

Back when they were fighting against Guren, Mika aimed to unleash a powerful attack towards Guren, of course, Guren’s plan was to halt him but that did only the opposite, Mika kept going until he released all the blood his body harbored in order to save Yu, but within this, there’s something to be cleared, what could it be?

Correct. Mika never saw himself as someone righteous, but rather, as a disgusting creature, someone who lost his chance to live the same way as Yu did, someone who lost the power to label himself as human even if his “heart” was human like (a metaphor dear readers, Mika’s emotions were human despite his vampire state)

After these events, Mika became a demon, and of course, this takes over a theory I updated 2 months ago:

OnS Theories (17S). Twelfth Theory - Mikaela’s Samsara and Demon Mikaela (Sad Theory)

The demon Mikaela awoke as a demon without memories, he awoke as someone who aimed to feed on human desires to sustain a dream world on which he gazed upon a small family living happily taking care of each other, even if he didn’t recall who he was at that time, he was happy gazing at them:

Image taken from Seraph of the End: Vampire Reign - Chapter 98

And of course, as I stated in the theory linked in there, Mikaela’s world or samsara is made out of what his heart truthfully wished, a world on which he could be happy with his family, but, of course, the price for it is to destroy his memories of who he was in order gaze upon an unreachable dream.

The world his soul resided happily is a reflection of what he couldn’t protect back when he was alive, and this is heavily exploted in the latest chapter in a very gruesome way:

Image taken from Seraph of the End: Vampire Reign - Chapter 101

After the demons invaded Mikaela’s samsara, the demon Mikaela wasn’t able to keep the fight against those 3, allowing Asuramaru reach what he aimed to protect, thus leading to a small chase until he managed to unveil what Mika desired the most, which is to receive all the blame of his decisions.

But what does this represent?

This represents the huge and damaged heart, mind and soul Mikaela has.

In terms of his heart, he couldn’t cope over the fact that he wasn’t strong enough to protect the kids he loved the most, including Yu; he knew from the depthness of his heart that he simply allowed everything happen without thinking when us as readers are aware the fact that Ferid Bathory is smarter than Mika, that he always had the upperhand against him.

In terms of his mind, he feels deep regret, he feels rage towards his own self and disgust of what he ended up becoming, he hates the fact that he ended up leading his family to a trap on which they’d lose their life; he hates the fact he got turned into a vampire and that is heavily reflected by how he sees himself as a vampire in previous chapters; and most of all, he feels like a total failure for not being able to rescue the last member of his family which is Yu; what do I mean?

He feels he failed to protect Yu from the experiments; their escape only lead him to think everything ended up as misfortune.

As for his soul, his soul only desired to get a happy time with his family, but the fact that regret and grief filled it instead of something positive, it only made him think of mentally punish himself, he constantly gave dark thoughts about humans, about vampires, and mostly about himself, he reached a point on which his mental health tore apart and what only kept him going was the fact Yu was his only family left from the one that saved him from despair.

The fact that he finally broke down in the recent chapter shows all the pain he has carried within himself:

Image taken from Seraph of the End: Vampire Reign - Chapter 101

Despite the fact that the demon Mikaela has no memories of himself, and the reason is because he views what his soul wished for at the loss of his memories, but the fact that he ended up crying reflects a lot what his inner self always felt, that despair of not being able to save up what he wished to protect, for alwayss being weak.

The fact that Mika’s life has been a constant torture and samsara, on which he reached a point of drowning on his dark thoughts, reflects how much he has endured deep within his heart.

It can be said that, Mikaela Hyakuya/Shindo is a guy with a tender heart that always worries about those who he cares the most, but the fact that the scenarios he has faced ended up taking away what he loved, has only destroyed and shattered him slowly to pieces in an endless circle of pain and constant torture.

Of course, as any samsara, this one will be shattered.

What do you think dear readers?

Let me know!

gif belongs to yaboku

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