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rirururu · 2 years

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Why Bachira x Isagi (Blue Lock) is One of the Best Ships of All Time

WARNING: SPOILERS FOR UP TO CHAPTER 86 OF THE MANGA

I’ll be honest and say that while Isagi and Bachira’s dynamic in the first arc was cute, it wasn’t anything that stood out to me too much. It seemed like a very typical sports anime type relationship at first. The main character shoots. His friend is there for him and passes to him so he can shine. They have good chemistry. They achieve results together that would be un-imaginably amazing compared to when they were apart. We’ve seen it so many times before already. Kageyama and Hinata, Kuroko and Kagami, Mihashi and Abe; the list goes on.

That all stops when the second selection starts.

Bachira was forced to leave and suddenly Isagi has to fight on his own. He recognizes that up until now, he’s only been useful because of Bachira and in order to get him back, has to learn to fight without him. And, contrary to what we’re made to believe in the first selection that Isagi is better when with Bachira, the truth is that Isagi actually thrives without Bachira. In fact, he gets so powerful that even an outsider like Nagi who initially called him worthless without Bachira genuinely believed that Isagi would decide against stealing Bachira back by the end.

As for Bachira, he’s given a hard wake-up call when he finally sees Isagi again. He recognizes how much better Isagi is without him to the point of Isagi ignoring him on the field, and that sets the part of himself that can only feel alive when he’s with Isagi off. It’s only with this wake-up call that Bachira realizes everything he’s thought up until now was wrong. That’s when we get a parallel to what Isagi did for Bachira in learning to fight without him in order to get him back. In exchange for being able to stand on the same level as and not be left behind by Isagi, Bachira threw away his purpose of playing soccer as his way to connect with Isagi. He realized he shouldn’t do things for the sake of staying by Isagi’s side. He should be doing things for his own growth. Bachira did this fully believing and grieving that he was giving up on being with Isagi. So much so that in his head, Bachira says goodbye to him. And in a similar fashion to Isagi, that’s the moment we learn that Bachira is actually stronger without him.

They both had to get stronger out of desperation to stay together, and consequently abandoned that part of themselves that depended on each other in the first place.

I want to pause right here and just applaud the author. I know Blue Lock has been praised as being a subversion of a ton of sports manga tropes and this is probably one of the most fantastic examples. We’re so used to the protagonist-and-partner combination being put on a pedestal. But here, it’s deconstructed right in front of us to show how it actually hinders both Isagi and Bachira as strikers and as people. And honestly? It felt like that would be it. I remember my heart dropping when I reached that point in the manga. Logically they would go their separate ways in a mutual break-up.

But they don’t. In the final scene of the soccer match, we see that everyone hadn’t believed in Bachira’s ego since long ago while Isagi had never stopped believing in him. Isagi caught Bachira’s winning goal. I thought that was a perfect parallel to their first meeting when Bachira passed the ball to the monster and then Isagi became the monster. This time Bachira abandoned the monster. There was no monster anymore because Bachira left it behind but even when the monster was gone, Isagi was still there. It's symbolic of how he doesn't see Isagi as just a monster anymore. He sees Isagi as Isagi, signaling a new era in their relationship.

And that’s also when Bachira realizes that just because he’s grown away from needing Isagi, just because he doesn’t live to make Isagi stronger anymore, just because he’s embracing that part of him that plays soccer solitarily for himself, doesn’t mean Isagi won’t still be there with him and believing in him. Bachira could change as much as he wants and the other won’t leave. They don’t need each other anymore, but that’s exactly what allows them to realize that being together makes them so happy, makes soccer so much fun, that they want to stick together until the very end anyway.

(Or the official translation / scans)

This direction for their relationship seems bittersweet but I think that’s what makes it realistic. Relationships are multi-faceted and they change over time. Isagi and Bachira had to say goodbye to one aspect of their relationship but they also gained a new one. They both used to rely on each other a lot to be their very best. That mutualistic symbiotic relationship they had in soccer, that is the crutch in so many sports anime, is gone now. Bachira and Isagi aren’t necessary to each other in soccer anymore. Personally though, I think this new dynamic actually makes them closer than they were before.

To Bachira, Isagi used to be a person he needed to pass to because he’s a monster and someone who staved off his loneliness. To Isagi, Bachira used to be someone who made good passes to help him function in soccer. I think the fact that Bachira was so easily swayed to making Rin his new “monster” made it evident. As they continue to grow as strikers, they’ll be cycling through teammates most suited to their skillset. Teammates come and go. What Isagi and Bachira are to each other evolved past that, beyond the soccer field, and became something that would stay with them their entire lives. There is no “I’m with Isagi because if I can’t play soccer with him, I would die from loneliness” or “I’m with Bachira because he lets me be invincible on the field” anymore. They’re together because they want to be and because they love each other (platonically or romantically). That’s all.

(Manga panel taken from an AMV on youtube)

And I think that’s beautiful. It’s beautiful because this is what true unconditional love looks like. I know what the manga did to them might not be the “popular” thing. Ships that are super dependent on each other and need each other to live are the ones that get views because it’s seen as romantic. But Bachisagi / Isabachi abandoned that to instead become one of the healthiest relationships you could possibly get not just in a sports anime but in general.

I mean, wow. I wish I had someone who wanted to be with me and had the emotional capacity to always believe in me no matter how much I changed, disappointed, and grew away from centering my world around them. I wish I had someone who could say that they don’t need me anymore but that’s exactly why they can say in full confidence that they still want me with all their heart. Bachisagi is seriously #relationshipgoals more than most married couples.

In conclusion, Bachira/Isagi deserves way more recognition and I will happily scream into the void with the other 6 of you out there who ship them /j

#bachisagi #isabachi #blue lock #bachira meguru #isagi yoichi #bllk #abbreviating blue lock as BLLK to avoid calling it BL is hilarious #blue lock manga #meta #discourse #manga #manga spoilers

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lesbiansforboromir · 3 months

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After the war. (dndrabble)

Well the poll said to throw it down raw but it turns out I'm incapable of doing that so just a few notes;

Sataro and Vekna are of an ancient race of high elves whose civilisation was entirely obliterated about 3000 years ago by a great cataclysm. This civilisation had had a historical tradition of nomadic life and worship of a primal god of fire (kossuth), but that was being suppressed by it's leader's own imperialist designs that valued a static population and military conquest. Sataro was a field-marshal in the army and from a middle-class family, Vekna was a Paladin of the old religion and came from a sub-section of society that still held to entirely nomadic life.

During a sudden attack upon their capitol by giants, Sataro sacrificed herself in order to give civilians a chance to evacuate. She would have died of her injuries but Vekna used some amalgamation of purpose and divinity to preserve her in stone, alive but still and barely conscious. This statue was placed in an old monastery and eventually forgotten.

Sataro awoke properly 3000 years later and was inducted into a dnd campaign. She believed all her people long dead, including her wife, and had been internally struggling with what her life could even mean to her when everything that HAD ever meant anything to her was gone.

During the campaign, after returning to the last remnant of the continent that Sataro's civilisation used to be on and, finding an abandoned dwarven kingdom called Bane Anvil, the Party ALSO found the dwarven king of the place preserved alive in it's vault. He had paused time somehow, awaiting the moment he would be needed again. And with him, Sataro found Vekna too. Apparently, unable to move on, Vekna had befriended the dwarves and it's king and helped them with this stasis contraption just for the small possibility that she and Sataro might find each other again in this time (my DM did this to me without me knowing a single thing I was so normal about it you've no idea)

This drabble takes place after they have finally returned to the party's base of operations, a dwarven city that gives them a house as a reward for the king thing. It is the first time Sataro and Vekna had properly had a moment of real privacy and rest since they were reunited. o7

Oh pps addendum, this ancient race of High Elves lived in the frozen north lands and averaged 8ft tall. It was a running joke in my brain that Sataro, whom is 7'7, was actually considered short in her time but is now surprised to find that she dwarfs most people in this era.

After taking one look at the utterly unprepared bed in the room they had chosen, Sataro and Vekna had quietly sought, and found, three of the unclaimed mattresses throughout the house. All three mattresses joined their original single one on the floor and made up a wide bed that would have been luxuriously spacious to anyone but Vekna and Sataro.

"Big enough, you think?" Sataro asked without much faith.

"Of course not. There is no bed big enough in this sodden era."

"We made do in Redbite."

"You were on me like a fool clinging to a fight the night in Redbite."

Sataro quirked a brow at her wife, "And you were not?"

"Well, you are so little," Vekna drawled, "I was worried you might freeze to death without our… four quilts from home." She made a great show of counting all the layers Sataro's trancing once demanded and mirth quirked at her lips once she was done.

Sataro sent her a typically unamused glare, and Vekna responded to the call accordingly; with a shameless grin.

They sat in their stalemate for a moment before Sataro conceded a silent defeat and grunted, "Dekash.. But it is too warm here for clinging."

"We don't need covers." Vekna offered immediately, quicker than Sataro had expected.

"… I suppose the open window and sea breeze should keep it icey enough," she said, smiling.

"It will." Vekna assured decisively. And then continued in a grumble, "Beggars belief how quickly snow is left behind in the south. At least in Bane Anvil I could find relief on the surface."

"You lived there then?"

"A little while." She replied, though immediately turned on Sataro as if knowing the thought that caught in her mind, "Ack, of course the cows were long dead before then Rybka."

The centuries-old 'little fish' nickname hit them both gentle and harsh and without discussion they stepped closer, shoulders brushing as they began unbuckling their armoured layers. "Yetty and Etta survived the war?" Sataro asked in a lower tone.

"Mhm," Vekna rumbled, matching her pitch, "I swear, too clever by half for just pulling burdens. I did not even go looking for them, they just came back to the yurt by themselves after the dust settled."

Sataro snorted, "What a perfect way to annoy you," she smirked back, flashing her teeth.

"They did it on purpose, I had thought for sure I was finally rid of them," Vekna growled.

"They weren't easy animals, even for the two of us. You could have sold them on." Sataro set her splint mail aside.

"No, I couldn't have."

They allowed that admission room to breathe and by the time they could speak again Vekna was rid of her heavier layers.

"The kits helped." She continued, eventually. "With the cows."

"They made migration with you?"

"Yes, but they cared for them in Mithlond too."

Sataro's head tilted curiously, a soft look coming to her eyes. And Vekna gave an irritable sigh of something before answering her silent question, "Your brother's family made their settling in the city for a few seasons, after."

"Gnestat hated Mithlond."

"So did I."

"… Did it help, to have them there?"

"Mm, for a time. In the beginning."

"And after?"

Vekna paused before turning her massive bulk fully towards Sataro and looking down at her with a hard stare.

"Are you sure you want to know?"

"Of course."

Vekna sucked her teeth in frustration, sarcasm bleeding into her tone, "Fine, let me say that differently, are you going to brood over ancient history just for the sake of feeling guilty if I tell you?"

Sataro grimaced.

Her nose scrunched with a displeasure that dug the scars around her eye even deeper and she bit her tongue against any rebuttal. Instead, looking for retaliation and reassurance both, she reached for the heavy blue cloth bound so particularly around Vekna's waist. She felt more than heard her inhale at the contact but Sataro did not pause, she stroked once over the wedding fabric before digging two fingers into each knot and beginning to gradually prize them free.

"Probably," she conceded, though she clearly did not like the admission, focusing on the patterns of metal thread woven in the familiar garment. And then in an even lower tone she admitted, "It is not why I asked."

Vekna's brow cocked curiously as Sataro finally pulled the long scarf away and let her hands act out the careful muscle memory of folding it over her palm. The colour was more faded than she remembered it, but it still held. Vekna said nothing for a moment as she watched this action with eyes full of something unspeakable.

"Why then?" she finally asked and Sataro seemed to writhe at the question.

Vekna held her breath as she watched Sataro struggle with what she wanted to say. Her shoulders tensed, her brows knitted and a muscle bounced in her jaw in a way that looked painful under the scar tissue. Eventually the look of conflict, ferocity and scarlet that had been growing was directed Vekna's way.

"I do not know how to say this."

"The look on you…" Vekna said in a release of breath, tracing her hand over Sataro's brow and following the scars down her cheek, a touch Sataro pressed into like a cat.

"Thinking too hard again, as always," Vekna chided, "It is not like you to falter though."

That won her weary smile and Sataro's ears wilted a little as she let her forehead drop to rest against Vekna's chest. "Mph, my head has been full of wool since I awoke. Makes giving up on thought very appealing."

Vekna clicked her tongue once again, her hand coming to rest over the back of Sataro's neck. "That is because you don't 'think', you agonise."

"And you arbitrate."

"And you are dodging my question." Vekna gave a single tug on Sataro's braid and drew her eyes back up. "It is me. Just say it."

Sataro thought she heard the rarest note of a nervous plea in Vekna's voice and, real or not, her blood rose to meet it fiercely. For her, she would beat her thoughts into words. She dug one hand into the fabric of Vekna's shirt at her collar, breathing out through her nose once, before, "Fine. I think I am too… uh.. ravenous."

Vekna's beautiful brows rose. "Ravenous?"

"Yes. It- ah… it is too much. It makes my hands and my voice shake."

"For what?"

"You, obviously."

"You have me," Vekna hummed warmly, but Sataro was not reassured.

"No, even telling you this, I feel as though I am trying to tear pieces out of you."

"Maybe you should."

"No, listen-" Sataro urged, trying to shake her for emphasis, "I want to lock us in this room and hear you talk for a hundred days, or however long it takes until I have heard it all-"

"That doesn't sound so bad, a little dull."

"-Especially what you don't want to tell me, I want to-.." her free hand clawed the air in her effort to explain herself, "-dig it all out of you. It is a brutal feeling."

This does give Vekna pause, "… Wanting me?"

"Or missing you. Maybe they are the same. Either way it is too much, it feels like I will break something."

There was a silence between them for a while, Sataro weathering Vekna's usual unreadable but intent stare with a durability grown from centuries of practice.

"Mm," Vekna began at last, "so my standing here is not enough, you want to tear out everything new about me that you do not know, even the secrets I find hard to explain, just to wet your thirst of me after so long apart? It all must be yours?"

Sataro's expression pulled towards rueful and raw annoyance at having been so concisely laid bare and she opened her mouth to fluster a response, but Vekna's eyes were raptorial when she interrupted her, "And what have I just done, Rybka?"

Sataro frowned, then blinked, eyes widening with a surprise that soon folded and broke into an emotion so potent it gagged her. It made her reach for Vekna's face, cup her near manic canine grin with hands that dragged at her skin as she pressed her battered nose into Vekna's cheek. As arms enveloped Sataro's chest she pushed and Vekna laughed through those canines as her back collided with the wall, a warm but sour sound that made Sataro's torn ear twitch and her chest burn.

They breathed as one for a while, until their hearts calmed and the burning tempered.

Sataro's hands were still greedily running over Vekna's grinning features that nuzzled into every touch when she finally sighed and her gaze sharpened with renewed purpose.

"What happened between you and the family, after?"

Vekna grunted, rueful amusement showing on her face as she realised what she had encouraged. Still, she did not try to deny her a second time, her expression as she held Sataro's gaze pinching with something like melancholy, or pain.

"They were there. When I was told nothing could be done and you were taken away."

Sataro did not blink. "They grieved with you?"

"Yes, in a way," there was a pause before Vekna pushed away from the wall in a huff and concluded darkly, "-then they moved on without me."

She looked away, down, to fix upon Sataro's waist sash. Her short in and out breath was sharp and her fingers touched the fabric almost nervously at first, before sinking into it's softness as if to savor it. "They said your name again, as though you were dead. I could not be there for that."

"Did you stop seeing them?"

"They came to find me a few times, they tried to bring it up with the Order too."

"They did?"

"Yes!" Vekna said with a hollow laugh. "Went crying to the Mother-Superior, something about my needing help, to stop going to see you, needing to 'let her go'. When I told them you were conscious at times they thought I had gone mad I think." Vekna's manner of prizing the knots of the fabric free was decidedly slower than Sataro's had been, giving her wife time to slide arms about her shoulders as she worked.

"Gnestat did not come to visit?"

"Not when you were awake." Vekna muttered.

"… but I am sure I remember speaking to someone else.."

"The kits would make the journey with me, even after their father stopped."

"Oh! Yes," Sataro chuckled fondly, "Jurnat left flowers…" Memories of her niece and nephew seemed very sharp suddenly, jagged and bloody with a grief she had yet to grow around.

"I'm surprised they were so dogged," she said with a hoarseness that Vekna lovingly ignored.

"Busybodies all of them, I preferred it when they barely tolerated me."

Sataro's closed her eyes, swallowing around the bittersweet lump in her throat.

But Vekna's frown only grew and her lip curled venomously. "And then there was your fucking mother."

This was all but spat, making Sataro flinch in place, though Vekna quickly halted her efforts and let go of the scarf to instead just cradle Sataro's ribcage in her hands.

"I hadn't meant to say that."

"I'll forgive you." Sataro said in a sardonic but tight hum, "… so even she felt compelled to finally speak to you?"

"When she could not help it, and I couldn't escape."

Sataro settled her back and torso into Vekna's confident hold with a weary and resigned sigh, running her hands up and down Vekna's shoulders throughout the silence. It seemed to soothe.

"Gnestat and I would complain about her together, now and then…" Vekna mused with a distant look.

"And what would you say?"

Sataro's attempt to make the question sound casual failed abysmally and Vekna growled back at her. "Why ask me something I want to tell you but I know you do not want to hear?"

Sataro gave a frustrated shrug. "I will have to know eventually."

"Who says so? I think I will take it to my grave."

"If you must, let's see…" Sataro's eyes wandered to the ceiling.

"… See what."

"What's the worst thing I can imagine my mother doing…"

Vekna leaned forward and bit her ear, hard, worrying at it's cartlidge as she pulled her closer whilst Sataro chuckled and tried to shake her free.

"You really are ravenous." Vekna growled through her teeth.

"You're the one consuming me ear-first."

"I could start elsewhere-"

Sataro kissed her. Vekna's hands at Sataro's back shook just a little so that, when she pushed, the monolith of a woman went down easily to sit on the mattresses below. Sataro followed her, dropping into her lap and her waiting arms.

"Luuchik," Sataro burred, arching to make space at her still-tied waist as Vekna gripped her tighter, "Finish your work, and tell me what happened."

The command was fruitful. Vekna returned to her methodical untying.

There was a quiet between them as they waited for Vekna's 'sunbeam' petname to stop choking her at it's invocation. But, eventually, she began in a croak;

"… She wanted to parade you through the plaza."

Sataro was still and quiet.

"Just take you, as you were, up the city. Set you there, like any other monument. She would not stop calling you her 'martyr-daughter'. It started the moment she returned to the rubble, I only ever saw her weep about it in front of someone important."

Her words were burning and she looked to the side with a bitter, gritted laugh that left Sataro cold.

"I had to- we spent days in the district court just to keep you from her scheming hands."

"Gnestat?"

"Mm, and Yurtar too."

This was a surprise, to which Vekna only nodded a confirmation. "Yes, even Yurtar. It was their words that got you sent to the monastery, in the end. My protests were nothing in comparison."

"Did they say why?"

"Something foolish about, 'whatever you were, you did not deserve to be a toy'. But they still did not visit you after the fact."

"I never expected it."

"You should have."

"Their convictions were noble."

"As noble as they were flaccid."

"Vekna."

"What was ignoring you ever going to do, hm? Force the Titah to strip the 'Marshal' title from a statue, all because a cross-dressing seditionist sibling disapproved?"

Sataro butted their heads together, "You were a cross-dressing seditionist."

"I had more backbone about it."

"Are we still having this fight even after they are so long dead?"

Vekna gave a deep, long sigh, and a sudden aching weariness seemed to come over her. Sataro felt, perhaps for the first time since their reunion, that this was something new in her wife she had never seen before. She held her tighter on instinct, her severe shape somehow still finding it's perfect fit around Vekna's full curves. In silence, Vekna pulled out the last knot, letting the scarf lie still and loose about Sataro's waist.

"They did not deserve you," she croaked, "None of them did, but their kin-rights were paramount in the end."

Ah.

Vekna looked down at the gold fabric in her hands. "The binding was literally set in stone, and still no one's claim of you was in doubt but mine."

Sataro made an animal sound, "Our vows were recorded in that court, did that not-.."

"What worth are a pagan barbarian's promises?" Vekna grinned through gritted teeth.

It was a look so hateful that some cautious reign about Sataro's heart snapped and steel wrapped her spine. Perhaps she needed to break something, what was a little brutality between them, after all? Sataro had always known what to do.

She wound her fingers into Vekna's long locks of greying red hair and pulled her gaze back, like it was hers to take. (And wasn't that true?) It wiped the awful grin from Vekna's face at least.

"Take it off," she ordered and Vekna, unblinking and transfixed, obligingly pulled the scarf away from Sataro's narrow waist and set it aside.

"The records are gone and no one alive remembers what that scrap of cloth means," this did hurt, it hurt them both, but Sataro drew Vekna's hands back around her as she continued, "but we are still here."

Vekna listened, and Sataro kept going.

"You conquered my death, and then you conquered time, no claim over me has won more of a right than yours. It outlasted empires and all meanings but ours."

In the stillness after, Sataro still worried for the three hundred years of a Vekna she had not known. There were new lines she could not see, new borders that might consider her trespasser, a distance of time that might prove so wide she'd lose her in it. She felt more a coward now than ever before in her already long life, but still, she had learned how to face a fear at some point in that time, she would still reach across the distance anyway.

And, apparently, Vekna had love in her for a new, ravenous, weary coward too. The words had lit a fire and slowly Vekna's eyes began burning a dangerous red and her breath against Sataro's mouth grew supernaturally hot as a touch of the old world's divinity purred in approval. Her smile returned, vile and hungry, but Sataro liked this one much better.

"That is true, isn't it." Vekna affirmed with a lion's satisfaction.

"Mhm," Sataro sighed, slumping back into Vekna's hold and giving into weariness once more, "and I hope I am a worthy prize for the effort. I am far more battered than before."

"Worth doing it all again," was snarled into her ear.

"Even worth my mother?"

Vekna gripped Sataro's jaw and she went limp into it, "No more talk about your mother, besides the crone died barely ten seasons afterwards."

"She did? H-"

Vekna slid her free, still burning hand under Sataro's remaining loose tunic and pressed into the skin of her back, making her hiss pleasantly.

"No more about your mother."

Sataro obeyed and chuckled fondly as Vekna so easily hefted her and rolled them both into their makeshift bed, undoing the past year of experience that had begun to make Sataro feel big and heavy.

Vekna kissed her this time, which felt new in some ephemeral way, and let her full body press Sataro into their makeshift mattress that barely softened the hard stone floor. Tension left the both of them, even softening Sataro's thin ligaments and tight chords as the weight of Vekna's breast pulled creases into her shirt and came to rest against Sataro's sternum. Their legs tangled, Sataro found the crease of Vekna's hip with her fingers and they both sighed.

"I still have more to dig out of you." Sataro murmured, as warning.

"So do I." Vekna promised in kind.

#text post #my writing #sataro

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batmanrogues-scenarios · 1 year

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Any rogues

W a close friend who's kinda half dead/alive?

They were from another universe but somehow ended up in their universe making them half dead/alive cause they don't exist in the universe so they technically have yet to die in it (Their abilities are like Danny phantom's)

They can become alive or a ghost, also to make this more fun let's make the close friend someone from.... What about the pirate era?

They'll have a blast when they know what they missed out on! Woah, there's flying cars now? There's a weird guy who dresses like a bat and is one of the good guys in this universe? Holy fuck? TELL THEM MORE

Soaks up any information they got from rouge like a sponge, so so curious of the new era around them and imagine their surprise when there are modern pirates too! (When I found out about it I was pretty surprised, thought the pirates stuff was long gone now)

Despite their innocent curiosity side, they're quite the opponent! Never underestimate a pirate who had one of the largest bounties in history, the number isn't just for show

- SS

Harley Quinn

So cool! Can they go through her?

Loves the pirate stuff and learns as much as she teaches.

She's actually pretty good in explaining stuff, makes them learn pretty easy.

She's kinda a pirate too! She got free Photoshop!

Loves watching them fight, now that's amazing!

Wants to have bounty on herself too.

Mad Hatter

Ah, what a jolly fellow! Loves their clothes.

Honesty just accepts that they're from different universe, he often gets into rabbit holes too.

Finds their ghost powers so interesting, they can get so much stuff done.

Really likes their description of today's technology, it's very flowery. He can explain stuff the same way until it comes to his mind control devices, then he gets technical and confuses them.

Cheers them on while they fight.

BTAS! Clayface

Ah, he remembers when he played pirate. Good times. Wants to know how accurate was his portray.

Looks like he isn't only freak of nature now. Kinda comforting.

Not best at explaining, for it's so common and yet can't describe it. It's annoying.

Takes notes at their fighting style and later practices in front of the mirror.

#smitten simp #pati writes #harley quinn x platonic!reader #harleen quinzel x platonic!reader #mad hatter x platonic!reader #jervis tetch x platonic!reader #clayface x platonic!reader #matthew hagen x platonic!reader #btas clayface

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rainbowcarousels · 1 year

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I'm still too sick to catch up on my fics or comments, but can I interest you in some headcanons about Nicolas de Lenfent if he'd survived into the modern era?

Utterly acidic in commentary, claims it's a lack of filter but it's just pushing the extremes to see what gets what response. Dresses up what he's saying like he's dressing for a performance, the difficult part is finding the important part between the venom and what he's actually trying to say. Armand and the threatre kids are still some of the best people at this.

Misses the theatrics and rebellion of the 60's-80's rock and punk. Dresses like a late 80's goth, something inspired by Siousie Sioux and Nick Cave with anarchic flair of punk. Can and will talk about every single pieces origins at length. One of the rings belongs to Armand. He's not getting it back.

Likely has a personality disorder, most probably borderline with it exasberated by traumatic experiences. Given the modern predisposition with mental health, has gone to several therapists over the years but tends to eat them when they annoy him.

Can and will get into the most knock-down-drag out fights with Lestat even now. One was about whether Bowie ripped off Bolan in terms of theatric expression, another about the performative nature of charity as a way to show purity in the modern era. ('You don't care about charity and if good deeds are done, are good deeds not enough?' 'I've done plenty of charitable needs - I've fucked you, haven't I?')

Always covered in writing, tends to just write on himself when he doesn't have paper.

Begrudgingly will look at Antoine's work, will rip it to shreds like Miranda Priestly looking at a blue sweater if he doesn't like it but will be helpful if he does. Antoine gets extra marks for being the replacement with musical talent. Feels closer to Sybelle (he understands the need for obsession as expression to the point of ruin to create something beautiful better than post) and encourages her to write more of her own pieces. Will listen to Pandora's without complaint. She was with Marius a long time, she gets it.

Big fan of like Baz Luhrmann, psychological thrillers and mindfucks. Actually does agree with Armand about Blade Runner but he's not going to TELL him that. Their relationship is complicated, but he doesn't really hold much against him other than he was supposed to die and he's grumpy that he's still alive. Actually loves the little gremlin for trying, for being honest when it seemed like everything else was bullshit.

Drawn to dark or just inappropriate humour. He has a 'the world is going to hell, might as well enjoy the ride if we're fucked either way' mentality and it tends to colour his interactions. The more emotionally uncomfortable, the worse the humour - has probably asked Armand if he did anything kinky with his hands and been disappointed with the answer.

#this is the most i've written in days so if it's trash i'm so sorry #also thank you for the well wishes i have medication so hopefully it'll go soon #but nicki is one of my favourites so here we'll look at my version a little #nicolas de lenfent #vampire chronicles #headcanons

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deathfavor · 9 months

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Hanma didn't take losing Kisaki well. No matter how their bond is viewed, Kisaki brought color into Hanma's life. He was entertaining and thrilling and, for Hanma, Kisaki gave him to be a reason to be engaged in the world. Not a reason, Hanma's apathy to his own life has always been there, but now he's IN the world. Sure, he didn't really give a shit about the gangs, not really, but it was fun. He wanted to see where Kisaki would go, wanted to help him reach those goals. Finally Hanma was real. He wasn't just a passive observer watching the world change around him. Sure he got into fights and some of those were fun, but those are always so temporary, just like any other momentary thrill he managed to find. But Kisaki? Kisaki was always fun.

But death is never far from the reaper. It's followed Hanma, wherever he shows up, so does death for someone in some version of the timelines. Moebius, Bloody Halloween, Bad Toman, so on and so forth. And death didn't spare Kisaki. And suddenly, Hanma is back in a world that isn't moving for him anymore. Because what is there? Kisaki's gone, most people hate or dislike him, Kazutora's in jail, so now its him standing alone again. He goes from feeling alive to feeling like a ghost again. And Hanma doesn't even know how to grieve because he's never lost someone like that. Someone who gave him a reason to be involved in the world. It's a new loss. Something personal.

The worst part is that Hanma can't even properly mourn. He can't say goodbye, can't go to the wake, because now he's a fugitive on the run and everyone knows Hanma was always around with Kisaki once that team up happened. So of course there's going to be police swarming everywhere that Hanma might show up. Instead he's on the run. He drinks, he smokes, he sleeps around, he does odd jobs, he fights, takes life-or-death gambles sometimes, whatever it takes to get by one day at a time. He puts his photography skills to use, his fighting skills for hire, his handyman abilities, always moving and traveling. It doesn't stop him from losing weight and sleeping rough, scraping by day by day and month by month. He does what he needs to get by. Hanma doesn't linger anywhere very long - he's a ghost in every sense of the word other than physically.

He doesn't even have nightmares or dreams to help or keep Kisaki alive in a way or hell, even use sleep as an excuse. It's just darkness. Hanma very rarely dreams, good or bad, so he can't even be haunted. He'd take being haunted over the slow numbness. Hanma went from actually feeling again to being hurt, and then...the numbness. The familiar apathy that starts to come back and take over everything. The pain starts to dull. And Hanma would rather feel the pain, he'd rather be haunted. Sometimes he has nightmares of his mangled body or remembers it, but it's so fleeting that he doesn't bleed from it. And it's awful.

Once the heat begins to die down, Hanma risks returning and finally paying a visit to Kisaki's grave for a few hours. And it rips things open again, finally he gets to really feel that grief even when he tries to play it off casual. And it makes it all the more painful knowing Kisaki would be PISSED because Hanma's stopped caring again and not taking proper care of himself. He's doing stupid shit, reckless shit, but Hanma just doesn't care. He's bored of this dull world again. He knows Kisaki would be upset and tries to play it off, chat about being late but he got stuck in traffic and stuff that is empty. But he doesn't know what else to do. He doesn't have any direction anymore, he's just...breathing and living.

It shows too in the case of ever getting to write fugitive era threads or Kanto or anything after. Being around other people sometimes instigates him and he'll still start shit just because ( because he wants to feel, because he wants entertainment ) but there's times when he's just quiet or doesn't react. He's a pawn left behind by a king like draken left behind by mikey and he's just floating along. He comes back for Kanto because it's convenient, because Hanma is a thing that won't just die, so he comes back but he doesn't care too much. Not till he gets to fight Toman again and he can feel more alive. But...Even so. The world isn't the same without Kisaki. It's dull again with occasional bursts of color, but that's all.

He's a reaper left alone in the graveyard of the world.

#᛭ — [HEADCANON] lose yourself in the adrenaline [SHUJI HANMA]#forget that old hanma time leaper theory #i propose literal reaper hanma

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musekicker · 1 year

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So um... Drak pack drabble? It's not much really, kind of working out the writing for this fandom, adding in some personal head canons all that.

So Fly and Mummyman, the kitchen, and coffe.

It was a early morning in the latest lair of Dr. Dreads. Or was it just another back up lair. It was hard to keep track at this point. In any case, it was early morning, two after after sunrise, and Fly was enjoying a nice big mug of coffee.

Fly didn't really need coffee in his life. Especially regular coffee and not decaf. He knew he should be drinking decaf at least. But he just could not bring himself to. Yes, he was already always jittery and somewhat hyperactive. And the caffeine and copious amount of sugar he put in his coffee did not help this at all. He just stopped caring long ago.

He was sitting at the minions kitchen table, taking another small sip of his well loved and savored drink. Fly often did have the kitchen to himself at this time in the morning. Vampira was not a early riser. Toad woke up much earlier then Fly did. But he normally ate and drank quick before getting to various chores around the lair.

And Dr. Dread had said before that to get him out of bed before noon, it would have to be a damn good reason and if it was for anything less there would be suffering.

Besides, even if Dr. Dread were a early riser he wouldn't be in this kitchen. Dr. Dread had his own little kitchen. The man preferred to eat alone. Fly suspected more it was because he didn't like being around them if he could help it.

That just left one monster that would show up around these hours in the morning.

Just as Fly was thinking about it, Mummyman had joined Fly in the kitchen. In Mummyman's arm was a old looking jar.

There was a name for these jars that was escaping Fly's memory currently. And he wasn't going to ask Mummyman again as he knew Mummyman would grab onto the moment to talk about the culture of Egypt from the era he was alive in. That wasn't a bad thing in itself. It was just that Mummy of normally little words could actually talk a lot once on a subject he cared about.

Fly supposed he was no different, as a sort of scientist. But that did not mean he wanted to hear a whole presentation this early in the morning.

Mummyman grunted a hello his way before approaching the fridge. The fridge was a mine field of food that had gone beyond it expiration dates, food that had been claimed by others in the group, their names written on it in big letters and dire warnings. There were also specialized foods no one else would want except the one that had put them in there, like Vampira's blood shakes.

And there occasionally there was unclaimed actually good food.

Fly didn't see what Mummyman had chose but he did see Mummyman open the jar and drop the food in. Fly did remember the fact that this jar contained Mummyman's stomach. That was a hard fact to forget.

Mummyman stood there, as if he could take in the taste of the food even though the food went straight to his stomach literally. Then a burp sounded from the jar. Feeding done, Mummyman closed the lid of the jar and hid it back into his mass of wrappings. Then he joined Fly at the table.

It was in these more quiet moments Fly would talk about things he felt the others would not understand.

"You ever worry about the fact that this is all our lives are. Fighting a bunch of teenagers and losing?" Fly asked.

Mummyman grumbled and nodded. Clearly something that had been on his mind lately too.

It was a small moment and barely a outburst, but Fly felt like he needed another mug of coffee.

#drak pack

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missroller15 · 2 years

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I see your Almost Winter, and I raise you...

This Love.

High tide came and brought you in / And I could go on and on, on and on, and I will / Skies grew darker / Currents swept you out again / And you were just gone and gone, gone and gone

Jess showed up to town with almost zero notice, and suddenly Rory couldn't stop finding ways to see him and defended him to everyone, until suddenly he was gone (which could be after Teach Me Tonight or end of s3!)

This love is good / This love is bad / This love is alive back from the dead, oh, oh, oh / These hands had to let it go free, and / This love came back to me, oh, oh, oh

Jess and Rory's love was a literal rollercoaster, everyone had their opinion on it, sometimes it was the best thing that had ever happened to them and sometimes it was absolutely heartbreaking. Eventually, they had to let it go, but Jess comes back with the "I love you" and the "come with me" speeches 😭

Tossing, turning / Struggled through the night with someone new / And I could go on and on, on and on / Lantern, burning / Flickered in the night, only you / But you were still gone, gone, gone

Rory enters her Logan era, kinda hates him at first, but ends up falling for him and trying to be someone she isn't and tries to be the "unlabled relationship girl," when she's still recovering from Jess leaving!!!

In losing grip / On sinking ships / You showed up just in time

I'm sorry, just... Rory stole a literal boat, dropped out of school, and who comes back to set her back on track just in time?? JESS.

I watched you leave

All I can picture with this line is Rory watching Jess's back as he leaves after the fight in Keg! Max! 😭

When you're young, you just run / But you come back to what you need

Jess running from everything when Luke kicks him out but later comes back to fix things with Luke and to be there for his mom (when she doesn't even deserve it) and to see Rory!!!!!

Sorry for the long message but I'm hardcore in sad literati brainrot rn and this song is so stuck in my head and it is not helping things 😭😭 *gives you a box of tissues and a warm cup of tea*

Wow, lemme just take a second to appreciate this because it is literally amazing. *takes tissues and cup of tea*

Firstly thank you, secondly you’re so spot-on!!! This song is so them (I repeat for the 5000th time bc somehow every song fits them) but the lyrics were so good, I can’t.

THE FIRST LYRICS YES THOSE CONNECTIONS ARE *CHEF’S KISS*

The “this love” line, too true. It was such a wild intense rollercoaster of emotions and angst and lost feelings. But eventually, he did come back. Losing grip and sinking ships is

so I’m not even gonna touch on that too much b/c you hit the nail on the head. <3

Your smile / my ghost / I fell to my knees

If this isn’t the vibes of the “Come with me” speech in S4…. My heart </3

This is incredible and I LOVE the long messages, btw don’t worry we can both be in hardcore sad literati brainrot 🥲

#this is so good like.. you did amazing #i love love love love #!!!!#🫶💖#taylor really said ‘’let’s see how many times I can make you guys cry?’#jess mariano #rory gilmore #literati #gilmore girls #sagestonefanfiction #<3 #taylor swift

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independentzaun · 1 year

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Sevika reminiscing after Silco’s death? (For suggestions for prompts :3)

Took this in a slightly different direction, but involves Silco dying and Sevika finding out. Content warnings for angst, death, despair, and the like. Let me be clear. There is nothing happy here.

Ending up on the sofa in Silco’s office with most of her mechanical arm ripped off, and the fresh memory of a fight lost against Jinx’s sister Sevika grabbed a bottle of alcohol to drink. She expected Silco to show up sooner or later as he’d survived everything so far, and the idea that this time he might not simply didn’t enter her mind. A couple of hours passed as she waited drinking, and smoking cigarillos. Eventually between the exhaustion, and pain as well as the alcohol Sevika slumped down into the sofa and passed out.

Hours later there was a banging at the door and her name being called out. Waking up Sevika staggered to her feet. “Shut the fuck up! I’m coming!” Her flesh hand reached up rubbing at her head as she stepped forward. The remaining piece of her mechanical arm which was more a jagged stump than anything reached out for something before she sighed remembering the damage that had been done. Opening the door to see one of the bartenders looking frantic and scared Sevika stared down at him. “What is it?” Mouth opening, and closing he pointed down stairs shaking his head. “It’s… it’s… Silco. He…. Why would she write “I’m sorry” though? What, what happened?”

Sevika’s eyes got a tinge of confusion to them for a moment before she actually felt a sudden wave of panic and shoving the bartender to one side her long legs had her moving down those stairs faster than she ever had before. Practically jumping the last three steps she paused seeing Silco’s body motionless on the the bar with his hands over his chest and Jinx’s bright neon grafitti across the bar. One simple message. I’m sorry. Over, and over, and over again. Moving over Sevika reached out touching his now utterly cold, and stiff hand then pulled it down just a bit. She’d seen enough holes put into objects or people for that matter by Jinx’s weapons to immediately know what had killed him even if she didn’t know how, or why.

Turning just a bit she sat carefully down staring at his body, and slow tears started to slide down her face. Partially it was from respect, and even an odd kind of… perhaps not friendship, but closeness. However a large part of it was the sudden realization that an era was over, and they had failed.

Someone spoke after a minute. “Sevika? What, what do we do?” Sevika shook her head slowly. “It doesn’t matter… We hold a wake for him. We protect his body, and honor his memory and celebrate what he tried to do. Than we give him to the sharks and fish he loved… and than everything is over.” Voice mostly flat there was a note of sadness to it all the same as she continued to stare at the body not bothering to wipe the tears from her face.

Someone else took a step closer and leaned over to try to catch Sevika’s eye. “What do you everything is over? I don’t… Sevika what do you mean?” Sevika tried to brush her hair back with two hands but only managed one hand, and to raise that jutting bit of metal upwards. “What do I mean? It’s over.” Turning slowly she glanced from person to person. “Vander died, Silco died, and there’s no one to take his place. There’s no one out there that could be a decent leader, and who also cares more about Zaun than they do their own profits. Silco died, and with him The Cause. Everything he, and I… Everything we worked for… we failed. With him gone Zaun is going to eat itself alive. Even if we manage to get independence some day it’ll just be to struggle under parasitic bastards who have no idea what it took to get there.” Sevika had never sounded more tired, or down right defeated in her entire life. Even her eyes seemed to be missing a particular spark to them.

People glanced back and forth at each other before one spoke up. “Sev….Sevika come on. I mean… We’d follow you. Shit you practically ran things for him anyways. You know more about what Silco had going on than probably anyone else. Least anyone else reliable. Take his office, and we’ll do what you say. It’ll work out.” Sevika let out a bitter laugh, and stood. “Me? You’d follow some bitch who let her boss get killed, and who failed him in not ensuring his end game ever came to pass? There’s going to be a war in Zaun. The chem-barons are going to feed on each other, and the streets are going to be drenched in blood and you think following me is the right answer? Shit even if I tried to take his place fucking Jinx would probably show up and kill me.” Shaking her head she waved with her hand and turned to leave. “Like I said. It’s all over. It all died with him.”

Stone faced and cold she made her way home with people moving away from her and no one daring to question her even with her missing her arm. Getting into her house she shut the door, and locked it before simply sliding down onto the floor as suddenly a loud pain filled sob escaped from her.

Sevika had managed to hold it back till now, but entering into a place that was hers and that she assumed was safe she just couldn’t manage it anymore. For the first time in years the strong woman who had been by Silco’s side in conflict after conflict, and had done everything she could to ensure his success simply. Broke.

Tears down her face as loud ugly sobs came from her Sevika wouldn’t remember how long it lasted. Only a multitude of angry curses and whimpering apologies and her fist hitting the floor or the wall next to her until her skin split open and her blood smeared over her hand. Who could she really blame? She’d thought Jinx was a liability yes, but she’d never thought Jinx would go this far. Silco hadn’t been as active in Piltover as he should have been perhaps, but the right opportunities hadn’t quite managed to arise. She should have been there to keep Silco safe of course, but that obviously had not been the case. In a way the loss of the one man she thought might be able to take Zaun into a new age, and the loss of The Cause with him was everyone’s fault.

She was over forty, and alone, and a failure and as she sobbed on her floor over the unfairness of fate and the loss of every dream she had Sevika could only think one thing in between memories and anger and remorse.

I am so fucking tired.

That was the one, and only time she’d cry like that.

The only time she’d break like that.

No one would ever know.

An era had ended, and Sevika… was alone.

#angst cw #death cw #sevikaanswers #sevikaDrabbles

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multimoth · 2 years

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@talestcld said ; after picking up an amulet of akatosh, something strange had been happening. at first, the dovahkiin wasn’t sure if he was just seeing things, but then. . . right in front of him, stood the ghostly form of martin septim, the avator of akatosh. . . he who defeated mehrunes dagon at the end of the third era. a clenched fist rest upon the dragonborn’s heart and he bowed his head, to show respect. he did not speak, until he was spoken to.

The light shapes itself until it’s almost-mortal; Imperial, broad-shouldered. The memory of a man. It’s all he can claim to be. Martin - or what is left of him, because Martin is gone but he (whatever this is) isn’t quite Akatosh - holds no power.

He had begged for just a glimpse. The opportunity to guide. It was what was right. These were Akatosh’s children and the mortal realm stood no chance. There were no Dragonborns left to fight.

Well, that wasn’t entirely true. There was one.

It was a relief to be seen. He had worried - Martin’s Champion had not been a highly religious man and he had been uncertain of what he would do if that were the case this time around. Wait desperately for him to stumble blindly into one of His Temples, he supposes. This works out much more neatly.

He studies his hands. He has not had hands for a long time. They aren’t the same as they were, more thought than substance, almost only a trick of the light. But they are there. When he raises his eyes to look the man face-to-face as an almost-equal he can briefly recall feeling whole. This is what it had felt like to walk upon Tamriel.

He takes a step closer. He can’t help it, it’s a curious thing, to be faced with a Hero again. They have a certain air about them. This one is more humble than the one Martin had known an Era ago and there’s something almost funny about that. A little charming. Akatosh didn’t know how lucky He had it. He can tell within a look that he’s a Nordic man. When he circles back around in front of him, the spirit has solidified and its face is more clearly defined.

Not-Martin makes a curious humming sound. Does he recognize him, he wonders, or is he simply awed by his appearance? Old spirits are rare.

“I thought you might have been Imperial.” On second thought that notion was silly. The line of dragon’s blood within the Empire had ended with him. It turns into a sigh, and the man - spirit, whatever he is - raises an arm. “Please, you needn’t do that. We are - were - both sons of Akatosh. Perhaps I ought to be bowing to you, instead,” he muses. He is still alive. He has some claim to power. Martin has only eternal servitude. But musing on that is something he’s been doing too long already and so instead he offers something a bit more light. “After all, I cannot claim to have ever slain a dragon.”

#c : martin #v : and that's hardly sporting

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xoteajays · 8 months

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See? And this is what Choi, Yang and Lee were trying to explain to the younger generation. Myeong-gil and In-beom are people who were in prison for who knows what crimes they've committed before Myeong worked for Choi at his company. They will kill people to get what they actually want, no matter what it takes to get it. That's how villains are.

Okay.. So I can't confirm or deny who dies in the webtoon, I may even read the webtoon to really know what happens in the original story of Bloodhounds. And maybe that would help me write my BH story too.

The Bloodhounds webtoon is about eighty-five episodes or chapters, however webtoons are. So I might combine the comics and the show.

I'm happy that Gun and Jin are alive. And I expected deaths in a story like this. But killing just about everyone in one episode though? That.. I still don't know how to feel about that even though I've watched this whole series repeatedly. I don't know if they will make another season after this. But if they do, hopefully there will be interesting characters like these ones - not including Gun and Jin. Don't know what to think.

Spoilers.

If you read the complete webtoon, you will find out that the original plot of Bloodhounds ends with more clarity: we see Myeong-gil in prison, confirming that he was arrested. Meanwhile, Geon-woo, Woo-jin, and Hyun-ju will start a sort of bloodhounds agency, focusing on good clients. So, in general, we could say that the plot of Bloodhounds could continue, both in the original webtoon and the Netflix series. However, the two stories could take different directions: the webtoon could focus on the new adventures of the three young people with their new agency, whereas the Netflix series could still propose some plot twists that would let Myeong-gil and In-beom be back in the game.

Exactly! There are so many actually good shows that deserve a lot of seasons but end up cancelled for whatever reason. And then you end up with horrible shows like Shameless having eleven seasons. Shows like that remind me of reality television.. I don't know why people ever watch shows like this. I will only watch what seems interesting to me.

I knew you were INFx. But I couldn't remember if you were INFJ, INFP or what.. I did definitely remember most of your personality though.

Yeah. That makes me curious.. Just to see what the boys would really look like if they were apart of another gang. Just out of any curiosity.

But they also have pride. So one of them asking for help, for whatever reasons, might seem like a weakness to them.. Like with Rocky. Since he was willing to die fighting Ranmaru to protect people with only the White Rascals, rather than having help from other gangs before every gang appeared to fight. So Rocky's definitely someone with his pride.

I don't know if I would use AleXa as face claim for Alice In Borderland.

Maybe. I don't know. Like I may use her for more than one fandom if I have ideas.. And she does have plenty of different styles for her being used as a face claim. Bomb, Do Or Die, Tattoo, Girls Gone Vogue, and even Juliet as just some examples right there. So that gives diversity.

I do like her Wonderland appearance. But I also wouldn't want to even over use her either. So I do not know if I would use her for Borderland. I'm not saying yes or no yet. But... I think the main reason why I would have thought of her as a face claim for AIB was the Wonderland era in the sense of Alice In Wonderland theme. I'm definitely using the song for the playlist at the very least. So many Alice themed songs do even seem fitting enough since Borderlands in Wonderland in the concept.

AleXa even has the card suits tattooed on her shoulder too.

I know you mentioned a feminine style compared to Ju's style since it is obvious she's a tomboy, but I think she kept her hair long in comics.

Yeah. This character's style is more casual, mostly punk, maybe some athletic clothing like tights and sweat clothes during her exercising or training scenes. Between punk, punk goth, occasionally preppy punk.

I don't know what she'll look like in the timeskip yet. I know the timing is six months later. So appearances can change in six months for a lot of characters, especially original characters. She might look different.

At the very least I might want her to know some basics with any hand to hand combat, whether boxing or martial arts, just so she's actually able to defend herself if there's no weapons around in that situation.

I might even try doing some research about boxing techniques so I'm able to see if she may use some boxing techniques. I don't know yet... But it's a thought. And there could be a situation where the boys may teach her some basic moves, just for in situations for any self defense reasons. Because it's obvious these villains would actually kill anyone.

I think the reason why I do get attached to a lot of the celebrities I will use for face claims is because most of them have alternative styles to them. They're attractive, certain styles and many have modifications.

In my experience.. Platform boots are completely different than some platform heels. Boots and sneakers have more balance than heels do.

I'm adding a bit more to my Bloodhounds character. Just some minor details from what I said you yesterday. So no major details for her yet.

Obviously the very first time Gun and Jin met was at their final boxing tournement. I don't know why.. But I keep thinking she might actually be a friend, like a childhood friend, to one of them. I'm not sure who it is yet. But if she has brown hair (like in the pictures I sent you), I could imagine that someone would jokingly say she and Jin look related like the scene with Ju and Lee. Don't know if I would use that idea or not.

And I already told you that she's a glutton with food in the same ways that Gun and Jin are. But I can't really imagine her being a good cook, maybe she does know how to cook. Good thing Gun's mom can cook.

I'm not surprised. But I know you mentioned that you were excited to watch the new season for Squid Games before I mentioned any other shows. Actually.. If the new seasons for All Of Us Are Dead is released next year. Do you think certain characters lived? Like the hybrid ones.

"Death for me." I don't know if it's because of the way I read that... But I can't stop laughing. Which is bad for me because I have a migraine.

choi, yang and lee were all trying to teach the kiddos how dangerous myeong gil was and then they all ended up dead anyway. hate it. well the trio definitely know how dangerous myeong girl can be now. so they got at least two lessons about it.

i’ve never really gotten into webtoons or comics that much. i started buying the aib manga series but i haven’t started reading it yet.

they just killed them one, two, three with no pause. like slow down! i was just getting over what happened to lee and now yang’s dead and then immediately choi’s dead and jin’s stabbed??!!! SLOW DOWN!!! MY EMOTIONS!!

not reading the spoilers, i’m going in blind.

i know it’s because they’re popular, but can we maybe get less shows like riverdale and shameless that get so many seasons but kinda suck, and maybe let some good smaller shows have more season? like i understand watching ‘trashy’ shows just for relaxing, background noise, non-think-y shows. but there are better shows out there.

i think the inf parts are still accurate to me, but maybe the last letters changed over the years. i has been a while since i took that test originally.

gimme murayama in all the other gangs styles. i want cobra is rascals fashion and rocky in sannoh’s. smokey/takeshi in daruma red and oya blue. hyuga in rude green, but also in rascals white because i think he’d hate it.

dudes are always like that. never asking for help. stop being so prideful and let your friends help you out! end of sky and final mission are so good. i love seeing all the gangs working together. love the alliance.

i do love a ‘girly aesthetic’ fightgirl. kuina kind of fell into that trope. oop so does yui a little actually, it’s fine yui and eun bi are different enough. i’d have to do away with a lot of aleXa’s earrings tho because she wears a lot of hoops and those are. not good in a fight. that’s how you end up with ripped lobes.

for my oc, she was trained by her dad, so she’s got some pretty good combat skills in addition to her knife skills; because yang wanted her to be able to protect herself if he wasn’t around.

she’s actually still at the house when choi dies and jin’s stabbed. she manages to get out alive with smoke inhalation issues, blood loss, a lot of bruises, a concussion, and a pretty gnarly head wound (im thinking face scar, through her eyebrow and up her forehead). and ykno. the trauma.

i was watching some of her music videos. she seems to manage well enough in both heels and platforms. i, on the other hand, would break so many bones in addition to both my ankles. also she literally gets picked up by two of her dancers in one of her videos (i think it was do or die) and she’s. so small. like ok i can see it now.

is she flattered to be compared to jin/take in stride or is she bothered by it? i also think it’s funny to compare them because jin is one of - if not the - tallest in the cast and aleXa is so short.

maybe if she can’t cook big, complicated meals, maybe she could be a big fan of ready made meals? like those noodles and rice cakes you can get from convenience stores? i watch a lot of korean convenience store tiktoks.

since we’re sharing details! episode specific stuffs!

i planned for eun bi (just running with that name now) being introduced first in ep4, meeting the boys when they return to choi’s house after the underground fight. she helps them clean up their injuries better than whatever they did at the bookshop. she also joins them on the money moving mission, but gets tasered by jang-do while trying to stab him to rescue hyeon ju. she gets handcuffed and left behind while he takes ju, and fights alongside ju after she escapes him.

also she has a little bit of a rebellious phase. lee is like her fun uncle. if she goes out and gets a lil too tipsy, she’ll call him to pick her up so her dad doesn’t find out. lee accidentally lets this slip when they’re in the car driving to go have drinks with choi; and results in her sharing a bed with ju for the night so her dad can’t scold her.

i also imagine that she’s a big fan of kids. she originally wanted to be an early-elementary teacher or a school nurse before she later went to nursing school and started working for choi. her dad mentions to lee that he should invite them around after lee’s daughter is born because eun bi loves babies. im so sad. also she was supposed to go to the orphanage with gun, his mum and ju, but ends up staying back to re-heat breakfast for jin and help choi with her regular duties. that turned out real well…

i know at least the main hybrid girl survived, but i’m not sure about the other ones. i think they were setting up to introduce some new hybrids with nam-ra’s whole situation in the last episode. but idk about the others that were introduced in s1. i don’t remember enough about what happened in the last few episodes.

death for me! no apocalypse survival!

#tj answers #long post //#long post anon

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mishasminions · 4 years

Text

Here’s why the Supernatural Series Finale Sucked

(AND IT REALLY ISN’T JUST BECAUSE CAS/MISHA WASN’T IN IT)

First of all, I’d like to state, that this perspective is coming from someone who has watched, invested in, and dissected this show for 15 years. I’ve tried to rationalize and justify every single decision each of the main characters made throughout the years, and I’ve always tried to make sense of each of their story arcs from a “bigger picture” standpoint as each season progressed.

Anyway, before I can properly explain why the finale sucked, let me quickly take you through 15 seasons by segregating them into 3 eras, because you can’t really comprehend what Supernatural is about and what it’s become without going through how it tried to expand its universe.

SEASONS 1-5: THE KRIPKE ERA

Now, we all know that Kripke was always set in wrapping up Sam and Dean’s story in 5 seasons, and he did just that.

So, in this era, Supernatural is about two brothers who set out on a journey to fulfill “the family business”. They hunt mythical monsters that terrorize the world, while battling the monsters within themselves. Their ultimate “big bad” is an apocalypse.

Towards the end of this era, we find out that Sam and Dean are actually a parallel to Biblical characters who are brothers turned rivals. And that Sam and Dean’s destiny is to go up against each other.

However, as a dynamic, they have always been about making their own choices, choosing free will, and having a brotherly bond that can power through against any obstacle at any given day.

So, this era is neatly wrapped up with its finale. The characters grow, and get justified endings.

Dean, a man who thinks of himself as two things: 1. Sam’s older brother and protector; and 2. Daddy’s blunt little instrument.

He’s spent his whole life believing that that was his only purpose, and he knew that the only ending he’ll get would either be a bloody death fulfilling his duty to the family business; or laying his life on the line to save his brother.

Dean gets the ending he thought was never possible for him, something he thought he could never deserve. After years of living and dying for his family, he gets a shot at having an apple pie life--to settle down with a nice girl, raise a kid in a house with a white picket fence. With Sam gone, Dean’s responsibility now is to himself.

Sam, on the other hand, never wanted any part of it, because he wasn’t groomed the way Dean was, and because thanks to Dean, Sam wasn’t traumatized or forced into growing up too quickly the way Dean was.

So Sam aspires for a normal life, and works the cases with Dean so he can maybe get some semblance of it, when everything they set out to kill are laid to rest.

Ultimately, Sam performs a selfless act for his brother, who has given up everything for him, and for their cause--to save the world.

The journey is this: Dean sacrifices everything to save Sam, and Sam sacrifices himself so Dean could live.

Apart from being Dean’s “savior” and guardian angel, Castiel’s role in this era is to serve as a mirror to Dean’s journey. Castiel goes from being heaven’s foot soldier, following “God’s orders”; to an angel who learns to choose and feel for the first time in his existence.

After they realize that they’re both daddy’s blunt instruments, Dean starts choosing his own path for himself, and convinces Castiel to join him. Castiel stops following heaven, and starts following Dean.

In the end, with his newfound understanding of the world thanks to Dean, Castiel goes back to heaven to reform it.

We’ve resolved the biblical arc, and the character journeys.

SEASONS 6-10: THE SPIN-OFF ERA

So this is where the show realizes how vast its universe can be, so it tries to expand it by tapping into uncharted lands and experimenting with it.

They take on heaven, reform hell, explore purgatory, have the angels fall, turn Dean into a demon, and kill Death.

Dean and Sam recognize their codependency, and try to rise above it.

They go back and forth between which brother will risk it all for the greater good every other season.

Dean and Cas strengthen their relationship by recognizing the impact they have on each other’s lives.

Cas structures his life and decisions around Dean (Seasons 6-7), and Dean learns to trust and fight for Cas (Seasons 8-9).

Sam and Cas bond (mostly over Dean) because of their shared rationales in decision-making.

Dean, Sam, and even Cas also forge relationships with the people they work with. The concept of “found family” is introduced here.

This era was heavy on the plot while establishing, reinforcing, and solidifying relationships and dynamics.

At this point, it wasn’t just about the brothers anymore.

If Supernatural had ended in Season 10, the logical finale would’ve been Team Free Will, along with the family that they’ve found, going up against the latest big bad (Death or whoever). Maybe they lose them along the way, maybe they all make it out alive, or maybe they go down swinging, but at least the show recognizes and supports the message they keep saying, “Family don’t end with blood”

SEASONS 11-15: THE REWRITE ERA

This is where the show runs out of ideas and decides to invalidate the seasons that came before it.

From bringing Mary back (basically rendering their whole journey pointless because they’ve literally started hunting because of her death), to changing the stipulations in being Michael and Lucifer’s vessels (another character struggle rendered useless), to God himself breaking the fourth wall by saying that the Winchesters get away with everything because “they’re the main characters in his story and everything they’ve been through was just part of a badly written narrative”.

But what we’re getting from this era is that Sam and Dean, along with Cas (who has also deviated from the story) ARE trying to escape a badly written narrative.

That’s the “big bad” in this era. The writer.

At this point, the characters have picked up so many strays (including those from alternate universes), and have settled into their roles in their “found family”. Dean, Sam, and Cas all become surrogate dads and uncles.

They’ve also graduated from the whole “we’re on different sides” and “going behind each other’s backs” drama. And they just want the whole family together.

They’ve all resigned themselves to the cause, but they’re also tired. Dean allows himself to contemplate about wanting more out of life or at least getting a vacation. Sam, on the other hand, realizes his capabilities as an effective leader. Castiel learns to love another being that isn’t Dean (spoiler: it’s Jack).

However, they also realize that they’ve just been puppets on a string all this time.

So what they want now, is to write their own story, and make their own choices knowing that God/the writer isn’t the one fueling their narrative.

So here’s why the finale sucks:

Andrew Dabb, the current showrunner, said that there would be two finales.

15x19 - The finale to wrap up Season 15, and 15x20 - The finale to wrap up the series by “resolving the characters’ journey”

In 15x19 the boys find a way to de-power God/the writer. For the first time in their whole lives, they are free from the story. Their lives are completely theirs now. They can make their own decisions. There are no more “big bads” to fight

And here’s what happens in 15x20:

Immediately after being freed from their story arc, Dean and Sam go back to hunting the monster of the week.

Dean eats pie, gets nailed (literally), makes a 10-minute speech to Sam because he knows he’s dying, then he goes to heaven.

Dean is greeted by Bobby, his surrogate Dad who he hasn’t seen (fully alive) since Season 7. Bobby’s expository dialogue comprises of him explaining that he got out of heaven’s jail, that John and Mary are next door, and that Jack and Cas fixed the dynamics of heaven off-screen.

The first thing Dean decides to do is go for a long drive in his Impala (as if he hasn’t done enough of that already).

Meanwhile, Sam decides to stop hunting after Dean dies, he gets the apple pie life he hadn’t wanted since Season 8 (while Dean was in Purgatory), and names his kid “Dean” for effect. He grows old and dies.

Dean drove around in heaven for so long that Sam catches up to him.

They hug. The end.

Great, right?

After 15 years of struggling to battle their own respective destinies, going up against big bads and even bigger bads, then finally being able to take charge of their own stories, Dean and Sam regress to hunting the monster of the week, and get killed off by a nail and old age. Okay.

Sam gets to retire and have a family, sure, but they still focus on him and the kid he named after his dead brother. Still just “Sam and Dean” through and through. Nothing to do with found family. Just lineage. Just blood. And it ends there.

See, the problem here is that this ending would’ve been passable in The Kripke Era. But we’re 10 years down the road since, and while Sam and Dean are the original main characters, the show isn’t just about them and their codependent relationship anymore.

So you see, even if you take out the whole “Castiel deserves to be in the finale because he’s also a main character with an unfinished story arc” argument, the finale still does no justice to the series it tried to “wrap up”.

But anyway, now I’ll make the case for the problem with Castiel not being in the finale:

In 15x18, we get a 5-minute rushed confession from Castiel to Dean. The context of which are as follows:

1. Earlier in the episode, Dean had wounded Death with her scythe. We later find out that this wound is fatal.

2. Their friends start to “blip out” in a Thanos-like snap, and Dean thinks that Death is causing it, so Dean seeks her out, and Cas goes with him.

3. Dean and Cas anger Death, apparently for no reason because she didn’t even do the thing they thought she did. She chases them to try to kill them

4. Dean and Cas lock themselves in a room. Dean starts a pity party.

5. As Dean goes through hating himself out loud, Cas decides to inform Dean of the deal he made with The Empty. He then proceeds to explain the stipulation of the deal (that he would get taken once he experiences a moment of true happiness), then discusses his newfound happiness philosophy. Dean is getting whiplash.

6. Cas goes on to imply that the one thing that he wanted that he knew he couldn’t have is Dean Winchester reciprocating his romantic feelings for him. (Don’t even try to fight me on this because Cas already has Dean’s platonic love, and he knows that Dean thinks of him as a brother, so if he really meant this in a “familial” way, then why would he think that he couldn’t have the thing that would make him happy?) So Cas’ realization is that telling Dean about his feelings is enough to make him happy.

7. Cas tells Dean all the reasons why he loves him (thereby combating Dean’s self-deprecation tirade), and all the reasons why he’s worthy of his love. Meanwhile, Dean is still winded from the fact that Cas is about to sacrifice himself for him again.

8. Dean never gets to process anything, because Cas is shoving him out of the way, as he and Death (who busts through the door) get taken by The Empty.

After this episode, Dean never speaks of it. Misha Collins supposes that Dean doesn’t reciprocate. Jensen Ackles says that Dean didn’t really get to process it because it was too much, too fast, and that Dean, still dense as ever, thinks that Cas, a celestial being, doesn’t interpret human feelings the same way.

So what was the point of this confession?

Politics and sensitivities of a 2005 network television aside, what does this do for the story?

Cas proclaims his romantic feelings to Dean, but Dean never acknowledges it, doesn’t even give it a passing thought afterwards. So Cas’ big declaration goes unheard.

Cas cashes in on his Empty deal to kill Death (who was dying anyway), in order to save Dean who dies two episodes after.

Dean makes no effort to save Cas (despite being really broken up about his previous deaths, or even spending a whole year in Purgatory looking for him), even after they’ve beaten God, not even asking Jack (who has all the power in the universe) to bring him back (when Jack has already done it before, with less mojo).

Dean moves on to fight the monster of the week. Somewhere off-screen, Jack rescues Cas from The Empty, but Cas uncharacteristically doesn’t even bother to go to Dean? (Every single time he comes back, Dean’s always the first person he goes to)

And Cas, who apparently helped craft and reform the new heaven, isn’t the one who welcomes Dean and explains the new dynamics of it?

Sure, Jan.

Supernatural, you’ve created a finale that only your casual viewers and people who dipped out after Season 5 can appreciate.

Just goes to show how much you actually valued the people who actually invested in your story and characters, and consistently helped keep your show on the air.

[RT this on Twitter]

#SUPERNATURAL #DESTIEL #15X20 #I KNOW I SAID THAT MY LAST LONG POST WAS MY LAST ON EVER BUT I REALLY DIDN'T THINK THE FINALE WOULD BE WORSE THAN I THOUGHT IT WOULD BE #INSIGHTFUL INSIGHTS #UNTAGGED #PERSONAL

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allisonbaelfire · 3 years

Text

NYX

Pairings: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: Nyx was a legend, others referred to her as a myth of a bygone era, but so was the Winter Soldier once. The two shared a common past and now a common mission. However, their feelings for one another could danger their goal.

Word Count: 4,403

Authors Note: This story is inspired by the Marvel Comics with Bucky Barnes and Natasha Romanoff and Falcon and the Winter Soldier Series.

+ nyx = /Nýx/ - the Greek goddess (or personification) of the night. A shadowy figure.

____________________________________

“I was their secret weapon...or at least I was one of them. She was another. Something about her touched what was left of my humanity. Buried under all that programming.” Bucky touched the back of his neck. “A long time ago, Y/N made me remember what it was to feel human.”

____________________________________

MADRIPOOR - Low Town:

After several weeks of looking for clues to the "Flag Smashers", your way brought you to Madripoor. One of the most criminal cities in the world. If you didn't want to be robbed or even die here immediately, you had to be someone and have made a name for yourself. It's good that you already had that.

“Nyx”, Your informant greeted you. “Where’s my money?”

You smirked. “Do I have to remind you what happens, if you keep talking to me in that tone?”

You wanted to take a sip of the bourbon you had just ordered, but your informant knocked it out of your hand and the glass broke on the floor. Before the glass hit the floor, you grabbed him by his throat and pushed him down on the counter.

The bar owner, Jerry, wanted to interfere. His bar was the only one in Madripoor with zero tolerance against violence, if you wanted to fight you should do it outside.

You raised your finger and showed the owner that he should wait, he also knew who you were, which was why he repected you.

“Do you know how hard it is to find a good bar with my favorite bourbon in Madripoor?” The guy shook his head while you gripped tighter. “No? now let me tell you - it's as hard as really doing anything with your expensive information.” You let go of him.

“I-I told you everything, I know.”

“I-I” You laughed. “Remembered who I am, huh?” You ordered another Bourbon. “So, first of all, this drink, you’ll pay for it.” You took a sip and smiled. “Next, you’re going to tell me all you know about Kali and then I’ll pay you.”

You didn't get an answer, but you realized he still knew something when he nervously looked at his phone. You rolled your eyes, stood up, and turned around. "Jerry, I'm really sorry but I tried the nice way." You slightly pulled your dress up and took out your gun, turned to the informant and released the fuse.

“Phone,” You winded your eyes, “now!”

You rolled your eyes, still pointing at the guy. “Zemo - High Town, you’ve got to be kidding me.” You put your gun back and broke his phone. “I’m very disappointed and our Deal is over, don’t make a mistake - don’t follow me.” You spoke serious. “Or it's the last thing you'll ever do.”

____________________________________

MADRIPOOR - High Town - Brass Monkey Saloon:

High Town in Madripoor was way different than Low Town. More drugs, weapons sex, rich people and power. The petty criminals were no longer represented here; criminal elite were gathered here.

“Nyx,” The Bartender greeted you. “Long time no see even though you look stunning in that dress (X), thought you were done with this life.”

“Well, a girl has to eat,” You smirked. “And to drink.”

The bartender smiled and brought you your favorite bourbon. “Did you hear the rumors about Zemo?”

“Heard he’s back in town.” You took a sip of your glas.

He raised his eybrow. “This Bastard is accompanied by the Winter Soldier.”

You choked. He patted you on the shoulder. After you were sure you hadn't misheard, you inspected the club more closely.

You looked at the Bartender, “You never saw me.” he nodded.

You nervously went to the ladies' room. You’ve heard that James was still alive and that he now had a part of his memory back, so you thought he had stopped being the Winter Soldier and started a life of his own outside of H.Y.D.R.A.. But now that he was Zemo's company you thought about following them and finding out what that their Partnership was about.

You checked whether there was anyone else in the toilet besides you and when you were sure that you were alone, you took a deep breath and turned on the water. You suddenly got a slight headache and grabbed your head, when you looked at yourself in the mirror, your flashbacks started.

____________________________________

Ages ago - Red Room:

You were one of the best and yet you always had to prove it. After you had defeated each of your fellow campaigners, your leaders were still not satisfied and they let you fight the Winter Soldier - again

“AGAIN!” The Winter Soldier shouted and you fell you arm would break if you’d hit him again.

“AGAIN!”

“James, I-I need a break.”

“What did you just call me?” He asked as he noticed the penetrating looks of the other woman and you remembered that nobody should now.

The Winter Soldier knocked you out.

____________________________________

After James knocked you out, you were brought to your room, you woke up hours later. You touched your head and noticed the bump he gave you.

"Stupid, bastard." You mumbled.

“I’m sorry, you know I had to.” You recognized his voice.

You looked around and saw his silhouette sitting in the corner, presumably he came through the window into your room again, like so many times before.

You shook your head, “No, I am sorry. I've put both of us in danger”

Bucky got up and went to you. He let his right hand slowly slide up over your arm to your neck and finally to your head, he too felt the bump. You felt his guilt, but you knew he would never really hurt you.

“Stop it.” You wrapped your arms around his neck. “James, you know I could’ve easily taken you down.” You smirked.

Because of him, you could endure the whole ordeal at all. If he just looked at you, you lost yourself in his blue eyes and if he held you in his arms he gave you a warm home. He was your anchor to carry on every day and you were his.

“I told you to call me Bucky.”

You pulled him closer to you, “I’m glad that you start to remember who you’re.”

He put his hands gently around your waist and pulled you closer as he slowly leaned in to kiss you.

____________________________________

After cooling your wrists and neck, your pulse calmed down and the flashbacks were gone.

“Thankfully I have often had to look out from above in this God-forsaken place.”

You jumped on one of the sinks and pushed a panel of the roof aside. You pulled yourself up and crawled back to the dance floor so that no one could see you but you could see everyone.

You spotted Zemo, so it wasn't a rumor and he really was back, but you haven't been able to locate Bucky yet. But it was strange for Zemo that his companion was smiling Tiger.

You were a little rusty in lip reading but you understood that he wanted to talk to Shelby. This would have been your next step too. The mood in the club began to turn. People started staring at Zemo as one of Powerbroker's bodyguards made himself known.

“Зимний солдат атака” Zemo ordered.

“No” You covered your mouth with your hands.

Bucky stepped out of the shadows and was now clearly in your field of vision. He didn't see you, it seemed as if he only saw what he always saw first - an order and his mission. He was ready to comply. He attacked the men who were trying to get Zemo.

Elegant and graceful like a cat, you glide silently along the steel girders, and watched every movement of James, did Zemo really manage to turn him into his personal puppet?

Bucky knocked down man after man as if they were nothing. Your pulse went faster and your movements on the steel beams became more uncontrolled as you followed his fight. Your heart felt the urge to intervene, you reminded Bucky so many times who he was - not any ones weapon, that you stopped counting and seeing him like this again felt like you had failed him.

When you were almost about to fall, people simultaneously pulled out their guns. James stopped fighting and was called back by Zemo. You regained control of your heartbeat and your body relaxed, which helped you to find your balance again.

The bartender informed Zemo that the three would now be welcomed by Shelby.

You couldn't follow them any further without getting into the line of fire. You waited until they left and slowly made your way down from the steel girders and landed on the floor. People looked at you questioningly.

“What? Lady’s stay out of meaningless fights.” And with that you left the bar.

____________________________________

After a few minutes outside the club you got a message, but it seemed you weren't the only one. Cell phones all around you started chiming, people were chatting and looking around. Shelby placed a pretty high bounty and now everyone would be looking for James

You heard gunshots, “Great.”

Of course, instead of being smart and running away from the gunshots like every other person, you couldn't help but run to exactly where they came from. You hadn't seen Bucky in a long time, but everything in your body demanded to find him before someone could place a bullet between his beautiful ocean eyes.

You saw the bikers who drove behind Bucky and smiling Tiger, you pulled out your gun and fired at them. Two fell, thanks to you, the last one was taken out by a sniper.

“You seem to have a guardian Angel.” Zemo spoke breathless.

“Not quite.”

Bucky recognized this voice, but couldn't place it exactly on a face. He was just sure she wasn't a threat.

A blond woman showed up, “Nice shot. I take it from here,” she looked behind the man. “and you can crawl back into the darkness.” You smirked and nodded.

Before the men could turn around you had already disappeared into the shadows.

____________________________________

Within seconds you were on the roofs of Madripoor and on the way to your hotel. Being so close to Bucky clouded your mind and made you lose sight of your goal.

It helped you to walk over the rooftops in the middle of the night, it was like a release for you. In the night, in the deepest darkness, it was easier to order your thoughts, this is how you had been taught, how he had taught you to focus in case you should lose your way - switch everything dark and only listen to your inner voice.

You remembered him saying those words to you, “Your voice is what makes me lose my focus.” you held your neck and climbed into your Hotelroom through an open window.

After you were in your room, you inspected every inch for cameras, microphones or intruders of any kind, after this you closed every window, every door and every curtain.

“Finally.” You sighed as you pulled of your dress.

You looked even more threatening under your dress. There were small knives on both sides of your ribs and two different guns on your legs. You took everything off and put your weapons aside, all but your favorite gun (X).

“Your place is here.” You spoke soft and placed it under your pillow.

You went to bed and closed your eyes. The room was dark and absolutely silent while your thoughts and memories yelled at you.

____________________________________

“Can we just stay here forever?” You asked while laying in Buckys arms on top of the roof the Academy.

You looked up, the stars merged with the dark night and they seemed to be in perfect harmony.

“Whenever we’re separated, I look at the stars and I think of you. You are my night and I'm your star, he looked at his metal arm,” He tried to make the gun on his body positive. “even if we are often apart from each other, I cannot be without you-”

You lifted yourself up to look at him. “And I cannot be without you.”

____________________________________

MADRIPOOR - High Town - Unknown Place

It was already very late when Bucky, Sam and Zemo arrived at Sharon's apartment. They all wouldn’t have expected that Sharon had such a beautiful and safe hiding place in the middle of Madripoor, plus a successful business.

“How’s the new Cap?” She asked curious.

Bucky sat down on the couch, "Don’t get me started" he said with an annoyed voice.

Sharon scoffed. “Please. You buy into all that stars and stripes bullshit.” She sat next to him. “Before you were his pet psychopath, you were Mr. America!” Sharon chuckled as she noticed Zemo questioning look. “Cap’s best friend.”

Bucky was suprised by Sharon's words, none of them knew this side of her before.

“Wow. She’s kind of awful now.” Bucky mumbled.

Sam gave them an side eye, “Kali Morgenthau and at least seven others have taken the super soldier serum.” He sat down. “We won’t leave until we find the one who cracked the code.”

Sharon turned and stared out her window, “That’d explain her appearance. Either she wants to take it or destroy it.”

“Who?” Zemo asked.

“Nyx” Sharon stood up and got herself a drink.

Bucky stood up and he looked petrified. It was as if he had forgotten how to move or even show any kind of reaction within seconds. As he thought more and more about the day, he had felt her penetrating gaze, even though she was nowwhere to be seen. His heart was racing. Bucky’s eyes ran through the room, every dark corner was inspected, but she wasn’t called NYX for nothing.

Sam noticed Bucky's tense body, everything about him seemed like he was hopelessly overwhelmed with something that piercing his head.

“Hey man. You okay?” Sam gently touched his shoulder.

Zemo looked worried like Bucky would snap again any minute. “What is going on with him?”

Bucky went to Sharon and got worryingly close in her space. “What do you know about her and how can I contact her?”

Bucky's posture was tense. For someone who didn't know him, they might have thought, he would attack Sharon at any moment. But Sharon didn’t step back. She recognized something in his eyes, that she had once seen before, as she looked in Steve Roger’s after her Aunts dead - pain and a broken heart.

“This can’t be.” Sharon raised her eyebrow and crossed her arms. “You’re her-”

“What the hell is going on?” Sam interrupted.

“-Star”

Bucky's eyes blurred, his head started to ache, and he held on to the wall to keep from falling.

“I know you’ll always be with me!” You chuckled and looked into the dark blue night. “You’re my star, you watch out for me.”

He remembered a feminine and warm voice.

“What if they catch us?” You asked him worried.

Bucky gently touched your cheek, “Then I’ll fight them all.” he kissed you.

He remembered the texture of her soft skin and her gently touch.

“You’re not a Monster, no matter how many times they try to convince you - you’re not.”

He remembered how you tried to protect him.

“If you want him, you’ve to kill me first.”

He remembered how you fought for him...

...and how you lost the fight.

Bucky took a deep breath. He came back to himself. He remembered a part of his past that H.Y.D.R.A. left buried deep. A part that made him turn off the Winter Soldier again and again.

His guilt grew. “I need to go.” He mumbled.

Sam came in his way, “Wait!” he sighed. “Talk to me, Buck.”

Sharon scoffed. “One Weapon wants to find the other. NYX is a Myth all around the world, like the Winter Soldier was.” She winked at him. “She’s as strong as an Army, fast like a cheetah, she knows the most diverse fighting techniques and speaks multiple languages-”

“-Okay and?” Zemo rolled his eyes.

“I was the secret weapon of H.Y.D.R.A. ...or at least I was one of them. She was another. Something about her touched what was left of my humanity. Buried under all that programming.” Bucky touched the back of his neck. “A long time ago, Y/N made me remember what it was to feel human.”

Sam held his head. “She saved us today. Well, saved you but-” he shrug with his shoulders.

“And now she has become a shadow. She works alone, always clean leaving no hints behind. I don’t know how to find her but maybe I can contact some people who might know what her next mission is.”

____________________________________

MADRIPOOR - Next Morning:

Your alarm clock rang but you had been awake and still lying in bed for hours. That you would wake up before your alarm clock was nothing special, but it was unusual that you were lying there instead of going to work immediately.

Your heart beat irregularly, and a slight nausea came over you every now and then. Seeing Bucky again without him recognizing you hit your psyche more than you wanted to admit to yourself.

Your phone rang, a new hint for the super soldier serum.

You sighed. “Ohhh f*ck this.” you put your pillow on your face.

But a mission was a mission. You took the pillow from your face, sat up straight, and took a deep breath. Even before you knew that Bucky was back, the mission was important to you personally and Bucky wouldn't be able to prevent you from destroying the serum - no matter what.

Your cell phone rang again and one of your informants wrote you where you could find the scientist who had recreated the serum. Buccaneer Bay.

You looked at your gun. “Hopefully I won’t need you for him...” You spoke and put on your weapons.

____________________________________

MADRIPOOR - Buccaneer Bay

Your body was still tense because of Bucky, but it was also he who learned to suppress your own emotions. When you arrived in Buccaneer Bay, your way led you to the top of the container. A better view and you wouldn't be noticed right away.

“With that bounty on your head, the longer you’re in Madripoor the less likely you’re ever leaving.”

You rolled your eyes as you recognized a female voice. “I should’ve known.”

You leaned a little over the container you were standing on and noticed Sharon, Sam Wilson, Zemo and of course Bucky.

The four of them ran through the individual containers and it seemed as if they were looking for the same thing as you. Slowly and silently you went after them until-

Sharon stopped. “-Container four-two-six-one.”

Bucky looked uncomfortable. He looked around in every direction. It was as if you could literally feel that someone was watching him.

“I’ll watch while you guys talk to Nagel.” Sharon handed them some earpods. “But hurry. We’re on borrowed time.”

“What’re you up to?” You asked yourself as you looked at her.

The container door cracked open, you waited until Sharon was far enough away to get to the next container and on to your destination.

The men went in and you heard them open another door inside. You waited 2 minutes, after all, Zemo and Sam were accompanied by the Winter Soldier, who would double-check everything. When you were sure that they were gone you went into the container.

____________________________________

As you followed them you heard how they drew their weapons. That wasn’t your way, while they first thought of pulling out their weapons, you thought of securing the container and waiting until the men thought they had nothing to worry about and were alone with the doctor.

“Doctor Nagel?” You heard Sam.

The doctor turned and went pale in the face. “Who are you? What do you want?”

“We know you created the super-soldier serum.”

You walked slowly into the room and decided to hide yourself first.

Nagel walked past them, “Get out of my lap.” until he noticed Bucky.

“You know who he is right?”

Nagel didn’t dare to move any further than looked deep into Bucky’s eyes and didn’t grimace. Sam grabbed Nagel by his jacket and pushed him at a wall.

“How about a counter proposal?” The Doctor grinned. “Make me a better offer and I talk.”

Bucky's body language spoke for him. He must have heard something, they weren't alone anymore. He pulled his gone and pointed at Nagel. You got nervous, was this Bucky Barnes or was it the Winter Soldier? Whoever he was, nothing should happen to Nagel.

Nagel began to explain how he managed to reproduce and modify the Super-Soldier serum. In your opinion, he was a bit arrogant.

“I was god.” He smiled and you rolled your eyes.

Zemo started walking around, you couldn't tell what he was going to do so you decided to get closer. He found a gun under a desk and went near Sam and Bucky. You heard the container door open again and you were ready to fight, but Sharon stormed in and for a second you couldn't keep an eye on Zemo, a shot went off - Nagel was dead.

You had to act immediately, you came out from behind Sharon and hit her hard on the head, she fell over like a stone. Sam held Zemo tight, his gun fell to the ground. You ran up to Sam, he was so surprised that it was easy for you to ram your elbow in his face and make him fall to the ground too. You pulled out your two guns, one aimed at Zemo and the other at Bucky.

“Y/N?” Bucky sounded confused.

“Its been a long time since I heard that Name,” She sighed. “Did you miss me, Soldier?” You gasped.

“Do you want the serum for yourself, my dear?” Zemo asked hands up.

Bucky shook his head, “She already has it.” He came closer to you.

“Ah-Ah-Ah, don’t make another move.” You were still aiming at Bucky. “I need the serums, I’ll destroy them so that no one can ever use it again, can use us like they please.”

Bucky's gaze softened. The whole time he was wondering what had become of you, but even if H.Y.D.R.A. or the KGB wanted to make you monsters, you were one of the monsters who worked for, instead of against, people.

He came closer and even without touching you he could feel how much your heart was beating. But what he didn't know, would you shoot him to get to your goal?

He put his hand on yours with he gun, “Y/N...”

____________________________________

Before you could react to Bucky or even think about your next step, you were hit by a bomb that destroyed half the container and knocked you and the others to the ground.

“Y/N,” Bucky groans.

You heard heard the alarm blaring and glasses clicking, everything was shaking but you seemed unharmed as you could stand up on your own. But your eyes couldn't see that much, everything looked blurry. You could barely stand on your feet.

“Did anyone see Zemo?”

Bucky helped the others up. You shook your head and slowly came to yourself. Bucky came and took your hand when another explosion destroyed the container, you all were lucky and made it out just in time.

“All right! Wait for my signal!” Bucky ordered.

You heard gunfire and placed yourself in front of him to take a shouter out.

“Too slow old man.” You came out from behind the container and started shooting the other shooters. Sharon and Sam followed your example and helped.

“Damn it, Y/N!”

You could hear how one after the other fell to the ground but it seemed to get more and more.

“Hey?!” You looked at Bucky. “Do you remember Budapest?” You yelled.

Bucky did remember Budapest and shook his head. “Its too dangerous!”

Another explosion happened and smoke came up, it was perfect to cover you. You got out of your protection and Bucky ran behind you. You were standing back to back and started shooting around you and taking one by one until there was no one left.

Sam and Sharon were speechless after what they just witnessed. A super soldier and a spy who killed 20 people at once without even blinking. But it wasn't over yet, Madripoor was not known for criminals who would give up so easily.

“Okay come on!” Sharon spoke and you followed her into another container.

“So you two?” Sam started and Bucky and you gave him a death stare. “Okay, okay.” He grinned.

Bucky rammed open the door on the other side of the container and you could hear car tires screeching.

“Supercharged.” Zemo smiled.

“You’re going back to jail.” Sam replied.

“Do you want to find Karli or not?”

Bucky crossed his arms, “He’s right, we need him.” he opened the car door.

“Fine.” Sam clenched his teeth. “But if you try that shit again.” He placed himself on the backseat.

You looked at Bucky and he realized you weren't going to come with him. He took your hand and pulled you closer to himself.

Everything in Bucky demanded to stroke you, kiss you and just feel you but he couldn't even find a word.

“I’ll find you.” You looked into his eyes and smiled soft. “even in the darkest nights.”

He placed a kiss on your forehead. “Don’t do anything stupid.” Then he went inside the car.

You nodded to Sam to show you trusted him to fight by Bucky's side. Then you turned around and walked past Sharon while you rammed her shoulder hard, once around the corner and you were gone.

Bucky put his head in his hands, wondering if he should have stayed with you or persuaded you to come with him. But it didn't seem to be the time for it yet. Sam touched his shoulder to comfort him. Zemo started the car and Bucky felt your gaze on him, he turned around and this time you allowed him to see you.

He knew you’d see each other again, he still hoped for a better reason but the Serum was still out there - and your mission wasn't over yet.

_______________________________

Thank you for reading - Please share and leave some love here <3

#Bucky Barnes #bucky barnes gif #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes one shot #Winter Soldier #falcon and winter solider series #tfatws #tfatws imagine #marvel #marvel fanfiction #sam wilson #sam wilson imagine #Sam Wilson fanfic #sharon carter #madripoor #natasha romanoff #captain america

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tes-trash-blog · 2 years

Text

He’s old, older than any man you’ve ever seen. And a man he is, with rounded ears, pink skin mottled with age spots, and a beard that, from his seat, seems nearly to reach the floor. The fur cloak that he’s draped across his lap is pocked with bald spots, the markings unlike any saber cat or bear you’ve seen in Skyrim. He idly traces the clasp, the worn bronze holding a braid of pure white silk. It seems to glow in the firelight.

He sees you. He smiles an easy smile, his eyes still bright with youth and sharp as an axe.

“You’re here for a story, young’un? Well, sit by me here. My voice don’t carry like it used to!” He laughs boisterously. You take your seat beside him. He waves over a serving woman and orders the Hroldan Reserve, “and some warm milk for the newcomer!”

When his mead arrives, it is in a horn. He hums as he takes the first long drag; the vibrations are felt from the floorboards to the inside of your ear.

“Now.. A story. Ah, I know the one.

“You know the rite of passage up in Windhelm and all those ‘old holds’?” He laughs again, a low almost-growl. “Well, up over there, the moment the sun rises on your 13th year, your pa, or whoever raised you as your pa, gives you an axe and the boot. You can’t come back without ‘proving your mastery over the ice and frost’, and there’s only one way to do that.”

You know the answer, but you wait for him to speak all the same.

“Ice wraiths essence, from a freshly slain one, too. Tricky little bastards are impossible to see, just about. ‘Course, what most don’t tell you is how we most hardy Nords came to choose the ice wraith. Well, I’ll tell you what I know.

“Now, most folk don’t know this, but ice wraiths haven’t always haunted our frozen wilds. Ain’t too sure when they came around, but it was sometime after Ysgramor and his Companions settled down here. Course, the Elves that lived here at the time, they didn’t take too kindly to him and his, but I’m sure you’ve heard that story to death. The bit you don’t hear is how you became a Companion in the first place.”

He leans in towards you, and the world seems to shrink away from him.

“A Snow Elf. You had to bring one in, alive, and intact enough for a scalping. Men and women both had their hair long, gods knew why. Elves, y’know? Of course you do!” He laughs again, hearty and warm, and in spite of the roaring fire you feel a chill crawl up your spine. “Of course, bringing one in was a challenge in itself!Such.. dainty little things. Hard to believe they ever claimed Skryim was their home. Guessing that shows how in the wrong they were.

“Course, t’weren’t many around in the First Era. Maybe a handful. Elders said those ones, they put up more of a fight. Not much of one by any account. One shout would put them down, if you catch my meaning!”

He laughs again. It fills your ears, your head. You look around, but the other patrons are in their cups or conversations. Do they not hear it?

“And by the time I came of age.. Well, I reckon they were extinct. Or.. Nearly.” He adjusts the cloak on his lap. You can’t help but notice his hand, spotted with age, follow the braid, smoothing the slight fraying of the edges. “They’re gone now though, and so I suppose these young’uns make do with the ice wraiths.”

He leans back into his chair. The wood creaks under his weight.

“Suppose the newer traditions are better. At least the wraiths put up a bloody fight.”

#*in comic sans* writing is my passion #''behold! tes-trash-blog is back on their snow elf bullshit!'' ye harken #well joke's on you!#i'm always on my snow elf bullshit #i just finally posted something!#the elder scrolls #skyrim #falmer #snow elf

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oumaheroes · 3 years

Text

Stargazing

Word Count: 2030

Characters: England, France- FrUK

---

‘If you could go back to any era, which would you choose?’ There is a stone in-between France’s shoulder blades, something that finally tips the scales from being comfortable into not, so France rolls onto his side, cradling his head in his hand.

From his spot in the grass next to him, England turns his head lazily, the movement long and slow. His eyes are the last to move, fixed on the stars, and they find France’s with a sharp flick, ‘What?’

‘Are you too drunk to listen?’ France lifts a heavy arm and reaches across the small distance between them to brush some errant hair away from England’s forehead and lets it stay there, tangled in his roots. France himself is wine soft and slow, warm in his stomach and chest from both the day and the drink which settles within him.

England huffs, ‘More like drunk enough that I can stop pretending you’re worth listening to.’

France hums indulgently, far too jovial at the moment to search for any unintended offense, ‘oh, the lies you tell yourself. They do amuse me.’

England frowns, head still facing France and cheek pillowed in the grass. Wine is not enough to soften him entirely, it seems, ‘that is rich, coming from you.’

France brings his hand down from England’s hair to lay it across his mouth, ‘I’m not starting anything with you this evening, I’m too full.’

England opens his mouth and, very gently, bites the meat of the pad of France’s hand. Just to show that he could and to be difficult, showing that he won’t go down without a fight. France’s small input in the ridiculous battle is to leave it there, refusing to give in. Eventually, England lets go and moves his head away, although not before pressing his teeth down just that bit harder. France reclaims his hand and allows him escape without protest.

‘What drivel did you ask me?’ England looks back up at the sky again, high and cloudless above them.

‘If you could be in any era again, any that we have lived through,’ France repeats, ‘which would you pick to go back to?’ He has caught England in a good mood, one where he has allowed himself to be seen, for a time, without anything sharp covering him. Drink has made him pliant and loose tongued and France, in a similar mood, is keen to make the most of it.

England rolls his head slightly back, considering the question, ‘How long do I get in the era?’

‘No, don’t do that, don’t make it technical. It’s not a difficult question.’

‘It most certainly is, running water always influences things,’ England’s mouth twists in a wry hint of a smile, ‘and it’s one thing to pop back to the Tudor times for one of the court parties and quite another to have to spend more than a week there. I do not lament the loss of hose and codpiece.’

‘I do, they made my legs look fabulous.’

England snorted and rolled his eyes, ‘Why am I not surprised.’

‘You’re avoiding the question,’ France twists away from him briefly to feel for the wine bottle they’d been drinking from. It had rolled away slightly, the slight incline of France’s garden causing it to move easily as they shuffled about and he takes a long swing of it before laying it between them, neck resting on England’s stomach. He’s past beyond the point of using glasses now.

‘I’m not avoiding the question, I was trying to-‘

‘No stop, you’re ruining it; I’ll go first,’ after brushing the grass underneath to clear it of stones, France returns to lying on his back, arms behind his head, and ignores England’s tut of annoyance, ‘I think I’d actually want to go back to the days under Rome, just for a visit.’

England sits up on his elbows and takes a sip from the bottle himself, ‘I hadn’t expected that of you.’

‘No?’

‘God no. I would have thought you’d want to go back to one of your King Luis. You know, peak opulence, decadence- all that faff. You still love the fancy balls and the clothes, and the needless tat that came with it,’ England takes another sip of wine and runs his tongue over his teeth, ‘the dances and the jewels, the silly little court rules of behaviour. The gossip.’

France chuckles, ‘you were so funny every time you were dragged along- so out of place! You couldn’t go more than an hour before letting your true colours slip free.’ England was never truly refined for very long, especially when it came to the Versailles’ court standards.

‘Anyone with a lick of sense was immediately out of place,’ England quips drily and lays down again, placing the cork back in the wine as he goes.

It sounds nearly empty- shame. It was a nice year and the last of the bottles that they’d brought out to the garden. Dinner had been a late, informal affair in France’s kitchen- homemade bread and creamy, locally made cheese with chicken. Simple and filling, comfort food for the both of them. The summer heat made them both unwilling for anything too excessive and the entire day had been spent doing lots of nothing much at all; England lounging about in shorts that France refrained from teasing him about lest he stop wearing them.

‘Yes well,’ France lifts his head and clumsily bats him in the stomach with the top of his hand, ‘despite that indeed being extremely enjoyable, I do mean it. My choice of era, I mean.’

England makes a soft noise that gently demands elaboration, a low rumble in the back of his throat but France needs no prompting. He presses a knuckle into the softness of England’s stomach and feels him breathe in deep and slow.

‘I’d love to have nothing to be responsible for again. Everything was done for me, as a colony- the way my cities were built, the improvements made to my industries, the negotiations for trade and commerce, everything. I’d like to revisit being a child, in the closest sense of childhood our kind has,’ France pauses, mulling that over, ‘Imagine that again, being small but without fear of being so. No politics, no money driven economy, no push for growth. We have spent so much of our lives racing to get somewhere, striving to be more that I can hardly remember what it was like to be nothing more than an idea, existing just to speak for the lives that called themselves mine.’

France turns and catches England watching him, eyes searching and heavy, ‘Does that make sense?’ he asks him.

‘No,’ England’s answer is immediate, ‘no, and yes. The desire to be I understand, but I detested that age.’

France smiles at him, understanding masked by the dark. England does not, and never did, like being anything other than in perfect control of himself. Relinquishing that to someone else, even for his own benefit, has never been anything more than a horror.

‘Well,’ France says, ‘that is my choice. I liked being looked after and I have so much to do nowadays that it would be nice to have nothing to do once again. Nothing more than wander about my fields and see my people, or visit a northern barbarian across the sea.’

‘Don’t talk about Scotland that way, you’ll hurt his feelings.’

France laughs and reaches down to find England’s hand, open palmed and curled fingers by his side. He intertwines his own with it and brings them upwards, watching as together they cut across to block the light from his house and silhouette into a tangle of them both.

‘So,’ he says, running a thumb across the skin of England’s knuckle, ‘what era would you choose?’

England sighs, a light thing but France can hear a yearning there, ‘Any of the years I was at sea. The 1500’s when I was first starting out and even up to the 1700’s when things became more regimented- any of them. To be able to just get in a boat and go, no one knowing when I would come back or even where I was going.’

France shudders, the idea of being out in ocean that deep and so alone chilling him. For creatures that revive after death, who can wake again and again and again as long as there is a body to return to, the ocean is a lonely, painful place to die. To sink lifeless into murky depths, only to reawaken there in the dark press of salty sea; most nations avoided it as much as they could, wishing to avoid the long, drawn out death choked by waves and forgotten on the seafloor.

England never had such a healthy fear of the oceans. He went out into thunderous storms and monstrous waves as if enchanted, unable to resist the pull of something untamed. England sailed off as soon as he was able, going out for further and longer than anyone else dared and losing himself in the harsh life of the brine. He was a different creature far out at sea, something so strangely alive and perfectly at home for a man made from the soul of the mountains and land.

‘You always were a strange one for the macabre,’ France drops their hands back down and finds England once more looking at the sky, the reflection of stars glinting in his eyes.

‘The seas never change,’ his voice is quiet and distant, ‘some things do change, of course- the boats we sail on, how we do so. Things shift on the sea, the lands we travel to and from are washed away and changed with time but the sea itself is always the same. I appreciate it for that, it is predictably unpredictable. Constantly refusing the press of mankind by being the one thing we can never truly understand, for all of mankind’s new fancy gadgets.’

England gives a sudden, dry laugh, ‘I used to navigate the world by constellations, now I have to travel just to find some stars. To the highest peaks I have, or deep in my countryside to avoid as much light pollution as I can. But out at sea they are as they have always been, the same things I have watched and tracked for thousands of years. That is when I can just be as I have always been.’

The sky hangs overhead, speckled and bright and now, France notices, startlingly empty, ‘I often forget that they’re there,’ France speaks to the sky, ‘Funny, isn’t it? How something so fundamental can disappear and mankind not even notice. How odd to forget that stars are there, then to not notice they’re gone.’

‘We are cursed or blessed to remember what’s past,’ England offers, ‘which one depends on who we remember for.’

They lay in silence for a moment. France feels the collected years sit with him openly, laying on his chest and heart like tiny weights. The ground pushes against his back, firm and unmoving, and he breathes in deeply, smelling the heat of the summer in the air. He is here. He is now. He is. Still, after all this time. He watches.

To exist is to change, to live is to evolve and move with the flow of time, but France understands the want for something constant in the flood, something that stays recognisable and the same throughout the years. The older he gets, the more he yearns for it keenly.

‘You’ve gone and made things serious,’ he lifts himself back up on an elbow, England looking at him without moving his head, ‘just like you to take a light conversation and ruin it.’

England raises an eyebrow, “Oh the lies you tell yourself; they do amuse me.”

His French is accented with a Norman dialect, a gentle dig and refusal to fully let France have what he wants and France laughs at it, at this one unchanging constant he is stuck with. He leans down to kiss him, hair curling into England’s face and hiding what remains of the night sky.

----

AN: Every time I try writing one of these small drabbles, I start out with a particular idea and tone in mind but gosh darn it they never go where I intend for them to.

Today we have ended up with this, two old men talking themselves in circles in the summer grass.

#My writing #aph france #hws france #aph england #hws england #hetalia fanfiction #hetalia fanfic #hetalia #aph #hws #arthur kirkland #francis bonnefoy #nationverse #i have so may writing styles and one day i will stop flip flopping between them #another thing to clean up before going on AO3 #fruk #aph fruk

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