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#but that until my soul was born or whatever she was never really complete
seelestia · 1 year
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Dunno why I felt compelled to do this, but-
Here's some dialogue I just thought up regarding that angsty af Zhongli oneshot that a certain someone requested (who could it be I wonder 👀👀)
The ones talking are Ganyu and the Reader.
"Do you regret it?"
"Regret what?"
"Your love."
"..."
"I regret not being born earlier."
"I regret not being a goddess."
"I regret not being the first."
"I regret not having the long straight hair he so misses."
"But most of all, I regret not being her."
"But you had no control over any of those! It's not your fault!"
"...That's exactly why it hurts."
We love angst 😩💅💅👍✨
- Ever so sadly yours, 👹✨ Jae (also hi Lia :D been a while since I been in your inbox huehue)
— 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭.
a continuation to do you love me? choose a decision at the end! only 1/2 endings available as of now.
summary: a cracked heart is like a cracked jar; it can only hold so much within before it shatters — what if you've come to terms that you cannot take the pain of the truth any longer? (1.2k+ words)
genre: angst, "loves you but not most" trope, lovers to ???? (open-ended / cliffhanger i'm sorry.) + read the alt text on the header for extra summary!
characters: ganyu, zhongli, guizhong (implied).
cw: descriptions of crying, one pet name.
thoughts: you came into my inbox after a while and you brought pain with you. i'm not particularly proud of this but here you go, i cannot be blamed for these buckets of tears any longer. (/j)
✰ main masterlist. // series masterlist.
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The night was young in Liyue, the breeze was gentle as it swept across the lands — but oh, how you wished the wind could also blow the sadness in your heart.
Blurry sight, soaked cheeks, sheer and pure numbness. For how long had you been like this? Seconds felt like minutes, minutes felt like hours, and hours felt like days. Whatever perception of time you had left just seemed to crumble to dust.
You couldn't help but wonder why? Ha, what irony when you knew very well why.
Wasn't it the truth that was relayed to you some time ago? Wasn't that why you decided to sneak away whilst your lover was sleeping, why you were crying in the company of a concerned friend, why you were here right now?
"I'm so sorry—" you choked out an apology to Ganyu through bated breath.
Your friend was out for a midnight stroll when she saw you and upon seeing how red your eyes were, she didn't leave your side out of worry ever since. You tried to reassure her that you'd be fine alone, really — but she looked so devastated, equally as sorrowful as you were like the very sadness in your heart was her own.
But you felt pathetic; so pathetic and so pitiful.
Nothing had been the same after that day, as much as you wished to deny it. Curiosity did kill the cat, after all; in your case, curiosity was what condemned your soul to a void of nothingness.
They said love was what filled a human's soul and if that were true, then you would be nothing but a shell of a soul. Zhongli gave you a love that you wished to cradle with your all forever — but he was never yours, never completely yours. Yet, how could you blame him? How could you ever blame him for experiencing a love so great he wasn't able to forget it?
"I'm not her. I could never be her," you finally forced the words out, clutching onto the railing of Liyue Harbor until a stinging pain greeted your hands. It had been the simplest conclusion, yet the hardest pill to swallow. A fate you couldn't change even if you wished you could so bad, someone unrivaled you could only imagine holding a candle to. Bitter and self-deprecating were the quiet laughter you let out at the realization.
Never was, never will.
"[Y/N], you don't have to apologize," was all Ganyu could afford to utter. She knew she should've said more, but the words escaped her barren mind; perhaps, it would be better to listen instead of saying something that could make matters worse. You could tell that Ganyu was disappointed in herself for not being able to provide you with profound wisdom or the right words of comfort.
Truthfully, you couldn't help but feel terrible for putting her in this situation, for possibly ruining her night with your mood. But when the Adeptus placed her hand on the crook of your elbow as a physical reminder that she was here for you, you smiled. Then, you turned your head towards the ocean and closed your eyes.
Finally, the pain of crying finally caught up to you, hoping that the blowing night breeze could somewhat soothe the stinging dryness and heavy bags underneath your eyes. As you did so, in the corner of your mind, a single thought passed by and you caught it by its tail.
Was it a thought meant to be voiced or buried? Either way, you brought it to life and wondered out loud.
"...Would it be better if I broke things off instead?"
Your question seemed to take Ganyu by complete surprise.
You knew why so; before your relationship with Zhongli came to be, Ganyu was one of the listening ears to your constant rambles about him. How much you admired him, how flustered you were when he smiled at you, or how you felt like you could float to the skies whenever he spared you a single glance. You recalled the surprised look on Ganyu's face when you first told her about your feelings for her Lord, but she was supportive towards your endeavor.
Now, here was where both of you stood. Oh, how time flew.
"Do you remember when he accepted my confession?" Even with your eyes closed, you could almost feel Ganyu nodding at your words. You were the same, you felt as if you could recall it like it had only been yesterday too. "I was so happy I felt like I could float to the clouds and never return. The man of my dreams is finally mine! I thought," you laughed, but there was no hint of mirth evident in your tone.
"What was it like? Being loved by him?" That sort of question sounded foreign to Ganyu but still, she asked, a willingness on her part to indulge in your nostalgia.
"Warm like having someone wrap a blanket around you and comforting like feeling the steam from a cup with your favorite tea on your face after a long day," you hummed. If loving Zhongli and being loved by him were a feeling, it would've been one that you'd never let go of... but you knew this feeling was no longer the same after the truth.
"I am not his greatest love, yet he is mine," it was something you stated solemnly, having come to terms with that fact yet not being able to fully withstand the ache that came with it yet.
When you continued, your voice broke and you frowned, "Why does it have to hurt so much? I want to stay with him, I want to pretend I didn't hear anything that day, I want to go back to the time where I knew nothing about her — but I couldn't."
The corner of your eyes began to sting once more, welling up with tears at a possibility of euphoria which you could never go to. "If only I could, then I wouldn't spend all my nights awake, wondering why I wasn't her or thinking of ways I could somehow be better than her in his eyes. If I could, I'd be sleeping happily in his arms right now and... I wouldn't feel this pain anymore."
There was no stopping the waterfall running down your cheeks now and you could feel that stinging pain again as a result. "But that's a fantasy," you breathed out. You were just so tired and your knees were beginning to feel weak — but still, you looked at Ganyu through your blurred vision.
"...What should I do? Should I save myself or dwell in blissful ignorance?" You whispered with a smile that was unbefitting of your melancholic question. Ganyu hesitated but before she could formulate an answer, a familiar spoke from behind the two of you.
"...My love," a voice that was all too familiar and a nickname that caused all that was going on in your brain to halt.
You froze, veins running cold.
"R-Rex Lapis?"
Ganyu's shocked yelp confirmed it all.
There Zhongli was, standing there. A few strands of his hair looked amiss as if licked by the wind from a fast-paced trip, as if he had just gone places, as if he just went everywhere searching after waking up with you nowhere to be found in his arms. Maybe, that was exactly what he did.
His amber eyes were downcast and the way he was standing so fixedly instead of looking like he had just arrived instantly made your heart clench — because that could only mean one thing.
He heard everything.
.
.
.
[ WHAT IS YOUR NEXT DECISION? ]
↪ Stay quiet and dwell on your thoughts of breaking up with Zhongli.
↪ Wipe away your tears and put on a smile as if Zhongli didn't hear anything. — COMING SOON!
─ ⊹ ⊱ ・・・・・・☆・・・・・・・⊰ ⊹ ─
© SEELESTIA, jan 2023. do not repost, plagiarize, translate nor claim as your own.
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your-eternal-lies · 11 days
Text
Love is a Choice (chapter three)
Main Navigation || Bucky Barnes Masterlist “Love is a Choice” Masterlist
Pairing — Bucky Barnes x Agent f!Reader Series Summary — In your experience, relationships only bring drama and heartbreak, and you want absolutely none of it. That is, until an act of sheer recklessness brings Bucky Barnes back into your life.
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Warnings — Angst, blood and injury, Hydra are assholes, torture, grief, nightmares, ptsd, everyone is just so darn sad. I won’t lie to you, my darlings, this chapter is rough.
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Love is a Choice
Chapter Three
He always heard the screaming as if it wasn’t his own. 
This time, it really wasn’t. 
Hidden in the shadows, the Asset fights the urge to look away as his cruelest handler bends over the screaming woman, dragging the tip of a blade over her skin as if trying to carve the secrets directly out of her flesh. 
The wounds from her last torture session haven’t even fully healed yet before they are torn open once again, fresh blood spilling onto the frozen concrete floor of her dungeon cell. 
But the woman insists she knows nothing. She sobs it over and over, promising that she knows nothing of Natasha Romanoff’s defection. 
The Asset stands motionless, unyielding and unflinching, blue eyes as cold as the ice. In all his years here, he has learned to spot when others are lying. 
And this one is lying through her teeth. 
He can’t understand why. 
Self-preservation is the main language he’s learned to speak. Born out of pain, created by now faceless scientists who shock his veins and ice his blood, he is merely a tool at their disposal. 
Leave no survivors. That’s the only rule he must abide by when he’s completing a mission. Women and children aren’t exempt from harm, regardless of how much he desperately wants to spare them. 
But the Asset knows now. At the very least, he can guarantee their deaths are quick and painless. He is never granted the same mercy. It’s either them or him, and he doesn’t have the luxury to feel sorry that he picks himself every single time. 
Granted, his handlers would probably kill her once they were done, but at least the agony would stop. He would personally give anything for it to stop. But, he can’t help but wonder… what could possibly be worth suffering through all that pain? 
Despite himself, he is bombarded by images he can’t recognize. A boy with hair brighter than sunshine and eyes that could mirror his own, a suit of stars and stripes, the echo of a scream over the sounds of a running train. 
“Soldat,” his handler’s gravelly voice pulls him back into reality. The Asset does not respond from behind his mask; he never does. “I’m taking a break. Keep an eye on the girl.” 
Taking a break, he says. As if he hasn’t spent the last few days torturing a girl half his size, sheathing a still blood-covered blade in its usual spot in his belt. The Asset hides his disgust behind a veil of indifference, eyes seeing but unfeeling. 
But as the days wore on, as the events of the previous ones kept repeating over and over, as the woman kept insisting she knew absolutely nothing, making it clear she was ready to die to keep whatever secrets she held close, something truly terrifying happens. 
Whenever they left him alone with her, he would emerge from the shadows, something deep in his soul reacting to her sorrow. His eyes asked her questions his mouth never would, and she would lie there against that concrete slab, exhausted but unable to sleep, and tell him to survive. 
“You must live,” she would insist, and he would find that over the course of their limited exchanges, his palm would somehow find its way against hers. “You’re not who they say you are.” 
That was all it took. One small sliver of warmth and, in the previously hollow expanse of his chest, a heart he didn’t know still existed stuttered back to life. 
And when the time came for her pain to resume, he found he did not want to move from his spot at her side. He wanted to kill every last one of them, anyone who laid even a finger on her, but she would remove her hand from his and silently beckon him to comply. 
Ah, he thought as he did as she wished, forcing himself to listen to every last whimper and shriek, this was his punishment, wasn’t it?
He told himself then that he wouldn’t forget, no matter how much they tried to make him. He would remember her face, her voice, and the feel of her skin against his—even the metallic scent of her blood. 
He would remember The Woman, he promised. 
He would allow Natasha Romanoff, when she finally returned to Moscow with a wrath hot enough to scorch the frozen earth beneath her, to kill his handler with a swift flick of her blade. He would hide in the shadows once more, allowing her to pick The Woman up and carry her away. 
“No!” She had begged, reaching out for him in vain, too weak to properly protest. In that moment, he wished he knew her name, wished he could caress her cheek with his one good hand, and commit the feeling to memory. 
But then a swarm of footsteps brought more agents, more handlers, more carnage into the fray. Only when Romanoff was a good distance away did he step between the women and his very own captors. 
The Woman still screams in the distance, with a new kind of pain that carves deep in his bones, her voice echoing off the concrete walls, the both of them understanding the gravity of the decision he’d just made. 
It takes nearly a dozen guards to subdue him, after he’s already spilled the blood of another ten. They strap him down back into that blasted chair, the one that used to scare him, the one he went to impossible and devastating lengths to avoid. 
This time, he allows them to push him into it. He accepts his fate, closing his eyes against the impending agony, wondering if The Woman is finally safe. Pain-free. 
Or rather, just plain free. 
And here he used to wonder, what could possibly be worth suffering through all that pain? It had been such a mystery mere weeks ago, now made incredibly simple. 
The Asset is momentarily soothed when he thinks of The Woman’s face, but as the machine is turned on and unspeakable agony is torn from his throat, they make him do the one thing he said he wouldn’t. 
They make him break his promise.
Because he forgets. 
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Steve feels like he owes you. 
“You’re good, I’ll give you that much.” He remembers saying the day you met, only months after he came out of the ice, outside his small gym of choice tucked away in a quiet corner of Brooklyn, carrying that punching bag over his shoulder like it was a weightless sack of potatoes. “I’ve barely managed to shake you all day.” 
You looked up at him then, out the driver’s seat window of your dark sedan, sipping loudly at a pink smoothie and squinting casually against the golden light of the setting sun behind him. Completely unfazed at having been made, you weren’t even slightly intimidated by his looming stature and, quite frankly, his even larger reputation. 
Nor were you particularly disturbed by the fact that you’d probably been watching him throw punches all day, as if all that equipment had personally offended him somehow. 
You didn’t even bother tucking away your SHIELD-issued tablet, which you had obviously been using to keep tabs on him. He knew now how easy it must have been for you to hack into the city’s CCTV cameras, let alone the gym’s—all mere child’s play for a spy. 
The sun was setting on Agent 19’s first day on Captain America Babysitting Duty, and this was the most you’d seen of each other since sunrise that morning. 
“Well, Captain,” you said, shrugging and tossing the tablet onto the passenger seat beside you. “This isn’t my first rodeo.” 
There was also an open file lying across the seat, complete with blown-up photos of him, pre- and post-serum, along with a full profile and background check. 
“But I didn’t know you resorted to thieving these days,” you gestured at the punching bag on his shoulder. “I do hope you cleaned up after yourself, by the way.” 
Steve almost smiled then, recalling the way the punching bag he’d ruined earlier leaked sand all over the floors. He, in fact, hadn’t cleaned up, too much in a hurry to leave your boss behind to bother. 
“Like I just told Fury, I don’t need a handler,” he said evenly to keep from grinning. You scoffed then, rolling your eyes so hard he thought they might fall right out of your head. 
“No offence, Cap, but do you think I wanted this job? One day in and you’re already a pain in my ass,” you pick up his file, flapping it in the air with frustration, sending papers scattering all over the interior of your car. “Does this sound like a good use of my time to you, when I could be out there kicking the absolute shit out of some bad guys right now?” 
“You sound a little resentful, Agent,” Steve deadpanned, turning around to start the short walk back to his apartment before you could reply. He ignored you the rest of the trip, even though you followed closely behind him at a snail’s pace, shouting a string of profanities at him, pissing off every other driver on the road. 
Steve lets a brief smile loose at the memory. Neither of you could have known that the relationship you’d come to share—him with his reluctant handler, and you with your equally unwilling charge—would blossom into a friendship unlike any other he’d ever had. 
You didn’t appreciate it at first whenever he tagged along on your missions, insisting you didn’t need micromanaging. But over time, you grew accustomed to his quiet presence, admitting at one point that things just didn’t feel right if he wasn’t there watching your six. 
He grew fond of your obscure pop culture references that always went over his head, began keeping an eye on you instead of the other way around, given your uncanny knack for getting mixed up into trouble even when you weren’t looking for it. 
And he doesn’t even know your name. Not your real one, anyway, but it just didn’t matter. No matter what your real name was, where you really came from, Steve, despite his reservations, grew to love you in a way he wasn’t prepared for. 
He’d been an only child, watching on with envy whenever he saw Bucky together with little Rebecca. His best friend’s little sister chased after her brother like he hung the moon, reaching out her tiny hands and only letting out her signature squeal of laughter whenever Bucky reached back. 
That kind of love was special. Steve never thought he’d experience anything close to it, but whenever he looks at you, he knew that was what you were—a sister given to him by circumstances, but the one he always knew he wanted. 
But when the other shoe dropped, because it always did, the day you both discovered that SHIELD had been compromised, that your lives’ work had been almost for nothing, trust and love was shattered with a single question. 
Who are you really, Agent 19? 
It never occurred to him to ask before then, but it made some semblance of sense in his angst-filled state. Why else had Alexander Pierce been so insistent, relentless almost, that Steve be assigned a handler in the first place? 
But no matter how justified his suspicions might have been, no matter how far he felt his heart sink when he learned that the traitor was, in fact, your longtime partner and not you yourself, the choice had already been made. 
Whatever light that had remained in your eyes went out that day, and Steve couldn’t seem to bring it back, no matter how many times he tried to restore the friendship to what it was. He carried the broken shards of what remained in his hands, spirits falling each time you silently rebuffed him with that forlorn look in your eyes. 
The good humour and affection between you dissipated like smoke, and now whenever you spoke the words were always terse, charged, and angry. Steve knew how much he fucked up, because it was clear from the moment his question left his lips that you hadn’t known the answer, either. 
And now you’re teetering over the edge of life and death, and once again, Steve isn’t there. Natasha steps up behind him and places a hand on his shoulder, prompting him to ease his knuckle-white grip on the quinjet’s yoke, her own distress evident in her normally stoic features. 
His leather gloves are still splattered with blood. The rest of the team didn’t protest, or didn’t dare protest, as he instructed Clint to pilot the jet back towards the Hydra base he had singlehandedly sent you to. With military-like efficiency, Steve took down that base and every last agent that stood in his way—unforgiving and vengeful—despite Sam’s attempts at calming him. 
But it is what they found on those computers that haunt him, that haunt them all. Natasha stares straight ahead, but the way her eyes shine in the moonlight belies her grief. 
Wanda sits in one of the seats behind him, chin wobbling as she closes her eyes against a fresh wave of tears, remembering the sounds of your horrible screams, captured on video and morbidly saved in Hydra’s digital archives for years. 
Sam and Clint hunch over in their own seats in an uncomfortable yet pensive silence. Tony taps an impatient foot against the floor, brows knitted together in concentration. The entire team struggles to grapple with a startling and devastating conclusion. 
This whole time, you and Bucky were tied together, but you were the only one who was burdened to remember. 
Steve swallows the lump of emotion that forms in his throat, suddenly feeling the urge to just bawl into his hands. 
In hindsight, it all makes sense. The thinly veiled shock when Steve brought Bucky back to the Compound. The way you used to look at him, as if you were both unspeakably angry and horribly miserable. The way you reacted to his reassignment. The distance you were determined to maintain between you.
The decision to ask Helen Cho to use the Regeneration Cradle to eliminate those scars. You used to wear them like a badge of honour, a sign of your undying loyalty to your best friend. But the second Bucky had come around, you wanted them gone.
All of it made sense now.
Natasha finally breaks down, as if coming to the same realizations, turning away to storm off to the back of the jet where she clearly hoped nobody would pay attention to her muffled sobs. 
Steve bites down on the inside of his cheek, wondering how much Hydra was going to take before they were satisfied. Better question, how much more was Steve willing to let them take? The answer was none. No more. Not on his watch. 
And if he couldn’t convince you using his words that he trusted you, that he regretted ever doubting you in the first place, then he’d show you in a different way.
He’d entrust you with a new mission so important that you wouldn’t possibly be able to draw any other conclusion. He would give you Bucky, his best friend, who may as well have been his very heart personified, and leave him in your very capable hands. 
Steve lets out a humourless laugh. He didn’t have to give you anything; turns out, Bucky had been yours for a long time now.
But at the very least, he would see to it that you remembered one very important detail: that despite your unknown origins, your past with the KGB, despite Aiden Galloway, despite Hydra, despite all of it—you are loved, important, and irreplaceable. 
All you had to do was stay alive. 
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Agent Galloway has one hand pressed to a wound just below his ribcage, warm blood seeping out from between his fingers. He’s got even more injuries, each just as devastating as the next, but he doesn’t have enough hands for them all. 
You watch as the floor beneath him is stained with a slowly growing pool of crimson, but you make no move to help him. 
You’re the one who shot him, after all. 
Your ears are ringing from the ongoing sounds of gunfire and explosions, the walls of the Triskelion coming down around you in dust and cinders. You slump against a nearby wall that’s miraculously still intact, your right hand still loosely clutching your firearm. You’re not seriously wounded, but you’re exhausted all the same. 
“Come in, Agent! Come in!” Natasha’s voice crackles over your earpiece, desperate and angry, maybe even a little scared. The Black Widow you fight alongside with in the field never shows any fear, any hesitation, but today she’s not an agent—neither are you. 
She is just Natasha Romanoff today, your scaredy cat big sister who hides behind an armour of indifference and stoicism. But you know better; she’s got the biggest heart of all.
“Hill! Do you have eyes on 19?” She yells over the sounds of a whirring helicopter, but you can still hear the panic in her voice. 
“Negative!” Maria Hill responds over the distant roar of another explosion, and even she sounds a little frantic. Aw. Is that sentiment you hear in the spy’s voice? “Agent 19, can you hear me?” 
You want to respond, make a snarky little comment about how they’re both going soft, but something prevents your voice from working. Emotion lodges itself in your throat as you slide to the floor, burning behind your eyes as you squeeze them shut against the pain, stemming from your physical wounds and countless others that can’t be seen. 
You won’t die here, not at the hands of Hydra, the damn parasites. Steve is taking down the helicarriers now, and you have no doubt he will succeed. After that, Sam will likely come find you and pull you from the wreckage with Natasha in tow. You’ll listen to her lecture all the way to the hospital, just like old times. 
Your friends will come… won’t they? 
Natasha has saved you more times than you can count, but you can’t help the doubt that creeps in, dark and quiet just like the first hints of fear. Will she wonder about you too, once they find out that the formerly-decorated SHIELD agent Aiden Galloway—your friend, your mentor, your partner, your brother-in-arms—is dirty? 
Will an everlasting cloud of suspicion hang over your head even if you emerge from this, alive but not unscathed? Even Steve had doubted you once. Does he still? Will you ever know for sure? 
“How does it feel?” Galloway rasps at you, flashing a morbid smile as his death approaches. It’s not fast enough for you, unfortunately, as you listen to his deathbed confession. “To know that all of it was a lie?” 
You hate to give him the satisfaction, but your face distorts with anguish all the same as he twists the proverbial knife, one last time. 
Being an agent wasn’t just a title. It was a privilege for someone like you, who had come from unknown origins, who defected to SHIELD without even a name of her own, who once spent years of her life either being locked up or trained to spread calamity and discord. 
But all this time, what were you even fighting for? You thought you were finally standing on the right side of history, but it wasn’t true, was it? You weren’t, in fact, a noble agent of SHIELD. You were just another unwitting Hydra pawn all along. 
All those battles fought in the name of good and justice, all those comrades lost over the years, and for what? For a world that quite frankly asked too much and gave too little in return. 
What had this world ever done for you, other than punish you for simply being born? 
“You won’t win,” you bite out vindictively, adrenaline melting out of your veins with every breath. “Men like you never do.” 
“The Asset won’t let us down,” Aiden laughs. He actually laughs, the motherfucker. “You remember him, don’t you?” 
Your heart splits, a fresh wave of pain washing over you. The memories come flooding back: blue eyes peering at you over the edge of a mask—a black muzzle for a boy taken, kept like a prisoner, and then used like a piece of machinery; the warmth of his palm against yours in that freezing cold dungeon; and the sacrifice he’d made so you and Natasha could escape. 
He had been alive all this time, all alone, not knowing that people out there remembered him, thought about him, and cared about him. 
You can’t help but think of Steve, every stricken look on the rare occasion he deigned to speak about his childhood friend, as if reliving an eighty-year-old nightmare. 
Your force your eyes open. This Aiden Galloway before you is a stranger, because the one you knew, the one you had grown to love like a brother, could never be so cruel. He took you under his wing when you first arrived, showing you the ropes and teaching you everything you knew about being a good agent. 
He’d done wonders too; soon, you were working in Fury’s division with the revered likes of Natasha, Maria, and the famous Clint Barton. 
So why? 
Galloway had pulled you out of more scrapes than you could remember during your first missions as a reckless rookie agent. He had covered for your mistakes, took scoldings and official reprimands in your place with a carefree smile. He had taken literal bullets for you. He had bled in your stead. 
If this was always Hydra’s endgame, then why bother saving you at all? Why not just let you die out there somewhere, blaming it on literally anything and anyone else but himself? Why couldn’t he just kill you before the seeds of affection could ever blossom? 
Why pretend to care about you at all? 
It’s stunning that the existence of cruelty, plain and simple, still manages to surprise you. You’d think that, after all this time, after everything you’ve seen and everything you’ve suffered, you’d come to expect it at every corner… or at least get better at spotting it. 
Well. 
You won’t make the same mistake again. 
Summoning every ounce of strength, you lift your gun. You’ve handled this weapon hundreds of times, used it to end countless lives before today and will likely continue to do so after, but today it feels oddly heavy in your hand. 
Ending a life never comes easy, no matter how many times you do it or which side of history you stand on, but you already know that this particular kill is one that won’t ever leave you. 
You take aim, your finger steady on the trigger. Just like Aiden taught you. He won’t last much longer anyhow, given how much blood he’s already lost, but you have to remind yourself that this isn’t an act of mercy. It’s an act of retribution, one he most definitely deserves. 
You wonder, if you repeat it to yourself enough times, will you come to believe your own words? 
Aiden grins, a ruby-red smile that sears itself in your mind and stays with you long after he’s gone. The bastard just has to get in the last word, and even as his eyes glaze over, two words reach into the smoke and haunt your dreams. 
“Hail Hydra.” 
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Your eyes snap open, your lungs drawing in a sharp gasp of a breath.
For a disorienting heartbeat, you’re lost in time, trying to claw your way out of the clutches of a persistent nightmare, and blinking rapidly against the stark reality of consciousness. 
A sheen of cold sweat clings to your brow, your skin prickling and clammy under a heavy quilt as you try to sit up. 
You regret it instantly, a searing pain shooting up and down your body, every muscle protesting the movement. The walls of a rustic cabin materialize slowly around you like a developing polaroid, and suddenly you remember. 
The safe house. You had entered its coordinates on your jet just before it crashed about a mile away. You didn’t think you’d make it, growing dizzy with pain and blood loss before eventually collapsing in the snow. 
The room is brightly-lit by a flickering fire, where a log pops loudly and sparks jumping up before disappearing again onto the stone hearth. You take deep breaths to try and calm your frenzied heart, tasting the fresh sharp scent of pine and sweet bread on your tongue. 
Your pulse begins to settle back into a less frantic rhythm, the weight of the quilt lain on top of you comforting and warm… until you look up and see a snowy white cat perched on top of the bedside table. You startle, wincing in pain as your feline guardian peers at you curiously with beautiful blue eyes. 
It reminds you of— 
“Hey,” comes a voice, gravelly with sleep and something akin to worry. He’s close, so close you wonder how you didn’t sense his presence before now, his eyes the familiar colour of arctic ice. Those eyes have never left your thoughts, it occurs to you now, reluctant to release you from their grasp. 
You feel your muscles tense at the sight of him, the quilt’s fabric bunching in your fists as you grip the edges tighter. Your tac-suit is gone, you suddenly realize, and you’re lying naked in a bed that Bucky Barnes usually sleeps in.  
“You’re probably still mad,” Bucky says, his voice so quiet you almost have to lean in to hear him despite your closeness. “But I just…” 
He trails off and for a moment, he just stares at you like he can’t believe you’re here. Then, in the fire’s glow, you’re suddenly pressed into his chest by a pair of powerful arms, so gently as if he’s handling the most precious thing in the world. 
You’re not mad, you think but don’t say. You never were. Not at him, anyway. You can’t tell him why; the only problem with this frustratingly beautiful man is that he only ever blames himself, even if he’s done nothing wrong. 
Even when you’re the one who is broken and unworthy.
There is a reason for the distance you’ve steadily kept, but as you hear his astounded and shaky whispers of you’re alive, thank god you’re alive in your ear, you allow yourself a minute. 
One minute in which you’re allowed to feel—the ache, the yearning, and the fragments of a heart you gave away a long time ago and never got back.
« Chapter 2 || Chapter 4 »
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Taglist — @cjand10 @pbs-theundeadmaggot @nerdreader Please leave a comment or send me a DM if you’d like to be added to the taglist for this story. Note that if you ask and you are a blank blog, I will block you instead.
Notes — For what it’s worth, I really am sorry for what I’m putting these two through. Did you guys know that this idea was originally conceived as a five-chapter romantic comedy lmao?! Also, the fluff is coming in future chapters—I promise. Everyone just has to suffer a lot a bit first because evidently I’m a sadist, lmao.
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hisnie · 10 months
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*Major TOTK SPOILERS*
I always found it interesting in Skyward sword how Zelda and Ganon technically always had beef way before the events of Skyward Sword. Hylia fights Demise and seals him and then creates trials for Link, the Chosen Hero, but I never understood how she knew that Link was that chosen hero in the future.
TOTK kinda fucks up the OG canon of LOZ with Skyward Sword and the Zonai. It construes the founding of Hyrule and doesn’t make since in how the Zonai tribe were never mentioned in previous games. Which makes me believe that botw/totk is a completely different timeline and completely strays from canon. What really influenced this is Demise’s curse in Skyward Sword.
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“You fight like no human or demon I have ever known. Though this is not the end. My hate... never perishes. It is born anew in a cycle with no end! I will rise again. Those like you... Those who share the blood of the goddess and the spirit of the hero... They are eternally bound to this curse. An incarnation of my hatred shall ever follow your kind, dooming them to wander a blood-soaked sea of darkness for all time!"
Demise said that he never seen any creature that fights like Link, therefore a Link has never existed and fought Demise before he was sealed by Hylia. That one anniversary manga was never confirmed canon so that version of Link is not the first version of Link. Then, Demise is the only one that reincarnates. He cursed the spirit of Link and the bloodline of Zelda to always fight the reincarnation of Demise. So no matter what, a reincarnation of Demise is always going to be a male gerudo and gerudo’s physical characteristics are similar so it makes sense why Ganon always looks similar to each other reincarnation from each timeline in some shape or form. Or that ugly pig form he has in some games. Zelda will always have the same characteristics of whatever race the goddess Hylia was. Which explains why Zelda always look similar to each iteration of her character. Each Zelda are Hylian descendants of Hylia no matter what timeline. Zelda and Ganon both have restrictions to who they are rightfully so but not Link.
Link’s spirit is cursed, not his bloodline or soul. To add on top of that, Link legend technically came from nowhere. Zelda is Hylia reborn and descendants of Hylia and Ganon is the reincarnation of Demise. Link has no legend to his name prior to SS. Outside of the triforce of courage, there is nothing notable about his bloodline except for maybe Twilight Princess. Nothing restricts him to being a male Hylian with blond/dirty blonde/brown hair with blue eyes outside of merchandise/advertisement reasonings. He is allowed to change forms and be a different race or gender and he isn’t constricted to one form.
Now I ask you to consider botw/totk to be a new canon to the LOZ timeline. It’s own separate branch that wasn’t created because of OOT. That it is it’s own story without the older games to continue it.
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But ofc, we need the previous games for inspiration. In Skyward Sword, it was said that Hylia had the help from the other races of Hyrule to seal Demise and although this is common in the plot for every Zelda game, it’s important to mention.
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In BOTW, to the left of Ganon, it shows a figure that looks like Zelda and to the right it shows an unknown warrior that wields the Master Sword and they’ve enlisted the help of all races to help deal with Ganon like Hylia has done before. The events in the tapestry is similar to the sealing of Demise. Hylia, with the support of the other races, seals Demise until Link can kill him in the future. The biggest difference however is that the botw tapestry shows a hero wielding the sword that seals the darkness. Which makes me believe that Demise wouldn’t have been sealed but instead killed in this fight.
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You probably already figured out where this was leading. I believe that the ancient hero aspect is botw/totk’s version of the first ever and I mean ever avatar of the hero’s spirit. The armor set and the hero in the tapestry are strikingly familiar to their skin color and the prominent red hair.
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Also, idk if anyone noticed but the text says the spirt of A hero who once saved Hyrule not the spirit of THE hero of Hyrule. Saying “a hero” separates it from the idea that the hero spirit has already been established or I guess cursed by this timeline’s version of Demise. “The spirit of a hero” is singular.
A lot of the timeline for botw/totk is very collapsing and confusing but I’d like to believe that the tapestry shows botw/totk’s universe’s version of Demise, Hylia, AND Link. Ofc this can be debunked as it was said the first calamity was 10,000 years ago and Ganon reveals in one of the memories that the Zonai have long died out and Rauru and Mineru are most likely the last of their kind.
But to further establish my theory as a loophole is that the interpretation of the tapestry could simply be incorrect and misinterpreted by the researchers of Hyrule.
Lets say hypothetically speaking, the Ganon in the tapestry is Demise and it shows Hylia and the Zonai Link killing Demise. He does his speech with the curse and starts the cycle of hatred until the events of Rauru and Sonya’s era. The absence of the Shekiah tech can be easily explained as it was said in botw that the tech was hidden until they were needed again to aid the hero that seals the darkness. Sonya could be a descendent of Hylia and for all we know, Rauru could be a descendant of the Zonai version of Link. Maybe Zonai Link had light powers and infused it into a sword creating The Master Sword and his power passed down to Rauru. And Rauru’s sister, Mineru, is the Sage of Spirit which can also correlate back to Zonai Link as his spirit was cursed. It can also bring more weight to Rauru having the ability to seal Ganon for so long but not being able to finish the job as he is a small fraction of the Spirit of the Hero but not the real deal. When Ganon is reincarnated during Rauru’s era, there is no Link to be found nor a Zelda from that era of Rauru as king. For some cosmic reason, they weren’t reincarnated until 10,000 years after the event of Rauru sealing Ganon which explains why the shekiah tech appears in botw but not during Rauru’s era. They are their to aid the spirit of the chosen hero and this was probably implemented into their programming after Zonai Link’s Spirit was cursed. To help the next avatar of the spirit of the hero. The technology of the Shekiah could’ve also progressed so amazingly with the help of the Zonai or teachings of the Zonai. I feel that there has to be some influence as there were Shekiah shrines in Zonai ruins like the Thylpho Ruins.
Oh and one small tid bit, for some reason the Zonai tend to worship the idea of courage as a lot of their trials relates to courage. Most notably the phrases for the Labyrinths and the ceremonies for the Glide Set. The Zonai most prominent ruins are also in Faron, named after the Goddess of Courage Farore which is also interesting. :)
I have no explanation however as to why Ganon reincarnated without a proper Link and Zelda to stop him.
To summarize my long ass theory and clear any confusion, I believe that the tapestry depicts BOTW/TOTK version and fight of Demise vs Hylia and the hero’s spirit. It depicts the fight where they were cursed into this cycle and the Era of King Rauru and events of botw/totk is directly after it. So basically, completely new and different canon.
But anyway, it’s all just a theory. A GAME THEORY!!! :))))
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championofravens · 3 months
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Tali’s thoughts/analysis on CSM ch. 151
Or: How you haunt the narrative in a story with no afterlife
(Spoilers abound)
Makima’s death has always been very interesting in the context of Chainsaw Man and its greater world building, something not typically touched upon often by other folks in the fandom. As mentioned by user @Jelimore when they approached me to write this, there is no afterlife confirmed within the story’s canon (at least not with the sort of certainty the population accepts other facets of the divine). It’s a fascinating implication in a world where Hell is real and already populated by denizens who are born and resurrected there. Based on what Makima describes of her time in Hell with the Chainsaw Devil, it is not a metaphorical place of suffering but almost has its own societal structure completely alien to humanity’s. So it seems safe to assume it is not widely believed in this world that a damnable soul can descend to Hell after it dies.
Heaven is much more nebulous. Heaven is implied only through hallucinations at the time of death (think Aki and Yuko’s final moments of peace) or a comforting word given to those at death’s door (the Angel Devil soothing a dying woman). This makes sense as the narrative works hard to neither confirm nor deny the existence of a singular God ruling the world. The story has never invoked divine intervention or any other godlike acts. If anything, we are rapidly approaching a junction in which a God Devil is more likely to arise as we see the looming shadow of the Death Devil and Nostradamus’s prophecy. 
I believe both of these decisions are what really helps the story have such impactful and painful deaths- the mundanity of it all in a fantasy world that death could just be a black nothing as far as we know.
The idea of death becomes all the more interesting as we look to Devils, who can be completely destroyed to the extent that they are eradicated from existence and their very influence ceases to remain. It goes far beyond human death. In one of my all time favorite chapters, Makima lists a number of Devils who have been destroyed so completely (eaten by the Chainsaw Devil) that whatever concepts were born from them- or vice versa- are no longer even within the human consciousness. I think the first example she brings up to Kishibe is especially telling: Nazism is something that had to exist prior to its Devil, and when the Nazi Devil was eaten, it still wiped out that political party from the fabric of reality. Though the Nazi Devil did not create Nazism, its destruction assured it was as though it had never even existed. 
So. Let’s talk about Makima’s death and Chapter 151.
Barem foolishly attributes a possible reasoning for Natuya’s inability to control him as the fact his body remains under the control of Makima even beyond death. Though this is something contradicted in all we know of how Devils work, Makima is not forgotten. Makima is not erased. Makima’s physical body and arguably her “soul” have been as thoroughly killed and buried as they can be and yet we do not forget her like other Devils. This is because Makima was destroyed. Not the Control Devil herself. He is still attributing an amount of divinity to a corpse however. His second idea that his inability to be controlled comes from a pure loyalty to her… well, I think that’s wrong as well.
Makima’s power of Control is forged from a feeling of superiority, a feeling cultivated and encouraged and fed throughout her life until she had innate control over all humanity. I believe Makima was encouraged in her position to see those around her as less than, which is a task that is already easy for Devils to follow. Natuya, raised by Denji, is saved in part by the love she has for him but also the average life he gave her. Though she has a strong Devil nature that has her putting an amount of distance between herself and others, we just finished a chapter in which she retracts those feelings for the sake of continuing her life with Denji. Even though she says it should be acceptable for her to hurt and kill as a Devil, she is more bound to her happy life than to following her instinct. We know it is not an indomitable force, or rule of nature, that she has to follow and we know it is not something encouraged by those around her.
So in that aspect, a man who just so easily destroyed her happiness and took multiple gunshot wounds without faltering, a man fused with a powerful Devil, it makes sense she may falter and lose that superiority. Her powers in ch. 151 seem to stem clearly from grief and rage as opposed to the calm certainty with which we’ve seen her use it before even when she is upset (think: Asa). It’s for this reason that I think Natuya fails in controlling Barem. 
An irony of this is that Barem is blind to the intricacies of Makima’s power and how it works, unlike the readers, despite his devotion to her which is what leads him to think he is being protected by a more romantic notion. He was, after all, just a puppet during his time with her. His devotion is to a Devil that no longer exists and a woman with no power beyond that of anyone seeing ghosts in the throes of grief.
I think this chapter paints a very interesting and first time distinction between what Denji killed and didn’t kill at the end of Part 1. In the simplest words- Denji killed Makima, a human woman. That is what she became when Denji ate her and prevented her healing and resurrection and allowed her to die in a way no Devil ever has. She is as dead as any other human is within the story… and that is how she haunts it. It is what gives her power even still. Denji did not eat the Control Devil. He ate the first woman he loved. That is why Natuya is alive and why Makima gets to have a surprisingly human hold on the story in death.
(Tune in for Tali’s unhinged fanon explanation about Ahashi’s role in part 2, including the effects of Makima’s eyes in his skull and his puppeting by the Public Safety Division)
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cq-studios · 4 days
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Questions for 15 Friends Tag Game
Tagged by @corishadowfang ^^
Rules: Answer the questions, then tag 15 people.
ARE YOU NAMED AFTER ANYONE?
Not that I know of. I think my middle name was after someone but, if that's the case, I don't know who.
WHEN WAS THE LAST TIME YOU CRIED?
This weekend watching Days. That game breaks me every time.
DO YOU HAVE KIDS?
Nope and don't ever plan on it.
WHAT SPORTS DO YOU PLAY/HAVE YOU PLAYED?
Uhhhh, none.
I tried out for the basketball team twice in elementary school but didn't make the team either time. That school, and especially the coach, had it out for me though (I am neurodivergent had behavioural issues so they didn't let me do much).
If it counts, I was on the Improv team in middle school. That was a ton of fun and I would've kept doing it into highschool if the teacher who was in charge of the competitions didn't retire (no one stepped up after that)
Other than that not really anything.
DO YOU USE SARCASM?
Oh definitely. I grew up in an incredibly sarcastic household lol
WHAT IS THE FIRST THING YOU NOTICE ABOUT PEOPLE?
Uhhh, I haven't really thought about it...
Probably hair? That's how I tend to recognise most people, which is most definitely unreliable (thanks for that brain lol).
Shout out to that one time my friend got a drastically different haircut than usual, didn't tell me, and I didn't recognise her until she spoke to me lol
WHAT’S YOUR EYE COLOUR?
Brown.
SCARY MOVIES OR HAPPY ENDINGS?
Definitely happy endings. I have absolutely no tolerance for scary things.
My pour soul got nightmares so easy as a kid I wasn't allowed to watch Scooby Doo because it would keep me up at night lol
ANY TALENTS?
I'd feel weird saying anything artistic, because honestly I consider those skills more than talents (since they're something I actually work towards improving and not something that I can just do for some reason lol).
So alternatively, I think my talent is simultaneously have the worlds worst and best balance. Like I can fill up a cup completely (and I mean completely, there's a meniscus and everything) and I can bring that up to my mouth without spilling a drop, but at the same time, there have been several occasions where I have fallen out of chairs while doing nothing but colouring. I can walk across a completely rounded balance beam (like curtain rod look and size) eyes closed and backwards, but walking I'm tripping every other step.
I can also quack like a duck so convincingly I've tricked hunters lol
WHERE WERE YOU BORN?
I'm not entirely sure...
Somewhere around the southern Quebec-Ontario border I think?
WHAT ARE YOUR HOBBIES?
Drawing, animating, reading, writing, and playing video games (and doing stuff for local theatre productions if that counts).
DO YOU HAVE ANY PETS?
Yes, currently I have a dog, Neve. She's a Golden Retriever-Labrador mix and she's very strange.
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My brother also has a cat, but she lives in the basement and I never see her lol
HOW TALL ARE YOU?
I couldn't tell you the last time I measured my height, but I'm only a bit taller than my mom (4"11 and a bit), so probably 5"-5"1.
FAVOURITE SUBJECT IN SCHOOL?
Chemistry.
I love chemistry. I love balancing formulas. I love the experiments and demonstrations (even if when I was doing them I kept burning my hands... I swear I was being careful I'm just cursed lol). I love learning about all the elements properties and stuff. The math isn't awful (like in physics). And it makes me feel smart.
DREAM JOB?
My dream job is whatever I have to do to be able to make my own show (my current plan is making an indie studio) and also being able to make a living off of doing tables at cons.
I'm actually slowly but surely working towards both right now. A lot of just saving and planning at the moment but I'm getting there.
Gonna start applying for grants soon-ish, so wish me luck lol
I don't really have 15 people to tag so, uhh, open tag I guess lol
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dovelydraws · 10 months
Note
Tell me abt your ocs 👁👁👁👁
oh GOD I have so many asldjfljk um!!!
I'll start with my dnd/pathfinder character Revun, since I've been posting about them a lot recently!! I'm no longer concerned about sharing spoilers because I got all my party members to block campaign spoilers hehe 💕
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^ Made this little icon of them for discord recently (he/they/she)
The backstory doc i originally handed to my GM was over 5k words long, (plus there's also been several nights of me rambling in their dms expanding on all the stuff I'd Already Written) so I'm gonna try my best to. condense this lmao
Revun's bio parents were both human; their mom made a deal with a daemon while she was pregnant to save her father's life from a severe illness that would have killed him, and as a consequence of that her child was born a tiefling.
The social stigma of having a tiefling child (everyone just immediately knows she made some kind of deal with a fiendish entity) became too much for them to handle, so their mom and grandfather chose to abandon them four years after they were born, and start a new life elsewhere where no one knew them. Revun spent the next seven years in an orphanage, until they ran away to go try and join a mercenary group that passed through town at one point.
Throughout Revun's life, they've been haunted by a spirit in the shape of a black wolf with gold eyes that match their own. It only appears when they are in the middle of having a near death experience- so far, that's been twice. The first was when they were 11, and they nearly froze/starved to death out in the woods after running away. The second was after a disagreement with their boss/somewhat father figure lead to him nearly killing them at 25.
While Revun never learned all the details of their mom's deal, they at least are somewhat aware that whatever she did saved their grandfather's life. They are convinced at this point that whatever happened must have created some sort of imbalance in the afterlife or something, and this wolf was expecting a new soul that day that never came. And now, it's stalking Revun waiting for them to drop dead, to take them as a replacement like some sort of debt collector. I'm unsure if this is actually the case since I decided to leave the details up to my GM, but this is what Revun believes and they are absolutely terrified of it.
Speaking of that mercenary group, they did take them in and save them that night, but it wasn't all it was cracked up to be. Revun ended up spending the rest of their childhood in a pretty toxically masculine environment, and with an expectation placed on their shoulders to always follow orders and never try to argue, even if they may be uncomfortable or feel something was a bad idea.
A portion of the mercenary company was hired to act as bodyguards at a prestigious vineyard, of which had recently made some enemies with their business competition. Revun spent about a year and a half there, becoming very close friends with the winemaker's daughter, until the deal fell through and the company was offered more money to destroy the vineyard and kill the family/any workers on the property to make sure there were no witnesses. Revun nearly died getting their best friend to safety and trying to help any workers they could find, fighting against the only family they'd really had the chance to know.
They somehow managed to escape, and were found laying on the side of the road a couple miles away from the vineyard by some passing travelers, who were able to patch them up and drop them off at the next town. They'd been separated from everyone- their entire social safety net was gone, their worldview completely changed overnight. That was a Lot for them to handle, so they kind of just... Didn't.
They've decided to just try to move on, forget everything that happened and everyone that was ever important to them. Start a new life somewhere else. Don't think about it. Pretend it never happened.
All of this has ended up creating a guy with a lot of self loathing, abandonment issues, anxiety and paranoia, and a Very Stubborn "don't worry about it! :)" attitude.
I love them so much. They make me feel like this:
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blaiddfailcam · 8 months
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Yeah honestly I can understand why Blaidd and Maliketh were abandoned by Ranni and Marika
They had no choice,they both wanted to revolt against the Greater Will so keeping their Shadows mean keeping someone who's sure to kill them on any given day should they even have a thought of rebellion,so there was no choice to abandon them
What's more hurtful is that Blaidd and Maliketh are painfully aware of it,the mistresses they were born to serve have to give up on them bcuz they're literally the biggest adversities to who they seen as their most beloveds
(I still wonder if Ranni is still an Empyrean since she already killed off her original physical vessel, I think she's tied to the Two Fingers/Greater Will by flesh,not soul)
I like to think that Marika used to cuddle with Maliketh a lot cuz he was fluffy
In Blaidd's case, he doesn't appear to have been informed of his nature as a "bringer of bale," at least not until Iji trapped him in the evergaol. Speaking to him there, he expresses disbelief, insisting Iji must have simply gone senile. Even worse, if you attack him after setting him free, he whimpers and begs you to stop, before growling, "Fine. I am the blade of Ranni, whatever any of you might call me." As much as he hates to admit, he seems convinced that his friends have betrayed him. If you kill him there (though he'll simply resurrect), he laments, "Why... why am I bale to Ranni?" :(
Maliketh's history is a bit more, ahem, fuzzy. He was created for a more specialized purpose, to defeat the Gloam-Eyed Queen and seal Destined Death, thus establishing the Golden Order and allowing Marika to become an avatar for Eternity. Ever since, it's implied that Maliketh remained in Farum Azula alone with the Rune of Death in order to prevent it from sullying Order.
Although it's a very sad, lonely role to fill, he served Marika from a distance with his unshakeable faith. That is, until Ranni and Rykard managed to steal a fragment of the Rune of Death, leading to Marika's madness and her attempt to shatter the Elden Ring—a direct violation of the Greater Will. From what I gather, the red shard impaling Marika is a fragment of the Rune of Death as well, suggesting that Maliketh was forced to kill her as punishment for her transgression, much like Blaidd is designed to do. Whether this was Marika's intention or not is unclear, but she is said to have "betrayed" him. (I explore more on this plot in my analysis of Radagon and Marika as two wills.)
Of course... that isn't to say Marika and Maliketh weren't pals prior to their grand destiny to slay the Gloam-Eyed Queen. I'm sure Maliketh's adoration for her wasn't entirely preconceived by the Two Fingers. Ain't no way she didn't snuggle up in his mane at some point, or maybe even ride on his back across the lands of Numen. :)
While Ranni's flesh is the Empyrean body she discarded, I guess that doesn't entirely liberate her from the Two Fingers' decree, but it does keep them from "controlling" her any longer. Ever since her betrayal, she was hunted by the Baleful Shadows. She even expresses a bit of surprise that Blaidd remained loyal to her, perhaps indicating that he wasn't included or informed of her plot to begin with. It's fun to ponder just how much she really trusted him, even if she loved him.
The sad thing is, while I agree Ranni had no real choice but to turn on Blaidd, her ambition seems less so fueled by any desire to bring harmony to the world, but more so out of vanity. Clearly, she isn't opposed to sacrificing her family or loved ones so long as she can eventually realize her dream. That's... largely why I never complete her quest anymore, lol. I just feel so bad for Blaidd and Iji, even if they were foolish to follow Ranni down this path.
They're a neat cast of characters that resonate with the overarching theme in Miyazaki's stories that love and friendship are often destructive, but only so far as power casts a shadow over good intentions. It's all the more fitting that Ranni chooses to embody despair and darkness.
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Note
for the shippy ask game, can you rant about a possible poly relationship of the Snow System and how Khione would fit and work with Caitlin and Frost, really anything you have to say about that whole dynamic as a romantic or partly romantic relationship? and possibly maybe perhaps if you can also rant about Barrisco and your thoughts on it? i hope it's okay to ask these!
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it's always okay my darling
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Due to being simple and going tunnel vision when its abt the OTP, I've never actually thought about Khione joining Killersnow, but I fucking love the idea!
Now, obvi, I am living in a timeline where Khione's existence doesn't precede any death nor need any mechanical malfunction. SO SO SO in my head, Frost survived her time as Hellfrost and the battle with Earth-Prime's Deathstorm. But, but, but, Frost practically became a vacuum for all the energy of every soul Deathstorm got. All that energy melded and molded so much that it depleted Frost's own, making her sick (similar to Caitlin's cold that Carla helped her with) until suddenly, the energy came together and manifested as a completely new alter!
That's my alternative Khione origin story, anyway. And y'all KNOW i <3 killersnow more when they share a bod, so the split never happened in my world, so now there's three girlies in one form!
(also: M*rk Bl*ine does not exist within this world. Maybe he was never born, maybe he died in a horrible accident that was slow and painful and bloody. Either way, he doesn't know them and has no relationship with Frost or friendship with Khione or partnership with Caitlin.)
Caitlin has been down the discovering-an-alter road before, right? And last time, she didn't exactly treat Frost well. Frost didn't treat her well, either. At the start, they were selfish and hateful and scared and desperate. Caitlin doesn't want to repeat her past mistakes, and welcomes Khione as gracefully as she can manage with her shock.
Frost, though? She's jealous. Jealous that Khione gets on Caitlin's good side so early, after Frost had to spend so many years fighting for a right to their own body. Jealous that Khione immediately gets all the trust and niceties and respect that Frost was denied over and over again. So she acts out. Starting fights with Caitlin over little things, freezing Khione out, trying desperately to convince everyone that Khione cannot be trusted due to being the after effect of Deathstorm Prime.
Khione is just kinda trying to figure out existence, tryingg to get used to walking, trying to burn everyone's names to memory. She mostly is too focused on figuring things out to notice that Frost doesn't like her.
what I'm saying is: Snowkhione friends to lovers and Khionefrost one-sided enemies to lovers!
WHEN the Snow System makes up and Frost communicates her feelings in a healthy way, though-
Now, Khione is basically exactly in Frost's old shoes, metaphorically speaking. Maybe literally speaking bc she doesn't know her own style yet. She doesn't know her name, she doesn't know who she is, or what she is, or if she likes cheese fries. Just like how Frost never had a birthday party until she was an adult and only found out her favorite ice cream flavor a few years ago. So they get close really quick, once Frost gets over the unfairness of it all. Frost becomes a life coach to Khione, like Ralph passed the torch to her, and she inspires and encourages Khione to take risks and have her own adventures and do whatever the fuck she wants, to decide what she likes. So Khione takes Frost's old name.
And now it's Caitlin who's jealous. And Caitlin tries to repress that, per usual, but it comes out in bursts like water charging through cracks in a dam. So Caitlin and Khione find something that interests them both: botany. Khione has a deep, special interest in anything to do with life itself, especially the elements, and Caitlin knows a lot about the human body due to being a doctor and having a fascination with plants in high school c; i mean, she knew everything about mistletoe on the fucking spot, so it's really not even a meta joke that Caitlin may really like plants
So the Snow System makes up again, and the two keep deepening their friendships with Khione, and sometimes when Khione is just barely co-con with the both of them she can feel how much love Frost and Caitlin have for each other, how much Frost adores making Caitlin laugh, how much Caitlin likes the shine in their eyes that Frost gives them... how differently colored their relationship is compared to how they are with Khione.
And now Khione's jealous.
And that has never happened before.
So she very bluntly asks the two people she knows the best about jealousy and how to cope with crushes and what romance even is and how do you go about getting a girlfriend and what if you think you like your best friends and she very blatantly tells them that she is trying to cope with wanting to be with them.
She doesn't say it like she expects the feelings to be returned, or that she's flirting, or anything. She just innocently admits her feelings and asks their advice on it. And that is the cutest, most respectful, most genuine thing they have ever fucking seen. And now Killersnow realize that some of the jealousy they felt was because they were worried that Khione would steal their girlfriend. And now they realize that nobody has to steal anybody. Thus... the ot3 is born.
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Khione and the bad bitches she pulled by being autistic.
OKAY BARRISCO TIME
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u cannot tell me these two men have not had gay sex. they are fast friends and uKNOW barry hasn't had many friends in his life. his best friend is a girl he's in love with and they've always been insanely physically affectionate very casually. i don't think barry... really knows that society imposes this, like, boundary when it comes to immense physical affecgion? yknow what i'm talking about? like some people think its gay to kiss the homies on the cheek or hold your guy friend's hand or wipe food off his lips. and barry's only close friend was a girl he loved that loved him. there's appearantly a boundary between the physical affection u can give a friend and the affection u can give a lover and barry never got the memo.
so barry's out here, constantly touching cisco and holding him and going in for fakeout jokey kisses as he's always done with iris. and cisco believes that b has been purposefully flirting with him for MONTHS. so the next time barry goes in for a joke kiss that he plans on pulling away from, cisco does not pull back. cisco thinks it's real. and he kisses barry allen right there and then.
and then he sees the surprise on barry's face and the realization crashes down on him and suddenly he has to get out of here but barry is the fucking flash and his thoughts run faster than cisco's and barry realizes that hey, he always wanted the fake kisses with iris to be real, and hey, he doesn't feel any different with cisco. he wants it to be real, too.
so barry grabs cisco w super speed and suddenly cisco realizes that he is making out with the flash. and there's still tears of humiliation on cisco's face but barry wipes them off. and then they're at cisco's apartment and then barry is vibrating and holy shit linda did not undersell how good that feels, and boom, gay sex time
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i hope these were sufficient 🫡 send me asks for this ship game!
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ace-the-fox · 8 months
Note
Hiii, I was wondering if you could do Frank Frankly mpreg headcanons pls?
Totally! (God, I'm gonna end up getting all the Welcome Home neighbours pregnant, aren't I? Or at least the male ones lol /pos)
Frank Frankly Mpreg HCs
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(Kind of getting this from a comment I got on my Welcome Home AO3 fic but) Frank was never really into kids. He just kinda thought they were a bit messy and annoying. Until he got pregnant with his own baby and... didn't improve that view but immediately was excited because HIS kid is the exception lmao.
He does get pretty cranky with his mood swings though. Do not ask him to do ANYTHING >:(
He's really only completely chill around Julie. For some reason, she always just calms him down a ton, even when he's pregnant. She also babysits when baby's born :)
Somehow Eddie is the last to know. Like, he's REALLY out of the loop. He is somehow only told when he finally asks Frank why he's ordering so much baby stuff and getting so many "Congratulations!" cards. He's very excited for him when he does know though.
He's very perfectionist about his nursery. And ofc, he has to get Barnaby or Eddie or someone to help, bc he's pregnant and can't do much strenuous work. It is a long, tedious affair for whatever poor soul is putting things together... :,)
I can honestly see Frank being the kind of guy to use being pregnant to get out of doing a lot of things. Honestly, good for him /hj
I can't think of anything more but, last but not least...
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...I'm sure you can tell where this is going. He would buy this. 100%.
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externalconceit · 21 hours
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[Still thinking about That Burke Guy. That means I've thought more about him in a few weeks than Marvel has in 30+ years.
He mentions his first death was by burning at the stake in the 17th Century. Given the method of death and the time period, it's likely he was a victim of the heresy burnings that swept over the Holy Roman Empire at that time. (So... probably Germany or the Netherlands-ish.) Externals didn't manifest their powers until after their first death, so that decreases the likelihood of him being executed for "witchcraft"/visions.
When his body is destroyed, he's canonically shown to be reborn in the body of a newborn baby (kicking out its soul?), and taking on the same distinct features he had in his last body. The stuff I've found in the comics shows that he was physically back to adulthood within ten years.
So, you have Some Normal Guy who was burned for "heresy", but really because he pissed off the wrong neighbor. His body is destroyed in the fire, and he "reincarnates". He's walking around born to a new family while being aware of everything that happened before. He's able to see the future and has no idea what's going on. Is he a demon? Is he cursed?
He's also growing as fast as that baby from Twilight, and he's got these eyes:
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I'm seeing him staggering around as the blind beggar trope, cloth "bandages" over his eyes for his own safety.
The other Externals can sense when another member's been activated, but the comics are a little hazy with the explanations. In my mind, Shar got to him first.
Her identity at the time was as a wealthy widow, and as an act of "charity", she takes him into her house as a servant--which he isn't, but the public doesn't need to know that.
They start off with a very clear power imbalance just because she's his mentor. I don't know if they become involved later on or at that point, but they aren't on equal footing until he breaks away to become his own man and joins the High Lords.
I feel like there's a long and complicated story that will be completely irrelevant because there will never be a Burke in the RPC, but I also feel like he's an important part of Shar's life. Their interests are aligned, and they will act to protect one another against other Externals if necessary.
They conceived a child together in the past, but the infant didn't survive the birth due to Shar's powers, or because Externals being able to have children together might be unusual/difficult? Whatever happened, they never tried again, and the trauma resulted in another split and reconciliation.
They get together, separate, get together, separate. Their latest falling out was due to the events of Cable #151. Burke willingly accepted his own prophesized murder because he'd outlived all his "loved ones". ... Shar was probably pretty pissed off about that wording. Also, because he removed her heart and hid it, disposing of her body to protect her from suffering the same fate.
Shar has preternatural awareness and Eldritch Shit going on, but her guard is/was down with Burke enough that he could inflict a "killing" blow and take her heart, which is not a vibe I get with the other Externals when they're hanging out. They have some hazy deal about not killing one another, but Selene, Gideon, and Candra have reneged on that in the past in the comics, so it looks like they stick to that only if it suits them.
Note: Only one External can permanently kill another. This is done by draining their energy, or if a fellow External yanks out their heart and eats it. But it won't stick unless one External gets every other External's heart/energy.
So, Burke and Shar have an Irene and Destiny-type situation, that's also its own thing. Also, Burke is ace with a slight preference toward men because I say so.
Shar is polysexual and demi with a strong leaning toward femmes.]
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i don’t know dragon age so give me. either your favorite or most niche dragon age ship
🥺🥹💜 ask dragon age for me.... 💜💜💜💜
well my favorite of all time is a pc/canon ship but not a canon romance but i did think of a niche npc/npc ship that has recently made me feel like eating glass lmao so i did two
i attempted to give some context but not completely infodump >< idk if that was achieved lol
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My Grey Warden who has to go save the world after being recruited from a no-caste nothing on the underbelly of dwarven society fell for a guy you can't romance bc his culture is the Qun, which dictates basically your role and existence since you're born. They don't do like romance or marriage or whatever bc genetics are dictated by people who manage that. (Although some people do escape and live outside of that) His name is his job title. But he's a good man, a good soldier and a good friend and Torani Brosca respects the shit out of him so she keeps her feelings to herself. But yes she'll fight by his side and find his missing sword and stay as close as she can 🥺 and she never ever thinks of herself and her wants bc everything went towards her sister's chances of getting the family married up out of poverty so she really doesn't examine the feelings either it's just. I want to be close to you. Always. 😭
Uuuuunfortunately in my canon playthrough she takes the final hit in the last boss fight to kill the big bad and dies :( Beforehand she asked Sten to return her sword to her sister in Orzammar so Rica could have something to remember her by. She technically could have lived but that involves a mage party member fucking someone so she could have a baby and uh. suck the undying soul of the Arch demon into the unborn vessel instead of requiring a Warden to essentially cancel it out by killing it and... i don't actually remember the specific mechanics but a Warden specifically has to die in order for the big bad to STAY dead bc they have a like. half vaccinated version of the blight that kills them extremely slowly. But dorfs have such a low reproduction rate and the only way for them to get out of castelessness was for Rica to have a nobles baby and marry up... so Tor was like no i am not forcing anyone into that I'll just take the hit. 😔 so there's glass snack #1.
glass snack #2 is from the Dragon Age Inquisition DLC The Descent so this'll be spoilery lol but omg Renn and Valta
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Ok. Dwarves live underground, are immune to magic and the magic ore only they can dig up bc it kills anyone else. There's a group called Legion of the Dead who are socially dead, they literally have a funeral for them when they leave, and they go into the old deep roads and protect the city from the Dark spawn until they die out there with their boots on. This is what Renn does. Valta is an archivist who's been essentially put on bitch work bc she pissed off a higher-up by not erasing something really trivial from their records. And we're down there helping them figure out why the earthquakes are suddenly nuts. It seems like they've been working side by side for years and Renn either has a specific task or personal obligation to defend her while she's in the dangerous tunnels and old roads, I'm not sure which. But while they bicker a LOT there's soooooo much fondness underneath all that and they care about each other so fiercely and honestly we don't get a whole lot of conversation and banter even but what we do get is just fucking LOADED with meaning and I'm just *eats drywall* about it
ough and when he dies defending us from some threat we've never faced before she's even more determined to figure this out so he hasn't died in vain auuuurghh god so many things ending in tragedy but in the meanwhile.... the meanwhile is so good 😩 and that dichotomy of already being 'dead' but still having reason to live, to fight for and protect someone. ough...
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zeussim · 2 years
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Mom… I’m sorry, I don’t really like exploding in people’s faces with my problems but I can’t take it anymore… I am scared to talk about it with someone I know personally… so I hope you don’t mind this vent…
I’ve been living in a house where my mom verbally and occasionally physically abuse me. Today, she gaslit me into thinking that I said something, when I am very very sure that I did not. She twisted the scenario onto me, so that I can look like the villain. She even tried to insult my physical appearance, and said that I looked ugly despite whatever I do. Makeup, no makeup, hairdo, no hairdo. She even took away my prescription pills for a disorder I was born with. I’m balding now because of that, and she made fun of my bald spot, talking about how she has a thicker head of hair than me now. I want to cut my hair off. I used to take pride in my thick hair, but at this rate it falls off in clumps. Once, she even told me to kms. This was last year August. I remember the exact date and time. It was traumatising. I always think about that every time she yells at me. I want to move out but I can’t since she is disallowing me from moving out (I’m barely a grown-up and I come from a conservative Asian country).
I’m sorry for bursting in your anon box… I saw that you tend to give a maternal position to people whom need it. I appreciate your noble work, especially when there’s so many of us whom don’t even have warm-hearted mothers or present fathers. I don’t really know what this will yield me, but as I type this, I am hiding in my room scared. I’ve been following you for years at this rate, for your wedding clothes. This is my first time entering an anon box and I’m very nervous…
Hello, my sweet sunshine <3. Sorry if this took a while, I had to have a little cry before.. and during <3
I am so sorry you have such a mother! And that you have no one else to protect you from her! My sweet sunshine, you've lasted so long. I can't believe how strong and brave you are for surviving until now. You are so incredible! I can tell that you are such an exceptionally kind soul from the way you write.
Please, my sweet child, please survive for a bit longer until you can be free of her. Don't let such a disgustingly cruel person decide your fate. She is trying to break you. She's clearly jealous of you and your youth and so delights in acting cruel towards you. Don't let her take your youth or your self away from you. And don't listen to those words of cruelty and jealousy.
Your mother has let hatred, jealousy, regret and anger fester and eat her up until there's only a detestable shell left behind. She probably thinks that you're the reason her life hasn't turned out the way it's meant to and that's why she so childishly and cruelly targets you, trying to break you. She's such a cruel person, she won't be satisfied until you are completely gone - that's why she won't allow you to move and constantly assaults you. Don't let her get her way. Don't let such a disgusting person destroy the beautiful, kind you. I am so sad for you that you have to endure this, but please do! I don't know the rules in your country, but she can't possibly force you to stay at home forever. You've lasted so long, please last a little longer, my sunflower. Please wait for the sun, you'll get to see it soon. I believe you can do it. I want you to live a long and happy life - you deserve that and don't let her or anyone else persuade you otherwise. You are the most deserving of happiness even if you don't believe that, please believe me. I know with a heart of certainty that you deserve happiness.
Know this, one day you'll be free of her. You'll have cut her out from your life. But, she can never be free of you. She'll grow old, all alone, no one to love her - left only with the memories of the child who once loved her unconditionally, as children do. And she'll know that that love grew into hate and she'll never be able to manipulate you or try to destroy you ever again. You will be happy with a proper family - be it friends, a partner or children of your own. And the present, you're currently living in, will be a memory, a traumatic one. But, it'll be a memory, a relic of the past. And the people who love you will help you, until one day all the love and laughter will outweigh the cruelty shown by the person who was supposed to love you most.
I truly love you, my sweet beautiful child <3. Please stay alive until you can become happy. I love you.
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xf-grxmviridicn · 2 years
Text
the lure of darkness | event i.
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dreadful confusion. it was the first thought, the first sensation to come to mind as the darkness with which cerenia now found herself came into being, enveloping her in perpetual shadow. had she taken a wrong path again? despite her knowledge of the boundary’s existence, just along the edge of the wooded area, gradually creeping forth to swallow all she may hold dear, cera had yet to know a place among them to be so abysmally empty. so devoid of life and feeling. it drew the very essence from her bones, dug into the marrow of her soul — a gnawing, almost painful stirring held in her gut.
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⸻⸻ “oh, my little flower! haven’t you any thorns?” it screeched. the gaping abyss which was the monster’s mouth hung open, splits of golden light tearing through the shadows. the entity held out its shadowy tendrils, a steady trickle of black sludge falling to the floor.  ⸻⸻
it startles her, the frightful call from depths she cannot yet bear witness — not until the seeping light that marks its gaping maw shows through horrendously, cera’s doe eyes widening in abject horror as quivering lips struggle to spill the words that catch in her throat. she’s petrified to near silence save for the deafening pounding in her chest, her legs giving out the only sense of action her trembling form can manage right then. she wants to run. to hide in the warmth of safety, another’s arms. but there’s no one there to protect her, to shield her from this apparent nightmare. and in the moment she might imagine anyone at all, the sludge from which they’re born seems to warp and twist them enough to where they're no longer recognized. her sister, her father, the creatures she knew to be kind. they become malformed and mutilated, strange. unknown. she doesn’t want this anymore. the tears prick at the corners of her eyes, something like a sob slipping through her lips. much like anything else, it isn’t quite as it should be. she wants to go home. she buries herself in trembling knees, wrapping her arms around them as if they might aid her somehow.
“please .. let me —” her voice is hoarse, barely above a whisper. her body felt drained, tired. “ .. let me go home. i want to go home.”
⸻⸻ “deep down, you know that you’ll never free yourself from those woods as long as your mother remains that thing,” it said. “does that thing even recognize you anymore? you can never stray too far, never go off on your own adventures! because in the back of your mind, you know the mortals can round up their pitchforks and torches to slay mommy dearest.”  ⸻⸻
her mother. the word seems to pull her from tears, drag her from despair briefly. whatever this horrid creature wished of her, certainly it wasn’t a spark of hope at the mere mention. she loved her mother, entirely. unconditionally. no matter what became of her, how the woman may hate some part of her, how the woman may curse her. cera’s love would pour through. she would save her. she knew it in her heart. no one would hurt her so long as cera could draw a shred of breath. she couldn’t stand it.
⸻⸻ the noxious ooze bubbling on the floor multiplied in size, mutating into the writhing hydra nora soteira had become. but, each head had the human face of cerenia’s mother. “c...e...r...a?” croaked the monster. the boundary levitated overhead, thrashing in delight above the twisted reunion.  ⸻⸻
the human chimera is repulsive, grotesque down to its very core. cerenia knew, of course she knew .. or believed she did, that this .. thing, wasn’t really the woman who held her, that kissed her goodnight, that showed her the world as she knew it still  .. but it had her voice. and began to hum the very song only she would know, albeit rather distortedly. still, it mimicked her music box completely. how could that be?
“.. mama.” she cries, reluctantly drawing near on stumbling feet, wishing to .. just to be closer, perhaps. “mother! i’m coming, i’m here!” it shifts, falling away from cera, crawling on distorted limbs. “.. mother, please wait. i’m coming, i promise! don’t .. don’t leave —” again. not again. she couldn’t bear it. not again. “m —” just then, as cera might be within reach, another figure draws forth, shooting up from the darkness in a way that has the woodland girl stumbling backwards, landing on her backside in a loss of balance.
staring curiously, the figure doesn’t distort as the others had, holding form enough to actually be known. and cerenia swears, there’s no mistaking him, “eras—” her voice breaks, tears forming again, and the figure shakes its head, a finger to its lips, as if to tell her not to go further. either in speaking or in following towards whatever thing the boundary created. cera finds herself in awe and ever so vaguely annoyed that even her subconscious couldn’t seem to disregard the man, the image of his memory, even as she swears he’s forgotten her entirely.
⸻⸻ “don’t you want to save her?” it laughed. “don’t you want to snip the last thing that tethers you to those wretched woods? or will you really deny your mother salvation, little rabbit? i know that all you’ve ever wanted is to be truly free.”
the boundary approached her again.
“i want … just a piece of you,” it whispered. an outstretched hand reached for where cerenia’s heart should be. “i want it so badly, i swear to grant your wish.” as if stung, the boundary recoiled back. it slowly disintegrated into darkness, leaving her alone in the nightmare where illusions and old memories lurked around every corner.
“won’t you … accept my offer?”  ⸻⸻
she had almost overlooked the beast residing with them still, completely mesmerized by what her mind dared to conjure, until the bizarre creature’s distorted speech ripped through and drew back honey brown hues. its misshapen form and trickling tendrils didn’t seem to alarm her as much anymore, however, a strength found within herself to deal with this figment of nightmare and imagination. even as it thought to approach and nearly touch her, her eyes shutting tightly momentarily and skin crawling at the very attempt.
".. no.” she begins softly, summoning her courage as her uncertainty wavers. “.. no, i won't. i'll find a way, you'll see. i have good people helping me. i won’t need to rely on you.” at this, cera seems to glance towards the shadowy make of her old memory, some semblance of what one could perceive as a smile apparent in their features. as it helps her to her feet and soon dissipates, presumably returning to where it came, cerenia’s focus shifts entirely to the boundary .. or whatever it might be. “now, shoo. go away, you rude, rude thing."
as if on command, the world of darkness distorts and disappears. cera is found on the forest floor, collapsed in a ring of light and curled in, peacefully slumbering and ignorant to the world.
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juliaswickcrs · 2 years
Note
can u tell me a few fun facts about allison (and/or her creation)? she’s a really intriguing character!
Of course!! And thank you so much! She's one of my fave ocs so it means a lot to me that people still like her!
SPOILERS BELOW!
So I believe I said this at one point, but Allison was never meant to be a full fledged OC. She was just someone I had in my mind while talking to Keke.
Basically, I had seen a Tik Tok where someone was discussing Harry Potter and brought up the idea that "If Harry was a girl that looked like Lily, Snape would've treated her completely differently than in canon." And as an avid Snape hater, I absolutely agreed, and told Keke in my own words, "I think if I created a Harry Potter Sister!OC it would be to just dunk on Snape the entire time" and so Allison was born.
I had no intention of publishing her until Keke enabled me (love you babe) and she eventually grew into someone beyond the initial post that inspired her.
I wanted to play with the idea of growing up as a ghost of someone you never knew and when it came to her plot, I knew I wanted Allison to be someone who existed mainly in the background, someone who was talented at magic but didn't need to brag about it. And then there's the Tom Riddle of it all.
As Allison's story evolved, I decided that while Snape would remain an antagonistic force in her story, I wanted Tom Riddle to be her villain. Harry faced off against Voldemort, but Allison faced off against Tom Riddle, the man behind the monster. So that's where the idea of the diary came in, and when you're twelve you feel everything so deeply that it truly is like pouring your soul into whatever you do. And that's where the plot thread of "Hey what if Tom's soul, in a last ditch effort to create another horcrux, latched itself onto Allison's because of the connection they shared?"
Which eventually led to the central theme of Allison's story, which is that her life has been dictated by the men around her. She's been used, abused, manipulated, and coerced by every older man she's ever come into contact with, and so much of her life has been defined by them. And so her arc is about coming into her own as a woman, as herself, as a witch in her own right. Taking what her abusers left her and making it new again in a way that benefits her and makes the world better. And it also allows me to play with aspects of HP that I don't necessarily agree with, like how mental health and trauma is handled and how the magic system actually works.
Some fun facts (cause let's be honest this was kind of not fun and rather angsty haha):
She was born on August 1st, thirty minutes after Harry
When she was often forgotten by Aunt Petunia as a child, she would walk to a dance center and watch ballet classes, trying to teach herself.
Her hair is slightly more vibrant than Lily's but darker than Ginny's
Once she's out of her trauma shell, Allison is a literal wizard with pranks. Like good luck getting out of one she plays on you.
She is amazingly proficient at Wandless magic, more than most wizards her age.
She was named after Alice Longbottom, who is her godmother. Remus Lupin is her godfather.
She has a very complicated relationship with her mother and her Aunt Petunia.
She spends most of her summers at Dean Thomas's house after the events of fourth year.
Her love interest is Blaise Zabini cause I love and adore him
She's a Gryffindor
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loruleanheart · 2 years
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‘no longer hylian’ sounds like a cool name why do you want to cancel it?
It's just very heavy subject matter and due to little motivation or ideas. I wanted to write a very sad and/or disturbing backstory for Astor that goes all the way up to his death. Also Ghirahim and Yuga are spirits that act as his guides. I wrote a bit for chapter 1 and I've never been completely satisfied with what I wrote.
Here is what I have for the first chapter. It's probably full of errors. My tense is all over the place. (It's a WIP after all, but....I would really like to read some feedback.)
Content warnings: frank references to birth, baby abandonment, suicide.
“Everyone has struggles that go unseen by the world…” - Princess Zelda, Diary
No one in the kingdom of Hyrule would have asked what it was like to be him. No one is simply born evil.
Although he would come to worship the greatest evil the kingdom had ever known, no one would ever stop and question why. After all, he was not the first who would seek to resurrect an incarnation of Demon King. And he would not be the last. For almost every instance of Ganon’s revival throughout Hylian history, there was someone working in his shadow facilitating his resurrection.
But of the many souls that had sought to revive Ganon throughout the ages, the Prophet of Doom was, perhaps, the most tragic.
He lived and died, like so many others before him, only to be forgotten. No one will record his efforts to revive Calamity Ganon in the form of a legend. No one bothers. In Hyrule, there is only good and evil, no inbetween. At least that is what the legends would have one believe. Only heroes, princesses, and sages live on in legends—with the exception of the Demon King in his many incarnations. He will simply disappear from written history and over the course of one hundred years no one will remember him.
His place of birth, Deya Village, sits nestled in the Hills of Baumer. Rising higher are the Popla Foothills to the Southwest. There is only one path in or out of this humble fishing village, unless one would wish to traverse the steep hills surrounding the village
The lake is frozen on this frigid winter night. It is a miserable and difficult time of year for the inhabitants of Deya Village. When the hills are covered in a thick layer of snow, as they are now, the children slide down on whatever scraps they can find, assuming they can gather the courage to abide the steepness and trust that the ice will hold as they come to a stop on the thin ice.
It is in the early morning hours, with only the dim light of the full moon, that a woman shambles out of her home. She carries a bundle in her arms against her bosom and lurches through the village, seemingly aimlessly, snow crunching underfoot. Under her heavy cloak, her tender belly feels as though it were deflated Octo Balloon.
The bundle in her arms begins to cry a terrible and shrill, pitiful wail, and the woman presses the palm of her bloodied hand over its tiny mouth, fearing that the sound will rouse her neighbors from their contented and ignorant sleep.
“What have I brought upon Hyrule?” She says in a thin, shaking voice as she nears the village limits. As she does, she passes a small statue of the Goddess. The stone monument clasps its hands to its chest as if in prayer or adoration.
This woman, known in the village for her prophetic abilities, has already seen quite clearly what it is she has brought upon the world. She had seen horrific visions throughout her nine months carrying this child.
Sometimes he comes to her as a small boy grieving within inches of her face the most terrible shrieks of horror she has ever experienced. His screams are pinched and impart upon her a sense of hopelessness and loss so deep and so vast it frightens her. And as the dream child throws himself at her with these terrible wails, she can’t help but follow his lead in response, and she too screams, mirroring him until her vocal cords give out and she awakens with a start, breathing hard and covered in sweat, tears running down her cheeks as she tries to reorient herself.
In other visions, he is only a shrouded figure. The man carries a mysterious orb and has a sinister laugh that turns her stomach to rot.
“I fear not even the Goddess will look upon you. You are damned.” She hisses between clenched teeth, which only causes the newborn in her arms to cry louder. She recalls the young boy from her visions and feelings of pity threaten to consume her.
She has barely laid eyes on the newborn—but if she had, she would have seen they shared the same intense yellow eyes, and if she cleaned him she would see the soft down of baby hairs that match her medium brunette locks.
She hasn’t tended to the newborn as one would after birth, merely haphazardly wrapping him in a heavy blanket, though not out of care, but to conceal. The blanket is already sodden with blood and amniotic fluid leaking from the caul that the newborn’s body is still mostly encased in, with only his head freed—a veiled birth as other seer’s would have called it. Many would have said this was a good omen—an outward sign that not only was the child born with the gift of prophecy but that he would be set apart—that he would go on to become more than just any ordinary seer. And this was true—horribly true. For she knows the tiny child she holds in her arms will grow to bring destruction to Hyrule. Already she can sense a dark aura surrounding him.
She approaches a mound of refuse piled high and wide on the outskirts of the village. This is where the residents of Deya Village discard their trash and belongings that can’t be repurposed, sold, given away, or put to any other use.
She can’t find it within herself to end the life of this child in any direct manner—abomination to Hyrule he may be—this is still her own flesh and blood.
So she lays him down in the pile of refuse and other things left forgotten, deliberating morosely whether to redistribute the trash over him to squelch his crying and prevent his discovery .Did she truly wish for him to pass away from exposure to the elements? Could Hyrule be spared? Then the horrible realization dawns on her that Calamity Ganon would only latch onto someone else. Her efforts, either way, are in vain.
I will leave the child and leave the rest in the Goddess’s hands.
He may go on, if that is Hylia’s will… But I cannot…
She knows no other way to cope, though her face is tearless. There is no livable resolution for either of them. She already has the vague sense he will meet a terrible fate in infamy and at the hands of his Master, Calamity Ganon. And this is what haunts her the most. He will be nothing but a pawn.
“Hylia forgive me…”
She reaches into the deep pocket of her cloak bringing out a long, thick rope, which feels rough and prickly in the palm of her hand. She turns back to the pile momentarily, her gaze not quite focusing on the child. “And may She show you mercy…whatever your fate may be.”
She turns her sights to a thick and gnarled tree adjacent to the pile of debris.
From the pile, the shrouded infant cries in his discomfort.
I know that someone had to play this role, but…why… why did it have to be my child? Her face contorts into a horrible look of grief, and she is resolute that this will be the last time she feels this deep well of emotional agony.
She breathes out through her mouth heavily as she slowly, and hesitantly approaches the tree, rope in hand. Those hands stiffen from the cold. She can feel every bone in her hand as she manipulates the rope into a noose. A frigid gale rushes over her then. The newborn cries out sharply from the pile, perhaps experiencing the same harsh, unforgiving wind. She is unfazed and doesn’t pause her efforts. She is already deciding which branch to hang herself from.
The minutes pass and soon the only sound is the guttural rhythmic cry of the newborn. The one who brought him into the world is no more and he is alone.
The residents of Deya Village begin to arise as a new day begins.
Bonus:
“DON’T YOU GET IT, YOU SIMPERING FOOL?! IT’S BEEN THOUSANDS OF YEARS SINCE YOUR TIME AND YOUR PRINCESS IS LONG DEAD! LOOK AROUND YOU. SHE’S NOT HERE!””
Yuga says nothing, just states at Ghirahim blankly for an extended, painful beat. He finally turns and walks away. Astor can see the man’s shoulders quiver as he retreats. - This is Yuga and Ghirahim arguing while young Astor watches them bicker.
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olivethetreebitch · 1 year
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I lied, sleep has decided to abandon me.
Fuck it.
Agender Wild, goes with whatever pronouns doesn’t give a FAUK.
So I think the resurrection chamber stoped his body from aging, like, completely. Like time stoped for the body.
Like I absolutely love the elderich soul aus where Wild is not Link, but just inhabits the dead man’s Body??? Like that’s my fucking bread and BUTTER. MMM all the good flavors.
So Wild was not aware that she is in fact, part Gerudo due to a permanent curse on said body, the curse would eventually fade due to use over time but it never happened. Link went back first.
Wild, before being born, finds and kicks Ganandorfs ass, rightfully taking the triforce of power for itself (another headcanon is that only a Gerudo “male” or in other words “one of Ganon’s linage” (because all the males have been Ganon, so it’s another name for a male Gerudo) may hold the triforce of Power)
So. Wild has both the triforce of power and courage, basically sacrificing his timeline body to seal and break down the Malice (not to completely destroy it but anything helps) and becoming a spirit for a full 20 min before they wake up as Baby.
[cue epic music]
Also the Gerudo do not know about Wild’s existence, momma had some issues with the currant social norms that Gerudo were expected to hold so they left to travel.
Wild in this is actually a year younger (physically) then Zelda, so heheh there’s that.
Literally Wild is just the peak of the meme
“On god…
…..Please shut up….
…..Please.”
Every fucking time. Also is the peak of ADHD.
Uhhh Wild knows how to play a multitude of instruments, and knows a lot of languages (all the native languages and common, even some from outside the kingdom)
But he did not know Hyruleian until she met the chain, and they all took a turn trying to teach the gremlin…….
They have the most complicated and messy dialect of everyone. Flora tried to figure out where it is from, but couldn’t place it. Eventually Wild told her.
Wild refers to the 100 year old Zelda as Flora as she really learned how to stand on her own, and became a little (older?) sister to them. The currant young Zelda hasn’t quite fit into the role yet. (Maybe another name? Probably not. It’ll be a character growth thing. She needs to break through the trauma to even start assessing the damages)
Another thing on the Fierce thing: after the bbeg was defeated, there was this time where the entire group ended up in the holy/god realm as Time was getting the rundown the Chain met Hylia face to face, yes she’s their other mother other then Malon. Legend is like that grumpy kitten that’s sulking. He gets a hug don’t worry.
And because Wild is a priest, she can talk to any of the gods their close to, which includes the main three, Hylia, Time, Fierce, and the other Priests. (Sometimes Sun if he concentrates hard enough)
Which means when the king is digging into Zelda, Wild is over here side eyeing Hylia like “Bruh what do I do-“ and she’s like “Kick his ass” “not yet”
Wild is determined to help Zel in any way it can, be it through giving her flowers, reviving Terico (the egg, no I don’t know how to spell it), and just generally trying to make her life easier.
Wild also wants desperately to kidnap Zel and let her not only sleep, but actually teach her how to tap into the goddess.
(Healing first, then trust, then building up magic reserves, then doing actual shit)
Wild: [aggressively but also tenderly big siblings Zelda into having better mental heath]
Wild: I’m supposed to be the sad one! You get your own script!
Wild loves the champions, ace wild strikes again when it comes to Mipha, she kinda reminds him of Hyrule. So like….. no. Deruk is like a brother to him and he cares about- Urbosa he respects and reminds her of her mother. Rivali Wild has decided is not worth the energy at this point, and exclusively calls him Ravioli.
Ta daaa
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