#literally never tried to do something of this magnitude before i might just die | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

veterveter · 3 years

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YO MANU THIS FINALLY CAME THROUGH I'LL LIKE READ AND DO COMMENTARY AND EDIT THIS LATER BUT I WANTED TO POST IT WHILE I HAD IT!!!!

Bless, tumblr finally working for you.

Anyway, here's the post from @delirious-and-slightly-murderous

So seeing as Tumblr hates me, I'm trying this darling, hope it reaches you.

So just read rat king.

[You should all totally read rat king if you haven't yet, it's fun I promise :) But also read Manu's commentary on it!!]

Tuuli I hope you know I love you and completely adore you and I am in awe of you but right now I HATE YOU.

You broke me AGAIN. And I was just mending myself.

This was great and beautiful and fantastic and completely awful and the worst thing I've ever seen in my life.

I'm crying.

So now I'm going to make a habit of coming to scream at you on tumblr every time you post something.

You already know how I feel about your characterization and Andrés' POV and the angst. So there, it applies here too.

Here we go you awful and magnificent goddess.

“Martín,” Sergio clarified, moving up his glasses, the prescription of which was much too weak for his continuously worsening eyesight, “I think you should stop sleeping with him: Yes, Segio and his judgement. That couldn't not be there. But Andrés and Martín are sleeping together? I know this is going to hurt.

Martín was a constant in his life, something carried over from before. Martín? Martín wasn’t a problem; Martín was the only one thing that was good: at least here he appreciates him. Thank god.

Before, he would have found some entirely healthier way of loving his soulmate. Maybe they would have even had an old-world relationship, eventually. Andrés felt like he might have liked that, once. He knew Martín would have loved it: 😭 I want this for them and it hurts that it's simply not going to happen. I'm afraid of the MCD tag, Tuuliiiiiiiiiiii! Who did you kill, you murderous genius?

Andrés needed Martín, desperately. Too desperately to love him the way he should have: I'm going to die. He could at least try but nooooo, god forbid the day Andrés de Fonollosa makes things simple for anyone.

Andrés could see the way orgasms had loosened some of the tensions that so often gripped his body, and he hoped Sergio could too.😏

If Andrés had to choose only one, he would have certainly chosen— : repressed asshole. I hope that was going to end with the word Martín. Why are you even getting married? What's even the point. But I see Andrés will continue to be emotionally stunted even when the world is ending.

Martín and Sergio had gotten along well, before. Andrés could remember so many pleasant evenings, just the three of them and a bottle of wine. But ever since they had to move to this base, the tensions had been palpable. They were both desperately trying to keep them alive, but were constantly disagreeing on the how: I'm starting to like Sergio more than Andrés here, how is that possible? How? See what you do Tuuli?

He turned around at the doorway and left the room, because he had no doubts about it: they would listen to him: Andresito, you are being too egocentric, this is not going to end well, for anyone.

Andrés understood just enough to know he was proud.: I don't know how to feel about this Andrés. I can't.

Andrés always tried not to take the slights of this brave new world personally – it was cruel, but they all had to endure loss of unspeakable magnitude – but this? Having to choose between his Martín and his brother?: Oh no, Oh no, NO. This isn't fair. Why do I get the terrible feeling we already know who he's going to choose? Please DON'T do this.

Andrés knew with unwavering certainty that either one of them would be willing to do it, and that they would consider it a great big favour to Andrés, and not the horrifying curse it truly was. He was the one who would have to pay the ultimate price, and live, knowing how much it had cost: Everything always has to be about you, doesn't it Andrés. You fucking deserve it.

Andrés could appreciate such a malleable room, because it reminded him of Martín, who always became what Andrés needed him to be.😡😭💔

Martín had never cared about plants, before. Actually, he seemed to have held a certain disdain for them. He had always said they were stupid and lifeless. Now he was looking at these ones, their lifeline, and he was filled with reverence and sorrow. If Andrés could have given him one thing, he would have liked to return to him his complete disregard for flora, and all the things it had since then come to imply: This hurts, and not only for obvious reasons. But nature? Fuck right in the feels.

Martín was entirely too pretty to look like this. They hadn’t even been having sex, because suddenly Martín looked like his eternally calcium-deficient bones might now break from the strain. Pretty Martín yeah! And you are a genius. Now this is my official headcanon as to why Martín drinks milk, he has fragile bones, the poor baby.

The weird walking corpse at the table smiled, and it almost made him resemble Martín.: He's already halfway dead. The MCD tag is him isn't it? I hate you Tuuli.

Andrés had to remind himself that he was lucky to have this. He may have had so many better things, before, but now he had this, and that was good. They had it better than most, him and Martín, for they had each other. Andrés still had his brother, and now he would have his wife, too. He was lucky: Not for long, buddy. And you deserve it. Poor Sergio I normally hate him but gosh.

“No,” Andrés said without waiting for a single beat, because he couldn’t let Sergio think he considered it. Even though he almost— “No, I don’t. I want you two, both of you, to figure out a way. A different way.”: He loves them both and he accepts it? Why does the world have to be ending.

Andrés tried not to think too much about Martín from before, but sometimes he did anyway. That night, as he wrapped his arms around Martín’s pathetic, weak and shivering frame, he thought about his true soulmate, the one this body had once belonged to.: Now I understand Martín sacrificing himself is the only way. He's already dead. And because of Andrés no less. How tragic.

Andrés had never said it back.

That night, he didn’t say it back.: Now Martín is going to die and it'll be horrible isn't it? Tuuli I want to murder you.

I’m so sorry, Andrés,” Sergio said quietly, slowly reaching out a hand to touch his shoulder.

Andrés recoiled from it, sharply. “No,” he snapped, “No. We are all going to die. Say those words, Sergio. We are all going to die.” He had made his peace with death long ago. There were worse things, many things so much more horrifying—

“We are not all going to die,” Sergio said, “The generator—” His words were cut off by Andrés’s hand on his throat, squeezing.: You are the king of denial, bad decision, being stupid, emotionaly stunned and not appreciating your soulmate enough Andrés. You deserve all the pain.

“He doesn’t deserve that,” Andrés said, his voice breaking again as he thought of it, Martín’s body, his corpse, frozen and preserved like that for as long as they would live. Martín, out there, while Andrés was in here, unable to ever go and give him even a proper burial. He had always been able to give Martín so little, and in death he would fail him yet again: I really have no words for this. But Martín being forever preserved out there and Andrés knowing that and not being able to mourn him. That is genius and it hurts and it's the perfect ending for them.

Andrés had never told him. Not once. How could he be certain that Martín had known? How could he insist that Martín, the brightest of them all, had known, when Andrés had never told him? Martín operated in words – how could Andrés have forced him to read his love in a language he didn’t even speak?: Now you confront your feelings too late, like always you repressed asshole. You deserve all the pain.

God, he wished Martín hadn’t been so bright. That he had been an idiot, dim-witted and slow like the rest of them.

Then the two of them would have let all of humanity perish.: You already murdered me with 'stay a while' and now this. Tuuli I'm coming back as a vengeful ghost and haunting your perfect ass.

So yeah, I don't have words but that's what I could spit out.

And Tuuli, you know the thing I showed you about the spider? Well when I finished reading this I was crying and wailing. My professor came running because he thought it was another spider or something even worse like a serpent.

When he asked what was going on I was in such a state I could only say 'rat' like a dumbass.

RAT.

Like seriously? And when he asked again I said Rat king fic and pointed vaguely to my phone.

He thought I was talking about an actual rat.

So imagine this. We are there, at night (in Costa Rica nightfall is around 6:00pm all year round, so now it's 9:00pm and here in the tropical rainforest it gets Dark), camping in the middle of nowhere in the wild with a tropical storm falling over our heads and I start crying about Rats.

Congratulations Tuuli, you put me in such a state that I managed to send the whole of 9 biologists into a frenzy, frantically checking out the tents over an imaginary giant rat.

It was literally terror in the jungle.

I wanted the earth to shallow me. I didn't know how to explain that all that circus was because of a fucking fic.

I think now I no longer have satelital internet rights.

I hate you.

(P.S: But don't worry I still absolutely adore you, even if now I am the laughing stock of my fellows 🥰😘♥️)

Here have my friend the spider to show how I'm feeling.

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rustic-space-fiddle · 5 years

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Exerpts From the Personal Rantings of the Apocalypse Child

Day 1

April fools. Very funny guys, you can come out now.

....

Day 2

I think I’ve actually adjusted to this whole thing. I’ve got a wagon, a friend to keep me from going crazy, assuming I really am the only person left alive, and an umbrella. Good start.

....

Day 3

I tried to jump today, but I couldn’t do it. I honestly don’t know why. Maybe it’s for the best. Clearly I needed to calculate my jumps, and after jumping at random four times, I probably completely warped whatever sense of time my being might have had. I’m not going to try again until I can figure this out mathematically. I may be an idiot, but math is never wrong.

I’ll bet Dad is laughing somewhere under all this rubble.

....

Day 4

I found them. If they didn’t make it, no one did. Except maybe whoever killed them. Note: Ben and Vanya weren’t there. Or me. Would I be there if I get back to the past (my present) in the future? I’m gonna lose my mind.

....

Day 5

Buried them. Had nothing to say. I didn’t even know them anymore. I don’t know who they became. [something illegible, scratched out]

....

Day 7

Good news: Ben didn’t die in the apocalypse. Bad news: he died way before he should have. Figures. Still haven’t found Vanya. Found her book, though. It’s a tough read. I’m almost glad I missed all that drama, but I really miss them. Even Dad, may his soul burn for all eternity.

Haven’t figured out the cause of it all, yet. I want to say nuclear, but I guess I’ll find out. If it is, destruction of this magnitude means I should be dead of radiation poisoning in a week or two, and that’s being generous on my behalf. I can’t tell if my queasiness is radiation poisoning or that spam I ate yesterday.

....

Day 10

I’m beginning to doubt the nuclear war theory. I saw a rat yesterday. It had a normal amount of heads and legs, and it wasn’t dead. I guess we’ll see.

....

Day 22

I’m not dead. I’m gonna go ahead and rule out nuclear war. I wonder if I could build something nuclear powered to enhance my ability and launch me back in time? Unlikely, but what have I got to lose?

Still haven’t found Vanya, but even if I did I wouldn’t be able to recognize her at this point. She isn’t alive, at any rate. Guess it’s just me. And Delores.

....

Day 41

Delores is really starting to grow on me. It’s scaring me. Almost more than literally everything else on this godforsaken husk of a planet.

....

Day 79

Just went two days without water. I thought I saw someone, but I’m pretty sure it was just a hallucination. Unfortunately, I followed that hallucination into a ditch and woke up a whole quarter mile away from the wagon. Got back just fine, and found a bottle of water to boot. Nothing missing when I returned. Delores kept good watch, but would it be too much to ask to let me know when I’m wandering off?

Mannequins, am I right?

....

Day 120

Nothing is working. Granted, I doubt I’ve tried everything. Delores keeps telling to keep my chin up and my brain on. Easy for her to say—her chin is plastered up and she has no brain.

....

Day 183

Happy birthday.

....

Day 217

Almost lost a hand today. Man may die, but machines will soldier on for at least another year, or so I discovered. Delores tells me I should be grateful, because she’s a triple paraplegic and has no hair. Her exact words. She’s so dramatic.

It’s getting really frickin cold. I may die soon. I’ll keep you posted.

....

Day 235

It’d be easier to stay alive if I could keep this fire going and it’d be easier to do that if this infernal wind would cease for once.

....

Day 268

Merry Christmas. Found Delores a new blouse today. Blue with little white reindeers on it. She said it was cheesy but she liked it anyway. She didn’t get me anything, but her company is enough of a gift.

It is very, very cold now, and from what I can tell, it’s just getting colder.

....

Day 275

New year, new me.

....

Day 293

I wish I’d paid better attention in frostbite class. I can’t feel my hands. Delores mocks me from within her plastic corpse-like interior. I almost wish the world was on fire again. At least I’d be frickin warm.

....

Day 315

Why am I writing this? Only Delores and I can read it. Delores says that’s probably for the best. I can’t tell if that’s an insult.

....

Day 340

I heard a bird today. I thought I was hearing things again, but Delores said she heard it too. It chirped twice. It was probably one of the most amazing things I’ve ever heard.

....

Day 362

I decided I’m not smart enough Delores says to say “well versed enough” in the art of math to really pinpoint my time trajectory. I’m gonna teach myself math until there’s no more math left to learn, and then I’m gonna create new math. I’m gonna get home, if it kills me.

Shut up Delores.

.......

On AO3 now yeet

#tua #the umbrella academy #five hargreeves #number five #tua delores #diary #apocolypse child #im having a good time with this #staying in character? never heard of it #tua headcanon #tua fanfic #sorta #idk what im doing honestly #five and delores

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twigon0metry · 4 years

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what’s it really like as a christian? -my faith-

Hey y’all! Sorry for not being consistent about posting--I had no motivation or inspiration for a long time, and couldn’t figure out for the life of me what to post >.<’ But anyways, I’m back now! This is a long post, so if you’re interested in reading my story, it’s all below the cut. :)

You might have come here without knowing what Christianity even is. That’s ok! Feel free to ask me anything about it, and I will do my best to answer. The reason I’m here is not to push my way of life down your throat, or try to convince you that you’re wrong. I’m here because the experiences I’ve had are like nothing else in the world, and I want to share them with you--in hopes that in some way you’ll be encouraged. (TW: suicidal thoughts, cancer)

I don’t know how many of my followers know this, but I am a Christian, and I’ve felt recently that I should be more open about that than I am. I have things I can share and use to encourage and inspire others, and I want to use them for good, and not hold them back anymore.

But what exactly do I mean when I say I’m a Christian? The world has so many different definitions of that word (some not so pleasant), and it’s part of the reason I’ve been a little nervous about sharing.

To me, Christianity is not a religion, but a way of life. It’s more than just accepting Jesus into your heart and following rules and doctrines, or just agreeing with Jesus’s teachings. It’s having a real, personal relationship with a loving God, not a God who judges.

Anyhoo, to the story. I’m that stereotypical Christian who grew up as a Christian, if that makes any sense--faith had always been a part of my family, even before I was born. I went to church on a regular basis, did Sunday School, gave my life to Christ at a young age, yadda yadda. I thought that I was a pretty good Christian--a pretty good person in general, haha. Even though I had accepted Jesus into my life, I didn’t really have a personal relationship with him--kinda took everything for granted. It wasn’t until when I was around eleven or twelve years old that I actually started to try and figure out exactly what I believed.

And when that happened, I started to doubt. I’d always accepted that God was real, but was he really? Did I really believe he existed? This doubt terrified me, because for so long I had just taken it for granted. I was also that one goody-two-shoes kid. I always wanted to be good and do the right thing. And believing in God was the right thing to do, but I didn’t know if I did or not.

I don’t remember exactly how I got through that, but I remember realizing that if the idea of not caring about God gave me so much distress, I must care about him more than I thought. And after that point, I began to make my beliefs my own--independent of my parents and family culture. I knew I believed in God, and I wanted to follow Jesus, even if at that point, I had no idea what that even meant.

A little while later, some significant struggles came into my life. I started to struggle with some undefined health issues, and although I didn’t know it yet--anxiety. I had many panic attacks, and lost weight and sleep (and to be clear, I’m a noodle, so this ain’t a good thing). During those times, I would often come to my mom, because even though she often told me the same things I’d heard before, I always felt better afterwards. She ended up teaching me about how God’s control over my life meant that everything would end up being ok eventually--because he loved me, and wanted the best for me. I learned how to pray to him and talk to him about what I was stressed about. This ended up helping me a lot, and it was a good thing, because I would need that skill later.

Around this time or shortly after, my dad got cancer. I think it was some kind of lymphoma. And the thing was, although this cancer was treated, it kept coming back. In fact, the doctors ended up telling us that it was terminal--there was no cure, it could only be treated and would just keep coming back regardless.

As you can imagine, this experience was devastating for our family. I didn’t realize the magnitude of it at first, but it got worse as time went on, as he experienced cancer/treatment symptoms not one, but three separate times over the course of six years. Yet, the strangest things happened to me during this time. First off, although I was afraid, for most of it I felt this strange, unexplainable peace. Where others would have been shook to their core, I was at rest. I was able to trust God with my dad, even though I was afraid, and to this day I don’t know how I could, especially considering the anxiety I so often dealt with. That wasn’t to say it wasn’t hard--I knew my dad could die. My mom was stressed. It was really hard to watch my dad suffer. But somehow, it truly felt as if God himself was with my family. We prayed more, and felt closer. Secondly, over time, I became more and more drawn towards God. I wanted more.

During this time I started to want to know more about God. I knew I wanted to follow him, but I had no idea how to do that. I learned that I needed to seek him, and that if I seek God, I would find him. And this proved to be true. I ended up discovering a whole new side to Christianity that I never knew before. I learned that following God is not just about the things you do, but about a relationship. God himself loved me, and everyone in the world, more than I could imagine. And he knew me, inside and out, but still loved me. He knew me, and wanted me to know him. I kept seeking, kept learning, and got baptized three years ago as a public declaration of my desire to do that. I even learned that I could hear God, if I listened close enough.

But choosing to REALLY follow God didn’t mean I became a good person. I struggled, and still struggle, in many areas in my life. A big part of life as a Christian is learning to accept yourself, and not let your deeds define you. Another big part of life as a Christian is accepting that your natural state of being will always be imperfect, and you can’t fix yourself on your own. And me, being a goody-two-shoes, still had A LOT to learn. A couple years ago, for some reason, I started to really struggle with procrastination. Since I’m homeschooled, this resulted in me being really really behind, and I always had a ton of work floating over my head, which resulted in a lot of stress for me. And it became an addiction. I could not stop, no matter what I did, no matter how much I told myself I tried to do better, or even if I actually tried to do better. I never did good enough, and I started to attach that to my identity. I was not good enough.

I ended up feeling very depressed and hopeless. Me always having work to do meant that I couldn’t spend time with others as much. My parents, my whole family, became stressed. And it was my fault, and I couldn’t stop. I got into fights with my parents, and I was told that I was wasting my life, and had wasted my life. And on top of this, God wasn’t a priority in my life anymore. A big part of being a Christian is having a relationship with God, and in order to do that, you need to consistently spend time with him. And I wasn’t doing that. All of this culminated in a lot of shame. I started to believe I couldn’t get out of my loop, and that I was a burden--and I thought that if maybe I left, everyone would be better. I was a problem, and problems need to be eliminated. I don’t know that I really would have tried to end my life, but I thought about it a lot. The only thing that prevented me from seriously considering it was the fact that I knew God had a good plan for me and my life (as he does for everyone), and that I was alive because he had a purpose for me.

That time was awful. But through it, I learned so much. And God’s love reached me in some amazing ways. One time, I had just had a lecture with my parents that resulted in them telling me to go spend time with God. I went to my room, but because I was so angry, I didn’t want anything to do with God. I actually sat there for about five, fifteen minutes doing nothing. But then, I took a piece of paper, and started to write out my honest feelings to God--even the so called sinful feelings, like being angry at him. And the strangest thing happened--I actually felt more open and less angry the more I wrote. And it wasn’t because of the things I was writing, because they were NOT peaceful at all. At this point, I didn’t even believe that God could change my circumstances. That unshakable faith I had before was gone. But God changed my perspective and my heart.

I eventually asked him something like, “How could you even change my circumstances?”, because even though God was changing my attitude towards Him, I still didn’t believe things would get better. And then I heard three words--not literally heard, but they pushed themselves to the forefront of my brain and impressed themselves so strongly I actually couldn’t even move. “Let me show you.”. They weren’t angry words, or judgmental words--I’d learned that the voice of God is never condemning. It was just incredibly strong. And in that moment, I decided to let God show me--let him help me fix my problems, instead of trying to do it all by myself.

Another time, I was lying in my bed late at night. Nighttime was often the worst for me, because I would always be reminded of the things I wasn’t doing right. This time was worse than usual, and I was struggling with a lot of shame. But then, I started to talk to God about it. Suddenly, I got this image of me coming and giving him a big hug--just like a child would with their dad when they’re feeling sad. And for some reason, it actually FELT like I was being comforted by God. This unexplainable peace came over me. God told me to rest, and I fell asleep--and even had a really good dream. And when I woke up, I still felt as if he was near me. It was really cool.

Throughout those experiences and many others during my struggle with school, I’d begun to learn that doing the right things and following God wasn’t something I could just push through and do on my own power. I had to come to him to ask for help. Contrary to the standard belief of the world, I’ve realized I can’t be a good person on my own.

This probably sounds terrible to a lot of people, and for me, it’s hard, because I’m prideful and I WANT to be good. I want to do things right--so badly. That is my way of life. But the thing is, the whole point of Christianity is that on my own, I can’t consistently do all the right things. It’s impossible. No matter how many times I vow to do better, or how much I WANT to do the right thing, I just can’t. My fear overtakes me and I procrastinate, or I lose strength. But when I came and talked with God, and read the Bible (which we Christians believe is God’s message to us), I felt at rest. I felt fulfilled. I felt like I could understand the right things better. That fog that had rested on my mind was gone, and often, I wasn’t super stressed anymore. Again, the idea that we can’t consistently do the right things on our own probably sounds depressing to y’all. But for me, it is actually incredibly freeing. Why? Because the responsibility to make myself right isn’t on me anymore. I don’t have to carry that burden around on me anymore. Because, I realized, that God is the one who fixes me and changes me so that I WANT to do the right things, and I do. All God asks me to do is follow Him, and talk to Him about anything--my day, how I’m feeling, things I’m struggling with. He asks me to walk with Him and put my trust in Him, not people, the world, or things.

And when I didn’t do this, I started to notice a difference. I was far more stressed, and my day just didn’t go right. I was more irritable, and I often had this strange brain fog that made it so I couldn’t properly comprehend what I was supposed to be doing. To be clear, this was not God manipulating me. It was just the fact that my soul, my body, and my mind, actually couldn’t FUNCTION properly without God. Deep down, I wanted to follow him, and I was denying myself the thing I really needed. Once I realized this, I knew that no matter what happened with my school, whether I failed to do the right things or not--I needed to cling to God first and foremost, above everything else. And that was the only way I would find success. I haven’t done this perfectly, but over time, God has been changing my perspective on life and my school and my anxiety.

And, now I can gladly say that the school that had been hanging over my head these past years is almost done. God changed my perspective on life--I’m no longer hopeless, no longer suicidal, and no longer do I attach my success in school to my identity. My Dad, also, is doing a treatment that has kept him cancer free for over a year now. My life, which was in shambles, is coming back together. And it is ONLY because I started to seek God and rely on Him. You know why I can say that? Because I wouldn’t be alive right now if it wasn’t for Him. I couldn’t get out of that depressive state on my own--I tried. Many times. It was only when I surrendered that I began to experience healing again.

This is my story. It’s not an easy one, or a smooth one. I am a Christian, but I am not perfect. I’m not even more perfect than people who aren’t Christian. I’m just a human, just like y’all, stumbling my way through life and hoping I’m going in the right direction.

I hope that through sharing this I’m able to encourage you in some way. I will be posting more faith-themed content along with fandomy stuff, and if you are uncomfortable with that, I won’t blame you or judge you for unfollowing me.

Also, as I said before, if you have any questions about Christianity or what I believe, or if there is something you don’t understand about what I said, please, don’t be afraid to ask me. No matter what kind of question you ask, I will do my best to answer it. I love explaining stuff like this, so don’t be shy! I want to engage more with the tumblr community. :)

Thank you for reading all the way to the bottom of this post, and I hope you have a great day!

#christian #christianity #testimony #christian experience #story #my story #tw suicide mention #tw cancer #ask me anything

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pyropsychiccollector · 4 years

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Naezono Week, Day 7: Promise

The Ultimate Pop Sensation looked down at the gift curiously.

“A ring...?” She echoed faintly.

The Luckster in front of her rubbed the back of his neck and smiled sheepishly.

“I know it’s not much, and might even be a bit cheesy, but I wanted to make my promise more… concrete. Y’know?” Makoto laughed in embarrassment as he tried to find the right words. “Anyone can ‘say’ they’re gonna help you get out of here… But I guess… I wanted something to back my words up.”

“… And you settled on a Love Status Ring?” Sayaka wondered aloud, still eyeing the gift in her palm.

Makoto’s face flushed at that. He waved his hands defensively and spluttered nervously.

“I-It doesn’t have to mean anything you don’t want it to…! I just… we don’t have a lot in here that’s, well, ours.” Pink dusted his cheeks as he looked off to the side. “I know just giving out a prize from that machine in the shop is a bit… thoughtless… B-But something about it seemed… right.”

Sayaka blinked as she looked up at the Luckster curiously.

“Seemed right…?” She echoed. Makoto nodded absently.

“Y-Yeah…” His blush deepened, but he raised his head to meet the idol’s eyes. “… You’re my friend, and I care about you. I don’t know much about love, but I still want you to find that special someone, someday. And since there’s more chance of finding that person out there than in here… I thought… it could be like a beacon of hope until you get out of here? Ehe…”

As the Luckster chuckled nervously and averted his gaze downward once again, shuffling his feet, Sayaka continued to stare at him with awestruck eyes. She had not expected this from the shy, average-looking boy. When she had wrung that promise to help her escape no matter what out of him, she was perfectly fine at taking him at his word. Inadvertently making him promise that in the first place was already more than enough to suit her goals, which were growing more and more desperate by the minute. What more could she ask, with him wrapped around her finger as he was?

… But here it was. Makoto going above and beyond her expectations, yet again. The Luckster didn’t just care about her safety and health… he wanted to secure her happiness, too. In any way he could, even if it came off as borderline romantic. Most girls that were as popular as her would have taken advantage of the poor boy without a second thought, if they were in this position. Disregard his genuine feelings, snub him. Some rotten soul might even use Makoto, had he bared his heart like this to them; as an idol, one of the popular crowd, some really shady possibilities sprang to mind.

… And therein lied the rub.

Sayaka needed Makoto. Her idol group was at risk, and she needed to escape immediately. As risky as murder was, having a scapegoat circumvented at least part of the problem that Rule 6 hinted at – being found out by their peers. Makoto promised that he’d help her, no matter what; she didn’t doubt that he would cover for her when push came to shove. He would feel conflicted because of the lengths she went to… feel hurt that she used him… But she would have his support. Of course she didn’t want to betray him in such a way. She’d rather not betray him at all.

She looked at the ring in her palm with a furrowed brow.

… Why was he making this even more impossible?

“Well… I guess it’s getting late, so we should probably get some rest!” Makoto remarked, after a while. Sayaka blinked as she realized she’d been lost in thought.

“Hey, Makoto… Before that…” Sayaka looked up at him suddenly with a beaming smile, catching the boy off-guard. “Would you mind doing me a favor?”

“S-Sure…” Makoto hesitantly agreed. “What’s up?”

Sayaka held her hand out with the ring still in her palm.

“I want you to put it on me.” The idol chirped, giggling at his nonplussed expression. “I just want to put it on the right hand, y’know? You can help me, right?”

Makoto spluttered a little at the request, but feebly he nodded and moved to comply, picking up the ring.

“S-Sure… Uh, let’s see… right hand…” Makoto’s brow furrowed as his free hand grasped one of the idol’s, and he hesitated. “Erm…”

Sayaka giggled at how careful he was… He really was sweet.

“Careful now~…” The idol teased. “With the ring on the right hand, I’m searching for love… With the left hand, well~…”

Well, she didn’t really need to say it. Judging by his increasingly frantic expression, Makoto didn’t need the additional pressure. But still, the idol found it so fun, teasing him. It definitely took her mind off of more stressful matters.

Her eyes bugged out a little when he took her other hand, in a fit of panic… and slipped the ring onto her ring finger. It was clearly a hasty decision on his part, but he breathed a happy sigh of relief now that the choice was out of his hands.

“That should do it…” The Luckster said bashfully as he let go of her hand and rubbed the back of his neck. “Well… I’ll see ya tomorrow!”

Sayaka couldn’t even utter a “good night” in her frazzled state, gaze locked firmly on the ring on her hand. Even after several minutes she stayed rooted in place, lost in the whirlwind of her mind. Steadily, Sayaka released a shaky breath after a while… a fond smile tugged at her lips, in spite of everything.

“Oh, Makoto…”

~*~

Weeks later…

“You look pretty happy.” Makoto couldn’t help grinning as he walked up to her, holding two cups of tea in his hands. Sayaka gratefully accepted one. “Munakata get a lead on your idol group?”

Sayaka hummed thoughtfully at his guess. It was a fair assumption; she’d been hyper-focused on searching for them, after escaping Hope’s Peak.

“… No, not yet.” Sayaka answered honestly. She sipped her tea with a serene expression, and then flashed him a pleasant smile. “You still make the best tea, Makoto…”

The Luckster just rubbed the back of his neck modestly.

“I dunno about that… I’d still say I’m average at it, like everything else.” He chuckled sheepishly.

Sayaka’s smile shrank a little at his modesty. She still needed to work on that with him, like so many other things…

“You’re not average at everything, Makoto… Not just anybody can defeat Junko Enoshima. Or get Togami to be less of an asshole. Or keep everyone together in the middle of a crisis.” Her smile grew back when she saw the Luckster shuffle his feet awkwardly. “You did those things, Makoto. No one else did – and I don’t think they even could. Not even calm, collected Kirigiri.”

“I still think you’re giving me too much credit…” Makoto muttered. “I mean, between you and Kirigiri…”

Sayaka just shook her head, clacking her cup on the table before looking back up at him with a serious gaze.

“Not in there. Makoto… more than once, I was ready to just give up and commit murder like Junko wanted. That’s not an exaggeration.”

“But…! You held yourself together!” Makoto argued back, faltering at the self-depreciating smile she flashed him.

“All that time being antagonized by Monokuma and our crazy classmates, and you never wondered how?” Sayaka giggled softly before turning her gaze out the window. “I never would’ve made it out if you hadn’t been there with me, Makoto. I’m sure it was the same for the others… But it was especially true for me.”

Makoto blushed a little at the way she confessed that. Her tone was soft, heartfelt, vulnerable… The idol was baring her heart to him here.

“Well… it’s the same for me.” Makoto argued, a hand over his heart. “I wouldn’t have made it without you… without everyone… I don’t think anyone could live through a crisis of that magnitude by themselves.”

Her smile turned bittersweet as she turned back his way.

“I think you could’ve soldiered on without me…” She clutched at her chest, gaze slightly turning downward. “If you’d died in there… I would have broken, without a doubt. But you… Makoto, you’re so much stronger. I just know you would have carried on just fine.”

The idol’s breath hitched as Makoto soothingly placed a hand over her hand that was resting on the table. She looked up into his eyes in surprise.

“If we’re talking like that…” Makoto chuckled self-depreciatingly. He argued soulfully. “Maybe I would have soldiered on, but I wouldn’t have been ‘just fine’… You’re special to me, Sayaka. A part of me would literally die with you.” He argued soulfully.

Sayaka’s eyes softened. She interlaced their fingers together, and she didn’t miss the irony that it was the hand with the ring on it.

“Makoto…” Her tone was tender. Raw. She was truly touched by his words, feelings, and actions. And it brought her back full circle to what she’d been thinking, before he’d brought the tea…

Makoto had kept his promise. He had helped her escape. Had helped them all to escape, the ones who survived. He’d made that error with the ring… though in hindsight, Sayaka supposed it wasn’t much of an error on his part, so much as it was her underestimating her feelings at the time.

“… Hey, Makoto…? I’ve got a present.” The idol abruptly spoke up.

Makoto blinked owlishly at the sudden declaration.

“F-For me?”

She nodded.

“Close your eyes~…” She chirped. The boy hesitantly complied, and he felt the idol grab his other hand before slipping onto it. “Okay~! You can open them again.”

Makoto did so, and he was stunned to find the Love Status Ring… on his left hand. He did a double-take when he saw the ring he’d given Sayaka still on her own hand. Okay, a Love Status Ring.

“S-Sayaka…?” He trailed off hesitantly, noticing something else.

She’d placed her gift on his left hand.

“It’s only fair~…” The idol beamed contentedly. “You proposed to me first.”

“P-P-PROPOSED?!” The flustered boy spluttered. He then realized… he’d switched the left and right on Sayaka’s hands, facing her.

He’d placed the Love Status Ring on her left hand. On her ring finger no less.

“I’m not mad,” Sayaka placated the mortified Luckster. “I’m relieved I don’t have to shift it from one hand to the other… Because I have you, Makoto. I don’t need another.”

The pop idol then stood up and wrapped him in a warm, affectionate hug. Makoto rigidly reciprocated, too awestruck by the words and actions of his best friend. He reeled all the more when she actually kissed him. On the lips. Not too short, but definitely not long enough for Makoto to reciprocate. Sayaka drew back her head, but didn’t let up on the hug.

“You promised to help me. To even keep me happy. Now… I want to promise you the same. Okay?” Sayaka smiled brightly, and Makoto felt so empowered by such a simple action. He strengthened his half of the hug and returned her smile with a small one of his own.

“… Okay.”

.... They both knew this promise was a mutual one they would be keeping for the rest of their lives.

~*~

... Weeks late, but here Day 7 is. I just wanted to write SOMETHING for the last day. XD

#Danganronpa #Makoto Naegi #Sayaka Maizono #Makoto x Sayaka #Naegi x Maizono #Naezono #Naezono Week #Naezono Week 2019

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odanurr87 · 4 years

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Flash Review: Witch’s Love

Hyun Woo as Ma Sung-Tae, and Yoon So-Hee as Kang Cho-Hong.

Release Date: July 25 - August 30, 2018

Episodes: 12

Available on: Viki

Summary: Kang Cho-Hong is a young witch living with her grandmas, running a restaurant by day and performing magic rituals by night, who soon finds herself losing her powers. Ma Sung-Tae is a wealthy businessman trying to solve a traumatic puzzle from his childhood who buys the building where the trio of witches live and operate, effectively becoming their landlord overnight. Initially keen on getting rid of this rude individual who intruded on their lives, the witches soon change their tune when they learn he might be the key to restoring Cho-Hong’s powers. But there is more to Sung-Tae’s story than meets the eye...

WARNING! I’m gonna spoil the living shit out of this show. Proceed at your own risk.

What works:

Yoon So-Hee as Kang Cho-Hong. She was really the only reason I decided to watch this kdrama in the first place as I really liked her in One More Time and felt she had the acting chops for another main role. I feel she was the standout here again, delivering the more interesting performance, or at the very least trying to show more emotional range than her co-stars. She was feisty, happy, confused, sad, angry, in love, pretty much what you’d expect from a woman who finds herself falling in love for a guy who starts off (and some would argue largely remains) as a jerk. You can’t help but fall in love with her, what’s kinda the point and the reason why I watched all 12 episodes of this show.

The concept... kinda. I’ll admit the idea of witches living in 21st century Korea as restaurant owners intrigued me, and the thought of seeing a reenactment of a mortal falling for Bewitched’s Samantha had its charm, although the show never makes the most of this premise. The grandmas that care for Cho-Hong can be pretty funny when they choose to be and their meddling works more often than not, certainly when they’re trying to play cupid, but it is less welcome when you realize they have prevented Cho-Hong from having any real, meaningful, lasting relationship with anyone throughout her entire life and remain intent on doing so. Why? Because one of them got burnt for it, though not literally like Joan of Arc. Incidentally, I feel the show never fully embraced the idea of making the grannies appear to be serial murderers hiding their business behind a restaurant facade, though admittedly that would have perhaps required a radical transformation of the character of Sung-Tae to make it work. It’s a shame because that one scene where they’re shown “getting rid of the body” was hilarious.

What doesn’t work:

The male leads. I’m sorry but they really don’t. On the one hand we have Hwang Jae-Wook (played by Lee Hong-Bin), a webtoon artist and apparently Cho-Hong’s childhood friend. I say “apparently” because as far as I could tell she doesn’t remember him. He’s the kind friend (and should’ve remained so) who, naturally, is nursing a crush for Cho-Hong that she clearly doesn’t reciprocate, what is all the better given they have zero chemistry, but the show still tries to showcase him as a potential love interest. Then we have Sung-Tae, a character who didn’t have a bad start but soon showed himself to be a jerk (it fluctuates throughout the series) and rather too possessive for my tastes. He’s also fairly consistent in his stiff and one-note performance, only loosening up when allowed to act cute with Cho-Hong a couple of times. Was the script to blame, the direction, or maybe he just wasn’t into it? He has some good scenes, but I feel like they were few and far between, and usually more of a credit to So-Hee’s character. I was left with the sensation that, if there was any more chemistry between Cho-Hong and Sung-Tae than between Cho-Hong and Jae-Wook, it was probably because the former had more screen time than the latter and that can’t be good. For all I know, the male actors are good actors, as this is the first time I’ve seen them, but they just don’t make it work here.

Missing plot threads. This is probably the only show I’ve watched in recent memory that completely forgets about a plot thread and character. Early on we’re introduced to Sung-Tae’s friend, an actress who’s struggling in her career and may have romantic feelings for the male lead. The show was definitely setting them up as a media couple, and also incidentally ensured she cross path with Cho-Hong. In a later episode, there is a scene where Cho-Hong sees a magazine featuring Sung-Tae that was clearly devised for her to find out about this fake relationship, become jealous, demand explanations, that sort of thing. It’s possible this actress friend would’ve become the love interest for the second male lead, but she just disappears. Why this much build up for a character who just vanishes? If I were to give the writers the benefit of the doubt and assume they didn’t just forget about her, then I can only surmise this show was supposed to (or hoped to) have more than 12 episodes, but when that wasn’t the case the writers started making some deep cuts. Another possibly missing plot thread is related to the purpose of the CCTV camera installed in Sung-Tae’s bedroom... and promptly forgotten. It is never used meaningfully in the show when there is at least one event for which it seems tailored-fit.

The inconsistent de-powering rule. At the start of the show, Cho-Hong has her heart broken by her then boyfriend cheating on her. It was a good riddance, since the guy was only after her because he thought she had money, but this betrayal leaves her depressed and saddened, causing her to lose her witch powers. Thus, the show has established that the source of a witch’s powers is apparently tied to her emotional state, and experiencing a shock of this magnitude will result in a witch losing her powers, leading to her losing her youth, beauty, and mind, living a tragic, homeless life in the streets. Not particularly keen on this future, Cho-Hong takes it into her hands to consult a recluse witch who practices black magic for a solution. The witch hands her an “artifact” and tells her she needs to use it to find her fated man, saying she need only “capture his heart” in order to avoid her fate. In order words, if she finds her “one true love,” she will be able to reverse the loss, what seems to be consistent with the earlier rule of a witch’s power being tied to her emotional state. Fast forward a fair bit. Cho-Hong having regained her powers, her grandmas now decide to wipe Sung-Tae’s memories. I’ll explain the why later. Cho-Hong is dead set against this, as she loves him, but the grandmas carry out the procedure anyway, leaving a broken and despondent Cho-Hong in the process. How is it then that Cho-Hong doesn’t lose her powers? We established that the source of a witch’s powers is tied to her emotional state, and Cho-Hong gave the impression of being even more distraught by this act than by his former boyfriend’s cheating, so how come there are no consequences this time around? Did the writers miss this? As if the show hadn’t forgotten enough things, it is stated at one point that one of the grandmas had once lost her powers in a similar situation but managed to avoid her tragic fate. Um, hello, mind sharing how you did that so you can save your adopted granddaughter? Nope, it never occurs to her to share this crucial information, pushing Cho-Hong to continue to seek the dark witch’s counsel, something both grandmas clearly disapprove. Sigh.

The confusing “fated man” plot and the dark witch’s agenda. I’ve never been more confused by a villain’s agenda in a kdrama before, for twice in this show the villain actually helps the protagonists. Surely this must be part of some dastardly plot of hers, right? Sure. Probably. Maybe. I guess? The show is as confused as I am. Apparently, the dark witch wants to ruin Cho-Hong because of some beef she had with her mother or something. I suppose she could’ve just let her meet her fate but she wants to harvest her magical power first (the show is never clear on how this is done). Going by facts alone, we know that: 1) the dark witch helped seal Sung-Tae’s death when he was young, but she didn’t stop it so he’s bound to die sooner or later; 2) she gave an artifact to Cho-Hong so she could find her “one true love” and regain her powers, both of which she did; 3) the dark witch appears confused, saying the man Cho-Hong is in love with is not her fated man; 4) the dark witch is convinced Cho-Hong will come to her to prevent the death of her loved one (what she does), something she intends to capitalize on, probably by harvesting her magical power. If the dark witch had somehow foreseen this situation 25 years ago, deciding to help save Sung-Tae then in order to use him to get Cho-Hong’s power later, that would make more sense. However, the dark witch didn’t know Cho-Hong existed at the time, and, for all we know, Cho-Hong was never supposed to fall for Sung-Tae. Was she supposed to fall for Jae-Wook instead? The show certainly does its best to muddle the issue but, if so, there are no traces left in the plot as to how the dark witch was going to use Jae-Wook to harvest Cho-Hong’s power, as the former certainly isn’t dying. And why would the dark witch be concerned about Cho-Hong falling in love with someone else so long as she gets her powers back? It’s not like she’s supposed to be looking out for her, right? In fact, Cho-Hong falling in love with Sung-Tae is surprisingly convenient for the dark witch’s “agenda.” Nothing about this plot makes sense.

A witch’s fate and the harvesting of magic. Talk about things that don’t make sense. The dark witch has apparently been harvesting witches’ magic for a while, yet the fact no one seems to be aware of it until the end, when one of the grandmas and Cho-Hong had been to her shop multiple times previously, strikes me as oddly convenient. Cho-Hong actually says at one point in the show, “I can’t believe no one ever thought of doing this” before proceeding to smash the flasks containing the harvested magical power, almost as if the writers were letting us know the plot had got the better of them. Even the dark witch appears confused, as if thinking, “This is not what’s supposed to happen.” And what happens when the flasks are destroyed? Well, all those homeless witches we had seen previously suddenly regain their powers and minds (but not their youth and good looks) in perhaps the most laughably bad scene in the show. What irks me is that this came entirely out of the left field, there was absolutely no setup whatsoever that there was a relationship between these women and the dark witch’s flasks. It just happened. Would it have killed the writers to show us some witch, or a police officer, or a journalist, investigating this sudden increase in homeless people and slowly tie it back to the dark witch to find their life promptly terminated at worst, or their memories erased at best? In fact, you could’ve made that person one of the secondary leads (the second male lead probably, given his interest in witches) so that the main leads are invested in finding out what happened to him/her. I guess not.

OTP: With Sung-Tae acting like a jerk most of the time, very rarely showing any vulnerability or tenderness around Cho-Hong, it was quite difficult to find any chemistry between the main leads. I suppose this gets a little better when they start dating, but barely, and it’s ironic that some of the better scenes between the two occur when they are pretending their relationship never took place. It’s really a shame they didn’t drop the hardass Sung-Tae act sooner and gave some time to exploring what their relationship would look like once Sung-Tae learned Cho-Hong’s a witch (it was a poor decision to take away his memories after the revelation). Imagine seeing Cho-Hong using her powers to help out her boyfriend in some capacity, like Do Bong-Soon in Strong Woman Do Bong-Soon, or abusing her powers in a fit of jealousy upon learning of his (fake) relationship with his actress friend. Sigh, so many untapped comedic possibilities.

One of the few cute scenes in the show. Easier to find water in Arrakis. You’re welcome.

Verdict: There is very little that works for me in this kdrama, but I suppose one could argue there is something at least. Where other, better, shows like Goblin and Hotel del Luna fully capitalize on the mythology they set up, Witch’s Love never fully exploits the fact that there are witches living among humans in 21st century Korea, opting to tell a smaller story centered around a family of three witches, what could’ve worked if the execution of the plot hadn’t been so haphazard and the male leads had delivered more interesting performances. Ultimately, that’s what this show amounts to: a source of untapped potential and missed opportunities wrapped up in uneven storytelling. However, a second season would not be outside the realm of possibility, were the show to embrace its similarities with Bewitched and explore what Cho-Hong and Sung-Tae’s relationship now looks like. Doubt that will ever happen though.

Rewatch meter: Low to Medium

PS: Oh, yeah, I forgot to mention the show suffers from audio issues in some episodes, as the characters’ words are sometimes drown by the music or the volume is simply lowered to oblivion. Shrugs.

#kdrama #kdramas #yoon so hee #witch's love #hyun woo #lee hong bin #review

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platonic-plots · 5 years

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Abandon all hope.

Request/Summary: [supernatural s5e10 spoilers] “ok so this is sad but could you possibly do an imagine based on jos death but instead of jo its the winchesters sister? make it fluffy and sad so i can get all the feels :))) :(((”

Pairings: sister!reader x sam, sister!winchester x dean

Words: 1595

Warnings: swearing, character death

Specific time/Important info: i’ve obviously had to change some things/details/dialogue/etc. e.g. there’s no Ellen

Your heart pounded as you sprinted away from the hellhounds that followed you, their growls and barks filling your ears and consuming your mind. You could hear them getting closer and closer until-

“DEAN!” you screamed, seeing your brother on the ground.

“Y/n, stay back!” You ignored his request as you aimed your gun as the invisible beings around him. You weren’t prepared to lose someone today. You continued to shoot, satisfied by the whimpering you could here coming from the hound as it fell back into the garbage can behind it as you stepped closer, determined to kill it. You were so engulfed in saving your brother that you didn’t hear the other hellhound as it crept up on you – when you finally heard its snarls, it was too late.

You heard Sam yell out in shock as you were forced down and a set of razor-sharp claws pierced your skin before dragging themselves down your torso. You screamed in agony, your vision blurred and your mind felt like shutting down. You struggled to piece any of your thoughts together as the searing pain overtook your entire body, not letting your brain focus on anything else. The sound of gunfire was barely noticeable; you didn’t even realise that Dean had picked you up to bring you to safety until his arm brushed against the open wound, resulting in another scream erupting from your lungs and tears pricking in your eyes. It really fucking hurt.

With every step, the pain grew worse and you clawed at your brother’s arm for some sort of relief. Sam and Dean shot into the nearest building – a hardware store – as if the hounds’ damage hadn’t already been done. Dean placed you down on the floor against the counter as gently as he could, doing his best to comfort you as Sam tried to barricade the door.

“Hang on, Y/n, just breathe, okay?” Dean knew the magnitude of the situation, he just didn’t want to admit it. He didn’t want to admit that his baby sister was dying because she tried to save him. He didn’t want to admit that his worst nightmare was about to become a reality. “Sammy, I need some help over here!”After he’s salted the windows and doors, he rushed over to be at your side, and his heartbroken expression told you everything you needed to know. You were going to die, and this time they couldn’t help you. Your breaths were shallow and even the slightest movements caused you to wince in pain. The blood poured from you wound and you couldn’t help the whimpers and grunts that emerged from you as Sam bandaged you up whilst Dean held you, trying to provide any sense of comfort. They looked at each other with faces full of pure worry, sadness and fear – it was clear what was going to happen, but you all acted as if not saying it out loud would somehow stop it from occurring.

“Your gonna be alright, Y/n/n, you’re gonna be alright,” the younger of the two whispered to you with your head pressed against his chest. He had remained next to you whilst your other brother had fixed up the radio to try and contact Bobby. Although Sam tried to distract you, you could still hear pieces of the conversation shared between Dean and Bobby.

The voice was muffled but you could hear the machine spouting something about figuring out what to do next. Dean paused momentarily, thinking of how to word his response: “Bobby, I don’t think she’s…” he trailed off, scared he’d start crying if he continued. Bobby pressed him further. You swear you saw your brother wipe a tear before toughening up. After that, you stopped eavesdropping and instead savoured what would be some of your last moments with Sam. You listened to his lies about how you were ‘gonna be okay’ with a hint of a smile on your lips – even when you were, quite literally, on death’s door, he didn’t want you to worry or panic. You were going to miss him more than he would ever know.

Dean finished his conversation and returned to you and Sam before explaining what he’d learnt. “So now we know where the devil’s gonna be, we know when, and we have the Colt.”

“Yeah, we just have to get past eight or so hellhounds and get to the farm by midnight.”

“And that’s after we get Y/n the hell out of town.” He looked down at you, sympathy rich in his eyes. “Maybe with a stretcher?” Sam nodded, and Dean turned to see what in the store he could use.

“Stop.” Your voice was stronger than any of you expected, “can- can we be realistic about this, please?” Their eyebrows furrowed. You hissed in pain, and continued: “I can’t move my legs. I can’t be moved. My guts are being held in by a fucking Ace bandage. We need to get our priorities straight.” You paused, suppressing another episode of crying whilst your brothers looked at each other in a way that was becoming all too familiar. “Number one, I’m not going anywhere-“

“Y/n Y/m/n, stop talking like that,” Sam’s voice caught at the end as you interrupted him.

“Sammy,” your head shook slightly, “I can’t fight. I can’t walk. But I can do something. We’ve got propane, wiring, rock salt, iron nails, everything we need.” Tears threatened to fall and your voice became unsteady as you planned your own death.

“Everything we need?”

“To build a bomb, Sam.”

Dean snapped his head up: “No. Y/n, no.”

“Y-you got another plan?” You knew this was the only way. You knew that if you were going to die, you were going to help your brothers in the process whether they liked it or not. Dean opened his mouth, but no words came out. “You got any other plan? Those are hellhounds out there, they’ve got all of our scents. They will never stop coming after you.” Silence. “The doors won’t hold for much longer anyway. The dogs will come in, you two will hit the roof a-and make a break for the building next over. I’ll wait here with my finger on the button, rip those mutts a new one,” you smiled, “or at least get you a few minutes head start anyway.

Sam opposed your decision, “No, you’re our baby sister, Y/n. We’re supposed to protect you, I won’t let you do it.”

“This is why we’re here, right?” Sam shook his head – the pain in his eyes bore into your soul to the point where you couldn’t stand to look at his face any longer. Your heart was breaking into a million pieces and you could feel every single crack. “If I can get us a shot on the devil…” You looked at your other brother, knowing that even though it crushed his soul, he was going to be more reasonable about it. “Dean, we have to take it.”

“N-no, that’s not-“

“Sam,” you grabbed his hand, albeit weakly, and let your voice wobble as you cried, “this might literally be your last chance to treat me like and adult. You might wanna take it.” You nodded at your brother as he looked into your eyes, and you saw a glimpse of understanding. Your brothers knew what they had to do – either of them would’ve sacrificed themselves in a heartbeat had they been in your position.

“Get to work.”

Both your mental and physical state meant that you’d lost your grasp on time, and on what was happening around you. Slumped over, you struggled to stay awake through the pain as you waited for the bomb to be finished so you could finally… let go. It felt like days had passed before the action slowed down and you noticed their presence once again. Dean led the wires towards you whilst Sam held both of your hands in one of his and embraced you, trying to give you a final glimpse of comfort.

“I love you, Y/n, okay? I will never forget what your doing for us, baby. I am the proudest brother in the world, Y/n/n. Our lives will… they’ll never be the same, baby girl. It won’t be long until you see us again.” Sam’s smile was teary but his expression was abundant with pride and love.

You shook your head, the corners of you lips edging up despite the pain, “I-I hope not.”

“Okay, this is it,” Dean whispered as he showed you the switch. “I’ll see you on the other side, Y/n,” he mumbled, pressing the control into your hand. Gently, he reached out to hold your face as he kissed your forehead, and it took everything in your power to not let out a sob. You didn’t want to make this harder than it already was.

The doors shook, the hellhounds using more force with every passing minute.

“Go.”

“Y/n-“

“Please. Go.” You refused to look up at them, though you could hear them walk to the back of the store. “Dean,” your voice was quiet but still audible. “Don’t miss.”

Once they’d left the room, silent tears continuously flowed down your face as you stared at the doors across the room and watched as they grew weaker with every pounce from the merciless beasts on the other side. You gripped the switch tightly, ready to detonate the bomb as soon as you had to. Seconds later, barks filled your ears as the chains snapped and the doors swung open.

God I hope-

this request has been sitting in my inbox for literally years so i am genuinely sorry it’s took me this long to write/post (if the anon even still follows me lol)

forever tag list: @phonegalhelp @pointlesscasey @unicorn-sparkles123 @pinapplequeen16

supernatural tag list: @mersuperwholocked-lowlife

feel free to send any requests! and lmk if u wanna be added to my taglist(s) :)

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n0verias · 5 years

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This is a gift for @yabakuboi for the @bakudekuflowerexchange event. I hope you enjoy it!

Title: Can You Hear Me Fandom: Boku no Hero Academia Pairing: Bakugou/Izuku Prompt: Spider Lily Rating: Teen Word Count: 3,937 Warnings: Non-graphic depictions of blood/violence, hospitals, comatose AO3 Link

Summary: When a powerful villain puts Izuku in a coma, Bakugou is there to watch over him. He knows he must be strong for Izuku's sake, but he can slowly feel the magnitude of the situation closing in on him, breaking down his walls. At this point, he'll believe in anything if it means Izuku wakes up.

[Spider Lily: Loss, Longing, Abandonment, Reincarnation]

“Bakugou-san, visiting hours are almost over.”

Bakugou paid no mind to the dimwitted nurse who tried to tell him the obvious. He’s been going to this hospital for a month, he didn’t need some damn nurse telling him something as stupid as that.

“Bakugou-san—”

“Fucking hell, I know!” Bakugou lashed out, causing the nurse to physically recoil. “…Sorry, just…give me a moment. Please.”

The nurse looked conflicted, but in the end nodded and scurried down the hallway. Shit, he’ll have to hurry if he didn’t want the doctors to call security on him. Again.

He brought his attention back to the lanky form lying on the hospital bed, IV in arm and tubes attached to what seemed like everywhere possible. Izuku. That’s right, he described Izuku as lanky; probably because all he’s had to eat was whatever the fuck they were feeding him through that tube attached to his stomach. It brought him both grief and almost uncontrollable anger just thinking about how Izuku got here in the first place.

“Kacchan!”

Bakugou looked up just in time to see a million sharpened shards of crystal flying at him. He was on the ground, his legs too injured to react in a timely manner. All he could do was hopefully block them with a large explosion blast. He had to hurry.

As he tried to lift his arm, a sudden jolt of pain caused him to cough violently, blood splattering on the ground. Fuck. But he couldn’t give up. Not now, not when Izuku was watching. There’s no way in hell he would be seen as weak, especially to HIM!

He didn’t have a chance to prove himself. Didn’t have a chance to defend himself. He watched in pain as Izuku leapt in front of him, taking the full force of the crystal shards. Bakugou couldn’t see his face, but he could tell that Izuku was angry. He watched as Izuku charged up an attack so powerful that Bakugou could see every inch of Izuku’s body vibrating, or at least that’s what it looked like.

“D-Deku…Deku don’t—!”

It was too late. Deku charged at the villain with incredible speed, nothing like Bakugou had seen before. All it took was a single punch and the villain plummeted to the ground below, creating a huge tremor that seemed to go on for miles. Bakugou watched in horror as Izuku fell to the ground as well.

Bakugou was sitting in the waiting room, anxious to know what the prognosis was. And as much as he hated to admit it, he wasn’t alone in this terrible waiting game; Kirishima had been the first to arrive, trying to comfort Bakugou as best he could. Uraraka, Iida, and Todoroki arrived at almost the same time. It was obvious that Uraraka had been crying for quite some time beforehand, evidenced by the puffy redness around her eyes and the frequent sniffling noises she made. Iida wasn’t crying, but Bakugou could tell that he was even more upset than Uraraka, if that were possible. Of course, Bakugou was also aware that Iida had been in this position once before, with his older brother. Todoroki, to his credit, tried his best not to look upset, and instead take a calm and rational approach, so he could comfort his friends whenever possible. Shinsou and Kaminari were the last to arrive, having been doing a job prior. Kaminari was freaking out to the point that a few nurses had to tell him to be quiet. Shinsou looked like someone had kicked his puppy, but he was in better shape than Uraraka.

Everyone was anxiously sitting around each other when the surgeon entered the room, his expression grim. They all stood up.

“There was extensive damage to his organs, including his heart from the strain of using his powers while already injured. He slipped into a coma shortly after the surgery, and we’re doing what we can to stabilize him, but…” The surgeon sighed. “I’m going to be frank, the chances of him fully recovering are close to zero. I’m not even sure when he’ll wake up, IF he’ll ever wake up.”

It was at that moment that Bakugou’s life came crashing down.

“Dammit…Dammit!” Bakugou clenched his fists as he stared down at Izuku. “Why the fuck did you have to do that, huh?! I had it under control! Now because of you—” Bakugou’s voice cracked. “I have to deal with this shit. When you wake up, I’m gonna kill you for trying to be my hero, you hear me?!”

He stormed out of the room, pushing away the doctor and security guard who came to seize him.

He ended up at All Might’s grave. From one depressing place to another, Bakugou couldn’t help but laugh to himself. He couldn’t help but notice all of the red spider lilies growing around it; even stranger was that All Might’s grave was the only grave with the flowers. Although given what he understood about All Might’s power, maybe it wasn’t so strange after all.

“Why’d you have to go and die when Deku needs you the most right now?” Bakugou scratched his head with irritation. “And don’t give me that shit that you live within Deku. If you did, he wouldn’t be in this mess!”

When Bakugou found out that Izuku basically had the spirits of the previous All Mights within him, at first he thought Izuku was fucking insane. It was like some reincarnation bullshit, something that Bakugou never believed in. But he’s seen the result of the previous All Mights come to Izuku’s rescue on multiple occasions now, so he had no choice but to accept that this was real. Until that day, that is. That day when Izuku needed All Might to save him; the day that Izuku nearly died and is practically on his death bed right now.

“Were you the one who gave Deku the power to go beyond his limits? Because of you, he’s in the hospital with little hope of recovery…” Bakugou’s fury was surprisingly subdued. “He still hasn’t found a successor yet. If he dies now, the power of All Might dies with him!” Tears were beginning to flow. “Don’t you dare take Deku away from me, Old Man!” His palms began to crackle like firecrackers, which told him he had to reign in his frustrations before he did something he would regret. “What are you waiting for? Say something!”

The wind blew harshly just then, though Bakugou paid no attention. He glared angrily at the grave, when his eyes were suddenly drawn to a peculiar white spider lily. It was the only one amongst the red, and Bakugou was surprised he hadn’t noticed it sooner. Acting on impulse, he picked the lily and glared at it. “What the fuck is this supposed to mean, Old Man?” He mumbled to himself, before walking away with spider lily in hand.

“What the fuck did you just say, Deku?”

He stared at Izuku with a mixture of confusion and disbelief. Izuku was trembling, his cheeks flushed pink; Bakugou couldn’t help but focus on those freckles because of it.

“I-I like you, Kacchan. Like, as more than a friend!” Izuku’s voice somehow got even higher than it already was. “I know you hate me, and I know we haven’t been great friends since we were kids,” Izuku’s eyes suddenly gained some resolve. “But I noticed how much you changed over the course of our high school years, and before our graduation I realized that my feelings for you changed as well.” The last part was a near whisper, so much so that Bakugou nearly missed it.

Bakugou was caught speechless, his mouth hung slightly agape.

“Please, can you say something?” Izuku pleaded. “Anything is better than silence right now, even if it’s a rejection or—”

“…You have shit taste in love interests, Deku.”

Izuku’s eyes widened at that. “W-What do you mean?”

Bakugou scoffed. “I treated you like shit for most of our lives. Hell, I told you to kill yourself back in middle school! Just because ‘I’ve changed’ a lot, as you put it, doesn’t make what I did right.”

Izuku looked down. “Who you were back then never mattered to me. What matters to me is who you are NOW!”

“Just what do you see in me, Deku?!” Bakugou shouted.

“You’re my best friend, and I care about you!” Izuku shouted back.

Bakugou recoiled, so Izuku continued. “You push me around, say all things unkind things to me, and never listen to what I want to say. But you also put yourself in harms way to protect others, even if it meant you might get injured. You’ve even protected me a few times, even when I didn’t need you to.”

“You idiot, that’s just what being a hero is.” Bakugou said, to which Izuku nodded in agreement.

“You’re right. But that’s what makes you MY hero. That’s what made me…f-fall in love with you.” Izuku’s eyes began to tear up. “And I promise to one day be YOUR hero, when you need it. You might get angry at me, but if it means that you come out of the fight alive, it will be worth it!”

Bakugou’s gaze softened, and he was having a difficult time on how to properly respond. “You always put yourself in a life-or-death situation to save people, Deku.”

Izuku’s body stiffened, which signaled to Bakugou that Izuku was well aware of that fact.

“Did you ever stop to think how those around you feel when you pull shit like that?” Bakugou’s voice was eerily soft, with no hint of anger. “How I would feel if you did that for me?”

Izuku’s gaze drooped a little. “I imagine you would be angry.”

“Angry, sure. But not angry at you for taking away my moment to shine.” That was the old him. “I’d be angry because you don’t think of the consequences. If you died to protect me, literally all of our classmates would be crying their fucking eyes out and I would have to deal with that.” Bakugou placed a hand on Izuku’s shoulder, which brought out a surprised reaction from the other man. “But I would also be sad to lose you.”

Izuku’s eyes widened.

Bakugou scratched the back of his neck. “I care about you more than I like to admit. And I’m sorry, but I don’t think I can answer your confession yet. I don’t think what I’m feeling towards you is love, but I definitely like you as more than a friend.” He couldn’t believe he just admitted that. “Sorry that I have to keep you waiting a little while longer.”

Izuku’s eyes widened and he shook his head quickly. “I-It’s alright, Kacchan. Just knowing that you like me in some form is good enough for me. I’ll continue to wait as long as I have to!”

Bakugou couldn’t help but chuckle. “I’ll try not to keep you waiting that long.”

Izuku smiled at him; it was that smile that convinced Bakugou that maybe he wouldn’t have to keep Izuku waiting after all.

The next day, Bakugou bought a small, slender vase to put the white spider lily in. He filled it with water and walked all the way to the hospital, going up to Izuku’s room in silence. As he entered, he noticed a pile of ‘get well’ cards on the table, along with a plate with a couple of apple slices still left on it. Their friends must’ve been here, as well as Izuku’s mother, he guessed. He cleaned a spot on the table and placed the spider lily on it, staring at it with scrutiny.

‘Is it bad luck to bring a flower like that to someone in the hospital?’ Bakugou thought but shook off that feeling.

“See, Deku, there’s a hell of a lot of people who miss you, so get better already.”

Bakugou observed Izuku’s peaceful expression. “It’s funny how you were the one waiting for me, and now I’m the one who has to wait for you. Piece of shit.” He said with slight affection. He glanced at the heart monitor, the only thing besides himself making any kind of noise. “Please get better. If you die, I won’t be able to tell you how I feel.”

He glanced at the spider lily again, as if searching for some sort of sign that All Might heard him back at the cemetery. He let out a frustrated sigh. “I don’t believe in signs from beyond the grave or any of that reincarnation bullshit, but I’ll gladly believe anything if it means I get Deku back.”

He left the hospital earlier than usual, deciding that it was time he focused on hero work again. He’s sure that’s what Izuku would have wanted.

In the blink of an eye, summer turned to autumn, and autumn to winter. Bakugou hated the cold; how the fuck could he use his quirk if he couldn’t even work up a sweat? He was thankful that most of the villains who he’s had to deal with so far were small fry, not even worth using his full power.

He met up with Kirishima for a quick bite to eat, listening as Kirishima talked about this villain he took down earlier in the day.

“And get this, he was GIGANTIC! But also super slender so somehow he still managed to not be an easy target to hit.” Kirishima smirked. “But in the end, I got him! He tried to step on me a few times but my quirk was his worst enemy in that scenario. Almost a one-hit KO!”

Bakugou rolled his eyes. “I say that villain was a straight-up idiot; it had nothing to do with you.”

“C’mon man, at least let me bask in the glow of my awesomeness for a few minutes before you take it away from me!” Kirishima laughed as he munched on his burger. “Any news on Midoriya’s condition?”

Bakugou stopped eat his own burger and set it down on the tray. “The doctors still aren’t sure how long it’ll take. Though they did say he’s finally stabilizing so it’s just a long waiting game now.”

“Hey, that’s great news!” Kirishima grinned. “So be honest. How many times have you visited him?”

Bakugou sent him a glare that could kill. Kirishima held his hands up. “No need to look at me like that, I’m well aware of your feelings for him.”

Something that Bakugou instantly regret confessing to his friend.

“I’m just worried about you, is all. Everyone is.” Kirishima said with a concerned expression. “Not even Uraraka and Iida visit Midoriya as much as you, and they were practically joined at the hip in high school.”

Bakugou sighed. “Uraraka and Iida were nice to him from the beginning, while I was nothing but an asshole to him from childhood until far into our first year. Even in our second year I was still standoffish towards him. I’m just making up for lost time, I guess.”

Kirishima nodded. “That’s real nice, man. And I’m sure Midoriya appreciates it.”

“How can he when he’s unconscious?”

“Dude, unconscious people can still hear voices outside their little world.” Kirishima pointed a fry in Bakugou’s direction. “That’s why they say it’s good to speak to comatose patients, because kind words might have a chance on them recovering faster.”

Bakugou scoffed. “You’ve watched too many movies.”

“It’s true!” Kirishima argued. “Just you watch, Midoriya will wake up before you know it.”

He visited Izuku again.

He softly caressed Izuku’s cheek and said a few nice words, before his eyes drifted towards the white spider lily.

He was shocked to see that not a single petal had yet to fall.

This villain was unlike anything he’d ever faced off before; not since his first year of high school when the League of Villains made their move. His quirk allowed him to steal other people’s quirks for a short time, while at the same time preventing the person from using their quirk while the effect was still in place. Even worse was that this villain could steal multiple quirks at once, so long as he was able to grab hold of a part of the person’s body for a few minutes without the contact breaking. He was careless, and the villain managed to hold onto his arm; he had to fight without his powers until the effect wore off.

“What happened to all that confidence at the beginning of this fight, Boy?” The villain taunted as he picked up Bakugou and flung him towards a building.

The impact caused Bakugou to hack up some blood, but thanks to his vitality and endurance, it didn’t instantly knock him out cold.

“I don’t need my quirk to beat the living shit out of you!” Bakugou grinned, although he knew that right now he was all talk.

The villain just laughed, and Bakugou instantly noticed the sparks coming from the villain’s hands. One massive explosion was being charged up, and he could feel his body being uncooperative.

‘Heh…this is just like last time, when Deku had to jump in and save me.’ Bakugou smirked to himself. ‘I refuse…to let that happen again!’

Through his sheer force of will, Bakugou managed to stand up, his legs shaking from the pain. “I’m a hero, and therefore I refuse to fall back down!”

The villain grinned and dashed towards Bakugou, the massive light of the explosion imminent. Bakugou was powerless, but he couldn’t give up. He would never forgive himself if he did that.

But the explosion never came. When the light died down, Bakugou could see that the villain’s hands were incased in ice.

“Made it just in time!” Kirishima became visible to his left. “You okay, Bakugou?!”

Bakugou was too shocked to respond.

“I’ll take that as a ‘maybe’!” Kirishima then looked to a spot behind the villain. “Nice job, Todoroki!”

Todoroki nodded. “Uraraka, you’re up.”

“Right!”

Bakugou watched as Uraraka touched the villain, rendering him weightless and allowing Kirishima to pin him down with no trouble.

“You think you’ve won, heroes?!” The villain sneered. “Just you wait, I’ll get my revenge on you yet. If I can render even the great Ground Zero useless, I can do so with all of you!”

Bakugou’s fists clenched. Useless. He hated being described by that word. He used to use it to describe Izuku all the time, and even though he still referred to him as ‘Deku’, it was used in a more affectionate tone as of late. But for him to be described as useless…that made him unimaginably angry.

“Haven’t you said enough? Just shut up already.”

Bakugou heard Todoroki say.

The villain laughed. “What was that? No one can silence me, not until I—”

And then, silence. Bakugou noticed the villain’s pupils were strangely out of focus, as if he was staring into space.

“Great job, Shinsou.”

Bakugou’s head turned to see Shinsou walking towards them, with that unique mask attached to his mouth.

“His gloating was giving me a headache.” Shinsou commented.

They all smiled gratefully at Shinsou with the exception of Bakugou, who looked like he was still in shock. Kirishima stayed behind to make sure Bakugou was alright, while the others went to turn the villain in. It was a long day for all of them, and Bakugou decided it would be best to just head back home, letting Kirishima know that he was fine.

Deep down, he was suffering. Instead of heading back to his apartment, he ended up in front of his parents’ house. His hand trembled as he reached for his key and opened the door, to which his mom looked at him from the kitchen.

“Wow, what a surprise! Look, Honey, our son decided to visit us for once!” As his mom got a closer look at her son, however, she could immediately tell that something was wrong. “Katsuki, is everything alright?”

Bakugou collapsed in her arms and held onto her, something he hadn’t done since he was a small child. He didn’t cry, but his trembling form was enough to get the message across. His mom held him tight on the hallway floor.

He’s never felt more useless in his life until now.

A few weeks later, he received a call that made his heart beat fast and his mind racing into overdrive.

It was from Uraraka.

“Deku is awake!”

He ran as fast as he could to the hospital, panting from near exhaustion as he made it up to Izuku’s room. No one else was there, and Bakugou hated thinking that they planned it so Bakugou could be alone with him. When he opened the door, he saw Izuku sitting up, staring at that stupid white spider lily that still had all its petals, with no hint of withering.

“D-Deku.”

Izuku turned his head and his eyes widened. “Kacchan…”

Bakugou hesitantly walked closer, taking in the fact that Izuku had far less tubes attached to him since the last time he was here. “You’re awake.” Fucking smooth, Katsuki.

Izuku let out a light chuckle. “Yeah, I woke up sometime this morning. The nurse heard me choking on the tube down my throat and well…here I am.” He smiled.

Bakugou had no idea how Izuku could be so cheerful after what had happened, but maybe that was for the better. When he noticed the other’s attention drift back to the flower, Bakugou scratched his head. “I uh…went to visit All Might’s grave and I found that growing next to it. I wasn’t sure if I should bring it to you, but I figured anything growing by All Might’s grave can’t be all bad.”

Izuku smiled softly. “Maybe All Might looked after me, and that’s why I’m still alive.”

At this point, Bakugou believed him.

“But you also helped too, Kacchan.”

“I didn’t do a damn thing except be the reason you were in this mess in the first place.”

Izuku shook his head. “I heard your voice while I was in a coma. It’s what gave me the strength to fight.”

Bakugou’s eyes widened, and he bit his lip. “Fucking idiot.”

Before Izuku could respond, Bakugou pulled him into a hug. It was awkward as hell given that one of them was still lying on a hospital bed, but he didn’t care.

“Kacchan, what—”

“Don’t you ever do that again, you hear me?”

Izuku shut his mouth mid-sentence.

Bakugou’s voice was muffled by Izuku’s hair. “Stop treating your body like you’re expendable. There’s only one Deku…there’s only one Deku that I love, and he’s in a hospital bed because he decided to protect me from something that could have killed him! Didn’t I tell you once before not to do that?!”

Tears fell from Izuku’s eyes, and the motion of him wiping his face with his arm got Bakugou to pull away and look at him directly. “I love you, you fucking moron. And I’m not ready to lose you just yet, so don’t scare me like that again, got it?”

Izuku laughed through his tears and sniffles. “Got it…”

Bakugou smiled a bit and gave Izuku a quick, soft kiss. The instant blush on Izuku’s face was well worth it. “Hurry up and recover, alright? Fighting against villains isn’t the same without you by my side.”

Izuku held tightly onto Bakugou’s hand and nodded, both unaware that at that very moment, one petal finally fell from the white spider lily.

#bakudekuflowerexchange #bakudeku #bnha #bakugou katsuki #midoriya izuku #my hero academia #boku no hero academia #my writing

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tacitusauxilium · 5 years

Text

Unforeseen Circumstances // Ch. 01

Unrequited love is the most painful thing to feel, and yet, Fuuka is persuaded to try her hands at getting Junpei’s attention, no matter what. However, after multiple failed attempts, what will she do when she catches the eye of the boy with the maroon peacoat? The heartache that comes with falling in love might even be more than she bargained for.

Rated: M - English - Romance/Hurt/Comfort

Chapter 1;; The Beginning of the End

October 4th, 2009

Her heart was racing and pounding in her ears—she told the twins that she knew where Shinjiro and Ken was. And, on top of sensing those two, she shivered and felt Takaya was nearby as well. She didn't have the heart to tell anyone because if all of her friends were holding her back, then this attempt to save their lives will be futile.

Fuuka Yamagishi held her evoked closer to her chest, knowing that if she couldn't run faster, someone would get hurt—or die. She knew deep down that Takaya was filled with malice over wanting her down and out—they did still have Chidori to this day. It ached her heart knowing that what she was going to do may be the dumbest, stupidest, and idiotic thing she ever did. It would top anything Junpei ever did.

Even if it was for someone she loved and that love was unrequited.

Feeling beads of sweat running down her face as she carefully maneuvered the train tracks back to Iwatodai. She cursed softly, wishing that Lucia's power was so much stronger—she could barely sense Ken and Shinjiro as far as they could be from the whole group. She assumed Akihiko and Mitsuru had a reasoning as to why they were together, but Fuuka has no time to listen to them.

As she made it carefully off of the tracks and into Port Island Station, she heard a gunshot ringing throughout the surrounding area. Her heart dropped to the center of the Earth as she shook her head—this was becoming more serious that she thought. She had to stop her legs from shaking and knowing this was best for her allies, and for her.

Lucia urges Fuuka toward the boys—she didn't really need her help since the smell of gunpowder was enough to draw anyone awake from their coffin-like status. Once she was within meters of them, she took a couple deep breaths and listened in on the conversation around a corner—she had to be careful on how to walk into the situation.

Her eyes darted to Shinjiro clinching his stomach in pain—the smell of copper lead to her seeing blood oozing from his side. She almost gagged—Fuuka's hand moved from her mouth and back to her heart. Fuuka forgot to give back Shinjiro's pocketwatch to him—she found it by asking Officer Kurosawa if there was anything in he lost and found. She found an old pocket watch with someone's date of birth and initials. Obviously, she deducted it was Shinjiro's by the initials and by asking Kurosawa if it was his. It took her a good few days to get the clockwork fixed and all shiny. But she never could give it back to him.

And she feared she would never be able to.

Fuuka's heart strings tugged at her as she could see Takaya playing with his revolver. "Now," Takaya moves a little closer to the SEES members, his voice getting rough and annoyed, "there is one among you that has the power just like Chidori does. Where are they?" He uttered, pointing the gun towards the injured Shinjiro.

She could sense the turmoil inside of Ken and Shinjiro's hearts—they knew it was her, they knew if they told Takaya, she'd be targeted. All because they have Chidori and they don't have Fuuka. Before Ken could speak, Fuuka took a leap of faith and walked into the scene, under the shadows, as her knees were buckling under the pressure.

"It's me."

Shinjiro and Ken's eyes darted quickly towards the petite female.

"Yamagishi—! No!" Shinjiro cried out as he winced in pain, even though he moved a millimeter—the bullet was doing more damage if he even moved a bit.

Takaya let out a laugh that echoed all around them, but then frowned. "Is this a joke? …why have you appear now?"

Fuuka gripped her evoked again, still against her chest, knowing she had to keep cool, calm, and collected. Outwardly she was, but internally, she was freaking out. "Because I sensed them from where we battled the full moon shadows." She slowly spoke. Fuuka was speaking the truth—she then saw Ken coward behind Shinjiro, knowing he was the most vulnerable at the moment.

Takaya considered the few words that Fuuka spoke. He considered that she looked weakly, that she could sense them from a considerable amount of distance, and within seconds he pointed the loaded gun towards Fuuka. She put her evoker down to her leg and into its holder. Fuuka put her right hand up to her chest, only to try to calm her rapid heartbeat. Closing her eyes, she felt how heavy and tense the situation was now.

She could sense the others would be here in a couple minutes—Lucia was unknowingly sending a distress signal to the others. If she didn't do anything to save Shinjiro and Ken—but then, a thought came to her mind. If only I could stall, everyone would get here and then everyone would be fine until the Dark Hour ends. Would even Takaya—?

"She…will do."

Fuuka's eyes shot open the moment she heard the gun go off. She could hear Shinjiro and Ken's screams mellow out of existence as she felt the bullet grazing her hand and her chest being pelted by the bullet. A small ding could be heard, but it was drowned out by the boy's cries and screams for her. It took Fuuka a moment to realize what really happened. Her hand dropped to her side as she noticed blood flowing off her hand and down her chest.

This is how it should be, right? …an eye for an eye? A navigator…for …another?

Her fingers dripped with blood as Takaya let out a boisterous laugh as it echoed in the alleyway, as if the Reaper was laughing along with him. She fell to her knees as Ken darted to her side—she saw that her vision was fading. She could feel the others coming around the corner—she could barely see Akihiko screaming out his Persona's name, trying to attack Takaya who was already long gone; Minako immediately went to Shinjiro, so did Mitsuru, too.

Fuuka felt ridiculous. She was literally bleeding for a boy she cared so much for, and yet he still drew the eyes of their leader to her. Minato and Junpei went towards her as she lowered her head, hiding the tears that were falling from her eyes as Minato checked her horrid wound. They didn’t care about what happened in the past--she was more important now.

"The…the idiot—!" Shinjiro cried out, taking a heavy deep breath. "—she offered herself in f-front of Takaya—!" He coughed, spitting up some blood as Minako tried to heal his wounds with some bandages. Shinjiro got up slowly, darting his eyes at Fuuka and feeling his heart twinge in pain and worry.

Fuuka leaned towards Junpei, the one closest to her, as her blood began to stain her clothes and his as well. "Why…? Why Fuuka? Wh-what was the point!?" He whispered softly to her as he saw Minato taking her pulse. His worried eyes said it all—Minato had an idea, but magic wouldn't work since something of this magnitude couldn't be healed by something this bad.

Ken was shaking with fear and anxiety—his friends got injured and yet, he was unscathed. Akihiko noticed this and pulled him closer to him in a side hug. Fuuka lifted her head slowly, seeing everyone's eyes on her, especially Shinjiro's. They eyes linked for but a moment, as she closed her eyes. "T-tell Shinjiro…senpai…" she whispered as she watched Minato coming closer to her. "…I am sorry…a-about his pocket watch. …I-I think the bullet…" Fuuka gripped Junpei and Minato's arms as she let out a heartfelt cry of pain, sorrow, and heartache.

Yukari felt anxious now, beginning to voice her concerns. "Isn't the Dark Hour almost over?" Fear began to shine in her eyes as Junpei began to pick her up and nodded along with Minato. It seemed they have the right idea and thought at the same time.

"…we should get going. By the time we get to the hospital, the Dark Hour should end…" Junpei murmured softly, feeling as if this was going to be futile. He turned towards his allies and Minato began to list commands out to SEES. "Sanada-senpai, Kirijo-senpai, sister… we need to get them both to the hospital—it's only a stone's throw away. Junpei and I will take Fuuka—you guys should take Aragaki-senpai. Yukari, Aigis, Koromaru," the dog barked as he heard his name, "take Ken-kun back to the dorm. He needs some support and to keep him distracted." He mentioned to them quietly as Junpei could feel the cold blood hitting his shoes.

As Junpei watched his senpais and their other leader take off with Shinjiro, Junpei began to take a mad dash with Minato at their side. He had to shake his head to remove the negative thoughts. She will make it—she is strong. She is strong. She is—

Junpei kept pounding those words into his head as he felt his blood run cold the moment Fuuka's body went limp. Just how much blood…has she lost!? Junpei felt his eyes grow as he pulled at Minato's arm, his head shaking as they tried to pick up the pace even more. His heart ached as sweat rolled down his face and his back—he was in saying that once they got to the hospital the Dark Hour would end.

However, it wasn't saying much as Fuuka was slowly fading in Junpei's arms, the color already drained from her face as if she decided to give up already.

#unforeseen circumstances #chapter 01 #shinji/fuuka #pairing;; blue moon #here is the beginning of the fanfic that I enjoy writing! :D #p3 fanfic #TWIN LEADER UNIVERSE #verse;; it takes two #just an AU of an AU XD #and more drama and angst to come~ :D

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knight-of-heart-and-art · 7 years

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Rose Quartz and Citrine

3500 words of Dirk being a dramatic idiot and Hal fixing stuff. Also of Dirk repeatedly getting distracted by the fact that Roxy's apparently better at creating humanoid robots than he is.

Somehow you never expected to be actively avoiding human contact when you had the opportunity and the desire to not be alone. Then again, up to a certain point in your life you never expected that you'd end up not being more or less alone on a drowning planet, but hey. Shit happens and everything's different now. Some things are more different than others. Is that a stupid way to put it? You feel like it is. In your opinion, though, you're in a weird and stupid situation, so whatever stupid statements you make will have to be excused. What the fuck are you doing right now, anyway? There's a short and mostly-true answer to that question, and it is...nothing. Listening to music turned way too loud, sitting in a tipped-back desk chair with one sleeve of the sweater that it's too warm for pushed up so you can scratch absently at your arm, mesmerized and a little disgusted by the way crystalline streaks radiate out from where you touch and yield to flesh again as your fingers move on. It's a pretty quick fade—you're not the one who can make them stay. Roxy, Dave, Jake, John—the people you care about, their touch leaves your skin branded with rose quartz and citrine. It's not really like being branded, though. It doesn't hurt, and it's not just a surface thing, your skin literally changing with some strange alchemy that you can't explain or puzzle out. Not that you haven't tried. You've played with the possibilities, spent hours in front of the mirror gingerly tracing your fingers across your arms, face, chest until your skin went translucent and fractured, cracks too fine to feel pulsing with gentle light that fades from amber to magenta and back again in a regular cadence. The beat of your heart, if you want to be specific. And that's what this all comes down to, isn't it—your heart? Or Heart. Your goddamn aspect manifesting again, for what reason you have no idea. You don't know if you want to know, really. Your aspect only stirs itself up when it's needed, and that's almost never not meant bad shit. You're semi-okay with using your powers, seldom and cautiously; needing to use them is a whole other story. There's no way that scenario wouldn't be bad. At least you figured out something was fucky before anyone else noticed. At least you had enough sense to cut yourself off. Sadly, you still can't figure out how to fix this shit; you've tested a wide variety of possible remedies that all ended up having exactly zero effect. Well. Other than the hard reset. Self-decapitation had an effect, all right, beyond making you feel stoned for six hours. Just not the one you were hoping for. Precisely the opposite, actually. Thinking about that—waking up in the bathroom, pushing yourself off the floor and almost passing out again as you saw the not-quite-broken living crystal statue in the mirror, its eyes shifting coals of flame and its spun-gold hair dishevelled from when you hit your head on the floor—thinking about that, you dig your nails a bit harder into the skin of your arm, enough to wince and pull your hand away. It's just a few shallow scrapes on already-irritated skin (you should've stopped scratching a while ago, if you're being honest), but where the skin's broken the crystalline effect spreads out, persisting beyond what's normal. There's only a little bit of blood seeping out, but it glows gold for a few heartbeats before reluctantly darkening to dull red. It's pretty. It'd be pretty if it weren't so damn wrong. You don't even want to be watching it, but it's happening and you're a stupid fuck, so yeah. You do watch, and when the crystal cast fades from your skin you lay your palm flat against the sore spot until it glows amber-rose again. It's pretty, yeah, but you can't forget that you're looking at it because you're trying to figure out how to make it go away for good. You don't care to think how many hours you've spent doing this over the last few weeks. Too fucking many, for you to know as little as you do. Enough that you're beginning to suspect that the question of "how can I get rid of this?" doesn't have a good answer. The only thing that might do anything is another hard reset. Despite the fact that it was decidedly unhelpful last time, you're vaguely considering trying again. The katana's still in the bathroom, even. The abrupt cessation of the music playing over the speakers is enough to make you jump, snatch the sleeve of your sweater back down, and bribf the front legs of your chair back down with what seems like an earth-shaking crash. It probably isn't; guilt magnifies perception. "Someone's jumpy." The voice is calm and amused and very, very familiar. It makes sense, too; who else is jacked into your electronics, can just tell them to switch off and have it happen? "What, you weren't expecting company?" "Since the door was locked, not really." Control your fucking voice, asshole, you know you can do it. "What the fuck are you doing here, Hal?" As you actually turn around to look at him it occurs to you that your eyes have a habit of not staying amber-orange when you're upset, now. Too late to conceal your movement, though; you're just going to have to pray that they stay the color they're supposed to be. You're calm enough, you can pull this off. (You're such a fucking liar.) And seeing him? That makes your state of mind several orders of magnitude less serene, and you're pretty sure you don't manage to keep your shock off your face, let alone out of your eyes. Roxy was the one to make him a body—after weeks of telling you to do it yourself and half-accepting your excuses she finally showed up, grabbed your shades off your face, manhandled a chassis out of your workroom and left without saying a word. To you, at least. She was talking to him the whole time—but god damn did she do a good job. There's fine wiring woven into his white hair, the suggestion of LED lights behind red irises, but where his skin doesn't show circuitry it looks fucking organic. And he doesn't move like any bot you ever built, there isn't anything but inhuman smoothness as he crosses his arms and smirks at you. You didn't expect the two first emotions you felt at seeing him to be a painful mix of awe and guilt. Mostly guilt so strong as to qualify as crushing. You should have been the one to give him this. You weren't. Fuck. "Can't I just come to check up on my pseudobro?" he asks sweetly, and it takes you a minute to remember that yes, you did ask him why he's here. "No." Being short with him should definitely get rid of him. If you could take your eyes off him it might have as much as a 20% chance of success. "Oh good, because that's not why I'm here." Hal grins, steps past you—how the fuck does he move that well? That...humanly?—and shoves everything on your desk two feet to the left to make room to sit down. A few books, a cup, and a handful of batteries crash to the floor. Amazingly the cup stays intact, but the batteries bounce and roll off to wherever shit that gets lost on the floor goes. "Most of the subset of the population of this universe that contains your friends have been seriously wondering if you'd managed to lock yourself in your room and die. I mean, their line of thinking was that it was the most reasonable explanation for your sudden and complete online and physical disappearance. Be careful when you do get around to opening your pesterchum, by the way. Whatever dechoose to open it on is probably going to crash from the sheer volume of messages on there." "I'm alive. Feel free to go tell them that." Your hands itch. Out of the corner of your eye you can see that they're not precisely normal anymore, but looking down to see how bad it is is definitely going to attract Hal's attention. The pocket of your hoodie is deep enough to swallow them completely, and if Hal notices that movement he apparently writes it off as simple defensive body language. "Oh, I knew you would be. We're hard enough to permanently kill that it's not a very viable option." Hal leans forward a bit, his amused smirk giving way to something less readable. "At some point it's just easier to come check on you than to argue with them about it. Besides, it's not like my digging you out of mental pits is anything new." God you wish you had your fucking shades on. You're too rattled, and he's too close for comfort. "I don't have anything going that requires your help in digging me out of, Hal." And he has the temerity to scoff at that. "You," he says, and that tone of gentle amusement is so fucking irritating, "aren't just in a pit. You're in some kind of black hole, right now. Past the event horizon—nothing gets out, everything gets in, nothing actually reaches you, the pressure's working on compressing you into a neat little singularity of depression or panic or what have you. This is an epic pit. Legendary, even." Accurate. "Fuck off." "Nope. I'd have at least four separate people trying to dismantle me if I left without making you work this out." "Bullshit your way out of being scrapped. I'm fine." "Your eyes are grey." He says that in the exact same tone he's been using the whole time. Thus it takes you a minute to process the statement. Unfortunately, your mouth keeps going while your brain skips tracks. "It's none of your business what my—wait. Fuck." Is there really anything else to say? "Fuck..." Hal seems less surprised than curious. He leans in a little closer, his eyes brightening. "Ooh. Yellow. Red. Black—damn that's creepy." Your hands are tangled up in your sweater, too slow to block his hand as it comes up to touch the side of your face. "...ah. Nice." Part of your mind is registering that Roxy's somehow managed to get his skin to pretty damn close to human skin temperature. Part is noting that your own skin is going crystal around his fingers even faster than it would if you messed with it yourself. A gleeful little bit is analyzing just how great of a relief it is to have some fucking physical human contact, and how that positive reaction is neatly fitting against the rush of anxiety caused by totally failing at not letting anyone know about your shit. "Huh." Why the fuck is he smiling? "There we go. Pink's a good color for you. It matches the skin. Hell of a lot prettier than what Dave got, if you ask me—you're going to look amazing next to Jake." What in the name of fuck is he talking about? "Hal—" "Wait." He blinks, taking his hand away from your face. "You didn't know about the aspect shit. You don't know? This whole panic-hermit thing is about your fucking aspect shaping you? Is that it?" And when you reluctantly nod, taking one hand out of your pocket to rub at the altered spot where he touched you, Hal stares at you for a solid five seconds before dissolving into helpless laughter. "This isn't funny." That statement has absolutely no effect. He's losing his shit, definitely not capable of coherent speech, or anything other than vague gestures at you. "Hal." Again, you find yourself with a sense of low-level amazement over how human he seems overlaying your worry. When he finally gets control of himself, Hal wipes at his eyes even though he obviously doesn't need to (is that calculated? or does he have your subconscious muscle memories that tell him that's just what you do in this situation? Okay examining him is less of a way to keep yourself from some flavor of panic and more of an unhelpful distraction at this point) and shakes his head. "Fuck, bro, do you never bother to talk to people about shit?" "You know how I handle issues." He should. He does. "Yeah. Badly. You handle them badly." He rolls his eyes, leaning over to try to touch your face again and refresh that fading crystal, but just shrugs when you knock his hand away. "Trust me, you didn't get the worst possible alteration. You're not waking up covered in sand that bled off your skin, you don't have teeny horrorterrors showing up in any reflective surfaces in your vicinity...you just look a little different. Not even bad, no wings or tentacles or shadow selves, it's something little and pretty." You want to argue that it's not fucking little, but yeah. No. You have a dawning sense of mingled confusion and certainty that the past couple weeks were monumentally stupid on your part. It doesn't feel good. "What the fuck?" That is not a question that conveys any of the things you want to ask, but fuck it. "What the fuck?" Hal raises one eyebrow, the amusement sliding off his face, to be replaced with something dismayingly similar to either fear or pity. "Holy shit. You actually thought you were the only one—Dirk, if you start crying I swear to god I'm going to leave and send Jake in instead, dealing with that is above my paygrade." "You have a paygrade?" "No! That's why you getting emotional is above it!" "I'm not getting emotional, fuckwit." Not while he's still here, at least. Later you can have a full meltdown over how pointless this was, when you let the relief sink in. "Don't suppose you know how to turn this shit off?" "Actually I can help with that." Hal flashes you a grin, sliding off the desk and putting his hands on the sides of your head. You'd have flinched at the brief arc of turquoise electricity as he makes contact, but he's holding you steady. "Mind and Hope are the two best aspects to straighten this out, as far as we know. Breath and Space are the absolute worst, if it matters." "None of that should matter, since you're not even a player and if you were you'd be—" "Heart? No offense, but not everything revolves around you. And full offense, but fuck you." He doesn't even sound mad, though—just irritatingly amused and condescending. "Nothing you just said is accurate...and stop trying not to look at me, dumbass." You're not going to admit that you were definitely doing that. Instead you look at him, let yourself get caught up in trying to figure out how Roxy did this good of a job on him. Better than thinking about how you must look right now with his hands on your face. "Stop panicking," Hal says after a few seconds. "I'm not." "Liar. What, don't tell me you're afraid of it?" He shakes his head, the movement tiny enough not to break eye contact. "You're panicking. And you're fighting it. And you're fighting me." "Shh. Stop." He blinks, and you find that you need to blink too. Or maybe he blinks and does something to your head that you have to copy him. He's definitely in your head now; it's a little like when you used to dream awake except that the extra sensory input is coming from Hal instead of from the dreamself iteration of you. There is surprisingly little difference. "Your mind is such a mess, Dirk." The rueful tone of those words gets a laugh out of you, for no reason whatsoever. "Tell me something I don't know." "Mm." He considers you for a moment, the gentle pressure of him easing away from your mind even as the pressure of his hands against your head doesn't change at all. "It isn't going to hurt you, I swear. Dave was halfway metallic and Jake didn't look human at all before we worked out how to control it. Even if something goes a hell of a lot more wrong than it's going to, you—" "Can't die." "Well, not for long." Hal tilts his head, and you find yourself mimicking the motion. Damn but that's strange. "...oh. So you thought dying would make it go away, huh?" You don't mirror his wince, but you do vaguely appreciate how human it is. "Dirk, you idiot." "It was worth a shot..." Shit, your mouth is on autopilot, probably because you're focusing on not thinking about the memory of waking up completely transformed, for the simple reason that you desperately do not want Hal to see it. Of course, that's a lot like not thinking of a pink elephant. "Elephants don't look like that." "...fuck you." "You know, that loses a lot of the annoyance value when I have a body I could use to get fucked with." He grins as you splutter wordlessly, that spark of teal flashing through his eyes. "Anyway, I don't need to pick images out of your mind. You're giving me a good look at what you look like when you let go, right now." For the first time in several minutes, you break eye contact and look down at your hands. Oh, fuck. They're not just crystalline, they're glowing bright enough to shine through the fabric of your sweater. Or maybe that corona isn't ambient light at all but something different. An aura. And that's worse. That is definitely worse, there's no way you can hide that. It's as bad as it can get, except it's not, because when you move to shove your hands back in your pockets and hide the crystal cast of your skin, an afterimage of them stays. Not an afterimage. The second set of hands is tangible, you can feel the weight of them in your lap, it's not an illusion— A strangled sound forces up out of your throat before you can control yourself, and you close your eyes firmly. "Hal?" you say, when you can get your voice almost level. "Yes?" "Fix it." Shit, you really are panicking. "Fix it, fix me, turn it off, alright? I can't—you need to—just, fuck, I—" "Shh." Hal sighs—another one of those baffling social reflexes, he doesn't breathe, does he?—and shifts his hands until he's cupping your head, fingers burying themselves in your hair, thumbs moving to rest on your eyelids, palms flat against your temples. "Breathe." You can feel him in your head, cynical and amused and so fucking complex that you feel dizzy trying to analyze him, surrounding you with something that it takes you a minute to classify as concern and caring. "Show me what you look like. I know you can visualize, do it for me." "I—" "In your head, bro. C'mon." Who taught him to be this gentle? Okay. He's right, you can visualize yourself pretty well. Not look like you are now—you can't handle contemplating yourself fully-crystal, traced with fractures and four-armed—but normal. Almost normal. The image in your mind wears a baffled expression between blond hair that you've actually brushed properly and the scar across your throat, arms crossed almost defensively across your chest. Or maybe it's in that pose because even though you didn't mean to include it, there's crystal blending into the skin above your heart, rose quartz and citrine curling in fractals out across your chest. It stubbornly refuses to let you wipe it away, too. You're so caught up with trying to amend your mental image that Hal's quiet laugh makes you flinch. "You're such a perfectionist." "I made you, so obviously not." You regret the words as they leave your mouth—he doesn't deserve that, he's helping you. "You wouldn't finish me because you knew you couldn't get me perfect by yourself, so yeah, you are." He doesn't sound offended. "Stop trying to make it all go away. You can't." Hal takes his hands away, and you open your eyes to look down at yourself. Your skin is normal. You have two hands and no more. If the aura is still there, it's so faint you can't consciously see it. While you're still examining your hands, Hal reaches over to ruffle your hair, completely ruining any sense of order it still had. "Check your pesterchum," he says. "I don't want to have to come back and drag you out." He's out the door before you look up. You sit still for maybe three minutes after he's gone. Then you get up, find your phone on the counter, and start reading messages, formulating explanations and apologies. Or at least you try, because after a few minutes of reading through the messages they've left you, the concern and worry and unexpected love, you find yourself trying to wipe your eyes dry. It's less than effective and the tears stain your hands citrine again. That's all right. That's fine. You can make it go away when you want to.

#Dirk strider #hal strider #homestuck #tag this as shipping and I will end your life #ill repost it later with a better summary amd shit but right now I just want my moirail to read it #writing #My writing

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a-panda-reads-act-omega · 7 years

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ACT OMEGA PART 24

THE 04/02/17 UPDATE

Hey look at that, I’m bored and I can’t urge myself to close that act omega tab. You know what that means. I’m doing another part today, w o o o o o

Alrighty, last time. Aranea showed up, and I reacted in a perfectly calm and orderly fashion. Let’s see where this goes!

Yup. Nobody’s happy. Put that grin away Aranea.

MEENAH: serket?? MEENAH: HOLD the GLUB up MEENAH: i thought you like MEENAH: got owned or w/e

She did indeed get owned or w/e. By you, in fact. You from another universe in which you became a giant hot troll wearing a goddamn skintight outfit.

Oh yeah, and she is currently destroying the hell out of the kiddo’s back at the lily pad.

ARANEA: ... Nice to see you too, Meenah.

Pssst.. it’s not nice to see you aranea...

ARANEA: Just as anxious to get to the point as ever. 8ut as per usual, I encourage you to exercise a 8it more p8tience. ARANEA: All your questions and concerns will be addressed eventually, I assure you. MEENAH: UUUGH MEENAH: i cannot B-ELI-EV-E this MEENAH: you go all crazy and try n pull off some ridiculous timeline divine intervention stunt MEENAH: prolly kelped actin like a hotshot all the way up to getting fuckin WAST-ED MEENAH: im out here thinkin i aint never gonna sea you again cause you got it in your head you had ta be the ultimate magnanimous blowhard just like your STUPID ALT S)(-ELLF MEENAH: AND T)(-EN MEENAH: you reappier outta NOW)(-ER-E MEENAH: lookin just as smug as you got no business bein MEENAH: and you tell me i gotta put up with whatever sanctimonious salmon youve prepared before i get any answers?!

LET ‘ER HAVE IT MEENAH. Can Aranea get the idea out of her head that SHE has got to be the one everybody looks up to? Because everytime she’s had an effect on this story, it’s made everything completely horrible. Honestly, she just tries too hard to be worthy of admiration. If she were like Vriska, she’d care more about doing what needs to be done instead of being admired by all. Merely because Vriska isn’t so dependent on the approval of others, and is happy with doing what needs to be done just so she can brag to herself and others. Alright, I kinda feel like getting deeper into this. How Vriska and Aranea differ and parallel eachother, because it’s a pretty thin line that doesn’t feel obvious. But here’s a very simple way of putting it:

Vriska wants to be the hero Aranea wants to be seen as the hero

Vriska wants to force dead weight to carry itself Aranea wants useful people to depend on her

I feel like that sums it up fairly well, really. Maybe I’ll start making sideposts of character analysis if I feel like getting deeper into these topics.

ARANEA: Sanctimonious what? MEENAH: OH MY COD I M-EANT S-ERMON

GET MAD MEENAH. IMPALE HER WITH YOUR POKEY FORK.

And here we find Porrim, in her natural state of “tired of everybodys shit”

PORRIM: Meenah. Yo+u might want to+ reel yo+urself in for a mo+ment.

S)(-ELL NO

MEENAH: >38( PORRIM: Maybe try to+ avo+id making the same mistakes as the yo+unger Serket.

DONT BRING VRISKA INTO THIS

VRISKA: Excuse me???????? PORRIM: O+h, hush. Yo+u’ve spent far mo+re energy externalizing yo+ur frustratio+n than you+ have do+ing anything pro+ductive. PORRIM: We can o+nly take so+ much o+f this. We're here to+ try and do+ so+mething with o+ur afterlife o+ther than willfully subject o+urselves to+ its infinite echo+ chamber o+f teenage drama.

Porrim

porrim, baby

i love you, i do

but this is n o T JUST TEENAGE DRAMA? I mean, Aranea killed EVERYBODY.

PORRIM: I myself have had eno+ugh o+f that fo+r at least two+ lifetimes. PORRIM: So+ if either o+f yo+u are ultimately o+nly go+ing to co+ntribute to+ the endless caco+phany, rather than fo+cus o+n getting results, I suggest yo+u mo+ve it to+ so+me o+ther bubble. PORRIM: If no+t, then co+nsider jo+ining the rest o+f us in seeing what Aranea might have to+ o+ffer to+ o+ur cause. ARANEA: Why, thank you, Porrim. That was very eloquently put. I promise you won’t 8e disappointed. ::::)

Goddammit Porrim, you gave her a reason to be smug. Just because Porrim is tired of the arguing, doesn’t mean you’re somehow at all justified in anything you’ve ever done ever.

ok im salty

PORRIM: Hmmm. We’ll see. ARANEA: Really, I was well prepared for my reappearance to cause something of a stir. It’s completely understanda8le to want an explan8tion.

UUUUUGHHhfadjnkms SHuuut uppp

ARANEA: I’ve 8een lying low for quite a while now. Gathering inform8tion, drawing conclusions, revising and perfecting plans... All of which will certainly prove invalua8le for you all in your current predicament! ARANEA: It really is a shame you’ve landed yourselves in such a 8ind! It was ultim8ly inevita8le, 8ut unfortun8 all the same. ARANEA: Isn’t it lucky, then, that I’m here to put this tr8n 8ack on its tracks?

Im gonna die from salt poisoning help

PORRIM: SIGH...

SIGH...

PORRIM: If yo+u have any interest in keeping that pro+mise o+f yo+urs, I suggest yo+u skip the preamble.

Thank you Porrim. I’m trying to find somebody to latch onto here, but everybody is starting problem’s n s t uf f .

Everybody looks so

VRISKA: Hold the fucking phone! Why should we listen to ANYTHING you have to say?

YOU sHOULDN’T

VRISKA: Your track record isn’t exactly stellar! And from what I’m seeing right now, you haven’t learned from your colossal fuckup one iota!

WOAH, VASKA... who the hell says iota????

VRISKA: I have a8solutely ZERO interest in letting the same washed up has-8een whose mess *I* had to clean up waltz up here and act like she’s my goddamn s8vior!!!!!!!

YEAH TELL HER VRISKA! EVEN THOUGH IM PREEETTY SURE YOU DID NOTHING AND TEREZI DID EVERYTHING...

And, oh god my memory of the timelines and stuff are getting me confused. I’m sure I’m probably wrong about this, but y’know what I’m gonna talk about it anyways. Would this Vriska really even know about Aranea? I mean, she didn’t die, so... maybe just in her dreams or something. or. gdi im confused.

ARANEA: Come now, Vriska. You of all people should know that there are 8etter times to choose for throwing hissyfits!

This isn’t a HISSYFITS. This is clear and rational thought. And I don’t get w hY NOBODY ELSE IS QUESTIONING THESE THINGS.

ARANEA: And 8esides, what a8out your little plan? We can all pl8nly see how well that turned out. You were smacked down just as unceremoniously as I was, so don’t act as if you’re suddenly the only person who can pull their own w8 around here.

Yeah, but you know what? Her plan didn’t revolve around dooming EVERYBODY. Her plan had essence of COMPETENCE.

ARANEA: You may 8e incredibly stu88orn, 8ut you can’t 8e so foolish as to dismiss common sense purely for the s8ke of your ego. I’m your 8est shot at m8king it out of this alive. While your army was 8eing eradic8ed, I was 8usy uncovering the truth. ARANEA: If you would just allow me to expl8n, perhaps you could finally reg8n your wits and 8e a8le to focus on what TRULY matters.

oh god i hate her h e l p.

pLEASE.. DOUBle DEATh HER.

VRISKA: I already HAVE my wits! And I was just a8out to use them to whip this 8unch of losers into sh8pe 8efore YOU and your 8loated delusions of grandeur showed up! ARANEA: Is that what you were a8out to do? I never would have guessed. Considering from my perspective, you were in the middle of some sort of mental 8reakdown 8rought on 8y 8eing utterly incapa8le of comprehending the magnitude of your own failure!

At least she DAMAGED HIM. SHE INFLICTED SOME FORM OF HARM TO THE UNKILLABLE GOD TRYING TO FUCK THEM OVER. You literally just got everybody killed with no positive result, you cannot claim that you are A N Y better than her.

ARANEA: If you had been p8ying attention, you might have t8ken note of when I mentioned that this outcome was inevita8le. There was hardly anything I could have done to prevent it. YOU, on the other hand... ARANEA: The mishap with your dice could easily have 8een avoided if you had simply realized how thoroughly outmatched you were. Did you actually try your little luck-stealing trick on LORD ENGLISH?

FIRST THE F U C K OF ALL... If this outcome was inevitable, then that literally makes EVERYBODY IN PARADOX SPACE JUST AS RESPONSIBLE FOR THIS DISASTER. NNGH YOU CANNOT PIN THIS ON VRISKA JUST TO MAKE YOURSELF LOOK BETTER

VRISKA: Yeah! I did!!!!!!!! That’s kind of what I DO? VRISKA: 8ut... it didn’t WORK. ARANEA: Tsk, tsk. Of course it didn’t. Lord English is hardly on the same level as the 8lack king, or the myriad low-level imps, hapless trolls, and pitiful ghosts from which you’d previously acquired your ill-gotten fortune. Your a8ilities aren’t even close to developed enough to stand a chance against such an opponent! ARANEA: 8ut say, I think that perhaps we can strike a deal. We all know that time has 8een kinder to me in that I’ve had enough of it to refine my powers considera8ly. 8etween the two of us, I am clearly the superior Hero of Light.

. . . . . . . . F U C K Y O U .

Can’t deal with this. Can’t TAKE this girl’s superiority complex.

God im turning into the human equivallent of a salt shaker.

VRISKA: Oh, yeah. Sure. 8ecause I’m totally interested in whatever 8ogus “deal” you have to offer. Especially when you phrase it like THAT! ARANEA: And yet you don’t deny truth of my words. A smart choice. VRISKA: Are you going to w8ste time gloating, or actually get to the point?! ARANEA: My point is that I would 8e more than happy to lend you my services. Allow you to maximize your potential in a more... expedient fashion, given the sizea8le constraints we are currently under. ARANEA: All you would have to do is ask nicely. May8e even apologize for raising your voice? A little more respect and deference would 8e appreci8ed as well. ARANEA: What do you say? A deal is a deal? ::::)

GOD. DAMN IT I CANNOT DEAL WITH THIS. I REALLY REALLY R E A L L Y HATE HER. NOBODY WANTS YOUR HELP. Oh god this is turning into the worst liveblog ever, B U T SERIOUSLY I HATE HER AND THAT IS LITERALLY ALL I CAN THINK ABOUT RIGHT NOW.

VRISKA: How a8out this: I DON’T NEED YOUR HELP!!!!!!!!

YEs. PRECISELY

OHFUCKHIKANKRI

KANKRI: *PHWEEEEEEEET!!!*

...

O k you know what. For once, I’m actually happy about Kankri existing. That fuckfest needed to end.

And jesus. I need to calm myself down.

Oh god poor Mituna is freaking out.

KANKRI: I think that is QUITE en9ugh 9f that f9r n9w. While I n9rmally endeav9r t9 enc9urage c9nstructive de6ate in the interest 9f inf9rming the ign9rant masses, this argument has 6ec9me far t99 pr96lematic f9r me t9 all9w it t9 c9ntinue!

Gdi I haven’t even read it yet, but it already hurts to look at.

Alright. So yeah, this is getting out of hand and he’s putting a stop to it with his space jesus powers.

KANKRI: There isn’t nearly en9ugh time f9r me t9 g9 9ver all 9f the deeply distur6ing c9mments disparaging n9t 9nly the magically disadvantaged, 6ut the mentally challenged, which I have just 69re witness t9. S9 I will settle with 6riefly chastising y9u 69th f9r y9ur cavalier disregard 9f y9ur inherent privilege, and enc9urage y9u to 6e m9re aware 9f h9w the nature 9f y9ur w9rds might affect the very imp9rtant feelings 9f pe9ple that aren’t here.

And people that ARE here. Like, you know. The mentally challenged Mituna right behind you. Though I’m pretty sure you’re speech his having a worse affect on him than they are. Also, how the hell did they even offend any mentally challenged people??

LATULA: ummmmmm, l1k3, not to b3 UN-r4d or wh4t3v3r, b3c4us3 th4t 1s TOT3S not my styl3, LATULA: but m1tun4 1s l1k3, R1GHT h3r3??

Thank you Latula, the poor guy is dying at all these words.

KANKRI: He is?

Oh my god Kankri, seriously? Were you too busy ogling at Latula to realize that their were handicapped people who needed defending in the area?

MITUNA: 1 H4T3 Y0UR FUCK1NG W157L3 KANKRI: 9h. Right, 9f c9urse. My mistake. Ap9l9gies, Mituna. I h9pe y9u d9n’t mind that I have taken it up9n myself t9 help speak 9n y9ur behalf, c9nsidering y9ur vari9us issues with speaking at all.

kANKRI. that is not how you speak to handicapped people. Is he just salty that he’s dating Latula? Yeah. he’s totally salty about latula.

MITUNA: UM KANKRI: Exactly. Y9u’ve 6een rendered n9n-ver6al 6y the sens9ry 9verl9ad caused 6y all this unnecessary sh9uting. Which makes the wh9le thing w9rse, really. Right, Mituna? MITUNA: WHY 4R3 7HR33 S0 M4NY W0RD5 MITUNA: 175 4LL MITUNA: 8UZZ1NG LATULA: dont worry 4bout 1t b4b3! 1ts 4lmost ov3r. MITUNA: 5H0U71NG 4ND MITUNA: 5TUP1D 8ULG3 WH1FF1NG WH157L35 MITUNA: FUCK

Latula is literally the best supportive girlfriend. Is she gonna cover his ears for him next?

KANKRI: Even m9re sincere ap9l9gies, Mituna. Even if the use 9f the whistle was vital in the c9nstructi9n 9f y9ur safe space, I understand that it did upset y9u and that y9ur feelings 9n the matter are valid. KANKRI: 6ut thankfully, and despite the unf9rtunate side effects, it did its j96 9f helping 6ring every9ne t9 their senses. KANKRI: Really, this wh9le thing c9uld have 6een av9ided if y9u 69th had just listened t9 P9rrim's advice. PORRIM: O+h. PORRIM: Kanny, did yo+u just... AGREE with me fo+r o+nce? KANKRI: ... KANKRI: I 6elieve I have asked y9u several times n9w n9t t9 call me that!

what has this devolved into? What is this BICKERING. Can anybody remain on the same page for more than two sentences? Honestly, I’m surprised Lord English hasn’t just killed them all yet.

AND HERE THESE TWO ARE, indifferent as always.

SOLLUX: (well.) SOLLUX: (this is pr0bably the worst clusterfuck i have ever had the f0rtune 0f n0t seeing.) SOLLUX: (are y0u sure we can’t just leave?) SOLLUX: (as if whichever smug fuck that ends up running the idi0t brigade is g0ing to s0lve 0ur impending d00m. it’s alm0st starting t0 feel like the wh0le pirate crew bullshit all 0ver again.) SOLLUX: (except s0meh0w even m0re 0f a catastr0phe.)

Sollux, there’s one thing you’re forgetting. The pirate ship was a disaster, yes. but now you have one KEY FACTOR that will lead you all to victory. The power of F R I E N D S H I P. Can’t you just feel all the good vibes radiating off of these assholes?

ARADIA: (we cant go yet sollux!) ARADIA: (i have no intention of leaving) ARADIA: (and while i understand why you may want to this time it really is somewhat imperative that you stay) ARADIA: (we all have a part to play in the preservation of reality) ARADIA: (a mission which is even more critical now than it has ever been!)

Alright, so this team’s objective “SAVE REALITY” Team lilypad’s objective “DONT.. DIE” Team Lowas’s objective “THERAPIZE ERISOL”

SIMPLE ENOUGH.

oh god i just remembered Calliope already died and that’s s A D ...

SOLLUX: (ugh. really?) ARADIA: (yes!) SOLLUX: (s0 i’m like. imp0rtant s0meh0w?) ARADIA: (does it help you feel better to think about it like that?) SOLLUX: (... kind 0f? bizarrely en0ugh.) SOLLUX: (where did that c0me fr0m all 0f a sudden?) ARADIA: (i couldnt possibly tell you) ARADIA: (but what i can tell you is that i think this brief setback will be over soon) SOLLUX: (fine, if y0u say s0.)

All setbacks can be overcome with enough TIME. HAHA.... TIME JOKE. The hell am i doing with my life.

Oh shit is Davepeta here to drop some calm bombs on the group?

DAVEPETASPRITE^2: B33 < man this is just getting sad DAVEPETASPRITE^2: B33 < but guess i oughta toss my two cents into this clusterfuck DAVEPETASPRITE^2: B33 < beclaws honestly i KIND of agr33 with vwiskers a little? DAVEPETASPRITE^2: B33 < my subconscious is clawing at me that we totally cant trust aranea at all ever

THANK, you.

DAVEPETASPRITE^2: B33 < cause shes seriously bad news DAVEPETASPRITE^2: B33 < i dont have any real concrete memories or anything to support it but DAVEPETASPRITE^2: B33 < i dunno! thats just how i f33l DAVEPETASPRITE^2: B33 < meow on the other paw DAVEPETASPRITE^2: B33 < we kind of are in some purrty hot water DAVEPETASPRITE^2: B33 < and i ALSO have the conflicting f33ling that whatever info she has fur us will be impurrtant DAVEPETASPRITE^2: B33 < so if anything we should just hear her out DAVEPETASPRITE^2: B33 < so long as you dont try to pull anything fishy!!

SIGH... I G U E S S. It still feels horrible to even let her get a word in, just because she’s literally gonna act like every useful information she gives is worth everything, and they have no right to blame her for anything.

ARANEA: Er... ARANEA: Thank you for the endorsement. And the warning, I suppose. ARANEA: If there won’t 8e any further interruptions? MEENAH: yeah sure fine whatever MEENAH: but u beta believe im gonna be gilling you later ARANEA: I look forward to it.

I’m gonna hope that was a fish pun, and what she meant was ‘killing’

TAVROS: i THINK VRISKA LOOKS LIKE, sHE IS READY TO STOP SHOUTING, TAVROS: sO WE CAN BEGIN LISTENING, TAVROS: wHICH IS GOOD, bECAUSE I AM VERY CURIOUS, TAVROS: eSPECIALLY SINCE, i SORT OF, aLWAYS LIKED YOUR STORIES, aRANEA, TAVROS: wHEN THEY DIDN’T RUN TOO LONG, aNYWAY,,,

N O B O D Y A S K E D Y O U T A V R O S

putthatfuckingsmileaway

ARANEA: Don’t worry, Tavros. I will try and keep this as 8rief as possible. ARANEA: While also ensuring all vital inform8tion and context is provided, of course. ARANEA: Now, allow me to 8egin...

...gjdkgfignjfij

conflicting feelings about everything here. Alright. WELL, that is the end of this update. you can listen to my whine a bunch on the next part. SO. yeah.

#homestuck #homestuck liveblog #Act Omega #hs act omega #act omega liveblog #hs act omega liveblog

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after-the-fxll · 7 years

Text

Aryx’s Fall to Earth

The following is an excerpt from The Vulture and the Dove, Book VII: Conscience [WIP] by Silence Leaflin

For anyone who is interested, this is Aryx’s introductory scene into the series, the moment he fell to earth and the trauma he suffered because of it. For the purposes of this blog, this occurred some 600 years ago.

This chapter is narrated by Kanadin, a soul knight (sorcerer-healer) and priest of the Stag, the god known as the Father of Protection. He and his family live in a castle, due to his importance within the church, and the fact that Kanadin, a human healer, is over 700 years old (loooong story, that, haha). Bryden is one of Kanadin’s guards. Irena is Kanadin’s wife. Azure is a holy seraph who assists Kanadin.

Aryx has quite literally fallen right onto the ramparts of the castle, and Kanadin, who had had a lot of dealings with angels if not specifically with archangels, tries to make sure Aryx survives the fall.

“He’s fallen,” I said, knowing instinctively for reasons I could not explain.

“Yes, obviously, m’lord,” Bryden said.

“No, I mean that he has fallen from Heaven,” I said. “Whether voluntary or involuntary, it is always a disorienting and violent journey, both physically and mentally. He’ll have a lot more than a broken wing or two wrong with him if I am right.”

I knew the moment I saw him, or heard him, rather, that he was in agony. His were cries of such anguish as could not merely be due to physical pain alone. Back arched, red-faced, he screamed with such effort and expression that I knew it was true. He had fallen to earth, and right now the pain of leaving Heaven and having his ties to the Light Ones all but destroyed was far outweighing that of his injuries. I could see it written there on his face as I went to him and cradled him in my arms. The moment I did, his screams became deep, wrenching sobs, and then finally the most profoundly tragic whimpers I have ever heard.

That was not to say that his wounds were light, by any means. He had come down on his side, no doubt, for his left arm was shattered along with both of his left wings. The wings were a mess of blood, feathers, and splintered bone and he was coughing up blood. He fell silent all of a sudden and his eyes opened, though his body shook. I could not fathom what he was feeling, this foreign creature, having been plunged into a world that is alien to him and to have it done with such cruelty. There was no other way for an angel to fall, however.

“I always thought an angel’s fall was a symbolic event that did not involve an actual fall to the ground,” Irena whispered.

“It is both, though the latter never happens without the former. He must decide to do so, or be made to do it,” I said. “But the physical act of falling is essential to the process. Falling… changes an angel. Forever. Even if he is permitted to return to Heaven one day through the grace of the Light Ones, he will never be the same. It is an experience akin to losing one’s innocence, only more intimate than even that.”

The archangel probably did not understand my guards, who crowded around us now, because they spoke the human tongue. Angels native to Heaven, unless instructed in human language ahead of time, spoke only ancient Celestial Angelic.

“Fear not, my lord,” I said to him in Angelic, albeit in a more modernized dialect that he was likely not used to. It was the only one I knew. “I will mend you.”

His eyes opened a bit wider now as he looked at me and I knew he understood my words, though tears streamed down both sides of his face. His eyes were unearthly blue, for lack of a less obvious way of stating it. They almost seemed to glow with their own light. His skin was cream-colored and flawless, and his hair the color of spun gold and wheat. It might have been wavy, gently so like the bends of rivers through a forest, and may have been quite long, cascading over his shoulders as it was, but it was difficult to tell for it had mingled with the blood and feathers of his brutally crushed wings.

I healed his wings first, only because at least one of them had broken completely, with the main bone not just cracked and splintered but detached entirely. If I did not heal that sort of wound quickly, I would not be able to at all, for once a severed appendage began to die, nothing short of Azure’s miraculous regeneration magic would save it. And if I could not heal it myself, he might die of shock or bleed out before I could find Azure in time. After both wings were made whole again, I felt his body relax a little in my arms. He began to tremble, coming down from the intense shock and pain that having two wings suddenly broken had caused him. His breath was audible and ragged as he struggled to will himself calm. Irena had taken hold of his right hand, letting him squeeze hers as needed.

His head fell to the side, his eyes blinking and trying to understand where he was and what was occurring. He stared at Irena, and then at her hand, his brow furrowing in clouded thought. Perhaps he was wondering why we were all so quick to help him. I did not know why he had fallen, but if it was voluntary, he would have been given the opportunity to choose the location. Perhaps he had a message for me, though it would have to be far more than something like that to warrant a fall. My heart went out to him, this heavenly creature of impressive beauty and strength, for presumably sacrificing so very much for… some greater purpose. I longed to hear what it was.

As I healed his arm and then sought to discover why he was coughing up blood, his eyes cleared and the agony that was distracting him began to fall away. Only the sadness of being separated from Them remained, and he was stoically pushing that aside. He had chosen this, I realized as his gaze became more lucid. He had my utmost respect.

“That is all I see in the way of wounds, my lord,” I said, a bit weary from the effort of healing so many severe wounds in a short span of time.

Drawing what was left of his white robes about his shoulders, he sat up. Still confused and out of his element as he was, he looked to Irena. His head tilted to one side in contemplation as he reached out his hand… the one she had been holding until recently… and drew his fore- and middle fingers lightly down the center of her forehead and nose. A slight smile came over him when he was finished and he took his hand away.

“Thank you for saving my life,” he said to me now, perfectly in the human tongue.

“Are you all right, my lord?” I asked.

“I have no further injuries,” he said, his eyes becoming terribly sad and avoiding mine while he spoke.

“That… is not really what I meant,” I said gently.

His bottom lip trembled and he closed his eyes, pushing more tears down his cheeks. With a deep breath he looked upwards, to the sky. Not finding what he sought there, more tears streamed down his cheeks. I knew what he was thinking and laid my hand on his shoulder, causing him to look at me.

“Who is your Maker?” I asked.

“The White Stag, the Father of Protection,” he said, barely able to finish before a violent sob forced him to stop. He buried his face in his hands and broke down.

“He can see you here. He can. And in time you will feel Him here as well. It is only that… the connection will never be as strong as it was in Heaven. You may not be able to perceive His influence now because you are used to being so close to Him, but in time you will realize that your connection to Him has not been severed, but only stretched across a vast distance,” I said, feeling tears come to my own eyes. My heart ached with empathy just thinking about the pain he must be experiencing, and when he took his hands away and I saw his eyes… few things I have seen have wrenched my heartstrings so violently.

“Do you speak the truth? Or are you simply attempting to heal other, more intangible wounds, Kanadin?” he asked, trying once again to compose himself.

I hesitated only because I was shocked to hear him speak my name. It only confirmed in my mind that he had chosen to fall, and that he was here for a specific reason.

“Yes, I know who you are,” he said. “Kanadin, Knight of the Heavenly Father.”

“I would never lie about something so heartbreaking, my lord. I do not lie about trivial matters, let alone something of this magnitude,” I said in all seriousness. “Even if a lie would ease suffering, I refuse to be deceptive.”

“Then… I will let your words lend me strength,” he said. “I am called Aryx. I have heard much about you.”

“I am honored to meet you, my lord. I admit that I have never beheld an archangel with my own eyes,” I said, bowing my head.

“And yet here were are, sitting on the same stone, breathing the same air, and soon to be fighting in the same war, so we need not be so formal. Just my name is sufficient,” he said. His words were surprisingly clear and well thought out, though his face and his trembling hands gave away his distracted mind.

“Very well. You already know mine,” I said. “This is my wife, Irena.”

Aryx smiled at her as though seeing an old friend after many years.

“Yes, I remember her, too. I remember… when she and your children were returned to you,” he whispered, his voice losing much of its volume. “Such a stir in Heaven did it cause. A positive stir, though, all told.”

Archangels, it was common knowledge, were the keepers of the common heavens. They, unless other action was necessary, managed and helped to protect the virtuous souls that occupied the human afterlife.

“I… need to speak with you at length,” he said. “There is much happening that you do not know of, and much we must do in preparation for events which will be upon us shortly. But… there is time yet. May I… please… have some time to myself? I… feel as though my heart has been torn from my chest and I am finding it… difficult to…” And there his voice broke and he pressed his lips together, fighting back more tears.

“Of course,” I whispered gently. “Let us help you into a private room. There you can collect your thoughts.”

“I would be forever grateful,” he said. “Thank you for understanding.”

“I more than understand,” I said. “You have made a solemn and devastating sacrifice this day. Take all the time you need.”

#silence writes #about the muse #the vulture and the dove #fallen angel #{and I fell for what seemed like an eternity}

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ganymedesclock · 7 years

Text

Hi @themodernmisogynist, I see that you have very kindly taken me up on my offer.

That said, you appear to have failed to explain how the messages you outline have not been actively contradicted by the show itself.

Message Received: “Steven,” Garnet says, “sometimes people don’t deserve the effort it takes to befriend them.” She is specifically talking about Peridot, who in that same episode, not only covers for the Crystal Gems at her own expense even before she had any intention of betraying Yellow Diamond, but, held her ground, argued with, and then berated her superior, overcoming considerable stress to do so.

End takeaway: Wow Garnet sure was totally wrong about people not deserving kindness or patience.

Oh, but Clockie, you might be saying, that was only one time. It isn’t as if Garnet made a sweeping, generalized statement (which she did) that was immediately contradicted by the entire rest of the episode (which it was) and which Garnet herself spent the entire next episode being friends with Peridot (which she did)

But sure. It’s just one episode.

Gem Drill: “Steven,” Peridot says, “I know you feel bad about the Cluster, but, it’s going to destroy the Earth. And it is too twisted and broken to come back. You can’t talk to it.”

“That’s nice,” says Steven, and talks to the Cluster, who helps him protect Earth.

Earthlings. “Steven,” says Jasper, only this is thematic paraphrasing and Jasper didn’t actually call him that name, “some people are so bad that they deserve to suffer.” She says this while very obviously sitting under a massive burden of self-loathing, unsubtly implying that she believes everything bad that has ever happened to her is her fault. Steven, Amethyst, and Peridot, are all horrified by what happened, and nowhere does the rest of the tone of the episode treat Jasper as right.

But I mean, clearly, Crewniverse is just making sure not to spoil us that their series is going to end like countless other stories that have gone the exact same way, and refused to sympathize with or forgive any of their antagonists!

Who ever heard of a story where the themes present in the beginning of the story are relevant to its ending?

It isn’t as if the assassination of Pink Diamond is set up in such a way that we are meant to be incredibly uncomfortable with it, as shown by how our viewpoint character, Steven, continues stressing out about it afterwards!

It isn’t as if the idea of using lethal force on his worst enemies was something Steven found revolting in Bismuth and even after Bismuth tried to kill him, he would rather destroy the Breaking Point than even leave it there, showing his misgivings on the subject are stronger than Rose’s, who logically had the chance to destroy it but didn’t?

“These people brag about how many planets they’ve [colonized]”

Quote and episode title or it didn’t happen. You may be referring to Message Received, “and I want that planet to die.” In which case: there definitely isn’t any reason why Yellow Diamond would be upset about Earth and speaking out of personal hurt the way a bunch of other characters that we are asked to sympathize with have.

You also may be referring to a thus-far unsupported fan-interpretation of the moon murals that they are depicted with their colonies, of which, even if those are planets under the control of their Diamonds, “bragging about how many planets they’ve killed” is a very biased and unsupported theory, because the worst we see of Homeworld comes from a place of callousness, not from “boy I love murder.”

You argue the show has never dealt with the question of whether or not someone can be redeemed but without even going back and combing the episodes I can find at least two that talked about that exact concept and proceeded to cheerfully rip it to shreds and play a happy ukulele song over it.

But you’ve intrigued me now. Your argument seems to be that the Diamonds are uniquely irredeemable. That Bismuth, Centipeetle, Jasper, every other antagonist we’ve met so far will be ultimately forgiven, except for the Diamonds.

What’s the deciding variable?

What specifically have the Diamonds done that makes them deserve to die, and you had better, once again, have specific episode names and scenes that you can list off to prove that’s what they did.

Is it because they don’t have any remorse? Because Peridot sure didn’t!

Is it because if you tried to give them an olive branch, they’d just as soon try to crush you with a giant metal fist? Cause that’s exactly what Peridot did!

Is it because they’re too twisted to even understand you if you tried to talk to them? Cluster.

Oh, and also, I obliquely referenced this in my earlier post but Crewniverse has released several statements that the show does not have actual villains, one of them as early as Warp Tour. Somehow I feel like the Diamonds, as characters in the show, are covered by those statements. And since I’ve been here heckling you for quotes and links, it’d just be hypocritical of me to not include that myself, wouldn’t it?

Here you go. Relevant part is the final paragraph:

But we won't necessarily see that many iconic villains on Steven Universe, says Sugar — the Gems aren't dealing with a particular person, but something "bigger than that." There's not "really a singular enemy." Instead, the conflict will be within the group, and it'll be about Steven figuring out what's right.

Funny how that statement is completely incongruous with the Diamonds being responsible for everything right.

And here is where I stop arguing about why that can’t be, and start arguing about why that shouldn’t be.

A friend of mine recently said something that I feel very apt: “Not everyone will see themselves in Steven. Any time any story tries to say not everyone can or should be saved, someone watching that show will watch it and say ‘it’s me. I’m the one who can’t and shouldn’t be saved.’”

And what the actual hell is fantasy good for if we can accept magic alien rocks that make humanoid bodies but we can’t accept that there’s a basic right for people to live?! Why is the idea that you can solve problems with people without killing them the most unreasonable thing here?

Because the show sure as hell isn’t saying you can’t have a beef with someone and Beach City Drift was dedicated to the idea that you don’t actually need to give the people who wronged you the goddamn time of day, that they may well not regret what they did to you, that you may well not have a means to make them sorry.

It’s saying that hey maybe there’s possibly, somewhere in this green earth, a way to deal with your beef with other people without literally shoving them off this mortal coil forever.

You’re talking about how much it’ll hurt Steven? How about everyone like Jasper who’s already deeply, profoundly hurting from the loss of Pink Diamond and the thousands of people who would be thrown anew into that situation?

Are you really telling me Steven is the only person who would grieve the Diamonds? You’re trying to tell me if Steven was going to kill them, no one would try to put themselves in the way?

You’re telling me, at bare minimum, that Steven, someone who literally has stated as his goal that he thinks he’ll be able to understand everyone (Guide To The Crystal Gems) would look at someone, in that instant, at his mercy, and kill them?

And I’m going to say something else, while I’m here and I have your attention. I’m sure that you think your perspective is very informed, very intelligent, that you’re voicing a sad but unequivocal truth of the world.

You aren’t.

You’re telling me, and I’m mad and not going to mince words here, the same tired boring garbage I have heard it feels like hundreds of times here, by unimaginative people who tell me Peridot doesn’t deserve an arc, I should give up, she’s just going to die eventually- who told me to give up on Jasper. Who didn’t even have to say anything because even I didn’t believe the Cluster was going to be forgiven.

This is the same recycled hogwash I have heard literally as soon as Peridot was introduced as a character. That there’s something uniquely diabolical about her that you can see just looking at her in ten seconds of screentime. That somehow she’ll be a cardboard cutout piece of evil, and that this is somehow more deep than addressing the idea that anything on the scale of destroying an entire planet can happen and be perpetuated without the existence of a Pure Evil Mastermind who does nothing but live in a poorly lit room tapping her fingertips together and intermittently kicking poor helpless Gems so we remember to hate her.

But you and everyone before you has packaged it and handed it to me like a beautiful present, like this is the most inspiring, incredible idea you’ve heard of.

But what if, you whisper on bated breath, eyes aglow, your face flushing by the very excitement of what you are about to tell me- what if Yellow Diamond doesn’t actually have any sympathetic motivations? What if she’s just a terrible person for no conceivable reason, and meaninglessly, she refuses to ever reconsider her perspective or make a friend once in her life?

Wouldn’t it be so much more valuable to have another remorseless, senseless, two dimensional villain to throw to the massive pile of remorseless senseless two-dimensional villains we already have, than to actually try to explore how one actually does try to reconcile something of that magnitude, how the Diamonds became how they are and how they might potentially change, as magnificently flawed and complex beings?

You look at me, awaiting an answer. Surely, your revelation has rendered me speechless.

I smile at you, and speak:

Get your poorly conceived entry-level grimdark shit away from me.

#readmore #it took me roughly a half-hour to write this post and I'm pleased to inform you that I stayed mad the entire time.#consider this an open letter to anyone who has ever told me to stop trying to redeem the diamonds.

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