#✗ there is a bullet for everyone (assassin/hitman verse) | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

self-proclaimed-chaotic-good · 5 years

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Persephone | John Wick x Reader (Three)

Words: 3132

A/N: Usual JW-verse violence, mention of being drugged

Previously: John Wick, an ex-hitman on the run from seemingly everyone in the Underworld, teams up with the Bowery King to take down the High Table that controls it. To do that, they need more allies. You, an assassin known as Persephone, were rumored to be held captive by the Instructor, having lost your memory five years ago. Wick sets out to retrieve you and help you regain your memories in order to aid them in their fight. A bond starts to form the more you train and familiarize yourself with Wick. A shadow from your past plans to drag you back in.

In the Underworld, not everything was digital. It seemed that information was safer in either a physical form behind guards and vaults or kept in memories of the need-to-know people, giving you and John extra work on tracing information. To take down a network, you need to cut the right wiring or it’ll electrocute you.

First off, you look at the power source. There’s the Elder who sits above the High Table, then the High Table members with a variable power of their own. There were people like Santino that would even kill their own family to be a member.

Twelve seats in the council. Twelve crime lords.

The judgement that the Adjudicator, the chancellor and representative of the High Table council, served was a testament to how much power they were given. It was to show everyone what the High Table can do. Go against the rules and there will be punishment. Swear fealty to the Table, present your serving hands, the punishment for going against them would be having those hands pierced through. Gave seven bullets to an excommunicado assassin? Seven slashes for you. Housing said excommunicado in your establishment? Business is now allowed in the Continental.

Where the hell do you start? Where do you find the right allies in a world of criminals? Practically every assassin around the world jumped at the chance to kill John Wick when his bounty was sent out.

You were worried for him. You thought it was best to lay low and build yourselves up before taking on the High Table, but it seemed after he was forced out of his retirement, he couldn’t keep still. He had a drive for vengeance that wouldn’t rest until the threat was dealt with and that wasn’t going to happen anytime soon.

You ended up working on several projects at a time, which wasn’t good for your focus, but at least there was still something to keep you busy when you were stuck on one of them. The Bowery King’s people, or the Bowery boys, were helpful in getting the supplies that you needed and even tested some of the prototypes.

Given that the services offered to the high-profile assassins of the Underworld were off limits, you worked to provide tools in any way you can. You even made a bulletproof vest for John’s dog, though you didn’t tell John that. He had mentioned that an old acquaintance of his, Sofia, who runs the Continental in Morocco, had bulletproof vests for both of her dogs, so you thought it was a nice extra something, even adding a pattern that was similar to John’s suit at the front.

There were tactical vests and weapons modulations that you drew up as well as of various blades designed for quickness, efficiency, and precision, which would compliment your special project that you were saving for last. They weren’t the best, but they could still do the job.

You were pouring over a few blueprints of gun models that you were considering on upgrading when John knocked on your door. “It’s me,” he said.

You couldn’t help but smile at the sound of his voice, especially after a long day of tinkering. “You know you don’t have to knock, right?” you told him, putting the prints down as he opened the door.

His dog rushed to your side, panting happily. You patted your lap and allowed him to jump up, snuggling comfortably against you. There was a soft look in John’s eyes as he looked at the two of you before shaking himself out of it.

“The others said we had to knock before coming in,” John said, pointing at the door.

You nodded, scratching behind his dog’s ear. “Yeah, they do, but not you. You don’t have to.”

The implication on the level of trust that you had on him made his walls crumble down again, but he didn’t let himself smile. There was business to attend to. It doesn’t help when a strand of hair kept falling on your face and all he wanted to do was tuck it behind your ear and cup your face and-

When John continued to be silent, you continued, “Anyways, we’re heading out?”

“Yeah,” was all he said.

“Um, okay. I’ll get my stuff and meet you at the entrance.”

He was about the reply, but stopped and nodded before walking away. You exchanged a look with his dog who was used to his behavior then jumped off your lap to follow his human. You sighed gathering your blueprints and stored them away, grabbing two of your prototypes and a slim utility belt.

You had thought that John would have left without you, but there he was, quietly talking to his dog by the entrance of one of the Soup Kitchen’s underground tunnels. You were dressed in a practical dark outfit the belt around your waist, hidden by your black leather jacket. You leaned down to hug John’s dog goodbye, planting a kiss on his flat head and booped his nose with a finger. John stood up, sending his dog away and turned to you.

“Ready?” he asked, adjusting the strap of his duffle bag.

“Yeah, let’s go.”

Nothing gets by the Bowery King and his people. The benefits of having him as an ally was the fact that he built his empire from the bottom and existed as its own entity. The High Table did not like that they had no complete hold on them and wanted him to swear fealty. His punishment for helping John was unjust in his eyes, seeing it as a display of the High Table’s arrogance.

The Bowery King had eyes and ears everywhere and had the advantage of anonymity to an extent. It was only a matter of time until he heard of the Instructor’s people looking for you.

You needed to get back into your apartment for your things and hopefully something that will jog your memory, maybe a clue of what the Instructor had planned for you. The two of you were currently waiting out in an old apartment in the middle of renovation. John stood nearest to the window, keeping an eye on the people going in and out of the building across the street.

You could tell there was something that John wanted to ask you, but instead, he said, “You didn’t kill everyone.”

You stared down at your boots with a sigh. “She ordered my parents to be killed. A selected few knew of it, was sent to carry out that task. I didn’t find out ‘til later after countless missions that I’ve done, the people that I’ve trained with, I didn’t see what was happening around me.”

“I knew the Instructor,” John said, his eyes still trained on observing the building’s activities, “she left the Director after some time training under her. Her goals were ambitious, but her execution was something the Director always criticized her on. Things didn’t turn out the way she wanted, but she did made you, whether you like it or not.”

“I suppose so,” you said.

You were aware of John’s connection to the Director, but to hear him talk about the Instructor in that perspective, you wondered how it felt like when an old colleague walks into your office to assassinate you. You suppose you were going to find out, given the situation. The Instructor didn’t talk much about her past and while she had trained, abused, and apparently favored you, you never knew what brought her to creating the program.

John’s eyes narrowed as he spotted a familiar face. He gestured with a finger for you to come over, stepping aside so you could see. Marion had walked out of the building, heading towards the bus station where the last sighting of you and John were, having purposely drawing attention before losing them again. Once Marion left, a man and a couple stood near the entrance, their eyes scanning the area as they pretended to do menial tasks. One was on his phone facing left while the couple conversed facing the opposite direction in an angle.

“The blonde woman is Yuri and the dark haired man with her is Beck. They work better as a team, but their weaknesses show when they’re separated,” you found yourself saying, snippets of memories from training flashed through your mind like a camera shutter until it organized into a library of books and filing cabinets that you could sort through. “The other man on the phone is Victor. He’s a good shot, but his right knee is busted from an injury during a mission. He usually does ground work or long distance.”

“Back entrance?”

“Fire exits off on the sides, more secluded areas.”

“Fire escape?”

“They’re well-maintained except the left side that has a rusted ladder.”

“Room?”

“Near the front of the building. Windows facing the alleyway on the left. All of the wide windows were semi-blocked by strategically placed furniture until inspection. Fourth floor.”

“Okay, let’s go.” John took out a pocket sized metal device from the duffle bag and hid it in the corner, setting the timer before heading out with you close behind.

It wasn’t going to be a simple walk in. John insisted on going with you to the building, an argument filled with frustration and long pauses of stubborn silence and staredowns.

You walked ahead of him as the two of you made your way across the street with street lamps and the moon as a source of light. You instinctively grabbed John’s hand and pulled him closer to you. There were people who were willing to please the High Table and killing John Wick was the way to go. You weren’t much of a shield, as he was taller than you, but it was the thought that counts, so John followed your lead.

A businessman carrying a suitcase walked purposely forward, his body language giving away his next action. Your hidden blade shot out from under your sleeve and jabbed him in the armpit. You pull John with you as he staggered back.

“Can I have one?” John asked, his fingers tapping your wrist where the hidden blade was strapped to.

“Sure.”

Victor was already walking towards you as you approached. You flashed him a smile, striding forward and pushed him into the alleyway. John watched your back, looking out for Yuri and Beck as you rammed your foot on Victor’s right knee. He gritted his teeth in pain, trying to pull out his handgun before you hoisted yourself onto his hunched figure, wrapping your legs around his neck and used your weight and momentum to knock him down. You yanked his dominant hand away from his gun and pulled yourself up with your hidden blade drawn and stabbed his throat.

The gurgling noise was familiar to you now with the countless times that you dreamed of that night when you killed Sasha. You couldn’t get yourself to be emotionless towards it like how you used to, but you weren’t sure if you’d want to be that person anymore.

John reemerged into the alleyway, his hair disheveled and small blood spatter on his suit. He nodded over to you, helping you drag Victor’s body to a hidden corner of the alley. You took a moment to collect yourself then surveyed the area.

The ladder of the fire escape was dodgy, the edges rusty and the paint chipping and crumbling away. John pulled the ladder down, rust and paint shedding off of the metal as it lowered with a clang. He tested the durability with his weight, lifting himself up from the bottom rung causing it to groan.

“Are you sure you don’t want to go through the front door?” John asked with a raised eyebrow.

“I mean,” you grimaced, hands on hips as you looked up at the fire escape, “kinda wanted to avoid running into more people. It’s not really my style, but…”

The elevator ride seemed slower than you remembered, smelling like cigarettes, sweat, and cleaning solution. You sighed, turning to John who was silently taking inventory of the weapons the both of you had, the possible escape routes if the fire escape didn’t work, estimating the amount of people that could be waiting for the both of you.

“Couldn’t take the stairs?” John asked.

“It conserves energy,” you defended, fixing his jacket and his hair. John watched you in amusement as you began to rub the blood spatter from his cheek with one hand while the other was playing with a soft lock of hair. “Besides, they won’t kill me. They’ll kill you, John.”

“You’re protecting me?”

You shrugged, pulling away but remained in front of him. “Someone has to.”

The elevator stopped at the third floor, the doors slid open, allowing two people in. They stood there without pressing a floor button and waited until the doors closed. You grabbed a throwing knife from your utility built, twirling it around your fingers until the elevator started moving again. One of the men whipped out a gun and went to shoot at you. John held his bulletproof jacket out and shielded you before wrestling the gun out of the man’s hands.

The other man approached you, but you were ready as you stabbed him in the chest. He grunted, pulling it out and throwing it on the floor. He grabbed your arms tightly to restrict your movements and pushed you against the doors as the elevator jolted onto the fourth floor. You kneed him in the groin and got your hidden blade out, getting him in the gut and wherever you could reach.

The doors opened again, making you fall backwards with the now bleeding man landing on top of you and using his weight to slam you down. The impact on your head made your vision blurred, and it didn’t help when he slammed your head down for a second time, making your ears ring. Your eyes vaguely seeing him pull an object from his jacket that triggered something in you.

The assassins that you’ve trained with, the ones that were sent to kill your family and those who worked to erase those events from existing, were scattered across New York. Some worked under the Italian mobs, few with the Chinese, and even the cartels. All of the ones that worked under the rivals of Tasarov were already killed by John Wick. There were a few groups that you had a working partnership with and was able to help you hunt the others down.

The more experienced assassins like Sasha were harder to track down, but they were the ones that the Instructor trusted with information the most. They were the ones that were tasked to put you down. It was at the docks out of all the places where they ambushed you. They held you down, they beat you near death, then injected you with some kind of drug. You weren’t sure if it was the mysterious liquid or the injuries that knocked you unconscious.

When you wake up, you were in an apartment in New York, not knowing who you were or who were the people standing in your room.

The man was yanked off of you by an furious John Wick who shot two bullets in his chest and one in his head. Luckily, there was a suppressor on his gun, as it would have alerted the innocent people on the floor. If they were all innocent. After what you’ve realized that the past five years you were surrounded by lies, you wouldn’t even be surprised if the whole fourth floor were composed of assassins tasked to watch you.

After the man was dealt with and dragged into an alcove with the other one, John held out a hand for you to take. You shook yourself out of your daze and grabbed it. He helped hoist you up and tucked his handgun away. His eyes scanned over you for injuries, his eyebrows furrowed in worry and concentration.

“I’m okay, just dizzy,” you assured him.

He nodded, his hand hovering by your back in case you stumbled as you headed to your old apartment. The old key you had didn’t work, but John was quick and used the throwing knife you dropped and jammed it into the keyhole. He drew his gun out and went in first, sticking his head around before walking fully inside. You followed behind with your blade at the ready.

The two of you inspected the rest of the apartment and came up empty. You went back to your room and rifled through your belongings, hoping they hadn’t touched anything valuable. John handed you the duffle bag and helped you pack with essentials and person items. You wondered what else they took from you.

“I’m going to double check Marion’s room for something real quick,” you told John, leaving the room before you could reply.

You rushed over to her room before the thought could escape you. It was something that you’ve wanted to see ever since you started getting your memories back. You hoped that going back to the apartment would help with your memories and while it somewhat worked, there was something that you hoped that Marion had taken, if it meant that it wasn’t lost forever.

Her room was quite bare with not much of a personal touch. You sifted around her closet and under her bed, stomping on the floorboards and going through her drawers. When you came out with nothing, you took a moment to calm yourself and took in the room. A dark object under one of the desk’s legs that was partially under the drawer stood out.

You kneel down and lift the desk, sliding the object out. It was something wrapped in a black cloth that Marion had been using to keep her desk balanced. As you unraveled the cloth, the sight of a shiny metal edge made your heart race.

You tossed the cloth away and held out the object out. It was your vorpal blade.

You walked out into the main area and peeked out of the window towards the building across the street where you and John were. John walked up behind you and showed you his watch before pulling you out of the line of sight. Just as expected, one shot rang out, followed by an explosion.

“What do you mean he blew up?” Marion demanded, standing on the side in the rail station.

“Arlo did as you told him. The room blew up as soon as he took the shot, taking him and the other three with him.”

“And the other five?”

Silence.

Marion threw her Nokia against the wall and screamed, the sound echoing off the walls.

Taglist:

@venusgothic

@weappreciatepower

@anita-e-taylor

@mikaneonox

@sparrowsparrow

A/N: Decided to write one of those “Previously on...”, which I haven’t done since my days on FF . net lol. I’m going to try and do this more, maybe add a summary for the first chap and a Previously on the second chap. Sorry if this chap is too wordy, but there’s stuff starting to go down. Lmk what you guys think. Thanks for reading!

#john wick #john wick x reader #john wick imagines #Persephone #persephone p3 #keanu reeves imagines #Keanu Reeves

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nuttyrabbit · 5 years

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Well, this is a long, LONG time coming. Updated b io under the cut

Name: Gambit the Weasel

Age: 24

Occupation: Mercenary, though technically he’s more of a hitman than anything

Continuity: Post-reboot Archie Sonic, though he can work in the main Sonic verse as well.

Location: Empire City (Born in Empire City, but moved to Westopolis with his birth father at around a year old)

Alignment: Chaotic Neutral

Species: Weasel (African Black-footed Weasel is the main design inspiration)

Sexuality: Bisexual leaning more towards men

Personality: Cynical, jaded; an absolute fucking pessmist, always seeing the worst in everything and everyone. Is an absolute shit-stirrer, and will actively antagonize people for shits and giggles. He’s got a real big mouth and will freely and openly speak his mind to anyone, regardless of who or what they are. He loves banter, and will banter with just about anyone on just about anything. He’s always got a comeback or a snarky one-liner for any given situation, you cannot shut this man up. Generally emotionally detached from most people and events, which lends itself to an incredibly dark sense of humor. Also a very “shoot first, ask questions later” sort of person. Cocky, stubborn, and just an all around asshole, Gambit’s not really the kind of guy most people would want to be around, much less befriend.

Skills: Gambit is incredibly accurate with his revolver, seemingly able to pull off near impossible shots when the occasion calls for it, and in general is able to make just about every bullet count. This is helped by his impeccable quick draw ability, making him able to draw his gun and fire in the blink of an eye.

Gambit’s power is luck manipulation, signified by his eyes taking on an intense glow. This power enables him to turn the odds in his favor, sometimes to insane degrees; however, it requires his concentration or it will deactivate. When the situation is life or death, though, his powers will kick in on their own - when this happens, his powers short out and become unusable for a short time after.

Gambit is also impeccably good at games of luck, especially blackjack. Even without his powers backing him up, he can make an absolute killing at the blackjack table, or even something like the slots, although he has gotten kicked from casinos before due to his luck powers letting him “cheat” .

He can be rather charismatic if he wants to be, letting him seduce people or even get information out of others, though more often than not his big mouth and inclination towards antagonism betrays him. Well, that and his stench because he smells BAD

Hobbies: Hobbies: Drinking, gambling, smoking cigarettes and sleeping around are his vices, with alcoholism and gambling outright addictions he has. Gambit’s preferred beverage is beer, though he’s also partial to rum and whiskey. He drinks several times a day, becoming irritable and suffering withdrawal when he goes sober for more than a day.

His gambling addiction is where he sinks most of his money, alongside the booze. He will spend hours at the blackjack, roulette or poker tables. He often wins big due to his luck powers, but gets cocky, neglecting to keep up the act and losing out. Many times he is simply thrown out of casinos, most often for starting fights or cheating.

The other things Gambit typically blows his earnings on are ammo for his signature revolver, and cigarettes. Due to his vices and the need for ammo to do his job, he doesn’t always have enough cash left over to afford a pack. When he can, he goes through one or two packs in a day; so, more often than not, he has to bum a cigarette off of someone else.

Gambit is never seen without his trusty revolver; modeled after a S&W 44 magnum, it’s the most valuable item he owns. He treasures the gun above all else, going so far as to have gotten a custom engraving.

Gambit sleeps around, and does so often. While he is bi, he has a preference for men. He is far from picky, however; his standards are low. If he’s not antagonizing someone, he’s flirting with them, trying to get them either to a cheap motel or back to their place for a few rounds. He never sticks around after, bailing shortly after he got what he came for. Gambit is nigh impossible to commit to a relationship, and will have flings with multiple people a night when given the opportunity. He is, for all intents and purposes, a slut in every sense of the word. Emotional intimacy? Never heard of her.

Fears: He doesn’t fear much, though deep down, he does fear betrayal, which feeds into his complex about trusting people.

Flaws: Gambit’s morality is almost nonexistent, his apathy lending itself to him taking on jobs others may deem too damning. Much like in gambling, his hubris can be his downfall while on the job; he sometimes gets too cocky, counting his chickens before they hatch, and can wind up blowing the contract. He is also at the mercy of his vices, the expenses of which have him living on the streets without food or shelter, often sleeping in the city’s many alleyways and rummaging for food in restaurant dumpsters. Naturally, he smells like garbage. But his biggest flaw, above all else, is his complex about trust. Gambit doesn’t trust anyone or anything outside of himself to the point of paranoia. He outright rejects the idea of joining a gang or teaming up with someone because he’s always anticipating the moment when they turn on him. His past experiences with partnerships have only made this worse. It is why he leaves someone after banging them, it is a huge reason as to why he’s emotionally detached from people, and it is the biggest reason as to why he seemingly cannot form any meaningful relationships with anyone or anything.

Physical appearance: Gambit is 3′5, making him slightly taller than Sonic. He’s rather lanky and lithe, there isn’t much meat on those bones. He’s got crimson eyes that take on a distinct glow whenever his powers are active. He’s got a few scars, with his most prominent one being a chunk ripped off of his right ear. His fashion sense leans towards classier attire with influences from the styles of the 1920s. Akin to his typical outfit pictured in the ref, he usually goes for suit+pants combos. He doesn’t wear vibrant colors often, though he’s not opposed to the idea; he does typically stick to greys, white and/or black for most occasions.

Bio: Gambit was an accident; the result of a careless fling between a corrupt politician and the unfortunate conman who thought he could blackmail her. When the situation wound up with Artemis getting pregnant, she was forced to carry the child to term due to fear of tarnishing her reputation. Artemis forced the child’s father to play along the role of her husband, faking a happy expecting family for the press. Once the baby was born, he was given the name Tai, and he and his father were moved from the public eye. Artemis told the public it was because she wanted to keep her family safe from the stress and exposure her career would bring, but behind closed doors, her plans for her new “family” were much more sinister.

Artemis, in her desperation to rid herself of the problem she created, and stumbled upon Empire City’s darkest truth: the Underground, a sprawling, far-reaching network of criminals, mercenaries and hitmen hidden in plain sight. It was there she would find the solution to her problem, forging a contract that would solve all her problems. It was the perfect crime - Artemis would leave the city on a “business trip”, and during her absence, someone would break into her home and murder her husband and child. The public would eat it up, bless their hearts, and Artemis, the victim, would stay strong in the face of tragedy, boosting her ratings.

Of course, things so seldom go as one plans. Artemis left on her trip, but when the hitman came for the boy and his father, Tai’s powers kicked in. The gun jammed, and his father took the opportunity to take down the would-be assassin. Tai’s father, piecing two and two together, grabbed the young boy and fled out of the city, to Westopolis. Artemis returned to the city, and by that time, the Underground had cleared out the hitman’s body. With the father and son nowhere to be seen, Artemis was told the job had gone off without a hitch, that they had been killed and just like that, all her problems were gone.

Once Tai and his father were in Westopolis, they lived in utter squalor, barely supporting themselves off of what meager money his father could scrape up with his “trade”. Tai’s father was a very angry man at this point, drowning himself in alcohol, constantly screaming and ranting about how the world is full of bastards, how you can trust nobody and how there is nothing good in this world, and often beating and shouting at the young weasel, blaming him for his current circumstances. He barely even fed the young boy, forcing Tai to live off of what meager scrap were left from his father’ meals, and whatever food or water he could manage to sneak away for himself.

The young boy lived like this until he was around 8 years old, when his dad went out for a drink one night and never came back. Several days passed, and the weasel desperately scrounged around the house for what little food he could find, waiting for his dad to come home. Soon, someone did come through those doors, but it was not his father, but instead the cops, investigating his father’s death. They simply told him his father was dead and that he had to come with them. Tai, who at this point had the message of “don’t trust anyone” figuratively and literally beat into him, instead chose to run away, with the cops not even bothering to give chase. “Less paperwork” they said.

From there, the boy lived on the streets, scrounging by on what little food and water he could find, sleeping in alleyway and most of all, avoiding anyone and everyone he could. “Don’t trust anyone, don’t bother anyone, keep your head down low and out of sight, out of mind” are the words that he lived by, the words that were literally beaten into him. And so he lived like this up until he was around 10 or 11 years old, when everything changed.

A local low level gangster, looking to obtain power and prestige within his organization, stumbled across the young Tai. Soon realizing that the young, wide eyed boy could serve as a valuable bargaining chip, decided to try and take him under his wing, and after several attempts, Tai went home with the man. For the first time in his life, Tai lived in an honest to god home. He got served three meals a day, he had actual clothes , there were things to do here other than scrounge for food and stare at the walls. He even got a new name: Gambit

But all was not well. The man intended to use Gambit as a tool, a bargaining chip, and that he very much did. The young boy was passed around to other gangsters, mobsters, lowlife scum, who did unsavory things to the young weasel, who had these fake smiles, comforting words that did the exact opposite, had touches that lingered too long in bad places, who told him things he had never heard of and talked about him in ways he didn’t understand. These made the weasel’s skin crawl, it made him feel wrong and dirty, but his “father” assured him that this was all normal, this was how the world worked.

As the boy grew, so did his knowledge of the world he had been swept into. The man taught Gambit everything: he taught him how to shoot, how to gamble, drink, eat good food, survive, to indulge in the “good things in life”, to use his powers, and again, he hammered home a single, central message: “Don’t trust anyone. Don’t trust anything, the entire world is out for ya.” The growing weasel internalized all of this. Soon, Gambit began to imitate his old man: his mannerisms, his way of speaking, his worldview, even his jokes. Gambit followed his old man in every sense of the world, completely unwavering. He trusted him, seeing him as the father he never truly had, and perhaps hoping the old man saw him in a similar light.

However, things began to take a turn for the worse as he got older. His old man saw him as a tool after all, and he began to have Gambit take care of his dirty work, which went well at first. But soon, Gambit started showing a more rebellious side. He began to not follow orders, indulge in his vices more and more, even blowing the money he got from these operations on said vices. Sooner rather than later, the weasel turned from a useful tool into a complete liability, and his father realized this.

One night, when Gambit was around 18 years old, after yet another failed mission, his father snapped, screaming and ranting at Gambit about how he was a failure, how he was a “useless fuckin tool”, how he never actually gave a shit about Gambit, how he was just a pawn who served no purpose anymore and needed to be gotten rid of. In his fury, he attempted to kill his adopted son, but Gambit got him first, killing him with the very revolver the old man had given to him

Panicking, Gambit took the gun, took some money the old man had lying around, and booked it. He once again returned to the streets, quickly blowing through all the money he had managed to snatch up, spending almost all of it on his newfound addictions, trying to drown out all the horrible feelings that were coursing through him. But in a last act of defiance towards his old man, what little money he had left went towards getting his revolver engraved, something to make the gun truly his. But his mind was teetering on the edge of a complete breakdown: his life had gotten completely upended again, everything he knew was wrong, he was barely to handle it. So, in a desperate attempt to keep him sane and functional, his mind forcefully and deeply repressed almost all of his prior memories, only keeping what he needed to stay alive: his mentality, his skills, his given name, and his attitude.

After blowing through all of his money, and at a loss for ways to make more, Gambit teetered on the edge of starvation and death. But then it hit him: He was real good at killing people, and there were people who’d pay for that shit, so why not just do that? It wasn’t easy, as he failed quite a few of his early jobs, but soon he got into the groove of things, and from then on, his fate was sealed: Gambit the Weasel was a full blown mercenary.

And so things went for a few more years, with Gambit honing his skills, falling deeper into his vices, and being consumed by the all-encompassing bitterness, cynicism and snark that would come to truly define Gambit as a person and help him come into his own. But once again, everything would be upended.

When Gambit was 21, the Black Arms invasion wracked Westopolis, and in the midst of the chaos, Gambit decided to book it to the nearest city, just trying to survive. Soon, he ended up in the City of Dreams: Empire City. Here he would continue to hone his skills, his vices, and his personality.

Today, he continues to eke out a living the same way he always has (or at least how he thinks he has): taking whatever jobs he can, killing people, then blowing it all on his vices. As far as he knows, this is how things have been, and how they will always be. But fate certainly has other plans for him, and one of them comes in the form of a cheeky little spaniel ( @pidgeonspen ‘s Carey) and a certain green asshole (Specifically @frecklefacefromouterspace ‘s Scourge)

Misc: Shout outs to @pidgeonspen for creating the ref sheet, helping to create the design, and basically being my beta reader for the entire thing.

#Gambit the Weasel #OC Stuff #Sonic #Archie Sonic #If you got any questions fire them my way!

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mangledmenagerie · 6 years

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Victor Zsasz

Victor Zsasz is a hitman/assassin sometimes bodyguard in Gotham. Most people piss their pants when they hear his name or should. When on a job he doesn’t stop hunting his target until they are dead or the hit is called off. In the comics, he was more of a serial killer that carved his kills into his flesh in the form of tally marks. In Gotham, they only referenced his tallies at one time in the first season. My version leans heavily on a mix of Gotham canon and my own headcanons, with bits from the comics here and there. Zsasz worked for Carmine Falcone in s1 of Gotham. He has worked for Oswald Cobblepott for most of the seasons until his betrayal in s4. (which still pisses me off, kids) He was in Sofia Falcone’s employ until lee put a bullet in her skull. I personally prefer my Zsasz being employed with Penguin. (not saying I wouldn’t RP with Sofia’s, just stating my verse preference)

In terms of shipping, my version of Zsasz would be considered Pansexual. He flirts a lot, in his odd way. That doesn’t always mean a ship is wanted. Also if his flirting bothers anyone let me know and I will reign him in.

Relationships

[Hello Everyone]: Zsasz works for Don Falcone in this verse. So s1 events may be referenced and some HC driven things.

[Best Guy for the Job] (Pretty much my default verse). Zsasz works for Penguin, certain events from the show may get mentioned occasionally, not strictly show canon, but mostly, with a few bits pulled from other media and HC. It should be noted that in this verse he never breaks from his loyalty to Oswald.

[Do you want to do it the Fun Way?]: Zsasz working for Sophia.

[A little Mercy] Single father Zsasz. He ends up having to take in his 4-year-old daughter, Mercy after her Grandmother is killed by shady relatives (Zsasz added their lives to his tallies). Balancing his assassin career and raising his kid. (I just needed one with fluffy Zsasz)

[Caged] A verse where Zsasz decides to take the fall for ‘killing’ Martin instead of Oswald. It can either be set in Blackgate or Arkham. (Though Arkham makes better sense.)

#bio bits for Victor Zsasz #Victor Zsasz is an adorable murder muffin.

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insanescriptist · 7 years

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Hi! I've gotten Black Sky recommended to me by a lot of people because I really like long well-written Girl!Harry fics - so I gotta say thank you guys so much for 200+ chapters! The thing is that I'm not an anime fan and don't know much at all about the Reborn (?) part of the crossover; do I need to watch or read that first before Black Sky to understand what goes on? (PS. One of my friends suggested listening to the Gunslinger Girl OST while reading to make it more epic. I'll give it a try! :D)

Izzy’s not a big anime fan either; she’d rather read manga. Much faster, less irritation with character voices or the episode recaps and also doesn’t have to worry about buffering.

Black Sky for the first 40 or so chapters doesn’t focus on KHR elements, although we leave hints here and there for those who know what to look for.

After that we start introducing KHR-elements a lot more. Specifically focusing on three organizations within the KHR-verse; the Varia, the Vongola and the CEDEF.

Most of Black Sky doesn’t focus on Tsuna (KHR’s protagonist) at all so a basic knowledge is needed but not much more than that. Because KHR conveniently leaves most of the mafia in Italy around the Vongola as a blank slate. But you do need to know who some people are. We’ve got lots of OCs.

So summary of what you need to know:

Uh, KHR has a pretty simple premises in the ‘loser guy gets unexpected inheritance and things are complicated.’

The story of KHR focuses on Sawada Tsunayoshi who is introduced as so terrible at everything his nickname is Dame(Useless/No-good)-Tsuna.

And then he gets the ‘Greateat Hitman in the World’ Reborn sprung on him as a mafia tutor as he’s the last remaining heir candidate for the Vongola as Nono’s three sons are dead. Tsuna is understandably disbelieving as Reborn looks like he’s two or so. Reborn then introduces Tsuna to the Dying Will Bullet which unlocks his ‘Dying Will’ based on his ‘last regrets.’ Basically Flame Superpower with special color-coordinated properties which are explained later in series.

Reborn basically steamrolls over everyone for shenanigans. Tsuna gains friends in the Daily Life arc, notably Gokudera Hayato and Yamamoto Takeshi. Tsuna gains other friends and house-guests/dependents and of the greatest import is Lambo Bovino who has a bazooka that can cause whoever was hit by it to change places with their future self for five minutes. Not the wisest thing to give to a five year-old child okay? Reborn engages in shenanigans for about a year and some months.

And then we get Rukudo Mukuro kidnapping one of Tsuna’s ‘acquired dependents’ due to said dependent’s powers. Anyway, Mukuro’s introduced into things, KHR acquires a genre shift from gag to shonen. Mukuro is a former human experiment of the Estraneo and more or less spent the five years after slaughtering his way out of the Estraneo by killing mafia famiglias. For which he got tossed into the Mafia Prison, Vindicare which is run by the Vindici who are the mafia boogeymen; think Dementor like, wrapped in bandages, cool chain techniques and fancy top hats. Tsuna ends up fighting Mukuro and wins due to shonen power-up. The Vongola’s reputation as the ‘largest, bloodiest and most powerful Famiglia built on an empire of sin and suffering’ is mentioned here. Also because this is shonen, overpowered teenagers is a thing and so Mukuro is like a year or so older than Tsuna.

Then a month later, we get the Varia showing up. Which is the Vongola’s elite assassination division. Which is what Xanxus is in charge of. Xanxus is Nono’s ‘son’ that he took in from the streets due to manifesting his Flames young. Xanxus ended up getting raised as a possible Decimo canidate, was considered a much better choice than his ‘brothers’ and ended up in charge of the Varia because Squalo -who had taken over the Varia by killing the previous Head- decided to follow him. Xanxus leads a coup against his father -the narrative implies different things depending on perspective and how deep you read into it, the characters and the arc- and so like a great father, Nono decides to freeze his ‘son’ in the Vongola Secret Technique for years.

You can image that the relationship there is not the greatest. For reasons.

Anyway because both Xanxus and Tsuna are seen as ‘candidates’ and have been ‘nominated’ by the two people who’s votes matter in the means of Vongola Family Succession: That would be Nono Vongola aka Timoteo Vongola and Sawada Iemitsu, the CEDEF Boss and Outside Advisor. Both nominate their respective ‘children’ for Crazy Vongola Tradition. Anyway the Crazy Vongola Tradition is known as a Ring Battle.

Because of course, jewelry decides who gets to rule the Family. It helps to understand that the jewelry also amplifies Flame Superpower. So the rules go ‘whoever gets the most Rings becomes Decimo.’

As Izzy doesn’t wish to spoil the series, Izzy will stop here.

Recommendation:

Izzy says read about the first twenty chapters of the manga and wiki the other characters. Just a word of warning, the art style the first 100-chapters is a bit rougher than the rest of the series and ugly in comparison to later chapters. Mukuro hits the scene like chapter 61 and the Varia about twenty chapters after. So the art is still rough.

As another word of warning, the Reborn-wiki is not the best source to gain all your information from as some things are still off about it. At least they’ve ‘fixed’ things so that they no longer say that the Varia’s ‘all male’ instead of ‘no female members have been shown’ with a touch of ‘lack of confirmation about which gender Mammon is.’ Which is true in the anime but less so in the manga. Chapter 134, like last page. Is it really that hard to find and verify a character who is wearing lipstick, has long hair and an openly worn jacket with three-quarter sleeves as female? It’s like the last page and Izzy doubts that they can’t find a scanlation or physical copy of it. Sure it’s only one panel but a picture speaks a thousand words.

It’s not like this is totally non-binary and possible trans erasure because of Lussuria anyway. Luss who has canonically asked Varia Minions to refer to him as ‘big sis.’ And they did.

#Izzy answers #Black Sky

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revivedxfighter · 7 years

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Mafia AU

Harmony Halcyon, that name seems ill-fitting for the young woman. She grew up in a world of privilege, but that lifestyle is bought by blood money. Her father, Lucas Halcyon, was once a soldier in his youth. His skill in being a sniper earned him the attention of the Sinistros, a gang notorious in their work in assassinations. They are the experts of making anyone “disappear” for a price.

In times of hardships with little hope for employment, Lucas agreed to accept the Sinistros’ offer. He became a successful hitman, always getting the job done and never leave a trace. From then on, Lucas was called Ombra, a man who sneaks in the shadows and kill with darkness as his ally. Harmony is aware of her father’s work and she never approved of what he and the others do. Unfortunately, she could never desert the Sinistros. They’re all “family,” but if anyone ran away and squeal on them, that person would “disappear” as well. Loyal is everything to them.

Aside from their dealings of kidnappings and assassinations, The Sinistros also own a cabaret nightclub called the Palais Bleu. The members appear as distinguished club owners to the public, though there was stray rumors that the Sinistros is one of the mafia families. This is where the family convene in private areas to discuss business with partners and clients. Although Harmony is shy and does her best to be proper, she has a different side of her. She dons her stage name, Miss Stellae Luminis, a singer and dancer who performs three nights per week. This is where Harmony sets herself free from the restraints of the mafia lifestyle, and expectations. She’s someone else who is bold, always willing to take a chance and have fun, at least for a little while.

Unlike the FFVII/main verse, Harmony has no prosthetic. Her dark hair is longer, reaching to the middle of her back. She has been raised to be a dignified lady, but always be ready to defend herself. After all, the Sinistros have enemies with other gangs and families. She always styles her bangs over her left eye to hide her eye patch. An accident left Harmony blind in her left eye. Target practice gone wrong. She was fourteen years old. All it took was a stray bullet. Everyone was thankful that Harmony survived, but the loss of her right eye leaves her humiliated, concealing the grisly reminder.

Though Harmony is kind and compassionate, she wouldn’t let anyone walk all over her. She attacks swiftly and with grace. Even a lady has give a hit when there’s no other option. However, she is not proud of who she associates with and longs to be free. Even in a life of luxury, Harmony can’t accept that came from claiming unsuspecting souls who cross the paths of the Sinistros and their clients.

#ooc #new AU #Mafia!AU #will be tagged as Mafia!Harm #1920's AU #added a bit of something as a nod to Moulin Rouge

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sasorikigai · 1 year

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Have y’all watched the new John Wick trailer OMG. I’m dying over this look, and I really think his character is gonna die after fighting Wick.

#✗ the ineffable testimony of spawned hellfire (scorpion)#✗ ugly syllables of conjured vindictive crimson (modern au)#✗ undaunted intensity of solar flare (old guard au)#✗ there is a bullet for everyone (assassin/hitman verse)#(john wick 4)#(this is such a look)

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sasorikigai · 2 years

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JUST LOOK AT HIM.

#✗ the ineffable testimony of spawned hellfire (scorpion)#✗ there is a bullet for everyone (assassin/hitman verse)#(bullet train)#(I can't fucking wait for this movie)

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sasorikigai · 2 years

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❝ so much to do today: kill memory, kill pain, turn heart into a stone, and yet prepare to live again. ❞ ( Assassin!Ryou preparing to fullfill the contract like)

misc poetry sentence starters || @sonxflight || accepting

💥 || Everything Hanzo Hasashi does right now could potentially ripple outward and affect not only Ryou Sakai, but of their shared world and beyond. His posture can shine his heart or transmit anxiety, which became long naught after perpetual wrath and vengeance settled into his bones. His breath can radiate intense, vigorous love or muddy the room in brooding melancholy. His glance can awaken joy, or ominous frigidness of death’s cruelty. Perhaps their hearts were not connected through harmony alone; they are, instead, linked deeply through their wounds. Pain linked to pain, fragility to fragility. For their mercilessness had not originated without a ravaging cry of grief. There must be no forgiveness without bloodshed, no acceptance without a passage through acute loss, and no silence without dismantling themselves asunder in an all-consuming surge of depression and despair.

Perhaps in a way dawn turns to dusk, everything that they are were meant to dissolve into a dark abyss; for they are everything and nothing at all once. Hanzo knows, he could be an unyielding, strong current and then he still could be a dried up creek that was once a babbling brook. His existence was smashed into a million tiny pieces while he pretended to exist as a whole heart rather than the tiny pieces shattered all around. In the cold empty pressurized air of the firearm, they call to violence.

“Isn’t this how we become undone? Leading us to calamities beyond our most horrible nightmares, but also euphoria that only gods have tasted? What we wouldn’t do for this power, to right the past wrongs, to rekindle old flames or to escape the nightmares of our own creation. Nothing can be undone, so we must move forward and find our continued path towards tomorrow by being caught in this ouroboros.” It is a soliloquy meant to be heard only by his beloved; for Ryou has seen what Hanzo has seen, and tasted the bitter, humiliating saltiness of his tears. As he continues to sink into the perilousness and obscurity of his profession’s attire and accoutrements, the erupting blaze of his eyes seem to paint the viscerality of what is about to enfold. Beneath their entropy of time and history, they will continue to trudge and wade through the labyrinth of paths untraveled.

And then he closes his eyes, and everything starts to fade to a shaded of black, bended with the lingering sun’s orange light penetrating his eyelids; Light in his life still exists, and so does Hanzo Hasashi. He can still hope for that precise moment when he opens his eyes, he can truly enjoy the light. But for now, he will watch it and bask beneath the diminishing luminescence behind his closed eyes. “Were we even born pure, for we endured so much in the company of cruelty and evil? For us to grow pure, I would gladly become the evil, by vanquishing every evil that threatens our world.”

So Hanzo will continue to brush with death like a lover and in turn, deliver death to the others. For she smiles coyly at him; smoky eyes turned down at him with hunger and pity. Sometimes, vertigo consumes his senses, for she beckons him to stay. The sickened temptation may be there, for her presence makes dread tie into knots in his chest. So he retaliates and reciprocates such promise of looming oblivion as freedom from reality’s ennui and damnation, akin to freeing of his own soul from entangled subconscious. Death will continue to be his muse and his keeper in void, and he will return to her ad infinitum through his own will or otherwise. 💥 ||

Death is simultaneously his and his victim’s reward.

#✗ the ineffable testimony of spawned hellfire (scorpion)#✗ ugly syllables of conjured vindictive crimson (modern au)#✗ there is a bullet for everyone (assassin/hitman verse)#✗ epitome of sunlight (ryou sakai || sonxflight)#(hanryou)#sonxflight

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sasorikigai · 2 years

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Any modern verse Hanzo (Commander, Immortal, and/or Assassin) could be identified as a tactical athlete, a term used to describe police, fire, and military personnel who is essentially a person who must rely on their body as the foundational piece of equipment to protect the lives of others. The tactical athlete is different than a typical athlete, because they lack a competitive “season” and therefore, have no off-season. So instead of training for a specific goal or event, a tactical athlete like him must be ready for anything at any time. In other words, Hanzo Hasashi is training persistently and constantly for PEAK SUSTAINABILITY; being at the highest level of performance in all areas of fitness 365 days of the year.

In order to sustain his peak sustainability, Hanzo must be on top of his STRESS MANAGEMENT: his stress response is significantly high, so he must program his training so he could manage these four things. He must 1) know when to drive the sympathetic nervous system vs. parasympathetic nervous and using strategies to facilitate both, 2) ensure proper recovery between high CNS sessions (strength-focused, while he considers himself not a powerlifter, he has to be strong enough in dealing with tactical hostage situations), separating anaerobic power work by a minimum of 3 days, 3) using low-skill methods to drive high-skill methods, lending itself to #2 and acting as a bridge between higher-demand training sessions, and 4) building recoverability through aerobic function, which he does more than enough with his morning runs and his own regimen outside of what’s professionally required. For more aerobic fitness equates to enhanced ability to recover both in and outside of the training session, and improved tolerance to stress.

Aerobic conditioning, in essentiality, is the entire foundation of training and it’s critical to build a bulletproof, athletic athlete that’s ready to go at a moment’s notice. The caveat is that Hanzo already knows that his anaerobic performance is limited and largely based on genetics; without enhancement, he cannot build such bulky, large muscles, and he is fine with building exceptionally strong aerobic fitness.

#✗ obsessive cathartic (headcanon)#✗ the ineffable testimony of spawned hellfire (scorpion)#✗ ugly syllables of conjured vindictive crimson (modern au)#✗ undaunted intensity of solar flare (old guard au)#✗ there is a bullet for everyone (assassin/hitman verse)

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sasorikigai · 2 years

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Mapping out your lover's features while they sleep in your arm, smoothing your thumbs down their cheeks, throat, collarbones, chin and nose. + Protecting your lover's sleep as they doze, making sure nobody bothers them as they entrusted their peace to you. ( Assassins AU, in honor of the recent trailer :^) )

Meaningful Gestures Prompts || @sonxflight || accepting

12. Mapping out your lover's features while they sleep in your arm, smoothing your thumbs down their cheeks, throat, collarbones, chin and nose.

24. Protecting your lover's sleep as they doze on your lap, making sure nobody bothers them as they entrusted their peace to you.

💥 || His perpetual grief and sorrow is born from the silence of deepening midnights, with a primordial motif of his heavy scarring in his chest. Beneath the somber austerity of the renowned assassin with a tenebrously dark and intense gaze with an equally vehement feature of a man who still oozes melancholic skies of his soul and miserable dreams of the past... as vicious cycle of his subconscious turning turmoil inside him, creaking on steadily, as he remains caked with ferrous rust of his scars, both new and recently acquired. How Hanzo Hasashi’s heart beats so obsessively, incessantly, with maddening anger, beyond to the point of suffocation under how strong it thumps. He fears his aorta would spiral out, like tentacles into abysmal nothing. In his telltale dissociative episode where he feels like he’s unfurling and unraveling to naught, the only tangible thing he could rely on is that of his beloved; Ryou Sakai’s solid, strong form encased in the tenacious stronghold of his chiseled arm.

For far too long, Hanzo Hasashi had denied himself of love, or better, giving all of his loyalty to someone. Love was what he unconsciously sought, but he had always thought that it is loyalty in which survives through the trials and tribulations. For loyalty is invaluable, and he thinks it’s stronger than love. He aspires for power, so it must be loyalty he hunts for in his precarious profession, while he could very much become the vulnerable prey. Except, the strongest loyalty for him is his love, which is unconditional, but demanding and rarely given. But Ryou Sakai, with his unchanging righteousness and justice, had long managed to carve his name into Hanzo’s soul, and imprinted his presence even in his absence.

In the cold-hearted and vicious tempest of Hanzo Hasashi’s wrath, the riotous waters of violence had long been settled into an unperturbable ocean, as the troubled waves no longer crest with creatures lurking in their depths. How rare tranquil peace sails like the dark veil of a quieted city, despite the shattered remnants of an intense battle continue to expose them, thus making them vulnerable to additional assaults. Fear may wildly bloom, craning for the hardened sky of Hanzo’s conscious, spilling over the walls of his sinking exhaustion, spilling judgment on himself. With a recently fully loaded rifle, glock, and his heirloom katana all arranged near him, with a bloodstained firearm glued to his free arm, Hanzo closes his eyes, and lets this image of a swarm of sweaty, deranged assassins closing in on them both, with stares that pound his brain, as flurries of stretching images stain the once-sacred apartment they used to share.

With his gaze as pure bottled sunshine, Hanzo’s warm, evermore amber eyes trace the familiar feature of his beloved. As if Ryou Sakai is a mosaic who is incomplete without his mending caress, as the mellow contour of his long fingers map the coordinates as they sail with such intimacy and purpose. How he remains filled with desire and ecstasy, as the craved delicateness pushes back Ryou’s loose strands of hair, obstructing his view. Soon, the pads of his fingers would mold, as if he is Pygmalion putting finish touches of Galatea’s sculpted form. They are natural, like they were always mean to be, and perhaps, even as he satiates his wanton want, he would weave this reflection of them in this shattered, annihilated world. For Hanzo Hasashi’s power manifests as he comes into a recreated and revivified being, despite having lived the last act of a dying life, through his catalytic development as the vigilante of night. 💥 ||

#✗ the ineffable testimony of spawned hellfire (scorpion)#✗ there is a bullet for everyone (assassin/hitman verse)#✗ epitome of sunlight (ryou sakai || sonxflight)#(hanryou)#(please PLEASE let them be allies)#(at least don't let Sanada's char die in like 5 min)#(I can't. with their exquisite chemistry and their dominating screen presence)#(I want 47 ronin all over again and MUCH BETTER)#sonxflight

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sasorikigai · 2 years

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Another legendary actor in Asian cinema, Hiroyuki Sanada will be reunited with Keanu Reeves after their last work together in 47 Ronin. Shimazu (Hiroyuki Sanada’s character) can be seen fighting in the trailer, but he seems to be fighting for Wick's side as he's facing off against Caine (Donnie Yen’s character). He also gives a narration that seems to be trying to reason with John, to convince him that this quest for vengeance and bloodlust is only going to end in more pain and torment. Perhaps Shimazu is right and John should find a quiet and desolate part of the world and finally give himself some time to grieve, but even if John doesn't heed his apparent ally's warnings,

hopefully, Shimazu will still remain on the side of our hero.

#✗ breathing iron and rust (outofkombat)#✗ the ineffable testimony of spawned hellfire (scorpion)#✗ there is a bullet for everyone (assassin/hitman verse)#(john wick 4)#(I will talk A LOT about John Wick and Bullet Train as I'm super excited for these movies)#(I HOPE THIS IS TRUE)

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sasorikigai · 2 years

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🧳+✨ ( Hitman AU tho :v )

☾Moonlight Aesthetic Starters☽ || @sonxflight || accepting

(🧳) My muse is getting ready for work but your muse stops mine.

⋆To reverse, send ‘+✨’

💥 || Some people will destroy him unintentionally; when his past love became naught, and he sees his beloved fracture, he understands the telltale flinch of his heart and lungs. Eyes shut, the inevitable end becoming less like a closed book, but more like a slippery glass that falls from a slick hand and shattering in a marble sink. Hanzo Hasashi finds himself climbing out of earth in this familiar realm between unconscious and wakefulness; his forearms tattooed with ferrous crimson, in once-clutched hands unfurling, revealing emptying of his forgiveness. Still drowned in the violence of salt in wounds, in this soft lull of tides where the winds of the morning meet the darkening shore of his heart, lest the resplendent radiance thaws him into light.

Perhaps hope is the light at the end of the tunnel, but sometimes too much hope becomes a dangerous thing; sometimes it’s the thing with feathers, and sometimes it’s the thing with claws. What is love, if not an intertwining of blood? Whether it be the inevitable exsanguination leading towards irreversible death, or a surging torrents of sanguine, fibrillating his heart and his entirety as the clarity of catastrophe - not the actual catastrophe - manifests upon the raw viscerality of his emotions and how he carries himself. Despite him and his beloved sharing the same space and universe, Hanzo Hasashi finds himself carrying his loneliness so close to him, that sometimes he cannot even breathe, with a bitter taste of yearning always on his lips, a thread of longing running through his ribs, exacerbating the sensation with each gentle exhale.

It seems that he cannot ever reach for Ryou Sakai, so he must remain aching and reminisce - how it once felt to be wrapped in an embrace, lest he had offered the stronghold of his chiseled arms towards Harumi, whom he could not protect. There is an indescribable entanglement of emotions stuffed into the marrow of his bones; he knows it’s there, for it burns him asunder from the inside out. All he could do in this lethargic state is for him to lie and wait for a break devastating enough for them to leak out like spilled blood from his torniqueted wound, coloring his skin with bruises and soaking his mind in ash.

Amidst trudging through the isolated road of his past, Hanzo Hasashi’s soul aches - beneath the seeping radiance of the break of dawn and the gentle rustle of his beloved getting ready for his work - as he feels the grating sensation of a bone-deep hollowing. Melancholia have infested his bloodstream and eroding him paper-thin. He feels nothing, but the full ache of loss, and despite knowing he shouldn’t ever feel this way - the logical part of his brain says this too shall pass, and that he’s had moments much worse and severe. But it still aches, and he aches, and he desperately finds himself staunch the flood of tears that will deluge beneath his closed lids and fluttering lashes.

“I don’t want to tell you how lonely I feel sometimes; laying in bed when the sky is splitting above me, shapes and colors warping the reality in unison with my broken being, lines and lines touching my blood and brain, deepest tissues and deepest fears,” sleep-laden and gravelled, the somber timbre of his voice resonates quietly, carrying candor genuineness and intensity. Soon, the brushing of fingers ebb and flow through the atmosphere, as his saturated chestnut eyes wave a salty, alluring sea of great distance away. Hanzo’s grip lingers on Ryou’s leg, wanting to be entangled in the smoldering torches of their warmth, burning away the abomination of what damaged, traumatized mind could continue to conjure.

“I find myself going through the days where I feel like I’m going through a long eternity of grief; the sky in my life turning gray, with persistent pouring deluge of rain, as despair desperately clawing its way out of my throat. Letting go sounds absolutely fucking terrifying, but I know it will end my unending suffering. I need your help to hold such heaviness, to simply deal with demolished memories scattered everywhere, amidst destruction and ruin and all these fucking ugliness.” 💥 ||

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