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cryo-regalia · 2 years

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memory 14 : promise

memories of the unknown raise more questions than answers. some are just too hard to swallow.

— characters : link

— themes : gender neutral reader, implied romance, angst / no comfort, spoiler-free, tiny (dried) blood mention.

— notes : angst? in my domain?? more likely than you think!

LINK SPENT COUNTLESS YEARS training his body, mind, and soul to prepare himself for the coming days, to prove himself worthy of a position within their ranks rather than some idealistic kid way in over his head. He still assisted with the household chores assigned to him and helping the people of Hateno when they couldn’t handle the task themselves, from carrying heavy objects and delivering packages to warding off and defeating monsters that were too close to the village for comfort. The rest of the day, meanwhile, was usually covered in sweat and spent with a weapon in hand and a clumsily crafted training dummy supported by a wooden stake stabbed into the ground. He could feel eyes on his back as he readied himself and to others it may have made them nervous, but they only steeled him further whether they realized it or not.

And yet the impossible task he expected to be faced with wasn’t anything close to what he imagined and told himself not to fret about. It wasn’t caring for a nasty injury during training or against another bokoblin, a tear in his makeshift armor, or explaining to his baffled father why he was climbing up the side of the ravine soaking wet with his training dummy between his teeth after he put a bit too much strength behind his strike that it went flying into the water. It wasn’t even the anxiety that came with leaving the place and person he considered home to get to Hyrule Castle. It had been meeting the eyes of the one person he cared for more than anything. He expected to see hurt and betrayal—and honestly, he kind of deserved it—but he didn’t think he’d be able to handle it if it meant his resolve would crumble.

Instead he stared up at the sky above like it was the greatest thing in the world and refused to look away. Who was he kidding? The greatest thing in the world was the person laying beside him, and the same one he feared disappointing. Stars were sprinkled about and gleamed around the moon that hung high in the abyss of darkness overhead, blissfully unaware of the imposing Calamity looming in the horizon. It was moments like these that he cherished, even if his sister tattled on him and he got chewed out for sneaking out to watch the stars above with his best friend late at night. Not that it would stop him anytime soon if it meant he could see their smile. He enjoyed it, enjoyed them, too much to stop going if he could. Unfortunately, his burrowed excitement reminded him, being in the guard would prevent these moments.

“So...The royal guard, huh?”

Link slowly bobbed his head.

“That’s great. You must be so pumped.” More silence. “When do you leave?”

“In a couple of days,” he revealed. His voice betrayed the confidence he intended to display as he shifted his arms to act as pillows behind his head. “Malon’s letting me stay with her at Lon Lon if I can’t make it to the castle before dark.”

“Epona will enjoy being back there for sure.”

Link hummed in agreement, but it was so quiet that he almost questioned if he did at all. As if doing the same and eavesdropping on their conversation, an excited whinny sounded from the stables built beside his house and followed by additional calls from their ponies. The person beside him snorted and burst into an abrupt fit of laughter much less contained than his but loud in the silent air of the night all the same. His shoulders bounced and his upturned lips forced his eyes into crescents that slightly blurred his vision that was already hazy out of exhaustion and if it wasn’t for his anxieties, he might have fallen asleep in the grass already. He purposefully held his breath to silence himself as best as possible despite his trembling body while they attempted to muffle themself with their hand.

After several long minutes of smiles and laughter, they released a long breath. “I’m gonna miss this.”

Link finally turned his attention towards them, gaze moving from the endless expanse of the sky to the field of grass that made up the mountain next to his family’s property and one side of Hateno. If they both weren’t so tired, they could have gone up to the top of Ebon Mountain and dipped their feet in the water. He tipped his head slightly and blinked a couple times to signal his confusion, something they picked up on immediately if the downtrodden expression didn’t say enough. They shimmied a bit closer and shifted onto their side, fingers brushing against the rough and scarred palms of his hand until they linked. They watched one another for who knew how long before they rested their head on his shoulder and their eyes fluttered shut.

He looked back up to the sky before he could start staring and only then realized that he had been holding his breath.

“Laying like this,” they whispered, but their close proximity made it as clear as day. “Watching the stars, riding together, being with you.”

“I’ll visit,” Link immediately promised. He wasn’t even thinking when he said it, but didn’t think it was a bad thing. “As much as I can, and we can do this again. I’m not going away forever.”

“You better not,” they huffed, lightheartedly. “Besides, you gotta remember me when you’re famous and doing royal guard stuff.”

A thick brow rose. How could he not remember them? It was almost laughable, but only the corner of his lips twitched in a semi-successful attempt at biting it back.

“I will.”

His body flew upward with a sharp intake of breath until he was hunched over himself, but it took him several seconds to realize such. Not that it or the fact his body moved without him giving it the command to do so mattered or lingered in his thoughts. The same face flashed across his sight again and again with a variety of emotions that made his heart flutter and his stomach sink in the same breath. From smiles to frowns, from bright laughter to despaired wailing. His body told him to act, to fix whatever was wrong and to join in whatever it was that made them happy, but he didn’t know how. They looked over their shoulder to him with a warm and breathtaking smile that finally gave meaning to the word home. For once, it was as if someone was looking past the fragmented pieces of Hyrule’s needed hero and saw the boy beneath it and liked it. Liked him.

He leapt forward and reached out towards them with an unfamiliar desperation, only to vanish into nothingness and drop him back into reality. A word sat on his dry tongue, heavy and important, but his mind struggled to decipher it. That wasn’t anything new and it was possible it was also due to his own exhaustion, but that didn’t mean it didn’t bother him any less than it did before. He slowly retracted his hand and looked down at his palm, flexing his fingers like he’d be able to feel their hand in his or that it would have brought them back to him. He brought it down to the ground with the other and curled them into the grass and dirt he knelt against. He squeezed his eyes shut, grit his teeth, and dropped his head until disheveled puffs of blonde hair free of the tie it was usually kept it slipped over his shoulders and around his face like a curtain.

His body trembled and yet he couldn’t understand why. His breath came and left far too quickly, as if he was out of breath and trying to grasp for oxygen before he ran out of what stamina he had left. His body slowly eased with time he didn’t bother in keeping track of, but could still feel a tension in his shoulders and a shakiness in his limbs whenever he wasn’t putting force on them that sometimes came in the form of an abrupt jolt. The realization of something cold smeared across his cheeks came with the gentle breeze and his eyes flew open, habit setting so fast he didn’t need to think or give himself a set of commands. Link swiped his fingers across his skin and blinked away the blurriness of his vision that he wanted to chalk up to exhaustion if it wasn’t for the strange wetness, only to stare down at a clear liquid mixed with dried blood and tears.

Tears? Link pushed himself up until he was kneeling and no longer had to use his arms to support himself, repeating his motion across the scarred and bruised skin to be met with a near identical sight. No matter how many times he tried to wipe it away, eventually using the cloth around his wrists in an attempt to clear it faster instead of his dampened fingers, it continued to pour without end and against his wishes for it to stop. When was the last time he cried? Unhelpful but upsettingly accurate, his mind supplied him with the instances of the droplets and ethereal blue wisps. Some part of him expected Epona—Who? Who’s Malon? Where’s Lon Lon?—to nudge his arm with her nose and whinny in her own way of checking in on him, but was met with a silent loneliness that had become commonplace in him.

Vanquishing the thoughts as best as he possibly could, he reclined until his back was against the grass and he was staring up at the sky above. Stars were sprinkled about and gleamed around the moon that hung high in the abyss of darkness overhead, cruelly subject to the scarlet moon’s cursed graced by the unwelcome Calamity. He didn’t cherish moments like these, left to his thoughts and the reminders of his responsibilities if the distant, wicked calls of monsters didn’t disturb his train of thought. Link let his eyes flutter shut and stayed like that, even when something curled against his side. When he moved his arm around it out of instinct, he was met with thin air.

#°༺ glacial song! :: my works #botw x reader #botw link x reader #link x reader #loz x reader #loz link x reader #breath of the wild x reader #botw link #botw #legend of zelda breath of the wild #loz link #x reader #angst #breath of the wild #gender neutral reader #gender neutral pronouns

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carminite-wyrm · 3 years

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Running Onwards, To The Hope of a New Day (Part 2 of the Time Looping Nyx AU!)

Part 1 can be found here

In which Nyx makes several attempts to keep everyone alive, adds several more things to his to-do list, finds a black market, and learns some new things.

Or, Phoenix Downs Save Lives, More At Ten.

Nyx sighed, flopping back down onto the floor of his room and resting his head on the side of the bed. He was on his sixth loop now, and so far, he’d only managed to learn that keeping Crowe, and everyone else, alive was ridiculously difficult. He’d tried knocking out Luche again in his fourth run, only for Tredd to be the one to kill her, and while Tredd’s aim was a little worse than Luche’s, getting shot in the leg still sucked. He’d attempted to convince her not to take the mission on the fourth and fifth loops, to no avail, as either way she’d think he was being overly worried, or somehow insulting her capabilities.

On that note, keeping everyone else he cared about alive was also proving to be a nearly impossible task. On the fourth run, he’d opted to switch out Luche and Pelna, when they went to recover the Princess, so that hopefully Luche would be the one getting attacked by the octopus daemon.

Pelna had ended up getting backstabbed by Sonitus, that run.

That run had also ended in disaster yet again, though he hadn’t made it past the Princess recovery operation. Because he’d swapped out Luche and Pelna, Nyx had the dubious pleasure of getting a knife through his hand, stunning him just long enough to miss his warp away from the octopus daemon.

At the very least, he’d managed to drag Luche down with him as they fell.

The fifth run had actually turned out a little better, because he’d found out that if he kept Pelna at his side, Nyx could actually warn him fast enough for the man not to die immediately to the octopus daemon. And having Pelna’s assistance turned out to be a very good thing.

The three of them had managed to escape the daemon, and Nyx had tried to convince Pelna and the Princess to escape. Unfortunately, Lunafreya was…incredibly persuasive, and off the three of them went, to try and recover the King, and the Ring.

They got there just in time to see the Princess’ brother put on the Ring once again, and Nyx had managed to get the King, and the others, out of that first room, with the damnable Ring. With Pelna’s assistance, they actually managed to run out to the car, Nyx and Pelna laying barriers in their wake to slow down Glauca. King Regis was still grievously injured though, the Princess doing her best to heal him whilst Pelna took the wheel, and Nyx prepared himself to fend off any attackers.

Unfortunately, they’d only managed to make it a short way before they were beset by Tredd and Luche’s group, and in the ensuing literal firefight, Pelna’d been hit by a bullet. The traitorous Glaives’ attempt to waylay them on their attempt to flee Insomnia was once again interrupted by Petra Fortis, that gate guard that Nyx continued to have very mixed feelings about, but not before Tredd (and of course it was Tredd bloody Furia, the other member of the Kingsglaive besides Crowe to have a great affinity for fire) had managed to hit their car with a fireball, sending them crashing off the bridge.

When Nyx managed to haul himself out of the wreckage, it was to find Pelna unconscious and bleeding out, and the King dying once again, bringing him back to the same damn situation as the first two times.

And so, Nyx had found himself waking up for the sixth time, having died once again from the price of wielding the power of the Lucii.

He still hadn’t figured out how to get Libertus to not leave and join that group of ill-fated rebels, and while he had figured out how to keep Pelna and King Regis alive for longer, events seemed to continue to conspire against them.

And he still didn’t know how to prevent Crowe’s death.

At the very least, he knew for certain that if Luche was the one sent to murder her, he would do it with that handgun of his. Nyx wasn’t sure if he could tamper with that though, considering Luche kept it either in his locker, or on his person, at all times, and Nyx knew he couldn’t get to that locker without raising suspicion.

Nyx tapped his chin thoughtfully. He couldn’t risk telling anyone in the Kingsglaive about his foreknowledge, because the likelihood of one of the traitors or Drautos finding out was too high. And the Crownsguard were…well, to put it bluntly, a bit too xenophobic to pay attention to a refugee who had no actual evidence, beyond his own memories/experiences. He could try getting an audience with the King again, but without an incentive like the Princess’ kidnapping, the likelihood of that working was equally low.

But maybe, he could find a way to increase Crowe’s odds of surviving the ambush. He couldn’t give her any extra equipment from the Kingsglaive armoury, because that would be noticed, but maybe there was some sort of black market in the city? Most cities as large, and with as great a wealth gap, as Insomnia probably had one? Nyx wasn’t certain, but it was worth a try.

And maybe, just maybe, he could put a spanner in the Princess’ kidnapping as well. Her kidnapping was the bait that drew the Kingsglaive out of the city, leaving the Citadel more vulnerable to the attack that would bring the Wall down.

If the Wall remained intact, then the Empire wouldn’t be able to bring in the majority of their forces, including those giant daemons that had wreaked so much destruction. He didn’t really know what happened, exactly, during the signing ceremony itself, though. And there was so much else he also didn’t know, about this whole disaster, especially about that faction Libertus had taken up with, after Crowe’s death.

Nyx sighed, closing his eyes as he realised what he’d have to do, this loop. He knew now that he had the benefit of time, and so long as he made sure he died, everything would reset to just before midday on the 12th. This loop, he just needed to find out everything he could about the faction Libertus would take up with, their location, their numbers, their resources. He needed to know if he would be able to sabotage their efforts to bomb the Citadel, or if it’d be one of the things he’d have to find a way to reveal to the Crownsguard without implicating himself or Libertus.

And for that to happen…he’d have to let Crowe’s death play out as before.

This loop, Nyx decided, steeling his resolve as he headed over to the training area once again, he was going to whatever he needed to do, to get his hands on the information he’d need to make things right. A rebel faction like the one Libertus joined surely had access to a black market of sorts, after all, one wouldn’t be able to put together explosives or those communicators without access to at least some sort of restricted, possibly military-grade, material.

And perhaps he’d also read up on the whole deal with the Lucii, so maybe he would be able to get them onboard with the whole ‘saving lives and stopping the Empire’ thing, without having to sacrifice himself in the process. Their whole thing about setting alight those they deemed unworthy was useful, Nyx had to admit, recalling how it had dealt with Ravus and Luche rather handily, but also it was a pain when the ghosts in the Ring deemed themselves above the plight of the common man, to the point that it had taken Regis’ intervention to even get them to consider hearing him out.

And, now that he thought about it, what was so utterly important about the Prince that King Regis would be willing to sacrifice himself, and his entire city, just so that the kid would be out of harm’s way? There was that prophecy that either King Regis or Lunafreya had mentioned, but Nyx still wasn’t sure what that entailed beyond the Prince being destined to save the world, or something. Regardless, it had to mean something, for both Lunafreya and King Regis to be so adamant that sacrificing the city and themselves was worth it for his safety.

His course of action decided, he silently apologised to both Crowe and Libertus, and everyone else he wouldn’t be able to help this loop.

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Nyx still threw up, upon seeing Crowe’s corpse in the morgue. He knew he could have at least tried, to save her, but- he needed to know what went on, on Libertus’ end of things.

It still hurt, though. No matter the apparent necessity of this loop, and its likely future benefits, his need to protect those he could still rebelled at his decision to accompany Libertus, and abandon everyone else.

At the very least, he could count on the fact that Libertus was pretty much ride-or-die, when it came to vouching for him in front of the (justifiably) suspicious rebels, when Nyx had found himself failing to come up with an actual believable reason for his presence. The ensuing conversations with the rebels, however, had been rather informative. Nyx knew firsthand how refugees were treated in Insomnia by a large portion of its inhabitants, particularly by those who were born and raised in the city. Even though the Kingsglaive had been essential to the war effort against the Empire, the fact it was staffed mostly by refugees – and the majority of them Galahdian – made most of the citizenry a little…frosty, at best, due to the perceived favouritism from the King. And of course, there was the whole matter about how the nobility – and the Crownsguard, by extension, given that a good portion of that organisation was made up of the sons and daughters of Insomnia’s upper classes – believed that the refugees were beneath their notice.

Nyx knew this, but maybe the time he’d spent out at war with Niflheim had dulled his awareness somewhat, to the situation back home. Had there ever been this much vitriol, this much hatred, at Insomnia and its people? Had the King’s name ever been spoken with this much derision? Had his people – his fellow Galahdians – and even the other refugees from the other regions ravaged by the Empire, been this poorly treated by the Insomnians?

He thought back to the initial meeting that he and Libertus had ended up at, how, as an introduction, they’d all gone around sharing why they were here, in the backroom of a dingy abandoned arcade, planning to bring down the Lucian government.

“My brother died in a daemon attack when the Lucian military pulled out of Cleigne.”

“We lost our homes when the government had them demolished to make way for a new overpass.”

“I lost my job, because some rich upper-class fucker thought that the restaurant’s dishes shouldn’t be cooked by ‘some uneducated backwater savage’.”

“My mother’s cousin was stabbed last week, and the Crownsguard refused to investigate it further because ‘it was probably just a mugging gone wrong’. As if every trash-filled back alleyway was home to criminals, rather than the poor and downtrodden.”

Honestly, at this point, Nyx actually felt kind of bad about the fact that he was going to use the information he got in a later run to stop them.

But he knew that the explosives they would set off would allow the Empire to take the Crystal, which in turn would damn the entire city to being razed by both daemons and the Empire’s soldiers. Nyx really did understand know, why the rebels would consider such drastic actions, understood that the peace treaty was seen as the final betrayal of all the promises that the King had made, understood that at that point, the only way forward, in the eyes of the rebels, was to take matters into their own hands.

But knowing the consequences of their actions…he had to stop them.

He found himself, a short while later after the rebels had all begun to disperse so that they could work on their various tasks, hovering awkwardly in a room that had been converted into a makeshift workshop. From what he’d been told, these rebels didn’t seem to be associated with the traitorous Kingsglaive members, but considering how Libertus was still discussing matters with this group’s leader, and how small this group was, Nyx bet that they didn’t trust him fully just yet.

“So, forgive me for asking, but this stuff doesn’t seem…it doesn’t look like you’d be able to get this from a hardware store.” Nyx commented, staring at the charges one of the rebels was preparing.

“Well, obviously,” The man shrugged. “You’d be surprised, what you can get from the old merchant in the back alleyway. Couple of leftover demolition explosives, from the last time a condemned building actually got demolished. Honestly, the only part of this that we’ve gotten from uh…outside sources…would be the communicators, and the money to buy the explosives.”

“…Do you think this…old merchant of yours…sells potions?” Nyx inquired, as casually as he could.

The rebel squinted at him, and Nyx quietly hoped he hadn’t pushed too quickly. Libertus was having an easier time ingratiating with the group, probably because his anger was all too genuine, whereas Nyx knew his silence was probably leaving everyone suspicious of him, even with Lib vouching for him.

“What do you need them for?”

“I just…I want to be prepared, in case someone- someone gets injured, or hurt.” Nyx admitted, putting in just the slightest tinge of the depression he felt whenever he thought about all the times one or more of his friends had died, of all the times he had failed, over the past few loops.

The rebel’s eyes widened, and Nyx realised that the other man probably had just made the (logical) leap of understanding that Nyx was thinking about Crowe, about his sister in all but blood who had recently died (yet again). Libertus had not been quiet about the fact that her death was the cause of their change in allegiances. The rebel visibly softened, before patting Nyx on the shoulder and giving him directions.

As it turned out, the black-market dealer not only dealt potions and explosives, but also all other sorts of legal and illegal merchandise. Quite frankly, Nyx wasn’t sure how this guy hadn’t been caught yet, considering that not only was most of his catalogue was kept in the same graffiti-covered garage, but also, he travelled around in the shadiest van Nyx had ever seen.

Nyx stared at the array of very illegal weaponry that was on display along one of the garage’s wall panels, before turning his attention to the rack of various curatives. There were a few potions, and he even managed to find a high elixir amongst them, even if the bottle was a little cracked and leaking the magic-infused liquid into its haphazard plastic wrapping.

But what caught his attention next, was a tiny box in the back of the curative rack, one that had the slightest sparks of a phoenix down emanating from it. He picked it up, and opened it, half-expecting it only to be some sort of clever fake. But no, there was a small downy feather resting inside the box, barely a quarter of the size of a regular phoenix down, but somehow, he could tell that the magic within it was as potent as normal.

“…How much does this one cost?” He asked.

The dealer laughed, shrugging. “Five thousand gil.”

Nyx winced. That was…almost a third of his current savings. He could purchase at least ten potions with that money, or even two extra knives for Crowe. And technically, he could buy even more for a cheaper price if he went outside the Wall, to maybe an outpost in Leide or Duscae, but there was no way he’d be able to just skip out of the city in a future loop, not when the Kingsglaive would be ordered to remain within, until the Princess was kidnapped.

Damn the fact that anything stronger than a regular potion was only available in Insomnia via the military, and even then, they were highly regulated. Potions wouldn’t save Crowe, if only because Nyx knew she took at least four of them with her on that mission.

“I’ll think about it.” Nyx finally said, putting down the box. He wouldn’t be needing that in this loop, that was for certain.

He now knew where this rebel group was located, knew their leader, knew how they were getting their supplies, beyond collaborating with the Empire. He had also come to the realisation that there were at least another two or three cells, with at least one of them likely in collaboration with the traitor Glaives, after Libertus let slip later that night that he had participated in ‘a meeting with the other leaders of this rebellion’. Nyx had tried to get further details from him, but Libertus had just shrugged and said that it wasn’t important.

He still didn’t know if the rebels would have been half as successful without Libertus’ information (and hadn’t it stung, to learn just how much information on the Citadel, and all their truly loyal brothers and sisters in the Glaive, Libertus had been willing to share), but Nyx figured that was a problem for a future loop. He’d figure out how to convince Libertus to stay. One day.

And now, he had just half a day before the signing ceremony, half a day with which to do research on the other thing he wanted to learn about, this loop. Namely, that Prophecy that both Lunafreya and King Regis had mentioned. Somehow, Nyx had the feeling that it was important, but he had no idea how or why it was. And considering that this loop, there was no chance he’d be able to even start digging up proof of Drautos’ treachery, or that of the other Glaives like Luche and Tredd, he might as well see whether he could get at least some background information on that.

The City Library turned out to be practically useless. Oh sure, there was a book on the Cosmogony, which didn’t actually talk about any sort of prophecy, but all it did talk about a King chosen by the Astrals to ‘see through a coming disaster’. And he assumed that disaster had something to do with that last passage in the book, which he gathered (after a good hour trying to parse through the flowery phrasing) talked about some sort of apocalyptic plague of darkness? There was nothing actually specific though, just passages that he assumed was well-known information amongst the more religious folks of Insomnia.

Nyx was starting to regret not paying much attention to the main religion in the city before this.

He spent the rest of the loop, before following Libertus to see where these rebels would be setting their charges, nursing a headache, as he tried to figure out how exactly this was all related to the Empire invading Insomnia. In the end, he opted to just, focus on the more immediate problems he had. He had his hands full anyways, trying to stop the deaths of his friends, and the destruction of Insomnia, pretty much all on his own.

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Nyx woke up, for the seventh time, and decided that no matter what happened in any of his future loops, he was never, ever dying again to a hail of bullets. Sure, he may or may not have intentionally stepped in front of that one guy, the rebel leader that had taken a shine to Libertus rather quickly, but…once was more than enough.

He swung himself out of bed, absently rubbing the centre of his chest, where he swore he could still feel the phantom impact of the bullets, along with the by-now-expected mild burning sensation that accompanied every awakening to a new loop. He had about ten minutes before Libertus would call him about meeting up at the training building, and he needed to figure out how exactly he was going to play things this time around.

It was…surprisingly easy to sneak through the alleyways to get to the black-market dealer, that night, and Nyx quickly handed over the required amount of gil for the phoenix down. Absently, he noted that there was a stack of demolition-grade explosives badly hidden in one corner. He quickly rushed back to his flat, trying to think of anything else he could give Crowe that wouldn’t arouse to much suspicion from any of the traitors or his technically-allies. An extra elixir? Nyx wasn’t certain how much help that would be, but well, more curatives certainly never hurt anyone.

Crowe still disappeared, on that mission.

He did notice Luche limping around though, one arm clearly injured, some new bandages peeking out from under his collar.

Good to know that Crowe had, at the very least, given Luche hell.

The trip to the morgue…was perplexing, to say the least. This time, there was an actual guard around the room, and when Libertus inevitably burst in, they only saw the faintest glimpse of a charred arm, before they were both tugged back outside by the combined efforts of Drautos and Pelna.

He tried to convince Libertus to stay, once again. This time, he emphasised the fact that they didn’t know for certain that Crowe was dead, that maybe she was still alive, why else would they try to stop them from seeing her? And Libertus knew Nyx had given Crowe a phoenix down, and an extra potion. Surely Crowe couldn’t be dead, she was far too strong to die.

Libertus still left, leaving Nyx clenching his Kingsglaive emblem in his hand.

Looked like the phoenix down wasn’t enough. Not on its own.

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Two days later, when the Glaive deployed to rescue Lunafreya, Nyx found himself revising his words. Slightly.

He’d tampered with the hairpin beforehand, having spent several of the prior loops figuring out exactly where the tracker was placed, and whether he could actually remove the component that allowed the Niflheim forces to track it, whilst still keeping the part that let him know where it was located. It had been…finicky work, to say the least, and it hadn’t worked out before, but Nyx was fairly confident that this time would be the one. He’d left the part he thought was the daemon-attracting one in Luche’s apartment, because Nyx was, at the end of the day, absolutely down to cause that man as much grief as he could before he could kill him with no consequences. And, just before they had prepared to leave, he’d packed some extra curatives, because he guessed that even if he failed to prevent the daemons from swarming them all later, he could at least help keep Pelna and the King alive for longer.

The rescue mission went just about as Nyx had expected, having continued with his plan to keep Pelna alive, because having extra allies never hurt anyone. What he hadn’t expected, however, was a blast of fire slamming into the octopus daemon, successfully knocking it off the ship that Nyx had managed to get Lunafreya and Pelna into.

He looked for the source of the fire, only for a knife to go sailing through the open door, and Crowe warping with it, a second later. She crumpled onto the deck of the ship, and Nyx vaguely heard Pelna make a strangled exclamation, before cursing as he briefly lost control of the ship.

“Crowe!” Nyx yelled, rushing to her side. “Holy shit, you’re alive!”

“No thanks to that bastard Luche.” Crowe grumbled, voice clearly laced with exhaustion.

There was a burn scar tracing from just under her chin, down to her shoulder, and Nyx belatedly noticed that one sleeve of her tattered jacket was hanging empty.

“…We thought you were dead, Crowe.” Nyx admitted, almost breathless with relief as he pressed an extra elixir into her hand. “Well, at least now we know why they wouldn’t let me and Libertus into the morgue.”

“I’m hard to kill, you know that,” Crowe muttered, looking decidedly better after the elixir. “Though…I probably wouldn’t have made it without that phoenix down you gave me. And even then, it was a bit touch-and-go. I was lucky that a couple of hunters found me, otherwise I would’ve died. If not from blood loss because of Luche’s damn bullet, then from the shock of losing my arm. At least, that’s what the hunters said.”

“Are you sure you’ll be alright? We’re…heading back to Insomnia, because the Princess said we need to recover the King, or else we’re all fucked, basically,” Pelna called out. “I think I’ve got enough control of this thing to give you the opportunity to get off, but the moment we cross the city wall, we’re going to be right in the thick of it.”

“Pelna, I literally ran all this way after the hunters spotted the Imperial ships in the air. I would’ve called you all about Luche being a filthy traitor, except that my comms were all linked to Commander Drautos’, and considering I don’t know how else Luche would’ve known the exact details of my mission in order to ambush me that effectively, I…couldn’t risk it.” Crowe glared at him, straightening up and pulling her knife from out of the ship’s wall. “I’m helping, whether you all like it or not. Speaking of which, where the hell is Libertus?”

“He left the Kingsglaive, after you- I mean, after we thought you died.” Nyx admitted. “I tried to get him to stay but-“

“But it’s Libertus. Probably wanted to take things into his own hands, didn’t he,” Crowe rolled her eyes. “Idiot. But yeah, it does make sense.”

Nyx nodded, silently figuring out whether he had any other methods of communication he could give Crowe in future, now that he knew for certain that the phoenix down actually worked!

Several hours later, Nyx cursed viciously as their car once again went flying off an overpass, this time from an errant missile from an MT Armour that had somehow still managed to catch up to them, even with Fortis’ intervention. When he finally pulled himself from that wreckage, it was to see Pelna’s bloodied face staring up at the sky, his neck bent at an unnatural angle.

“Shit.” Crowe said, as they all hurried into the nearest building with the same damn horde of wasp daemons chasing them, Nyx preparing himself for the inevitable run with the hairpin. “I don’t suppose there was any way to stop Tredd from throwing that fireball that sent us right into that MT’s path?”

“Actually.” King Regis finally said, as they crouched behind a row of filing cabinets. “If you told me who the traitors were, I probably could have cut them off from my magic. I would’ve done so earlier…but I wasn’t certain whether I’d be able to cut just them off from the magic, rather than the entirety of the Kingsglaive.”

Nyx stared in shock at the King.

“Wait, you could’ve done that from the start?!”

“It is…finicky work, to sever only those specific bonds, without being immediately near to them,” King Regis admitted, oblivious to Nyx’s churning thoughts. “And I will admit, my hold on the magic of the Lucii is…weaker than it was, before the initial attack on the Citadel. But it is doable.”

Nyx was so distracted by that newest revelation, that he failed to notice the swinging arm of an MT Amour, and found himself waking up with a shout for the eighth time, the feeling of his ribs being crushed still fresh in his mind.

#ffxv #ff15 #ffxv fanfiction #ffxv kingsglaive #final fantasy xv #final fantasy 15 #nyx ulric #libertus ostium #crowe altius #carminite writes #Running Onwards (A Timelooping Nyx AU)#in which Nyx goes through loops 4-7 and makes some progress #but also gets plenty more questions as he tries to piece together the jigsaw puzzle of figuring out how to Not Get The Bad Ending #honestly i was a bit iffy on some of the bits here #but i think im happy with how it's turned out #(also yeah i think this thing is going to turn into a multi-story project considering the Ideas I have been having lately)#stay tuned for more!

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browniefox · 3 years

Text

The Spectral Turnabout 1/?

I did it. I’m writing a lil fic for an ace attorney and paranatural crossover

oOo

Okay, Phoenix thought, I’m having a mental breakdown. That’s fine, this is fine.

To be fair, it’d been a stressful few hours. It wasn’t everyday you walked into the office and found your boss dead with her sister sitting next to her body, and then stayed there as the body became cold, the scent of blood so strong and present that at some point you stopped noticing it. To be so close to death, and of someone you knew...

Then there was the questioning after the police arrived, going over the same facts again and again and again. It dragged on for hours, caught in that system, cold and judging people staring at him. He’d been on the scene, it was natural he might've looked a bit suspicious. It was morning by the time he was let out, a weariness weighing him down from not having gotten any sleep that night. The original shock had worn off at some point, but there was still this numb disbelief. Mia… Mia was dead.

There were also the hallucinations, and what made him conclude he'd lost some marbles sometime over the night.

For the few days, Phoenix had sworn he’d been seeing things. It had started small, just flashes of pale-purple at the edges of his vision. They’d started to appear with increasing frequency, and no rest seemed to solve it. Phoenix had figured it was just stress from work.

Well, Mia’s death had officially pushed him over the edge.

Ever since the police had taken Phoenix in for questioning, the purple figures had resolved into full-blown monsters. They ran around, seeming to only occasionally care about things like doors and walls when it suited their need. Some just stayed up at the ceiling, looking down with mild interest, while others were more active. And absolutely nobody else seemed to notice them.

“What the hell?” Phoenix hissed under his breath as an odd gecko-looking thing skittered across the room, going right over his foot. He swore he’d felt the weight of it as it’d done so, and the creature had paused for half a second and looked back at him before continuing on its way. He shook his head. Just his imagination. After he talked to Maya, he’d go home and get some sleep, and if the problem persisted then he’d probably see a doctor about it…? No, he couldn’t do that, not when he was probably out of a job now! Okay, he’d just ignore the problem then. Maybe it’d go away eventually.

Maya entered the visiting room looking just as glum and sad as when Phoenix had last seen her, but that wasn’t much of a surprise.

“Oh, it’s you. The lawyer.” She said, clearly surprised at seeing him there. Phoenix nodded. She sat down in the chair on the other side of the glass. He’d followed Mia to meetings with defendants before, he was vaguely aware of how this went.

“G-good morning!” He rubbed his eyes, trying to stay awake, and also trying in vain to make the hallucinations go away. There was a particularly strong one hanging around Maya, a dark-purple mist seemingly coming off of her and falling to the floor like dry ice. All of his hallucinations seemed to carry with them some form of that mist, although the color changed from figure to figure, and there was something about Maya’s that was just… sad.

Then, suddenly, she perked up a bit, looking him over. Phoenix flinched back a bit at the sudden interest in her eyes.

“Mia didn’t tell me you were a spectral.” Maya said.

“I-, uh, I’m an a-attorney?” Phoenix corrected.

“I did know that, but you’re a spectral.” Maya insisted, brow furrowing a bit, and gestured to Phoenix. He looked around himself, trying to pinpoint what made her think the word ‘spectral’, whatever the hell that was. He was in his suit still, he’d stopped by the bathroom to make sure his hair was still in decent enough condition. His hallucination did seem to extend to himself, indigo-vapor that wasn’t really there floating off of him in spikey and nervous waves. He looked back at Maya, still very much confused.

“I- you’re, uh, I’m an attorney, and I think you might need one…?” Phoenix fumbled awkwardly. She was still looking at him oddly and it made him shift uncomfortably in his seat. The mist coming off of her started to morph and shift, and right before Phoenix’s eyes it formed the words ‘Can you read this?’

This was starting to get a bit too weird for him, but Phoenix was tired, and probably still in the denial part of the mourning process which wasn’t doing him much help, and before he knew what he was doing he’d opened his mouth and said,

“Y-yeah, how’d you do that?”

“How long have you been seeing things?!” Maya demanded, sitting forward now and close to the glass, and Phoenix flinched back.

“For a couple days, but it’s gotten really clear since sometime last night.” He admitted. Maya gasped.

“Oh my gosh, you don’t know.” She said.

“Know what?” Phoenix was sitting forward now, because he wasn’t going crazy, except he still sort of felt like he was, and his boss was dead, and he was talking to his boss’ sister who was being accused of murdering her, and he was hallucinating but hallucinations couldn’t really be shared and Maya clearly understood what he was going through, and it had been a very long night.

“You’re a spectral.” She repeated.

And then she explained.

oOo

The details were a bit hard to take in, but Phoenix managed to grasp the gist of it - Maya had been a little quick during her explanation, but that wasn’t too surprising considering the whole ‘murder trial’ they were both preparing for.

So, he was now something called a ‘spectral’, which meant he could see spirits. Yes, ghosts did exist. No, spirits weren’t really ghosts per se. Maya and Mia were from a long line of spectrals who doubled as spirit channelers, capable of pulling ghosts from wherever ghosts went when they died and allowing them to speak through them. It was probable that he’d become a spectral due to being around Mia, but there were several factors that went into it. Colors of spectral energy - the mist he’d been seeing - didn’t mean anything he needed to worry about, and she’d promised to show him some tricks to it when the trial was over.

Actually, Maya had offered to show him some tricks before the trial, but Phoenix had insisted that they wait until she was declared ‘not guilty.’ She’d looked away from him at that moment, but Phoenix had insisted again he’d get her free.

He couldn’t let Mia down like that.

Seeing Miles in court was a shock, but in another way, Phoenix had to admit he'd badly wanted to. If only it wasn't such a high-stakes case like this. The bigger surprise was the spirit that stuck around Miles.

It looked a bit like a borzoi, but much longer to accommodate an extra pair of legs and an insanely long and fluffy tail. The back two pairs of legs were more like a bird’s instead of a dog’s, and its ears were replaced with wings. It had wrapped itself around Miles, head near one of his shoulders and then spiralling around him. A muted purple spectral energy poured from the spirit in calm and steady waves, and it kept its eyes on him.

Miles didn’t react at all to the spirit, although it seemed to be fairly in sync with him, responding to Miles’ moods and such. Phoenix wasn’t sure how normal that was. There were spirits everywhere. Not enough that any place felt crowded, but more like mice or spiders, always there somewhere. So far, though, none of them seemed overly concerned about people other than watching the trial like the rest of the spectators.

Well, again, none other than the dog-like spirit who seemed intent on hanging around Miles.

During the recess, Phoenix asked Maya about it.

“Well, sometimes a spirit will hang around somebody they find interesting, especially if that person is a spectral.” Maya told him.

“I don’t think that’s it,” Phoenix sighed, shaking his head, “Edgeworth didn’t seem like he even realized it was there. And he doesn’t have spectral energy.” The spirit had floated off of Miles when he’d left for the recess, landing on the floor and following at his feet. On his shoulders, it’d given Miles the illusion of maybe being a spectral, but separated it became clear the essence was coming only from the spirit. “Could it be the ghost of one of someone he knew?”

“No, ghosts always look like they did in life. Occasionally, they’ll have minor changes in their appearances depending on how they perceive themselves, especially if it’s been a while since they died, but I’ve never heard of one changing shape that much.” Maya shot down.

“Well, no reason to dwell on it,” Phoenix shook his head, “We need to stay focused on proving your innocence.”

oOo

Being a spectral was, surprisingly, not all that different from not being a spectral. Having magic ghost energy didn’t mean he didn’t have to pay rent, and he still needed to eat, and he couldn’t fly or anything.

Maya kept her word, and they spent most of the days in the office teaching him the ins and outs of the world he was now a part of. She was a pro, easily able to create ‘compressed spectral energy burst shots’ - or ‘spec-shots’ - while Phoenix fumbled his way through the motions. It was a bit odd at first, being taught by somebody younger than him, but Maya was a surprisingly decent teacher. She was clearly experienced in the craft, having been raised a spectral.

He found himself thinking a lot about how Mia had been one too. Some late nights, when they were eating in the office, waiting for a client, Phoenix sore from the training, they’d talk about her. Apparently, Mia had noticed that something was up with Phoenix and had suspected he might be becoming a spectral. She’d planned to talk to him about it the night of her death.

Well, the best laid plans and all that.

“So, can things really be haunted?” Phoenix asked her one day while trying to focus his energy into a specific shape. He was trying to make it look like a dog, and it more closely resembled how he used to draw them back in kindergarten.

“Oh yeah, that happens all the time. Here, I actually have a tool on me.” Maya pulled a jade green gem from somewhere in the folds of her robes. She handed it over to Phoenix, and he turned it over in his hands. It was smooth to the touch, and shaped like a teardrop or a comma with a perfect hole in it, big enough for Phoenix to fit his pinky through. “This is my magatama, and you could say that it’s ‘haunted’, although the technical word is that it’s now a tool. A spirit was injured long ago, and now they live here! They’ve been passed from Fey to Fey for years.”

“Huh.” Phoenix said. It didn’t look particularly special. He handed it back to Maya.

“You probably won’t have to worry about that, though. Tools are usually used by people who are fighting spirits and stuff!” Maya smiled.

“Yeah, I think I’ll stick to being a lawyer.” Phoenix gave a small laugh.

oOo

So, maybe Phoenix had come to the conclusion about Miles not being a spectral a bit too quickly.

#paranatural #pnat #ace attorney #phoenix wright #mia fey #maya fey #miles edgeworth #browniefox writes #the next one is edgeworth centric #the spectral turnabout

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bidnezz · 4 years

Text

The Warmth of a Smile

Rating: T

Magnus Bane/Alec Lightwood

No Archive Warnings Apply

Summary:

It’s early morning when the inquisitive thought stems into Alec’s mind that if he were to be asked which part of Magnus he loves most, he wouldn’t be able to narrow it down to any one answer. A hypothetical impossibility.

Magnus Bane is more than just one perfect, beautiful, physical manifestation.

Alec takes the morning to think of which parts of Magnus he loves most. 1.7k of Alec loving Magnus.

Read below or on ao3!!

Magnus Bane is more than just one perfect, beautiful, physical manifestation.

From the toes that wiggle absentmindedly when Magnus is looking through the newspaper, spread out on the couch and calm with not a worry besides the words his eyes travel. Bare feet, balanced and sturdy, not easily tripped or susceptible to the clumsiness that someone like Simon embodies. Ankles that poke out, where Alec loves to rest his fingers on days off when the two of them sit in companionable silence and tend to their own responsibilities in shared space. To his calves, that radiate endless amounts of strength, that support the lithe feline movements he graces Alec with every day. Up his legs and along his thighs to the muscles that wrap around Alec and prove themselves over and over again of their rigorous training and work.

He’s especially favorable towards the more intimate parts of Magnus, the spots Alec spent days discovering, unraveling his boyfriend with the press of his fingers and kisses and bites along sensitive flesh. The shifting of hips that Alec loves to watch, the way they sway with every step, rock with intention to catch Alec’s gaze. And it works, Alec always caves, will always cave for as long as he’s allowed.

And when Magnus turns around, Alec loves that too.

The sensual curve of Magnus’ back as it dips lower and peaks out to form the toned ass he grasps onto with attentive eagerness. The feel of it supple and full, seemingly made to fit perfectly against the grip of Alec’s palm. And when Magnus’ body works together, a well-oiled machine that Alec will happily keep up work on, it’s almost enough to claim the top spot in what he loves about Magnus.

But then his hands rise higher, graze up the sides of the hips Alec wants to always focus all of his attention on, and suddenly the dips of his abs are Alec’s favorite. The feel of the smooth skin under his fingers, when they drag along the lines of muscle and Magnus’ body trembles beneath him. It comes in strides, waves of motion that lift and fall with the movement of his fingers, pulling an invisible string that connects Magnus’ core to Alec’s hands in a fated life.

Magnus’ chest is no different, as proud and confident as the air that spills forth from the lungs inside. Alec would expect no less from the High Warlock, would expect the charisma that pours through time and time again. Even clothed, Alec loves to see the peek of skin beneath the cut of the shirt, through the sheer of the mesh or thin cotton. Especially when the material itself longs to stretch around Magnus, doing the work of Angels as it spreads and clings around the thick muscles of Magnus’ shoulders that offer a place for Alec to rest his hand when he feels the need for contact. Shoulders and arms that flex when they lift Alec up, bring him close and surround him in their heat and comfort. Biceps and forearms that tremble with the overwhelming desire to keep him housed above Alec when the moon is high in the sky and glistening off of the sheen of sweat that coats them.

Magnus’ hands come next, following the long limb of his arms, rough yet soft at the same time and never one without the other. Hands that provoke all that Alec has to give, that unfurl every sigh and moan unbidden. The twist of fingers as they maneuver magic through the air, as they twine with Alec’s own, as they circle around him every night. Alec could write a book on Magnus’ hands alone, and the ways in which he loves them.

Sometimes the clothes Magnus wears are restricting, covering bronze skin and only leaving an exposed neck for Alec’s lascivious eyes to drink up. But he soaks it in anyways, because Alec is very partial to the sinewy muscles that stretch and pull when Magnus rolls his neck after a long day of working. To feel the beat of the pulse underneath that seems to grow stronger when Alec whispers kisses to it with his lips, reverent and tender. It’s a song he knows well, a rhythmic hum that harmonizes with the moans and pleas that spill out, that become ragged and breathy with pleasure as Alec sinks his teeth into the loving juncture where Magnus’ neck and shoulder meet, a landmark he visits often and with great enthusiasm.

His love doesn’t stop there, though.

No, because then the sun rises in the morning, bleeds through the cracks of their blinds and slips through the curtains to fall upon Magnus’ face, elegant and beautiful and serene in the early morning sunshine. And Alec’s heart swells.

It fills with a burning love for Magnus that aches to keep this view for as long as he’s alive.

This image of Magnus at peace, delicate and soft the features of his face as Alec traces a finger along them. From the gentle spikes of his hair that have mussed and fallen flat against the pillow, the night before where Alec’s fingers had curled and tugged with passion. To the brow that sometimes crease with the furrow that accompanies strenuous thoughts. Sorrow for decades of memories lived and worry for decades to come that Alec will never be able to truly fathom. Magnus’ mind, an endlessly vast ocean of knowledge. Ideas and visions that have blossomed to life, that will come to fruition in the future with or without Alec, or have fizzled out brilliantly for nobody but Magnus.

Magnus’ eyes flutter open, glossy with the sleep he brings himself out of, unfocused and distracted until he sees Alec.

If he thought his heart was swollen and brimming with love before, Alec’s not prepared for the cadence with which his heart beats and sputters at the slow dawning of affection he sees reflected back at him in the golden cat eyes before him, pupils wide and dark and reminiscent of declarations murmured against the heat and slide of the night. It’s perfect, he thinks. This view in front of him, the same sight he’s greeted with every morning can never be topped.

But oh, how he continues to be proven wrong.

Because warmth blooms on Magnus’ face, casts aside the blinding light of the sun and becomes the sole reason for the lightening of the room when Magnus smiles.

This, Magnus’ smile, this is his favorite thing.

So many emotions capture in the upturn of those lips, displayed so openly for Alec to decipher with every second that passes. He finds himself becoming the most faithful observer, loyal and driven to uncover all that Magnus’ smile has to offer, secrets unearthed successfully and kept for only Alec. How it changes from happy and amused when they banter lightly over dinner options, to sultry and suddenly brazen in the way he offers something more to Alec’s very particular palate instead. It flips inside of him, the spinning of desire that longs to thread through his organs until he’s encompassed in the shaky murmurs of satisfaction that fill the room.

But there are other smiles he loves too, smiles that his own lips have the innate pull to echo. The quirk of lips that Magnus tries to hide behind a finger when they threaten to furnish a laugh that doesn’t belong in whatever professional ambience that surrounds him, situations where he turns to Alec for aid but is only met with the copied grin that they both try to conceal. Moments where the humor of their relationship behind closed doors seeps through into reality, where small laughs and quiet giggles turn heads towards them with questioning glances and inquiring eyes that they have no answers for.

Being with Magnus is fun. Fulfilling. Being with Magnus makes him happy.

And when Magnus smiles with the darkness of the room as a background and the moonlight illuminating the shadows on his face, Alec feels enlightened. The steady thrum of his heart, normally resolved to keep his blood flowing, gives way to the palpitations in his chest from something more than exhaustion from their coupling at the sight of the satiated, honeyed smile. He feels it in his bones, in the crevices of his mind that shine a spotlight on the intimacy he keeps separate for just these occasions, where the love he has for Magnus feels greater than he can ever vocalize, can’t ever put into words no matter how inspired he becomes.

He wonders if Magnus ever feels the same about him.

If the responsive smile Alec offers up with his heart completely does anything to stutter his breath or stammer words. Perhaps not, Alec’s unquestioning devotion surely can’t compare to the years of lovers come and gone. It’s a spiral Alec finds himself on the precipice of many times, a cliff that he edges so practiced and carefully. Surely his heart, though it has not been the first nor will it be the last, isn’t worthy enough for Magnus to reside and build a home in.

Thoughts like that never last, as hard as the strangle of claws digs into his back, crawls up and sinks onto his shoulders in their attempt to drag him down.

Because Magnus smiles, breathtaking and heavenly, and all Alec can see through the fog of insecurity.

Magnus, his powerful savior who can banish the darkness with just a look, a word, a touch. Magnus, with his affinity for making Alec feel every bit deserving of his fondness and spot beside him in the rankings of the Shadow World.

Magnus, who smiles at him with all the brightness in the universe, for whom the sun and moon hold no competition. Stars burn out, fade and die, and all the while Magnus’ smile lights Alec’s world with the twinkling of white from his bared teeth and bashful tilt of his head.

“I love you, Alexander,” Magnus says.

Body language expresses this with clarity as he leans into Alec’s presence. A firm constant shown in the soft press of lips to Alec’s, no hint of doubt or susceptibility to change because Magnus loves him, now and forever.

And Alec loves back just as ardently, earth-shattering and loud, with heavenly fire that burns his soul, rooted and hot and vigorous.

All of Magnus, always.

#malec #malec fanfic #alec lightwood #magnus bane #magnus x alec #shadowhunters fanfiction #fanfiction #bidness #bidnezz #my fic #fluff #so much love #read on ao3

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kristahliaweek · 3 years

Text

The Perfect Crime

Baron Whitney. That man had been allowed to live for far too long, considering how absolutely atrocious of a neighbor he was. His disgusting lawn had been the subject of much ire across the neighborhood, since the residents generally prided themselves on their dignity and the overgrown wilderness festering at his front door was a blight on their image, but nobody had the guts to just kill him already. All over the neighborhood website Dahlia had seen people publicly complaining that Whitney’s front lawn needed to be raided by the Homeowner’s Association effective immediately, but nothing ever came of their empty threats. Since nobody ever confronted the man, he neglected to clean up his act.

Why did Dalia have to do everything herself? Although, she supposed she wasn’t completely alone this time… she did have a co-conspirator after all.

The night was quiet enough that a gunshot would be heard almost immediately, but since base weapons such as those weren’t really Dahlia or Kristoph’s style anyway she supposed it didn’t matter. Poison was much more attractive, but even the combined power of both their maniacal brains couldn’t think of a way to poison Whitney without having to socially interact with him. Ranged weapons would be most suitable for the crime since the criminals didn’t want to step foot in the pig pen that man called a house, but neither of them knew nearly enough about bows to get reliable results. Kristoph insisted that he would make an excellent archer, but Dahlia knew he wouldn’t have the physical strength to draw the string back.

Eventually the diabolical duo settled on throwing sharp objects at him through his window, which was always open so that birds and bugs were entering Whitney’s house at all times. Whenever Dahlia looked across the street she could see the slob in his living room, asleep in his rocking chair while the television blaring at full volume. No matter where you were in the neighborhood, it was a guarantee you could hear the distant voices of soap operas characters.

The second obstacle in the assassination was transportation. In order to get Whitney in range they would have to push through the wasteland of trash and overgrown wildlife all without making a sound. Dahlia had mapped out the most convenient route after a few minutes of diligent tactical analysis, eventually deducing that the safest and most sanitary way would be to sidle along the gate before slowly creeping through the puddle of ambiguous liquid towards the porch. It wasn’t ideal, but it was what had to be done when the rest of the lawn was covered with towers of trash that could topple at the slightest disturbance, alerting the neighbors and ruining the pair’s outfits all at once.

Once they had arrived at the porch, the trouble became a matter of aiming over the piles of garbage that fortified the house both inside and out. There was a wall of trash that almost completely covered the window so that there was only a small opening for a weapon to fly through, and once it had traveled inside it would require an even greater precision not to skewer it on one of the many magazine stacks that stood between the target and the blade. Even if the weapon did manage to pierce Whitney there was no guarantee that the first injury would be fatal, so they had to be prepared to overcome all those obstacles again to land another blow. There was no way to know how many shots they were going to need, so Kristoph came prepared with his entire steak knife collection, discreetly stored inside his briefcase.

That being said, Dahlia only anticipated she would end up needing five knives at most. She and Kristoph had a dartboard in their room with a picture of Phoenix right on the bull’s-eye, and every night before bed they would both throw a dart each to see who would get the closest to his throat. In their nearly 3 years of living together, Dahlia was leading 881 to 103, and the amount of times she hit the mark exactly was around 20% compared to Kristoph’s measly 7%. Of the two of them, she was undoubtedly the more qualified for the job.

She felt every inch of the hilt as Kristoph slid a knife into her hand, “Let’s see how well you do this time.” His words were a whisper, and the same sadistic and condescending smile he always wore twisting across his face like a snake, “Remember to aim for the neck.”

Dahlia gripped the handle tightly and took aim, although finding a suitable angle was difficult when there was a narrow opening composed of stinking trash blocking her. Kristoph seemed to notice her disgust and reached inside his pocket, pulling out a small glass bottle not unlike the one Dahlia used to wear around her neck. Suddenly, an overpowering cloud of perfume had engulfed her. The flowery aroma was enough to nearly mask the repugnant odor, so she made sure to hiss back at Kristoph to show her appreciation before throwing her first knife.

The blade sliced through the air so quickly even Dahlia herself could hardly process it. She watched as it flew through the air and impaled a stack of papers right beside the sleeping old man, causing the tower to collapse directly on top of him. She heard a yelp as the man woke up and found himself buried by the avalanche of magazines, but she didn’t have time to celebrate just yet. Now that he was protected by layers and layers of pages, piercing his skin was going to be even more of a chore then it already was.

She could already feel the second knife being forcefully placed into her grip by her partner, so she took aim again while the man was still preoccupied with preventing himself from being buried alive. The weapon cut straight through the magazine pages and Dahlia soon noticed red staining a cluster of papers where his nose would be, but she couldn’t be sure the wound was fatal when he was still screaming. She kept her gaze trained on her victim and held out her hand to Kristoph, beckoning for him to supply her with another weapon, but after a few slow-motion seconds of not receiving one she was forced to briefly take her eyes off the prize and see what the delay was about.

Kristoph was preparing to throw a knife of his own. Of course that bastard would try to steal her kill! Before she had a chance to vocalize her betrayal, Whitney had burst out from under a sea of papers, wheezing as the blood flowing from his mouth stained the pages below him. Kristoph didn’t hesitate for a moment, immediately throwing the weapon with a frightening force. As always, his aim was just slightly off the mark and ended up burying itself into the drywall directly behind Whitney, but the blade still managed to tangentially slice the side of the man’s head during its travels. The wound cut deeply enough that blood began to begin dripping from his temple instantaneously, and after a shrill scream Whitney finally dropped to the ground.

“It seems I have won this round, Hawthorne.” Kristoph didn’t give Dahlia a moment to celebrate their accomplishment or to scold him for interfering, “Personally, I believe that should count as 5 points.”

Dahlia’s face twisted in anger, “You didn’t even hit the target! If this was the game you wouldn’t be getting any credit, much less five whole points! Who do you think I am?”

“If you had been paying attention, you might have noticed I did indeed hit the target.” Kristoph smirked, “How else do you explain the blood?”

“You get credit for fatal injuries!” Dahlia was struggling to keep her volume under control, “That was nothing but a flesh wound!”

Kristoph laughed a little too loudly, “Why do you think he went limp as soon as I wounded him? Surely you aren’t going to suggest it’s a coincidence. Clearly it was I who dealt the fatal blow.”

“All your little scratch did was hurry the process along!” Dahlia insisted, “I was the one who killed him! I dealt the killing blow, it just took a moment for him to actually die from it!”

“Can you prove that?” Kristoph’s smugness was reaching critical levels, “We didn’t even see the impact.”

“You would never have been able to hit him if I hadn’t trapped him under those magazines in the first place!” Dahlia could feel herself losing control of her temper, “At least give me credit for that! You know you’re a terrible shot compared to me. You can barely hit a piece of paper on a dartboard, there is no way you would have been able to even touch Whitney if I hadn’t restrained him!”

“So when I miss I’m disqualified, but when you miss it’s suddenly some sort of accomplishment?” Dahlia could see his mouth twitching, “Not that I did miss. But you must admit, your first attack even draw blood.”

“This isn’t about my first shot! All that matters is who killed Whitney!” Kristoph’s eyes were no longer visible behind his glasses, “We may not have seen the knife enter the body, but we did see the blood! If I had missed, he wouldn’t have been bleeding! Not to mention that he must have been bleeding buckets for us to have seen it under all that paper. Clearly I was the one who killed him!”

Before Kristoph could respond, a small and unfamiliar voice echoed from across the yard. The criminals whipped their heads away from each other and saw a short man standing at the front of the gate, eyes wide with terror and whimpering at what he had just witnessed. When Dahlia and Kristoph‘s murderous gaze met his, he was petrified for a moment before letting out a deafening scream and running as fast as he could in the other direction.

How inconvenient. Witnesses were always such a hassle. Dahlia supposed her argument with Kristoph must wait until they got home. She looked over to her partner and saw that he was thinking the same thing.

“We will resolve this later. Right now, we must focus on getting rid of the witness.”

#day 1 #submission #long post

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shinygoku · 4 years

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Liar Revealed! A Bug’s Life Essay

A Bug’s Life is my favourite Pixar movie and thus, it turns out I have a lot of thoughts about it. In this case, what was originally my interpretation soley in response to points I’ve seen raised on YouTube and TV Tropes has spun off into this mega essay.... all focused on a single scene.

But hey, it works with one of the film’s main messages; that something big grows out of a small idea!

The scene is the most notorious in the movie, at least from what I’ve seen, and I’m inclined to agree it’s the weakest part of this giant clock. But why is it like that and how could it have been handled better?

As I’ve said, this is actually my favourite (albeit not what I consider their very best) of Pixar’s output, and I wouldn’t have been able to go into such depth without a huge amount of love for the finished product, flawed as it may be.

It’s also possible I’ll write a more generalised thing on what I love about the film in the future, but I won’t promise anything o7;; 🐜

The Lie is ...laid

Actually, I should talk about two scenes. First is where the Lie is established:

After the humourous mutual misunderstanding between the Circus Bugs and Flik, the former are quite horrified to discover they’re expected to fight the Grasshoppers off themselves instead of putting on a show. Ahh, that old classic~

But no, they want out and Flik, who has just been informed by them during the welcoming shindig, is understandably rattled and despairing over this addition to his list of failures. He says the fallout will not only brand him, but his hypothetical grandchildren as a Terrible Loser and even says he’s as good as dead as soon as the other ants find out. Owch.

Before things get too heavy, the focus shifts around until The Bird becomes the main immediate threat. The whole Bird scene leads the ants to become convinced the Circus Bugs are really amazing warriors and, as this is the first time in what could be years that they have a crowd cheering for them it’s the success and Flik’s later idea to make a Giant Mech in the shape of a Bird instead of planning any actual combat that convinces them to play along.

So, that’s the lie set up and solidified. Now for the eventual fallout:

During a fun party after the Bird has been built, an ominous force arrives... PT Flea, the Jerkass ringmaster who had fired the Circus Bugs. This local bug promptly ruins everything by literally shining a light on the Circus Bugs and their nature as such, and then Flik is accidentally outed as the Guy Who Thought Up The Bird.

The Liar Revealed Trope

I would link the TV Tropes article here, but as tungle doesn’t like external sites I’ll just quote the more relevant parts from it:

“Liar Revealed in the Internal Reveal of The Lie, the facade maintained by a protagonist which provides the primary dramatic tension for the plot. This usually sets up the third act where the protagonists are forced to deal with the consequences of the lie on top of any external threats.

There are a few usual ways this ends up. If the lie was for selfish reasons, the protagonist will doubtless face the wrath of those he lied to, but along the way end up having a change of conscience, and try to redeem themselves through good acts and An Aesop about "what really matters". If the lie was well-intentioned, the protagonist may still find that others turn their backs on him, but go on to carry through with what they said they'd do anyway, proving themselves a hero after all.

It's worth noting that this trope is particularly easy and common to misuse, either in the tendency of the protagonist to Maintain the Lie for reasons that make no sense except for dramatic tension or of the deceived to turn against the protagonist for the deception in spite of other considerations that should by all rights absolve him.”

And in the folder there’s a specific entry for this film:

A Bug's Life has Flik supposedly finding "warrior bugs" to save his colony after misconstruing a situation. When he realizes his mistake (that they're circus performers rather than trained warriors), he's forced to keep the lie going in order to not cause panic among the other ants. Once the colony finds out, it inevitably results in one of the most painfully Played Straight examples of this trope in animation history...

As you can see there, the dislike for this scene has seeped into the entry. Of course, TV Tropes is pretty informal and I like that, but it’s telling that this is a general perception.

Continue reading below the Cut! ✂

What I don’t like

So, I think my main issue with the scene boils down to... it’s very nebulous and unclear as to what’s so bad about Flik lying. Between the Council, the Queen and Atta, there seems to be a jumbled, confusing motive traffic jam that somehow results in what TV Tropes refers to the Liar Reveal Trope being played “Painfully Straight”.

But uhh, what’s the problem? Yes, Flik lied, but we know that wasn’t something he’d planned on doing, it was his attempt at damage control. The other ants don’t know that part, but still, what are they objecting to, specifically? That the Circus bugs are Circus bugs? That the Bird Plan was Flik’s? That.... lying is treated at an absolute moral failing regardless of the circumstances??

The council dudes are like: “OH WHAAAAT, the defence plan was by Clowns??” [No, it was Flik] “OH WHAAAT, we don’t have our mafia money prepared what if Hopper finds out we nearly sicced a fake bird on him!?”

The part about objecting to Clowns drafting the defence plans is actually the more reasonable explanation, but I guess they presumed warriors habitually made Decoy Bird plans instead of fighting themselves? There’s already a hole in their objections but it only gets worse.

The Queen is like: “Wow Flik evidently you’re a self serving prick. Anyway the best thing to do is pretend this never happened and no we’re not going to tell Hopper.”

Why the fuck would that happen? ‘Oh sorry Hopper we got sidetracked doing a ...thing... so we’re still picking your food no please don’t break my legs’

But also, why THE FUCK is this the plan? Some ruler you are, you old prune. ‘We have the bird all made and ready to go but oops the idea came from a DIRTY LIAR so we’re going to return to the doomed harvesting racket even though we’ve been set an outrageous amount and we can’t possibly hope to catch up and even if we had been picking the food the entire time it was established earlier on we won’t have time for our supplies on top of all that.’

Fucking.... astonishing lack of logic. YOU MORONS HAVE NOTHING LEFT TO LOSE, GO WITH THE BIRD! Flik himself says something to a similar effect lol

But noooooo, his arguably selfish lie [which is more Omitting the truth once he knew it, really] has forever doomed everything, apparently. Honestly it comes across more like they just hate Flik and see anything he invents as doomed to fail, so the second the truth emerges that he spearheaded the Mech Bird they dismiss it as a lost cause. Even though everyone worked together to build it, and Flik’s inventions weren’t the issue but him being awkward and clumsy. But seeing how Flik’s mere presence in his first scene seemed to drive the Council members into a quivering fury, it really does feel like their objections are from them refusing to give him a chance.

And then there’s Princess Atta. Hoo Boy.

In this scene, she comes off as being ridiculously vindictive, petty and hypocritical. This applies to the Council too, but it’s more galling coming from Atta as by now she’s realised that Flik gets a lot of flak [yay wordplay] from the others and she had resolved to give him more credit. BUT OOPS, that didn’t last!

She takes the Lying thing so personally, acting like he was cheating on her or something. “You lied to MeEeEee” well golly gee whiz, was there any particular reason why he would tell you the truth? Other than his rather obvious crush on you, that is? Cause that would still be a weird reason, seeing how the ‘lie’ was after he’d finally got a bit of decent treatment from the others, why would he wanna upset the apple cart?

He probably feared coming out and confessing to Atta [or anyone else] that they’d lose all faith in him and scrap a valid plan that was the only way out of the grasshopper racket mess. Which would be a bit silly and probably the result of someone with low self esteem and confidence issues overthinking the situation but it’s Exactly what actually happens!

It wasn’t a personal slight against you, Princess! To quote Helen Parr: THIS IS NOT! ABOUT! YOU!!

And wooow, you must be awfully chilly up there on your high horse, Miss “Lied to Flik to get rid of him earlier in the film”! Did you ever feel like fessing up? Like ‘hmm I’ve grown much fonder of this doofus, maybe I should be honest with him before engaging with some more light flirting’ ? Maybe if you had, he woulda been honest in return!

I don’t even see why she and the Council bothered lying about their Snipe Hunt ploy, seeing how now they act like he crossed a moral event horizon. Why even bother making a phoney baloney decoy idea to get him away, when they clearly dislike him enough to play the Brutally Honest card without fretting over his feelings. They coulda just ordered him to stay in a corner away from interfering but instead they’re willing to risk his life on a wild goose chase.

...And she then Banishes him! For what?? Lying? About what, the circus bugs or the bird plan? Both?? It really feels like her taking undue personal offence and the Council hating him and the Queen being old and senile.

So yeah, wow, this scene has what I think is the Unintended side effect of making me hate the stupid jerkface Ant colony as every named ant in it except for Dot fucking suck and throw Flik under a bus the second they deem him to be untrustworthy. In spite of, like, that the plan itself was solid and that the Circus Bugs have all been proven to be Good Eggs. They don’t give him a chance to explain and made their own bed to lie in, so I feel dark joy and satisfaction when the grasshoppers do arrive and kick them around some more.

Wow gee, if only you dumb ass ants had some sort of already made contraption to fall back on?

Why is it like this?

I can only make guesses here, be warned!

From what I’ve gathered of an older version of the story, mostly via Wikipedia, I kinda feel like the exposing would have fit that take better. In the beta version of the story, instead of Flik the lead would have been “Red”, who was a red ant and circus bug from the start. The first draft Circus lot woulda been out to scam the ants initially and I guess would have grown genuine fondness with time. The idea of an outsider flim flamming his way into the good books and later being exposed makes the overblown outrage a lot more understandable. But that’s my hypothesis for the direction they ultimately didn’t go in. Also look at how Red looks like a fuckboi here:

But in the final version, Red doesn’t exist! Flik is a part of the colony from the get go, but also apart from it cause no one likes him as, again, his ideas were good but poorly executed and he seemed to be a hindrance. But the ants should at least see that Flik is genuine in his attempts, that he’s trying his best and they should maybe cut him some slack.

The way the ants have their knickers in a twist doesn’t gel so well with the “Well meaning screwup” angle, especially compared to a possible “Opportunistic so-and-so who doesn’t have real attachments to the colony” route.

Also it may be worth noting up there where I put a TV Tropes excerpt, I bolded the relevant half of the run down, but it seems the other half applies much more to this first draft. Interesting...

So I don’t know, but I got the idea that the scene in the movie is basically a holdover from earlier that didn’t get sufficiently updated. The Liar Revealed Scene is the first thing I’d change if I were rewriting the script, and I might go back and change it again after other parts had been redone too, cause the story needs to flow from point A to point B etc. smoothly or else viewers will get annoyed and point it out in Youtube videos or overly long tumblr text posts.

How could it be fixed?

I’m not saying I’m sitting on the perfect idea of a rewrite. But the main thing is what I already touched on, the jarring disconnect between what happens and how the stupid ants respond.

Like, Atta’s sudden grabbing of the Jerkass and Idiot Balls in this scene. Wouldn’t it have been better if she was instead unsure and conflicted? She had lied to Flik earlier and, unlike the Council, was shown to actually realise Flik Has Feelings Too and apologised for the general lack of faith. She didn’t come clean about the Snipe Hunt Lie, so that could be weighing on her during this scene, maybe she would have been the only Council member to Not want to kick him out but felt pressured into it and hasn’t got into the groove of being the Future Queen enough to pull rank and talk them down from being hate filled twats. Maybe someone will mention the flirting that had been happening as muddying her judgement?

That’s my main idea, compare that with her barging in and taking undue personal offence and shooing him off. She’s supposed to feel like she’s doomed to fail too, so her facing a moral dilemma and falling on the wrong side of the fence could tie into that! (To be honest, her arc is kinda undercooked so hey, I’m killing two birds with one stone here!)

Flik being banished at all is a casualty of The Narrative, that he and the Circus Bugs have gotta go away temporarily for the finale to be cooler and more exciting. It’s a Necessary Weasel of writing and you’ll find them in every story ever made. Sometimes things have gotta happen cause Story Structure. The trick is having them more organic and concealed.

So yeah, have the Old Fogeys be in the wrong [which is so far unchanged] but also the majority of the ‘voting’. Make it difficult for Atta to choose between loyalty to the colony as a whole and her sense of duty versus trusting in Flik, who she now knows to always have his heart in the right place. She comes close to standing up for him and herself, but ultimately falters and gets pressured into the call made in the movie. She’s still ultimately responsible as leaders are, but in a much more sympathetic way.

Summation

This got way longer than I had initially imagined, and that’s even after I cut stuff in the editing process! Let’s quickly review the three main points I’m trying to make.

The Issue with the scene - A big song and dance is made over The Lie, but no reason why it’s such a terrible thing is offered. A perfectly sound plan is dismissed nonsensically.

Suspected reasoning for the writing - The tone matches a potential alternate story much better, where someone would have lied for self serving purposes instead of for the greater good.

A suggestion for a rewrite - Make it much more nuanced and fitting the character arcs. Give the characters a reason to react the way they do and have different responses per person. If the ants are going to drop the Bird plan, at least offer a more viable alternate route than going back to what wasn’t working before.

Does it really matter?

Well, I don’t expect a 22 year old film to suddenly get a rewrite, no. And I maintain that it’s a real gem which deserves much higher praise with the other Good Pixars instead of being so constantly overlooked.

Part of what spurred me to think about the scene and what I’d alter is seeing it referred to as ‘Kinda Bad’ in a youtube video that was talking about another Liar Reveal scene in another movie, and that is a bad take, but the point about how clunky this part is isn’t wrong. I don’t want people to dismiss the whole, beautiful image cause one section of it doesn’t vibe!

It doesn’t ruin the picture, but when people have something negative to say it’s this which is the magnet. And I’m kinda guilty of doing the same thing here, haha. But I wanted to really dissect and examine it, to figure out why it’s like that and to guess how simple it may be to rework. It’s bittersweet, but there ain’t such a thing as a perfect movie.

This has been fun for me to go into though, and it’s nice to get thoughts out from just swirling around inside my head, so even if barely anyone sees and makes it through this whole dissertation, I’m glad I wrote it out. It’s a funny way to derive enjoyment from the bumpy part of a beloved movie, but hey, I’ll take it~

#A Bug's Life #Liar Revealed Trope #Pixar #Disney Pixar #Disney #CutCat writes a very long essay

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sleepmybeauty · 4 years

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someday maybe me

so I wrote this like a hundred years ago (directly after finishing Open Heart, which feels like an eternity ago). It’s the first thing I’ve written to completion (by my standards) in...5+ years, so. be gentle? cool, thanks. I actually kind of like this piece and I’m hoping you guys will, too :D

Title: someday maybe me Fandom: Choices: Stories You Play; Open Heart. Pairing: Cassidy Valentine (MC)/Ethan Ramsey, past Ethan Ramsey/Harper Emery. Word Count: 2,054.

Cassidy walked the halls of Edenbrook with confidence, making her way to Ethan’s office (Dr. Ramsey’s office, she reminded herself). Sienna had mentioned seeing him in the cafeteria and that he was looking a little...well, like death warmed over, were the exact words she’d used. Cassidy wasn’t shocked; considering everything she knew about Dr. Ethan Ramsey, she had no trouble believing he was exactly the type of doctor that would leave his own health as an afterthought when he had patients to take care of.

She arrived at his door and paused before knocking, lecturing herself on appropriate behavior, acceptable resident-attending relationships, and professionalism. She reminded herself to keep things brief and impersonal. She was here to determine the health status of her direct supervisor and nothing more.

Cassidy raised her hand to knock, dropped it, and promptly threw all her carefully crafted arguments out the window.

She and Ethan could not express the feelings they both still obviously had for each other; they could not act on the attraction that was still simmering between them. But that did not mean that, as colleagues (albeit unequal colleagues), they couldn’t be friends. It didn’t mean that she couldn’t be alone with him in his office, in a completely professional way, and spend some time taking care of him if he wasn’t going to make the effort to take care of himself.

Even if Ethan was just overworking himself, as a friend, Cassidy could certainly discuss that with him; try to impress on Ethan what Naveen (Dr. Banerji, she chided herself) had come to realize after they’d figured out what was slowly killing him: that even the important work they were doing with the diagnostics team wasn’t worth your health and happiness. Something Ethan still needed to learn, by the look of things.

Lecture completed, Cassidy knocked on Dr. Ramsey’s office door but didn’t bother waiting for him to grant her entry.

As she stepped around the door and closed it behind her, Cassidy was greeted with exactly what she’d expected: Ethan was supine on his couch, one foot on the floor as if he were just about to drag the other one off as well and attempt to get up. His head was raised slightly to ascertain who exactly was entering his office without permission and his expression was wavering between annoyance at the intruder and weariness. Cassidy met his gaze and only just caught the relief there when he realized it was only her and he wouldn’t have to get up after all before he threw his arm over his eyes and relaxed back into the cushions.

“Do you need something?” Ethan asked quietly. Probably just a cold, nothing too serious, Cassidy thought to herself, cataloging his visible symptoms; he didn’t have many, just the general exhausted edge to his words and the obvious sloth of reclining on the couch in the middle of the day. But Elijah had mentioned the mild case of strep that was making its way through the nursing staff and strep throat didn’t present with many overtly visible symptoms...

“Dr. Trinh mentioned seeing you in the cafeteria earlier today and...well, that you were looking a tad under the weather,” Cassidy continued to look him over as she approached, stopping at the end of the couch and leaning against the armrest. Might not be sick, might just be working too hard after all. But pushing himself too hard would make it that much easier for him to get sick if he wasn’t already. “I just wanted to check on you.”

“That’s very considerate of you, rookie, but I’m fine. I just didn’t sleep very well last night.” Ethan answered, covering his mouth to muffle the cough that escaped as if to immediately prove his claim wrong.

“Because of that cough?” Cassidy asked, standing up straight, stepping over his foot still on the floor, and coming to stop by his head. She rested the back of her hand against his forehead and while he didn’t stop her, he did protest the action.

“I’m not sick.” Ethan claimed defensively, the cough coming a little harder this time.

“This fever you’re running would suggest otherwise,” Cassidy withdrew her hand and looked around the office, wondering if Ethan might have a thermometer stashed somewhere, or maybe a strep test. She turned back to find him looking at her and froze, losing her train of thought completely. Cassidy could remember those eyes staring at her with such longing, could feel her heart yearning to see that expression on Ethan’s face again. She blinked hard and tried not to react to the thoughts flying through her head, reminding herself that Ethan was sick and didn’t need her emoting all over him right now.

Ethan’s slightly pained expression from that sickness snapped her back to reality before her mind could wander too far down the road that they weren’t allowed to wander down (sometime she whispers to herself, not yet, and thinks of the day when she’s no longer an intern or a junior fellow and they’re finally on equal ground). Cassidy stuffed her hands in her coat pockets and let the moment pass, hoping Ethan hadn’t noticed her momentary distraction. His eyes fluttered shut again, letting the protest die on his lips, and she signed quietly through her nose.

“You likely have strep, Ethan,” she said softly, fisting her hands in her pockets to keep from brushing her fingers through his hair (sometimes Cassidy laughs at the two of them, so confident that they could just go back to the way things were before her suspension, so sure of themselves and their ability to ignore this constant need to be close). “It’s been making its way through the nursing staff. Let me run a rapid strep test and prescribe you some antibiotics--”

“I told you, I’m not sick,” Ethan grumbled, attempting to sit up. His next brilliant idea would likely be to go back to work and she wasn’t going to let that happen. Cassidy put her hand on his chest and gently pushed him back down to the couch, sitting next to him to try to keep him there.

“Do you think if you say it enough times, it’ll magically be true?” Cassidy’s tone was maybe a little too hard and it got Ethan’s eyes open again, a forbidding expression overcoming his fatigue momentarily.

“Watch your tone, Rookie. I’m still your boss.” Ethan chided her. In the next second, a coughing fit came over him and when it was finished, she could see his resolve start to waver, as if the effort of scolding her was just too much for him.

“You’re also still sick. Hiding in here or trying to work like usual is only going to make things worse,” Cassidy could feel his chest rise and fall with his breathing (sometimes she wonders if he’s seeing someone, if there’s anyone who gets to touch him like she used to, if he went back to Harper now that she’s not Chief any longer, now that they’re on equal ground--) and she quickly removes her hand and clasps her hands together in her lap. “Even if you don’t have strep, you have something. Going home, drinking plenty of fluids, and getting plenty of rest is your best option. And you know that.”

Ethan sighed heavily through his nose and Cassidy could see the surrender in his eyes. “Doesn’t mean I have to like it,” Ethan mumbled, admitting defeat. “Help me up, rookie, I’ll--”

A loud knock on the door interrupted Ethan and they both looked over, Cassidy wondering who it might be and Ethan just hoping it wouldn’t be someone needing his help.

“You want me to get it?” Cassidy asked as she stood up, motioning to the door behind her.

“Help me sit up first,” Ethan dropped his other foot onto the floor and held his hand out for Cassidy to grasp. She took his hand and gently pulled him into a sitting position. Cassidy stepped back and took a second to examine him once more but wasn’t subtle enough to keep it from him this time. “Whatever I do have, I’m not about to expire on you right here; go see who’s at the door.” Ethan rolled his eyes but the small smile that just barely graced his face hinted at his appreciation for Cassidy’s concern. Or at least gentle amusement at her worry.

Cassidy walked over to the door and pulled it open, a faintly inquiring look on her face for the person on the other side. When she saw it was Harper Emery, her mind skittered a bit and her mouth dropped open, to say what, she wasn’t sure; her thoughts jumped right back to her earlier musings, wondering if Harper was here for professional or personal reasons. Cassidy closed her mouth and greeted the Chief of Neurosurgery politely, “Hello, Dr. Emery,” and reminded herself that it was none of her business either way.

“Dr. Valentine, hello. Is Dr. Ramsey…?” Dr. Emery trailed off, having not been prepared for someone other than Ethan to answer his office door.

“Yes, of course, he’s just over here,” Cassidy opened the door further, gesturing behind her at Ethan, still sitting up (barely) on his couch in the corner of the office. Dr. Emery walked over to Ethan and looked him up and down, performing the same subtle examination Cassidy had been repeating for the last ten minutes (felt like an eternity, being so close to Ethan and not being able to touch him more intimately than a hand on his forehead or his chest, not being able to just take him in her arms and comfort him--). Cassidy stayed by the door, starting to distance herself from the situation.

“Well, Ethan, I was going to ask you to consult on a patient for me, but you don’t look fit to diagnose yourself, let alone anyone else in this hospital.” Dr. Emery smirked at Ethan, folding her arms over her chest as she waited for his response.

“For christ’s sake, I don’t look that bad.” Ethan muttered, rolling his eyes again but this time with a slightly more acidic edge. When it warmed Cassidy’s heart to see it, she decided that now was the time to make her exit; she couldn’t start to resent Edenbrook’s Chief of Neurosurgery for something as simple as joking around with her longtime friend and colleague (and ex-boyfriend, maybe current boyfriend, rein it in, Valentine).

“I was trying and failing to convince Dr. Ramsey to go home,” Cassidy gripped the door handle tightly on the outside of the open door, grateful that neither Dr. Ramsey nor Dr. Emery could see her whitening knuckles. She smiled at Dr. Emery, hoping the older woman wouldn’t think it odd for Cassidy to be checking on her boss so attentively, and nodded at the senior doctor as she started to back out of the office. “Perhaps you’ll have better luck, Dr. Emery.”

Ethan looked over at her as she was leaving and said quietly, “Thank you, Dr. Valentine, for trying to help. The saying ‘doctors never make good patients’ is prevalent for a reason and I’m no exception.” A corner of his mouth twitched up and his eyes softened as he watched her and it took everything in her power to stop herself from throwing Harper Emery out of his office and just taking Ethan home herself.

“Yes, thank you, Dr. Valentine, but I think I can handle him from here.” Dr. Emery glanced over at her with an absent smile but quickly turned back to Ethan, dismissing Cassidy completely.

“You’re welcome.” Cassidy responded quietly and stepped out of Ethan’s--Dr. Ramsey’s office, closing the door quietly behind her. She did not linger outside in the hallway. She did not wallow in her sad thoughts of ‘someday’ and ‘not yet’. She snagged her pager from her waistband as she felt it go off and thanked whatever gods were listening for the distraction of a patient that needed her help.

Cassidy walked back through the hallways of Edenbrook briskly, her confidence still intact but her heart heavy in her chest. So much for impersonal, Cassidy rolled her eyes at herself and shook her musings from her head as she got back to work.

#choices: stories you play #open heart #choices #fanficion #ethan ramsey x mc #dr ethan ramsey #ethan ramsey #dr harper emery #harper emery #dr cassidy valentine #cassidy valentine

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smuggsy · 4 years

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IN PLAIN SIGHT / Chapter 2 A Band of Brothers Story (Chapter 1) + read it on AO3.

There’s no doubt whatever training these men are being put through is thorough and demanding (not that hers hasn’t been, except she can’t really say she’s been made to run up and down a mountain in full gear in the middle of the bloody night. If anything, she’s been doing quite the opposite: just staying in one specific spot unflinching, unmoving and patiently waiting for her targets to give themselves away and receive a couple of harmless empty shells right in the chest).

Private Christenson keeps putting each foot in front of the other without delay, without stop or hesitation.

She, on the other hand…

“I can’t…” she wheezes, her M1903 dangling from her shoulder - Captain Sobel would surely have something to say about that. Private Brown, pick up that goddamn rifle!

Christenson is a few steps ahead but glances back nonetheless at her breathless remark.

“Believe me, you don’t want to antagonize Sobel” he provides, turning back front. Olivia frowns but hasn’t got enough breath to muster an answer. She’ll antagonize him, all right, or she’ll fall dead before she can reach the top. “He’ll feist on you, newbie.”

This time she lets out a groan and almost falls face down on the dirt - courtesy of a protruding rock. Christenson looks back to her again at the sound of the near-trip.

“He can’t be that bad!” she says, trying to maybe make conversation and sway her attention from her dry throat and throbbing feet, “go on, I’ll meet ya at the top.”

The other private lets out a snort and - bless him - stops running to look at her hunched over and panting her lungs out. He smiles, the mocking idiot, and shakes his head.

“C’mon man we’re nearly there” he nods towards the darkening path ahead, but Olivia gestures for him to continue with an insistent hand gesture.

“You go, I’ll catch up” she stands up straight, thinking maybe she shouldn’t be slumping down like that, like a wounded animal. Not a great first impression. “Save yourself from the wrath of the big bad wolf” she smiles, getting just a bit more air in her lungs now.

Christenson returns the smile and slowly resumes his pace, slowly so as to give her a chance to join in.

She doesn’t. She feels faint.

She really wasn’t prepared for this - she’d only been here for thirty minutes, for crying out loud!

You’re supposed to have this mastered, remember?

Well, sue her. They didn’t have a Currahee to climb back in her training camp.

Her companion isn’t going to risk getting further punishment himself - he gives a short nod in camaraderie and starts getting further away with every second. Olivia doesn’t blame him at all. She does make it to the top eventually, about twenty minutes after he runs past her again.

In short: she’s screwed.

Christenson is nowhere to be seen when she finally makes it back into the training grounds - but Sobel is standing there like a persevering life-statue of Satan himself, arms crossed and stone-faced.

He doesn’t allow her the time to make any excuses.

“Follow me” he simply says, looking way too pleased with himself, much to Olivia’s chagrin. She’s properly carrying her rifle now, and Private Guarnere’s rucksack is still on her back. Her boots are moody and her pants dirty. As for her lungs… probably barely functional.

She doesn’t appreciate her Captain making her walk the entire length of the camp again only to reach his own office and dump all her belongings at the foot of the steps, at her feet.

“You are not fit to be part of my company, private. I suggest you go back to whatever shithole you came out of and repeat whatever shitty training you got. I’ll see you in a couple of years.”

With that, he starts stomping away.

“Sir -”

And he turns around just as quick, furiously stomps back.

“I did not grant you permission to address me, Private” he speaks slowly, clenching his teeth and eyeing her down like she’s the worst scum of the earth.

“Sir -” she shoulders her rifle and stands up straight. “Permission to speak, sir?”

“Denied.”

You tight-up bastard.

He resumes his walking to the kitchens - light up and cheery - undoubtedly packed till the last table with freshly-clean and tired paratroopers-to-be.

She knows she’s pushing her luck, but she catches up with him again - only a few more chances to try and make him change his mind before he ventures into the sea of soldiers where she cannot follow - what an embarrassing sight that would be, her being turned down and sent back within the hour.

“Sir, I am a sniper, I have passed all my tests - physical and otherwise - I am prepared to-”

“Well you have not passed my test, private, and this conversation is over.” He doesn’t turn around as he dismisses her again. She’s only grateful he hasn’t called her on her insubordination again - speaking out of turn.

The chanting from the kitchens becomes louder and the lights become stronger as they approach - and Olivia is short of aiming up that gun at the bastard and shooting that hat off his head.

“Sir - Captain Sir -”

“WHAT?” He turns around for the second time, spitting on her face like a venomous snake.

Olivia takes a deep breath and stands up straight again, proud.

“I am the finest sniper in my company sir, you can verify that in my papers! I have been assigned to the Airborne as an asset and to aid my comrades in battle! And rest assured I am qualified to do that, sir!”

Her captain seems to weigh her words for a moment. She holds her breath - he can turn around and push that door open and that’ll be the end of it. Lieutenant Nixon will come out and tell her ‘I told you so’ with an egotistical knowing-smile. Mikey will mention it till she’s gray and pissing her pants. God, her father will never speak to her again!

“Very well” Captain Sobel stands up straight himself, and Olivia thinks she’s misheard. There’s a glint in his eyes that she doesn’t notice - he turns around and enters the noisy lunch place and renders it rather silent. He’s out before she can let out that breath, and he’s holding a glass in his hand. “Let us be witness of your almighty abilities!”

And she’s got an audience now - Christenson among the lot, carelessly sharing a fag with a shorter bloke next to him, coming down the steps.

“I ain’t got all night!” Sobel shouts as he walks away - Olivia catches Lieutenant Nixon’s eyes for a split second before she turns around and walks to that bag of rice her Captain has just hastily thrown onto the ground at her feet. He yanks her rifle off her shoulder just like he did with her muffle bag earlier and he makes a face at it as he finds the safe lock. “Three shots, Private Brown. The chance to prove your worth. You miss, you’re out of my camp.”

“I - my bag sir, the ammo -”

“You won’t be using your rifle” Sobel almost sings in his mocking voice, as if addressing a five-year-old, as if that’s obvious information. The Captain makes a nod to someone near, and Olivia turns around to see a short-haired ginger hand over an M1.

When she looks back to Sobel, he’s well away. Far enough that she wouldn’t even hit a melon with this piece of crap.

Well, make do.

Ignoring the mumbling going on behind her - getting louder and only meaning her crowd of onlookers is getting bigger - she silently and slowly kneels and then gets down onto her position, resting her upper chest and left arm on the bag of rice and finding it very uncomfortable.

Sobel shakes the glass in the air and sets it on the ground, easily more than 300 feet away.

“Three!” he shouts again, just in case she didn’t understand him before.

“For heaven’s sake” she hears someone mumble near in disbelief, she doesn’t turn to look at him - not that she’d be able to find him anyway.

“Told ya to keep it up, boy” Christenson’s voice comes up among all the excited bets being placed. “That’s the big bad wolf right there” he laughs. Olivia clenches her teeth.

The M1 is less practical to maneuver, and she’s just getting into position when she hears someone coming up to her. Shiny boots.

“Get up, private” Lewis Nixon demands, impassible.

She doesn’t flinch.

Isn’t Sobel the one who’s got the last say, anyway?

“No, sir. I’m fine.”

“You’re panting like a dying goose, you’re not gonna hit that target now get on your feet.”

She still doesn’t move - despite knowing he’s damned well right. She’s only postponing the inevitable. That is a fucking transparent glass - it’s dark and she doesn’t even have the proper equipment.

She sighs, focuses on slowing down her breaths. She’s shaking too much.

“Got nothing to lose sir, I fail I go.”

The Lieutenant lingers for a bit longer, as if battling with his thoughts. He gives up shortly after and takes a few steps back towards the men.

Sobel is impatiently waiting at a safe-distance from her target - an insulting stretch of land, she thinks, and it only helps to feed her resolve to make it burst into a million tiny pieces of glass right in front of him. She’s still not ready, though, and with half of Easy Company on her rear being inconsiderately loud, she’s definitely not coming down her hype any time soon.

“Wish me luck as you wave me goodbye…” a mocking voice sings near, laughter follows.

I will be saving your fucking asses, you bunch of ungrateful idiots.

“Cheeri-o, here I go, on my way!” a few more voices join in.

When she sees Sobel taking a step towards them she gets lower - even closer to the ground - and rests her finger on the trigger to gain herself some time. She can barely make out the shape of the glass by squinting her eyes. It’s too damn far!

“Ey blondie, think ya could aim a little more to the left and up?” Someone jokes near, and that nearly prompts a laugh out of her. Good to know someone’s sharing her sentiment.

She takes the first shot in between heartbeats - just as she’s learnt and just as she’s always succeeded in hitting her targets before.

This one she doesn’t hit.

She tries to drown out the whoops and giggles from behind and clear her mind - closing her eyes, breathing down deep, deeper. Letting the air out slowly through her mouth and completely shutting one eye to get a better perspective - it doesn’t make much difference: the next shot doesn’t reach its target either.

Sobel starts making his way back, swaying proudly like the egotistical asshole he is.

‘Don’t dwell on it, just shoot. Don’t think, if you’re calm enough you take the shot, you’ll have mayhem around you, you don’t have time to think! Time is not on your side! Just. Shoot.’

At the sound of the glass exploding, she sees Sobel turn around abruptly to confirm what he’s just heard has actually happened - to be honest, it’s his reaction what makes her believe it as well, and his unhappy face as he stomps his way back to the group. She’s still on the floor - frozen in place by shock - when a bunch of guys behind start cheering.

Actually cheering.

By the time she’s on her feet again, Sobel is nowhere to be seen and she feels a bit like throwing up. She only sees the back of Lieutenant Nixon walking behind the hellish Captain before she’s surrounded by men patting her shoulder and grinning at her like she’s their pet-puppy.

She’s never felt so out of place in her entire life.

“Holy shit!”

“Imma be honest I thought you were outta here” a tall blonde one says with a strong southern accent.

“Did you see Sobel’s face?” A shorter one asks to no-one in particular, excitedly.

“What platoon you on?”

Olivia turns to the ginger as everyone becomes silent and awaits her answer.

“2nd Platoon” she says, uninterested, still rather dazed by the whole thing.

There’s more cheering after that.

Another brown-haired trooper throws an arm around her shoulder, “Whas’ your name again?” he asks, offering a happy grin.

“It’s Oliver you muck!” someone provides near.

“Outta my way boys! Imma get young Oli here a drink,” he offers his hand, Olivia shakes it with her free one, still tightly holding onto the M1 Garand that isn’t even hers. “Alex Penkala.”

#i haven't had any feedback yet #y'all please say sth say anything #throw a tomatoe at me but gimme a reaction pls #mine #band of brothers #bob #band of brothers fanfic #band of brothers fanfiction #lewis nixon #herbert sobel #donald malarkey #alex penkala #frank perconte #joseph liebgott #also lemme know if anyone wants to be tagged in updates

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derieri · 4 years

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Sins of Abstinence - Preview

In another world, Merlin chose a side.

It’s the first scene of the demon!Merlin AU I’ve been waiting for since 2016, which I finally decided to buck up and write for myself. The end word count will probably be about 15k, and I need some motivation to finish it!

Feedback and hearing if other people are excited about it would probably be a game-changer, so tell me what you think!!!!

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“So… what’d you call ‘em again?”

“The Ten Commandments,” Meliodas repeated, looking over his four companions. Criminals, every one of them, accused of vile crimes and sentenced to death until he recruited them. Diane, King, Ban, and Gowther. In Liones they were known as the Horsemen. After his stint as the commander of Danafor’s Holy Knights, one might think this was strange company for Meliodas to keep. But really, his companions were the same as they had always been: terrible people doing terrible things in the name of redemption.

“Riiiight. And they’re all stupid powerful.”

“The Demon King’s best warriors,” King added in an anxious voice. Meliodas nodded.

“Yep. But there’s a few I’m worried about in particular.” He shuffled the papers spread in front of him; King hovered over his shoulder to look. The drawings weren’t perfect likenesses after being filtered through three thousand years’ memories and his miserable art skills, but he’d managed to capture the demons’ distinctive traits. He laid out three pages and explained them one by one.

“Estarossa’s tricky, you can’t let him fool you. He is my brother, as is Zeldris. He’s next in line for the throne.” His finger tapped the drawing with a spray of spikey black hair, round cheeks, and a dark glower. “Then, there’s Merlin.” He brushed Zeldris aside to expose a sketch of a mature woman.

“Is she your sister?” Diane leaned in through the window to ask. He shook his head.

“Nope, she was human.”

“Human?” Ban said. “Thought you said they were demons.”

“She’s different. In more ways than one,” he added. “She’s not a Commandment, but she’ll come too, if she’s able. The others will be weaker when they break free, but not her. I sealed her separately. And she’s been leeching off my power for the last nineteen centuries. I have no idea how strong she’ll have gotten, but I’m sure she’s formidable.” Around him, the Horsemen had gone oddly silent. He looked up at them. “What?”

“Captain, you almost sound… proud of her,” King said. Meliodas sighed and let his eyes slide shut.

“I do, huh? Well.” He leaned back in his seat, crossing his arms behind his neck. “She’s probably mad as a spitting cat, and I don’t blame her. Point is, leave those three to me, alright?”

“… Sure, Captain.”

**-**-**-**-**

When the Horsemen had gone from the back room of the Boar Hat, Meliodas remained there alone, looking down at the drawings of his siblings. His fingers drifted over their faces. In his mind’s eye, all three of them are still just children. Estarossa, round-faced and eager; Zeldris, hungry to prove himself against his brothers; Merlin, as she was when he first met her, a sullen waif with her face streaked by ash. Gods, he was an awful older brother. Still, for Zeldris and Estarossa, he could tell himself that they were doomed to darkness from the start. Merlin, on the other hand—

Merlin was all his fault.

*** ** *** ** *** ** *** ** ***

“Meliodas!” An enthused cry was the only warning the prince of demons received before a young girl plowed into him at full force. He pulled up short, allowing her to wrap her arms around his thighs in a pathetic sort of hug. Gods, she was an excitable child. He’d never been this undisciplined—but then again, he wasn’t human.

“Merlin,” he greeted her blandly. “You seem… energized.”

She pulled away from his legs to look up at him, a bit more composed now but obviously in a good mood.

“I finished copying the scroll you gave me! Would you like to see it? And may I have another just like it?”

A small huff escaped between his lips. She was developing admirably. He’d never admit it out loud, but he was proud of her in a way—after all, he’d assumed responsibility for supervising her training. But he couldn’t take all the credit. Merlin possessed a raw talent for magic unlike any other he’d seen, her innate Infinity ability aside. It made her useful, remarkably so for a human.

“So soon? Not bad. I’ll look it over when I’m finished with the mission today. And I’ll prepare another for you as well.” She pouted and opened her mouth to complain, but he stopped her short. “Patience, Merlin. I can send for a tutor, if you’d like.”

Her nose scrunched up in distaste, as he’d expected it would. Between her uncanny talent and ornery behavior, she went through teachers like other children did sweets, exhausting their materials and their wits in a matter of hours. When he discovered that the fruitless lessons acutely annoyed her, he arranged lessons with the most mediocre scholars he could find and told them that she was a dunce. He got a great deal of amusement from watching Merlin’s frustration build until she snapped and chased them off with her unbridled ire.

“I guess I can practice what I already learned,” she sighed.

“Progress is progress. Practice will still do you well.” He gave her a patronizing pat on the head. “You’re far superior to any other human, at the least. Take pride in that.”

“I’m far above everybody. Even the teachers you get me don’t know as much as I do, just you and Gowther!”

“Talk is cheap, Merlin,” he said sharply, his eyes now dark and stern. He removed his hand from her head, dusting off his palms as he straightened up. “If you think you’re better, you better be able to prove yourself. You’ve already gotten yourself into trouble once that way.”

When he found her in Belialuin several years ago, he knew immediately that his father would want her. Revealing her existence to the Demon King made the perfect distraction while Meliodas explored his nascent emotions. He never imagined that she would try to con both gods for their power, but the spectacular backfire ended up being to his advantage. It was simple to woo her to his side when everything she knew had been obliterated, and easy to control her with reminders of her arrogance and promises of strength.

Her eyes darkened, slipping straight pass sorrow into bitter anger, then sharpened with resolve.

“I’ll do it! I’ll learn everything there is and be the best magician ever known. Good enough to kill anybody I want, demons or any other race.”

Ah, he liked that. Perhaps she would even be able to match even the winged monsters that called themselves holy archangels. But he would never say so: her head was big enough as it was. With a sly, almost malicious grin, he gave her another gentle pat on the head.

“Will you, now? Humans don’t live for long. In the end, time will be what does you in. Unless you find a way to kill that first.” He held back a snicker. “Only the greatest of mages manage that. It’s stuff of legends. Prioritize your work.”

“How long do humans live? I know we—they get hurt really easy, but…”

He shrugged. The details of a human life meant almost nothing to him: he only cared about it insofar as much as he could end it early.

“A century or two. Far too long for my tolerance. But if you end their lives short, they’re somewhat more bearable. So, you have perhaps two centuries to figure out how to extend your life long enough to be worth much. Whether you manage it is up to you.”

“It would be a lot easier if I was a demon,” she pouted. Meliodas only sneered.

“Obviously. But proceeding without struggle would only make you weak.” He paused to consider his words. “Weaker,” he amended, and she didn’t quite manage to restrain her flinch. Good. She could always use an ego check. No time like the present to remind her that her species’ nature was to mewl and cower, not keep pace with titans like himself.

“The King has no use for weakness. You’re fortunate to have been welcomed here after your gluttonous tricks. You would do well to ensure that He does not regret giving you a second chance.”

What happened to her was of no concern to him. She was a tool, a ploy to keep his father’s eyes off him while Meliodas got to know that goddess. If the volatile Demon King decided her petulance wasn’t worth it, he would end her— and oh, how easy it would be. But Meliodas had taken a liking to Merlin despite himself. If she had to die, then she’d have to die, but it would be quite a shame for her to end so quickly.

*** ** *** ** *** ** *** ** ***

Meliodas was the one who found her in Belialuin—an intelligent and, more importantly, powerful human that could swing the tide of the war. She was an ornery and ballsy little creature who knew the boundaries she crossed and didn’t really give a damn regardless, but it wasn’t hard to woo her to the Demon Clan once he introduced Gowther. She was thrilled to demonstrate her power to the King by freezing Zeldris in a block of ice.

He discovered that she was intelligent, exceedingly so for a creature of so few years. She could not keep up with a demon physically nor match their sheer power, but she made up for the deficit with her cleverness and razor-sharp instinct.

She grew quickly, as humans do, into a young woman with the heart of a snake. Her ego was still large, but she had potent magic power and a heap of cunning with which to back it up. Cunning enough to survive the dozens of battlefields where the Demon Clan warred in the decade that followed his defection. Cunning enough to flee the Coffin of Eternal Darkness before it was fully wrought, and cunning enough to disappear where none could hunt her down.

At first, he thought to let her go. She wasn’t evil, he told himself. Any influence the Demon King impressed on her was partially his own fault, too—his father wouldn’t even know of her existence if he’d kept his own damn mouth shut. She had been his bargaining chip, the proof of his loyalty in the precipitous years before he fled. And then he’d abandoned her in the lion’s den. His guilt kept him from pursuing her too doggedly.

That was his first mistake.

#fic: sins of abstinence #nanatsu no taizai #merlin #nnt fanfiction #nanatsu no taizai fanfiction #my fanfiction

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n-k-y · 5 years

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112: The EMA Breakdown

Chapter 112… Whether you think that this situation was a long time coming or a complete omnipresent disaster, we can all agree that it was incredibly intense for us readers. Now, we saw the inevitable (according to the author) train wreck that is E M A crash and explode into pieces. They finally had the aforementioned “talk” that was supposed to clarify Eren’s loyalty and their stance about the current fate/future of Paradis and the Eldian race.

Eren walks in with a fresh threat and then evasively answers the questions that he is asked. Shortly after Mikasa accuses Eren of being “controlled,” he begins a barrage of insults that boils over into a physical altercation between him and Armin.

Now, while there has been many theories that Even is being controlled via his mind (Zeke is considered to be the main culprit), but I don’t think so. I could be wrong as it could be revealed later that Eren was Zeke’s control. For now, however, I would say that Eren is either being heavily influenced to outrightly manipulated by the perceived ‘enemy.’ Despite this nuisance, I believe that these are Eren’s words and he meant them.

I would like to present my reasoning before I draw my conclusions:

The Japanese believe that there are three faces:

The first face is your public visage: the face that you show to the world.

The second face is your private face: you only show this face to your friends and family.

The third face is your innermost face: you show this face to no one.

I believe that there is even a fourth face: The perception/belief that you have of yourself from your own point of view.

There are also words in Japanese that also refer to this visage of the human condition. These are the divergent feelings and desires that people commonly experience.

(本音 hon'ne, “true sound”) refers to the face that one would reveal to themselves and close friends and family.

(建前 tatemae, “built in front”, “façade”) refers to “behaviors and opinions” that one displays in public or to others.

It is said that this divide is useful when living in a functional society because it avoids conflict.

In other words, you would not tell people what lives in the inner corners of your mind and presumably your darkest, rawest thoughts to prevent hurt, conflict and pain.

Yet, what we saw here was that Eren indelibly showed us and his friends hon’ne, or his third face. And it was brutal.

He spared not one verbal punch and let his honesty run rampant. Every fleeting negative thought, all the resentments, every perception, all his judgments… All of them were unleashed on Armin on Mikasa, mercy forgotten. Whether these assessments were unfair, inaccurate, or unjust, are a separate conversation - albeit subjective one.

Strangely enough, Eren’s commentary isn’t brand new.

He’s voiced these thoughts and concerns in previous chapters, just in a considerably less devastating fashion. Why is this important?

Because to Eren, they weren’t resolved. They exacerbated - then exploded. Despite addressing these concerns civilly (Armin being rather passive against said enemy and Mikasa being overbearing), Eren doesn’t feel like anything was done on their end to meet in the middle for a happy medium. He felt like they ignored him time and time again. Because of this, resentment bloomed, then blossomed, and the finish line produced an unbelievable showdown that ended with blood, tears, sadness, and anger.

Ladies and gentleman, the results of lack of communication in a dystopian society with monsters, titan and human.

Eren inexpliably showed us his fourth face: he promptly exempted himself from criticism by claims that he was “free.” He says that acts alone and is not a slave to anyone’s thoughts or at the mercy of anyone’s will. He is no longer ignorant - knowledge has afforded him to make his own informed choices.

To be frank, this 4th face can easily be tainted with ignorance and ironically provide falsely accurate information when ones commits to self examination.

Sadly, this seems to be the case here with Eren.

He has fallen to victim to not being able to constructively reflect on his own thoughts and actions. While freedom is a repeated motif that Eren and the story abide by, Eren seems to be been encased it by unceremoniously, chapter by chapter as the story progresses. This makes it impossible for him to become pliable for compromise and in the long run, blind to the bigger picture. This is dangerous for someone that is considered the hope of humanity and the savior of his people. Seemingly, oppression and his personal degradation, thoughts and feelings of inadequacy have worn on psyche causing the amplified, harmful effects of being subjected as an underclassmen in a world that he was born into… A world where he should be free. Causing him to feel that he needs to ward himself of these chains at any cost. Including his friends, his dignity, and his sanity.

Eren said that he hates ‘slaves’ but I doubt that he meant this literally. He was referring to people that accept their circumstances, recede into an apathetic nature, and don’t fight against the grain. He said “cattle” which elaborates on the context of the usage of the word slave.

People who don’t question what they’re told and don’t seek the truth.

But, do we know if he believed what Yelena and Zeke spoon fed him? Or did he not question it - not evaluate it? Did his followers?

If they didn’t -does he hate them? If he didn’t- does he hate himself?

Or did somehow Eren free himself from the feelings of hypocrisy? Exclusively for himself and those who believe in his cause?

Paradoxically, this isn’t freedom by definition, especially according to Eren. Sounds like they’re cattle…

That’s the state of the situation.

It is said that Eren is lying to protect them from the fall out of his/Zeke/Yelena’s plan/war results. While this is a possibility, although slim, I also don’t believe this is the case. Eren is genuine with his thoughts and I don’t think that he is a preemptive attempt to spare their feelings.

However, I do think that he did this to prepare them for battle.

To fight.

Fight for their freedom.

He unconventionally laid the groundwork for them to want to prove him wrong and examine their fault and flaws. Force them to take action by a harsh negative enforcement tactic. The basis of the talk was to jolt them from their “inaction” and become assets to freeing themselves from their own oppression. He exploited their insecurities and possibly used them as a motivation for what is to come. To inspire them to want to break from their bondage…

With that said, Eren is implying that he freed himself from bonds, notwithstanding. If they are no longer his friends after this encounter, that is their burden to bare - not his.

As the bad guy, this supposedly doesn’t matter anymore. Despite Eren visibly disconcerted by being called a slave to a piece of shit by Armin… So, he will keep advancing.

He made another request to see Zeke again after their meeting in Marley. He wants to take Armin and Mikasa to Shigashina to “where it all began…” And we shall see what the ever unpredictable Eren Jaeger has in store for their trio…

-NKY

(feel free to share your comments, thoughts, and questions with me :)]

#snk #snk 112 #aot #snk spoilers #nky writes #snk meta #eren jaeger #mikasa ackerman #armin arlert #my thoughts #shingeki no kyojin

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scripts4dreamers · 5 years

Text

Tea and scones

Tea and Scones pt. 2

part one

AN: Theseus Scamander ducks into a bookstore and finds more than he bargained for.

Characters: Theseus Scamander

Pairings: Theseus Scamander x reader

Warnings: None

Spoilers: None

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Over the next few weeks Theseus found almost any excuse to sneak out of work for an impromptu coffee break. Sure, your café was pretty far out of his way and sure, he was still trying to figure out how muggle money worked but, asides from that, he figured that it was all going pretty well. He’d learned a lot about you and, the more you talked, the more you seemed to get along. The coffee was…alright he guessed but, no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t convince himself that the coffee had any appeal at all when compared to your smile. The way your eyes lit up when he walked into the café every morning had very quickly become the highlight of his day and he’d be lying if he said he didn’t think about it more than he should.

“Mr. Scamander,” you greeted with a warm smile, making his heart leap, “back again so soon?”

He smiled and took his usual seat, “Well, you know me, I love my sesspreso.”

You laughed, “You mean espresso?”

Theseus blushed and mentally cursed his own stupidity, “Yeah. That one, sorry.”

You shook your head fondly, but took his order without further comment, adding in one of those apple and cinnamon scones that you knew he liked.

“Isn’t that that weird bloke who was just here like two hours ago?” Your colleague, Elizabeth asked, “The one who broke in and hid behind the counter?”

“His name is Theseus,” you corrected, “and he’s not weird, he’s just…different.”

Elizabeth tilted her head, “Y/N, come on, he’s weird.”

You shrugged and looked back over to his table, “I dunno, I think he’s sweet.”

“Oh he’s sweet as a peach, but completely twisted,” she countered, turning and looking at him over the espresso machine, “He is delicious,” Elizabeth admitted, “and he’s clearly smitten with you.”

You rolled your eyes, “Don’t be daft.”

“Y/N, you can’t honestly believe he keeps coming here for the coffee?” Elizabeth teased. You stayed silent and she snorted, “Y/N! Come on! Yesterday I brought him his coffee when you went on break, and he looked at me like I’d kicked his dog. The boy is mad for you.”

You blushed and looked over at Theseus again. He was handsome and you’d grown to enjoy his daily visits. He was sweet and funny, with a kind heart and he was always keen to help around the shop wherever he could. You’d be lying if you said you didn’t like him a bit, even if he was a little odd. You’d kept it pretty professional though.

Elizabeth sensed your train of thought and smiled, “See? You like him,” she teased, “why don’t you ask him out?”

“What?” you replied, scandalized, “Beth, I can’t ask him out, he’s a man!”

“How terribly traditional of you,” she replied, “It’s 1926, Y/N, women can do anything these days.” Elizabeth told you.

You made a non-committal noise in the back of your throat and slid the, now prepared, cup of coffee onto your tray, shooting Elizabeth a fond look as you took it over to Theseus’ table.

“Here you go, sir,” you said with a smile, placing the coffee and scone down in front of him, “the scone is on the house.”

Theseus gave you a shocked look, “Oh no, I’m more than willing to pay for-“

You waved his arguments away, “Don’t be silly, it’s on the house.” You smiled.

Theseus blushed and thanked you, sincerely; seeming as surprised today as he had every single time you’d done this. It was a rather expensive pastime; you had to admit, as each scone came directly out of your tips, but the look on Theseus’ face was always worth it, and it did mean that he was forced to spend a little more time in the café.

You hovered around Theseus’ table for a moment longer than you should have, wrestling with yourself before blurting out, “Do you want my telephone number?”

Theseus looked up, stunned and you flushed with embarrassment. His mouth opened and closed like a goldfish as he tried to find a way, you assumed, to reject you. Your stomach plummeted and you looked down, resolving to never let Elizabeth talk you into being overly progressive again.

“I’m sorry, that was silly of me,” you said quickly, “I thought that, since you were here all the time-nevermind. I’ll get Elizabeth to bring you the bill. I’m sorry.”

You rushed away quickly, burning with shame and ducking behind one of the bookshelves, cursing your own stupidity. You faintly heard Elizabeth saying something, and then the bell above the door tinkling, signifying the fact that Theseus had, quite hastily, fled. Underneath all of your embarrassment and regret, your heart was aching a little. Elizabeth was right, you liked Theseus, you really liked Theseus, and now you’d gone and ruined it. You had thought he liked you at least a little bit, enough to want your number, and knowing that he didn’t, did kind of hurt.

You wanted to sink into the floor and wallow in self-pity but you still needed to work and so, with a sigh, you pulled yourself together and headed back to the counter. For a long while you worked without thinking much of Theseus, focusing on smiling and getting customers their books and coffees without complaint. As you were flicking through the ledger, the bell tinkled and you looked up, fixing your customer service smile firmly back in place. To your surprise, it was Theseus, and your heart did a funny little leap. As he made his way to the counter you noticed, almost absentmindedly that he was looking a little disheveled, as though he’d been running.

“Can I help you?” You asked, with a slightly forced smile.

“Yes!” Theseus said, breathless from running, “Yes, I would love your telephone number, very much, please.”

You blushed, your heart leaping with something like excitement, “What? Really?”

Theseus nodded, giving you a sheepish smile, “If you’re still offering, of course.”

You felt laughter bubble up in your chest and you couldn’t help but giggle as you ripped a piece of paper from your notepad, scribbled down your number and handed it to him. Theseus took the paper gingerly and, for a moment, you thought he was confused as to what to do, but then he tucked it gently into his pocket and gave you a smile.

“Well, I should probably get back to work then,” Theseus suggested, not making any movement to leave.

“Oh,” you replied, your heart sinking, “probably.” The silence stretched on and you forced another bright smile, “But I’ll see you tomorrow morning, I’m sure?”

Theseus perked up and nodded, “Of course, bright and early, just like always.”

“And I’ll speak to you on the phone?” You asked nervously.

“Yes, I’ll call you soon, tonight if I can,” Theseus promised, “good afternoon, Miss Y/L/N. I hope you have a wonderful day.”

You smiled, feeling brave again, “Good afternoon, Mr. Scamander.”

Theseus rolled his eyes, but it was not without fondness, “Miss Y/L/N, when’ll I convince you to call me Theseus?”

“Call me and we’ll talk about it,” you teased with a flirtatious wink.

As you watched Theseus Scamander disappear back to wherever it was that he came from, you couldn’t help but smile.

“What an odd man,” you heard Elizabeth sigh.

“Oh yeah,” you agreed, “you can say that again.”

—————————

Theseus left the café feeling as though he’d run a mile. While you’d been flushing with shame and embarrassment, he’d been fighting a losing battle with the misuse of muggle artifacts department.

“I’m not trying to do anything Barty, I just want to know what it actually is,” he explained for the fifth time.

“It’s a communication device,” Barty Edgecomb answered with an exasperated sigh, “sort of like an owl but smaller and faster and not alive. Muggles use them to talk to one another when they’re at home.”

Theseus felt a rush soar through him. So you’d wanted to talk to him then. That was a good sign, wasn’t it?

“Okay, so how do they work?” Theseus asked, wondering if he could make himself one with magic.

Barty shrugged, “We don’t know. They use that eleckticity stuff everyone’s so keen on these days.”

Theseus’ heart sunk. If not even Barty knew how a telephone worked, chances are no one in the ministry did.

“You can buy them though,” Barty’s assistant piped up, “They’re all over the place now.”

“Elevra!” Barty chastised.

“Really?” Theseus interrupted, “From where? How do they work?”

It had taken some intense pleading and bargaining but, eventually, Theseus had managed to convince Barty Edgecomb that he wasn’t going to do anything dark and dangerous, and he’d agreed to help. It had taken longer than either of them would care to admit but, after a long and arduous search, they’d finally managed to purchase and install a telephone in Theseus’ apartment.

“She must be one hell of a girl, Scamander,” Barty said, making him blush furiously, “one hell of a girl.”

Not that Theseus could disagree, of course. You were, indeed, one hell of a girl and seeing your smile again really had made the whole search worth it. As he left the café, Theseus couldn’t help but grin to himself, like a schoolboy. He had your number! He had it tucked away in his pocket and, once he figured out how to use it, he’d be able to call you and talk to you whenever he liked. He chuckled excitedly to himself and, to his horror, actually skipped a few steps as he walked, thinking about your conversation again. You’d bantered with him, and it had seemed like you’d forgiven him for his strangeness, yet again.

He felt bad about all the lying he’d done but, really, what else could he do? While he worked, Theseus had to physically force his mind away from you, a task that proved to be more challenging the longer it went on. If his colleagues noticed his vacantness, they didn’t say anything, happy to keep wondering amongst themselves quietly.

By the time the day was over the only thing that could even hope to compete with Theseus’ enthusiasm was, of course, his overwhelming nervousness. He stared at his brand new telephone, wishing it could speak and tell him that he was doing the right thing as the picked it up and held it to his face.

A perky sounding woman picked up the phone and asked him for the extension he wanted to contact and Theseus nearly lost his nerve, almost deafening the poor woman as he screamed out your number. She kept calm though and, all too soon, he was waiting with baited breath as his telephone beeped at him. Theseus was now, definitively, more nervous than he was excited. This whole ordeal now seemed like a horrible, horrible mistake. What if you didn’t pick up? What if you did? What did people even talk about on the blasted telephone? He suddenly wished he’d asked Barty for a hell of a lot more detail than he had. He’d almost resolved to hang up and never go back to your café again when he heard a click on the other end of the line.

“Hello?” you answered, your voice soft and distorted.

A small little burst of joy flickered through his chest. You sounded adorable; he thought with one side of his mind and, with the other, he wondered over how amazing it was to actually be able to speak to you like this. It was only then that he realized that he might’ve been silent for a while too long.

“Mr Scamander?” you asked, with an obvious smile in your voice, “Is that you?”

“Yes, I-hello,” he jumped in, “it’s me.”

You laughed gently, “I figured.”

Theseus let out a shaky chuckle, his heart still pounding in his chest, “Sorry, I’m a little nervous.”

You hummed understandingly, “So am I. I don’t give my home number out to customers very often-“ you admitted, “or like, ever, actually.”

“Really?” Theseus smiled.

And with that, the tension shattered, and conversation started to flow naturally. He managed to make you laugh, more than once and he was exceptionally proud of that. Minutes turned into hours and, all too soon, Theseus heard you yawn and he realized, with a jolt, how late it had gotten.

“Hey, Miss Y/L/N,” he started gently.

“Y/N,” you corrected, “my name is Y/N, Theseus.”

“Sorry,” Theseus smiled, “Y/N, can I ask you something?”

“Of course,” you replied, “anything.”

Theseus swallowed hard, his heart skipping a beat, “Would you maybe like to grab dinner with me tomorrow night?”

You were quiet for a long moment and, in that time, Theseus felt himself go through all five stages of grief.

“Like, on a date?” you asked.

Theseus took a deep breath in, “Yes, yes exactly.”

On the other end of the line, you were beaming, and Theseus could hear it when you said, “Well then I’d have to say yes, yes I’d love that.”

Theseus felt his heart soar and, without thinking, he cheered, “Yes!” and did a funny sort of jump.

Your laughter made him laugh too and, soon enough, you were both in stitches, high off the idea of seeing one another. Eventually the laughter died down into comfortable silence and, unfortunately, you saying that you had to get some rest. Theseus agreed reluctantly, thinking of all the work he had to do in the morning, before promising to meet you outside a restaurant he remembered you saying you liked at 7pm the following evening.

“Goodnight, Theseus,” you said, your voice soft with fondness.

The way his name sounded coming from your mouth was heavenly and he couldn’t help but smile.

“Goodnight Y/N, sleep well.”

——————

Tag list: @boobearlover2469, @heartbroken-writer, @lunaaugurium, @toastedside, @blondeeee-e, @babyplutoszx2, @rvmanova

#jordsie #jordsie writes #tea and scones #theseus x reader #theseus scamander #theseus scamander imagine #theseus scamander x reader #theseus #fantastic beasts imagine #fantastic beasts and where to find them #fantastic beasts the crimes of grindelwald #fantastic beasts crimes of grindelwald #fbtcog #fbcog #fbawtft

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duhragonball · 5 years

Text

Dragon Ball 082

InaShikaCho! He’s got the head of a boar and the antlers of a moose and the wings of a butterfly. Not real clear on what his body is more like. Definitely not a butterfly body, that’s for sure, but I think it’s like a moose body on boar legs?

Funimation always spells it as one word with three capital letters, while the subtitles spell it “Inashika Cho”. I’m gonna look this up, because I always assumed the name was some sort of portmanteau of Japanese or Chinese words for the three different animals. Please enjoy this pleasant music until I get back.

youtube

Okay, so here’s a plot twist for you: If you google “InoShikaCho” the first hit is the Dragon Ball Wiki, but the second result is the Naruto Wiki. Apparently there’s a technique in Naruto called “Formation InoShikaCho”. It’s actually named after a term from the card game Koi-Koi. There’s a certain combination of cards named Inoshikacho, which indeed translates into “boar, deer, butterfly”. Okay, and that’s why the title card for this episode displays three playing cards. Not sure how they switched the deer with what is clearly a moose. Maybe “shika” refers to both animals. Let’s move on.

Goku’s wandering around hungry when he sees a family in a runaway vehicle. It looks like half a motorcycle hitched to a trailer, so you tell me what it’s called. He leaps into action and stops the thing with a bamboo tree. The grateful family tells him that their brakes went out while they were trying to flee the vicious Inoshikacho.

Just like the title of this cartoon! Goku wants to fight the Inoshikacho, but they warn him that it’s super dangerous. Well that only encourages him.

No one really spells out that Inoshikacho is a chimera of three different animals. Now that I see the guy, I’m satisfied that he has deer antlers and not moose antlers, so I guess it’s just the title card that messed up. It’s probably just as well that Goku doesn’t get a description of the guy, or he’d probably want to eat him. Goku’s pretty hungry.

Meanwhile, Krillin and Yamcha are sparring at Kame House while Bulma complains that Master Roshi isn’t teaching them anything. Look, lady, the whole idea is they wear those heavy shells and delivery milk or fight bees or whatever it was. He didn’t teach Goku anything either and he turned out okay. The real question is why he’s letting them spar at Kame House instead of their usual regimen.

Bulma checks out the book Roshi is looking at, and shockingly it isn’t porn. It’s actually a photo album with pictures from Roshi’s younger days. This one is him with the Crane Hermit, who is holding a baby Inoshikacho.

They start out pretty docile, but when they get upset, they’re hard to deal with. Bulma asks where the Inoshikacho is now, and Roshi admits that he moved away soon after these photos were taken, so he has no idea.

Well, we know, because when Goku heads to the village to find it, he discovers that someone else is way ahead of him. Two martial artists already showed up and hired themselves out to the village to capture the beast. Look, they’ve already got it cornered.

Wait, whaaaaaaaaaaaaat? Tien and Chiaotzu? But this is the Fortuneteller Baba Saga! Yeah, these two haven’t been introduced in the manga just yet, but here’s a sneak preview of these guys. They kick the Inoshikacho a couple of times and it goes down surprisingly easy.

The villagers are super grateful for the boys’ help, but T&C don’t care about that as long as they get their reward money. Chiaotzu’s all about the dollah-dollah.

Since they’re in a hurry to leave, Tien offers to dispose of the Inoshikacho corpse on their way out.

And Chiaotzu helps himself to this corn that’s also hanging from somebody’s roof. Chiaotzu’s also about that corny-corny.

Meanwhile, Goku’s just minding his own business, fishing with his tail because he’s still hungry. As far as he knows, that whole Inoshikocho business is over with. I’m kind of surprised he didn’t introduce himself to Tien and ask to spar with him, though. Maybe he did and Tien brushed him off.

Then he smells something good, and follows his nose to... What’s this?! Inoshikacho is alive?????? And eating corn on the cob with Tien and Chiaotzu???????????? The same martial artists who were hired to kill him??????? Is thiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiis what I’ve been paying for?

Yeah, so this is your basic “Martial-artists-pretend-to-kill-a-monster-but-they’re-really-in-cahoots” scam. Goku doesn’t even understand that, but Tien’s convinced that he’s exposed their sweet racket, so now he’s gotta die. At first, Chiaotzu squares up to fight him, but Tien tells him to back off and let him handle this. Goku has no idea how lucky he is. Tien just wants to kill him, but Chiaotzu would have devoured his soul.

So yeah, Tien’s really good at martial arts. So is Goku, but he’s too hungry to fight back effectively, as this episode has reminded up like fifty times. We get it, we’re not really seeing a sneak preview of the 22nd Budokai because neither fighter was prepared. Goku’s had all day to find food, though. It’s not like he’s picky either. If he can’t find a wolf or a centipede in the middle of nowhere than that’s his own damn fault.

Goku still manages to dodge Tien’s attacks, so Tien kicks a tree instead and it crashes on top of Goku, who lacks the strength to hold it up.

Tien decides to just leave Goku pinned under the tree and let him die of exposure. I think I’ve talked about this before, but it really exposes Tien’s conflicted nature. Yeah this sounds like a really cruel way to kill a guy, but it also shows us that Tien lacks the killer instinct to finish Goku off himself. When Mercenary Tao failed to kill Goku, it was because he was too arrogant and careless to check the body for a pulse. When Tien fails to kill Goku, it’s because he doesn’t have the stomach to reach down and break Goku’s neck with his bare hands.

I’ll even go you one better and speculate that this is why Goku was somehow able to dodge all of Tien’s strikes. In his head, he was trying to kill Goku, but his heart wasn’t into it, so he wasn’t putting his all into those attacks. I’m not saying that Tien hasn’t killed before, or that he wouldn’t have killed a weaker target in this situation, but we know he’s strong enough to kill Goku and he definitely didn’t kill Goku, which says to me that something’s holding him back.

As for Chiaotzu, he’s easy either way. He’s got his money, he’s got his corn, he doesn’t mind peacing out and leaving Goku to die.

Meanwhile, Bulma wakes up from a nightmare involving Goku getting impaled on Inoshikacho’s antlers.

Yamcha and Krillin don’t know what the big deal is.

As for the real Goku, he’s just fine. He wakes up in the home of a girl named Tanmen, who feeds him. I’m a little unclear on how he escaped from that tree, but the point is that he survived and he’s totally fine now that he’s got some food in him. Goku explains Tien’s scam to Tanmen, and she’s pretty upset about it.

Meanwhile, Tien and Chiaotzu have already moved on to the next town. Inoshikacho is wreaking havoc, and they’re just waitng for the right time to move in. “I hope they have corn,” Chiaotzu says. “They will,” Tien replies.

On his way after Tien, Goku runs into the same family as before. Turns out they left the first village and took refuge in the very one that Inoshikacho is terrorizing right now. Goku resolves to settle their has this time.

By the time Goku arrives, T&C have already “captured” Inoshikacho and have it trussed up.

But Goku comes along and tickles the supposedly “dead” monster and reveals that he’s still alive. This proves that Tien and Chiaotzu are in choots with Inoshikacho!

But wait! Tien puts a burning piece of wood under Inoshikacho, which proves he’s NOT in cahoots. Would he allow an accomplice to suffer and die like this? On the other hand, Goku takes pity on the creature and frees him, which Tien uses to “prove” that Goku’s the one who’s in cahoots with Inoshikacho!

That trick fools the villagers into turning on Goku, but it also turns Inoshikacho against Tien. He shoots him a dirty look as Goku comforts him, and the boys realize that Inoshikacho might never trust them again.

Goku doesn’t want to fight the villagers, and Inoshikacho is still hurt from his burn, so Goku has to pick him up and take him away to Tanmen’s village for help.

I think this is something that’s often overlooked whenever there’s discourse about Goku being a good husband or father. He hardly knows Inoshikacho, other than the fact that he was a bad guy until about ten minutes ago, but he’s still carrying him all the way to the next town, just to get him some medical attention. The argument I’ve seen is that Goku thinks about his wife and sons no differently from anyone else he knows, but that still goes a long, long way. Personally, I think Goku loves his wife a lot more than Inoshikacho here, but even if this were as far as it goes, Goku would still be a great husband. Most guys wouldn’t carry their wives several miles at night to save them from an angry mob.

Eventually Tanmen convinces the mob from the other village that Goku’s on the level, and everyone agrees to forgive Inoshikacho. Inoshikacho, in turn, promises to be good, and he starts helping out around town and being a cool friend. When Goku mentions that he’s training for the Tenkaichi Tournament, Inoshikacho offers to spar with him. The narrator suggests that this is a big deal, since Inoshikacho knows how Tien fights, so this’ll be good preparation for Goku. That might be overselling it a little, but it’s definitely a nice gesture.

Anyway, Tien and Chiaotzu are on their way to Papaya Island for the 22nd Budokai and that sweet sweet prize money. “I wanted corn,” Chiaotzu says. “50,000 zeni can by many corns,” Tien explains.

#dragon ball #2019dbliveblog #tien #tien shinhan #chiaotzu #goku #tenman #inoshikacho #bulma #master roshi #krillin #yamcha #fortuneteller baba saga

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cottontail20 · 5 years

Text

A Legend All Their Own, Chapter 18: What She Needed Him To Be

Summary: Ultron’s army arrives.

Ao3 link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16736589/chapters/41950208

Vision dreamed of Wanda, of that one precious, perfect night with the Princess that he could remember and carry with him for the rest of his life.. Even if the rest of his life proved short, seeing as they were going to war the next day.

Wanda was gone when Vision woke the next morning, but that was okay. He'd expected her to be. A Princess couldn't let herself be found in the bed of a thief, even if that thief was her chosen protector. --

The Sanctum was alive with nervous activity. Everyone was rushing about, preparing themselves for battle, doing some last minute training. While the lookouts hadn't caught sight of Ultron's army yet, many swore they could hear marching in the distance. The atmosphere grew increasingly tense as the sound grew close enough for all to hear, their situation now frighteningly real.

Vision fixed the circlet containing the Mind Stone atop his head, taking a nervous breath. As the lookouts began shouting that they could now see the enemy approaching, he finally spotted Wanda, pulling on a pair of gloves with shaking hands, and moved to her side.

"Wanda.." Vision half expected her to run off, or become awkward with him, but she didn't.

"Hi.." The Princess looked up at him and smiled, a soft, shy smile. "I'm sorry I.."

"I understand. Are you alright?"

"Nervous.."

"That's understandable.. So am I" Vision admitted.

The Avengers, and all the Sorcerers willing to fight, had headed out ready to meet the approaching army.

Wanda and Vision were left rather alone in the entrance hall of the Sanctum.

"But.. I'm not going to die Today, right?"

"No. I will protect you."

Wanda's breath caught. Vision was looking at her the same way he had looked at her the night before, and she could nearly believe that he hadn't been pretending at all.

"I'll protect you too."

"Wanda, I'm not sure that's how this is supposed to.."

"I'll protect you too" She repeated, cutting him off.

"If you say so" Vision couldn't help smiling, making his way towards the door. "We'd better.."

"Wait, Vizh" The Princess reached into her pocket. "I have something for you."

"Oh.." He turned and walked back to her, slightly confused. "What is it?"

Wanda pulled out a strip of material that Vision recognised as a part of the dress she'd been wearing on the day they first met, the same one she had torn to bandage his arrow wounds.

"Traditionally, the Princess gives a favour to a soldier they wish to return home from a battle, to bring them luck. Usually it's a handkerchief, but all I had was this.." She looked up at Vision, tying the material around his arm. "Don't die Today, okay Vizh? I don't think I could deal with all this without you."

Vision blushed brightly. He did not know a lot about royal tradition, but from what he did know, he knew that receiving a Princess's favour was a great honour, one usually reserved for Princes, Lords, or Knights.

"Thank you, Wanda.. I will do my very best not to die Today."

"Good.." Wanda scanned his face with her wide eyes, as if trying to make sure that he was telling the truth. Then she kissed him.

Without thinking, Vision returned her kiss, his arms wrapping around her, drawing her close.

The kiss lasted until the sound of marching feet grew too loud, too close to ignore any longer, and finally stopped.

"We should.."

"Get out there" Wanda reluctantly agreed. --

"That's nowhere near the whole army.." Wanda murmured to Vision as they headed outside, their troop of Sorcerers and Avengers standing face to face with Ultron's soldiers.

"That's good" Vision whispered back. "It means he's underestimated us.."

King Ultron was not present, clearly having deemed them not important enough to bother with himself at this stage. The army was being commanded by Brock Rumlow.

Rumlow suppressed a frown, as Ultron had indeed underestimated things somewhat. He had not expected quite this many Sorcerers to be openly standing with Wanda at this early stage. Not that it really mattered, he thought. How dangerous could they really be?

Rumlow ordered the Army to charge.

The Sorcerers charged to meet them.

Wanda and Vision took to the sky, as per the earlier made plans. Using their powers to fight from a distance, Wanda tossing soldiers aside, Vision firing blasts from the Mind Stone.

They caught glimpses of their friends scattered across the battlefield. Doctor Strange shouting orders to the Sorcerers. Flashes of Tony's armour. Steve's shield knocking soldiers down. Natasha fighting furiously. Clint's arrows flying every which way.

Wanda was only to swoop lower when she had a clear, certain shot at the enemy, Vision ensuring he stuck to her like glue, to keep her safe.

"Go for the Princess and her Guard dog!" Rumlow ordered, any time they grew close enough to strike. "That's who we're here for!"

Vision would furiously punch or blast anyone who's weapon grew too close to Wanda, and was ready to grab her hand at a moments notice to make them intangible when needed.

Then, they would rise back up, observing from afar, free from the worst of the fighting. The enemy clearly had not accounted for Wanda's mastering her ability to fly, as they had brought very few archers.

When Vision looked in Wanda's eyes, he saw fear, but also growing determination, and this steeled his own resolve. His main concern at this point was that the Princess seemed to be growing exhausted. She had never needed to remain airborne for quite this long before.

Fortunately, he didn't need to worry for much longer.

Combatants were falling on both sides, but it soon became clear that their side had the upper hand. Eventually, with a frustrated growl, Rumlow was forced to order Ultron's army to retreat.

A cheer rose up from the Sorcerer-Avenger alliance.

But Wanda.. Wanda chased the fleeing army.

"Wanda!" Vision followed. "Wanda, wait!"

"I never wanted this!" The Princess yelled, hurling red energy at the backs of the retreating Soldiers. "I never wanted to fight, you tell Ultron that! All I wanted was to get away from him!"

Then, knowing that Vision had followed her, Wanda turned and let herself collapse in his arms, exhausted and sobbing.

"It's alright.. It will be alright.." --

There was much celebration in the Sanctum that night, feasting and drinking.

"We stuck it to Ultron Today, didn't we kid?" Tony, who had clearly drunk a little too much already.

"Again, not a kid.." Vision was not entirely paying attention, keeping watch over Wanda who seemed rather quiet and subdued in the midst of the celebrations. "But yes, I suppose we did."

"To kicking Ultron's ass! Woo!"

As Tony disappeared back into the crowd, Vision hurried to Wanda's side.

"Wanda, are you.."

"Just tired" She managed a small smile. "I think I might go to bed.. Enjoy the rest of the celebrations, Vizh."

Vision watched her go.

He waited for awhile, then sighed and decided to head for bed himself. He wasn't a party person. --

Vision had just climbed into bed when his door creaked open once again.

"Vizh? I can't sleep.."

"I'm not sure I'll be able to either.."

"Can I.."

Before Wanda had even finished her question, Vision moved over to make room, and the Princess slipped into bed beside him, curling into his arms.

"Are you alright?" He asked her. "After the battle.."

"I was just a little overwhelmed with it all.."

"That's understandable. If you really don't want to fight, running away and getting a new identity is still an option.." If that was what she wanted.. If Wanda wasn't a Princess, there was no reason they couldn't be together..

"That is tempting" Wanda sighed. "But now I've started this.. I think I'd like to follow it through. Avenge Pietro."

"Then I will be by your side until you do."

Wanda's heart fluttered at his words. She thought of what she'd wanted to say to him the night before, wanted to say it now.. But she was confused, unsure, because these were things that she'd never been allowed to let herself feel. All Wanda knew for certain was that Vision made her feel safe, and happier than she'd been in quite a long time.

"Vision.." she said softly, "If I.. asked you to.. pretend for me again, sometimes.. could you?"

Again, Vision wanted to tell her that he didn't have to pretend, but the words caught in his throat. Instead, he said, softly:

"Yes."

Because he would be whatever she needed him to be, for as long as she needed him to be it.

#scarletvision #scarlet vision #scarletvision au #scarlet witch #vision mcu #wanda maximoff #wanda x vision #vision x wanda #Avengers #MCU #avengers au #mcu au

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enziroth · 6 years

Text

Defeat (Part 1)

I was just rereading the fight between Katakuri and Luffy, and I realized how completely outmatched Luffy was at first.

Consider this to be the first part of what might have happened if Luffy hadn’t been able to adapt in time.

The rookie was going to get himself killed.

He was completely outmatched in both strength and speed, and after twelve hours of fighting he had to be running on nothing but fumes. Really, it was a wonder he was still standing.

But standing he was, fists up and eyes fierce.

He was bleeding from more wounds than Katakuri could count, unsteady on his feet and heavily favoring his left side. A haki-hardened punch sent him crashing to the ground, but he got back up again, staggering forward and somehow managing to dodge the next hit.

He was showing Katakuri things he’d never seen before, breaking the human limits of endurance, defying the very laws of life as he remained standing even after being battered with a dozen blows that each should have been fatal on their own. Strawhat Luffy was nothing short of a miracle in human form…but that miracle was running out.

He was slowing, each punch he threw missing Katakuri by wider and wider margins, each successful dodge coming with less space to spare between safety and death. Eventually, the gaps between them would become too wide, and the miracle would burn out and die at his feet.

Yes, the rookie was going to get himself killed, and it was going to be such a waste.

Katakuri had never seen such bravery before; all his foes had either run in terror or surrendered, hoping for mercy. He’d shot the former in their backs for their cowardice, and the only mercy he offered to the latter left heads rolling on the floor.

A good fight was something he hadn’t had in years, and the sheer defiance the rookie had spat at him had been something he’d never forget. The perseverance, the grit, the raw strength of will Luffy had displayed were all invaluable in a sea such as the New World, and Katakuri thought it was a damn shame that it was all going to be snuffed out here.

He’d been disappointed when Luffy had run from him, but it was only to be expected. The rookie’s power-up had let him get a few good hits off, and Katakuri wasn’t too proud to admit that they’d done some damage, but that window had closed. His advantage had worn off, leaving Luffy greatly weakened and facing off against a once-more invincible opponent. The only logical step was to escape from their arena, or Katakuri would have crushed him.

He’d lamented his loss, resigning himself to wait until the mirror world until the Strawhats and Firetanks were dealt with. It was a pity that Luffy would have to die by the hands of his other siblings, as they wouldn’t be able to appreciate what the rookie had to offer, but such was life.

When Luffy had returned, though, he’d felt his interest in him swell…as well as his hope. For why else would he return to a battle he knew he’d lose, but to surrender? Perhaps he’d seen the extent of the forces that were waiting for him while running through the mirrors with Brulee and realized that he’d never escape alive. Perhaps he’d taken time to think, and decided that his best chances lay with appealing to Katakuri’s mercy.

And for this particular rookie, Katakuri found himself willing to offer quite a bit of mercy.

Mama would demand her cut of his hide, of course. It was very likely the rookie’s entire crew would be slaughtered, though Katakuri would make an argument to spare the cook. He’d shown some admirable skill with his observation haki, and he would make for a good training dummy for Katakuri to use to better his own haki. It had been nearly a decade since someone managed to dodge one of his shots, after all.

But after the payments were made for the Strawhats’ insolence, and all the corpses thrown out, Luffy would be his.

With Luffy beneath him, he could build up that strength, could turn him into a real force to be reckoned with. All the raw material was there, and the only things needed to shape it were time and mentoring; both things Katakuri could offer in spades.

In time, and after proving himself enough, he could be officially inducted into the family. Katakuri could think of a half-dozen of his younger sisters who were yet to be matched, and once Mama saw in him what Katakuri could see she would rush to secure him. Then, Katakuri would be able to turn those miracles against their enemies and watch them fall like flies in the face of Luffy at his full potential.

Yes, Luffy’s surrender would be ideal.

But the punches he saw flying towards his face told him that the rookie hadn’t yet given up, and he mourned what could have been as he prepared to tear him to pieces.

Except, after another hour of basically tossing him around, Katakuri found he couldn’t.

Luffy was too resilient, too determined, too willing to stand back up and take the next hit. Katakuri couldn’t get him to stay down, couldn’t pin him and properly end his life. But that wasn’t the true issue, and after an hour or so of watching the rookie take hit after hit and keep coming back for more, Katakuri knew he could no longer deceive himself.

It wasn’t that he couldn’t kill Luffy; he didn’t want to kill Luffy.

Every minute that passed, every second Luffy stayed standing with a dozen fatal wounds, every moment the rookie continued to defy everything Katakuri had ever known was another minute that drained his will to truly end things. Luffy was everything he didn’t know he’d been searching for, the person he’d never known he’d wanted to be, the hope he’d never thought he’d have. It had taken him countless miracles to get this far, a hundred times more than anyone had any right to have, and yet he’d wrought them all the same.

But it would have to end, eventually. Miracles couldn’t last forever, and neither could the battered and bloody body in front of him. Though his will to kill the rookie may have waned, Katakuri found his will to win the fight was still strong indeed. His siblings were out there, beyond the walls of the mirror world, and if a man like Luffy broke through…they’d never see him coming. No, Katakuri couldn’t allow that to happen.

As long as Luffy kept standing up, he’d keep beating him back down. And since the rookie showed no sign of giving in, Katakuri would eventually land a hit that would prevent Luffy from ever getting back up again.

By his very nature, Luffy was going to force Katakuri to kill him.

But he couldn’t.

“Stay down,” he ordered. He said it like a demand, but in his mind he was begging. “You can’t win this. Stop getting up. Just give in.”

Their fight could still be resolved if Luffy surrendered. He’d take him prisoner, force the Strawhats to give themselves up, and finally be able to end this whole damned ordeal. He’d give Mama the Vinsmokes, the Strawhats, the Firetanks, and the Suns. He’d present her with Bege’s and Judge’s and Jinbei’s heads, all speared together on the end of his trident, and he’d offer to personally hunt down anyone they’d ever cared about and return with their shredded corpses.

He’d swear to follow her every order and never stray for the rest of his life, if she’d only give him Luffy.

“Stay down,” he hissed, raining down blow after crushing blow as Luffy ignored him. Each time the rookie rose once more to face him, Katakuri felt his fury rise as well, driving him to put even more force behind his strikes. Everything would be solved if Luffy just gave in, but the rookie refused to listen.

But the longer he remained standing, and the more he defied him, the more Katakuri wanted him by his side. Such drive, such endurance, such pure and simple refusal to accept a defeat…he was the absolute ideal ally. Pudding could manipulate his memories to turn his loyalty to them, and with Katakuri’s training, he’d be unstoppable.

Katakuri would never allow Luffy to slip through his fingers, not when he had in front of him the long-sought-after key to ending the emperors’ stalemate and finally turning the tide in Mama’s favor.

Luffy would either leave this realm on their side, or not at all.

Why write porn when you can write two stubborn stretchy idiots fighting each other instead?

Just kidding, the NSFW continuation of this is coming soon.

#charlotte katakuri #luffy #katakuri x luffy #katalu #one piece #katakuri's like #JOIN ME #I CAN TEACH YOU #but luffy's like #no #give me my cook back i'm fucking starving

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italicwatches · 6 years

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My Hero Academia, season 2 - Episode 13.5

Yes, that’s right people, we’re coming back to My Hero Academia! If you’ve been watching my newly formed WIW Tumblr, you’ll know that I’ve been reposting the first season’s logs over there. It’s all been in preparation for this, this moment right here!

Of course, it’s been a long time since we did the first MHA season. The show was fairly fresh then, a lot of fandom stuff hadn’t entirely coalesced. So I expect there to be some minor shifts as I swing back into this; the nickname Deku stuck a lot harder than our hero’s actual name, that sort of thing, so we’ll probably just be giving in and using it. We’ll see how it all hashes out.

And given how long it’s been, I figure a soft re-entry is probably for the best. Luckily, the producers thought the same thing…So we’re starting this off with a recap, in My Hero Academia episode 13.5! Here we GO!

-We begin in clear blue skies…Aaah yes, it’s the start of the series. A certain green haired little boy laid out on the ground after getting his ass beat. His life started with a certain video. It started his research, young Izuku’s constant need to know everything he could…

-And a quick rundown of how the world works. Roughly 80% of the population have some superpower, a Quirk, and a significant fraction of those have enough major capacity to become a Hero, a government-employed protector of the peace. And of course the greatest hero is All Might, the Superman analog of the setting. The very symbol of peace. Of course, you must know that now, Izuku, who now goes by Deku, is working his ass off to become a hero. The story you’re about to hear has a happy ending.

-Because yeah his life started off rough. That fateful doctor’s visit where he learned he had no Quirk. He just broke, at the age of four. He got stuck with the name Deku, as a hateful mockery from a certain bully. But then, came, that, day. The day that changed everything.

-The day when he met All Might. The day when he almost had his hopes dashed…But instead, he learned the truth of All Might, the way his powers had come to a severe limit and end. He saw that even a hero could be laid low, and the real, true risks of this job…

-But it was that same day when he threw himself into the fray. When his body moved before his mind, and the spark of genuine heroism burned bright in his heart. Looking back, he can see a thousand reasons why he did what he did. But in the moment, there was only one thing that mattered. Someone was in pain. Someone needed help. And he reached out a hand.

-It was that single action that changed everything. Because it was what got All Might to see him as not just worthy of taking on the title of hero…But worthy of becoming his successor. Of course, that fateful day was not the happy end to his story…It was only a new beginning.

-First was ten months of hell, working to his absolute limits to build a body that could just barely hold the power of One For All inside of it. Then was the entrance exam into UA, the finest heroism school in the nation.

-And then…Was the new hell that was his schooling. Learning to contain a power built for someone twice his size. Dealing with the same man who made his life hell. Bakugo Katsuki, Kacchan to his friends and also Deku. Which all came to a head in their confrontation in the hero test…

-Of course, it wasn’t all bad. He made friends. Comrades in arms. Honorable rivals. All the kinds of people who, in their own ways, push you to be the best you that you can be. And of course, his research continued, learning everything he could about the people he was standing besides…

-Katsuki, whose Explosion quirk lets him sweat out a nitroglycerin-esque substance from his palms and kick it off on command. He’s a hell of a fighter, and top of the charts whenever asses-kicked is your metric.

-Or Uraraka Ochaco. Her Zero-Gravity quirk can make anything she touches, including her own body, weightless. The only problem is that it also effects her sense of motion, so overuse(especially on herself) can cause potent seasickness. Pro tip, Deku has a crush on her, and Ochaco wants to see him get all shirtless and sweaty when confronting Katsuki.

-Then there’s Iida Tenya, He’s a fast runner to begin with, and his Engine quirk kicks that into overdrive. This guy never skips leg day.

-Todoroki Shoto. We called him Super-Zuko before and that might still stick. He can freeze with one hand and burn with the other, but we’ve so far only ever seen his ice powers. Just how strong his fire can be, remains to be seen…

-Asui Tsuyu, Tsu to her friends. Her quirk is being best girl. …I mean she can do frog stuff. Underwater movement, high jumping, sticking to walls, long tongue, you get the idea. Frog-chan, Frog-chan, does whatever a frog can~

-Or there’s Mineta Minoru, who is trash. Also the balls on his head can stick to stuff but if he pulls too many he starts bleeding. But mostly, he’s trash.

-And those are the only ones we’re actually gonna get names and details for! Instead, let’s talk about the teachers and adults.

-Like Aizawa Shota. His Erasure quirk can shut down any Quirk he stares down, and he has control over the special cloth he wears as a scarf around his neck. (It is unclear whether that’s part of his Quirk, or if someone with a fabric-related one made it for him)

-Naturally we have to talk about All Might, the number one hero. His One For All quirk adds more power to itself every time it passes from one hand to the next, and he’s refined his version of it into a c-stick-loving array of Smash attacks.

-Deku himself has, naturally, inherited that power…But runs into the problem that his body just cannot handle it. The best he’s done so far is “just” tearing up the muscles he used into a horrible bruise that he can still kiiinda move, and most of the time, he straight up fractures bones. Yet it is a power that must be put to use…Because it is not just heroes that inhabit this world.

-For whenever heroes rise, there will always be villains.

-The class of UA learned that all too well this last year, when a series of villains set out a plan to kill All Might during a training exercise. Instead, they ended up trapping the children of class 1-A in a rescue area turned war zone…

-All led by Shigaraki Tomura, leader of the League of Villains. He seems to be able to disintegrate anything he touches.

-He brought an anti-All Might weapon, the bioweapon Nomu, and All Might himself was forced to face him down while at the very edges of his limits. A thing built to stand against All Might at 100 percent, forced him while reduced to pour in, to reach past his best, past what was once his best, to draw on enough raw power to strike him into low orbit.

-They made it out alive. They endured their first encounter with villains. And they came out of it with an even fiercer resolve, to be the wall that would keep such evil from ever harming innocent civilians.

-But right now, they have something else on their minds. The grand sports festival is upon them. A chance for them all to test themselves, to prove their capacity…Everyone’s got their own reasons for being here. Everyone’s got their own questions about what comes in the future.

-Deku himself doesn’t entirely know what the true depth of being a hero means. What justice means, in a world clearly still struggling with it. What the next day will contain. But he knows this: It’s okay to stumble, and fall. It’s okay to cry, to despair and rage. But what matters is that when push comes to shove, when your back is to the wall, you give everything you can, and you follow your heart. And when you’ve given all you can…You reach deep. You reach into your very core. And you find that one, last drop, to change everything!

-And that’s the wrap-up…Wrapped!

That’s right, we’re back, baby! A nice little recap episode to put the pieces down and remind us of some useful bits and bobs. And now with those laid out, we’re in the perfect scenario to dive full in on MHA’s second season, starting proper with episode FOURTEEN! Wait for it!

#where I watch #recap #anime #my hero academia #boku no hero academia

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