#ive never seen something like that before. even the most obscure characters i feel have at least ONE. like for a joke... anything at all | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

adamworu · 4 years

Text

The Subtle Horror of Evangelion

What keeps us all hooked to Eva time and time again? You get through your initial, confused watch of either Evangelion endgame, probably sometime in your adolescence wondering what the hell it is you just watched. The original source material is suffused with unsettling imagery, and sometimes too-close-for-comfort shorts. It’s so much to process that one watch is never enough. The imagery isn’t enough, however, because the mid-to-late-90s series comes with things you’ll pick up the more you focus on certain characters’ struggles or the interesting world-building. They arise little by little with every re-watch, adding onto what interested you in Eva to begin with.

There’s always that little voice asking you “What it is that really draws me here?”

Oh. The horrors.

The tragedy of it all.

These things never leave you the second you bear witness to them, whether you become aware of them or not. You’re disturbed over it, a tad worried, no doubt, but you’re strangely hooked.

Horror works better on limitation, it’s why found footage capturing pale, ghastly, monstrosities of the deep wood will always stand as exponentially terrifying. While most all of us have taken cracks at Eva’s budget at some point, that’s what really drives these terrors home. Its low budget nature made it work.

Evangelion has commentary which forces a viewer to reflect. Most no one enjoys that. It’s the fear, however, that has its audience come back. Evangelion’s reflection alone isn’t what gives Eva it’s charm decades after its run. It’s the little things, most everyone misses, the anxieties, the terrors, all of it. Most of those things, fly over a lot of fans’ heads.

Buckle up, there’s a lot to go through…. (warning for mentions of abuse, body horror, means of suicide, nudity, blood, and gore)

Table of Contents

I. Icebergs for Dummies

Tier 1: The Tip of the Iceberg

II. The Hedgehog’s Dilemma

III. The AT-Field as a Universal Metaphor

IV. Kensuke Aida + War Idealism

V. Shinji is the Audience Surrogate

VI. Abuse in Evangelion

Tier 2: Just Below the Tip

VII. The Infamous Elevator Scene

VIII. Naoko + Casper

IX. The Other End of Existential Horror

Tier 3: The Body of The Iceberg

X. War Horrors of ‘Ambivalence’

XI. Unit-01 Berserk Scene

XII. Dummy Plugs + CNS

XIII. Kaworu + Adam’s True Power

Tier 4: Pre-Abyss

XIV. The “Nihilist” Lens

XV. The True Nature of Sync Rates

XVI. Unit 01+ MPE Gorging Scenes

XVII. Ancient Ruins of Arka

Tier 5: The Abyss

XVIII. Split Second Misato Death

XIX. Humans Are The Villains in Eva

XX. The Ultimate Paradox

XXI. Conclusion

I. Icebergs for Dummies

For those unaware, the iceberg image illustrates that things are much deeper than they appear, just like an actual iceberg. You’ve probably seen this selfsame iceberg--- separated by tiers--- a few times looking through late night internet rabbit holes (Putting it out in the open: I’m personally guilty of this!), fictional or non. It helps you understand why you’re so enticed to certain material, that you’d revisit them. The highest parts of the iceberg are the things in the material most everyone knows, the surface level stuff. The lower you go, however, the lesser known the parts of the material are. These are the things the person are aware of.

Eva has some iceberg illustrations if you look around, albeit they don’t go through the more saddening, sometimes graphic factors of Eva, only theories navigating through Eva’s universe. Evangelion is so deceptively packed with blink-and-you’ll-miss-it subtleties that if an iceberg were centered on that, the diagram would be packed. And I’m being generous as I write this.

A few ground rules, before we begin: The iceberg will deal with the more obscure and dark material as the tiers get higher rather than it only being relegated to obscure bits. The lower the tier, the higher the iceberg and the more subtler the anxieties which graduate into horrors the deeper you go.

Yes, Evangelion is occasionally horrifying. No, Evangelion is not lovecraftian. I think people use the term lovecraftian way too freely. It’s not enough to see something with (sometimes too many) limbs twisted in ungodly angles. Or legs where legs shouldn’t be. The same applies for creatures assuming forms we don’t entirely comprehend. Eva has never delved into the angels being incomprehensibly terrifying specifically because they come from a cosmic expanse.

Some of these actual horrors, big and small, hit you after adolescence, something that makes you feel deeply for the characters’ dilemmas. It’s a feeling that grows and sometimes aches, rather than fades over time for many of us.

Tier 1: The Tip of the Iceberg

II. Hedgehog’s Dilemma

III. The AT Field as a Universal Metaphor

IV. Kensuke Aida + War Idealism

V. Shinji As the Audience Surrogate

VI. Abuse in Evangelion

II. Hedgehog’s Dilemma

Evangelion has its hand in so many psychological and philosophical cookie jars, from Freud, to Maslow, Johari, as well as Dostoevsky. The very tip of the Subtle Horrors of Evangelion Iceberg is something viewers are introduced to in the fourth episode of the series. It is one of the many psychological concepts dotted throughout the original show. Out of all those psychological concepts, this is the most explicit and most recurring.

The Hedgehog’s Dilemma describes the conundrum of two hedgehogs. The closer two hedgehogs become to one another, the more they harm each other with their spines. If you want to properly live, you need the closeness and intimacy of others. By allowing yourself to be close, however, you end up at great risk of being hurt. It’s the very reason what drives those who live to become guarded. Being perpetually apprehensive or building up walls isn’t a remedy for pains, however. The Hedgehog’s Dilemma isn’t just about why people become guarded after relationships ended on bad notes. It’s about the overall inevitability of pain.

Life is a continual push-pull of relationships, because we’re all creatures of comfort. We guard ourselves to varying degrees and sometimes even tell ourselves we won’t get close again, but personal comfort is one of our most ultimate drives.

The Hedgehog’s Dilemma not only describes that harm happens to us anyway, but illustrates that because comfort is universal we seek companionship regardless.

III. The AT-Field as a Universal Metaphor

The AT-Field is the most crucial rabbit hole in understanding the largest meta-narrative of Evangelion.

If Hedgehog’s Dilemma explains the what and the why people become more or less guarded, then AT-Fields explain the how. People build up walls around themselves all the time. You walk away from someone because they crack a smile at you... and it seems off.

Because you feel an anxious pang.

That’s an AT Field.

AT-Fields, or Absolute Terror Fields bear a few metaphors, one of which being boundaries. You see it as Shinji’s fear of becoming intimate, knowing the future implications or Asuka’s masculine protest (putting up a front). We can see an excellent example of the AT Field used by Asuka, her “Wall of Jericho” in episode 9.

You also see it manifested through the angels, the strange creatures in Eva who supposedly desire to merge with Adam, their mother. Seeing this in the angels makes you realize that the AT Field is actually a metaphor for boundaries which implicates us all. In episode 22, Arael, 15th angel, seeks to understand Asuka. The angel uses its AT-Field (a beam of light) no, its boundary, to breach Asuka’s boundaries.

AT-Fields can be used to not only build up personal walls but to breach them as well. The irony of Arael’s action is that Arael’s AT-Field being erected while it floats just over Earth’s gravitational field makes it immensely similar to the Second Child; they’re both guarded.

The AT-Field is a funny sort of thing because it also sometimes explains how two people who are so alike can be guarded from one another. Sometimes you gain contempt for someone because they’re too much like your least favorable traits. You see this with Shinji and Asuka, both children without their mother desiring validation. Shinji calls Asuka a child midway into episode 9 and Asuka isn’t shy on voicing ideas of Shinji as dense or immature. They’re throwing stones in glass houses.

AT Fields are used to get the user out of dangers both physical and perceived. Sachiel, 3rd angel in the original series’ pilot episode, uses its AT-Field, in the form of flotation, to get itself from enemy fire. It never shows this until it is attacked first.

AT Fields are also responsible for one’s identity and physicality in Eva. Without the AT Field you don’t really exist. When Rei assumes the form of the person the character being cast into Instrumentality loved most in End of Evangelion, she’s causing the character to give up their AT Field. With that gone, they lose their physicality, turning into LCL (given the lovely term ‘tanged’ by fans). The ‘tanged’ individual suffers metaphorical death. Evangelion argues that in order for one to exist, others must perceive you and you must perceive you, a point best illustrated in episode 16. Since everyone is converted to LCL, no one really ‘exists.’ Rei describes this unnerving state as the inability of differentiating who you are and others, since everyone lacks a physical state without AT-Fields. Metaphorical death can be argued as worse than physical, since we all exist to make an impression of some sort. It’s what ties all the Eva cast together and the cause of their dilemmas. Validation. You can be living, yet very much forgotten or simply unknown.

There is living and there is “living.”

You can’t “die” unless someone knows you. You were never there. AT Fields are the thing that make us live, but as a drawback, prevents us from understanding each other fully. Kaworu states in episode 24 that AT Fields are the wall of the mind and the heart of the soul, an unapproachable piece of sanctuary. When all else is taken from us, all we have left is our place of respite.

I’d also like to pitch the saddening reality that the AT-Fields are what prevent us from understanding angels as a whole, our genetic siblings as scared of this world as we are. The psychological angels want to understand us, that much is true. The angels, however, use forms of communication at the expense of our boundaries. Because people greatly value boundaries it makes it hard for us to comprehend angels. The creatures are hardly malicious when you realize they wonder why we all do things that actually hurt us, as well as the fact that they do understand our minds. But, because they breach our boundaries, we become even more wary of the (mostly) unknown. Angels may be us, but the strange forms they take are something we aren’t familiar with. The feeling is mutual with angels, wondering why there are many of us, our forms and outward appearances so identical. It’s a truth as old as time that we all fear the unknown.

The anxiety of an AT Field means comprehending that there’s very little chance to 100% get others. Because we’re all wary in some degree, because we’re set in an idea or perception of someone, even if the someone in the past no longer applies. It’s not healthy for you to continue dwelling on relationships not meant to be, keeping yourself up at night asking why, because both of you have closed off each other for good. There’s always that chance the other can come back and if they do seek to understand despite past hardships, that’s good. If they don’t, all you can do is move on and accept it.

IV. Kensuke Aida + War Idealism

Kensuke is one of Shinji’s classmates, a supporting player in the series. He’s close with Toji Suzuhara, a boy who takes his anger on Shinji, after finding out that his sister has been injured during Shinji’s fight with 3rd angel Sachiel. As Suzuhara beats him down, Kensuke downplays the incident. Kensuke’s and Toji’s relationship is particularly interesting because the latter is affected to some degree by war (the war by humanity to prevent our destruction by angels). Kensuke glorifies the sentient, implicitly eldritch, multi-armored war-machines.

Kensuke can be best described as the ‘wow, cool robots’ drawing you’ve probably seen floating around. This is in relation to Gundam’s war commentary, but replace Gundam with Eva. Kensuke is enamored with the Evangelions and totally, willfully ignorant to the war horrors. Adolescents are forced to be the salvation of humanity, feeling every bit of damage to their own bodies whenever the Evangelion takes any hurt. Even after the war for humanity is long over, the pilots will be afflicted with traumas that will always hang over them.

Kensuke’s glorification is also what draws him to be Shinji’s friend. He uses Shinji’s status as a way of becoming a pilot himself by meeting up with Misato, putting himself at the cockpit of a strange creature magnificent machine.

When Toji becomes hospitalized after his battle in a hijacked Unit-03 vs. A Dummy System-controlled Unit-01, Kensuke expresses discontent at not being a pilot. He’s annoyed because “everyone” but him is a pilot.

Thing is, Kensuke isn’t heartless, just ignorant. Idealism is one of the uglier things that runs thick in the heart of Evangelion. His is one of many cases of unhealthy idealism in Eva, another example of making it difficult for those living to understand one another.

V. Shinji as the Audience Surrogate

Shinji as the audience surrogate isn’t always touched up on, but is sort of understood subconsciously by a lot of the viewers. Shinji’s character is specific, yet so generalized that him being a surrogate for the audience just… works. Don’t believe me? Shinji gets two psychological exploration-based episodes whereas Asuka and Rei each have one. Episodes 16 and 24 are both psychological angel episodes, albeit the latter is more in-series subversive. The 24th episode doesn’t involve a breach of subconscious boundary, but the pilot (Shinji) is in the hot-seat, being made aware of their issues. Leliel, 12th angel, contacts Shinji in the former of these. Both characters talk to one another, shown as a series of horizontal lines and vertical lines, sometimes intersecting. These lines are a strong reference to the Johari Window, a tool in psychology which helps someone become more aware of themselves. The Window’s quadrants are as follows

1. the part known to the self

2. the part known to others

3. the part known to the self and others

4. the part known to no one

Leliel also states that the self only exists of one perceives themselves as well as others. The angel also states that Shinji could better his reality, to which Shinji absolves himself of responsibility by arguing the horrible state of his reality. It’s a subtle pushing to Shinji and by extension the viewer into free will. Kaworu builds up on these concepts with Eva’s in-universe concept for boundaries. Free Will versus Determinism is brought up here, with the idea that AT-Fields are brought up because the living (again, not people – emotional complexities aren’t only human) will them into existence. By exercising free will, it means enduring pain, one of Shinji’s, and again the audience’s greatest fears. Any relationship has pains and conflicts. This is all a buildup of free will, determinism, self-awareness, and the Hedgehog’s Dilemma. Understanding all of these means swallowing the “pain is inevitable” pill. The problem with much of us is that we like the idea of relationships rather than being in one. We want to feel validated but without the conflict, even if the conflict can be solved. We’re all Shinji because we’re all aware to life’s hellish catch-22s, so we run. There’s times in our lives where we run as far as possible from these woes, these truths, but there’s pain in running too. It’s why escapism seems like such a viable action for some of us.

Pain is inevitable, but pain can be mitigated.

More damning evidence to Shinji being a viewer stand-in lies in either endgame of Evangelion (pun intended). In EoE, after the Komm Susser Tod sequence of everyone on Earth being tanged, we’re treated to a shot of EoE’s live audience.

We hear Shinji’s voice about his reality while he talks to Rei toward EoE’s end. There are shots of the city, of people going about their daily lives cementing that this is about us. End of Evangelion shows us a less favorable side of Shinji, a departure from the lauded end series “Congratulations” scene, in which he does understand free will rather than perpetually dwell on negatives. Shinji reacts unfavorably toward Asuka in EoE after his mother’s speech to the audience that ‘anywhere can be paradise’ and Shinji stating he doesn’t know where his happiness resides. Shinji (We) still has a ways to go if he wants to be a better person.

It’s probably why many of us are either inclined to champion Shinji or harangue him, and either reaction is fair. Many of us are aware of audience surrogates, but never to this extent. Shinji isn’t his best person, but he can be. Being his best means self-reflection. Droves of people who first were exposed to Evangelion were teens, and again many of Shinji’s woes are specific yet so generalized, hence our feelings of defense and possibly disgust.

No one likes scathing, yet accurate call-outs on their person, but they’re paramount for us to understand ourselves and others.

VI. Abuse in Evangelion

One of the worst things recurring in all of original Evangelion is a bevvy of abuses.

Abuse comes in many shapes and forms and it’s many characters’ realities. Abuse happens not because the universe ‘wills it’ (determinism aka, ‘that’s just how people are’). Abuse, be it conscious emotional absence, actual neglect, among other ungodly acts fly though the cast.

Abuse is cyclical and a lot of those doing it often get away with murder because they have power.

Much of Eva is comprised of children being forced to sort through adults’ emotional baggage. Those children become adults and the cycle continues.

We all know a Gendo. Or even perhaps a Misato. Hell, even a Ritsuko.

Anno states that Gendo’s character is of a societal meta-text, which explains many viewers’ ire in relation to the character. He’s responsible for many of the seedy goings-on in Evangelion be it the financial (see: Jet Alone’s orchestrated out-of-control nature to give NERV more funding) or abuses (see: Rei, Shinji, Ritsuko, and, Naoko). It’s for this reason why Gendo’s actions are a sore spot for a lot of fans.

Anno: I’m not sure that it’s a real father [that Gendo represents]. Well, not a father in the sense of a parent with a blood relation to his child, but more, I think, [in the sense of being] a representative of society or the system. That’s why he has that expression.

Takekuma: So, he’s kind of amorphous.

Anno: The angels are the same. I made them appear amorphous in that way because, for me, society is unclear, the enemy is unclear.

Takekuma: Gendo is [a representation of] the boundries or the pressure of society itself.

Anno: That might be it. Perhaps Gendo is [a representation of] society itself.

http://wiki.evageeks.org/Statements_by_Evangelion_Staff

After many re-watches of certain Eva episodes, it just hit me, as I’m writing this why I’m sometimes apprehensive on an adult-exclusive lens of the show. This happens a lot in adolescence and our struggles are made trivial because of the mishandled baggage. As children, you’re meant to be subservient to parental whims. You have this sort of obligation to solve their problems. Give them closure. It doesn’t even need to be parental baggage, but just from adults in general. You see the way the adults act not just with the children but with each other. You see the way Gendo justifies neglecting Shinji, objectifying Naoko and Ritsuko or Naoko’s emotional absences as a mother to her daughter (also manifested through the MAGI). It’s these immature excuses as to why they can’t extend empathy to those around them.

It’s always excuses.

Eva’s original series has always been a show about children.

Tier 2: Just Below the Tip

VII. The Infamous Elevator Scene

VIII. Naoko + Casper

IX. The Other End of Existential Horror

VII. The Infamous Elevator Scene

The Elevator Scene is a sequence that sometimes gets glossed over due to Evangelion’s fleeting budget. It took me years to realize the true gravity of the awkward silence of both the 22nd episode and its Director’s Cut version. The Director’s Cut version has Asuka abruptly jerking in the silence, but that blink-and-you’ll-miss-it moment speaks volumes. Understanding the scene means understanding why Asuka quietly stews in her anger. Understanding why Asuka stews means understanding Asuka from her debut to her emotional breakdown.

Asuka’s appearance in the 8th episode, Asuka Strikes!, is marked by a bold persona that carries on until the end. She isn’t shy on imparting her prowess to Shinji, stating that Units 00 as well as 01 were the prototype and the test type, respectively. Her Evangelion, Unit-02 is the finished product. She even states that she graduated from university. Despite these impressive feats so early in adolescence, the only time in which they’re noted is when Asuka talks of them. Misato takes in both Shinji and Asuka, but only ever “dotes” on Shinji. Gendo pays attention to Shinji because he pilots Unit-01, and 01 contains the soul of his late wife. Rei is the clone of Gendo’s late wife, hence Gendo’s attention and overall creepy, selfish obsession with her. Asuka and Shinji’s relationship, with Misato as their caretaker strongly mimics a Golden Child and the Second Fiddle. The only difference is, Shinji gains more attention due to Gendo’s and Misato’s respective baggage. Again, Eva is a series where children are forced to handle the baggage (with no break in the cycle) and when the child doesn’t have anything the adult particularly can clue in on, they become neglected.

That’s Asuka’s dilemma.

It’s why Asuka forces herself to grow up.

It’s why Asuka is driven to be competitive to Shinji and Rei, later growing contemptible at both.

Asuka suffers a few curses, one of which being the youngest, the inevitability of being consciously sidelined dawns on her, leading to her selfsame breakdown toward series’ end. She aligns youth with trivialization, so naturally, she’d front with the opposite. She never gets help in relation to her period. Misato and Ritsuko realize something is up with Asuka but they never really offer her the support.

There’s also the flashback to her trauma in episode 22’s beginning. She’s replaced by her mother post-Contact Experiment (which led to a deterioration of her mental health) via a doll that looks like her, red hair in pigtails. It’s the leading factor to her feigned boldness, her ego. The way in which she is marginalized in the series brings it all back.

Rei breaks the silence with a few words of compassion and all Asuka can do is express disbelief. She mistakes compassion for contempt.

For pity.

The idea that anyone would extend kindness, especially now of all times, is unbelievable.

Asuka also experiences a dilemma here, a dilemma those like her face. She already knows what it means to be vulnerable and deeply hurt, but she needs to make herself vulnerable because now, more than ever, she needs the support. Being vulnerable will cause past traumas to flood back in full force, but by stewing she deprives herself of any support. Rei offers that support, but a few words of support in a wave of trivialization can’t help but feel a bit too strange.

Asuka’s greatest anxiety is realized in the twenty second episode. It’s of being and staying second fiddle, that she’s always been set up to fail. Even 2 episodes after the fact, in which she actually starves herself does she realize once more how she’s permanently ‘below’ others.

Asuka’s curse finds itself in real life, and it’s for that reason why I believe some find themselves resonating with her. Asuka’s gradual descent into bitterness is something I find myself waking up some nights thinking about after 7 years going through Eva; hers is a cautionary tale on being emotionally distant to cries of a damaged youth. Casually imparted knowledge of past achievements, and the competitive attitude mixed with embitterment, some of which from a genuine place but also a product of neglect. We were forced to play second fiddle, we forced ourselves to grow up to feel more legitimate, forced to carry an ire that stews because it seems no one listens.

VIII. Naoko+Casper

The late Naoko Akagi is a woman of multitudes. Those multitudes are compartmentalized into the 3 MAGI. They are Balthasar, Melchior, and Casper.

Casper shows itself to be the most prominent aspect of Naoko’s personality, her as a woman. Ritsuko states that, after the defeat of Iruel, 11th angel, that Casper is the part of her mother which remained that way to the end.

Balthasar and Melchior have been bested, be it by rival MAGI, or Iruel’s assault. This calls back to the fact that Naoko’s other facets aren’t anywhere near as prominent. Naoko has cited her own emotional negligence, of only showing emotions should it ever benefit her.

Casper on 3 occasions fights tooth and nail, Iruel’s assault, an attack by multiple MAGI in End of Evangelion or the defiance of Ritsuko activating the self-destruct sequence. Ritsuko does this to seek vengeance against Gendo for coming to the immense realization that he never genuinely cared for her. Gendo has always used Ritsuko for her body. This would destroy NERV, meaning killing herself and Gendo.

Then you realize why Casper overrides the sequence.

Casper’s stubborn behavior wasn’t actually to defend NERV but to protect Gendo. Casper’s defiance aka Naoko’s emotional absence toward her daughter allowed Gendo to kill a bewildered, rightfully angered Ritsuko.

The saddest part of Casper’s, no, Naoko’s choice is that Naoko got away with murder. Evangelion is a story about children dealing with the selfishness of adults and the adults never receiving justice for their wrongdoings. The relationship between Ritsuko and Naoko is an excellent example that this doesn’t just implicate the young pilots. Ritsuko dies in End of Evangelion with the truth that her mother, as a woman, in the end chose the man who manipulated both of them.

IX. The Other End of Existential Horror

Some spend their whole lives trying to make a mark. Others can’t help but be known.

People get smart sometimes to get themselves out of a current situation. Kaworu and Rei’s existences are such that they’re deadlocked from living. Their existences are the product of an experiment, to be later heavily watched and raised as the Last Messenger. The latter is the result of Gendo’s obsession with his late wife.

Kaworu and Rei’s existential crises are opposite from the rest of the cast; while others do their damndest to become known, they cannot be unknown. Rei’s character centering more around her identity than other characters is also initially and sneakily alluded in the opening.

The Johari Window is a tool encouraging self-awareness in the person, alluded to twice in the show, with the second time being in the sixteenth episode. Both usages of that illustration, for Rei, and Shinji drive home crucial aspects of the meta-text.

This would also tie Rei to Shinji in End of Evangelion forcing Shinji to reflect on his own awareness and will. Rei is an astute, young girl whose arc is about her personal relationship with identity, something she is all too familiar with due to her objectified nature. Rei’s arc is even more so entrenched in identity than other characters that she is one of the characters imparting personal and universal realities.

Ayanami Rei’s existence from start to finish is inundated with the issues of others, causing her to internalize being always expendable. In Rei’s Poem in episode 14, it becomes clear that she sees herself based on usage. She likens herself to a field of flowers, which slyly alludes to the Dummy System’s “parts” 9 episodes later, other Reis.

Rei is seen as malleable vessel which houses thoughts rather than her own person and she can’t do anything about it. So she resigns to her reality. Even if she does tell off Gendo in End of Evangelion for his objectifying, she’s not even out of the woods. She never will be.

I used to think Rei’s “slap” to the face to the man with the (most) baggage was empowering. Then I learned about abuse during adolescence, how kids who lack a support system act while away from their abusers. Even saying an emphatic “fuck you” to your abusers isn’t enough to be a happy ending. Rei is a girl who lacks a support system and she suffers from it. Start to finish.

Kaworu’s crises are much trickier to pinpoint because there’s so little to work with. He doesn’t get an episode dealing with personal, subconscious explorations. Getting his character means first getting how Evangelion re-contextualizes what “Ode to Joy” symbolizes. It also means understanding the AT-Field and most people won’t pick that up on an initial foray. Or maybe even a second. Most people don’t pick up that the AT Field implicates anything living and physical or its metaphor for boundaries and identity. There’s the common misconception that Evangelion is a “human” show.

Kaworu marks off his appearance humming “Ode to Joy” while Shinji wonders who to turn to. It’s a song generally known for its jovial nature, but most importantly, Ode to Joy is:

known also as the “Choral” Symphony. Its finale is a musical setting of Friedrich von Schiller ’s “Ode to Joy,” a hymn to the unity and freedom of humanity.

http://www.dictionary.com/browse/ninth-symphony

The Choral Symphony assumes a more horrific context later on. Kaworu is the last messenger and what his action is would lead to the mass annihilation to lilin/human or angels. ‘Unity of man’ is changed in Eva’s context – it marks either unity of man or the death of man. It doesn’t matter who Kaworu allows unity to, because his hands would be stained with death anyway. Then you realize why Kaworu deploys his most powerful AT Field during his descent to Heaven’s Door.

This is his reality.

Kaworu’s status as the Angel of Free Will isn’t about him being the only complex angel, as a lot of people think. It’s about being the sole individual handing that freedom to others.

You realize his terrifying dilemma goes to the tune of being feared for his own existence as an angel (which he notes to Shinji) and not being able to properly live.

Sometimes you ”hurt” people by existing.

Sometimes people hate you for the simple act of existing.

Kaworu’s and Rei’s terror is the other end of existential horror, that you can’t help but forced to be known. Sometimes you have knowledge but aren’t allowed to do much with it.

Tier 3: The Body of The Iceberg

X. War Horrors of ‘Ambivalence’

XI. Unit-01 Berserk Scene

XII. Dummy Plugs + CNS

XIII. Kaworu + Adam’s True Power

X. War Horrors of ‘Ambivalence’

Episode 18 is where anxieties graduate into horrors both implied and visceral. Unease hangs over the episode, with the mystery of Unit-04’s disappearance and tests being done on Unit-03. Misato tells Shinji that because tests would be done, there’d be a pilot there. Misato uneasily withholds this info from Shinji and Kensuke breaks the silence with his recurring desire of being a pilot, still ignorant of the war horrors. There’s a subtlety that Shinji picks up on with Toji but not enough to put two and two together: that the big-eater himself isn’t feeling so hot.

The continual chirp of cicadas and birds nor the peel of the school bell are enough to break the unease of the viewer or of Toji. Toji goes from indirectly being affected by war vs angels to being chosen, drafted even, a child at the first line of defense for the apocalypse. We get a flashback of him beating down Shinji, before it cuts back to present day Toji. He will be in Shinji’s shoes.

Toji balls a fist, a recurring theme in Eva, to the tune of “What is your hand for?” Toji is finally about to take things into his own hands.

Asuka takes a few cracks at Shinji to Hikari that he hasn’t quite gotten the memo, but when Shinji asks her even she’s halted in words.

Then the day comes.

Tests are being done and suddenly Unit-03 goes rogue with Toji in her (note the Evangelions have the souls of the pilots’ mothers, save for Rei). Unit-03’s’s strange behavior is revealed to be the work of the 13th angel, Bardiel. Shinji’s ignorance is made worse by Misato’s absence (with Misato telling Ritsuko she’d tell Shinji the pilot’s info after the tests). Units 00 through 02 are sent out for the new threat and Shinji sees this new threat. Anxiety rises.

The song “Marking Time Waiting for Death” accentuates the anxiety. Unit-03’s silhouette eerily contrasts with the sun, her body slightly hunched and approaching slowly.

Fear washes over Shinji when he deduces that with an Evangelion inside, there must be a pilot.

Yet he still doesn’t know.

The other pilots are aware, and show reluctance to the revelation. A hijacked Unit-03 sets herself on Asuka, Rei, and even strangling Shinji. Shinji allows the angel-hijacked-being to strangle him, because killing another human being is simply horrific.

Eva has its hand in the war morals cookie jar here because Shinji stands at a conundrum, to other let this creature take his life or to murder flesh and blood. This dilemma goes double-time in war. Gendo asks why Shinji hasn’t dealt with the 13th yet, with a somewhat horrified Shinji pleading about the pilot. Gendo commands for the unfinished Dummy System to override Shinji’s controls and then suddenly...silence….

The Dummy Controlled Unit-01 springs back and we’re treated to a close-up of Unit-03/Bardi3l being strangled.

A nauseating crunch sounds and the unit goes limp. A controlled Unit-01 proceeds to raise hell on the incapacitated enemy, resulting in the unit’s blood and guts flowing through the streets. NERV’s personnel can’t do anything save for become fearful at the Dummy System’s capabilities. Terrible, visceral noises sound one by one as blows strike, as the unit’s severed limbs and blood splatters riddle the urban battlefield. Shinji hears every second, every squelch and splat.

Imagine the pain of 03’s pilot.

But the terrors don’t cease here.

01 doesn’t stop at just raising hell on the incapacitated 03, and we’re treated to another close-up shot of 01 tightly holding onto 03’s entry plug, before crushing it.

Somewhere away, Misato receives news that Unit-03 has been dispatched as an angel. Shinji feels the weight of having actually killed someone, before Misato actually breaks the news that the pilot is not only alive but that the greatly injured pilot is his classmate.

It never really hit me until now how this scene holds another horrifying subtlety. Compare this to episode 3, where Toji’s first interaction with Shinji involved him punching him, the very scene playing at this episode’s beginning. The 18th episode ends now with ,Toji and Shinji are both joined in the same camp, of children emotionally and physically marred by war, not able to fully control their situations.

XI. Unit-01 Berserk Sequence

Shinji stands in a situation where he can no longer take the terrors aligned with the Evangelion. He’s gone from sustaining injuries great and small from combat with the eldritch angels, to indirectly harming a friend through it. He resigns from his position as a pilot, understandably running away even with the approach of the 14th angel.

After a talk with Kaji about how he can control his future and he only, Shinji once again puts himself at the forefront of further pains. He must once more thrust himself to the terrors that align with the war-machines whilst struggling with other traumas.

During his fight against Zeruel, his Evangelion dies out and it all floods back to him. Shinji once again finds himself at a position of no power, frantically pressing at his controls to no avail.

He can only hear blow after blow of the 14th’s onslaught. He and Unit-01 are at their most vulnerable.

Until Unit-01 springs back.

W hat follows is the famous Berserk sequence, a scene whose terror can be thanks to Evangelion’s low budget.

We see the Evangelion in all her terror and the sort of off-ness that carries in this scene.

Episode 19 has no problems on treating us to front-row tickets to terror.

Unit-01 snatches part of Zeruel’s appendage and adds it to her mass. A sickening squelch sounds and her new appendage contorts into place in an instant.

She moves over to her incapacitated, angelic meal and doesn’t hesitate to chow down. The shots feel too personal yet nowhere near in the sense of the show’s meta-textual reflections. It’s almost like stumbling on a cryptid and when she shoots a look at the viewer, it feels as if she’s looking at us, like we’ve interrupted her dinner. Or perhaps she did finish the meal... and she’s in the mood for seconds? Perhaps even thirds?

The bizarre and eldritch nature of the Evangelions goes full force with this imagery. Episodes 2 and 16 laid the foundation of how off the Evangelion Unit-01 was with how she openly mutilates her targets. Or even the unsettling roar of Unit-01 that’s not entirely bestial. The sound is straddles a line between the blood-curdling bestial and the human. But here? Eva Unit-01’s position, from her hunched figure, to her more feral position as she feasts, feels far too organic...and far too human.

The Evas themselves aren’t human, but the souls housed within are. Eva’s souls are souls of the respective pilots’ mothers, an example of the mother and child symbolism omnipresent in Neon Genesis Evangelion.

Shinji’s mother is Yui and as we go through the series, we realize the s2 engine appliance was intentional. An s2 engine offers infinite stores of energy and this is needed for Instrumentality. With the s2 engine within her grasp and the fact that Evas don’t subsist on anything, this would make the consumption of 14th completely recreational.

It’s super tempting to frame this scene as containing some abomination that now stands unchained and indiscriminate in its targets, but it isn’t. It’s sort of understandable because Units 00 and 02 don’t come close to exhibiting this sort of behavior nor were they in this circumstance. Neither Unit-00 nor 02 have any desires in regard to Instrumentality. In the end, we should look to Yui and her own endgame, because Yui’s running the show here.

XII. Dummy Plugs + CNS

Ritsuko states the Dummy Plugs are machines which imitate pilot’s thinking. There’s a bit more than the possibility of this being 100% AI due to the apparatus Rei is in.

This very likely implies the respective person’s thought processes added with AI programmed in a way which best “describes” the pilot (basically how they are perceived). In episode 17, Rei is situated in this apparatus strongly resembling the central nervous system, the brain and the spinal cord.

{The central nervous system CNS is responsible for integrating sensory information and responding accordingly. It consists of two main components:

1. The spinal cord serves as a conduit for signals between the brain and the rest of the body. It also controls simple musculoskeletal reflexes without input from the brain.

2. The brain is responsible for integrating most sensory information and coordinating body function, both consciously and unconsciously. Complex functions such as thinking and feeling as well as regulation of homeostasis are attributable to different parts of the brain.

https://mcb.berkeley.edu/courses/mcb135e/central.html

Ritsuko imparts the unsettling revelation about Rei and by extension the Dummy Plant itself (after Misato coerced her into learning about Rei). The Reis are the core of the Dummy Plugs (and the System used to brutalize a hijacked Unit-03 and its trapped pilot). This scene adds more to the extent of Rei’s objectification, of her being replaced. It adds on to Rei III’s comment of being ‘the third.’

Rei isn’t savage by any means but the sheer brutality of Dummy System’d Unit-01 5 episodes prior may hint at her straightforward nature.

I’d like to pitch that Ritsuko’s approach to Rei’s Dummy Data was also the product of her subtle animosity toward Rei. When she refers to the Dummy Plug as a machine which mimics human thinking, she’s talking about Rei. She also refers to her similarly in episode 23 by referring to Rei as spare parts, as if Rei herself is some soulless machine whose parts can be switched out if need be. This could also call back to Rei’s poem, in which she calls herself a vessel which holds human thoughts.

Another question remains: how does Kaworu play into this?

The MPEs (the Mass Production Evangelion series) use Kaworu’s Dummy data, meaning that there are cloned Kaworus stored off somewhere, perhaps floating with soulless smiles the same as Rei has.

Treated as spare parts.

This also implies that Kaworu is more or less reduced to an object.

What’s more disturbing is the nature of the MPEs gratuitous method of ravaging and mutilating Unit-02 and by extension Asuka.

Kaworu hasn’t ever demonstrated any degree of malice, so this can’t really insinuate a ‘Kaworu is secretly evil’ narrative. But this can tie back to a recurring theme of humans fearing and despising angels. It’s because of this that the revelation of our genetically identical nature or the fact that they can comprehend our psychology is framed in-show as kind of shocking. It is because we’re so disturbed at the angels’ existence (or anything else we don’t comprehend) that we view them as inherently savage in nature. Kaworu’s quick-to-perceive personality most likely translated itself along with the AI. This would also rule in the somewhat strategic way in which the MPEs act against Asuka, exploiting her attack patterns through surprise attacks.

Some of Kaworu’s as well as Rei’s Dummy Data are the product of universal (Kaworu) and personal (Rei) contempt by people. Let that sink in.

XIII. Kaworu’s + Adam’s True Power

The bottom of the fridge horror portion of this iceberg is something that has subtly plagued me for years. We’ve only ever caught glimpses of Kaworu’s abilities in his debut episode. I picked up on it little by little with each re-watch of the episode, with every other time his abilities dawning on me. If I wasn’t focusing on how his character fits in the greater framework of Evangelion, I was cluing in on his abilities.

One of his abilities is being able to block out light, magnetism, and subatomic particles. Some of the forces which make up the universe. This witnessed by the viewer when he realizes the whole of humanity’s welfare hangs by a thread, due to the coexistence of angels and Adam.

Adam.

Adam’s soul lies within Kaworu. Adam. Who utilized an Anti-AT Field which caused Second Impact. An Anti-AT Field, which killed off much of the Katsuragi Crew in Antarctica.

This makes Kaworu the most powerful angel in the original Evangelion series.

Eva has shown that ownership of an angel’s soul (or partially, if you’re onboard the Rei I is in Unit-00 theory) allows the person to inherit the angel’s abilities through Rei. Rei blocks off Kaworu’s immensely powerful field with one of her own, canceling out both as a result. As we know, AT Fields for people are a figurative affair. People lack the physiology to exhibit a physical AT Field because they don’t have cores like angels do. Angels’ souls when possessed by humans have a sort of ability to circumvent parts of human physiology (if you’re looking for the whole package, you should eat angel’s flesh too). Rei also shows the ability to float, implied in episode 24 and shown explicitly in End of Evangelion.

But this raises a few questions about the last messenger is the ability to block out some of the forces of the universe Adam’s powers or Kaworu’s? Another ability that continues to plague me the more I think about it is Kaworu’s AT-Field usage on Heaven’s Door to bypass its lock.

We haven’t actually seen Adam’s other powers (if the angel has any) because the it’s anti-AT Field was halted via Lance of Longinus. Other than its ethereal appearance in flashbacks, we only see an incapacitated Adam in embryonic form. That’s it. We don’t know if Adam exhibits any other powers due to this impediment. If Adam does have more powers, this would add onto both the fridge horror factor of Adam and Kaworu.

Tier 4: Pre-Abyss

XIV. The “Nihilist” Lens

XV. The True Nature of Sync Rates

XVI. Unit 01+ MPE Gorging Scenes

XVII. Ancient Ruins of Arka

XIV. The “Nihilist” Lens

There’s something that implicates the whole cast. Something that goes beyond the meaning of the AT-Field, and the all-too-known Hedgehog’s Dilemma.

Eva is filled to the very brim with psychological concepts, but there’s one thing which ties this all together. It goes much larger than the desire to become validated or cycles of abuse and unresolved issues to a newer generation.

Free Will Vs. Determinism ties the entire cast together and is disturbing in its own right. It not only ties the cast together but also contributes to Eva’s meta-narrative.

Episode 16’s sequence with Leliel, Shinji, and the Johari Window gives little breadcrumbs to this psychological dilemma. Leliel teaches Shinji about his own identity as well as slowly ushering him to a sense of self-awareness. Leliel also attempts to usher Shinji out of filtering reality with only convenient parts. Shinji argues that he can’t really be held culpable for his actions, because the one and only reality is that reality is awful, bar none. Not his reality, but reality as a whole. This deterministic stance becomes ever more blatant 8 episodes later with the appearance of Nagisa Kaworu.

Kaworu’s designation is the angel of free will. The irony of this stands in the fact that Kaworu isn’t the only angel who can exhibit free will (with some of the angels before him taking the time to try comprehending people). Kaworu’s status comes from his identity as the last messenger, bringing about freedom for one species (humans/lilin or angels) at the expense of the other. Kaworu knows his reality well and in the end, seeks to better the reality of those around him. Eva doesn’t romanticize the prospect of free will, however, because Kaworu is so aware of his own person and how he can hurt those around him that it greatly bothers him.

The metatext doesn’t just position Shinji as being in the wrong, but also the audience. Remember the point I made before about Shinji being the audience substitute? It’s further hammered home from the series’ tail end and into End of Evangelion.

“That’s just the way things are.” is a common response to things in life we feel resigned on changing, because we don’t know how to change them. This quote is a parallel to Shinji’s “humans aren’t made to float!” in episode 16.

Shinji does know how to change much of his reality, but by doing so he’d be pushed into free will. Free Will is the solution and it means holding yourself accountable rather than believe that it’s everyone else with the problem. With the idea that you can change your reality, it offers you the opportunity to love yourself.

If you love yourself, then it becomes much easier to love others.

Eva’s free will and determinism metatext hammers home the extension of empathy.

Shinji/the viewer’s greatest problem is that because we don’t love ourselves it makes it difficult to extend the love to everyone else. Shinji’s love translates as idealism. Because of his unhealthy idealism, he is hindered from understanding people.

By ascribing your beliefs from determinism to free will, it opens your mind to an entire world of possibilities, but therein lies the terror. It is because of these possibilities that Shinji and by extension, the viewer, likely fears free will. Shinji finds ways make himself validated, but with free will, the argument could be made that it doesn’t matter. There’s the anxiety-crippling likelihood that none of it actually matters, because your existence doesn’t matter. If we’re going on this bent, acts of making an adequate impression on others are acts of personal denial. In the end, these are what they are, possibilities.

The greatest terror of it all is that we don’t know.

User power-chords makes an excellent point about the inherent darkness of an internal locus of control.

User power-chords posits the idea of existential absurdity for Shinji not as a certainty but a possibility. There’s always a likelihood that our desires to comprehend the world around us, to find ultimate understanding are in vain.

Cheesy as it sounds, people fear ambiguity because we seek a satisfying end. We don’t just seek answers. We want outside closure and inner peace, but we won’t always get it. It’s why we rationalize relationships that end on bad notes. Sometimes you worry about your falling-outs...and it hurts. You never got the answers your wanted so this pain carries, for months, sometimes even for years. Dwelling on the issue serves no purpose other than to keep that hurt with you. The best thing to do sometimes is to find your own closure, your own meaning.

No, Evangelion isn’t actually pro-nihilism, but it presents us with that likelihood. That’s what makes this aspect of the narrative so terrifying: The consideration that we find meaning in the meaningless.

XV. The True Nature of Sync Rates

The nature of injuries and having them in adds onto the innate horror --be it war or otherwise-- and themes of the Evangelion. The severity of the injury is based on how high the pilot’s sync ratio is. An average rate while sustaining damage will bring hurt to the actual pilot in the respective spot. Some examples:

Sachiel makes multiple headblows to Unit-01 and Shinji in episode 2, causing head trauma.

Ramiel’s, (5th angel), particle beam attack in episode 6, an attack so severe that Shinji needed medical care.

Unit-00 and Rei being infected by a Bardiel hijacked Unit-03 in episode 18. Toji’s condition in episode 18 stands as a large example of the innately disturbing nature of sustained injuries.

Toji’s condition becomes all the more nauseating when you see Evangelion parts and blood flow through Tokyo-3.

Toji could feel every last second of strangulation, body blow, and feel the unspeakable pain of his arm being severed. Let that sink in.

Asuka receives the worst of these considering the nature of her sync rate being high. The higher the rate the more kept the damage is. The circumstances behind Asuka getting the worst of it goes back to the AT-Field. Asuka understood the meaning of the AT-Field, that the more you open yourself up to others, the more hurt you become. The realization dawns on Asuka as her mother from within the Evangelion shields her from the onslaught of JSSDF troops.

It’s then that Asuka finally comprehends what the Absolute Terror Field is. Despite her emotional needs being neglected, realizing she’s set up to fail, and going comatose she still goes on.

Asuka, despite everything, takes a chance and opens her heart knowing the double-edged nature of the AT Field. What happens next?

Asuka took a chance.

She opened her heart...

...and she got hurt all because she opened herself.

XVI. Unit 01+MPE Gorging Sequences

The brutality of both Unit-01 and the Mass Production Evas holds three layers: of visual horror, implied horror, and thematic horror. Unit-01, after taking Zeruel’s s2 engine into herself, proceeds to then brutalize the 14th angel by way of still gorging on it. The feeding was entirely recreational considering Evangelions don’t subsist on food to function. This was more about the sheer act of brutality for brutality’ sake.

The Mass Production Evas also fall under this category, the way in which they deal with Asuka after incapacitating her with a replicated Lance of Longinus is also sadistic and gratuitous. They also proceed to gorge on Asuka, her fate made worse through the simple fact that her sync rate is heightened.

The MPEs don’t even swiftly finish her off. She is in a state of tremendous and unimaginable pain. They fly above her slowly, circling above her mangled Eva.

They are almost mocking her as she can do nothing, save for writhe. Asuka’s seething, repeated “I’ll kill you...I’ll kill you….” is then silenced by the MPEs spearing her down.

The brutality doesn’t end there, as we see much darker implications of the damage sustained toward the end of the first half of End of Evangelion.

Shinji bears witness to the implications after seeing the decimated remains of Unit-02 being carried off by some of the Mass Production Units. The sickening reality of it all dawns on him and he is once more exposed to the woes of war and the nightmarish aspect tied of the Evangelions.

XVII. Ancient Ruins of Arqa

We’re ending the pre-abyssal end of the iceberg with Evangelion’s original proposal.

Eva’s proposal, a far cry to the show today, had a more sci-fi angle to it. Psychological concepts weren’t exactly pitched nor was it self-aware. The angels weren’t even referred to as the angels, but as the Apostolos. Instead of the 18 we were presented with in the original show and the movies, there were 28 Apostolos.

The Apostolos designs stand as testament to how far of a departure the proposal was to the final cut. They look far more menacing than the more amorphous, much softer defined, beady-eyed angels we’re used to. To top it all off, the Apostolos were the de facto villains of Evangelion’s prototype pitch. The Apostolos in the Proposal, toward the end, proceed their onslaught as a group rather than the series’ one by one. Toward the series’ end, the 12 strongest Apostolos begin their assault on North America, annihilating the continent in its entirety.

Only 12 of the creatures laid waste to a singular continent.

Episode 24: "Now, the Promised Time"

Rei breaks down. Her secrets are revealed. At last awakened, the twelve strongest Apostolos descend from the Moon. Both Eva Unit-06 and the American continent vanish completely. Humans acknowledge their helplessness in the face of the Apostolos' crushing power. The promised time, when people will return to nothing, approaches. A human drama in the depths of despair.

Episode 25: "Arqa, the Promised Land"

The laboratory holds the ancient ruins of Arqa, which have become key. In order to stop the twelve Apostolos, the United Nations' head members annul the Human Instrumentality Project and resolve to destroy the Apostolos. Shinji's father objects. Shinji and the others stay at the laboratory for Rei. A drama of people conflicting over incongruous objectives.

https://wiki.evageeks.org/Resources:Neon_Genesis_Evangelion_Proposal_(Translation)

The aforesaid creatures were so powerful in the original pitch that Human Instrumentality and the ancient ruins of Arqa would be the way of stopping the onslaught.

Tier 5: The Abyss

XVIII. Split Second Misato Death

XIX. Humans Are The Villains in Eva

XX. The Ultimate Paradox

XVIII. Split Second Misato Death

As the last and most explicit aspect of original Evangelion, it would only make sense that EoE specific content would take its place in Tier 5. End of Evangelion is a 90 + minute tour de force with disturbing imagery back-to-back. Split Second Misato Death refers to one of the most unsettling images sprinkled all throughout the movie. Here are a few of the many examples of EoE’s building up on Evangelion’s ugliest parts.

Everyone cites the infamous hospital scene not even 5 minutes into the film as the first proof, but user power-chords has pointed out, Shinji has actually attempted suicide (refer to the ‘Free Will v. Determinism’ part of the iceberg.)

After Misato is mortally wounded and sends Shinji off in an elevator not long after, the JSSDF blow up that part of NERV. A few people have pointed out the most disturbing facet of this scene: through freeze-framing that you can actually see Misato’s body during.

The JSSDF scene partway through End of Evangelion in which NERV personnel are summarily annihilated.

For those missing the small detail of Shinji’s attempted suicide ,Shinji’s depressed state is made more clear when the JSSDF locate him. When they do they attempt to kill him execution style. Shinji doesn’t move.

“I don’t want to die…!” during the JSSDF’s assault, Asuka is awoken from comatose state. She is protected by her mother via an AT-Field by Unit-02. She gains back her self-preservation after this realization, and multitude of images play. One of them is an extremely gruesome close-up of Asuka’s face. (extreme body horror warning, proceed with caution)

The Komm Susser Tod scene beginning with Shinji strangling Asuka in harsh coloring, Naoko’s same action toward Rei plays right after. A few disturbing child drawings follow after, predominantly featuring death. (seizure warning, body horror warning)

End of Evangelion’s flooring nature comes from the fact that it builds up on the subtly horrific and makes these terrors explicit. Whatever existed beyond closed doors becomes now available for us to see,

XVIII. Humans Are The Villains in Eva

At the penultimate point of the abyss lies a horror as old as much of time. Of the humane being more disgusting than the monsters.

That we can be monstrous.

This fact becomes known with the appearance of the JSSDF as dispatched by SEELE, methodically mowing down NERV personnel with little to no weaponry of their own. We’re treated to NERV’s personnel in their hallways, some forced with the moral dilemma of leaving their own to die while surviving or helping their own while both end up being gunned down.

It becomes apparent that SEELE has been gradually, intentionally chipping away at NERV’s Defense Budget, getting rid of the (little) competition they have after the defeat of the Last Messenger.

There’s a degree of contempt and casual sadism that comes with how they kill the personnel. In one instance, a NERV worker surrenders to the JSSDF, before being killed off in execution style in the distance (one headshot plus two extra shots for good measure).

When you look back at it, this sort of sheer, unabashed brutality wasn’t felt about the angels. Human attitude about the angels is largely fearing, anxious. This attitude accentuated itself through a sometimes nervous soundscape. Of observing these weird, ghastly creatures as they creep and swim. And the feeling’s mutual. The problem is that we don’t know.

But here? We do know.

When the JSSDF move in, the anxiety of angels graduates to the full-force dread of creatures that have killed before. The greatest enemy to humanity has always been with them all along, forcing them to a catch-22. The dread falls on Maya because she understands this perfectly. NERV has only ever shot at targets rather than living flesh…

...and SEELE knows this.

SEELE’s slow, but sure suppression of NERV’s budget is kicking a man while he’s down, but the man in question is a child instead. The JSSDF have more than enough firepower, calling it overkill goes beyond an understatement.

The JSSDF demonstrate the lack of remorse further with the discovery of Third Child, Shinji Ikari. One of the members presses the barrel to Shinji’s head before Misato steps in and kills the members.

The JSSDF isn’t the only damning evidence of how ugly members of humanity can be, however.

Humanity’s on-occasion grossness shows itself in small ways throughout the series, in dislike and conscious emotional distance for individuals, or beliefs of the angels being unintelligent and/or savage. Other times it manifests fiscally, in orchestrating more ethical approaches to stopping certain destruction to go seemingly haywire in order for NERV to receive more funding. This all due to a rival company of NERV challenging the very idea for its usage of child soldiers.

The worst of this damning fact is that many of the morally repugnant members exist on a higher echelon of society. There are Gendos running around, doing as they so please and they’re the tip of their echelon iceberg.

XIX. The Ultimate Paradox of Evangelion

“Anywhere can be paradise as long as you have the will to live.”

We’re treated to these words as Shinji finds himself on shores surrounded by an isolate hellscape, with Asuka next to him. The strange and altogether horrific nature of End of Evangelion has gotten fans believing on End of Evangelion’s endgame was in certain, nihilistic. But Eva dipping its hand in the likelihood of meaning in the existentially meaningless isn’t even the ultimate terror of Eva’s self-aware universe, nor is it the tendency for man to become contemptible towards itself.

Evangelion greatest terror is the paradoxical nature of free will.

Yui’s words to her son as she drifts off into the ever-expanding cosmos, her status as a deity realized, is that paradise is universal. EoE assumes this unconventionally positive approach to a whole series worth of characters’ woes. The issue is: finding paradise is ultimately conditional.

Free Will’s paradoxical nature is what gives credence to the ongoing Free Will vs. Determinism dilemma. People can use their free will to take away yours entirely and this is most evident with Rei. Her existence is the result of a man’s unhealthy attachment to his wife, her lack of self-preservation the result of being conditioned as a multi-purpose vessel; her desire to merge with Lilith to become an omnipresent mother-figure was not hers. The nature of disallowing free will exists on a spectrum, as people can use their free will not to take away the whole of others’ freedoms, but to disallow them proper emotional growth. The adults around Asuka weren’t around for her during the series, leading to her eventual downfall.

Unit-01, throughout much of the second part of EoE holds the power to give or deny people’s physicality due to her status of having both Fruits of Life (the s2 engine held by angels) and Wisdom (from the Lance of Longinus merged with the Eva earlier on). This gives Unit-01 her deity status and while within Lilith-Rei, Shinji realizes that not everyone would be there in his life, that he can’t be in the center of others’ lives. It’s for that reason why he denies people’s physicality (“They can all just die.”), which turns people into LCL.

Shinji gives allows people the ability to come back from Instrumentality after realization arises that without other people, there’s no way to tell if Shinji, himself exists or not. Kaworu and Rei also give him the reality that with people back, pain will become an inevitability once more. With all the souls gathered by Lilith-Rei, they are released after her death.

With the souls of those cast into Instrumentality dispersed, those turned into LCL now hold the ability to come back from Instrumentality if they so choose.

While the idea of anywhere being paradise rings true, it’s not entirely satisfying to say that EoE is unconventional in its uplifting message to the viewer. Evangelion is at its core a cautionary tale. It warns the viewer into extensions of empathy and openness that others would properly live. This goes double for those with power. Without that compassion, we’ll have Asukas, Misatos, Ristukos, as well as Reis, those in the world whose downfalls come from emotional absences, neglect, objectification, and forced baggage. We would have Shinjis, those wanting to be at the nexus of others’ importance because they were deprived while young.

Kindness is a powerful thing and the lack of compassion present in all of Eva implicates most everyone. It leads to yet more abusive cycles, with the only thing breaking that cycle being a hand for those in need.

XX. Conclusion

What more can be said over this juggernaut which is a host to a bevvy of darkness? Evangelion is testament that anxieties and horror don’t need to start out as blatantly shocking or visceral to make an impact years down the line. They also don’t need to be out in the open to initially hook you either. You pick up on a few anxieties as well as horrors and you realize deep down, there must be more, which drives many of us to engage in this often times unabashedly dark source material.

Some of us are doing it later in the throes of adolescences, others are doing so well into their 20s, possibly dipping into their 30s. Point is, it draws in a lot of us and for a lot of us, it doesn’t ever let go.

Some of its charm could be chalked to the visceral ways in which characters interact. Even after years of re-watches, I’m still learning new things about the child soldiers, and I’m quite sure there’s others finding small details. There’s also the possibility of Eva’s approach to terror. I think Evangelion “humanized” its horror. It didn’t make horror a universally human feeling, but made it so that the true big bads looking to cause apocalypse weren’t actually the eldritch. Many of the angels are more or less lost kids looking for their mother (I still think Ramiel’s “singing” in episode 5 was it calling for its mother!).

With those newer details after 20+ years, there will be more added to the iceberg. Hell, there should be more added to the iceberg. This iceberg is the tip of an even greater iceberg. I’m still learning about their adults and their desires as well, how cyclical their actions are. For others, the draw-in factor lies in its low budget. Personally, it’s all of these for me: the low budget helped cement these darker aspects of the series due to horror and the genre’s overall relationship with limitation. It works best on limitation and had Eva worked with a much higher budget, I don’t think the content would be as effective, or perhaps it’d be much more difficult to make it so.

Evangelion is such a well-done, deceptively compact series that each lens a fan assumes has its own interesting rabbit hole. Your circumstance shapes the experience, and this too involves how you navigate the series’ menagerie of terrors.

I’d also like to thank the reader for getting through the largest rabbit hole in Evangelion. I’d also like to thank you for getting through the whole of this meta from a fan who slowly began to resonate with the characters as the years went on!

#neon genesis evangelion #shinji #kaworu #asuka #rei #seizure warning #body horror warning #suicide mention #correct me if im wrong #credit goes to twitter user decoratedboar for the iceberg picture help #and fixes

3K notes · View notes

searchingwardrobes · 3 years

Text

Ivory Runs Red: 5/6

First off, massive thanks to the @cssns, my beta @demisexualemmaswan, and my artist @cocohook38. Cocohook created this amazing cover art, and she is working on something else too to go with this story. The rough sketch made my jaw drop, so I can’t wait for ya’ll to see it!

This part is going to be a little long, but I need to address something that I got multiple comments about. Just bear with me; this is the only way I can think to clear things up. I was really surprised to see that some people were angry at David and Mary Margaret for not doing anything to find Emma and/or "allowing" her relationship with Neal. Others simply expressed things along the lines of "I hope you explain what David and Mary Margaret did about all this." The reason this reaction surprised me so much is because I thought it was clear that they HAD done something. Why would the Golds need to get rid of police files if the Swans never reported Emma missing? Why would issues of the newspaper be missing from the library if Emma's disappearance wasn't reported on? Obviously, David and Mary Margaret did something! As for Neal, they had no idea Emma was seeing him. If you'll recall, in a previous chapter, Emma told Killian she had to sneak out at night to meet Neal. So that wasn't Snowing's fault either. Also, how would any of these characters know what David and Mary Margaret did or didn't do for their daughter? This is almost a hundred years later, and Emma's memories are dulled from being a ghost for so long. The only way I could spell out clearly how Snowing handled their daughter's disappearance would be some sort of convoluted info-dump, and I didn't want to destroy the tone and mood of the story to do that. But just so everyone knows: Yes, Emma's parents were devastated. They did everything in their power to find her, never giving up hope (which is so in character for them!). They died still believing she was either still out there or that crimes against her had gone unpunished. It broke their hearts. The Golds spread rumors that Emma was some kind of slut who ran away with a guy, and the people of Storybrooke overall thought the Swans had gone crazy. So there it is, that's the back story that I just couldn't figure out how to fit in the story, lol.

I'm not mad at the questions, to be clear. I was just surprised by them. I guess I blame the show for ruining these two as parents the last couple of seasons. Maybe that's why everyone jumped on them so fast. I was also honestly worried that ya'll would be upset with me for not addressing the topic, hence this long explanation! No one was rude by any means, so don't go trying to defend me from nonexistent trolls, lol! My feelings have NOT been hurt. I simply wanted to address the questions that were asked and the misplaced anger toward Snowing. (Not anger towards me - but fictional characters!)

Okay, now that I've cleared all THAT up, let's get on with the next chapter, shall we? And I'll go ahead and warn you: this is gonna hurt . . .

Summary: When ebony flashes gold, blood runs cold. When ivory runs red, you’ll be dead. Killian Jones had heard the old rhyme his entire life. Every child did in Storybrooke, Maine. They heard it whispered in the dark at sleepovers as children; taunted as a challenge as teenagers. Killian never believed it was actually true. Until that fateful night …

Rated M for graphic depictions of violence, abusive relationships, and major character death (I mean, it’s a ghost story ya’ll, people are dead. BUT I promise, there is a happy ending. Trust me? *peeks from around a corner*)

Length: 6 chapters, complete, updated every Friday

Chapter One | Chapter Two | Chapter Three | Chapter Four

Also on Ao3

Tagging the usuals: @snowbellewells @whimsicallyenchantedrose @kmomof4 @xhookswenchx @let-it-raines @bethacaciakay @tiganasummertree @shireness-says @stahlop @scientificapricot @spartanguard @welllpthisishappening @resident-of-storybrooke @thislassishooked @ilovemesomekillianjones @kday426 @ekr032-blog-blog @lfh1226-linda @ultraluckycatnd @nikkiemms @optomisticgirl @profdanglaisstuff @ohmakemeahercules @carpedzem @branlovestowrite @superchocovian @hollyethecurious @vvbooklady1256 @winterbaby89 @delirious-latenight-laughs @jennjenn615 @snidgetsafan @itsfabianadocarmo @lassluna @distant-rose @courtorderedcake @winterbythesea @thesschesthair @killian-whump @thisonesatellite @batana54 @it-meant-something @xsajx @therooksshiningknight @gingerchangeling

Chapter Five: Run

“You’ve got to tell them what you saw - what you’ve learned,” Killian pleaded.

Graham shook his head, his curly hair falling in his eyes as he stared at the slender hands he clasped in his. His eyes were bloodshot, his jaw sported far more facial hair than it normally did, and Killian didn’t have to ask if he’d slept in the past forty-eight hours.

“They won’t believe me.”

Killian’s jaw clenched in frustration. “But if I saw Emma, and you saw her, then maybe they’ll believe -”

“That Belle saw a ghost push Mike Gaston off the troll bridge? They’ll believe that? Really?” Graham let out a sarcastic, bitter laugh. “You really are just a naive kid if that’s what you're thinking.”

“But you’re a cop!”

“I’m still only nineteen! They’ll think we’re just over-imaginative teenagers.” Graham paused, reaching up with one hand to trace the curve of Belle’s cheek as she slept in her drug-induced prison. “That will land us in rooms just down the hall with our own IV full of an antipsychotic cocktail. How will I help her then?”

“You’ve fallen in love with her.” It wasn’t a question.

Graham sighed. “How could I not? And how could he -” He broke off, his blue eyes flashing. “I’m not sorry he’s dead. If I’d been there and saw him hurt her -”

“Shh, I wouldn’t say things like that. Not here.”

Killian’s gaze fell to the bruises around Belle’s neck, and he didn’t blame Graham at all. It terrified him to think what could have happened if Emma hadn’t shown up.

“History repeats itself,” he murmured under his breath.

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

Killian had scarcely arrived at the bridge when headlights blinded him. He turned away, blinking, stumbling, refusing to be stopped.

“Emma! Emma!” he shouted. He tripped and dropped his flashlight. It broke as it hit the ground, rolling to the edge of the bridge. Now all he could see was ebony before him and radiant luminescence behind him.

His palms scraped against the asphalt as Liam hauled him to his feet. His brother gripped his upper arms so tightly it was almost painful, and he gave him a brief shake.

“You’ve got to stop this!”

Killian fought him. “I have to see her!”

Liam had always been broader than Killian with an unfair advantage in all their childhood tussles. Even now, Killian was no match for him as he lifted him bodily with one arm and hauled him over to his car.

“You need help!” Liam literally tossed him into the backseat.

“I’m not going home!” Killian tried to scramble out, but Liam just shoved him back inside.

“Good, because I’m not taking you home.”

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

“Why won’t you be straight with us, kid?”

Killian glared at the detective with a cynical sneer. The psychiatrist on the cop’s left frowned at Killian’s attitude. The choice of words was cruel considering he was in a literal straightjacket. His vision of the two men was obscured by the long strands of dark hair before his eyes. Haircuts were apparently seen as a luxury on the psych ward.

“I’ve answered all your questions,” Killian finally told them wearily, “you just don’t like what I had to say.”

“Because we want the truth,” the psychiatrist, Dr. Archie Hopper, said gently. He was clearly playing the part of “good cop.” Or “good doctor.” Whatever.

“I told you the truth.”

“There’s no such thing as ghosts.”

Killian snorted a laugh. “Tell that to Mike Gaston.”

The detective’s voice took on a harsh, warning tone. “Mike Gaston was the victim of murder.”

“The victim!” Killian cried, his voice snapping up. “What about the bruises he put on Belle? Or the fact that I nearly died when he tied me to that bridge!”

The detective’s lips curled up in a lewd sneer as he lit a cigarette. “If some horny teenager likes it a bit rough, that’s none of my business.”

Killian fought his bonds, his jaw clenching at the detective’s insinuation. He was as bad as Neal Gold, maybe worse. He had to be pushing fifty at least, and a pot belly strained at his button up shirt. His eyes widened as Killian raged.

“Bothers you though, I see.” He leaned forward. “Nobody blames you for wanting her, kid. Nobody blames you for being jealous. But murder? That’s a different story.”

“I told you I had nothing to do with that!”

The detective glanced at Dr. Hopper, and the soft spoken psychiatrist took over. “Killian, start at the beginning for us. What did Belle say when she called you that night?”

“I’m telling you, she didn’t call me, she didn’t come to my house. I saw her early that afternoon at the library. That was it. Then my brother got a phone call that there had been an accident, and we came to the hospital.”

“You and Belle were at the library together a lot,” Hopper said softly, “what did you two do there?”

Killian rolled his eyes. He hated the patronizing way the man asked the question. “We studied. Did our homework. We were friends.”

The detective snorted again, and Killian wanted to scream. “Drop the act, kid. You really expect us to believe that you spent all that time with her, all that time with a hot chick, and you never fucked her?”

Dr. Hopper recoiled at the foul language, and Killian thought his own jaw might actually break.

“You’re just as much a misogynistic, narrow-minded, neanderthal as Mike Gaston.”

The detective grinned and slapped Dr. Hopper on the knee. “You were right, shrink, this kid’s smart.” He took another puff of his cigarette as he eyed Killian. “Smart enough to plan an elaborate murder with your knocked-up girlfriend?”

“That’s the most ridiculous - wait - did you say knocked up?”

“Hm,” the detective mused, leaning back in his chair and rubbing at his five o’clock shadow. “You didn’t know?”

Killian was horrified when a laugh slipped past his lips. Another bitter laugh followed, then another, until before he knew it, he was shaking with them. He was laughing hysterically while wearing a straightjacket. That thought made him laugh even more, and if he didn’t seem like a lunatic before, he sure as hell did now.

“What the hell is so funny?” thundered the detective.

Killian’s laughter stopped abruptly and he leveled the man with an intense stare. “History repeating itself. That’s what’s so funny.”

A smile that he knew bordered on manic curled his lips. Yes, history had repeated itself, and this time, Emma Swan had won.

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

They didn’t have enough to charge him, or Belle, or anyone else really with Gaston’s murder. It was officially declared an accident, and theoretically, Belle French and Killian Jones were free to move on.

Killian wouldn’t say it was easy for Belle. She had severe trauma from that terrifying night, and she ended up losing the baby because of it. Nevertheless, she had Dr. Hopper’s patient help, her father’s support, and Graham’s unwavering devotion. Soon, though it would be a long time before she was truly healed, she was able to go home.

Killian, on the other hand, didn’t really want to go home. For one, he, unlike Belle and Graham, refused to stop talking about Emma - refused to lie and say he made it up. He didn’t fault his friends for it; didn’t take it as a betrayal. He even understood their reasoning when they begged him to do the same and just play along, damn it. He simply couldn’t do it. Emma was too real, too precious. He knew her in a way they never would. He knew the feel of her skin, the taste of her lips. He wouldn’t - couldn’t - let that go.

The psych ward wasn’t so bad. The drugs numbed him to the point that he sailed on a sea of oblivion half the time. He’d stopped fighting, so there was no more straight jacket, no more bed straps.

And she came to him. Sometimes the drugs meant he wasn’t lucid enough to really carry on a conversation. On those nights, she curled up next to him on the bed. She ran her fingers through his hair and caressed his cheeks. She pressed kisses to his lips, and sometimes he could respond in kind.

Other times, though admittedly rare, they would talk. About everything and nothing at all. One night, they talked about their dreams for later, after high school, and suddenly Emma began to weep.

“I know,” he soothed, brushing her forehead with a kiss, “you fear you can never have that. But maybe we can figure it out. If we somehow get the truth out. About your murder -”

Emma silenced him with a finger to his lips. “That isn’t it, Killian. It’s you. I have no more tomorrows but you can.”

His brow furrowed, and she sighed and soothed the lines away with the pad of her thumb.

“But not if you keep holding onto me.”

His arms instinctively pulled her closer. “I’ll never let you go.”

She sighed, and sadness filled her eyes. She slipped out of his embrace and rose from the bed. Her skin grew white, her gown floated in an ethereal way at her feet. He frowned and scrambled to a sitting position.

“I have to say goodbye,” she told him. She said it with an edge of discovery in her voice. Her lips turned up in a soft smile even as a tear slipped down her cheek.

He shook his head and tried to reach for her, to leave the bed, but he had just enough drugs in his system to make his movements sluggish and ineffectual.

“I won’t let you see me again.”

“No, Emma, please! I love you!”

“And I love you. That’s why I have to do this.”

She was already fading away. Killian made a fist and slammed it into his thigh. Tears stung his eyes.

“Be happy,” she told him, “for me.”

Then she was gone.

#cs ff #captain swan ff #cssns21 #captain swan supernatural summer #ghost story #horror #strange lieutenant duckling #lol trust me #happy ending of sorts

65 notes · View notes

mytwilightimagines13 · 3 years

Text

Memories from the past (Caius Volturi)

Word count: Trigger warning: mention of depression

Okaay, so I have decided to try and make one poly story. It seems they are quite popular and since my bisexual ass loves blondes, I figured I will ship our main character with Caius and Athenodora. Also I haven’t seen this ship just yet and I want to explore it hehe. Also, I got the idea from the facebook post below, so thanks for that person for giving me an idea! Hope you guys enjoy it!

Word count: 1083 Trigger warning: mention of depression, suicide

Here lies Isabella Marie Swan September 13th 1987 – September 16th 2027 "Death lies on her like an untimely frost Upon the sweetest flower of all the field." (Romeo and Juliet, Act IV, Scene V, Line 33)

I stood as I looked at the gravestone. My mother’s gravestone. I knew what I was supposed to feel. I had to feel grief, I had to mourn. Yet I didn’t. I was relieved, happy. She was finally free, she could finally rest. “Are you ready to go, kiddo?” my grandfather asked, his voice still shaking with pain. I nodded my head, finally removing my stare from the gravestone and towards the brown orbs that belonged to my grandfather. The brown was surrounded by red as his eyes were puffy from crying. “Yes, let’s go. Shall we go to the diner?” I asked, hoping some food would lift our spirits. Grandpa simply nodded his head as he wrapped his arm around my shoulders, pulling me close to his side. His hand was wrinkled yet laid firmly on them, almost afraid I would vanish as well.

“You know you aren’t allowed to drink, Xandria.” Grandpa said as I took a sip of my white wine. I chuckled. “I turn 21 next month gramps. Besides, I am allowed to drink in Scotland” I said as I took another sip. Grandpa rolled his eyes. “Yet you are in the United states right now. But I guess I can let this one drink slide for today.” He said as he took a sip of his beer. His hair was almost completely white, with some gray streaks woven through it. His face had been wrinkled and a kind yet stern look resided on it. And finally, a moustache in the same colour as his hair accompanied his features. I chuckled sadly at his remark. “Thank you, grandpa. And thank you for letting me stay here.” I said as I played around with my glass. “Anytime panda.” He said, using the nickname he gave me when I was a little chub. Grandma had once dressed me up in a complete panda jumpsuit as a toddler (yes, including with a hat that had little ears on it) and since then the nickname had stuck. The memory of it made me smile as I still had the little jumpsuit back at home.

Grandpa drove us back to his house, the ride back to it was quiet, as had our time at the diner has been. Neither of us felt like talking, not knowing what to discuss without returning to the topic that was my mother. My now dead mother. Once inside I helped grandpa get comfortable on the couch with another beer in his hand watching the football match that evening, yet his eyes where hallow. He merely stared at the screen. I kissed his cheek and made my way upstairs, towards mum’s old room. I jumped on the bed, plunging my face in the pillow as the tears finally came. Truth be told, she never really was much of a mother to me, sure she tried to be there for me but she had a crippling depression that she never could break out from. I had never seen her smile, well truly smile for that. There were only ghosts of what might once had been a genuine smile around her lips, but it never reached her eyes. I sad up and sniffed as I wiped my eyes. I had to remember that she was in a beter place now, and that she was happy. I sighed as I got up to make my way towards the bathroom, only to trip over a loose floor board. I yelped softly as I caught myself on the door handle, my other hand smacking against the wall beside it hard. “Everything okay up there, Panda bear?” Grandpa yelled from downstairs. “Yeah I am fine gramps, just lost my balance. No worries!” I yelled back as I turned around and examined the loose floorboard, only to discover it had a hidden compartment underneath. I knelt down to examine the compartment closer and found a small box hidden in it. I gently grabbed it and sat down on the bed. The box itself was a velvet blue with a simple clasp to keep the lit closed. I flicked the claps and carefully raised the lit, only to find multiple photographs of my mother and a necklace with some sort of crest on it. The crest was made of a lion, with a hand above it and three clovers in a banner underneath the lion. It was beautiful. I felt the tears burning yet again as I grabbed the pictures and started to look through them. It was my mother in her senior year of High School. She had pictures with all of her friends, they were in the parking lot, in classes or they were hanging out. But the last picture intrigued me the most. It was my mother on her 18th birthday, and she was standing next to a boy who seemed to be her age, only there was something odd about him. My eyes traced over his pale white features: the hard square of his jaw, the softer curve of his full lips—twisted in a smile, the straight line of his nose, the top of his forehead—partially obscured by the tangle of rain-darkened bronze hair. He seemed almost unnatural. But the thing that shocked me the most was my mother’s smile. It was genuine. Real. It even reached her eyes. I close my eyes and try to control the tears that are threatening to fall once again. I imagined she might have smiled this way the moment before she jumped off that cliff. I imagine she might have thought about this man. Maybe he was once her true love, before she met my father. Maybe he passed away, and is that the reason why no longer could smile after both he and my father passed away. I could not imagine what it would be like to lose someone you love twice. Even if it might have been years apart. I finally opened my eyes and allowed for one last tear to slip away. I had to believe she was happy now. That she was with my father and her first love again. That she is smiling now like she did in the picture I was holding close to my chest. I just had to believe that.

#twilight #volturi #caius volturi #athenodora volturi #twilight imagine #volturi imagine #vampire

101 notes · View notes

shingia · 3 years

Note

Hello!!! I love ur fics sm 😭💖 This is weirdly specific and been plaguing my mind for days,,, Can I req an angsty fic where Atsumu broke up with the reader because he wants to chase his dreams and ultimately leaves but with the reader saying "I'll wait" . A few months later he seeks for the reader again and finds out the reader has terminal illness and is dying. You can decide if there's major character death or a miracle,,,, please and thank u so much!!

𝐭𝐚𝐤𝐨𝐭𝐬𝐮𝐛𝐨 - 𝐚𝐭𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐮 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

aw thank youuuu <33 and also WOW this request is in-tense, i modified the ‘terminal illness’ part a little bit for plot convenience, but i rly hope you’re gonna like it ! i am : stressed. also, i’m a sucker for happy endings (just ignore my last bokuto fic) so i couldn’t go full angst on that one 😅

quick storytime : my great grandpa died from heartbreak and i always thought it was a beautiful (yet very sad) way to die, so i guess that’s where i got my inspiration from <3

⤷ atsumu x gn!reader | angst | word count : 1.7K

warnings : hospital environment, heart condition, mild description of ‘illness’ and mentions of death (a little)

your first kiss with miya atsumu had been sloppy, dizzy, with a strong scent of rum and smudged lip balm all over your lips. but there was no doubt that it had been the best kiss of your entire lives…

…just like your last had been the worst.

two months later, atsumu still couldn’t forget the salty taste of your lips that begged him not to leave. if he focused hard enough, he could even remember the feeling of your hands desperately clinging to his jacket in a last attempt at making him stay by your side.

but he didn’t, and as much as he hated himself for putting an end - even temporary - to what had been the most beautiful chapter of his life, he had never regretted his decision ; and he knew exactly why. you had promised to wait for him, and in pure egoism, he knew and hoped that you would. because no matter the distance, he was still madly in love with you.

which is why he did not understand why osamu was so outraged when he told him that he was finally ready to come back to you. but the younger twin knew things that his brother didn’t - he had seen you let yourself waste away, like nothing else mattered without the one you loved.

but more than that, atsumu did not know about the secret his brother promised to keep. he did not know that, two weeks ago, osamu had found you unconscious in your living room with an alarmingly slow heartbeat. the poor boy had not understood everything the doctors had told him - but whatever a cardiogenic shock was, he knew that it would have carried you off if without his intervention.

however, you had been categorical : atsumu shouldn’t not know about this, under any pretext. you refused to be a burden to the pursuit of his dreams for which he had already sacrificed so much for. but now that atsumu was back, something about this promise didn’t sit right with his brother. and so he decided to tell him everything.

« …most doctors thought about a standard heart attack » he told him after explaining the situation, on the lookout for any impulsive reaction from his brother. « … but one of them talked about something else. you might want to sit down ».

but atsumu couldn’t care less about his brother’s advice. actually, he didn’t care about anything else than you right now. it was already taking a lot of effort for him to stand there listening to samu instead of being on his way to the hospital - but he stayed. for an obscure reason that he didn’t really understand, he stayed.

« did you know that people can die of heartbreak ? » osamu asked, more serious than he had ever been in his whole life.

the blonde twin felt like the ground had suddenly swallowed him whole - although his brother was trying his best not to sound too accusating, it was more than obvious that whatever situation you were in was because of him. and only him.

« no they can’t » he tried to protest, not even believing in his own words. panic was beginning to win him over - and in a matter of seconds, he lost all his composure « WHY THE FUCK ARE YOU NOT MOVING ? LET’S GO ! » he shouted, already opening the front door. at that moment, one question burned his lips, but he knew he would never have the guts to ask it out loud.

‘did i kill them ?’

——

the steady beeps of all the machines around you were the only thing disrupting the deafening silence of your hospital room. you were sick of spending your days alone. but you had no right to complain, osamu had offered to come and see you after work every day, but you had politely refused. well, politely was a big word… your body was so exhausted that you had trouble articulating simple phrases, and therefore exclusively communicated through nods or hand gestures.

your phone had been confiscated and the doctors kept you away from the news - or at least from the negative news, because they knew that your heart might give out at the tiniest emotional distress.

which is why you were so surprised to hear a knock on your door at about 3pm, outside of the nurses’ shift hours. knowing that you were too weak to talk, osamu let himself in, slowly closing the door behind him before coming closer to your bed.

« how are you doing ? » he asked, resting his hands on the other end of the bed. you shrugged, pointing at the IV and all the monitoring surrounding you. as long as these machines were there, it was hard to feel better than just ok. « listen, um… someone is here for you. the doctors said i could bring him in, but i wanted your authorization first… » he started before clearing his throat. « atsumu is back. do you- are you ready to see him ? ».

ready was probably not an appropriated word. but after two months spent pretending that he was still laying next to you in bed every night, still texting you good morning every day, still sending you the dumbest memes at the most random times, it would have been a huge mistake to refuse osamu’s proposition.

and so he let him in. obviously, atsumu had orders from the doctors and his brother : don’t run, don’t move too fast, don’t speak too soon, don’t touch them without warning. but nobody had asked him not to cry. and how could his eyes stay dry when you looked so fragile and so vulnerable ?

osamu quietly left the room, leaving the two of you together not without apprehension. but if there was one thing he could trust his brother on, it was taking care of you. two months could not have gotten the better of four years of relationship.

but as much as he cared about you, atsumu had always been - and still was - pretty bad with words. and the first ones that left his mouth were a great example. « are you going to die ? » he asked in a shaky voice, brows knitted.

you would have given him an answer if you had one, but you didn’t. the doctors said that you had gone through the most painful part, but the risks of aggravations were still too important to let you go home. you were not 100% safe yet.

« i told you i’d wait » you spoke in a hoarse voice, the beep of your heart monitor getting a little bit faster.

the steps atsumu took towards you were slow, like he had been told, but just one glance at his eyes was enough to know that deep down, he was dying to feel your skin against his.

« i know you probably hate me right now. and for good reasons » he started as he sat on the chair next to your bed, still painfully avoiding any contact. « but there’s something i need to tell you, in case… in case… well, if something were to happen ».

his eyes lingered on your fingertips, blue and cold, and his whole body tensed at once. the thought that everything you were going through had been caused by his own selfishness was driving him crazy. but he had one last thing to keep himself grounded, and that thing was exactly what he was about to tell you.

« i love you. but i caused you so much trouble that i think there’s only one way to prove it… » he said, taking a deep breath before finally resting a timid hand on your arm. « i want to marry you. right now. i don’t fucking care if it’s not considered official, i just want you to know that leaving you was probably the biggest mistake i ever did. and that i’m not leaving ever again. so fuck it, let’s get married ! you almost died, life’s too short to plan a stupid ceremony ».

he stopped for a few seconds, panting from his teary monologue and paying attention to any beep or other sound that might indicate that he had made things worse for you. but it seemed like you were doing ok. how could you not be ? the love of your life had just proposed to you - sure, it wasn’t how you had imagined it, but wasn’t it even more beautiful like that ?

the tears that started rolling down your cheeks were undoubtedly tears of happiness and relief to know that, finally, your life was back to normal. atsumu was your normality, and for the first time in two months, you finally felt like you had a purpose. you had no idea if soulmates existed, but what you had with atsumu seemed more than close enough.

if someone had entered the room at that moment, it’d probably have taken them several minutes to understand what was going on. two young adults, crying yet smiling, one of them laying on a hospital bed looking like they had been through hell and back, and the other tearing off two pieces of his t-shirt and looking genuinely proud of himself - nothing about this made sense.

« my apologies, it was the easiest way to make us rings » atsumu chuckled, eyes still blurry as grabbed your hand in his with infinite tenderness. slowly, he tied the piece of cloth around your ring finger, loosely enough so that the doctors would not consider it dangerous for your blood circulation.

« i’m keeping that until you’re getting out of here. by my side. » he affirmed, pointing at his own makeshift ring before looking right into your eyes, as serious as ever. « and i’m also keeping you. forever. consider this my wedding vows »

as much as he hated to phrase it like that, you could both die in peace now.

i spent so much time on medical sites to be as accurate as i could, i felt like meredith mf grey for a few hours

@toworuu @catwithangerissues

#haikyuu x reader #haikyuu #haikyuu oneshot #haikyuu angst #miya atsumu #atsumu x reader #atsumu angst #miya atsumu x reader #atsumu one shot

111 notes · View notes

theunconcernedembalmer · 3 years

Note

Toko! I was thinking of creating an ask the character blog for IDV or Genshin Impact and wanted a few tips on how to start off. Anything you can share?

ey yo my dude!! thank you so much for this question, now im lowkey tempted (again) to make a genshin ask blog sjadhlkshgkahshglsaj anyway my 1.5 cents is under the cut, yall know how much i talk here HAHAHAHAH

uhhhhhh so i guess we start with picking a character u really Vibe with tm? I KNOW THIS SOUNDS LIKE COMMON SENSE BUT LIKE ive been considering making a genshin ask blog for a while now but i never really got to it cos i couldnt really decide on a character (plus the fact that their outfits are. so intricate. is also a hmm since i try to follow details to a t) (at first i wanted to do zhongli, but i feel like to be able to muse him well u need to know the lore super super well, which i dont n im too lazy to research on that aha. n u know how much i respect characterizations, especially for such a complex character like him. i also considered xiangling for a period of time mostly for guoba but also like i have 2+1 blogs here n having one more might not be a very good idea aha) (as for aesop he was my Hyperfixation Character tm also cos i looked at his kit n went Yep i could work with this. probably)

so assuming ur not a dumbass like me n u kinda know who u wanna pick, id actually say to snoop around here for other ask blogs n kinda get a feel of the... scene? is that the word? or like u know, other blogs that u can potentially vibe with. ive run a couple of ask blogs before this current one (both that have died for different reasons) n from my experience interacting with other blogs (if theyre okay with it, i think most should be) is pretty fun. it also kinda helps get ur blog around to other ppl on other blogs so they can go Oh whats this cool shit n check u out, n its also a reason why we kinda reblog promo posts for other blogs (also cos we’re always excited when someone new comes on, its really the more the merrier. we see all :eyes:). interacting with other blogs is also an option when ur inbox is looking real roomy too

another reason why i havent exactly done a genshin blog is that idk i cant actually seem to find genshin ask blogs around (i have seen rp blogs, or those that answer asks with mostly text instead of art, but thats. not my thing since i hate my own writing aha) (i did find one aether blog some time ago, but for some reason i hardly see them around anymore??? idk man i might be wrong). its not like im trying super hard to find them ask blogs, so im sure they exist out there (hopefully?? im not sure but im being optimistic). i mean theres nothing wrong with just starting an ask blog without others around, but for me i do find a difference when i interact with other ask blogs n when i dont, n i prefer when theres others to have fun with (unfortunately i couldnt find any ask blogs to interact with in my previous fandom. i tried, but the blogs i approached seemed to go inactive shortly afterwards...) plus u get to meet friends that way too :D (i made a lot of friends via idv askblogs n its really been a joy vibing with others)

as for the idv scene. gestures around me. unfortunately there are a lot of ask blogs that arent that active anymore, but theres still some of us who are alive n kicking empty inboxes, n im sure everyone would love to see a new face around. winks at u. also there seems to be a lot more blogs popping up lately, which is really heartening to see.

then u kinda just. make ur blog? n a starting introduction post so ppl can reblog it n spread the word XD n yay u have a blog i guess??? XD

i gotta say tho. dont expect ur blog to take off immediately (especially for smaller fandoms like idv, tvbh i didnt think my blog would even get half this far when i started cos of how non existent idv tumblr seemed to be) n ur inbox will probably be looking pretty empty a lot of the time (or at least filled with some that u havent quite thought of how to reply to yet aha) (but also like empty inboxes happen pretty often, im sure most of us here have experienced this problem)

in the case of the first ask blog i ever started, it never really took off at all. ngl it was kind of demoralizing n depressing but to be fair i had picked one of the more obscure characters in the series, so obscure that many ppl in the fandom would have never heard of this character before. if u wanted to know, i took a character that only appeared in the 2nd musical of the series, who also made a very brief cameo in the manga to acknowledge his existence within that universe. thats how obscure my character was, but i went with him purely because he was my favourite character. i will say though i did enjoy it while it lasted n i learnt a lot from the experience, n i think thats whats important really.

i guess this kinda leads on (not really but let me digress) to the whole uhhhh thing where if u choose a more popular character, u get more attention. which is fine i guess? if u really vibe with the character, i mean theyre popular for a reason. n choosing a more popular fandom (like genshin) would objectively also get u more viewers n numbers. but like honestly i believe that ask blogs are meant for u to have fun with, n like trying to get popular gets tiring pretty fast (this shouldnt be like a main goal, but u know sometimes u subconsciously also want that gucci follower count n bomb ass notes or something. i used to be guilty of this until i realized it isnt worth it) especially if ur not enjoying yourself in the process. (case in point: my previous fandom was considerably larger n my blog got about 700 followers within a year or so, but it got very tiring n stressful to maintain after my interest in it died, n no one was really interacting with the blog even though i tried which kinda made it even more depressing despite the so called success n popularity of the blog)

anyway on a less serious note, theres a lot of fun stuff u can do with the ask blog, like some ask blogs have really fancy tags that i really like n try to do but also like not really HAHAHAHA. i kinda just channel what i want to see in an ask blog into my own ask blogs (good art is one, i try very hard for it to be good :,DD another is characterization, n others is just extra miscellaneous arts n stuffs like au ideas or memes. these are also somethings u could work on during ask box downtimes perhaps)

uhhh another side thing is like a posting schedule i guess? like ppl would be more likely to interact (i think) if ur blog is relatively active, n this is usually determined by the last post u made (i think XD). but like generally for blog maintenence id say try to kinda find a frequency that ur comfortable with?? cos i know my once a day posting is kinda insane if i wasnt so hyperfixated on all of this n fight the urge to dump all ur replies when u finish them XD (though ive seen some blogs do that n they do it pretty frequently so its pretty nice to know once u see their post u can spend some time going through the latest batch of posts XD) the queue function is pretty useful here even though i truthfully have never really used it, i kinda just post from my drafts really but it also helps to space out ur content to seem somewhat active especially when u dont have the time to be working on replies sometimes. i hope u know what im trying to say here aha

ANYWAY that was like my 1.5 cents cos i dont even think its worth 2 cents HAHAHAHAH these are just my thoughts from running all my blogs up till now, some that are still running n the others that have just died a natural death. i wouldnt actually delete them (theyre still around actually XD) cos theyre kinda like archives n i can look back at what i did last time. cos ngl i made some high quality stuff back then, n i dont even know how i managed to do that aldhflhdsgk. also ppl do look at archive blogs every now n then for the content thats there yknow

BUT YES anyway if u do decide to join the idv ask blogs hmu, ill be sure to give u a lil shoutout here. winks

#its me the mun #unconcerned ramblings #i know ive said that there are a lot of new blogs popping up #but uhhh i dont really dare to interact with them #considering they kinda did come in just when shit had hit the fan n idk i might have been known as The Problematic Blog tm #so i understand if ppl dont want to interact with me n im fine with it. so for now i wont be initiating anything #like dropping asks into inboxes unless i know the mun n theyre comfortable with me doing this #i will interact with everyone who drops by my inbox tho!!#i also tend to get to replies for other blogs faster than general replies cos i feel bad if i kept the other person waiting for too long #I DO forget about rp replies sometimes tho. sometimes #i try my best to get to every one of them tho. even when im kinda busy this period aha #also starting off is actually easy. its about maintaining thats difficult i feel #which is also why i havent done up a genshin ask blog yet HAHAHAHAHA #i really hate to give up on something ive already started when it comes to art projects so

14 notes · View notes

foulserpent · 4 years

Text

only human

long character analysis + fan fiction hybrid involving critically acclaimed worst best game of all time The Elder Scrolls IV: Oblivion! martin is in a mental and emotional hell! ned and martin resolving unresolved sexual tension after like, 100000 false starts! being mentally ill with the bro’s! "fluffy" ending!

cw: brief depiction of violence, ptsd, implications of past relationship based trauma, borderline explicit but not really sexy sexual content (nothing p*rnographic but 18+ pls)

On some nights, Martin was in hell.

The world was on a slow death march towards ruin outside the walls, this much he knew. Not even the strongest fortification could shield him from it. Every night from his gilded cage, he heard the screams, breathed the foul smoke and burning flesh and disemboweled gut, see the daedra drag the near-dead into the shadows to be torn apart, still crying out as they were devoured. His hands wet with blood, shaking in vain as his healing failed him and the survivors were pulled apart by their own wounds. The long walk out of the doomed Kvatch, past swarming flies and hundreds of blank eyes looking into the unforgiving sun. The revelation that all this was for him.

On the worst of these nights, staring into the ceiling of Cloud Ruler Temple as the sun began to creep over the horizon, he would wish he had just died.

This time last year, he was on track to live out the rest of his days in obscurity. Probably in Kvatch, probably remaining a priest, where the only weight on his shoulders was giving people their assurances that the Divines would look out for them and hoping he would finally taste truth in these words. It would be better than this. Those who held the reigns of the Empire were even more deluded than he'd thought, if they believed that his noble blood would divinely grant understanding of what to do, some inborn ability to keep collected and strong and sane trapped here as his friends faced death at his behest.

He would be called "lord", shone and polished as a commodity, loved and utterly devoted to, and never, never known. His feelings did not matter. This message had been thoroughly beaten into him. None of it mattered to whatever hand kept him guarded as preciously as the helpless king on the chessboard, behind a line of pawns to the sacrifice. Xikeel bringing him little gifts from gods-know-where (some teeth, a ring, a few spoons), slithering down from the rafters to visit him in the late night hours. One of the blades- bewildered - walking in on them dancing, without rhythm or music.

Long conversations with Ned, who would never treat him like an emperor, who barely even seemed to want to be there but had become doggedly devoted to Xikeel and himself. Bringing him wine, face softened into a smile in anticipation of an evening sitting outside in comfortable, quiet company. Tired and spiteful, but so warm.

He did not know when his feelings had turned to want. There was never an astonished realization, no moment that had changed everything. The first time he consciously acknowledged it was not as a revelation, but as an observation. Ned had cut his hand, a simple, foolish mistake that left Martin wearily healing him, in spite of the bosmer’s protests. Martin had held onto his hand longer than the spell needed, feeling the pulse in his fingers and wanting to entwine him in his own. Wanting to pull him in closer. Noticing that he wanted this, and noticing that it did not surprise him.

It was one of many things to think about, significantly less distressing than every other aspect of his current existence to say the least. He wondered if it was the day he had returned from his nigh-suicidal mission to cheat a god, haggard and shirt bloodied and yet with the softest eyes Martin had seen in the man, cracking a weak smile (a flash of teeth) that said "I've done it, and I hope you can forgive me". He wondered if it was Ned's unwavering devotion to leaving his shirt half-unbuttoned, the burn tearing through his chest on display like a trophy. The necklace would fall across the older man's breast while he laughed and joked about stupid things with Martin as if they were old friends. He was not above simple things.

Perhaps this was a test of the temperance he had spent years cultivating, hollowing out a part of himself to nurture the seed. After all, he had not been with anyone for a long time.

---

He had loathed the existence of the arena in Kvatch, drawing in men and women from all around in what amounted to mass suicide. There was little honor in it, just desperate people consuming themselves for just to grasp a thread of glory, dying in the mud as the crowd roared. But Martin was only human. He had found himself looking on the men as they passed through town, all muscle and scars and fiercely alive. He had found himself drawn to one who had come into the temple for a blessing of protection. The man never said why, though Martin knew where he was bound. It was never hard to tell.

The man was tall and rather handsome, with a muscular frame and dark hair and looking to be only a few years younger than himself, (this had to be around when he was forty-one or forty-two. Had it been that long?). They'd spoke first as strangers do, running through the motions of a blessing under a thick smoke of incense and flowers burnt in offering to the Dragon. Martin averted his gaze from the sword at the man's hip as he prepared the oil. Its hilt glittered in iron filigree and unmistakable rust of dried blood struck gold by the afternoon's dying light. His eyes wandered to the man's face instead, moving to begin the anointment. The dark haired man swiped his tongue over his lips and glanced away, and Martin's heartbeat spiked.

For gods sakes.

The man talked compulsively, glancing around as if something stalked him in the shadows between the stained-glass-light. Martin had silently hoped he would grow bored with the old priest and be on his way, if only so that he'd have time to himself to contemplate what the hell was wrong with him. So, naturally, the man kept talking long after the ritual was complete and the candles extinguished. About where he had come from, (all the way from High Rock, it turned out), the unusual rains lately, family. Partners. Lovers. The conversation turned here, and had fallen with such a speed that he barely realized what was happening. The man had found Martin beautiful, and Martin, exhausted with penitence and enthralled by the stranger and aching to just be human again, had found himself quietly slipping out with him.

Martin's home was truly tiny when occupied by two, an unfamiliar claustrophobia that was quickly dragged into the mire and drowned in a little too much wine. It was cheap and burned his throat with its sweetness, but he didn't care. They'd stumbled and fallen into his bed.

"For good luck," the man had said, as they kissed rough and far too clumsy.

"For good luck," Martin had kissed into the man's neck.

The man was a bit fumbling, all muscles and scars and fierceness. No matter how close their bodies pressed, no matter the grip Martin had - his fingers marking new trails over a scarred back - there was that distance. Two magnets repelling, even as they forced themselves together. These men going to their deaths couldn't be touched. And neither could he, no matter how he tried. There weren't even the barest roots of love here. Just body on body, flesh on flesh. It wasn't bad, though. Martin was only human.

He didn't know what to say in the morning, as the man collected his belongings to go off to the fight. "Good luck," Martin said again, feeling stupid. The man had said "thank you" with his eyes distant. He bent down and out the door, and walked out into the humid morning air, leaving Martin with a strange emptiness in his gut. He never saw him again.

It shouldn't have impacted him so badly. He'd had a one-night stand that was, frankly, pretty good. He'd given another man some comfort, something above and beyond his duty as the Priest-Healer-Penitent. It wasn't really against any vows. His lungs still breathed the smoke of offerings to the Dragon, a shrine to Dibella was dutifully kept at the foot of his bed and given a clumsy offering before the main event. He had not fallen back into the snares of that damned daedra. It wasn't a betrayal of those he'd lost. So why was he guilty?

---

And yet here he was now, on the precipice yet again. Really, he was long into the fall.

Him and one-of-two Heroes of Kvatch had slept together for a week now. Nothing more than the sharing of a bed and body heat, their day to day lives much the same as the world crumbled around him. They had kissed a few days ago, slightly dizzy with wine and the memory returning only in a haze. They'd kissed again the night before, sober and beyond any deniability as the bosmer was making his way out on errand. Ned had blushed and flicked his ears back, leaving him with a soft smile and a quiet "See you," as he slipped into the night.

Now, Martin found himself kneeling as if in prayer at the foot of his bed, his companion sitting up before him. Ned was half naked, body all muscle and scars and an exhaustion that ran far deeper than that. Martin had been healing a wound on his stomach- sliced open by a nasty (and thankfully, poorly aimed) dagger. The Mythic Dawn long since knew what he looked like, though they had hardly been this bold before now. They stalked the base of the mountains like jackals at the edge of a kill, waiting for an opening to lunge in and tear off some scrap of flesh. Ned hadn't wanted to talk about this one. His hands shook as he'd taken off his bloodstained clothes, and he scoured them with a washcloth long after they were clean.

"I'm fine." He had said. "I'm just tired."

Martin was tired too. That first night together, he had this romantic notion that being held by his friend would keep away the nightmares. They had come as they did most nights, crawling out of the depths of his subconscious with the worst of him they could offer. He'd woken up, breathing hard as terror dripped down his body. There was one difference. There was a warmth pressed to his back, and it breathed a half-snore as it moved in closer, nuzzled into his trembling neck. Ned hadn't woken. He had just wrapped Martin up into strong arms, and settled back into a deep sleep. Maybe it was just wishful thinking, but even as the last traces of the nightmare pulled out its spurs, Martin felt safe. All he wanted was to return the favor.

Now, Martin leaned to kissed the gash across Ned's chest, the one that the man would wake up in terror clutching at, eyes somewhere far away and breathing hard. He trailed kisses down the line of skin warped by fire and blade, and Ned laughed. "I can barely feel it."

"Really?" The sword and its burns had probably damaged a nerve. Or done something worse, something that cut deeper. It was a daedric weapon after all. Martin would later ask where exactly he had sensation, to see if anything could be done about it. Later, perhaps. Now, he was tired of being the Priest-Healer-Penitent.

He leaned back in, close but just out of reach. His lips hovered down over the soft hair down his middle, making a glancing contact below the wounds. Even there, the skin seemed to have been broken and healed many times over a long life. How could someone live like that? He kissed him, just below the lower scar.

"How about here?"

"S'better"

Ned was definitely feeling something. The man's breath caught just slightly at the touch. He overcorrected, shifting in his seat a little and clearing his throat. Uncrossing his legs. Martin moved further down, just a little past his navel, laying another kiss on the recently healed wound. He wanted nothing more than to taste - touch the man before him, and to wake up with no guilt, no loneliness- he kissed him again.

"Or here?"

"Little better," the man's tone was flirtatious. "I mean, it'd be lot more sensation if you went just a bit low...er."

Ned had trailed off in the last word and froze at his own indiscretion. He was tensed like one with a hand raised against him, expecting a blow. As if he could have misinterpreted where this moment could go, alone and naked with his friend kneeling before him. As if Martin would be mad.

"Sorry, I didn't mean-uh." Ned flailed, pulling his knees shut.

"No, no, I'm sorry. I'd like to, if you would."

Ned's breath hitched. He looked utterly bewildered.

"OH- yeah, sure? Uh- Yes. Yeah." He sputtered.

They looked into each other’s eyes for a moment that lasted an eternity. Neither man dared to even take a breath. Ned cracked the tiniest fraction of a smile.

They both laughed, pulling apart. The tension had snapped, and the ache in his gut relented, put itself to the side. Martin hoisted himself back up onto the bed, sitting to his friend's side with a chaste several inches between them.

"It's... Been a while." Martin sighed. "Look at me, acting all nervous."

"Me too man, me too." Ned laughed, covering the blush on his face and utterly failing to hide the red of his ears. "’Promise I'm not usually like this, I have no friggin' idea what my problem is."

"Well, this'll just have to do." Martin made a show of shrugging and frowning in mock-resignation.

Ned let out a 'ha!' and leaned back, all muscles now relaxed as he smiled up at his companion. His words and smile were casual, but he was looking at Martin with such soft eyes, as if this tired old man was the damn moons and stars.

"Can I kiss you?" Martin asked.

Ned nodded.

He leaned over him, and went in for another kiss. And another. This time, it was as if a dam had burst. All lips and tongue and teeth and breath and hands moving on skin with a practiced clumsiness that spoke to years of experience, and spoke to one treading a ground that was brand new and wonderful for it.

As they pulled apart, Ned smiled and squeezed Martin's hands, and he squeezed back. They guided each other downward.

Now, Martin's lips were at a precipice below deniability. His hands held ready at the man's waist, a few fingers interwoven with his, beyond caring if their palms sweat or if their arms shook. He looked up to meet Ned's gaze, who cracked a smile and looked away, threading his other hand into Martin's hair in spite of his sheepishness.

"Can I keep going?" Martin asked.

"Yeah," Ned answered, still smiling. Eyes closed. "Please."

Ned's thumb brushed his cheek, a gentle encouragement. A 'thank you'.

And he kissed him.

#you can tell i literally just think of my interpretation of martin as an oc at this point. literally COULD NOT even dream of writing this #if i didnt #also i gave this one a title which is absolutely insane of me #martin septim #nasty ned #my writing

119 notes · View notes

lemongogo · 4 years

Note

hey im the anon abt gyutaro/ume and i dont remember what happens to demons after they die ?? did i miss smth ? regardless i wanna ask what do you think their fate should be ? cause on one hand i think they're just victims of a cruel world who took the first way out they could find but on the other hand it doesnt rlly justify all the slaughter, and i also think abt the demon slayers who also suffered horrible fates and used it to fuel their determination to save other people from that pain

hi !! i don’t think kny ever explicitly mentions what happens to demons after they die (as in we never have concrete evidence of where they go or how their lives after are spent), but i think the general consensus is that the demons go to hell.

in some cases, the family can decide to go with them (ex: rui and i think akaza? if i remember correctly?) but their fate is pretty much sealed from that point forward i believe.

heres a pic of gyuutarou and ume, actually, in chapter 97 !!

but yeah !! thats something i think about a lot tbh. as you mentioned, many of the demons we’ve seen have either been groomed into demonhood (rui, ume, susamaru, etc.) or had their pain and suffering exploited (akaza, gyuutarou) for the sake of advancing other demons’ plans (muzan, douma, etc). so i agree ! a lot of these characters are unfortunate victims in themselves and its impossible to view their stories without incorporating the struggles they’ve had to face as both humans AND demons. especially considering that lots of these individuals experience muzan’s abuse regardless of their status relative to him (such as with the upper and lower moons). i think this is best explained through akaza’s relationship with muzan,

(ch. 67)

(ch.156)

and further explored though tanjiro’s observation of rui’s death. he notes that being a demon, for most, is an existence punctuated by extreme grief and despair, and that’s equally supported, i think, by the humanization of these demons following death. that their original conscious is restored (albeit with knowledge of everything they’ve done) and are oftentimes plagued by the guilt of what’s happened.

(ch.43)

what he says here is probably what sums it up for me. that while it’s important to condemn these demons and hold them accountable for the truly awful things they’ve done, it’s also important to consider the suffering they've experienced through existence alone. its so !! complex !! and thats what i love about kny. i love how .. you have some demons who are entirely despicable and bask in the carnage they create, but you also have some for whom demonhood was simply what appeared to be the only answer towards living a healthier life or righting the wrongs that’ve been done to them (usually with false promises and manipulation unbeknownst to them). and .. its so hard to figure out where to.. draw that line. or view these characters at least. because you sympathize with their pain, but you also realize that their actions have caused endless pain for many hundreds of people. tanjiro losing his entire family, giyuu losing his. shinobu watching her sister die before her very eyes, and kanao the same. the ubuyashiki family’s curse or the slaughter of himejima’s children. you look at characters like sanemi, shinobu, or giyuu and understand that you cannot invalidate their view of demons either. while kanae and tanjiro may find hope and humanity in demons, they exist as monsters who feast on pain to everyone else. its important not to discredit their perspective when making a personal choice to observe the demons’ hardships yknow. shinobu’s anger is just as warranted as tanjiro’s optimism and that neither are wrong for how they personally feel demons should be handled after death.

im like. AAAAAAAA theres so much to it , its really hard for me to condense into a few sentences AHAHA im so sry for making u read this if u still are. but . i guess i’m not too sure. i think maybe, had i experienced the same pain as those above, it would be easy for me to say the demons deserve to go to the worst hell imaginable regardless of what they’ve gone through because that history isn’t accessible to everyone like it has been the audience (or that they’ve seemingly made the conscious decision to cause harm w/o understanding the ways in which demonhood obscures their original conscious/morality). but at the same time, you have those like tanjiro whose world view is shaped by positive encounters with demons like nezuko, tamayo, yushirou, etc. where it seems very evident that . theres more to it than what meets the eye.

one of my friends ive talked to about this had a rly good perspective on it thats kinda stuck with me since !! she said she likes to view their conclusion as some . separation of identity?? if that makes sense?? that the demon side of them goes to hell while their human form goes to heaven (or division into whichever afterlife). and !! i think thats a really neat interpretation because there’s obvious descrepancy between demon personas and human personas. that the demon personas are like. exaggerations of their flaws, almost (akaza becoming hellbent on battle spirits and physical victories when hajuki’s fury & determination was fueled by love in a sense) while their human personas are the truest sense of self. and depending on which influence there is (muzan vs the appearance of loved ones), their identity changes accordingly. so ! idk ! thats one nice way of looking at it. holding their demon personas accountable while also recognizing that many of these characters deserve some form of healing after many hundreds of years of abuse. its hard because ofc i don’t want to negate the harms they’ve caused but its also? not cut and dry given the environment they were placed in and the fact that muzan’s blood essentially removes their humanity against their will you know. so in this way at least you have both forms of self receiving the proper conclusion.

whwhwhw so im. !!!!!!!!!!!! ah !! i can’t say i have a definite answer but i think the one above is smth thats comforting to me. i think the story settles with sending them to hell once they’ve regained their past self but also .. “softens” it by providing them company by their loved ones who are willing to go w them?? so thats rly cool to look at too. because it holds them accountable for all that’s happened but also.. recognizes that they’re not wholly responsible for it either and that .. even in hell they’re able to keep their connections and human emotions/experiences . its tragic yet oddly. fitting, i think, of the kny narrative. while i like the aforementioned interpretation, i also really.. appreciate the way its set up in canon too. like yeah i want the best for them but also. it fits in with the tragic nature of demonhood and what it meant for them all. oddly enough.

u make a good point too !! about demon slayers experiencing the same hardships but using their pain to help others. i think a lot of it is plainly chalked up to luck in terms of.. what they were exposed to following tragedy. how shinobu and kanae were saved by himejima, tanjiro saved by giyuu, kanao picked up by shinobu and kanae, sanemi given the guidance of kagaya while akaza was killed by muzan during his lowest moment, ume and gyuutarou were cornered by douma, rui misled by muzan, etc. i think circumstance is definitely a large factor in determining the paths that were taken. such as sanemi’s anger being validated and heard by ubuyashiki vs, say, akaza’s same anger being intentionally exploited for muzan’s gain.

aaa anyways. theres a lot 2 be said about this. like. SO much on my mind and obviously the extent of muzan’s abuse goes far deeper than what’s briefly mentioned here but. i love talking about the complexities of kny . and how i view the demons vs the corps and how each of them have grown into their respective stories . AA but ill end it here THNK U >> also so sry for making u read thru all of this i get so excited i could talk abt kny all day long if i had the chance AAA

#Anonymous #asktag #tldr: UH im a sympathetic bitch who wishes for some form of recovery for Some demons while also #finding it necessary to hold them accountable.#and easy way to do that is to split identities between human and demon persona but thats mighty convenient for such #a large issue so . the current narrative is probably the one i still oddly like #just bc the little peace they get before descent into hell is. really big #and their support by loved ones following them thru is also. really big #anyways. ya viri i thot of what u said bc its so good #its been a while so idk if its the exact version of how u view it but thts how it stuck w me JSBFSKBFSBJF #naywaysb I LOVE KNY AAAAAAAAAAAAA screams #kny #kny spoilers #kny manga #save for later

24 notes · View notes

sojourntime-aux · 4 years

Text

Day 5 (August 6th): Facing Their Fears – What are your OC’s fears and failures? How do they deal with them? Have they been able to overcome them? Will they ever be able to?

Day 5 is a bit of a contrast from my day 4 stuff! Also I may have played fast and loose with the prompt for today, but I hope y'all enjoy these! @khoc-week

> Warning for implied death, or atleast characters MIA.

-----

Unravel

Tabitha wasn't supposed to be here, she knew that. She especially wasn't supposed to have discovered this.

'No.. no no no.. that can't be..' Tabitha stared at the place in her notebook where pages once had been. Now she was sure she had written something there. Entry upon entry, missing. 'Just like my memory.'

Tears welled up in Tabitha's eyes, although she wasn't quite sure why. All she knew was that her heart tugged at these flashes of memory she was having. The pictures of this someone else she seemed to know, to have spent time with, to have written about, to have.. Tabitha could barely remember her.

What else did they take from her memories? From everyone's memories? Who else did they take?

Betrayal

Tagen leaned on Kathrynn, the low light of her flat helping to calm his nerves. This was the most relaxed he felt in weeks.

The three of them had started their search for their missing friend only two weeks ago, after she hadn't been seen for their end of the day routine for a week. Tagen had spent days on end searching world after world, and asking everyone one he saw if they had seen her, until Tabby and Kathrynn made him stop and rest. Tagen still looked every day for their missing friend, having not given up hope she would come back.

"Do you believe she's alright?" Tagen mumbled, trying to be hopeful. Kathrynn stopped in the middle of running her fingers through his hair, almost frozen.

"W-what?" Tagen opened his eyes and lifted his head, pulling away from Kathrynn a bit. He could tell there was something wrong with her, just wasn't sure what.

"Tabitha. Do you think she's okay?"

"Um... Yeah sure, if that's what you believe..." Kathrynn glanced down, unable to look Tagen in the eye. Tagen narrowed his eyes, giving Kathrynn a distrustful look.

"Do you know something?" With those words he could see he hit a nerve. He was on his feet now, glaring at her, staring her down with anger burning in him.

"What do you know Kathrynn."

She had followed him onto his feet. She only glanced up at Tagen for moment, but long enough for him to see the overwhelming guilt written on her face.

"I-i'm sorry.." Kathrynn tried to reach out for him, but Tagen backed away. The two of them had become a lot closer over the past couple weeks, closer than they had ever been. That was gone now. Tagen drew his keyblade, wincing at the heat in his hand. He then pointed it directly at Kathrynn.

"Where. is. Tabitha."

Darkness

It could only be a matter of time, right? The more she thought about it, the more Kathrynn felt the claws of uncertainty within her.

'Could I already have that within me?' Perhaps Tagen's ramblings should have been put a stop. They were what probably got Tabitha. And Tagen... He gave in probably long before she could have known. 'But I should have. I should have seen it. It was right in front of me, wasn't it?'

Tagen's words still echoed within Kathrynns mind, some of them haunting her to her core, some just making her sick. She kept telling herself she had to be strong, she still had Tabby to protect. She couldn't give into all this like they had.

'But didn't I already?'

Loss

"Hey Tabby, you okay? You seemed a little bit lost in your head today." Tabby looked over at Tagen, who was currently helping him put away dishes before they headed up to the rooftops.

"Yes. I guess I've just got something on my mind is all. Its nothing big." Tabby said, and he put the last dish back in its place.

"Spill. Y'know you can always talk to me." Tagen turned around and leaned back against the sink, making a bit of a point that he wasn't going anywhere until Tabby talked.

"Okay... Well you ever get this feeling that your mostly just a face in the background? And not much else?" Tabby glanced over at his friend, who was giving him a look.

"Is that how you feel?"

"Sometimes.. I don't know, I guess." Tabby confessed. "I just wonder if I've made a big enough impression on the world, to be worth remembering."

Tabby carried out two bowls to the table outside his house. Kathrynn still wasn't talking much, but atleast she was eating. Setting down what he was carrying, Tabby gently pushed a bowl of hot stew in front of his friend.

"Here. It's nice and hot."

"..thank you." The was usually the only response he got now.

Tabby look at the other spots at the table, that had once almost always been filled. There used to be so much chatter around their little picnic table, now it was just...silence. Kathrynn didn't even want to go up to rooftops anymore. Tabby didn't know what was wrong, he could only assume it was heartbreak for their two missing friends.

Slowly their little group had fallen apart, and Tabby couldn't help but wonder about which one of them would be next to go missing, and if he did, he would just fade into obscurity...

-ERROR-

Remember

The girl glanced back over at Tabitha, catching her staring.

"Need something, sugar?" She asked playfully. Tabitha only blushed, shaking her head and mumbling out a small 'No.' Kathrynn and the other chuckled.

Suddenly the girl moved, making Tabitha look up again, only to gasp slightly. She was holding the heart shaped glasses out, giving them over to Tabitha. She knew Tabitha had never seen her without them, but that wasn't the purpose behind this action.

"Here sugar, take 'em. They're a little lucky in the finding things department, so maybe they'll help you find some answers." She could tell Tabitha was still a little flustered, which made the other girl smirk. She took the opportunity to slip the glasses onto Tabitha's face gently herself.

"There. Now," She stood up and stretched, running her hand through Tabitha's fuzz. "Ive gotta turn in early, big line up for tomorrow. But I'll meet you guys here again soon, 'k?" She said, looking back over rooftops, to trying and hide her own blush now.

"Bye, see you soon." Kathrynn waved. Kathrynn had clearly picked up on what the gesture ment, or atleast the part that was important. "And Tabitha says thanks."

"Oh I know." The other girl replied, before turning and making her way off the roof. Once she was on the ground, she glance back up at the roof top where her friends still were.

'Please. Tabitha. I'm doing something dangerous, and possibly stupid tomorrow. But it's for you. You have to remember me if anything happens.'

#khocweek2020 #khux oc #sojourns keykids #khux #yall ive done so much writing this week #i love these keykids #also im putting a warning on it just in case yall #💕

12 notes · View notes

elviefm · 4 years

Text

is that [JOE KEERY]? no, that’s just [ELVIE CROFT]. [HE/HIM] is [TWENTY-FIVE] years old and is a [NIGHT JANITOR AT CURTAIN CALL]. rumor has it they’ve been in town for [ONE MONTH]. on a good day, they’re [JOCUND & PERSPICACIOUS]. but watch out! they can also be [SCATTERBRAINED & OBSTREPEROUS]. [SCRAWNY BY WALLOWS] plays in my head whenever i think of them. can’t wait to see them around Springhill! [sam, 23, est, she/her]

hey there demons! *ba dum tss* i’m sam and this is one of my favorite muses ever so without further ado, character info is under the cut and please message me if you would like to plot!

i. stats

ｆｕｌｌｎａｍｅ：elvin tupelo croft

ｐｒｅｆｅｒｒｅｄｎａｍｅｓ：el, elvie, spooky guy

ｈｏｍｅｔｏｗｎ：salem, massachusetts

ｄａｔｅｏｆｂｉｒｔｈ：october 31st, 1994

ａｇｅ： twenty - five

ｚｏｄｉａｃ：scorpio

ｏｒｉｅｎｔａｔｉｏｎ：demisexual

ｏｃｃｕｐａｔｉｏｎ：night janitor at curtain call movie theater

ｐｏｓ．ｔｒａｉｔｓ：jocund, perspicacious, loyal, open - minded.

ｎｅｇ．ｔｒａｉｔｓ：scatterbrained, obstreperous, flippant

ii. history

elvin tupelo “elvie” croft was born in salem, massachusetts ( yes, really ) on halloween day ( yes, really ). he's an only child and his father is the district attorney for essex county, massachusetts while his mother owns a small local business that sells witchcraft supplies such as crystals, herbs, grimoires, and more. interesting fact: she’s the descendant of an accused witch, meaning that elvie is as well.

as it turns out, beneath of the surface of the few tourist attractions that it has to offer, salem has a small town, stuck in the past vibe. it’s the sort of place where everyone knows everyone all their lives because no one ever leaves and no one ever moves in. he grew up in this…eccentric…environment, living in the same house all his life and only ever leaving to visit his grandparents in boston.

he was five years old when he saw his first horror movie ( an apathetic teenage babysitter let him stay up long past his bedtime to watch nightmare on elm street ) and from that moment on he was HOOKED.

when he started school, two things about him became apparent: 1) he was highly intelligent and 2) he struggled greatly with tasks such as sitting still and staying focused. he was tested ( a few times, much to his irritation ) and it turns out that he has a genius level iq and adhd.

he could have been one of those child prodigies who finished high school at the age of ten and then college at the age of fourteen, BUT his parents decided that they didn’t want him to miss out on the experience of going through school with peers his own age.

HOWEVER, as the smartest kid in class with glasses and braces and an insatiable obsession with all things horror and halloween, he…was picked on. mercilessly. he never had many friends, but he was content to go right home after school and spend the rest of the day reading comic books or watching horror movies or researching local urban legends and paranormal stories.

so, when he got to his senior year of high school, he was a shoe - in to be named class valedictorian ( he was ) and he was even getting ivy league offers. of course, his parents mainly his father were really pushing him to attend college and elvie, genius level iq and all…didn’t want to go. he had a van ( a turquoise monstrosity painted to look like the mystery machine ) and he just wanted to drive. alas, his dad was absolutely NOT having it.

he attended harvard for both his pre law and law school studies, breezed through classes, graduated with honors at the top of his class and once he passed the bar exam there were countless job offers waiting for him. elvie ignored them all and finally embarked on that road trip he had been meaning to take.

he’s been on the road for about a year now and he’s traveled all over the country. he often breezes into a town or a city, lives in his van, and takes up some odd jobs to squeeze a few dollars out of before he inevitably gets fired for messing up or not taking the work seriously or getting high on the job. he arrived in springfield a month ago, continuing his pattern or having fun and exploring somewhere he’s never been before.

iii. extras

his name is elvin but basically no one ever calls him that. his own parents don’t even particularly like the name. long story. most people call him elvie and some who are super close to him just call him el.

BIG RYAN BERGARA ENERGY. a huge believer in the paranormal and urban legends, and one of his favorite things to do when he goes somewhere new is check out the local cemeteries and haunted locales. unlike ryan, the poor guy he’s definitely NOT a scaredy cat in fact, all his life there’s been this running joke that he doesn’t seem to be scared of anything, and who knows? maybe he isn’t.

has the most cartoonishly exaggerated boston accent that one could ever hope to hear, except he doesn’t seem to realize it at all.

10/31 blaze it he’s a HUGE stoner.

he’s got jokes. stay vigilant.

he’s OBSESSED with all things horror, halloween, and 80s. he makes a lot of film references that are often so obscure that most people don’t even catch them.

he’s a lawyer! at least in the state of massachusetts. however, this is not at all common knowledge because…

most people don’t know how smart he actually is as he intentionally plays dumb and he’s really good at it. being high all the time and his natural chaotic energy is quite helpful in hiding his intelligence. he just doesn’t like to be seen as smart, so the whole once - brilliant law student thing? not common knowledge whatsoever. he tries not to mention the college he attended by name at all, but if he has to then he lies and says that he went to salem state.

and yes, he has SO MUCH chaotic energy. he’s the kind of person who will stick a fork in his microwave just to see what would happen out of sheer boredom. he has two pet mexican redknee tarantulas named freddy and jason who he just…fucking loses track of every other day. his favorite drink is literally black coffee mixed together with a can of monster energy and 5 ( f i v e ) teaspoons of sugar. he is c h a o s. he has absolutely NO IMPULSE CONTROL whatsoever.

he has slight Daddy Issues™. slight. when he was born, his dad was hoping that he would get a star athlete kid who would go on to follow in his footsteps and one day become a successful, respectable lawyer but instead he got…elvie. he’s never outright said that he’s disappointed but he didn’t need to. elvie’s a really difficult person to rattle but every time, without fail, he ends a phone call with his dad and he’s in a bad mood for the rest of the day.

his car is this PIECE OF JUNK giant turquoise van that he painted to look like the mystery machine. her name is laurie strode.

even though he makes constant pop culture references about horror movies and the 80s, but outside of those areas he’s completely clueless about pop culture. like, he can recite the entire scripts of the shining and empire strikes back and ferris bueller’s day off word for word, but if someone tried to talk to him about the new beyonce song or the latest marvel movie he would just stare blankly.

he has a HUGE sweet tooth. his favorite food is halloween candy and his favorite candy is black licorice disgusting i know.

he takes adderall for his adhd and he’s usually good about keeping up with it. started keeping them on his person in college because he realized that his meds were getting stolen and it’s a habit he’s held onto that doesn’t really keep his shit from getting stolen.

he’s good at…A LOT of things because he’s a really fast learner. he can play the guitar, he can draw, he did drama in high school. he just has to watch someone do something once and then he can usually immediately do it himself. this skill doesn’t extend to physical activities such as sports, however. he’s terrible at those.

he’s basically a cartoon character

iv. wanted connections

best friend from salem who travels with him *will probably submit as a wc

friends

cousin ( their grandparents would probably be from boston but otherwise anything really goes for this )

his weed dealer

smoking buddies

people who don’t like him / find him annoying

i know there are a lot of business owners so : people he worked for who have since fired him for being an all around awful employee.

has stolen his adderall

maybe someone who knows how smart he really is

romantic connections!

( these are just ideas and i’m trash at coming up with these, so please don’t feel limited by what’s listed here. )

#springhillintro #bullying tw #drugs tw #medication tw #tl;dr what if shaggy from scooby doo was a real person

7 notes · View notes

for-peace-war · 5 years

Photo

art by @idrawbuffgirls

In Part V, I did my first story that didn’t involve Valenso in some way, I think. Fuck that dude... nah, jk. I feel I missed something here, but I also liked the idea of it so I’m not going to whine. It follows @perfectperfidy‘s character, Aesilief the Aesir!

And again, Kelzack came through with the killer illustration.

THE GREAT WINGED ONE.

Follows Part I.

Follows Part II.

Follows Part III

Follows Part IV.

Part V.

AESILEIF THE AESIR appeared an august apparition against the village’s argent aura. Pale sunlight tumbled with the careless grace of her fair tresses upon Jokullgard’s snow-capped, thatched rooves. In the distance, she heard renewed contests as the Varjanian Guard, given new purpose and zeal for their training, matched each other in wrestling and mock combat. She would join them later, she had decided, so that they remembered why it was she was their captain. Blood did not determine who a leader was—it but painted the face, stained the teeth, perfumed the air, and decorated the snow when the battle was ended. Her might was what placed her as first among her peers. Her strength was her mandate.

The Nordheimer, a testament to the beauty of Asgard, stood motionlessly against the winds that passed over her. Though the cold had never been a burden to her, she wore a wolfskin cloak with the head of the majestic beast affixed to her shoulder. A thin vest of chainmail covered her bruised body, though she had already healed a great deal of the injuries she had endured. Her legs, with thews that coiled and bunched at the slightest motion, bore little in the way of protection against the elements. For in truth, the only warmth she had ever needed was that which coursed through her body. When that came to its end, then she would as well—and a glorious end, she promised herself, it would be.

Her attention had been focused, intently, upon the field directly before her. A small set of posts lined the area, with young girls matched within them. They ranged in age from hardly over five years old to standing taller and leaner at twelve and thirteen. After that age, they had become women and would acquit themselves to appropriate roles: the best of them would become apprentices to the Varjanian Guards, others might take on domestic roles of crafting and homemaking, and then still more might choose to leave and set forth on their own. They each had a choice to make and never had she shared a cross word once it was made.

The only wrong choice was to make no choice at all.

She had made a choice at the Bloodmoot—a choice that, though controversial, was one that would be followed. In a week’s time she and the Varjanian Guard would aid her former companions in challenging Mount Glacimer. The thought still sat oddly in her mind, but she had made her decision. All that remained was to see it come to pass.

Before her, the older girls and young women were already determining their places in life. Even had her eyes, sharp and blue, lacked the guile and alertness of the hawk then she would have been able to see who would be leaders—which would stand tall and challenge the mountains, and which were destined to follow behind them. One girl, Astra, with hair more brown than blonde, had proven herself time and again with spear and axe. At the moment she placed herself one against two of her juniors, and though she was hardly unscathed from the contest there was as much of their blood shared as her own. It was that mettle—that determination that made her a leader, more than any amount of skill or talent might have provided. For those that led were those willing to take the reins. She had learned that as a girl—and she would live it, every day that she could, as a woman.

When Aesileif walked, the village took notice. Her showing in the Bloodmoot had been something of legend, she knew. Torman had been within the realm of submission: she had a stone to bash his head in; had the desire to see him ended as so many others had been before her. But then the Zingaran had come and she was given a new purpose. For the moment.

But a person did not need to look at her—to stop and show their gratitude for her vigor, to make her aware of their feeling. If she passed someone that was struggling, she never failed to see their back straighten and then breathing become more determined. Feet no longer dragged under the weight of the day’s burdens—voices no longer dripped with exhaustion.

They had found their leader in her.

She had found so much more in them.

Jokullgard, nestled as it was within Asgard, was not the home from which she had come. That was a place long abandoned, where only the bones of failed dreams remained after the vultures had feasted on those that took prominence in it. She had known the pain of defeat there—of humiliation, of disgrace, and of helplessness to avenge the one or alleviate the other. Before the Accursed Lands had claimed her, she was a creature made abject by a world that continually stepped upon her throat and struck her when she sought to rise. There was no pride in the woman that she was. And yet, had it not been for her, then would any of what she saw before herself have been possible?

Could anyone have imagined the unification of so much coming from so little?

Snow crunched in the distance as a spear and shield were thrown to the ground. They were smaller than the official length of either, yet were weighted in proportion to encourage good posture and strength from an early age. Aesileif’s looked from Astra to a girl that quickly retreated from the field, her small legs carrying her with more energy and effort than alacrity. Behind her, taunts rose from the others—barbs and criticisms, each intended to hurry her in a step that could not have moved much faster. Aesileif said nothing to prevent this: they needed to share those words and the girl needed to hear them. Had they chased after her, dragged her back and beaten her for her weakness, even that might have been for the best. But determined to prove themselves, they left her to sulk and returned to their own training. One of their minders, an old shield maiden that had long since lost her front teeth, moved to intercept her. Aesileif lifted a hand to stay her motion.

“I will see to her,” she said. No more needed to be uttered.

Like the cold wind, she pressed forth in silence.

As a girl not much older than the one that fled, Aesileif had learned to track animals through the snow. Her father, a jarl whose face she had seen in Torman’s, was a resourceful hunter and talented tracker. He taught her not merely how to find an animal by its tracks, but how to understand it. The stride of its step, the depth of the imprint—even the manner in which it placed its feet, all spoke of a tale of what was to come. The gentle doe’s gallop differed from the mighty stag, just as the frightened stag’s cloven hoof spoke of its power and the helplessness it felt as it ran. As she stalked after the fleeing child, she read what was evident: exhaustion, pain, terror, regret—and most importantly, hopelessness.

Running as she was, the girl collapsed nearly two furlongs from where she had started. The gates of the village were behind them, and thick trees covered in thicker snow obscured much from the naked eye. On the watch towers, two guardswomen had bowed their heads in reverence to her as she passed, though she took no time to return the favor. There were a great many dangers that lurked in the snow, she knew—but the greatest danger was deeper still, that thing which anchored itself against the inside of one’s ribs and dragged them down to the ground.

For without hope, what good could any of them do?

“You will freeze in the snow,” Aesileif said to the girl as she found her huddled under one of the trees. She crouched down so that she might see beneath its curtain, though the girl did not immediately respond to her when she looked in her direction. Against the shadow she was a pale whisper of a creature, with her legs drawn up and her face buried against them.

The girl said nothing. She stirred only in that she rubbed her face back and forth, surely clearing tears away from her vision as she did so.

“Do not make me drag you out,” Aesileif warned.

The girl said, “Go away.”

Aesileif stopped. Go away? She was told to ‘go away?’ Though the quiet rage of the Barbarian’s blood coursed within her, it was not anger that she felt when a creature so small and weak told her what she should do. Instead, it was something even more intimate—a species of disbelief that bordered on the fantastic. She was Aesileif the Aesir, champion of the Bloodmoot and daughter of a jarl. Jokullgard and perhaps all of Asgard stood dependent on her favor. And here this child, who had run away from the barbs of her friends, dared defy her?

“Are you stupid, girl?”

To her own surprise, she did not mean the question as an insult. There was simply no word that came to her mind that conveyed the same expectation of foolishness. If the girl was stupid—if perhaps, her parents had dropped her, or even if she had hit her head during training, then that would explain her behavior. But the girl did not rise to the question and so, feeling herself becoming vexed, she reached under the tree and grabbed for her leg.

“No!”

“Yes.”

The girl kicked—Aesileif, with a snow leopard’s reflexes, drew her arm back, grabbed the offending leg, and with one tug dragged the screaming child from under the tree. The moment she did so, she saw why she had stopped running and instead hid—her ankle, fortunately the one that she had not grabbed, was swollen.

“What have you done, stupid girl?”

“Stop calling me stupid!”

“I only call you what you show me to be.”

The girl began to weep openly at that. Aesileif took no pleasure in the sound and found herself, for only the moment, forced into silence. How long had it been since she was of the same size—of the same disposition? Any that looked at them then would have supposed them two separate breeds, and yet Aesileif and perhaps only she, truly, knew that was the furthest thing from the truth. She had once been small and scared and weak. She had once felt the cold snow and the chilled winds. She had once been broken—and once been alone.

She had once been hopeless.

“Stop crying,” she said.

The girl kept crying.

Aesileif squatted so that she was at her height and reached out, took her by the narrow chin, and said once more. “Stop crying.”

She stopped.

There came no comforting smile—no sign that all would be well. Aesileif instead sat across from her and stared at her for several long seconds. Her cheeks were chubby and her hair, more gold than flax, was worn in a braid on one half and fell limply on the other. This girl, whose dark blue eyes were far darker than her own, cast a warped image of what she had known in her mind.

“What is your name?”

“Ygla.”

“Who is your mother?”

She said nothing. This time, Aesileif did not ask if she was stupid—she knew that silence well enough. It was the pain she had seen in her tracks.

“How old are you?”

“Nine.”

She was small for a nine-year-old; small, and weak. Not in the physical sense, but would she have run away at that age? When she tracked her she had assumed the girl was perhaps six years old, and when she saw her—seven. But nine? Nine was nearly a woman, was it not? Had she been that small at nine? Had she cried in the same way?

“Why did you run?”

“I’m tired.”

“You are tired, so you ran,” Aesileif said. When she repeated the sentiment, she tilted her head, as an owl might as it sought to take in its potential prey from another angle. “That does not make any sense, Ygla.”

The girl’s eyes began to fill with tears. “I’m tired of failing. Of being useless—of being a mistake.”

“Who said that you are a mistake?”

Ygla said nothing for a long time. Aesileif did not press her. When it became apparent that she would not let her leave until she answered, Ygla swallowed. “I tell it to myself.”

“Why?”

“Why do you tell yourself that you are a mistake?”

“Because I do everything wrong.”

“So, do them right.”

Ygla’s eyes widened, for the girl had never considered that an option before herself. “I can’t.”

“Why?”

“Because, I always mess up…”

“Stop messing up. Do things the right way.”

Ygla’s cheeks darkened. “But it’s hard.”

“Yes.”

“And I fail.”

“Yes.”

“So how do I do things the right way if I only know what’s wrong?”

Aesileif frowned at that. She frowned at the fact this girl, who had two working legs—mostly—and two arms that though thin as sticks still could move, would sit in the snow and complain about how things did not go her way. Nordheim could not survive if people like this were allowed to populate it, could it? The cold anger inside of her began to grow.

But then, had she destroyed herself for similar?

“Come,” Aesileif said. She stood and held her hand out to Ygla, who took it and with a hop came to her feet. Realizing that they would not be able to walk at any good pace, Aesileif took her onto her back, and once she was secured, began walking with her. “I am going to tell you a story, Ygla. Will you listen?”

“Yes.”

“You cannot cry.”

“I won’t.”

Aesileif felt the girl’s body settle against her—felt the little bones and spare meat rest in place. How could something so small survive in so vast a world? How had she?

“There was once a little princess that was promised the world,” she began. “She lived in a palace made of ice and her father’s throne was so high that it made his beard drop down beneath the clouds.”

“Was he an Ymirish Lord?”

“No,” Aesileif said, sharply. “He was not a bastard.” She continued, “the princess told herself that one day she would sit in the throne that her father did. That she would lead his people the way that her father did—that she would make her father proud.

“But there was an evil man in that kingdom--a bastard, like an Ymirish Lord.” She ground her teeth. “And he stole that kingdom from the princess, and he betrayed her father and he—he hurt the princess, so that she was forced to forget what the ice castle looked like. Or where she was from, or who she was.”

“How?”

“In the way men hurt women,” Aesileif said. She fell into silence as she contemplated the truth of the story and how much of it she cared to actually share. Had she ever shared it before? She thought of her father, not merely as the giant that she remembered him as, but as the bones she had discovered when she returned home. She thought of her anger—and the hollow, emptiness that came after it was broken. The woman that stood at the Bloodmoot, that inspired her followers, was not a separate woman from the girl that stood before the man drenched in her father’s blood. She was not a separate woman from the one that had done all she could to survive to that point, either.

She was just one person.

Her failures, her mistakes, her triumphs, belonged to one person.

“What happened to the princess?” Ygla asked. “Did she avenge her father? Retake his kingdom?”

Aesileif thought of what it would mean to retake her father’s kingdom. Did it mean joining what Torman held to what she possessed? Was it challenging the Lords of Ymir and taking prominence over all those that challenged her ascension? The weight of the girl on her back became heavier as she walked up hill—but it was a weight that came from that place beyond her ribs. The Stygian sorceress spoke of a great evil that dwelled within the heart of Mount Glacimer, but what of that which dwelt in the men that rested upon it?

“She built a new kingdom,” Aesileif said as she crested the hill and made her way back toward the gates of Jokullgard. “Smaller and without the throne that placed her above the clouds, but stronger. One where a mistake could become a triumph—where a failure might become a success. Do you understand, Ygla? The princess’ kingdom was one where no one would ever feel that she was helpless—because in her kingdom, no one would ever be alone.”

#conan #writing exercise #aesilief the aesir

19 notes · View notes

beans-shadow · 4 years

Text

looking for the truth (pt 13)

Fandom: Naruto

Relationship: Kakasaku

Characters: Hatake Kakashi, Haruno Sakura

read on ao3: here

part one / two / three / four / five / six / seven / eight / nine / ten / eleven / twelve / thirteen

After the battle finally dies down, Kakashi searches for Sakura in the wreckage. But she's nowhere to be seen, and Kakashi immediatly assumes the worst.

But he's not wrong.

---

The rhythmic beeping of the electrocardiogram soothed Kakashi’s worries about his friend. His vitals stabilized after the gates closed naturally, and the doctor assured him that Gai would be better after a month’s rest of being taken off active duty. A well-deserved leave, Kakashi thought, as he was certain the man had bested him in their bet. While Kakashi was slick, Gai was mighty, and took down hordes of ninja to Kakashi’s few.

In the previous two hours, Kakashi got swept up in chaotic activity. Apparently, Sakura had not slept for a week, working tirelessly on the antidotes in her labs. Once released on the free market, she’d set up in the center of town an enormous medical facility catering to both the wounded and infected. Her operation became a well-oiled machine by the time Kakashi arrived with Gai. Dozens of medic teams jogged about, delivering various goods. Shizune barked orders from the Lead Medic tent, and wails of sorrow filled Kakashi’s ears.

Feeling like a lost dog, Sakura rescued the scrambling man when she found him, quick to personally ushered him and his precious cargo to the ninja corner of the camp.

After setting Gai up on many machines, and injecting them both, she’d bowed and scurried away to her next patient.

Now, Gai slept peacefully in his bed, so Kakashi decided to let him be.

He knew she would be awfully busy administering cures, but Kakashi had to see her.

Refusing treatment from every nurse that came his way, Kakashi ran through a handful of medical tents before he found Shizune. She buzzed from bed to bed, checking charts, monitoring tests, and adjusting IVs.

“Shizune! Hey, Shizune!”

The woman turned at his second call, frantic. She touched his black eye, prompting a weak hiss from the man. “Kakashi! Are you okay? Have you gotten the vaccine yet?”

Kakashi waved his hand. “Yes, don’t worry, I got it when I brought Gai in. Have you seen Sakura?”

“Sakura?” Shizune stood on her tip toes, peering over the many heads that bustled every which way. “No, I haven’t seen her since…” she pursed her lips. “Since she ran out of here about thirty minutes ago, muttering about something.” She touched Kakashi’s arm. “If you see her, can you tell her how thankful we are? Without her, this whole village might have perished.”

“She left?”

Furrowing her brows, Shizune nodded. “Not sure exactly why. It’s odd. Maybe she just needed a break.” A shout came from across the camp. “I have to go!” Tapping him in dismissal, the woman scurried away.

Kakashi muttered agreement as she departed while his mind whirred. There was no chance Sakura would take a break. Just like him, she would work until she fell over from exhaustion. What would make her leave her post?

Terror threaded through Kakashi’s body.

There could only be one reason Sakura would ever leave her post.

No.

His surroundings faded, faces blurred. His destroyed home became far away in his mind and distance as he sprinted to the village’s gates, past the guards.

Even the charred and overturned battle field became meaningless to Kakashi as he leapt through the trees. All that mattered was Sakura.

Extending his hands outward, he summoned a jutsu he rarely utilized for several reasons. Firstly, it took too much charka. Secondly, it required the presence of a deep connection that Kakashi never dared test.

Now, he tried it.

“Lighting Release: Soul Sting Sensor Jutsu!” Tingles sparked at his fingertips, searching. His energy, merged with electrons, moved in synch with his own fundamental frequency, and dissipated far distances all around him. They would only stop if they found an object that hummed at complementing harmonics to his own. Of course, this could only occur if someone had found their soul mate, even if they did not feel the same way.

The electric current gathered more and more energy, until it shot up into his forearms.

The light had found her. Kakashi allowed himself to feel some hope.

Following the tug of his hands, he ran further away from the village. It seemed she’d headed the exact opposite direction, trying to get as much distance between her and anyone she cared about as possible.

The technique grew more and more aggressive as he drew closer, the pain becoming so intense Kakashi held his hands together to focus. The humming of harmonics hurt his ears, but he pushed through it as he rummaged through bushes, checked tree tops, and leaned into small rock caves.

Several minutes later, he found her, and the jutsu dissipated. By a far training ground most had forgotten about, she lay crumpled up against a tree, head in her hands, tearing at her hair in agony. She’d lost her doctor’s coat somewhere, and just clad in her classic red shirt and medic skirt. She held her body curled tightly in a ball, and the grass around her a distinctly browner than the lush green just a foot away.

“Sakura?” He called out to her.

She flinched, as if his voice caused her additional pain. She tucked her head closer into her chest.

“Kakashi, what are you doing here? Please leave!”

Kakashi drew closer, extending a hand. “Let’s go back, Sakura. I won’t let anything happen to you. You aren’t going to die out here. Come back to the village.”

Scurrying her feet wildly, she tried to push herself closer to her tree.

“There’s nothing I can do for myself! Please, just go.”

“Why? It’s okay. Sakura, just take my hand,” he gesticulated again. There was nothing to worry about. Kakashi had not contracted the illness, so he could not lash out at her. As for Sakura…

Kakashi said, “You made an antidote, remember? You won’t hurt anyone if you return. You’ll be able to see your family. Everyone wants to see you. Please, Sakura, let me help.”

Pink hair finally moved, and Sakura’s tearful eyes looked up at Kakashi. “No, it won’t work on me,” she breathed through a straining neck.

“What do you mean?”

She shook her head. “This stupid illness is savage. I’ve been exposed too many times, I’ve injected myself with antibiotics too many times…”

“You’re immune!” Kakashi exclaimed, jumping to conclusions. “Even better!”

“NO!” She shouted, frustrated and in pain. “My strain mutated. It’s much stronger than anything else. The drug won’t work on me!”

“What?” Kakashi breathed. He was not versed that profusely in medicine, forcing him to take an extra beat to absorb the implications of her statement.

That extra beat cost him.

“Ugh!” Sakura shouted out. Pain tore through her body, and she bashed herself against the tree trunk.

“Sakura!” Kakashi lunged towards her. But Sakura threw an arm in the air which connected squarely in his chest, flinging him far away.

“I need you to go! Let me die!” She roared, grabbing at her head. He could see her chakra going haywire, and her trying desperately to control it as a few pink hairs ripped from her skull.

“Why are you pushing me away? Let me help!” This was no time to be stubborn.

Grimacing, Sakura pushed her head up, knuckles white against her sides. Saline flowed freely from both of her eyes, as the obscured sign of takeover washed over her emerald irises. “Isn’t it obvious, Kakashi?”

And as her eyes faded away, Kakashi realized.

No. It couldn’t be.

“Sakura—” Kakashi stepped towards her, but she lay limp against the tree.

Then, with a lurch, she looked up at him.

There was no recognition, no joy, not even sadness.

Just a darkness. And a goal.

“Shinobi battle skills number one, Kakashi.”

Lesson number one?

“What?”

Why did the phrase spark familiarity?

With a grip that left indents in the tree trunk, Sakura hefted herself up from the ground.

“Taijutsu!”

In a flash, Sakura growled and rushed towards him, fists raised. Chakra hummed in the air, ready for a kill shot. Kakashi stared as the shinobi ran towards him, face serene even with murder in her hands. At the last second, Kakashi ducked out of the way, leaving a tree behind him to be decimated upon impact with Sakura’s fist.

“Don’t be such a slippery foe,” Sakura snided, her voice’s usual pleasant lilt gone. “Face me like a man. There’s no reason to be afraid. Cha!” She pounded the ground in fury, sending a rumble to the ground below Kakashi’s feet. The poor training ground erupted around him, and he quickly formed the signs for a shadow clone before fleeing to a nearby tree branch.

He watched his shadow clone yelp and fall into the earth, becoming wedged between a rock and a hard place. Head tilted down, Sakura smirked. Knees locked, she approached his clone slowly.

“That was easier than I thought it would be.” She raised his chin to look at her, but even if that were Kakashi down there, he knew he wouldn’t see the Sakura he had grown to care about in her eyes. Still, it brought tears to his eyes to witness the brutality of the disease.

His clone let out a choking sound as Sakura’s fingers closed around his trachea. “Too bad this isn’t you.” She squeezed, and the clone disappeared in a cloud of smoke.

Pivoting, Sakura pinpointed Kakashi in the tree. “You can’t hide from me, old man.” With sinister silence, she hopped from tree to tree until she faced Kakashi, and with no transition started attacking him. They hadn’t gone one on one since the last bell test he’d put her and Naruto through, but she’d improved in speed and accuracy. Although never hitting him dead-on, she brushed his shoulder twice, managed to nick his thigh, and almost kicked his feet from under him. Kakashi just tried to dodge; he could not fathom fighting her back. But defense tired an already exhausted body, and the tactic was a difficult one to maintain in the complex environment of the tree tops.

“Ah!” Kakashi stepped on rotting tree, and his foot slipped forcing him to break focus from Sakura and catch himself. It was the only opening she needed, and with a blank smile she collided glove with jacket, right in the center of his chest. Kakashi went flying with the force of her punch, falling from the trees and hitting the ground hard. The wind had been punched out of him, and he writhed in pain with the attempt to simply inhale.

A pair of black boots appeared in his periphery.

“Sakura, please,” he barely wheezed out, coughing up blood. “This isn’t you. Fight it!” She was strong, stronger than anyone he knew. If anyone could snap out of this unfound fury, it was Haruno Sakura.

Continuing as if he had not even spoken, Sakura’s dark, deep voice rattled Kakashi’s ears. “Here’s your second lesson.”

In a squat, with amazing speed Sakura formed several hand signs Kakashi couldn’t follow without the Sharingan.

Genjutsu, Kakashi finished for her.

Even being mind-controlled, Sakura had a twisted sense of humor. Some of his fondest memories of Team Seven were dissolving in front of his eyes as she repeated his lines word for word and with surgical precision punched through his heart.

Waving a hand in the air, Sakura faded into a mist, leaving Kakashi alone laying on the hard rock of Konoha’s training ground. What was she planning?

Finally able to take deep breaths, Kakashi rose to all fours, looking around in fear. A scuttle to his right; he braced himself for impact.

Pakkun emerged from a brush, leaping over the grass to rush over by his side. “Bossman! Are you okay?”

“Pakkun,” Kakashi let out in alleviation. “It’s good to see you. You need to send word back to Tsunade.”

“But what about Bull?” Pakkun asked.

“Bull? What happened to him?” Kakashi couldn’t take another loss.

“Follow me, quickly.” Pakkun scurried away. Grimacing in pain, Kakashi stood to chase after his companion. The background faded away around him, becoming a mush of green and brown until he saw him: Bull, laying on his side on the ground, a deep gash in his leg.

“Bull!” Kakashi ran to him, sitting on his heels, hands hovering over his dog. “How did this happen?” He asked Pakkun.

Pakkun stepped forward, slowly. Rearing back his lips, the dog exposed his sharp teeth and let out a deep, vibrating growl. The sound started harmonizing around him, and when Kakashi looked to his left and right, he saw the rest of his ninken doing the same thing.

“Guys, what are you doing?” Kakashi asked, standing over Bull’s body. He recognized their stances; hackles raised, teeth barred. Kakashi was the prey, surrounded by the pack with no way out.

Pain shot up his leg, and Kakashi fell to one knee, casting a betrayed look at Bull who bit deep into his calf. The large dog almost completely ate his entire bottom limb, planting Kakashi to the ground leaving him subject to the whims of his dogs. Sweating through the pricks and daggers of pain, Kakashi asked Pakkun once more what had gotten into them.

But Pakkun seemed past talking. The usual spark of intelligence in his tired eyes was gone, leaving just an instinctual need to stalk an injured animal in the woods.

The pack simultaneously took a step forward. They were about to attack. “Pakkun, please!” Kakashi wailed. He couldn't take this. He’d lost Sakumo, Obito, Rin, Minato. He couldn’t lose Pakkun too, just as Sakura was slipping through his fingers.

Wait, Sakura!

Sakura, a master at genjutsu, was always quick to recognize when she was caught in spell. Obviously more quickly than Kakashi.

Just as his dogs pounced at him flashing their sharpened canines, Kakashi brought his hands together and closed his eyes. “Release!”

A brush of air, and Kakashi opened his eyes. His dogs were gone, but the pain lingered on his right leg. Her genjutsu was so powerful, it transcended even differentiation from reality.

From behind a tree, Kakashi saw the whisper of pink hair against the stark silhouette of Sakura’s profile.

Reaching out to her, he yelled, “Enough, Sakura! You’ve got to snap out of it. I know you can.” He stepped forward, but limped as his leg revolted against any kind of movement.

In a swift motion, Sakura leapt from her hiding place, tossing shuriken at Kakashi. Reactions impaired, Kakashi only just managed to avoid her attack. Regaining his poor footing, Kakashi looked up, only to see two kunai shoot at him, planting squarely in their targets. One to his right shoulder, directly in a pressure point, the other in his side.

“Arg!” Kakashi heckled over, clutching at his stomach with his left arm. She hit right in a point that almost rendered his entire right side useless. Assured of her safety, Sakura walked slowly to him, tugging on an end of her glove. He felt the chakra build up inside her, focusing in her fist as she readied her final blow.

“Enough of this!” Letting out a yell of frustration, Kakashi threw up quick signs. “Ninja art: Earth Release: Earth Shock!” He hit the ground, sending waves through the earth. In the first sign of emotion, Sakura’s face turned into one of surprise as she was tossed backwards several feet with the force of Kakashi’s chakra infusion with the earth. She landed hard on her rear across the clearing, staying down after several seconds. Kakashi saw his opening.

With knives still protruding from his body, Kakashi took a step towards Sakura. “It’s okay, Sakura. I’m here. Come back to me. Please.” Pressure formed behind his eyes; of course she would be making the Copy Ninja cry once again. “Please,” he repeated. “I need you.”

He saw her legs trembling, the effects of the bacteria manifesting physically. But when Sakura looked up this time, Kakashi’s breath stuck in his throat. She looked terrified, stranded, and destroyed. His Sakura was back, and she needed him. She was trying, she was hearing him.

Reaching out his good arm, Kakashi beckoned for her. “Let’s go back to Konoha, together. Our village needs our best healer. I need my hero.”

Sakura reached back out to him, arm joining her other limbs in similar tremors. They were so close. If he could touch her, bring her back…

And Kakashi’s heart broke.

A quake overtook Sakura who let out an agonizing wail. Her back arched as if a jolt of electricity circulated her body before she relaxed, slumping over her legs.

“Sakura?” Kakashi inquired, retreating.

Her eyes were hidden in shadow and Kakashi swore that the hair that covered her face had dulled.

She twisted her neck to gaze at Kakashi with eyes devoid of any emotion. When she spoke, it was robotic and empty. “Ninja lesson number three. Ninjutsu.”

A glow surrounded Sakura, emanating from every pore in her body. Her Yin seal flashed, and her typically green chakra turned that exuded all over her body turned into a muddled brown as lines marked her beautiful face. Kakashi had never seen anything like it.

As if her limbs did not function properly, Sakura jerkily stood up, her neck lurching from side to side with her movements. She raised one hand in the air, palm to the sky, fingers pointed up as if she was carrying an invisible orb.

And then the chakra floating around her focused its energy to her hand—it grew even more concentrated as it gathered on her fingertips.

“Sakura?” Kakashi tip toed closer. Maybe he could get to her. He hadn’t lost her yet. This meant nothing... She was still in there. She had to be.

But Sakura gave no indication of hearing his call. The chakra continued focusing itself, extending from her fingertips. With a flash of light, it condensed into thin strands, seemingly delicate enough for tactful surgery.

Oh.

Her jutsu.

Flicking her fingers in the air, the trails of chakra sliced and cut through the space with whispers and promises of excruciating pain. Kakashi could only imagine the amount of accuracy that was necessary to master such a jutsu. But this was Sakura; she was known for her amazing chakra control after all.

“Ninja Art: Surgical Jutsu!”

With an animalistic growl, she clawed at him. Dodging an extra seven inches of weapon forced Kakashi to recalculate dodges and defense mechanisms, and he felt the close brushes of death. She touched his sleeve, and it sliced through the material like butter.

“Now,” he heard her whisper.

“What?” He felt a slither by his shoulder. Turning his neck, he saw a small slug crawl up his back, and with a small cry bit into his neck.

“Ew!” He tried to pull the animal off, but remained stuck to him.

His face cooled, and his stomach dropped. A dizzy spell over took him, and then he felt his chakra drain.

Sakura’s body seal flashed with greed, her eyes turning a muddled brown.

Face contorted in horror, Kakashi realized Sakura was using her summon to drain his chakra, a reverse jutsu from her extending her chakra to heal.

Every coin has two sides, he thought. As life has death, healing has destruction.

Lacking energy, Kakashi became helpless as Sakura glided over to his side. Unceremoniously, she thrusted a handful of her jutsu through his stomach. He felt the needles pierce through his skin, organs, bone, and out his back. The sucking sound of flesh cut through the air as she removed her hand, only to pierce him through the side into his kidney. Excruciating pain shot through his side. He felt as though his organs were disintegrating from inside, their molecular structure destabilized.

Yet again, she removed her destructive limb, and walked away without a care. She flexed her arm, and the threads of chakra grew longer. Her stance exuded power, and while Kakashi’s only felt defeated.

“I won’t fight you, Sakura,” Kakashi said as she sauntered over to him. Feeling his body give out, Kakashi collapsed to the ground, finding asylum in a large boulder to lay on. “I refuse to hurt you. I won’t hurt someone I care about, not again.” He bowed his head to her, eyes closed. “Never again.”

Energy reverberated above him, and Kakashi knew this was it. So be it. This was Rin all over again. To save himself, he needed to kill he person the felt closest with. Rin hadn't given Kakashi a choice in the final result. This time, he did. And he would rather die than live with another murder on his hands. He wouldn’t do it.

Shhhllish!

Slicing wind blew past his face, and the grass uselessly cried as it became the victim of Sakura’s blow.

Gazing up, tears in his eyes, Kakashi looked at Sakura.

Her body heaved with every breath, and her hair stuck to her forehead due to sweat.

But her eyes.

They were green again.

“Sakura?” He pushed himself from his rock, blood seeping out from his side. “Is that really you?”

Her eyes flashed from her hand, stuck in the ground, to Kakashi. They were desperate, scared, longing.

Then they rolled to the back of her head, and she crumbled to the ground.

“No! Sakura!” He scrambled to her side, holding just as he’d held Gai earlier that day. He brushed her hair from her face. “You did it. You fought it. Please, come back to me.”

Unlike Gai, she didn’t respond to Kakashi. Her breathing shallowed. Her soft skin paled.

Her seal flashed over her body, and the dark lines retreated to her forehead.

Then she lay still.

“No!” Kakashi wailed. Cradling her body to his, he swayed in the air. “No, no!”

This couldn’t be it.

No.

Not when she’d felt the same.

His world broke again. How many times now, did this make it? Where he would be the survivor, torn apart by heartbreak?

“No!” He cried again, into the vacuum of nature. No one was around to hear him. No one was there to comfort him. No one was there to save him.

As he clutched her close, he remembered a distant memory. A long time ago, when he still had Obito’s eye.

“You’re not the one dying, not today, not this time,” he muttered, laying her on the ground elegantly.

Positioning his hands over her torso, he yelled, summoning the last of his chakra reserve.

“Ninja Art: One’s Own Life Reincarnation!”

The blast of his energy moved his hair from his face as he concentrated. Now, more than ever before, he was grateful for using his Sharingan on Chiyo when she’d healed Gaara.

Gai had called it stupid, using the last of his energy on memorizing the technique, storing it for later. He’d claimed he’d never need it, that the situation would never call for him exchanging his own life for someone else like this. Gai, ever the optimist, thought Kakashi’s second chance at not repeating what happened to Obito, Rin, and Minto, would never arise.

Or maybe he was simply optimistic about Kakashi’s future.

“Arg!” The drain of the reanimation technique hit Kakashi full force. Sakura, dead, would require the exchange of life for her return. The jutsu stopped at a blockade, checking if the user was willing to make the sacrifice.

Kakashi would gladly give that up.

“Whatever it takes!” He yelled, pushing through the barrier, Kakashi barreled down the path of death. And suddenly, he the felt energy flow with the ease of a tranquil river. The chakra moved freely into Sakura, but instead of pain, Kakashi became blissful. A haze grew around him, as if Shizune had stuck him on strong pain killers.

A few more seconds later, he heard Sakura give a sharp intake of breath.

He fell to the side.

Darkness grew around him as his senses dimmed. This was it.

“Ka---shi… --k--i!”

There was a distant voice Kakashi barely registered as Sakura’s. But it was her. He knew it. He’d done it. He could die happily.

“Strength----f---100 S---ls!”

Up, up, and up. Kakashi felt his body soar.

This was it: his salvation. His reward for years of torture, being left alone. He’d protected Konoha faithfully, dutifully. Now, he was done. Now, he could rest.

His father whispered in his ear, welcoming. Rin’s arms were open, welcoming. Even Obito, arms crossed, offered him a genuine smile.

Slam!

His body hit the earth, hard. Kakashi let out a groan, sensation returning to his body.

“Kakashi?”

Eyes barely open, he saw the outline of someone hovering over her head. Light. It was light.

“Kakashi?”

Opening slightly more, he saw Sakura. No. No. Had he in actuality failed? Why was she here, welcoming him on the other side?

Eyes fully open, he saw the sun setting in the distance, the trees swaying in the breeze. Sakura’s Yin seal flash over her precious features, retreating from her limbs, her chakra spent.

“Sakura?” He whispered. “How?”

“Oh, Kakashi!” He tenderly graced his cheek, then fell, lying next to him.

She took his hand in her own, and closed her eyes.

Darkness enveloped his vision.

. . . . . . .

I found them! They’re over here!

. . . . . . . . . . . .

They’ve both exhausted their chakra reserves to the extreme, those idiots!

Quick, get me transplants stat! Call Naruto, we’ll need his supply.

. . . .

I think that did it.

Should I get them separate rooms?

No. I think they’ll want to wake up together.

. . . .

----

Beep… Beep... Beep... Beep…

The sound of the machine clashed with the pacing of shoes in the room. Whoever it was, they were impatient, and Kakashi would have none of it.

“Would you please stop that?” He muttered, eyes shut. His head pounded like a menace, and he couldn’t bring himself to open them, wherever he was.

“What?”

“I said, please stop that incessant stomping,” He repeated, voice weak.

Wait, where was he?

Subjecting himself to the intense brightness, Kakashi opened his eyes. White blinded his vision for a moment before the familiar room greeted him. Ah. The hospital.

His eyes drifted down, stopping on the figure at the foot of his bed. It was Sakura, dressed unceremoniously in civilian clothes. She looked at fine as day, hands woven together by her mouth, until tears erupted from her eyes.

“Kakashi!” She rushed to his bedside, wrapping him in a hug.

He expected pain, but only the warm sensation of her body against his flew through his body.

“I, I don’t understand,” he said, unable to return her hug.

Sakaura nodded, standing up. “Oh. Right of course. You have questions?”

He stared at her. “You. You died.”

Sakura titled her head. “Well, not quite.”

“And then I reanimated you.”

“Again, only semi-correct.”

“How am I here? Is this heaven?”

Sakura laughed, caressing Kakashi’s hair. “No. No. This is Konoha. Our home.”

“Then… how?”

Pulling up a stood, Sakura sat down. “You remember reanimating me? Using Chiyo’s technique?”

“Yes,” Kakashi answered, agitated. “I just said that. Chiyo died after she used that justu on Gaara. Why didn’t I die? It’s a life for a life, everyone knows that.”

Gently, Sakura smiled and took Kakashi’s hand in her own. “I hadn’t died quite yet; I was only on the verge of death. So…” she gestured.

Kakashi stared. “So… I also brushed death’s edge, instead of dying,” he finished.

Sakura nodded. “Exactly. And after you revived me, I used my Creation Rebirth Strength of 100 Technique to bring you back,” she tapped her forehead for emphasis.

Feeling dumb, Kakashi stared. “Why did you do that, Sakura?” He questioned. “You wasted so much chakra that you spent years building up.” The technique was famous, and everyone knew that you only had one lifetime to reserve that chakra. There was no going back.

Sakura smiled, the question not bothering her at all. She squeezed Kakahsi’s hand. “It wasn’t a waste, Kakashi. You can never waste your life… on someone you love.”

For the third time, Kakashi stared. She what?

In answer to his unspoken question, Sakura leaned forward slightly hesitant but nonetheless confident, and pressed her mouth against his mask. It took a moment for Kakashi to register, but then his mouth remembered, and his body ignited. Sitting up, he shifted his arm to wrap around Sakura. She fit perfectly in his arms, and the final barrier screamed to be let down. One last protection of Kakashi’s; the protection that mystified his figure, and secured the comforting distance he claimed between him and anyone else.

For Sakura, he did not want that anymore. She’d already dug up and torn into the tomb of his past he’d previously considered tightly shut. She’d ignited emotions he figured a man like him would never be allowed to feel again. He’d bled, laughed, confessed, and cried in front of her.

A lifetime of worry, disappointment, and fear all fell away; there was only Sakura.

The sentiment’s reciprocation held up as Kakashi made his slow movements to certainly—decisively—slide his mask down his face, and the kuniochi’s startling eyes, full of intense emotion from her declaration, never strayed from his glassy grays.

The frigid hospital air graced his lips, and Sakura’s eyes defeated her immense willpower and drifted down. Pupils dilated, her breath quickened. And Kakashi was undone; waiting was no longer an option, he needed her, needed to feel her completely, needed to relent to her power.

The arm that used to secure the small of her back floated up, the bliss of the moment overtaking his own limbs, finding assurance at the softness of her jawline. He traced her cheek, finishing the intimate gesture by gently holding the back of her head, tangling that beautiful, silken hair in his fingers. She tilted her head up, expectant, and Kakashi grew eager to meet her halfway. Leaning down, he kissed her, fully.

The last kiss became just a distant memory as the sanctity of this moment trumped all others. The feeling, the taste… it sparked familiarity, yet newness as well. Everyone told him finding the one, if it ever happened, would feel like coming home. Kakashi, young and arrogant, and admittedly mostly cynical, brushed off every claim, knowing that finding such a person just simply could never appear in the cards for him, be that present or future.

Oh, how he’d be wrong. But so had they. This was not coming home. This was potential: the potential to build a new life, with a partner.

His hands trailed back down her sides, stopping at her hips. Deepening the kiss, he held her as close as he could in their awkward position, trying to emote every feeling he experienced through his movements.

That couldn’t be enough, he figured, as Sakura spoke a different love language than he did. While actions demonstrated all he needed to know, he understood Sakura was a woman of words and communicated affirmation. He would gladly provide that for her.

“If you didn’t know,” he whispered against her lips, “I love you, too.”

He opened his mouth, and she answered in kind, her mouth feeling like heaven against his lips. Greedy, he lifted her from her seat and onto his bed. Sakura, ever graceful, swung her leg over his bed, now straddling his decrepit body. Holding his face in her hands, she moved against him. Kakashi met her half way, pulling her closer. He would never be able to get her close enough.

A dull pounding hit his body. He attempted to ignore it, as the woman on top of him made his mind dizzy, and her movements lead him to insanity. Unfortunately, he had to eventually relent.

Pulling away, the man grimaced. “Oof,” Kakashi groaned, holding his side. “Why am I sore?”

Laughing lightly, Sakura slid to his left, molding her body to his in the grungy hospital bed. “Well, you did just almost die.”

“I almost die all the time,” Kakashi argued. Missing the warmth on top his body, he tugged her closer. “But this time, you healed me. With the 100 Seals!” He added.

“I repeat, you almost died. That would leave anyone feeling sore.”

“Then why aren’t you?” He poked her in the side, eliciting the targeted giggle that made his heart grow.

“You know that One’s Own Life Reanimation is unique.” She smirked, batting his hand away. “I could go into the specific science for you, but I’m afraid you would not be able to understand the complex biochemistry.” Her voice then voice dropped, barely a whisper. “I’ve seen a lot of death in my career, Kakashi. And so have you. But you were closer than I’ve ever seen. I felt the tug you almost succumbed to. I thought I lost you.”

Kakashi hugged her, and kissed the top of her head.

“Imagine what I went through,” he whispered back. Then it hit him. Her reaction in the forest, her reluctance to from before… it all made sense now. “You… you knew.”

Sakura nudged her face into his shoulder. “Knew what?”

Her aroma distracted him, but he stayed on task. “That you would contract the disease, given your proximity. That’s why you dodged my advances before.”

He felt her breathe into the nape of his neck. It sent shivers down his spine. “Yes.”

“You did it to save me.” He snorted. "Glad to see that worked out as planned."

She sat up slightly, defiant. “Well, I didn’t think you would be stupid enough to chase after me!”

Kakashi smiled, pacifying his feisty ninja. “I’m glad I did.”

Sinking back to his side, Sakura smiled back. With her one free hand, she played with is open face, memorizing his lips, his freckle, his rare smile. “I’m glad you did as well.”

They lay there, in silence, finding refuge in the safe silence they finally had.

When Sakura eyes closed, and he thought she’d drifted off to sleep, Kakashi spoke to her.

“I don’t have the softest touch, and I may not look like much... I may not always use the right words, and I know my edges are rough. I will never be enough. But I’m yours, Sakura. And I always will be.”

Her eyes fluttered open.

“You’ll always be enough for me, my Kakashi. Just as you are mine, I am yours.”

---

Maybe it was the best war he’d ever experienced in his career, given what he’d gained. He typically lost so much through war, but not this time. Kakashi would have to ponder that. But he thought he wouldn’t need much convincing, now that he had Sakura at his side.

#kakashi #kakasaku #looking for the truth #naruto #naruto fanfic #all done!!!#yay!#my writing #sakura haruno #sakura

2 notes · View notes

wintermutal · 5 years

Note

8, 11, 17, 20, 32, 36, 40!

8. Oldest WIP

now? probably the becoming, my obligatory gears reimagining tale. i started thinking about writing it in high school, but couldn’t settle on an exact version of gears to write. in college i’m still bothered by it, like it’s something i need to write but i just dont know how. i have a good plot set up now involving gears and mann in hong kong in the 80s that deals a lot with some mekhane cults and stuff, but it just….doesnt feel right yet. so that one’s like…..4 years old now lol

11. Books and/or authors who influenced you the most

amazingly- and this kind of sounds like it’s coming out of left field knowing the kind of stuff i read these days- gary pulsen. when i was in 6th grade i read a ton of his shit, and i remember a very specific moment where i was reading Winterdance. i remember one day, i loved what he had written for a scene so much i decided to go back and ‘figure out’ for myself how he made it feel so exciting using the words like that; it was the first time i ever closely examined someone’s actual writing technique. my 11 year old self observed that he used run on sentences in the areas where it got really exciting, and i started experimenting with it myself, and as you can see some eight years later…..i should have never done it. it’s now like, a hallmark of my writing style. if i would have never read that goddamn dog book we wouldnt be in this mess

as for more specific recent influences…..i stumbled across off-site access to a few obscure ancient ess see pee works over the winter. the story was…dazzling, and reawakened some of the awe and ‘fuck it, let’s write a wild ass story’ attitude i had when i was a newbie on the site. as of right now i keep them in a folder on my desktop for when i need to remind myself that nothing matters and its more fun not to care

17. What writing habits or rituals do you have?

i get awful writers’ cramp writing on paper. like, when i took my AP exams at the end of high school, i went out and bought an arthritic pen to write the essays with (it worked, and that pen is the most comfortable motherfucker ive ever used). i have no idea if i grip my pen/pencil too hard or if i fucked it up as a kid or what’s going on in there, but it means that i write almost everything on my laptop. this is unfortunate because i also do a lot of other things on my laptop, and my little gremlin brain gets distracted by them in .3 seconds. of course, once i get writing, i get writing and can go for hours, but it makes it hard to start.

this means that i have a separate writing program i keep up in full screen in another window 24/7. whenever i write, i go there. its great because it’s so fucking barren. look at this shit.

aside from that, i always find my voice a little easier if i read a page or two of something else before i start in on a session, even if it’s an old piece of my own shit or something. i dont always do it, because my writing schedule and mannerisms are chaotic as hell, but yeah.

20. How many WIPs and story ideas do you have?

oh my god……………so many………..im never going to get through them all……

i’m on a pattern where i randomly cling to a certain idea and spend months to a year on a huge piece for it before shitting it out onto the internet. the two biggest pieces that have come as a product of this are Major Tom and ess see pee-4231, taking me 8 months and a year, respectively. i write other things, too, obviously, but i usually end up unable to shake a few very choice ideas, and those are the ones that get the most blood, sweat, and tears put into them. usually they’re larger ideas with a big scope to work with.

32. Most difficult character to write

right now? i have a main character named rowan in a big original project i have going on, and i just….haven’t decided on the kind of person he is yet. i have a good chunk of his backstory worked out, but he also ends up getting regularly drugged with heavy horse tranquilizers and reshaping his entire childhood with a few main events warped to reveal possible traumas, so you know how it is. he’s obviously very unreliable as a narrator, but i’m not sure what kind of person he is to be an unreliable narrator. like, the horse tranquilizers definitely helped it along, but there’s also a lot of…wild shit going on in there. he might just be being unreliable out of cowardice, because hes fully aware and conscious of the role he played in several murders, including those of a few of his close friends and collaborators. so who knows

36. Last sentence you wrote

Well, the last three are sentence fragments. So backing up a little to the last paragraph:

“The tile in the deep dark was black, white, grey. The eternal floodlights on vaulted caverns cast scales of reds, electrical white florescence. The door was six inches thick; the hallway was not patrolled; the cameras obediently turned away; and just like that, with a mix of something teetering between greed and fear, the Foundation chose not to see the place of necessary evils in the deep dark of the mountain.

Director Eiler beat him. And beat him. And beat him.”

40. Share some backstory for one of your characters

kilroy fisher’s mom really wanted him to be a web developer, and kilroy was pretty eager to please her until a couple things happened:

1. when he was ten, he was enrolled in a foundation research program doing brain scans of young technopaths with hopes to create an AI system to repel their specific psychic influence. part of the test involved kilroy being exposed to a prototype of this AI, written in an extraordinarily complex unique coding language. how he was able to interact with it and how the code felt to him when he was around it was like nothing he had ever experienced before. he was fascinated. the AI was set to be used, at least at first, around the most secure Foundation databases. the heart of the AI was strongly implied to be centered in the databases themselves. he’d only seen the skin of it.

2. he read william gibson’s neuromancer, and very quickly became a cyberpunk technopath hacker kid, to his mother’s horror.

Kilroy ended up obsessed with this. like, absolutely off the shits, increasingly lost in the sauce as his teenaged years wore on. he quickly discovered that if technopaths work with this coding language for like, more than an hour in their unique psychic state- which is the most effective way to go about it due to the complexity of the code- it starts manifesting in bleeding from various areas of the head (ears, nose, teeth) and eventually leads to seizures and really intense migraines. this makes sense because like….its literally used as an anti-technopath code for anti-technopath interests, but kilroy, who at this point was severely depressed and bordering on suicidal, became addicted to working with it as a means of regular self harm.

Kilroy ended up writing a bootleg terminal program for the language, which would theoretically allow people to more easily work with the code and even eventually break into that all-important foundation defense AI that was now his sole reason to live. after a fight with his girlfriend resulted in her calling him ‘a fucking ruthless pig’ for being literally obsessed with it to the point of regular physical collapse, he deemed it RUTHLESS.exe and started going with the handle ‘Gip’ online, especially in circles where the program was in high demand for Criminal Actions™ and he was seen as a fucking godsend to working with this thing.

this eventually culminated in some attempted hacking of the actual AI itself, quickly followed by an intense hospitalization while he recovered and had surgery to remove the traumatic cataracts in both eyes, subsequently followed by being shipped off to containment. technopath containment is literally just….a setting with no technology. in his case, this meant that he has since lived alone in a specially built little house on a foundation-owned little farm in the middle of nowhere.

he gets visits from foundation agents twice a week that bring him food and supplies, because he’s not allowed off the premises. he takes care of his sheep (or at least like, the sheep the foundation has put him in charge of as part of his ‘rehabilitation’ or whatever). he’s bordering on suicidal again, and they put him on some heavy medication that leaves him feeling numb most of the time. he wears bifocals because of the permanent damage to his vision. he lives without electricity. he reads a lot. he reads and rereads neuromancer a lot, and after a few years of this he decides that he needs to reach a decision on the whole ‘suicide’ thing, because this is really getting ridiculous.

and that’s where the story finds him. i have no idea how im gonna write all that backstory coherently. im probably gonna binge read more william gibson stuff and pray.

A Writer’s Ask Game

#this is so long im so sorry #and this is only one of them nooooo #scp wiki writing #writing #asks #long post #vandal.txt #v1als #bm tale

9 notes · View notes

tumblunni · 6 years

Text

Man i was just thinking again about that idea i had for a cliche gijinka app card game where the gijinkas are all Interesting Bugs instead of weird sexy anime george washington.

I've kinda got quite attatched to my idea for a leech gijinka as a super cuddly white mage who just happens to look emo and scary. And they'd be a great opportunity for nonbinary representation cos in real life leeches don't have binary sexes anyway. But i cant decide between whether i want them to look like a full plague doctor mask thing or a more cliche cutesy nurse but theyre like super tall and look like the monster girl from the ring so they get sad that people always run away before they can help them! So then i was thinking "hey, alternate skins!" Not like in the other games ive played where there's always one canon skin and all the others require hours of grinding and/or real money to buy. But just that there's like three or so randomized versions of the base character with all the same stats but a different costume. Just to spice up the pool of options a bit! Or maybe it could even be more than just the costume and you can get entirely different reinterpretations of that job class? Like the medusa jellyfish could be either a young kid or a grandpa!

Oh and i'm not really sure how to name this or anything? Cos its not really a clear category of animals, its not all insects or all worms or whatever. More like just..all the animals that are unfairly hated but have Cool Biology Facts that i can babble at u to maybe make u like them more. So i dunno.. Pests? Creepy crawlies? Some entirely made up fantasy term for them?

Also i think the setting will definately be jrpg fantasy! Just a world where all these critters are actually funky people on a comedically bad D&D quest. I wonder who the villains could be tho? Maybe theyre gijinkas of more commonly loved cute animals? Or like.. Not gijinkas but monsterfied versions? Hilariously over the top evil fluffums! hamsters are this setting's dragons! And i dunno maybe the ultimate dark lord is a dog with a cat for a royal vizier or something, cos theyre the kings of popularity.

This could also make it actually make sense why the Clione character could be a beserker like in real life! Cos theyre the most un-hated rare sea slug for looking cute, but their actual personality is big scary predator. But in this universe being seen as cute by humans = evil, so the Clione's fighty doom personality would make perfect sense! Im not sure if i should make them like a tormented Shadow esque antihero or a paladin-looking knight who has a dark streak or maybe even a viking? Cos in videogames theyre like the epitome of 'loves fighting but is still a nice hugs guy'. And it'd be neat to have a chubby buff clione instead of the more cliche bishie gijinka. But then i mean theyre literally nicknamed 'sea angels' or 'sea fairies' depending on country so yeah? Oh or maybe that could mean i make them an elf or an angel but theyre still mega buff! Viking guy with lil chibi wings and halo!

Also randomly i think that Slug will be the other nonbinary character along with Leech. Cos well there's a lot of bugs who dont fit the human gender binary but i'd probably be a bit too obnoxious if i had like 90% enbies and noone else. I always think about like 'if this is my first game project i need to go at a small and reasonable pace with all the Big LGBT Feels', yknow? But then every idea i do is always my first game project cos ive never completed any of them yet XD

Anyway i think Slug would be a more fashionable bishie kind of androgenous character, while Leech is a relateable cuddly socially awkward one who wears a mask. But definately also looks stylish in their own way, and i'm sure Slug is always complimenting them and trying to bolster their spirits! Aside from being super fashionable i also think maybe Slug would be a wandering bard? Cos somehow slow animal -> lazy human -> free spirited instead to be less cliche -> bard. Also the whole 'bard rolls to seduce every boss' meme, lol! So Slug is a very nyeheheh tricksy flirty adventuring song person who aint take nobody's shit. Instead of being sleepy they sleep on the concept of low self confidence! Full and powerful pride at all times!!! Goal in life is to be beautiful AF and handsome AF and make everyone swoon at your feet and also recite an epic poetry so cool that your enemies straight up die from the sick burn. Tho i mean i don't think anyone could actually ACHIEVE that, lol! It might be obnoxious if i actually have a character who's basically 'enby people are literally perfect in all ways'. So i just think Slug is a big ol dork who's like the Gaston archetype of the comically overconfident flirt, but like a good and heroic version who actually respects when people say no to their advances. And is also a great BFF to Leech and tries to help them get out of their shell, because well of course Slug is out of theirs XD

Also actually i dunno whether they should all just be named after the animal or have thier own names but the animal is mentioned on their profile as a job class name or something? Cos it might get awkward once we get to more specific obscure bugs with longer names or ones who only really have a scientific genus name. I'd feel like i'd have to make them all wizards cos their names sound like spells! Oh MAYBE THEYRE SPELLS!! Like each character could chant their own scientific name when they use their ultimate attack??

Oh and maybe Slug and Leech could be just based on the species in general but have their alternate costumes themed after more specific rare subspecies? Like Slug could have nudibranch themed costumes cos the vibrant colours would fit such an elegant fashioniste~ And leech could just be an opportunity to talk about how there's subspecies of leech that dont drink blood, though this character is based on the ones that do because otherwise they wouldnt really have a unique job class, lol. Maybe their rarest alt costume is a fashionable orange ensemble that symbolizes both Slug taking them out for a night on the town in their finest to feel more comfortabke in their self confidence, and also just the fact there's an orange tropical leech. Its kinda funny cos there isnt such a huge range of different colours for leeches, its mostly just different barely visible patterns and a spectrum from greenish brown to brownish black, lol. And then suddenly a bunch of wildly different red and orange ones! And nothing in between! Really does seem like a surprise makeover from your bestie, yknow?

Oh and then when i was thinking about other potential relationships between different magic bug people, i thought of Daddy Longlegs! Cos thats a name confusingly given to multiple bugs of wildly different species who're all mistaken for spiders when they really arent. And this mythical nonexistant daddy longlegs spider also has the myth of having 'the strongest poison but its fangs are too short to bite you' which is COMPLETE nonsense based on nothibg cos how would it even survive in the wild if it cant hunt? But its a real cool myth so it could be an awesome excuse to make them have a move that gambles on either an instant kill or a self debuff. ALSO THEY ARE MARRIED

I was thinking they could be a duo of fabulous zorro-looking assassin dudes who were sent to assassinate each other but instead fell in love and quit the business for good. Like 'you made me want to live again, and the only reason i threw my life away on this job was cos i wanted to die'. And to atone for all the bad mercenary stuff theyd done in the past, now theyre robin hood esque mercenaries who take jobs with world-saving hero groups like our protagonists. And they work for free as long as the cause is just! And they wish they could settle down someday and dream about having children of their own, but they feel like they dont deserve it after all that theyve done. They'd be a rare goofy bugmans that actually have a real emotional backstory! So anyway they're fancy fencing guys who're both the same class but maybe slightly different variants with different stat builds or abilities? More specialized and all. Like maybe one is speedy but weaker and one is slower but stronger? Or one relies more on luck based attacks and one is a consistant damage dealer but has a lower max damage cap? Or even one is status effects and one is attack and really even though they have the same job name theyre wildly different interpretations of it. Fitting for the entomology mistake husbands! I want them to be balanced so that they have special bonuses together but are still viable to use separately if your party setup only requires one of them. Also randomly i think their names would be Albedo and Rubedo? I was originally gonna make Rubedo the name of the leech cos i mean alchemy words and plague masks and all. But then it doesnt really SOUND like an alchemy word, it sounds like a fancy handsome dancer name. And then i started thinking about the cute once-sad-now-happy young assassin dads fighting together so well that it looks like one big dance between them, rather than a battle. And i got REAL EMOTIONAL over goddamn bug gijinkas! Man my heart is made of paper and mush!! Oh and maybe they have combo attacks together but also with all of the party members that are younger? Like special dad instinct combo! A built in ability that they automatically shield the kids from enemy attacks. YOU HIRED A MERCENARY BUT YOU RECEIVED A NICE MARRIED COUPLE WHO PROMPTLY ADOPT YOU. Oh and maybe their alternate costumes could just be each other's costumes? Like they'd already be wearing matching red and white versions of the same thing, but then albino dad wears ginger dad's version and vice versa. Or maybe their alt costumes are different complimentary colour pairs like black and gold or blue and pink? And maybe their ultra rare special costume is Big Cute Dorky Argyle Dad Sweaters! It must be capitalized cos it is IMPORTANT!

Oh and then i was also thinking about the idea i had before of bugs with a queen hive structure being like the workers are the common unit and the breeders and queens and such are rarer variants? But the workers are the only ones actually good in a fight, the others are just for collectables sake. Rare but useless, just like how the real queen bee is so big that she cant leave the hive, and never figjts a day in her life unless the kingdom has already fallen. So maybe queen bee is still unlockable as a rare character but she's just a support that makes worker bee stronger? Like you get a lil event of worker's boss coming to honor her with a knighthood for her good service, allowing her to upgrade her job class. Tho i think she still fights with construction work equipment, now its just like a golden jewelled shovel XD

#bug app game #if i actually make this it obviously wont be an app game cos im not capable of programming or funding that #itd just be a free rpgmaker project that spoofs all the cliches of this genre of gijinka gatcha nonsense #youd just earn coins to buy randomized new units via regular gameplay #and probably have a lot more ease of enjoyment features to balance it out and stuff #like your odds go up if you get lots of unlucky pulls in a row #i just want everyone to have fun and be able to see as many of my goofy characters as possible!#no need to stretch it out to 120 hours if nobodys getting money for it lol

3 notes · View notes

hannahindie · 7 years

Text

Maple Leaves and Flannel

Characters: Sam Winchester x Reader, Dean Winchester (mentioned) Word Count: 2,608 Warnings: Cutesy fluff and extreme descriptions of fall. (I don’t think that’s really a warning, but I’m a wordy girl so...maybe?) A/N: I wrote this for @impalaimagining’s Favorite Seasons Gif Challenge! Fall is my favorite time of year, so I was excited to get to write a fic that primarily focused on that.

Beta’d by my wonderful @trexrambling, because without her, a lot of my thoughts would be jumbled: “THIS. HANNAH, THIS!!!!!! YESSSSSSS I LOVE THIS LINE IT IS MY NEW FAVORITE LINE. Gaaaaaaaaaah this is wonderful.”

And my sweet @pinknerdpanda, who encourages me even when I hate nearly everything I wrote and feel like starting over: “ I love this whole sentence sooooo much!”

As usual, tags are at the bottom. Please let me know if you’d like to be added!!

Fall has always been my favorite time of year. Summer had its moments, but when the stifling heat finally started melting into cool breezes, when I could enjoy the sun’s warmth on my face without immediate fear of being burnt to a crisp, I was in my happy place. If anyone were to ask me why fall was my favorite, besides the cooler temperatures and the lack of sun poisoning, it would be hard to pinpoint an exact thing.

It could be the brilliant colors the leaves inevitably changed to, a magnificent splash of reds and oranges and yellows all mixing together to make it look like the landscape was on fire. The slow appearance of Halloween decorations that would go up bit by bit; a zombie here, purple and green lights there, fake spiderweb stretching across every available surface. The extraordinary amount of pumpkins that would just appear with no warning on porch steps, balanced precariously on hay bales that also would magically appear, a majority of which had simple faces that had been painstakingly carved into them by excited children who cared less about the carving and more about cleaning out the slimy guts inside.

So, had you asked me what my favorite thing about fall was, I would have told you it was too hard to choose and wandered off with my pumpkin spice latte to find some crunchy leaves to jump in.

Well, that’s what I would have said. But then I saw him.

Right in the middle of town is a large maple tree. Large is really an understatement. This maple tree is one of the oldest I’ve ever seen, and it’s huge. It’s right on the edge of the sidewalk, and the roots have pushed up the concrete slabs like they’re made out of foam. Every year, I expect one of the massive branches to break off and land on top of the old, Victorian-style house that sits empty next to it, but every year it proves me wrong. It also sits directly on the path I take from my apartment to the library, and every time I walk past, regardless of what I might be doing at the time, I glance up at the huge spanning limbs and falling leaves. Most days, there’s nothing remarkable about it. It’s beautiful, yes, and it’s one of my favorite things about my town...but generally speaking, it’s the same scene every single day.

Except one day when there was an addition to the normal scenery.

I had just crossed the street and was making my way down the sidewalk when I glanced up out of habit and stopped dead in my tracks. Standing just under the maple was a tall man, his head bent as he looked down at his phone. His shaggy, chestnut hair hung down and obscured most of his face, and I held my breath as I waited for him to look up. He was wearing a burnt orange coat and a lighter orange flannel; he was like the perfect autumn day in a ruggedly handsome, broad shouldered package. He must have realized someone was staring at him because he looked up and locked eyes with me, a small smile playing on his lips.

“Hi,” he said softly, his voice deep and smooth.

I finally released the breath I’d been holding, my eyes wide. “H-hello.”

He took a couple of steps towards me and pocketed his phone as he did, “Sorry to bother you, but do you live around here?” I nodded but remained quiet. “Do you know much about this house?”

“Oh, yea, it’s one of my favorite places in town. Are you...are you interested in buying it?”

He shoved his hands in his pockets and nodded, “Yea, actually. Me and my brother grew up in a house like this, and I just happened to be driving through when I saw it.”

“So do you live close by?” Surely I would have remembered seeing him around.

He shook his head, “No, I'm here on business. I've been kind of looking for a place to start over, and since I was already here, I thought I'd look around.” He held his hand out, “My name is Sam, by the way. Sam Winchester.” I took his hand, and I was unsurprised when his totally engulfed mine.

“Y/F/N Y/L/N. It’s nice to meet you.”

“Same.” He smiled again, and just as he opened his mouth to say something else, a muffled ring interrupted him. He quickly reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone. After a quick glance, he looked at me apologetically, “I'm sorry, that's my brother. I gotta go meet him...family business stuff to work on. Maybe I'll see you around?”

I smiled at him, “Yea, that would be nice. See you later.”

He gave a small wave and started walking down the sidewalk in the opposite direction that I was going. Luckily, that wasn't the last time I saw Sam Winchester.

The second time I saw Sam Winchester I was at the library, coffee in hand as I flipped through pages upon pages of town history. I had just started at the local newspaper, and my first assignment was to put together a large series leading up to the town’s centennial celebration. Most people would have wondered what they had done to deserve such a fate, but I loved stuff like that. There was something about getting lost in old newspapers and books, scattered photographs that lay forgotten in people's attics, only remembered when you ask them if they have anything that would help you. I could sit all day at the library, curled up in one of the overstuffed chairs with a giant book. Most of my days consisted of that, actually.

I had been reading about The Great Flood of 1928 when I heard someone clear their throat. I looked up to see Sam looking at me, one corner of his mouth turned up in a smile. “Hey, Y/N.”

“Hi, Sam,” I said as I shifted into a more upright position. “How are you?”

He shrugged, “Pretty good. I think we’ll be here for a few more days.” He nodded towards my stack of books, “What are you researching?”

I glanced down at the book in my hand, “Currently, a catastrophic flood that destroyed most of the town in 1928. In general, just getting some information for a series I'm writing for the paper. The centennial is coming up. Although I have to say, there's less interesting and happy things than there are devastating natural disasters, murder, and general bad luck.” I closed my book and sat it on the table. “Why are you here?”

“Well, I needed to do some research of my own. The librarian told me you might have a book I need. It's actually a collection of property deeds and stuff.”

I raised an eyebrow, “That sounds…”

“Boring,” Sam laughed. “It is. Which is why I'm here and not my brother.” He sat the books he'd already claimed down, “Mind if I join you?”

I shook my head as I handed him the book he was looking for, “Not at all. I can't promise that I'll be exciting company, though,”

He laughed, “At least we can be boring together.”

And so we sat, the next three hours consumed with what was supposed to be serious research but had quickly turned into us laughing about some of the more ridiculous things that had happened in town.

Sam sat back with a laugh, and I couldn't help but stare at the deep dimples that formed when he allowed himself to truly smile. “Wow, it's been awhile since I laughed that much. That was nice.” He pulled his phone from his pocket and his smile quickly disappeared, “But it looks like it's time for me to head out.” He stood and shouldered his coat on, “Hopefully I'll get to see you before we leave.”

I smiled, “I would enjoy that. See you around.” Sam smiled and strode quickly out of the library. I looked down to find that he'd left the book he'd asked for open, and I pulled it around to look at the page he'd marked.

The deed was for the old abandoned house with the giant maple in the yard.

The last time I saw Sam Winchester is a little blurry. It's kind of a long story, and honestly I'm not even sure that I have all the details. I remember seeing the deed for the old house. Curiosity got the better of me and I did the one thing that I'm surprised I hadn't done before but realize now should never have; I googled the address of the Victorian house with the town’s oldest maple tree.

I vaguely recall reading what had to have been one of the more disturbing stories of our town that I had soundly decided not to include in our centennial write up. But even after I sat down to read something else, determined to not focus on the vicious quadruple murder/suicide that had occurred in the house, my mind kept returning to it.

Which had led me to my next question; why was Sam so interested in that house? And what family business was he doing that he needed the deed information? Nothing was adding up, and I was beginning to wonder what that handsome stranger was up to.

I remember leaving the library, bag in tow and determined to figure out what was going on. I had stopped at the end of the sidewalk before taking a big breath and striding up the cracked concrete like I owned the place.

And that's when things get a little fuzzy. All I can really remember is that I saw something that shouldn't have been real. That moment of pause, the shock of seeing a man that was long dead standing directly in front of me, nearly cost me my life. What I do remember is Sam appearing out of nowhere, quickly followed by a shorter man with bright eyes that I guessed was his brother, and a loud shotgun blast.

Then I was outside, my back against the maple tree and a large, rough hand cradled against my face.

“Y/N...hey, are you alright?” Any other time, opening my eyes to that handsome face would have been welcome. As it was, I could barely remember where I was, much less who was in front of me.

“I...yea...I think so...what happened?”

Sam breathed a sigh of relief, “It’s a long story.”

I shifted my weight and groaned as my bruised ribs protested at the movement, “What exactly do you and your brother do, anyway?”

He chuckled, “That's also a long story.” He helped me stand up, and I grimaced again. “Are you sure you're okay?”

I nodded, “Aside from the fact that I just saw something impossible, and said impossible thing tried to kill me...I'm pretty sure I'm good. Ask me tomorrow.” He smiled sadly and my chest ached, “You won't be here, will you?”

He shook his head, “No, we uh...we have some other things to take care of.” I stared at him for a moment and tried to memorize the way his hair fell in his face, the little mole on his chin, how his eyes seemed to change color. There were too many details, and I knew it would be impossible to do him justice in my spotty memory. So instead, I put my arms around his waist and pressed my ear to his chest and listened to the strong, steady beat of his heart.

“It was nice to meet you, Sam Winchester.”

Sam didn't say anything, but he wrapped his arms around me and held me a little tighter.

It's been a year since I last saw Sam Winchester. A year since I saw him standing under that maple tree, its bright red and orange leaves falling around him as he looked at his phone, unaware of the dumbstruck girl staring at him.

It's been a year since I let curiosity win out over common sense and I discovered that there was far more to this world than I could have ever imagined, and that the gentle giant that I had laughed with over coffee was responsible for keeping it all in check.

Sam and Dean had driven me home and the ride there was mostly silent. Sam sat in the back with me, his long legs tucked in as well as he could, and I had curled tightly into his side. My ribs complained the entire ride, but I ignored them; I wasn't passing up what could be my last chance to be this close to Sam.

Sam walked me to my door and pulled me into one last hug, and it took everything I had not to beg him to at least stay the night. He'd started to walk away, but at the last minute, turned back and pulled me into him, his soft lips working against mine almost desperately before he pulled back, gave me a tight lipped smile, and walked to the car. The next morning I went to stick my hand in my jacket pocket and found a piece of a napkin containing small, cramped handwriting. There was a number, and under that a single word - 'Sam'.

We had texted quite a bit for awhile; what he and Dean were up to, plans to get coffee when they finally made it back into town to visit, the most recent book we'd read. I knew that with their lifestyle, it would probably be awhile before I got to see Sam again, but I held on to hope. Then, finally, the messages stopped.

I'd like to think that he's okay, that he's saving people from the monsters that linger in the shadows, but I often worry that something happened. I think I'd feel it, though. For that much good to leave the world, I'm sure my heart would know.

I've kept the same routine this whole year. I walk the same path, go to the same job, live in the same apartment. And every day, I walk past the old Victorian, the maple looming over it with its canopy of fiery leaves. I’d always looked towards the house, only now I do so in hopes that I'll see a man, dressed like fall, and smiling. When I don't see him there, I like to imagine that he's off saving the world with his brother, one monster at a time.

That is, until today.

Because today, I walked the same path down the same road, crossed at the same corner, and just like I did exactly one year ago, I looked up at the house and the maple. Under its falling leaves, standing just where he was the first time I saw him, was Sam. Only this time, he wasn't looking down at his phone; this time he was looking straight at me. He was a bit thinner than he was back then, and he'd cut his hair a little different, but the smile was the same. I stopped a few feet away, afraid that if I blinked he'd disappear.

“Sorry I'm late,” he said softly, “things got a little...crazy.”

I nodded, “Long story?”

Sam chuckled, “Yea, you could say that.”

I walked over and wrapped my arms around his waist, my ear to his chest, and sighed happily. I never realized how relieved I would feel to hear someone’s heartbeat. “You know what, I have all day.”

Like what you see? Would you like to read more? Check out my Master List here!

Forever Tags: @trexrambling @pinknerdpanda @wheresthekillswitch @emilywritesaboutdean @arryn-nyxx @emptywithout @escabell @charliebradbury1104 @jarpadandjensenaremyheroes @deanssweetheart23 @canadianjelly @super-not-naturall @aubreyreadsstuff @dean-winchesters-baby @melissaj616 @fandomismyspiritanimal @keepcalmandcarryondean @assbutt-still-in-hell @owllover123 @rosie-winchester @amionthetumbler @duubaduu @hiimaprofessionalfangirl @goldenolaf25 @authoressskr @nanie5 @mrssamfuckingwinchester @zincomms @kathaswings @crazynerdandproud @barbedwireandbubblegum @sandlee44 @boxywrites @justanotherdeangirl @smalltowndivaj @captainradicalpassion @myloveforyouxx-deactivated20171 @atc74 @mrsbateshotel53 @easelweasel @there-must-be-a-lock

#Taylor’s Favorite Seasons Gif Challenge #supernatural fanfiction #sam winchester #sam x reader #autumn #fall #fluff

111 notes · View notes