#smash until he explodes into a supernova

[fanfic-me-up]

All The Colors We Cannot See {Bakugou x Reader}

Synopsis: He sees you in the colors that light the sky, and longs for you in the darkness that follows.

Pairing: Pro Hero! Bakugou Katsuki x fem! reader

Warnings: attempted suicide, suicidal thoughts, language

Word Count: 4k+

A/N: This took me like 9 months to complete, but it’s finally here. I didn’t completely stick to the request, but this is what came out. I still hope you like it! Banner made by my amazingly talented friend, go follow her @jm.rvice on instagram! 💖

💥💥💥💥💥💥💥💥💥💥💥💥💥💥💥💥💥💥

Blood pumps to his legs. Cement pounds his feet. Bits of rubble catch in his boots. The first spark of the night shoots up- swallowed whole by the black sky. A trail of embers remains in its wake. 

Katsuki stops. And waits.

A second passes- the crowd silent in anticipation. No one can see the spark, but everyone knows it’s there… waiting…  for the right time to explode. And just when the darkness thinks it has won, an enormous burst of light blankets the sky. In that moment, it’s so bright that Katsuki can see the skyline. Like paint splattered on a blank canvas, the sky now bleeds in red, and the explosion leaves an imprint the size of a supernova long after it’s gone. 

The crowd applauds. 

A roar is ripped from Katsuki’s throat. He pounds at the brick wall again and again, despite blood trickling down his fists. He rips his cochlear and smashes it against the wall. A sick satisfaction settles within him. The ringing that greets him is like a devil sucking on the lobe, whispering tempestuous nothings into his ear. 

Katsuki continues his ascent, taking steps by three until he reaches the top. The poor door is yanked off its hinges, but it doesn’t even cross Katsuki’s mind as he’s hit by everything all at once. Smoke slithers down his throat, roasted yakitori wafts up his nose, the rhythmic booms caress his ear, and the lavender shaded sky comforts his eyes. From up here, the people below remind Katsuki of the dots he used to see after he ignited a big explosion- how the dots blur, mix, and separate in one fluid motion again and again. 

His phone ringing is a distant echo. They’re looking for him no doubt, but who the hell cares. Not like they’d find him up here. This was yours and Katsuki’s place.

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He’d blow himself up if he missed even a second. 

His lungs burned. They ached for a clean breath, yet inhaled the stench of nitroglycerin-like sweat. He could’ve just blasted himself to the top and saved himself the trouble, but fuck. That. Katsuki thrived on a challenge. He loved the rush of adrenaline more than his own mother. (He’d never tell her that- she’d kill him before he reached this goddamn roof.)

He threw himself against the door in time to see the first burst of citrine hit the sky. But he also saw you, a trespasser, standing on the ledge and looking like you were about to kill yourself. You didn’t flinch at the sonic boom (like most people) nor cringe at the heat. It was like you thought the beauty outweighed its destruction. 

All that said you were fucking stupid.

“Oi! Get down from there!” 

You were immersed in skylight, and though your back was turned, Katsuki knew you were staring up in awe; your eyes reminiscent of glassy pools reflecting red, yellow, blue and all the possibilities they create. 

“Fuckin’ hell…” Katsuki muttered. He just wanted to enjoy the show in his spot. Alone. Like he did every year. “Oi, lady! You wanna kill yourself? Do it on some other roof dammit!” 

You jumped at the blasted words, losing your balance and falling off the ledge. Katsuki expected you to scream, to gasp, to cry... anything but fucking wink on your way down like playing with death is just some fucking game. But Katsuki had no time to think before he blasted himself across the roof to grab your hand- but you didn’t need it. You threw a safety line in mid-air, hooked it to the ledge with skillful precision, and used the leverage to hurl yourself back up. You landed on the ledge like a ballerina tip-toeing on a tightrope. The sheer turn of events rendered Katsuki speechless. 

 “Phew! That was fun! Let’s do it again sometime, yeah?” You wrapped the safety chord before bouncing up to Katsuki.

The fuck?

How did you…? 

 You didn’t seem to notice Katsuki’s loss for words.

“I’ve never met someone with a quirk like yours. You could put on your very own firework show!”

You tried grabbing his hand, but Katsuki’s growl stopped you. The flickers popping in his hands were a sign to back the fuck off.

You’re scared. Good, Katsuki thought.

“Sorry, sorry, I’m a bit of a pyro.” You sheepishly smiled, twirling a pink and yellow band around your finger. (You’d later twirl your wedding ring the same way.) 

Katsuki’s growl cut in its tracks. You weren’t scared like he thought, in fact, you looked lost in his sparks- your eyes zooming back and forth, trying to catch each and every one. Katsuki killed his sparks, causing you to look up at him in disappointment.

“I can’t. Mine don’t change color,” he muttered. 

Fireworks always fascinated Katsuki. As a child, he wished his explosions could change color. He imagined people looking up in awe when his sparks rained down. They’d recognize the power and the beauty.

“Hmm…color is what makes a firework...” you trailed off.

“No shit,” Katsuki snorted. How stupid are you? 

“Hold out your hands.” 

Katsuki crossed his arms, “No.”

“Oh, c’mon! Gimme your hands!” You bounced up and down, overcome with excitement. Katsuki stepped back but immediately stopped himself because Bakugou Katsuki never backs down. 

“I’m not giving you anything, woman. You’re fuckin’ weird for jumpin’ off roofs and asking for stranger’s hands. Stay the fuck away from me. In fact, this is my fuckin’ roof. Find your own.” Katsuki looked down to see his hands popping. It must’ve happened on instinct- a defense mechanism to scare off the extras who won’t leave him the fuck alone. 

Except it didn’t work on you. You only came closer. 

“Do you want to burn in color or not?” 

Katsuki saw flashes of himself in your eyes everytime a firework went off. A hunger burned in the pit of his stomach- one he’s felt countless times during battle, but this one was different. This strange warmth made him feel like jumping off the roof himself, and if he put all his might into it, he could brush the spark of a firework from fifty feet above.

“Yes,” he said. 

“Then you’re gonna have to trust me.”

“Trust you!?” Katsuki shook his head, “I don’t even know you!”

“That’s half the fun, isn’t it?” You giggled, “Now hold still.” 

Katsuki grumbled how ridiculous this was, and that whatever you tried wouldn’t work, but you ignored him in favor of pulling his hands and laying them face up. You nodded and Katsuki sighed, activating his quirk anyway because what the hell.

You’re entranced from the moment flickers popped, one by one, in his hands. They died as quickly as they were born, but still left their mark in the air. 

Katsuki’s sparks faltered as cool fingertips brushed against his wrist. 

“It’s okay, keep going,” you encourage, and he does. 

He can’t pinpoint exactly when the change happened. Like all change, he blinked and suddenly his sparks burned in color. Angry red, rooted in tormented crimson, ravished the usual, boring, orange of his sparks. 

Katsuki laughed in disbelief because how is this real? Yellow began to flicker in and out of the red, until it finally caught like a flame and engulfed the red like a warm blanket. Pink and light green began to swirl around the yellow, and the firework show Katsuki had been looking forward to all year didn’t hold a candle to the fireworks fluttering in the palms of his hands.

Katsuki looked up at you. 

Who the fuck are you? 

You giggled at his awed expression, “Our very own firework show.”

And that’s how you spent the rest of the night. His hands in yours while he burned in color for the first time.

Katsuki later discovered you could read emotions through auras. The aura becomes visible, allowing you to color a person’s quirk.

He also discovered that you didn’t need to hold his hand for it to work.

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A round of fireworks triggers the ringing in Katsuki’s ear. He throws his head back in ecstasy and prays the sensation tickles his eardrum for a little longer- enough to shut the part of his brain that keeps remembering you. 

Katsuki pulls the pistol out. The leather grip, so slick with sweat, that Katsuki has to wipe his hand to make sure he doesn’t accidentally set off his quirk. 

He’s not an amateur. He’s held a gun before. Every pro-hero has to undergo weapons training, but he’s never used one in combat. His quirk was always more than enough. But there’s something inherently dangerous about a gun. His quirk is an extension of himself, but a gun is a separate entity altogether- and it was designed to kill. 

Growing up, adults would praise Katsuki for his quirk. They’d say, “With a quirk like that, you’re destined to become a hero!” But they were still afraid to get too close. They saw his quirk as a weapon that was designed to destroy. And soon enough, Katsuki became the embodiment of just that. But he always felt incomplete. He wanted to be a hero like All Might. One that people looked up to- in awe of their power, not in fear of it.

That’s why he loved fireworks. The only explosion that makes people stop and stare, instead of running away, in fear for their lives.

You were the first and only person to see the beauty in his quirk.

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“What’s your favorite color?” 

Such a basic question that Katsuki should already have the answer to. But color meant so much more to you. You saw the world in a way that made everyone else seem colorblind. 

You twirled that same pink and yellow band around your finger as Katsuki twirled the ring in his pocket. You leaned in closer, basking in the warmth radiating from Katsuki. He watched how your eyes never left the sky, and he was content with missing the show if it meant he can watch you instead. He caught glimpses of you only when lit by a firework. He made sure not to blink during those moments else he’d miss you. Your expressions mixed and swirled as the fireworks continued, but you never lost the primary color of mesmerization painting your face.

“Blue,” you said. Katsuki had to lean in to listen; your voice an ember in a sea of fire. “But not sky blue like on a sunny day. It’s nice, but I much prefer the darker washes of blue, deep like sapphire.”

Blue, the color of sadness. 

“Why blue?” Katsuki asked. The ring in his pocket danced between his fingers.

You turned back to the fireworks. You always made sure to think before you speak when answering a question that mattered.

“Because there’s always an interesting story behind an aura of such sorrow, more importantly, there’s always a light at the end of the tunnel.”

“So your favorite color isn’t blue, it’s yellow,” Katsuki cut in, but you shook your head.

“There’s nowhere to go but down with yellow. Yellow is the epitome of brightness and joy, and when you crash during the high, you crash hard. But when you’re drowning in deep blue, as I’ve seen many people do, you’re at the lowest of lows- you really can’t get any lower in this life. But when an aura- and I’ve only seen this once- when an aura changes from the deepest of sapphire to sunrise yellow- well it’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.”

The twirling of the ring in his pocket stopped. 

“That is why I believe blue is the true color of hope,” you whispered.

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Katsuki should feel the smooth texture of leather as he grips the gun in his hand. He should feel the weight of the gun as he brings it to his temple. But he’s numb to it all. It’s like an invisible string, pulling at his muscles, directing his body how to move. His mind goes blank for the first time, and all the inner-turmoil he’s been unable to escape just straight up… stops. It’s like he’s floating in a body of water with no current. Complete and utter stillness.

It scares the fuck outta him, but it feels good. 

As he’s about to turn the safety off, his phone rings again, snapping him back to reality. Katsuki guts his phone.

“Die!” 

The phone slides down the door like a dead pidgeon. 

“God-fuckin’-damn it...” He pushes the barrel back to his temple, craving that mind-numbing stillness once more. Anything to stop the feelings that just won’t seem to go away. 

The fireworks crescendo as the show reaches its climax. The colors begin to mix and blur together so much that it becomes too convoluted to look at. An infinite regress of color swirling in Katsuki’s mind.

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You glowed on purpose so Katsuki could find you. He spotted you from miles away, like a beacon of light in the middle of a storm. The melancholic blue of your aura contrasted against the raging reds that painted the sky.

Katsuki ran. He pushed and pushed past his limit, harder than any battle he’s fought in. He could’ve made it if he used his quirk, but he was in a crowded marketplace with too many people. He ripped off his gauntlets and threw them in a random alley. He immediately gained speed. A couple more feet and one minute left.

He should’ve saved his breath. If he did, he would’ve caught you in time. But he had to make sure you knew he was there. You looked down at the sound of your name. He could barely make out your face, but you saw him. He knew you saw him because your aura changed from that melancholic blue to sunrise yellow in an instant. Everyone around him gasped at the flood of light emanating from above. 

You were right. It was the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen.

If Katsuki produced a strong enough blast, he could make his way to the top and get you out before the bomb went off. At this point, he didn’t care who else might get hurt in the process. Next to him, Kirishima knew what Katsuki was thinking. He hardened himself to block Katsuki’s takeoff.

“Don’t do it, bro.”

“Get outta my way.”

“You can’t make it.”

“Yes I can.”

“You’ll both die.”

“SHUT THE FUCK UP” Katsuki pushed him away, and prepared to blast himself, when two other heroes stepped in to hold him down, but no one stood a chance when Katsuki goes feral. Explosions erupted, not enough to seriously hurt, but enough to get people to back the fuck off. Even Kirishima (whose quirk is to literally be a human barricade) was having trouble blocking Katsuki. One more blast was enough to send Kirishima back and Katsuki used that half a second to blast off. But suddenly he couldn’t. He tried and he tried, but his quirk refused to work. A growl escaped from low in his throat as he whipped his head around, trying to find the cause to his problem so he could decimate it. 

Target acquired. 

Katsuki was about to march right up to his high school homeroom teacher and deck him right in his fuckin’ face, but before he could, he was held down once again.

He couldn’t fight three pro-heroes off without his quirk. He couldn’t get to you without his quirk. All Katsuki could do was look up and watch you die. 

Five seconds left.

He saw it in your face. The moment you realized he wouldn’t be able to save you. The yellow of your aura growing dimmer and dimmer.

Three.

You smiled through your tears.

Two.

And winked. 

One.

Then closed your eyes as you took your last breath.

The darkness that followed was unbearable.

A cacophonous wail erupted from Katsuki’s throat- loud enough to go up against any explosion. He couldn’t help but fall to his knees, unable to hold himself up any longer. He still wasn’t able to use his quirk and that only frustrated him more. 

He’d never felt so helpless in his life.

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He hardly uses his quirk anymore because he sees you in the sparks. He’s got no drive to be Number 1 if you’re not here to watch him do it. His will to live is gone without you and that scares the fuck outta him. He hates you for filling his head with ridiculous bullshit. He hates you for opening his mind to the possibility of love, and hope, and shit that shouldn’t matter but it fuckin’ does for some goddamn reason. He hates you. He hates you. He hates you.

That same cacophonous wail erupts from his very core. The gun falls from his hands, to the ground. It could’ve gone off at that moment and Katsuki would never know. 

His focus zeroes on his hands. How tense they get when he flexes them, how the vein protrudes from his wrist, and how his glands secrete sweat from his palms. He points them to the sky, and a familiar rush of power, that he hasn’t felt in months, surges through him. His blood boils from under his skin and he’s literally shaking from the intensity. Like a volcano spewing hot-blooded lava after an eternity of dormancy, he shoots blinding white heat into the black night.

The color from the fireworks surround his explosions as if they’re echoing his sentiment. Hot red dominates the sky- reminding Katsuki of the sky that night. This causes Katsuki to rattle off explosions quicker, setting off one after another in a staccato rhythm. The crimson sky ravishes all other color. 

If only he saved his breath. If only he’d taken off his gauntlets sooner. If only he ran a little faster. If only he blasted himself a second earlier. If only he didn’t stay back at work that day. If only he turned right instead of left at that goddamn intersection. If only he picked up the ingredients for your favorite meal the day before so he could go straight home. If only he didn’t have to drive back to the market because he fuckin’ forgot the milk again. If only he decided it was still worth it to pick you up from work early like he planned. If only he cared more about your anniversary than about cracking Top 10. If only he went to more of your art shows instead of taking extra patrols. If only he went on that trip to New York with you instead of cancelling last minute because the agency needed him. If only he realized that you meant more to him than being Number 1 before it was too late.

Little by little the crimson wash is buried by the black night and Katsuki’s eyes hurt just staring into the black abyss. It’s suffocating him, weighing his chest down and making it hard to breathe. It’s enough to drop him to his knees, just like he did that night.

You and Katsuki had long talks about your future plans. How you fit into his life, and how he fit into yours. When you’d be able to properly settle down and have kids. You accepted that the first couple years into his career would be the toughest on your marriage. Katsuki would spend more time at the agency than at home with you. Relationships with pro-heroes were like that. But you respected his ambitions. You understood the amount of time that was required to fulfill those ambitions. You never held it over him, never guilted him into spending more time with you, and never made him choose between you or his career. You loved him enough to share him with the rest of the world. You were never each other’s other halves. Instead, you co-existed as separate individuals who made the best team Katsuki’s ever been a part of. 

Yellow begins to flicker in and out, but it’s muted behind the black veil of regret. The more Katsuki thinks of your empathy and your love, the stronger the yellow becomes. It finally brightens the black sky, to the point that Katsuki almost has to cover his eyes because it’s like looking into the sun in the middle of the day. 

And that’s when it clicks.

He’s burning in color.

You must be conducting this masterpiece from above, using the sky as your canvas and coloring the emotions coming from within him.

He kills his explosions as quickly as he fired them. The fireworks come to an end at the same time. The crowd’s cheers is a fly on the wall to Katsuki.

He falls back, lying flat on the ground and looking up at the sky still shaded in yellow. His chest heaves as he tries to get his breathing back to normal, and the sloppy mixture of sweat and tears continue to slide down his face. The cool breeze is a blessing against the nape of his neck.

He struggles to hold his hands up, they shake as he brings them up to his face. He reignites his quirk with the last bit of strength. The sparks lack their usual vigor as they flutter lazily in his palms. They remind him of fireflies swirling in a jar. For once, the orange doesn’t piss him off. 

Has anyone else seen his quirk like this? When he’s not trying to intimidate or take down a villain? The only person he could think of was you. Maybe his quirk wouldn’t be seen as a weapon, maybe he wouldn’t be seen as a villain, if the world saw what he’s seeing right now.

Katsuki sits in this revelation, and the calm that washes over him is nothing like the numbness from before. He’s far from being okay, and he still longs for you in these moments, but Katsuki has a hunch that if you were here right now - holding his hands in yours- his sparks would be burning in your favorite color. And he’s okay with that.

“That is why I believe blue is the true color of hope.”

Katsuki’s phone goes off even in its broken state. His eyes dart between the phone and the gun. He groans as he gets up. His limbs, heavy, after exerting himself. He picks up his phone.

“Hey. Yeah, man, I’m fine, don’t worry about it.” 

Katsuki’s about to hang up when he takes a look at the gun. A reminder of what he was about to do. A decision he could never come back from.

 If things turned out different, he would not be here right now.  

Just the thought is enough to make Katsuki slide down the wall. He takes a deep breath- his heart beating rapidly at what he’s about to admit aloud for the first time.

“Actually, I’m not okay. I need you to come get me.”

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The Plus Ultra Chronicle

Musutafu Tower Attack: 06/18/2020

WHEN HOPE PREVAILS:

A DAY OF REMEMBRANCE

By: Yamamoto Ichika

06/18/2021

Today marks the one year anniversary of the 2020 Musutafu Tower Attack. Hundreds gathered this morning in remembrance of the lives lost that night. Several people who’ve lost loved ones in the attack have already come forward with statements.

Of those people, Number 7 Hero, Dynamight, has chosen to sit down with The Plus Ultra Chronicle for an all-exclusive interview. His late wife, Bakugou Y/N, was among the citizens that were held hostage that night. After taking a year sabbatical, he has decided to return to the field of pro-hero work. Here is a snippet of that interview; you can find the full interview here. 

“Thank you, Dynamight, for sitting down with us. It is truly an honor. The people want to know- what are your thoughts on what occurred that night? Can you take us through what happened?”

“It was hard on us all. Whether you were at home watching on a screen or out there in person. All of us heroes felt like sh*t- unable to do anything. It’s even worse when you had a personal attachment to a victim like I did.”

“It must’ve been difficult as a hero- having to make quick decisions that forced you to separate your personal life from the objectivity of the situation.”

“If I’m being honest, I couldn’t, and it took a toll on me.”

“Is that why you took the sabbatical?”

“Yes. I constantly questioned the validity of my title. Whether or not I deserved to be called a ‘hero’ if I couldn’t save the one person I vowed to always protect.”

“You’ll be returning to the field next month, and with a new addition to your hero costume. An amulet of what looks to be a blue-colored spark attached to the left side of your chest. It stands out against the black, orange, and green of your costume. What is the meaning of this?” 

“When I was at my lowest, my failures were all I could see. But someone once told me that you can’t get any lower when you’re at that point. The only real change you can make is to acknowledge and move forward.” 

“A symbol of hope is definitely something we all need right now. What made you decide to finally give an official statement?”

“It is my responsibility to protect the citizens of Japan so this never happens again. But I also think it is important for people to see the shortcomings of the heroes they look up to. We’re human too. We f*ck up. I used to think that made someone weak. Now, I see it as part of the journey. The testament of a true hero.”

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[cerastes]

SO AMONG THE 72 Arts of the Shaolin Temple, there is one named Tie Shan, or Iron Shirt, which everyone here is familiar with. You know the typical body hardening techniques of hard Chinese martial arts you usually see in Wu Xia? Like when this small and thin dude gets smashed by a giant of a man wielding a tree or a steel pipe and, against all expectations, it doesn’t do jack shit against the dude and instead the log explodes into splinters or the pipe gets bent? That’s Iron Shirt.

The guiding principle of it is to use “qi” (efficient breathing techniques and thoroughly trained muscle tightening) to harden the shit out of your body, usually one body part where you focus the absolutely totality of your attention and kickasstitude. It’s like when the sci fi ship its getting its teeth kick right through its asshole and the captain says “REDIRECT ALL ENERGY INTO SHIELDS!”, it’s basically that, but you train to actually be able to do that in the one-person crew stellar spaceship that is your body, and instead of a proton beam, you are blocking the punch thrown by the blistering white supernova of ire that is the kid at GameStop after you buy the last copy of 50 Cent: Blood On The Sand.

BASICALLY, it’s not so much a whole school in and of itself as much as a discipline you Responsibly Consider in the mastery of the overall fucked and wide scheme of Shaolin martial arts. But, as one of the 72 Arts, it gets its own full backstory because the ancient Chinese people never once fucked around in their entire lives throughout the Dynasties. Don’t believe me? Consider that Jing Ke was just an alcohol-loving scholar who just so happened to love dabbling in swordsmanship, and he spawned the fucking cusp of all anarchist legends, and well deservedly, too, but my point is, the moment the Chinese saw a dope ass technique, that shit NEEDED a backstory, else it would just fall short of the hype their real life entailed.

For real, I really wanna sit down one day and talk about how fucking crazy Chinese myths are simply because their daily lives were worthy of 45 minute long OVAs that leave wanting more: To be ancient Chinese is to live generations upon generations in “Current Events”, in shit that now shows up on history books as “And This Fucking Madhouse Was Going On Over Yonder, In Case You Pondered”. How the fuck do you make mythos attractive and relevant to The People if it fails to outdo Current, Real Events in the “Bruce Willis Shooting a Gatling Gun” meter? You don’t, which is why for every fucking blade of grass that swayed by the wind in old China, there was a specific reason, a legend, and a moral of the story as to why that shit happened, otherwise literally nobody would’ve fucking cared about the grass, the wind, or the swaying.

But today is not that day, today is the day I tell you about IRON SHIRT.

So anyway, the lore behind redirecting all of your energy into your balls so you could tank a kick to the huevos and possibly redirect damage to your opponent by breaking their foot with your mighty pain baby sacks finds its humble origins with our main man, Zhou Tong (who must not be confused with Zhou Tong, archery teacher of general Yue Fei of the Song Dynasty, two different people) in the very self-descriptive story known as... I’m not gonna tell you the title just yet because it kinda fucking spoils the story, which is something the old Chinese were fucking bad about, aight, but trust me, anyway, Zhou Tong! Zhou Tong was just taking a stroll down the road, going places as he usually did, when over yonder, he spotted, without any exaggeration or glamour, an absolute chunkster of a lad, an absolute unit, Agent Fat Fucck’s respected ancestor, a BIG BOY. This dude was MASSIVE and WELL BUILT. So Zhou Tong looks at this mother fucker real good, hits him with that Scan Lv.3, and comes to the very fair and safe conclusion that this man looked forward to humiliating him, if “very fair and safe” also encapsulated “paranoid fucking old man”. See, to be fair to Zhou Tong, he WAS a renowned master of martial arts, and if there’s anything you should know about martial arts, it’s that a great number of martial artists are always looking for that big break, that “get my name out there for those in the know”, and the shortest route to that is to beat up a renowned master. It’s why Bruce Lee always had challengers! It’s why this one time, this one dude threatened Bruce Lee’ family in order to get Bruce to fight him, which is about the single worst possible fucking idea you can get. Drinking molten glass with a dab of lemon is a better idea than picking a malicious fight with Bruce Lee, and yet, here we fucking are! And in case you’re curious, Bruce Lee demolished that dude, but anyways, the thing is, Zhou Tong was, like, 17% justified in thinking this way.

So what he did was what any other person would: He started redirecting all of his energy into his right shoulder. See, the way they were walking, they were going to walk by each other while crossing a bridge, so Zhou Tong was like “this mother fucker wishes to humiliate me by chucking me into the bridge in front of the hoes!”, so Tong, as a master of Iron Shirt, focuses like 1700 Magic Points into his right shoulder, which turns red, and then purple as it becomes harder than rock, harder than iron, harder than spending 5 minutes away from the boys, under his clothes. So, the fated moment comes, they brush shoulders, and the Big Boy gets fucking Destructo-Blasted. Big Boy was almost knocked out of the bridge just from brushing his shoulder. It was so painful that he was pouring saliva and the entire right side of his body was left numb until the next day. Zhou Tong fucking DUNKED on Big Boy and avoided being publicly humiliated in front of girls, the greatest accolade you could possibly append to any student of arts most martial.

Except.

It was a misunderstanding.

That Big Boy was none other than Wu Song, his future student. Wu Song didn’t even notice Tong, he was looking at his own feet and minding his footsteps because he didn’t wanna get his feet wet after last night’s rain.

So, I IMPLORE YOU, the reader, to hold my hand (platonically) and accompany me through a reconstruction of the events through Wu Song’s perspective:

There was a freak rain last night in a place known for how dry it is. You only have shit ass sandals, and there’s a trillion puddles of water between you and your destination. You, as a certified Immense Chunk Man, have large trotters and don’t wanna step in a puddle because then you get the common cold and then you fucking die because this is somewhere around the year 1121 CE and medicine amounted to “these pleasant aromas and needles either heal you or you fucking die”. You take extra care to not get the common cold by minding your steps, and suddenly, out of absolutely fucking nowhere, you get Destructo-Blasted while crossing a bridge, you get utterly ragdolled, you get Broly Punched through three fucking buildings and almost hole-in-one into the river, you are drooling, you can’t feel the right side of your body, and when you look up to brace yourself against your assailant, you see this older man just sort of chilling with a joyful stride, walking as if he didn’t just deliver your fucking groceries with that 200% Damage In Hyrule Castle Lower Half Of The Map Forward Smash. What the fuck?

And then some years pass, you get involved into some Pretty Important Shit, and you’re going to learn martial arts from a certified badass, and then he walks out of the bead curtain holding a lemonade, and guess who the fuck it is, it’s Mister Destructo-Blast himself. How fucking awkward was that encounter? No, really, what were their first words towards each other? “Oh, I remember you! You were the old dude that nearly ripped my arm off for no reason that one day it rained!” That’s a great ice breaker.

So, anyways, they go, train, become even stronger, and then do immensely hype shit in the classic story, Water Margin. Zhou Tong became the 51st of the 72 Earthly Fiends and Wu Song became the 14th of the 36 Heavenly Spirits in the 108 Stars Of Destiny. You should read Water Margin, it’s fucking nuts.

But anyways, that’s the lore behind the esteemed martial art of redirecting all energy to shields, Iron Shirt is pretty cool. The moral of the story is to not just fucking randomly ragdoll people because you’re a mite suspicious, but also? If you can actually randomly ragdoll people like that? You’re probably dope as hell and can get away with it, so practice Iron Shirt for political immunity, that’s all, the end.

#Water Margin #Wu Song #Zhou Tong #mythology

[a-world-in-grey]

1) adfjskal HOW DARE. 2) Sola/Nox verse- any specifics for Sola's reaction to Nox/Ardyn near the Crystal? And Ardyn/Regis/Co reactions to Sola's later death via KoL? (Am I reading right? She dies?) - Nani

*snrk* Okay, I’m assuming you’re referring to that Shadow snippet I posted earlier, which, yeah, that’s fair. XD (If it’s a different post, well, that’s probably still fair.)

Yes, Sola dies when she reaches too deep and meets the KoL. Hence Nox flipping his shit. However, Ardyn is a good and paranoid Uncle who ensured the Glaives have a supply of phoenix downs because he refuses to lose either of his niblings.

Sola’s reaction to Nox and Ardyn nearing the Crystal-

-Short version: Not. Happy.

-Long version: Also Not. Happy. and wanting to STAB someone for it. (Preferably Mors, but there’s the slight complication of him already being dead.)

-Slight twist to @secret-engima‘s original post on this, but this takes place before Ardyn is revealed as an LC, before Nox and Sola’s Coming of Age but after Nox and Sola join the Kingsglaive, so anywhere from 16-17.

-Sola’s honestly not keen on introducing Uncle Ardyn or her twin to the Crystal. Not for any logical reason, but she can feel how much Ardyn and Nox do not want to go near the thing. Tradition states that all LCs have to be introduced to the Crystal - usually around 5 years old, Sola remembers Noctis’ introduction - and Uncle Ardyn is allowed to watch as family. 

-(How Papa hasn’t figured out Uncle Ardyn is his brother Sola doesn’t know, she figured it out in two seconds, but it’s Uncle’s secret to tell.)

-But yeah, Tradition requires an introduction. Sola feels Ardyn and Nox’s unease and thinks Tradition can go jump on Ifrit’s Pyre.

-Ardyn glows first from where he stands by Titus, and Sola has to take deep breaths and suppress her magic to a spark to keep her sheer rage from exploding like a Bomb. She’s seen Uncle’s medical file. She knows what Mors (not Grandfather, never Grandfather) did to him.

-But knowing is different from seeing, and Sola wishes she could resurrect Mors so she could inflict each and every one of Uncle’s scars on him before burning him alive.

-Then she realizes that Nox hasn’t stopped. That her little brother is also glowing, but not from any of his scars. Instead, it’s the odd patches of unblemished skin on his chest and back - over his heart - that glow a brighter blue than any of Uncle’s, brighter even than the brand stamped in pure magic.

-Sola goes dead white.

-She’s been a medic for months now, and trained with the glaive for almost a year before that. Sola knows intimately how potions, hi-elixirs, and phoenix downs work, she’s used them countless times. She makes the connection almost immediately.

-Her Little Brother. Died. 

-Someone. Killed. Her Brother. 

-Sola can’t breathe. Can’t think as words vanish in the hiss of fiery fury burning through her blood.

-Ghostly blades appear through Nox’s chest, and Sola doesn’t remember lunging forward alongside Uncle Ardyn. Doesn’t remember Uncle Ardyn scooping Nox into his arms and dragging Nox away from the Crystal until both their scars stop glowing.

-Sola doesn’t remember planting herself between them and the Crystal, magic flaring hot and bright and furious, curling her magic about Ardyn and Nox in a protective embrace. A snarl tearing from her throat, low and inhuman, reverberating throughout the horrified silence and dipping far below what anyone with purely human senses can hear, but can feel vibrating in their bones. 

-(It sends shivers down their spines. It’s one thing to hear of the Draconian’s Rage. It’s an entirely different beast to see it. To feel the protective fury in Sola’s magic, turning the air golden as she tries to shield them from the Crystal’s magic with her own.)

-She remembers Nox’s explanation. Remembers the grief-betrayal-pain from Nox and the anger-hate-mineminemine from Uncle Ardyn.

-Neither of them will ever go near the Crystal again. Even if she has to smash it first.

As for people’s reactions to Sola’s death-

-Regis’s first reaction is Utter Fury. First his eldest son, and now his eldest child. Two of his children have died at the hands of their ancestors. It is only his waning health that keeps him from summoning the Kings of Yore and demanding answers.

-How. Dare. They.

-It’s later, after Sola recovers (after the magic depletion and the new not-scar so similar to Nox’s) that Regis sees the sheer power now at Sola’s fingertips. Sola was once the weakest in the family. Now only Nox outstrips her (and Ardyn, but Regis won’t know that for years yet).

-He has to sit down, pale and shaking and feeling like he wants to throw up, because he saw the recordings from that fight. Saw Sola’s magical explosion, saw Nox’s own explosion when Sola’s magic died.

-Sola blazed with the force of the sun. Nox easily outstripped her, a supernova made real on the battlefield.

-If his daughter died once to have the power she now wields, how many times has Nox died, to outclass her ten times over?

-Regis thinks of ghostly blades, and fears he knows the answer.

-Ardyn does not leave Sola’s beside the entire time she’s unconscious in the hospital. (Nox is in the same room, admitted for magical exhaustion but he’s at least awake.) One hand gripping her wrist to feel her pulse despite the medical equipment because he doesn’t quite dare stop suppressing his magic even if it would let him feel Fiercest Niece that much clearer-

-He’s furious. As much as Regis is but alongside his rage towards the Lucii - towards the Mystic, because Nox didn’t see the ghostly figure that struck Sola down but Nyx did - is anger towards himself.

-Once, people called him The Healer. (The Healer King, they’d whispered, even if Ardyn was only a Prince, even if Father and the Astrals had not yet decided who would take the throne.)

-Oh, what a healer he is now.

-Even so, Ardyn cannot be angry at Sola. He wants to be, when Sola knew the cost of reaching so far yet did so regardless, knowingly discarding her own life. But his niece is so much like him. A healer. An elder sibling. Ardyn remembers what it was like being both.

-He finds he cannot be angry at her when he would have done the same once upon a time.

-Cor/Clarus/Cid’s reactions are fairly similar. Pissed. Off.

-Cor destroys three training rooms before he calms down enough to function. That’s his godsdaughter. The little girl born four months premature, who everyone but Cor worried would die before she got the chance to live-

-He remembers the first time he held her, small enough to fit in one hand. Cor remembers his fierce whisper as he promised to protect her.

-Cor failed.

-Clarus has three children of his own. Is godsfather to Noctis. Is Sola’s uncle. He has no trouble imagining the pain Regis and Cor are feeling right now.

-Beyond that, he is Sola’s highest commanding officer, being in charge of all Lucian military branches. And Sola sacrificed her life to save hundreds of her fellow glaives.

-The soldier, the general, in Clarus approves. The father/godsfather/uncle waits until Sola’s awake and recovering to give Sola the fiercest dressing down he’s given to a soldier in over fifteen years.

-Cid hears about everything from Regis. He and Cindy drop everything to come to Insomnia to support Regis/Nox respectively, and Cid sees the footage of Sola and Nox’s Magical Explosions.

-The only reason Cid isn’t first in line to yell at Sola for her Dumb Stunt is because Noctis is there when Sola wakes and beats him to it. Not that it stops him from waiting until Sola’s recovered enough to leave the hospital and whacking her upside the head.

-Nox is bad enough, he doesn’t need Sola giving him heart attacks too!

#Shadow of Heaven’s Light #ffxv #fusion #Nox verse #Sola Lucis Caelum #Nox Izunia #Ardyn Izunia #Regis Lucis Caelum #Cor Leonis #Clarus Amicitia #Cid Sophiar #asks #nonny asks #Nani asks #all aboard the angst train

[samgtt700]

The End is Nigh

Part Three (finale)

Kamilah x MC

Hope everyone enjoys. Stay safe! And thanks @kamilahsayeed-owns-me for helping me with my idea.

Part One Part Two

Kamilah gritted her teeth, hand on her shoulder. Struggling to move as Rheya approached her slowly, her heels clicking against the ground before stopping above.

“My my... what have we here?” Rheya cocked an eyebrow.

Kamilah slowly rose to her feet, pushing through the pain straightening up. Unsheathing her daggers and preparing for a fight. “I won’t quit.”

“I know you won’t Kamilah. Your a fighter. You think yourself a queen but-“

“She’s my queen!”

Rheya turned enough to catch sight of Alice. “Hmm...”

Alice held her sword. Ready for a fight. She stepped forward, preparing herself. Shifting into position one, Jax’s words echoing in the back of her mind.

Rheya went for Kamilah. Alice using her momentum to land a solid bump, sending rheya sprawling across the room.

“Don’t you dare touch her!”

Alice stood between Kamilah and Rheya. “You won’t touch her again.” Her eyes glowing. Her body sparking with rage, with vengeance. “For Jax.” She charged. Swinging her sword, Rheya caught off guard by the speed and strength Alice possessed all of the sudden. Alice elbowed Rheya in the side before slamming an open palm against her chest, slamming her across the ballroom into the wall with a physic blast.

Kamilah tried to help Alice but she pushed her across to the settee with her physic powers, forcing her to sit. “No Alice!” Kamilah didn’t want to sit it out, not wanting Alice to fight Rheya alone.

“It’s just us Rheya.” Alice insisted. Her veins sparking, her body aching for Rheya’s blood, to tear her apart.

Rheya shot across the room. Slamming into Alice. The glass windows all shattering from the collision, Alice sliding backwards before flipping Rheya and slamming her into the ground. Rheya swept Alice’s legs before rolling to choke her, Alice grabbing Rheya’s hands. Squeezing until she was rewarded with the sound of cracking piercing her ears. Kneeing rheya in the stomach before throwing her off. Rubbing at her throat, feeling it heal. Her pain all but disappearing as she screwed her fists. Not bothering to pick up her sword as she charged in again. Trading blow for blow, neither giving an inch. The halls starting to shake, trembling underneath the weight of their fighting.

Serafine managed to get ahold of Adrian, putting a hand on his head and regaining control of his mind. Releasing Rheya’s hold on him. He gasped for air, being released from his prison. Adrian saw Rheya and Alice across the room, going to aid when Serafine put a hand on his shoulder.

“No. This is her fight. It’s her destiny.” Serafine knew enough. “You need to help the others.”

Adrian saw Lily struggling to her feet, hobbling. He glanced across and saw kamilah on a chair, holding her shoulder. “What happened?”

“Enough. Help me get them out before the mansion collapses.” Serafine helped him up. “I’ve got Kamilah. You-“

“No. I’ve got Kamilah.” Adrian placed a hand on her shoulder. “You get Lily and get to a safe distance.”

Serafine hugged him. “Keep her safe.”

“I will.” Adrian pulled back. Squeezing her arms before bounding across to Kamilah. “Hey. Talk to me.”

“We need to-“ Kamilah gritted her teeth when she tried to move. “Damn it!”

“What’s wrong?”

“Rheya shattered my collarbone. I can’t move my arm.” Kamilah admitted. “I can barely hold a dagger.” Adrian nodded before helping Kamilah to her feet, putting her good arm around his shoulder. “We have to help her. I have- I can’t let her do this alone.”

Adrian darted over to the door, dodging rubble crashing to the floor. “This place is falling apart.”

“I won’t leave her.”

“We have to.” Adrian struggled to drag Kamilah out the door, to safety. “I won’t have her bury you. Now come on. We have to trust her.”

Alice span around Rheya, connecting her fist to Rheya’s jaw before Rheya landed a blow to her stomach. Knocking the wind out of her. Alice hitting the ground in a groan of pain. “Agh.” She held her chest, feeling blood in her mouth. Her flat hand pressing against the ground for support. Rheya stepping on it. Alice gritting her teeth but refusing to give her any satisfaction.

“I had such hope, such potential for you.” Rheya lifted Alice’s chin, forcing her to look. “You could have been so much.”

“I am so much. Not because of you.” Alice spat back. “But because of who I am. Not because of who my family are.” She slowly rose to her feet.

“Your family are everything-“

“No. You are not.” Alice glared. The revelation finally hitting her, she had hit Rheya with everything she had and she still stood unharmed, like nothing had happened. The mansion was collapsing. “You might be my beginning but you are not my end.” Alice charged. Grabbing her by the shoulders, a light shining off them as Alice forced Rheya to her knees.

“Alice!”

An explosion ripped through the mansion, the mansion collapsing. Forcing everyone to flee.

Rheya sat up, staring at the black void around her, seeing Alice laid out on the ground. “What did you do?”

Alice slowly sat up. Watching rheya try to activate her powers, a small smirk leaving as she stood. Opening a portal.

Rheya recoiled when she saw her daughter in the middle of the attack. “I know what happened. I know what those pathetic humans took from me!”

“They didn’t.” Her greatest weapon not being a vampire but her heritage. Her bloodline. A bloodkeeper. The memories flowing through her veins. “They didn’t kill her.” Alice made Rheya watch as they kidnapped her daughter. Feeling the rage flow through Rheya, her hands curling into fists. “They wanted to use her against you but she was human.” Alice forcing Rheya through another portal, revealing an ancient port city. A little girl running pass them into an arms of her mother, her embrace strong, her love fierce. “She grew up, fell in love, and had a daughter.” Alice could feel Rheya’s reaction.

“She was my little girl.” Rheya’s breathing became heavier. Feeling her chest tighten, aching at everything she had missed out on. “What was the daughters name?”

“Minerva.” Alice answered. Staring at the scene before them. Soaking up the happiness, knowing what was to come. “The Sons of Ares didn’t kill her.” Horns blurring over the city.

“The queen is here! Run!”

Rheya saw Gaius slaughtering his way through the streets. “He killed-“

“No.” Alice answered quicker then she anticipated. “Gaius didn’t kill her.” She forced Rheya to follow her daughter as they headed for a merchant vessel. “Ajax was first on. Lola handed Minerva to him, she went to grab his hand when-“ Alice stopped. Rheya grabbing Lola’s hair and ripping her back.

“Oh god.” Rheya fell to her knees, realising what she did. Her hands covered in blood. Watching as she killed her own daughter, smashing her head against the hull, leaving her limp and broken. She approached her, placing a hand over her bloodied head. Alice pausing the memory.

Rheya lifted her daughter into her arms. “I’m so sorry.” She sobbed into her neck. “I destroyed my family.“ Alice bringing them back to reality. Stumbling back as she gasped for air. Rheya falling to her knees. “I killed her.”

“You did. You killed so many.” Alice screwed her fists. “You killed Jax. He was a brother to me.”

Rheya stared down at her hands. Not listening, drowning in her own grief. She narrowed her eyes at Alice. “Kill me!”

“What?!” Alice recoiled unexpectedly.

“Do it! Kill me!” Rheya glared. “Kill me! I want to be with my daughter!”

Alice went to pick up her sword when she felt a strange tingle within her fingertips. Realising quickly what it was, opening her palms towards Rheya.

“Kill me!” Rheya rose to her feet. Shoving Alice back. “Do it already!”

Alice nodded before closing her hands into fists quickly. Ripping the life force out of Rheya, watching her age quickly.

“Lola.” She spoke as if she was at peace, closing her eyes, tears streaming down her face. “I’ll be with you again.”

Alice watched her crumble to ash, feeling a surge of energy through her. Stumbling back as it shot through her veins, pure fire spreading through her body before finally hitting her, the raw intensity, a supernova exploding within. The two bloodlines... Life and Death, meeting at last. Her eyes, her body glowing with absolute power. Her feet lifting off the ground. “The power.” Her voice boomed with an ancient darkness.

“It’s incredible.” Alice curls her hands into fists, feeling the earth tremble below. “I-“

“Alice!” Kamilah’s voice pierced the air.

“The power- your radiating- it’s too much.” Adrian shuttered back, fearful of what could happen.

“You absorbed Rheya’s powers.” Kamilah quickly concluded. Feeling the change within Alice, the darkness rising. “Your becoming her.”

Serafine helped Lily stand, both of them seeing the shining light. “What is-“ Lily stopped.

“It’s Alice.” Serafine answered. “I was afraid this could happen. I sensed a darkness within her but I never thought she could bring it out.”

Alice could feel the power to create. Feeling the world around her change. She could hear, smell and feel everything, from the tiniest molecule to the fear holding her friends. “You have nothing to fear.” She turned to them. “I can create a new world for us.”

“You don’t need power to create a new world.” Adrian tried to reason with her. Not wanting anything to happen to Alice.

“I do!” Alice slammed Adrian into a building across the street with the flick of her wrist.

“Alice.” Kamilah hesitated, unsure of herself.

“I can bring back your brother. I can bring back everything we lost.”

“No...” Kamilah shook her head. Getting close enough to Alice despite everything telling her she couldn’t help but she wouldn’t leave alice, she wouldn’t give up on her, she loved her. “It’s unnatural. It’s not right. You can’t bring back what was lost.”

“I can!” Alice insisted, Kamilah shredding a few tears before wiping them away, needing to be strong. “I can do so much for us all.”

“You’ve done enough Alice.” Lily hobbled over. Serafine helping her. “Your scaring us. This isn’t you!”

Alice could feel the power in her veins. “I could become a goddess.” She hovered effortlessly in the air, flicking her wrist to create flowers. Seeing the life flow through them. Everyone watching with hesitation, with fear at what Alice was doing. “No!” Everyone except Kamilah taking a step back.

Adrian slowly emerged from the building. Seeing what was happening, he didn’t want Kamilah to do it. To kill her. He would take this burden from her.

“Stay back Kamilah.” Adrian insisted. The stake behind his back. “She’s lost!”

“Death is temporary. Pain is temporary.”

Kamilah wouldn’t lose Alice. Reaching out and touching her. Drawing Alice’s eyes to her. “Alice...” Kamilah wasn’t sure where to even begin. “Hear my voice. Listen.” She swallowed down her fear of losing her again. “You can fight this. I know you can. You are so strong.”

“I am so strong.” Alices ancient voice responded, seeming to shrug Kamilah off. “I thought you’d understand. You of all people. I thought you would see what I’m capable of but your just like the others!”

“I do. I do understand. More than most.”

“Then help me.”

“Alice.” Kamilah tried again. “I know your hurting, that the pain is overwhelming. But don’t let it define you. Don’t let it change who you are. Don’t give into it, don’t let anger and hurt define you. To hurt.” She breathed in hard, the fires burning her lungs. “I let that pain define me, I let it turn me into a monster.” She managed to bring Alice down to her, her hands finding Alice’s cheeks, caressing gently. “I know you are better than me. I know you are more capable than me.”

“But I can... I can make... make a world without pain.” Alice struggled, Kamilah sensing an internal fight.

“Pain is part of life. And life is worth... life is worth living.” She wiped some tears from Alice’s cheek before dropping her hands. Taking a deep breath, the words sinking in before extending out her hands for Alice to take. “I love you Alice. I love you so much. Come back to me.” She needed Alice in her life, she didn’t want to lose Alice to this. “Come back to me.”

Alice felt Kamilah’s words hit her heart, feeling the struggle within and Demetrius’s words. A choice that would change the world. She didn’t want to succumb to darkness. Her hands trembling as she reached out, grasping Kamilah’s hands, making her choice. Gasping for air as she found herself. “Hhhhhhhh!” The power surging out of her, the terrible power rushing out of her, vanishing into the night. “I almost- I almost killed everyone!” She came to the realisation, seeing everyone stare at her. Adrian dropping the stake to the ground, Alice seeing his injuries slowly heal. The realisation hitting she did that to him.

Alice collapsed to her knees, Kamilah cradling Alice in her arms, holding her close. The steady beat of her heart calming Alice, soaking up her scent... her feel... her touch... enveloping in her warmth.

“Your okay.” Kamilah kissed Alice’s temple. Doing her best to calm her. “Your back. Your safe.” She tightened her hold on Alice.

“I... I can’t believe-“

“You were... you are... the strongest person I know.” Kamilah whispered in her ear. Pressing a soft kiss to her head. Holding her close as possible.

Alice noticed Rheya’s ashes, watching them vanish in the breeze. Feeling all her power, feeling what she was capable of and letting it go. “I was Rheya. Oh god...” Alice broke into tears, “I almost became her. I almost killed you all.”

“Sssshhh.” Kamilah shushed her, lifting Alice’s chin to meet her eyes. “You never were Rheya.” Pressing a kiss to the top of her head. Scooping Alice up into her arms, holding on so tight. Never wanting to let go. “I love you.” Kamilah pressed her forehead to Alice’s. “I love you so much.” Breathing her in, wanting to be lost in her forever.

“I love you too.” Alice was overwhelmed by everything. Her body weakening, tired from the fighting. Kamilah cradling her close, a feeling of safety washing over Alice. She was safe in Kamilah’s arms. No harm would ever come to her here. “We did it.”

“You did it. It was all you girl!” Lily cheered.

Kamilah couldn’t help but let a small smile appear. “You did it. I’m so proud of you.”

“It’s over.” Adrian breathed in pure relief. The fight was over, “what now?”

“We go home.” Kamilah said.

Lily put her arm around Serafine. “Come on. You better come with.” Lily gestured to the rubble, nudging it with her foot. “Your sorta homeless now.”

“It seems I am. But I always find my way.” Serafine insisted. Patting Lily’s hand. “Lets go mon amie.”

“I’ve got you. I’m never letting go.” Kamilah whispered sweet promises in Alice’s ear, pressing a gentle kiss to her temple.

Four Months Later...

Alice waited for Kamilah to come downstairs from her gardening for their dinner plans. She paced back and forth nervously, fiddling with her silver necklace. Wanting tonight to go perfectly. “You’ll burn a hole in the carpet if you keep going.”

Alice stopped. Turning to see Kamilah dressed in her usual suit. “Ready?” Was all she asked. Her cheeks burning when she felt Kamilah’s eyes trail down her body. Her little black dress leaving little to the imagination. Alice checking her purse to make sure she had everything, not wanting anything to go wrong.

“Yes.” Kamilah put her hand on Alice’s lower back and led her to the ground floor. Her fingertips softly massaging. Feeling Alice whimper a little. “Dear?”

“I’m fine.” Alice entwined their hands, stopping her in her tracks. “We can walk.” She insisted, dragging Kamilah away from the car before she could get in.

“If you insist.” Kamilah knew Alice revelled in taking her time to enjoy the simple things. Including walking to dinner together. The duo both avoiding the media as Adrian took a step forward into politics. “Adrian rang. He’ll be in town tomorrow to sort out some business.”

“Did he suggest catching up?” Alice asked. Squeezing Kamilah’s hand. Curious, “we haven’t seen him since...” Alice trailed off when she realised, feeling a lump at the back of her throat. “Since we decided to split up. Serafine was happy to go back to France after everything that happened.”

“We didn’t decide to split up but life takes us different places.” Kamilah reminded Alice. “Besides. You are never alone. And I won’t ever leave your side. I found my place, it’s with you.”

“I just miss the gang. Lily is in Los Angeles, people want to make a movie.” Alice softly chuckled. Struggling to wrap her head around the fact someone wanted to make a movie out of it. “Can’t believe someone wants to make a movie about all this. About us.”

“Hmm...” Kamilah couldn’t help the cocky smile. “I hope they capture how beautifully talented my girlfriend is. In and out of bed.”

“Pfff... Show off.” Alice snorted before turning to face Kamilah, trailing her hand down Kamilah’s blouse. “There are some things that won’t make the cut.”

Kamilah leaned in and pressed the softest of kisses to Alice’s lip, savouring and letting herself get lost in the feel and taste of her girlfriend. Her hands gently gripping her hip. “So what is for dinner?”

“That little dumpling house.” Alice smiled. Her hands gently resting on Kamilah’s shoulders. “Unless you have a better idea.”

“I do.” Kamilah pulled Alice close. “But tonight is your night. I know you’ve planned this for a while, and been mysterious and cryptic.” Pecking her cheek before entwining their hands to walk again. “Does this have anything to do with that package that arrived earlier in the week?”

“Maybe...” Alice gleed. “But you’ll have to wait and find out.” Trailing her free hand up and down Kamilah’s arm. Enjoying the closeness they now shared, reflecting how much time they had together in recent weeks. “I love this. Us.”

“I enjoy it.” Kamilah admitted as much. Alice tearing down all her walls and opening her up to something she long forgot. “I love you.” It took her so long to say them aloud, to make her feelings real but they became so easy afterwards. Her feelings for Alice cemented as time itself. “Have you finished packing?”

“Yes. I haven’t told Lily with her being away. I don’t know how she’ll take it.” Alice agreed to move in with Kamilah a few weeks ago. Surprising Alice with dinner, wine and a key. Alice hoping her surprise would top that, wanting to take the next step with Kamilah. Unsure how her immortal girlfriend would take it but hoped she would see it as another level of commitment between them. Her hand fiddling with her necklace again, worried that something would go wrong.

“I know it won’t be easy but Lily will be happy for you.” Kamilah noticed the uncertainty in her girlfriend, gently squeezing Alice’s hand. Seeing Central Park and crossing the street.

“This isn’t the way.”

“Let’s go for a walk through here. I love the park at night.”

“Of course my gardener girlfriend wants to walk through a garden.” Alice giggled.

Kamilah led Alice down to the pond, the water shimmering under the New York lights. “I use to come down here all the time. The peace and sanctuary it offered in dark times.”

Alice listened to Kamilah’s words. Realising how much this place meant to her. “Imagine if you met me here.”

“I never imagined when I met you, that you would become everything to me.” Kamilah wrapped her arms around Alice. Nuzzling Alice’s neck. “This is my favourite place.”

“It’s a nice pond.” Alice didn’t quite get the appeal.

Kamilah shifted. Pulling back and caressing Alice’s face. “One day I’ll convince you.”

Alice shifted to entwine both their hands. Nervously squeezing. Realising this was the spot. It wouldn’t get any better. “Kamilah. Meeting you has changed me so much. I couldn’t imagine my life without you.” She closed the space between them, Alice’s green eyes gazing into Kamilah’s brown eyes, feeling the love and adoration she had for her. Her eyes flickering to her lips. Able to lose herself in them. “I never want to leave your side. I found myself there and you make me complete. I couldn’t imagine standing here with anyone else.” She didn’t get down on one knee. It wasn’t her and Kamilah didn’t strike her as the type for a big gesture. She opened her purse and pulled out the ring. “Kamilah Sayeed. I love you so much. And when you talked about us being each other’s forever. I want to be your forever as your wife. Will you marry me?” She held up the ring. Seeing Kamilah’s eyes glisten with tears.

Kamilah crushed their lips together in a searing kiss, the heat burning through their bodies. Alice gasping for air. “Is that a yes?” She giggled between kisses.

Kamilah moving her lips to her ear. “Yes. To forever with you. Forever as your wife. Mrs Sayeed.” She pulled back to meet Alice’s gaze. Letting Alice slide the ring on. “I’ll have to buy you a ring.” She pushed some hair out of Alice’s eyes. “I love you.” She pushed their lips together gently, pressing against Alice. Letting herself get lost in her forever. Accepting this was the exact place and person she was meant to be with.

Tags: @mrskamilxh, @wildsayeed, @made-me-deep-blue, @thequeenofbaddecisions, @iam-the-fuckin-queen, @witchesplayatnight, @kamilahsqueen. Let me know if you want to be added!

#kamilah x mc #bloodbound #Kamilah sayeed x mc #kamilah sayeed #adrian raines #serafine #lily spencer #choices: bloodbound #bloodbound Kamilah #BB3 #bloodbound ending #bloodbound mc #bloodbound kamilah sayeed #rheya apostolous #choices rheya #bb rheya #BB lily #bb kamilah #bb adrian #bb mc #reblog #mc x kamilah sayeed #mc x kamilah

[petrichoravellichor]

Lemme have Sabriel and #32

#32 - a kiss to wake up

(Blah blah blah, this got longer than I meant for it to, blah blah blah…)

What Your Heart Meant (~1.7k words)

(Read on AO3)

Sam snapped awake just in time to keep from falling out of the chair. He swore under his breath as he steadied himself, gaze flickering instinctively to the figure that lay motionless on the bed.

“Sorry,” murmured Sam, “didn’t mean to nod off on you.” He didn’t know if Gabriel could hear him, but it felt wrong to just ignore him...particularly when there was so much Sam wanted to say. For the moment, however, he had to content himself with scooting the chair just a little bit closer to the edge of the mattress and resuming his vigil as the events of ten hours prior replayed in his head...

***

Michael had made quick work of Lucifer. He'd stabbed him in the abdomen and smiled as Lucifer’s eyes blazed white and his lifeless body crumpled to the ground. Then he knelt briefly to wipe his blade on his dead brother’s shirt, attention shifting to Sam and Dean and…

“Can it be?” Michael stood, and his smug expression faltered slightly. “Gabriel?”

Oh crap, thought Sam. He turned to tell Dean and Gabriel that they had to go, now, only to find the Gabriel regarding him with a look of pained determination.

“Go,” Gabriel said, voice low and urgent. He tilted his head in the direction of the rift. “I can buy some time.”

Sam felt the bottom fall out of his stomach. What?! No. No no no…“Gabriel,” he managed, and something was wrong with his throat, because his voice sounded raw and rough. Without meaning to, he took a step forward. “Don’t—”

“All I did on Earth was run.” Gabriel’s hazel eyes shimmered in the dying light. “I’m not running anymore.” He turned to Dean, lips quirking upward in an attempt at a smile. “Don’t say I never did anything for you.”

Dean sucked in a breath, clearly recognizing the words he’d snarled at Gabriel all those years ago when they'd left the archangel in a ring of holy fire. Before Dean could respond, though, Gabriel returned his attention to Sam, and his smile faltered.

“Sorry, Sam,” he said quietly. He turned and started to walk away, and something inside Sam snapped.

“No!” Before Sam knew what he was doing, he’d closed the distance between them, fist tangling in Gabriel’s jacket. Gabriel looked at him, stunned, and Sam threw caution to the wind. He willed every bit of everything he’d ever felt for Gabriel to the surface, thoughts blaring like a horn before battle. “Gabe, no, you can’t, I—”

Gabriel yanked Sam down by his collar and kissed him. Their lips crashed together with such intensity that Sam suddenly understood how stars felt when they supernovaed, collapsing inward and then exploding in a burst of brilliant color. He kissed Gabriel back as though it were the only thing that mattered, as if they were the only two beings left in the—

WHAM!

Michael's shockwave barreled into them with the force of a charging bull. Sam landed hard on the ground several feet away, gasping at the shadows that swam across his vision. He only dimly registered his brother's frantic yells as Dean heaved him to his feet, slinging one of Sam’s arms over his shoulder and pulling him in the direction of the rift.Behind them, blades clashed like thunder...and then didn’t…

“No,” grunted Sam. He dug in his heels. “No, not without—”

“Dammit, Sammy, we gotta go!”

“No!” And before Dean could stop him, Sam had freed himself and was running as fast as he could in the opposite direction.

Michael had disarmed Gabriel and had him by the throat. A silvery stream of grace flowed from a gash in Gabriel’s neck straight into Michael’s mouth; within seconds, the stream was gone. Michael flung Gabriel to the ground, sneering as the latter groaned in pain. “You were always the weakest of us, always willing to abandon Heaven to run around with these hairless apes.” He knelt down, snatching Gabriel by the hair and jerking his head upward. “Well, brother, if you love them so much, then you can die as one of them.” He raised his blade…

Sam crashed into Michael, catching him by surprise and sending them both toppling to the ground. He drew back his fist and punched Michael as hard as he could, crying out as his fist connected with what felt like a brick wall. A split second later Michael's fist smashed into his nose, sending him flying backward in a shower of blood. Then Michael’s hands were around his neck, squeezing and choking and—

Dean appeared out of nowhere, throwing himself on top of Michael with a deafening roar and driving Gabriel’s discarded blade into the back of Michael's neck. Michael howled with fury, releasing Sam and falling backward to wrestle with Dean, whom he quickly pinned to the ground.

“You...fucking...maggots,” spat Michael. “You think something like you can kill someone like me?” He let out a feral laugh, reaching back and yanking out the archangel blade Dean had stabbed him with. “Don’t you know we can only be killed by one of our own, and not sure if you’ve noticed, but I’m the last one standing." He raised the blade. "I’m not the one who’s dying today.”

“Maybe not,” yelled Sam, and Michael's eyes snapped over to glare, then widened in shock, “but neither are we!” And before Michael could fully get out his scream of fury, Sam slammed his hand down onto the blood-drawn banishing sigil, blasting Michael away in a burst of brilliant white light.

***

Back at the bunker, Sam watched as Gabriel’s chest continued its slow rise and fall. He and Dean had managed to carry the unconscious archangel-turned-human back through the rift, and Cas had immediately set to work healing them all, but though the angel had been able to mend Sam’s hand and nose, his attempts at rousing Gabriel had proven futile.

“This isn’t something I can fix,” he’d informed them sadly after his third try. ��I’m afraid the only thing we can do is wait and see if he wakes up.”

And so they’d laid Gabriel down in the spare bedroom he’d been using, and Sam had brought in a chair to wait. Either Dean or Cas had checked in every hour or so, but with all of the new hunters they’d rescued from the apocalypse universe now filling the bunker and itching to explore their brave new world, both were needed elsewhere, especially since there was nothing else they could do for Gabriel at the moment.

Not that there’s anything I can do, thought Sam bitterly, and God, what an absolutely novel feeling that was, watching helplessly as someone he cared about suffered. It was times like this that Sam couldn’t help but think the universe hated him, that he was nothing more than the punchline of some cosmic joke, the idiot who let himself fall in love only to have his heart crushed over and over and over again. Hadn’t he given enough? Was it so much to ask that he be allowed to keep something, someone, for himself, just once, and be happy?

“Death can’t have you,” he whispered. “Not yet, not like this.” He reached out and took Gabriel’s hand. “You don’t get to die today, you hear me? You’re gonna wake up, and we’re gonna talk, and somehow, I’m gonna convince you to stay. But, Gabe, you’ve gotta wake up.” He hesitated, then raised Gabriel’s hand to his mouth, pressing a soft kiss into the palm. “Please, just...just wake up.”

No sooner had Sam spoken than Gabriel shifted, letting out a low groan. A moment later, his eyes were fluttering open, head tilting slightly on the pillow as he blinked up at the figure next to him. “Sam?”

Sam nearly choked on his breath, barely managing a soft “Hey” in return.

Gabriel’s gaze shifted to the hand that Sam was still holding, and he smiled in dazed contentment before snapping suddenly to attention, snatching his hand back and attempting to heave himself up on the bed. “Shit, Michael, I’ve gotta—”

“He’s gone,” said Sam quickly. He placed a steady hand on Gabriel’s shoulder and easing him back down. “We got away, and he’s trapped in the apocalypse universe with no way of getting through. It’s over.”

Gabriel looked up at him with a rare expression of genuine shock. “No shit, really?”

Sam smiled. “Yeah, really.”

“Well I’ll be Dad-damned,” said Gabriel. He fell back against the pillow with a scoff. “And here I thought I was gonna go out a hero, holding off the big bad while you and your less-attractive older brother beat a hasty retreat. So much for my redemption arc.”

“Gabe, about what happened,” said Sam, and oh God, he was terrified of where this conversation was going to go, “I just...I want you to know that I...that if this,” he gestured between the two of them, “is something you want, that I want it too. And if you don’t…” Sam’s heart clenched painfully in his chest, but he forced himself to continue, “and if you don’t, then...then I hope we can be friends.”

Gabriel looked at him as though he’d grown an additional head. He sat up again, slowly this time, scooting over on the mattress until he and Sam were only inches apart. “And here I always thought you were the smart one,” he said, shaking his head, lips twitching in an amused smile. “Don’t you get it, you big doof? I’ve wanted you for years, and now that we’ve finally sorted out all of my interdimensional family drama, I’m gonna be on you like gum on a shoe. Not even wild hellhounds could drag me away.” He cocked an eyebrow, smile widening. “Also, if I’m gonna be slumming it human-style on a permanent basis, I’m gonna need someone to bring me cakes and cookies and the like, so tag, sugar, you’re it.”

Sam chuckled. "Deal," he said, and pulled Gabriel in for a kiss.

#sam winchester #gabriel #sabriel #supernatural #spn #what your heart meant #fanfiction #my writing #sabriel fic #sabriel angst #sabriel hurt comfort

[chemicalmagecraft]

The Gamer Hero, Deku Chapter 21

Tsu groaned, then rubbed her eyes. "This isn't Ochako-chan's..." She picked her head off my shoulder and looked at the seats next to us. "Where did Ochako-chan and Kacchan go? What happened?"

"You fell asleep after Todoroki gave an overly-forceful display of his Quirk and I thought it would probably be better if you were allowed to sleep it off," I said. "It's almost time for their match."

She hummed. "Do you mind telling me what happened while I was out?"

"Oh yeah, sure. First there was Kaminari versus Shiozaki, from class 1-B." Tsu nodded. "Kaminari shot a lightning bolt at Shiozaki, which she blocked with her vines before tangling Kaminari up. Kaminari managed to make some sort of... lightning buzzsaw, but Shiozaki just wrapped him up in more vines until he stopped. After that it was Iida versus Hatsume."

"Wasn't she the support course girl you teamed up with?" Tsu asked.

"Yeah that's her. Their fight was..." I tried to think of how best to describe it. "It was interesting. A little on the long side, though..."

"What happened, kero?"

I chuckled a bit. "Well... Hatsume kinda took the thing over as a sort of advertisement for her support gear, then forfeited the match when she was done..." Tsu snorted. "Yeah... Then it was Ashido against Aoyama. Ashido managed to take out Aoyama's belt, but lost still when Aoyama shot her with a laser. He looked uneasy afterwards, though. I think his belt might be needed to stabilize his Quirk..."

"That's not good."

I nodded. "Next was Yaoyorozu and Tokoyami. Yaoyorozu made a shield, but Tokoyami overwhelmed her pretty fast. Finally, Kirishima versus Tetsutetsu Tetsutetsu from 1-B."

"I might be thinking of someone else, but aren't their Quirks the same?"

I shrugged. "Similar, but not the same. There are definitely differences between making your skin hard and making your skin metal. That being said, though, the two of them looked like they were pretty evenly matched, so their fight also dragged on for a bit."

"Who won?"

"When they figured out that they would draw in a physical match, they started using magic. Turns out Kirishima is slightly better at earth magic that Tetsutetsu."

She tapped her chin. "And now it's about to be Kacchan against Uraraka-chan, right?"

"Yeah."

She looked a bit excited. "This is going to be so anime."

I laughed. "I know, right?"

Tsu sighed. "It's a good thing I woke up when I did..."

"Yeah," I agreed. "Maybe you should get some kind of heating system in your costume? I know that that thing on Todoroki's back on his hero costume heats him up when he gets too cold."

"I was thinking about asking the support company for something like that for the winter."

"It's probably not a bad idea to get it as soon as you can. I mean, you did just pass out from an ice Quirk..."

She nodded. "Fair enough. I'll talk to Shōta about it when all this is over."

"And now!" Mic-sensei shouted. "Here we have the last match of the first round, and it sure seems like a doozy!"

"On one side we have Bakugou Katsuki, Quirk Explosion," Aizawa-sensei said. "On the other, Uraraka Ochako, Quirk Zero Gravity. They both have powerful Quirks and potent magic to back them up."

"Watch out for debris, folks, 'cause the arena is totally getting wrecked!"

I looked at Kacchan and Uraraka's levels as they walked to the arena.

Megalo Strike Back

LV 44

Uraraka Ochako

The Phoenix

LV 45

Bakugou Katsuki

I activated Hawkeye, because I did not want to miss anything.

xoxoxo

Bakugou grinned as he regarded his opponent. "No holdin' back, right Uraraka?"

Uraraka nodded, finishing up her stretches. "Not at all!" The dust by her feet stirred slightly.

Bakugou punched his palm, a small explosion escaping from his fist. "This might be your only round, but like hell it won't be a round to fucking remember!"

Uraraka got into a fighting stance, Bakugou following suit. "Thanks, but bold of you to assume I'll lose!"

"Right, I want you two to remember that there are spectators, so try not to hit the stands with too many giant rocks," Midnight said. "And remember that you should probably try to avoid killing or otherwise permanently harming your opponent. It goes without saying, yes, but I've seen you both wreck things, so better to be safe than sorry."

"I got it, I got it," Bakugou assured her.

"Right, let's do this!" Uraraka shouted, fire in her eyes.

"Okay. Begin!" Both combatants exploded with power on cue, Bakugou a raging fire that caused the ground under him to glow red and Uraraka a pink aura that cracked the concrete like a hammer blow, the resulting debris floating into the air weightlessly. Uraraka shot her hand out in front of her, shooting the rocks at Bakugou. He erected a wall of fire that exploded the chunks of concrete before Fire Dashing at Uraraka. When he was right in front of her, he tried to explode her. Uraraka blocked, blue sparks dancing across her arms. The force of the explosion hit her, was absorbed by her arms, and released back at Bakugou, enhanced by a wave of pink magic. The two were blown back, and Uraraka's skin steamed and tore from the backlash. Her sports uniform top was annihilated, though thankfully not the black tank top underneath. A wave of green magic washed over Uraraka as she cast Regeneration.

Bakugou conjured two fireballs and threw them at Uraraka. She countered by throwing a pink ball of mana that sucked up the fire before exploding in front of Bakugou. Though he blocked the initial explosion, the pink mana clung to him. His eyes widened as the world seemed to shift, and what was behind him moments before was suddenly "down." He managed to recover and start flying before he fell out of bounds, but by then Uraraka was ready with her next trick. She'd laid her hands on the ground, and blue sparks danced across the ground around Bakugou. It shattered, the rubble floating weightlessly for a moment before gravitating towards Bakugou. He cursed, then exploded in a wave of fire that destroyed the rubble. The pink aura around him faded away, and he started to fall to the ground before pivoting in midair to land on his feet. He laughed, then flew at Uraraka again. Uraraka grinned and started flying towards him as well.

They clashed, fire against gravity, releasing waves of force as they rebounded off each other. They smashed against each other a few more times, each time sending shockwaves that cracked the ground beneath them and battered the audience with heavy gales. After their clashes, they flew to opposite sides of the now very ruined arena, floating several meters above the ground. As if by an unheard agreement, they both raised their hands skyward, gathering balls of their preferred element. A few tense seconds passed, Bakugou's fireball growing into a raging typhoon of flames and Uraraka's pink gravity bolt darkening to an almost black color. They simultaneously hurled their attacks at each other. When the two powerful spells clashed the inferno exploded into a blinding sun, while the black hole imploded, drawing in all of the fire and also all of the debris loosened up in their clash. The two attacks merged into a single, blinding point before exploding with the force of a supernova. Even though the two combatants blocked, they were simultaneously launched backwards, thankfully not hitting anyone when they crashed.

Midnight blinked. "Dang. I... guess that's a draw? Midoriya, if you don't mind you should probably make sure neither of them died."

xoxoxo

I gaped. "They're both idiots..." I muttered.

"That was hot..." Tsu croaked.

I turned my head. Oh. Tsu's face was red, and mostly not in a crush blush way. "Are you okay?" I asked. She looked sunburned...

"Water," she muttered, her eyes somehow wider than normal.

I took a few water bottles out of my inventory, then cast Healing Hands and Regeneration on her. Just to be safe, I made a few Regeneration Orbs and placed them on my seat as I got up, and summoned Raine to check on the other spectators. Hopefully nobody was as bad as Tsu, considering we were in front, but... "I'll go check up on the others." I turned to sound and went straight to where Uraraka crashed. Kacchan was probably better off because his Quirk made him resistant to heat and sudden forces as a required side effect of his Quirk, which was why I was prioritizing Uraraka. Thankfully it didn't look like she was too hurt, even though she'd crashed into a wall hard enough to crack it.

"Hey Deku-kun..." she waved weakly.

"Please do not move until I give you the okay," I said, then started poking her leg. It looked like she could feel it. "I don't know how you survived that in one piece."

She grinned. "Shō taught me some body-strengthening magic. It was actually what I based RePulse on." I started healing her. She might not have broken her spine, thankfully, but she had bruises all over her body, especially her back, her skin was torn in several places, and she had so many hairline fractures all over her bones! "Ow, thanks. Did I win?"

"Tie," I said. "Sorry." She winced. "Don't worry, I'm pretty sure that this was the most impressive of the first-round matches. And there's probably going to be a tiebreaker." I finished healing her and offered her a hand. Once I'd helped her up, I said, "Right, I should probably check on Kacchan now," and sound-teleported off.

Kacchan... was somehow barely hurt? I knew he was damage-resistant as a necessity to not tear himself apart with his Quirk, but I didn't think he was that damage-resistant... I was more concerned with the fact that Endeavor was standing over him.

"-was an impressive match, young man," Endeavor said. "I see promise in you."

Kacchan snorted. "Yeah, yeah, ya flamey bastard."

Endeavor glowered at him. "Your attitude, however, could use some work."

"Really?" Kacchan glared at him. "My attitude needs work? Fucking funny coming from you, Mister I-Throw-Firey-Tantrums-Whenever-"

"Kacchan?" I interrupted him. "Even if you feel fine, I should probably take a look at you before you get into a shouting match."

Kacchan bit his tongue. "Fine. Let's go, Deku." He dragged me away from Endeavor, to an exit where we could talk in peace. I still had Sonia throw up a sound barrier, though. "I get it," he sighed. "Don't get him suspicious about what we know."

I healed up the few wounds Kacchan had. "Yeah, but at the same time I don't blame you for getting heated up."

He glared at me. "Was that a fucking pun?"

"Right, you should probably get back to the field." I started to walk off. Kacchan tried to grab me, but my shoulder dissolved before he could grab it.

"Deku get back here you fucker!"

I grinned at him as the rest of my body turned to sound.

xoxoxo

A few minutes later after I'd helped out a few spectators who were in need of water, Cementoss-sensei had formed a table out of cement on an island of restored ground in the middle of the destroyed arena.

"The tiebreaker will be an arm wrestling match!" Midnight-sensei announced. "You may use your Quirks and magic, however you aren't allowed to break the table to throw your opponent off-balance. Get ready!" Kacchan and Uraraka put their elbows on the table and grabbed each other's hands. Their eyes locked, the looks on both their faces intense. "Iiii'm gonna step back a bit..." Midnight muttered. "Begin!" she shouted after getting to what she judged to be a safe distance.

It looked like Uraraka tried to weaken Kacchan by making him heavier, but he used a sort of modified Fire Dash to resist it. He responded by using a jet of fire coming from the back of his hand. Uraraka put up a good fight with what I could now see was some surprisingly heavy-duty strengthening magic that I decided to ask her or Aizawa-sensei about later, but in the end it looked like her increasing Kacchan's weight acted against her...

Kacchan slammed Uraraka's hand into the table, hard enough for the table to shatter, but thankfully it looked like she defended at the last second (causing a secondary shock to further ruin the table) so hopefully her hand wasn't too hurt...

Midnight-sensei blinked and swished her whip. "Well, it looks like the winner is Bakugou Katsuki!"

Kacchan grinned and offered a hand to Uraraka. When he helped her up, I noticed that she winced a bit. I sent a message to Kacchan telling him to go to Shuzenji-sensei and take Uraraka with him.

"Well that was a pretty awesome end to a pretty awesome round!" Mic-sensei shouted. "And after Cementoss is done fixing the arena we'll get on with round two! Give it up for Cementoss, everybody!"

xoxoxo

I walked down the hallway. It was already time for my fight with Todoroki. I took a deep breath and thought over my strategy again. The air chilled slightly as I prepared myself for the match ahead, my breath visible.

"Hello, boy," a voice interrupted my thoughts, and I almost walked face-first into a giant chest.

I flinched and looked up at the flaming man who was standing in front of me. "Todoroki Enji," I said.

"You know, you remind me of All Might," he told me.

I clenched my fist. Even with The Gamer's Mind keeping me level-headed, I was very tempted to punch him in the face. "I'll take that as a compliment," I ground out. "Right, well I think they're expecting me. Good talk." I started to walk away from him.

"You know, my Shōto is meant to surpass All Might."

Ping.

Something inside me... snapped. The air around me became frigid cold as I turned around to glare at him. He flinched. "Listen here," I growled and jabbed my finger at his throat. My eyes felt odd for some reason. "I don't know what the hell you did to Shōto," I lied, "but anyone with eyes and a brain can see that he hates you. Do you know something I was able to pick up from what little he's said to me?" Endea- Enji was shaking. "He thinks of his left side as a curse, and especially after what you just said to me I'm certain that you're the reason why." I turned back around. "I'm going to make Shōto use his left side, but it won't be for you. It'll be for him. Now goodbye." With that said, I stormed off.

While I walked to the exit, I checked out the text box that I heard when I was yelling at Enji. "Huh," I muttered. "That's... interesting, but I don't think I should use without testing it a lot first..."

A skill has been created by unlocking one of the hidden Quirks of One For All! By directing your wrath at a deserving target, the skill 'Fear' has been created!

xoxoxo

And some of you guys thought Deku was the most overpowered of his classmates. Okay well he is but even with more than one bullshit Quirk the gap isn't insurmountable... yet. Oh, and this doesn't have anything to do with BNHA or GHD (so feel free to disregard), but a friend of mine is setting up a sort of D&D-ish roleplay thing on Discord and it seems like it'll be a lot of fun but as of writing this we don't exactly have many people... If you're interested, the Tumblr URL is heroes-of-nevia. Please at least take a look at it!

#bnha #bnha fanfiction #fanfiction #The Gamer Hero Deku #Gamer Hero Deku #GHD CH21

[theolddarkmachine]

Blue Crush- Chapter One

Foam sputtered up, flaring up white and frothy as the curl of the wave returned to its subtle rolling motion, swallowing the man and his board. That very same rush of water bobbed him up toward the sky again as he kept his eyes trained on the spot where the other surfer had disappeared, his mind racing to count the seconds that he stayed under.

Keith has seen worse wipeouts.

Has been in worse, but something about this one seems significant in a way that keeps him anchored in his spot as he waits for the other man to resurface.

Time ticks painfully slow before he sees the pointed edge of a board break through the water, popping up in a spiking motion before settling flat on the water.

Another long stretch of seconds pass, but the surfer never joins it.

Chapter One of Three

AO3

A/N: Hey there, welcome to the Blue Crush AU that none of y’all asked for, but since writing sport AUs that no one asked for is my shtick, HERE. WE. ARE. Idk if you guys remember this movie, but if not, this will fill that early 00s teen sports romance flick sized hole in your heart.

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

Water laps against Keith’s skin, soothing it with its coolness as it crests over his knees and against the polished surface of his board as he lets it rock him. This early in the morning, there’s nothing more than the quiet of a sunrise, and the gentle caress of the ocean as she rocks and sways, waking to the start of a brand new day.

It’s just the way he likes it, he thinks as he pulls a briny breath between his teeth, letting the salty air fill his lungs until he’s certain his chest will explode with it.

With the gentle water beneath him, and the painted sky above, Keith thinks he’s exactly where he needs to be.

Exactly where he wants to be.

The ocean has always been his greatest love, with the heavens above a close second. Both equal in their unending stretch of wander, Keith knew that if he had it his way, he’d swim amongst the stars, riding the waves of nebulas and supernovas and never come back. There was just something so freeing about the feeling of it all, riding rolling waves with the sky at his back.

It was the best feeling in the world.

More importantly, it was a feeling Keith was desperately trying to get back to.

Breathing in deep again and counting back from ten like his mom had taught him in one of her rare moments of maternal instinct, he watches the way the ocean rolls bigger, turning her gentle peaks into something grander.

Something dangerous.

Something that could, and would, plunge him into the its darkest depths and hold him there until there was nothing left to return.

Fingering the harsh line of raised skin along his cheek, Keith shudders.

Once upon a time, he had made the ocean his home. Had done it in such a way that his name was almost synonymous with his favorite beach. The locals would whisper about him, with his bright eyes, quick wit, and quicker fists and how he’d tamed the water to bend at his will.

Once upon a time, Keith had been on the fast track to be the next big surfer. He had been something of a legend, revered for his tenacity, and his fearlessness as he took on bigger and bigger waves until he was flying amongst the stars with them.

Then he discovered the truth of the ocean’s power and how quickly her favor could turn as she’d pulled him from his board and slammed him face first into a reef.

When he’d come to, the doctor’s had told him his heart had stopped beating for almost three minutes.

Since, the water taunted him, watching him from where she lapped against the sand and inviting him in for another go.

Try and tame me, foolish boy, she seemed to say.

It had taken months for him to even get this far, just sitting on his board like a child and letting the ocean sway him.

On a base level, Keith knows that he’s scared. His friends know it. His doctors know it. The water knows it.

He is fucking terrified.

But he misses it too. Misses it in such a way that it settles bone deep and steals his sleep with nightmares of angry waves and crushing darkness until he finds himself back at the beach, just to watch the way the sun turns the turquoise water to burning gold as it peaks over the horizon.

All Keith wants, is to find that freedom that he’s lost again.

Sighing loudly, he trails his fingers over the water, pushing it between his fingers until it runs like cool ribbon through their spaces.

He’s getting there, he thinks, as a larger waves rolls beneath his board and lifts him closer to the sky. But he still isn’t ready.

Not yet.

Swallowing against his rapidly rising pulse, pushed higher and higher by the growing tide, Keith tries to settle his nerves and ease the tension in his shoulders as he lets the waves rock him carefully.

Up and down, they take him, rolling his board in a seesaw motion that should be calming.

Up and down.

Up and down.

Timing his breaths with the motions, Keith lets his gaze wander over the shining ocean, taking stock of the way she moves. They’re thoughtful almost, as if she’s considering her next move.

If this were a different time, maybe he would have egged her on, begging her to prove her strength to him so that he could prove his.

Shaking the thought from his head, Keith eyes a young seagull bobbing along the waves just feet from him in the very same way he is, and somehow that feels very symbolic. Smiling a bit as the bird preens, shaking some water off its feathers, Keith opens his mouth to offer it encouragement.

If I can do it, so can you, he wants to say.

A sudden whooping sound turned bright with victory steals his chance as it smashes the quiet around him in sharp shards and sends the seagull flying away.

Searching for the culprit, he sees a surfer in the distance, his tanned skin catching the light in a way that’s all too bright as he raises his hands above his head in triumph. He looks golden against the bright, cool blue of the wave, almost like a man from a Greek myth, touched by the favor of the gods.

The surfer is almost blinding as he holds the victorious pose, his board slicing through the water and carrying him across the wave’s curl and into its tube.

Before he disappears behind the wall of frothing blue, Keith can’t help but notice the bright shine of silver that runs where his right arm should be.

Holding his breath, Keith waits for him to emerge on the other side, the flashing of metal filling him with a small relief.

It’s a fleeting feeling, suspended almost, before the wave caves in on itself and catches the tail of the surfer’s board, pushing him forward in a somersault that would be almost comical if the crash of his body against the water didn’t make Keith’s heart stall in his chest.

Foam sputtered up, flaring up white and frothy as the curl of the wave returned to its subtle rolling motion, swallowing the man and his board. That very same rush of water bobbed him up toward the sky again as he kept his eyes trained on the spot where the other surfer had disappeared, his mind racing to count the seconds that he stayed under.

Keith has seen worse wipeouts.

Has been in worse, but something about this one seems significant in a way that keeps him anchored in his spot as he waits for the other man to resurface.

Time ticks painfully slow before he sees the pointed edge of a board break through the water, popping up in a spiking motion before settling flat on the water.

Another long stretch of seconds pass, but the surfer never joins it.

Fear pumps through Keith, firing like a piston as he lays his chest against the smooth surface of his own board and pulls himself across the water toward the lonely deck as it continues to bob along. It’s motions were almost comforting in the quiet of the morning air as Keith reaches it.

Mind racing ahead of his fear, Keith barely has time to think of the darkness below him as he palms at the leg rope, finding it thankfully taut in a way that can only mean the surfer is at least still attached to it.

That much is a small victory in and of itself as he rolls off his board, body moving reflexively as he pulls a deep breath into his lungs before dunking himself into the frigid ocean. A shock bucks through him, almost pushing the air back out of his lungs as he follows the rope like a lifeline, quickly finding the knob of the surfer’s ankle attached to it.

Tugging at his leg, Keith blindly grabs at him until he has him pressed full body against his chest and then he starts to kick. Each move comes too easy as the other surfer doesn’t struggle against his pull at all, falling lax against him as his head sways with the roll of the water and each one of Keith’s jerky movements. Breaching the water’s surface, Keith blinks away the stinging saltwater as he reaches blindly for the downed surfer’s board.

With his palm slick and his body off balance from the unconscious man weighs heavy against his chest, it takes several tries before he finally has it properly in his grasp and pulls it towards them. Heaving against the surfer, he pushes him up onto the board, his heart leaping as he slips halfway off and back into the water before Keith cages his between his arms and chest.

Off in the distance, he’s barely aware of the people gathering along the coast, watching as he starts to kick and push them both across the waves.

“C’mon,” he grits out under his breath, continuously shifting his gaze between the shoreline and the surfer as he fights against the current and his own board that’s trailing behind them.

“C’mon,” Keith tries again, the word heavy as a prayer on his tongue, as he sees the man’s lips turning blue.

Time feels as if its fighting against him, moving quicker around him as he stalls in the water, the sands before them remaining stubbornly where they are, which is all too far away.

It shouldn’t take so long to get to the shore, he thinks as he bites his teeth into his lip.

Before, he could make it in a matter of seconds, using the ocean’s own force against her to make his way back to the sand. Of course, then he hadn’t ever cared enough to keep track of the seconds as they ticked by. Now, he feels each one drag between his fingertips like the very sand he was so ardently trying to reach.

Splashing greets them as they finally pull close enough for the other beachgoers to run out towards them, their hands brushing across skin and board unceremoniously as they try to help.

“What happened?” Someone asks as a hand pulls Keith up to his feet and away from the unmoving body.

“Who is he?” Another voice asks from the distance, its question almost lost amongst the cacophony around them as two men pull the surfer up onto the sand, paying no mind to the way his board plays as nothing more than added weight where it drags behind them.

“I don’t know,” a quiet voice replies, scratchy and breathless.

His voice, Keith realizes as he pushes away from the beachgoers around him.

“I don’t know,” he repeats, louder this time, as he quickly pulls the velcro from around his own ankle before discarding it carelessly. Crossing the sand quickly, Keith pushes against the crowd that has formed around the surfer before dropping to his knees at his side.

Without the distraction of the water, he sees the stretch of scar that runs across the bridge of his nose, turned a sickly white that is fading with the rest of his skin. It matched with the others that litter his chest and torso in a way that can only mean that this man is a survivor.

“C’mon,” Keith repeats once more as he pushes sodden white bangs from the stranger’s eyes. “You can’t die here.”

He isn’t sure why he says it, or who he says it for, but he repeats it quickly and quietly under his breath as he braces himself forward on his knees. Placing a palm against the back of his other hand, Keith twined his fingers together before pressing his hands to the center of the surfer’s unmoving chest and pumping them down.

“Did anyone call 911?” He asks, keeping his eyes trained on the man’s mouth as he tried not to think about the way his ocean cooled skin held a different kind of chill to it as he continued compressions.

“Yes, they should be here any minute now,” a disembodied voice answered from behind him. It continues to speak, but its words are lost on Keith as he shifts his position, tilting the man’s head back and gently pulling his jaw open as he pinches his nose. Drawing in a breath, he leans down, pressing his mouth to the surfer’s and blowing the air into him as he keeps an eye on his chest.

Sending a silent thank you to the heavens as he sees it rise with his breath, he repeats the motion before pulling away to start compressions again.

The task of CPR is mind numbing as he repeats the motions, getting lost in the monotony of his mental counting before he feels the heave of the man’s chest push back up against his palm. A shock runs up through Keith’s arms as he jumps slightly at the sound of gasping cough, its rattle turned wet as the surfer jolts to the side and spews water out onto the sand just at his knees.

Relief floods through him with the same crash of the moving tide as he watches the man struggle to sit up, bracing himself upright against his metallic arm as he continues to splutter and cough.

It’s an unpleasant sound and an unpleasant sight, and Keith knows it burns in a way that will make breathing difficult for days to come, but he also knows that it means the man is alive.

He’ll be hurting, but pain is a condition of living that only those who have almost lost it could seem to appreciate.

“Hey, it’s okay,” he says, rubbing at the surfer’s back in a way that he knows won’t help, and isn’t even sure is welcome, but that he hopes offers some kind of reassurance all the same.

“Just breathe.”

Keith also knows those words won’t help.

He repeats them anyway, timing them with the motions of his palm against the man’s sand covered back.

“Just breathe.”

The stranger’s chest continues to heave and his shoulders continue to shake with the weight of his coughs, each one growing drier and more painful sounding as he rubs carefully at his sternum as if he can soothe the sound with his own fingers.

Hours pass in the form of minutes before Keith hears the sound of authorities telling the crowd to move away and the soft shifting sound of shoes against sand as they drew closer.

It isn’t until the paramedics reach them, that the man finally opens his eyes.

They’re a grey that Keith has only ever seen once before.

It’s the very same grey of the ocean just before a storm, lit by nothing more than a moon peeking through clouds.

It’s the same color of the water that had once tried to keep him all for itself.

“You saved me,” the man says, his voice filling with the grit of salt and awe as he stares openly at him with an emotion he can’t quite place. It would be gratitude if it didn’t shine quite so bright. No, this was something else that almost looked as if it would burn if he got too close.

A flush of heat raced across Keith’s cheeks, rolling up over his ears as he opens and closes his mouth, floundering in search of something to say in the face of that kind of truth.

You saved me.

I did, he thinks in his own confused and dawning awe as he holds the surfer’s silver gaze.

A strong hand on his shoulder pulling him away saves him the trouble of finding a reply as a paramedic takes his position, quickly checking the man’s vitals as he asks all the usual questions.

What’s your name?

How old are you?

What year is it?

Keith misses every answer as he finds himself face-to-face with another paramedic’s name badge.

Kolivan, it simply states in black encased white.

“Do you know him?” He asks, voice deep and authoritative as his dark eyes search him for more answers that might help them care for the man. Nearly a foot taller than him, and with shoulders twice his width, the paramedic blocks his view as his team gets the surfer strapped to a stretcher.

“No,” Keith answers truthfully as he looks up at him, shielding his eyes from the bright sun above the EMT with a sandy palm. “I just happened to be out on the water when I saw him go under.”

It’s a simple explanation that earns him a curt nod before Kolivan turns on his heel to head back towards the ambulance parked up at the topmost point of the beach.

“Hey,” the word is a croaked yell, pulling Keith’s attention away from the red and white vehicle and toward the surfer looking up at him from where he laid along the stretcher.

Somehow, the man finds it in himself to smile.

“Yeah?” Keith asks, cocking his head as the EMTs start to roll him away, noting that one has the surfer’s board tucked safely under his arm.

“Thank you,” he says, smile growing wider as they crest over the hill of sand. Those two small words wiggle themselves deep between his ribs, tearing through his organs and burying themselves deep at the base of his spine in a way that left him breathless. Mind going blank, it isn’t until the ambulance is pulling away that he finds his voice enough to breathe a simple “no problem.”

The sound of the man’s revelation clung to him through the rest of the day, whispering you saved me at the edge of his thoughts as he returned to the water.

It clung to him still when he returned to his old beach shack, calling a quiet “I’m home,” to no one in particular as he popped a frozen dinner into the microwave.

Those words stay with him, playing like a lullaby that leads him gently into the first peaceful sleep he’s known in months, filled with dreams of a quiet ocean, turned silver by a full moon and a stretch of unending stars.

***

“I’m telling you, the guy’s a hero!” Lance’s voice is brighter and much more chipper than it has any right to be as it cuts from the bathroom and out to the hotel room that they’re currently cleaning. When they’d arrived to the quantified disaster zone, their small team had taken up the traditional Rock, Paper Scissors to decide who would get what task.

Lance, who almost always lost, was tasked with fishing out whatever was in the toilet that had it so fully clogged.

It should have been enough to get him to stop talking for at least a few minutes.

It seems that that was not the case, however.

“I hardly think it counts as heroics,” Keith calls back from where he’s wrestling the twisted sheets on the bed. Gritting his teeth, he gives them a particularly harsh pull that frees one of the corners and drops a pair of seemingly forgotten handcuffs onto the carpet.

“I don’t think anyone would just let someone drown,” he continues as he kicks the metal over towards the trash can before tipping it on its side and scooting them in with a toe.

“Debatable,” Pidge replies, looking over her shoulder as she pushes a paper towel across the suspiciously dirty full length mirror. “There are definitely some factors that would stop me from saving someone.”

“See, not everyone would be so quick to risk their own life for a stranger. So which do you prefer, Mr. Hero? Or Hero Kogane?” An interlude of grunts laced with the symphonic squelch of a plunger filled the hotel room, silencing Lance for several moments before he finally made a small sound of victory.

It’s followed by the loud cry of the toilet flushing before he continues.

“I kind of like Hero Kogane myself. Makes you sound like an anime character with really shitty, gravity defying hair.”

Smiling brightly, Lance emerged from the bathroom, his forehead slightly slick with sweat as he holds up a gloved hand. In his fist, is a wad of what looks suspiciously like several used condoms.

“Told you this was going to be the Sexcapade Suite this weekend,” he proclaims proudly as he dunks the dripping ball into the trash can with a whoop! “Just had that look about them, you know?”

“The look of sexual deviancy?” Pidge asks as she sprays the mirror once more, blotting at a smudge that looks a lot like a pair of boobs.

“The look of love,” Lance replies, drawing out the ‘o’ and folding his hands beside his head as he sighed mockingly.

“The look of horniness, more like,” Keith hisses under his breath as he gives the sheets one final tug, taking several steps back to regain his balance as they pull free from the bed. Quickly balling them up and trying to ignore the dried fluids that rub against his exposed arms, he drops them into the used sheet bin.

“It’s love, Keith,” Lance says as he points at him in feigned admonishment as he drops himself onto the unmade bed. Folding his hands behind his head, he moves his gaze up to the ceiling. “But enough about Mr. and Mrs. Honeymoon Phase, did you get the guy’s name?”

He doesn’t miss the way Pidge’s golden stare flicks to him in the reflection before they fall back down to her task.

Already hearing the story over their shared breakfast— bagels at the beach, as was tradition for Monday mornings— she had already heard his lament and regret over not catching the surfer’s name. Not, that it was really something he needed.

Truthfully, he wouldn’t even know what to do with the information if he had. But he still couldn’t help the sting of regret he had felt when the early morning sun had chased away the dream that had been painted the very same color of the surfer’s eyes.

Not, that he could tell Lance that, of course.

“Didn’t need to get his name to save him, Lance,” Keith deadpans as he smacks at the brunette’s leg, hitching his thumb to the side in the universal sign of get lost when he looks up. Sighing heavily, Lance rolled over the edge of the bed, grabbing for the other edge of the clean sheet.

“Well how else are you supposed to get back in touch with him?” He asks, giving the white linen a pull over one of the bed’s corners, not waiting for Keith to secure his own as he moved over to the next.

“Easy, I don’t.” With a sharp snap, the sheet falls from Lance’s fingers as he tucks his corner under, trying his best to clamp down on his smile as his friend tsks.

“Listen, buddy. Shining knight of the ocean. Didn’t you think about the possibility that this stranger might want to repay his hero?” Grunting his question as they both pulled the fabric over the head of the mattress, Lance peered up at him.

“I don’t need repayment.” And it’s true. When he’d watched the man fall into the water, he hadn’t thought about what would possibly come of it for him. He honestly hadn’t thought about it at all. Which was probably for the best.

Each time Keith had tried to replay the incident in his head after, he’d found himself seizing with frozen dread.

Even that didn’t matter now, though.

The man was alive, and so was Keith.

That much was repayment enough.

“But what if he wants to give it? It’s only right after all,” Lance continues, grabbing the top sheet and unfurling it with a flourish before whipping its end toward him to catch. Tucking its edges under the mattress meticulously, the brunette worked his way along the side of the bed quickly as he spoke.

“Besides, you know as well as I do that you know every surfer on this island. Which means he’s a tourist. Which means he has money.”

A small sound caught between a laugh and a scoff filled the room as Pidge finally stepped away from the mirror to admire its new shine.

“Not everyone who vacations is rich, Lance,” Keith said lowly, looking down at the sheet to ensure it was properly set before reaching for the comforter.

“No, but everyone who vacations here is,” Lance’s tone is matter-of-fact as he moves away just in time for Keith to lay the comforter over their hard work. Now, it hardly looks as if the bed had ever been the scene of a heinous crime of debauchery.

“Well, it doesn’t matter whether he is or not. I didn’t get his name, and he didn’t get mine.” Pulling out a small, white card, Keith signed all three of their names beside the big bold words LOVINGLY PREPARED BY before dropping it face up on the bedside table. With a quick click, he thrust the pent back in his pocket before fixing Lance with a hard look.

“So shut it.”

“Keith’s never been much of a gold digger anyway,” Pidge offers with a sharp edged smile, her rag making a loud slapping sound as it smacks the back of Lance’s head. “That one we leave to you.”

Unable to swallow his barking laugh, Keith grabs the last of their supplies and tosses them messily on their cart as Lance rubbed at the back of his head.

“You’re both just jealous that the prettiest girl that has ever been on this island is into me,” he says, lips quirked in an obscene pout.

“Into you seems to be an exaggeration don’t you think?” Pidge asks as she steps ahead of Keith and opens the door. “Allura called you cute in the same way a mom’s tell their kids their imaginary friend is cute.”

Lance’s reply follows him into the hallway, punctuated by the loud squeak of their cart’s wheels.

“Which is just the start of our story, Pidge.”

“It’s love,” Keith throws over his shoulder, imitating Lance as he rolled his eyes, his smile growing wide when he hears the brunette’s scoff of offense.

A jolt stops the cart violently, running the vibration of it up his forearms as he turned away quickly from his friends’ bickering, just in time to see that he’d run the cart directly into one of the guests.

A guest with very broad shoulders.

And a bright gleaming arm.

And most importantly, shining, moonlight water eyes.

Confusion ripples across the man’s face as he looks down quickly at the cart at his hip before looking back up at Keith, his lips turning up as recognition somehow makes his gaze brighter.

“You!” His voice still carries the rough of salt as he stares openly at him, like he’s trying to make sense of the fact his savior works at the resort he’s staying at. Burning heat brushes the tips of Keith’s ears as he cocks his head.

“Me?” He replies dumbly, suddenly and painfully aware of the large cart between them and his black polo that proudly sports Altea Resort and Spa in curling script just above his heart.

“Keith?” Lance’s voice is inquisitive behind him, his presence right at his back and as he peered over his shoulder at the stranger.

“Keith,” the man says, rolling it off his tongue as if testing its taste. It hangs there between them for a frozen second as he takes stock of the stranger. Under the fluorescent lighting of the hallway, and not half drowned, Keith can’t help the single, fluttering thought that has him forgetting how to breathe.

He’s beautiful.

“Keith?” It’s Pidge this time as she pushes passed Lance to place a hand at the crook of his elbow, eyeing him before turning her attention to the stranger. Light catches her glasses with the turn of her head before she makes a small, knowing, sound at the back of her throat. With a small bump of her hip, she pushed Keith aside and replaced his hands with her own on the cart.

“We’ll head onto the next room,” is all she says, silencing Lance’s loud protest with a single look before she pushes forward down the hall and by the man with a quick nod of acknowledgement.

Still frozen, it isn’t until the aggravated squeak of the cart’s tires are nothing more than an echo in the hall that the spell seems to break in the form of the stranger’s own nervous chuckle. Shifting on his feet, he runs his metal hand at the back of his neck, his gaze going sheepish and his smile turning timid.

“I was hoping I’d run into you again,” he says lowly, the statement weighed like a confession that draws out the pink in his scar as he blushes. Biting into the meat of his lip, the man corrects himself with a quick, “I mean, I wanted to thank you.”

It’s surreal almost, as Keith looks over the surfer, heart kicking as if he’d seen a ghost and not the person he’d saved a mere 24 hours earlier. Even more so that he seems to think he owes something to him.

“You already did that,” Keith manages after a moment’s hesitance, his voice going breathy before he crosses his arms across his chest if only for something to do with his hands.

“Not just thank you,” the stranger’s words are a rush now as he looks down to collect himself briefly before returning his burnt silver stare to where it is burning a hole into Keith’s chest.

“You saved my life. You deserve more than just a simple thanks.”

Bright heat licks over the bridge of his nose as Keith opens his mouth to say something before finding that there isn’t anything there to say. Somehow, the man had stolen his words yet again with just the grace of his gratitude, and all Keith could think about was how he hadn’t even done it for him.

How could he be deserving of that kind of thanks when really, he had done it for himself and his own fear.

A low hiss pulls him back from his thoughts as the man mistakes his silence for something else altogether. Propping a hand on his hip, and pinching the bridge of his nose with the other, the expanse of his chest grew with his steadying breath before he spoke again.

“Let me start over,” he says as he dropped his hand and looked Keith over fully, offering it to him instead. Its metal catches the light with the same gleam of sunlight on water.

“Hi, I’m Shiro. And I’d really like to buy you dinner. It’s literally the least I can do.”

His hand is inviting and open as Keith drags his gaze back and forth between his shining stare and metallic hand.

He really shouldn’t, he knows. It feels like taking advantage of a man who almost died, and he’s sure that there’s a special place in Hell for those kinds of people. And if there isn’t, Keith is certain there’s got to be some kind of anti-fraternization rule that forbids him from accepting meals from hotel guests, no matter how attractive or who big their eyes have gotten in what is the single, most perfectly rendered puppy dog look he’s ever seen.

Keith knows what he should say.

Don’t worry about i.

It was nothing.

Anyone would have done the same.

All the same lines he’d used on his friends.

Yes, he knows what he should say.

He also knows what he’s going to say.

Reaching forward, and praying there’s nothing on his hands from the last room, he takes Shiro’s hand and offers him a smile.

“Alright,” he says, trying not to fathom his eyes into Polaris and Sirius. “I think I’d like that.”

***

“Keith,” Lance turns his name into a whine, drawing out the ‘e’ sound to a painful length as he leans over the suite’s table to watch as he works on the impressive gum collection the last guest’s children had manager to amass over the weekend.

“No,” is all he says as a large purple glob pops free and lands inelegantly on his sternum. The dull thud doesn’t help his mood as he groans, pinching it between his thumb and forefinger and tossing it in the small bag by his head.

“But Keith,” he tries again, hanging lower over the side of the table as if getting closer might help his case. It won’t, but Keith would be a liar if he said he didn’t enjoy the bright red that his face was turning as the blood rushed down into it.

“Nope,” Keith says, popping the ‘p’ as he dodged a falling wad of pink.

“Give it up, Lance. You know he isn’t going to say anything if he’d rather be on gum duty,” Pidge replies from where she sits beside the table, eyes trained on her phone instead of on the tragedy that is Keith’s life.

It had been a nonstop barrage of questions from Lance since he’d finally made his way back to their next room just in time to see his friends arguing over who should have to take the table. Offering to take it should have been his out, giving him some time alone beneath the protection of the table while the others worked. What Keith hadn’t taken into account, was just how much time he’d taken to try and collect himself after the surfer— no, Shiro— had disappeared down the hall with a small wave, Keith’s number in his pocket, and a promise on his lips.

I’ll text you the time and place, he’d said, effectively turning Keith into a wad of nerves not unlike the gum he was currently prying from the wood above him now. He’d taken just enough time to collect himself after that, but apparently it had been enough time for all the other chores to get completed, which now left him trapped beneath the table with Pidge and Lance flanking his position with an unending stream of inquiry if only because there was nothing else to distract them.

Or rather, to distract Lance.

Which was exactly why Pidge is his favorite.

“I just need to know where he’s taking you, please, throw a poor, single boy a bone,” Lance whines again, jutting his bottom lip out into a pout that would have been comical in normal circumstance, but turned upside down was just absolutely ridiculous.

Stabbing at one of the gum wads, Keith pulls the skewered rubber from the table just to fling it at his forehead.

“I don’t know,” he deadpans as Lance shrieked and pulled upward, disappearing above the table side.

“Fine, keep it to yourself,” his voice is a shade off of hurt as his legs disappear over the table as well. Keith doesn’t even need to look to know he’d be sitting crisscross applesauce above him, exaggerated pout still plastered to his face.

“See if I care when you go missing and the cops ask where your last known location was and I can’t tell them.”

“I thought you said he was probably rich.” Grunting quietly, Keith frees the last piece and drops it into his plastic bag before he pushes himself out from under the table. Quickly tying the bag, he ignores the way his knees pop as he stands fully.

“I’ve seen The Purge. I know the rich can also be murderers,” Lance replies as Keith turns to their cart. With a deft flick of his wrist, he tosses the gum into the large trashcan before offering a hand down to Pidge.

“Is it okay, though?” She asks quietly as she takes his hand, keeping the question between them and ignoring Lance as he pulled her to her feet. It’s a question not just meant for the moment. It’s all encompassing, arcing over his weekend in the same way it has blanketed his life and all her questions since his accident.

Are you okay, is really what she means.

The problem was that even Keith didn’t know.

Pulling his hand away from her grasp, he offers her a smile. It’s one that he knows doesn’t quite touch his eyes, if only because he sees the shadow that falls across hers.

“Of course,” he says easily with a slight shrug. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

Turning away from her burnt honey stare, Keith turns away before she can answer, grabbing their cart and pushing it toward the door. There’s a quiet sound behind him as Lance hops off the table, and he doesn’t need to turn around to know the look that they would be sharing.

Are you okay?

God, he wishes he knew.

“Now let’s get going,” Keith says, keeping his eyes trained ahead. “None of us can afford another writeup.”

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

#sheith #takashi shirogane #keith kogane #voltron #in short #surfer!keith has some problems with the ocean after a near death accident #fate and shiros own near death bring them together #and they help each other live #real light stuff ya know? #rated t for teen just like the movie aaaaye pg-13 ratings #some trauma talk but nothing in depth #and uh some smooches eventually #so i suppose also slowburn? #as slow of a burn as three chapters can be anyway lol

[asgardian--angels]

Melkor, Master of Black Holes: Could you be any More-goth?

So I was rereading the Silm and came upon a passage which I’m not sure how I ever missed:

“And there was strife between Melkor and the other Valar, and for that time Melkor withdrew and departed to other regions and did there what he would; but he did not put the desire of the Kingdom of Arda from his heart.”

-The Ainulindalë

It always takes some time to tease apart Tolkien’s vague wording, attempting to differentiate the jargon of Arda, Earth, Eä, The Void, The World That Is, and the so-called “habitation” for the Children of Ilúvatar, which are referred to countless times in this chapter. For reference, Arda, Earth, and the place of habitation are all the same place - our planet, while the Void is that place which lacks creation, where Eru and some Ainur dwell, and into which the Music filled and created Eä, also known as The World That Is, the known universe. So when Tolkien says ‘the World’ with that uppercase, we are referring to Arda, and all the rest of space that has creation in it, that lies within the Void but is not a part of it, etc etc. 

In this passage, it is described that while the Valar toiled over the new and barren Arda, Melkor gave up trying to seize it for his own for a time. He left ARDA, but it is not stated that he left EÄ - he could not, as once the Valar entered The World That Is, their power was bound to it until its completion (hence why exiling him to the Void was such a huge deal, and perhaps why some argue that he was only pushed out into space, not the true Void, as earlier drafts refer to space as the Void as well, creating two Voids... let’s not confuse ourselves here). So, Melkor departed to “other regions” of space. 

GUYS MELKOR WAS JUST FLOATING AROUND FUCKING SHIT UP IN SPACE FOR A WHILE THAT’S SO COOL

@samwise-po-tay-toe-gamgee and I were just thinking of him loving planets like Mercury, or creating giant volcanoes and storms on Mars or Jupiter. Having his way making the outer planets bitterly cold (I bet he entered Uranus at some point) and smashing all the rocks he likes, creating asteroid belts and sending comets with their icy tails careening through the galaxy. 

But wait - let’s think bigger than that. Suns. Full of energy, full of light. Oh, he would get creative with those. (And, while Varda is often heralded as the Vala who put stars in the sky, Tolkien established in the Ainulindalë that ‘innumerable stars’ did already exist in the universe). Mr. Melkor “I wanna punch the Sun” Bauglir would probably have done exactly that. Punch suns so hard they explode, into cosmically beautiful supernovas. The Valar would lament, but surely Eru looking down would smile. Those gas clouds would be the birthplace of galaxies. But Melkor could do even more. He would even perhaps harness their energy, draining it, letting it out into the universe or taking it into himself, leaving gigantic dying stars in his wake. Those stars would then collapse under their own gravity, unable to maintain nuclear fusion. And then?

Black holes. 

An entity so powerful it bends space and time around it, eating all matter, all light. If anyone could have created these, it would be Melkor. And it would have been a crowning achievement: taking a creation of Light, and forcing it to eat itself, becoming something from which light now cannot escape, something utterly Dark. A slap in the face to his brethren, Melkor would have smirked with satisfaction.

Then, Melkor “descended upon Arda in power and majesty greater than any other of the Valar,” taking on a visible raiment. But the way this is worded here in this passage and the following paragraph, made me think that he took this form before he entered Arda again, not after. Which, to me, presents a dazzling image of Melkor coalescing his fana of space rock and sunfire, stripping dust from the heavens themselves so that Earth may see its king stand proud and tall in a cloak of cosmic majesty, one that would surpass that of all his kin.

Supernovas, quasars, pulsars, brown dwarfs raining molten iron, black holes, and so much more. Who knows, maybe he even had a part in dark matter? The greatest spectacles of the universe, from his hand, while the other Valar lent all of their attention to Earth alone. Melkor may have just been the one to paint Eä with color, and fill it with mysteries. Even in this, he fulfilled his purpose. Destroying to create, recycling the matter of the universe. In fact, it’s now thought galaxies would not exist if not for the supermassive black holes at their center. Yet another thing his kin would never give him credit for, seeing only how he attacked that which they held sacred. But even so, it is these things which fascinate humankind today - all of Melkor’s creations, from volcanoes to glaciers, snowflakes and rainbows and hey, maybe even black holes. 

#melkor #morgoth #the silmarillion #my meta #also can i just squint real hard at the professor cause EA ... EARTH? #also mairon would have loved to go into space i wonder if they ever did but it seems unlikely #maybe after the dagorath yeah? #find a nice planet to settle on #unless they're scrapping the whole universe and starting over #also hey can i tell you more about black holes cause they're fucking AWESOME #god mairon would have loved suns with their nuclear fusion - it's literal alchemy in motion #hot date idea: center of the fucking sun

[immedtech]

Our favorite games of 2019

The end of 2019 is nigh, which means it's time for us to take stock of this year's crop of games. And it's been quite a year -- not quite the heights of 2017, to be sure, but still more than we here at Engadget can reasonably play between all the gadgets we review and events we attend. So rather than declare a list of winners, we'll tell you about the titles that captured our hearts and minds this year, the games of 2019 that made our days just a little better and will stick in our memories as we round the corner into the next decade and beyond.

Outer Wilds

Devindra Hardawar Senior Editor

You wake up by a campfire, staring at a night sky teeming with celestial activity. A green moon (or is it a planet?) is in the distance, a ship slowly disintegrates in space. The solar system seems vast, beautiful and dangerous all at the same time. That's your introduction to Outer Wilds, Mobius Digital's latest title that evokes the awe and terror of space exploration -- it's like 2001 meets Myst. You're an astronaut who wakes up in a small village on an Earth-like planet. Everything seems peaceful as you explore the area, looking for your ship's launch codes. Then, the sun goes supernova, every fiber of your being is reduced to space dust, and you wake up once more, right beside that campfire. 22 minutes later, it all happens again.

Turns out, you're stuck in a time loop. And you're the only person who can prevent the sun from exploding and wiping out your lovely little solar system. Luckily, you don't lose your memories between sessions, so, like Groundhog Day and Edge of Tomorrow (with a dash of Majora's Mask), your only choice is to die repeatedly until you solve the mystery.

While there's been a resurgence of slower, narrative-based games lately, like Firewatch and Gone Home, Outer Wilds isn't just a linear story. You can explore your solar system freely -- the game just gives you a few location hints to get started. That's its true magic: You pick a point in space, travel to it and hope it doesn't kill you before you can gather some decent intel. Along the way, you'll encounter some of the wildest celestial bodies you've ever seen: a planet smashed open with something impossible in its core, another with a massive ocean and huge cyclones that throw you back into space.

Outer Wilds is a game that demands patience and an adventurous spirit. It rarely holds your hand, and on many occasions, you'll find yourself dying just as you're on the cusp of a great discovery. But it promises adventure like nothing else this year. It's practically the perfect game for Xbox Game Pass -- it's harder to sell players on unique new narrative experiences when they have to pay full price for them. But as part of a subscription service, there's no reason not to give it a shot.

Gris

Marc DeAngelis Contributing Writer Editor's note: Gris was released at the end of last year, but after our deadline for the best games of 2018, so we're including it here.

Despite its promises of unrestrained creativity and artistry -- as well as my penchant for DIY and independent media -- the indie gaming scene never appealed to me, save for a few titles like Fez and Braid. But then came Gris, which combines relatively easy platforming, puzzle solving and startlingly beautiful visuals to form an experience that fluctuates between hypnotically relaxing and intensely dramatic. While it may not be much of a challenge, it's an absolute pleasure to play.

Gris initially grabbed my attention because one of my favorite artists, Conrad Roset, was its art director. Roset is a Spanish painter and illustrator who specializes in watercolor and ink portraits. He makes frequent use of the stark contrast between black ink and light paper or wood panels, and his minimalist splashes of color and intense brush strokes add a signature touch to his work. Prior to Gris, his most well-known work was a long-standing series of portraits called Muses. Roset borrowed from that project's style to design the game's main character, who has a mesmerizing hair style and a dress that undulates with the wind. His impressionist leanings also inform the terrain in which the game takes place -- deserts, oceans, forests and city ruins -- as well as the creatures that inhabit it.

As the player, your task is to collect orbs of light that grant the main character shape-shifting abilities. As she acquires more powers, she's able to reveal new pathways and progress through the game. But Gris isn't just about double-jumping and collecting items; giant, inky birds serve as boss battles -- or rather, chases -- and a bit of nightmare fuel. You can complete the whole game in about three hours, and it's easy enough for a non-gamer to play.

Gris makes me wish the video game industry featured more artists who have trained in and mastered traditional media. Games absolutely need skilled character designers and background artists. But they also need art direction that steps outside of stereotypes derived from cartoons and anime. Hopefully the success of Gris is an indication that there's an appetite for such a thing.

Star Wars Jedi: Fallen Order

Andrew Tarantola Senior Editor

Star Wars video games have held a special place in my heart for decades. One of my first and fondest gaming memories involved running amok through a Jawa Sandcrawler as Chewbacca in Super Star Wars for the SNES. The same was true with Knights of the Old Republic for the original Xbox -- I mean, it gave us HK47 and the "meatbag" reference. Heck, 2004's Battlefront to this day remains among my favorite games from that era. But with the insidious intrusion of microtransactions, LEGO-branded tie-ins and online-only play in recent years, I feared that Fallen Order would similarly fall to the Dark Side. Happily, I was as wrong about EA's latest Star Wars game as those pint-sized desert scavengers who, all those years ago, thought they could take on my 8-foot tall space Sasquatch armed with a plasma rifle.

Star Wars Jedi: Fallen Order is phenomenally fun. The story takes place after the Great Purge and you play as Cal Kestis, a former Jedi Padawan hiding out on a backwater planet, who is thrust into a life-or-death quest spanning the length and breadth of the entire galaxy. And while Cal himself has about as much charisma and gravitas as an MSE-6 droid at the start of the adventure, his growth throughout the story and eventual acceptance of his duty and fate as a Jedi is some top-notch space opera.

You'll swing, climb, jump and clamor across the faces of five planets, battling myriad hostile fauna, Imperial Troopers and droids along the way. That Cal is essentially limited to short range melee attacks while his enemies can rain blaster bolts upon him from halfway across the map only adds to the challenging combat calculus. I especially enjoyed the Metroid-esque exploration mechanics wherein you routinely return to previous planets to uncover new secrets and raid hidden stashes as you gain new powers.

My favorite aspect is the game's loot and character progression. None of the items are actually required in your first playthrough: crates, Force Echos, the whole shebang. You can play straight through the game, collect virtually nothing along the way and still arrive at the end with your stats maxed. There are no secret super weapons to acquire before facing the final boss, no grinding needed to unlock new powers and no nerf-herding pop-up screens demanding you fork over credits for stat boosts. There's nothing to buy. Outside of the occasional Stim crate (which increases your health regen capability) none of the stuff you find in the crates will even help you in your quest. Namely because all you can find are skins -- for customizing Cal's outfit, lightsaber, ship and even his robotic companion BD-1.

Fallen Order isn't just what I've been looking for in a Star Wars game, it's what I've been looking for in a single-player adventure title since Horizon: Zero Dawn came out. Between the deeply developed universe the story is set in, the varied and challenging combat scenarios and the fact that EA wasn't continually reaching for my wallet, Fallen Order is my 2019 Game of the Year.

Sayonara Wild Hearts

Kris Holt Contributing Writer

Sayonara Wild Hearts won me over before I even finished the first stage. It's a stunning, fast-paced adventure about a woman's attempt to restore balance to herself (and the universe) after she suffers heartbreak.

Much of the joy I get from Sayonara Wild Hearts is in having to quickly adapt to the frequent gameplay shifts. One second, you're dodging traffic and collecting hearts on a motorcycle; the next, you're in a sword fight. You'll be on your toes the entire time, but describing the mechanics too much would ruin a big chunk of the fun.

That said, it's much more about the overall experience than any of the neat gameplay ideas on display. There's an option to skip sections you find tricky (not that I did), and it feels like developer Simogo is determined to help you reach the emotional denouement.

And then there's the soundtrack: Each of the mostly short stages has its own techno-pop tune I just can't get enough of. SWH has only been out for a few months, and its songs dominated the list of my most-listened to tracks on Apple Music this year.

The care and creativity that Simogo infused into Sayonara Wild Hearts is palpable and infectious. It's part rhythm game, part shooter, part arcade racer and a dozen other things in between. It's a gorgeous, achingly cool ode to pop music and love that's an utter delight to play -- even if it is about repairing a broken heart.

Tetris 99

Ian Levenstein Database Editor

When Nintendo announced the impending arrival of Nintendo Switch Online last year, it looked like its selection would be sparse. Outside of the ability to play your Switch games online and some classic Nintendo games like Super Mario Bros. 3, Legend of Zelda and Dr. Mario, the idea of Switch Online exclusive titles wasn't broached at all. I wasn't thrilled, as pretty much all of the classics had been available at least 10 times before in multiple forms and formats. Then, in February 2019, with almost no warning, Nintendo announced Tetris 99 would be available... today. I didn't think a new version of Tetris (of all things) would make my $19.99 a year worth it. But boy was I wrong.

Tetris 99 is the most addictive game I have played in years. The basic concept is brilliant: turn Tetris, the single player puzzle title most of us have been playing since the Game Boy, into an online multiplayer battle royale against 98 other competitors. The first few times I played Tetris 99, I got hammered because I was too focused on my own game. I was clearing bricks line by line, forgetting the fact that there were other players playing alongside me. Once you start building up five or six rows at a time and then finishing them off with a perfectly placed piece is when the action gets good. But you also can't focus too much on the rest of the pack, or you'll manage to misplace a key block, and then it's game over.

You start playing and, before you know it, at least an hour has passed by (and sometimes two or three). While I am far from a veteran Tetris player, I take pride in making it to the Top 5 at least a few times over the past few months, and I have bitten-down nails to prove it. When the game speeds up, it becomes very difficult to keep apace. The game also made me appreciate my purchase of an 8Bitdo N30 Pro early into the lifecycle of the Nintendo Switch, as Nintendo's Pro Controller has a D-pad that is much more prone to slippage, and slippage means misplaced pieces.

Regular tournaments themed around new Switch releases, like Mario Maker or Pokémon Sword and Shield keep the look of the game interesting, and completing daily missions lets you collect tickets that you can use to unlock new themes, including one that looks just like Tetris on the Game Boy. There's also Marathon Tetris, the Big Block DLC that adds multiple CPU modes and Local Arena for playing with up to eight of your friends. Whether you choose to buy these modes or not, I feel the standard online play and Team Battle are more than enough to keep you interested and occupied for a long time to come. I certainly haven't stopped playing it yet, and don't plan to anytime soon, even as other Switch games sit there calling my name. I'll get to them soon, I swear, after I play five more rounds. Okay, ten more rounds. Maybe fifteen.

Judgment

Nick Summers Senior Editor

I love the Yakuza franchise, but after seven mainline entries and a handful of excellent remasters, I needed a break. Evidently, Japanese developer Ryu ga Gotoku (RGG) Studio felt the same way, which is why it made the detective-themed Judgment (titled Judge Eyes in Japan) before moving on to Yakuza: Like a Dragon. Surprisingly, Judgment isn't a huge departure from the proven and largely beloved Yakuza formula. The game is still set in Kamurocho and the murder-filled mystery features plenty of Japanese crime lords. The hero, though -- a lawyer-turned-private detective called Takayuki Yagami -- and his crime-solving techniques change the experience in small but welcome ways.

He will often tail suspects to find out who they're working with or the location of a case-critical hideout. Some targets will also spot Yagami and flee, forcing the leather jacket-wearing hero to give chase in a simplistic, auto-runner-inspired pursuit. There are quieter moments, too, that shift the game into a first-person perspective and force you to scour the environment for clues. It's not the most challenging task -- move the camera enough and Yagami will highlight everything of interest -- but it's a welcome break from the bombastic fisticuffs combat.

The best part of Judgment, though, is its story. Yagami's quest to find "the mole," an apparent assassin that claws at its enemies and then burrows back into the darkness, is a captivating journey filled with twists that are surprising, logical and satisfying. It's broken into 13 chapters that feel like episodes of a prestige series on HBO or Netflix. There's even an opening sequence that feels like a mashup of Naruto and True Detective. I've never had a problem with Yakuza's writing -- some of the games have brilliant stories, actually -- but Judgment takes RGG Studio's narrative chops to a new high.

If you fancy a break from the central mystery, Kamurocho has plenty of optional side-missions to tackle. Like the Yakuza series, they're often zany and surprisingly heart-warming -- a subtle reminder that Yagami's story, while thrilling, is only one of many taking place across the city. There's also a slew of stores and restaurants to explore, as well as various mini-games to master including shogi (Japanese chess), drone racing and a VR-powered board game. I won't claim that Judgment is the undeniable Game of 2019, but it's the one I've had the most fun with this year. If you own a PS4, it's well worth delving into over the holiday.

Fire Emblem: Three Houses

Mariella Moon Associate Editor

I knew from the moment Fire Emblem: Three Houses was announced that I was going to buy a Switch for it. I've played almost every DS and 3DS game in the franchise, and there was no way I'd miss its latest entry. However, while I loved and enjoyed each and every one of them, a big part of why I play Fire Emblem games is to fill the Suikoden-shaped hole in my heart -- and Three Houses came the closest to patching it up.

Suikoden, a Japanese RPG series by Konami, features turn-based and strategy combat that's very similar to Fire Emblem's. Suikoden 2 was the first game I played in the series, and I fell in love with its complex characters, rich lore and plot, which made me ponder the atrocities of war and morality of "the end justifies the means" as a young teen. Unfortunately, with Konami's decision to focus on mobile and pachinko games, we'll likely never see another entry: Suikoden V, the last game in the series, was released way back in 2006.

That brings us back to Fire Emblem. While I enjoyed the new mechanics introduced in Awakening and spent 300 hours playing Fates -- half of which I genuinely enjoyed and half of which I spent mindlessly grinding -- neither was truly able to scratch that Suikoden itch. Three Houses did, however, probably because it features more traditional RPG elements than its predecessors.

It has more specific similarities, as well. Like in Suikoden, you can explore your base and recruit characters outside the battlefield by fulfilling certain conditions. The Battalions in the game, a new feature introduced in Three Houses, also use attacks and formations similar to Suikoden's war units for its strategy battles.

Don't get me wrong: I'd still pick Three Houses as my favorite game for 2019 even if I wasn't a desperate Suikoden fan. It has an engaging storyline and what I find to be the most memorable cast of characters in Fire Emblem. While things tend to get repetitive in the first half, it still has good replay value, especially considering that it's sold and packaged as a single game. Fates, if you'll recall, was sold as three separate games. The fact that it brings back memories of a series I grew up playing, however, gave me an instant emotional connection to it and amped up my enjoyment.

Sekiro: Shadows Die Twice

Igor Bonifacic Contributing Writer

There's a moment in Sekiro: Shadows Die Twice that comes at a different point for everyone who plays it. It's the instant where the game's combat mechanics finally click. You forget whatever you may have learned in the FromSoftware's past titles like Dark Souls and Bloodborne, and approach Sekiro on its own terms.

For me, that moment came when I finally beat one of Sekiro's early bosses, a fearsome samurai lord named Genichiro Ashina. It took me the better part of two days to take him down, but when I did, I felt like I had climbed a mountain.

A lot of games set out and accomplish the same things as Sekiro. But not as easily or confidently. That sense of accomplishment you get when you master a game's systems is something FromSoftware has built its reputation on. It's one of the reasons so many people love the studio's games. And yet how Sekiro delivers that moment feels different than any other From game in the past decade.

Not only is the gameplay different, but the narrative stakes are also plainly laid out. You're attempting to save the ward and adoptive son of the game's protagonist. It feels personal and human. It's a small thing, but it's the humanity of Sekiro that resonated with me and made it one of the most enjoyable games I have played this year.

Untitled Goose Game

Kris Naudus Buyer's Guide Editor

Okay, let's get this out of the way: HONK. HONK HONK HONK. :flaps wings, steals your glasses:

Untitled Goose Game is more than just a game, it's a genuine phenomenon. Even if you haven't played it, you've probably encountered one of the many memes and think pieces that have been posted in the wake of its release. It's the breakout hit of 2019. But is it a good game?

HONK. (Yes.)

The graphics aren't flashy, the music is just Debussy and the goose handles like a dump truck. But all of these things combine into a package exceedingly charming and joyful. Maliciously joyful, anyway. One of the appeals of the game is how absolutely simple and universal the concept is: Geese are assholes. We've all been terrorized by this large waterfowl at some point or another, so there's a catharsis in assuming the role of one. "I am the goose now. HONK."

And it's actually challenging. Who would have thought that a goose would be the star of a stealth game, but here we are. It's also achingly self-aware of what type of game it is, which is why at one point you will need to hide in a box. HONK.

Then there's the ending. Bet you didn't think you could be surprised by a game where your objective is to do things like steal slippers and dress up statues, but anything that gets me slapping my forehead and exclaiming "of course" will stick in my memory and my heart for years.

HONK.

Astral Chain

Aaron Souppouris Executive Editor

Fire Emblem: Three Houses is the best game of the year. But a colleague has already written about that, so I'm going to pick another favorite: PlatinumGames' Astral Chain. I was on the fence about it from the day the first trailer came out until a few hours into my playthrough. It all felt a little too obvious, almost a paint-by-numbers rendition of a PlatinumGames title. I needn't have been so worried: It's mechanically one of the more original games to come from the developer in recent years.

In a future where humanity is under threat from creatures called Chimera, you play as an officer in a special task force established to deal with other-worldly attacks. You'll investigate disturbances and then enter the astral plane to fight various beasts. Through the course of the game, you'll tame a number of special Chimera, and then be able to summon them to fight for you. Encounters play out with you simultaneously controlling both your character and the Legion to deal with waves of mobs and larger, more challenging enemies. You're bound to your Legion by a leash (or an astral chain), which you can also use to bind enemies. You'll also need to use your Legion(s) to solve crimes, traverse environments and work around obstacles, as each has a unique trait, such as the ability to move large objects, track scents or fire arrows.

I've heard a bunch of people say that Astral Chain looks generic, and while it does lean heavily into a specific anime-inspired 3D style we've seen from a lot of Japanese games over the past decade, the characters and environments felt unique to me. If anything, the "future cop" aesthetic brought to mind '90s titles like Burning Rangers more than contemporary games. (I'd like to take this opportunity to apologize for incessantly pitching my colleagues on a Burning Rangers reboot for weeks after Astral Chain was released.)

Astral Chain sticks closely to a loop of detective work, platforming puzzles and combat -- a little too closely if I'm being critical -- with the game split into cases that serve as chapters. The story starts off well enough but quickly devolves into a mashup of various anime tropes, including several story beats ripped straight from Neon Genesis Evangelion. It's the minute-to-minute gameplay that kept me coming back: The combat is engaging and dynamic enough to see you through the (20-hour or so) campaign and beyond. There's also a ranking system and some challenging end-game content to keep you occupied.

Does Astral Chain reach the heights of Nier: Automata, the last PlatinumGames title I chose for game of the year? No, not at all, but its combat and environments often surpass that game, which is probably my favorite of this generation. I'm not sure it'll go down in history as one of the greats, but even in a year with updates to my favorite series (Fire Emblem and Pokémon) and a remake of one of my most-loved games (Link's Awakening), Astral Chain still stood out.

ENGADGET'S YEAR IN REVIEW 2019

The best gadgets of 2019

Spotify's podcast power play

Our favorite games of 2019

Tuesday 24th: Streaming won't get cheaper or easier

Tuesday 24th: 2020 is VR's make-or-break year

Wednesday 25th: The Big Picture

Wednesday 25th: Hitting the books

Wednesday 25th: The best user reviews of 2019

Thursday 26th: How Twitch lost its grip on game streaming

Thursday 26th: The worst gadgets of 2019

Friday 27th: Apple started giving people what they want

Friday 27th: 2019 was the year tech CEOs lost their luster

Saturday 28th: This wasn't the year of foldables after all

Sunday 29th: The calm before the EV storm

Monday 30th: Googles best phone in 2019 was its cheapest

Monday 30th: Gaming in 2009 versus 2019

Tuesday 31st: The year in cameras

Tuesday 31st: Tech that defined the decade

- Repost from: engadget Post

#ITlive #engadget #Our favorite games of 2019