#this doesn’t Technically count as spoilers. like at all this has just been the general vibe since season 3

[twistedminutia]

Twst Talk: Hometown Events

This is more or less just me rambling about the hometown events and who might get one next (and who it might include.) This post will include spoilers for hometown have events that have not been announced on the EN server yet, so if that’s not something you want to see, stop reading now!

So far, we have gotten hometown events for Epel, Kalim and Jamil, Leona, and Deuce. These events have taken us to the Shaftlands, the Scalding Sands, the Sunset Savannah, and the Queendom of Roses. The only major continent we haven’t visited yet is the Sunshine Lands/Kingdom of Heroes (plus the Land of the Dawning, if you don’t count Sage Island as a part of that island already) and that seems to be the only continent we don’t have students from. These are also all lands that seem to be the most ‘accessible’ for lack of a better word. Briar Valley is the homeland of the fae, and it seems to generally be isolated, and the Coral Sea is, of course, underwater, necessitating the use of potions to go there.

Now, it’s possible that these aren’t going to be our next hometown events. In theory, we still could get events for characters like Vil or Cater, who live in the Shaftlands but not in Harveston, or Riddle and Trey, who live in the Queendom of Roses, but not Clock Town. Idia and Ortho are also wild cards in this, because we technically visited their hometown in Book 6 and it’s also supposed to be secret, so it’s not like they’re inviting friends over on the reg. Though I suppose this could also be handwaved if it happens post Book 6 by saying the students know about it already… but regardless, I think it’s likely TWST will cover all major areas of Twisted Wonderland before doubling back.

So if either the Coral Sea or Briar Valley are on the roster next, which one is first? Well, my money is for the Coral Sea. If the event comes out prior to the conclusion of Book 7, then it makes sense for it to steer clear of Briar Valley for potential spoiler reasons, or for the other reason I think they’ll hold off on the BV hometown event even if Book 7 is completed by then: they probably will want to take some time off of the Diasomnia focus so people don’t get too fatigued by it. I think having Book 7 AND a Briar Valley event at the same time or back to back would be too much at once.

Looking at the Coral Sea event, then, our next thought is: who’s going? Obviously, one of our Octavinelle boys is in. Jade is the least likely, since he’s already been in a hometown event (though this doesn’t rule him out entirely, since Kalim has been in his own hometown event and Leona’s hometown event). That leaves Azul and Floyd. My guess is for Azul. He’s popular, this would be a good event to show off his merform, and I have a hard time seeing Floyd going on his own to the Coral Sea and leaving Jade on land. However, I could also see Jade and Floyd going together without Azul.

Who would the guests be? Well, let’s look at who hasn’t been to a hometown event yet. People who have been in the events so far are: Epel, Idia, Jade, Sebek, Jamil, Kalim, Cater, Trey, Malleus, Leona, Vil, Jack, Lilia, Deuce, Ortho, Silver. Epel and Kalim have both been in two hometown events, one as host and one as guest, which makes them doubly unlikely to be picked. People who haven’t been in hometown events so far are: Ace, Riddle, Ruggie, Azul, Floyd, and Rook. Adding people who have only hosted (and are therefore still eligible to be guests in someone else’s hometown event) gives us Jamil, Leona, and Deuce. Not a massive list. Interestingly, Ignihyde and Diasomnia are the only dorms to have all of their members be guests in hometown events.

What does this sample tell us about the rules of hometown event guests? Well, there are always four to five people in every hometown event (four in Harveston and Clock Town, five in Tamashina-mina and the Scalding Sands.) It also seems like hosting your own hometown event doesn’t prevent you from being a guest in someone else’s, but being a guest in someone’s hometown even prevents you from being a guest elsewhere. This is probably not a hard and fast rule and is more to prevent card spreads from being too uneven. This also means that, because Azul and Floyd have been in no hometown events so far, they could both host their own event and be in the Briar Valley event back to back.

So potential guests for the Coral Sea hometown event are Ace, Deuce, Riddle, Ruggie, Leona, Jamil, and Rook. Anyone who gets picked for the Coral Sea event will not be picked for the Briar Valley event too, and there are seven options, so it seems to me that anyone who isn’t going to the Coral Sea will go to Briar Valley.

Now, these opinions aren’t really meant to be predictive so much as they are meant to just be, well, my opinions. Personally, I’d like to see Riddle in the Coral Sea event, along with Ace. Riddle because I think it would be hilarious if Floyd was hosting, and Ace because I think it would be fun to have a callback to Book 3, where he pretends to be a fan of merfolk. As for Briar Valley, I think Leona and Deuce would be good choices. Leona because, again, I think it would be funny if Malleus is hosting, and Deuce because he has a relatively positive relationship with Malleus in canon, and I think it would be cool to see him in Briar Valley. Admittedly both of these ideas rest on Malleus hosting, but I do still like the idea of them going to Briar Valley no matter who the host is.

I don’t have strong feelings about Rook, Jamil, or Ruggie. I lean Coral Sea for Jamil, if only because I think it’s funny when he interacts with Azul, and for Ruggie bc I just can’t see him being comfortable in Briar Valley. He knows when he’s outmatched. That puts Rook in Briar Valley. I’d like to give a preemptive apology to all the fae he is already hunting.

Speaking of Briar Valley, who’d host that event? In my mind, it’s a tossup between Malleus and Sebek. Yes, anyone from Diasomnia has an equal shot at the position, since they’ve all been in one event already, but Lilia and Silver strike me as the people with the least reason to go back to Briar Valley. They only have each other and Malleus, all of which are at school. Theoretically, Lilia could be called back for some kind of general duties, but unless he’s going with someone else, I don’t see him taking a bunch of classmates with him for that.

Malleus and Sebek both have decent reasons to need to return to the Valley. Malleus could have any number of princely duties to attend to, and might want to invite some friends along. Sebek has his family, who might call him home for any number of reasons. In my mind, Sebek is actually the most likely option for this reason, though this may also be because I think the character most likely to be introduced in a Briar Valley hometown event is Sebek’s dad. (No, no, hear me out- I know we want Maleficia, but I think she’s too important a character to introduce in a hometown event AND Leona’s hometown event is the only one to introduce a male character so far IT ALL FITS.) I could also see Malleus and Sebek hosting the event together, with Malleus leaving the guests in Sebek’s hands as he tends to his duties.

This was a long, rambling post that more or less sums up my thoughts on what might be coming up in the TWST hometown events. Agree? Disagree? I want to know what you guys think! Let me know!

#twisted wonderland #twst #twisted wonderland analysis #twst book 6 #book 6 spoilers #JP spoilers #twst event spoilers #hometown events

[riahlynn101]

Rest

Summary:  In which, nothing goes anyone’s way. All for One regrets ever starting a family, All Might loses someone important to him, and Inko gives up.

Trigger warnings: Talk of suicide, major character death, child death (technically), war, and excessive violence.

(Sort of) Spoilers for MHA chapters 357-364.

Word count: 5,088

--

U.A. has always been a source of pride for the citizens of Musutafu (and oftentimes Japan as a whole). The building was built sometime in the latter-half of the twenty-third century and was one of the first of its kind. With a state-of-the-art security system, an ever-expanding, “proven” curriculum for everything from general studies to the hero course, and a budget that rivaled the Japanese army’s own, it’s safe to say that U.A. has earned its title as one of the best secondary schools to send your children to.

Or at least it had been. 

Right up until the war broke out. 

Then, U.A. became a nearly impenetrable fortress to protect the residents of Musutafu. Dorms-more specifically the hero students’ dorms (as there’s no guarantee that they’ll ever return)-were cleaned out, all student belongings being collected in cardboard boxes and packed in a large, abandoned supply closet, and then certain residents (usually with a larger importance than just a regular civilian) were moved in.

As for the rest of the residents that were not labeled as important or high-ranking, they were packed together in U.A’s (very large but still too-small) gymnasium. Emergency-use cots lined the room in uneven rows, as even though the workers (heroes whose quirks were better suited to helping the civilians than fighting a war and the occasional volunteer) tried to keep everything nice and neat, the kids with too-much pent-up energy and anxiety regarding the fate of the rest of their (hopefully) long lives would just end up messing it up again when they ran in between the beds. 

Upon arriving at the shelter, they were given (based on how many people were in your family and their ages) a day-and-a-half’s worth of food and water, blankets, and (in the case of those that got to the shelter after the war already started) some clean clothes. 

It isn’t much, but also, at the same time, way more than any of them expected.

Inko worries her bottom lip, the skin becoming red and irritated from the repeated motion. She would stop, but the only thing she can do right now is worry. Well, worry and offer the occasional word of comfort to Mitsuki who hasn’t heard anything from her son either.

Sometimes, when announcements on the outside are scarce, Inko will sit and talk for hours with her old friend. It helps pass the time, and it’s not like Mitsuki has ever needed any extra encouragement to keep the conversation flowing. 

But today, for some reason, her friend doesn’t look to be in the talking mood. Inko isn’t entirely sure what the volunteers told Mitsuki after they pulled her and her husband aside, but in the couple of hours since, her friend hasn’t stopped crying. 

And Mitsuki never cries. Ever.

At least not in public, but it’s not like she can escape to anywhere else. It’s likely that their house has been destroyed, collateral damage to a war none of them have any part in (except for their loved ones fighting to keep them safe). The one and only thing that could possibly make Mitsuki so upset would be Katsuki-Kun’s death. But that thought’s so utterly ridiculous, that Inko pushes it out of her mind immediately. 

Because if someone as volatile, hot-headed, and competitive as Katsuki-Kun could be squashed, what hope did her too sweet, too giving little boy have?

So, here Inko sits on the edge of her cot, eyeing the rest of the families that didn’t get separated by stupid things such as moral obligation and distance. She tries to block out her friend’s crying, but it’s the only thing she can focus on. Until Inko can’t take it anymore and places her delicate hands over her ears. 

She shuts her eyes and pretends she’s back home in their decently sized apartment in Musutafu. Izuku hasn’t sold his soul to heroics and is content with watching the pro heroes from the sidelines. Hisashi is there too, more present than he has been in the past seven years. 

They’re there, together, happy, and that’s more than Inko could ever hope for.

And, of course, like all the good things in her life, it doesn’t last for long. 

Someone is tapping her on the shoulder. She opens her eyes, and slowly removes her hands from her ears. A volunteer stands in front of her. A woman with neon-pink hair and gray eyes asks her to step into a nearby room. 

The very same room that Mitsuki and her husband were led to earlier that day. 

She fights down the urge to demand if her son, her Izuku, is still alive, because she isn’t sure her heart can handle the stress of not knowing any longer. But she’s too exhausted and wound up to start any fights, so Inko follows after the pink-haired volunteer.

Despite the woman’s words, Inko isn’t led to the side room that her friend had been but to another door that leads deeper into U.A.

Even being granted safety in U.A. came with a few stipulations. One of which being that, under no circumstances, were civilians to be given access to anything past the dorms (with other caveats) or gymnasium. 

“Uh, Miss, I don’t think I’m allowed this way,” Inko says, holding her balled-up hands close to her chest. 

The pink-haired woman offers her a reassuring smile and says something about this being a “special circumstance.”

That hardly eases Inko’s nervous stomach, but she nods along anyway. 

She’s led further and further into the school. Down winding hallways and passed locked classrooms. Inko vaguely wonders if one day soon the students here will have a chance at returning to their studies. Though, given how they’ve been treated little more than cannon fodder, she wouldn’t blame them if they didn’t.

“Right here,” the woman tells Inko. They’ve stopped in front of a door labeled: Principal Nedzu. The woman’s eyes have nothing but pity in them, and that hardly makes Inko feel any better. “Goodluck,” she says.

Inko can’t muster up the words to be polite, so she gives a curt nod instead. The woman leaves her alone shortly after that, and it’s solely up to Inko to make the first move to find out why she’s been summoned to the principal’s office (of all places and of all people). 

Her fist hovers over the solid, oak door. For perhaps a tad too long, because a commanding (but clear) voice tells her to come in. 

The first thing Inko takes notice of when she enters the office is, of course, Principal Nedzu. He’s standing (not sitting) on his desk. He wears a somber expression on his face, and his ears flatten against his head when their eyes meet. 

The second, third, and fourth thing she notices is All Might, in all his preretirement glory, standing off to the side of the principal’s desk. Her absentee husband-covered in sweat and dirt and wearing some kind of sash that’s reminiscent of ancient Rome or Greece-sitting in an armchair in the corner of the office. And the last thing is the small-equally dirty-child he’s holding tightly to his chest. 

Even curled up, Inko catches a glimpse of curly, white hair. She looks to her husband, wanting, no, needing some kind of explanation for what’s going on. 

“All Might?” She asks, once it becomes obvious her husband has no immediate explanation. 

“Midoriya-San,” Principal Nedzu starts, walking to the edge of his desk to place a gentle paw on her arm, “a lot has happened over the course of the last few hours. It’s probably best if you sit down.”

“What…what’s happened? Where’s my baby?” She shoots Hisashi an anxiety-ridden glance. “Hisashi, who is that? Do you know where Izuku is?”

“Midoriya-San, please take a seat,” Principal Nedzu insists. 

She does so, but only because Inko is certain she’ll faint if she doesn’t. The worry is starting to take its toll on her. 

“Now then,” he says, once she’s situated in the chair ten feet or so away from Hisashi. “I believe explanations are in order.” He hops off his desk, and onto All Might’s shoulders. Her son’s mentor hardly flinches at the motion, evidently used to it. 

“Young Midoriya is still alive, for now,” All Might tells her. The for now burns into her mind, and she has to force herself to stay quiet for the entire explanation. “He was coming back from a small trip on a nearby island to gather intel, and ran into some trouble.” All Might looks over at Hisashi, disgust written all over his face. “Your husband can explain the rest.”

Inko shifts in her seat, eyes pleading with her husband to make it all make sense. She can forgive so much, but if she finds out Hisashi was complicit in any way in hurting their baby, it’s over. 

He stares back at her, red eyes frightened and unsure. “Inko, my love, I am so, so sorry,” he says, voice strained. 

“Save it, Hisashi. Just…just please tell me where our son is. Please.”

He audibly gulps, looking down at the small child on his lap. “I…I only wanted to save him. But there was so little I could do.” Tears well up in his eyes but don’t fall. Hisashi holds the child closer. “It’s his fault!” 

“It was the only way,” All Might starts to explain, paying little mind to her husband’s theatrics. “Shigaraki is too strong-”

“It’s still your fault!” Hisashi shouts, face reddening further. 

“It’s not,” he assures her, still ignoring Hisashi. “I think it’s time I explain your son’s quirk. How much do you know about One for All?”

Inko is still processing her husband’s bizarre behavior when he asks the question. In all their years of being together, Hisashi has always managed to keep his composure. The metaphorical rock in their marriage. The idea of what could possibly have him so rattled and All Might’s earlier words about her son not being dead yet has her more than a little shaken up. 

“Is…is that what it’s called? He just said it was a genetic mutation. Never gave it a name.”

All Might bends down to her height, Principal Nedzu holding tightly to his hair to keep from falling off. “Right,” he laughs in spite of the situation, “that kid. As I’m sure you assumed it wasn’t a genetic mutation. It’s kind of hard to explain, but in short, it’s a stockpiling quirk mixed with a transference quirk that has been passed along eight times. Nine, if we count Young Midoriya. It was created approximately two hundred years ago after the villain All for One forced the aforementioned stockpiling ability onto his younger brother.”

“Wha…Hisashi?” She cranes her neck to look behind All Might. Her husband, much like their son, is an avid quirk enthusiast. If such a thing exists, he’d know.

He avoids her gaze. “One for All was my little brother’s quirk,” is all he says. 

But that doesn’t make any sense. Hisashi is forty-something and can’t possibly be a villain. 

“I don’t…I’m not following. Are you saying my husband is the infamous two-hundred-year-old villain, All for One? The same villain that forced you into retirement?”

Principal Nedzu is the first to answer, as both All Might and Hisashi have taken to not talking. “That’s exactly what he’s saying.”

She laughs hysterically, startling nearly everyone except the sleeping child. “No…no!” She cackles, leaning her head back to stare at the water-stained ceiling. “That’s ridiculous!”

“They’re telling the truth, love,” her husband says. “I never wanted you or Izuku involved. I never wanted to hurt you guys.”

“Too late for that,” All Might grumbles under his breath. 

“And Izuku?”

“You’ve heard of Nomu, right?” All Might asks. When she nods, he continues, “well, your husband was the main benefactor behind their funding and research. Him and a Dr.Garaki. Their research got to such a point that these creatures started to gain some semblance of intelligence and higher reasoning. On someone’s orders, we don’t know who yet, they intercepted your son on his way back. He fought back, but….”

Inko sits up, nails digging into the armrests. “But?”

“But it wasn’t enough. He got away, but not without sustaining some major injuries. He called me, and we met up in one of the few buildings still standing and out of range of the different battles.” All Might closes his eyes, grimacing. “There was…” he shakes his head lightly, “...so much blood. Young Midoriya gets hurt so often and always bounces back. It’s…It’s kind of hard to imagine any scenario where he can’t.”

“Can’t,” Inko repeats, tears falling from her eyes. Her voice breaks, and her bottom lip wobbles at the implication that her son, her baby couldn’t continue on. Because he would have, if he was able. Izuku doesn’t just give up. Never has. Never will. 

“He apparently saw the amount of damage that Shigaraki was inflicting and begged me to help the heroes out.” 

“But you’re retired.”

“Yes, well, Young Midoriya thought it would be in Japan’s best interest if I…” All Might’s voice cracks, he looks at the door rather than her. Principal Nedzu frowns. “If I take back One for All.”

Inko smiles. “Is that all? You didn’t leave him there, did you?”

“No but taking back the quirk has devastating effects on the person giving it back. It’s never been done before, so I didn’t know all the potential side-effects. One for All tends to suck the life out of the person wielding it when it’s passed along. Hence why I lost any ability to do hero work after the battle in Kamino.”

Inko shifts in her seat, the nervous feeling returning ten-fold. “But you’re still alive,” she says, trying to reassure herself. “Quirk or no quirk, I’ll be happy just to have my son back.”

All Might squeezes his eyes shut. “Before I got One for All, I was quirkless. Which helped me be able to harness the power and energy within the quirk and be able to hand it off without it affecting my health too much.” Seeing Inko’s incredulous look, he adds, “most of my previous health issues were due to fighting your husband seven years ago.”

And that, that lines up way too perfectly. Inko stares down at her lap. Something occurs to her. “Izuku, though, he’s quirkless.” 

“Apparently not. He had a hidden quirk this whole time. One that just needed the right opportunity to present itself. Unfortunately this means when Young Midoriya passed One for All back to me, the backlash of the quirk leaving him, caused his already weakened and injured form to come very, very close to death.”

Inko says nothing. Just stares vacantly at the wall across from the desk. 

“Through a series of unrelated events, I found them,” Hisashi says. “I was severely injured during my fight with that big, blond oaf and couldn’t come home. It was only today, during a battle against the number one hero, that I was able to use a rewind quirk that the doctor copied from a bullet. This quirk comes with the downside of slowly turning me younger and younger until there’s nothing left of me. I can usually avoid the disadvantages of the quirks I ‘borrow,’ as my body is built to handle and use all the many different types of abilities. But for whatever reason, I don’t have immunity from rewind. The minute I activated it, my time started ticking.”

Inko places her face in her hands. She allows herself to weep. Not only has she lost her baby, but she’s also losing her husband, who despite all his transgressions, is still the love of her life (but she wouldn’t stop All Might if he tried to punch him). She’s going to be left all alone, wondering where she went wrong.

“Oh, Midoriya-San,” Principal Nedzu says, patting her head comfortingly. 

“Please, don’t fret, my dear, I’m over two hundred-years-old. I’m not going anywhere for a little bit.”

Inko continues to weep, shoulders wracking with each shaky inhale and exhale. 

“Midoriya-San, your husband found me and Young Midoriya. I don’t know how, but he did. He saw the state your son was in, and used rewind on him.” 

“You killed our son!?” Inko is quick to get to her feet. She glares daggers at Hisashi, the sudden urge to use her quirk and pull him apart piece-by-bloody-piece is almost overwhelming. Inko only gets a few feet closer before All Might is holding her back, arms held down at her sides. She sobs, begging her son’s mentor to let her kill the bastard that took her baby from her. 

Hisashi, for his part, looks at her. Tears slide down his cheeks, he smiles shakily at her. “I….I wanted to bring him home.” He looks down at the child on his lap. “He had a variation of All for One,” he speaks fondly, carding his fingers through the boy’s curly hair. “One that was mixed with your quirk. He truly is a perfect mix of both of us, huh?”

Inko stops struggling. “Izuku?” 

Her husband doesn’t say anything, but he doesn’t have to. She wriggles out of All Might’s grasp, hurrying over to join her son and husband. Hisashi adjusts in the chair to allow her a better look at the sleeping child. 

The child is most definitely their Izuku. With his diamond-spotted freckles and wild curls, the only difference being his hair is now white instead of his signature turquoise. He whimpers, grabbing onto Hisashi.

“Shhh…it’s okay. It’s okay,” Hisashi murmurs, stroking their son’s head. 

“Izu, baby, it’s mom. Can you open your eyes?” Inko asks, leaning over the arm of the chair. 

Izuku coughs, shivering, and it’s then that Inko sees that he’s dressed in little more than the rags from his hero costume. “Mommy…?” Green eyes so unlike hers, but oh, so familiar at the same time slowly open. 

His eyes are glassy and unfocused, not staying fixed to any particular person or thing. But the minute he sees her, Izuku smiles. 

“Mommy…I…I’ve missed you,” he says, in a voice that Inko can only recall from old home videos and nearly forgotten memories. “Daddy said I’d get to see you again, and he’s never wrong.”

She places a trembling hand on their son’s freckled cheek. “Izuku, baby, I’m…” Inko trails off, words failing her. This could be her final moments with their son (and perhaps her husband, because if what they are saying is true, then it’s very likely they’ll keep him locked up somewhere until he dies). “I’ve missed you a lot too,” she finishes. 

“Mommy,” Izuku says after a moment of absolute silence, “I’m very tired.” 

“Oh,” she says, mind going blank. Inko looks up at her husband, and from the way he shakes his head and nagging feeling in the pit of her stomach, she just knows that if Izuku falls asleep again, he won’t be waking up. “Can you stay awake for a little longer?” She asks, reaching out to gather him up in her arms. 

Hisashi is hesitant but relents when Inko glares at him. 

Izuku gives a little nod, grabbing onto her once he’s switched between his parents. “Okay, mommy,” he says. “I’ll stay awake for you.”

She bounces him in her arms. The motion used to make him erupt into giggles way back when, but now Izuku barely cracks a smile. “Oh, my baby,” she croons, sadly. “I always wished to be able to hold you again but….” Inko suppresses the urge to cry (which is especially hard for her), pulling her son closer. Her chest feels tight and the lump in her throat grows with every moment drawing nearer and nearer to the inevitable. 

She kisses the crown of Izuku’s head and breathes in the coppery scent of blood and heavy smoke. The urge to cry and scream and damn everyone who dared take her baby away from her lays upon Inko like an oppressive force. “Izuku,” she murmurs into his curls. 

He shifts, the only sign he hasn’t fallen asleep. 

A hand is laid on her shoulder. “Midoriya-San?” All Might asks, tone oddly timid. At some point the principal must have returned to his desk, because he isn’t on All Might’s shoulders.

She turns slowly, holding Izuku tightly (perhaps a little too tightly) to her chest. As if holding on with all her might will prevent death from laying claim to her baby. Only once Inko is staring at him, expressive eyes devoid of joy, does All Might ask a favor.

“Midoriya-San, I know I have no right to ask this of you. But…I…Young Midoriya was- is like a son to me. I was hoping I could hold him for a minute. Just to say goodbye.”

No! She wants to scream. You’re the reason, the main reason, why Hisashi and she are about to lose their baby.

But, fortunately for All Might, the rational part of her brain wins out. Inko supposes, for as much time as her son’s mentor spent with him, he should be able to say goodbye. 

It takes all her strength to hand her son over, and all her willpower not to lunge at him when Izuku calls for her and Hisashi. 

Of course, having the memories (did rewind do that? Or was Izuku so injured he suffered some form of amnesia?) of a preschooler it’s unlikely he’d remember his mentor. Still the man tries his hardest to make Izuku comfortable. 

He talks to Izuku in his pro hero voice. The one that Izuku used to practice for hours and try to imitate. 

“My boy,” All Might says, laying a hand on top of Izuku's head, “you’ve more than proven yourself, time and time again. I know I don’t say it enough, but I…” He lets out a hollow-sounding laugh. “I am so proud of you.” All Might gently kisses Izuku’s forehead. “I hope, wherever you end up, I can make you half as proud.” He, with the face of someone who’s lost it all, places Izuku back into her arms. 

Without so much as a word or a wave, All Might hurries from the room. Principal Nedzu watches him leave, concern written clearly across his face. 

“I’ll leave you three alone for a bit,” he says, hopping down from his desk. 

The minute the door shuts, Inko can’t hold herself back from crying any longer. 

Even holding Izuku and feeling his tiny breaths of air against her collar bone, isn’t enough to stave off her growing hysteria. “Hisashi,” she cries, slumping down beside the armchair. “I can’t. I can’t. I can’t.”

Hisashi strokes her hair, soothingly. “Can’t what?” He asks, tone light. “Can’t bear the thought of being left alone?” 

She forces herself to look up at her husband. The dig went deeper than the current situation, and Hisashi knows that. Inko’s entire life, up until she met Hisashi, she had been alone. 

She was abandoned at the hospital she was born at, and then grew up in a series of foster homes. None of which took any interest in her, especially after she developed a weak quirk. Her teenage years weren’t any better, with her being rendered homeless at the tender age of sixteen due to an influx of kids in need of foster care and not enough homes. 

It was only due to hard work, luck, and the fates themselves, that Inko ended up married to Hisashi. Or, so, she told herself. Perhaps there’s more to their meeting, because what could a two-hundred-year-old villain possibly want with her, of all people?

But she can’t focus on any of that right now, because her husband isn’t looking down at her with any amount of sadistic glee but with an expression of shared pain. 

“What if I told you, you didn’t have to be left behind?”

“I would tell you to stop giving me false hope.”

“No false hope here,” Hisashi promises, leaning over the chair to kiss her forehead. “If you so desired, I could use one of my quirks to kill you.”

“Like…like assisted suicide?” She asks, the thought of dying makes her feel a tad lightheaded. 

“To put it bluntly, yes. Your choice, of course, but I wanted to give you the option.” 

“Can I have some time to think it over? I don’t want to miss our son’s final moments.” Well, she would but there’s no guarantee Inko will ever get to see him again. This tumultuous moment in time, while heart-wrenching and soul crushing, might be the only closure she’ll ever get. Besides, Izuku-if he has to die so young-deserves to die surrounded by some of the people who love him most in the world. 

“Yes,” Hisashi says, getting up from the armchair and joining them on the office floor. “I wouldn’t dream of separating you from our son. Family is meant to stick together.”

Inko nods, moving to allow her husband better access to huddle close to them. 

Truth be told, it’s not the most comfortable of positions. Her body aches and her arms have long since gone numb, but Inko refuses to give in, taking refuge in Hisashi’s warm embrace. 

“Mommy?” Izuku coughs, droplets of blood escape the corner of his mouth. “Daddy?” His tiny body shakes in her grasp. “I wanna go home,” he whines.

“Soon, Izu, soon,” Hisashi tells their son, thumb rubbing circles on one of Izuku’s temples. 

“But…but it hurts,” he says, voice barely above a strained whisper. “‘Uncle and grandma say it’s time to rest. Uncle says he’ll wait for you daddy.” 

To say Hisashi blue screened for a solid two minutes would be an understatement. His mouth is agape and he’s looking around the room as if hoping to catch a glimpse of whatever their son is seeing. 

Inko would think it’s a little funny, as her husband’s prone to dramatics, if not for the serious look her son fixes her with. 

“Grandma says she’s very sorry. She never wanted you to be alone.” Izuku is looking at something (or someone) just behind her shoulder. “She says she is very, very proud of you. And grandma says if you need to rest with me and daddy, she wouldn’t blame you.” For the first time since she first woke him up, Izuku smiles. He looks at her, eyes much more focused. “You are a very good mommy. You’re the best mommy, and I love you very much.”

Any composure Inko might have been holding onto disappears with those words. She bawls, holding Izuku and rocking back and forth. 

Hisashi manages to get over his initial shock to wrap his arms around her. He holds them close, whispering meaningless words of comfort into her hair. 

Between sobs, Inko chokes out four words. “Don’t leave me alone.”

“Never,” Hisashi tells her, brushing a hand over her forehead. The action is comforting, familiar in that it was something he used to do a lot when they first started seeing each other. 

Slowly, the light dims in their son’s eyes. Izuku’s breathing slows to the occasional deep breath, like he’s forgotten how to utilize the little bit of oxygen he’s getting. The grasp on her blouse loosens until his tiny hand falls limply to his lap. 

Inko isn’t entirely sure when their baby took his last breath. Her brain turns the slightest movement, whether by their doing or Izuku’s, into a sign of him being alive. It’s only when Hisashi starts to cry that she understands what’s happened. 

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry, little one. I should have been there. I should have protected you.” Hisashi speaks fast, words blending together, a note of hysteria in his usually calm, even voice. 

Inko feels strangely numb, sitting there, looking down at the blissful, still face of their son. Gingerly, she shuts his eyes. “Hisashi,” she murmurs, still looking down at Izuku.

“I never should have targeted Nana’s family. You both deserve so much better-”

“Hisashi,” Inko snaps, tone harsh. Her husband flinches back, eyes wide. “Hisashi,” she says, gentler but blunt, “I think…I think I’m ready to rest now.”

“Inko,” he pleads, despite it originally being his idea, “think of everything you’d be missing out on. You have friends that care about you.”

“I have a friend, and she’s dealing with her own problems. Love, please, you said so yourself, family is meant to stay together.” Leftover tears roll down her cheeks. “You and Izuku are all I have, and I was content and happy. But I don’t think I want to continue on without you two.”

Hisashi looks at her intently. The same face he makes when he’s considering something important. He must come to some resolution, because he nods, muttering something under his breath. 

“Okay,” he says, lifting a hand up to her forehead. “I just want you to know, in all my years of existence, you were my only love. And if I never see you again, my soul will forever treasure and hold dear our moments together.”

Inko gives him a wobbly smile. “I love you, too, Hisashi.”

She closes her eyes and awaits whatever quirk her husband deems worthy of getting the job done. 

She hardly notices the office door opening until All Might is trying to get her attention. Inko glances at him, just to get him to calm down, but the minute he sees how limp and lifeless Izuku is in her arms, all color drains from his face. He falls to his knees, broken. 

Something tells Inko that Hisashi wouldn’t extend the same offer to the symbol of peace. It’s almost a shame, Inko thinks, that her son died giving back the quirk to give the rest of Japan (and presumably, soon, the world as well) a fighting chance. And here, falling apart not ten feet away, is the very person who is meant to save them. 

The word pathetic crosses her mind, but Inko immediately feels bad the moment she thinks it. 

It isn’t his fault. 

Hisashi holds his hand on her forehead, blocking her sight. He hums their wedding song under his breath, slowly increasing his grip. 

There’s a pressure, very slight but still noticeable, and then she’s falling forward. She slumps to the side, Izuku cradled in her arms.

#angst #cross posted on ao3 #mha au #hurt no comfort #spoilers mha 357-364 #dad for one #Inko x All for One #Major character death #Misuse of the rewind quirk #suicide mentioned

[connan-l]

More than a millennium - Day 1: Wedding Day

Fandom: The House in Fata Morgana

Rating: General Audiences

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Relationship: Michel Bollinger/Giselle

Summary: So that he could keep on holding her hand for more than a millenium.

Michel and Giselle's wedding will take place in less than an hour, but things get more complicated when Giselle suddenly starts crying out of the blue.

[A collection of unrelated one-shots for the @gischelweek prompts:

Day 1: Wedding Day

Day 2: Cooking/Baking Together

Day 3: Roleswap

Day 4: At the beach

Day 5: Proposal

Day 6: Bad End

Day 7: Domestic Family]

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Link on Archive of Our Own

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Notes: Heya! I will post here a collections of unrelated one-shots I wrote for Gischel Week (if you're curious, it's here on Twitter, and here on Tumblr). I will likely be late for some of them sadly so please be patient as to when I'll complete them lol.

So, this takes place following the short story Happily Ever After from Requiem and Reincarnation’s canon, though you don't need to read either to understand it honestly, there's not really any spoilers.

I’ve actually hesitated to includes Iméon in this, but for some reason I’ve always headcanoned that they gets to meet Michel again only after he got married. Can’t tell you why, that’s just how it is in my head lol, I think I just like the idea (and find it funny) of them meeting again after Michel really got his life together with a pretty wife haha. But there’s still the Bollinger bros at least!

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“It’s too tight. And too dark. It doesn’t fit with the rest.”

The white-haired man in a tuxedo was staring straight back at him in the mirror. He wished he could say he looked ecstatic, fulfilled, delighted — it was, after all, the most important day of his life, technically. But the only true apparent emotion on his face was stress, afflicting his features and shining uncomfortably in his red eyes. He sighed, then grabbed his tie once again to loosen up the knot in an annoyed movement.

“Dude, what the hell are you doing? Leave it! It’s perfect, I’m tellin’ ya!”

Another man flew in Michel’s direction, jumping on him from behind and grabbing his wrist before he could alter else to his outfit. Wavy black hair flew all over his right shoulder, and then dark brown eyes crossed his own.

“It’s not perfect, Georges. I look like an idiot. I need to find another one before—”

“Jesus, you’ll never find the  perfect one. We’ve already set our sights on this one, don’t start to make things more complicated now! The ceremony will start in what, half an hour? We don’t have time for this!”

“But it’s just—”

“For once, I agree with Georges.” A deeper, sterner masculine voice resonated from behind. “It already looks more than fine that way. Leave it be.”

Michel turned around to glance at Didier who was sitting on the couch a bit afar from them, and then towards Georges, who grinned broadly at him.

“Sorry, but I just… It has to be perfect, you know? And right now it’s…”

“It’ll never be perfect the way you hope for, no matter what you do, Michel,” declared the oldest man. “So just focus on enjoying yourself and making Giselle happy.  That  will be more be enough, I promise.”

“Yep! No need to fret over stupid stuff!” Georges added, grabbing and shaking Michel’s shoulders cheerfully. “Let’s just have fun! We have to pop up the bottles, play the music super loud, then gets so wasted we end up dancing on the tables all night!”

“…Right, maybe don’t enjoy yourself to  that  level.”

“Why not?! That’s what weddings are made for, no? Mine certainly was!”

“Didn’t you told us your wedding had been an ‘accident’ at a college party and that you were so drunk at the time you didn’t even realize you’d gotten married?”

“W-Well, yeah, but like, that still counts!”

Michel sighed. He knew that, theoretically, they both were right; Giselle wouldn’t care or even notice if his tie was too tight or too dark or whatever. But he couldn’t prevent himself from being anxious and perfectionist.

It was a day they’d both yearned and waited for so such a long time. He didn’t want to let anything, even the slightest detail, ruin it in any way.

At least he was thankful that his brothers were able to be there for him when he got too stressed. Well, even if they weren’t his  brothers  anymore, technically speaking — at least not by blood.

In this era, all three of them had been born from different parents, grown up in different families and different houses, and lived very different lives until they met again about a year ago now. Michel didn’t know if it was fate or something else that had brought his siblings back to him once more, but whatever it was he was grateful for it. They’d been able to bond and get close very quickly even despite the fact neither Georges or Didier seemed to remember anything of their past lives — there were maybe some residual, lingering feelings left between them, but the only trace of it he’d been able to gather was Georges joking that it felt like they’d known each other their whole lives, and nothing more.

It felt sad, sometimes, that their entire childhood together as brothers had seemingly been erased, and that Michel was the only one who could remember it. But at the same time, there was a part of him who felt it might be better this way; and he decided to just focus on the happiness of being able to spend time with them once more, which already was a miracle in and on itself.

So of course, they had been among the first to be invited to his marriage; especially after Giselle had instantly gotten along with them. Georges had even been able to bring his two young sons with him — what had once been Michel’s nephews, the boys he’d never been able to meet in person and had barely known the existence of in the Middle Ages. He didn’t really had the occasion to know them well yet, but they seemed like nice kids. (Thankfully, the mother wasn’t Aimée this time but a random woman Georges met in college, with whom he quickly got married to  and divorced — he had no idea where Aimée was in this era and if she was even here to start with, and he had no intention to ever find out, either.)

It had been decided their wedding would be a small, intimate ceremony. At first, Michel had wanted to do something big, but Giselle was against the idea, so they simply choose to stay on a simple event with a committee of just a few relatives and friends. Asides from his brothers and Georges’ sons, they’d both invited their families, a few of Giselle’s friends from college and high school — four including her best friend; Michel had met all of them about a year ago now, though admittedly he still didn’t know them very well — and then of course Morgana, Maria, and Nellie. Mell did drop by to congratulate them as well but didn’t stay — Michel had become relatively friendly with the Rhodes siblings again, but given Morgana still refused to see Mell in any capacity, he’d quickly left. Maria had also passed on best wishes from Pauline, Yukimasa and even Jacopo, although none of them actually came. Michel thought it was probably better like that anyway. All in all, they were eighteen, which was already a fine number — and more importantly, there was everyone he wanted here for this special day.

Well, there was one person left he hadn’t been able to invite, which he was still sad about — Iméon. The diseased man he’d befriended at the mansion before meeting Giselle. Their relationship had been complicated to say the least, but he’d left a big impact on him and to this day Michel still hoped to be able to meet with him again, no matter how unlikely it would be.

In any case, this and his perfectionist issues asides, everything had actually been going on smoothly. More than anything, Giselle, while a bit anxious here and there during the preparations, had looked absolutely delighted and smiled the brightest of smiles ever since this morning.

So, maybe his brothers were right. Maybe he should just… relax, and enjoy the day, marrying the love of his life and try to make her as happy as possible as he should’ve had done a thousand years ago. He looked at himself once again in the mirror — his long white hair tied in a tighter ponytail than usual, his impeccable black and gray tuxedo — and then finally he nodded to himself, deciding that maybe he didn’t look  all  that bad.

Yes, this was fine. Everything was fine; there was no way this day could turn out wrong.

That is, until the door was burst open by a short blonde woman.

“Shit, Michel! We’ve got a big problem!”

Maria jumped inside the room, her red and white bridesmaid dress almost getting stuck in the door in her panic and her green eyes wide open in a concerned gaze. Right on her heel appeared Nellie, just as or maybe even more upset-looking than the other woman. Michel instinctively felt his stomach turn at the sight, and a dark hand grabbed his heart and squeezed.

“Wh-What’s wrong?”

“It’s Giselle!” Maria kept on, saying the last name he’d wanted to hear in this moment. “She’s… Well, uh, you see, there’s—”

“She’s crying!” Nellie cut in for her, her voice shaking. “She just started crying out of the blue!”

Michel blinked, stunned, as he tried to keep his composure and wrap his mind around this new information. “What? Why?”

Maria shook her head. “We don’t know; that’s the problem! Everything was going fine, we were talking with her sis and bestie and all and suddenly… she started sobbing as if she’d just lost her entire family.”

“Where is she now?” He immediately asked, already about to leave the room.

“Still with Morgana and her sister,” Nellie replied. “They’ve been trying to console her for a while now, but… it doesn’t work, so we thought we should get you as well!”

An exaggerated gasp leaked from behind Michel’s back. “Oh god, is that going to go like in those TV shows? Where the bride run away dramatically right at the last minute?! I’m currently watching one of those and the bride actually fell off a cliff, got kidnapped by aliens and ended up having an affair with one of them!”

Both Didier and Michel shot him a glare, but Nellie actually let out an excited ‘Ohh!’ with sparkling eyes.

“Wait, really? I watched that show too!” She exclaimed. “That’s why I’m worried now!”

“Huh, you did?! I still can’t believe she chooses to end up with Gellando and go back to Mars instead of Alfred, even after he killed her brother! Even the cowboy who was in love with her twin sister would’ve been a better choice!”

“I know, right? That’s was such a bad choice! No way he’ll ever makes her happy! They’re just such an  awful  fit!”

“What kind stupid soap operas are you guys watching…?” Maria commented, narrowing her eyes, and Michel could only feel his brain starting to burn between all the topics changes and his increasing worry for his wife-to-be eating at him — with the hope that she was  still  his wife-to-be.

“All of you, calm down,” Didier finally intervened, making Michel infinitely grateful for having at least  one  sane person present in the room. “Explain more properly, please. What happened exactly? What do you think Michel should do?”

“Well, if a gal’s crying the day of her wedding then good chances it’s related to the dude she’s going to marry, so it’d be cool if he could come with us to have a chat.”

“It’s against the tradition and disrespectful for the groom to see the bride before the wedding,” Didier warned, but Maria rolled her eyes.

“Man, what time period is it? The Middle Ages? Pretty sure God doesn’t give a shit about whether he goes to see her before or not. They’re likely going to do some much more  disrespectful  and unchristian things later on anyway.”

Nellie shot her a confused look and Georges let out a falsely offended gasp, but Michel simply shook his head and decided to focus on the problem at hand.

“All right, I’ll go. Sorry, I’ll try to make it quick,” he added to his brothers, before the got out of the room with the two women.

“You’re sure it’s not just one of her usual mood swings?” He asked to Maria afterwards as they trotted down the corridor. “She’s been very emotional about the wedding lately, so it wouldn’t be odd.”

As Maria and Giselle worked together and as such saw each other almost every day, he knew that she was very acquainted with Giselle’s burst of emotional tears that she had for the past few months now, and he had hopped that was still all this was about; but to this dismay, Maria shook her head.

“No, it’s something else. I feel it’s more… I don’t know, more  intense .”

“She was  very  upset,” Nellie confirmed.

Well,  that  certainly wasn’t helping to ease the anxiety he’d had since this morning.

As they walked past the chapel where he was supposed to get married in a few dozens of minutes, Michel’s eyes got drawn to the lustrous bits of blue, purple and red, shimmering like crystal in the back of the room — a stained-glass depicting the archangel who shared his name.

It had been Giselle’s idea. She’d hadn’t asked for anything for this wedding, but she  had  been insistent on exchanging their vows in a chapel, in front of Michael.

Michel still had mixed feelings regarding this angel, God and Christianity to this day — and this despite having been raised by fairly pious parents. Even before he got back his past life’s memories, the uneasy emotions regarding his faith would always sat at the bottom of his stomach, and he’d never been able to stand any depiction of the Christ and crucifixion ever since he was a toddler — triggering actual panic attacks in the worst cases. As a result, he’d hesitated to hold a Christian marriage at all in the first place — but his parents really wanted them to, and Morgana had openly treated him of ‘blasphemer’ for considering not to. Giselle and her family, who weren’t particularly religious, didn’t mind either way, so in the end they decided to settle it by following his parents’ wishes.

Still, for as much as he used to dislike the archangel and being named after him back then, it was undeniable that he had a meaningful importance to their past — and he knew he specifically was very significant to Giselle and to her life as the Maid, so he could understand her desire to have it present for this occasion.

This particular stained-glass of Michael was much less sophisticated and beautiful than the one that had been in the mansion; and this church, situated in a rural little town an hour away from Paris, was much smaller, but it was enough for them.

“They’re here!” Maria’s voice suddenly got him out of his thoughts, and he realized they had indeed reached the room Giselle had been prepared in.

When he stepped in, the first thing he noticed was his fiancée sat down in front of a mirror, all dressed up in her white gown and her long black hair tied up in an intricate, braided bun with a rose decorating the top. Michel would’ve paused to contemplate just how beautiful she was — his heart did miss a beat for an instant, and even if he kept gently making fun of her for her burst of emotional tears over their wedding, he was certain he would end up crying on the altar too — but her red, sore eyes and her make up spread all over her cheeks stopped him. She did, indeed, look very upset , and his heart deflated instantly upon the sight. Kneeled next to her was her older sister Clémence, wearing a bridesmaid dress similar to Nellie and Maria’s and holding her sibling’s hands. Clémence was gently whispering consoling words he couldn’t hear from where he was, but it didn’t seem to work as Giselle’s tears still continued to roll down her face without any indication of stopping.

“At this point you might as well cancel the wedding. I mean, do you really intend to show up at the altar looking like  this ?”

It was an acerbic, arrogant voice that had spoken; one deceptively as sweet as honey, that Michel could recognize anywhere. Turning around, he saw Morgana slumped on the couch and scrolling through her phone with a look of complete disinterest in the events currently occurring in front of her, probably looking either at Twitter or playing one of her gacha games.

Her sentence only seemed to make Giselle cry harder though, and Clémence glared at her.

“Could you  stop saying things like that?” She asked in an angry voice, and Michel guessed from it that Morgana’s cutting remarks must’ve been a recurring thing since earlier. “You’re only making things worse!”

“I’m only saying the truth. She’s the one who suddenly burst out crying out of nowhere and ruining what’s supposed to be the biggest day of her life.”

Morgana shrugged without even lifting her eyes from her screen, and Michel could see Clémence doing her best to restrain herself from getting up and slapping her right here and then. Thankfully, she seemed to notice Michel’s presence at this moment and a relieved expression crossed her face.

“Can someone please get this girl out of here?” She asked.

Maria grimaced, threw a desperate look at Michel and then stepped in to grab Morgana by the arm.

“Right! Sorry! Let’s go now, Morgana. We’ll go find some food to stuff ourselves with. Surely that’ll be more productive than trying to destroy poor Giselle’s self-esteem.”

Morgana opened her mouth to protest as Maria pulled her out of the couch, but in the end seemed to decide she was right and simply stood up.

“I’m not trying to destroy anything, I’m just annoyed. At this rate, these two will have to wait another thousands years before finally getting married.”

“Yeah, yeah, now come on, over here.”

The girl sighed while Maria was hurriedly trying to drag her out of the room, but stopped just when she passed next to Michel.

“It’s not a big deal. She still want to marry you, she just needs a push in the right direction — so stop looking as if someone gave you a death sentence.”

Without waiting for an answer, she then disappeared in the corridor. Nellie seemed to hesitate to follow them a little, looking back and forth between the room and the hallway; Michel guessed she was probably fighting between knowing it was better to leave them some intimacy and her desire to see what the drama was all about — but finally she ended up patting Michel’s shoulder in a comforting manner with an awkward smile.

“I’m sure it’ll be fine. You’re just the cutest, most perfect couple, after all; there’s no way something like that could ruin your wedding! We’ll wait for you in the chapel!”

And then she was off. Michel let out a sigh, before finally joining Giselle and her sister; the first one didn’t seem to be able too look at him in the eyes, sobbing quietly, while the former stood up and shot him a distressed look.

“We tried all we could to cheer her up, but she doens’t seem to want to tell us anything,” she said. “Naïla and Aurélie and went to seek out Mom. But I think you’re the one she needs to talk to the most.”

He nodded silently. “All right… I’ll do what I can. Thank you.”

Clémence smiled uncomfortably at him, running her hand in her black hair — practically the same as Giselle’s, but shorter and tied into a ponytail — before finally adding hesitantly: “…You know, I was angry at you at first, but I don’t think it’s your fault anymore. So… don’t blame yourself too much.”

He simply nodded again; an admission like that was actually a big deal for Clémence, as it had took her some time to warm up to Michel and that she often tended to be pretty protective of Giselle. She gently put her hand on her little sister’s shoulder one last time in sign of support before leaving the room, closing the door behind her.

Despite her words, however, a part of Michel couldn’t help but think it was, in fact, his fault; even if that didn’t make much sense. He always had that reflex to blame himself for whatever thing that might happen to Giselle, regardless of how true it was — and today was no exception. In fact, today felt even worse than usual, in a way.

He stared down at Giselle, then finally kneeled down next to her, gently taking her hands in his own much like Clémence had done earlier. She didn’t try to fight him off, which he took as a good sign — and then, as softly as he could, he murmured her name.

“Giselle.”

His fiancée didn’t respond, but he could see her bare shoulders ease up a little.

“Giselle… please, talk to me. I cannot help or do anything if you don’t talk to me.”

Of course, she must already know that. He heard her sniffle; one, two, five times. Finally, she was able to muster her courage to lift back her head, and her jade eyes crossed his ruby. One of her hand let go of his so that she could rub her eyes, trying to prevent anymore sob from escaping her.

She seemed to struggle to find her words. He waited.

“I…” She coughed a little. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologize. It’s okay.”

“No, it’s just… I mean. I-It’s silly, really. Morgana’s right. She’s always right.”

“Well… I don’t want to contradict you, but she’s actually often been more wrong than right about a lot of things.”

Giselle chuckled at this, which relieved him.

“I didn’t want them to get you,” she finally added in a very quiet, very muted voice; so much that he wouldn’t have been able to hear her if she hadn’t been right in front of him. “I didn’t want to— I didn’t want you to worry…”

“Well… If that can comfort you, I was already worried.”

“I know. That’s why I didn’t want to make it worse. But it’s… I don’t want you to think I don’t want us to get married anymore. It’s not like that.”

“I know.”

The confidence in his voice actually managed to bring a timid smile on her face; and as such, it automatically brought one on his, too.

If there was one thing he wouldn’t waver on anymore, it was on the certainty and strength of her love.

“But you’re still crying.”

The smile dropped, and she looked down again. For a while, she didn’t seem to be able to add anything; so, trying to encourage her to go on while still not pressuring her, he gently cupped her cheek in his hand — caressing her skin, wiping the tears at the corner of her eyes with his thumb. He hoped she could feel the tenderness in his gesture, the solace he sought to bring to her heart.

And maybe she did, because her features then seemed to relax and she opened her mouth again:

“Michel, do you remember… Do you remember that conversation we had at the mansion, that one time?”

She looked at him, and then closed her eyes. He frowned, but waited patiently for her to clarify her words.

It always felt like a double-edged word whenever Giselle evoked their past lives of her own volition; even with the happiest of their memories. Maybe was it a product of her experience as the Maid, but it had always seemed like her recollections of their time together at the mansion was blurrier than his — that they were often jumbled, changed, out of order. It was like a puzzle she had to recompose every time in her mind, and sometimes, even all that effort wasn’t able to remind her of every occurrence. It wasn’t like Michel remembered  everything  that had happened back then perfectly either, but his were distinctly more lucid and defined than her own.

“Back then… after you’d… sent that letter to your family, for us to come back to the capital. Before we get… raided by the knights… We had a conversation together at night, in your bed, about the future… Do you remember?”

“…I do.”

“I… I actually think I forgot most of it. But… I do remember the feeling of anxiety I felt then. And earlier, I realized that was the exact same feeling I felt then. I… I think… that at that time, you talked about how… surreal it all felt. That it was like… the world outside the mansion never existed and was just a figment of your imagination…”

He did say that. In fact, he remembered this conversation very well; in strangely odd details. Maybe one of their discussions he recalled the best.

She laughed softly. “It’s funny. I said I could understand what you meant back then, but to be honest, I only truly understood it after becoming the Maid. That was how it always felt at the time. That the world outside the mansion never really existed, and that everything… our live, our past together… was nothing more than a story…”

Giselle looked out towards the window, her gaze suddenly seeming a little empty, and by instinct he grasped her hand more tightly; as if hoping that her feeling his grip would ground her here, in their reality — remind her that she wasn’t the Maid and that they weren’t stuck in that mansion anymore.

“It still feel that way, sometimes. I still feel… I don’t know, like I’m just dreaming. Even with my memories of my life here, I still feel like that’s just something I made up out of boredom. I did that a lot as the Maid, you know. Create stories that are not my own. Happy stories. Happy endings. All of them fakes.”

He paused; deciphering her words, emphasizing with her; making sure he could find the right thing to say without dismissing her feelings, though in the end the only he could mutter was the most simple of assurance: “…But this one is not fake.”

Of course, there was no way to truly prove it — and both of them knew it.

That was why Giselle simply looked back at him and smiled sadly without replying anything.

The memories of their past lives was a double-edged sword; a curse and a blessing.

It had brought them together, but it still inevitably tied them to the past.

For people like them who desperately tried,  needed to move on and reach a new, better future, it was like a chain around their ankle — one they had no way to break now that they remembered.

“That’s true. I did say this, back then. But… do you recall what you said then, Giselle?”

Her face darkened a little. She frowned, and he could see the gears in her brain turn, trying to remind herself of a clumsy discussion between two broken, lonely lovers living in a decrepit cursed mansion from a millennium ago.

“I… I’m not sure I…”

“You said… that it was natural to be nervous, to be scared of what the future might be… but that as long as we were together, we’d be able to overcome anything. That as long as we had each other, there was no need to be afraid of the future.”

She stared at him with an unreadable expression; and he had actually no idea if that meant she was able to remember or if something else had come up to her mind. Regardless, he only gave another squeeze to her hand, and smiled bitterly.

“I don’t think I can promise you the same thing now. I can’t prove to you that this is reality unless you accept it for yourself, and there’s no way to know what might await us in the future. We’ll probably run into other struggles, experience some new painful moments. I can’t even promise you I’ll never hurt you again. We were naive to believe we could do so back then. But…”

He took a deep breath, making sure to not break eye contact with her— and then gently pushed his forehead against hers, their noses brushing each other’s.

“Back then, like during that conversation, you were always the one pushing me forward. So, I want to do the same for you now. What I  can   promise you, is that I’ll always try my best to be there for you and love you, so that we can share this burden and make it at least a little less heavy.”

His fingers pushed away some of the strands of her black hair that had fallen out of her bun. Tears welled up in her green eyes again, but she didn’t look as upset anymore. In fact, she seemed relieved… content. He hoped that’d meant he had been able to find the right words to ease her discomfort.

After a long moment of silence, she finally let out an exhausted sigh, then nodded imperceptibly, smiling.

“Yes… That’s right. You’re right… We can share that. We can try, at least.”

A smile of his own spread on his lips. “Good.”

There was slight moment where none of them said anything, simply basking in the other’s presence; before Michel opened his mouth once more.

“So… I really want to kiss you right now. Do you think that’d be against the tradition to kiss the bride right before the ceremony?”

Giselle laughed; a pleasant, slightly trembling melody.

“You’re an idiot,” was the only comment she made before pushing her lips to his own.

And so, still cupping his future wife’s cheek with one hand and holding her own with the other, he playfully kissed her, once, twice, thrice; and wished, upon all the gods and the saints he knew, that no matter what the future had in store for them, he would still have the occasion to do so to compensate for the millennium he spent without her.

#The House in Fata Morgana #FataMoru #Gischel #GischelWeek #Gischel Week #Michel Bollinger #MisheJize #More than a millennium #Giselle FataMoru #Fanfiction #JizeMishe #Connan's Fanfics #FataMoru Fanfiction #Connan's Posts #Giselle Bollinger #Fata Morgana #Fata Morgana no Yakata #House in Fata Morgana #TheHouseinFataMorgana #Novect #Michel #Giselle #Michel x Giselle

[martianbugsbunny]

OUAT Thoughts Pt.21--Episodes 22-1

I have watched through S3E1; spoilers DNI. Also, spoiler warning for anyone further behind than I am.

—Let’s have a round of applause for the writers. The last episode of season 2 was exceptionally well done. There was absolutely no wasted time or unneeded drama.

—For example, Belle and Mr. Gold. She got her memories back and nobody had to go through the angst of her being mad at herself or at Mr. Gold. She’s just there for him right from the second she’s herself again. Also, that was beautiful for their sake, because they’re finally becoming the people together that they should be.

—Which of course means they have to split up. But I choose to believe that they’re going to be reunited, because I trust Belle to be persistent.

—He kept the cup even though it was broken!

—I doubt Rumplestiltskin would bring his dagger with him to Neverland, particularly if he fears Peter Pan this much, which leads me to conclude that he’s having Belle watch it for him.

—Grumpy is a lovely guy. Asking the Blue Fairy to make that extra dose of memory potion for Belle was very nice of him. I doubt anyone else would’ve even thought of it.

—I respect that Hook’s reason for turning against Tamara and Owen is “I don’t want to die”. Everybody and their grandmother has a noble, self-sacrificing reason to fight for something. It’s nice to acknowledge that some people’s motivation is self-preservation.

—That red vest Hook wore during Bae’s backstory was gorgeous. Actually, his clothes as a whole aren’t entirely atrocious.

—With other types of story being used in OUAT (such as Dr. Frankenstein) there should be a least one ballet story. Technically, Sleeping Beauty has been a ballet, but that doesn’t really count. Giselle, maybe?

—*sigh* now I’m never going to see more of Red or Dr. Hopper!

—At least the portal in the middle of the ocean looked cool. Which it did, by the way. Water tunnels are iconic.

—The Shadows in Neverland are very Kingdom Hearts. (Which, by the way, is a masterpiece of storytelling in itself. 10/10.)

—I disagree with Hook. Rumplestiltskin having a wardrobe change *is* a good use of our time. Getting to see him without his Dark One makeup, but wearing the Dark One clothes, is quite the experience.

—Regina’s blue jacket really stands out against the oceanscape. I mean, I like most of her fairytale clothes better than her “real” world clothes, but her jackets are nice.

—Yes! Tamara and Owen really just got bumped off right from the start. Outstanding.

—So they’re really sticking with the whole malevolent Peter Pan thing. Brilliant. It’s about time somebody figured out what a creepy bastard he can be.

—On the other hand, how am I supposed to take this kid seriously? He’s been set up well, with everybody talking about how terrifying he is, but now I need some action to back that all up.

—Vengeful granddad is a good look for Rump.

—I hope Bae keeps that stick to fight with. Also, he should get some fairytale clothes.

—Darn, Prince Philip is back. Well, at least we might get to explore how that happened eventually. It’ll be a fun adventure if nothing else.

—That storm was epic. Way to reinforce how scary Neverland is.

—It would be cool if Ariel was one of these mermaids. Not that I actually think she will be, because she’s one of the Princesses, but it would still be awesome. It would be so much more interesting if she loved a human when she’s supposed to kill them, than what OG!Ariel’s story is. (That girl is just so whiny. I mean, I could write essays about Ariel, both her good parts and her bad parts, but I think she comes out as a general dislike for me.)

—Okay, Robin, come on. If you move into a guy’s house because he’s been cursed out of the world, why would you trash it? Does he like living in filth? Couldn’t he be bothered to dust once in a while…like, once a year even?

—I’m glad they’ve finally acknowledged how weird it is for Emma’s parents to be her age. But I do feel sorry for them, they’re trying their best.

—My feelings about Hook have gone from “he’s so stupid” *annoyed* to “he’s so stupid” *fond*. I don’t even know what happened.

—Maybe it’s his soft spot for Bae. I mean, I still don’t buy that he loved Mila as much as he claims/believes he did, but the fact that he seems willing to care for a person outside of romance is important to me.

—Hook and Rump killing their feud for the sake of this quest is also important to me. Both of them have been rather uncompromising in the past, particularly when it comes to holding grudges, but now they’ve dropped it all because this is more important.

—I love seeing Charming with a sword again. I much prefer that to his guns.

—Emma doing pull-ups in the Jolly Roger (what a fun name!) reminded me of something I really like about her. Unlike Elsa, Anna, Rapunzel, etc., it’s plausible that Emma can pull off the physical feats that she does. She trains. Her background is a job that required her to be athletic and capable. It makes sense that she can do all the jumping and the running and the dragon-slaying (even though I disapprove of any and all dragon-oriented violence). Emma is a much more realistic person than many Disney ladies are.

—This stuff with Henry intrigues me. He’s the culmination of both the brightest and the darkest bloodlines in the fairytale world. If he develops magical abilities, that could be an interesting plot point.

—Although, having two very angry moms with magical powers makes him one of the scariest people in OUAT canon, so…anything else might just make him OP.

—I hope they go back to Storybrooke eventually, because I’ve become rather fond of it. And of the other characters who show up there.

—I love watching the actors’ names roll by at the beginning of each episode. I specifically look for Ginnifer Goodwin and Robert Carlyle—Ginnifer because I love her as Judy Hopps, and Robert because I love him as Rumplestiltskin. Seeing their names just makes me happy.

#once upon a time #ouat #belle #mr. gold #rumbelle #rumplestiltskin #neverland #grumpy #Captain Hook #baelfire #regina mills #Peter Pan #Henry #the charmings #prince Philip charming #bye Storybrooke #you will be missed #martianbugsbunny reviews

[kastillia]

anyway -

i have some more thoughts

spoilers for all routes btw (i’m not gonna be vague; you’ve been warned) - i still have to do another golden wildfire route to go down the other path but i think i have the gist of things

first things first though when i went back to my second azure gleam run, i was disappointed to find that recruiting byleth again cancelled out arval’s paralogue so i had to redo the map and kill jeralt instead. whoopsie ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

which brings me to something i pointed out on twitter in my first run - mainly just me telling arval to look at the people in camp instead of yelling at me for being dumb all the time. while arval doesn’t know at the time that they technically are epimenides (or at least a part of him) they still refer to him as “someone close” once the ~dream battle~ is over. and if that’s a dream they have constantly...........how can you not recognize seteth and flayn pleASE only their hair colour is different arvel look with your eyes. i can excuse rhea purely bc she has a different portrait but they all look and sound the same arval please

alright so i played scarlet blaze next. since i have to do all routes twice to get everything (events, mythical weapons/heroes relics, supports and paralogues) unlocked in the records hall, i opted to fight byleth this run.

i realize this is super nitpicky of me but it’s very clear that tara (edelgard’s va) had multiple recording sessions bc there are some lines where the voice quality just tanks and i always found it so distracting. i doubt they could help it if they wanted the game released on time but it’s just a little pet peeve i suppose

i gotta be honest.... all the running back and forth, strategies failing for no reason, random characters being just generally unpleasant really made this route a lot less.........fun, i suppose is the word i’m looking for

can you believe i actually got lowkey upset at lysithea at camp when she told me to be careful of hubert bc she didn’t think he actually trusted me? only to go to the next map and immediately be accused -by him- of conspiring with the enemy and attempting to assassinate edelgard. maybe i’m being dramatic but i actually got legit sad when i found out they never trusted me in the first place

a couple of things about that cut scene though - 1) shez running to protect edelgard from an arrow. i get that the distance wasn’t really that far but like........did you forget about your shadowflash ability.... where you can literally turn into a spark of light and dash long distances...... 2) i’m sorry but hubert just putting up both his hands to shoot a tiny ball of dark magic at shamir killed me he looks so silly lmao 3) i still can’t really make sense of that face edelgard makes at the end... i think it’s implied that she’s looking at shez? but her sort-of-concerned face just turns angry before the cut scene fades??

as for the strategies that failed for no reason - and i don’t mean leonie refusing to join and choosing to die of poison, there was a reason for that even if i did think it was pretty dumb - on the map where you can recruit byleth, the sorcery engineers strategy just didn’t work for me?? i mean i wasn’t going to recruit byleth this run anyway but i like to see what i’m supposed to do first before engaging at the last second so i know for my next run. but after protecting all the sorcery engineers, literally nothing happened. it worked in my next run, but i kept making bookmark saves in case it messed up again and having to account for something in a game not working the way it’s supposed to makes things less fun imo

these people are honestly so tactless lmao like i know the former duke aegir is an ass but ferdie is LITERALLY RIGHT THERE. edelgard finds a hint of joy at count bergliez’s capture bc it reminds her that he’s human too like girl??? stop that. monica gets mad at me for not “having the decency to watch edelgard eat”??? stop that. was genuinely surprised that despite all the envy, monica seemed to trust you the most of the three (edelgard, hubert, monica)

ppppprobably should’ve mentioned this earlier but the empire forms a pact with the alliance. bc of how strategically they trapped the bergliez squadron i guess? idk. anyway. i know this doesn’t happen if you recruit byleth but claude betraying the empire before the battle at ailell made no strategic sense whatsoever. one of the dumbest things he could have done and honestly very out of character too?? everyone, including him, knows that the alliance fares the worst in terms of military strength in comparison to the other two regions. sure they have holst but i don’t even remember seeing him on that battlefield? he might’ve been but if he was, it didn’t stand out enough for me to remember, it would seem

i was correct in scarlet blaze being less forgiving when it came to having to fight and kill. i’m glad (but also......confused) that dimitri was spared - at least on screen - but we killed ingrid in part one. you can spare annie with the right strategy but i accidentally killed her on my first run; gustave still dies regardless. rodrigue always dies. sylvain always dies. claude dies if you don’t recruit byleth. but do you know who we don’t know who dies? rhea and thales. they just fall off a bridge and disappear. y’know. like byleth does in three houses, only to return five years later. clarity where

also that cut scene confuses me. in shez’s supports with sylvain, they say that their sword appears when they call for it but disappears as soon as they let go...right? meanwhile in this cut scene shez just throws their sword at thales’ foot(? i think? still unclear where they were aiming) and it just stays there??? consistency where

now golden wildfire...... i can’t say with absolute certainty but it at least seems like arval gets more lines this route? makes sense i guess since this route is a lot more centered on tactics and shez is none too smart so arval has to be their mouthpiece

i got really excited when i heard shahid refer to claude as khalid but was quickly disappointed to see it barely mentioned again. i think nader mentions it in passing at one point (while talking to himself) but then it’s literally never talked about again

keep in mind i’ve yet to recruit byleth in this route yet, but even as an enemy they seem a lot less composed and kinda dumb?? i’m not trying to make byleth out to be infallible or anything (even if i am in the “byleth did nothing wrong” camp) but it did feel a bit out of character to me. then again, a lot of claude’s actions during this route felt out of character to me as well

i intentionally went against arval’s suggestions a couple times bc i thought claude’s suggestions were far too aggressive for, again, the region least known for their military strength. not to mention all the internal conflict bc a lot of the lords don’t really like each other and are always disagreeing

so the solution is to turn the alliance into a federation instead and instill claude as the new king? and his safety net is that it’s shez’s idea??? bud, shez is canonically a dumbass you cannot be serious about this

we then make a pact with the empire, which i wasn’t at all surprised about. what stood out to me, however, was how in the beginning shez’s initial thoughts on edelgard is something along the lines of “she has this elegance about her but doesn’t seem to look down on mercenaries.” cut to this conversation where you’re brought in as claude’s last minute bodyguard and she doesn’t even breathe your way

so as his first order as king, in tandem with the empire, we are to help the imperial troops at aillel.

just kidding! sacrifice randolph in order to surround the knights of seiros and then kill literally everybody on the battlefield. like shez, i was also angered by this and was glad when judith showed up to scold him as well

but if that wasn’t enough to learn his lesson, letting judith die was. again, they made byleth out to be so dumb on this map and for what?

and that CUTSCENE *shez running (too slow) to get to judith* SHEZ JUST USE YOUR SHADOWFLASH ABILITY PLEASE but also what tf is claude doing just watching as byleth (sothis) decimates his troops with a hand on his chin like “hm this ain’t looking good” why are you still standing there just call for a retreat claude why are you doing this cLAUDE

the running back and forth during this route felt even worse than in scarlet blaze. the fact that we were on the brink of victory twice but had to retreat both times was infuriating. yes, i know there was a reason for both retreats but i’m tired and so are the rest of the troops. right? no? i know this is a video game but no one’s gonna bring up the very realistic issue of how all this back an forth could affect the troops morale and/or energy??

btw that “leaders of the federation” strategy on the last map was a lot less impressive having played scarlet blaze first sorry but it’ll never live up to the twin jewels of the empire (lovingly)

let’s talk about that last cutscene though bc i was so legitimately impressed by that move shez pulled off.......... until i thought about it some more. i mean i still think it’s cool but how did the sword APPEAR not in their hand???? isn’t it suppose to be intangible if you’re not holding onto it please i have so many questions bc things aren’t adding up where is my consistency

some little things

since all my files are piggybacked off my original azure gleam file, and i got the azure gleam credits after completing scarlet blaze, i thought “oh. i have to play them from scratch to unlock the credits.” but i got the golden wildfire credits earlier so.......this is really just an unfortunate glitch so i’ll have to play scarlet blaze again from scratch to unlock that event in the records hall

something i noticed about the byleth(sothis) cutscenes... when you recruit byleth and invite them on an expedition you learn that you’re the only person they’ve been afraid to face on the battlefield. byleth is only able to regain control of their body from sothis when shez appears in the scarlet blaze and golden wildfire routes (after killing randolph and judith) perhaps out of fear? but they’re seemingly able to come to on their own in the azure gleam cutscene after killing rodrigue? idk if this means anything in particular; just thought it was interesting (alternatively, dimileth and/or felileth enjoyers, eat up)

don’t get me wrong i love holst but having judith be unplayable yet again was very much a missed opportunity. and her potentially dying later in the route isn’t a valid excuse intsys since that’s exactly what you did to rodrigue

speaking of missed opportunities, not giving arval access to the fluegal/asura classes is so rude.... epimenides is clearly holding that sword in the opening cutscene. arval could handle it. i know they could.

also unlocked the gatekeeper’s paralogue and was having such a fun time all throughout lmfao. i remember talking to baltie about the mock battle on my very first AG run and i had no idea what they were talking about bc i didn’t see it but just having a recollection in the form of a paralogue of that time shez stumbled onto the mock battle and is just apologizing profusely while beating everyone up was hilarious

#kas plays few3h #few3h spoilers #fire emblem three hopes spoilers #long post #didn't include some of my more....heated takes #ain't looking for d/scourse just had a lot of thoughts #maybe 'word vomit' would be a more appropriate term

[jonathanssweatercollection]

net flicks i’m tired

#where are they !!!!!!!! where the fuck are they!!!!!! #this doesn’t Technically count as spoilers. like at all this has just been the general vibe since season 3 #strangerthingsedit #stranger things #my edit #mine

[ikroah]

My faith is almost gone, but my will is strong, and I've gotta make it big in Vegas. —“Big in Vegas,” Buck Owens (1969)

It Keeps Right On a-Hurtin’ #22 - Ring-a-Ding-Ding I

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Read IKROAH on Archive of Our Own

Notes / Original Pencils / Transcript:

Notes:

I live! It’s been nearly three months since the last issue, and boy are my arms tired. In the meantime, I was putting out comic work elsewhere, moving apartments, and hosting a beloved friend in my home for a week, so I’ve certainly had a busy 2022.

Speaking of ‘22...this issue, #22, is the longest issue yet in terms of both page count and, I’m pretty sure, word count. It’s one hell of a talker so I hope it’s been worth the wait. Revelations! Confrontations! What could be next for our intrepid heroes? Well, it’s pretty generous to call either of them “heroes”...

The adventure will continue next ish. And lemme tell you: it’s gonna be a killer. You might even say it’ll really go out with a bang. One could even argue that Benny Gecko is going to die. Metaphorically speaking. But also literally.

“But Lou, that’s spoilers!” Aw, come on, haven’t you ever seen Columbo? It’s about how he solves it, not the suspense of whodunit. And besides, maybe I’m lying. Maybe Agnes’ll shake her charlies for the Ben-man, even, who knows? Don’t trust me about anything ever. You can’t even trust me about when these comics come out, since I posted this a day earlier than I said I would, though technically it’s Saturday in certain global time zones by now.

Original Pencils

The original pencils aren’t actually going to be included in this post like usual because there is so much to go over, production-wise. I’m really excited to get into the specifics, but I’ll be doing it over at @fallout-lou-begas sometime in the coming days. So follow me there if you’re not already, and I’ll update this description when the production notes are up and link to them here!

Two days later: Here it is!

Transcript

EXT. THE STREETS OF NEW VEGAS. The radiant lights of this preserved pre-war city beam brilliantly into the night sky. Below, the streets are full of drunks, gamblers, tourists, lovers, loners, winners, and losers, as well as those who call the city home: not only humans but SECURITRONS, too, the police robots controlled by the de facto ruler of New Vegas, MR. HOUSE. Outside the entrance to the subterranean VAULT 21 HOTEL, some vault-dwelling resident-employees are among the people.

A NEEDLE PLUNGES INTO FLESH.

CASS: And that’s it?

AGNES: That’s all there is to it.

INT. VAULT 21 HOTEL, ROOM 310. Inside, AGNES SANDS is sitting on one of two beds in her underwear; ROSE OF SHARON CASSIDY has just administered her estrogen shot for her. Two dresses, one red and one blue, hang on hooks above their dresser. The dresser, the beds, and the floor are adorned with their clothes and equipment.

CASS: Hope I did a good job.

AGNES: You did fine.

CASS: And you can’t do this yourself, or something?

AGNES stands up and moves toward the bathroom.

AGNES: Oh, no, I can. I just prefer not to.

CASS: Oh, gotcha.

AGNES turns on the sink faucet and wets her face. CASS leans, sitting, against the side of the bed.

CASS: I'm the same with drinking. I tend to meet some interesting people that way.

AGNES: Huh. How fortunate.

They smile at each other from across the room.

CASS stands up and undresses, removing her shirt and pants before grabbing the blue dress hanging over the room’s dresser. Meanwhile, AGNES shaves in the bathroom. She tenses as she puts her metal straight razor to her face again and again.

CASS: Hey, about done in there?

AGNES: Yeah. Just about.

CASS (putting on dress): Can't rush beauty, right. Puts a new meaning on "dressing to kill," doesn't it?

AGNES: Yeah. How do you feel?

CASS inspects herself in a compact mirror.

CASS: Pretty good, I guess, if only because I haven't worn a dress like this in years. But this Benny guy—what is the plan, exactly? You know where he is?

AGNES (washing her hands): Well...we know he's one of the Chairmen, so he should be at The Tops. I'll case the joint, find out where—

CASS (off): Alright, Agnes, hold on.

AGNES freezes.

CASS: Just fucking stop right there.

AGNES peers out from the bathroom at CASS, who is sitting on top of her bed. She looks mad.

CASS (yelling): "Case the joint?" Are you serious? Are you some kind of fucking burglar now?

AGNES stands in the doorway, stunned.

CASS (exasperated, head in her hand): I mean, you're a master goddamn lockpick, I know that. So of course. Courier, doctor, soldier, assassin, burglar, why the hell not. You're gonna be a goddamn brahmin baron by tomorrow, too, aren't you?

AGNES: Cass, listen—

CASS (yelling): I will listen, if you start fucking talking! That's the thing!

AGNES (intense): Lower your voice.

Beat.

CASS: Sorry.

AGNES: I thought you were in a good mood.

CASS fidgets nervously with her dress.

CASS: I was, I...I am, it's not...I'm sorry, it's...

They look at each other. CASS frowns, her anger seemingly exhausted already. AGNES grimaces with uncertainty. Eventually, CASS looks away.

CASS: Look...I like you, Agnes. Like, you've been the kind of person that I needed to meet, in more ways than one.

CASS looks back at AGNES again, staring daggers.

CASS: But the more that I like you, the more that I worry I shouldn't. Because sometimes you say some crook shit like "case the joint" and it reminds me that I don't know you.

CASS (quietly, looking away again): Not really.

CASS: So yeah, I wanna have fun while I'm in Vegas. And you've scratched my back so I'll scratch yours.

CASS (glaring at AGNES): But you'd better come clean right the fuck now about where the hell you learned to pick locks and kill people, before I feed your ass to the ghouls back down in those goddamn sewers.

Beat. AGNES shrinks beneath CASS’ furious gaze. Then:

AGNES: ...are you serious?

CASS: Fuck, Agnes, what is it? Were you a raider, or in a gang? Do you think I'm gonna judge your shitty childhood or whatever? Do you not trust me?

AGNES: Cass—

CASS: Because sometimes it feels like I've trusted you way too goddamn much is all, like I'm a goddamn sap. Am I being set up, Agnes?

AGNES: No!

AGNES: I'm sorry. I'm really sorry. I'm not trying to lie, or anything. I just...don't like to talk about it—

CASS: Oh? Well, with all due respect, tough shit.

CASS clasps her hands together, pleading and pensive.

CASS: Y'know, all of the goddamn blood money that McLafferty bought me out with went toward this room for tonight. And for these nice new clothes that don't reek of sewer shit. If you want to pay me back for that at all, friend, you can start by just...telling me what the fuck your deal is.

CASS: I’m just so sick of fucking worrying about you.

AGNES: It's hard to explain. But I'm not an assassin, or some kind of serial killer, or anything like that...I swear, Cass, that I'm not. If you still trust me at all, I promise I'll tell you everything once we're back from the Tops.

CASS: And you say that you promise?

AGNES: Completely. I promise you.

Beat. Their clothes are mingled on the floor of the bed. They stare at each other from across the room as CASS thinks it over.

CASS: Fine. But only because if there's one thing about you I know for sure, it is that you're not a liar.

CASS (standing): You're just very selective with telling the truth.

AGNES: Cass—

CASS (fed up): What!?

AGNES: Of course I trust you.

CASS is caught off-guard.

CASS puts her hand over her mouth, ponderous and troubled. Then, she smirks and she puts her hand on her hip. She’s over it, it seems.

CASS: Alright, alright, whatever. Just get dressed already.

AGNES takes the red dress from the wall.

CASS: I still want to hit the tables before we kill this guy.

The dress wrinkles in AGNES’ fists. The bedroom’s florescent light gleams off the 9mm bullet that she wears around her neck.

AGNES: ...

The bullet that CHET hand-loaded for her back in Goodsprings with lead retrieved from her skull.

AGNES: Alright.

The bullet that BENNY shot her with.

AGNES: Let’s go.

#fallout #fallout new vegas #fnv #courier six #rose of sharon cassidy #vault 21 #agnes sands #volume 02 #22 #ikroah archive

[khattikeri]

One of my favorite details in Blue Period is that Yotasuke holds his chopsticks improperly. [spoilers through ch *36]

Gripping chopsticks like that is... pretty clearly not the “correct” way to use them to eat. In fact, it looks like a very childish grip that Yotasuke never corrected over time-- you’d get stared at if you used chopsticks like this in a formal environment.

You’ll see scenes throughout the manga where everyone including Yatora eats together as friends, chitchatting about art or anything they feel like while they use forks, chopsticks, or their hands-- they’re all close to each other as classmates and are comfortable with sharing their quirks and flaws to each other.

But, as we’ve seen above-- Yotasuke eats alone at home. He’s not open to art college life the way Yatora and the others are. He doesn’t hang out with anyone in his free time. He just works. He just does everything alone.

His standoffishness, stubbornness, and general refusal to really interact with anyone, even Yatora, unless they persistently badger him, shows that... well.

It shows that he’s like a child.

The opener to chapter 35 showing Yotasuke’s experience with art as a child actually makes it even more interesting.

Yotasuke trains and works and does everything in a rote manner so that his art will look “good”. But in his personal life, he still does things childishly, down to how he holds his chopsticks. Both in art and in daily life, he’s stuck in his ways.

He’s childish and stubborn, but in front of others, he’s quiet and just works. He makes artwork by the books and doesn’t input his own uniqueness into his art.

Yotasuke, in his barest efforts to make art that other people like, shuts himself away from others literally and from himself artistically. He doesn’t show anyone the real him.

And clearly, this is not getting him good results at art college so far.

It’s clearly hard for him to change his ways, both in terms of how he inputs himself in art (something he’s been doing since he was three) and in terms of other everyday things (such as how he holds his chopsticks).

It’s frustrating. It’s aggravating. He’s a genius by technicality, but his lack of individuality according to others is causing him strife.

He closes himself off from others and doesn’t have many close friends he can even talk about this with-- unless you count Yatora, who has a fascinatingly twisted rivalry-friendship with Yotasuke. Yatora, the self-starting late-blooming rising star; Yotasuke’s complete opposite. Let’s not forget...

“Someone like you who has everything will never understand what it’s like for someone like me, who has nothing but art.”

Yatora, a genius at academics, intentionally chose art and got into college on his artistic pieces’ merit. Yotasuke, a genius at art, got into college not because his art was unique on top of being technically good, but because of his academics.

This post sort of devolved from what I started out with, but my point is this:

The small detail of Yotasuke holding his chopsticks with a childish, improper grip shows that he is still a child at heart.

He eats alone at home rather than at school or with friends the way Yatora does, which shows that Yotasuke he is repressing himself, unable to freely show who he really is to others-- friends and strangers alike.

These two points combined highlight how this detail carries over in Yotasuke’s art-- he represses his individuality in order to make art that “looks good” to others, and though Yotasuke rarely shows it, it aggravates him that Yatora can do everything he can’t.

I love this manga so much.

#blue period #blp #takahashi yotasuke #yotasuke takahashi #yaguchi yatora #yatora yaguchi #blue period 35 #keri chats #EDITED BC I WROTE CH 35 AND NOT 36 IN THE TITLE SORRYYYYY

[clambuoyance]

Deltarune Ch 3 Theory (Spoilers!)

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This will be sort of a ramble, and I’ll do my best to include screenshots, but this is my personal theory and thoughts on what’s happening and where Ch 3 is headed. Most of this stuff has probably been said by others, so this is mostly for me to come back to!

1. Kris

So there are a lot of moments that seems to hint to Kris’ homelife and I’ll just sort of go through them here. 

When you look through the room Queen trapped you in, there’s a calendar with a vacation date circled from a search query about when college has summer break. Given how close Asriel and Kris seem to be, I’m pretty sure Kris is really anxious to see Asriel and have his support back. 

Because Toriel and Asgore seem to have divorced fairly recently? Or at the very least, I think it’s still definitely taking a toll on Kris, and Asriel leaving does NOT help at all. It makes me wonder if there’s more to him leaving for college. 

There’s another curious thing where if you  decide to look through Asriel’s room, Kris shuts their eyes and seems to not want to see what’s inside, despite what the Player might want. Why? Afraid of what they’ll see? What could Asriel possibly be searching for that Kris would be afraid of the truth?

I think some incident happened in the past, one that’s related to the Dreemurr and the Holiday family growing apart, Noelle’s sister “Dess”, and Asgore apparently being removed from the police force. (If maybe he was powerless or cowardly to do something, this could have led to a divorce and Asriel leaving? I’m not sure, but I think Dess has died or its related tot he incident, and Asriel seemed close with them too so I’m sure it was also hard on him.)

(i didnt take a screenshot of the newsclipping with this info but ill put it here later lol)

Circling back to Kris, there’s several details that hint to Kris’ mindset, and basically, I think Kris doesn’t want to grow up because when you grow up you grow apart and don’t live out fun fantasies anymore. Maybe.

If you go to the flyer in the librarby,  and read the one about the ICE-E event that says “Where teens can still be Kids!” Kris is relieved, for some reason. Probably because they’re glad to hear they still technically count as a kid. 

Not directly related but if you go up to the upperright room and read the book about humans, Kris quickly shuts it. Given the similarities and hints to Chara from Undertale, it seems like Kris wanted to get away from other humans or humanity in general. Which also aligns maybe with Kris being fearful of the bunker. I really don’t know what to make it past this though. Crack theory was that the world of Undertale was just a Dark World Kris made as a kid or something. Or that when “Chara” fell, it was a fall similar to how Kris and Susie fall when entering a Dark World. Lmao probably unrelated though.

2. Dark Worlds and Escapism

The Dark Worlds seem to function as some sort of escapism, and it’s interesting that they’re all based on real life things. In Chapter 1, the Dark World was based on the classrooms various toys like checkers, chess, cards, dolls,etc. In Chapter 2, it seems even more so with Noelle. Queen actually wants the best for Noelle and is very nosy and always chasing after her, in contrast to Noelle’s real mom who is always busy being a mayor. After all, Queen does know how sad Noelle’s search history probably is. (Mainly from this post!)

(screenshots to be added lol)

Kris probably feels the same way, as both Noelle and Kris grew up together and seem to be suffering from dysfunctional families or some sort of drama.

And Queen directly says in the boss fight with Berdly that the internet and the screens provide comfort for many people, and she is well-intentioned in wanting to help make people happy. Maybe for Kris it’s video games or roleplaying or toys or silly things, kind of like how many people in the real world do similar things. I wonder if the next chapters will each focus on a different character and other forms of escapism or storytelling. 

3. The Knight

So at the end of Chapter 2, Kris rips out the Player Soul and slashes the tires to Toriel’s car. Then later Susie talks about how cool it would be if they could bring Ralsei and Lancer and everyone to their world and hang out with them. Then Kris takes the Player out once again and pulls out a knife, fills the “Blade” with their “Will”, aka Determination, and creates a new dark fountain that encompasses their whole home (and maybe even the whole town). 

(screenshot laterrrr)

It seems that the tires were to ensure Toriel stays inside the house though, so maybe it’s just the house. If that’s the case, and Kris really is the knight, I think Kris wants to envision a better home where things are better. Escapism right inside your own home.

If it’s the whole town, then maybe Kris already had Susie’s idea and really is going to take everyone in a new Dark World so everyone can be together. That or Susie inadvertently gave Kris the idea..it makes me wonder if we’ll see Toriel in her outfit from Undertale, or something like that. The other reason I could see it being a town-wide thing is because now Kris has the knowledge of the Roaring (thanks to Ralsei).  I’m not too sure what their stance would be, but maybe they see a benefit to it?

After creating a fountain, a smile flashes on the tv, so I think the next chapter will be television based and feature a tv villain (though it does look like flowey...). Again, i wonder if each chapter will be some form of escape for some people. or maybe it’ll be a different theme.

Also, I just want to add that I really don’t see Kris as malicious or doing thing for a sinister reason. Or maybe it’s still fucked up and selfish, but not the evil people imagine. If you do the snowgrave route, Noelle doesn’t even recognize it as Kris’ voice. The sinister voice in that route seems to be the Player rather, being cruel and making Noelle make these traumatizing choices. Which is why I wonder if Kris is the Knight, or if it’s a red herring. Not sure. 

4. ANYWAYS

There’s a lot to unpack. Too much to unpack, like there’s a whole thing I could say about Big Shot and Jevil and Gaster. The way maybe Kris also knows the world is just a game (maybe thats why they hate humans?? were just like go puppet go lol). But i have no idea so this was just focused on Kris mostly, and Maybe i’ll talk more but I finished the game a few hours ago and I just had to get these thoughts out even if others probably already figured it out or think its obvious. It’s just really cool! Again, most of this comes from this theory, cus i havent looked much at others (YET) since i just finished today. Anyways, FUN GAME! 

If anyone has useful screenshots or whatever please feel free to add lol

#long post #oops #deltarune #deltarune spoilers #undertale #kris dreemurr #deltarune theory #sort of not really just me rambling

[dragonqueenofice]

I was wondering if you'd do a genshin x reader fic, venti or dulic, yandere. Hurt / comfort, manipulation, gaslighting, all that good stuff.

-your good friend

Merry Christmas!

Yandere Zhongli and Venti

Summary: Venti and Zhongli have been fighting to get your attention, and love. But what will happen when their patience runs thin? And, more importantly, if you disappear, how will they react?

Notes: You think that anonymous vail will help you! I know exactly who you are! So anyways, if you're confused about why the request says Diluc or Venti but I'm writing for Zhongli, that's because they mixed up who they wanted me to write. So anyways Y/n is a he/him (it’s for a friend, I’ll bend my rules a little) but I refrain from describing the looks of him.

Warning: general yandere stuff, this takes place before the events of the main story, Y/n gets kidnapped twice, Lots of spoilers, ooc Zhongli 

Word count: about 1200

     Recently, there has been a slight conflict between the two oldest Archons, Barbatos and Morax. Barbatos, or Venti, and Morax, or Zhongli, have been trying to earn the affections of the same man. If this was any other person, it would be just some simple affections and maybe a few mean comments to the other side, but this is the Archons with the longest standing rivalry, this wouldn’t be something so simple like that. Zhongli and Venti didn’t just want some affections, a love confession, things like that. They wanted- they needed your devotion. To pledge your allegiance to them like those who worship them, though both archons were a little stumped on how to make you love them, but they had their ways of going about it. Venti would try and impress you with beautiful handwritten songs played on the lyre, to make you laugh and smile in his presence. The god of freedom wants your love for him to be your choice, just with a little help from him. If it were anyone else, Venti wouldn't work so hard to make you love him, but it’s Zhongli that’s also trying to earn your love, and he doesn’t want that old block-head to end up somehow sweeping you off your feet. So Venti tries his hardest to make sure he’s the one you love.

     Zhongli on the other hand is much more possessive. Zhongli wouldn’t outright say that he doesn’t want you to talk to Venti, but he would imply it, “Hm? Where did you get this flower? Is this a Cecilia? …That bard. You deserve far better than him.” He says, taking out a Cecilia flower from your hair. While Venti likes to serenade you and the like, Zhongli likes to tell you tales of Morax’s achievements. Stories like the history behind the Gulili Planes or Azhdaha, sometimes when asked he’ll tell you about the Archon War. He tells these stories to impress you, to show off his strength, to give a reason to worship him. He’ll even say things like ‘if you become a follower of Morax, mayhaps he’ll grant you his protection.’ What you don’t know is that you’ve always had his protection.

    It can get stressful having both of these men always vying for your attention, Zhongli inviting you to have some tea with him and Venti trying to serenade you, so you decided to take some time away from both of them. Though you were still technically in Mondstadt, you were near the borders of Liyue and Mondstadt. You were sure it was safe, there were no reports of any Hilicurl camps or Abyss Mages anywhere near here, and the Treasure Hoarders had left the area for reasons unknown, and the Fatui had no reason to target you. That last point was proved wrong when the Fatui nearby kidnapped you. They managed to sneak up behind you and hit you hard enough on the head to knock you out on impact. When you woke up again, you were in a dark and gloomy room, and you were tied up to a chair. There were two Fatui agents standing to one side of the room, they were speaking but the ringing in your head stopped you from hearing anything. Eventually, the ringing in your ears stopped and the Fatui agents, now realizing your consciousness, moved over to you and began interrogating you, “What do you know about Morax and Barbatos!” One of the Fatui said, the other leaned over to whisper something in their ear, “Right, what do you know about Zhongli and Venti!” The first Fatui agent demanded.

    “I’m sorry I don’t-” Your words got cut off by a harsh gust of wind. The wind was so strong it made it hard to keep your eyes open, and the wind was moving so fast it dulled any other noise around. When the wind cleared, you could get a good look at what, or who made that wind, though you didn’t need to check. It was obvious with or without looking that what made that wind was Venti, and next to him was Zhongli. The Fatui agents were shaking, but one of them stood up, drawing their blade. They were quickly defeated by Zhongli, and the remaining Fatui Agent scrambled to leave as fast as they could, Venti staring at them leave with his disgust evident on his face, he even shifted slightly away. Venti’s attention was shifted away from, whatever it was on, to you as Zhongli moved over to you to remove of the ropes binding you to the chair. Venti skipped over to you just as Zhongli got the last rope binding your feet.  

    “Hey Y/n! Are you okay? I know it can get pretty scary being kidnapped, so I tried-” Venti pauses, looking over at Zhongli and his death glare, he decides to rethink his words, “we tried to get here as fast as we could!” Zhongli hummed in agreement behind you.

    “Are you okay? You didn’t get injured too badly?” Zhongli asked, hovering a hesitant arm just above your shoulder. You hum a small yes in response and Zhongli’s hand falls to your shoulder and he breathes a sigh in relief. Venti skips over to you and promptly removes Zhongli's hand from your shoulder.

    “Being kidnapped can be pretty stressful, why don’t I sing you a song once we get out of here?” Venti says, his eyes closed in a tight smile.

    “Like he’d take that offer,” Zhongli said, “The best way to relax is to have some tea, I happen to have your favorite kind, would you like to join me for some tea later?”

    “Pfft, like he’d want some tea, tea is boring!”

    “You say tea is boring? At least it can come with stories or pleasant conversation, but for music all you do is sit and listen-”

    “You only dislike music because it’s mine!”

    “Your point?” The two archons proceed to argue like children. You proceed to stand up and leave the room, and the two of them don’t even pause their argument for a moment. Stepping outside the room you were kept in, you were met with a similar scenery, the main difference being that the sun has set. In the peaceful silence outside you almost forget about the two fully grown men fighting for your attention. That is, until they interrupt your moment of silence.

    “Hey Y/n! One way I like to wind down is with a nice bottle of Dandelion wine, wanna have some with me!” The bard shouts as he steps out of the room you were held in.

    “Like they’d want to drink wine.” Zhongli scoffs, his arms crossed.

“Can you two just stop bickering like children for a minute?” You ask, “The only way I can get some peace and quiet is by getting away from you two!” Both of them look surprised at your sudden outburst.“If both of you continue to act like children I’m not going to date either of you!” Venti pauses for a moment, before he uses some anemo to float up to Zhongli’s ear.

    “I suppose that would work, that is if we don’t end up backstabbing eachother.” Zhongli says, leaning away from Venti.

    “I’m sure we’ll end up backstabbing eachother eventually, but what matters now is that we’re working together!” Venti says, with a forced smile and a false cheery voice.

    “Well then, my apologies Y/n, but I promise you’ll have a better time with us then with the Fatui”

Ta da~ hopefully this is good! I’d like to write this without the spoilers but like, I kinda can’t and also you said you’d be fine with spoilers so… Anyways my only issue with this fic, other than the spoilers thing, is like, they don’t feel very yandere. If you want me to adjust anything about this fic just send an ask to message! -Dragon Queen

#Dragon Queen Writes #genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #zhongli x reader #venti x reader #genshin zhongli #genshin venti

[yelena-bellova]

Safe Haven: tfatws!Bucky Barnes x fem!reader

chapter three - Chapter Four: Madripoor - chapter five

Series Masterlist

Plot: Y/n, Sam and Bucky pay an eventful visit to Helmut Zemo in Berlin, heading to Madripoor soon after to get answers about the serum.

Word Count: 7.4k

Warnings: spoilers for episode.3, angst, violence, description of injuries, a few crumbs for the slow burn, breaking the law and looking good doing it

A/N: These chapters always end up being so long lol. I was going to include the nightclub scene but it would’ve made it too long so sorry, it’ll have to wait a few more days. Forgive my shitty Russian translations, I’m on Google Translate and that’s not saying a lot. 

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“Not that it makes a difference, but I still don’t like this.” I’d voiced my displeasure about meeting with Zemo several times since we’d arrived in Germany. Even though we were already being led through the high security Berlin prison hallways, I still felt the urge to state my opinion. 

The guard that was guiding us gestured towards a door, “He’s just through the corridor.”

“Give us a sec,” Bucky said, the three of us coming to a halt in the middle of the hall. “I’m gonna go in alone.” “Why?” Sam asked.

“You’re an Avenger, you know how he feels about that,” Bucky looked to me, “You, I’m trying to keep as far away from him as possible.”

“It’s not like you two were known for frolickin’ in the sun together,” Sam remarked.

“I’m gonna say it again,” I took an assertive step forward, “I don’t like this.”

“He was obsessed with HYDRA,” Bucky pushed, “We have a history together. Trust me, I got it.”

Taking my cue from Sam, who didn’t fight him any more, I nervously watched Bucky stalk down the hallway to the corridor that led to our possible next step.

“Is he really okay?” I asked, watching Bucky’s figure until he disappeared, “I feel like we’re going a little too far with this.” “He’s invested, which means he’s desperate,” Sam answered, leaning his back against the wall, “This is a little too much though.” 

I copied his posture and we stood in silence, the occasional guard passing by. “What happened last night after I left the room? C’mon, you come out crying and you thought I was gonna let it go?” “Bucky and I were just…” I sighed, remembering the change that had happened between our two conversations, “Learning to get along. I told him about Steve, that’s never fun to relive.” “Ah,” Sam nodded, “Can I ask you something?” 

“Hm?” “You’re not mad at me that I gave up the shield, are you?”

My brows knitted together as I looked over at him, “Why would I be mad? Your decision wouldn’t have changed even if I was, would it?” “No, it wouldn’t have. But you were close to Steve too, you care about his legacy,” he went on, “We’re all angry about Walker. I don’t care if Bucky’s upset at me, but I always care if you are.” “Someone ever tell you you care too much sometimes?” I playfully nudged his sneaker with my own, “Of course I’m not mad, you know I support you no matter what. You made the right decision for you and you have nothing to apologize for. Bucky and even Steve don’t need to understand why you chose to give it up. Would it have been cool to say that my brother is Captain America?” I coaxed a laugh out of him, “Of course, but it doesn’t change how I see you. I’m just proud to say my brother is Sam Wilson.” He poked me with his elbow and smiled, “Now I remember why I keep you around.” “Y/n Y/l/n, Falcon’s Ego Booster.” We were sharing a laugh when Bucky came back around the corner. “That was quick,” I observed. He’d been in there five minutes tops.

“We’ve got our next stop.”

————

“What are you talking about? You wanna break Zemo outta jail?” Sam questioned in the dark, “Where are we, Buck? Have you lost your mind?”

“We have no leads, no moves, nothing,” Bucky replied, shining his flashlight around to try and find the power switch. I couldn’t clearly make out where he had brought us to, he’d brought us through the back door of the building. “So because we’ve hit one dead end, you want to spring one of the most dangerous men in the world out of prison?” I asked, shining my flashlight at Bucky causing him to throw a hand up to shield his eyes, “Bucky, I don’t-“ “Like this,” he finished, “I got that, but we’ve got eight Super Soldiers on the loose.” “Zemo’s gonna miss with our minds, especially yours,” Sam interjected, “No offense.” I made out Bucky’s silhouette reaching up a beam, a loud click of a switch and the lights began to turn on. “Offense,” he scowled.

With the lights on, we could finally see that we were in an auto shop. I was glad to be out of the prison but I wasn’t seeing the correlation between it and freeing Zemo.

“Super Soldiers go against everything he believes in,” Bucky continued, “He is crazy, but he still has a code.” “I’ve been on the wrong side of that code and so have you,” Sam countered, I’d heard in detail about the havoc Zemo had caused and the ramifications of his actions had caused Sam and Steve to become fugitives. Never mind what he’d done to Bucky…”He blew up the UN, he killed King T’Chaka and framed you for it. Did you forget that? You think the Wakandans forgot about it? It’s a rhetorical question, they didn’t. I know why this matters to you, but it’s pushing you off the deep end.”

Bucky stood in front of us now, “We don’t know how they’re gettin’ the serum. We don’t even know how many of them there are,” Sam turned his back in frustration, “Look, let me just walk you two through a hypothetical. Can I walk you through a hypothetical?”

“What did you do?” Sam asked suspiciously, turning halfway to meet Bucky’s eyes.

“I didn’t…” Bucky’s looked away briefly, “Do anything.”

“Then by all means,” I leaned up against a beam and crossed my arms, not believing him at all, “Let’s ride the hypothetical train.” Bucky frowned at my sarcasm before launching into it, “The weakest point in any system isn’t the software, the hardware, it’s the meatware. The human element. Now, in this lockup, it’s nine to one, prisoners to guards. And if two prisoners start fighting, then the protocol says four guards have to respond.” “So why would two prisoners randomly start fighting at that moment?” Sam asked.

“Who knows? There could be many reasons…But the point is, these things escalate. Lockdown procedures would have to be initiated and with all those bodies flying around left and right, wouldn’t be hard to slip down a hallway or two. And if the fire alarm got tripped while the prisoners were being separated, someone could use the chaos to their advantage.”

“My gut is sounding off every alarm it has right now,” I commented from my place across from Bucky.

“Yeah, I don’t like how casual you’re bein’ about this, this is unnatural,” Sam replied finally, “Are you- and where are we, man?” A nearby door closing caused us to turn our attention towards it, a silhouette appearing soon after through a curtain. The shadow became a man and walked through the cloth divider wearing the face I’d had etched in my brain since the day it hit the news.

“You son of a bitch,” I mumbled, creating a ball of energy quickly with my hands. “Whoa, whoa, whoa,” Sam’s voice rose, walking with me towards the man, “What are you doin’ here?” Bucky was quick to throw himself in front of us, “No, listen. I didn’t want to tell you ‘cause I knew neither of you would let this happen.” “What the hell did you do?” I exclaimed.

“We need him,” Bucky said. Sam pointed to Zemo, “You’re going back to prison!”

“If I may,” the Sokovian man began, removing the hat of his stolen prison guard uniform.

“NO!” the three of us yelled at the same time. He hung his head, “Apologies…” Bucky turned back to Sam, “When Steve refused to sign the Sokovia Accords, you backed him. You broke the law, and you stuck your neck out for me,” when Sam averted his gaze, Bucky chased it, “I’m asking you to do it again.” 

“And what about her?” Sam gestured to me and the ball of energy I still had formed in my palms, “What happens when she breaks the law?” Bucky’s pleading eyes drifted to me, “He’s our only shot at getting any answers.” My mind was wrestling with itself, his rightness was inevitably going to come at a cost we would all have to pay. On a technicality, yes, I could plead innocent to freeing Zemo. A coconspirator charge, I wouldn’t be so lucky with. But stopping the Flag Smashers meant saving lives and that wasn’t something I could walk away from. I deformed the energy in my hands in cautious surrender, “I’m already breakin’ the law by going against the accords, I need to make it worth it at least.” Sam shot me an exasperated glance, but he didn’t fight me.

“I really think I’m invaluable…” Zemo began from his corner.

“Shut up…” Sam warned, effectively shutting him up. Sam thought it all over for a second before pressing his flashlight to Bucky’s chest, “Okay. If we do this, you don’t make a move without our permission.” Zemo shrugged, “Fair.”

The three of us shared an uneasy look, there was no going back now. “Okay, Zemo, where do we start?”

“Follow me,” he smiled, leading the way out of the auto shop and expecting us to follow. Sam went first, eager to keep his eye on Zemo at all times while Bucky and I brought up the rear.

“I didn’t want to have to go this route,” he said from beside me as if he owed me some explanation for his actions. I sighed, trying to shut off the part of my brain that was screaming at me, “Just be right.”

We maneuvered through a few corridors until we hit a room filled with beautiful antique cars. “So our first move is grand theft auto?” Sam asked. “These are mine,” Zemo corrected, “Collected by family over the generations. I spent years hunting people HYDRA recruited to recreate the serum. Because once it’s out there, someone can create an army of people…like the Avengers,” he dug through one of the cars to pull out a bag and coat, “I ended the Winter Soldier program once before. I have no intention to leave my work unfinished.” My eyes unavoidably flickered to Bucky, observing his reaction to hearing his old code name. He simply watched the man continue speaking. “To do this, we’ll have to scale a ladder of lowlifes.”

“Well, join the party. We’ve already started…” Sam commented.

“First stop is a woman named Selby,” Zemo stated as he headed for the exit, “Mid-level fence I still have a line on. From there, we climb.” 

Sam, Bucky and I left a gaping distance between us and him, we were still highly suspicious and I had a feeling we would be until our temporary partnership came to an end.

————

Zemo had gotten word to somebody that we’d be meeting them at a private airport in Berlin and flying to someplace called Madripoor. Somehow we’d made the journey without being recognized, even those of us who were wanted across the globe. “So all this time you’ve been rich?” Sam asked as we made our way towards the private plane.

“I’m a Baron, Sam,” Zemo answered, “My family was royalty until your friends destroyed my country.” 

Zemo greeted the man standing outside the plane, who was dressed like a butler, in Sokovian. “Well,” I crossed my arms and watched one of the world’s most dangerous men exchange cheek kisses, “If we’re going to work with a criminal, at least we picked one that comes with transportation.” “Please,” Zemo said, gesturing for us to follow him up the plane’s steps. Sam awkwardly bowed to the butler and headed up. Bucky extended a hand towards the jet for me to go ahead of him before following closely behind.

When we filed into the plane, Sam and Zemo were already seated. I moved to take the chair across from the baron, wanting to keep as close an eye on him as I could. Bucky’s flesh arm reached out quickly and grabbed my shoulder, I turned to question him and met his wary expression. “Sit with Sam,” he muttered quietly, our faces close enough that I could feel his breath as he’d spoken. It dawned on me that he wanted me to have the safer position. I answered with a nod, maneuvering around him to sit across from Sam. Even though his hand had left my arm, I could still feel its print through my jacket.

We had been flying for maybe twenty minutes when Zemo’s butler, Oeznik, came in carrying a glass of champagne for Zemo and offering to whip up some food. It astounded me how to the world, he was evil yet to his servants, he was a joy. “You don’t know what it’s like to be locked in a cell,” the baron said before looking over at my brother, “Oh, that’s right. You do.”

Sam bypassed the jab remarkably, “Why don’t you tell us about where we’re going?”

“I’m sorry, I was just fascinated by this,” Zemo held up a book, “I don’t know what to call it, but this part seems to be important. Who is Nakajima?”

Not two seconds after the name had left his lips, Bucky out of his seat with his metal hand wrapped around Zemo’s neck. My heart stopped as I watched him lean over the man threateningly. “If you touch that book again,” he growled, “I’ll kill you.” This was a side of Bucky I had yet to see, the one that straddled the line between his dark past and his true self. As he sat back down, tucking the book in his pocket and refusing to meet my eyes, I could tell he wasn’t pleased with how he’d acted. I wasn’t in a place to criticize but I’d be lying if I said I hadn’t been slightly worried when his fingers hit Zemo’s skin.

“I’m sorry,” Zemo said, “I understand that list of names. People you’ve wronged as the Winter Soldier.” “Don’t push it,” Bucky rasped, collecting himself after the scene.

“I’ve seen that book,” Sam spoke up, “It was Steve’s when he came out of the ice. I told him about Trouble Man, he wrote it in that book. Did you hear it? What’d you think?” “I like ’40’s music,” Bucky shrugged and looked out the window, “So…” “You didn’t like it?” Sam exclaimed.

“I liked it,” Bucky replied unconvincingly.

“It is a masterpiece, James,” Zemo chimed in, his hands forming a triangle, “Complete, comprehensive…It captures the African-American experience.” While my brows raised at the European’s surprising education, Sam’s furrowed. “He’s out of line, but he’s right. It’s great, everybody loves Marvin Gaye.”

Bucky shook his head, “I like Marvin Gaye.” “Steve adored Marvin Gaye.” “He did,” I chuckled, reminiscing back to only last year, “Played him almost anytime I got in a car with him.” “You must have really looked up to Steve,” Zemo said, “But I realized something when I met him. The danger with people like him, America’s Super Soldiers, is that we put them on pedestals.” “Watch your step, Zemo…” Sam warned. “They become symbols. Icons. And then we start to forget about their flaws. From there,” he shrugged, “Cities fly, innocent people die. Movements are formed, wars are fought,” Zemo turned his attention to Bucky, “You remember that, right?” As a young soldier sent to Germany to stop a mad icon. Do we want to live in a world full of people like the Red Skull? That is why we’re going to Madripoor.” “What’s up with Madripoor?” Sam looked between the two men, “You guys talk about it like it’s Skull Island.”

“It’s an island nation in the Indonesian archipelago,” Bucky grumbled, “It was a pirate sanctuary back in the 1800s.” “It’s kept its lawless ways, but we cannot exactly walk in as ourselves,” Zemo’s unsettling eyes moved back to Bucky, “James, you will have to become someone you claim is gone.” 

With the way Bucky’s expression had changed in mere seconds from complacent to tortured, it didn’t take long to decode what Zemo was insinuating. “No,” I blurted out, “That’s not fair to ask of him.” “I admire your devotion, Y/n,” Zemo complimented with his lips to his champagne flute, taking a quick sip, “But you know nothing of how Madripoor works. If you want to get to Selby, we must have protection. More than that, we must have leverage. James can provide us both by simply playing a part.” “Devo-?” I shook my head, sidestepping Zemo’s comment, “That’s not playing a part, that’s like reliving every nightmare you’ve ever had. I-it’s like-“ “Y/n,” I turned to see Bucky’s chair rotated towards me, looking helpless and determined all at once, “We need in.” “Yeah, but…” I started to protested before seeing his eyes, those ocean blue eyes I was growing to feel comforted by begging me to let the subject go. I clenched my own y/e/c ones shut in frustration, “Okay.” “Now that that’s settled,” Zemo stood from his seat, “I will find us something to change into, we will need to blend in where we’re going.” ——

The silver dress Zemo had chosen for me was…it made me wonder just what kind of scene we were planning to enter. It was more revealing than anything I typically wore, but gorgeous nonetheless and fit perfectly.

As I was finishing my makeup in the bathroom of the plane, I had to take a second to steel myself for what was to come. This wasn’t just dallying with Super Soldiers any more, this was dancing with the criminal underworld. Zemo hadn’t told us yet the roles we were playing, only that we needed to stay in character at all cost. I had never felt more out of my depth, but had no choice but to rise to the occasion. Giving myself one last check in the mirror, I unlocked and exited the bathroom. 

“Okay, I hope whoever I’m playing is bad with heels,” I held up the elaborate shoes Zemo had matched to my dress, “Because there’s no way I’m going to be graceful in these.” Sam looked up from tying his dress shoes, dressed in a maroon suit patterned with yellow circles. His eyes scanned my outfit unapprovingly. “Uh uh,” he protested, going full protective big brother, “Nope. It shows too much.” “It doesn’t matter what it shows,” I said, bending over to strap on the shoes, “It’s what I’ve got.” “She’s right,” Zemo chimed in, putting his jacket on, “You two are supposed to be rich, glamorous travelers of the world. You need to look the part,” he nodded towards me, “You wear it well.” I politely smiled at the baron and looked up to Bucky, perched in the far corner of the jet. His gaze was fixed on me, eyes quickly traveling down my body before quickly locking with mine. His Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed hard, his plush lips parted ever so slightly. I found myself just as drawn into him as he seemed to be with me, for a few seconds it was just the two of us shutting our surroundings out. It was…something. “You look nice,” Bucky finally said, his voice slightly strained.

My lips quirked upwards, “Thanks.” “It is time for us to leave,” Zemo announced, bursting the bubble Bucky and I had built, “You’d better get used to those shoes quickly, we’ll be making most of the journey by foot.” He hadn’t been lying. We departed the runway and walked our way towards the city. Madripoor looked beautiful on the outside, the high-rise buildings lit up in all different colors emitting a glow across the waters. 

“We have to do something about this,” Sam finally exclaimed, holding the lapels of his patterned maroon suit, “I’m the only one who looks like a pimp.” “If you’re a pimp, what does that make me?” I gestured to the amount of skin I had on display, “Suck it up, Wilson.” “Only an American would assume a fashion-forward black man looks like a pimp,” Zemo added as we crossed the large bridge leading to the city, “You look exactly like the man you’re supposed to be playing. The sophisticated, charming African rake named Conrad Mack, aka the Smiling Tiger.” Sam took Zemo’s phone from his outstretched hand, “He even has a bad nickname.”

I leaned over to look at the picture of Sam’s doppelgänger, “Hey, be nice. That’s your twin you’re talking about.” “And you,” Zemo addressed me, “Conrad is known for entertaining beautiful women, one after the other,” he ignored the faces of disgust Sam and I made at the thought of acting as a couple, “You will be playing tonight’s date, no need to come up with a name or a story as his dates are typically just arm candy.”

“So I’m supposed to just sit and look pretty?” I side eyed Zemo in annoyance, “Great.” “You smell this?” he asked the group.

“Yeah, what is that? Acid?” Sam asked.

“Madripoor,” Zemo answered, “No matter what happens, we have to stay in character. Our lives depend on it. There’s no margin for error. High Town’s that way,” Zemo pointed towards the part of the city I’d been admiring, “Not a bad place if you want to visit, but Low Town’s the other way.” We approached a car waiting for us at the end of the bridge, ready to take us into the darkest part of the city. Bucky, who had remained silent since the plane, climbed into the backseat first while Zemo took the passenger’s side. “Let me guess,” Sam remarked as we moved to get in the car, “We don’t have any friends in High Town.”

“I’m guessing not,” I muttered, ducking into the back seat and sliding till I was pressed against Bucky. He didn’t make a sound, he barely even registered my presence. I was about to ask him if he was alright when I realized what he was doing. We all had our roles to play and Bucky was doing just that. 

Sam climbed in next to me and we took off, me sandwiched between the two men trying to convince myself that I could do this. I could pretend to be someone I wasn’t to get answers, but my nerves was convincing me I was going to mess it up for us. No margin for error, Zemo’s words bounced around in my brain. He’d said our lives depended on it. They depended on whether or not I could keep it together. Sam must have sensed my anxiety because I felt his palm slide against my clammy one and squeeze. I sent a shaky one back, taking what comfort I could that I didn’t have to do this alone.

We were escorted in by a motorcade till we got to the seedier part of the city, the bridge we parked under painted with graffiti. Sam helped me out of the car and Zemo took our group through the back way into the city. As we crossed the overhead bridge, looking down into the city, I began to feel like my life had suddenly become some fever dream. Even more so once we entered the city and I was surrounded by people from all walks of life. Smugglers were making deals, guards were stationed outside buildings with machine guns, forgers were trying to sell to people. It was like nothing I’d ever seen. Sam kept me on his arm the entire time, selling our characters while still retaining his protective nature. We followed Zemo into a crowded bar, weaving our way through. “Here we are,” he announced quietly, our fellow patrons took notice as soon as they caught sight of Bucky, “Gotov podchinit'sya, zimniy soldat?” (Ready to comply, Winter Soldier?)

I tried my best to keep my face neutral, though an unwelcome chill went down my spine as Zemo began his act. It was wrong. It wasn’t fair to Bucky or his recovery to make him do this.

We approached the bar and the bartender came over immediately, “Hello, gentlemen. Ma’am. Wasn’t expecting you, Smiling Tiger.” “His plans changed,” Zemo explained, “We have business to do with Selby.”

The bartender looked over suspiciously at Sam, “The usual?” Sam nodded casually in response and the man walked away to begin prepping the drink. What took us by surprise was when he reached for a jar containing a dead snake rather than the bottle of alcohol. He proceeded to lay the reptile on a cutting board and slice its stomach open, I looked up to Sam who was doing his best to keep his composure. “Ah, Smiling Tiger,” Zemo jeered, “Your favorite.”

The bartender removed a piece of the snake’s guts and sunk it into a shot glass filled with vodka. I covered my mouth with my clutch to conceal my delight at the sight I was about to behold. Sam caught the action and addressed the bartender, “You know what? She’ll have one too.” “Oh, no, I don’t think so,” I quickly protested, waving it off as if it were a shot of tequila and not an animal intestine.

“No, girl, I insist,” Sam grinned phonily at me.

“They actually upset my stomach,” I giggled, glancing to the bartender, “Can’t hold my liquor to save my life, I’ll be up all night sick if it touches my lips. But you enjoy, sweetheart.” The bartender didn’t pay much attention to the exchange as he set the shot glass in front of Sam, who looked unconvincingly between the glass and Zemo. “I love these,” he stated, holding it up for us all to see.

“Cheers, Conrad,” Zemo clinked his glass against Sam’s.

Sam made several, hopefully convincing, noises of excitement about his drink. After giving it one last look, he shot it straight down, holding a thumbs up to the bartender afterwards.

“How badly are you trying not to throw up right now?” I whispered after the man had left.

“I can’t even hear you right now,” Sam replied in a strained voice, focusing on keeping the drink where it needed to be. An intimidating bearded man made us all turn around, he looked to Zemo. “I got word from on high. You ain’t welcome here.”

Zemo, ever the cool and collected presence, turned to the man. “I have no business with the Power Broker. But if he insists, he can either come and talk to me…” Zemo gestured to Bucky, standing at his side. 

“New haircut?” the man asked Bucky, who stayed silent.

“Or bring Selby for a chat,” Zemo finished.

The man left, leaving us with questions. “A power broker?” Bucky grumbled, “Really?” “Every kingdom needs its king,” Zemo replied, “Let’s just pray we stay under his radar.” 

“Do you know him?” Sam inconspicuously asked. “Only be reputation the baron answered, “In Madripoor he is judge, jury, and executioner.”

I spotted another man approaching us, this one walking with a purpose. Zemo looked to Bucky, the show was about to start. “Zimniy Soldat,” Bucky nodded once, “Attask.” (Winter Soldier, attack.) As soon as the stranger thumped Zemo’s shoulder, Bucky sprang to action, his metal hand grabbing and twisting the man’s arm. He pushed him to the center of the room where he proceeded to twist it further before dropping him to the ground. The groans coming from him were sickening as he lay helpless, clutching his most likely broken arm. As another patron came up to attack, Bucky moved fast to disarm him before power kicking him into a table several times. I clung to Sam’s arm even tighter as Zemo shoved someone forward for Bucky to punch, sending him sliding across the floor. 

“Didn’t take much for him to fall back into form,” Zemo slyly observed, from my side. It took everything in me not to send him flying across the room right then. He was enjoying this.

When Bucky lifted a man by his throat and slammed him down on the bar was when guns all over the bar were cocked. Sam grabbed onto Bucky’s metal arm, ready to pull him back to us and to reality. “Stay in character,” Zemo whispered, dead serious, “Or the whole bar turns on us.” Sam dropped his arm as Zemo leaned into Bucky, “Molodets, soldat.” (Well done, soldier.)

“Selby will see you now,” the bartender said, watching the scene in awe. Bucky slowly let the man go, gasping and groaning for air once he was freed. Sam looked over warily, “You good?” When Bucky faced us, his eyes met mine before they met Sam’s. I wished I could have concealed my reaction better for his sake, but the second he had attacked was the first time since we’d met that I’d been properly scared of him. It made the incident on the plane look like nothing. My mind knew he was just acting, pretending to be someone he once was for the sake of furthering our mission. But my blood ran just as cold with fear as it would have if the Winter Soldier was standing in front of me. Bucky’s eyes now were watery, filled with pain that he’d worked hard with his therapist to get through, now being brought back to life. Had the bar not been watching and had I not needed to stick with Sam, I’d have been at his side trying to make sure he was alright. Instead, I could only watch as he sniffled, nodded to Sam and followed Zemo to wherever we were going next.

We were escorted upstairs through a series of hallways with a heavily armed guard following us. A white haired woman sat in the middle of the room we were led to, tapping her fingers against the couch she lounged on. “You should know, Baron, people don’t just come into my bar and make demands.” Zemo smiled, “Not a demand. An offer.”

Sam and I took our places standing next to Selby, Bucky stood watch across from us, back in his act. 

“A lot has changed since you were here last,” Selby spared a look at Bucky, “By the way, I thought you were rotting away in a German prison. How did you escape?” 

“People like us always find a way, don’t we?” Zemo shrugged, “I’m sure you’ve already figured out what I’m here for.” 

Selby pointed a blind finger towards Sam, “You’re taller than I’d heard, Smiling Tiger,” she eyed Sam suggestively and gave him a purr before turning her attention to me, “And what a lovely little dish you’ve got with you.” Internally I was struggling to stay calm and had never felt more exposed with the thin materiel of the dress over my body. “What’s the offer?” Selby grinned at Zemo.

“Tell us what you know about the super-soldier serum,” Zemo replied, rising from his seat to circle Bucky, “And I give you him, along with the code words to control him, of course. He will do anything you want,” Zemo rubbed Bucky’s chin, playing with it to provoke him but knowing he could get away with it. I felt sick to my stomach.

“Now that’s the Zemo I remember,” Selby approved, “I’m glad I decided not to kill you immediately. Yeah, you were right to come to me. Arrogant, but right. The super-soldier serum is here in Madripoor. Dr. Wilfred Nagel is the man you wanna thank. Or condemn, depending on what side of this you’re on. The Power Broker had him working on the serum, but…things didn’t go as planned.”

I squeezed Sam’s arm, we were getting answers. The crazy, chaotic plan was actually working. “Is Nagal still in Madripoor?” Zemo asked.

“Oh, the bread crumbs you can have for free,” Selby’s flirtatious demeanor shifted as she stood to business-like, “But the bakery is gonna cost you, Baron. And before you get all cute, don’t think you can find Nagel without me.” 

A sudden vibration tickled my arm from Sam’s suit pocket, it was his cell phone. He pulled it out hesitantly and looked down at it, I glanced over to see that it was Sarah calling.

“Answer it,” Selby ordered, Bucky had moved behind her to give us protection if need be, “On speaker.” The armed bodyguards moved in closer, it was clear we had no say in the matter. Sam unlocked his phone and pressed the speaker button, “Hello?” “Hey, um, we need to talk about this situation,” Sarah’s voice filled the air, sending an all too brief wave of peace through me, “It’s been drivin’ me nuts.” 

“What situation exactly are you talkin’ about?” Sam replied stiffly. “Are you high? You know what situation, it’s the only situation me and you have.”

“What situation, Sarah?” Sam’s voice grew louder, “Say it.”

“The damn boat,” Sarah replied just as hard, “And watch your tone, okay? I let you slide at the bank.”

Sarah. The boat. Home. And here I was standing in a designer dress meeting with Indonesian crime bosses. Two unbelievable worlds were colliding on the call.

Sam scoffed and nervously chuckling, “Yeah, the bank. Laundered so much, yeah, they’ll come around.” “If that was the case, then why’d they dog you out, Big Time?”

“Yeah, you damn right I’m Big Time. You’ll see,” Sam paused menacingly, “When I have that banker killed.”

We almost had Selby convinced as I watched her pace around the room, we were so close to- “Cass! What’d I tell you about the Cheerios? I don’t have time for this!” Sarah yelled, “Sam, I’m sorry. Let me call you back, and make sure Y/n is with you too.” “Sam? Y/n?” Selby echoed the names, “Who are you? Kill them!”

A second after she had given the order, a bullet shot through the nearby window and struck her chest fatally. The four of us sprung to action, Sam landing punches on the guard stationed behind us while I used my energy to pull the machine gun from his grasp. Across from us, Bucky took care of the other guard. I handed the weapon to Sam and we took our positions in the back of the room, ready to retaliate against the hidden assassin. “They’re gonna pin this on us,” Sam panted, our backs against the wall.

“We have a real problem now,” Zemo said, unbelievably calm for someone in our situation, “So leave your weapons and follow my lead.” Bucky ripped the lock on the back door and the four of us filed down the staircase quick as we could. It dropped us back off in the middle of the city, we hurriedly made our way down the street where all heads were turning to us. “This is not good,” Zemo hurried. The words hung in the air for a grand total of five seconds before bullets started to rain down around us. Bucky, Sam and I tore down the street where in the chaos, Zemo took off in another direction.

“I can’t run in these heels!” Sam yelled over the gunfire. “Oh, I don’t wanna hear it,” I exclaimed, struggling to keep up with them in my stilettos, “Screw it!”

I threw my hands out to my side and lifted off the ground, keeping low enough to dodge any shots but stay close to Sam and Bucky. Two motorcycles sped after us promising more bounty hunters, Zemo caught up with us and killed two lone gunmen hiding behind a dumpster. Two perfectly aimed bullets came out of nowhere and lodged themselves in the heads of the cyclists chasing us.

“You seem to have a guardian angel,” Zemo observed as the three of us looked around for our savior.

“Well, this is too perfect,” a woman’s voice said, she appeared seconds later drawing back her hood and pointing a gun toward us, “Drop it, Zemo.”

Bucky stepped forward disbelievingly, “Sharon?” Sharon Carter. I recognized her only from the pictures I’d seen of her on the news when the shitstorm that branded her an enemy of the state went down. As she strode forward, ready to strike down the man responsible, I couldn’t say with certainty if she was an ally or not. “You cost me everything,” she seethed.

“Sharon, wait,” Sam, ever the steady presence, held a hand out and carefully came towards her, “Someone recreated the super-soldier serum and Zemo had a lead.” “Well, that explains why you guys are here and Selby’s dead.”

“So what are you doing here?” Bucky asked.

“I stole Steve’s shield, remember?” she answered, her face contorting, “I also took the wings for your ass,” she aimed her gun at Sam, “So that you could save his ass,” then at Bucky, “From his ass,” the gun landed on me after Zemo, “Your ass is new.” “I’ve had one hell of an initiation, trust me,” I replied, standing my ground between Bucky and Zemo.

Sharon turned back towards Sam, “Unlike you, I didn’t have the Avengers to back me up so I’m off the grid in Madripoor.”

“Don’t blow that smoke at me, I was on the run, too,” Sam recalled. “Was. Is. Big difference. I don’t speak to my family anymore,” Sharon shook her head sadly, “I can’t. My own father doesn’t know where I am.”

“Listen, Sharon,” Bucky stepped forward, “We need your help. Please.” Sharon mirthlessly chuckled to herself, sighing afterwards as she made her decision. “This isn’t over. I have a place in High Town, you should be safe there for a while.”

While Sam roughly shoved Zemo forward to keep him in his line of sight, Bucky pressed a gentle hand to the small of my back to act as a guide through the dark alleyways. “You okay?” he asked quietly, quickly looking over at me. With everything he’d gone through in the last twenty minutes, the fight in the bar, the unshed tears in his eyes, Zemo talking about him like he was property to be traded, I couldn’t understand why he was asking if I was alright. He was what I was concerned with right now. “I will be once I get out of these shoes,” I joked, trying to get him to smile if at all possible. A corner of his lips turned upwards in a blink-and-you’d-miss-it flash, mine doing the same right after in some sort of relief.

Sharon led us to her car parked down a different alley, Sam shoved Zemo in the front seat while him, Bucky and I squeezed in the backseat once again. The difference between Low Town and High Town was visceral, Madripoor may have been dangerous no matter where you went but High Town provided a little more safety. When we arrived at Sharon’s house, greeted by two burly guards, the feeling of protection increased. The first room we entered was filled with artwork, statues and other priceless works that told us exactly what Sharon had done to afford her lifestyle in High Town.

“Looks like breaking all those laws is treating you well,” Sam commented as we walked through the room.

“Well, I thought if I had to hustle, might as well enjoy the life of a real hustler,” Sharon shrugged, far too goodheartedly for a true criminal, “You know how much I can get for a real Monet?” Sam grinned at his friend, “Deactivate your hustle mood, you sell fake Monets.”

“No, she means real,” Zemo corrected, “This gallery is specialized in stolen artwork. Monet. Van Gogh. Classics.” “I kinda thought that was implied,” I said, following Sharon and Zemo and beginning to relax in the shockingly calm environment, “No offense.” Sharon scoffed, “None taken, a girl’s gotta do what she can to survive. By the way, who are you?”

“Y/n Y/l/n,” I answered, “Sam’s sister.” “Hmm,” Sharon hummed, looking me over once before turning around to hurry Sam and Bucky along, “Come on, you guys need to change. I’m hosting clients in an hour. You,” she pointed to me, “Second door on your left, I’ll bring something up for you.” At the promise of shedding the over exposing dress and blistering heels, I had never moved faster in my life.

————

I took the opportunity to catch my breath while I could, the night had been a little too exciting than any of us had wanted. Sitting on the edge of Sharon’s bed with my elbows balanced on my knees, I felt the adrenaline rush I’d been running on start to subside.

The door opened, bringing in Sharon and her garment of choice. “This looked like it would fit you,” she said, tossing me a black jumpsuit that looked ten times more comfortable than what I was in. She walked over to her wardrobe and pulled out an outfit for herself, “I gotta change too, back to back?” “Works for me,” I replied, turning around and beginning to unzip the dress.

“So you said you’re Sam’s sister but your last name isn’t Wilson?” Sharon asked, I could hear the sound of her clothes hitting the floor.

“We grew up together,” I freed myself of the dress and kicked it to the corner of the room.

“That doesn’t explain why you’re here though,” she said, “This is probably the shittiest family road trip you could go on so clearly there’s a reason.” I looked over to the wardrobe, a pair of black boots sitting on the floor next to it. I used my energy to levitate them and landed them at Sharon’s side. Her dry chuckle served as her reaction. “I kinda begged him to bring me,” I explained as I pulled the jumpsuit up my body, “He was going to send me back home before John Walker decided to not so subtly threaten me with the Sokovian Accords, figured I’d be safer here with them.” “Safer?” Sharon scoffed, “Did he say this before or after you were being shot at by bounty hunters?”

“Well, between getting shipped off to jail and going undercover with a superhero and a Super Soldier as protection, I’ll take my chances here.” I heard Sharon walk away, presumably finished dressing. I zipped up the suit and tightened the belt, turning around after to find her leaned up against her dresser with her hands in her pockets. “Look, I know we just met but let me do you a favor and shed some light on the subject of heroics. It’s all bullshit. The whole costume, nickname, swoop-in-and-save-the-day act is all hypocrisy. I get that you’re young, you’ve got,” she waved a hand at mine, “Whatever that is. Maybe you want to do some good, maybe you just want to feel like you’re a part of something. Maybe you didn’t think it through at all and just thought it would be cool to run with a superhero. But if you’re smart, you’ll get your ass on a plane to anywhere but here and stay clear of all this.”

There was so much going through my head that I wanted to throw back at her, proving her speech completely wrong. Then I remembered that this woman had sacrificed more than most had and the government had turned their backs on her. She’d stuck her neck out for Steve and Sam and had been punished for it. Plus, she was kind enough to give us refuge when she had every right now to. I wasn’t in a place to criticize her. If anything, she should have been a cautionary tale. “I’ve had these powers all my life and have never known what to do with them,” I responded, “I want to help people and this is the best way for me to do that. As easy as it would be for some people to walk away, this is personal and I can’t leave now.” Sharon stared back at me silently before pushing herself off the dresser and brushing past me. There were layers of her expression, if I could peel each one back I thought I might get to the sadness I suspected she felt regarding her current life status. She opened her wardrobe, pulled out a pair of combat boots and handed them to me. “Then take a step back and ask yourself how far you’re willing to go. And if the three of you live long enough to get there, is it going to be worth the hell that’ll come afterwards?” She gave me a half smile before leaving the room, her heavy words hanging in the air. Steve had been my friend, Sam was my brother and Bucky was quickly climbing the ranks of people I cared about. I was going to see this through to the end with them, but what was the end? Was it retrieving the rest of the serum and stopping the Flag Smashers? Was it only two of us returning? One? None? Questions I didn’t have the answers to swirled in my mind as I stared at the door, wondering what awaited us for the rest of the night.

----

A/N: Next chapter is going to be...let’s just say there’s gonna be a lot of developments. A lot. Hope you guys are enjoying it, let me know what you thought or if you’d like to be tagged.

Safe Haven taglist: @tanyaherondale​ @wanniiieeee​ @asoftie4bucky​ @edencherries​ @i-reblog-fics-i-like​ @ttalisa​ @gcfty @withyoutilltheendofthismess​ @rinaispunk​ @weirdowithnobeardo​ @felicityofbakerstreet​ @godlypotterwhodiaries @eternalharry​ @voguesir​ @mizz-kraziii​ @okayline​ @smellmymisunderstoodfluff @wanderin-stories​ @nicklet94 @intricate-melody​ @aesthethickks​ @stumbleonmywords​ @simplybarnes​ @21bruhs​ @lostinwonderland314​ @superbookishhufflepuff​ @kaelyn-lobrutto24​ @zozebo​ @fandomxreaders​ @kittengirl998​ @sarai-ibn-la-ahad​

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x fem!reader #bucky barnes imagine #sam wilson x reader #sam wilson x platonic!reader #marvel imagine

[aphrodite-made-me-write-it]

Revelation: XIV

Part One: Remember Me

(A/N) Okay! So! Here goes nothing! I’ve been writing this ever since i saw Wonder Woman 1984 a few weeks ago and thought to myself, ‘wow that was absolute garbage. i bet i could write a better sequel.’ and thus this blog was born out of spite and this fic is the result. I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it. It’s gonna be hella slowburn, but I promise it’s not all terrible (Also: No spoilers for 1984 technically but I’ll be honest all you gotta know about that movie was that she learns how to fly at the end. That’s it. The rest of it was irrelevant and a waste of my eternity.)

Dumb Playlist? Dumb playlist. yes i made it specifically for this fic and what of it

Rating: Mature

Warnings: Flashbacks of abuse and childhood experimentation (some in graphic detail, though they will be italicized so that if you cannot handle reading it, you can either skip it or stop reading entirely. Please consider your mental health before ignoring it for a gay fanfiction about wonder woman); Somewhat Graphic Violence (more of that in the future, though); Graphic Depictions of Death; Sort of religious undertones but not really any religion in particular. i like the way angels are portrayed through  judaism but i haven’t really laid anything out in stone so ig it’s up to interpretation; God is a woman though and that’s the tea; General Angst and Gay Pining; Hits like a Soulmate AU but I added too much melancholy; Also I definitely meme too much at some parts to try and lighten the existential dread that I’ve poured into this. 

Pairing: Diana Prince / Wonder Woman x F!Reader

Chapter Word Count: 5,057

Total Word Count (so far):  15,110

Synopsis: If anyone were to ask Diana Prince if she believed in angels, she’d laugh in their faces. If anyone were to tell her she’d be protecting one, she’d never believe them. Yet, here you are, a dead girl come back to life with no memories of your violent past and divine powers that Diana has never witnessed before. Can you unlock the secrets of your memories and your destiny before you’re captured again, or will you be lost forever?

| I | II | III | IV | more coming soon |

It’s cold and damp; musky - like a basement. Your body feels heavy and stiff, impossible to move just yet. With great effort, your eyes slowly open. You hiss and flinch at the pain of the unexpectedly bright light above you, stars swirling on the backs of your eyelids.

Where are you?

After a moment, you open your eyes again - carefully, this time - and let them adjust to the fluorescence. You turn your head with a quiet grunt, trying to see as much of the room on either side of you as possible. 

You’re on a metal table, a thin sheet covering your body. To your left is another metal table, with a similar lumpy sheet on top of it. To your right is a door. You can’t see much beyond it - possibly another wall, maybe a hallway of some sort?

Where the hell are you?

You try to remember something. Anything at all. But there’s just… nothing. A blank, empty space. Not even your own name comes to mind, though you swear it’s at the very tip of your tongue. Maybe you’d be able to think clearer if you weren’t so damn cold. It’s like they’re trying to torture you with a metal table and a freezing room.

Something isn’t right here. 

You shiver as you pull yourself into a sitting position. The ache of your body is slowly starting to recede, but it doesn’t matter much when you’re this cold. This sheet certainly isn’t doing anything helpful. Regardless, you wrap yourself in it as you cautiously attempt to stand.

Immediately, your legs collapse. You hiss in pain when your head smacks into the linoleum, world spinning for several seconds until you push yourself back up. It’s easier with the support of one of the nearby tables.

Adjustment. You have to adjust to this. Keep calm, carry on- what the hell is that?

Your wrist has a band on it. You squint at it, trying hard to make sense of the words.

Subject D-14 - “(Y/N)” - AOC: 7YRS - DOE: June 18

You frown. Is that your name? You guess it must be. 

You turn to the table next to you again, the only other occupied one in this room full of many. There’s a sinking feeling in the pit of your stomach, churning your guts like butter. There’s something inexplicably horrific about this - your entire body is screaming at you to get out and go. But, in the end, curiosity trumps survival.

Your hand is shaking when your fingers pull the sheet down.

It’s the hole in the middle of a deathly paled forehead that makes you jerk your body away. You gag, but nothing comes up. Waves of dark hair drip over the edges of the table like spilled ink; pale, lifeless eyes stare up into nothing. And there is a hole in her head. 

Holy shit holy shit holy shit holy shit-

You’re shivering openly, now, clutching your own sheet so tight around your body you wonder if it’s possible to knock yourself out. What the hell is going on here?! You anxiously stare at the door, holding your rapid breathing to listen to the outside world. Complete, total silence.

You should leave. But you’re naked. And then there’s the woman… she feels important, somehow. You eye the arm that had slipped free when you moved the sheet, bent at an awkward angle. It looks as broken as the rest of her. 

You make absolutely sure not to touch any part of the body as you lean closer to the wrist of that arm, narrowing your eyes until the words on the bracelet become clear.

Subject G-43 - “Daisy” - AOC: 13YRS - DOE: June 18

Your eyes skim the surface of skin chilled by death, all the way to the openly horrified face of the woman who once was something. Your heart clenches painfully, tears finding their way to your eyes without warning. You force yourself to look away, nausea rearing its ugly head once more.

She has the same wrist band as you. Maybe this place supplied them? For what purpose, though?

You don’t know what the hell is going on, but you know one thing is for certain: You have to get the fuck out of here. The certainty of danger rings through you so violently that there is no questioning it. This is absolute. You must leave by any means necessary.

You quietly look through the rest of the room. There are tons of medical supplies, but nothing that could even remotely pass off as clothing. It goes back rather far to accommodate the multitude of metal tables, lined by cabinets and countertops. Nothing in the cabinets holds clothes, unless you can figure out how to turn a bunch of surgical gloves into a dress but you don’t have that kind of time. 

There’s a closet in the very far back, but it only has cleaning supplies and hazardous waste.

Shit shit shit. You don’t know if anyone is going to come in here any time soon, and if they do, you don’t want to know what they’ll do to you when they realize that you’re walking around. Which you’re not entirely sure you should be doing.

That thought stops you just short of the door leading out.

Wait. Did you… are you dead?

Oh no. Oh no no no. That explains the bracelet and the dead-body-filled basement. This is a place for dead bodies. Oh no. Fuck.

Your panic kicks your brain into fuck-this-shit mode and without much further thought, you rush towards the door in front of you. With an undignified yelp, you stumble right through it. You freeze up at the sensation, nearly smacking onto the floor again.

Did you just walk through that door?

You look back at it, then down at your hands, then back at the door. Okay, so you’re a ghost. That’s fine. This is fine. Maybe you’re doomed to an eternity of trying to escape this facility. That’s not so fine.

“What the-” a voice makes you turn on your heels. At the end of the hallway is a woman, staring right at you. She certainly looks like she’s seen a ghost, but there’s a little too much focus on your sheet-clad body for comfort. “Ho...ly...shit.” She breathes, pulling a gun from her pocket.

Your body acts a lot quicker than your brain ever could. It’s instinct that pushes you forward until your fist connects with a shocked expression. You use the momentum to kick her feet out from under her, jabbing her with your elbow as she falls forward. There’s a smack when her head hits the floor, and then silence once more.

Okay. So, not a ghost. Just… able to walk through walls and come back to life.

Not making things any easier to understand.

The woman is wearing a lab coat and scrubs. Was she going to go back to that room? What would she have done if she found you alive? Judging by the gun in one of her pockets, you doubt it would have been anything good. 

You pause to examine the rest of the hallway, focusing hard on your hearing as you slow your breathing. Nothing. Not a single noise. A bit further away is a door marked ‘LAVATORY’. With no idea what the hell that means, you lift the woman into your arms with surprising ease - as if she weighed nothing at all - and carry her into that room.

What the hell does a bathroom have to do with lava? 

You make quick work at changing into the woman’s clothes that don’t quite fit you properly. The pants are a bit too long for you, and her shoes don’t fit, but they’d only make noise anyway. 

When you’re ready to go, you stop and stare at the mirror hanging above the porcelain sink.

The face staring back at you isn’t your own. At least - it doesn’t feel like it. You feel different, though you suppose anything besides ‘dead’ could be considered a different feeling. You just… feel like more. More what, though? You aren’t sure. There’s just something latching onto you, hanging tight to that strange light inside of you.

Once you notice this light, an extraordinary feeling erupts around you. A web of the stuff; dazzling, numerous little lights that feel alive. Pulsating like hearts, some brighter and faster than others. It makes you gasp, feeling so much all at once. There’s so much suffering and pain here. It makes your throat close up tight.

There’s another powerful entity here. A dark one, writhing in anger and hatred; you nearly collapse with the weight of it. The woman behind you has that light, too. Dimmer, also brimming with anger, but there’s something deeper. Something brighter.

You have to focus.

You can think about all of this later. 

You curl your fingers around the gun in your pocket, and without a final glance at the stranger in the mirror, you leave the not-lava-filled-bathroom and slip into the hallway once again. You walk on the balls of your feet, keeping as silent as possible.

It isn’t long before you realize this place is a freaking maze.

It’s starting to frustrate you until you remember you can just walk through walls.

You pick a wall and, without hesitation, run right into it with a hard thwack. You groan at the ringing of pain, but quickly recover from the total embarrassment that is your entire life so far. That’s when you see the door marked ‘Stairs’ and politely wonder why the hell you didn’t just stay the fuck dead.

You can phase through the door easily enough. You keep quiet as you begin your ascent, not quite sure how far up this building goes nor what floor could be considered the ground one. 

Your legs are starting to ache when you come across a dark red door. Your ears start to ring, the world falling apart around you in a momentary flash. 

“They can never take this away from us.” A promise. “Nothing ever can. Not even death.”

It’s gone as quick as it had come, but the effect echoes in your mind and washes through your body with a wave of grief so profound you almost collapse. You’ve lost something terribly important here.

You keep moving. Not far above, there appears to be natural light - possibly from a window. That’s your best shot.

You make it up one more staircase before you hear a door open below. An alarm blares, heavy footsteps following you at a breakneck pace. You push yourself to go faster, a newfound determination in your actions. Were you always this fast?

There are shouts below. To your great relief, the sign on this door says ‘ARC HQ’ and that seems like a good enough reason to phase right through it. You grin at the ease at which you can control this odd ability. So, no walls. Got it.

More people in dark uniforms start filing in from hallways, all with raised weapons. They’re yelling at you, at each other. There’s fear - real fear - but you can’t tell if it’s your own, or theirs. It makes your head spin, overwhelming in so many ways. One thing is for certain, though: you are not letting them kill you.

A warm sensation ignites around you. Light bursts from you in dazzling radiance, the men and women pausing in their mania to gawk openly at you. Something unfurls behind you, stretching out the span of the hallway like feathered wings. Instead of feathers, however, there is something like sunlight pouring from them. Instead of two, there are four, disarming in their brilliance. 

The buildup of energy spills from you in waves. You know by simple intuition that your eyes are glowing white, which only increases the fear in the armed guards surrounding you. The Great Something that connects all of these lives - including your own - has only heightened in your mind, became inexplicably more accessible. 

An otherworldly feeling takes over your body. In a swoop of your wings and a tug at the weaving web of life around you, the bodies are tossed aside like rag dolls. A furious, broken scream tears from your throat.

You lurch forward, out of the hallway, driven by an unknown force until you find what you somehow know is the only exit. You phase right through it, bursting into the twilight like a shooting star.

Your wings carry you up, up, up. The alarms screech below. There’s rapid gunfire aimed at you but, somehow, none of them land a shot. It’s like the light around you is deflecting the bullets.

It isn’t until you’re well above the clouds, wrapped in the splendor of the setting sun and the peace of silence, that it hits you. You are free.

A disbelieving laugh slips from your lips, unbidden. I’m free. 

The clouds are a cream-colored sea against the marmalade sky. Your own wings cast a gold hue over the puffs of cloud that you weave through. This is real freedom. Flying. It’s something that feels so natural, so right, that for this brief moment, everything in the world feels right.

You’re laughing with delight, looping and arching, testing yourself to see how well you can maneuver. You’re free, you’re alive, you can fly - you can glow. There’s so much happening all at once, your mind is spinning with it all.

Soon, though, the elation begins to give way to exhaustion. You can’t remember ever being so tired - well, you can’t remember, like, anything, so maybe that’s not an accomplishment. You lose altitude, become sloppy in your banking turns. You have to start looking for somewhere to hide, but where?

You won’t survive in the woods, probably. You don’t know where you are, but you know it’s surrounded by miles and miles of forest. Whoever you just escaped from had enough money to have a decent hiding location for the facility, so they probably have enough to fund some kind of way to look for you, right?

You groan to yourself. You’re going to overthink yourself to death. Maybe that’s how you died the first time. By the time night envelopes you, and your wings are a little too bright for the surrounding darkness, you see twinkling lights in the distance. 

As you get closer, you realize the lights are buildings /full of people. The entire place is breathing with hundreds, thousands, of people. It makes you falter just long enough for your vision to flicker for a brief, terrifying moment. 

“Why do you listen to them? Don’t you know what they do to us?”

“They gave me a purpose, Daisy.”

“Yeah, and what is that purpose? … exactly. You don’t even know. They’re fucking with our minds, (Y/N)! We can’t-” 

Something catches you. At first, the sensation makes you squirm ferociously, but when a woman’s voice murmurs something in a gentle tone, you relax. You look up at your savior, bleary-eyed, and meet a warm smile.

“It isn’t often I catch a falling angel,” she says, her voice low and smooth.

“Uh- it isn’t often that I fall.” You respond stupidly, earning a laugh that makes your stomach flutter.

“It takes some getting used to,” she nods understandingly.

You realize, quite suddenly, that she’s flying. Your wings are gone, that power that had once left you in powerful bursts now depleted. You’re exhausted, your whole body limp in this woman’s arms. “Uh- who- who are you?”

“You can call me Diana.” Diana has long, dark waves that remind you painfully of the body you had woken up beside. Diana feels you stiffen in her arms. “Are you alright?”

You use a great amount of strength to reach out with your abilities; seeking out that source of life inside of her. Hers is one unlike any other you’ve seen - and that probably accounts for the lost memories, too. It’s brighter than the sun, more beautiful than any star. It makes your heart leap into your throat.

You can trust her, you know you can. You release the breath you hadn’t known you’d been holding, melting into her grip. “Would you believe me if I told you that I woke up from the dead a few hours ago, and I have absolutely no idea what the hell is going on?”

Diana, to her credit, hides much of her surprise. Her eyes widen, mouth falling open just a bit, but she recovers far quicker than most would. “I have experienced a lot in my life, but that would make the top ten list of the strangest things I’ve heard.”

You huff out a laugh, because, seriously, what would be more insane than a walking, talking, super-powered dead girl?

“I will take you somewhere safe. Relax, you can trust me. “Diana continues, softer now as your eyelids start drooping.

“I know I can,” you slur, finally succumbing to sleep.

-

“What will we do, if we get out?” You ask, voice so quiet you aren’t sure if she hears you.

“Not ‘if’, (Y/N). When. If we let go of hoping for freedom, we’ll never get it.” She pauses. “And… we’ll find her, of course.”

“Who? Your mom?” You never knew yours. Daisy was one of the few found by complete chance. She might still have someone looking for her. She’s probably the only one who has someone looking for her.

“No, silly. The woman who saved her, back in the 80’s. Not like she disappeared. I heard she’s a demigod. My mom says she fights for truth. And justice. That’s the kind of person who should really be talking to angels.”

“We aren’t angels, Daisy. And how can she be a god?.”

“We’re pretty damn close. We get out, we find Wonder Woman, and we take down ARC.”

“You make it sound so easy.”

“Because it is easy. We have to believe it’s easy. Get it?”

You think you’d believe anything she told you, wholeheartedly.

-

You wake up on a soft surface that’s so cozy you can’t resist curling into it. The warmth of it lulls you in and out of consciousness before, slowly, your few memories wriggle their way to the forefront of your mind.

You sit up with a gasp, wincing at the crack of your spine. You take a moment to look over yourself; you’re still in the lab coat and scrubs, but they’re a bit torn from all the action. No sign of the gun you’d once had, but maybe you’d lost it long ago. The room you’re in is comfortably large, the object you’re on is a bed that’s so cushiony you almost feel guilty for lying on it. You consider laying back down and drowning in the fluffed pillows and impossibly warm blanket, however your confusion overpowers your desire to sleep. Besides, you think you’ve had plenty of rest for a while.

You stand on still weak legs, wobbling a bit until your legs remember how to function. You inhale slowly, catching the unmistakable scent of the woman who had caught you. Earthy, but sweet; she smells like the wild, and like the comforts of home.

Not that you know what a home is, but if you had to take a guess at what one smelled like it would probably resemble her. Just comfort and safety. 

You hate being a creeper, but you can’t resist looking around a bit. There are lots of pictures on her shelves. Some in black and white and appear to be older than you are, others more recent. The ones that are older make you frown, because how can this woman exist now but have also existed this long ago? She looks flawless, ageless - timeless. 

Maybe immortality shouldn’t be the most confusing thing about her. She can fly after all, and seemed damn well comfortable doing it. There’s something about her odd costume in those pictures that rings a very, very distant bell. An itch in the back of your mind. You think you might know her, but you cannot imagine you’ve ever met her.

“That’s my favorite picture,” the voice makes you jerk away from the framed photo with a yelp.

“Sorry! I-I didn’t mean to-”

“No, no, it’s alright.” The tall, dark-haired woman is smiling in the doorway of the room. She approaches in a manner that she might consider casual, but to you, nothing about this woman falls anywhere short of graceful and full of purpose. 

“Is-is this you?” You ask dumbly, trying to focus on anything but her swaying hips. 

“It is,” Diana confirms, taking the image. “It was taken during World War One. I was still so new to Man’s World…” Her tone becomes wistful, longing. “Those were friends of mine, who fought with me. Saved the world with me.”

You nod, though you genuinely have no idea what a world war is or what the difference is between Man’s World and anywhere else. So far, your experience with both sexes is a bit unpleasant - but if all women looked and talked like Diana, then you’d be really open to whatever a Woman’s World is.

Diana carefully returns the frame back to its proper place, right next to a watch older than you are that no longer works. “So, may I know of your name now, or after you get a shower and have something to eat?”

You blank for a moment before pulling your wrist up to look at it. “I’m- (Y/N). Yeah. That’s it.”

Diana frowns, reaching out with her hands. “May I?” She questions, gesturing to the band on your wrist. You nod and hold back a gasp when her fingers brush against your skin. There’s that wave again, that incredible soul within her that shines so brightly. “Do you know what any of this means?”

It takes you a little too long to realize she was asking you something. “W-what?”

“These abbreviations, do you know what they mean?” She repeats, a hint of amusement in her tone.

“N-no. I don’t. I woke up in this room and I… don’t remember anything at all.” You pause. “I wasn’t alone, though. There was another body.” There’s a crushing emotion that comes with this confession; not from Diana, but from you. That grief that had always been resting there in the back of your mind is flooding to the surface with a vengeance. “Daisy…” It comes out as a whisper, pained and raw. “I think… I think I knew her and I-” your throat clenches, making you choke around a sob. “I think I’m the reason she- she-”

“Hey, it’s alright, you’re safe,” compassion spills from Diana in soothing waves as she wraps her arms around you. “I have you now, I promise you are safe.”

You hadn’t realized you’d been trembling like a leaf. You’re crying out of fear and despair and joy. You cannot possibly begin to sort through all the twisted, confusing emotions, so instead you focus on what’s radiating from the brunette. She’s the patch of sun in a storm, a beacon of light in the darkness that threatens to swallow you whole.

When, at last, you’ve calmed down, you pull away from Diana with a shy sniffle. “Sorry. This has been… kind of a day.”

“You said you had been dead,” Diana gently rubs your arm before taking a step back. The contact doesn’t leave, though (which you are, admittedly, incredibly thankful for). “How can you know that for sure?”

You moisten your lips, looking away from her. “I just… know. Well- and, you know, the other dead body in a freezing room full of metal tables was kind of a giveaway, too.”

“Where was this place?”

You blush. “I-I don’t know. There were a lot of trees surrounding it, maybe a forest? No main roads, either. Or mountains that I could see.” Your eyes meet hers hesitantly. “Sorry, I just- all I could think about was getting out of there.”

“How did you manage that?”

“Oh!” You brighten up at the idea of showing off a little. Something about her just brings out the urge to impress, though you have no idea why. Maybe it’s because she’s quite literally the most beautiful person you’ve ever seen in your life. Then again, you’ve only been alive for less than a day. 

You pull away from Diana and close the bedroom door. Her eyebrows arch up, curiosity and something else emanating from her. Grinning, you rub your hands together. “I’m not sure if I’m an expert on controlling it, but-” you run for the door, phasing through it without making a total idiot of yourself. You let out a ‘whoop!’ and go back into the bedroom the same way. “Oh, and I think- well, did you see the whole glowy thing? Like, my eyes and my entire body…” You trail off, frowning deeply. “Wow. What happened to me?”

You’re staring at your hands, trying to decipher how all of this was possible, but nothing comes to mind. You’re dead, but you’re alive again. You have these abilities that- well, they don’t seem like something you’ve always had. Flying felt natural, as if you’ve done it countless times - but the rest of it? The glowing, the phasing through walls? That’s not something you think you’ve ever done before.

“That’s… certainly unusual.” Diana’s smile falters when your stomach growls. “Perhaps you should not exert yourself; you were quite exhausted when I found you.”

“How did you find me?”

“It’s my job to save others,” she shrugs, looking away. Is that a blush you see, rising over her cheeks? “And I saw you. Flying. You were impossible to miss.” She wears a fond smile, a reminiscent one. “It reminded me of the first time I learned how to fly. I felt so untethered, so free,” she meets your gaze again. “But you were magnificent.”

Now you’re blushing again. Cheeks aflame, you cough into your fist. “Thank you. I think I’ve done it before, but…” You shrug. “Thanks for saving me. I might be bulletproof but I’m definitely, probably not fall-proof. Maybe.”

“Let’s not find out.”

“Is now a weird time to mention I can also kind of…” You wave your hand in the air vaguely. “I guess I can feel others? Like, when I reach out to you, I feel… this… power, this warmth. It’s not like anything I’ve ever felt before.”

“Emotions?”

“No, like- you. I feel you. Who you are.” You struggle to find the words. 

“A soul?”

You blink. “Yeah, maybe. I don’t know, but- I knew that I’d be safe with you.”

Diana’s smile is as bright as the rest of her. Dazzling. “You are,” she confirms. “I will find you something to wear, but let me show you the bathroom…”

-

Diana returns from her phone call to find that you’ve already finished your plate. Your appetite is rather impressive, though if you’ve truly been dead, she can’t imagine you’ve had anything to eat recently. That, or being so exhausted meant your body demanded the energy of food.

Whatever the reason, it brings a smile to her lips. There was something about you that she was inexplicably drawn to. Your childlike wonder reminded her a lot of herself, so long ago. There also comes, with great surprise, a strong protective urge. She knows something terrible has happened to you, and she has to keep it from ever happening again.

Seeing you in her clothes - that, she notes with amusement, are too big for you - brings about an odd sense of satisfaction. She decided to give you something loose and comfortable, intending to keep you inside until she shopped for some proper clothes for you; a plain nightgown that reveals scarred skin and unexpectedly hard muscle.

You perk up when you catch her gaze, apparently having been lost in your own thoughts. “That was really good! I’ve never had something so-” you stop yourself. “Well, I don’t think I have.”

Diana’s laugh is easy, lighthearted, though her head is still spinning at the hint of a scar on your chest. “Thank you. It’s been a while since I’ve cooked for someone else.”

She takes the empty plate away and begins to wash, though you protest despite having no idea how to wash dishes. When she’s finished, she turns to you and leans back against the counter. “I’ve talked to one of my associates. He’s interested in seeing that band on your wrist.” She motions to it; you didn’t even take it off after the shower. 

“An associate?” You repeat, confused.

“We… have interests that occasionally align,” she explains quite unhelpfully.

“That’s very helpful, thank you.” You drawl sarcastically.

Diana sighs, but there’s a hint of a smile at her lips. “We protect people, save lives. Occasionally, we work together doing that.”

“You save lives?” There’s a wonder in your tone that rings strongly with Diana.

She knows that feeling. The sense of having to do something, of having to help. She can see it even without your powers of empathy. It’s right there, shining in your eyes. “I do,” Diana confirms steadily. “You could too, you know.”

You avert your gaze, something tugging insistently in the back of your mind.

“We could be heroes…” 

“I think I’d like that very much…” You murmur, sounding suddenly hollow.

Diana eases herself into the chair beside yours, her hand finding your own on top of the table. “You don’t have to rush this. Your memories will come.”

“I remember the feelings,” you admit quietly, emptily. “I remember losing something. Something important.”

“Then we will find it.” It sounds like a promise. Such finality, there is no room for argument.

You give her a small grin. “Okay.”

And it’s strange - despite the fact that you cannot remember your life until now, you can’t imagine having ever felt such an immediate, strong connection with someone. You can’t imagine it, but it’s almost familiar. An echo of something in the past that you can’t quite reach. It’s painful, an open wound, but there’s something about Diana’s presence that, perhaps, is beginning to mend what has been broken.

- - - - (Next Chapter) - - - -

#im ngl im nervous as fuck #i've been pouring over that playlist forfucking EVER on my private spotify too #this whole goddamn #this whole shitshow is my CHILD #LOVE MY CHILD PLEASE AND THANK YOU!!! #no but legit if you hate it please tell me #or if u love it also tell me #idk i just want attention or something #wonder woman imagine #diana prince imagine #diana prince x reader #wonder woman x reader #wlw imagine #gxg imagine #wonder woman #diana prince

[hotdemonsummer]

Obey Me! and Angelology and Demonology

 alternatively titled Lets Get Into Lucifer

This is yet another long, long post about the lore of Obey Me! from the perspective of historical and theological angelology, and demonology or the study of angels and demons respectively, because I think it’s neat. I also talk way too much. I’m scared to check the word count on this.

Disclaimer: I am not an expert on anything, and certainly not on religion. I just like comparative theology. Also, spoilers for lesson 43/44.

What is an angel? And what, in turn, is a demon? It depends on who you ask. All religions that have angels have a general consensus that they are spiritual beings, intermediaries of some kind of higher power. Demons, on the other hand, are much more vague beyond general malevolence toward humanity. Any connection between the two is entirely dependent on the culture and religion in question. Some have angels but not demons, and many have vice versa.

There’s generally four kinds of spirits that are considered demons:

Dead people with extremely bad vibes (think mogwai, yuurei, and other revenants)

Neutral-to-malevolent energy, physical form optional (think djinni or yokai)

Cult subjects (including foreign gods and ancestor worship)

Corrupted angels (either fallen or Nephilim)

The word demon comes from the Greek δαίμων, or daimon, but the concept of a demon is much older than the Greeks. The original daimon had none of the malevolent, evil associations that we now think of. Instead, daimon just described a kind of powerful spiritual entity (for example, δαίμων is the term Euripides uses for the new god Dionysus in The Bacchae). What we think of as demons now didn’t exist in Greek culture, and the negative associations came when the Tanakh was translated from Hebrew to Greek, but even then shedim aren’t identical to the contemporary depiction of demons that we see in Obey Me!, which, like everything else in Western society, came about through the domination of Christianity.

Shedim, the precursor to the Christian demon, was more or less a term for false gods, a title for the various Levantine pagan gods (see: origin of Beelzebub, Belphegor, and pretty much every demon that starts with Bel- or Bal-). 

Obey Me! pretty much canonizes Type 2 and Type 4 demons, with characters like Diavolo, Barbatos, and Satan as Type 2 and the other brothers as Type 4. Historically, Beelzebub and Belphegor are Type 3 (Beelzebub and Belphegor being Levantine gods), Mammon being Type 2 (a general personification of Wealth, although Milton did write him as a Type 4 in Paradise Lost) and Asmodeus being somewhere in between Type 2 and 3 (being heavily derived from a Zoroastrian daeva of wrath). Lucifer is, historically, the only consistently Type 4 demon.

I don’t think I have to explain what a fallen angel is to any OM! fan. But I will. 

Let’s talk about these guys. We’re all familiar with Satan’s weird complex about Lucifer, and I’m sure we’re all equally familiar with how Satan and Lucifer are terms used interchangeably for whatever being is The Big Bad of Hell. However, they’re not synonymous.

Satan derives from the same Proto-Semitic root as shayatan, which... should be pretty obvious, but nonetheless has a pretty analogous role as a tempter of men in the Abrahamic religions. Beyond that “tempter of men” title, though, the actual details of what Satan is is incredibly varied, including whether or not “Satan” is a name or a title. In Christianity, the view of Satan as an extremely powerful and evil corrupter of man, wholly opposed to God, came around the Middle Ages, when witchcraft hysteria spread.

Lucifer, on the other hand, is simultaneously a figure originating in Christianity and much, much older than it. The term of course means “light-bringer”, and is heavily associated with the morning star, aka the planet Venus. To make a very long story short, many Mesopotamian, Levantine, and Mediterranean cultures saw the lowering of Venus toward the horizon at night and thought, “hey, thats a pretty neat image!” and created stories about heavenly beings falling toward the earth. Of course, they didn’t use the ‘term’ Lucifer, that’s Latin, and came from the Vulgate Bible.

The term Lucifer does not exclusively refer to The Evil Fallen Angel™ in Christian texts (some very sacred things like the Exsultet explicitly refer to Jesus as Lucifer), but it sure is the most popular interpretation. In works like Paradise Lost or the Divine Comedy, the general idea is that the angel Lucifer rebelled against God in some way and was cast out of Heaven, then becoming Satan, and thus the two are one and the same.

(inb4 some Quora-type chews me out for accuracy’s sake, the “lucifer” mentioned in Isaiah 14:12 refers not to any angel, but to a Babylonian king. The whole fallen angel thing, much like the beatitudes or Bethlehem or Christmas, is a fusion of pagan influences.)

In other words, Lucifer is always and has always been a fallen angel. Satan, on the other hand, doesn’t have those connections to angelhood, and the two figures have an undeniable connection despite their clear individual differences. Sound familiar?

The next question is then what kind of angel is Lucifer anyway? to which you might be thinking, wait, there are different kinds? Yes, holy shit, there are so many kinds of angels and very little consensus on what they are. In terms of Christian angelology (because again, Lucifer is a uniquely Christian/derivative Christian figure unless you exclude Leland’s Aradia which I don’t because lbr they were Italian anyways), most hierarchies are based on the work of this guy:

This man has the incredibly succinct name of Pseudo-Dionysius the Areopagite, and sometime in the 5th century he wrote a book called De Coelesti Hierarchia. It orders the *WTNV voice* hierarchy of angels into three levels called spheres, and each sphere has three sub-levels called choirs. Many, but not all, of the choirs are adopted from various Jewish angelic hierarchies. If you thought that it was just angels and then archangels were, like, the middle management version of angels then you are very wrong. I’m sorry that television lied.

You know who also lied? Tumblr dot com and any post that implies that the true form of angels is a big wheel with a bunch of eyes. That is, in fact, a descriptor for only one kind of angel: ophanim, or thrones. The depiction of angels runs the gamut from winged humanoids to multi-winged humanoids with multiple animal heads to burning snakes to vague heavenly mist.

Archangels and angels are the eighth and ninth lowest choirs of angels, respectively. Angels, or malakhim, are the default messengers of God and the choir from which guardian angels come from. Generally, if someone claims to have a message from God delivered to them, it will be an angel doing it. If it’s really important, it’ll be an archangel. Everyone else literally has more important things to do. No one’s getting visions from dominions.

Lucifer’s (the theological one) actual designation is kind of a mystery. Depending on the text, Lucifer has been described as a seraph (the highest), a cherub (the second highest), or an archangel (the eighth). According to Thomas Aquinas:

Lucifer, chief of the sinning angels, was probably the highest of all the angels. But there are some who think that Lucifer was highest only among the rebel angels.

Not very helpful, but hey. The question remains: what kind of angel is Lucifer, and this time I mean our Lucifer. 

We know that Michael, just like his namesake, is an archangel. We also know that (SPOILERS) Simeon, unlike his namesake, is an archangel as well (Simeon is a saint, not an angel.) Lucifer likely was at their level, if not higher.

However, Lucifer was also a six-winged angel, a depiction generally reserved for seraphim (and cherubim, but far less frequently).

Moreover, in terms of role, an angellic Lucifer fits well with that of the powers, the sixth choir. Powers are in charge of moving the heavenly bodies, and are depicted as powerful warriors dressed in beautiful armor. It's fitting for a being so closely tied to the morning star to be a power, after all.

So, with all that considered, what is Lucifer? 

Well, he’s a seraph (or saraph, technically). Why? Because Simeon is somehow a seraph and an archangel (I have already written too much to unpack that bullshit), and Mammon was a throne (remember those wheels with eyes?) and Beel was a cherub and therefore Lucifer had to be higher than both of them (interestingly big brother Mammon is in a lower choir than little brother Beel). This makes Michael kind of, well... weird, given the archangels’ low rank.

Some like to differentiate between archangel the eighth choir and Archangel, with a capital A, as a term for any high-ranking angel. While this is likely what Solmare is doing, I would be remiss if I didn’t point out that this has zero basis in any religious text whatsoever and is solely done for the convenience of not remembering anything besides angel and archangel. Which is like, fine, but I’m a pedantic jerk who I found claims to the contrary while researching and I felt the need to correct that.

Anyways, the more you know.

#obey me #obey me shall we date #obey me theories #obey me demonology #obey me angelology #obey me lucifer #my theories #YEEHAW that was a lot. my god #anyways besties dont let this flop

[haikyuu-sins]

Fluff Alphabet-Trafalgar Law

Since no one wanted to send me any Law requests, I took matters into my own hands and did this. I got the prompt from @dragonprincess18 so thank you for this because I needed it! :) 

*********

A-Activities: What do they like to do with their boyfriends/girlfriend? How do they spend their free time together?

For the most part, if you’re on the sub with him and there’s nowhere to go but yours and his rooms, his office, and the kitchen area he prefers to stay in his office and room because he enjoys the quiet. Law absolutely loves reading with you. Especially if you’re reading one of his medical books and you ask questions about it. He just really likes that you’re interested in it and want to learn more. He also likes that you know about this kind of stuff in case you need the information. If you do know that he likes Sora, Warrior of the Sea, (he will try to hide it) then he’ll probably geek out once or twice about it. You can’t help but smile when he talks about it so in depth because you love seeing him talk about something he enjoys. If you aren’t on the sub and you’re on a new island, he will begrudgingly (he secretly loves it, but won’t admit) explore the town with you as long as the last stop is a book store of some sort.

B-Beauty: What do they admire about their boyfriends/girlfriend? What do they think is beautiful about them?

He admires how much you care about him. He can see how much you do and he hasn’t had someone like that since Cora. He melts on the inside when he sees you smiling at him and he’s the reason for it.

C-Comfort: How would they help their boyfriends/girlfriend when they feel down, have a panic attack, etc?

He understands what it’s like and sometimes because from time to time he’ll get them when he’s alone. It depends on how you want to be comforted. If you don’t want to be touched, he won’t. He’ll probably just go to the kitchen and get you something warm to drink to help you calm down. But if physical touch helps you, he’ll have you sit on his desk and he’ll rub your thigh or he’ll let you sit on his lap while he rubs your back up and down or cards his fingers through your hair. He’ll reassure you that everything is going to be okay and it’s going to pass and it’s not going to last forever. He lets you talk about it after it’s over and listens to what you have to say. Law will give you advice on what he thinks will help you in whatever situation you’re in. When he sees you sad, he just wants to hold you because he hates seeing you sad. He’ll bring you your favorite comfort drink and food to his room with you (even though I think he’d hate having food and drinks in his bed, he would absolutely make an exception for you) and you guys will just cuddle together while you talk about what’s wrong.

D-Dreams: How do they picture their future with their boyfriends/girlfriend?

Law doesn’t exactly think very far. He’s basically on a suicide mission so honestly he doesn’t see a future yet. Once everything is over and if he survives then he starts to think about his future with you because he really doesn’t want to get your hopes up. He really just always wants to be around you and as long as you’re there with him, everything is perfectly fine. 

E-Equal: Are they the dominant one in the relationship, or rather passive?

He’s a little bit of both, it depends on the day. I’d say he very much tends to be on the more dominant side but there are days where he’s just kind of, whatever about things. That’s only when he has time to relax and that’s almost never.

F-Fight: Would they be easy to forgive their boyfriends/girlfriend? How are they fighting?

I think you’d probably fight with him about how he’s so willing and ready to throw his life away for his causes and how much it bothers you. He says some hurtful things that he’ll admit that he only said out of anger. He’ll be angry for a while but eventually he’ll go and talk to you about the fight and apologize for what he said to you.

G-Gratitude: How grateful are they in general? Are they aware of what their boyfriends/girlfriend do for them?

He’s very grateful for the things you do for him but he may not show it all the time. Like when he forgets to eat and you bring him something that you made for him. He’s also very aware that you take care of him better than he takes care of himself in terms of making him eat and drink water instead of coffee for once.

H-Honesty: Do they have secrets they hide from their boyfriends/girlfriend? Or do they share everything?

He hides a lot. Law is not a very open person and I don’t even think he’s told his crew about his entire past. You might be an exception but honestly, don’t count on it. It’s difficult to get him to open up about himself and you do have to pry a lot. He might get a little annoyed, but when you tell him that you just want to know more about him, he may give in a bit and tell you a thing or two. Definitely hides the fact that he loves Sora, Warrior of the Sea. He doesn’t know that there’s a good chance that you’ve seen the comics before so he thinks he does a good job at hiding them. They’re either in a box under his bed or in his desk drawer.

I-Inspiration: Did their boyfriends/girlfriend change them somehow, or the other way around? Like trying out new things, or helping them overcome personal problems?

If you do get him to open up, you made him realize how good it feels to get things off his chest. Law has been living with this weight on his shoulders about his past and everything that has happened to him. So when you sit there and just listen to him, he likes knowing that you’re actually listening and taking it all in. Don’t say anything, just let him talk. It’s very rare that he comes and talks to you about his problems because he feels like he’s dragging you into unnecessary drama about his plans. He’s taught you to look at things from a different perspective and to think things out thoroughly.

J-Jealousy: Do they get jealous easily? How do they deal with it?

He doesn’t get jealous at all really, mostly annoyed I guess. He doesn’t really do anything unless you can’t get out of the situation, it gets out of hand, or you look to him for help. If he does get jealous, he doesn’t say it and you’ll have to ask Mr. PoutyPants about it. He’ll be shut in his office and probably be a bit petty about it. I can see him hating the fact that Sanji gives you a lot of attention if you don’t shut it down. He may or may not tell you to “go talk to your other boyfriend” at some point because, well, petty. 

K-Kiss: Are they a good kisser? What was the first kiss like?

Oh he’s a good kisser alright. Among plenty other things. Something tells me that pre timeskip Law would be a cocky bastard and pull you to him by your shirt and lift your chin and whatnot- just being a tease. But post timeskip Law just gives me awkward vibes but in the best way possible. He’d be a little more shy about it, honestly I think he may even plan it out in his head and just hopes that everything goes accordingly. 

L-Love Confession: How would they confess to their boyfriends/girlfriend?

He didn’t realize his feelings until the two of you were in real danger. Well he actually did but he didn’t want to admit it. He thought he was really good at pushing his feelings down and not letting bubble up but seeing you so bloody and beat up, it changed in an instant. He knew that he couldn’t lose you. When he was able to patch you up and you woke up after asking how he was, Law was mad. “How am I? You should be asking about yourself, dumbass-ya.” “Seriously Law, are you okay?” “No. I could have lost you.” That’s basically his confession and it’s the best you’re going to get until you actually hear him say that he loves you.

M-Marriage: Do they want to get married? How do they propose? What would the marriage be like?

I don’t think Law would want to get married-officially, anyway- he’s not the kind of guy to settle down. He’s a pirate. If you wanted a ring, then sure he’ll get you one but I don’t think he would actually propose to you. It would be more like an unspoken thing that you guys are very much together so technically you’re married in his eyes and he’ll call you his wife/partner. **Spoilers for Wano Arc!!!** When you get captured and are in the prison with Bepo and the others and when Shinobu says to kill you guys after she thinks you snitched, he’s pissed. Absolutely livid. “You think I’m going to let you put a finger my wife/partner? You’ll be dead before you can take one step towards them.”

N-Nicknames: What do they call their boyfriends/girlfriend?

The only name I can think of him calling you is possibly “love” but it is in the utmost of privacy when he absolutely knows that no one can hear him. He just gets all flustered when others tease him for it and it’s happened a handful of times. The bedroom though is a different story

O-On Cloud Nine: What are they like when they’re in love? Is it obvious to others? How do they express their feelings?

Oh it’s so painfully obvious when he loves you to everyone but him. He thinks he’s hiding it so well, but the small unnecessary touches say otherwise. A brush past your shoulder, “Here, I made extra tea,” or him not yelling at you when you come into his office without knocking on accident. It’s the little things that make it obvious when he thinks it’s not. 

P-PDA: Are they upfront about their relationship? Do they brag about their boyfriends/girlfriend in front of others? Or are they rather shy to kiss, etc, when others are watching?

Not really. The only time he would do something like that is if you needed some sort of help and someone was hitting on you and you asked him to come over. “I don’t think my partner is very interested. I think it would be best if you leave.” He doesn’t brag very much, I’m sorry, he’s just not that kind of guy. He would much rather have your relationship be private. That being said, yes he’s way too shy to kiss you in front of others. Unless he’s sleepy, you might be able to get away with a little peck here and there. 

Q-Quirk: Some random ability they have that’s beneficial in a relationship.

He’s in no way romantic but what he does notice is when you and him are walking along some shops and he sees when something catches your eye or when you look at something longer than the rest. You may find it on your pillow that night. (He will have stolen it.) It makes you happy and that’s all he cares about.

R-Romance: How romantic are they? What would they do to make their boyfriends/girlfriend happy? Cliche, or rather creative?

There is not one romantic bone in this man’s body. He very much relies on his crew to help him. It’s not like they set everything up, although they have a few times but it was a surprise on both of your parts. They wanted you two to have a nice evening together by yourselves and be able to relax without planning it all. That all being said, the romantic stuff is a little on the cliche side, but in the best way possible and it makes really nice memories. 

S-Support: Are they helping their boyfriends/girlfriend achieve their goals? Do they believe in them?

Oh my goodness yes yes yes! He might not show it often but every once in a while he’ll say that he’s proud of you at how far you’ve come as a pirate. Especially if he’s helped you train and feels how much stronger your punches and kicks are.

T-Thrill: Do they need to try out new things to spice up the relationship? Or do they prefer a certain routine?

Routine. Routine. Routine. He does not want to differ from his routine. Sure one new thing every once in a while is okay depending on what it is. But he probably won’t want to incorporate it into the everyday relationship. He likes what he has going with you. Though if you insist on something new, then he’ll try it and see if he gets used to it. If he doesn’t he’ll say something about it. If he does, he’ll stay quiet and not mention it. The second you do is when he wants to stop.

U-Understanding: How well do they know their partner? Are they empathetic?

He gets you. How well depends on how far you are in the relationship and how much you’ve talked. He’s also not very empathetic, I’m sorry. He’ll say what he thinks is best no matter what you may think about it and how much it will hurt your feelings. Sometimes it’s best because you can see another perspective and maybe he can help you from there. He will empathize with you if there’s a death or something tragic happens, he’s not that cruel. He would be there for you. 

V-Value: How important is the relationship to them? What is it worth in comparison to other things in their life?

You’re one of the most important things to Law in the world. He’s even found himself second guessing his plans and missions because he doesn’t want to lose you somehow. *spoilers I guess* If Doflamingo or Kaido ever got his hands on you and hurt you, he’d never forgive himself. He does put you first though and like I said before, you’ve argued with him over his plans and he’s very headstrong about it so he’s not going to back down.

W-Wild Card: A random fluff headcanon.

He’s let you paint his nails black one time and one time only. He won’t tell you that he actually didn’t mind it but he made you take it off before you guys went out to eat with the crew.

X-XOXO: Are they very affectionate? Do they love to kiss and cuddle?

Only in private. He’s a touch starved baby and he does actually really appreciate your touch when he’s stressed. So if you come into his office when he’s working on something and you can tell he’s ready to rip his hair out, he’ll love if you came up to him and hugged him from behind or rubbed his shoulders. Law actually does like to cuddle at night though when he’s trying to sleep. He’s found that when you’re either on his chest or he’s holding you it’s easier for him to get some shut eye even if it’s just for a few hours.

Y-Yearning: How will they cope when they’re missing their boyfriends/girlfriend?

He copes well enough. Of course he does miss you but he’s not going to cry about it. He might just kinda lean back in his office chair and sigh while he’s thinking about you. But when he’s really missing you, he’ll take a picture out from his desk that Bepo and Penguin made him take with you. He looks annoyed in the photo and he’s rolling his eyes, but he only pays attention to you and your bright smile and goofy pose. He can’t help but smile fondly at it. He won’t admit it but he actually really loves the picture and would never tell Bepo and Penguin that.

Z-Zeal: Are they willing to go to great lengths for the relationship? If so, what kind?

Absofuckinlutely! He loves you with all his heart even if he doesn’t say it very often. He hasn’t loved someone like this in a very long time so he wants to protect what he has with you at all costs. I 100% believe he would risk his life for you. He does not want to lose you or anyone he loves ever again.

#one piece #trafalgar law #trafalgar law x reader #law x reader #trafalgar law headcanons #trafalgar-law-headcanons #law headcanons #one piece trafalgar law #op trafalgar law #trafalgar-law headcanons #one piece headcanons

[idontblushsrry]

How the Jujutsu Kaisen Characters Smell

A/N: Absolutely no one asked for this but I have thoughts and now yall have to hear them. Btw gonna put a keep reading because I’m trying to cover as many jjk characters as possible so it’s gonna get long.

Warnings: Spoilers if you’ve only seen the anime or haven’t read the manga up to the Shibuya Arc (relatively minor but you’ve been warned)

Itadori

He’s nowhere near the best smelling but his scent isn’t awful 

He sweats a lot so he takes showers a minimum of 2x a day

Overall his smell isn’t that bad, he just smells like outside 

5/10 points for effort but he always smells like he just got done rolling around in grass

Fushiguro

Fushiguro smells like the suave ocean breeze body wash with an undertone of pen ink 

His smell is very nice, it’s not the most remarkable but it’s not stinky

Middle school Megumi was definitely a hot mess that smelled solely of axe body spray and other middle schoolers he beat up (Tsumiki tried her best but there was only so much he’d compromise on)

After he started attending the Tokyo school, Maki threw out his axe and made Gojo buy him actual cologne/scented body wash

7/10 smells like a friend (points reduced because he used to use 3 in 1 body wash)

Kugisaki

Kugisaki is very much clean

She keeps up a beauty regimen and doesn’t play when it comes to upkeeping it

She has this light floral scent because of that; it varies between cucumbers and roses

Her body wash is also consistent with the smell of her beauty products

One thing about Kugisaki’s smell is that it does change completely depending on what products she’s using

Although, if she were to be completely clean with no scented products, she’d have a smell that’s a little bit metallic because of the nails and a little pumpkin-y

10/10 points because she sets the standard

Gojo

Smells like the inside of a guys car

He smells like bergamot and cedarwood mixed with a hint of leather

Overall he smells nice and it’s frustrating because his scent lingers. It’s so distinct that even when he’s gone, his scent will stay behind just to taunt you

9/10 minus one point for being Gojo

Maki

She’s very particular about hygiene 

It mainly stems from 1) her upbringing and 2) the level of cleanliness needed to clean all the weapons she uses regularly

She smells of metal polish, lavender with a hint of patchouli, and a slight undertone of rust

10/10 overall very strong scent but it’s so uniquely her that it’s calming 

Inumaki

This makes no sense but I feel like Inumaki smells like the sandwich part of a deli

Specifically that fresh baked bread and sliced lettuce smell

It can be a bit nostalgic at times especially because the smell in general occurs in a lot of places 

10/10 because bread smells good

Panda

It’s canon that Panda smells like the sun but we can get more specific

Panda does smell like the sun but I think he smells like a freshly cleaned room with the curtains open

The smell is like air freshener mixed with the sun

The air fresheners he smells the most like are: morning and dew, wood, pine, pet odor eliminator

10/10 no explanation needed

Yuta

Smells like teen spirit

Pre-jujutsu high (and before he was sent away to Africa); Yuta smelled like deodorant

He smelled like wayyy too much old spice, it was pretty bad

Post trip to Africa (idk which country he went to), Yuta smells of shea butter, frankincense, and charred wood

8/10 the crimes of pre jujutsu high Yuta will not be easily forgiven

Nanami

He smells like the blue Ralph Polo Lauren cologne

No I will not take criticism

He also smells a bit like the wrinkle spray people use when ironing clothes

10/10 we been knew that Nanami looks good, smells good, and dresses good

I don’t even like that cologne but for him...

Shoko

Love Shoko but her smell isn’t the most pleasant

Literally smells like cigarettes and alcohol with the sterile smell of cleaner to top it off

She’s an icon but her smell can be overwhelming at the best of times and suffocating at the worst

5/10 some people might like it but it is not for me

Utahime

Her scent is very foresty, either pine or spruce, with an undertone of gree tea

Her scent is a bit muted too so you can only really smell it if she’s really close or if you’re hugging her

It’s not a bad scent though, it’s the type that immediately sets you on ease

10/10 smells like a warm hug

Mechamaru(spoilers)

He’s a robot what’d you expect???

Jkjk Pre-Shibuya he smells really sterile and clean due to his condition

His robots obviously smell like metal and wiring

Post-Shibuya arc(or yk during technically): He smells kind of like nothing

There's the slightest smell of sparks from his cursed technique and the hint of mojito’s smell lingering, but otherwise he smells like absolutely nothing

6/10 the lack of smell is a bit off putting

Miwa

I can’t explain but I feel like Miwa smells like banana and vanilla

Like Mai and Momo tricked her and she ended up actually liking the smell

6/10 not the worst but not the best

Mai

Mai smells really heavily of metal and gunpowder

Obviously brcause of her cursed technique but she ever expected it to stck to her like it does

She doesn’t make any active effort to change it though because she thinks it makes her seem cool and mysterious

4/10 because while it DOES make her seem cool and mysterious, she scares locals

Momo

She definitely uses bath and body works perfume (tempted to say she uses the glittery versions but alas)

She loves using all the candles, lotions, and perfumes because of how girly they make her feel; has a collection that’s probably on a rotater

Definitely uses sweet pea above all

Tries to get Mai to try some of her fragrances but she has a 30/70 chance of getting her to agree

7/10 another scent that’s not for me

Todo

He has a really intense cleaning regimen and is never caught lackin in the smell department

He gets all the more embarrassed when Yuuji smells stinky next to him and will always make Yuuji shower if thr boy stinks

Other than that, he smelled of an ocean-y cologne before Takada-chan released her perfume collection

Now all he talks about is how he smells like the perfect husband for Takada

Takada’s perfume is really light a floral (along the lines of rose + vanilla) and if Todo runs out, he tries to steal it from Momo’s collection

9/10 minus a point for being a simp

Noritoshi

Smells really clean except for when he’s using his cursed technique

On average, Noritoshi smells like the clean linen spray/ clean laundry

When he uses his technique, he smells like blood and when he uses his technique to “dope”, he smells like sweat

Usually he smells like clean laundry though, he’s very picky about how he smells and hates the smell he gets from using his technique

10/10 for keeping clean

Naoya

If you think this man washes his ass...

Sorry but he’s a little too busy being a misogynist 

Naoya saw the term gooch grease and was like “wow someone gets it!”

-400/10 I’m sick of talking about the ways this man smells like a popped neck pimple

Mahito

Only person that smells worse than Naoya

If Naoya smells like a popped neck pimple, Mahito smells like a literal sewer

He smells like sewage, garbage, rot and decay, melted plastic,etc.

Not only does Mojito’s body stink, his breath stinks, hair stinks, just everything stinks

Jogo and Hanami can’t tell since they don’t have noses but everytime Geto gets a whiff, he dies a little inside

-21982913293237932392379319210391090320323019/10 GET BACK. GET BACK. GET BACK.

Sukuna

Pre-death; he smelled like blood 9 times out of 10 

The other 10% of times he smelled like incense or jasmine but you’d never smell it for long

Post-death; stinky funky and rotten

I’m sorry but 1) he’s a mass murder who literally sits atop a mountain of skulls 2) he’s technically dead and only exists thriugh his fingers

If you think that man smells like anything other than rot and grave wax...

-2/10 be glad he got a higher score than Mahito

Choso

I love Choso with every ounce of my being 

That being said, he smells like a scab

Scabs don’t even have smells but somehow he smells like one 

Alright I’m done slandering him

3/10 because I didn’t have the heart to give him anything lower

Geto(spoilers)

Pre-Gojo angst: Geto was the best smelling sorcerer in the world

He was very meticulous about his grooming routine and showed Gojo how to care for himself w/o the aid of servants

A king of self care and personal grooming 10/10

Post-Gojo angst: Geto really stopped caring about his appearance

He’d keep clean to set a good example for his kids, but he didn’t really see the value of looking decent

Probably says “I refuse to use the technology of monkeys”

Even though Mahito smells worse, Geto does still hang around Mahito and that’s gonna rub off

2/10 take a shower man, sea water doesn’t count as cleaning yourself

Junpei

Junpei smells like dandelions/picked grass and cigarettes

Cigarettes are obviously because his mom smokes them so frequently the smell sticks to him

The dandelions/ picked grass smell is because Junpei spends a lot of time outside 

Out of boredom or a need to keep his negative thoughts at bay, Junpei started picking at the grass

I do think he eventually started weaving flower crowns made of dandelions and strips of grass

6/10 because I feel bad for him

Toji

This man...

As much as I’d like to pretend he smells good, he has a drooling worm hanging off him and  probably owns like one outfit

That being said, he’s not as stinky as Naoya or Mahito (or even Sukuna), because he does clean himself when he has the chance

It’s just that he spends his money so quickly that he kinda forgets sometimes

Although he usually has no problem finding some woman who’d be more than willing to put him up in a hotel room

His smell is musky but it’s not funky

He smells like a guy right before they start to get stinky, it’s a delicate balance

4/10 he’s a lil funky but it kinda feeds his image

#this is gonna be a bitch to tag #jujutsu kaisen headcanons #jjk headcanons #itadori headcanons #fushiguro headcanons #kugisaki headcanons #gojo headcanons #maki headcanons #inumaki headcanons #yuta headcanons #panda jjk headcanons #nanami headcanons #shoko headcanons #utahime headcanons #mechamaru headcanons #miwa headcanons #mai jjk headcanons #momo jjk headcanons #todo headcanons #noritoshi headcanons #naoya headcanons #naoya slander #mahito headcanons #mahito slander #sukuna headcanons #sukuna slander #choso headcanons #choso slander #geto headcanons #geto slander

[shumaiseyeliner]

“Hi! Uh~can I make a request? I feel real angsty rn so let's do Nagito, Post-game Izuru/Hajime (sorry), Makoto, Fuyuhiko and Kokichi and a Dying reader who dies in their arms confessing :) Also I love your stories so much~”

a/n: y’all know that I’m bad at writing for them (hajime and izuru) but you just enjoy seeing me struggle 😭🤚I’M DOING THEM SEPARATELY BC I FEEL LIKE A DUMBASS WHENEVER I WRITE FOR THEM TOGETHER, also writing nagito for this prompt made my heart hurt, komahina vibes and I cried a lil

warnings: yandere, unhealthy relationships, unhealthy mindsets, unhealthy behavior, angst, death, spoilers for nagito’s freetime events, suicide mention in nagito’s, his part is longer but there’s too much to unpack with nagito 🥲, murder mention

Komaeda Nagito

☘︎︎ he’s literally dying from dementia and another disease, so I feel like while Nagito craves a relationship with his darling, he definitely pushes them away a lot due to having the (fair) idea that he’s going to end up dying before his darling. It’s a really sad truth about Nagito that he doesn’t acknowledge much, but he’s extremely lonely and afraid that he’s going to end up dying alone, but I think he’d eventually just want to spend what time he has left servicing his darling. That’s how he wants to die, truly. So, you can imagine his absolute despair once he realizes that his darling is going to die.

☘︎︎ whether it’s from a disease or not, Nagito knows that his darling is going to die before it’s actually happening. He’s absolutely convinced it’s due to his luck cycle, so the dread he feels is absolutely crushing. Nagito, due to his illnesses, lacks empathy, but as his darling is dying in his arms, he’s sobbing his heart out. He doesn’t know how to process what’s going on, and while this may sound harsh, his darlings confession just makes it ten times worse. Nagito is closed off because of the severe amount of trauma he’s gone through, so coming to terms with their death is quite literally going to be impossible for him.

☘︎︎ hate to say it... but he won’t last long after his darling dies, especially knowing that they loved him. The only thing keeping Nagito from the deep end had been his darling, so I don’t think he’d live very long afterwards. He’s the type that would say that he wouldn’t be able to live without his darling in his life, and it was true, technically, and Nagito proves this through his actions. He becomes reckless, and I don’t think his luck cycle could ever keep up with that in the long run. He’d end up dying, eventually, and while it could be counted as an accident, it most definitely was not.

Kamukura Izuru

☘︎︎ he does not deal with this well, and this is because Izuru knew that his darling was going to die already. It messed worh his brain, and he hated knowing that they’d die eventually. He left his darling alone - see, avoided them - because he specifically did not want to be there when it happened. Izuru is still very new to emotions, so when they’re forced out of him, he can become rather... angry. That being said, he doesn’t accept the fact that his darling is going to die very easily, Izuru tries to help them in his own way, but he’s literally incapable of stopping it from happening.

☘︎︎ needless to say, he’s pretty much seething when his darling dies in his arms. Like... this is something he cannot emotionally comprehend and it bothers him a lot knowing that he was helpless in this situation. Their confession of loving him just makes it worse for Izuru, especially since he doesn’t fully grasp what that would have meant for him if he had caught onto his own feelings earlier on. He reaction is just kind of him being numb, if I’m being completely honest, because he doesn’t understand. Izuru wasn’t built for these types of things, literally, he wasn’t.

Hinata Hajime

☘︎︎ he’s got a lot of issues, especially if you look into the fear of being inferior that he has. After the program, I think Hajime had a lot more confidence than he did before, so he was confident in his ability to protect his darling and he wanted to love them, genuinely. He was trying to work on his issues in order to be a better person for his darling, so this happening is like a slap in Hajime’s face. He’s still afraid of being less special, less strong, so his reaction to his darling dying in his arms is a pure emotional one. Frankly, he’s a mess, but why wouldn’t he be? The love of his life has died, after all.

☘︎︎ overall, though, Hajime is angry. It’s bad for his mental health, but he most definitely blames himself, and remembering his darlings confession makes Hajime’s heart hurt. He’s just so... emotional about the whole thing. A more innocent reaction, but he’s still undeniably angry. He’d have two different reactions, though, depending on his darling cause of death. An illness would cause him to become angry at himself and horribly self-deprecating. However, if they were killed by someone else, things would not be the same for Hajime. He’s seething with rage, and he’s going to kill whoever did this to his darling.

Naegi Makoto

☘︎︎ like Hinata, he has one of the more emotional reactions, but they’re very different. Makoto is very attached to his darling, they genuinely mean the world to him, and his mindset is much like Komaeda’s, just not including the self-depreciation. Makoto, however, knows for a fact that if anything bad ever happened to his darling, he’d die. So, when his darling does end up dying in his arms, Makoto is completely broken up about it. He’s inconsolable afterwards and he pretty much just falls apart at the seams, which is pretty disturbing to witness considering how he usually acts.

☘︎︎ he’s just so... sad. Makoto genuinely adored every single thing about his darling, so their confession along with their death was like an emotional gut punch for him, especially when he gets to thinking about how it would have been like if he had found out about their feelings beforehand. Makoto is just full of regrets, irs very sad to see, actually. I feel like Kirigiri would try to help him out of the emotional ditch that he’s been thrown into, but it’s really no use, especially considering how he thinks about it constantly. His darling is all he ever thinks about in general, but after their death it becomes worse.

Kuzuryu Fuyuhiko

☘︎︎ also apart of the overly emotional reaction group. Fuyuhiko does not deal with this well, and relives seeing his darling die in his arms daily in his head. Fuyuhiko isn’t very open worh his emotions in the first place, so I think much like Komaeda he’d go through a period of time during his infatuation where he simply pushed his darling away, they just do it for different reasons. Rather than doing it for his darlings sake like Komaeda, Fuyuhiko does it because he doesn’t like the fact that he’s fallen for someone, he becomes offended. So, his darlings death hits him hard.

☘︎︎ despite how he might’ve acted around his darling, Fuyuhiko had fallen for them hard, so even the idea of them being inconvenienced made Fuyuhiko angry, so just imagine how them dying in his arms went. He’s crying and screaming at them at the same time and he’s a mess, a lot of emotions are flowing out of him so he most likely accidentally lets out that he loves them as well, but he won’t remember saying it once everything is over, he’ll be too busy mourning. Receiving a confession from his darling like this is going to make Fuyuhiko furious, and I think he’d be kind of angry with his darling afterwards, but that doesn’t last.

Oma Kokichi

☘︎︎ not emotional... outwardly. Kokichi is constantly putting up a mask of not caring, and his darling is not an exception to this whatsoever. It’s just what he does, so when he’s faced with a situation like this he isn’t too sure what he’s supposed to do. Kokichi is kind of freaking out when he realizes that his darling is literally dying because that definitely wasn’t supposed to happen... like, ever. Kokichi is usually pretty lighthearted about most things, but this is something he cannot handle normally like he usually would. His mental state is pretty much falling apart the moment he realizes what’s happening.

☘︎︎ he wouldn’t cry at first, but the confession from his darling feels like he’s being killed. Kokichi truly can’t understand why they love him in the first place, because he’s admittedly pretty terrible to them sometimes, but just the fact that they care for him is breaking Kokichi’s resolve and it’s only after his darlings death that it becomes clear to everyone else around him that he’s definitely not okay after everything that happened. He still teases people, but there’s an obvious shift in his attitude and how he holds himself. Frankly, he’s depressed, and he’s never going to stop being depressed until he dies.

writing nagito’s had me like

this made me SAD

#yandere komaeda nagito #yandere kamukura izuru #yandere hinata hajime #yandere naegi makoto #yandere kuzuryu fuyuhiko #yandere oma kokichi #yandere danganronpa #yandere sdr2 #yandere drv3 #yandere headcanons #yandere imagines #yandere #shumaiwrites