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marshmurmurs · 4 years ago

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hey. hey psst. grian & purpled friends au is a banger. you um, you got any more? mayhaps?

Ok so you're gonna have to bear with me for aa few moments since this au is made by someone who hasn't watched Evo in a hot second and someone who I believe hasn't yet finished watching it, so we are mostly working off of fanon and my terrible memory for Watcher stuff

With that said, you've heard of Watcher!Grian, now get ready for Watcher!Purpled too :D

So you’re probably wondering how in the world we got here. It started with Peggy mentioning that Purpled got a clean view of both Tommy’s duel with Dream and Phil taking out Wil. That’s enough for me to start the Watcher propaganda babey!!!

“They watch but cannot be seen”

I'm pretty sure I yoinked this quote from a sign that showed up in some Watcher thing at some point. Purpled sure does watch. I also believe he has done some messing around with replay mod to see inside the prison or something? So yeah, Watcher boy be looking. And the “cannot be seen” part? He’s constantly falling into the background, almost forgotten, and maybe it's in his very nature.

Grian and Purp were both Watchers, though their time as Watchers only briefly overlapped. Purpled was already a Watcher during Evo times, having been picked up by the Watchers while traveling the void in his spaceship. They had promised him he would become something greater than himself, he would be part of something important, he would have a legacy. Purpled went along with them, at first, it wasn’t like he really had anything better to be doing. Besides, the magic and wings he got out of the deal were pretty cool.

It was when the Watchers started looking to recruit Grian that Purpled started to question why he was there. That legacy they promised him, he wasn't sure if they ever delivered on that. If anything, it was the Watchers that were benefiting off of him. The Evolutionists were the only people who were confident in their existence, and even then, they only knew of the group as a whole. They had no idea how many of them there were or of any of the individuals within. He doesn’t think that was ever what he wanted out of joining the Watchers... He wasn’t actually sure what he had wanted out of them.

Purpled noticed the Watchers focusing their attention on Grian, he saw how they worked to break down his will to rebel. Sure, he had joined them, but it wasn't like he had been told all their rules upfront. Naturally the guy who had continuously tested the limits of their patience when they had been some unknown power wouldn’t stop that just because he was one of them now. Grian would push the limits of what he was allowed to do, finding loopholes, dancing around the rules, and even outright breaking them at times. The two interacted a few times and Purpled liked the guy well enough. He liked him enough to break the rules himself and not report Grian when he caught him breaking some rules, he even pointed out a few spots in the rules where the phrasing could be exploited. Still, he recognized the opportunity Grian’s presence provided him. Purpled was no longer the newest Watcher, no longer constantly under their gaze. He could just leave, and if he was smart about it, he could get away and have plenty of time before anyone noticed.

So he did. With a final o7 to Grian, Purpled left. Their final encounter within the Watchers domain went something like this:

Purpled: Hey do you want some advice?

Grian: Sure

Purpled: *walks away never to be seen again within the Watcher’s domain*

It was only later that Grian realized what the advice was, long after he began sneaking out, began testing the limits of what he could do. It was long after he figured out that an eye couldn't really look within itself and he could use the very powers the Watchers had given him to hide himself from them, long after he'd made his own domain, long after he'd slipped away to a land he created specifically to stay out of their sight and reach that he realized what the advice was. Purpled had left. His advice was to leave. Grian had—albeit unknowingly—followed that advice.

Purpled had taken a much different method to getting away. Instead of making himself untraceable, he hid in plain sight. He went to Hypixel and made a name for himself playing Bedwars. With each game he won, with each game he clutched, he amassed supporters. Players, believers and doubters alike, began to bet on the outcome of his matches. Purpled had made himself seen. He knew the Watchers knew he was there, but that was the point. They couldn’t reach him, not without breaking their own rules, at least. Unlike the two Players turned Watchers, the original Watchers cared deeply for and were bound by their rules. Even if they had tried anything, Purpled managed to create his own legacy, making for himself what they never could. Beyond that, he'd found friends, he'd built a community, surrounded himself with people who would look for him and make themselves a problem for the Watchers if they tried to make him go back. They were forced to sit by and do nothing as he continuously broke their most important rule.

Purpled didn't need the Watchers, he never did.

Grian didn't really know how he felt about the Watchers. He didn't think he hated them, not really. The Watchers had given him a taste of true freedom then immediately began to restrain him. They'd given him wings and the power to create worlds in mere seconds, something which would not only take a regular Admin a much longer time, it would require a significant amount of preparation. He was given the world at his fingertips but was limited by the long list of rules the Watchers enforced. He doesn't regret joining them—he wouldn't give up his wings for the world—but they just weren't enough. The more they tried to make him fit their mold of a perfect little Watcher, the more sure of that he became.

It was almost funny, the Watchers had become stricter in order to prevent another Purpled situation. They were trying to ensure Grian wouldn’t leave them too, but in doing so, they had given him reason to. He was a bit curious though, he wondered what Purpled was up to now. Grian hadn’t gotten news about him since he’d left the Watchers.

So Grian went to Hypixel, he wanted to see if he could track down Purpled. He knew the other was there, judging by the leaderboards, but he couldn’t seem to catch him around the hub. He managed to track down gamblers betting on Purpled's victories. Grian followed that lead, tailing the person who was updating them on the results of Purpled's matches. Somehow that person continued to find intel without Grian catching where Purpled was. It made no sense, and if he was being honest with himself, it had long since reached the point of being frustrating. Eventually, after an infuriating amount of dead ends Grian decided he may as well play a few games before calling it a day and heading home. He tried a few solo matches of bedwars and while PvP wasn't really his thing, he had to admit throwing fireballs at people was pretty fun.

Grian finding Purpled wasn't even intentional on his part. At that point he wasn’t even actively looking or playing the game properly. He’d simply started building houses after politely asking people to leave him alone with varying levels of success. After a few games, he received a friend request from the person who had won the last match with a message inviting him to join them for some doubles. Grian accepted after a moment of thought, they seemed polite enough. They had left him for last when it would’ve been way easier and much more convenient to just continue their clockwise sweep.

It didn’t take Grian long to realize that his new companion was nicked, though to be fair, he was too. It’s not that he particularly cared when someone was nicked, but his curiosity was getting the better of him. There was something about this person, the way they held themself, the general energy around them, something that just felt so familiar. Try as he might, though, Grian couldn’t quite figure out what it was.

It was when he noticed the absolute confidence and ease in which his companion threw themself into the void that Grian finally gave in to his curiosity. Players usually avoid the void, and even if they did jump into it for strategic purposes, he's never seen anyone

recover as fast as his companion did. While they ran off to go stab someone who was getting too close to their area for comfort, Grian tried to look past their disguise. He was met with resistance, surprisingly. Usually looking past a Player being nicked was no issue. He pushed harder, it was more than just curiosity at this point, he needed to know who this was, why they were able to resist him. Somehow the results were worse this time. Grian realized with increasing bewilderment that he could no longer even see his companion. His teammate was just gone, there one moment and gone the next.

Grian blinked away the purple in his eyes, focusing on his surroundings. There were no new bridges leading away, his teammate was still in the game, and they hadn't died. Where could they have gone? He continued to scan the island when he was suddenly hit with the overwhelming sense of being watched. There, standing beside him was his teammate, eyes glowing the same purple Grian's had moments before.

"Something wrong, Grian?"

It all clicked for him then. His nicked companion was the guy he had been looking for the entire time, he’d only just now decided to reveal himself. Of course Grian’s Watcher abilities hadn’t helped, Purpled had way more power here than he did. He was just a guest in the other’s domain, he never had a chance of finding him if he hadn’t wanted to be found.

“Y’know, you could have been a lot clearer.”

“Rule 7. Besides, you figured it out, didn’t you?”

Once they reunited, the two realized they still got along well. They agreed to keep in contact, and they did. Grian would sometimes hop onto Hypixel to join Purpled for a few games—always nicked, they didn’t want the Watchers to realize they were in contact— and other times he'd drag him off to a creative world to challenge him to a game of build swap or various flying courses he’d created. The two often swapped tips and tricks for things they were good at. Grian would give Purpled lessons on building, block palettes, and flying (he argued the other only ever really using his wings while voiding didn’t count). In exchange, Purple would try to give him advice on various things he’d picked up from playing bedwars: block clutches, speedbridging, and general PvP.

When Purpled was invited onto the DreamSMP, he was fairly excited. He loved what he had going on with Hypixel and his friends there, but part of him had always wanted this. Ever since he was with the Watchers, overlooking everything on Evo and worlds before that, part of him had wished to be on the other side of things. This desire only grew stronger as he heard the tales of what Grian got up to on Hermitcraft.

The Dream SMP was nothing like he expected it to be. It turned out to be a hardcore world, only 3 “lives” allowed per player. There were also seemingly infinite respawns, though, which made no sense. He wasn’t sure which was more annoying: the unclear respawn rules or the fact that he was never told about them before he agreed to join.

Besides that, there was also some entity with a great amount of power, even more than the admin himself. Purpled had noticed their presence fairly quickly upon joining and he was immediately on edge. He had no information on the being, their power, their motives, nothing. And that felt dangerous. Purpled had unintentionally ended up falling back into old habits from working with the Watchers as he tried to establish himself in this world. He claimed land for his own, carving out his own domain within that of the unknown god while trying to avoid catching their attention. Eventually, once he was comfortable enough within the world, he began trying to reach out, trying to get involved in the things that were happening. He heard there was a war brewing, and if he learned anything from Grian, things were about to get really fun.

They didn’t.

His attempts to involve himself mostly failed, so he went back to doing what he had before. He claimed more and more land and continued watching over events from the sidelines. Things got serious, conflicts got personal, and unless he was directly pulled in by someone he considered a friend, Purpled just watched.

Anyway my excuse for whatever is going on with their designs is that Watchers can control how they are perceived. This is my city and I want them to have cool wings. Also Peggy was supposed to be my impulse control but the memo got lost in the mail and she never got it, so she enabled me instead. Now we have both funky dragon/parrot vibes on Grian and vague alien/phantom/vex vibes on Purpled

#ask #mcyt #grian #purpled bedwars #dreamsmp #hermitcraft #marsh tries #says marsh #writing is pain #gonna go play mc now to cope #au hours #ill come up with an actual name for this au at some point #but that is not now

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sellyoursoulforagoodfic · 4 years ago

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Fated Epilogue

Epilogue

Ares x reader

Word Count: 2041

Summary: Time skip to Zag running around trying to fix everything; then he gets a weird message from Ares.

The affair known to most of the Underworld’s population as The Confusion of Zagreus started as most things in his life did, on a run through the place as he tested the defenses against an escaping entity for what felt like the thousandth time. He’d had Ares’ vial with him, so naturally he’d gotten a fair few of the war god’s boons. Nothing too unusual, right? That’s what he thought right up until Ares said the most curious thing.

“When next you see Thanatos, tell him that his sister wants him to visit more.”

Sister? Zagreus wondered. Than doesn’t speak to his . . . Wait, Nemesis . . . But why would Lord Ares have messages from her?

When he mentioned it to his lover, Thanatos just chuckled. “I suppose it has been a while since I last saw her,” was all he had to say on the matter.

And that set the trend that continued for a while. He’d get a message from Ares to Than, pass it on, and get some cryptic non-answer in return. It was absolutely maddening. Even when he asked others, all they had to say was that it wasn’t any of his business, which was fair, but that didn’t aid his curiosity.

Finally, all that started changing when he managed to squeeze a drop of information out of Than when he asked, “So why does Ares see your sister more than you?” while they were dining together one evening.

And without really thinking, Death Incarnate reflexively replied, “Because she lives with him in Thrace instead of here.” Of course, immediately after that, Thanatos realized what he’d just admitted and promptly clammed up, but it was something at least.

Then Demeter let slip something else in one of her messages after he’d accepted several of Ares’ boons yet again. “Ares is aiding you when you get injured, is he? I’d be surprised if Nemesis didn’t have a hand in that sort of attack.”

And that set him thinking. Revenge was her area of expertise, after all. And many of Ares’ such boons were noticeably more powerful in dealing direct damage instead of causing various other effects. Could Than’s sister have been indirectly aiding him through Ares all this time?

Then came another piece of knowledge, this one from his mother upon inquiring why Thanatos and Lord Ares seemed to be so close.

“Well War and Death were always bound to meet frequently just from their natures, I suppose, but it could also have been because of that mess where he saved poor Thanatos from being chained in a box. I’d wager that was a big help to making their friendship grow.” Before he could ask just what that was about, she continued, “Though it could have also started back when Lord Ares almost passed away, too. I remember Thanatos being quite concerned for both him and Nemesis during all that.”

“What do you mean Lord Ares almost died? He’s an Olympian!”

“He is, but the day Hermes found him was a day that stoked fear in the heart of every Olympian,” Persephone said gravely. “They all worried about Ares’ fate despite how they regularly ridicule the man, because if he could die that meant any of them could.”

Zagreus suddenly found his mouth extremely dry and couldn’t form a response.

“Yes, that was definitely the start of their friendship now that I think on it. It was very kind of Thanatos to linger without threatening the poor dears. From what I heard, he was very calm during the whole affair even in the face of such shocking news.”

“Yes, I suppose learning even the great Olympians might die would be quite dramatic,” he murmured, shoulders sagging.

“No, that’s not--ah! You don’t know, do you?”

He perked back up. “Know what, Mother?” he prompted innocently.

She smiled kindly as she patted his forearm. “It’s not my place to tell you if they haven’t already; I’d forgotten how much they value their privacy when they can get it.”

Who is ‘they’? Zagreus wanted to scream while yanking his hair out. Thanatos and his sister? Her and Ares? Thanatos and Ares?? But he didn’t. Instead, he just smiled stiffly and nodded.

It wasn’t until he managed to broker a peace between the Chthonic gods and the Olympians that he finally got answers.

There was a party you were supposed to be preparing for, but you were having a hard time working up the gumption to move from your current position. Because of said celebration, you and your husband--how you’d never tire of calling him that--had arranged your schedules so that they aligned, which of course was the reason you found yourself lying in bed perpendicular to the man, using one arm as a pillow under your head on his chest while the other hand played with his hair.

His gleaming red eyes flicked over to the open, brightly illuminated window where sheer white curtains swayed softly in the breeze. “We really should be dressing; I have a feeling your brother-in-law wants to meet us sooner rather than later.”

“Yes, but it’s so rare that we get time like this to ourselves.”

His hand found the one you’d been carding through his hair and brought it to his lips to kiss. “You and I have an eternity full of moments like this ahead of us; we can spare an evening for the boy.”

You huffed dramatically. “Let it never be said that you’re not a man of your word.” A sigh left your lips, but still you pried yourself out of bed without further complaint. “Are we doing full regalia or casual?” When there was no answer, you glanced back to see that he was transfixed by the sight of your naked form heading towards the shared closet. “Ares!” you laughed, snapping his attention back to reality.

“Darling, I take it all back; you must come back to bed at once. There’s a rather pressing matter that needs your attention at once.”

Now, you rolled your eyes. “Well that pressing matter can wait until we return. Are we doing armor or not?”

From there, there were a lot of kisses, gropes, and laughter between that moment and being fully clothed--in light leather greaves and cloth chitons rather than the usual full armor, after all, Ares so hated to be unprotected or unarmed--but neither of you were really complaining.

“Boys!” Ares called down the hallway with you tucked under his arm.

Two heads of wild silver hair just like their father’s appeared from the same doorway. “Yes, Father?” they chorused.

“We’re leaving. I trust you can manage things until our return?”

“Of course, Father.” And then they were gone from sight, their snickering still echoing in their absence.

Ares chuckled as he shook his head. “Little terrors, the both of them.”

Though they weren’t yours, you’d grown to love both of the twins the moment you met them. With Aphrodite being so absent in their lives, you’d taken up the role of ‘mother figure’ quickly, and the two were practically your own by now. “Well, to be fair, one of them is Panic.”

You were unsurprised at the Olympian turnout at the party; most arrived near the time when you did, but none stayed particularly long. As fond as they were of Zagreus in theory, their detest of the Underworld would always be greater. Only Ares and Demeter attended from the mountain and stayed past the pleasantries and feast. Otherwise, it was entirely the subjects of the House of Hades that were present. Fortunately, they seemed to be enjoying themselves nonetheless judging from the way Meg and Dusa had quickly roped you and Ares into conversation.

Zagreus hadn’t seemed to notice your arrival yet--too wrapped up in getting to know his mother and grandmother, you assumed--but you caught sight of Hades glaring at Ares every now and then. Every time you caught him, the harsh threat he’d delivered to Ares rang through your ears once more.

“Set foot outside this house, boy, and you shall find yourself in a fate worse than death.” Neither of you were surprised by the warning. He was, after all, still angry about the whole ‘bursting into the Underworld without permission to save Thanatos’ fiasco.

Eventually, you and Ares found yourselves alone for a moment once Achilles and Patroclus excused themselves. You tugged the glass from his fingers to steal a sip of his ambrosia, something that’d been quite hard to find the last time you’d visited. You didn’t want a full glass, and Ares never complained about sharing.

He pressed a kiss to your temple, clearly worried about you partaking in a drink you’d never really managed to develop a taste for. “Are you alright?” he asked quietly. The drinking coupled with the knowledge of how much you hated being dragged to these things had likely set him on edge.

“I’m fine,” you assured him with a genuine smile. “These are my family, remember? Much nicer to be around than yours.”

“That’s quite true,” he murmured. No doubt, he was remembering when he and Aphrodite had been paraded around and humiliated as the entertainment at one of his family’s gatherings. His gaze flickered up as he noticed something before you did: Zagreus approaching at last. “And there’s the man of the hour!” he greeted warmly. It was hard to mistake the boy for any other given his attire was his family’s colors and the way he absolutely looked like a mix of his parents.

“Lord Ares!” Zag’s face was alight with happiness. “I’m glad you were able to make it; it’s an honor to meet you properly.” His eyes shifted to you. “You must be Than’s lovely sister I’ve heard very little about.”

You laughed lightly. You like this kid already. “I suppose that’s me, yes.”

“Frankly, I’m amazed I haven’t seen you around the House before now,” he probed curiously.

You decided to indulge him; it was a celebration in his honor after all. “I pop by to visit Mother and Hypnos from time to time, but I see Than enough that lingering isn’t worth it. I’ve gathered that you’re usually gone from the House as much as he is.”

“Yeah, that’s true,” he chuckled. “Makes sense you wouldn’t just lurk around when you put it like that.”

“Have to budget that precious time off somehow.””

“Plus, it’s sort of my fault that she resides in Thrace since I stole her all those years ago,” Ares teased.

“Stole her, sir?” Oh, how the poor boy looked so confused at those words. You were willing to bet his mind was just running back over Persephone’s situation and comparing it to yours.

Your brows furrowed. “Zag, has no one told you about Ares and I?”

“No!” his voice was laughing but had a manic edge to it. “Everyone keeps hinting at there being something going on with you two, but no one wants to clue me in! I’ve tried to respect your privacy by not asking directly, but it’s driving me crazy!”

“Oh, for Father’s sake.” Ares rolled his eyes. “I’m going to have a word with your brother about this,” he announced as he started pulling away from you.

“Wait! You’re not mad at Than are you?” Zagreus fretted. “Because I’d hate to cause strife between you because of my own curiosity, and--”

“Relax, Zag,” you soothed.

“Thanatos is the only being I would ever call my friend outside of her,” he gestured toward you. “I thought it went without saying that he didn’t have to keep secrets from you for my benefit, but apparently that isn’t the case. I’m simply going to tell him that. I’ll be right back, my darling.” With a kiss to your temple, he stalked over to where Than was loitering with his sleeping brother at the edge of the room.

When you looked back at Zagreus, he was staring at you absolutely slack-jawed, probably at Ares’ display of affection. “Blood and darkness, my Lady,” he managed to wheeze, “what is going on?”

You snorted a little, amused slightly by his turmoil. “Zagreus, Ares is my Fated. He’s my husband.”

His eyes went a little crossed as he realized it was just that simple. “Oh, is that all?!”

#ares x reader #ares imagine #ares hades imagine #ares hades x reader #reader insert #nemesis!au #hades imagine #hades game imagine #hades supergiant imagine

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daniel-bruehl · 4 years ago

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do you think zemo was a villain and now is an anti hero kind of like loki?

hmmm good question and maybe you've asked the wrong person bc i might be a liiiittle bit biased :'D but no, i wouldn't say he's a villain. a villain for me is someone who is a downright evil person who wants to make others suffer either for the fun of it or because they're looking for power/supremacy over someone/something else, and that's not at all what zemo is doing imo, that's more how i'd see someone like for example Red Skull, Alexander Pierce, Thanos and Hela on their bad days etc., more under the cut lol

he surely was an antagonist in civil war and most likely not an anti hero, maybe only for mcu sokovians or other citizens of regions that have suffered from collateral damage caused by the avengers in their fights. and even though i do not excuse his actions and do think that blowing up the UN (and killing King T'chaka even though i think it's debatable if that was the plan or just an unlucky coincidence because he wouldn't have needed T'challa's involvement for his plan to work out) and framing Bucky were "evil" actions, it does not make him an evil person. he was grieving and had nothing left to lose and a last promise to fulfill and i guess people in that situation do not care a lot about morality anymore. I do also think, however, that despite it all he has still chosen the path of minimal damage to fulfill his plans (unlike Loki when he declared war on New York and before that killed 80 people in a matter of days ~just because~), as shown in his first scene, he for example wanted to get all the information from Karpov; blowing up the UN and framing Bucky for it only became necessary bc Karpov wouldn't cooperate, and even then Zemo stated that he did not want to do it but he would if he had to to achieve his goal.

I think if he really had wanted to, everything could've ended a loooot bloodier. But he wasn't out there to get people killed, his mission was to tear apart the avengers; if they ended up killing and hurting each other, that was beyond his control. maybe not unwished for, but also nothing he directly did himself. (The only death i think would not have been absolutely necessary in his plan is the therapist's. I think it would've been enough to keep that man bound and maybe unconscious until Zemo called the service into his room, but apart from that all damage was part of his plan and not him being an unnecessarily evil or cruel person.) Now for TFATWS, i do think that he could be described as the anti hero here. He's still not a flawlessly good person who wants love peace and joy for the world, but he does keep his promises, he does not betray Bucky and Sam, he is useful and efficient and ultimately helps them A LOT with their mission for the 'greater good', perhaps even more so than they helped themselves. Of course he is once again driven by his own motives, but these are, just like in civil war, not to become more powerful or to hurt people for the fun of it, but to finish his work against people that want supremacy over others. you can agree with that sentiment or not, but it does not make him an evil person and therefor not a villain in my book. in a way, his methods and karli's are quite similar; both wanted to do what they perceive as good, but the way they did it was questionable. but to me, karli wasn't a villain either, so my point still stands lol. So yeah i could go on and on and on about this but to sum it up: to me, personally, zemo was never the villain. he went from a very hurt and desperate and lonely antagonist to a still-not-healed and definitely very layered and surely a bit devious anti hero, but he was never an unnecessarily cruel or evil monster, always kept his promises, apologized to Bucky for what he did and helped him and Sam and ultimately, after his work was done, willingly let himself get arrested again without putting up a fight or trying to get away (even though he knew what the rest of his life would look like once they get him) and even tried to help Bucky with what little he could do on his path to forgiveness, and i do not think that's the behaviour of a villain. Also, if Loki, after all he has done, can be considered an anti hero, so can Zemo, and easily at that. but maybe that's just me lol

#this got a lot longer than i thought it would lol i'm sorry #i just love talking about the man can anyone tell?#anon ask #answered ask #helmut zemo #kinda meta i guess

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kojinnie · 4 years ago

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Maybe, One Day, We Will | Jean, Sasha & Connie

Summary: Before the defining Raid of Liberio mission, the Survey Corps was instructed to write their wills, and Connie reminisced the night he talked about life after the war with Jean and Sasha when they were younger.

Tags: Canon universe, coming-of-age, light angst, bittersweet.

Set: The night before Battle of Shiganshina District, parallel to Eren-Mikasa-Armin’s talk on the steps.

WC: 3.1K

A/N: My tribute to the trio that holds a special place in my heart. Consider this my ode to all of us whose heart has been broken by Chapter 138. A slight nod to conversation in Chapter 137 (No spoiler, don’t worry!)

I suppose memory wore off eventually, and if I’d be lucky enough to survive this contemptible war, my only hope is one thing: to never lose the gift of memory over moments I hold dear in my heart. Especially the memory of that one night. The night before Shiganshina.

Connie Springer put down his quill as he marked the end of a sentence. He was quite surprised with how far bolder was this paragraph compared to its precedents, he smiled and remembered one of the things his mum said when he was younger, something about how one’s action is nothing but a mere reflection of one’s feeling, and perhaps Connie took the importance of that paragraph over the others and that’s why he put so much pressure on his quill upon writing that down.

He looked over his shoulder to catch Jean pondering over his paper across the room, looking visibly puzzled on what to write, “Oi Jean, you finished?”

He shook his head, grunting, “This feels so absurd.” The tall man leaned to his desk and dragged his gaze upwards, “To be so young and writing your own will.”

Connie hummed from his desk, affirming Jean’s dismay. The whole predicament the two men find themselves in were indeed absurd, albeit predictable. They both knew that to be immersed in the eyes of war mean bruising with deaths countless times, but with the war advancing at unprecedented rate, the notion of mortality grew even more palpable before the soldiers’ eyes. It was no surprise that at one night after a debriefing with the high-ranking officials, Hange finally caught up with the prospect of dying. The first time they had ever been so sure of death, regardless whether it would be immediate or later in this godforsaken war. The thought led Hange to saying before the rest of the Survey Corps, “Maybe we all should write our wills. To leave something behind, you know? Just in case.” Everyone remembered how the Commander threw a reassuring smile amidst such vivid qualm among them, “What could be more fulfilling than to have our stories and legacy passed down?”

And so there they were that night, all of the Survey Corps, taking their night off to write their will before the D-Day tomorrow: The Ambush of Liberio.

“Jean,” Connie called again. There was only the two of them in the common room, the rest were scattered all over Mitras. Taking their own space to write their own piece of mind before the mission, “do you remember the night before Shiganshina?”

The sounds of scribbling ceased immediately from Jean’s end, as he sighed, almost painfully, “Yeah, of course.” Jean found it eerie that there was a misplaced lightness in Connie’s voice, when his own was drowned in unspoken distress, “What about it?”

“I’m writing about it on my…” there was a hesitation in Connie’s words as his mind finally caught up with how unbecoming his reality was, “…will.”

The man of Ragako continued, “I hope after we’re gone, whoever reads this would know that we were once kids,” Connie’s voice dropped into a heavy murmur, “that had something to live for, yeah?”

Jean nodded his head as he forced a smile, although Connie wouldn’t be able to see as they were sitting opposite each other, “Sounds great. Something to prove that I’m not a suicidal maniac. Do you think Sasha is now writing about it too?”

“Perhaps.”

“Then I’ll write about it too.”

The noise from the dining hall finally subsided after the soldiers headed back to their quarter. Despite having tonight’s tasty feast and the raucous fun that most of these soldiers were not as privileged to have often, the lingering dread remained visible among them for what awaited them tomorrow. These men and women were to head for battle against creatures they barely understood, and to reclaimed the district that most thought to be unsalvageable with the horde of titans roaming freely within.

There were also murmurs about a menacingly gigantic beast titan, one that had took the handful lives of their comrades. One that had mystical power to summon and control titans all it pleased. One that was so frightening that the brass in the likes of Erwin Smith and Levi Ackerman were not at ease to disclose to the rest of the soldiers, leaving them in the dark of what may happen. The murmurs about the beast titan were persistent and these soldiers, no matter how hardened had they grown by deaths and battles all their lives, were all equally afraid.

Among them were three teenagers, barely made it out alive after their last encounter with the seemingly mythical creature. Now bound for yet another mission, they scrambled out of the dining hall. The tallest among them was slightly limping, leaning for support from the two others.

“Guys—” Jean grunted, followed by a disgraceful whimper as another step sent a sharp sting to his stomach, “—thanks for the help but would appreciate if it came sooner.”

They stopped and finally sat around when they found a comfortable spot underneath a building’s canopy, looking over to the city steps that glimmered underneath the full moon’s lights. From afar, they could see Eren, Mikasa and Armin sitting together down the steps, although the Shiganshina trio weren’t aware of their presence.

Jean finally let out an audible groan as he sat on a deserted wooden crate, the two others found comfort on the cold cobblestone.

“As you know, I was in no position to do so.” Sasha shot a jeer at Connie, to which he replied with a remorseful grin, “Sorry Sash, you were acting crazy—”

“—BUT IT’S MEAT! How could you take away my happiness like that, Connie!” the shriek was lunatic indeed and the bald boy just cackled, mouthing yet another apology for tying her up to the pole earlier tonight. Sasha was not amused, obviously, but she eventually caved in as she let out a long, deep sigh, retreating her head to Connie’s shoulder, “Could’ve been my last meat, you know?”

“Nonsense,” Jean snorted, still inspecting his stomach that was bludgeoned by Eren’s fist earlier. He would only finally surrender to the pain where no one would see other than two of his most trusted comrades.

“Yeah, Sasha. Nonsense.” Connie repeated, turning his head to Jean as he sought for reassurance, “We’re gonna survive this one. Right?”

There was a brief silence between them. It was clear that despite their best hope, they were thinking the possibilities of meeting their lethal ends with this mission. The idea of being young had never crossed their minds before – how they should not be thinking of their own death, how they should cast hope for the future – these were some distant ideas that they never got acquainted with. For these young soldiers, there were moments when they passingly imagined of being in their adulthood and what would they do by that time; but to their surprise, along with it often arrived the feeling of remorse, as if their wish to live on were nothing but wishful thinking. They had been conversant with death too early in their lives, and it had become a recurring visitor that they had to greet reluctantly.

“I really hope so…” she mumbled, her eyes gazed afar at the trio down the steps, “Must be hard for them, isn’t it?”

“Them?”

“Yeah,” Sasha raised his head from Connie’s shoulder and scooted over so she could look at both Connie and Jean, “I can’t imagine having to put up with such burden, returning to their decimated district.”

“Poor Armin and… Mikasa. And then there’s that maniac,” Jean scoffed, “he better does his job right. Tch. Such great power on meekly little hands—”

“—Jean,” the interruption was unprecedented as it was stern, Sasha was looking directly to him, “Cut it off, alright? It’s no use.”

There was a brief look of surprise from Jean that he immediately masked with a low chuckle, joined by Connie who was quick to disperse the tension.

Connie and Sasha knew how Jean felt about himself, and how hard he fought his own inner battle. His nightly mumbles of the regret and grief about the passing of Marco, and how he wished he had been better and stronger for tens of his fallen comrades. In those treacherous hours, often slipped through his lips ‘If only I had the power of the titans, I could have made a difference.’ or the seemingly vengeful, ‘If only we didn’t have to save Eren so many times.’ They both knew how calculating, cautious and capable Jean was, and how much he felt overshadowed by unfortunate circumstances, or how he’d always felt like he could have done more if only he had been given the chance to. Each time he succumbed into the dark clouds of his mind, Jean and Sasha was the voice of reason that brought him back from his own demon, ‘For greater good,’ was the convincing phrase that the two of them uttered to Jean, and for greater good did Jean thrived to drown his individual desire and pursuit.

“Let’s just focus on each other, okay?” Connie spoke reassuringly, trying to maintain the lightness in his voice no matter how somber had his heart grown to be, “The three of us. Let’s keep each other safe, okay?

There was a quick yet solemn unison between Jean and Sasha, “Okay.” they said, before a deep silence ensued. From afar, they could hear the sound of Armin from down the step, he was standing and babbling enthusiastically to Eren and Mikasa about the vast prairies of boundless salty water – where merchant could spend their whole life collecting its salt yet it would never deplete. The three of them let silence hung among them as they listened to Armin, and each tried to picture how marvelous the discovery would be. How beautiful, how magnificence would that feeling be. The greater good beyond the wall.

Intuitively they turned to look at each other and the smiles were poignant on their faces, each engulfed in their own thoughts. For a moment the idea of a vast world out there brought a keen warmth inside Connie’s chest, before it was abruptly ceased by the recognition that he no longer had anyone to return home to and tell the story about his journey. Sasha could read the pain that was growing to be visible on Connie’s face, she reached for his arms and squeezed it playfully, “Connie, don’t you think Armin’s crazy?”

“Eh?”

“Eh?” the two exchanged confusion, the similarity their minds shared was uncanny, “Don’t you think so? What kind of weird place would that be? Boundless prairie with water that never runs out of salt to mine… He’s crazy. Maybe knocked himself on the head too hard on the last mission.”

And then the three of them burst out laughing in the kind of humor only they would understand. Jean slid down from his seat and embraced his two friends closely, muttering under his breath, he spoke deeply, “I care so much about the two of you guys…”

There was no audible ‘We do too’ or the likes of it in their friendship for they already knew how they felt about each other. Sasha knew that the forest had long gone for her, and she knew that her home had now resided in the shared battles and journeys with her two best friends. She had accepted the fact that her days would never return to normalcy in the forest like what she had hoped in her early cadet days, but the thought that she would share these days as a soldier with Jean and Connie –no matter how awful or hard would those days be— never failed to bring her at ease. The thought of it made her smile again as she said, wondering, “What do you guys want to do once the war ends?”

The two boys looked at each other, puzzlement was quick to show. When would the war end? They all thought, as each of them had different imagery of what post-war life would look like. For Jean, it would simply look like his childhood: the return to that warm omelet lunch cooked by his mum, laid out on the dining table of his home that he hadn’t been for years, and the faint sound of his mum caressing his hair, ‘Eat well, Jean-boy!’; For Sasha it would simply mean a stroll down the market, buying all the juiciest meat she could buy, and then cook it for the town’s orphans. She thought of chopping down the oak tree behind her old home in the forest, and turned it into the largest dining table she had ever seen, so it would house enough seat for each orphan in the district; As for Connie, after the malady of Ragako, he thought hard what kind of life would he lead after the war ends. For a while, he had thought how meaningless would that be to stay alive after Ragako had been done for. ‘But maybe,’ he thought to himself one day, when he saw Jean and Sasha argued intensely about the best type of dish that eggs could be made into, ‘Maybe I could stay alive just to hear these two idiots argue every day. Maybe I could keep on fighting for everyday’s little, precious moment like this.’ Connie finally knew what kind of post-war life would he like to have: A future where he would no longer have to fight and kill. To have nights when his slumber would be soundly and peaceful, without the voices of death and miseries ringing inside his head no more. He hoped that one day he could tell the tales of his youth to all his grandkids, and how he defeated all the monsters with his two best friends.

“I think this might sound lame but,” Jean broke the silence, “I think I wanna buy my mum a house in the capital. She might like the fancy dwelling, you know.”

Jean and Connie nodded, acknowledging how close was Jean to her mum, and how there was no day passing without Jean regretting his bad behavior towards her during his insecure cadet days. Sasha giggled a little, to the confusion of the two boys, “For me… Maybe I wanna get married.”

The boys suddenly erupted into a fit of laughter, as Connie shrieked, “You—Sasha Braus? Married—to what?”

Sasha kicked the boy’s shin, making Connie whimpered in overdramatic tone, “Of course to a living, breathing man, you idiot.”

“Come, come Sasha, tell us what he’d look like,” amidst his laughter, Jean tried to hype her up, “so we would know what to look for.”

The girl looked up to the starless night and mumbled to herself, “Hmm… maybe… a cute… blond man…” her wondering was quick to be cut-off by the boys’ yet another voluptuous laughter.

“Whoa Sasha, that makes neither of us then! Are you sure?”

“So, like—Armin?”

“…or Commander Erwin?”

Sasha blew a raspberry in disapproval, but carried on with her imagery of whom to marry, “…who likes to cook and also good at it…”

The two boys were still immersed in their own laughter while patting Sasha’s shoulders teasingly, “Let’s stay alive together so we can meet your blond cook one day, okay?”

Sasha giggled to herself, drawing her knees to her chest and hid her face in a childish embarrassment. Jean turned to Connie and nudged him on the waist, making him flinched, tickled, “Oi Connie, your turn.”

He fell to a deep, prolonged hum, before shrugging his shoulder, “I don’t know, maybe something simple.”

“Like what?” Sasha asked, raising her face from her knees.

“Maybe I want to write a book,” Connie said, her mind wandered, “and maybe live close to you guys. Maybe I can try your mum’s legendary omelet, yeah, Jean?”

Jean chuckled in approval, letting Connie to continue, “I’ll have the neighborhood kids –or my own grandkids— come over to my house and listen to our deadly attack on titans. I’ll have Armin come over too since he’s a great story-teller.”

The three teenagers fell deeply into their imagination of how pretty that picture would be. Jean sighed, letting the two others know that there was still a sour fruit hanging in his mind, “Do you think one day someone would write a story about all these?”

“Possibly.”

“Do you think they’ll mention our names too? Jean Kirstein, Sasha Braus and Connie Springer…”

“Probably.”

“Do you think anyone would root for us?” Jean asked again, “Obviously we don’t have the power of the titans, nor are we humanity’s strongest soldiers…”

The three of them drowned into yet another deep silence. Their eyes stared afar at Eren, Mikasa and Armin who were getting ready to leave, secretly mirroring their own to them.

“Hmm,” Connie hummed, ever characteristically so, he maintained the keenness in his voice, “maybe someone would root for us because we remind them of themselves. Just ordinary people who thrive…”

Jean raised his brows as he looked at his best friend, “Even when we’re greeted with struggles beyond compare?”

“Exactly.”

Sasha chimed in, “Even when sometimes it feels like it’s beyond our ability…”

“We keep on fighting. Right, guys?” Connie threw his smile to the two fellow soldiers whom he had grown to love and care for, more than he had to himself, “Because that’s what matters, right? As long as we put the effort, we give our own meaning to this futile fate of being alive.”

“That’s right.” – “Yes, Connie.”

Connie sighed, this time it was the sound of relief, “I’m grateful.”

“For what?”

“For the two of you. You both are the only family I have left.” There was still a stinging pain in Connie’s words, but he was finally at terms with it. He had made peace with his grief, and it was visible to both Jean and Sasha as they hug the shorter boy closer to even a warmer embrace, and finally, they laughed again.

“Or maybe we can rebuild Ragako after this?” Jean sparked the idea, sending a glimmer of hope into Connie’s eyes, “Find the cure for your mum, and let’s live closely together there. We can be neighbors. You said there’s plenty of boar for Sasha to hunt, right, Connie?”

Sasha squealed in excitement to which Jean responded by a loving pat to his brunette hair, as he spoke again, “And maybe we can go to Sasha’s house for dinner every night since his husband’s a good cook.”

“Yeah, sounds like a plan.”

“Let’s stay alive, guys.”

“The three of us.”

“Yeah.”

“Together?” – “As long as we can.”

And so that night, they laughed and laughed. For once, under the starless skies they became what they had not been able to become: children with child-like wonders. Casting hope for tomorrow, they were there to laugh at the odds and to live their lives so well that Death would tremble to take them.

A/N: Hi guys, I hope you like it! Please let me know what you think! Comments or reblogs are highly appreciated, like so so much.

Out of all angst fics I ever read, my heart hurt the most writing this down. Truly, what an ending for them by Yams.

Credit: The last line was derived from Charles Bukowski’s publication.

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laceymorganwrites · 4 years ago

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The story of the sad chapter 17

Word count: 1,792

Pairing: Ban x goddess!reader

Warnings: uuuuh swearing, maybe a teeny tiny bit of blood and gore?

A/N: eheheehhe we´re back~ I´ll try to update this at least once a month but I can´t promise anything. thanks for your support

Grabbing your sword, you dashed forward and slashed Hendrickson´s shoulder, though the wound you inflicted didn´t last very long, soon you were followed by your friends, each of you getting a few good hits in.

Though nothing seemed to work, in this state he was invincible and it enraged you.

How dare he use magic as dark as this? Wasn´t he aware of what happened all those millennia ago? Wasn´t he aware of the consequences? What goal could be so great as to forget all about that?

Resurrecting the demon clan to him meant power, but he didn´t think about the source of it, he didn´t think about the fact that they would betray him as soon as they could walk the earth again.

“Leave the rest to us…” Meliodas announced to Elizabeth before joining the fight.

The princess now rested next to Hawk, trying to protect his dead body.

You tried to regain your composure and focus on the fight, trying to make out Hendrickson´s weak points, but he kept attacking you and your friends so that it was almost impossible.

In a flurry of magical blows, Gowther lost his head and glasses, you almost stepped on them, but quickly picked them up to hand them over to him.

Meliodas told all of you to get ready for your big attack.

A smile formed on your lips, finally.

It was time.

All of you got ready to use your strongest attack on Meliodas, so that he could in turn counter them on Hendrickson.

You made it your mission to distract the demon while Meliodas gathered as much magic as he could, using your wings to take him off his feet and slashing your sword at him with full force.

“Tell me, what did you gain from all this? You know, demonic magic might be strong on its own, but you underestimated us! This is the end for you” you called out to Hendrickson, letting him know that he has lost.

It was impossible to dodge or stop Meliodas´ attack at this point.

The shockwave from the attack was so great that it shook the ground, you had trouble staying on your feet and fell against Ban, who caught you.

He smiled at you, even through the chaos and was more than relieved and happy to see you mostly unharmed.

All eyes were on the exhausted Meliodas as Merlin returned with the king, he was better now since she treated him.

You looked around the battlefield, holding Ban´s hand tightly and took in the damage and loss, but also a bitter sense of victory. At least for now.

For now you allowed yourself to smile, to exhale the breath you didn´t realize you were holding, to revel in your boyfriend´s presence and feel the happiness of him being there with you.

In a fit of guilt the holy knights knelt down before the king, apologizing for their sins and asking for his punishment.

You had to chuckle a bit, they were good souls after all. But that was just how the demons liked it, they took the good souls and made them rotten, good souls were easier to corrupt, to bend to their will.

It wasn´t their fault, they simply were taken in by a greater power than them. A power they simply couldn´t defeat by themselves.

The king announced that there would be no punishment and that the knights should repent for their sins in rebuilding the kingdom and working hard.

Then the king faced you and your friends, expressing his gratitude.

“I guess that´s just what we do” you chuckled.

“We can´t help but aid those in need” you stated, smiling at him.

No matter how evil they painted you as, your group were always after helping people.

Elizabeth also got praised for being brave and making this all possible, if she hadn´t searched for your group and wouldn´t have stumbled into your bar, you wouldn´t have been reunited with all the others.

Well, most of them anyway.

The princess started crying, blaming herself for Hawk´s death, while you and Ban went over to his dead body to pay your respects.

He had been with you in those years when you were almost happy, always being there for you and everyone else.

As if by some sort of miracle, the little pig revived, making everyone around you smile in shock and happiness.

You only smiled to yourself and looked over to Elizabeth, she probably didn´t even realize what she just did.

A part of you was glad she didn´t, that meant she didn´t remember anything heartbreaking and utterly sad, but even so… not remembering your one true love was still the worst curse in your opinion.

Everyone cheered and for a moment it felt as if everything was back to normal, whatever that strange state might be.

Elizabeth hugged Meliodas and healed his wounds, once again not comprehending it was her doing.

She reunited with her sister, overwhelmed by everything happening, her cheerfulness knew no bounds.

You leaned against Ban a bit and he laid an arm around you, pulling you closer to him and gently tracing his fingers over your shoulder.

Exhausted you all made your way back to the Boar Hat to rest a bit.

“I just want to sleep… for a week” you groaned as you threw yourself onto the bed.

Elaine giggled.

“But then you´d just miss everything! And we´d miss you” she joined you on bed, resting her head on your shoulder.

“Hm, okay you got a point” you thought out loud, shifting a bit so you were more comfortable to which Elaine jokingly complained.

“You can´t even sit still even when you´re supposed to rest, can you?” she giggled.

“I guess not….it used to be so easy back then. After every battle I´d just sleep the whole day” you reminisced.

It was a nice memory, the bed always felt the softest after a long and hard battle. Returning home meant feeling each and every one of your muscles ache, sneaking out to meet Estarossa for a bit only to have to hurry up the rest of the way so you wouldn´t cause any suspicions.

And nobody would bother you in the day after the battle, it was a peace and quiet you didn´t know anymore.

But it was also one you never wanted to have again.

You much preferred the chaos of your friends, talking with Ban until you both fell asleep in each other´s arms.

“Now you have something to fight for” Elaine smiled and you nodded.

You never gave it much thought back then. Sure, you always thought you did it for your friends, but you didn´t have friends. It was simply your duty you had to fulfill, the expectations that came from leading the army rested heavy on your shoulders, making you more exhausted than ever.

But now you had your friends and love lifting you up, cheering for you, truly. It made you feel so alive, more vibrant than the brightest colors imaginable.

You would always give it your all when it came to protecting your loved ones.

With that thought and a smile on your face you and Elaine slowly fell asleep.

Within the next few days the rebuilding of the capital and everything else that got destroyed was of the utmost importance.

Everyone helped and of course so did you.

It was nice having a routine again, it felt going back to your normal every day life even though you never had anything of the sort.

Though lately you seemed to crave normality.

It wasn´t like your life was bad at any means, it was just that you were sick of fighting.

Elaine and you were on lookout and helped rebuild the roofs and other things in high places, handing the others the things they needed.

Together you worked quite quickly, after all you unfortunately had a lot of experience.

After a while you came down to the ground again and stretched your tired muscles.

“I´ll go see what the others are up to, keep an eye on everything for me, will you?” you smiled and Elaine nodded.

“I hope they´re almost done! The festival is about to start” she reminded you to which you nodded and made your way to the Boar Hat.

As soon as you stepped through the door you could smell Ban´s cooking, making you even hungrier than before.

You exchanged loving smiles and you joined him behind the counter, checking your inventory.

“Mel, we need to stock up soon” you remarked and he nodded.

“Yeah don´t worry about that!” he said.

Gilthunder visited you a bit after you arrived and sat down to talk with Meliodas.

Meanwhile you and Ban sneaked into the kitchen, cleaning up together.

Well, you were cleaning until Ban grinned at you and gently pushed you against the wall, a dreamy smile on his lips and his eyes full of adoration as he closed the distance between you and kissed you passionately.

His one hand gently cupping your cheek, tracing his fingers over your beautiful skin, his other placed on your waist to be even closer to you.

Heaven wasn´t a place, no. It was right here, right now in this moment. With you.

Your lips against his, this feeling of needing air but not wanting it, craving more and more of your touch.

This was truly heaven to him.

You eagerly kissed back and hooked your arms around his neck, smiling into the kiss and just enjoying his presence.

If you could you would stay like this forever.

Ban still had the same look in his eyes as he broke the kiss, so focused on you, getting lost in this moment. Nothing else counted right now. It was like the outside world didn´t exist.

“Fuck, I really love you, you know that?” he whispered, his smile never leaving his lips.

Time stopped, your heart jumped out of your chest and stopped at the same time.

Those were the words you both dreaded and wished for at the same time.

And now that he uttered them, you didn´t know what to say.

“You don´t have to say it back right now, I just wanted you to know. Now was the right moment for me and I will wait for yours to come. And if it doesn´t that´s alright too. I would never pressure you into anything. You´re too precious to me” he said and it was in this moment that you knew, though something held you back.

You didn´t like it in the first place, this queasy feeling in your stomach.

Ban laid an arm around you as you two exited the kitchen, celebrating Elizabeth officially joining your party.

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tl-notes · 4 years ago

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Kobayashi’s Maid Dragon S2 Episode 5 Notes

Better late than never! Hopefully I’ll catch up with these before next week’s episode hits.

私は、種族全体の目的よりも自分がやりたいことをやっているエルマに、興味がありました。

当時の私、そんな感じでしたし。

What Tohru is saying in these shots is a little different in the Japanese:

“I had an interest in Elma, who was doing what she wanted to do instead of advancing the goals of the species [her faction]. Since that’s how I was at the time, too.”

That is, for the first sentence, Tohru is saying Elma wasn’t interested in the broader dragon goals, not Tohru herself.

Then in the second sentence, instead of a wishy washy “I think that’s how it was?” Tohru says that she was like that too, hence her interest.

So it goes from like:

“I was interested more in Elma than in faction goals, because she was acting freely. I think, anyway.”

to more of a:

“I was interested in Elma because she was acting freely, not bound by faction goals. That’s what I was like too, after all.”

Not sure if it really counts as a translation note, but since I had some questions about it, here’s a few words on the Tohru/Elma disagreement scene.

Tohru thought Elma was like herself: acting not according to what dragon (or human) society asked of them, but according to their own personal set of values. Elma, by allowing herself to be placed in the position of “god” by the humans, had changed that; she locked herself into permanently being a (large, important) cog in the human society. From Tohru’s perspective, she’d lost the one person she felt kindred with, her fellow “free actor.” She doesn’t particularly care what happens to the humans, hence the 私が言いたいことはそういう話ではない (“That’s not what I’m trying to talk about”) when Elma says she’ll just stop the wars from happening: that’s all well and good, but it doesn’t solve Tohru’s issue.

Hence Kobayashi’s response: both grand (involved the fate of nations), and petty (Elma got “trapped” by food, and Tohru’s initiation of the fight was for personal reasons).

喧嘩するほど仲がいい kenka suru hodo, naka ga ii

This is one of those sayings that is often a giant pain in the butt to translate, because it’s not an odd concept in English, but for whatever reason* there is no common pithy saying for it like there is in Japanese, so it’ll almost come off less smoothly.

The idea is that, in order to “have a fight” with someone, you have to already have an established relationship that’s at a certain level of closeness.

Two strangers? Why would you even have a reason to fight, who cares. Two acquaintances? Why deal with it, just smile and nod and go on with your day. Two close friends though? You probably care enough to want to convince them of whatever it is, and/or you don’t want to have to hide your real thoughts/feelings around them like you might around, say, just random coworkers or something—meaning more chances for friction.

*My theory on this is that it comes from the same place as the “wow Japanese people are so polite” stereotype and stuff like honne/tatemae as discussed in a previous episode’s notes: in a situation where two strangers/acquaintances might get into a shouting match in the US, in Japan there’s a comparatively higher chance they just tatemae it up to prevent direct conflict and end the situation early—hence less likely to “have a fight” per se. As always this stuff is just on a continuum though.

What do you call these “clouds” left by planes as they fly? In Japanese, they’re called 飛行機雲 hikoukigumo, lit. “airplane clouds.” And they’re not a season word!

Officially, anyway.

However, they are heavily associated with summer, to the point where you if you google around to find out if they are a haiku season word, there are a whole bunch of sites to tell you no, they’re not, stop asking. That doesn’t mean they’re not a great way to tell the audience it’s summer anyway, though!

If you’re curious as to why the summer association: how long vapor trails like this remain visible depends heavily on how humid the air is. More humidity, longer trails. And Japan has very humid summers (and very dry winters!).

If you’ve heard the song Tori no Uta, the OP to Air (also animated by Kyoani), hikoukigumo is the very second word in the lyrics—no coincidence given the heavy summer theming! If you haven’t heard it, I suggest giving it a try.

“Candy shop” here is 駄菓子屋 dagashi-ya, which is a kind of store that specializes in very cheap varieties of “candy” (maybe more accurately snack foods?): dagashi. If you’re seen/read any of the series Dagashi Kashi, you’re familiar with this variety of snack.

Dagashi is so called because, back in the Edo period, quality white sugar was super expensive and not something commoners could typically eat. Cheaper brown sugar was, though, so you ended up with different terms for stuff made from each: the expensive 上菓子 jougashi and the cheap 駄菓子 dagashi.

Later, in the Showa period after WW2 when the average person was able to afford a bit more, the term stuck around but more generalized, referring to a wide variety of cheap snacks. These snacks are not necessarily always sugary, and they often have some sort of gimmick so it wasn’t “just” a piece of candy—toys attached, or games/puzzles, or requiring some interesting way to eat/drink them. If you grew up with Dunkaroos: that kinda thing.

Similar to “penny candy,” dagashi was/is cheap enough for children to afford several different varieties of with just a bit of change from their parents, and small stores specializing in them—dagashi-ya—sprung up all over the country, quickly becoming a popular spot for kids… and, not too long after, a symbol of childhood nostalgia.

They’ve been on a big downtrend in the last few decades however. The spread of convenience stores as a competitor for snack buying is often cited as one reason, while a greater variety of ways for kids to spend their playtime now (video games etc.) is another.

You’re probably aware, but of the many reasons to bow in Japan, to show humility when making a request is a big one.

Of note here is that Tohru doesn’t push Ilulu’s head down, which other characters in other shows might have done here, but just lightly reminds her: yeah okay you’re a dragon talking to a human, but you’re the one asking—act like it. She does, and her sincerity is rewarded.

The word here is ぱねぇ panee, which is a heavily abbreviated form of 半端(では/じゃ)ない hanpa nai, ~lit. “not halfway/half-done/half-assed.”

hanpa ja nai→hanpa nai→hanpa nee→panee

It’s used probably how you’d expect: describing something intense af.

(I’m mostly just bringing it up because I love super-shortened slang like this!)

The phrase for “like” here is 気に入った ki ni itta, which is basically to have an interest in something/someone, to take a liking to, to say something is a favorite, etc. When said of another person, there’s typically an air of the speaker considering themselves in a higher position. It generally isn’t “like” in a romantic sense.

Take’s “hey that’s my line,” comes from the fact he’s (in his mind) in the position of power and was judging her on whether he’d try to kick her out of the job. You can tell he was thinking of it as “I like the cut of your jib. I guess you can stay.” kind of thing.

Normally a new employee would not say this about their new boss/job, even if they did like it, though a boss/senpai could of a new employee, hence the “what?”

Notably, Ilulu used “like” earlier in the episode to refer to Tohru as well. In that case it was 好き suki, which is a more literal “like,” with the various implications that may or may not have. Personally, it strikes me as a little odd to translate them both as “like” in the same episode.

And that’s it for episode five! I’m

#maidragon #Miss Kobayashi's Dragon Maid #kobayashi-san chi no maid dragon #translation notes #anime

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sugarcookiesandsins · 5 years ago

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Charmed [Episode 6]

➰ ot7 x reader, poly!bts x reader, mafia!bts ➰ they wouldn’t notice her until she was standing above them, a smoking gun in her hand a bullet in their heart 🌡 M 🛑 details about weaponry and similar materials, dark humor, swearing, mentions of violence 🕛 4.k+

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Following your explanation, the boys sat in silence as each of them took in the various blueprints and notes spread out before them. Processing it took them some time, and Eli took the opportunity to soothe his dry throat with the remnants of his drink.

“It’s complicated, to say the least.” Namjoon’s voice was distant as his mind wasn’t all that focused on the words coming out of his mouth.

Yoongi only snorted in response, but it was more of a reaction that he had given for the duration of the discussion so Eli considered it a win all in all and looked to the other members for their reactions. Seeing nothing else of note in their eyes, he reached for the papers to clean them up, planning on returning to his room and cleaning up, before going out for supplies. Sure, Hoseok or Jimin could probably hook them up with all that they needed but call it a con’s intuition for wanting to check out the equipment themselves.

Grabbing hold of the documents, he rifled through them and aligned the corners as he always did before getting up.

“I’m headed out for some of the basic equipment so yall can break it in before D-day.” Not waiting for an answer, he headed back to his designated room, barely sparing a minute to toss the papers onto his desk before heading to the bathroom.

With the door locked and the hot water soothing your muscles, you had some time to yourself to think. Your relationship with the rest of the boys could be simmered down to two words: grudging acceptance. Neither side was about drop their pride and invite the other out to dinner, but at least Jungkook wasn’t lunging for your throat every time he laid eyes on you.

The heist was risky, and would take some real trust and teamwork, and “grudging acceptance” wasn’t exactly the best relationship to have with the people you would be trusting with your life while completing the mission. You still were damn sure that they wouldn’t hesitate to leave you behind if they needed to; their relationship was one where they looked out for each other and solid walls were drawn against those who weren’t inside when those walls were built.

In a way, you understood. Though you didn’t have the exact details, it was obvious they went through some trauma together, one that bound them together by something greater than blood ties or brotherhood. You were the same way; the only difference was that you were alone when you built those walls and they had each other.

Shutting off the water, you stepped out into the foggy bathroom, the heat blushing your skin red. The mirror was fogged up, and the metaphor almost made you snort. It seemed that even the world was trying to tell you that within all the personas and costumes, you had lost sight of your true self, even as it stood within reach, blurry but there.

The skin on your chest was red and irritated, most likely from the bandages you used to keep your secret. You needed to spend a night away from them, if only so you could let your skin breathe.

Getting your costume back on, you waltzed out of your bedroom towards the living room, most of the boys had disappeared, but Jimin was still where you had left him, albeit in clothes more appropriate for your shopping trip. In a way, you expected Hoseok to be there as well, but Jimin oversaw their equipment.

“Do you know the weights and heights of everyone,” Eli casually asked as he thumbed through a small journal filled with more of his chicken scratch trying to find the specific page he wanted.

“Don’t tell me you’re interested in us,” Jimin scoffed obviously getting the wrong impression from Eli’s words.

“Interested in keeping you all alive yeah.” Eli turned his back on the still lounging Jimin, who had somehow managed to get even more attractive as he leaned back invitingly on their soft couch. “Don’t fool yourself shorty. I doubt you have anything that would make me want to chase after you.”

Making his way to the foyer of the apartment, he didn’t even look back to see if Jimin was following him before he slipped out and towards the elevators.

The ride down was silent once Jimin joined him, each absorbed in their own devices to pass the time. Upon exiting the tall high-rise building, Eli was none too surprised at the sleek black SUV waiting for them. They needed to buy a lot of equipment and they would need a large car to hold it all.

While in the car, both still maintained the strict silence that they had started in the elevator. Eli’s eyes were focused on the passing scenery, letting out tiny grins at the snapshots of daily life he saw beyond the tinted glass windows. They were all so oblivious to the harsh realities of the world and even if they did know, their brains would probably cut out the information deeming it too harmful to remember.

PJM

He seemed utterly uninterested in anything other than the mission. It really was odd to see how quickly his attitude adjusted when he explained the plan to us this morning. Not once did he let out his signature smile, all teeth and stupidity. It was long, complicated, and required a lot more trust than I felt anyone was willing to give him at this point in whatever relationship was forming between us.

Going out with him was most definitely not my choice, but Namjoon had insisted on it because apparently it was obvious that I was the one with the most prejudices against our new add-on. We all knew it was a blatant lie, but Jungkook had no qualifications to go shopping therefore here I am.

The car is surprisingly silent, and looking over at Eli, he’s focused on the outside world. There was longing in a sense, something we all felt from time to time; we wonder and dream of our lives with intact families and normality.

The car stops in front of a hotel, conspicuous and in the center of town; it’s perfect. Getting down, it’s no surprise that we make an impression on the surrounding people. Jimin’s face is common on the news channels and everyone knows the people he associates with, so everyone gives us a wide berth as we enter the hotel.

Walking to the front desk, the person manning the fort gives us the biggest customer service smile that I have ever seen. Jimin merely nods back before handing over a medallion and asking for, “Room 113 please” with the most conversational tone.

“Forgive me sir, but our staff is still cleaning the room for you. Please feel free to wait in our lobby and I will call you when the room is prepared.” When you enter this line of work, you should always be prepared to deal with word games and subliminal messaging. We both understood what his words meant, there was already someone shopping so we could not go in.

Most places like this did not worry about anonymity between guests, hoping that it would work as sort of a motivation to not betray the location; if someone got captured then they could name everyone else that they saw. It was more commonly seen in stores that had not gotten a footing in the black world of crime. Yet, the truly powerful locations did not need to rely on such childish motivations as that.

Jimin and I made our way to the couches a couple feet away from the receptionist. The world continued to move on around us. Initially, some were focused on our identities, but as they each needed to be somewhere else, we were left alone in the middle of the lobby. The hotel itself seemed to be the playground of the higher class based on all the brand names glittering around me and the large entourages that revolve around a single person.

In a way, that life seemed bland to me. What fun was there to have everything handed to you, sure it was novel for a little while but then it would lose it’s charm. Inherently, people get bored which is why you see celebrities always doing.

It wasn’t long before the receptionist approached us from behind the desk and informed us that they were ready for us. He motions us to follow him and we do.

The receptionist returns to behind the desk and programs a reader card to let us into our requested room. He faces us again and hands that card over with that same sickeningly bright smile. “I hope everything is to your standards.” He knows, though I do not know why I ever doubted it for a second.

Jimin nods and I follow his example of silence as he leads me down a hallway and to our room. Unlocking it with the given card, he lets me inside before shutting and locking the door behind us both. The space is small and not a room at all; it was an elevator.

Surveillance was full force as someone welcomed us to the store and instructed us not to touch anything as the decent began on its own. By my estimate, the level that we stopped at was one below the basement. The doors opened before us and we walked into a well-lit room, almost as big as a proper ballroom. Certainly, not as high but just a big in width and length. The rich vibe continued down here as well with the red walls and gold trimming on the walls and on the cabinets filled to the brim with guns and other equipment.

At the far end of the room, a man in a fitted suit stood relaxed in his posture. Not single strand of hair or muscle moved out of place as we approached him. “Welcome. Please take a look around at your leisure and feel free to ask any questions. We are here to assist.”

Jimin jets off towards the far end of the room, firmly in the directions of some automatic handgun; they suited him. I had initially pegged him at a knife person, but then again he wanted efficiency more than any perceived bloodlust so I relented on my initial judgement. His steps were quick, barely holding on to the perception of calm, but he was like a child in a candy shop, no doubts about it.

Letting him satisfy his own curiosity, I turned to the tactical gear. I would worry about the boys later, getting their measurements from Jimin now would be impossible when he seems much more interested in the custom grips on an Italian classic.

Shopping for harnesses was ironically reminiscent to shopping for clothes; they were all on gold hangers and organized by size and prices. The boys (read: Big Hit) were paying for all this anyways so I’d take advantage of that; only I knew what was really needed for this.

Shifting through them all, I decided on one with multiple points of weight distribution that had multiple clip combinations so one could vary their support based on their preference or on the limits of rope. As I was looking, I felt a presence on my 6 or 7 o’clock; it was either Jimin or the attendant.

“Is this what you wanted the body measurements for?” Jimin.

“No,” I scoffed. “I needed that information to plant fake bodies when we all fail this and need to get the heck out of dodge.”

“The confidence you have in us is astounding.” He didn’t waste time is coming back for me with the same amount of sarcasm.

“I have as much confidence in you as I do in my own survival with the group of you.” Snatching the paper with the written measurements out of his hand, I didn’t bother to head his response as I pulled out different sizes of the same harness. They would cost a pretty penny, but you weren’t footing the bill.

“Take these to the table.” I was already searching for the ropes; something strong preferably suspension or paracord, but mountaineering might work.

“Do it yourself.”

“Like you know what we need for this. Just do what I ask and maybe my confidence that we’ll survive this increase by a tenth of a percent.”

“You’re difficult.”

“But I’m good and that’s what you really need right now isn’t it? Now go.”

Deciding on some dark colored SWAT rappelling rope in 200 feet lengths. It was double braided and would be more than enough to carry our weights at 9mm in diameter. However, ti was a hefty weight, but I’d leave that to the boys. Additionally, I picked up some paracord, just in the case of an emergency lashing or situation.

Next, some infrared googles. They were also a hefty price, but trusting the boys to already have their own, I waited until Jimin returned from his second trip from the far table to confirm. Given a OK, I think he had given up on arguing with me for the sake of it, I picked out some durable ones with a heat sensor attachment.

Last in terms of tacticals, would be body suits. These would go under our regular clothes, additional protection and heat without the bulk. Of course, some bullet proof clothes would be going on top, but still a good base is always necessary.

Now to the fun part, weapons.

Jimin had already beat me to it, having laid out some stuff that he wanted for himself or that he got at the request of the other boys. A computer chip, most likely for Yoongi, catches my eye. Having a computer for research and planning would be so much easier than having to piece together scraps of paper.

Grabbing a sleek laptop off the shelf, I added it to the ever-growing pile of supplies on the table under the raised eyebrow of Jimin. He reaches for it, but I smack his hand away and firmly state that “I like doing these things myself.” I hear no further argument.

Then comes the guns. Semi-automatics have a soft spot it my heart so I grab an all-American Hollywood classic, twin Desert Eagles, metal caps, and a spool of wrapping leather; custom grip can only be truly custom when you make them yourself. Snagging some holsters, I argue mentally between thighs and sides, before just getting both; no point wasting time. Then for knifes, I grab a classic butterfly, before grabbing some more practical Damascus hunting daggers that were lightweight so they could be thrown as well.

Nodding at Jimin, I let him take care of the payment as I continued to explore the room for anything else that we might like. Closer to the door, I see a locked cabinet with oddities that most would not look twice at; they sell information. A couple flash drives being bid off, probably filled with some military programs or governmental passwords. I wouldn’t put it pas them to have one or two automatic Trojans with a logic puzzle for those dolts that didn’t know how to use a computer. Then on the far side, something unexpected.

“They say that’s a charm from the Banshee herself.” Jimin, seemingly done with the purchase, came over towards the elevator as the store took care of sending our goods topside.

“The Banshee?” This was one I hadn’t heard before.

“Yeah. She’s an assassin with some sort of moral code apparently when she kills. And she takes or makes charms from each kill to remember them. Morbid, but then again anyone who’s that good ought to have a few screws lose to not go crazy.” He wasn’t wrong.

Even Master had told me it was odd when he saw the charms, but he got used to it. The box of filled bracelets I left with Master, the only thing of personal value that I really owned anymore so my wrists were naked and empty. Yet, the feeling never hit me until now, when I saw the only charm I ever lost (a round mosaic for a contemporary artist who also profited from fakes) for sale. The Banshee name had power and with power comes profit; the betting for the charm already past the million mark.

“Don’t think to hard. You won’t ever meet her.” Jimin laughed, the kind that came from his belly and was not held back by propriety.

“And you have?” It was a good enough act, lovestruck youngster falling for a power girl he had never even met before.

“Nope. But I want to. Her story sounds interesting enough.” That was the most uncharacteristic thing I had ever heard come out of his mouth.

“Her story,” I snickered, my face trying very hard not to mock him with its expression. “A mafioso and an assassin on a coffee date. That sounds more like the first line of a joke.”

He didn’t respond, but looking back as he pushed me towards the elevator told me he was thinking. The cogs were turning either to make up a lie or to figure out how to put it in words.

“I want to know what made her this way. She is truly someone that does not care, and something must have happened to make her that way.” His voice was quiet and rippling under the surface I could hear some semblance of emotions from him. It was a change, and I let him talk. “Even you can agree with this; we didn’t just wake up one day and decided we wanted to be like this. We went through the ringer and decided that we never wanted to be that low ever again, so we went for the heights.”

“We braved the cliffs and grew wings.” Simple words, but with more meaning that even a full paragraph could hold. He simply nodded in response and the rest of the ride up was silent, each lost in our pasts.

The ride back to the apartment was no different, except for the back piled with our new supplies. Quiet and heavy, not even the driver disturbed us in our thoughts.

The boys were waiting for us when we went upstairs, all cleaned up and hair coiffed to perfection.

“How was it?” Namjoon, objective as ever wanting to make sure the boys hadn’t lost their biggest weapons source because the two of us butting heads.

“Uneventful.” Me, as I turned to the boxes.

“Normal.” Jimin, as he joined the boys on the couch.

“Did you bring us presents?” Taehyung, relaxed as always, stretching his legs on the coffee table as he watched me organize.

I put everything that I had bought for myself in one box, including my harness, a loop of SWAT rope, the extra paracord, and the body suit. The rest was laid out on the floor next to the boxes that Jimin had already organized the others’ stuff into, most likely at the store itself.

“I bought all of you harnesses and new rope. I suggest getting used to wearing them around and working with the additional weight so break them in to your own comfort.”

Jungkook scoffed, “We have our own already.”

“Of course, you do. But do they have at least a 5-point weight distribution and at lest 10 hold holds for various roping combinations?”

He stayed silent.

“No? Then I suggest you break in the one I got for you or I won’t be responsible for you screwing this up for the rest of them. I didn’t bother holding back with him. Jungkook had started to get on my nerves. I was starting to get the feeling that no matter what I did, I would never get on his good side. I had reached a conclusion; it wasn’t me personally he hated, it was the idea of me; all fun and games when matched with his cold perfectionism. He thought I was stupid and infuriating, I thought the same of him; it worked out.

Walking back to my own room, I could practically hear Namjoon trying to figure out a plan to get me and Jungkook back on better terms. But that would have to wait for another day; I needed to get my stuff together.

Making it back to the relative haven of my room, I unpack and start customizing. First was the guns, taking the leather, I cover both handles in a primitive but more familiar imitation of custom grips, adding in the end the metal cap at the bottom of the grip because if you can’t shoot, you can at least swing. Sure, it does mess with the balance of the gun but you get used to it after a couple years of practice. Next, comes the computer. Booting up, I have never been more thankful for technology and resolve to ask someone to scan the document to upload, but after spending a couple hours with Jimin, I am ready to be alone.

Then again, when does the plan of the universe ever work in my favor? Just as I put away the rest of the gear, keeping the harness out to break in after I relax, I hear a knock on my door.

“Can I come in?” Taehyung. Lovely.

“Sure.” I didn’t bother to try to contain my annoyance, but this was Taehyung we were talking about; he was selectively blind, and deaf for that matter, to the world around him. He heard me say that he could come in but he somehow didn’t hear my annoyance.

He waltzed right in and seated himself on my bed as turned around from my desk. Glancing out the window, I could see the first signs of the evening clouding over the brightness of the day, so it was no surprise that he was dressed to go to work. Silk shirt unbuttoned just enough for anyone watching to get a peak of tanned skin tucked into tight denim. A lone silver chain hanging around his neck and thin rings of the same material making his fingers seem longer than you have ever thought was humanly possible.

Once again, he lounged. Looking back, you have never seen him as anything other than relaxed, except for that one time when you technically broke in so context matter with him. He didn’t even bother taking of his leather shoes which made you scowl.

“Any particular reason you’re hear or is it just to grind my gears?”

“Both, but mostly I have a question for you to answer for me.” He reached for his pocket and pulled out a swatch of white fabric that almost made my heart strop.

“A bandage? You want me to wrap something for you?” I didn’t let it bother me. The bandages I wore were a dime a dozen and he could have gotten it from any mom and pop medical store along the road.

“No I was wondering why you had these. If you’re hurt, that’s not good for any of us see?” Sitting up, he kept waving that bandage in front of me, taunting me like he knew all my secrets, but he didn’t.

“You went through my stuff?” Sighing, I relented. “Should have expect nothing less from a sneak thief. They are bandages for emergencies. I don’t trust for a second that Jungkook still doesn’t want to put a bullet between my eyes.”

“True. You and Jungkook really don’t get along. Though that is to be expected when the both of you have different ways of surviving.” Taehyung was smarter than you, and probably anyone else, gave him credit for. His mouth was working to distract while his eyes watched and learned from the people around him.

I didn’t respond, but I didn’t need to. Even Taehyung seemed to sense that our conversation was over as he left my room with some important parting word. “The most dangerous liars are the ones who give themselves to the lies, body, soul and heart.”

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krinsbez · 4 years ago

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Infinite Four, Refurbished: A Marvel Fanfic Concept

Here is the complete-as-of-now, refurbished version of Infinite Four, my attempt at envisioning an FF version of the eXiles or Web Warriors. Comments and suggestions welcome.

On Earth-9499729, Victor Von Doom has finally defeated the accursed RICHARDS! and assumed his rightful place as ruler of the Earth. Unwilling to rest on his laurels, Emperor Doom has begun studying the Multiverse. And when he finds out that in most realities, a version of himself is repeatedly defeated by a version of RICHARDS! he reacts….poorly.

Meanwhile, on Earth-75845525, Victor Von Doom, smarting from his latest defeat at the hands of the accursed RICHARDS!, decides to distract himself by studying the Multiverse. And when he finds out that in most realities, a version of himself is repeatedly defeated by a version of RICHARDS! he reacts….poorly.

Meanwhile, on Earth-34373402, Victor Von Doom takes a break from planning his latest attempt to defeat the accursed RICHARDS! by studying the Multiverse. And when he finds out that in most realities, a version of himself is repeatedly defeated by a version of RICHARDS! he reacts….poorly. Yeah, so in an infinite multiverse, there’s an infinite number of Dooms throwing an infinite number of shitfits over the fact that in most realities, the Richards family wins and he loses. And because Doom is often kinda bad at recognizing and/or caring that his actions can have negative consequences for everyone else, this gets very, very bad, and needs to be dealt with.

Someone has to clean up the mess, and that responsibility has been taken on by the Baxter Brain, an artificial hyper-intelligence housed inside a massive arcology that began as the combined uploaded consciousnesses of a version of the FF. But, even it’s astounding intellect and power can’t cope with ALL of the various Dooms (and Wizards, and Mad Thinkers, and Diablos, and occasionally an evil Reed) screwing things up for everyone with their egomaniacal disregard for everyone else. So, it has to recruit agents, and what better agents could their be than alternate versions of it’s previous selves? There are four teams: Alpha Team and Beta Team are each made up of an alternate Ben, Johnny, Reed and Sue; in the former case, they have additional power-sets from the "baseline", in the latter, they have additional skills or alternate powersets. In both cases, the individual team-members come from realities where they lost their version of the family. Gamma and Delta Teams are made up of versions of allies of the core four, and serve as support for Alpha and Beta. I only have two members of either ATM, help please? Alpha Team: -Reed Richards, Dr. Fantastic; from an Earth where, instead of Ben being the only member of the Four who was mode-locked, Reed was the only one who wasn’t; obviously, the celebrity adventurers thing didn’t wasn’t going to work. Desperate to find some way of curing his friends, Reed turned to magic, and eventually ended up becoming Sorcerer Supreme…which unfortunately led to the Dread Dormammu killing his family. -Johnny Storm, Ghost Torch; from a world where Reed’s guilt over turning his friends into freaks caused him to commit suicide. Unsurprisingly, this made things even worse for Sue, Ben, and Johnny, the latter of whom ended up being so lost that he joined a Satanic cult and found himself bound to a demonic Spirit of Vengeance… -Ben Grimm, Wolf-Thing; from an Earth where Reed’s moonshot wasn’t canceled, meaning that when it went to space it had adequate cosmic-ray shielding, and Ben managed to make it to the Moon without any problems whatsoever. Whilst on the Moon, however, he found a certain red gemstone…Fortunately, Reed figured out the wolf-monster stalking NYC was his best friend and built a gizmo to restore him to sanity, albeit by blasting him with cosmic rays that turned him into a rock monster. Unfortunately, he ended up dead in the process of using it (I can’t decided if Ben mauled him, or if some triggerhappy cop or something shot him by mistake) -Susan Storm, the Invincible Woman; a version of Sue who was forced to become a Herald of Galactus. Beta Team: -Dr. Maggie Wingfoot, the Human Torch; a female version of Johnny (named after her Aunt Marygay), who left the team to marry Wyatt Wingfoot and go to college, eventually earning a PhD in Mechanical Engineering. Unfortunately, at some point, something went wrong and the Baxter Building was destroyed, killing the rest of the family. Convinced that, if she’d been there she could’ve prevented it, Maggie’s marriage subsequently fell apart. -Susan McKenzie, Sub-Mariness; from a world where Reed died, leading Sue to take up with Namor; she was subsequently given an infusion of Atlantean DNA to enable to her to live underwater, and ended up with same mutations as him and Namora, but lost her cosmic-ray induced powers. -Ben Grimm, Juggernaut; during his service in the Korean War, got shot down and ended up falling in with a bunch of of Army grunts, including a pair of bickering step-brothers named Charles Xavier and Cain Marko. When they stumble onto a hidden temple, it is Ben who finds the crimson Crystal of Cytorrak and is transformed by it’s power into the Juggernaut… -Reed Richards, Director of SHIELD; from a world where the FF got caught trying to steal the shuttle. Fortunately for everyone, Nick Fury stepped in and offered his old OSS buddy a deal he couldn’t refuse; if Reed came to work for him at SHIELD, he’d make the charges against the other three go away. Not wishing to ruin his friend’s lives, Reed agreed, and became one of SHIELD’s top operatives, ultimately taking over the organization when Fury eventually went down. Gamma Team: -Victoria Von Doom-Grimm, Dr. Grim; female version of Doom, fell in love with Ben when they were in college, and subsequently married him. Unfortunately, having her genitalia on the inside didn’t make her less of a narcissistic megalomaniac, and their marriage was…rocky, with them constantly separating and getting back together. During one such separation, the fateful trip to space happened. Victoria was…displeased that her handsome husband had been turned into a monster, and was so determined to fix it, that she did not adequately test the cure she concocted. On the plus side, inadvertently making herself a widow forced her to take a good hard look at herself and try to change her ways. -Namor McKenzie-Richards-Storm, Sub-Mariner. From a world where Reed and Namor were both bisexual, resulting in Reed, Namor, and Sue all getting together. Unfortunately, this led to Reed and Sue being assassinated by one of Namor's political rivals. Also, presenting two teams of recurring sometimes enemies/sometimes allies: The Brides of Doom (women who had been married to their local version of Doom, who have dedicated themselves to cleaning up his mess): -Susan Von Doom (duh) -Ororo Von Doom (again, duh) -Victoria Von Doom (female clone of Victor. Honestly, given how egomaniacal Victor is, it’s astounding this isn’t a thing in canon) -Natasha von Doom, it’s happened in a couple weird alternates, so might as well. (thanks to Xero Key for this suggestion) A Natasha who made some different choices after the USSR fell apart, and ended up working for Doom instead of the new Russian government. -Jennifer von Doom, because a Hulk is required here. (ditto) Haven’t quite worked out how this one happened. Suggestions? -Shuri Von Doom, owing to a political marriage in order to obtain Doom’s aid in fixing the mess that resulted when one of the many attempts to oust T’Challa that failed in 616 worked. Was not happy about it, but accepted it for the greater good of Wakanda. -Anelle von Doom, likewise owing to a political marriage, albeit rather different. Anelle was even less happy about this, but her father was on an enemy-of-my-enemy kick and thought he could handle Doom after the FF were eliminated. Suffice to say, this didn’t work out so well for him. On the plus side, Emperor Victor I is actually doing a good job running the Skrull Empire, which as a bonus is a lot more work than running Latveria, reducing the amount of free time Doom has to scheme. -Emma Von Doom, from a world where the Hellfire Club thought they could get away with manipulating Doom. Unsurprisingly, they were wrong. Emma still ended up making a Heel-Face Turn eventually, though. -Loki Von Doom, from a world where the whole Cabal thing went very, VERY differently. The Token Evil teammate. The Stormborn, a collection of sons and daughters of Johnny Storm, from timelines where everyone’s favorite matchstick was killed by Doom. Said folks have therefore dedicated themselves to avenging their parent by hunting down and killing every single Doom in the Multiverse. -Namor Storm, the Human Geyser; leader of the team, son of Johnny and Namorita, named for his uncle. Has the standard human/Atlantean hybrid powerset, plus steam powers. -Agatha Evans-Storm, the Fantastic Witch; Johnny’s daughter with his OG girlfriend Dorrie Evans. Despite having a kid together, the issues that caused them to break up in 616 remained, and they separated, retaining joint custody of their daughter (who was named after her cousin Franklin’s nanny, who had recently died). Unlike her cousins she appeared to be totally normal. When she turned 13, however, she was kidnapped by Dr. Doom, who was on a magic kick and had discovered that being named after the old witch created a slight but distinct mystic connection that he could exploit as part of a plan to become the God of Witchcraft by ritually sacrificing her. She was saved, but at the cost of her father’s life. Also, she became a witch, and was subsequently apprenticed to Wanda. -Luna Storm, She-Serpent; from a world where Johnny left the FF to be with Crystal. Like her cousin Franklin, Luna is a mutant, with the power to control the weather, though it took people a bit to figure this out what with living on the Moon and all. Obviously, the subsequent history of the Inhumans was rather different, but a Terrigen Bomb was eventually released, and to everyone’s relief Luna managed to survive. She did turn into a winged snakewoman who breathes poisonous gas though, which kinda sucks. -Wyatt Storm, Speed-Hulk; Johnny and She-Hulk’s kid, named after Johnny’s BFF and Jen’s ex, Wyatt Wingfoot. As the name suggests, is a Hulk, and also a speedster. -JJ and Jeannie Storm, the Mutant Torch and Firebird; Johnny’s twin son and daughter with Rachel Summers (or Rachel Grey, whichever you prefer). They’re both Omega-class mutants like their mom; JJ is a teep, Jeannie is a teek, and they’re both pyrokinetic. Also, they can do that thing Aurora and Northstar or Fenris do, where they can become even more powerful by holding hands. -Jimmy Storm, the Human Robot; from a world where Roberta the Robot Receptionist was upgraded to sentience, and she and Johnny fell in love and got married. The one flaw in their marriage was the obvious inability to have children, and so for their second anniversary, Reed presented them with a child-form robot (named after the OG Human Torch) with an AI that was initially simple but designed to learn and grow in the way child would, albeit somewhat faster. The plan was to periodically upgrade him to simulate physical aging, but when he was two years old (though emotionally, intellectually, and in physical appearance being more like ten), Doom decided to launch a frontal assault on the Baxter Building, which involved destroying Roberta. Driven berserk by rage and grief, Johnny subsequently killed Doom, but was himself killed when Victor’s armor self-destructed, leaving Jimmy orphaned. That was ten years ago, and he has refused to change his appearance since. Like his mother, despite his harmless appearance, Jimmy is super-strong and tough, and possess a small arsenal of built-in weapons. -Ramonda Storm, the White Wolf; Johnny’s daughter with Shuri. Has no inherent powers (unless you count being able to consume the heart-shaped herb safely), but is a tactical/strategic genius on par with her Uncle T'Challa. When said uncle was injured and her Aunt Ororo killed by a Sentinel attack, she donned the long-abandoned ceremonial garb/vibranium-laced hi-tech suit of the White Wolf to assist her cousin Azari in tracking down and bringing to justice those responsible. You can imagine how she reacted when her own father was killed by Doom.

#Infinite Four #Fantastic Four #Marvel Comics #Fanfic #Marvel Fanfic

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theangrypokemaniac · 5 years ago

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Alola Forms don't make sense.

Exeggutor they focus upon, prod and poke in the classroom, solely because its mutation is the single example of logic in the olid morass.

It's become an unwieldy coconut tree, but excessive heat kills plants quicker than provoking a growth spurt.

Plus it's gone from Grass and Psychic to Grass and Dragon.

Why?

It's based on the dragon tree.

How is that applicable to the situation?

Why would Exeggutor's body, sensing the sweltering surroundings, think to itself:

This calls for a type change. I know: Dragon!

It would only be of use if, as in real life, dragons always breathe fire, thus possess supreme resistance to avoid auto-immolation.

Except that in this world, dragons aren't Fire Pokémon, thus it is pointless.

The sun nurtured its secret Dragon powers.

By 'secret' you mean nonexistent before the Seventh Generation.

Not much point in having 'hidden talents' if they're usable only in a specific point on the globe.

I could take it that Exeggutor's brain boiled like the egg it once was, with Psychic abilities atrophied...

Eh? You mean Alola both destroys and creates magic minds?

It's because of its diet.

But for the fact that Raichu now has them instead.

What, those special floating berries no one else ever consumed?

What really helps is natural endurance, something to aid a Pokémon's survival in the Alola climate.

The most obvious ploy would be for all of 'em to transform into Fire-types. No element is better equipped to thriving there.

How is flying through the air, levitating on his own tail, a response to the tropics?

How does this combat horrible conditions?

If you've got an inferno in yer innards a little excess warmth from the outside won't prove too taxing.

But no:

It goes to a hot country, for which it is suited, and its method of adaption is to develop a weakness instead!

Oh, but it probably lives in the snowy mountains.

You mean a Fire Pokémon, on arrival, decides the best thing is to deeply inconvenience itself by scaling the local peak, risking freezing to death, just waiting for blessed alteration?

Vulpix in Alola becomes Ice!

How did the first example there know it'd happen?

Come on Vulpix! Time to evolve! I spent me life savings on a Fire Stone! Oh...

And Ninetales is a Fairy, as if that boosts its chances.

What part of a suffocating island chain encourages the flourishing of more ethereal qualities?

Maybe if Ice, it cools yer down. The heliocentric Hell hole is taking its toll on the rest, but you exude chilly relief.

Why is it still furry then? Those tails are burden enough.

The other category with an inbuilt sturdiness is probably Ground. A habitat of molten earth and arid wastelands render one accustomed to baking beneath unforgiving weather.

Marowak had the right idea, following my advice and turning Fire, but he lost Ground in the process.

How is that an improvement?

Sandshrew and Sandslash converted to Ice and Steel, both of which melt in flames!

Why would sand on floor, in the trees, in the air even, blown to town by beach-skimming sirocco winds, wear away the Ground in him?

Absurdly, as a Ghost, seems the evolution rites are now so traumatic to a Cubone it dies on the way.

What kind of madness is this?

That's nice, innit? Kick 'im when he's down!

Diglett's sprouted a few comb-over strands and Dugtrio grows a full mane.

Of course it does. Everyone knows hair follicles are stimulated into overdrive by sweating.

Yeah, ones it didn't have in the first place.

And whilst Exeggutor's extra height is the feasible result...

Geodude and its evolutions not only lose their protective Ground type in favour of redundunt Electric, they all have jumbo eyebrows and hairy heads, arms and top lips.

That's the iron filings attracted to his new magnetic aura.

Rattata and Raticate sport moustaches whilst being fried in the fur by a heat-absorbing black coat.

Apparently the sensible thing to do when faced with burning skies is give oneself greater susceptibility to its draining effects.

Good job, now it's worse off.

What's the other aspect of this equatorial location?

The blinding, omnipresent light.

Well Rattata and Raticate, exposed to the sheer incandescent force, naturally bowed to convention to become Dark, the obvious reaction.

That's how you survive the furnace of Alola.

It might do. Perhaps changing to Dark is like a tan. Your body protects itself with it to limit the damage of the sun's rays.

Of course it is, and they kindly arranged themselves in limited amounts as manly additions, rather than coat him in a thousand spikes all over like a sea urchin.

Absolute blackness is bound to block out much of the harm.

And the facial hair? What assistance is that providing? And what of everyone else?

Grimer and Muk also went Dark, which is what happens should you leave the gloomy, nocturnal, poisonous factorial pit of Gringey City for the fresh air and clean beaches of Alola.

New shades of sludge are down to all the interesting variety of refuse it consumes.

What, a load of scotch pancakes?

Oh-oh! I knew arrogant Alola held a supreme fondness for praising itself, but now they've the nerve to claim better junk than us!

Yeah, it ain't just enchanted fruit, Alola is so orsum even its trash is superior to ours, since it produces coloured effects.

Either that or locals use a lot of industrial-strength synthetic dyes, more than they choose to let on.

Reminds me of the Good Old Days in the North when children would play by the canal, fall in, and come out blue, and no one thought anything of it at the time.

One wonders why every living thing isn't Ice and Dark, give that these types apparently work wonders for the host.

At least Rattata, Grimer etc. kept their original types.

Meowth and Persian were so consumed by the miasma of overflowing darkness they stopped being Normal altogether.

That's right, and the crushing gravitational weight of those wormholes bursting out all over squeezed their heads until permanently disfigured.

Anyone else recall that Meowths are naturally quadrupedal, being cats, and that our Meowth achieved his rear-legged stance only from a year's worth of strain, beatings, failure and agony?

Yet Alola Meowth gets it handed to him effort-free, with the achievements of ours diminished in the process.

Here we are then: a land of simmering sultry pressure causes foreign Pokémon to become Ice (cold, hard, unfeeling), whilst its constantly illuminated and long days made 'em Dark (crafty, self-serving, evil).

And so hirsute, like they're desperate for disguise, however much they suffer in the process.

After all, when incest is not only legal, but obligatory, what won't you condone?

Did we complain? No, because we were glad of what we had then. Not like kids today.

What exactly lurks beyond the superficial, ever-grinning, unblinking façade of Alola?

Something's gotta be going on behind the plastic smiles to encourage such a bizarre trend.

#Pokémon #Alola #Exeggutor #Raichu #Vulpix #Ninetales #Sandshrew #Sandslash #Marowak #Diglett #Dugtrio #Geodude #Graveler #Golem #Rattata #Raticate #Grimer #Muk #Meowth #Persian

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mrsreinhart · 6 years ago

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The Women of “Hustlers” on Making “A Female ‘Goodfellas’”

Constance Wu, Keke Palmer and Lili Reinhart discuss playing exotic dancers and getting rid of the “chick flick” label

Lorene Scafaria’s Hustlers fictionalizes the true story of a group of exotic dancers who lured wealthy Wall Street men into unknowingly spending hundreds of thousands of dollars at their strip club. The film, based on journalist Jessica Pressler’s 2015 investigative New York magazine piece, “The Hustlers at Scores,” stars Constance Wu as Destiny, a new dancer struggling to pay rent for the apartment where she cares for her grandmother—until she meets Ramona, played by Jennifer Lopez. Ramona is a single mom and the most successful dancer at the club—but this changes with the market crash of 2008. When the recession hits, Ramona enlists fellow down-and-out dancers Destiny, Mercedes (Keke Palmer) and Annabelle (Lili Reinhart) to help her swindle men into spending big on a night out, with the men forgetting most of the previous night’s transactions come morning because their drinks were laced with ketamine and MDMA. The film’s cast is rounded out by Cardi B, Lizzo and Julia Stiles, who plays a reporter modeled after Pressler.

While some opening weekend attendees might be in it for the salaciousness that a “stripper movie” promises (it certainly does deliver on that front), the heart of Hustlers isn’t so different from any other gang film. The women at the center of the film are bound together by the need for something greater than what they had to begin with, and the wish to make their dreams for themselves and their families a reality by any means necessary. WSJ. spoke with Wu, Palmer and Reinhart at the Four Seasons in Beverly Hills to talk about working on their own version of Goodfellas, and what men really want from movies.

Hollywood depictions of sex workers don’t generally give women much agency. Was it important to you that Hustlers empowered them?

Keke Palmer: I liked that it was balanced because it either goes one of two ways. Either it’s like super, super sad, sad, sad or overly glamorized. When I read this, I felt like it was a balance of both. You had those moments where you thought it might be glamorous and you had those moments like, “Damn, this sh*t is tough.” And so whenever I’m looking at a character or a movie—no matter what the job, no matter who these people are—I want to see balance. This movie gave me that.

Constance Wu: Usually we see one archetype of a woman who is a sex worker or a stripper. And yes, we have racial diversity, but we had diversity in so many other ways—the way you look, the backgrounds of these women and also the different ways that they decided to pursue this job, to make their ends meet.

Lili Reinhart: We all came from such different backgrounds and we all ended up in the same job. So it’s not just this archetype —“Oh, trashy girl from a broken home ends up being a stripper.” That’s such a stereotype. That’s not the case. Women are supporting their children, or supporting themselves or their families, or their families kicked them out. I think strippers will hopefully enjoy our film.

CW: I hope so. Because we tried to humanize them as people. Other movies don’t—they try to portray them as objects or people to move the plot along for the story. We treated all of our characters like humans who have a similar job. That’s only one part of you, your job.

How did the all-female ensemble cast change the vibe on set?

CW: I think it was really freeing. Because it’s different if there’s only one spot for a woman. And then you think, “Oh no—what if I get kicked off?” But when it’s all women, I didn’t have to try to be sexy for guys. I didn’t have to try to pretend like, “Oh I’m one of the guys, I’m cool.” I just got to be myself. And [Jennifer Lopez] set the tone for that pretty well, too, because she’s just so cool.

LR: I’m so happy that this is a movie about women told by a woman, because nothing disturbs me more than a woman’s story told by a man, because it’s through the filter of a man. And so the fact that this was a women’s story told, written and seen through the lens of a woman was powerful.

KP: One of the first things that [Constance] said was, “It’s like a female Goodfellas,” and I’m like “damn right!” Lorene was really serious with the DP on getting those specific shots, those specific angles that you only see men have. It was just like, “Man, girl, thank you for those details. Not only does the script have heart and soul, but visually you’re going for this, you’re giving us a cinematic look. You’re making these women look cool!” That was all specific to show us in powerful positions.

LR: Not even sexy, but powerful. It’s not a slow-motion strut starting from the heels going up, showing the body. It’s the women themselves.

KP: It’s how they would usually do the Wall Street guys. It’s power.

CW: Like sometimes people say “Oh, it’s a woman’s film,” they’ll think that it’s less-than. But I think Lorene did a really good job of choosing a crew who treated the film with the respect of something they were really passionate about, not as like—

KP: “Girl movie.”

CW: Yeah, I mean there’s that term that people like to say: “Chick flick.” And I’m like, “Oh, does that mean every other movie in the world is a d*ck flick?” But that’s just a word used—chick flick—to demean a movie that is about women, and then d*ck flicks are just “flicks.”

LR: Just movies in general.

How is a story where you’re playing out, essentially, a love story with another woman different from one with a man?

KP: It hurt my feelings more when all that stuff went down with Constance’s character and Jennifer’s character.

LR: It’s more devastating.

KP: Way more devastating. I feel like people aren’t going to be pleasantly surprised to see the depth and dynamic of these characters and [that] this story is not just something eye-catching for you like, “Stripping! Fun!” It’s like, “Oh wow, these characters, I care about them. I care about this story.”

CW: It almost hurts more than a romantic thing because it almost feels more pure of a love, because there’s not the transaction of sex. The feeling of being forgiven—it’s a good feeling because it’s accepting that we all mess up, and that we’re still people who are worthy of love. And Jen—I couldn’t have done any of this without [her]. That was really just a two-way street; just the fact that she was so open and caring.

Was there anything challenging for you to do in the film?

KP: I think every girl secretly in their mind is ready to get on stage and see if they’ve got what it takes. I think most people would expect [dancing] to be the most challenging. But I think even the shyest person, if they had the opportunity to play a role like this or be in a situation like this—it’s like “Hell, if I’m going to do it somewhere, I might as well do it in a huge film.” I think those parts were exciting. It could be seen as challenging, but what I was excited about was to sit in this sexy place that I’ve never really sat in before. I don’t really think of myself as a sexy type of chick. And so it was cool to play with what that would look like for the camera.

LR: I feel like deep inside, every woman feels the need to get on a pole at least once. I think you grow up and you’re like “Oh, that’s what sexy is.” And you just want to try it. And truly, [to Constance] I’m sure you took probably more pole dancing lessons than I did, but it was just fun. And you’re like, “Damn, I look good!”

CW: I was just thinking when you said like every woman wants to get on the pole—at first I was like, “No, I don’t think so.” But then I was like thinking about it, and why that might be true. And if you think about it, these women are owning their sexuality, which is something we are shamed for, starting at puberty, we’re supposed to make ourselves—you either have to be the Madonna or the whore, and you can’t win either way. You’re not sexy enough; you’re too sexy. And I think when you’re on a stage and you’re dancing and you’re just owning your sexiness in the way that you want to do it, I think that is a thing that inside probably every woman—person—wants to do.

Do you think anyone who goes to see the film solely for the “stripper movie!” factor will be disappointed?

KP: Look, Jennifer gave you the show that you’re looking for right in the beginning. She gives you what we never thought we’d see. She gave us the most spectacular performance that I have ever seen a stripper do. I’ve gone to a lot of strip clubs.

CW: Me too. And I’m going to say something real cheesy right now, but I do believe it’s true: People might say they’re looking for t*ts, but I think they’re looking for heart. And they’re just saying tits because it’s a less vulnerable thing to need, to say. It’s cooler and more macho to objectify women. But at the end of the day, all humans want—

LR: They relate to stories about love.

CW: —is connection.

KP: Without a doubt. Every guy that I’ve watched The Notebook with has loved it.

#lili reinhart #keke palmer #constance wu #hustlers #hustlers movie #wall streeet journal

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setaripendragon · 5 years ago

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Trapped in the Amber - 1x06

Book 1 :: 01 - 02 - 03 - 04 - 05 - 06 This is the shortest chapter of this I’ve written to date. Meira just... didn’t have much to do, this episode, I guess. (It’s about... a quarter of the length of my longest chapter so far, so, there’s that. I may end up splitting that one in two, depending...) (This part is dedicated to @spideypoolalways; you’re awesome.)

Ankeny, Iowa – Tuesday 14th March 2006

The spot under the bridge where the kid died isn’t very informative. At least, Meira thinks, combing over the area for the third time and finding no tracks, they can probably rule out something corporeal. The only thing that’s even a little bit odd is the vandalised sign at the top of the turn off, which doesn’t necessarily have anything to do with the attack.

Giving up, Meira ambles back up to the main road and drops down to sit on the kerb. She texts Dean to let him know the site is a bust, and then entertains herself texting Charlie about the validity of the more modern urban legends versus the reliability of ancient lore until the Impala pulls up. Meira feels kind of proud of herself for not resenting, too much, that she needs to be picked up at all. “So, where to next?” She asks as she throws herself into the back seat.

“We’re going to church.” Dean declares with a heavy sense of irony.

Meira makes a reluctant noise and slides down in her seat, staying there right up until they arrive. “Do I have to?” She whines.

Sam looks over the back of his seat, eyebrows all the way up to his hairline. Dean snorts and gives her an amused look in the rear view mirror. “No, you can always stay here and sulk like a whiny bitch if you really want.” He says magnanimously.

Meira grins despite herself, because that’s classic Dad. He means it, too, she thinks, which has always been the best part about her dad’s response to that sort of thing. He’d be quite happy to leave her in the car, if she’d rather, but they both know she wouldn’t rather, because she’d be bored out of her mind in the first five minutes. And it’s just nice, to see the shades of her dad in this younger version, instead of seeing all the places where he’s not, yet, what he will be.

“That sounds boring. Church it is.” Meira replies, and gets out of the car.

“You don’t like churches?” Sam asks, unfolding himself from the passenger seat and looking bewildered by the notion. Meira gives him a quizzical look, because when has she ever suggested that she does? “I thought you were religious.” Sam explains. “You quote the bible when you’re pissed, and you know exorcisms in a holy language.”

Meira tips her head to give him that one. “I have faith, I’m not really religious.” She corrects thoughtfully, considering the church. It’s not giving her any bad vibes, but then, it wouldn’t. She can’t feel when what is supposed to be a holy space has been violated anymore, so the church is just a building to her senses. A pretty building, admittedly, but still just a building, without either the glow of sanctity or the cloying of corruption.

“What’s the difference?” Sam asks as Dean joins them and they head for the door.

“Faith is in here,” Meira begins, tapping on her chest, “not out there,” she finishes, hushed, gesturing pointedly around at the building as they step into the church. Sam pulls a thoughtful, accepting face, and then winces when the forgotten door bangs shut behind them. They pick seats near the back, and Meira slumps down in hers out of habit, and just barely reigns in the urge to stick her boots up on the back of the pew in front. She knows Granddad wouldn’t care, but people can get pissy about it, and this is a job, so she can’t really afford to make people hostile for no good reason.

Meira can’t help but roll her eyes at the invitation to pray. God already gave humanity the power to protect their children, and peace is something they have to make for themselves. Sam tries to glare her into doing it anyway, but Meira just stares back, a little incredulous, and after a couple of seconds, he gives up with a roll of his own eyes.

After the service, they manage to talk to the only witness and her father, and given Sam and Dean’s proposed ruse of being students, Meira decides to flirt a little while asking Lori about what it’s like to live in a sorority, after Sam’s done subtly interrogating her. It makes Dean, who caught the tail end of the conversation, laugh all the way to the library, much to Sam’s irritation.

They find a suspect in the dusty arrest records, and a possible connection in the location that Dean wants to check out. “There’s nothing out there, though.” Meira points out. “I checked.”

“Maybe he only comes out a night.” Dean retorts.

“But he’d still need something to anchor himself.” Meira counters.

“He could be anchored to the place itself.” Sam suggests.

Meira stops to consider that. “If he were, that would make him more of a poltergeist than a spirit, with nothing to identify him as more than a mass of violent energy. We’d need a purification ritual. Which won’t do anything except free him from that location if there’s anything still holding him here, like his bones.” Meira muses. “So we should burn those first, and then purify the place.”

Dean makes a disgruntled noise, running a hand over his face. “We still don’t actually know that this guy is the ghost. We don’t even know if it is a ghost. Can we maybe go see if we can get an ID on this fucker before we go to all the effort of grave robbing, huh?” He asks impatiently.

Meira echoes his groan with one of her own. “You two have fun with that, then. I’ve spent enough time under that damned bridge, so I’ll dig into Karns, instead, see if there’s any other compelling connections.” She pulls a face at the thought of more proof. “Man, this is why I hate preachers. Like making a career out of bringing people pleasure is a greater sin than self-righteous murder.”

Sam snorts. “They’re not all like that.” He points out reasonably.

“Not all politicians are fucking liars, either, but no one complains when someone says ‘I hate politicians’.” Meira retorts grumpily. Then she sighs. “Maybe I’ll look into death records, too. See if there have been any other hook-man-like deaths. Maybe a pattern will help.”

“Alright.” Dean snorts. “We’ll pick you up once we’re done.”

Since the library is closing, Meira takes Sam’s laptop to an all-night café and goes through what records the town has online, and the ones the library let her borrow, which isn’t as much as she’d like, but it’s still enough to get lost in for hours.

Ankeny, Iowa – Wednesday 15th March 2006

By the time Meira looks up from her frustrating research, it’s after midnight, and Sam and Dean still haven’t shown up or called or anything. Ignoring the little trickle of anxiety that bleeds into her gut at the thought, she pulls out her phone and rings Dean, only to find out they’ve been arrested. Not for long, Dean somehow managed to talk them down to just keeping them overnight, but it’s a hassle. Meira resigns herself to a long walk, and goes to fetch the Impala.

“Did you hotwire my baby?” is the first thing out of Dean’s mouth when he sees Meira leaning against the Impala’s hood.

“No, I teleported.” Meira replies, giving him a look. “Yes, I hotwired her, what did you expect me to do without the keys?”

Dean is in the middle of ostentatiously checking the car over for so much as a scratch when a couple of police cars screech out of the station, sirens wailing. They all three of them share a look, and then get into the car and follow. “Guess that’s a no on being bound to the location?” Meira says as they drive past the sorority house.

“Yeah.” Dean agrees. “We should check out the crime scene.”

“I should check out the crime scene.” Meira corrects. “You two just got un-arrested, let’s not test your good luck, huh?” She challenges with a laugh. Dean makes a disgruntled face, but nods, so Meira hops out of the car and waltzes in through the front door when no one’s paying too much attention. The scent of ozone is detectable even out in the hall, where Meira spots a scratch dug deep into the wall and on into the door jamb that reminds her of the mutilated signs out on Nine Mile Road. And then there’s the message, and the symbol that she spent half the night staring at, on and off, through her research.

She heads back out to update Sam and Dean. “Well, that seems like enough of an ID to me.” Sam says, looking to Dean, who nods.

“Alright, well, let’s find the dude’s grave, salt and burn his bones, and put him down.”

Meira sighs. “Jacob Karns was buried in an unmarked grave.” She tells them wearily. “I was going to go see if I could find it last night, but then you got arrested.”

“Are you ever going to let that go?” Sam asks, resigned.

“In a couple days, probably.” Meira capitulates with a grin. Sam gives her the bitch-face. “I also found, last night, a couple of other instances of ‘invisible killings’. 1932 and 1967. First one was a one-off, second one was a mass murder. Both were blamed on self-righteous religious douchebags who claimed that the murders had actually been committed by some invisible force.”

“So maybe the spirit isn’t haunting the place of its murders, but people who resonate with it somehow?” Sam suggests. “Poltergeists have been known to latch onto people instead of places.”

Meira whines. “Purification rituals on people are annoying.”

“It might still be a ghost.” Dean reassures her, and Meira clings to hope. “My guess is it’s haunting Lori this time around.” He adds.

Sam frowns at him. “Lori doesn’t exactly seem like the type to resonate with this guy.” He challenges, and then his expression turns thoughtful. “Her dad, though… He’s a Reverend, and he’s been preaching against immorality.” He glances over at Meira in amusement. “Is that enough to count as a ‘self-righteous religious douchebag’?” He wonders mockingly.

“Yes.” Meira confirms, crossing her arms defensively.

Sam snorts. “So maybe Reverend Sorenson wants to protect his daughter, and that’s why the ghost is going after the people around her.”

“In that case, you should keep an eye on her, in case this guy shows up again.” Dean instructs, and Sam nods.

“What about you two?” Sam asks, looking between them.

Dean tips his head back with a groan of reluctance. “We’re going to have to go and see if we can figure out which unmarked grave is Karns’s.” He explains unhappily. Meira thinks, ruefully, that this would be so much easier if she could use her grace to do the searching, but no, they’re going to have to go off guesswork.

“Worst comes to worst, we can just dig up the lot and torch them all?” Meira offers.

Dean looks at her in horror. “That’d take us all week! Grave digging ain’t easy!” Oh, yeah. Can’t use grace for that either. Meira slumps. “Christ, come on.” Dean sighs, and they all get back in the car. They drop Sam off a street away from Lori’s house, and then drive to the cemetery, pack a bag with everything they’ll need, and start searching.

“You know,” Dean begins suddenly, his tone nonchalant enough that it sets a warning bell ringing in Meira’s head, “it occurred to me that you haven’t really been brought up to speed on the whole ‘looking for our dad’ thing, even though you offered to help.” Meira blinks in surprise, which Dean catches, because he raises an eyebrow at her. “You haven’t even been asking questions.”

Because she already knows this story, but she can’t say that, so instead, she offers him a wry smile and says; “I was returning the favour.”

Dean snorts. “You return the favour on the background check, too?” He asks dryly.

Meira figures that’s as good an excuse as any for knowing the bare basics. “I read about what happened to your mom. I’m sorry.” She says quietly. She doesn’t know what it’s like to have a parent die on you, but she’s starting to become familiar with loss, and it sucks.

Dean nods, but otherwise ignores her sympathy. “Dad’s been hunting the thing that did it ever since.” He explains, using the excuse of looking for the grave to avoid looking at her. “He dropped off the grid a couple weeks before we ran into you. Right before the same thing that killed our mom up and killed Sam’s girlfriend the same damn way.”

Meira winces. “Ouch.” She thinks back, to when Sam lost his temper with the demon for taunting him about Jessica. “It was a demon that did it, wasn’t it?” She asks, as if she doesn’t already know exactly which demon it was. At Dean’s surprised look, she raises her eyebrows. “The plane crash demon said it knew what happened to her. Demons don’t really mess about talking to ‘lesser evils’, as far as I know, so…” She shrugs.

“Yeah, probably.” Dean grits out. “Anyway. I figured you should know what we’re doing.”

Meira nods, and they walk on in silence for a while. She thinks about just letting it lie, but she kind of feels bad that Dean is offering her this explanation she doesn’t actually need, because they’re really not the sketchy ones that just popped into her life and attached themselves to her for no real explanation. No, that’s her, and she doesn’t want to have to be secretive and evasive with them. “I don’t actually know what happened to my family.” She says finally.

Dean startles, and then raises his eyebrows at her. Meira looks away, shoulders hunched, and focuses on the graves. “My family pissed off loads of people.” She begins.

“Took on the devil, huh?” Dean asks.

Meira glances at him sharply, and then smiles bitterly at the sceptical look on his face. “Yeah. Dunno if you could say they won, exactly, but… they survived, which is pretty kick-ass all on its own if you ask me.” She points out, and Dean tips his head in acknowledgement. “Well, I got… accosted on my way home. Didn’t see what it was, but something made me crash, and…” Meira hesitates, trying to work out how to phrase it to make it sound plausible without adding in time-travel. “I don’t know why they didn’t kill me, but I figured I wasn’t safe, so I tried to get home.” She swallows hard.

“What’d you find?” Dean asks solemnly.

“No one was there. They were just… gone. Then-” Well, time to make some shit up wholesale to explain her inexplicable knowledge. “Then Pabbi called. Told me to run, to get away. That something had got to them all, and that he was going to hide and I should do the same, and-” Meira stops talking for a moment, and breathes, not even wanting to imagine a world where what she’s implying were true. “You have no idea how much the idea of something that could take on my dads and win scares the shit out of me. So I ran.” She explains, and then shrugs. “And that’s when you found me.”

“Huh.” Dean grunts, nodding slowly. Then he side-eyes her. “You don’t want to find the son of a bitch that did it? Get revenge?”

“Want to? Sure.” Meira laughs bitterly. “I want to find the little shit-stain and rip its spine out of its ass. Think I can?” She snorts derisively. “Not a chance in hell.” Not as she is now, anyway. She swallows again. “Pabbi wanted me to survive, so that’s what I’m going to do. This bitch wants my whole family dead? Well, good fucking luck to it, because I’m going to live forever just to spite it.”

That makes Dean grin a little, like maybe he’s proud of her for that sentiment, and it makes Meira’s eyes sting with tears for no good god damned reason. “Well, that’s a sentiment I can get behind.” He agrees, and then lets the subject drop. “You ever do the college thing?” He wonders instead.

Meira smiles. “Yeah. Got a Bachelors in Anthropology.” Dean looks reluctantly impressed, and a little bitter. Meira remembers what the shapeshifter had said about some of the things he’s been thinking. She knows it was putting a negative twist on things, but the things it had said about the inside of her head had been true, too. “Also got in a fistfight with one of my professors, once.” She adds, which has the desired effect of making Dean laugh out loud.

“What about?” He asks, delighted. Meira cheerfully recounts the story for him, and then Dean tells her a story of his own from his high school days, but stops mid-word as his focus shifts to something one row of headstones over. “There we go.” He says, and deviates from their methodical search pattern. Meira follows him, and sees the gravestone with the symbol from Karns’s hook on it.

“Helpful.” Meira says blandly, and Dean snorts. He drops the bag off his shoulder and pulls out two shovels. With a sigh, Meira takes one, and they get to work in the gathering dusk. By the time they reach the coffin, Meira’s back is sore, and her hands are stiff and aching. She’s used her grace to ease the worst of it, but she doesn’t want to look like it’s not affecting her at all, so she suffers through some of it.

“Next time, I get to watch the cute girl’s house.” Dean complains, taking a moment to lean against the side of the hole and stretch his aching arms.

“I’ll fight you for it.” Meira agrees wistfully.

Dean snorts. “No way. You had your turn.” Meira blinks. “You got to go on a dinner date while me and Sam dug up a ghost’s bike and nearly drowned.” Dean reminds her, and Meira nods because, yeah, okay, she definitely got off easy on that one.

“Fair enough.” She agrees, and then they go back to breaking open the coffin. They pour in the salt and the gasoline, then Dean drops the match. It’s remarkably satisfying to watch the bones burn after that much hard work to get to them.

Ankeny, Iowa – Thursday 16th March 2006

They meet up with Sam at the hospital the next morning. They’d been on their way to pick him up when he’d rung to tell them not to bother, because he was going to the hospital with Lori. Once he’d been assured that Sam was okay, Dean drove them back to the frat house where he and Sam had mooched beds. It had been kind of awkward, knowing what all the frat boys had been assuming she was there for, but it did at least get the ‘room mate’ out of the room, and let Meira get some sleep in an actual bed, instead of in the Impala’s back seat like last night.

Meira waits in the car while Dean heads in to fetch Sam, and she’s surprised to see the grim looks on their faces when they come out. “What’s wrong?” She asks as they climb into the car. This time, Sam’s in the back seat, since Meira’s already occupying the passenger seat.

“Hook Man’s not gone.” Dean summarises. “Cause he’s using the hook as an anchor.”

“Great.” Meira sighs.

“And Dean was right. It’s latched onto Lori, not the Reverend.” Sam adds with a grimace.

He explains his reasoning again, and Meira pulls a face. “This is why I hate religion. Fucking semantics.” She grouses. Sam makes a confused noise. “People heard ‘your choices will have consequences’ as ‘if you do something wrong, you get punished’, when it’s not. If you drop a glass and it shatters, you don’t say you’re being punished for dropping it. It’s just cause and effect.”

Sam huffs. “What about Hell, then?”

“Metaphysical cause and effect.” Meira replies. “God doesn’t send people to Hell for being bad, we send ourselves there.” When she glances over her shoulder, she sees Sam looking thoughtful. She bites back the rest of the explanation, because she’s not sure she could give it in a way that makes it sound like it’s just what she believes rather than what she knows to be true.

They pull up outside the library, and get back to work researching what the hell happened to Jacob Karns’s hook. It takes them half the damned day to find out that the blasted thing was donated to the church and then melted down, no record of what. They go grab an early dinner and wait until it’s dark to go raid, purify, and burn the church’s entire collection of silver. Meira’s practically bouncing in her seat on the drive over.

“Dibs on the church!” She crows as they pull to a stop behind the church.

Sam snorts. “I’ll take the house, then.” He says, and looks over at Dean. “You go with her, make sure she doesn’t vandalise anything else.” Dean laughs his agreement, and they split up. They raid the church, make a fire in the furnace in the basement, toss a load of salt on it, and Meira adds a blessing over the flames as well, just in case. After all, being melted down hadn’t worked the first time around.

Sam brings the stuff from the house, and then they’re interrupted by footsteps above their heads. It turns out they belong to Lori, and after a beat, Sam goes to talk to her. “Not going to steal her out from under him?” Dean asks Meira as they head back downstairs to mind the fire.

Meira makes an exaggeratedly mournful face. “I’m pretty sure she’s straight. Possibly also mildly homophobic. She was giving me that sort of look when I flirted with her before. Religion.” She spits, and Dean just laughs at her.

It’s barely been a couple of minutes before they hear yelling and banging upstairs. They share a look, and then they bolt back up the stairs, following a trail of destruction through the church to find Sam and Lori being accosted by Karns. Meira takes the necklace when Sam tosses it to her, and leaves Dean to stand guard over his brother while she burns the necklace. Once it’s melted, she jogs back upstairs yet again, and checks in with the others. “Did that finally get him?” She asks.

“Yeah, definitely.” Dean confirms, and Meira slumps against the wall in relief.

Ankeny, Iowa – Friday 17th March 2006

Meira goes to find Lori after the police are done with them and have moved on to interrogating Dean and Sam. She sits down beside her on the edge of the grass, and ignores the faintly nervous looks Lori keeps shooting her. “I hope you know this wasn’t your fault.” Meira tells her without looking at her.

Lori sucks in a sharp breath. “How did you…?”

Meira glances over with a wry smile. “You had the ghost’s anchor. The only reason it would have gone after you was if you felt you deserved to be punished for some reason.” She explains gently.

Lori frowns at her. “Then it is my fault.” She says, and at Meira’s prompting look, explains. “It was my feelings that made that thing kill Rich and Taylor. That made it go after my dad. If I hadn’t- hadn’t judged them like that-”

“Like you’re judging yourself?” Meira asks, and Lori looks away sharply and nods once. “Lori… Did you kill them?” She asks pointedly. Lori frowns and opens her mouth, but doesn’t quite manage words. “Did you pick up a weapon and decide to kill them?”

“…No.” Lori says slowly. “But-”

“Did you, with full awareness and malice aforethought, ask or instruct the ghost of Jacob Karns to kill them?” Meira asks.

Lori sighs. “No.” She confirms.

“Then this isn’t your burden to bear.” Meira insists. “No one can control how they feel, Lori, and no one should be judged for the things they think. It’s what you choose to do with those things that matter.” Lori bites her lip, looking like she’s a second away from crying. “Personally, I think it’s fair of you to judge the hell out of a guy who won’t take no for an answer, or a girl who tries to peer-pressure you into things you’re not sure you want to do, or someone who has an affair with a married person. Do I think they deserved to die for those sins? No, probably not. But then, neither did you. That’s on Jacob Karns.”

Lori takes a deep breath, and nods her acceptance. “So… so it really was a ghost?” She asks quietly.

“Yeah. That charm you wore was part of his prosthetic in life, so his spirit clung to it after he died. Whether that was because of unfinished business, or because he was just afraid to move on? Who knows.” Meira shrugs fatalistically.

“Ghosts are real.” Lori says, as though saying it out loud might help her accept it.

“Of course they are.” Meira says, amused. “If you believe in souls, you kind of have to believe in ghosts.” Lori nods slowly, still lost in thought or possibly dazed by the revelation. “So, hey. Can I have your number?” Meira asks into the silence. Lori startles, and then gives her a wary, side-ways look. Meira snorts. “That wasn’t a come on, I promise.” She says, before Lori can try to find a polite way of saying ‘ew, no’. “It’s just for emergencies, I promise. In case you run into anything like this again, you can call for help.”

“Oh.” Lori says. “Okay.” She gets out her phone, and they exchange numbers. “I’m sorry.” Lori blurts out suddenly, looking pained. “I just learned this lesson about judging people.” She huffs, frustrated with herself.

Meira laughs. “It’s not an easy mindset to get out of.” She acknowledges. “For the record, unlike the rest of your judgement, I don’t actually think it’s fair to judge consenting adults for what they do with their own bodies, or for who they love.” Lori cringes a little, grimacing in acknowledgement. Meira’s heart goes out to her, struggling so hard to be good and not knowing how. “But I forgive you.” She adds, serious, but with a touch of humour. The humour fades as she adds. “And God does, too.”

Lori smiles wryly. “I hope so.”

“I know so.” Meira retorts, which earns her a grin.

#Supernatural #time travel #next generation #original character #supernatural retelling #SPN 1x07 #Trapped in the Amber #next gen OC #Meira Winchester #Dean Winchester #Sam Winchester #Lori Sorenson

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bigskydreaming · 5 years ago

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You don't have to answer this cuz I'm not trying to start the discourse or anything, but I was just wondering why you hate cops so much?

*Shrugs* Nothing terribly complicated. I was a sex worker for years in my early twenties. And when for various reasons at various times that’s your sole source of income, and you only take jobs when you absolutely have to because you literally need money to eat, like…….it only takes so many occasions of leaving your apartment to meet your ‘date’ while wondering if this will be the night the person you’re meeting turns out to be a cop who’s committing the tax-payers’ hard-earned dollars to the all important task of arresting you for the crime of wanting to eat….I mean, there’s only so many times you need to leave your place desperately crossing fingers you’ll make it back safely later, with the possibility you might not having as much to do with the police as it does potentially predatory or violent clients, before you like, just really hate all cops. Assuming you didn’t already.

Which tbh, I already did, because despite entertainment trying to sell the fiction that every squad room in America has one conventionally handsome out and proud white gay cop, and that all their colleagues are either a-Okay with this, will be fired for not being okay with this, or will slowly but inevitably be won over by The Gay Cop Action Hero and his heroic heroism, like….I’m just saying, I’ve pretty much never met an actual cop who wasn’t blatantly homophobic as fuck, lmao, and nothing says protect and serve like watching one casually remark to his partner how disgusted he is by the gay couple they just saw stroll past.

There’s no such thing as corrupt cops because that’s an oxymoron - its the police institution as a whole that’s corrupt, and thus all ‘corrupt cops’ are actually just the cops who are firmly and proudly full of the spirit the police institution is predicated upon. Maybe not all cops are drawn to the job out of a desire to abuse power and authority, maybe some genuinely sign up for the gig out of a sincere desire to protect and serve innocents of all races, genders and sexual orientations……but since the police institution itself isn’t set up to protect and serve everyone equally, but rather to protect and serve the status quo that keeps the white straight cis male demographic securely at the top of the social ladder in our civilization…..even the cops who don’t abuse power themselves, inevitably at some point in their career turn a blind eye to their colleagues abusing power right in front of them. They might justify to themselves that they hate having to look the other way, but its the only way to keep their jobs and thus be effective at helping anyone whatsoever, but like……

The casualties of the battles someone chooses not to fight don’t actually owe it to that someone to give a fuck what their reasons for not fighting that particular battle were, y’know?

Anyway, so yeah, that’s really all it is in a nutshell. The police institution as a whole is geared towards protecting the interests of white supremacy, heteronormativity and the patriarchy, and until some mythical future day where its replaced by an institution that actually centers all citizens of a country equally, regardless of their race, class, gender or sexual orientation…..all cops will always be inherently either corrupt or at the very least implicit in the corruption and crimes of their colleagues. Who most of even the ‘good ones’ are still happy to joke around with, be friendly with, and attend social gatherings together with, so……they can’t really be all that upset by the corruption surrounding them, I figure. Someone not seeing that stuff as a dealbreaker is enough of a dealbreaker for me. *Shrugs*

And yeah, all of that is why I emphatically hate the idea of cop Dick Grayson, because I will never accept that he could be okay with being around that constant corruption, as well as being expected to prioritize white supremacy, homophobia and the patriarchy just by virtue of the fact that a majority of the laws he’s sworn to uphold to the letter of the law prioritize those things. Like, wanting to weed out all the actively corrupt cops who willfully abuse their power might sound like a noble cause in theory, but what happens when he’s managed to get all of those fired, and then he’s out responding to crimes with a fine, equally upstanding and by-the-book partner, with the both of them expected to uphold laws and operate by procedures that are innately racist, sexist and homophobic and transphobic?

Sorry, I don’t see it and don’t have any desire to interact with depictions of a Dick Grayson who can be blithely oblivious to the bedrock flaws at the very foundation of the police institution. I could see him going undercover as a cop for a specific and LIMITED operation, where like, maybe he might feel forced to look the other way on a couple things and end up torn up about making that decision even if it was in the name of a specific ‘greater good’ and lives were at stake……but I can’t see him doing that day in and day out, week after week, month after month. Not without it ultimately crushing him and his spirit.

Dick Grayson isn’t a vigilante to pick up where institutions like the police leave holes in their attempts to protect people, IMO. He’s a vigilante who works outside the system because he doesn’t trust the system, views the system itself as corrupt and the very thing that does most harm to most people, and he operates outside the law because he’d rather be bound by his own personal morality than by the letter of laws that are only themselves bound by the arbitrary and flexible morals of distant officials with various personal agendas.

He’d rather put his faith in the morals and ethics of himself and other heroes he knows and values for their morality…..he’d rather trust the safety of innocents to individuals he knows and believes to be invested in protecting everyone, regardless of identity…….rather than put his faith in and entrust the safety of innocents to faceless and uncaring institutions.

*Shrugs* That’s my take and always will be.

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whirlybirdwhat · 5 years ago

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East Sea of Monsters - Chapter 16

Zoro has always been different than the rest - with a beast inside his chest that is howling to get out and a connection to other worlds that no one else quite has - but he doesn’t care. (He’s the Demon of the Demon Sea after all)

Read the entire series on Ao3 for better quality and authors notes! Gen, creepy, featuring all of the Straw Hats, multi-chapter story. (Tag “Ficart” on my blog should also show some fan art for this fic!)

“The East Blue has a different nickname to those in the Grand Line, and those who hail it as home have a few… unique traits.”

Paths - Zoro

In a town such as his, small, mountain bound, and old, there are traditions and rules to be followed. Be polite to your elders, be kind, do not stay out past dark, celebrate Hallowtide, give offerings of blood at the village entrance but only ever your own – and do not fight for the sake of fighting.

Zoro, of course, ignores all of this.

(They say there are many ways to walk about the world, some more dangerous than others. They say that those born on this tiny island have the vision to see them, all of them, the way the world shifts at every touch and the glowing paths of mist that show the way between worlds.)

He walks into to the town, ignoring the cupped stone hands and dagger at the entrance, and searches for the nearest dojo. His clothes are patched and dirty, a wheat straw hangs from his mouth, and eyes dot his limbs, blinking and merging back to skin within an instant. Blood drips from his lips from his latest scuffle, when an uppercut cause the fangs protruding from mouth to pierce upwards. Of course, he hit them back twice as hard.

(They would be known for it – but they are a secluded village, a secluded island, hidden deep within the East. They have walked so many paths between so many worlds, it is hard to know where home is – so they choose to remain stationary. Letting the roots of their souls sink down into the ground, cementing themselves in the earth. Their skin grows stiff and their hair fern like, waving in the wind as they watch the multitude of paths – of strings connecting each plane of reality intersecting into thousands of possibilities. A hand waves through them, and all at once a reality is destroyed)

His feet are barefoot as he walks into the dojo, not out of respect but because he has no shoes to wear. There are bleeding marks along his skin, rocks that dug beneath hardened scales as he tackled his enemy to the ground in his latest scuffle. His pointed ear is pierced – the first of three he hopes – and his sole possession besides his clothes, a single golden earring, lies in his pocket. He can’t find a mirror to put it in his ear. He shakes with every step – his last meal was three days ago, and it was only a bite of bread – but he is determined.

(Zoro, despite being from this particular island, has no vision of these paths between worlds)

He marches up to the dojo, disguises his hunger and hollow face with a snarling grin, and makes the same deal he has made at the rest.

Let me fight your students – If I win, I get a meal and a place to rest my head. If your students win, you can choose what you desire from me.

He has never lost before.

(Zoro has only ever seen one path – golden, gleaming, and right under his feet. It twists and loops and he doesn’t always follow it (where does it start and where does it end?) but it leads him to where he must be.)

He loses.

To her.

(This one path will lead him down the path of greatness, of blood, of death. It is the only path he wants in life.)

He joins the dojo.

(It is the path the planes take him to)

Zoro’s different than the other children, everyone can tell. For one – he’s never stationary, unless he’s napping, and his skin does not crawl with bark and roots like the rest of them (though his hair is by far the deepest green.)

He’s different, because there’s a fire in his chest and violence along his claws. Every action has a purpose, and every motion has direction. He’s different, because in the place of roots that grow with the environment is a beast that adapts with the world.

(That conquers the world)

There are shadows along every movement, shadow limbs that follow him (becoming more physical every day), and glinting green scales along every limb that like to merge with the shadows.

Zoro has a hard time figuring out what’s real sometimes (it’s what makes him different, even Kuina can see it.)

Kuina’s as strong as an oak, but her father likes to treat her as if she’s a flower. Zoro doesn’t get it as he spits blood from his mouth. She’s strong, stronger than him, so why? Why?

Kuina wins against him for the 2001st time, and Zoro finds a new purpose. He’s not so different, not anymore, and now he has someone to beat.

Kuina falls down the stairs, and suddenly Zoro knows why she was a flower to her father.

(But he won’t let that stop him, not now, not ever.)

The next years are a blur of training, and a final, final act that separates him from the grown people of this island.

Zoro steps forward, and does not enter the dojo.

Instead, he enters a glade of mist and blood, with golden streams all along. Instead, he steps where one with the vision of kings can only dare see, where red shores tremble underneath soft steps. Instead, Zoro steps forward and becomes lost.

(so very lost)

Its only for a second, but a second is enough before he’s back in the dojo, Koushirou looking at the spot where his pupil, dragon skinned and shadow limbed, just appeared.

“I think,” the man says slowly, like a strong willow tree waving in the wind, “That your place is not here.”

It never was, Zoro thinks, and bows anyway. He has a mission, a promise to keep, and this island, rooted in tradition and katas and sword swings with no innovation or reaching upward, will no longer help him.

But Zoro has never been rooted and the animal (demon) inside him roars with anticipation (bloodlust) as he sets sail into the mist. Zoro does not care, and the sword at his side does not either.

Behind him, the village fades, as if it was never there to begin with.

(Or perhaps, never on the normal plane of existence.)

Rumors are fickle things and Zoro has no protest. If people say he is the greatest swordsman in the East Blue, so be it, it just means more challengers.

(He’s only seventeen, how pathetic must these people be by the sword?)

(He doesn’t question the people’s other strengths, like the woman with withering grins and the men who make islands out of footsteps.

He could never fight against them (not yet at least))

The rumors are a way to get to the top.

(Wado Ichimonji is not of this sea, and it does not sing for the dark waters as Zoro does. Still, even a blade as pure as this can become corrupt, and as blood spills over and over and over its gleaming blade, Zoro hears its voice grow darker, stronger, and purer in its darkness. Like a moonless night rather than murky waters.

It is a good contrast – it helps Zoro sleep at night sometimes, when the beast inside his chest will not stop howling)

Occasionally it leads to companions – or once it did at least.

He meets Johnny and Yosaku on bright day on a nameless island. He doesn’t know where he is, and he sure they don’t know either.

“You’re the demon,” They say, and Zoro barks out a laugh. They’re in the East Blue – only cowards aren’t.

All the same, he replies. “Yeah. You?”

It’s Yosaku who answers then, dust falling off his shoulders as he moves and sand pouring out of the holes in his back. “Half – dead. Can you help us?”

“Maybe, if you pay for dinner and booze.”

Johnny smiles, revealing a glint of teeth to sharp and too jagged to be of anything but the depths of the sea and seals the promise.

“Deal.”

The year and a half he spends with Johnny and Yosaku is the best he’s lived in all the years he roamed this earth.

They roam the east for what feels like centuries, each day something new. Johnny and Yosaku have the self-preservation that Zoro (hungry for something greater, for a place at the top, a beast inside unsatisfied) could never have and he is stronger than both of them combined - they make a good team, and Zoro hasn’t gone this far without injuries in a long time.

That isn’t to say Johnny and Yosaku aren’t strong, however, or to say they make the best decisions.

(Yosaku’s of the desert and Johnny is of the sea. They oppose each other in every way but there’s something in the way they move that belies the power that everyone in the East has buried in their bones and blood and what soul they have left.

There’s a time when they stray into the dark waters off the coast of an Island and the soul of it starts boiling and spinning the water into a whirlpool of tremendous might that capsizes their little fishing boat unfit for journeys such as theirs despite the iron imbedded in its hull.

Johnny, agile in the water, is the one to kill the sea snake with a thousand limbs, saving his companions when the water boils with the blood of demons.

(The water remains the same dark hue, despite the blood pouring forth like a fountain from the split in the serpent’s neck. Zoro pours his sake in the water and does not think of the voices in the distance and the shapes in the fog.)

And there is a time that they wander onto land and become trapped in the swirling maze while hunting for a bounty. It is not the first time Zoro has starved nor will it be the last, but it is the only time that it is a purposeless hunger without solution.

(The only time his companions have become faceless and strangers to him – blood and a meal but not friends, not anymore.)

Zoro does not see it, unconscious as he is at the time, but it is Yosaku who chooses to fall into the earth not knowing anyway out (anyway to survive) in order to have a chance to save them all.

He’s the only reason Zoro’s alive today)

But they do make the burning in his chest just that much easier to bear, make the whispers quieter and the blade stronger, don’t they?

He leaves them eventually.

He’s always been different –

(a loner, some say, others monster among monsters, alone, forsaken, unwanted-) but this time it isn’t because of his scales and horns and glowing, shadow limbs and disappearing habits.

It’s because he heard Mihawk was two towns over visiting some pirate ship or other, and Johnny and Yosaku never planned to leave the East (few do – they have all heard of the Veil and how it crushes those without Will-).

It’s because Zoro has been trying to get to the Grand Line, to the Greatest Swordsman, for two years now, and he’s so close to the first step to the top.

So he leaves, and doesn’t look back beyond a casual three hand wave.

Mihawk isn’t there.

Asura, the name he gave the voice inside his chest, his head, his limbs and blood, (powerful and mighty) rages.

Zoro is alone.

(Again. Why does it hurt this time?)

(At least he has Asura)

He misses Johnny and Yosaku.

(But he doesn’t look back – the past is past.)

He cuts down more foes.

Zoro find that the limbs that have followed him since birth (shadowy, never quite present, Asura?) are now solid enough to hold a sword. And so are the faces attached to his head.

A step to the left and the world goes blue and black – suddenly he is in a forge of something other, and there are swords in the remaining limbs.

A step to right and backwards, and he’s on a dinghy in the middle of nowhere with plenty of sake in the raft.

He sends a bottle of it to the sea, and drinks the rest before shining his blades.

(He doesn’t believe in gods but he has seen what lies in the depths of the sea.)

It takes concentration to will the limbs into being, so it’s a move he reserves for fellow swordsmen of renown.

Not that there are many in the East – instead, most do what Zoro is doing now, and train their natural attributes.

The fangs in his mouth are sharp enough to pierce through dragon hide now (he’s tested) and his scales are like armor (he’s tested again).

He’s alone save for the beast in his chest, but he’s stronger than ever (he thinks.)

The gold path that he’s been ignoring since it killed Kuina is sparking at Shells Town. H

He doesn’t care, but somehow, he manages to get stuck there for a month.

Dumb kelpie.

A week passes.

Nothing changes.

Another week passes.

Nothing changes.

(Asura’s gone quiet.

He’s thankful – Wado isn’t here to balance him out.)

On the third week, a boy appears, dressed in red with blood lining his sharp teeth. He’s nothing quite like Zoro’s ever seen, but the blinding gold isn’t there anymore.

Then he’s being pestered by this boy, this wannabe pirate captain, and he doesn’t care anymore.

“My name’s Monkey D. Luffy,” he’s says to Zoro after bullets bounced off of him. “And I’m going to be King of the Pirates.”

Zoro smirks and laughs and challenges him back. “My name is Roronoa Zoro and I’m going to be the World’s Greatest Swordsman.”

“Fitting for the Pirate King’s first mate.”

“Son of the Devil.”

“Isn’t everyone?”

Zoro’s in a dinghy again, fading into the fog. Next to him is his captain, who promised to let Zoro run him through if he stands in the way of Zoro’s dream.

Somehow, watching Luffy take in the world with glowing eyes, Zoro thinks that won’t happen.

He’s doesn’t feel so different anymore, not before this man with a soul darker than his, and he doesn’t feel so alone either.

On the other side of the red line, a pirate shares the news of Axe-hand Morgan’s sudden death at the hands of an upstart pirate with a straw hat – there’s no bounty yet, but Mihawk's curious about the rumors of the Demon of the Demon Sea who follows him.

It doesn’t take long to find out the truth.

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currentlyreadingmanga · 5 years ago

Text

Toilet-bound Hanako-kun Chapter 12: The 4pm Bookstacks (Part 2)

Previously: Yashiro and the suspicious girl (yes, I’m gonna keep calling her that until we learn her name) met for the first time. Her suspicion levels rose to even greater heights since she seems not only to know about Hanako (and the other mysteries) but also she seemed to imply that there’s possibly another little ghost boy going around? Which made me ask a lot questions last chapter, and apparently they will be answered in due time, so I won’t repeat those here. Anyway, following her advice, Yashiro and Kou ventured into the 4pm Bookstacks a.k,a. the fifth mystery of the school to hopefully learn more about Hanako. And Yashiro did find some details but the big terrifying butterfly monsters in that boundary made their little expedition come to an unexpected end. Thankfully, Hanako and...Tsuchigomori, yes, that was his name, appeared just in time to get rid of the two big butterfly Yashiro and Kou look-alikes. Tsuchigomori really wasn’t pleased with the state the kids left the bookstacks in sooo..... we’ll see what happens.

Now onto the next chapter!

Ohhhhh we’re starting with a colour page of the last portion of last chapter! It’s so gorgeous and btw one of the main things that caught my attention when I saw the anime screenshots was the art style and the colouring. And I gotta say, the manga really doesn’t dissapoint, it’s so beautiful.

Okay, so onto the actual chapter and....

I legit had to go check how the last chapter ended again because I thought I was forgetting something but no. It seems like we’re starting after a little timeskip and Tsuchigomori wants Yashiro to say something?

Ah, here’s narrator Yashiro again. And I just

There’s so much going on here. Hanako cheering with the fans, the little “shame” sign above her head, the “(working title)” gag, and omg the little radishes with the microphones pffft I can’t. This manga really is something else.

But yes, Yashiro is recapping what happened between the end of the last chapter and the start of this one.

Kou mentions that he can’t believe that one of their teacher’s is not actually human and yeah, finding out someone you interact with almost every day is actually a supernatural being must be quite a shock. huh? But! Tsuchigomori says that it’s more common than one would think

Huh. When he puts it like that, I can see his point. I mean, there must be an array of supernaturals that aren’t necessarily bound to a place and they might not want to live in hidding. If they can blend in with the humans and live semi-normal lives, then why not do it? Also, being able to influence your own rumors makes a lot of sense, that way you would be able to stop them if they got too out of hand. But also

................well, now that he’s said that, I’m 90% sure that one of them will end up being a supernatural. Because come on, it would make the plot more exciting.

Yashiro brings up a good point: that could be dangerous, but Hanako says that they shouldn’t worry since that’s what the mysteries are here for and I just

There’s something so funny about this panels. Like, the contrast between Hanako’s cheery disposition and Tsugochimori and Yako’s just overall “done” aura it’s just great.

It just keeps getting better pffffft Yeah, idk if that’s the best way to describe their group. “Emo spider” made me giggle more than it probably should have

............Yes, the leader thing is clearly true. And I talked about it during last chapter, but I really wonder if he’s the “boss” because he’s the most powerful one of the bunch and because his task is to take care of not only the random apparitions but also the mysteries themselves (like with what happened with Yako). Also jfc sometimes I forget how scary Hanako can get

Ohhhhhhhhhhhhh we have a clearer picture of the mysteries!!! Okay so we have Hanako, Yako and Tsuchigomori highlighted since we have met them already. Then we have another three: I had noticed the girl and the mirror before but this confirms that they are two different mysteries; then there’s a clocked figure....that I know it’s facing away from us but my brain just keeps seeing it as a big bug that has huge bulging eyes and almost human teeth and I hate it. But this is just showing six right now, yes? There’s one missing? (EDIT: Oh, I think I see it now, there’s a separate silhouette between Yako and the bug man, right?)

But anyway!! the important point is here is that apparently they think there’s a traitor among them. And they think this traitor has tied their fate to a human and they’re using this human as a way to alter the rumors around the school. So the human would be the suspicious girl because we know that she’s been spreading rumors. And if that’s the case, then this possibility about the “other Hanako” being the traitor would also be high. Because, come on, the drama would unbelievable

Ohhhhhh that’s interesting. So the reason they think that one of the seven is behind this is because only a powerful supernatural would be able to change the rumors in a way that would actually affect another one of the seven mysteries. And I was right to a point: there meeting was indeed about the changes in the rumors.

...........oh. I mean, I guess that would get rid of the problem. But I really need to know what that would entail. Because it obviously isn’t permanent if he says it’s only “for a while”. Like, would it involve doing something like what they did with Yako? Because Hanako had said that she had to “return her number” or something of the sort when he fought her, right? And she has less power than she had before, too, right?

Ah, okay. The next page confirms that yes, that’s exactly the case. And because of that, Hanako’s idea is to destroy all of the mysteries’ yorishiros before they even have a chance of going berserk. And I can see the value in doing that but like, what if the “traitor” isn’t, for some reason, actually part of the seven? Wouldn’t that leave them vulnerable?

And I agree with Tsuchigomori (side note: my brain always autocorrects his name to “tsugochimori” and I have to make a conscious effort to actually type his name the correct way why is this so hard for me). It does seem like quite a rash plan to put into action, even if they can reappoint the mysteries later on. Then again, I understand why Hanako wants to avoid pissing Teru off because we know how that went and... yikes

Pffffft this face made me laugh so much, it reminds me of one of my favourite Tanjirou faces.

^this one

Also ngl my heart stopped for a second when he said “no” because I thought it would lead to a fight but then I scrolled down so thankfully that’s not the case.

.................. *looks up echinococcus*: any of a number of tapeworms of the genus Echinococcus whose larvae are parasitic in humans and domestic animals.

Omfg by e that’s harsh but also so nerdy. Yako’s response is both appropriate and incredibly over the top at the same time. I really like their dynamic so far

Ohhh okay. Tsuchigomori says that he’s a supernatural who craves knowledge, and if they’re gonna destroy his yorishiro and temporarily take away his boundry, then he wants information that would be valuable enough as compensation. And, okay, I now see what the beginning of the chapter was about.

Ah, he says that he will still let Yashiro destroy his Yorishiro even if they don’t tell him anything, but he says that if they don’t, then he will broadcast their most embarrassing secrets to the school. That.......that would do it, yeah, I completely understand why Yashiro was so willing to talk at the beginning. That would be a nightmare jfc

.............still kinda hot ngl

Btw I love that this is drawn as a fighting game, it’s so cute.

Yashiro gives it a shot but Tsuchigomori is not impressed.

(Side note but Hanako’s reaction just gives me life:

He doesn’t even try to hide his jelousy, does he?)

Omg he’s reading the one of the letters she “exchanged” with Teru and omfg Tsuchigomori stop she’s already dead

Okay now it’s Kou’s turn. Good luck, sweet child. It’s probably something really pure

...........Baby boy, bless him

Both of them are getting fired up and spitting out their secrets and they’re such small and dumb secrets, bless their little hearts

Ohhh and Kou is appealing to what’s probably their last resort: asking Hanako to spill any secret he might have (there are probably a lot of secrets, my instincs tell me Hanako’s secrets probably have secrets)

Oh? What’s this we have here? Those looks scream shared history. Well, I guess that Tsuchigomori could have read Hanako’s book since that’s part of his boundary. It would make sense for him to have read it. But idk, I feel like there’s something more to it that I can’t quite put my finger on. Like, why would he say “enough”? Because he’s read Yashiro’s book and he still wanted to know more. What makes Hanako different?

ಥ‿ಥ

and

ಥ‿ಥ ಥ‿ಥ ಥ‿ಥ

They’re so freaking cute I can’t deal with it omg Also look at Hanako’s surprised face! The NeneKou combo is too pure to resist

.......................................................of all the things I could have expected, this was not one of them. I- why is that so wholesome, though?? like, it’s really silly but also no one gave this child the right to be so freaking adorable (EDIT: also, is this gonna be relevant to the chapter title “donuts”? is Hanako gonna get some yummy donuts? I would honestly be okay with a chapter that centered around that. let the baby have his donuts)

“Are you both morons?” Yes, Tsuchigomori, they are. geez, I thought you had read their books, you should know by now. But also give them so leeway, they’re excited to learn more about their ghost friend. Like seriously

Look at them, they’re so happy together, even Hanako has what seems to be a genuine smile. And by that comment I’m guessing that Tsuchigomori noticed that, as well

Hmmm. Okay, two things: 1) so Tsuchigomori did read Hanako’s book and knows everything about his life 2) the fact that, knowing everything about him, he believed that Hanako wouldn’t want to create any new friendships AND the fact that this kinda implies imo that he hasn’t seen Hanako making that kinda gentle expression before is all just. really sad and it makes my heart hurt

Anyway, sad thoughts aside, spiderman here tells them their time is up because their secrets are so ridiculously dumb that they’re not worth discussing.

Why is he so fucking weird? and why do I kinda fucking love him already??

This man just keeps earning more and more points in my book

But yeah, he says that he’s not gonna broadcast their secrets since he was (kinda) joking and he did end up seeing something interesting after all. In the end, he agrees to take them to his yorishiro! Yaaay!

#toilet bound hanako kun #jibaku shounen hanako kun #jshk spoilers #tbhk #jshk #live blogging

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