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neutron-stars-collision · 3 years

Text

The Art of Inversion

Neil x Reader

Chapter 24 - If You Want Me...

Masterlist; Chapter 23

Summary: Tension reaches its boiling point when you overhear an unfortunate conversation. With unexpected allies, you attempt to break the impasse once and for all.

Warnings: ANGST (still but... well you’ll see ;)); at few points R! is being a little dramatic which can be triggering if you’ve been dealing with intrusive thoughts (nothing too bad though); swearing.

Author’s Notes: Finally! It’s been a wild ride... and god am I happy i’ve managed. This part took a lot of effort but I quite like what I came up with... even if sometimes it gets too angsty. Can’t wait for what’s coming next, however... :)))) Hope you enjoy and all feedback is always appreciated! <3

The shooting range on the icebreaker was a strange place. It occupied a large proportion of the deck floor in the accommodation part of the ship, next to the turnstile and sparring grounds. With darkness swallowing every corner that was not lit up by the blinking fluorescents, it was a perfect place to hide. Soon it became your go-to solace when things got difficult, and the only other idea you could come up with involved going outside without the oxygen mask attached. You did not want to go that far. Yet. Target practice became your favourite occupation. It was simple and did not involve talking to people that could give you worrying looks or comment on the dark circles underneath your eyes. Sleep was no longer a thing, with you catching three-hour-long naps at best, in between never-ending worrying and staring at the ceiling, reminiscing the past. The constant headaches were something you soldiered through, accepting them as a part of reality. The worst part of that new life was the fact that you and Neil stopped talking to each other altogether. Not even empty pleasantries could get through the stone-cold awkwardness and tension capable of killing you before the heartache would. After a day of near-misses and horrifying mistakes that culminated with you accidentally spilling boiling water all over the sweater when Neil entered the galley, you both mastered the art of hiding. You only saw him once afterwards, sitting at the table in the corner of the canteen. That was almost two days ago, and you were thankful.

Once you went through the assigned daily rounds, you moved onto the task of cleaning the guns and rifles. Polishing the metal cases and arranging the bullets was as close to therapy as it could get. With the repetitive action occupying your brain, there was no time to get emotional over things you could not change. Only at the shooting range, you did not feel so utterly hopeless. So terribly unloved. A sudden noise by the airlock made you look up. Conveniently the air in the range was sealed so that you need not to worry about oxygen masks during the target practice. It also meant you got approximately five seconds warning to check the identity of the intruder. This time you were surprised.

“Hi, Y/N. Thought I’d find you here” TP’s dark gaze slid over you cautiously.

Taking off the mask, he joined you at the makeshift table, looking at the arsenal you have spread over the surface. You eyed him with curiosity. That was unexpected. So far, he has never interacted with you outside of the meetings. And every time he did, you could not stop thinking about how much he knew. Who did he see when he looked at you?

“Afternoon” shaking off the reverie, you offered him a tight smile, “Is it afternoon?” glancing at the watch, you grimaced, “Oh,”

The last time you checked, it was 3 pm. The blue numbers on your wrist were mercilessly ticking away. 8:30 pm. How the fuck. TP caught your silent crisis as he asked:

“How long have you been down here?” looking up, you encountered a glimmer of worry in his eyes.

Interesting.

“Umm, five hours?” it felt like the best estimate.

It was probably longer. But he need not know that.

“Jesus,” wincing, he directed his taxing gaze back onto you, “When was the last time you had food?” tone strictly business.

The truth was that you did not remember. With everything falling apart and losing meaning, food became an afterthought. Half the time you would realise you only had one meal around 1 am, forcing you to tiptoe to the kitchen and grab something from the cupboard. A hungry stomach was nothing compared to all the other issues. It could be ignored.

“Breakfast. I’m not hungry though,” brushing off the concern you chose defiance, “Is this an interrogation?” you arched one eyebrow and cocked the gun you have wiped clean.

TP snorted at your comedic timing.

“No, I come here in peace” he raised his hands in defeat and added, “To see if you’re… alright” the hesitation made you scoff.

“You know that I’m not. Because things are generally far from alright,” letting annoyance slip into the sentence, you let go of the tools and met his gaze with coldness.

The deepening frown was concerning. You were being unfair. After all, it was not him who has caused all this pain. Remorse nipped at your heart as you sighed heavily.

“Sorry, that was unnecessary,” he accepted your apologetic smile with a nod, giving the courage to continue, “And I’m also sorry that you all have to witness that mess in the meetings. I’d rather it stayed between him and me... but he seems to disagree” you shrugged.

Sometimes you did wonder why Neil seemed so intent on making your arguments a public spectacle. Whether that was a part of the intricate plan to make you look like an idiot or a result of his emotions boiling over. Not that it mattered. Everyone on the team knew what the deal was anyway. A poor, naïve you, desperately in love with someone who could not care less. Nothing out of the ordinary. Judging by TP’s passing frown, for him too the topic was rather uncomfortable. He took a long moment to respond, looking for answers in the rows of bullets you have arranged on the table.

“Not going to lie, it’s awkward, but at least I know what’s going on, and I can offer to listen” he met your gaze with newly found determination.

Okay… Confiding in TP was quite low on the list of things you expected to have the opportunity of doing. But then so was having to convince Neil not to get himself killed for the sake of the operation. Anything goes.

“Aren’t you taking a side?” that suspicious voice in your head was difficult to get rid of, “Agreeing with him that I’m stupid, emotional, and overall a burden?” you recited the memorized litany of epithets with a stone-cold expression.

The words have lost their meanings after you have put them apart in the quiet of your mind. Now they were just sounds, incapable of inflicting pain. It was the least that could be done.

“He went too far with that” TP winced, his eyes expressing traces of disapproval, “I might not know you well, but you’re none of these things,” a sympathetic smile softening the tone.

An open hand. An olive branch. Why not? Taking a deep breath, you got ready to open up before the most unexpecting of allies.

“In a way, he was right though…” you looked down, trying to find the needed strength, “I am stupid because I have allowed myself to care too much for him” there it is, “And now I’m paying for it” when you met his eyes again, you found nothing but thoughtfulness.

It was something you thought about often as well. The fact that Neil was right, you did care, and that it was perhaps the reason for your demise. But who could blame you for falling for the bastard looking like the devil? And equally charming too.

“Maybe it’s a little too forward, but-” TP’s tentative tone made you grin.

In moments like this, you acutely remembered that he was still a rookie. Not used to the half-truths and strange tenets you accepted as your credo. His innocence was adorable even.

“In this profession, a it’s sometimes nice to say the truth. Shoot away” you waved your hand dismissively, anticipating the question.

There is a first time for everything.

“Fair point” he mirrored your smile before asking, “Do you love him?”

Plain and simple. Ignoring the panic, you took a moment to ponder the answer. It was… obvious. You told Neil as much twice before, and no amount of pretending and lies could ever undo it. The words were his. Just as you were. Unfortunately.

“I’d want to say no, that I got over it, but… Yes, I do,” you offered the answer with a helpless frown, “Think any idiot can see it” noticing a hint of embarrassment briefly you patted TP’s shoulder, “No matter how much he hurts me, I always find myself wishing things could be… like they once were”

Whatever that meant. In truth, you wanted more. You wanted to wake up next to him every morning. You wanted affirmations of love every day as you tasted his coffee-stained lips. You wanted to lie in his embrace, feeling desired and loved. But most of all, you wanted to be able to lace up your fingers with his, following the instincts that became your second nature. To card your fingers through his silky golden strands and to give him everything he would desire. You wanted to be his. He was supposed to be yours. Or was the universe wrong?

Thoughts of that kind could be lethal. Shaking yourself awake, you met TP’s eyes. Apart from the lack of surprise at your admission, you noticed something strange. A passing realization. As though he has heard something similar before but was afraid to speak up. Once again, you found yourself wondering what Neil told him. What did he mean by ‘things you and I should explain to each other’? For a moment, you wanted to jump head in and ask. But what good would knowing the truth be when you could not act on it? As though aware of your increasing dilemma, the man spoke up again.

“I’m sorry for Oslo” your eyes widened at the reminder.

“Why?” blurting out the question, you eyed him cautiously.

The deepening discomfort radiating off him confirmed your assumptions. That was it. He knew what nearly happened that night. And he was flustered about his role in it. That was not the conversation you ever expected to have.

“I can’t help but think that maybe if I hadn’t… interrupted you, it would’ve-” he stumbled over the sentence somewhat endearingly.

Perhaps it was the lack of care that made you say the next words. Or maybe just the fact that nothing mattered anymore, and so who could judge you for the purest form of honesty.

“Doubt it,” interrupting him with a sour smile, you added, “Maybe it’s good you knocked then… Least he doesn’t have absolutely everything” noticing the alarm painted on TP’s face, you blushed.

Yep, too far. Still true, however.

“I’m sorry, you didn’t have to know that much” you brushed off the sudden awkwardness with a sincere apology.

“I can pretend I’ve never heard it” it was his turn to give a reassuring shoulder squeeze.

You could feel the strange companionship forming. Sure you did not mind. Relaxing back in the chair, you spoke up:

“Thanks,” as TP also visibly reclined, you brought up the thought that was not letting go of your mind, “I don’t know how much he has told you about… this,” gesturing vaguely, you bit your lip.

Somehow you knew that he would not betray Neil by sharing with you everything that has been said. But even crumbs would do…

“Quite a bit,” you watched him closely, intrigued by the hesitation, “Enough for me to know that you’re someone I can trust and that he had reasons to be acting that happy in Tallinn before the action” oh.

That painful pang in your heart was heart to ignore. You winced, feeling the steady gaze fixed on your face. The analysis was mutual. Neil, happy, back in Tallinn. Because of you. You have lost too much.

“What do you mean?” treading carefully, you asked the safest of questions.

A small smile on his face showed you just how obvious you were. Lovesick idiot.

“Hours he has spent texting someone, phone calls he would pick up instantly and then come back grinning like a madman” TP offered you examples with a glimmer in his eyes “It only clicked when we were inverting, and I asked him about you” the blush on your cheeks deepened under his taxing gaze “Suddenly all of that made sense if you were in Estonia with us” he shrugged, finishing the thought.

Oh my god. While you experienced it all firsthand during those chaotic yet hopeful days in the safehouse when everything seemed to have infinite potential, hearing about it from someone else’s perspective felt strange. Almost like a slap in the face. Because it only confirmed what you knew – he once loved you. Once.

“Well, it seems like he has changed his mind…” you muttered, feeling the resentment settle in.

You wondered whether one day it would stop hurting. If you could ever get over this and find someone else. That darkest part of your brain knew the answer well enough. Nothing could come close. And nothing ever would.

“Or he’s just an idiot” the cheeriness felt forced.

But judging by the way TP was staring at you, you could tell it was his attempt at dispersing the sudden melancholy. It was strange to see him worried about you of all people. Perhaps your shit attempts at diverting everyone’s attention from your declining mentality were failing. And that was a reason to be concerned.

“That too,” plastering on an unconvincing smile, you stifled a yawn.

That caught his attention.

“You should get some rest” upon further thought, he added, “And food,”

The intensity of his look was stifling. You hated being the centre of attention. Especially in moments like this when you felt vulnerable, an object of pity and unease. Stupid, weak, and useless. The sabotaging voice came out in full force, making you want nothing but to curl up in bed and disappear. Not yet, however.

“Yes, sir” you raised your hand in mock salute.

Your face fell when instead of a laugh, you got a frown in response. Oopsie.

“I’m serious” TP seemed to consider something quickly before placing his hand on your forearm, “I’m… I’ve been a little worried about you” he met your eyes with a clear purpose.

Shit. That is exactly what you wanted to avoid. Being seen as pathetic and a burden. Internally, you cursed yourself for not being strong enough. For letting anyone see the cracks. You would not let them see you shatter into pieces.

“I’m doing fine,” mustering the happiest of grins, you tried to mask the urgency.

Please buy the bullshit.

“Are you?” he didn’t. Before your brain could fully arrive at the panic station, his inquisitive expression softened. You held his gaze for a beat, hoping to convey everything. Hoping to convince him to let the conversation go. It worked for TP gave a final taxing look before backing off. You exhaled slowly, relaxing a little. Maybe the worst was over…

“Before we go… there’s one more thing I wanted to talk to you about…” TP changed the subject, looking down at the table “The lock. You want to go with him”

It was not exactly a question, yet you knew he expected an answer. That one you could easily give him. It was obvious, even if you have never said it out loud. Up till now.

“Yes... Maybe it is an impulsive and stupid thing to do, but I can’t let him do it alone. I can’t let him get killed” the word felt foreign in your mouth.

As though ‘Neil’ and ‘death’ were two irrelevant concepts that did not fit together even in theory. They could not. You would not allow it. And you were willing to accept the worst of risks to make sure it would not happen. Hell, you would even fight against fate and time to assure that.

“I’d rather avoid that too” TP’s quiet comment made you look up, “He deserves so much more than…” there was something startling in his gaze.

As though he has stopped himself before saying too much. Much more than what? And why was he looking at you like that? Like you were missing something tragic, and his heart was breaking for your loss. You felt like going insane. TP cleared his throat awkwardly, resuming the conversation, not at all fluently:

“I don’t buy the whole ‘what’s happened, happened’. What does that even mean?” the irritation shining through his strange tone was distracting.

“Don’t ask me,” you shrugged, “I like to think there’s a different solution to this. One that doesn’t involve Neil sacrificing himself. And I need to be there with him because if it comes to it… I’d take that bullet for him” you did not know where the honesty came from.

Or why you would admit something that fundamental to TP. His response was just as anticipated – a gasp and widened eyes. Nibbling on your lower lip, you broke the eye contact and chose to stare at the forgotten gun lying on the table. It was the truth, so why did admitting it feel so… radical?

“Are you sure?” when he found his voice again, it was hoarse.

“It’s that kind of love,” you replied, still unable to meet his gaze.

You never expected to reveal yourself like that to TP. Wheeler? Maybe. Even Kat seemed like a probable option, but not the boss himself. And especially not at this stage of his story. Yet he was there, willing to listen, and that was enough. You would deal with the consequences later, in your mind that would undoubtedly rebel against such a display of fragility.

“I don’t want it to sound patronizing… but you’re still young. There might be someone else for you along the line if Neil-” his voice broke through your reverie as you interrupted him with a start.

“I know” finally, you raised your head again, showing the sincerity of expression, “But something tells me it’s him or nothing. Call it fate or insanity” biting back a dry chuckle, you felt a single tear form in the corner of your eye.

That was something you have spent most of the time thinking about. At the start, you desperately wanted to believe that you would get over this. That it was just another disappointment, and like before, eventually you would forget about those blue eyes and maniacal grin. But your heart knew better, constantly reminding you that it was not that simple. That Neil was not someone you just forget. Because how could you?

“Reality?” TP’s eyes were filled with thoughtfulness.

“Perhaps,” you cracked a smile, feeling heaviness in your heart lift by an inch.

Always something. Another yawn ended the delicate moment seconds later, making you scowl in annoyance. What was the point of tiredness when you could not even rest properly? TP laughed at your pained expression and got up:

“Now, you into the kitchen. And try to get some sleep” he offered you a hand which you took and stood up.

“I’ll try” a lie, “Thank you… for checking in and listening” sheepishly, you tried to find any words of gratitude.

“I owed you that after those hours in Oslo, filled with plans, coffees, and awful songs you’d sing to entertain us” the knowing smirk suggested that he did remember what you hoped would be forever forgotten.

MTV in Norwegian. Your knackered brain deciding that singing along to ‘Like a Virgin’ and ABBA was what had to be done to make everyone smile. Mistakes have been made.

“Don’t remind me,” TP laughed as you smacked him on the shoulder.

*** You did not sleep after you bid goodbye to TP. That night too was spent tossing and turning in bed, thinking about how everything could have crumbled so quickly. It has only been weeks since Tallinn. In fact, looking from the linear point of view, it has not even happened yet. The normal you have been enjoying the confusion of those days before Oslo when everything was difficult yet hopeful. Too good to be true, at times. Well, now you knew that those moments never lasted too long.

The next morning you quickly grabbed breakfast and sneaked into the sparring area, hoping to catch a few minutes with the punching bag before the troops would take over space. However, that day it was not meant to be.

You heard the voices as soon as you opened the airlock and entered the large room. It was divided into a few sections, each devoted to a different training exercise. To your advantage, each was also separated with a thin plastic screen. Cautiously, you approached the nearest divider, trying to determine whether your mind was not playing any tricks. After one second, you knew. TP and Neil were having a rather heated conversation on the other side of the screen. A sparring ground was the place you least expected to encounter them. And yet… You wanted to turn away and leave before more damage could be done, but the moment you heard the boss’s voice, you froze on the spot:

“Why are you so hard on her?” TP’s question rung out clear in the highly domed room “The only crime she has committed was falling in love with you. I don’t think that’s worth all that pain you’re inflicting”

There was no doubt as to who he meant. Your heart sank. Oh my god. On one hand, it was encouraging to know someone was fighting for your side and pointing out the unnecessary torture Neil was so keen on. But the fact that they were discussing the nature of your feelings was terrifying. Listening on felt wrong, yet you could not move away.

“It would be better for her if she hadn’t” Neil’s cold tone made your blood turn to ice.

There was something frightening in how distant he sounded. As though he was nothing like the man you fell in love with, only a cold impostor that borrowed his face and voice. He was right.

“Why? You told me that you love-” TP’s voice rose, incredulity tinging every single word.

Neil told him his feelings. You expected that, and it still felt like a punch. You leaned on the wall for support.

“It doesn’t matter what I said” the biting edge to Neil’s voice was new, “Or how I feel. The sooner she gets over it, the better for all of us” he threw it without caution, as though he was done with your bullshit.

With the fact that you were stupid enough to love him. He did not want your love. Never did. The crushing weight on your chest would not give way.

“You’re cruel” TP was surprised, as though he could not believe what he was hearing.

“That’s mercy” Neil was begging for the conversation to be over, “Cruelty would be letting her entertain the idea that we can...” he trailed off, unable to finish the sentence.

Christ. All those nights spent wishing for answers, and when they came you wanted to forget you ever heard it. It was foolish to believe anything could ever happen between you.

“But why? Neil, you are in love with her” TP raised his voice yet again, utterly done with whatever the blonde bastard was doing.

You could not care less. Nothing mattered anymore. But you did not expect the very next punch. Or the pain you would feel.

“I’m not” clear-cut rejection; nothing to interpret “I don’t love her. There’s no need to look at me like I’m a monster”

Enough. You heard enough. The pain was as bad as ever as you walked away. Your mind set on one simple thing - tea. Yes, that would solve it.

*** Going to the galley felt as though you were stuck within a dream you could not shake off. Half-aware of your surroundings, you nearly walked into Dominic, whose survival instincts kept him off your path. Muttering apologies, you undid the zip lock and sauntered into the kitchen without a care in the world. With a start, you noticed Kat sat at the table. She gave you a welcoming half-smile as she sipped the tea from the metal cup. Your autopilot stuttered, overwhelmed by the company. Blocking off any attempts at thinking, you followed the muscle memory. Setting the kettle on. Putting teabag into the mug. Earl Grey because it reminded you of those morning kisses in London. No. Wrong memory. You shook your head, waiting for the water to boil. The fridge was too loud, the buzz making thoughts appear. Sighing, you leaned on the counter. Your eyes were burning, the sensation increasing with every single blink. It was alright. So why did it feel like the world was ending?

The kettle switched off. Without sparing a single thought to the reality, you poured the water in, watching with fascination as the teabag floated up. Kat’s spoon let out a clink as she placed it on the edge of the plate. You jumped up, startled. That was enough to break through your carefully woven barrier. The thoughts came rushing in. Neil didn’t love you. Your chest tightened as the next breath came out strained. The air was gone. Your hands shook as you tried to take out the teabag. Fuck. Everything was over. A single gasp was all you could manage before you shattered. The tears fell down your cheeks in a steady stream, blurring everything with tragedy. Choked sobs shook your frame as you desperately tried to hold on. To sanity. To reality. Anything to make the pain go away. But it would not disappear, only getting stronger. As though through the glass, you could hear someone say your name. Voice tinted with worry and urgency. But you did not care. The sobs turned into a howl as you slid down to the floor. The sounds coming from your throat sounded foreign and harsh, tearing at your vocal cords mercilessly. Oh my god. That was the break you always feared. There was no end to tears falling down your cheeks onto the floor and beneath your shirt. Slowly breathing became almost impossible, forcing out those pathetic half sniffles that only made everything worse. You wanted to do something. Anything. To make it stop. To forget. To lose the ability to feel things. Your fingers clawed at nothingness, barely losing against the desire to make all that internal pain physical. By any means necessary. Because then at least you could blame it on something concrete. And not just heartbreak. A word you despised because it sounded weak. Stupid. Easily avoidable for everyone but not you. A lost cause. A failure.

“Hey…” warm fingers gently touched your shoulder.

You raised your head. The pounding headache and lack of oxygen, making everything seem twice as difficult. Kat’s blue eyes bore into yours with concern. You have made quite the show. Self-preservation told you to get up and leave, save yourself some shame. But you would not even know where to go. Or what to do. You did not trust yourself to make reasonable choices.

“Are you alright?” Kat’s voice brought you back to the present moment.

An anchor. Maybe this could work… She was still eyeing you closely, unsure about how to act but wanting to be helpful.

“Mmmm no,” you sent her a broken smile, grateful for the handkerchief she handed, “But it’s okay. Sorry about this. I didn’t mean to-” you gestured vaguely, knowing she would catch on.

Tears were still flowing steady, threatening with dehydration should this continue. But at least the wailing subsided to quiet sobs interrupting your sentence every few words.

“Don’t apologise, we all break sometimes,” Kat squeezed your shoulder, joining you on the floor, “Do you want to talk about it?”

It was tempting. Even if terrifying. But you felt like maybe she could be the listener you needed. Someone objective enough, without any ties to Neil or you. Someone safe to confide in that would keep your secrets in safekeeping. But…

“What if someone comes in?” grasping the most idiotic of excuses, you glanced at the airlock with apprehension.

You could just about imagine what would have happened should Neil walk in during your conversation. Your heart would not take it.

“We’ll just tell them to leave,” Kat’s cheeky tone made you turn to her, “I think they’re all a little afraid of me for some reason,” she added, with a small smirk.

She crossed her long legs and sat next to you with both your backs supported by the cupboard doors.

“As they should be,” you replied, feeling strangely at ease, considering everything.

That spark in her eyes was worth the stress over being too forward for someone you barely knew.

“So…” she nudged you with her shoulder as further encouragement.

There was no more escaping it. You took a deep breath, urging your heart to stay strong. Words started spilling out without sense or order.

“Is just... the world is potentially ending in a few days, and here I am crying over the fact that someone doesn’t love me” your throat contracted upon the word as though it was forbidden “I should’ve known better. He never could want someone like me because why would he” more tears as you realised the ultimate truth “I’m not extraordinary. It all feels so stupid, pathetic. But I can’t get over it because I still love him. And I don’t know how to stop” you finished the rant on a sob that forced you to cover your face with your hands.

There it was. Out in the open. You wondered how you could have ever been naïve enough to think your feelings could be reciprocated. For him, it was just a crush. Amplified by the troubles you had to face and the recent difficulties. Nothing more. You were conveniently there when he needed someone to lean on. But if it came to it, he would never choose you.

“It’s about Neil, isn’t it?” something in her voice made you meet her gaze.

You were that obvious, huh? A panicked thought convinced you that everyone on the bloody ship knew about your weakness for the blonde bastard. Yes, even that mess sergeant that always gave you a sorry smile when you approached the counter at mealtimes. Before you could spiral down another wretched rabbit hole, you asked the most innocent of questions:

“How do you know?”

There was no point in trying to convince Kat she got it wrong. She seemed to consider something for a moment before she looked at you with newly found resilience:

“Let me tell you a story,”

You quirked your eyebrow, confused and intrigued. Might as well… Nodding at her silent question, you rested your head against the cupboard. Dried tears tinged your chapped lips with salt.

“When we were in Oslo, staying in a hotel for two nights, TP went out, and Neil stayed with me” she set up the scene with a neutral tone, “We talked a lot about everything really. He asked me about Andrei...” you glanced at Kat, noticing a passing grimace, “Normally I would shut off, but there was that calm curiosity about him, and I didn’t mind saying too much” she admitted with a sheepish smile.

You knew the feeling well, always telling Neil too much because he was such an excellent listener. Confiding even the darkest of secrets and thoughts never felt like anything significant when he reacted with that same confidence and acceptance. That was one of the reasons why the fall was unavoidable.

“Neil has that sort of effect on people,” you returned her smile, shrugging slightly.

Kat patted your hand gently, noting the look on your face. The infatuation and yearning you could not get rid of whenever you did as much as spare a thought towards him.

“I can tell... the point is that he mentioned you, as well” your eyes widened as she paused, “His friend, as he referred to you but not without stumbling over the word a little” she grinned upon your struck expression, “He told me about your role in this. That you’re an asset, excellent sharpshooter, brave as hell and equally reckless at times” my god

You blushed, feeling Kat’s taxing gaze. Friend? Suppose that’s one way of introducing you to people. It was fascinating to know that even after the mess of Tallinn, Neil valued your contributions to the mission. That he would mention you to anyone. Favourably, at that.

“Sounds about right,” frowning, you pondered the implications of her words, “So you knew who I was that morning on the bridge?” the sudden realisation felt refreshing.

That explained her looks directed at you and Neil back then. The visible consternation about the matter of your relationship.

“Yes, it clicked pretty quickly” upon your perplexed gaze, she picked up the story, “I could tell that there was more underneath all the praise. There was that longing in his eyes and a spark that lit up only for you,” Kat added, smiling as you gasped, “I asked whether love was allowed in your line of business” there was boldness in her eyes that made your heart clench. Something important was coming, “He said yes, but it’s dangerous and best avoided. Only that’s not always possible. Sometimes it gets you, and before you realise you can’t breathe another word without missing that one essential person. Your heart doesn’t belong to you anymore, and nothing can be done” oh my god.

You stared at the floor as her words sunk in. It felt surreal, as though you have wandered into a dream. A good one. But dreams could only last so long… Shaking off the haze, you glanced at the woman sat next to you. She was observing you with an enigmatic smirk gracing her features.

“He said that?” your voice came out raspy.

Just a clarification. In case you have misunderstood. But Kat was not surprised.

“Yes,” she nodded, that same sympathetic expression on her face, “Considering what I’ve seen with you and him... there’s only one person he could’ve meant” your heart dropped, as though unused to the idea “I understood it that morning on the bridge when despite the awkwardness, he was willing to defy everyone else for your sake”

Your mind wandered back. Neil’s constant presence by your side, his hand touching the small of your back and then staying there for longer than necessary. His support and trust placed in your hands without hesitation. Right now, even something that insignificant felt unattainable. But it did happen. Could it be that he meant you? Unable to withstand the whirlwind of emotions, you stood up. Pacing in the tiny room, a protest came up, spilling out of your mouth:

“But I just heard him tell TP that he doesn’t love me” you swallowed hard as the reminder of the reality hit.

It was one thing to know it. Another to put it into words once again. You felt like screaming, demanding answers from the main culprit of this whole mess. But it was too dangerous. Another heartbreak could be lethal in its consequences.

“Sometimes we lie to ourselves to save the pain” the quiet certainty of Kat’s voice kept you grounded.

It felt risky to believe that he was pushing you away out of fear. But what if… No. You met her inquisitive gaze, hoping to convey the confusion and desperation. She must have understood for she added:

“He’s still coming to check up on me every evening, and the last two days he’s been a little… strange” the meaningful pause felt like bait.

One that you did not hesitate to take.

“How do you mean?” stopping mindless trotting, you sat down on the stool.

“Quiet, wistful, as though something was troubling him, threatening to spill out if he wasn’t too careful” a long taxing look; it sounded familiar, “Trust me, I don’t mean to give you false hope, I just thought you should know that before deciding on any further action” Kat got up and approached you.

Placing a hand on your shoulder, she squeezed it. You felt immensely grateful. Even if a little speechless… Because all of that was a lot to take in. You desperately needed a long afternoon spent in bed, staring at the ceiling and processing the eventful morning. Was it still morning?

“It means a lot, I’m not sure how I could repay you” finding the words again, you gave her a helpless smile.

“Just try to be happy. And don’t give up on things that seem too good to be true. Sometimes those are most worth keeping around” the depth of melancholy in her eyes was startling, “What will you do now?” the tentative tone assured you of the intent behind the question.

It was Kat’s way of saying: don’t do anything stupid. You could not promise that to anyone. The wounds were too fresh; emotions barely kept under control. Anything could happen. But you did not want to alarm her.

“I’m not sure. Think, probably” an unconvincing nonchalance had to do, as unprecedented honesty took voice “But I’m beginning to realise that if I won’t be able to… have him… I’ll just let him be. He deserves the best more than anybody else” you finished the thought and met her eyes.

A passing shock you found there was intriguing. As though your words reminded her of something, and she needed an additional moment to recover. God knows what sort of secrets everybody held on this god-forsaken ship… If the weight of the past and the unsaid could sink boats, it would have been long over. For everyone.

*** You thanked the gods (and Ives) for letting the topic of the lock wait out a little longer. Instead, the next morning’s meeting concerned the splinter unit, the who, and the how. As a result for once, no voice has been raised throughout the two hours spent on the bridge. Nothing much has been decided, but you did not mind. The burden of the last few days rested on your shoulders, preventing sleep or any form of relaxation. The word ‘tired’ did not even begin to describe it. But duties had to be put ahead of any personal issues and so you took part in the confab as usual. Seeing Neil after everything felt like a stab straight in the heart. His silence and the complete lack of acknowledgment of your existence were the added twist of the hilt.

The moment the meeting was over, you bolted out of the door in desperate need of fresh air. It was bound to rain later as the entire deck was covered in strange puddles that formed out of nothing. Perks of inversion and all that. Lost in thoughts concerning the locks, blonde bastards, and the torture of love as a concept and a feeling, you forgot about the golden rule of inverted rainfalls in the making – caution upon stepping on the wet surfaces. Turning around the corner, your foot slipped. Fuck. All you could do was flail your hands helplessly while praying that the fall will not be painful and that it will not detach the oxygen tank. Suffocation was not the death of your choice.

Suddenly the fall was interrupted with a strong grip on your waist. Hands pulling you upright, back to standing. The hold felt familiar. And forbidden. Turning to face the saviour, you were struck by the sight of the blue eyes that haunted your every waking hour. Every dream too. He was close, with hands wrapped around your waist securely. Somehow this felt worse than the fall. You half expected Neil to let go any second now, step away and yell at you for being clumsy. Or maybe just for existing. But he was still there. One of his hands slipped down onto your hip. Speechless, you kept on gazing into his eyes, trying to understand what was going on. All you could see was increasing the confusion. Desire. The boundless depths were drawing you in. Neil pulled you closer. Something in his face made you believe that if it was not for the oxygen masks, he would have kissed you. His gaze roamed across your features, intense, relentless, as though he could never have enough of you. It felt like being stripped bare, left exposed and vulnerable. Despite trying, you were unable to put up a guard, showing him all that he was not supposed to know instead. Everything you tried to hide and deny, bury deep inside so it could be forgotten. Well not anymore… Whatever Neil saw in your eyes woke him up. You noticed a passing frown, replaced with increasing shock. And then horror. What the hell. Before you could even process what happened, he let go and took a hasty step back. He looked sick, pale with fear and panic. Then, just as you tried to find any relevant words, Neil spoke:

“Be more careful next time,” cold and curt as though nothing happened.

He walked off briskly, disappearing into the darkness of the training grounds. What the fuck? A single drop flew up from the deck, splashing onto your chin. The rain has begun. You felt strange. Suddenly mourning the fact that you have been saved from suffocation. It would have been simpler. Less painful. Less terrifying.

*** No matter the hours passing by, or the thousands of different grounding techniques you have attempted, nothing was helping. Lying on the bed, staring at the ceiling, you wanted a multitude of things. To get blackout drunk in the hope of forgetting this morning ever happened. (You checked the galley, utterly disappointed to have found nothing with the necessary voltage). You wanted to talk to someone, briefly considering visiting Kat further down the corridor. But that would have meant being even more vulnerable. And a burden. So nope. At one point, you once again considered marching outside without the mask, letting the inverted lung membranes and fucked up rain do the rest. But you did not want to end the life itself. That was not all that bad. You liked your job, the various people you have met along the way. It was only that the current predicament was… unbearable. There had to be a different option.

Then mindless pacing replaced the stillness of lying down. Window, door, and back again. To be repeated for at least an hour. Your thoughts swirling around everything that has been said. Everything that happened. Kat’s story. The look in Neil’s eyes. What if… what if? The unknowns kept multiplying in your head, driving you insane with the extent of what you did not understand. You always hated those moments of suspense. Unsure whether to give up, let go and try to move on, or to keep trying, hoping. Your heart could never process them well without breaking and shattering into millions of pieces. Fuck.

There was one way out of it. One that you tried to push to the back of your head for the few past hours because it was too terrifying. But you were slowly running out of alternatives. One look out of the window told you that you had spent at least six hours like this. It would not do. It was either him or nothing. But you could not survive the insufferable without knowing which one it was. Taking a deep breath, you stopped in the middle of the cabin. This is it. You knew what had to be done. You put on the sweater as though in a trance, making sure to repeat silly affirmations in the quiet of your mind. It had to be alright. If it wasn’t, there were always the seals left…

The walk down the short corridor felt like ascending the steps to the guillotine. Only whatever might happen could be worse than beheading. Your hand shook as you rapped on the door to Neil’s cabin. The sound felt like the worst mistake you ever made. It was too late to turn back. After a very long moment, you heard shuffling inside. When the door opened, you were shocked by a few observations all at once. Neil’s eyes were reddened, hair in absolute disarray. When he realised that you were the intruder, his hands automatically went to smooth the strands in some way. Making even more mess in the process. In any different situation, you would have found that endearing. But your heart was too heavy. You eyed him instantaneously, gaze slipping over the fitting black thermal shirt and the joggers with narrowed cuffs. Not helpful. As you glanced back at his face, you noticed the intensifying confusion. That was the chance to speak…

“Can I come in?” a tentative start to make him more likely to agree.

The shock in his blue eyes slowly changed into careful curiosity. Neil gave you a once-over before opening the door wider and stepping back.

“Of course. Friends are allowed to visit each other” a hint of impatience as though he already had enough.

But that was not the most infuriating bit…

“Friends?” you crossed the threshold and met his eyes with the face of stone, “Sure, that’s one way of looking at what we are” the lack of reaction was inspiring, “Or were” you took a look around his room.

Equally small cabin, littered with a few personal objects. His was phone abandoned on the bedside table, a change of clothes on the floor. A naïve idiot would have taken a moment to consider the fact that maybe he was not as well as you thought. But you were past that, desperate to get answers. A reaction. An end to this madness. With resolve ever-increasing, you sat down on the edge of Neil’s bed, ready for the battle ahead. Meeting his perplexed gaze, you let the penny drop:

“I wonder with how many friends have you been kissing on the bed for two hours” a flash of recognition and then a frown.

As expected. But it still hurt.

That moment from the afternoon before the morning plane to Tallinn was one you often replayed in those desperate hours when nothing seemed to help. You were lying in bed in your room back in London, enjoying each other’s company, exchanging kisses like compliments every few minutes. Sometimes Neil would let his hands become more daring in their caress, causing goosebumps all over your skin. Bringing out sighs and making your heart overflow with love and hope that you finally found what you have been looking for. You felt wanted. You talked a lot about the future, sharing different ridiculous plans for how it could play out. Neil promised to visit your prospective farm with the sheep and dogs. Back then, judging by the look in his eyes, you dared dream that perhaps he would want to be a part of those days still to come. Now, looking at the blonde man awkwardly perching on the chair in front of you, nothing made sense. He stayed for the night then, allowing you to hug him close until the morning. You woke up first, watching him for a few minutes. The steady rise and fall of his chest. Relaxed face with hair sticking up. Calm and content. The warmth spreading from your heart inspired you to press a kiss to his lips as a means of wake up. The sight of Neil sleepy-eyed, peering up at you with a fond smile gracing his features was worth much. Maybe even the current tortures…

Facing him now, you could see the frown deepen.

“Painful memory?” you countered, watching him closely for any hints.

A mask was put on well. But there were flashes of something there. A potential… A possibility of getting burned too.

“In a way,” Neil grimaced, avoiding your piercing gaze.

He was uncomfortable, mindlessly picking on the skin around his nails and tapping his foot. That was the signal to keep on pushing. Until he would be forced to be honest.

“That’s a shame. It’s one of my favourite ones” as he looked up, you offered a deadpan smile, “Just like Oslo,” a shrug complemented with a quick scan of his body, “Though I’m not sure about that… ending,” feigning thoughtfulness you ended the harsh scrutiny.

The point was to back him up against the wall without making him throw you out. That tiny voice at the back of your head told you that he would have done that already if you were not in any way important. That voice was too confident.

“What is your point?” Neil bit back, betraying the level of annoyance you have brought with the innocent reminder.

You knew there was no more skirting around the issue. Now or never.

“Why did you do that earlier? Why did you hold me like...” you trailed off, unable to put into words what it felt like.

Like what? Like a lover. Like someone you actually cared about and not just an irritation. Like someone you could want in your life. But you could never say that to him.

“I was being a gentleman” Neil glanced at you with painfully fake indifference, “Women tend to appreciate that,” a shrug that could not fool you.

Women. The spark of jealousy burned bright. Because what if you were just another distraction. Nothing special. But then the things he said to Kat suggested otherwise. You held onto that thought and squared your shoulders. The game was on.

“...Right,” a sceptical glance in his direction before you continued, “Was that look gentlemanly too? Because last time I checked, gentlemen didn’t tend to look at women as though they wanted to…” trailing off, you awaited the response.

That would mean he took the bait. And the case was not yet lost.

“What?” the lazy tone made you meet Neil’s gaze.

He looked… off. As though before you knocked, he was not exactly fine. It was that nervousness and unkempt appearance that betrayed him. On its own accord, your heart gave out a painful thump, anticipating the fact that Neil too might have been hurting. But why? Ignoring the distraction, you found the needed words and dropped them carelessly.

“Devour them” you held his gaze confidently.

The verb felt right. As though Neil was not trusting his instincts, he looked down, breaking the contact. Putting up further guards. Bingo. He scoffed, throwing in cruelty to the mix:

“And here I was thinking you’re over… this” a vague hand gesture to show what this meant.

You. And him. That something that both was there and was not. Or rather, he wanted it to cease to exist. Only it was not that easy.

“I never said that” putting on the necessary emphasis, you kept on staring at him until he looked up.

Mouth open for another quip. That same steel-blue eyes and clenched jaw. Whatever you have been doing was working. Slowly aggravating him to the point of discomfort. You had to keep the upper hand. Neil seemed to consider something, restlessly fiddling with a pen he picked up from the bedside table. After a beat, he spoke up:

“Why are you here?” weariness in his eyes as he gave out a long exhale.

Easy question… right?

“Because I want answers” it could not be any simpler.

He flinched, letting you see the extent of panic hidden underneath the annoyance and casualness.

“What makes you think I’ve got them?” an arched eyebrow adding the mocking intonation.

The meter of space between you felt like an ocean. He was close enough for you to brush away the strand that has fallen into his eye if you only leaned in. And yet so far that you felt alone, alienated by the cold scrutiny. You had to keep going, tearing at the carefully build up armour hiding him away from you.

“Because you always have words. An abundance of them” you waited till he looked at you again before pressing on “Be it things you probably wish I have forgotten that you have once whispered between kisses” a pause, noticing the boundless unease in the blue eyes “Or all those lovely adjectives you have given me the last couple of days” using the moment of hesitation, you added, “But maybe you were right, and I am stupid, emotional-”

You could give him the whole litany. Your legacy. Exactly how much you were worth in Neil’s eyes. Unless it was a lie…? Before you could begin, Neil raised his hand, interrupting sharply:

“Okay, I get your point” no pride in that frown, almost as though he regretted it, “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said that” the apology took you by surprise.

As did the sudden change in his face. Neil held your gaze with unusual sheepishness. As if even the act of looking at you was dangerous. Tearing the skin from his lower lip, he was the epitome of insecurity. There was no time to falter.

“Everything?” you prodded, mindful of the poker face you had to maintain.

You could not lose him now. Neil hesitated for a short moment before responding:

“Yes,” another second of eye contact, and he got up, impatiently touching the doorknob “If this is all you wanted, then I’d rather be alone-”

No. You leaped up, reaching out before he could finish the sentence. As your hand landed on his forearm, his eyes snapped to you in shock. He was not expecting you to breach the touch barrier. But there was no other choice. With heart hammering in your chest, you felt your throat tighten. Please not now…

“No,” emotions exposed in the tiny voice crack, “Neil, I’m tired of this, of you not making any fucking sense and expecting me to accept it” pleading, you let your fingers wrap around his wrist.

That had to do. Judging by the terror in his eyes, it was already too much. You could feel your resolve waning. Terrified of the consequences if this backfired. Of what you would have to do if he rejected you once and for good. Of the pain you would have to face then. But you had to be brave. He swallowed hard. You wondered what caused the goosebumps on his skin.

“If this is about earlier, then you’re blowing it out of proportion. Be more reasonable” there was a raw edge to his voice that was new.

You were close now. Enough to force Neil to stare at the ground to avoid looking at you. You noticed those dark circles under his eyes. And the tension spilling out in waves. He was scared of you. And that was a horrifying discovery. Your eyes were burning as you begged your heart to hold on. You had to survive this.

“It’s not just that” betraying the nerves, you took a greedy inhale, “It’s what you told Kat in Oslo. It’s how you look at me” following potentially disastrous instincts, you tipped his chin to meet his eye, “It’s all those sudden switches when you seem so cold and calculating and yet so separated from the real you” running out of breath, you could only stare at Neil.

The widened eyes and parted lips told you exactly how shocked he was. You did feel bad for bringing Kat into it. The argument was too strong to let it go. And it worked if his silent panic was anything to go by. He was desperately searching for words, unable to tear his eyes away from yours as though what you said was a binding charm.

“Why do you think you know the real me?” finally, Neil settled upon the question.

One last attempt at making you forgo this madness. Only there was nothing convincing in his delivery. Eyes hazed, showing you fear and uncertainty. A blood droplet on the lower lip where he tore through the skin. Ignoring the most innate of desires to wipe it off, you cupped his cheek. Neil gasped, frozen in the spot. Could it be working? Sliding your hand down, you interlocked your fingers with his. Everything felt surreal. As if you were not a part of the scene. But you had to persist. To finish what you started.

“Because you once told me that you’ve never lied to me. That I’m very important. Your everything, even” your voice broke again on the last sentence as you tightened your hold over Neil’s hand, “And I understand that you could have changed your mind, but…” you hesitated, feeling him shudder.

Oh my god. Your heart broke for the umpteenth time as the fact dawned on you. Neil was shivering slightly as though he was cold. But there was no draft. Nothing to cause it apart from your presence, words, and the physical touch. A choked sob built up in your throat.

“…why are you trembling when all I’m doing is holding your hand? Am I that revolting?” the questions were interrupted by a sniff you could not hold back any longer; there was time for honesty, “The last few days have been awful, making me want to stupid things just to feel something different than heartbreak. I’m not saying that to get your pity, but if I got it all so wrong then tell me now. Because I’m not sure I can survive much longer like this” after finishing the speech, the tears trailed down your cheeks uninvited.

It was all there for him. Nothing to add. Your heart was beating fast, blood pounding in your ears. For a second, you felt suspended in time, unable to do anything but stare at Neil, who seemed utterly speechless. And then his face fell. Eyes fell shut as he let out a heart-shattering whimper. Tears started falling down his face as you tried to brush them away. You have not seen him that broken since the aftermath of TP’s death. He tugged his hand out of your hold to cover his face, turning away. Christ… The searing pain was back, this time making your heart bleed for Neil. You did not know what to do, powerless and paralyzed with a multitude of thoughts and feelings. After a minute which felt like an eternity, Neil faced you again with red-rimmed eyes and tragedy in his gaze. That was the needed wake-up. Stepping back into action, you placed your hand on his chest. Just over the beating heart. A gentle encouragement.

“I can’t… I can’t tell you that it’s over because I still…” the breathless words tinged with panic and struggle as he fought for every gust of air, “I can’t keep on…” another sob, shaking his whole body “You’re…” a sharp intake followed by instant defeat.

Immeasurable anguish in Neil’s eyes was another reason to find the strength you did not know you had. Maybe it was worth it.

“What? I’m here with you and willing to listen. To do anything but please just make me understand” holding back more tears, you made sure he saw the determination painted on your face.

Slowly you were coming to terms with the reality. You would do anything for him. Anything he asked.

“I don’t know how to…” Neil trailed off, looking for answers all over the floor and ceiling, “I’m tired of having to pretend when you’re all I…” a moment of hesitation as his eyes widened.

He did not intend to say that much. You’re all I… what? Before you could find ways of pressing on, he turned away again and sat down on the bed. A frown etched deep into his forehead. Eyebrows furrowed. Eyes glistening with unshed tears. This was bad. Awkwardly, you shifted from one foot to another. Words were escaping you both.

“Then don’t. I won’t bite” your useless quip was received with an ill-disguised dry chuckle, “Call it naïve, but I don’t think it’s anything we can’t fix if we…” shit.

You knew what was there on the tip of your tongue. It was too early. Fuck knows if he even… But he had to. There was no other force in the universe that could cause this much pain.

“If what?” Neil caught your mistake with strange emotion in his eyes.

As though he wanted you to spell it out. You could not give in. Some words had the potential to destroy, and it was too fragile. A freshly opened wound you still had to mend somehow.

“Don’t make me say it again” a whisper to make him understand your actions.

After a beat, Neil nodded. He seemed exhausted, slouching and staring at the floor unseeingly. That feeling of helplessness threatened to come back with force as you were running out of ideas to make it work. To get him back somehow. Then his voice broke the tense silence:

“Christ…” a long exhale before he looked at you again, “I don’t even know where to begin, but…” resignation passed through his face.

You felt a strange spark of hope flicker in the depths of your heart. It did not look like rejection. It did not look like anything you have ever experienced, and yet it made so much sense. Because after everything you have been through, there was no way this could be easy. Kindling that building fire, you cautiously took a step forward, maintaining the eye contact:

“Yes?” the most neutral of tones, holding the emotions at bay.

Everything not to scare him off. You made it so close. You could give up now. A hint of a sad smile upon Neil’s lips was encouraging…

“Come closer. I want to…” he reached out a hand you gladly took, letting him pull you nearer.

It did not matter what he wanted. Only that you could give it to him. Anything. Everything. Upon the sudden surge of courage, you covered the remaining inches of space and straddled his lap in one smooth movement. Another gasp as Neil glanced at you with obvious amazement. Then, as though he worried that even this was too much, he looked down at where his hands tentatively settled on your hips. This position was familiar. And yet, you felt different, unable to make sense of the myriad of emotions and thoughts occupying your mind. All that mattered was Neil. His hesitant but intimate hold. The hair falling into his eyes. Shallow breaths escaping through the parted lips.

“It’s alright, look at me,” gently you lifted his chin so that you could meet his gaze.

Blue eyes full of longing. For you. Exhaling sharply, you knew well enough what to do. You wound your hands around his waist, drawing him into a tight embrace. That too felt natural. After a second, Neil relaxed, melting into your hug as if that was exactly what was missing. At that moment, with head resting in the crook of his neck, at last feeling as though there was a point in all this, your eyes welled up. No matter the suffering, this had to be it. Your everything. Neil breathed you in, warm puffs of air causing shivers all over your body. There was no point in pretending.

“Please come back to me,” you whispered against his skin, letting tears trail onto his shirt.

Neil tightened his hold, hands roaming over your back, pulling you even closer. All it took was a kiss he pressed onto the exposed skin of your collarbone to make you tremble.

“I never left,” the hesitancy told you he did not believe it either.

“You did. But maybe… I’ll do anything to have you back” the urgency in your voice causing Neil to lean back.

He wiped the stray tears from your cheeks, taking an additional moment to caress your neck with tenderness. You could only lean into his touch, feeling as though whatever might happen has already been decided. There was no way you could let this go. Neil seemed to consider something quickly before he spoke:

“All those words… they fail me when I’m trying to explain what I was doing” his voice was raspy with the weight of emotions, “Or why. Because I’m scared of making it come true. It’s as if once I say it… it might…” he paused, searching for words in your eyes.

“Become real?” you offered, running your fingers through his unruly hair.

You were right. It was all an act. The elation was restrained by worry and love. It didn’t matter.

“Yeah…” Neil swallowed hard, “And then there’s all this mess in my head… The thoughts that just won’t shut up. I’m so fucking tired of… of-” the familiarity of his words causing another flash of pain within your heart “I can’t ask you to-” he cut himself off as though the idea was unspeakable.

You caught a sight of something darker within his gaze. They always said that actions speak louder than words…

“Neil, I said I’ll do anything. I mean it. What do you need?” you met his panicked eyes with resilience.

It took him a longer minute to stop staring at you. To wake up. And then, as simple as it can be:

“You. I need you,” touching his forehead to yours his breath ghosted your lips, “But after everything I did, I wouldn’t expect you to want me… like that” the depth of remorse was heart-breaking.

You already knew what the answer would be. Nothing else mattered. Regrets, worries, and fears had to be abandoned for the sake of this.

“The trouble with the heart is that it doesn’t care what you’ve done. Only that this is you,” smiling lightly, you cupped his cheek, “Just… kiss me. Like you mean it. Like you could love me. And then we’ll see if we can make it work,” unsure where the words came from, you faltered.

But before any vicious doubts could step in, Neil closed the gap. His lips slowly glided over yours, reminding you what it felt like. It did not take much persuading for you to open your mouth, deepening the kiss. It felt like coming home after a long time away. Like that first step over the threshold when one is unsure what they will find. Only to realise that everything is in the right place. That they should have never left. You tangled your fingers in his hair, bringing him even closer. He groaned upon the sensation, teeth grazing over your bottom lip. A sigh escaped your throat as Neil’s hands ventured underneath the sweater. For the first time in a while, everything made sense. You tugged at his shirt just for the sake of it as a means of showing him how wrong he was. You wanted him more than before if that was possible. The kiss consuming you both with its intensity and force. Your tongues participating in their dance, brushing against each other, increasing the intimacy of the moment. It finally felt right. Slow, unhurried, but desperate. Unforgettable.

You did not even know when it ended. One moment you were willing to give up breath if only to make it last longer. The next Neil had you pinned to the bed, breathless and shocked. When you met his gaze, the depth of expression told you what it meant. Finally.

#tenet #neil tenet #neil x reader #neil tenet x reader #neil tenet imagine #neil tenet fanfic #tenet fanfic #robert pattinson #the art of inversion

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zaph1337 · 3 years

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Monster Hunter Rating 23: Plesioth, the Water Wyvern

Hey, guys. Sorry for not posting yesterday, but that day was stressful for a couple of reasons I’d rather not get into, and I couldn’t start writing this until close to midnight, so I decided to finish it today (which is why I’m going off the Monster List order rather than the Quest List, as an anon suggested). But don’t worry, ‘cause a shark dragon’s worth the wait. Let’s see what Plesioth has to offer!

(How it appears in Monster Hunter 1)

(How it appears in Monster Hunter Generations)

Appearance: Plesioth is an interesting take on the “shark dragon” concept; unlike Cephalos/drome, which had a clear divide between head and neck, the head of Plesioth, which is more in line with sharks like the great white, is the same width as the neck, which has the same width as most of the body. This gives Plesioth a body type closer to a fish like some kinds of koi or carp than a dragon. Speaking of carps, despite being a shark dragon, Plesioth has carp-like scales and even colors, which seems weird, but according to Wang Fu, a Chinese scholar from the Han dynasty, Chinese dragons, which influenced descriptions of dragons in Japan, had features reminiscent of several animals, including scales like those of a carp. Now, this could be a coincidence, but even if it is, it’s a pretty cool detail.

Plesioth also have a lot of spiny fins, which are similar to those of several species of bass, though the Plesioth’s have spines which extend beyond their membranes. Their wings are also modeled after these fins, but their greater size means that it’s easier to see the gradient on the membranes, which, by the way, looks really nice and complements the colors on the main body really well. I really like this design! It nails the water dragon look really well and has some nice touches that accentuate that. It’s definitely my favorite design out of all the monsters I’ve talked about so far, so y’know what? 10/10.

Behavior: Plesioth are ambush hunters that feed on both under- and above-water prey; for the latter, they prefer to wait until the landlubbers get too close to the water’s edge, just like a crocodile. Their sensitive hearing means that they’re likely to hear the footsteps of anything coming for a drink, but it also means that really loud sounds can frighten them and cause them to flail wildly. They’re territorial enough to regularly patrol their “turf,” but they also fear confrontation due to having weak defenses, and will avoid picking fights if at all possible. Once a Plesioth decides to fight, though, it can be rather persistent, even coming out of the water to attack its target.

Now, that’s not to say they’re uncomfortable on land; they may not be the apex predators that they are underwater, but they’re still a force to be reckoned with. Not many predators will try to feed on something that’s 65 feet long at its smallest and 127 feet long at its largest. Oh, yeah, did I not mention that this thing’s the largest monster I’ve talked about so far? My bad. There are larger monsters that pose a threat to Plesioth, though, which is why these wyverns never like to be far from a body of water. They have to surface at some point, though, because for some reason, they don’t have gills, meaning that they can’t breathe underwater. This a dragon that’s so devoted to an underwater life, it gave up wings that could be used to fly for wings that act as fins, and it still needs to breathe air!? Get your act together, evolution! Okay, it kinda did; they can breathe air both through their mouths and, like amphibians, through their skin, but I don’t see how considering they have scales.

Finally, I should probably point out that like real sharks, Plesioth are viviparous, meaning that they have wombs, rather than lay eggs. And also like real sharks, the babies in the womb will fight and eat each other. Ah, the majesty of nature can be so nauseating at times. The concept of a monster that’s the top of the food chain underwater and still formidable on land is pretty cool, but the fact that Plesioth can’t breathe water is ridiculous. I guess they needed an explanation for why it would ever spend time out of the water? Well, whatever the reason, it’s not like Plesioth are likely to be in danger of something attacking them when they stick their heads out to breathe, so it’s not that big of a deal. 7/10.

Abilities: Those spines aren’t for show; they contain a sleep-inducing neurotoxin that’ll put you to sleep after a single scratch. The wiki also says that Plesioth can inject the toxin through bites, but it only specifies the neurotoxin being in their fins, so I dunno what’s going on here. Speaking of biting, Plesioth have powerful jaws that can crush the armor of some monsters, such as Carapaceon, so you know that getting bit by it has got to suck. They also utilize their size for attacks such as tail swipes, hip checks, and charges. The most notable attack Plesioth have, however, is their ability to fire a stream of highly pressurized water that they previously swallowed while swimming. In real life, pressurized water is used industrially to cut and shape steel, so that tells you what kind of pain you’re in for if you get hit by that. Plus, if it’s anything like the stream fired by Mizutsune, it inflicts Waterblight, a status condition which temporarily decreases the speed at which your stamina recharges, and take it from an Insect Glaive main, that’s not fun. 8/10.

Equipment: So, several Plesioth weapons have Cephalos parts in them, and the weapons as a whole have a similar aesthetic, but they’re still distinct, at least in my opinion. Let’s start off with the Great Sword called the Finblade:

I like how the membrane has the gradient on it to show that it’s from the edge of the fin. I also like the handguard next to the handle; the curve makes it fit the water aesthetic. Next, we have a Lance called the Aqua Spear:

Hey, gotta have a trident in here somewhere, right? Having a membrane between the trident’s points and the shield’s spikes is a nice touch, and I like how the shield looks with that ring of green surrounding its core. But I gotta have a weird weapon somewhere in here, so here’s a Bow called the Dragonhead Harp:

Yes, this is a Plesioth weapon. No, there are no other monster materials used in it that could say otherwise. I honestly don’t know why it looks like this, but it has the Outset Island aesthetic from LoZ: Wind Waker. It even looks like it could be a cannon for your ship in Phantom Hourglass. There is one thing linking this with Plesioth, though: the “feathers” on the arrows in the quiver are made from Plesioth fins. It’s a small detail that really brings the weapon together. As for the armor, there’s unfortunately not any pictures of normal Plesioth armor on its equipment page, and I don’t wanna scrounge around the wiki, so here’s the Gunner version of the “G” armor from MHFG:

I mean, I get it; it’s a diver’s wetsuit with Plesioth fins. The problem I have with it is that there’s not much Plesioth there; the only things here that I can confirm to be from Plesioth are the fins that serve as details, not the main makeup. But there’s another armor set that...look, I had to show it, all right? It’s called the “Apukaru” armor, and while it’s made from both Plesioth and Hermitaur parts, I think there’s enough Plesioth there to warrant showing it here:

Is this armor for hunting monsters or going for a leisurely dive in the Bahamas? Okay, the diving suit the female set is based off of is most certainly not used for leisure, but you get my point, right? This is straight up diving gear made for war! The red parts match up with Hermitaur, but the fins and scales are all Plesioth, and they’ve done some really clever things with the former. First, both suits have the fin membranes as the membranes on their flippers, which is to be expected, but then you look at the female set and realize that the crown on top of the diving helmet is made of the fin membrane. That’s kinda gross, but also hilarious. Also, why is there a princess crown on top of the diving helmet!? It’s such an unnecessary detail, but it adds so much. This equipment gets a 9/10 for being both aesthetically pleasing and goofy as all get-out.

Final Thoughts and Tally: I knew I was gonna like this monster as long as they did it right, and they did it so well that it’s probably my favorite monster in the series (not that I know of many, but semantics). The little details in its design, the fact that it’s dangerous on land and king in the water, the battle prowess, the equipment, and the fact that it’s a freaking shark dragon all make Plesioth the biggest fish in the pond. I’d say that it’s probably gonna go downhill from here, but oh, don’t worry. We’ve got some special guests coming soon. 8/10.

#monster hunter #monster hunter rating #zaph1337

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libermachinae · 3 years

Text

Fault Lines Under the Living Room

Part II: Breathe - Chapter 7: Filter Out

Also available on AO3 Summary: The pair continues to search for common ground. Word Count: 4818

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Working silently from there on, Ratchet and Rodimus cleaned, drained, and stacked every cube from the damaged crate. Rodimus pulled up his old music files, and though Ratchet mentally complained about the first few tracks, it gave them something to focus on other than each other.

Eventually, though, Rodimus’ mind did start to wander further than the music could reel him back in. What was behind the locked door? Ratchet said it was just recharge stations, but what if he was wrong? They still didn’t know where Arcee had gotten this ship and its cargo; how could they truly feel secure that they had found its worst secret? Especially given their own ship’s track record for transporting dangerous secret—

“The cargo bay’s got to be a disaster,” Ratchet said, just to break that line of thought before it could ensnare them both.

“Knowing what kind of firepower Cons take with them on an afternoon walk, we’re probably lucky the whole ship didn’t get blow up,” Rodimus said.

Ratchet did a commendable job trying not to laugh, save for the fact that he thought about it. Despite everything, Rodimus grinned.

“We should go check it out,” he said, dumping the cube in his hands into the drum before standing up. “Whatever’s down there has got to be more exciting than this.”

“Not so fast,” Ratchet said, mind and optics still on the task. “We need to finish this. Every moment we waste is more fuel lost.” The puddle that had formed from the yet-undiscovered broken cubes was sizable, but the pile that yet remained was not.

“We can mop it up,” Rodimus said. Feeling the way Ratchet balked at the idea (unsanitary, he called it, even though that fuel was going straight to the engines anyway), he shrugged and took a step back. “Or not. You can keep working on this while I scope it out.”

And risk Rodimus finding another artifact that—that blew them up? No, absolutely not.

“We’ll go down together,” Ratchet said, and he would hear no argument.

But Rodimus had built his reputation on insubordination, and he said as much, out loud, unaware he had done so. He spun around and marched to the stairs, Ratchet’s bolt of panic only adding to his frustration. He wasn’t some freshly forged protoform, so accident prone as to be literally dripping with corrosive material.

No, Ratchet agreed, he was an adult bot with a lifetime of experience and not a lick of wisdom to show for it: infinitely more dangerous.

“I try,” Rodimus snapped. He didn’t want to, but it felt good. “Not all the time, because I’m an idiot, but I do try to do the right thing and learn from my mistakes. I don’t hang on to people who have betrayed me and I try to keep myself out of situations that have screwed me in the past. And then I still get knocked down sometimes because life sucks life that, but it’s not—I’m not—” Lazy. Selfish. Stupid.

He hated that not only could Ratchet hear the words, but could feel how they burned Rodimus and made the hate he felt towards himself just that much sharper. So, it took him a moment to realize that Ratchet’s head had not gone silent, but was instead repeating Rodimus’ words back at him as he analyzed them. Great, he wanted to form an opinion.

“I’m trying to understand,” Ratchet shot back. Still annoyed, but in the chronic sense Ratchet was known for. “You’re so—” Impossible. “—defensive. I don’t know one moment to the next whether you’ll be apologizing for something or making excuses.”

“I’m not trying to make excuses,” Rodimus said. He shouldn’t be looking at the ground, but Ratchet’s gaze was painful. “I don’t like other people telling me how I think.” Even though you can see it now. You don’t get it.

Ratchet didn’t get it. He didn’t understand how anyone could function with that much going on at once, so much of it conflicting and bouncing off each other. Of course Rodimus would be prone to make mistakes, when getting a coherent thought in was next to—

“Stop saying that!” Rodimus snapped.

“I didn’t say anything!”

“You know what I mean!”

“So, I’m the one who has to control what I think?”

“If it’s so easy for you.”

It wasn’t easy. It took effort to not think about something (like Drift, like Delphi, like how impossible Rodimus was), and Ratchet was already expending enough of that trying to keep himself calm.

“Sorry to have made you waste the energy,” Rodimus huffed, not sorry at all.

“It’s—” And Ratchet stopped himself before he could make this worse, because Rodimus was right about one thing: it was a waste of energy to keep fighting, especially when he could barely keep track of what they were fighting about.

You hate me, Rodimus automatically supplied.

“No, stop it,” Ratchet said. “That’s not useful.”

“Truth’s not always useful,” Rodimus shot back, like a discount Primeism.

Ratchet felt bad about thinking that the moment Rodimus caught it.

“Look, kid,” he said, careful not to meet Rodimus’ optics. There was only so much Rodimus he could handle at once. “I don’t hate you. I don’t,” he insisted when he felt Rodimus’ disbelief. “You don’t need me to tell you again that you’ve made mistakes, but if that alone was worthy of being hated for, I’d be a slagging lonely bot.” He touched his chevron and let the weight of his helm rest on his hand. “You’re as angry at yourself as I was, which tells me you want to change. It’s more practical for me to believe that and help you where I can than to keep holding on to this.”

It would be hard. There were some who would find Rodimus’ mistakes unforgivable, and rightly so; not everyone was lucky enough to crawl back from the pits. But Ratchet’s resentment was not planted so deep, and with effort on both their parts, he knew it could be uprooted.

“However I make it seem on a bad day, I don’t actually want us to be miserable the whole way there,” he finished. He was a healer. It would be unfaithful to his vows to keep inflicting this emotional harm on them both.

He glanced down at the task they had abandoned in favor of arguing. At least one or two cubes were still leaking, but Rodimus had a point that the fuel loss would be negligible. They could take a break to explore the rest of their ship.

“I don’t need an escort,” Rodimus said. Despite seeing the rationale behind Ratchet’s decision, his thoughts still felt prickly and uncomfortable. He didn’t trust Ratchet to keep his word.

“I know,” Ratchet said. “I’m not supervising you. You’re right that we don’t know what’s down there. I’ll be there to watch your back.” And you’ll watch mine.

And I’ll watch yours. Their thoughts overlapped and rather than clash, they blended.

They ventured down together, Rodimus in the lead while Ratchet followed at a more sedate pace, taking in the details as he could. Not that there was much order to be found in the mess. The contents of the hold, already thrown into disarray by Rodimus’ frantic search, now seemed beyond any hope of order: weapons and their parts lay among repair tools, containers of unknown fluids smashed open and dripping into delicate electronics.

Half of this stuff was probably unsalvageable, Ratchet thought, and the rest were weapons: handguns, shotguns, cannons, and grenades of every variety. Rodimus even noticed a few swords among the mix, though none so nice as Drift’s. Ratchet pressed at how he could judge the quality of a sword, and Rodimus idly admitted that he couldn’t. They just didn’t look as cool.

“Sorry,” he said. He didn’t mean to keep coming back to Drift.

“I get it,” Ratchet said as he stepped further in, going for a cabinet that might hold something other than weapons. “He’s very present.”

“He’s spooky like that.” Rodimus took Ratchet’s interest as permission to begin exploring. He tiptoed as he went, careful not to disturb anything lest he start a chain reaction, but the piles and mess were already settled. Nothing moved as he waded in.

Rodimus wondered how it would feel to Drift, to be approached by a Decepticon ship chock full of weapons.

“Not like we can do anything about it,” Ratchet said. The first couple drawers he had opened were full of disorganized ammo and magazines, but the third was a packed collection of promising metal boxes. He pulled one out.

“I wasn’t actually asking,” Rodimus clarified as he finally reached down to extract a handgun.

“I know,” Ratchet said. The lid was stuck tight; if there were medical supplies inside, he would need some way to test they were still usable.

“So, you didn’t need to answer.” It wasn’t a gun at all, it turned out: it was a grappling hook.

“You’re going to get one whether I intend to or not.”

“Fair point.” Rodimus aimed the grappling hook across the room, wondering what its range was.

“Don’t you dare,” Ratchet warned, right as he popped off the lid. He discovered inside a few vials of unlabeled powders and fluids. They looked like the ingredients to produce some of the more common data dampeners, but without a test kit Ratchet had no way to be sure.

Rodimus lowered the grappling hook, mildly annoyed, but Ratchet’s thoughts caught his curiosity and he came circling back.

“Can I see?” he asked, holding out his hand. Ratchet obliged and Rodimus took the box, peering closely at the contents.

“Yeah, it’s a syk kit,” he said, tucking the grappling hook under one arm so he could pull out a vial and hold it to the light. “Nice one, too. I thought Kimia was the only place you could get materials that fine.”

“Decepticons had their own labs,” Ratchet said, though he also would not have been surprised to learn that the cross-faction drug trade had gone beyond the cheaper to produce circuit boosters.

“That’s true,” Rodimus said. He was getting an idea, and Ratchet immediately shook his head.

“No,” he said.

Rodimus’ expression was steady, but his emotions were expanding again. Some hurt, some curiosity, some frustration.

“It’s just an idea,” he said. “If I can calm down for little bits at a time, maybe we’ll be able to get through this without blowing up at each other anymore.”

“Do you have any idea how much sediment I’ve had to scrape off idiots’ brain cases?” Ratchet demanded. “A single impurity could cause your whole processor to melt down.” Even those he managed to recover never came back exactly as they had been. In best case scenarios, the changes weren’t apparent until after they had left his office: subtle shifts in mannerism, a change in fuel preference. The worst… Ratchet had seen a bot’s entire language core corroded as a result of bad materials. He didn’t care the depth of experience and knowledge Rodimus was broadcasting to him, it was a risk he wouldn’t allow any friend to take while they still had a choice.

Rodimus had faced worse in Nyon than a few bad trips, worse on the frontlines than suddenly coming back to consciousness with a gun in his hands. It wasn’t a solution, no, but at certain times it was the best a bot could hope for. Maybe right now happened to be one of them.

Ratchet tried to grab the box back, but his thoughts projected his intentions and Rodimus easily dodged him.

“People need you, Ratchet,” Rodimus said. “Not just Drift; everyone on the Lost Light relies on you.” Exaggeration, plain and simple. Rodimus ignored him. “If something were to happen to me, Ultra Magnus and Megatron can keep things running, but you need to get back in one piece.”

That wasn’t true, not in the slightest. And, Ratchet found, it didn’t matter.

“Not everything is about what’s best for other people,” he said. They were out here to look for a solution, and none were viable that did not result in both of them continuing their lives afterward as best they could.

He felt something quake in Rodimus, a distraction just powerful enough to give him a chance to grab the box back. He barely had a moment’s satisfaction, though, before a pounding emotion hit him with blunt force. It was deep, but not in the sense of a hole, where one might find safety or comfort; it was deep like the emptiness of space, yawning wider and more oppressive the deeper one sunk into it. Ratchet squeezed the box between his fingers, disengaging from Rodimus’ thoughts and retreating back into his own.

Ratchet stared at Rodimus, who from the outside looked normal. A bit tense, but no more so than he usually looked when they got into one of their spats. Had he not had this perfect window, he would have missed the storm entirely.

“Rodimus…” This was beyond his scope.

Rodimus opened his mouth, but he didn’t say anything. He was horrified.

He shouldn’t have seen that, Ratchet realized. Whatever injustice they might fight about next, whatever disagreement they came to over whether something was right or okay, nothing could excuse such a breach of privacy.

No one had ever seen that before. Certainly not Drift.

“Okay,” Ratchet said. Without turning around, he put the box back in the drawer and shut it. “Do you want to be alone?”

“God, yes,” Rodimus said. He had been doing so well not going to that place. Of course he had been a fool to hope he could keep it up a whole week, but he’d hoped to go a few days, at least, maybe wait until Ratchet was in recharge before he let himself fall back into—

“Come on,” Ratchet said. “Let’s go upstairs.” Out of the mess, the forgotten scraps of violence that had chased them throughout their lives.

Ratchet led them back up to the bridge and seated Rodimus in the captain’s chair. He wanted—he didn’t want—Primus, it was so hard to think when everything kept circling, he wished Ratchet hadn’t seen that—

“Can you teach me how to meditate?” Ratchet asked, using the tone of voice he was finding worked well to break them from a loop.

“Huh?” Despite that, it still took Rodimus a moment to understand. “I was terrible at it, remember? Couldn’t sit still.”

“And sometimes the worst students make the best teachers.”

Yeah, like he would know. Ratchet had probably aced every class he had ever been in.

That actually got a laugh out of him.

“Me?” Ratchet said. “Frag no, my early years were a disaster. Almost flunked out one semester, considered dropping out the next. If it hadn’t been for one of my instructors stepping in and deciding I was worth something, I probably wouldn’t have made it to my residency.”

Ratchet had been lucky in many ways. It was, of course, the Functionist Council that had decided he should go into medicine, and he had gone along with it out of the assurance that it was what he was built for. The early rhetoric had him thinking that he would be able to breeze through and grab his high-paying job on the way out; only once he was in the thick of it had he realized that not only was it a great deal of work to become a doctor, but there was also a real chance he could fail on the way. It had only been Glass and his kind yet brutal way of teaching that had helped Ratchet onto the right path.

Rodimus wasn’t sure what to do with all that information. Ratchet shrugged.

“It’s all ancient history,” he said. “Just hope I didn’t scare you off of trying to teach me.”

“I never agreed,” Rodimus said, but he was thinking about it. Even if they only managed a few minutes, a distraction would be good for them, anything to push them farther away from that.

“Come on,” Ratchet said, helping him up again.

It only took a few minutes to hack their way into the recharge closets at the back of the ship. On an Autobot vessel, the crew’s recharge docks would have shared a common room, but the Decepticons had divided them into four cramped compartments. Something about reducing the risk of getting stabbed in recharge, Ratchet suspected, not that he would have thought reduced visibility would help much. Half the rooms contained four berths each, stacked in two bunks, and the others each contained a single large slab likely meant for a heavy.

The bunks were just tall enough for a bot to crawl on for recharge, inadequate for sitting up straight, so they took over one of the larger berths. Perched at the foot, Rodimus watched in silence as Ratchet climbed on the other end and got himself situated.

“Am I doing this right?” he asked. For all the mindfulness seminars he had dozed through, Ratchet had very little idea of what actually went into meditating. He had stumbled into Drift practicing a couple times in out of the way yet distinctly visible spots, but he had not bothered to inspect the minutia of his activity. The one exception had been the time he had stumbled upon Drift with his foot twisted up behind his head, but he had never figured out whether that was supposed to be meditation or just showing off.

“Um.” Rodimus thought back. “Sit however’s comfortable for you. But, like, actively.” A straight back was the most important thing. When Rodimus had started fidgeting, Drift had let him try it standing up, and then gently pacing. He doubted Ratchet would have that problem, though, so they stuck with sitting side by side, their legs dangling off the berth.

“And now?” Ratchet asked.

“Power down your optics,” Rodimus said. Drift had offered a soft reassurance here, that they were alone and safe, but Rodimus doubted he could capture the same sense of security Drift imparted, so he skipped it. “Don’t do anything yet. Just sit with it. Pay attention to your body. Think—I mean. Feel it. How it feels.”

As though Ratchet could ever get away from feeling his body, the persistent aches and tugs that accompanied years of poor maintenance. Their exchange did not include physical sensations, but Rodimus could feel Ratchet’s reaction to them and winced in sympathy.

“Is yours really much better?” Ratchet countered. “Can’t remember the last time I got you in for a tune-up.”

Was Rodimus comfortable in his own body? He wasn’t sure. He hadn’t paid attention to it in—

Right, meditating. They were meditating. He quickly reeled himself back in, trying to pay attention to the way the cables in his right shoulder twitched without actively thinking about them.

“Don’t crank your fans, but if your systems are running hot, try to cool yourself down,” he said. “Filter out the warm air until you’re comfortable.”

This had been one of their stumbling points, because Rodimus always ran hot due to the combination of an inefficient alt-mode and his poorly optimized flameout mod. They had eventually agreed it was best to just have Rodimus running his fans throughout, but he knew that wasn’t the right way to do it.

Ratchet nudged the thought—he might be able to do something about that, once they had a proper medbay again—but he didn’t comment out loud.

“And now… don’t try to stop your thoughts. Let them come to you, but don’t dwell on them. Acknowledge them and then move on.” Drift had suggested anchoring himself to the beat of his fuel pump, but not-thinking about it had caused it to speed up until he couldn’t sit still anymore and had to move. Then had come the trinkets: a ball he could roll between his palms, or a long shard of crystal to tumble through his fingers over and over again. Practicing with them had brought Rodimus the closest he had come to understanding what Drift was on with all his talk about inner peace.

Rodimus had no idea what had become of those things when Drift left. Maybe Drift would have wanted to take the crystals with him, but Ultra Magnus probably confiscated the rest when he did the final room sweep. He didn’t even know where that stuff had ended up, whether Drift’s possessions had been thrown away or—

Broadcasting his intentions with his thoughts but otherwise staying quiet, Ratchet pulled from his subspace a laser pointer and pushed it into Rodimus’ empty hands. The button at the end would depress a decent distance before it settled with a click, and Rodimus’ thumb immediately sought it out, testing it a few times before it settled into a rhythm.

Thanks, he thought.

Don’t mention it, Ratchet sent back. Just letting the thoughts go, right?

Right, Rodimus thought, and then he did just that, letting Drift slip to the back of his processor. Always there, especially as of late, but not dominating. Just waiting.

Click. Click. Click. Ratchet was good at this. Ratchet was really good at this.

His job wasn’t always snap decisions and pinpoint accuracy. In the smoldering years, a lot of Ratchet’s time was spent performing basic maintenance work, the same procedure a hundred or thousand times over. Thoughts had a tendency to turn dark in situations like that, so he had become adept at keeping his processor empty.

Click. Click. Click. Rodimus was reminded of drill routines and perimeter sweeps, but that was as far as he let the thought go. He settled again.

Click. Click. Click. Click click. Click. Click click. Click.

No commanding officer would sponsor a mod that introduced so much randomization to a battle, so Rodimus had had to go through back channels to get it, chatting up anonymous specialists on the intranet until he found someone he could both afford and reach between assignments. He had never gotten his name—Accupunch was not a name any MTO could have snagged—and the only note made on his patient file was for a blown tire (which had been real; the first time he tested the mod, he hadn’t known to adjust his tire pressure ahead of time).

He felt Ratchet’s frown like a wave. He would definitely be taking a look at it. Later.

Right. Meditating. They were meditating.

Click click. Click. Click click. Click. Click click. Click. Click click. Click. Click click. Click. Click click. Click.

The noise was starting to grate on Ratchet’s nerves.

Rodimus onlined his optics to find himself staring down at the laser pointer in his hands.

“This isn’t gonna work,” he whispered.

It just takes practice, Ratchet thought.

“I’m talking about everything,” Ratchet said. He squeezed the laser pointer; he wanted to throw it at the wall. “Cleaning the ship and finding Drift and surviving long enough to do it. It’s not going to work! We’re too different; the things we do just to function are too incompatible.” No matter how much effort they put in, there had never been a chance this would work. “You’re all—all patience and find details and compassion.” In the most jagged possible way. “And I’ve gotten through on charm and the occasional—” very occasional, always fleeting, but essential nonetheless “—handout of good luck. I’ve tried, but not the way you try, and I don’t care the way you care.” Ratchet didn’t take on vanity rescue missions; everything he did was for the good of someone else. “You’re going out there to find Drift—” because Ratchet was in love with him “—and I’m—”

Ratchet, who had been gripping Rodimus’ thoughts like he was trying to pull a tumbling speeder out of a nosedive, felt his hands slip.

“Now hold on,” he demanded, twisting so he was facing Rodimus. “I’m what?”

“You’re what?” Rodimus had already lost track of the thought. Luckily, it came bouncing back to him, echoed over and over as Ratchet’s precision processor analyzed and examined and tried to make sense of what Rodimus’ own had considered an inconsequential observation.

“I’m not—” But he was, and he had known. Of course he had known. How could anyone miss something so monumental, as discovering they would do whatever it took to keep one singular person (Just one! Not a planet, not a platoon, just one person!) safe and happy in a universe that seemed to conspire against it. Ratchet had known, but he hadn’t thought about it, not when Drift was alone and needed help, not—not another mess. Not this.

But Drift deserved to be loved, Rodimus pushed back.

“It’s not a bad thing,” he said out loud. Love was what had gotten Ratchet through the war, love of life and other people. It had the potential for destruction, but that was true of the Cybertronian as a whole. “Just… you know. Be reasonable about it.”

“Reasonable,” Ratchet repeated, with a huff that was as amused as it was self-deprecating.

“Make sure we get the pleasantries done before you sweep him off his feet,” Rodimus said. Though a joke, the suggestion did bring a snapshot to mind, just briefly: an orange sunset backdrop, Ratchet and Drift wrapped around each other and gazing into each others optics so fiercely it was as though the whole universe had ceased to exist. Like Rodimus, despite imagining it, had disappeared entirely.

Tagged onto the end of the thought, smothered with the rest as Rodimus desperately tried to turn his processor to the problem of how they would convince Drift they had come in peace, was a note of jealousy.

Ratchet noticed it. His optics snapped to Rodimus, and the latter refused to meet them.

Drift deserved to be loved without reservation, by someone ready to put their whole being into it. Rodimus wasn’t even sure he was built for such a task.

“Hey now, where’s that coming from?” Ratchet asked. Functionist nonsense.

The quivering mass that represented Rodimus’ many, many failures shook loose of his careful hold. Ratchet felt the weight of it, similar to that—

“Everybody makes mistakes, Rodimus,” Ratchet said. He was trying to be gentle without patronizing, and while he didn’t quite manage it, Rodimus caught his intent and was grateful. “Me, Prime, Drift. Your mistakes are serious, and they’ve had consequences, but that’s the reality if you want to be someone important. You’re going to fail at important things. That doesn’t mean you’re built wrong.” With some uncertainty, not immediately soothed by Rodimus’ responding confusion, he breached the gap between them and laid his hand over Rodimus’.

You can love, he thought, the kind of words he could never say out loud.

Rodimus caught them anyway. Still a little confused and equally uncertain but with the boldness that had already gotten him this far in life, he flipped his hand over so that he and Ratchet held the laser pointer between them.

“I admit, I haven’t been the best so far at this… partnership,” Ratchet said. When Rodimus balked and made to interrupt, he shook his head. “No, really. I gripe and complain because that’s what I do, but the truth is, you’re trying. I’m not saying this is going to make it any easier, but I need to start trying, too.” He squeezed Rodimus’ hand.

Rodimus, for once, was empty. He didn’t know what to think about that, so for a moment he just floated, until eventually Ratchet’s steady march of thoughts reeled him back in again. He grinned and released Ratchet’s hand, pushing himself off the massive berth.

“Fuel?” he asked. They had gone to the trouble of sorting all those cubes; might as well make some use of them.

“Sure,” Ratchet said, following at a more sedate pace. Maybe afterward, they could work out how recharging was going to work in their current state. Any peace they found would be short lived if they couldn’t work that out.

“You think the berths will work for us if we’re not Decepticons?” Rodimus asked as he walked backwards to the bridge.

Ratchet had no idea. But if not, it was something to work on, another puzzle to solve. And it turned out the two of them together were better at that than he would have expected. Maybe it would still be a challenge. Maybe they would get angry and think hurtful things of each other and be overly offended by that which neither could control. But that too was just a problem to solve. They could figure it out.

Rodimus grinned at him. A little nervous, but hopeful. He trusted Ratchet, and the feeling he got in return was so similar he almost missed the fact that it hadn’t come from himself.

#maccadam #transformers #ratchet #rodimus #my writing #longfic #fault lines

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cinebration · 4 years

Text

Down to the Shore (Proinsias Cassidy x gender neutral!Reader) [One-shot]

Premise: You meet Cassidy at a casino bar and decide to help him experience something new.

Some of my feelings about Cassidy and how he was treated definitely come through here…

Tagged: @dearestmrdarcy, @lexa-ships-shit, @randomnessobsessionsandshit, @dynamite-warhead

Warnings: mild language

Gif Source: vsnom

Cassidy didn’t tell Tulip or Jesse he had returned to the States. Instead, he skirted past Texas and headed to Las Vegas. He had been feeling particularly lucky, and when luck called, so did the games of chance.

He lost everything but enough money for a drink at the casino bar.

Taking it in good humor, he trudged over to the bar and ordered a Guinness before lounging against the thick-paneled counter, his glance wandering around the place.

Two seats down, crowded against the wall that the bar counter abutted, you sat nursing a drink you barely tasted, one hand fisted in your now-lackluster hair. You stared intensely at the glass, peering through to the bottom.

A heavy sigh slipped past your lips, your vision wavering as tears pushed their way to the surface.

“‘O my dark Rosaleen, do not sigh, do not weep!’”

The Irish accent and the sudden presence of a body to your left made you jerk up your head.

A wide, careless smile graced a skinny, scruffy, pale face beneath a head of short brown hair. You leaned back, letting your gaze sweep over the rest of him. Skinny, gangly, wearing clothes that looked like they had been raided from the lost and found at a police station. Tattoos running down the length of both arms, more peeking out from underneath his shirt collar.

Overall, the kind of guy you wouldn’t have looked twice at but for the words he had said and the sincere look in his green eyes. Eyes that concealed deep sadness.

“What?”

“It’s from a poem,” he explained. “An Irish one. ‘My Dark Rosaleen.’ It’s really about Ireland, not a lady, on account of the British trying to kill everyone for loving their country at the time.”

You blinked. “…which time?”

He laughed. Despite your melancholia, you felt a moment’s elation at hearing the sincere sound.

The bartender brought him his pint. Leaning against the bar, a whole stool between you both, Cassidy sucked deeply from the glass and glanced aside at you. You still looked sad, almost as much as he felt, but at least a faint smile touched your lips.

“Whatcha almost cryin’ into your glass for?” he asked.

The smile slipped. Looking away, you thumbed away some of the perspiration on the glass’s exterior. “Can’t a body just be sad?”

“Sure, but usually there’s a reason.”

You shrugged. “I’d rather be sad than happy.”

Cassidy suddenly thought of Eccarius. The memory sideswiped him. He heard his own words back to his old lover: “I’d rather be sad.”

Yanking his attention back from that pain, he gazed at you over the rim of his drink. Perhaps it was the sadness—the self-inflicted, somewhat voluntary sadness—in you that was calling to him. He wasn’t quite sure.

He wasn’t quite sure why he had recited Irish poetry upon seeing your face, either.

“I’m Cassidy,” he said, extending a hand.

You took it hesitantly and gave your name in return.

“Lovely name.”

“Sure,” you muttered.

“Well, I’ve just lost a shiteload of cash at the tables. I thought I was lucky tonight, but apparently not. So, will you drink with me?”

You side-eyed him, weighing the decision. You hadn’t even finished the one drink, so you weren’t in danger of getting drunk. He seemed like the type not to have the money to pay for more than two or three drinks at a place like this. One, if you were being realistic.

“I’m not paying for your drinks,” you said, guarded.

“I can pay for it myself, thank you.” Fishing out a crumpled ten from his pocket, he slapped it on the bar for the bartender and turned back with a satisfied smile. “That’s all I’ve got, so this”—he lifted his glass—“is all I’m drinking, which is a cryin’ shame, but it is what it is.”

Fingers tapping out a syncopated rhythm on the bar, you slowly nodded. Cassidy slid onto the stool beside you, somehow grinning wider. He raised his drink to yours.

“Did you know, the origin of this,” he said, clinking his glass against yours, “is from way back when, when people would poison each other’s drinks all the time? They’d toast so that their drinks got all mixed together, that way if one of them had been poisoned, they’d all be poisoned together.”

To your surprise, you barked out a short laugh. “I…did not know that.”

“I am a wealth of trivia. I should get on a game show.”

“You look like you’d be hot shit on one.”

His turn to blink now. “Thank you,” he said, genuinely. “I really think I could.”

“What’s keeping you? LA is only five hours away.”

“Well, I have never seen the Pacific Ocean…”

“Really? That’s the crying shame right there. Sort of.” You wrinkled your nose as memory assaulted you. “It smells…salty.”

“I hate to break it to you, love, but oceans are made of salt.”

“In a bad way. Salty and seaweedy…too much seaweed. And it just smells bad all the time. Like a salt marsh. There’s always some dead animal on the sand.”

“Still sounds lovely.”

You laughed again. Cassidy’s heart thudded in his chest. Turns out Tulip wasn’t the only one he could make laugh.

The laughter dying down, you paused to scrutinize the Irishman. He ducked his head beneath your gaze, almost bashful in the face of your naked glance.

You made a decision.

“You wanna go?” you asked.

“Go where?”

“To the Pacific Ocean.”

His eyebrows arched high on his large forehead. “To the ocean? Are you serious?”

“I’m headed out to LA anyway. An extra hour to the beach won’t be too much trouble.”

“It’s the middle of the night.”

“You don’t want to go, then?”

He snorted. “I didn’t say that.”

“Then finish your drink and we’ll be on our way.”

“Okay,” he said, his grin stuck permanently on his face with giddiness.

He drained the glass in one go.

The whole six-hour drive was filled with talk. Cassidy ranted about The Big Lebowski, which you claimed to never have seen to avoid a potential argument.

“Sometimes,” you said, however, “people need stupid shit to watch or read to get them out of their own heads for a while.”

He huffed. “That’s fair, I s’pose.”

By the time you had nearly reached Los Angeles South Bay—not the prettiest beach, but Cassidy had said he hadn’t seen the Pacific Ocean, not a particular beach—you felt like you had known the man forever. There was something about the way he approached things that felt like a cool breeze on a hot desert night.

It was endearing.

You pulled up outside the beach parking lot, killed the engine.

The water gleamed in the half-moonlight, stretching on endlessly to meet the dark sky on the far horizon.

Cassidy went silent, staring out over the water. You glanced at him, trying to read the expression there. Instead of awe or reverence, the facade of carefree humor fell, replaced with melancholia matching your own.

“My best friends don’t know I’m here,” he said suddenly, his voice solemn, heavy.

You frowned. “Do you need to make a call?”

“Not like that.” He shook his head. “They don’t know I’m back in America.”

“Why haven’t you told them?”

He paused, leaned his head against the window. “I love them, I really do. But…they hurt me. I let them hurt me, because I love them. But it still hurts.”

Your chest tightened. Grasping his hand in yours, you squeezed, not sure what to articulate in words. He glanced at you in surprise. His hand squeezed back in gratitude.

“They say that love is giving people the power to hurt you,” you said slowly, “but I think that’s bullshit. That’s something people say so they don’t feel so bad when they get hurt. What they don’t say is that you deserve better. Real love is from the ones who soothe the hurt and know how to pick you back up and put you back together.”

Tears glimmered in his eyes. Sniffing, he wiped roughly at his face, not so much trying to hide them as he was trying to wipe them away.

“Thank you,” he whispered hoarsely. “I needed to hear that.”

Patting his hand, you leaned back and sighed, feeling some of your own sadness shift, lifted momentarily by the connection with this man. The realization startled you, but for once, it didn’t bother you. Beside you was a man who knew sadness as deeply as your own, if not deeper, but it wasn’t sadness that perpetuated in the presence of similar feelings. It seemed to be having the opposite effect.

A negative and a negative makes a positive, you thought. Only broken people know how to handle the broken.

“You ready to smell this shit?” you asked him, smirking.

He sniffed again, nodded. “I don’t think it’ll smell that bad. I’ve been to other oceans and they didn’t.”

You opened the door. The summer wind flooded into the car.

“Jaysus,” Cassidy cried, laughing and choking on it at the same time. “It really is shite!”

“Told ya.” Stepping out of the car, you gestured for him to follow. “What if I told you you’ll freeze your balls off if you get in the water?”

He got out of the car. “No way. It’s summertime.”

“The Pacific is, like, fifteen degrees colder than the Atlantic, my friend.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“I was right about the smell, wasn’t I?”

He grinned, teeth flashing white in the moonlight, and followed you down to the shore.

#Proinsias Cassidy x Reader #Cassidy x Reader #Proinsias Cassidy #Proinsias Cassidy imagine #Cassidy #gender neutral reader #Joe Gilgun #Joseph Gilgun #Preacher #Preacher AMC #Proinsias Cassidy x gender neutral Reader #Cassidy x gender neutral reader #Joe Gilgun imagine #Joseph Gilgun imagine

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soyeahitsmiddleearth · 4 years

Text

Return Her pt. 3

The Company (and friends) x Reader

Bard the Bowman is quite accommodating (and cute too), but how will the others feel about you clicking so easily with him?

No amount of words or hyperbolic phrase can express the joy you feel when you see Bilbo coming in clutch with a ring of keys and a big smile on his face.

First he releases Thorin, and then you.

When he sees your disheveled appearance and swollen face he falters and looks as if he wants to say something. Bilbo says nothing, but his eyes linger on you as he goes to free some of the others.

Thorin immediately approaches you to you while Bilbo frees everyone else, his hand reaching up to lightly press against your warm cheek. “I told you Master Baggins would have a plan."

You nod your head once, a smile brightening your features, "You did, and you were right.”

Once everyone is freed from their confines Bilbo ushers you all down to some sort of cellar, kitchen thing.

The first thing you notice are the unconscious guards - passed out drunk - behind the large shelf the hobbit snuck you behind. In front of you all is a huge pyramid of barrels and you can’t help but to stare at it with confusion.

The others speak in hushed whispers when Bilbo tells everyone to get into the barrels, and though a bunch of them protest Thorin shuts it down and tells them to just trust him.

Everyone files into a barrel each, and while you have to bend your legs awkwardly in order to fit into your own, you end up fitting rather well.

Bilbo stands a few paces in front of everyone and you find yourself wondering what he’s going to do next.

Suddenly there is shouting that comes from somewhere else and the guards start to stir, and right away Bilbo rushes over to a lever just out of the way and pulls it.

The next thing you know, your stomach drops and the barrels drop into a large body of running water.

Your head goes under and you breathe in the water unintentionally, panicking internally before your head resurfaces.

When you break the surface of the water you gasp loudly, pressing your hand to your chest as you hack and cough up the water you accidentally choked down.

You don’t have much time to recover before your barrel begins to drift away, like everyone else’s.

There’s a splash from behind you, and when you look back you see that Bilbo has jumped in.

He flails and grabs at air, trying to find something - anything - to hold onto.

You lean over the side of your transportation and grab for him, getting a hold of his hands and hauling him closer so to try and pull him up. “C-Climb in!” You cry.

Your efforts to hoist him up don’t do you any good, though, because he can’t get enough momentum to pull himself in nor do you have the upper body strength to lift him.

When you realize that you cannot keep ahold of him anymore you pass Bilbo along to a dwarf much stronger than you so he won’t drown, and the relief is instant.

A lot happens between escaping and getting in the water, and when the Orcs try to kill all of you because they decided now was a great time to show up, you found hopelessness seeping into you.

Even worse? The water gates are closed and now you’re all stuck, barrels bumping into each other as Thorin yells his internal distress.

Kili decides to play hero and jumps out of his barrel, running up to pull the lever while also fighting orcs on his way, when suddenly an arrow shoots through the air.

At first it seems like Kili doesn’t realize what happened, but then he collapses with a cry.

“Kili!” Fili yells in anguish.

You begin to try and get out of your barrel, yelling his name as well, when an orc gains on him with it’s weapon raised. Another arrow splits through the air and this time it’s from an ally, for it kills the orc and Kili is out of harms way.

Your gaze snaps to the source of the projectile and see the red-headed elf Tauriel.

As soon as you see her you whoop and pump your fist in the air, “Yes!"

Her gaze slides over you and an expression akin to relief passes over her countenance, but you don’t get long to think on it for abruptly the gates open and everyone starts to flow out of the underpass.

Kili flops over the side and lands into his barrel, a gross snap resounding as the end of the arrow breaks off and flies in some random direction.

The expression on his face is pained, but when you try to inquire on if he’s okay the roaring of the water drowns you out.

Things move very quickly after that.

You grip onto your barrel for dear life as you fall down a short waterfall, head going under again, and when you resurface you splutter and cough loudly, your eyes and throat beginning to burn.

You’re vaguely aware of Orcs being killed around you and the elves chasing after the foul beasts, but you’re too dazed from the fast pace of things to properly process anything.

When an arrow pierces just under your hand, though, you sober up.

Since there isn’t any way that you can help anyone against the Orcs attacking you all, you begin to try and steer your barrel as it swerves left and right so they don’t have to worry about your safety.

The elves kill the orcs along the way and, probably unintentionally, keep you all safe. The blond-elf Legolas, who separated you from everyone at the beginning, gets saved by Thorin while he’s distracted with some other orcs.

You would’ve liked to see how the rest of it plays out, but one of the beasts jumps onto your barrel and swings it’s long sword seemingly out of nowhere; and to avoid losing your head, you duck down further into your barrel.

You vaguely make out the sound of someone calling your name, but the rushing water is so loud you can’t decipher who it is nor how close they are.

Something whips through the air as it tries to stab into you, and when you look up there’s an arrow sticking in its head.

It falls back and when you poke your head back up you see Tauriel looking at you with her bow still drawn.

You cup your hands over your mouth and yell, "Thanks, hot-stuff!” And then go back your barrel steering.

—

Many different things transpire after all the excitement.

For example Kili had to be tended to, Thorin started to be pushy and complain about losing time, oh and a bargeman is now smuggling you all on his boat for gold after threatening to kill Ori.

Everyone is now huddled together at the front of said bargeman’s boat, and after Oin took a look at the bruises so unfairly inflicted upon your arms and face he leaves you to your own devices at the back of the ship with the bargeman you now know as Bard.

They are all discussing the payment they owe, but since you have nothing to offer up (other than yourself which, I mean hey this guy is pretty good looking) you stay out of it.

Bard looks on ahead at the waters to avoid killing you all in a crash, though his gaze flickers down to you ever so often with curiosity sparkling in his lovely greys *I have no freaking clue what color his eyes are*.

He then speaks softly, “This companionship you have with the dwarves… is it mutual?”

It takes you a moment to figure out what he’s implying before you realize how this all must look. A battered human girl quietly tagging along with a group of male dwarves, disheveled, bruised, and being timidly quiet away from the others curled up on yourself (for warmth, but he doesn’t know that).

Your face heats up and you nod your head frantically, “A-Ah, no… Er, yes. It’s mutual. I’m fine. They’re my friends, I just… ah, ran into trouble with the elves is all…”

His eyes look out over the water again and he nods his head, “I don’t doubt their honor, I am only making sure… But I never knew elves to be violent like that.” He looks at you again and you can see that he doesn’t completely believe your words.

“I know… The elf king, Thranduil I think, wanted me to tell him something but I didn’t wanna. I guess he’s just not used to someone telling him to screw off.” You smile cheekily (ignoring the throbbing that takes place when you do), and Bard seems taken aback before a smile of his own works its way to his face.

“I suppose,” he pauses for a moment, then muses, “The way you speak is odd. I’ve never heard someone quite like you before.”

Ah shoot, you forgot that you’re supposed to be blending in better.

“Oh… yes. Um, I come from a place where.. speech patterns are much different. You see-” You’re cut off by one of the dwarves calling your name.

You sigh dramatically and stand, offering the bargeman a kind smile, “Forgive me. I have to see what those brats want.” Without further chit chat you turn and approach them, hands on your hips while you look down at them expectantly.

“What is it?”

They all stare at you for a few moments before Thorin speaks, “Why do you talk to him so? You’re not giving anything away now, are you?”

You just stare at him quietly with annoyance clear on your face. Like, did he really just ask that? After getting hit around and stuff for them you’d think he’d trust you a bit more.

“Of course not! After taking all of this”, you gesture to your face and arms, “to stay silent from that elf guy, for you, do you really think I’d go blabbing off to some man we all just met?” That sure silences them.

“Maybe you shouldn’t talk to him so much. We don’t know him.” Dwalin grunts out earning an eye roll from you.

“I’ll talk to whoever I want thank you very much. I don’t need permission from any of you, I’m a big girl and a big girl can have friends.”

“Male friends?” This time it’s Fili, and you sigh loudly.

“Oh, you too? You’re all men! And you’re the only friends I have. How must that look?” Everyone goes quiet again, and this time you smile triumphantly. “That’s what I thought. Now… Bard, our host, is awfully lonely over there and I’m going to speak to him again- and you won’t say a word about it.” And you leave before anyone can say anything else.

Dwalin grumbles something under his breath, and Thorin simply rolls his eyes while Fili mumbles his discontent to his agreeing brother. Even Bofur, Nori, and Dori are sneaking glances over at the two of you conversing every so often.

It’s safe to say that they are rather jealous.

#kili #fili #legolas #romance #reader insert #thorin oakenshield #thorins company #fanfic #the hobbit fanfiction #the hobbit bilbo #the hobbit #the company of thorin oakenshield #tauriel #the company x reader #reader #return her #tolkien #return her pt. 3

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ship-to-hell · 4 years

Note

Estinien/Alphinaud – A, C, D, H, L, AA, AL!

...I was briefly very confused, because the ship meme I last reblogged shows up as numbers on my dashboard but apparently as letters on my actual BLOG. What the hell, tumblr code?

ANYWAY.

A: How do they fall asleep? Wake up? Any daily rituals?

They fall asleep wrapped in each other’s arms!...is what I’d like to say. In actual fact, Estinien is a furnace, so in most weather they make a valiant attempt at doing so before reluctantly disengaging to separate sides of the bed with only an outstretched hand as their absolutely necessary physical contact. Alphinaud tends to wake earlier than Estinien, who will sleep (and snore) for ten hours straight if nobody stops him.

As for daily rituals?...Once they get a chance to simply be together, without the fate of the world in the balance, they discover quickly that they enjoy making and eating breakfast together. (Estinien does most of the cooking. Alphinaud is not to be trusted with anything more complicated than boiling water.)

C: Are they open about their relationship? How do they feel about public displays of affection?

Neither of them will deny their relationship if asked, but it’s amazing how long these things can go without ever being brought up. Estinien in particular isn’t one to volunteer much information; if it was up to him, they’d probably be married for years before he thought to tell the Scions. (Thankfully, Alphinaud is much better with people.) As for PDA, Alphinaud isn’t much of a fan--he’s trying to be dignified!--but Estinien has no problem slinging an arm around him or stealing a kiss in front of people. It makes Alphy blush forever. (He does this in front of Alphy’s parents once. Alphinaud nearly dies on the spot.)

D: First impression of each other? Was it love at first sight?

Estinien: “Poncy. Little. Shite...pretty, though, until he starts talking.”

Alphinaud: “Oh. Oh dear, he is terribly attractive. That voice...I wonder what he looks like under the helm?”

H: What do they like best about their partner?

Though he never admits it, Estinien loves Alphinaud’s kind heart and persistence. Even if the idealism makes him roll his eyes, he knows it’s people like that who change the world. His bravery, too, is amazing for someone who goes into battle with a book. (Not to mention his long legs, his bright eyes, his smile, his butt...)

Alphinaud, meanwhile, admires Estinien’s strong will. There’s something reassuring about being with someone who doesn’t dither or hesitate, and he can trust Estinien to never lie to or mislead him. Even if Esti’s grumpy, he can see the soft squishy marshmallow center beneath! (And then there’s his arms, his shoulders, his legs, Dat Ass...)

L: Is there a wedding? What was the proposal like? Any kind of honeymoon?

Alphinaud spends months planning the Perfect proposal, writing and rewriting a speech, fretting over how best to tell Estinien that he wants to spend his life with the man. Estinien torpedoes this one night after dinner, when he stretches out on the couch and asks “Say, do you want to get married?”

Their wedding, naturally, is the Society Event Of The Season. The son of the Leveilleurs marrying the former Azure Dragoon? That’s two city-states’ honor at risk! The ceremony, the venue, the wedding favors, the reception...it all has to be perfect. Not a hair out of place. And it’s amazing how the grooms smile and nod to everything their parents suggest! (Well, mostly Alphinaud. Estinien just grunts.) The end result is a radiant mixture of both cultures.

...This is because they got married in the Gold Saucer the weekend before. The honeymoon was in Costa del Sol and they didn’t leave the bed for a week.

AA: Do they have kids? Grow old together? Split up?

YOU KNOW THEY GROW OLD TOGETHER. Creaky retired Azure Dragoon with his acclaimed scholar/Archon/politician husband and like, three dogs. I can’t picture them having kids unless they adopt slightly older ones; neither of them strike me as Good With Small Children.

AL: What are they like in the bedroom? Any kinks/fetishes/turn-ons? Anything they won’t do?

Oh, they have fun. Estinien tends to be rough, but Alphinaud can give as good as he gets! They’re both rather fond of bondage, and Alphinaud likes to tease--especially since Estinien has a bit of a thing for seeing him in lingerie or in his clothes. When it comes to things they won’t do, neither one of them enjoys inflicting pain or (much) humiliation, though Estinien is capable of some amazing dirty talk.

#estinien #alphinaud #estinaud #fire the headcanons #Anonymous

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mrsunderhill678 · 3 years

Text

The last one liners of 2020!! Let’s go!

“Discoveries of self are only grand so long as they give you a deeper meaning, but all mine have done is haunted me.” - Calliger Cougar

“Justice that harms the innocent is no justice after all.” - Calliger Cougar

“I fear I have yet to meet all of me, and if this sinful being is what I have met, I fear what I have not.” - Calliger Cougar

"I've spent life searching for a deeper purpose, only to realize, all I had to do, was be me.” - Espekarla Killovitch

“It took so long to accept myself, so long, that I believed no one would ever accept me.” - Espekarla Killovitch

“Life can beat you down and make you someone you don't like, but soar above that. See the stars, burn in the sun, become ash so long as it's you.” - Espekarla Killovitch

“I am such a crime against myself.” - Duke Marston

“Loving me, I imagine, is a death sentence. Hold my heart only if you wish to place yourself on death row or the electric chair.” - Duke Marston

“I am no brave little mouse, I am no Desperaux, it is as if I am Borticelli, a sewer rat, feasting on my grime, throwing the brave little mouse to the crowd, allowing them to cheer as the cat bats at him like yarn, watching him bleed, watching him fight, if only to keep my throne." - Duke Marston (If you get this reference I will fucking love you)

How I yearn to be something other than this twisted creature, sitting upon a throne of other's blood and bone. But I never leave this throne, I never knock this life studded crown from my head. I guess that makes me haunted queen of the hill, fearing the descent yet staring down at the bottom, wondering what it would be like... To fall. But I fear my sister would catch me, deny this death wish of mine. She'd snag a cigarette from my lip if she knew it burnt my lungs. I fear myself, but she loves me, I'll never know why, I'm just a beast, a wicked creature of broken tusks and teeth. And my brother, he would carry the crucifix on his back and nail his palms to it's oak if he knew it'd spare me the trouble.” - Carlota Calico

“I am a cruel woman, my eyes glazed over with glossy regret, and yet all I do is weep the blood that I've spilled. I am a haunting of every grave I've dug, every life I took, and try as I may, it is never my blood I'll weep, but the blood of another.” - Carlota Calico

“My regret is spoken so much louder than my rage, it leaves me to wonder how my rage leaves more glasses shattered than my regret, when it's my hauntings that raise the decibels? They say to roll with life's punches, but what can a man do when the fists are his own?” - Max Tripp

“It was I who took my life and set it on fire. And everyone watched from the pyre as my ship sunk, and you know what? When this ship sinks, and I with it, I'll cheer along with those on the fucking pyre.” - Max Tripp

“I won't make it to heaven. I'd never pass the first step to the pearly gates, let alone a mile from the stairwell.” - Max Tripp

“I'm a gambling man, and I gambled this life of mine for a rusted lie and a nickel. Worth bout as much as me, I suppose.” - Max Tripp

“Raise a glass to the loveless man, raise a glass, for this shot of my tears and regret never runs dry.” - Max Tripp

“I'm tangled between my little flaws and my love for my children, I imagine my love for them heals me, I just... Wish it would heal, them.” Violetta Flint

“Is the world, perhaps, just as self destructive as we are, causing pain to those who love it?” - Violetta Flint

“I wish I could've protected my boy, but life took him down the beaten path too soon. I was supposed to protect him from the thorns on the rose, but he gripped it before I could. He bled before I could bleed in his place.” - Violetta Flint

“Life can be so terribly cruel to the kindest of people, but don't let cruelty make you cruel. Remember that kindness is never forged from an easy life.” - Violetta Flint

“Revenge is a luxury I can't God damn afford, yet here I am, payin' the fuckin' price.” - Andraak Flint

“With a single snap 'a my fingers I killed the light that basked my soul, stepped on my own back ta reach heaven, just ta kill the man who claims himself a god above others. Oh he's above others alright, but when I meet him eye to fuckin' eye, sins on my wrist, with my rage and love he stole from my still tremblin' hands, he ain't gon' be nuthin' but below me.” - Andraak Flint

“You must inflict pain to know my wrath, and for a man that's inflicted more pain than the end 'a times, I reckon I ought to be more wrathful than the God that decided it fit for him ta live.” - Andraak Flint

“Revenge is a luxury I can't afford, because the price is this life I've lived and the corpse 'a the man I hunt. Ta pay the price, I got ta die, cause ain't no man damned as I am, seein' more sunrises than the devil he seeks. So be it, may the sun rise without me, so long as it rises without Quentin." - Andraak Flint

“Sometimes, crime is survival, and you can condemn me all you want, but all I'm tryin' to do is stay on the topside of the concrete. An old friend always said his corpse had already dropped, that he was already buried beneath the skyscrapers and subways, that he was just another corpse of New York. And I agree. We're all just corpses of New York city, because this place in of itself is a corpse of dead concrete goliaths and lost souls once filled with hope.” - Angeles Vance

“We are the revolution, built of scars and corpses of New York, and maybe one day, they'll hear our battle cry and call us heroes. But it's more often than most that heroes are labeled lawless and cruel, before ever, they put an end to the very tyranny that labeled them, enemy of the world." - Angeles Vance

“Evil is often a torch, passed down from one ruler to the next, but I've found, that we only take the torch, for we fear he who holds it, only to fear our own hand, in the end.” - Theodore Malrosa

“All you'll ever need in a kill or be killed world is a six shooter and your sins on your sleeve.” - Theodore Malrosa

“I'm a ragged bone man, with fur drenched over my shoulders like a tattered cape, but in the shade, all they ever see is the silhouette of a hero's torn cape. Shade hides all, my friend, even the most damnable of offenses.” - Theodore Malrosa

“He who mocks the peasant will find himself bowing to his feet miles down the road, just ask the brother's of Joseph. For they mocked his dreams only to realize always was he a prophet, in all his glory, and his coat of every color only aggrandized his robe of dreams and prophecies to be.” - Theodore Malrosa

“I could drown in holy water and still, I'd be damned, all the holy water would do is grant me a painful death of scalding flesh and boiled blood. I wear a cross round my neck if only to remind me, I was once holy. But he who is nailed to the crucifix is often bled dry before ever he is forgiven.” - Arrow Holloway

“I sling these bullet casin's like regrets and charms, never knowin' what it is I'll get from this chamber. There's a spark in my chest, and I's long since learned, the spark in me chest and revolver are one in the fucking same.” - Arrow Holloway

“I am a hail of bullets in the crossfire, hittin' every soldier, I am the blood spilled and the bodies that drop. I suppose I'm everything death every grew, if only to be reaped for my simple existence. But it ain't simple, is it? Never were I 'spose, always was this life complex and bloody.” - Arrow Holloway

“I could face myself in a draw fight and still I'd lose.” - Arrow Holloway

“Take this ride 'a mine as you will, one of a wicked outlaw or a deputy corrupted by crimson burnin' justice, either way you spin the tale, you get blood spilled and bullets flyin', so I spose it don't matter which path ya take. It all ends the same. No matter what road you go down, there's a cliffside, a steeple or a river, and ain't none of em leadin' you ta salvation. Cause the biggest lie the preacher ever told is, "You're forgiven." - Arrow Holloway

“What is hope, really, but a single shared delusion of the human race? We cling to it so desperately, but it was never there, we were always battling ourselves and callin' a damn peace treaty. Cause when we fire against our selves, what do we call it? Freedom or murder of the highest degree?” Elliot Terminus

“We're either lambs or wolves, and only those with stained teeth'll make it through. We're already in hell, my friend, the demons are huntin' the angels and the sheep are bein' led to the slaughter. Ain't no sheep makin' it out with a white coat.” - Elliot Terminus

“I'd gladly wash myself in the blood of the lamb if it meant soakin' the fields.” - Elliot Terminus

“You think the flock is safe just cuz there's a shepherd? He's as mortal as the sheep and he who protects the weak should be weary of the strong.” - Elliot Terminus

“This crucifix of secrets on my back weighs me down like the thought of my casket, I fear I shall carry this weight on my back for miles, only for none of it to ever matter in the end.” - Mason White

“It's often secrets lurk in those who have been silenced. These days, you can't cut off a man's tongue to prevent the truth from spilling out, but threatening all he loves does the same damn thing. When a man dares silence you, shout to the heavens, maybe God will listen and smite him down, render him speechless. No man can disarm you of your voice, it's the strongest weapon you've got.” - Mason White

“For all who come for my sorry hide, tomorrow's an empty promise at best, and a threat at it's worst, cuz steppin' up to me is a losin' fuckin' battle. You wanna step up ta this plate? Then prepare for them pearly gates, cause ya meet the lord today, and ya don't got time for a fuckin' confession.” - Rafe Linton

“Honor ain't nuthin but a lie soldiers use ta steal the advantage, I'd rather cheat than die, and I'd rather scarper on my mah knees than be the poor sod bein' shot at point blank range for sins deemed worthy 'a death.” - Rafe Linton

“A man offers ta count ta three, shoot him at two.” - Rafe Linton

“Steppin' up ta me is a losin' fuckin' battle because I cheat, I lie, friend, only truthful word that ever come from my mouth is, I'm alive. I'd light a match and tell ya it's cold, I'd shoot a man six times in the chest and say he's breathin' just fine. The pearly gates await ya because you choke on all your truths, when a lie's the only thing that'll save you, these days.” - Rafe Linton

“The act of raisin' the dead is a simple act 'a redeemin' a man who's coffin lid is nailed shut. Yet for a man like me, it's complex as can got damn be.” - Alaric Alistair

“There was a time I believed the good guy always caught the thief, and the sun always rose, but look at me now, sittin' in the dark.” - Alaric Alistair

“You could cut me down and I imagine I'd laugh, cause I can't imagine sumthin' darker than my life other than the end 'a it.” - Alaric Alistair

“I'm just roadkill on the highway that's risen, my antlers are broken, my fur matted and bloody, and I'm just fated ta pretend I'm still breathin'. But the breath from my lungs is stained from the blood on my teeth.” - Alaric Alistair

“In the end, it don't matter who ya were, what ya did, cause hell don't exist and devils were only myths of us.” - Alaric Alistair

“All I ever do is follow orders. I bark when told ta, I bite when aggravated or let off my leash, but the sad thing is, even the leash stabs inta me. The bruises and scars round my neck tell the sorrowed tale of a barkin' dog forced ta bite. This blood on my teeth tells the pain soaked tale of a dog, skinny and starvin', all because he bites, if only ta put another down." - Alaric Alistair

“For a man who's lost everything, I sure got a lot. My whole life I been swallowed by the fires yet remaining un-scorched, because all my life I've had love. For my wife, for my sons, for the lord, and even if many I knew are now nuthin' but a memory, I still find light in the intricacies of their smiles, cause I see em in my own.” - Balthazar Pennington

“We're beautiful creatures, really, holdin' one another ta show love, speakin' in languages so complex that not a word has ta be spoken to say, "I love you." - Balthazar Pennington

"Go on, kill us, kill us by the fucking dozens, Mr. De Niro. But you will find that the human resolve is a helluva lot stronger than your God damn conscious." - Cody Scarrow

"Oh I don't need savin' from me, brother. I may not be perfect, hell, I ain't even decent. But I can be damn proud of the fact, that I ain't you, and I never God damn will be." - Cody Scarrow

#Writing #dialouge #characters #author

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blackandwhitemotley · 4 years

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Ship of Magic Question Time:

1. What were your favourite moments?

The Treasure Beach

Kennit being mistaken for someone with a heart after he captures his first slave-ship

Ronica welcoming Caolwn Festrew to her home and all the decorum around the Rain Wild Traders in general

Amber teaching Althea to make a convincing boy

Malta sneaking out to go to the Harvest ball

Amber introducing herself to Paragon

Wintrow’s finger amputation (I know it’s weird to list this one as a favourite moment, but it really is an amazing scene)

Keffria confronting Ronica about how she feels dismissed by her

Kennit’s paranoia over Etta’s “bloodlust” after he loses his leg

Amber giving Paragon the necklace with the wooden beads she made

Althea befriending the wonderfully fabulous and mischievous Ophelia

2. Favourite quotes?

‘Our grandfather is dying,’ he said solemnly. ‘He’s been doing it all summer,’ Malta replied disdainfully.

Like many casually cruel men, he had never truly considered why he behaved as he did. It was sufficient for him that he could.

I have heard folk rail against his cruelty and loudly ask “why, why?” But the next day the same folk will take their saws and go out and cut limbs from their fruit trees, and dig up young trees and move them far from where they sprouted. “They will grow better and yield more,” the orchard workers say. They do not stand by the tree and explain that it is for their own good.’

If you can believe that another human can be your possession, it is but a step to saying your wife and your daughter are also possessions, and relegate them to lives convenient to one’s own.

‘It is the nature of humans that we tend to pass our pain along. As if we could get rid of it by inflicting an equal hurt on someone else.’

‘Many, of course, will rant and rave against the garment fate has woven for them, but they pick it up and don it all the same, and most wear it to the end of their days. You… you would rather go naked into the storm.’

A good listener of any sex is rare. Be one, and it will make up for anything else perceived as a fault.

‘You have confused profitable and not profitable with right and wrong. I, however, have not.’

‘Please, may we begin again?’

Tears welled afresh into her eyes, and the slaver Vivacia wept.

‘What have I ever done to you that you would chop my leg off?’

Sometimes Malta felt her name was a sort of club. Almost any time either of them said it, they expressed anger or disgust or impatience with the word.

‘Only my pain is more silent than my anger.’

Some day, she thought to herself without rancour, you will be dead and I will no longer be caught in the middle.

‘Of course. Don’t worry, I won’t shame you.’ ‘You have never shamed me.’

It wasn’t fair, to send a dream in which he was so handsome when he was really a toad.

3. Did the reread change your opinion of the book? In what way?

Very much!

I’d mostly listened to the Ship of Magic audiobook the first time, and I really didn’t like the narrator, who spoke reaaaally slowly and did pretty weird, kind of raspy voices for the characters. I had a completely different experience this time around! The serpent chapters for example, that I had found incredibly long and dull before, are so interesting?? and really short??

My favourite characters and povs also changed. I found myself not as invested in Althea (and often really annoyed with her). Apart from the Amber/Paragon chapters (that remain my favourites), the pov I enjoyed the most was probably Malta’s. Yes, she’s vain and exasperating, but she is also a 12/13 year old girl who wants to have fun before she’s forced to become a housewife. I’d also kind of dismissed Keffria the first time, but she is such an amazing character, and very relatable too. On a less enthusiastic note, the first time Althea and Brashen have sex was even worse than I remembered (Althea basically only agrees to it because she’s drugged + injured...)

And finally, there are so many clues about who Amber is! I’d guessed who she was pretty early on, but I hadn’t realised just how much of a troll Robin Hobb is about this? Take for example: ‘I had never known a crafter could find so much in wood. (...) But it’s as much the wood she chooses as the skill with which she does it’ .... come on!!

#rote #Realm of the Elderlings #robin hobb #the liveship traders #ship of magic #rote reread #question time #i usually say that LT is my least favourite rote series #but i'm starting to think that the audiobook was to blame #i still love the fitz books more #but i'm pretty sure it's going to be a draw between LT and RWC by the end of this reread

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drunkin-kong-donic · 5 years

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Zavazz: A GUIDE

HEY, so I promised I’d make a ‘tutorial’ on the new OTP that’s swept me by storm since others seem to want to get into it too. This is a helpful guide diving into Zavok x Zazz and why i like it! Two of the Deadly Six from the game Sonic Lost World. If you’re here, you are already interested in what these two murder zeets can offer. So I’m not going to get into how underrated the zeti are. That will be for another time, so I won’t get into the zeti’s lore very much in this guide because I’m assuming anyone reading this already know the basics. Anyway, LET’S INTRODUCE the two of them. I predict this is going to get kind of long, so the rest will be under the cut. I’ll be using mostly canon evidence for the ship’s dynamics in this thread. I’ll make one that incorporates more of my headcanons later down the road otherwise this would be even LONGER than it already is. Note that this OTP ain’t exactly your sunshine and daisies kind of ship. They’re both evil and sadists so keep that in mind, and if that ain’t your cup of tea there are plenty of other OTPs the sonic fandom has to offer. Now then, without further ado...

Zavok, is a 148 year old zeti and current leader of the Deadly Six, who live on the hidden world of the Lost Hex.

and Zazz, is 127 year old zeti that presides over the Windy Hill Zone on the Lost Hex, the first area Sonic enters in the beginning of the game which makes Zazz the first boss.

So let’s get right into it shall we? If you aren’t aware of the plot in Sonic Lost World, basically Eggman invades this hidden mini-world that is floating in the atmosphere called The Lost Hex that Sonic and Tails happen to crash land on after Eggman shoots them out of the sky. Eggman has enslaved the natives there (the zeti) to do his bidding which a mystical shell called the Cacophonic Conch and set them to collect animals for his robots and destroy Sonic.

After Sonic starts showing his presence on the Lost Hex, Eggman tells Zavok to take care of him before he can start messing with his plans. And before Zavok can even go beyond contemplating what to do or which of the Deadly Six to send out, Zazz jumps at the chance to volunteer. Now this is where we get into the meat and bones of Zavazz. Because we see it from Zazz’s first appearance and it continues throughout the rest of the game and other media that features Zazz. And that is that Zazz will do absolutely anything for a chance to impress Zavok. And Zavok KNOWS THIS.

Look at how Zazz’s expression changes during the course of this exchange with Zavok when he’s being complimented by his leader. Going from ‘aw yeah im ready to kick some Sonic ass’

Straight to genuine excitement like a puppy dog who did something good.

Now, Zavok is a total bastard, and this shouldn’t come to anyone’s surprise. He’s a villain after all, and he is EVIL, as are the rest of the zeti. And Zavok is shown countless times manipulating and using the other Deadly Six (besides Master Zik) for his own gain. And for Zazz, it’s mostly using him as battle fodder to gain information on his enemies so he can better learn on how to defeat them. This is seen more than once, as Zavok boosts Zazz’s confidence by showering him in compliments and then sending him off into death traps which Zazz eagerly jumps into. (anything to please the boss) It’s in Sonic Lost World AND in Sonic Runners, a mobile app that had several Zazz Raid Events.

A quick summary of the Sonic Runners 2nd Zazz Raid event (which you can watch yourself here) Is that Zazz is trying to get back at Sonic and his friends for defeating him during the first Raid event. And after each time you defeat him, he goes and consoles each member of the Deadly Six to get advice on ways to get more powerful, thus upping the difficulty of his boss fights every time you face him as a player. It’s actually really cool because it had cutscenes of all the Deadly Six interacting with one another! And they’re all so good. But when I was watching it, I noticed the stark difference between the way Zazz behaved around the other zeti compared to Zavok. When he was talking to Zomom, Zeena, Zor, and even Master Zik, he was his usual chompin’-at-the-bit, ready-to-let-lose-and-kill ragey self. Even with Master Zik, who was trying to get Zazz to calm the fuck down and meditate. (seriously, he ends up absorbing the power of the power rings by punching them LOL)

I don’t want to clog up this thread with screenshots, but I’ll post the transcript below between Zavok and Zazz, in which Zavok convinces Zazz that he’d please him more to die for him in battle than to run away from the fight which Zazz eagerly agrees to after getting gassed up by Zavok.

Zazz: "I don't believe it! I just... I just don't believe it! All these power ups, and I still can't beat that rodent!"

Zavok: “Sonic seems to be giving you some trouble, Zazz...”

Zazz: "He ain't givin' me trouble, it's just... I can't seem to beat him, that's all."

Zavok: "Really, Zazz? That little hedgehog is too much for you...?"

Zazz: "No! It's not that! It's just... Next time! I'll get him next time!"

Zavok: "You know that we consider defeat to be unacceptable, Zazz... But there's no shame in being wiped out in battle."

Zavok: “The only shame is in running away! Hiding from reality! Refusing to fight on!"

Zazz: "Fightin' on, huh... But... It's just..."

Zavok: "I know how determined you are to win, Zazz... I wouldn't have you in the Deadly Six otherwise..."

Zavok: "Now come on... Show me. Show me your determination... Show me how much you want to win..."

Zazz: "HyaaaAAARGH! Yeah... Yeah, this is it! I'd forgotten about this feelin'!"

Zazz: "Hyaaah hah hah! That was my problem all along! I didn't want to win bad enough! Well now that's changed - now I want it really bad!"

Zazz: "I'm gonna show you what I'm really made of, Sonic! I'm gonna drag you down to the very depths of hell!"

Also note that Zazz is his most powerful after his exchange with Zavok. :) But even so, right after Zavok has the following exchange with Master Zik. Once again showing that Zavok will have no problem sending off Zazz into a fight he know’s he’s going to lose. Zik: "Are you sure it was wise, telling him all that, Zavok? I mean, it doesn't matter how much he wants it. He's not going to beat Sonic..."

Zavok: "I am well aware of that, Master Zik. I know poor Zazz doesn't stand a chance..."

Zavok: "However, he WILL allow us to collect all sorts of useful data that may lead to us beating the rodent one day."

Zavok: "After all, the Deadly Six always win in the end, don't we..." Zik: "Yes. And success is our only source of pride... Don't worry, I haven't forgotten."

Zavok: "Heh heh... Sonic may think he's got the better of us, but we're just biding our time. When the Deadly Six finally strike, that rat is done for!"

I can see how this seems like Zavok doesn’t give a single shit about Zazz or what happens to him, but evidence within context states that even though Zavok’s aware that Zazz can’t stand up against Sonic, he knows that he’ll be fine in the end because Zazz can handle it. After all, Zazz seems to be indifferent to pain.

Because it’s curious to note that out of all the Deadly Six, Zazz is the only one during boss fights in Lost World that won’t run away or return to his mech once he’s knocked down. (Excluding zomom who’s cornered rather than confronted) Instead he rushes at Sonic full force, uninhibited by the fear of getting the crap kicked outta him. However, saying this, it’s also interesting to notice that despite Zazz having no qualm to physical injury. He does indeed have a fear of disappointing Zavok and getting beat by him instead which you can see from the quote "The boss is gonna beat me!"—Zazz after being defeated for the last time. (taken from Zazz’s wiki page) Now, there’s no evidence that Zavok actually does this. In fact, I tend to lean more towards that it’s just self-inflicted fear that Zazz has if Zavok ever finds out because that would disappoint Zavok. And that would just be the absolute worst thing that could ever happen to him. But I could be wrong, after all the zeti are extremely sadistic creatures and take pleasure in inflicting all kinds of violence. I’m just not sure if they do it to each other.

And I'm like 90% sure Zazz the only one who has dialogue referring to Zavok when Sonic is fighting him. So as scatterbrained as Zazz is, he’s still worried and has in mind about what Zavok’s and the others are gonna think. Zazz’s desperation for impressing Zavok is well... Impressive, and he actually seems to be the only zeti in the Deadly Six obsessed with the notion of it. After accidentally capturing Tails instead of Sonic, Zavok berates the others for a hot second. And I noticed that Zazz is the only one who visibly cringes from being yelled at by Zavok. (it’s very slight, but you can also notice him reel his tongue in as an added reaction)

HOWEVER, despite Zavok being a total bastard most of the time, (don’t forget! he’s evil!) I can also prove that he isn’t entirely heartless. Zavok has shown many times within the games to care about the Deadly Six above anything else. (I’d say the only thing he’d put above his fellow zeti is himself and whatever ulterior motives he has hidden up his sleeve.) The first thing he commands the Deadly Six to do after breaking free from Eggman’s control is revenge. After this, he spends the rest of the game fucking with Sonic and Eggman before ultimately trying to destroy the entire world. All because Eggman and Sonic thought they could fuck with his Deadly Six.

Also back to Zavazz dynamics; Zazz ONLY cares about impressing Zavok. When under the command of Eggman, Eggman was openly berating their performance and how disappointed he was in them being unable to defeat Sonic, and the only thing Zazz does is yawn. So even with another ‘boss’, Zazz only cares about Zavok’s approval and is loyal only to him.

Even this small little detail, when Zavok is standing up for himself and the other Deadly Six, Zazz is shown behind the safety of Zavok making faces at Eggman. (this screenshot is from the japanese dub since Zazz actually makes little noises during this cutscene and makes his teasing more evident)

Anyway, I really do think that Zazz is Zavok’s right hand, yes man, and is most definitely his most loyal member of the Deadly Six. (This excludes Master Zik, since he’s the former leader of the Deadly Six and is in a semi-retirement phase and kinda acts as advisor for the bunch of them) Zazz is the only one who doesn’t need to be convinced to follow orders and is even seen with Zavok in the Frozen Factory Zone when they’re gloating to Sonic and Eggman about destroying their world,

even laughing together after Zavok steps back and allows Zazz to have some fun tormenting them too.

Zavok loves carnage and destruction, relishing in others having the same nature as well. He’s a lot more cool headed than Eggman and other villains, showing respect to those who impress him with their viciousness. This is very evident in his dialogue from Team Sonic Racing, where he frequently seems to compliment other racers when they attack him. Here are a few as examples:

“Vicious, Amy... I approve!”

“You’re a savage competitor, Blaze.”

In Lost World he states he would respect Sonic if he didn’t hate him so much, given the frustration of trying to defeat him the entire game.

"Tenacious little hedgehog. I'd respect you if I didn't hate you so much."—Zavok taunting Sonic during Sky Road Zone 4.

Also if you defeat him in boxing in the Mario & Sonic 2016 Rio Games he actually shows the player a decent amount of respect for being stronger, welcoming the challenge.

Speaking of the Mario & Sonic Olympics and other Sonic spinoff games that feature the zeti, Zavok and Zazz are ALWAYS together. Thus proving more that Zazz is totally Zavok’s first go-to in terms of the other zeti. They are BOTH the only zeti featured in Rio 2016, the mobile app Sonic Forces Speed Battle as the Kings of Carnage, and now the new Mario & Sonic Olympics 2020 Tokyo Games.

And shown in the Mario & Sonic Olympics 2020 Tokyo trivia section, Zavok cannonly sees and trusts Zazz as a brave and powerful warrior.

This also leads me into my next point, which are Zavok’s feelings towards Zazz since we mostly just covered Zazz’s side of the sweet sweet Zavazz.

Now, Zavok is a villain, and like all villains, he’s tied with an incredible ego even if he doesn’t outwardly show it as often as someone like Eggman would.

Zavok admires Zazz because he is always just so eager to jump at a chance to fight whenever Zavok wants him to, and Zazz just generally wanting to do anything for him. A RIDE OR DIE...LITERALLY. I think Zazz being so eager to please him DEFINITELY strokes that ego in him, even if he’s not aware. Like getting blind loyalty and determination from Zazz compared to the other Deadly’s Six general lack of interest definitely allows Zavok to take more notice in Zazz. And it's probably what would attract him the most to Zazz and why he keeps going back to him. Zazz has Zavok’s respect, and it’s so mutual it hurts. Not only that, but Zazz is the most intense zeti out of all of them in terms of ferality, wrecking violence, and havoc. It is stated that even by zeti standards, Zazz is “the meanest and most psychopathic of his entire race”,[3][6] And Zavok is someone who revels in destruction and savagery, admiring it in general even when it isn’t from himself. So, to have the most destructive and violent of the zeti at his complete command? Zazz lives to destroy, and he’s basically Zavok’s attack dog. What wouldn’t he love about that. I also think that Zavok finds Zazz entirely endearing, and trusts him the most out of the rest of the Deadly Six. Zavok could be rough with him if he wanted to, and he knows that Zazz would be able to handle it no problem, given their size and strength differences. And you know Zazz would love any bit of attention Zavok shows towards him. Now, I’m starting to get into headcanon territory so I’ll end this thread here. I think I covered everything. And if not, guess I’ll have to make a part two. I didn’t even get into the comics, so we’ll see what happens. THANK YOU FOR READING THIS ALL IF YOU MADE IT THIS FAR, it makes me incredibly happy that ya’ll have shown interest in this sleeper of an OTP. Now go enjoy some Zavazz!

#zavazz #sonic lost world #zazz the zeti #zavok the zeti #zazz #zavok #me #i said this shit #sth #sonic the hedgehog #otp #murder boyfriends #deadly six #the deadly six #sonic

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captainkurosolaire · 6 years

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Getting to know : Captain Kuro Solaire

► Name ➔ “Captain Kuro Solaire of the Goldbrand, But ye can refer to me as the navigating guide of pleasure.”

► Are you single ➔ “I’m openly married and surrounded with the personifications of life unshackled.”

► Are you happy ➔ “Have ye seen how many treasures are out there in Eorzea to grab for the plucking? Leviathan! The whole Hydaelyn be awaiting and I’m not even speaking about just silver, gold and gil.” ► Are you angry? ➔ “An emotion I tend to leave caged, It’s freedom would be devastation. Might think that be odd n all since, I claim to be a spirit of the unhindered. ” ► Are your parents still married ➔ “Nah mate learned recently the ole’man and woman have been split from their voyaged ways. Though he doesn’t paddle without their wedding band, gotta give him some reputable credit to that. Shows how much she could have been cherished if she didn’t die giving up her life for me.”

NINE FACTS

► Birth Place ➔ “The Glamorous Shite-hole side of Ul’dah” ► Hair Color ➔ "Pitch Black like some wandering Samurai that hangs around gloming up the Quicksands.” ► Eye Color ➔ “Gold, like a fountain of gils crashing into a bedded sea.” ► Birthday ➔ “ 6th Sun of the 6th Umbral Moon during some Eclipsed Sun or something like that, supposedly.” ► Mood ➔ "Horned Hunger when y’ grow a savory delight for inner enriches that typically reside from the fresh petals of passion. ” ► Gender ➔ “Male.” ► Summer or winter ➔ “Summer” ► Morning or afternoon ➔ “Dawn to Dusk”

EIGHT THINGS ABOUT YOUR LOVE LIFE

► Are you in love ➔ “Always, eternally.” ► Do you believe in love at first sight ➔ “Believe? What about see or witness, or provide it? I am certain I can bring that belief to all those landers. ” ► Who ended your last relationship ➔ “Depends what we defining as a relationship here, I typically give my greeted partings should they be better for the partied company. Though pirate life brings backstabbing and crossing romantically typically I give the steering wheel to the other one after we establish our cruise if they still waiting on shore for me, they haven’t ended anything.” ► Have you ever broken someone’s heart ➔ “Probably have a few catalogs somewhere in one of my cabinets in the cabin. Though in order for a heart to truly become greater, vigorous, ye gotta take hits. They’ve but all ascended if I’ve caused and inflicted pain to those who gave me their hearts to held. Though should trust be granted, I never leave a stray one to flutter without attention. I’d be a lousy, man.” ► Are you afraid of commitments ➔ “Ye’d cross yer eyes to rise on me. Though not really afraid, I’d call it. But more careful. My path isn’t met for long periods of company beyond what my skillful touch can provide, I rush into the orbited heat of the sun, where glory rests!” ► Have you hugged someone within the last week? ➔ “Ye can call it ‘hugging’ .....but typically, it’s more like clinging during a very enticing dancing between two bodies learning their limits as they soar together to devour the stars.” ► Have you ever had a secret admirer ➔ “If I pulled out my spyglass, I’m certain we could get a few to note.” ► Have you ever broken your own heart? ➔ "Infinitely, I can shape and forge and reinforce hearts of others but when comes to my own admitted, I am useless.”

SIX CHOICES

► Love or lust ➔ “Lust is the stem of where love flourishes, I couldn’t imagine it without somewhat how can you take admiration into something without a desire? Ye be talking to a pirate. None, know treasure better than us.” ► Lemonade or iced tea ➔ “Disgusting though I can turn both the Ice cubes and the Lemon into something productive but not my type of thing to consume, mate.” ► Cats or Dogs ➔ “Not too far off the same thing but I got a mouth that is detestable to hear from since I am a glorified walking cat of sorts.” ► A few best friends or many regular friends ➔ “The best of mates” ► Wild night out or romantic night in ➔ "Wild night out, I like to bring exploration in all the conceivable measurements, staying in otherwise for short periods goes rather limited.” ► Day or night ➔ "Day into Night.”

FIVE HAVE YOU EVERS

► Been caught sneaking out ➔ “Yes, purposefully mind ye.” ► Fallen down/up the stairs ➔ “Few dozens of drunken times surely though always fall into an embrace of bosoms to have my face cradled in.” ► Wanted something/someone so badly it hurt? ➔ “Sort of but I am more of reaching to grab and should something be that potent to me, I must forget it. For I would be cursed and would bring another to damnation should I steal that thing, I truly... wish. Though should they not break the strings that tie, I will but collect.” ► Wanted to disappear ➔ “Disappear!? That’s rather far-stretched to what I, AM. ~ I never seek to be unseen. I wish to be seen in view even if It’s by rear or heard through tongues made of stone. Ye see! To stand taller is what I said to myself as a lad. And that, I will but give myself as a gift that keeps giving to all those who wish to sail aside the mountains to hold the clouds in their ever waking finger tips.

FOUR PREFERENCES

► Smile or eyes ➔ "Both, I could not pass up a pair of lips that give me the communication that a pearl of links could never provide or the silly tomestones could attempt to replace before Truesight... As for the eyes! Ye but heard haven’t you? They are but the windows of the souls ones that I don’t leave tinted from me.” ► Shorter or Taller ➔ “I get advantages from either when it comes to others, I either get seen action shots or I get a face-full of breasts to greet me. It really doesn’t matter for knees were meant to be bent and I like battling taller opponents to give them some rare opportunities to see the same horizon as me.” ► Intelligence or Attraction ➔ “I could not choose over one so I’ll continue to cheat myself through this barrage of questions.” ► Hook-up or Relationship ➔ “It’s typically better for hook-up I am a man that provides when others fall behind and then I instruct those to stand back up and treat the womanly gems of Eorzea rightfully how they should be presented. In-turn creating more radiant jewels that never stop. Currently the world is worth a half-gil whore in pearl-lane but overtime with a few seeds tossed and delicately...thoroughly... risen we will have but a meadow to all but breathe in with enjoyment meant for the endless ages.”

FAMILY

► Do you and your family get along ➔ "Pops isn’t that bad. Get a few nice therapeutic ‘training’ sessions with him when it comes to the whole bastardization which all cycle back to me letting loose thirty cycles of frustration.” ► Would you say you have a “messed up life” ➔ "It’s hard to sort for most but I like the unpredictable tides and what It brings! Imagine not surviving off enduring or working towards something if everything was thrown on a shitted-plate even if it was sparkling gil and diamonds! It would be nothing but the same shit ye see nobles fitted with. The workers! The chasers! The blazers those are the people who make their own dishes of riches and TO that, It’s everything. Which means more then having someone else prepare your meal for you to do everything hand and foot for ye. I steal from those plates because truly, they would not even give it a glancing care to fill quell the famish in setting.” ► Have you ever ran away from home ➔ "Seven Hells, ye! Screw that orphanage! Least we got it somewhat on the right path, geez. I wonder who out of anyone could have pulled off the care to work on actually cleaning up the city-state. Man they must be really, really, handsome. Well anyway soon the future will be springing up and I can’t wait to greet them at the big-blue!” ► Have you ever gotten kicked out ➔ “Getting my ass-kicked and giving it is kind of an exchange you better suspect to start paying in currency, ye be doing it more than trading in gil if ye aren’t from a fancy House..”

FRIENDS

► Do you secretly hate one of your friends ➔ “Hating is like getting drunk on salt-water not worth the effort to have those cramps, only worth holding for survival if necessary.” ► Do you consider all of your friends good friends ➔ “Every last word exhaled from coiled tongues! From even those who gave me a few nasty scratches, bruises, scrapes or scars I give my hat nudge too. I’ve met a lot within my tale.” ► Who is your best friend ➔ ”Anyone who boards my sail along side or on it’s decks are my cared.” ► Who knows everything about you ➔ “The Seas and the Moon who have been there with me since I first laid feet on ship and adorned the mantle of the Captain.” Tagged by : @issa-arwa ~Thanks, lovely. Tagging : @aylamoenwyb @mai-takeda @east-to-the-sea @shur-kha-ffxiv @vayduh @yuki-yukichan @shadragonheart @shard-kilamarii @figgenbaums-best-friend @knifewaifu @kha-merc-ffxiv @jax332 @lulu-ffxiv @lulubell-vixen @wildgirlcinna @mischiefandmystics @aetheradventures @ghostlyfoxangel @under-the-blood-moonlight @jancisstuff @moonstruck-ffxiv @maheeia @healerofthefoxes @nebula1984 @morha-ffxiv @mteshi-ffxiv @enchantressoftruth @fracturedfantasia @fey-illumination @xzombiepop @savothesewercat @awatercat @thorcatte @viridian-dragoon @virghilani @liliesinmoonlight @ivyffxiv @aelathetrashcan @seinakurokiba @saintofselfinjury @sabine-ffxiv @brandt-highwind @cheche-dotharl @thelastnoukai @kyrie-silverwings @shur-kha-ffxiv @cahli-tia @skysinger-musings @zhauric @tessariel-aerlinn @sibutum @brytedarklyt @smolcatte @kyren-ffxiv @nurakitten @melodies-in-moonlight @bhaldstyr-ahtahrmsyn @fated-fallacy @marjiandco @mythrilreflections @merosmillionmains @bananawaffles12 @gal-the-violet @kikyo-mihata @littlestcreampuff @mishivymendi @subetei-noykin @the-silent-elementalist @rina-astraea @mireille-lharan @aluray @librasmopatate @toe-ab @akh-afah @kaliheart @shroudblessings @thelionofdalmasca @z-a-n-a ~~ And ANYONE/EVERYONE that wants to take this!

#the thingy #content stuff #we still alive

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crystalkleure · 5 years

Note

Could you do a character review of Phi?

ф !!!

PHI….BRATTY BASTARD CHILD…

100/10

YOU CAN TELL I LOVE HIM BECAUSE I AM MAD AT HIM. ONLY THINGS YOU CARE ABOUT CAN HURT YOU LIKE HE HAS HURT ME. Phi has inflicted massive damage upon my emotional state. And Hearts’ emotional state too, actually, but I’ll get to that down below [fight stance]

1. Phi confused the hell out of me until yesterday, and 2. I am not surprised that he and Hearts fought so bitterly [..still hurt like a bitch to see just how bad it was, though. Saw the storm coming and STILL wasn’t prepared for the carnage it wrought ;-;] – I could see that, for some reason, the brothers were not working together to begin with. They were never even physically near eachother, never onscreen together.

On the cruise ship, Phi was observing the tournament participants, taking mental notes on all of them for some reason, and he was particularly interested in the strong ones, like Xhan and Aiga [eventually fixating solely on Aiga, though he did also temporarily pay a bit of close attention to Xhan when he saw the power of Fifth Impact]*. Hearts and Evel sent Kyle to the cruise tournament for the same reason, to gather data on the bladers, particularly the strong ones [like Xhan lmao], and relay the collected data back to Evel for analysis.

But Phi and Kyle were not helping eachother. They weren’t sharing the data they gathered with eachother, or comparing notes or anything. In fact, just the opposite – they seemed to be competing with eachother [like maybe Phi and Hearts wanted to find the same thing, but did not want to share it], though unwittingly in Kyle’s case. Kyle didn’t even seem to know who Phi was, which was odd – it seems like Hearts DEFINITELY would’ve warned his minion about his Potentially Extremely Dangerous brother before putting him on a boat with him – but nevertheless that was an indication that Kyle was not sent to assist Phi. And not only that, Phi was EXTREMELY hostile to anyone he caught observing him, while he was observing everyone else; though he previously had no particular interest in Laban, he destroyed Leopard and got Laban booted from the tournament after Laban made it apparent that he could see Something Was Up with Phi, as a preventative measure to keep him from snooping any further [and specifically what Laban saw was this lmao:]

And when Phi saw Kyle recording his battle data on his phone, Phi also destroyed that phone immediately. I’m figuring that maybe Phi assumed Hearts had planted a spy on the ship as well, though he initially didn’t actually know who it was until Kyle slipped up there**.

Phi was aggressively preemptively-possessive of whatever he was trying to find on that ship, didn’t want anyone else to get it first [especially his brother], and he eventually decided that Aiga Had What He Was Looking For, because it was something to do with resonance. Phi was always very attentive whenever he saw Aiga displaying strong, though unstable, resonance symptoms, like exuding a Scary Dark Aura or doing The Hair Thing, and when Achilles glowed at Aiga, Phoenix often started glowing at Phi in response to that, as well. Phi actively encouraged the bad resonance thing.

Though, he was evidently wrong by thinking that he could get the thing he wanted from Aiga [at least at that time], because now I think ep. 41 finally told me what that actually was:

Phoenix turned purple like this before too, back when Phi battled Aiga. Phi got particularly excited when that happened, as though it was building up to something – but then the buildup fizzled out and he never actually got whatever it was, and so he became frustrated and disappointed with Aiga. Phi said something along the lines of “Not enough, huh…” or “More, huh…” [it was “Mada, ka…”, as though “More is needed” I think? Never fully trust my translations] when Aiga lost to him in ep. 22, as though that was an unsatisfying outcome for him somehow and just winning alone was “not enough”. [He was similarly upset when he broke Achilles in ep. 37, like maybe he was frustrated that he ended up destroying it before he got what he wanted out of it.]

And now, in ep. 41, we see Phoenix turn purple like that again…after it appeared to be sucking the energy/power out of Hades. Phoenix is draining its opponents’ energy in some way – and in a way that is somehow inherently different from Free’s Fafnir’s simple spinpower-stealing technique, as Hearts’ reaction to this is to become progressively more physically exhausted himself, while Phi remains fine and even gets a bit more energetic. Whatever that purple energy is, Phoenix is taking it into itself, causing it to eventually turn that same shade of purple, but Phi’s aura also turns purple like that too, showing that Phi himself has also internalized that stolen energy.

So it’s stealing more than just spinpower here, it’s almost like it’s draining fucking life-force or something. Whatever power Phi is desiring to steal with Phoenix, it looks like it’s something that comes specifically from a bey/blader pair that has achieved strong resonance [maybe not even necessarily “good” resonance, as he thought he could get it from Aiga and Achilles, and he DID get it from Hearts and Hades, who were arguably just as imbalanced/unstable]. So it looks like that’s what was “building up” and getting Phi so excited: Stolen energy. He was just unable to reach full power with what he was able to take from Aiga, is my best guess; like maybe he couldn’t steal it all that time for some reason or something.

Also worth noting: In Hearts’ flashback to when Phi left the Dead Gran, Phi said something about how Hearts had become boring and was no longer fun to “play” with, and that’s why he was going. A few minutes earlier this ep, in the present time, Phi told Hearts to stay away from Aiga because “That’s my toy”. What that says to me, upon Phi returning to challenge Hearts again in the first place, is 1. that Phi reconsidered his opinion of Hearts and had decided he was still “worthwhile” after all, 2. that he’s referring to the bladers he intends to steal the energy from as his “toys” – though “tools” would actually be a more appropriate term tbh, and 3. that he’s still sure he can potentially get something out of Aiga.

And now, because this post is clearly not long enough and I outright refuse to split them up:

🖤 HEARTS TIME!!! 💜

∞/10

Oh my fucking god I have never loved a character so much so fast, and that’s just referring to when he was first introduced. Hearts is on par with Jin from s1 now, as far as favourite characters go for me ;w; #ProtectHearts2k19!!!

Picking up on the resonance thing that this whole group seems so interested in: Hearts’ possession situation is interesting to compare and contrast to Aiga’s.

It’s stated that Hearts has been constantly overshadowed by his brother, Phi always shone brighter, and Hearts’ entire persona is a reflection of that. The way he’s so performative, how he puts on airs to work up a crowd [“You wanna see a REAL champion??” is what he said to the spectators right before he beat Aiga the first time, as an example that springs to mind], the way he constantly taunts his opponents and talks down to them, and I believe he even refers to himself as “ore-same” at times [which basically translates to something along the lines of “The great me”] – those are all symptoms of an inferiority complex. “Please think I’m cool, please think I’m strong, please love me.” He is insecure. Hearts acts so loud and proud because he’s trying to convince himself he’s powerful and impressive, more than he’s trying to convince other people. [Though, psychologically, how that works is by the logic “If a large enough group of people believe a thing, therefore it must be correct, so it makes sense for me to believe it too”]

So, he pushes himself. Pushes himself to keep up his persona. Pushes himself to look impressive, pushes himself to stay strong at all costs. He even pushes himself to ignore pain if that’s what it takes.

Pain like resonance pains. Which, as Achilles has shown us with Aiga, are the way a bey tries to tell its blader that they are pushing it too hard. And we see where that goes.

And man, Aiga felt that so hard because the exact same thing literally just happened to him [at the hands of Phi, no less]. He put himself and his selfish desires above the wellbeing of his bey, using it like a tool instead of treating it as a partner, and the constant neglect and mistreatment resulted in it shattering.

And I call Aiga selfish, and immature, but I call Hearts desperate and damaged. Aiga just wanted to be strong and cool pretty much just for the sake of that in itself, as far as I can see [and thank god he’s realized that what he was doing was so harmful], but Hearts pins his entire self-worth on his ability to stay strong under any circumstances – he hurt Hades while trying to heal himself, in contrast to Aiga, who hurt Achilles due to essentially just not understanding the severity and danger of his situation. Hearts sees the danger and just bullheadedly stands strong as he lets it batter him, rather than just being oblivious to it. Hell, his whole schtick with the columns of literal fire erupting from the stadium to signal his arrival is just another way to show his fascination with being in danger – he withstands the heat.

Also, check how he reacts to those resonance pains again. It hurts but he recovers almost immediately. And sometimes, it seems like he even likes it. He’s getting some sort of pleasure out of that pain, and I’d imagine that’s because he gets a rush out of knowing he’s overcoming it. It hurts, but he doesn’t let it stop him, so having the strong willpower to bear all the pain, to push through it and keep going anyway, is yet another thing that makes him feel powerful.

Hearts also…doesn’t seem to make the right kind of friends. The people he surrounds himself with seem to be entirely self-centered, and unconcerned with his wellbeing, if Evel is any indication. Evel seemed to be the person Hearts cared about the most, but Evel didn’t give a shit about Hearts so much as he just saw Hearts’ situation as an interesting experiment, and an opportunity to gather data. And yet in spite of Evel evidently giving no real indication that he cared about Hearts himself at all, Hearts fuckin moved the guy into his house. Evel has entire rooms full of science and beyblade stuff in the Dead Gran, and free roam of the whole place as well. Also, Count Night. Hearts found Night incredibly amusing, and let him wander around in the Dead Gran in much the same way. Night apparently lives in the air ducts now and Hearts was just A-OK with that. And not only did Night not care about Hearts, he was explicitly a thief and intruder who only came to steal shit. Night literally showed up for the sole purpose of causing Hearts problems, and Hearts just thought he was fantastic and amusing.

And that could actually be yet another thing that just points right back to Hearts enjoying it when something causes him problems, because he’s getting a rush out of overcoming those problems. Hearts being amused with Night and basically saying “Ha-haah, you wanna steal my shit? lmao just try it bitch, let’s dance! I like your style >:)” rather than just. Removing The Obvious Threat From His Household. Makes me think that he must just be getting amusement out of thwarting him.

Mr. Demon also seems to be hired help, rather than a friend, but there’s still Kyle, though. We didn’t even see Kyle in ep. 41, no clue who he’s loyal to yet. I wouldn’t be surprised if Kyle’s just Evel’s buddy and is gonna stick around with him, but I hope to hell that he’s actually at least ONE guy that Hearts keeps around who actually…cares about Hearts…

And now, some Aside Notes that are Actually Important Too but I couldn’t find a way to shoehorn them into that big semi-linear plotline rundown without making this post TOO much more disjointed so I’m just tacking them on down here lmao:

•*Phi didn’t always feel the need to battle people HIMSELF while trying to gauge how powerful they were, he opted out of some battles, choosing instead to just sit back and observe as they fought with eachother. That was the first indicator of Phi’s snotty “I won’t play with it if I don’t think it’s really worth my time” attitude, I think. Lazy shit can’t be bothered unless he’s sure he’ll get something out of it lmao.

…Though, honestly, that itself says that Phi must not really find beyblading particularly fun just for it’s own sake, huh…“getting nothing out of it” means he’s getting no enjoyment/entertainment out of it as well :/ He calls beys/bladers “toys”, but treats them like tools, only seeing a point in using them to work towards an ulterior goal. Hm. Even when he was little, the first thing he asked when he was trying to choose a bey was something like “Which one’s the strongest?”, that was his ultimate concern. Like there’s no such thing as just screwing around, killing time, and having fun with a hobby unless you’re achieving something [like bettering yourself somehow]…Could be that that right there is the root of why he bullied Hearts so much, actually. See the flashback soccer match. Hearts was trying to have fun, while Phi was being serious, and seemingly looking down on Hearts for it. Phi did not play with his brother, he competed with him. “I am strong, and you are weak. You are inferior. I am clearly the superior brother.” Hearts’ inferiority complex seems to have been caused by Phi having a major superiority complex, and stepping on Hearts to prop himself up and assert it. Nasty. Makes me wonder wtf put the apparent belief in Phi’s head that Fun Is Pointless Unless It Is Also Productive in the first place. Parental pressure? If it was that, then why didn’t Hearts get the same sort of treatment? Or maybe he did and just didn’t take it to heart…

• **Honestly, a thing that keeps snagging me is just Kyle’s lack of familiarity with Phi. Like, if Hearts sent him to figure out who Phi became the most interested in [in order to intercept that person to prevent Phi from getting to them], then he’d have to be told who Phi was, so that doesn’t work. And the possibility that Kyle was purely on a random data-gathering expedition for Evel, and Evel and Hearts didn’t expect him to run into Phi at all, just seems…really unlikely. Like, they were both after the same type of people. Kyle was definitely there because of Phi being there, even if Kyle didn’t know it, so I guess what I’m stuck on is the fact that idk why Hearts cared so much about what Phi was doing? It seems the most reasonable to assume that he intended to interrupt Phi’s plans, though he has shown us, by walking right into them and getting Hades smashed and stolen, that he didn’t actually know what Phi’s plan WAS. Maybe it was just pure sibling rivalry, like “I don’t know what you’re doing, but I’m gonna find out and then do it better!”? I might have the answer if I could actually understand what was being said, haha…

•And, last but not least: ARE THESE GUYS ALIENS OR NOT, BEYBURST????

Because, like, we’ve see them as children now, evidently on Earth, with a human butler, living in the Dead Gran all those years ago as well, ON EARTH…

But PHI’S EYES…AND THE METEOR…HE WAS UNAFFECTED BY THE FLAMES, THEY DIDN’T BURN HIM…the impact didn’t kill or even harm him, whether he was on/in the meteor or just near the strike site…Humans don’t survive shit like that?? Did Phi somehow fake a fucking meteor strike?? For dramatic effect?? How’d he do that? Even Hearts and Evel seemed perplexed by the crater.

Also, there’s Phi’s proper introduction to the main crew. He was described by DJ as an “invincible/undefeated, immortal blader who nobody knows much about, he just showed up all ~mysterious~ and it’s rumored he fell to Earth on a meteor!”, and I’m just ???

1. If Phi hadn’t been on Earth for very long, that nicely explained why he was not only unknown but undefeated, if he just…hadn’t ever been recorded losing a battle simply because he hadn’t been recorded battling much at all yet, but 2. CLEARLY PHI HAS BEEN HERE AWHILE BC CHILDHOOD FLASHBACK, so was he just in hiding that whole time before starting the meteor rumor and making his dramatic entrance? Maybe, actually, because in Hearts’ flashback to Phi leaving the Dead Gran, both he and his brother looked to be the exact same age they are now, so that flashback must not have taken place that long ago…did Phi just live in the Dead Gran his whole life and never leave until recently, when he randomly decided he wanted to wreak some havoc because he was bored?? If that is the case, how is he so strong, if there was really no one to practice beyblading with but Hearts? Did he really only battle with his brother alone for so many years? hhhhhh ep. 41 answered 500 questions but made 5000 more…

!!DISCLAIMER BTW: I don’t speak any reliable amount of Japanese and I’m actually…not caught up on the subs, either…I’m interpreting visuals and tone-of-voice alone 99% of the time here, feel welcome to correct me if I’ve gotten anything wildly wrong because I’m sure there’s no way I’m 100% right when I can’t actually understand what I’m listening to

#FUCK I'VE BEEN WORKING ON THIS FOR SO LONG AAAAAAAAA #AND I'M GONNA REGRET NOT CLEANING IT UP MORE THAN THIS BUT I'VE GOT A STREAM TO CATCH IN A FEW MINUTES #Also I tried to clean it up already and failed repeatedly as you can see lmao #Beyblade Burst #Beyblade Burst Chouzetsu #Long post #Hearts #Phi

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kyojuuros · 6 years

Note

How are you feeling about Eren right now? I feel like everyone is jumping ship when it comes to being a fan of his.

I’ve gotten that vibe lately too, anon. It’s a little disheartening because I’m definitely very much still a fan of him.

The thing about Eren, for me, is that I really doubt that Isayama would have shown us all this struggle that he’s gone through due to the horrors of war and how it’s broken him time and time again, only for him to come out on the other side as a cold and ruthless killer with no regard to how it’s hurting others. In fact, if Eren were still exactly like that angry 10 year old boy we met in the beginning, I’d be a lot more concerned about his behavior now.

In general, I had hoped that Eren and the others would have thought up a much better way to handle this problem. But as it stands now, we don’t know what options they weighed, if they weighed any, or if this is all Eren’s idea and the rest of the SC got roped into it. Personally I feel like there are too many coordinated things going on right now for it to have been Eren’s plan alone to attack.

I think his words to Falco back in chapter 97 are still really important to factor into the person that he’s become and the actions he’s taking right now:

“I’ve been thinking every day since coming here… How did things turn out this way? Ruined minds and bodies, people with no freedom left to them, people who have even lost themselves. What kind of person would want to go to war if they knew they were going to end up like this?

“But there was something pushing us all along, causing us to step right into hell. For most of us, that something isn’t of our own will. We’re forced to by others, or by our environment. But the kind of hell seen by people who push themselves into it is something else. They also see something beyond that hell. Maybe it’s hope. Maybe it’s yet another hell. I don’t know which is is. The only people who do know… are the ones who keep moving forward.”

Eren sees war as hell. He’s lived it, both as an innocent bystander and as an active participant. He’s watched so many people that he loved and cared about die cruelly. He was driven to suicidal thinking over the amount of people who were lost just for his sake. Regardless of how much time has passed, I can’t see how he would start thinking it’s okay to inflict that kind of pain and suffering on others without a damn good reason.

He signed up for the Trainee Corps full of hope. Hope that he would take down the monsters oppressing him and his people. Hope that he would one day live to see and feel real freedom. And he quickly became battered and broken and hopeless within months after graduating and understanding the real hell of war. Once he started seeing the bigger picture - that it’s not just titans, it’s also people - it still hurt, but his perspective started to change.

After Eren’s experience in the Reiss cave, listening to the things that Rod and Kenny had to say about the state of the world - after he learned that shitty people are probably more to blame for the horrors that he’s had to face than giant man eating monsters, he started to realize that there was a much bigger picture. He heard Bertolt’s cries as well. He heard as he pleaded with his former friends, crying and asking for someone to come find them, declaring that his job was dirty and asking about who would want to murder people.

After all of that he went from this:

To this:

And finally after really learning the bigger picture, that Reiner, Bertolt and Annie were just as much victims of their circumstances as he was, even went to this:

I also recall Isayama saying quite a few years ago now, that Eren would need to chase Levi’s shadow in order for the story to progress in a similar manner. In other words, he needed to become more like Levi. In that respect, it would seem that Eren has become a lot less prone to his angry impulses and perhaps may not even have them anymore. To me, he’s just looked stoic or sad this whole time. His eyes, I think, tell us a lot more about how he’s feeling than anything else right now. I’ve always used Levi’s eyes to read the way he was feeling as well.

Eren has never been okay with innocent people who did nothing wrong being hurt, but he hasn’t really had that same mercy to people who have wronged others. Mikasa’s kidnappers are the first example. He saw them as nothing more than rabid dogs that needed to be put down in order to protect everyone else. Later on in the manga, Jean in particular is very distraught about Levi and Hange torturing Sannes to which Eren simply replies, “we don’t have a choice.” He’s fine with what they are doing because people like Sannes are the reason why innocent people like him, his friends, and all of the civilians of the walls, live in the hell that they do, and to him that’s not okay.

One of my favorite quotes from Eren is his monologue in Trost before he plugs the hole in the wall:

“When we’re born, all of us are free. People who reject that, no matter how strong they are, don’t matter. The burning water, the land of ice… anything will do. Anyone who saw those things would be the freest person in the world. Fight!! Who’d value their life over something like that? It doesn’t matter how terrifying the world is. It doesn’t matter how cruel the world is. Fight!! Fight!!”

This has always been the way he sees things, from the moment Armin showed him that book. People are inherently free from the moment they are born, but bad and cruel people try to take that away from them. Oppressors aren’t okay, and they don’t matter. We fight them, because anyone who would deny another person’s inherent right to freedom doesn’t deserve to have their own.

The Eldians are oppressed. The Marley government is one of the largest perpetrators of that. To expect Eren to just sit quietly on that island and wait for them to come knocking on their door again goes against the very core of his character. Titans, humans, it doesn’t matter. He was always ready to charge in head first to eliminate his oppressors (or bullies, if we’re going back as early as his days in Shiganshina), no matter how irrational the plan, if there’s even a plan. No longer does it apply to titans, but to the people who have turned his people into titans, and who continue to exploit them on a regular basis.

So while we still don’t know the full scope of what’s going on in the story currently, or who’s masterminded it, I do know, in my heart, that Eren is only doing this because he feels it’s what’s necessary. He hasn’t gone on a rampage killing all the civilians in the area. Unfortunately, there were casualties and it was unavoidable. It was unavoidable even back during the Trost struggle. It’s a reality of war that Eren’s always had to accept, even if he didn’t want to. From all we can see so far, the only people he has targeted in this conflict so far are the Marley military officials and the holder of the Warhammer Titan. Again, people who have played a role, whether actively or passively, in the oppression and slaughter of his people.

I doubt he has no regrets about the civilians that were killed in his initial attack. Mikasa paints the picture very clearly to him that there’s no going back from this. And his expression to her becomes softer when he sees her crying. He understands. He gets it. What he did was horrible, but to him it was necessary. And I think even Mikasa understands that, but just wanted to point out that he would never be able to take this back, and her heart hurts for him. Even Levi had said back in the uprising arc that he was willing to get his hands dirty if that meant the greater number of people would walk out of this with their freedoms in tact. They all understand sacrifices are necessary.

Unfortunately, innocent people get caught in the crossfire. But they would rather a handful of people meet that fate than an entire population, or in this case, their entire race. Because let’s be real, the instant that Eldians are no longer seen as useful, they were all gonna get wiped out or treated far worse than they already are. It’s not okay. Udo said where he came from, Eldians were treated far worse than the way Marley treats them. And Marley treats them like this:

Eren would never sit back and quietly accept this kind of treatment to anyone. And to attack the Marley military, that treats his people like this… I can’t say it isn’t justified. I still feel anger when looking at these panels.

I don’t know what Paradis’ plan is. I don’t know how much Zeke’s plans factor in, or what the involvement with the East Sea Clan is. This whole thing is greater than Eren, he’s just the catalyst that set everything in motion, and he’s the one who’s going to be seen as the devil because of it. He was willing to make that sacrifice.

I’m glad that the story shows there are good and bad people on both sides, because that’s what realistic and true about our world. I feel horrible about Udo, Zofia, and all the other innocents that have gotten caught up in this. I grew to really like those characters. I’m especially scared for Falco, as I grew to love him the most. But I’m also not going to deny the core of who Eren is and start to think of him differently because it was pushed to manifest in an unfortunate way. What he’s doing here is no worse than when RBA attacked the walls. And while RBA were brainwashed kids the first time which is why a lot of people excuse what they did… The second time they attacked? They knew better by then. Both sides are doing what they think they have to in order to survive. I choose to demonize neither the Survey Corps nor the Warriors for doing what they have to in order to survive in a world that treats them as subhuman garbage.

My biggest hope is that the Eldians are able to come out of this with their freedom, but not at the expense of everyone else. It seems very bleak right now, but that’s still what I’m hoping for.

Anyway, this turned into a rant and got a little off topic, I’m sorry. The short of it is that Eren’s behavior really doesn’t surprise me when I look back at everything else, and I doubt he’d do something like this without a good reason to, and I choose to hold back negative judgement until I know there’s a solid reason to warrant that from me. The idea that he only cares about himself and is just heartlessly killing people because of his rage or some internalized righteousness goes against everything I’ve known about him and everything I’ve seen his development lead to. He cares about his people and he wants this to stop.

He sees something on the other side of this, and I want to see it to.

#snk spoilers #snk 102 #snk meta #eren jaeger #eren yeager #anon #reply #mymeta

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postedbygaslight · 6 years

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You’ll Be the One to Turn - Part 21: Rey

It’s all happening.

It was a new world.

It had seemed, at some points during the months since she’d been whisked away from the life of solitude and misery she’d known on Jakku, that the world had indeed been remade. When she’d first seen the green expanse of forests as the Falcon pierced the veil of clouds over Takodana. When she’d been born to her powers as she and Ben had first joined minds. When they’d reached for each other in their loneliness and discovered the boundless hope held fast in the promise of what could be.

But there had been nothing that had ever approached what happened the night before. And as Rey sits alone in the cockpit of the Falcon, letting her mind drift to memory, a smile that lingers on that same hopeful promise touches her lips.

In truth, she hadn’t really known if the crystal would be healed by the act of she and Ben joining the two halves. But when she’d touched her half to his, and the stone’s song built and spread through them both, she had felt him as she’d never done before. And the vision that had bloomed within her had taken hold with such power that she was sure she would be swept under, enclosed in the embrace of its silken web, never to revive. What she had seen was a gift from the Force. Like the vision she’d seen on Ahch-To, she knew it was only another promise of what could be, but that spark of hope now burned ever brighter within her. It was secret, a delicate pearl for her to hold in her heart, and it was hers alone.

Rey sits in the pilot’s seat, cradling her newly repaired lightsaber, awash in the sensation of the crystal keening with the Force, blending with her own energies to make one song. When she’d first ignited the saber, in the forest on Starkiller Base, the vibration of the crystal had felt welcoming, but unfamiliar, as though it were a friend greeting a wayward companion after a long separation. Now, having brought that same power coursing through the rejoined kyber, the weapon feels like an extension of herself, an expression of light shaded by the dark promise of justice.

Rey understands now that the crystals are bonded to their owners— or, perhaps, their partners— in a similar way that she is bonded to Ben, and he to her. She can feel the bond between herself and the crystal in her saber, and it is powerful, built upon the crystal having chosen her, and she having proven worthy of that trust. She knows, just as she knows that she can lift her arm or twitch her finger when she so wishes, that if she were to summon her saber through the Force, it would leap to her hand in a smooth, unimpeded arc, with no hesitation.

It makes her think of the way she had called, almost without thinking, to Ben’s saber in Snoke’s throne room. How it had flown to her hand with no resistance. How the blade had leapt to life without her pressing the ignition switch. She can almost feel the resonance of his crystal as she recalls it. It had been familiar and gentle, yielding to her requests. But it had also been choked by howling pain, simultaneously relieved and confused to be asked to do something rather than commanded.

Just like Ben, she thinks. And maybe that’s what the crystals really are: reflections of the self. Rey had never asked Ben how his crystal became cracked, but she’s begun to suspect. The reality of that suspicion fills her with a sadness to which she could scarcely give voice, but that reality is coupled with her knowledge that whatever violence he’d inflicted on himself in his quest to conquer his own mind and soul, he had never succeeded in destroying Ben Solo. Ben was alive, and she’d seen him, really seen him, for the first time last night.

She can sense Ben now stronger than ever, not as a solid presence or as a voice in her mind, and not even as an impression of his thoughts and emotions. Instead, the feeling of him, of his distinct echo in the Force, clings to her like cool mist just above her skin. The thread of their bond, no longer the fragile thing it once was, shines more brightly than any light she’s known. And, though she now knows better than to try to pull on that thread, its presence comforts and fortifies her, and a serenity she’s never achieved alone attends her. They’ll be together again. She knows it.

As the call goes out on the loudspeaker, and over the Falcon’s comm, for all personnel to report to the command center, Rey understands that things are being set in motion that she cannot control. But that lack of control no longer frightens her. She is not alone. And neither is he. She clips her lightsaber to her belt, rises to her feet, and makes her way out to the Vedician day, the sky blazing white and brilliant as the light at the center of a flame.

***

The command center is alive with nervous energy as all available soldiers, crewmen, pilots, engineers, and other Resistance members crowd around the holo-display at the center of the room. Like the war room on the Raddus, the command center’s war room is arranged in a round, with step-like benches encircling the speaker’s stage. Now, instead of Leia or Holdo or Ackbar, the stage is held by Poe Dameron and Finn, who stand amidst the projection of a star system with which few of them are familiar.

Rey finds Rose quickly and takes a seat next to her. She can immediately sense Rose is troubled, but that’s understandable. The last time there was a muster like this, it was for the assault on Starkiller Base, something Rey hadn’t been present for, but had heard about plenty.

“Are you all right?” Rey asks her.

“Oh, I’m fine. I still have at least one fingernail left that hasn’t been chewed down to the bone.”

“What’s this all about?”

“Something about a distress call from one of our supply caches. I don’t know much else.”

She wants to say something to calm her friend, but she senses Rose’s fear is couched in concerns far deeper than those at hand. Rey suddenly recognizes that this fear had been present in her earlier, just after they’d repaired the lightsaber together. At the time, Rey had been so fixed on her own elation at having restored the crystal to its proper place that she failed to notice the growing doubt in Rose’s mind.

“Rose,” Rey starts to say, but she never finishes because Poe is clearing his throat and directing everyone’s attention to the center of the room.

“All right, listen up, people. We’ve received a distress call from our remote munitions depot on Taris. I know most of you weren’t aware we had a facility there, but let’s just say that the weapons there in storage aren’t just valuable. They’re irreplaceable. And that’s to say nothing of the twenty or so Resistance fighters who’ve been working there for the past month.”

Poe moves aside as the holo projection zooms in on a mid-sized planet in the system. It’s immediately clear that Taris is densely populated, as the half that’s shaded in night is dotted and streaked with city lights. But the planet is also shrouded in a layer of orange-gold clouds, and it looks like the cities that can be seen from space are actually sitting atop those clouds. Or, Rey thinks, the buildings are just so tall they reach above them.

“About an hour ago, our people on the ground reported that the Star Destroyer Volition had dropped out of light speed and is now positioned above the depot in low orbit. Transmissions are now being jammed at the source, and it’s only a matter of time before the First Order begins a ground assault. Finn?”

Finn steps forward, gesturing around the display with an easy confidence. He’s in his element, Rey thinks, and it occurs to her that Finn, with his military background, his simple, unpolluted sense of moral right, and his intrinsic understanding of the First Order, is where he belongs: leading.

“The drop zone we’re looking at isn’t ideal. Scratch that. It’s terrible. We’ll have to land our craft over here,” Finn says, pointing to a relatively flat clearing beyond the mess of buildings and wreckage, “and make our way through the streets to here, this old rail terminal.”

“Why not land our ships at that airdrome tower there?” Rose asks, pointing to a prominent structure not far from the old rail station.

“No good,” Finn says thoughtfully, “The First Order will land their craft at that thing for sure. From there, they’ll deploy to the surrounding structures and form a perimeter around the terminal. There’s a lot of debris and wreckage, so it’ll be slow going for them.”

“How many enemy troops should we expect?” asks a soldier in the back row.

“This kind of operation, I’d guess two to three hundred. Light infantry. Air support is unlikely because of the heavy smog and urban terrain.”

Finn had kept speaking, but the room had nearly erupted at the mention of the number of troops Finn expected. Even as he continued his analysis, there was a steady din of nervous chatter.

“All right, all right,” Poe steps in, quieting the room. “We’ve always been at a disadvantage. From the very beginning. But none of you has ever doubted. We’re going to do this. We’re going to get our people out. And we’re going to send a message to the galaxy that we’re still here. That we never went anywhere.”

He nods again to Finn, who continues.

“Those numbers aren’t nearly as scary as they seem. They’re overkill for this kind of operation, but that’s what the First Order does: surround and overwhelm. It’s gonna be slow going for them coming from the airdrome. From our approach point,” Finn says, showing the route planned through the old city streets, “we should be able to cut a quicker path through the ruins, get in, and get out, hopefully without too much of a firefight.”

“What about obstructions? Debris?” asks another soldier.

“Well,” Finn says, and looks to Rey. “we were hoping that’s where Rey would come in.”

She gives him an easy smirk and answers as brightly as she can manage.

“What, lifting rocks? No problem.”

Finn smiles back as small pockets of laughter ease the mood. Poe steps forward again.

“We get one shot at this,” Poe says, adopting the resolute tone that won him his position. “We don’t succeed, and the First Order will seize those weapons and our people are as good as dead. One hour to hyperspace jump, ninety minutes to planetfall on Taris. Move out. And may the Force be with you.”

The personnel in attendance all get to their feet, and the center comes to life again, now with a swarm of movement. Rey reaches out to catch Rose’s arm before she heads off to the flight deck.

“Rose, come with us,” Rey says, gauging the uncertainty in her eyes.

“What, me? On an extraction? Where there’s probably going to be a firefight?”

“I don’t know why. I just have a feeling. That we’ll need you.”

It was true. Rey hadn’t thought to ask Rose to come along on the mission, but now that she’s said it, it feels entirely right.

“Someone has to keep Chewie company while we’re out there,” Rey continues, smirking. “It’s terribly lonely on the Falcon now that the porgs are gone.”

Rose returns Rey’s smile with a weak one of her own, and she looks uneasy. Rey senses the deep confusion roiling in her friend, but the thoughts that would give shape to that confusion are hidden. Rey knows how it feels, to shield your mind from thoughts that come unbidden. Keeping a secret is hard enough under normal circumstances; keeping one from yourself, to preserve the fictions that hold your world together, is an exercise in torment.

But Rose eventually nods, and Rey smiles at her again. They part ways, Rose toward the equipment shed, and Rey toward the airfield, knowing that whatever is in store, it’s unlikely to go anything close to plan.

***

Back at the Falcon, Rey finds Chewie already making final preparations for takeoff. She makes sure to give him a little hell about taking so long off-planet with Maz, and he makes sure to respond with an endearing sound that Rey understands to mean something close to, “You’re one to talk.”

Rey has to laugh at that. She likely wouldn’t have several days before. But Chewie, she reminds herself, is almost three hundred years old himself, and he probably knows far more than anyone else about what’s been going on with her for the past months.

She does her own systems checks, and gets the soldiers and Rose settled on the ship. Coming back down the ramp, she notes the time. There’s a true Vedic sunset happening, and the sun, low on the horizon, stains the sky with blasts of red and yellow. She looks around the airfield and sees the bustle of action, the most this base has seen since they established it weeks ago. From that bustle, Finn crosses to the ship, a blaster holstered on his hip, a new rifle slung on his back, and a plastene plate beneath the jacket he’d worn on every mission since they’d met on Jakku.

“Rose told me the Force said she had to come with us.”

“I did not say that,” Rey says, and Finn cocks an eyebrow. “All right, I didn’t quite say that. It was implied.”

Finn smiles from the bottom of the ramp, but the smile is strained, and it fades.

“Rey,” Finn starts, his eyes communicating that inimitable sense of sincerity and trust, “she asked me something earlier, and I was meaning to talk to you about it.”

Rey can sense that Finn shares the same feeling of conflict and confusion as Rose. That’s not uncommon, Rey’s learned. Since she’s been able to sense emotions more keenly, she’s noticed that people who are intimate tend to share hopes and fears far more extensively than even they realize.

“Right after she came back from helping you with the lightsaber,” Finn continues, lowering his voice, “she asked me if I knew Kylo’s real name. So, I told her.”

“Oh, Finn,” Rey says in a whisper, not having meant to say anything at all.

“Look,” he went on, “everyone’s going to know eventually. It’s amazing the two of us have kept it secret this long. It’s just, I’m trying to figure out why she wanted to know all of a sudden. She said you guys talked about Darth Vader, but, that seemed like something she was telling me to get me to stop asking questions.”

It all makes sense. Rose’s reticence and fear. The hesitant confusion. Rey remembers now having almost said Ben’s name when talking about his lightsaber. And then, later, when she’d told Rose that not everyone who does monstrous things chooses to be a monster. She’s confident that Rose’s confusion is a genuine expression of the feeling; if Rose had indeed guessed at the truth, Rey doubts she would have been able to hide it. And without being Force sensitive, divining the what was really going on would be impossible for her. Still, there was enough information available to connect at least some dots, and Rose was intuitive and smart. It wouldn’t take long.

“Finn, there’s— there’s a lot I need to tell you. I—“

The klaxons in the control tower start ringing out, and Finn puts his hand on Rey’s shoulder.

“Hey, sorry,” he says reassuringly. “Don’t worry about it now. We’ve got a job to do. Let’s go do this, and we can talk about all this stuff later.”

Rey nods, and Finn smiles at her and heads up the ramp. Rey follows behind, punches the ramp controls, and engages the flight lock. Then she heads to the cockpit, where she finds Chewie. She sits down in the pilot’s seat, and begins the takeoff sequence.

She still feels some of the peace she felt earlier. Even as she is headed into a battle. Even as her friends’ suspicions are mounting. Even as Ben is in another part of the galaxy on the other side of a war. Because she can still feel his cool embrace on her skin. And she can still sense the shining thread that connects them. And she knows that the Light will guide her as she pulls the lever on the instrument panel and the stars bleed away into a tunnel of black and blue and white.

#reylo #reylo fanfic #rey #rey of jakku #kylo ren #kylo x rey #finn #finnrose #rose tico #star wars fic

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corruptedpoltergeist · 6 years

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Solitude

Characters: Sam Winchester, Dean Winchester, Reader, Bela, Random characters for plot purposes

Summary: Your father was nothing but a petty thief, stealing valuable items from everyday jewelry to cursed objects for the sake of his ‘collection’. But when a robbery gone wrong gets himself killed, you’re left with the aftermath of his problems.

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Depressed!Suicidal!Reader

Word Count: 5457

Warning(s): minor swearing, depression, loneliness, suicidal thoughts, solitude, suffocation, gore, cutting, self-inflicted injuries, angst, panicking, excessive and vivid details of suicide attempt, DO NOT READ IF YOU ARE PRONE TO PANICKING OR ARE UNCOMFORTABLE WITH SUICIDAL SITUATIONS

Square Fill: Suffocation

Important A/N: Please if you are in a situation where you feel that all is lost and you have no other choice left, please contact someone. Call a suicide hotline, hit up a close friend. Don’t go through this alone. There are people who care!

A/N: This was written for @spnangstbingo and their Supernatural Angst Bingo Challenge. Many thanks to @sumara62 who beta’d this for me! Thanks so much, sweets! Hope you all like this because there might be a part two to this? Maybe, maybe not, we’ll see. Enjoy and please leave some feedback! Shoot me an ask if you wish to be tagged for the SPN Angst Bingo fics!

An angry sigh left your lips for the third time in the span of thirty minutes as you sat down on your bed, running one of your hands through your hair while your other hand was clenching around your phone against your ear. Bela’s voice was starting to irritate you, especially since you’ve been hearing it every single day for the past week. She’s been trying to get you into the business your father was in, the one she had slipped into, but you knew better.

The life of thievery wasn’t what you wanted to do. You knew it was wrong, and that one day it was all going to come back and bite you in the ass, maybe quite literally. With the number of cursed objects in your home, who knew what those things could do, and you had no intention of finding out.

“I’ve said it before, Bela and I’m only going to say it once more. I don’t want to partner up with you. I’m not into that lifestyle.”

“Oh, but dea’ (Y/N), it would be so much fun. We could have a girls’ night out, go to a salon and get our hair done. Spend quality time togethe’ and gossip about boys,” she all but purred at you through the phone, probably hoping to persuade you with the bribery. But you were better than that.

“No thanks. I’d rather spend quality time with my reflection” you retorted while standing up and looking at your reflection in the full body wardrobe mirror. Though it wasn’t something you very proud of, it was still better than hanging out with a thief.

Bela’s British accent rolled out with her slightly pleading tone. “Come now, darlin’. We could have fun playin’ pranks on people again… You used to love doin’ that when you were younge’.”

She wasn’t lying. You and Bela had known each other since your early teen years. It was supposed to be a one-time friendship, but Bela had always been a persistent person. In her own way, that is.

With your father’s reputation as a renowned thief, the two of you were constantly moving around, your mother having divorced him a long time ago when she figured out why his ‘job’ paid him so well. You and Bela had met after school one day, a four-year gap between your ages, but that didn’t stop Bela from wanting to be your friend. Probably because she figured out your father was filthy rich and wanted to use you to get to him.

Sighing for the umpteenth time that day, you responded in a firm tone. “No, Bela. Maybe I thought it was funny when we were younger, but not when I know how serious the pranks really are. Don’t call me for these types of businesses again. Goodbye.”

Finally hanging up on the phone as you laid back on the bed with an agitated growl, you stared up at the ceiling of your room, simply contemplating your life, as usual. Numerous times, you’d find yourself staring up at the ceiling, finding no good reason to get up out of bed. For the past couple of years, your motivation for getting out of bed had waned tremendously.

Though your home was large, almost Victorian styled and there were a great many rooms to the house, you only use four of those rooms for yourself; the bathroom, the kitchen, this bedroom you were in, and the living room. There were two other rooms you used, but it was a simple walk in, get what you need, and walk out kind of usage. The rooms your father called the Treasury, which was where he stored all the stolen objects.

Recently, you’d been returning as many of the objects as you could to their rightful owners. Some of them were still alive and well, and you’d return the objects to them in person. Some were overseas, and you shipped them over with an apology letter. Others were deceased, and you had to search for the next person in their lineage to return it to.

But it wasn’t as easy as you thought. Some of the owners were armed, and wouldn’t listen to reason, requiring lengthy, and occasionally tense, dialogue just to convince them you were only here to return what was stolen from them. You always went home with some sort of flesh wound, bruise, or similar injury.

“As long as I get rid of em, I don’t care what people think of me.” You got up from the bed and walked out into the wide hallway, stopping in front of a room with a door made of metal, though it was cleverly disguised to make it look wooden. A doormat was placed in front of it, just like all the other rooms in this goddamn house you lived in. The doormats were made to blend in with the flooring, which was mostly soft carpet since marble was just a pain in the ass to clean. At least vacuuming didn’t take as long as mopping or dusting did.

Bending down, you picked up the carpet and flipped it over, revealing a small zipper underneath where the ‘L’ in ‘Welcome’ was. You unzipped it and dug two fingers into the compartment, pulling out a key, placing the mat back down and inserting the key into the lock, unlatching and opening the door with ease.

You headed into the room, grabbing the clipboard that was hung on the wall next to the door frame and looking down the list. For every stolen object that was encased in glass containers, protective boxes, or containers of their own, there was a sticky note placed on it, with a name and an address corresponding to the papers attached to your clipboard. There were nearly three dozen objects crossed out with a green highlighter on your list, while two of them were crossed out with a pink highlighter.

The ones highlighted in pink were ones with no recorded owners. Or none that you could find alive, anyway. So, you had no choice but to keep them around, one being an old family photo of what looked like a royal family and the other… Well, you weren’t sure what exactly it was since it was completely encased in bindings wrapped tightly around it and covered with Latin words. Probably something cursed.

“Let’s see… The next thing is this dagger.” You muttered to yourself, using a handkerchief to pick it up out of the glass container. You didn’t want to touch any of the objects in this room with your bare hands since, for all you knew, they were all cursed. It had a rounded end and hilt. Along with the blade, the whole thing seemed to be made from pure silver. It had a good weight to it, and it seemed genuine. You had no idea what it was for, but whoever owned it must have paid a fortune for its creation.

“Eh. Guess it’s time to take you home, Shiny.” You laughed bitterly at yourself for talking to an inanimate object. “But then again… It’s not like I have anyone better to talk with, right?”

“Dean, for the last time, stop eating your burgers like that. It’s dripping with grease and you look like a pig.”

“Sammy, for the last time, don’t tell me how to eat my burgers, and lemme eat in peace.” Sam rolled his eyes as he huffed and leaned back in the booth he was seated in at a nearby diner, trying his best not to watch Dean eating his lunch like a slob while his older brother was giving him a shit-eating grin, mouth stuffed with whatever was in the burger.

“Fo? Waf da caf?” With his mouth full, Dean tried asking Sam about their case, but it was useless; with his mouth full, he sounded like he was saying a load of gibberish. Sam gave him a fabulous bitch face, raising an eyebrow at Dean, who took a moment to realize Sam had no fucking clue what he’d just said. He swallowed the food in his mouth then asked again. “So? What’s the case?”

“Well, it’s not much of a case really. At least… not a supernatural one.”

Dean didn’t seem the slightest bit interested as he continued to chow down on his burger. “Okay, no problem. I’ll just go and do some shoe shopping, see if there are any good bars around, have tea with Eddie Murphy, and then try finding you a girl so you can finally get laid.”

Yet another bitch face directed at Dean as Sam leaned forward with a serious look on his face. “I’m being serious, Dean. It’s not supernatural, but it’s really odd. Expensive, stolen objects all around the world are being returned to their owners in the exact same condition they were taken. Uhm, jewelry, paintings, cutlery, weaponry, anything you can think of that’s priceless.”

“Like this burger?”

“Dean, get serious-” Sam’s phone suddenly went off, buzzing in his pocket. He took it out and looked at the caller ID, then to Dean with a raised eyebrow.

“It’s Bela.” This seemed to pique Dean’s interest as he leaned forward, finishing up his sandwich while Sam answered the call.

“What is it this time, Bela?”

“Aw, Sammy. Baby, not even a ‘hello, Bela, darlin’! How’ve you been?’. Nothin’ sweet?”

Sam scoffed and rolled his eyes. “Come on, Bela. This is not the time to be messing around. If there’s nothing you need, then I’ll hang up.”

“Oh, wait!” Bela sighed through the phone line as her teasing tone died out. “I have a reason for callin’ you. There’s goin’ to be a theft tonight, but I have important business, so I can’t stop it.”

“... And how exactly does that concern us?”

“The object is an angel blade. Isn’t that somethin’ you hunters use?” Bela was quick to speak, noticing that Sam was about to question how she knew about angel blades. “This is all I can tell you, Sam. Tonight, after 10. I’ll send you the address.”

Just moments before the clock struck ten, you were already inside the home where the owner of the dagger lived. Apparently, the owner was away, an active hunter who was on a case in a couple cities over.

“Well,” you muttered aloud to yourself, pulling out the safely-wrapped blade from your pocket. “Seems like it’s my lucky day. I don’t have to deal with angry hunters.”

It was just when you were about to put the blade down on the table that you heard the faint sound of footsteps coming from the kitchen. You perked up, trying to gently place the knife down and make a run for it.

“Sorry, what was that about not dealing with angry hunters?”

Your (E/C) orbs flickered up, slowly looking over your shoulder as you released your hold on the knife, letting it hit the table with a soft thud. You said nothing, standing up straight and staring at the two men before you. One was extremely tall and had shaggy brown hair and the other, the one that spoke up, was shorter and had dark green eyes. Or maybe it was just the dim lighting in the room that made them seem dark. Both carried guns in their hands, both aimed in your general direction.

Your posture gave away nothing of your true intentions as you gazed at them. “I don’t think I’ve had the pleasure of meeting you two.”

“Oh no, pleasure’s all mine sweetheart,” the green-eyed devil said as you took a few steps backward. “Might not wanna move any further than that.”

“Or what? You’ll shoot me?” You challenged, spreading your arms out and shrugging your shoulders. “Go ahead. I’m open.” The nonchalant comment made Dean falter, his gun slightly angled down a bit, and without hesitation, you took this chance to escape, running to the conveniently opened window behind you and jumping right out of it.

Your car was parked right up ahead, and without so much as a glance over your shoulder to see if the boys were giving chase, you made a beeline for the vehicle. Quickly getting into the driver’s seat, you turned it on, pressing on the gas pedal hard, kicking dust and debris behind you as you disappeared down the road.

Hours later, when Sam and Dean were chilling in their motel room and searching for signs of the most recent supernatural activity, they couldn’t help but think back to the thief that they stopped.

Sam sighed softly under his breath, taking his eyes off his laptop and turning around on his chair to glance over at Dean, who was currently sprawled across the motel bed on his back, the built-in massage machine in the bed finally turned off. “Hey, Dean?”

Dean hummed in response, raising his eyebrows to let Sam know he heard him. “Don’t you feel there was something… strange about her?”

“You mean besides the fact that she didn’t take that angel blade, and she wasn’t clad in all black like most robbers?”

Sam pressed his lips together and shook his head. “No, that’s not what I meant. She… I don’t know, Dean. I just have a weird feeling that she’s not a petty thief.”

“Like Bela?”

“Exactly,” Sam ran his hand through his shaggy brown hair and exhaled again. “Her reaction was different, and she didn’t even look the least bit disappointed that she wasn’t able to take that angel blade with her.”

Dean was silent for a while, his mind racing while allowing Sam’s words to process. “I see what you mean. She looked like your average town girl. Though a nice-looking town girl. Sweet ass, that one.”

Sam gave Dean a bitch face. He seemed to be doing a lot of that lately. “Dude, I don’t need to hear your opinion on every single girl you see.”

“And I don’t need to see you drooling in your sleep. Who were you dreaming about last night, hmm Sammy?” Sam’s face stiffened as he puffed his chest out, his hands itching to smack that smug look off of Dean’s face.

“Anyways… Back to that girl. I think we should keep an eye on her. Just in case she’s not who we think she is.”

“Whatever you say, Sammy boy,” Dean reached into his pocket and pulled out two quarters, inserting them into the massage machine’s coin slot and making himself comfortable on the bed, a loose grin on his face while Sam’s thoughts continued to swirl around this mystery girl.

Once again, hours had passed, and your gaze had never once faltered from the ceiling of your room, lying in bed with one arm tucked under your head and the other one sprawled next to you, wrapped tightly in bandages. Your upper arm contained cuts, deep ones that came from stabs and shallow ones that were just from slicing your flesh open.

A glass of water rested on the bedside table next to your head; you didn’t need to get light headed, not just yet.

This wasn’t what you wanted; to resort to cutting or self-harm just for your mind and body to realize you were alive. But there was no one you could go to for aid, no one to share your pain and agony with.

Your father’s life never allowed for you to have permanent good friends, and you had no siblings. Though your father was a bad man in terms of reputation, he was still a good father. You could always count on him whenever you felt down or upset if you ever came home crying because you fell off your bike or someone insulted you. He was there no matter what. No matter how immoral he was for stealing, no matter how much it upset you that you could never stay in a school long enough to make some friends, you still loved him.

Whereas any other person would complain all the time about the constant moves, you remained quiet and accepted it as part of your life.

And tonight, after seeing the face of those boys when they assumed you were stealing that godforsaken knife, you realized just how badly your father’s reputation had stained you. No matter where you go, you’d be known as the girl whose father was killed in a robbery gone wrong. A robbery he caused.

You exhaled heavily. What good would it do to shed tears? They would only create a mess, just one more thing you’d need to clean up before your short life came to an end.

Raising your good arm up and draping it over your eyes, you couldn’t help the lump in your throat or the swelling of water in your eyes. “Why… What did I ever do to deserve this life?”

The next time the boys spotted you was nearly three months later, your father’s so-called treasury now almost completely empty, the only evidence of the stolen objects in your home now being the sticky notes you wrote names and addresses on, stuck to each glass case individually.

You were returning a pendant of sorts, a great load of small charms attached to a necklace chain. Your handkerchief made sure your fingerprints didn’t stain the piece of jewelry, slyly making your way through a local diner in Grand Island, Nebraska and without being noticed by the owner, a red-haired woman, you slipped it into her jacket’s pocket and made your way out of the greasy-smelling diner, tilting your hoodie over your eyes so none could recognize you.

But as soon as you had made your way out the door, a hand gripped your upper arm, thankfully not the arm you’d constantly abuse. It still made you jump, whipping your head around with a gasp as you stumbled forward a few steps, trying to pry the man’s fingers off your arm.

Your (E/C) orbs gazed up into a pair of narrowed, emerald green ones, a look of seriousness in them, taking a moment to recognize who it was. The sudden yearn for struggling suddenly started to diminish, though your fingers were still hell-bent on trying to get his grip to loosen. “It’s not very nice to scare a lady.”

“Oh, believe me, sweetheart, this is as unpleasant for me as it is for you,” at which point he then proceeded to drag you elsewhere while you grunted and struggled, trying to trip him, scratch him, even bite him, but his grip was like steel. You were pretty sure a bruise was starting to form on your upper arm.

“Let go! You’re hurting me!” You cried out, which caused his grip to loosen only slightly, but not enough for you to slip away. He proceeded to drag you down the parking lot towards an extremely old modeled black car. The other man from that night, the taller guy with shaggy brown hair, was leaning against the car.

As soon as you were dragged to the car, quite forcefully, the man with green eyes gazed at you. “Now we’re gonna do this the easy way, alright? We ask you questions and you answer them.”

“Like hell I will,” your brows crossed in anger, gazing sharply at him. “Especially after the treatment I just got.”

“Come on. It’s not like if I’d asked you nicely, you would have come prancing after me like a good little girl.” He mocked, giving you a challenging look.

“Alright, you two. That’s enough. Dean, let me handle this.” The taller man said to the shorter one, who you now knew was named Dean.

With a scoff and a roll of his eyes, Dean backed down, releasing your arm as you rubbed it with your hand. The taller man held his hands up placatingly. “Let’s start with introductions. I’m Sam, and this is my brother Dean. We’re the ones you ran into a couple months ago.”

You nodded your head, avoiding direct eye contact momentarily. “I remember… You were in that hunter’s home.”

Sam raised an eyebrow at you. “So, you did know what you were stealing?”

“I wasn’t stealing!” You shouted at him, getting defensive as you responded almost immediately after.

He tilted his head to the side, shrugging his shoulders upwards. “Then... What were you doing in that hunter’s home? While he was away?” You chewed on the inside of your cheek, refusing to allow them to think you were a thief, but at the same time, this was something you were doing on your own. You couldn’t let anyone know about this.

“Why should I tell you? That’s my business, isn’t it?” With that said, you turned on your heel and walked away from them.

Dean wanted to go and chase you down, but Sam held him back. “Wait. You put the tracker on her right?”

“Yeah, it was almost too easy…” Dean’s eyes glanced over at your disappearing form, his gaze on your sleeve.

“Alright, we’ll follow her tonight and see where she’s going.”

“Fine. But if she does steal something, you owe me a night of drinks.”

Sam shook his head with a light-hearted laugh, a look of disbelief on his face. “If I didn’t know better, I’d say you’re hoping she steals something.”

“Hell yeah, man. Free beer!” Dean looked over at him with a goofy smirk, chuckling at Sam’s reaction.

The brothers gazed at the computer screen for a while, the tracker light flickering as your location changed every second. Dean focused his gaze back on the road, following your car without his headlights on so as not to be seen.

Sam and Dean watched as you turned right at a stop sign, heading into town where you pulled up into a driveway and got out of the car, glancing at your surroundings before flipping your hood up, an object in your hands. Though they couldn’t see what it was since it was wrapped in a white cloth.

As they observed you from afar, the Impala parked a good distance away, you braced yourself for whatever was to befall upon you. Swallowing your nerves and remembering those lines that you had memorized by heart, you rang the doorbell, waiting for the owner of the home to answer.

You didn’t wait for long, the door opening to reveal a burly man with a black side beard and freshly showered hair, a towel around his neck. He raised an eyebrow at you, leaning his weight against the door frame. “Can I help ya with anything?”

“The more likely question is … can I help you?” You brought your hands out on display, showing off the cloth-covered item in your hands. Slowly, you removed the top part of the handkerchief to reveal a long-barreled silver gun. Newly polished and without a smear, smudge or scratch on it. “This belongs to you.”

The man before you stood up straight as he gazed at the weapon without so much of a change in facial expression. You couldn’t tell what he was thinking. He reached forward and lifted the gun out of your hand and tested it, swirling it around his finger, tossing it up lightly to test the weight, even bringing it up to eye level and gazing straight down the barrel of the gun. “Now how in the world did you get ahold of this? I lost this years ago.”

Here it comes. You were either going to get smacked or insulted now. “My father stole it from you. And I’m here to return it.” His gaze swiftly shifted up to meet yours, his surprisingly clear blue eyes staring at you for a moment before he slowly tucked the gun into his belt then took a step back. He looked almost conflicted. “I appreciate you returning the gun…” He said before closing the door, and after a moment, you released the breath you didn’t realize you’d been holding.

“That went… better than I thought it would.” You tucked the handkerchief into your hoodie pocket, stepping away from the door and heading to your car, hopping into the driver’s seat and pulling out of the driveway, your last destination of the day being home.

“I’m done… Finally done.” You muttered softly to yourself, a melancholic tone replacing the cheerful one you should have used. Now that all the objects with owners were out of your home and in their rightful places, you no longer had a reason to get out of bed, to continue this harsh daily cycle you’d gotten so accustomed to.

Unbeknownst to you, the boys had continued to follow you after seeing the strange stunt you had just pulled.

Entering your large house, you stripped yourself of the oversized hoodie and tossed it away onto the ground, crossing the living room and heading to your main bathroom.

A box of blades was behind the mirrored cabinet, along with a couple of bottles of painkillers and pure caffeine crystals in a small vial. You’d made it yourself using an extraction method you learned back in organic chemistry. Though it was tedious, you’d been able to extract enough caffeine from tea bags to ultimately, but slowly, kill a person with just a sip.

Grabbing the nearby glass, you filled it up from the sink then got four of the painkillers and swallowed them, drinking the water immediately afterward to force the pills down. You waited five minutes. Ten. Fifteen.

Once you were sure the dizziness you were feeling was from the pills, you grabbed the glass vial and dumped all the crystals into your glass of water, stirring it with your pinkie finger until the crystals were dissolved.

You took a couple of large sips of the drink, grimacing at the bitter taste, even dry heaving a bit. Nevertheless, you forced it down. Your hands were shaking and shivering so much, you dropped the glass cup in an attempt to place it on the sink, shards scattering across the floor, but your muddled mind was unable to process it, reaching for the box of small blades as you tottered out of the bathroom, hot tears rolling down your cheeks.

You weren’t even sure why you were crying. Out of pity for yourself, perhaps?

Not sparing a second glance at the noose hanging from the ceiling in your room, the one you prepared earlier that morning, you sat on the chair directly underneath it, your t-shirt exposing your arms up to your triceps. You used your index and middle finger to hit your arm, forcing the dark blue vein to bulge a little, forcing it to stand out from the bruised skin you’d just struck.

In one clean and swift motion, you’d brought the blade down and sliced your arm vertically, right along the vein. Blood poured and gushed out of your arm like a waterfall, creating a large puddle underneath you within seconds while gasping and sputtering from the pain, you did the same to your other arm. You cried out in a panic and jerked, the blade cutting into your arm quicker than intended.

The painkillers slowly started taking effect, numbing your sense of touch for the first couple minutes, just a numb ache in your arms now as you sat there, tears staining your face. Your skin was starting to become pale, your breathing speeding up slightly as well as your heartbeat. The quicker your pulse, the faster the blood would flow out of your arm.

“No more second chances…” You whispered to yourself, shakily standing up, your feet making a squelching sound as you stepped in the puddle of blood staining the carpet. You unsteadily climbed up onto the chair, untying a black blindfold from its edge. You looped the noose around your neck tightly before tying the blindfold around your eyes.

“I’m done…” And with a harsh kick, the chair tumbled away, leaving you suspended in the air, hanging from only the rope. Your neck became constricted, tightening your windpipe as your body struggled for air. The lump in your throat made it hard to do so, causing you to choke.

Lips turning blue, and body trembling from the effects of the drugs and blood loss, your lungs started to collapse. You wheezed and gasped, lips parted so you could try and inhale fresh air one more time. Arms too weak to lift up and help your struggling body, they lay limp against you, red ooze dripping down your fingers and your stomach starting to burn from the effects of painkillers and pure caffeine crystals.

One last time, you struggled for air before your already darkened world started to disappear from your grasp. Within seconds, your body was limp, hanging in the air as your heartbeat slowed down further until it was but a faint cry for help.

Dean approached your front door, clearing his throat before lifting his fist and knocking on the door since he didn’t see the doorbell that was right in front of his face. Sam stared at Dean for a moment, trying to figure out whether his brother was seriously unable to see the doorbell or if he just chose to ignore it. So, he reached over Dean’s shoulder, which wasn’t too hard to do, and rang the bell.

“Please tell me you were purposely ignoring that bell.” Dean slowly turned his upper body to face Sam as he rocked on his heels before slowly phrasing every syllable, “I was purposely ignoring the bell.”

Sam rolled his eyes at Dean’s smart mouth as they waited for the door to open. They waited for a couple of seconds, then a minute. When they heard no footsteps approaching the door from the other side after nearly two minutes of waiting, they gave each other a knowing look.

“Think we should…?”

“Yeah. She definitely should have heard the bell.” Sam then knelt as he pulled out two bobby pins from his pocket, working on trying to unlock the door while Dean looked around, one of his hands hovering over the gun attached to his belt.

It didn’t take much for Sam to pick the lock. “Got it,” Sam whispered as he slowly pushed the door open, leaning forward a little to peek inside. When he saw nothing, he motioned for Dean to follow, the two of them walking inside to see why you hadn’t answered the door.

The brothers split up when they entered the living room, Sam heading towards the spiral staircase to their left while Dean looked around the first floor. He saw the discarded hoodie on the ground and picked it up, noticing that it was still warm. “She’s gotta be in here somewhere,” he mumbled, straining his neck around to see into the kitchen.

When he approached the open bathroom door with the lights still on, he cautiously pushed the door open, his gaze immediately hardening as he spotted the broken glass on the ground. There was some sort of fluid around the glass, though he couldn’t tell what it was, along with an abandoned glass vial and a bottle of painkillers.

He raced out the bathroom and into the short hallway that displayed a couple of doors, one being wide open. His breath hitched in his throat as he ran forward, his deep voice shouting out loudly and echoing through the house. “Sammy! Get down here!!”

Without a moment to spare, he grabbed the chair then stepped up onto it and started untying the knot in the rope with shaky hands. “Come on, come on,” he whispered in a panic.

Sam had heard the shout and, in a frenzy, ran down the stairs and headed in the direction from which he heard Dean’s voice. Upon arriving in the room, his jaw clenched tightly, wrapping his arms around your body and lifting you slightly so Dean could remove the noose from your neck easily.

Once it was off, Sam lay you down on the ground gently, Dean rushing over and kneeling beside you as he quickly slipped the blindfold off your eyes and checked for a pulse. It was there, but just barely. “Sam, we’re losing her! Take the wheel!”

Dean shouted as he quickly lifted you, being careful of your blood-coated arms as Sam took the lead out the house and to the Impala. “Closest hospital is just a few miles away. We’ll make it,” Sam assured him as he practically dove into the car and revved the engine up before speeding off down the road to the hospital.

“Come on, just hang in there,” Dean whispered in a panic, situating himself in the back as he cradled your upper body in his arms.

Tags:

@impalaimagining @bradygabrielle-blog @teamfreewill92 @chelsea072498 @not-moose-one-shots @percywinchester27 @sumara62

#spn angst bingo #supernatural fanfic #dean x reader #dean winchester #sam winchester #supernatural #spn fanfic #spn angst #angst #depression

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star-trekkin-across-theuniverse · 7 years

Text

Prompt: “GIRL JIM SMUT. WRITE SOME JIM SMUT PLEASE” - Anon Word Count: 2619 Tags: @dolamrothianlady @supermoonpanda @kirkaholic123 @shewhorunswithfandoms @starmission @emmkolenn @sugarshai @outside-the-government @yourtropegirl @pinkamour1588 @samaxraph99 @anyakinamidala @dirajunara @anotherotter @little-study-bug @rampant-salamander @goodnightwife @flirtswithdanger @southernbellestatues @engineeringtrashcan @rayleyanns @sistasarah-sallysaidso @feelmyroarrrr Warnings: NSFW, obviously, given the prompt. There be sexytimes beyond the cut

The gold bands of the transporter wrapped around you, pulling you back to the ship. Your phaser was still drawn and you were clutching your side when you rematerialized on the transporter pad of the Enterprise. Scotty’s eyes widened as you stumbled from the pad, dropping your phaser to stabilize yourself on the console.

“Can you make it to MedBay on your own, lass?” He asked, coming around the console quickly, and slipping your arm around his shoulder. You didn’t answer, knowing he wouldn’t be already assisting if he thought you were capable of making it under your own strength. He half led, half carried you down to MedBay, first informing Dr. McCoy that you were incoming before notifying Jim that you were injured.

The MedBay doors slid open as you approached, and Leonard scooped you up in his arms, and carried you over to the biobed, setting the scanners running immediately, and coming at you with a tricorder and hypospray for pain.

“Let’s get you comfortable so I can get to work on that liver,” he murmured as he administered the hypo. “You’ve got a few deep lacerations. You’ll need a little time under regen, kid. Jim’s going to be spitting nails.”

“It’s not like it could be avoided. Shit happens when you beam into a fucking warzone,” you complained. The MedBay doors slid open and Jim came running, full speed, toward the biobed, just barely slipping to a stop before crashing into you.

“Status, Bones,” he demanded, taking your hand in his and pressing his lips against it.

“Multiple lacerations to the liver, contusions to the kidney, superficial bruising to the periwound area. Three to six hours under regen and she’ll be right as rain,” Leonard replied. Jim smoothed the hair off your forehead.

“I’m sorry, Sunshine,” he murmured against the sweaty skin before pressing his lips to it. The pain medication had been quick acting and you were groggy already. There were tears glittering at the corners of his eyes, and you couldn’t help but smile, bringing a hand to his cheek. You brushed a lone tear aside with your thumb.

“I’ll have my mission report for you after I’m discharged,” you managed with a weak wink.

“Okay, well, maybe let’s not worry about that right now, okay? Just get better.” He pressed a gentle kiss to your lips. Leonard leaned back into your field of vision as Jim stood up.

“I’m going to sedate you, Y/N. When you wake, you’ll be ready to go,” he explained. You nodded, and allowed the pull of the medication to lull you into unconsciousness.

You felt better than you had in months when you wakened. Better, but still a little groggy. Jim was sitting by your side, focussed on the PADD in his lap. When you stirred, he looked up with a relieved smile.

“Hey, beautiful. Enjoy your nap?” He winked. You smiled. If he was joking, everything had gone well.

“Feel ready to go for a run, truth be told,” you admitted, pushing yourself to sitting. Jim laughed.

“Well, maybe we could hold off on that for a day or two,” he suggested. “But I’ll grab Bones and see if we can’t settle you back into your room now.” He disappeared into Leonard’s office for a few minutes and followed his friend back to your bedside. Leonard made quick work of your assessment, nodding in wordless satisfaction as the tricorder fed him results of your labs and organ function.

“Jim tells me you have designs on taking a run,” he started. “I think you could safely do so, but I’d prefer you take it easy for at least 24 hours. You can head back to your quarters though. I’ve got you on medical leave for the next 48 hours.”

“Thanks, Len.” You smiled at Jim. “See? I can go for a run.” You hopped down from the biobed and started toward your quarters, Jim hot on your heels, complaining about your inability to listen the whole way. When you paused at your room, he took the opportunity to step in front of you and place a hand on your chest.

“You aren’t going for a run,” he ordered. You raised an eyebrow and brushed past him into your quarters, requesting the lights at sixty percent. Your skin was tingly where the regeneration had grown new tissue and you resisted the urge to scratch, knowing it was merely an adrenal response. Your leg muscles were jumpy, a combination of overwork running during the away mission, and lack of appropriate cool-down after, and you replicated a banana as Jim followed you through the suite, nipping on your heels like an angry dog, repeating over and over again that you would be disobeying a direct order from your captain if you were to even consider going for a run, and he could throw you in the brig, and why couldn’t you just listen to people who knew better. The funny thing was, you’d never intended to go for a run, you’d just said that you felt well enough to do so.

“The guilt must be eating you up inside,” you commented, taking a seat on the squashy couch in your living room.

“What do you mean?” Jim asked, his brows knitting together.

“You haven’t shut up since I came to in recovery. You’re only listening to half thoughts before you go off, half-cocked, like I’m some moron who has chronic insubordination issues. Stop fucking nagging me!” You snapped, standing up. “I heard my doctor. He said no running. I never even said I wanted to go for a fucking run, I just said I felt good enough to! Babe, I get it. You feel guilty for sending me directly into an active skirmish. You feel badly that I got injured. But for God’s sake, chill, or I will actually go for a fucking run!”

Jim froze. You’d been dating for months, and never once had lost your temper with him. You’d promised yourself you wouldn’t because no matter how close you felt to him, the fact remained that he was your superior officer. It hadn’t been difficult to bite your tongue, Jim was a gifted leader and his command was easy to work under. So he’d never seen you even so much as annoyed. You could see the cogs turning in his mind, trying to figure out what kind of response he should give you. It was new ground for him as well, and that line between work and play was fuzzy in places still.

He stepped forward until you were backing up, your own uncertainty meeting the mercenary gleam in his eyes. You thumped into the wall behind you, and Jim moved forward until there was no path of escape from him. His arms caged you in, one beside your head, one at your waist, and he pressed closer still, until every inch of his body was pressed into every inch of yours. Or at least, that’s how it felt.

“I don’t like that tone of voice, Lieutenant.” His words were soft; deadly and seductive all at once. You raised your eyebrow in defiance. He was not going to try to intimidate you and get away with it.

“And what, pray tell, do you think you’re going to do to change it, Captain?” You threw a little extra emphasis on his rank, just so he knew you were answering his challenge. He tilted his head and leaned toward your ear, his lips just grazing the lobe as he spoke.

“Maybe, since you’re all healed up and raring to go, I’ll fuck some sense into you.” The words came out in a cross between a purr and a growl, and you shivered, goosebumps chasing across your shoulders and down your arms. You wanted to pull away, confirm that the lust you were feeling was present in Jim’s eyes as well, but he had you so well fenced in there was nowhere for you to go.

“That could backfire on you badly,” you murmured as his lips trailed down your neck. He reached behind you and fumbled momentarily with the zipper on your uniform before cursing and taking a side in each hand and tugging. The zipper hissed as it tore free, the slider snapping free and ricocheting across the room with a ping. He pulled the sleeves forward down your arms, and shoved the skirt down your hips, leaving the destroyed garment in a pool around your ankles. He paused as he took in your bare abdomen, his hand running gently across the new tissue at the site of the phaser wound. He knelt and kissed you at the edge of the slight discolouration where the new tissue met the old.

“I thought I’d lost you.” The words were no more than a breath across your skin but you felt them right to the centre of your being. You ran your fingers through his hair, and closed your eyes. His hands encircled your waist, his thumb finding the tender spot and gently massaging it as he stood back up, meeting your gaze. You tried not to flinch under the pressure, and he caught you. “It still hurts then.”

“New tissue is always tender,” you dismissed. He let out a huff of air, disagreeing without as many words.

“Your liver was shredded. There’s more new liver there than old. I hardly think it’s the skin that’s causing you discomfort,” he countered. You placed a hand on his cheek and leaned forward, silencing him with your lips.

“Didn’t you just promise to fuck some sense into me?” You challenged. He growled through the smirk and pulled you from the wall, leading you toward the bed, struggling to remove his clothes as you went. He somehow managed to get his uniform off without tearing it, which was a damned bloody miracle, but considering the carnage that he’d inflicted on yours, seemed only fair.

He was frantic enough with need that you expected him to throw you on the bed, but he was still in control enough that he eased you down in his arms and laid you across the mattress like you were fragile. He wasn’t as considerate with your underwear, tearing them at the hips rather than pulling them down your legs. You crossed your arms across your breasts and shook your head when he moved to grab your bra.

“Oh no, James the T is for tearaway Kirk, a good fitting bra is hard to come by on this ship,” you scolded, unfastening the back yourself and tossing it to one side. He knelt between your legs and sighed, tears coming to his eyes. You knew he was taking in every spot of discolouration on your skin, every place where the new tissue had replaced damaged, injured and scarred skin before, even before he bent and started kissing each faded flaw.

“God, I’ve put you in danger too many times,” he murmured between kisses. You let out a soft huff of laughter.

“To explore strange new worlds. To seek out new life and new civilizations. Nothing there suggests to me that my job will ever be free of danger,” you countered. Jim’s lips met yours, his kiss searing and tender all at once.

“That’s my oath. Yours is something along the lines of first do no harm,” he parried.

“Then it’s a good thing that was mine and not yours,” you teased. He leaned back, slapping a hand against his chest.

“You wound me!” He laughed. You pulled him back down to you and kissed the skin over his heart.

“You are wearing entirely too much, Jim. You’ve got me here, naked as the day I was born, and you’ve still got your trousers on,” you reminded him, pulling at the front of them. He took over, shimmying out of them and tossing them on the floor beside the bed before kneeling between your knees again. He leaned down, kissing your neck, and along your collarbone before drawing a nipple into his mouth, teasing it with his tongue. You arched your back, inviting more, and his hand skimmed across the curves swell over your hip, following the contour around to grasp your ass. His lips trailed to the lower swell of your breast, then down to the hollow of your belly button, lingering there for a moment before teasing his tongue down to the skin of your thighs. He nudged your hips wider with his shoulder, dropping kisses down the juncture of your thighs until he pressed a kiss against the soft, moist skin, his tongue teasing the folds open and swiping a long stripe from top to bottom. You stifled a moan, fisting one hand in his hair. It was all the encouragement he needed, pressing his face closer, his tongue circling the hooded nub, and finally, after teasing you for longer than you thought you should be able to handle, licking a broad, heavy stroke across your clit, caused you to draw in your breath in a sudden, ragged moan.

He lifted his tongue, and focussed a breath across the sensitive bud, and you sighed, very nearly seeing stars. He slipped a finger into you, pumping slowly as he continued his ministrations against your clit, and soon a second joined, curling forward just enough to rub against the sensitive patch of skin at your g-spot. Between his attentiveness to your clit and those massaging fingers, you came undone quickly, starbursts exploding across the black canvas of your closed eyelids as your breath came in ragged, breathy groans. Jim’s lips travelled back the direction he’d started from, kissing up your belly, to the swell of your breast, up to your collarbone and neck. As he moved, you found yourself enough to wrap your hand around his thick cock, slowly pumping your hand up and down his length, directing him to your opening. You held your breath as his head nudged inward, sighing in satisfaction once he’d pushed all the way in. He began pumping his hips slowly, and instinctively your own rose in response, and his pelvis thumping rhythmically against your already sensitive clit brought your quickly to another orgasm, the walls of your vagina clenching around his firm length. Jim’s breath hitched and he groaned, stilling as you contracted around him. As the waves of your orgasm subsided, he resumed thrusting into you, but his rhythm was erratic, and you realized as you felt him thicken within you that he was close already. His arms wrapped around you tightly, and his hips pistoned harder against you as his grunts became staccato, ending with one long, drawn out groan as he collapsed against you. He rolled off you quickly, kissing your forehead.

“Sorry,” he murmured as his lips touched your forehead.

“Why?”

“I dropped onto you, and -”

“And if you think that wasn’t damn near as athletic as a run, it’s a good thing you’re so damn pretty, Jim,” you laughed, rolling onto your side and curling into him. He ran his hand through your tangled hair and kissed your forehead again.

“I love you,” his voice was soft against your hair. You stilled in his arms. These were words he’d never said before. You looked up into those impossibly blue eyes and saw the truth reflected in them, and smiled, tears filling your eyes.

“Are you sure?” You asked, scared to voice the same words in return, lest his were tempered by post-coital stupidity. He just nodded and blinked, flexing his bicep around your shoulders.

“More certain than anything I’ve ever felt.” His voice was soft, and gravel, and sexy and you melted.

“I love you too, Jim.”

#imagine star trek #star trek imagine #Jim Kirk #James T. Kirk #jim kirk x reader #james t. kirk x reader

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