#this door may in fact have been their greatest foe yet | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

my-writings-and-musings · 4 years

Note

Could you do Drift and Ravage for the oxygen loss prompt?

I absolutely can do Ravage, our dear kitty deserves the love! Drift can be found in part six below!

Part One: Here!

Part Two: Here!

Part Three: Here!

Part Four: Here!

Part Five: Here!

Part Six: Here!

Part Seven: Here!

Part Eight: Here!

Part Nine: Here!

Part Ten: Here!

Part Eleven: Here!

Part Twelve: Here!

Part Thirteen: You're Here!

Ravage

·The tale of how you even became friends with the reclusive and understandably untrusting felicon is as long as it is convoluted, but a good synopsis is that the two of you simply get one another. It doesn't hurt that you always gave him ample personal space and respected his boundaries, and the fact you don't mind meeting up in the vents is a plus for him. Bots are absolutely baffled by your relationship, so avoiding public spaces has become his preferred activity to enjoy with you, if only to be free of the gossip. Equally eager to have peace and quiet, you'd long since found ways to make his favorite spots in the vents into ideal hangouts.

·Unfortunately, today is one of the rare days he has to be away from your side and amongst the crew. On the Bridge there's some kind of trouble, requiring all the commanding officers to be present while it's sorted out, and he refuses to leave Megatron there alone. Primus knows his old friend gets blamed for everything that goes wrong eventually... Yet he's far from focused as the diagnostic scans reveal a confounding bug in the ship's programming. As worrying as it should be, his thoughts drift repeatedly to you, and how much he'd rather be somewhere far less open and bright. Hopefully this will all end soon, and the two of you can curl up somewhere to relax, with his larger body naturally fitting around yours as if made to do so...

·A teasing look from Megatron makes him realize he had allowed his dreamy thoughts to color his face with a ridiculous expression of lovestruck bliss. Pinning back his ears and flushing hot as a star, he can only be grateful no one else seemed to notice. Just as he's debating whether or not to sneak away, there's a commotion amongst the more tech savvy bots. They claim to have found the source of the programming bug; which isn't a bug at all, but a virus. Claws fully unsheathing in preparation for combat, his sense of dread grows exponentially as he puts together what is being said, realizing that something very bad is moments away. Lights flicker in confirmation of his fear. In moments the ship is flashing out a hundred or so alarms, signaling that it is more or less helpless against whatever may happen next.

·You're the first thing he thinks about as countless terrible scenarios begin to play in his mind. Between his hypersensitive hearing and smell he's nearly choked on the panic and fear growing through the Lost Light, but all he wants to focus on is you. A human has precious little in the way of defense, and with every system keeping the ship stable, there's nothing to protect you. The solution is obvious; he has to find you before something else does. When the ground quakes and an incoming transmission threatens the crew he doesn't stick around to hear the enemy gloat. A brief explanation to Megatron is all he offers before taking off, and though he doesn't stick around to see it, his old friend gives him a nod of understanding.

·Distant sounds of metallic warping and the scent of soldering tell him the ship is being breached, but also make it incredibly difficult to pinpoint your location. He's memorized every identifiable feature of yours for moments like this, but the chaos turns the air into a smog of panic, so that it's only the uniqueness of your scent that allows him to find a trail. Faster than most vehicle modes and far more limber, he's an unstoppable blur through the hallways. A path to your shared quarters forms effortlessly in his mind as he passes down the levels.

·Far from your partner, you're still recovering from the bang that shook the entire room you'd been so comfortably set up in. Dazed on the ground, you get your feet beneath you before thoughts return, and the first one is for Ravage. Unfamiliar with space travel, you feel compelled to fear the worst; what if he was too close to whatever just went wrong? Capable as he is, the Felicon isn't immortal. Dead communication lines cement the need for worry in your dizzy head. Careless to the considerable tumble you just endured, you try to think of the best possible response for both your sakes. If he's able to so much as crawl, Ravage will be headed for you, so the best thing to do is make yourself as easy to find as possible. Shallow as that plan may be, it's at least a starting point, and you won't have to go far.

·A trail of claw marks through the hallways marks a tireless and acrobatic flight of barely disguised panic. Ravage takes every possible vent into his olfactory receptors for even the tiniest whiff of you. It's a scent he falls asleep with every night, the familiar yet so unusual mammalian musk soothing him as he curled about your tiny body... Now he's panicking over every tiny whiff, if only because he can't tell if you're really okay. Foreign smells tell of an encroaching enemy spilling into the Lost Light, and from the overpowering rush it appears their numbers are considerable. Some even appear to be moving through the lower levels just a floor or two below... Hulking footsteps that are not Cybertronian register in his sensitive ears, moving with such little grace he can feel them through the floor in his perceptive paws. Anger helps him swallow down some fear. If they want to get between him and his partner, then it's their death wish.

·Finding little to be working reliably, you open the door to your room just wide enough to let you through only after multiple attempts prove unsuccessful. A lifeless but somehow noisy hallway greets you. The sounds of combat are close, or at least, you presume what you're hearing to be combat. Perhaps you hit your head harder than you thought, because thinking through what's going on is far more difficult than it should be. Holding onto the wall for support, you try desperately to think of a plan. Ravage could be anywhere, and with no way to reach him, it's impossible to plan a meet up or even attempt to learn of his status. Yet... these dire thoughts don't invoke the panic they should. It's growing impossible to even stand on your own, and without meaning to you start to lean more of your body against the wall...

·Ravage inevitably is faced with a foe he cannot evade, and for your sake, he charges forward. There's a group of them, all gathered in the only hallway that will take him quickly to your location. He can feel the heat of energy weapons simmering in the air by the time he's upon them. With the element of surprise he's able to unleash incredible damage in his first attack, claws and fangs tearing through protective armor to kill one and severely wound another before they even realize they're being attacked. Bounding between their hulking forms, he faces the one disadvantage he's always endured through combat; his enemies far outscale him. Though his need to protect as well as survive turns him into a living blender, a well placed and simply lucky strike makes painful contact with his back, cracking the armor and bringing forth a spattering of energon.

·Recovering with the aid of his own anger to fuel the final attacks, he fights on with the wound agonizing him all the while, sinking his fangs in deep to take care of the final enemy. It isn't until the last body thunders to the floor that his legs temporarily give way. He's in need of medical attention, but he doesn't dare slow down, or even get a moment of rest. Shaking legs push defiantly to get him upright, and for once he's able to be grateful to have four. The ragged pace he resumes with is only as fast as it is because he knows he's close, as your scent is now clear despite the warring smells of blood and a million other unpleasant odors. Even if all he can do is collapse by your side and keep you company, it will be enough...

·Time seems to stand still when he sees you slumped over by the doorway to the room you two share. Though you're without injuries and the iron rich smell of human blood is undetectable, he knows something is very wrong, and though every motion hurts he bounds to your side. Crying out your name, he gently nudges you with a careful muzzle. Warmth and the rythym of your heart quell his greatest fears just before you open your eyes. Not quite awake, you can only be relieved to see him again, far too out of it to be afraid. At his insistence to move you express a desire to rest instead. No amount of encouragement can seem to make you realize the danger, and thus he's forced to make the decision to move you himself, even if he's in bad shape himself. Clearly, you need more help than he can give.

·You go along as best you can when he insists you ride on his back, and it's only your considerable experience doing so in the past that makes it possible now. He tries to think through the pain, but has little luck imagining what could possibly have done this to you, and his efforts to do so are hampered further as he begins to limp forward. Between energon loss and exhaustion and fear he knows things are looking grim. It tears at him more aggressively than any wound ever could, particularly as he feels you growing weaker against him, and all he can do is beg for you to hold on. You want to, but with his body so close and the rocking of his steps, how can you resist the urge to sleep? Surely everything will be fine when you wake... It's too much for him to endure when you slip into unconsciousness, and his legs give out beneath him. Failure burns in his spark as he tries in vain to keep going, his inability to save you haunting his exhausted body as footsteps draw near.

·It's by fortune he has rarely experienced that you're happened upon by a group of bots led by Megatron. He forces himself to stay awake for your sake, refusing to let anyone separate you so long as you need care. The blur of the medical bay brings comfort only briefly, as when he's informed of the reason behind your struggle he's nearly torn apart by guilt. Seeing you with your oxygen mask confirms his failure to protect the one he holds dearest to his spark. Withdrawing from the world, he allows himself to be patched up before curling himself around your tiny body, all but shielding you from the universe so intent on hurting you both.

·The warmth of his frame so frequently is your first sensation upon waking that you don't realize something is off at first. It isn't until you feel the mask on your face that you remember what happened, but by then Ravage is gently tapping his muzzle against you to confirm everything feels alright. Without promoting, he gives a quick rundown of what led up to this moment. You're wide eyed as he explains the ship's atmospheric shutdown, particularly when he gets to the part where he tried to carry you to safety... The apathy as he recounts it all, however, is far from fitting. Laying a gentle hand on a paw, you ask if something happened that bothered him, and receive confirmation from his silent expression of sadness.

·Initially, he can't bring himself to say what's wrong. On the surface he knows his actions were reasonable, but in his spark... he's so afraid of how his own inability to save you nearly resulted in tragedy. Just the thought of losing you is terrifying enough, but having nearly faced it has rocked him to his core, and he sits in silence under the weight of those emotions. Mercifully, you can read him well enough to not need words. Ravage has always withdrawn when upset, and few things agonize him more than failure.

·Gently as you can, you encourage him to come close, pulling his helm as near to your lap as possible. The sadness in his optics nearly breaks your heart, but you're confident as you speak, thanking him for what he did to save you and insisting you wouldn't be here without him. When he briefly tries to protest, you point out that he likely wouldn't be injured had it not been for you, and he quickly replies that you're worth any scars. When you retort that you feel the same way about him, a small amount of weight appears to leave his shoulders. He recalls that the best part of loving you has always been the freedom to exist as he is, free of pressure, and that he can't be a failure in your eyes so long as he tries. It's simply easy to forget that sometimes... Allowing himself a purr, he uses his tail to most effectively wrap you in his protective body, intent on keeping the both of you safe and warm for some much needed rest. So long as you have each other, there's nothing that can't be overcome.

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peakascum · 4 years

Text

The Room Where It Happens

Request for: @slither-in-a-half I know this is a bit different than what you asked for and it’s way different than what I originally intended to write, but I really do hope you enjoy it!

Two politicians stand on opposites sides of each other for a Charity event, something to do with children or painting the Parliment’s ceiling. Thomas Shelby sips a chilled Merlot as he eyes the posh MP’s that mingle alongside him, noses turned up and head in their ass. In front of him lurks another MP, a much snobbier one at that, whom galavants his wife like a bloody medal. You don’t mind, at least not publicly. Always playing the trophy wife, always sporting a smile, always curtsying a ‘What a lovely evening’. Thomas knows he’s playing a dangerous game as he eyes your cherry red lips gulp down yet another glass. It’s the urgency in which you consume the devil’s drink that always catches his attention. He knows how soft your hands are and how delicately you maneuver them from the countless times you've touched his.

The condition of being stuck in a loveless marriage would drive anyone mad. Add a little bit of brute force and a make-believe smile, and that would be enough to send cries for help. Which you had done so on several occasions, but no one took them seriously; instead, they deemed you as a bored housewife. You had heard the tales, everyone had, of the countless wives of esteemed families that suddenly had public outbursts which were deemed as hysterical. You were familiar with the stories, about Mrs. Dormer’s dull complexion and Mrs. Hastings’ scarred wrists, all whispers of misfortune were now your reality.

Tommy and your husband had never seen eye to eye on any particular topic. Both were stubborn men who belonged to different political parties and lived completely different realities. Your husband was born with a silver spoon in hand while Tommy built his kingdom out of wooden sticks and cut stones. But those eyes, those adoring blue eyes wrapped you in from the first time they met. It started with stolen glances and escalated to a passionate night shared in his office as you delivered some papers on behalf of your husband. He decided you had the loveliest broken smile he had ever seen. The most delicate laugh and the wittiest humor, one he would not mind hearing time and time again.

‘Did you listen to a word I said Mr. Shelby?’

‘I- I don’t believe I did, no.’ He remarked, clearing his throat.

She smirked. ‘I-I-I’ She mocked. ‘Stuttering is for children and tight-lipped fools. Are you a fool Mr. Shelby?’

You exhaled words of pleasure in each others ears. Bodies molding together like clay and fingertips eager to explore. Exhaustion came after and a simple kiss was placed upon his lover’s lips as if it were already a routine. Both clinging to the affection you so desperately craved.

Months of passion were spent in secrecy up until the moment your husband caught on, almost crushing your wind pipe and blinding you out of rage. Not because he loved you, oh no, but because he craved power and dominance. A poor little rich boy does not share. So when the venue and seating were arranged for the gala he made sure to have Thomas Shelby in front of him, to taunt you, to dangle his prized possession in his opponent's face. To give you a glimpse into the life you wanted, yet gripping your thigh beneath the table as if saying ‘Don’t you dare’.

The torrid affair you shared with the Shelby man had ended a few weeks prior with a handwritten letter, but your absence from such events told him what he couldn't decipher from your words.

‘Dear sir,

It is with a heavy heart that I write this letter. I hope you understand my reason for ending this relationship. I love my husband, you see, and the idea of breaking this marriage is enough to make my heart weep. My whorish ways have brought misery to my house, but be not alarmed by this, for my husband is very generous and will gladly offer you a sum of money for your silence. You must excuse my behavior these past few months and, therefore, understand the severity of the situation.

Best wishes, Y/N.’

The letter sat in his pocket weighing heavily against the floor. He rejected the money, of course, but it didn't save his heart from breaking any further, and his mind from wandering to the atrocious acts your husband performed out of hatred. Thomas was a dangerous man, but your husband was worse, and his wrath would treble his political career, crease his business, and ruin his family. Polly had warned him many times about the dangers of thinking with his cock, but it was more than that. Arthur had payed for other whores to keep him company, but he could bed no other. It was the way you said his name in wonder whenever you saw each other after weeks apart. You were a wondrous creature shrouded in a mysterious, yet inviting, aura. One who sported a smile, such a sweet smile on those cherry red lips that made his own twitch and heart clench.

It was the way you grimaced as your husband squeezed your arm that made his feet have a life of their own. He marched confidently up to you both, eyeing him with brutality, but switching to you with softness. Your eyes widened pleadingly at him to stop, to stop at once, to turn around and save himself from trouble.

“Ah Mr. Shelby, what a pleasant surprise.” Your husband said, sporting a tight smile and a poised stance. Tommy nodded, “Mr. Crooke, Mr.s- Crooke”. Your eyes bore daggers into his. Your husband shook his hand firmly in a weak attempt to exhume further dominance, when, in truth, all of them knew who really owned the room.

“Excuse my wife’s appearance, say. She’s not been her best these past few weeks, isn't that right darling?” Your husband said as he ran the back of his index finger gently over your cheek. Your once shimmering eyes appeared lifeless under the yellowish glare of the chandelier- a shell of the woman you had been, the woman you should be. “Wonder why that is sir,” Tommy bit back. Your husband chuckled, “You’re a bold man Mr. Shelby.” The men stared down at each other down as men tend to do.

“So they say.” Tommy replied.

“You've caught my attention, Mr. Shelby,” your husband started, “and in a most ill-manner may I add.” Tommy quirked a brow and urged him to go on. “Mr. Shelby I do not think it is in anyone’s best interest for me to comment on my wife’s extra curricular, is it not?” Your posture remained stoic, eyes trained to the expensive champagne in your hand praying that somehow you could shrink ten sizes and bathe in it. Stretch your arms and do laps on the clear glasses that British aristocracy drank in sighs and content giggles. You had silly daydreams like these. Some not so silly. Ones drenched in crimson liquid as if you were a butcher at the end of your shift, only to look around and see your husband’s body displayed in all his fat glory.

You sucked in a breath and uttered, “Gentlemen you must excuse me, I need to use the powder room.” Your husbands hand stopped gripped your forearm as you made your exit, “Don’t be long dear.” He uttered menacingly.

You leaned up against the green wall that lead to a long corridor, away from prying eyes and the clink of heels against expensive tiles. Lungs heavy, hands trembling, and mouth parting like a fish out of water. You felt foolish. You had lived years below your husband’s scrutinizing thumb, surrounded by words of empty headed strangers on how lucky you were to have married such a bright and clever man. A man who rejoiced at the sight of her trembling figure and got off on her agonizing screams that left her feeling like a vegetable for days. A man who curiously spit false facts with such emotion that caught the ears of the rich and the weak. And then she met him. And then life ripped that away.

As if on cue, Tommy hurried towards her with that ever prominent scowl on his face, “Y/N, love-“

“No! No Tommy we cannot speak!�� She pushed his hands away, further encouraging the scowl to become two tattooed lines in between his eyes. “Listen to me Y/N, stop fighting and fuckin’ listen ey?” He grabbed her trembling hands in his careful not to hurt her further. “What? What could possibly be so important to tell me right now that would make tonight’s punishment worth it?” You growled in contempt.

“In about three minutes I will go into a room with your husband to bargain your freedom.” He grabbed your plum face in his hands, urging for your eyes to meet, for a reassurance, a peace of mind, a promise.

“He won’t give me up Tommy, he won’t.” You noticed his eyes waiver in a way that only a heartbreak could cause. They were filled with urgency, a sense of dread, because how could you not trust him? How could you not see that everything he is and everything he does is for you?

“The greatest grief in my life will come if I leave you in the hands of that monster. All of this,” he said gesturing around him, “all of this is collateral, Y/N. I’ve accepted that risk of dying, I do it every day for stupid shit Y/N, for really stupid shit.”

“Oh God! Oh God!” You moaned, crying in despair. You shook your head as tears coated your frosted cheeks, unable to comprehend the thought of freedom and actual love.

The orchestra started playing in the dining hall soliciting the guest’s attention to a melodic grace. The violins struck their cords in an unruly manner, insisting on being heard. Your husband whistled as he came toward you both making you separate. “Mr. Shelby, I believe we have pressing matters to attend?” He said. In his shifty brown eyes lied an expression you could not read. And so both men entered the room with the big fireplace and oak chairs. The mahogany door closed with a thud that coincidentally resonated beautifully with the melodic sound of the band.

The doors opened just as quickly as they had closed. Or had the hours flown by? You couldn't tell. In the torturous time you had been left outside, a small crowd had gathered around you. Whispers of ‘mistress’ and ‘foes’ and ‘ruins’ had been said, but most just repeated the few phrases that could be heard from inside the room. The two politicians stepped out having reached a mutual decision. One having lost a sum of money that would leave him in financial ruin for the rest of his life. The other with promised assets that would change his family’s fortune and the value of his name.

Your eyes met the Shelby’s blue ones, a smirk adorning his features as he stared at you. His woman. “Now, what’s this I hear about you doubting me love?” He murmured. You shook your head in disbelief, a small smile itching to be seen as your eyes darted over to your husband. “I don’t- I don’t get it Tommy, what did you do?” You asked grasping the lapels of his evening suit. Your hands tugging and caressing them ceremoniously as anxious tears pooled in your eyes.

“Don’t concern yourself with business Y/N-“

“No! No, I will most certainly concern myself with business. Business that involves me. Business that has a means to freedom and life- a life Tommy, a-a life without fear.” She insisted, but he only smiled and kissed her lips gently, ignoring the ever growing fight that surrounded them. Your husband had drawn a gun in contempt, only to be tackled by Tommy’s men. He never was quick on his feet.

It happened months later in the middle of an uncertain spring, when his face popped in your mind again. You had seen him in the shadows and in every drunk that passed you in the street. You saw him beneath the knife of the butcher, when rain fell from parted skies, and in the ominous sound violins made when played. But worst of all, you had seen his face in Arthur Shelby’s as he screamed at you yet again for getting in his way. Most of the family had accepted your relationship, as they pitied your cold sweats and silent demeanor, but mostly because the deal didn't ruin the Shelby empire.

Once home, you stared aimlessly at the crackling fire, allowing the warmth to envelope you like a protective hug. Tommy made his way towards your figure and sat cross legged, whisky in hand. “Where’s your mind today, bird?” He whispered, tenderly stroking your pinned hair.

“Thinking about the night my husband sold me like cattle.” Tommy side eyed you, clearly tense about the topic. “Did he?” you pressed again, “no one’s ever told me anything about it. I know we technically won, b- but Arthur’s been up my arse again and I can’t, not for the life of me, continue to be a prisoner of utterly worthless and untrue remarks!” She grew agitated withe very word, but all were true, and he knew this. His hand continued rubbing circles in the back of her neck and chuckle, a small one, escaped his lips.

“Do you take me for a fool Tommy? Because I assure-“

“I don’t.” He cut her off. “You're no fool. I think you've proven that a few times now, right? You weren't a fool when you were with him and you're not one now.”

“Then what, Tommy? What could have possibly been said that guaranteed my freedom and his ruin?”

He sighed sensing her desperation, but he couldn't possibly tell her. In fact, he hadn't even told his family. Arthur’s distaste for Y/N was shrouded in mystery itself, more so a rendition of the protective older brother, a one man play. Any other man would have disclosed the information to a close confidant, but not Tommy- never Tommy. It is why under the fire’s glow and the tenderness of your flesh beneath his fingers, he promised himself yet again to never speak a word of it to anyone, not even you. It would remain an active memory buried in the inner, darkest corners of his mind. Each time he visited Mr. Crooke, in a most disclosed location, he would remember to discard the clothing used and have an alibi prepared. A pesky little thing he was, a washed up creature that would receive every punishment he gave; but no one should know, least of all her, because just like that night, no one else was in the room where it happened. No one knew the words that were spoken or how the deal was made.

Only assumptions were made. And with one last stroke of the cheek and a light kiss to the lips, Thomas Shelby and Y/N stood up in silent agreement and retired to their newly marital bed.

#thomas shelby #thomas shelby fanfic #thomas shelby imagine #Peaky Blinders #Thomas Shelby x reader #tommy shelby imagine #tommy x reader #peaky blinders tommy #Tommy Shelby x reader #peakascum #arthur shelby imagine #Arthur Shelby #John Shelby #finn shelby #peaky blinders fanfiction #peaky blinders imagine #polly shelby

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noneatnonedotcom · 4 years

Note

RWBY before Oswald is stuck in a hard place the council needs a mission done but no one is willing to sully their hands and he can't bring himself to go see jaune he tries to talk to ruby only to have her publicly rip him a new one stating her beloved isn't a tool to be used by him and the council when he sees fit

right so sorry I took so long with this but as you can see I did put a lot of effort into this, I hope you all like it. also @bssaz97 I’m tagging you because I know you like this au and wanted to do a scene or two with summer and tai so figured it was best to make sure you were in on the new “cannon”

ADAM’S PEAK

This was a disaster, not just militarily but personally. It was devastating news, and Oswald wasn’t sure just what to do about it.

A white fang general had taken the faunas’ elite troops and had gone on a mad crusade through Vale’s countryside. In a little under a week, they would cross the western mountain chains and be into their heartlands.

The fact that Adam was not acting under orders would do little to calm the hatred of vale and the other kingdoms. Menagerie might very well be whipped off the map as a result.

The actual problem was that the huntsmen were not ready for combat like this, he barely had a thousand of the newly minted warriors, and adam was marching with some six-thousand-five-hundred troops. All with aura unlocked. All with years, sometimes decades of experience in human combat. And well equipped too. The only ones with an army left after his idea to rely solely on huntsmen was Atlas. And their military commanders were… less than ready for the war to come.

There was only one man who could save them, and Oswald already owed him too much to be willing to ask him himself.

But his hands were tied with the news that came in this morning. The council of Atlas had called back the expeditionary force under the command of ironwood. There was a significant uproar over this fact, and the returning general ironwood had launched an investigation, but Oswald knew the truth.

The first battle with the white fang was a disaster. While ironwood managed to get his men out fast enough, Adam had defeated the army soundly. It was only ironwood’s impeccable tactical understanding that allowed him to survive it. With most of his army but none of the provisions as their camp was ransacked and raided as they were forced to retreat.

And now only one man could save them, and Oswald couldn’t bring himself to ask.

When he explained the situation to ruby, she had been quiet for a long time before she finally asked, “Is that all he is to you? A sword you can draw in times of war and put away when you’d rather not face the dark truth? Who do you think you are to ask him for more after what he gave! His family was nearly left destitute by you! His legacy and way of life are gone! His reputation tarnished! His very dreams now taken from him, and I have to lie awake a night listening to his nightmares! All on your orders!” she was shouting, now unable to sit with the anger coursing through her. “WHAT MORE CAN YOU TAKE FROM HIM? THERE’S NOTHING LEFT FOR YOU, OSWALD. ALL THAT’S LEFT TO HIM IS HIS LIFE AND HIS HONOR!” she was crying now Oswald reached out trying to offer comfort to the girl by she smacked his hand away.

She glared at the man she once saw as a grandfather “he’ll go, we both know he’ll go. He’s a knight of Vale. He’ll always stand ready to protect those he loves. He’ll give the full measure of devotion for his kingdom” she turned away “you don’t deserve him, none of you do, but he’ll take up lance and sword for you” her final words as she shut the door behind her “you deserve eternal life.”

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In the backroom of the council chambers, Adam Taurus smirked, looking over his weapon a katana. Menagerie had ordered him to stand down. Told him that the time of heroes was at an end. But adam knew there was one last trial left for those who sought to be a hero. One final glory before the end of the age. And his name was Sir. Jaune the Just.

Though adam preferred his other name.

The butcher of anima.

The knight’s age was coming to an end, he knew it, jaune knew it, everyone knew it. But there would be one last glorious battle before the end. It was only a matter of setting things up. He needed jaune out of vale and away from his retenue. Luckily for him, the council wanted to be rid of the knight. And of Oswald. All they needed to do was have Oswald be the one who sent jaune out, and when the hero died, both would be gone.

This battle needed to happen. It was his last chance. If he missed this, it was over. His name would never be mentioned in the history books. But if he could take the head of the butcher? Then his name would live forever as the last knight of the world. And the last great general.

When the councilors came and told him the news, he was overjoyed. But he kept his mask up. All he needed from these fools was a chance to kill jaune. Once that was done, their bargain was complete.

And vale was wide open for plunder.

Yes, if this was the last act of the heroic age, let him return to menagerie with a heroes bounty.

In a week’s time, he would face jaune at a no named castle fortress. He didn’t mind that it had no name. For by the end of this, it would be known as adam’s peak!

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Jaune stood before his army, his steel-like gaze casting over the lot of them. They were not knights, not even soldiers and barely men, but they were his. Not for the first time, he cursed the council for sending these men out to die with him rather than having the courage to execute him themselves simply. But he put aside his anger; this wasn’t about the council; this was about his men.

“Nothing is more becoming of a man than to be brave before your enemy,” he began, his voice clear and level as he made eye contact with as many of these boys as he could. Seeking to let them know he was there with them, “but a man may be afraid and still be brave!”

The soldiers, despite their nerves and apparent fear, perked up at this, “And any man who goes into battle without fear is a moonstruck fool! To be brave is to go forward anyway, no matter how a-feared! That is why I go forward in the company of so many other brave men.”

Jaune shot the men before him a grim, but encouraging smile, “I will not lie to you, I can promise you nothing but a hard struggle to come.” Jaune was met with silence before he continued you on, “What would you have me say? I will not lie, not to you, and not for any matters of strategy or state. I will not shame myself as such. But there is one thing I will tell you.”

“YOUR FATE SHALL BE THE SAME AS MINE,” the men cheered at this, “whatever glories in the battle to come, I want you to know that we shall share them, I will be by your side!”

Jaune saw the enemy army marching over the last swell of the hill, having divided themselves into two separate forces consisting of thirty-five hundred men each.

“It is a great honor to be thought of by the kingdoms as an educated and well-read man. After all, it is the home of one of the greatest places of learning in the world! But I tell you this, in all of my studies, I have never encountered the likes of our foes! They would fill bestiaries yet unwritten, and good scholars would blush to write of their perversities!”

“And finally, I can tell you as a man of learning that a book can be beneficial before a battle, I would not recommend Tacitus though, the pages of his books are very rough on your nether regions!” the men laughed. Jaune raised his sword, “THEY WILL REMEMBER!”

A great cheer went up as the men rushed to their positions, forming together in tight spear walls on the mountain’s steep incline.

For Jaune, there was only one truth that rang in his head at the moment, that invincibility is found in defense, but victory can only be found in the offense. It’s why he had ignored the small wooden walls of the “castle” behind him.

No, he wouldn’t die cowering behind the wooden wall of a fort. His destiny lay down the hill before him. And with a determined look upon his face, Jaune kicked his horse into a gallop and went down the hill; his banner raised high...

… And rode right past the second army, making their way up towards him.

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Adam would give this to Jaune; he had indeed done his best to give his men every possible advantage. A lesser commander would have hidden behind those wooden walls at the top of the mountain, but not Jaune. He had sallied out and met him, man to man, on the field of battle. But Adam wasn’t worried. Even with such a steep incline helping the enemy, they were no match for trained soldiers with armor and aura.

The poor peasants that the council had sent to die with Jaune would be remembered at the very least, as they would have the privilege of taking place in the last battle of the Age of Knights. A movement out of the corner of his eyes showed him the banner of house arc proudly dancing in the breeze, with Jaune running down the mountainside right past his army.

He immediately ordered his second army to give chase as the envelopment meant nothing to him. In time these farmers with their pointy sticks would fall, but Jaune must not be allowed to escape and rally a defense elsewhere.

It was not some three minutes later when his lieutenants spoke of Jaune coming for them, leaving Adam to gape at such an action. What Lunacy, surely, no one would be foolish enough to charge an army on their own?!

Adam had little time to comprehend his enemy’s ploy, for when he turned around to the battlefield, he was greeted with a sight to behold. For there before him, plowing through his men as if they were nothing more than dominoes to be toppled over was Jaune Arc: His horse a resplendent white; His armor a polished to a perfect shine; and with his lance couched at a perfect angle as he connected with the unsuspecting Adam’s armor.

There was a moment of resistance before Adam felt weightless as he was taken off his horse from the momentum of Jaune’s weapon crashing against his armor. Then, he felt a flare of pain as Jaune’s lance tore through his armor and pierced his heart in a clean kill before his limp body crashed against the cold, hard ground in an undignified heap.

And then, there was nothing but the void of darkness to greet him.

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Lie Ren was not a knight. He wasn’t even a soldier. He was a farmer, a poor one at that, so when the council had said they needed men to act as levies, he’d signed up. He figured they’d have him digging ditches and carrying supplies, nothing too overtly complex he’d imagine.

But not this

The world was a haze of violence and pain in front of him; faunas in heavy armor struggled uphill through their wall of spears. He thrust without thinking, hoping that it might dissuade the warriors, while every few seconds, another cry would go up as one of his allies took a blow. Nearly all of them were bleeding now, yet none dared to fall, for to fall now would surely lead to their death. Before them, the mass of knights had formed a solid wall; he’d kill for a musket like the one Nora had wanted to buy him, but it was too expensive, and he wanted to save the money to get new farm equipment.

That steam tractor seemed so frivolous right now.

A flash of steel was his only warning as the man next to him died, clutching his throat. Eyes wide, begging for help the first one but most likely not the last. Ren thrust the spear, again and again, ignoring his growing fatigue as he did so. He’d survive this, and he’d make it home to Nora, that’s all that mattered.

But how? They were surrounded.

He wondered if Nora would find another, he hoped so. She deserved happiness, more than he could offer her, that was for sure. Her smile was the best thing about her. It was what drove him to work so hard. Knowing that she’d be back at home waiting for him, he could endure any hardships for that smile. He was hoping to marry her when he got back when the farm was stabilized, and they could build their lives together.

He hoped she wouldn’t mourn too long.

It was just as he was about to give up when he saw him; Sir Arc had gotten behind enemy lines. Down the massive slope, he could see the other half of the army giving chase. And it all happened in slow motion.

Sir Arc Riding up the hill

His lance lowered just as the enemy general turned to see him.

A great screeching as the lance went through the armor of the faunas.

There was a moment of stunned silence.

And then they started screaming.

Panic took the enemy that just a second before was utterly unfazed by them. But now, with their spirits broken, so too was their aura.

The battle was now a haze of red, and Ren gave chase without thinking. He needed this, needed to kill them as they had tried before. He stabbed with his spear running down the fleeing knights as they tried to escape his spear, barely having the time to rechamber as he killed with reckless abandon.

This was no longer a battle; it was a glorious red hazed slaughter, the most potent high of rage elation and victory ren had ever felt, and he needed more, and more, and more! Let the world drown in his enemy’s blood.

HE’D KILL THEM ALL!

Eventually, though, they ran out of men. And ren came down from his high, all around him were tired bloody men, but more importantly, the field was covered in a carpet of dead knights, so much so that the grass couldn’t be seen underneath.

Ren looked at the sky, and that couldn’t be right.

The sun hadn’t moved; it was still high noon.

It had felt like hours, but…

“One thousand men, and seven and a half minutes,” came the voice of Sir Arc. Ren took in the sight of their savior. His horse, once pure white, was now covered in red. His armor the same, his eyes tired. “That’s what it took to gain victory over six-thousand-eight-hundred and thirty-eight men. All consisted of the greatest knights still living after the great war, and the Faunus rights revolution. And the leadership to the militant arm of the white fang” Sir Arc laughed, “and it took me seven and a half minutes AND A THOUSAND FARMERS WITH POINTY STICKS!” and the call went up, the men cheered and hollered. Their cries echoing off the mountain.

Ren would go home to Nora; when he did, they would make love, to the point that he exhausted her. And they would keep going until a week later when Ren’s pay would show up, along with a sizable bonus, and a note.

In time all this would happen, but for now, ren stood on the pile of corpses, covered in blood, spear raised high over his head, and he screamed his victory to the gods on the slopes of what would be known as Adam’s peak.

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Legends would be told of this battle jaune knew as he looked over the clean up being done by his men, the knights of note and the leaders were being beheaded, jaune personally doing the honors for adam. He had plans for all of them. He also had a message from adam’s personal effects back at his camp. He and the council would be having words, and all the world would know of their misdeeds.

The battle itself was the deathblow to the knightly way of life though, jaune could feel it in his bones. It was jaune’s victory purely because of the weaknesses of the knightly system. Aura was based on morale, how willing to fight a man was. When things were going well in a fight, this was all well and fine but scare a man, disrupt his concentration, and he could no longer muster the will to fight, then he was just as vulnerable as any other. Perhaps worse so, as all his skill was based on what he could do with his aura.

The weak point of an army was always their order of battle and morale. And when jaune had killed adam, it had broken them, they could have rallied, but luckily one brave warrior by the name of Lie Ren had rushed forward, seizing the initiative, and as a result, inspiring all the men behind him to push forward as well.

Lie Ren had won this battle just as much as he did.

But adam had committed everything to this battle and lost everything. The knightly system was high risk, high reward, with no real way of knowing how the results would turn out.

The huntsman system didn’t have this problem. It was decentralized, meaning you couldn’t kill a general to break the enemy’s will. And the loss of a team of hunters meant very little in the grand scheme of things. Vale could lose again and again now and still have more to give.

The system was simply a higher reward for lesser risk. And so jaune was faced with the unenviable knowledge that he was the one to end the age of knights. And that he would be the last commander for the final battle.

The after-action report was straightforward. After all, he was only writing it for Oswald. And that was only so ruby would know he was alive before he showed up with the heads of his enemy. Perhaps vale would hate him for this as well, but he no longer cared what happened to that den of vipers.

Jaune had been stationed in the mountains that will henceforth be known as Adam’s peak. He had one-thousand levies from the local farms, poorly trained and equipped. And he had been engaged by the enemy army of the White Fang numbering six-thousand-eight hundred and thirty-eight. Being made up of the elite knights and veteran leadership of the white fang. Knowing that the wooden castle walls would do him no good, he had set his men on the steepest slope in a choke point. It would not have granted him victory, but it had bought him time and had set up the next stage of his strategy.

Adam had sought to capture him for a grand execution and had sent half his army to ensure that he did not escape. Jaune had gambled on the fact that he was a high priority of the enemy general and had run past the second army with his banner held high. Jaune was right in that the enemy was quick to pursue him. He then made a suicidal charge through the back lines of the enemy and slew Adam in a single blow. Therefore, the morale of his enemy and their aura shattered the rest had been a simple mop-up action to ensure they could not rally. With him personally hunting down and killing the enemy commanders as his men slaughtered the rest.

Having followed him, the second army was already exhausted from the chase and, with their auras weakened, could not run away fast enough, blocking the first armies escape and ruining any chance of organizing resistance as units ran through each other to get away, utterly destroying cohesion.

In total, the battle had taken him seven and a half minutes. In seven and a half minutes, Jaune Arc had shifted the direction of fate and history and had secured for himself the title that all would know him by for the rest of his life.

Sir Jaune Arc, The Just, The Butcher Of Anima.

And The Knight of Miracles

#lancaster rwby #lancaster #rwby au #rwby earlier #jaune arc #ruby rose #soulreaver656

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cutegirlmayra · 4 years

Text

Kairi Prompt

* !!!SPOILERS FOR MELODY OF MEMORY WARNING!!! *

This happens during Kairi’s exam, where Aqua was trying to prepare her but suddenly, a new enemy began to threaten some uncharted worlds.

Worried this could mean something bad is happening with darkness again, Aqua, Terra, and Ventus go to investigate through the door to darkness, while Roxas, Axel, and Xion state they’ll try looking around in the world of light.

Kairi wants to journey too, but wonders if she should go alone...

Thinking this may be from the data world, Mickey can’t abandon his research, and Goofy and Donald are sent there.

Kairi... is once again alone.

She hadn’t really snuck onto the gummi ship, she just wandered into it and no one seemed to notice.

She wondered if she should talk to Master Yen Sid... but something told her she already knew what to do.

She continued to walk over to the main chair of the ship... in the middle and in front of the other two.

She placed a loosely-bundled fist up to her chest, looking down a moment. “Why... am I here?”

She could feel something... calling... and closed her eyes.

“Sora... you’re with me, right? Hehe, I should have known.” She smiled and lowered her hand down, looking more determinedly towards the windows of the gummi ship. “If you heard what was going on, you wouldn’t just sit back and wait... for someone else to direct your course... would you?”

She tilted her head, under the impression that maybe if his voice couldn’t reach her where he was... that her voice still could.

“Right, let’s do this! Together!” She summoned her keyblade, pointing it out as it began to glow at it’s tip, and the gummi ship began to activate.

“Ohh!” Startled by the sudden wind, Queen Minnie and Daisy turned to see it floating up and a lighted beam shoot out from it. “Could it be..?” Minnie had to wonder a moment, “No, it’s Kairi! Kairi..!” She waved, joyfully wishing her off.

“Your majesty!” Daisy reached up and dropped her hand, “Should you really be so relaxed right now? She’s going off on her own!”

“I know,” Minnie smiled to her, then gently placed her hand on Daisy’s which had lowered her arm from sending Kairi off on her way. “Isn’t it exciting?”

Daisy looked amazed, her beak opening to say something, before shaking her head and smiling politely to her. She let her arms drop and remain poised in the front of her, down and over one another, “You’re right... It is...” She looked up with hope in her eyes and faith that Kairi was ready, and that she may find something the others couldn’t.

“Besides,” Minnie began, still watching the gummi ship take off in a large burst that rippled the wind back and made the two girls brace themselves. “Hmhm, she’s never alone.” Minnie placed her hands together, as though saying a silent prayer, and then with a touch of magic, her fingertips started glowing and gathering light around them.

“Ah! Your highness!” Daisy seemed to recognize this power. “A-are you sure!?”

“I’m very certain... Kairi may not need it, but I’d feel awfully worried if I didn’t at least give her a... oh, a pick-me-up! That’s a fun thing to call it!” she giggled once more in her glee and raised one hand away from the other, shooting a star up into the sky that trailed after Kairi.

“A royal blessing...” Daisy commented, and lowered her head in respects. “Ohh... without that blessing though, who’s going to guard you?”

She seemed to be hinting at the magic being somewhat a shield of somekind, but it wasn’t certain.

Minnie turned around and winked to her, and stated, “I’ll be alright! I’ve got Mickey home at last. Though he’s hard at work, I don’t want to seem like I’m slacking either.” and again, her eyes turned back to where the gummi ship was far out of sight now... the shooting-star’s trial of stardust was all that twinkled to show which way it had headed. “It’s up to Kairi and the lingering spirit of Sora’s presence in her heart to carry out the rest.” She nodded with certainty. “And if anyone can teach Kairi what she needs before taking the mark of mastery, it’s definitely going to be from a journey with Sora.” She amused over the idea, “What a lovely date they’ll have!” She covered her mouth and closed her eyes, realizing she was being a bit nosy, and turned around to think her mischievously charming thoughts to herself. “Come along now, Daisy. Let’s tell Mickey what we’ve done...”

“Y-yes, your majesty.” Daisy sighed, walking after her, “Oh bother... Do we have to take the stairs?”

Kairi went to many Disney worlds that Sora and the gang haven’t ventured to before, previously. However, many of the characters seemed to know Sora, or at least, friends of Sora by some degree.

Kairi also came back to other worlds he had visited, finding that their stories were far from over, and there was--in fact--something influencing darkness and evil in the worlds... it strengthened their foes or new ones...

For example, Kairi learned from Merida that one decides their own fate, whether it’s by their hand or some magic, you always can choose your fate... if you’re brave enough to seize it.

“This time...” She watched the ghostly wisps beckoning her to where the bears were fighting. She summoned her keyblade, gripping it strongly as though with an iron fist, “I’ll decide where my fate starts.” she took off, ready to help Merida and her mother.

In Dumbo, Kairi realized that it wasn’t her keyblade, her own personal strength, or even her friends that necessarily gave her all the power she ever needed. It was also faith in herself, what she already had, that would bring her the greatest powers yet to come.

“And you gave him that faith to fly, didn’t you?” She looked at the little mouse as it took off it’s ring-master hat and bowed to her. “And Dumbo...” She giggled, “It was never the feather that you wielded. It’s power was always your own... I think I understand now.” She looked over at her keyblade, “All my strength... or at least, the strength that I’ve always had... I’ve just yet to realize it.” She smiled, finding some confidence in herself. “I bet that’s how Sora and Riku once felt... I thought, if I could be a Keyblade Master, maybe... I don’t know,” She lowered the keyblade, looking back to the little elephant and it’s mouse friend. “I still gain so much strength from their faith in me... but I see now that I need faith in myself, my own abilities, to really succeed at being my own kind of keyblade wielder... Thank you for that, both of you.” Dumbo wiggled his ears, elated to have helped as she had also helped them so much. “Now, let’s make sure your mother’s okay.” Dumbo jumped around in a cycle, full of glee at that idea, and took off as the little mouse gripped it’s hat, ran in the air a moment, before darting after him.

“Heheh... Well, I be done seen about everything.” She laughed to herself, and for a second, her heart took her to a moment long ago lived... where Sora and Riku were laughing beside her on the dock back in Destiny Island. Riku swung a hand into Sora’s face and he tried to fight back, causing the two to tumble into the sea...

“Sora... Riku...” She gripped her heart again, “...I will join you, once I’m ready. You don’t have to worry about this world anymore... I’ve got it covered.” She nodded with a sincere wish that they could trust her with this task, and continued her journey to find the mysterious force causing so much problems.

In Lady and the Tramp, she followed a puppy with a dog muzzle on it’s mouth. Later, she helped a stray into the zoo to help follow the other dog, and watched as the two seemed to have gotten separated by the dark-influencer. They seemed to be asking her to help them escape the dog-catcher, and did so.

“These... interesting dogs... are mine, sir!” she stood between him and the two, what appeared to be in love, dogs as the dog-catcher waddled his way up to her in a goofy manner. She stood her ground though, as he commented back, “Their be laws in this fine city, Miss! Put a collar and leash’em! Or they’re heading straight to the pound!” He wiggled his finger up above her, but Kairi just sweetly nodded.

“Yes, sir.”

“Hmph!” He stomped away, and Kairi narrowed her eyes and turned to whisper back at the dogs.

“I’ve faced scarier things than him!” She joked, as the dogs yipped in thanks. “Now, you two should get out of here... I don’t know if you belong to anyone... but I can see now that you belong with each other.”

They both snuggled up in their iconic hug, and looked back to Kairi. “What a fine lady you have there.” Kairi smiled, remembering how she had offered Kairi her paw in greeting.

Lady barked with approval. “Oh? Is that... That’s your name, right?” She nodded, “I could feel it... in my heart.” She looked to the other dog. “Keep her out of trouble... ya here?”

Tramp also barked in agreement.

“...Take care of each other...” As they took off, Kairi couldn’t help but think of Sora. “...I’ll keep you safe... Sora.” She decided this world still had a mystery to solve, and continued on.

Later, She found that a Lion knew Sora, and that his daughter had gone missing. Stopping some feuding prides, she learned a valuable lesson about not judging by one’s past... She may had been sent to Destiny Island against her will, used for a terrible fate in summoning the true Kingdom Hearts, “But love find’s a way!” She knew that to be true, “And I’ll find my way!” She prepared to fight the Lioness of the Shadow lands, and finally met the misty dark presence...

“Who are you? Why are you causing so much chaos in these worlds?” She demanded to know, but it took off, and she hurriedly followed it in the gummi ship.

Pocahontas had the last key she needed to fully unlock her true potential. The dark influencer was giving strength to the fear in both people’s hearts, and while Pocahontas raced to save the man she loved, Kairi returned to grandmother willow, asking sincerely how to help.

“Listen... with your heart... you will understand~” Grandmother Willow sang, but Kairi couldn’t just sit and mediate.

“There’s a war, Grandmother Willow! And I don’t have a compass to point my way like Pocahontas does! Please, I’m begging you, why can’t I summon my keyblade here? I must help them!”

“Let it break... upon you like... the waves upon the sand~” She kept singing, as Kairi was panting from her long journey through the woods filled with the dark-influencers presence and creations, having their contentions manifest as new dark creatures she had never seen before.

“My... heart... waves... sand?” She spoke through her heavy breathing, and taking a deep breath to try and calm herself, she looked within...

Her heart seemed to open up, and she was standing before Sora... upon the stainglass of her story.

“I don’t understand,” She admitted, gesturing to him while his face looked sorrowful at her plight. “I know you can’t answer me... but you can hear me, right?” she was holding back tears, and then... withdrew her hand to crunch her torso in and shake her angered fist. “I don’t know how I lost the power to summon my keyblade... I don’t understand why! In such a critical moment where I’m needed... it’s never been this bad in the other worlds, I’ve always found some sort of solution, but the settlers won’t listen to me! I don’t have Kiara to help me reason with them, and faith in myself isn’t going to help John Smith escape execution! They’re all too afraid of each other for me to get through to them over bravery alone! I don’t know... I don’t know what to do!” She gripped her head, still struggling to not cry.

“Sora... how have you been able to go through so many worlds... face so many challenges that a keyblade can’t always solve? I don’t understand... I’ve tried everything within my power, but a man’s going to die and I can’t just sit by and watch it play out!” she fell to her knees, “Sora! Sora, just take over! I don’t know what to do anymore! They need you! Not me... I’m still too weak! I... I can’t pass my training...”

As she shook her head, she revealed the true fear that had lingered in her heart.

“I... Don’t know if I can live up to the expectations you and Riku gave to these people... to their worlds... I... I’m just me.”

Feeling a bit hopeless, she finally saw Sora’s form move.

It advanced towards her before he dropped to a knee and placed his hand on her shoulder.

“So... you’ll help me?” She looked up into his eyes.

He squinted his eyes slightly, looking into each one of hers.

“...Listen... with your heart...” she scrunched her face up to avoid crying, and placed her hand by her heart again. “And you will understand...”

The setting suddenly changed to Destiny Island, and Sora was a child...

She had gotten Riku and Sora out of the water, and began actively teasing them about not fighting so much, “If you’re real friends, you should treat each other with a lot less rough-housing! Though, it was pretty funny.”

“Give us a break, Kairi...” Sora scratched his head, looking apologetic.

“It’s a boy thing.” Riku hooked his arm around Sora’s head, and pulled him over to him as Sora struggled.

“R-right... hey, Riku!”

Kairi giggled, “I guess... if you really fought, I’d have to pull you out before you drowned yourself.” She knew they had a rivalry, but put her hands behind her back. “Alright, that does it!”

The two boys looked to her new declaration, seeing as her voice had pepped up quite a bit.

“From now on, I’ll make sure you two don’t fight..! Or bicker behind my back...” She grinned then, “Cause you’re not gonna leave my sights!”

“H-hey!” The two didn’t really complain, but they refused to rough-house since she would intersect herself, saying that if they were gonna fight, they’d have to contend with her too.

“...I’m...” Kairi opened her eyes, looking up at Grandmother Willow. “I’ve always been a mediator... I’m not meant to just be a fighter!”

“Go, my child! Your course is set, and the compass of your heart spins and guides you!” The wind rustled by fiercely and Kairi felt a surge of power come upon her.

She turned as the large sails of the mistaken clouds of the sky lightly glided behind her.

“You know your path, now, Kairi! Take it!” Leaves of differing color spun around Kairi as her hair beat against the wind, the light sparkles suddenly trailed down her arm with the leaves and Kairi summoned a different keyblade...

She raced through the forest, and as Pocahontas cried out, “Stop!” She threw her keyblade up to the chief’s staff.

He was a powerful man, and for a moment, Kairi saw in her mind’s eye the glitching reality of Xenanort, then back to the chief.

She continued to strain, letting Pocahontas speak, and hearing for the first time... the words that no one uttered, but that were meant by their hearts.

She spoke them after her, and from what she learned at Pride Rock, taught the same lessons. “We are one... all of us!”

She knew what Simba had meant when he sang to Kiara now... and what Kiara learned after her journey. “Can I also... trust in my own heart?” She felt Sora’s light, and knew that she could.

“Can you trust yours?” Kairi lowered her keyblade... and the chief looked settled. “We don’t need to fight.”

However, she did finally confront the Dark-Influencer, realizing he was the lingering will of the dark-side of Kingdom Hearts...

“You... You just aren’t completed. But your hatred... all the loathing of the heart, it’s insecurities that we all felt during that battle at the keyblade graveyard...” she took a deep breath, “Now, I will set free those awful feelings... and the last of the lingering feelings we’ve had then... will finally come to an end!”

She fought with everything she had, as it morphed and changed into many of the silhouettes of her friends, their fear that she thought Sora had defeated... but it was exactly Sora’s lingering heart within her that had guided her to the Dark-Influencer.

As she fought it, it would shift at intervals between her friends and allies, even the foes and their lingering spites or sorrows... but then...

After defeating the dark silhouette of Master Aqua, the dark silhouette transformed into a figure looking like Sora...

It staggered, before regaining slowly itself into a powerful stance.

It swiped out the kingdom blade and began powering up.

“Sora... this is it, isn’t it?” She saw a light begin to shine from her heart. “You trust me and only me to defeat the last of your fear from this world... the last thing holding everyone back from living at peace again, right?”

She also threw her new keyblade up to the sky, then slowly lowered it to have a crown appear below her.

“Sora... if I can... please... lend me your strength!” she felt a surge of power, light shining from the crown as the shooting star spiraled down to the crown and filled it with magnificent power, granting a keyhole to appear.

“Ah..!” not sure what it was, but knowing it was going to temporarily grant her some help, she trusted that if she unlocked this... Sora might be given a second chance to aid her. She stepped back, flying slightly in an arch before unlocking it, having the shooting-star’s dust fly out and glitter against a new form...

A light-figure of Sora slowly arose from a kneeling position... the same that he had when she was in her heart... he reached up and grabbed her hand to help her glide back down safely...

“Sora..?” She held his hand a moment... and it squeezed it.

She nodded to it, not knowing quite how this magic worked, but knowing she could fight with him against this powerful foe just like beforehand... when he had gathered the petals of her crystal lotus heart and they fought the greatest evil together.

This... was truly like before, but the foe was now their own emotions... having gathered under Kingdom Hearts... and having the last of it’s power leak life into them...

She looked to the dark figure, “You’re no longer a part of us!” she swiped her hand out, as the Lighted Sora silhouette got into battle position, letting go of her hand as a one-sided wing appeared on both their shoulders, matching the other.

“I will act as the light from my friends! This is where Kingdom Hearts ends, for good!”

With their hearts as one... they beated the lighted wings once behind them to propel them forward, holding their keyblades back to attack the last of the darkness that still plagued this world...

Like the fight between the nobodies, darkness, and her friends, the light... she would not let this end... with savage emotions.

#sokai #sokai prompt #kairi prompt #melody of memory #kh spoilers #cutegirlmayra #sora and kairi #kingdom hearts #kingdom hearts melody of memory #kh #khmom #kingdom hearts prompt

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writeanapocalae · 5 years

Text

Nano Day 6 Writing

Day 1 | Day 2 | Day 3 | Day 4 | Day 5

Anton woke up alone and cold and hurting in the darkness. His eyes were heavy, his head throbbing, and his ribs ached in a way they hadn’t in years, back when he would chase down suspects and things would get physical and the bruises on his ribs were expounded by the binder he had to wear for too long. He wanted to sleep. It was dark enough for it and, as he curled in on himself, he could imagine that he was warm enough.

He checked himself, hands roaming over his body. There were some wet spots, mostly on his hip and thigh but the pain there was more from pressure, from a blunt force, than any cuts. He must have landed on something wet. Checking the floor though, it was all dry beneath him. He had been brought somewhere else after he’d landed.

He still had his backpack on, but his flashlight was gone. His clothing was, mostly, in shape, and there was a large gash on his face but it had been wrapped and taken care of. That meant one of the others had been the one to bring him here, from how he’d been laid out, in the same position he often slept in, there was no doubt in his mind that it was R.

And then panic started to set in. They had been under attack from killer androids, something had gone wrong with their programming and they were acting with murderous intent regardless of the fact that their batteries should have all been drained by now. They had fallen, through the floor, for many floors, and now he was alone. He was alone. They had left him behind or they’d been killed. They didn’t have a plan, a way out, and there was no cellphone reception so he couldn’t even contact any of them.

He wrapped his arms around himself, hugging his chest tightly and pulled in a few heavy breaths, trying to subside the anxiety growing in his chest, making his heart pound and his terror start to flair. He couldn’t afford that, not right then. He had things he had to do, his coworkers – his friends – that he had to find.

He may not of had service but he pulled out his cellphone anyway. The battery had been full that morning, it wasn’t too drained yet. He turned on the flashlight function and took a look around himself. There were shelves, brooms and mops, cleaning supplies, and random parts in well labeled boxes. He had been brought to a storage unit, of all things. While there was a lot in there, he doubted there would be anything of use to him or to the investigation. The parts in the boxes, while he didn’t know what they were for, all seemed basic, like joints and connectors, wires and tubes, basic building blocks for pseudo human bodies.

There was a note on the door, stuck up with a piece of scotch tape. The roll was set down, perfectly, on one of the shelves, as if it had never been moved. The font face was arial, perfect and clean. R had been the one to bring him here, but it wasn’t there now.

Anton whimpered as he pulled himself to his feet. Dragging the light over himself he couldn’t see much in terms of damage, just a few tears in his slacks and sweater. He couldn’t see the color of the liquid in his slacks, the black of them obscuring it, but he could see the stains that had dried on the floor.

They were pepto bysmol colored. The same as the fluid that was coming out of the broken computer. The same color as the scar on R’s hip.

It was something that Anton had noticed immediately, even before he’d made the purchase. A small symbol, on R’s right side, just where hip became waist, on the back. It looked like the number seven, with a diagonal line making it an x, and a dot in the corner. It had been cut perfectly. R didn’t know what had caused it because of the memory wipe and neither did the shop keeper. Anton had researched it but there weren’t similar marks on any of the other Caecus androids. R was unique with this.

Now he wished he’d looked into it further, had allowed Sarah to search R’s brain and dig into the supposedly deleted files. She had said that they weren’t actually deleted, that they were just compressed down to such a small size that they had no real impact on the RAM. She could get them out. But R had seemed scared, at least to Anton, and he couldn’t get past it.

The symbol looked similar to the markings on the piece of paper, the sigil that the amateur occultist had been working on. [give her a name maybe?] He wished he’d paid more attention. Where had all of his attention gone?

Of course, it had gone into him having a crush. It was a stupid one, one that he felt guilty for having, but he was so absorbed in these emotions that it was hard sometimes, to focus on anything else. And R didn’t know, didn’t have to know, never would. It would never be able to feel anything that Anton felt.

None of that was important now though. It wasn’t what was needed of him. He had a task to do, people to find, and they had to get out of there. He was too frazzled, focusing on everything he didn’t have time for.

There was a piece of paper on the door. It was easy to read even from a distance, once he had the light on it.

“My apologies for your current situation, Anton, but I had to relocate you for your own safety. They are blind in some ways but not in others, they see you but not in the way you see yourself. Sound is your greatest foe. Stay where you are for the best chances of survival. I am currently locating the others and will return for you soon. - R”

Perfect. Everything in the note was perfect because it was an android and it was perfect. Anton had no interest in staying where he was, where it was safe. He’d been shot before, stabbed, had gone through a lot to be who he was now, some of it of his own accord. He wasn’t going to just sit idly by.

He was a detective, even after all this time. He would go out and investigate. There would be no stopping him.

He took a few steadying breaths. He went to the door. He closed his eyes and exhaled.

He opened the door.

He was in a short hallway with rooms to either side of him, bathrooms across the hall from him. One, if not both, of the other rooms would lead to more halls, where he was sure would be examination rooms or offices or something of that nature. He could find his way back here, if he needed to. R had thought it was safe for a reason, at least.

He lowered his phone so the light was focused on the floor. R didn’t really leave footprints, not unless the rest of it was completely covered in grime, but there were a few pink dots on the floor. It made concern grip Anton’s heart like a vice, slowly starting to squeeze. He had been hurt and R had taken care of him but R had fallen all that was too. It could have been injured as well and put Anton’s well being before its own. He wouldn’t have been surprised by that, R was loyal and obedient and programmed to always take perfect care of its owner. Anton didn’t want it to be hurting though, even if it couldn’t feel real pain.

He followed the trail of pink. It wasn’t real blood of course, didn’t even function as blood. He didn’t know what it functioned as. Until now he didn’t realize it was something inside of R. He’d have to ask Sarah about it later. Once he found her.

The door was unlocked and quiet, even when it clicked behind him. Everything was quiet. And dark. He shined the light from his flashlight over the next few steps, down the hall. As expected, there was a hall with doors on either side. There was an exit sign, way down the lane, pointing in the direction of some stairs or an elevator or something. Every door had a black box in front of it, where a key card was meant to swipe. He wouldn’t be able to open any of them, not unless they unlocked when the power went out.

He went to the first of them and, as quietly as he could, jiggled the handle. It was locked tight. He was certain that the elevator would also have a key-card lock and, even then there was no way he would take it. There was no electricity and, more than that, there was no way that the elevator would be safe. It had been four years.

There had to be a generator. There had to be something to get the power back on. His phones flashlight would be fine for now but it wouldn’t last too too long. He had a few hours, at most. Lights would help all of them, the problem being that it would help all of them, including the androids, but he knew that R could see in the dark just fine and it had said that these androids see things differently than they were supposed to, so he was sure that the lights wouldn’t affect them as much as it would the humans.

He’d have to find the generator though and looking for it meant not looking for his friends. It was a debilitating decision.

He looked at his phone. He had no way of contacting anyone. He had no way of knowing they were alive. He suddenly felt very very cold. He could have been the only one alive, the only one buried under so many stories of a dead building, empty aside from androids that had somehow gone all wrong. He could feel a tingling in his hands and feet, a sensation of fear that he’d never felt before. He had been afraid before, he had been afraid for multiple years in conjunction. It hadn’t been like this before. That had been a hot oppressive fear, the kind that made him want to be small and invisible. He still wanted to be small and invisible but now it was cold and outstretching and digging in. There wasn’t anything there. There was no sound.

He wanted to scream, just for the echo.

@detectivesebcas @inthemoonshadow @etjwrites @lordfenric

#nano 2019 #caecus #anton #my writing

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dcarevu · 5 years

Text

Batman TAS: Dreams in Darkness

“Isn’t that why I’m here? Because I’m…disturbed?”

Episode: 28 Robin: Yes (Hallucination) Writers: Judith Reeves-Stevens and Garfield Reeves-Stevens Director: Frank Paur Animator: Studio Junio Airdate: November 3, 1992 Grade: A

Arkham Asylum sucks, doesn’t it. BTAS makes it pretty unclear whether criminals escape or get released most of the time (legally or illegally). But sometimes we are given an x-ray of the inner-workings, and it pushes away any hope that Gotham City has a way of cleaning up its reputation. The last time we had an episode featuring the Scarecrow, we found out that the Scarecrow was supposed to be contained, but a sketchy guard was hiding the fact that he actually was not in his cell. I’m not sure how long that charade could have been kept up, but for the Scarecrow, I doubt that mattered too much, right? Ironically, though, you would think the last thing an escaped patient would want to do would be to wear their infamous costume, stay in the same city, and cause a lot of recognizable trouble in an area as public as a college campus, but we are not exactly dealing with the sane here… This time, only a few episodes later, Scarecrow has somehow gotten out of captivity again. But instead of going all trick-or-treat at sports games, he opts to keep his activities hidden in the shadows below Arkham. There is an old George Carlin routine where he explains how theoretically, living next to a prison ought to be fairly safe. After all, an escaped prisoners are certainly not about to hang around, they’re going to get as far away as possible! Scarecrow may be crazy, but he also seems to be quite intelligent. He was a college professor as some evidence. He probably knows that one of the last places the police would look for him would be under the floor boards. And even here, he hides in the dark, giving orders from the void we so often see cloaking our characters on this show. On top of this, he speaks with a much more menacing voice than before, and at first I thought it was a different voice actor. But no, it is still Henry Polic II. Andrea Romano must have figured out how to actually make the master of fear the least bit intimidating, and it’s about time. Scarecrow for some reason took a while for them to figure out, with him being incredibly goofy in his first appearance, merely spooky in his second, and now incredibly sinister-seeming. Even his mask-design is ever-so-slightly different, although the difference in effect is negligible. What I appreciate more is the difference in his body and posture. Nothing to Fear portrayed him as moving in a very floppy, bouncy fashion, like a Scarecrow might in a little kid’s “Happy Halloween” cartoon special. His body now is angled quite nicely, and he almost stands the way a living corpse would. I’m glad Scarecrow went out on a high note, for the most part (as this is his last major appearance in Batman TAS). Don’t worry, that does not mean that this was his last major appearance in the DCAU!

When the episode starts, we do not know that the Scarecrow will be involved. We get a shot of some Arkham employees talking about a “new patient” who was experiencing some hallucinations. When the cell door is opened and the lights are turned on, we see that it is Batman of all people! When you are not even a minute in, and this is what the episode brings us, it’s like, “Wait. What the hell happened off screen before the show started exactly??” The show immediately plays with our expectations, setting up a mystery and leaving us unsure of whom to trust. We’ve been with Batman for 28 episodes now (plus a pilot), but we also know that he is perhaps not all mentally there, much like so many of his foes. Witnessing him bound in a straight jacket and being treated by doctors is hardly outside the realm of realistic possibilities! But we also know that something screwy is certainly going on, and the way the doctors talk, it’s harder to trust them then it is Batman.

Batman desperately attempts to explain what is going on to the doctors, and asks them if they contacted the people they were supposed to contact, but all he gets as a response is, “He needs more time. See that he’s not disturbed.” GAAAHHHHHH. Pet peeve! I hated as a kid when I would try to explain something, yet no one would take me seriously. It’s infuriating! The doctors act like they care and they are there to help, but ultimately, them listening to what Batman is saying is all an act! They are not hearing the supposedly sane words that they want to hear, so Batman’s garble is meaningless. That has got to be so frustrating, especially given the fact that Batman is trying to save the city from an underground threat!

After this scene, we get some narration done by Batman himself, and this subtly lets us know that, no, we didn’t miss anything, and that it will all be explained by the end of the episode. Batman narrating is also super badass. It would have been real easy to make it cheesy, but Kevin Conroy knows how to deliver. The narration also assures us that Batman is not the crazy one, because his words sound confident (despite showing deep distress) and they make sense. He isn’t talking like a crazy person would talk. We are about to do something that those doctors were not willing to do, and that is hear him out. The narration leads us to a flashback scene (with an awesome music score) where Batman attempts to stop some thugs from messing with the Health Spring Spa’s drinking-water supply, but he ends up being exposed to this red gas that the thugs were going to pump into the pipes. A voice on the thugs’ communication unit also mentions that Batman is “right on schedule”, so we know that this gas was all-too deliberate. This hear helps us piece together the puzzle of why Batman could be locked away. It obviously has to do with the chemicals that he inhaled, but what are the details? And who is behind it? It becomes more obvious as Batman looks up at his screen during a flashback and sees the reflection of the Joker walking toward him. Turning around, he realizes that it is actually Alfred who was approaching. Obviously concerned, he sneaks into a doctor’s office and allows Dr Wu to examine his blood. Apparently the hallucinations are set to get much, much worse, putting him in a state of psychosis. This is where he understand Batman’s intensity earlier in the episode when talking to the Arkham employees. Not only does he need to stop Gotham’s entire water supply from being poisoned by this gas, but he has limited time before he himself goes completely off the deep end. And that brings us to perhaps the greatest thing about this episode.

In Nothing to Fear, we got some fear-hallucinations, triggered by Scarecrow’s toxin. And they were, well, nothing to fear, honestly. We got the image of Bruce’s father’s floating head, telling him that he disgraced the family name for a couple of seconds. It served the plot of the episode, but the weight of it wasn’t exactly felt. We got another one where Bruce’s father turned into a skeleton-like figure, but again, it didn’t do a lot for me. The hallucinations seen in Fear of Victory were a lot better, but they still weren’t the best of the best. Dreams in Darkness, though, this is the Pink Elephants episode. It’s the peyote-in-the-desert episode. It’s the Squidward in Clarinetland episode. The hallucinations that Batman experiences are incredibly intense for a show appropriate for children, the most intense one being the giant pistol that goes off, representing the murder of Bruce’s parents. This is accompanied by bloodcurdling scream from Batman that gives goosebumps. The sequence is incredible well-done, but there are several more that we get to experience. If you are into bizarro sequences in animation, this is the episode where BTAS did a bunch of them, and I would say it is worth checking out just for that. But add in some other great things like a good mystery, the Scarecrow at his best, some awesome atmosphere, etc, and it is extremely worth checking out.

The episode even managed to fool me at one point, despite having seen it before. There is a point where the doctors inject something into Batman to sedate him. I was thinking we were gonna figure out that the stuff being injected was actually more fear-toxin, and that they were working for the Scarecrow. But no, as far as I can tell, they were legitimate doctors, even if their competence wasn’t that high. Hell, they question why Batman would think that Scarecrow might have escaped, when just four episodes ago that very thing happened. Jeez, guys. Even if they were new doctors to the place, you’d think they’d be informed that Scarecrow is a slippery one. How can anyone have confidence that Arkham Asylum is a safe place for criminals to go?

The episode of course ends with Batman facing his fears and defeating Scarecrow. Scarecrow is no match for Batman in a physical fight, and it probably brings him back to the glory days of high school where jocks beat the shit out of the nerds (that’s a joke, I was a huge nerd/geek in high school who stood no fighting chance against anyone). I loved how every time Batman would suffer a hallucination or face a new, scary challenge, he would simply keep on trucking. He would get done going through something absolutely terrifying, then stand up and calmly move forward. It was a situation where Batman knew that he had no choice, and that if he didn’t do this, then it wouldn’t matter anyway. Gotham would be up the creek without a paddle. At least until the military got involved. He even put off his own treatment (which would put him out of commission for a couple days) until after the Scarecrow problem was solved.

Check it out if you haven’t! Of course, my words can only do the show so much justice, so take a look at this episode’s screenshots! Is this an excuse to stop writing? Maybe… I’m just tired of being behind on these blogs… I’m gonna try to bust out a few of them tomorrow. It’ll put a lot less stress on me…

Had to use the Blu Ray footage this episode. But it all looks pretty nice, so enjoy some high def!

A twist beginning can be just as powerful as a twist ending. We also don’t often see Batman in such a powerless situation. Like Bugs Bunny (but with a completely different approach), he always exudes a sense of control.

How do animators get this blur effect? When the camera shifts focus?

The lighting from the window is angled gorgeously. It’s also a shot that makes you wonder how the hell Batman is ever going to escape (Char gave me this insight).

It’s not every family cartoon where you see someone about to be drilled through the chest.

As the Joker suddenly appears as a reflection on the screen, we don’t get an dramatic music or anything. So when we see that it’s actually Alfred, it makes us feel almost as silly as Batman for worrying.

A pretty good shot of Batman’s face, but the rest of his body seems off to me. Also, this is our first time seeing Batman in-costume getting help from a professional like a doctor.

Well animated crash sequence, ending in a shot of the asylum as two doctors sprint out, heading for the crash sight. Great transition.

So as Batman talks to the doctors, I noticed that one of them refers to the Joker as Jack Napier. Is that his actual name in this show? Or is it merely an alias (and one of many?). No spoilers, I wanna find out through the episodes and comics!

Here is what the Scarecrow is looking like this time. Compare this to his last appearance:

His design is certainly shifting toward the more angular, streamlined look of future DCAU shows.

Is that sweat or a tear, Batman????

One of the hallucination-sequences that was so powerfully sad and ctreative (Char). Instead of simply leaving the gunshot to our ears, we see the tunnel they enter morph into a giant gun, and blood runs out of it. I don’t want to quite call this personification, but it is a very warped interpretation of what happened last night and it gives us somethin far more interesting than anything offered in Nothing to Fear where it was much more straight forward.

Scarecrow’s clock is very cute.

I like how they both look at each other after missing Batman with a traguilizer dart. Like, “Good going, Frank.”

Batman was trapped in a mental hospital where most of his arch nemeses are also being held. That has to keep a guy on edge. No wonder he’s having these particular visions. Robin and Alfred’s voice actors do a great job here sounding like evil versions of their normal selves. It’s all quite unsettling.

Look how great he looks!!!

This batarang moment was dope. Look at those two stills. This is Studio Junio, the same ones who animated The Underdwellers.

That’s all for this episode!

This show has the ability to make so many viewers feel young again. It’s no demetrite, but it gets the job done... Join us next time!

Char’s grade: A Next time: Eternal Youth

Full episode list here!

#dreams in darkness #dc animated universe #dcau #batman tas #batman the animated series #btas #scarecrow #arkham #arkham asylum

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kneesheee · 5 years

Text

Little Devil

WARNINGS: canon-typical violence| vague mentions of child abuse| torture| threats of death

|four|

Jamila sat alongside the cliff as she watched the bases go up in flames. She had a taco in one hand and her favorite Zastava M76 sniper gun in her lap. Couldn’t let stranglers get away, right. She had three different men hogtied and unconscious in her truck. She had the absent thought if she should give chase to the women that escaped.

But if she caught them now, she might never know the what secret goodies they could be hiding. It doesn’t even really matter. The trackers she injected in their bloodstreams would be enough.

Jamila finished eating her taco before standing up. It would take her three days to get back to America through the underground ways, and she needed a head start.

Jamila had the absent thought to go shopping through the markets when she makes it to her first checkpoint.

Her gaze hardened as she neared her vehicle. Absolute scum. Preying on the weak and innocent. And each of them had a personal hand in compromising her dearest aunt.

She will show them what happens when one goes against the House of Al Ghul. When she’s done, they’ll be begging for death. For mercy. And instead, she will give them to her cousin. Death Demon may be considered a monster, but no one has ended up on Red Ronin’s bad side and lived to tell the story.

Jamila may be cruel and ruthless, but Jason was untouchable. Unstoppable. She recalled being on a mission with him and their target had spent each and every day begging for reprieve until they caved.

She had been impressed. The man had been able to hold out from the various wounds her cousin left. From having one to three fingers and four toes and no longer having his left kidney or the rudimentary tonsil removal surgery… and the missing eyeballs.

And Jason walked away as the man bled out.

Mm. Yes, Ronin will give them the most suitable punishment.

Jason hadn’t been surprised when he heard about how half a hidden village in the outskirts of Bavaria went up in flames during the night. Nor was he surprised when the others looked positively sick at the kill count.

Seems like Jamila was having fun.

He received a message through their unused channels that morning. She had some gifts for him. Considering that they rarely used those lines, the message made it to him a few days after her sending it. She should be arriving in Gotham soon.

She would probably arrive during the cover of the lunch hour to keep from attracting unwanted attention. He wondered which safe house she would go to, or would she go to the warehouse where he secretly conducts Red Ronin business.

Either way, he needed to find a sitter for Talia. Maybe he could convince the brat to stay at home for the night. He seems to be enjoying the stories that Talia tells him about his grandmother’s family.

Jamila had sat the offenders in the cells lined up at the bottom of Ronin’s warehouse. She watched them quietly. She had nothing else to do as she had already unpacked her bags and stored her weapons.

She smiled when one of them had woken. The fear that crept in his eyes was wonderful. Good. They will pay dearly for their crimes. Fear was one of her greatest weapons. You don’t grow up in a family like hers without knowing how to use it for your own good.

And if they fear her, she cannot wait to see how petrified they will be when Ronin gets here.

Speaking of her cousin, she looked down at her phone. Scowling as she read the message, it will be awhile before he could make it. She wished none of this had ever happened. She wished that everything could go back to normal.

Jamila stood and gazed across the room. Her facial features were unreadable as she thought about everything that had happened. It was her fault and her aunt paid the price.

Her hands clenched into fist before she spun and punched the wall beside her. She will make her mother pay and she will beg for forgiveness from her aunt. And anyone else that dared cross the Al Ghuls will see how she earned the name Death Demon.

“Perhaps there was some confusion on your part regarding our last communication, allow me to provide some clarity,” was all Damian heard before the door closed to one of the spare studies. A part of him wanted to be mad that another brother of his took his place as the leader of his parent’s company. But considering that he hadn’t even known that his mother had her own company, he’s willing to overlook it.

Speaking of his mother, he could see her now hiding in the rafters in the hallway. She was staring at him before she smiled lightly and jumped down. He lurched forward to catch her, but she had landed soundly on her feet.

Her eyes filled with laughter and she tilted her head to the side. This version of his mother made him uncomfortable. She was much more open, and she was warm.

He could see why Jason had always seemed lighter after talking to her. Is this how she is with him when no one else could see?

“Spar,” the sound of his native tongue drew his attention. Damian found that he missed it. His father always had this pinched expression whenever he spoke it and Grayson only knew a few words and phrases. Though Damian can acknowledge that Grayson had been taken the effort to learn more. Drake learned it, but Damian overheard him in passing that he won’t speak it unless Damian himself asks. The only other person is Todd. He sits with Damian and he wields words in an artform that Damian can paint across his canvas.

He turns his head to the small form of his mother standing before him and slowly nods. She beams at him and he slowly steps forward. She’s jumping into his arms before he’s even fully aware.

Was he like this when he was younger? So carefree and unburdened by his destiny. Did he have the opportunity to be a child before he was wielded into a tool?

Small fingers rubbed his brows and his mother’s face clouded his vision. She looked worried. Had the older version of herself ever look at him that way?

“Okay?” she asks and Damian nods again. He doesn’t trust himself to speak. He continues their path towards the Batcave. It is rare for her to even be down here. Todd had been adamant on keeping her away from here. He could see why with all the drop points hidden away. Not to mention, that it was dangerous.

Cain was down here though, and Damian knew she would be looking and seeing things where he could not. He helped her through the motions of protection before leading her through some simple stretches. Once that was done, they began.

He could easily see why his mother was considered the superior child of Ra Al Ghul and one of his Father most formidable foes. She adapted on the fly and incorporated moves into her own style like she was drinking water. She was a fast learner and soon the two of them had drew a crowd.

His mother flew and danced around the mats as if she was born to perform. As if it were in her blood to be warrior.

And that’s where Damian’s mistake came.

He always knew his mother was a difficult opponent to beat. Only idiots would see her as anything else. But to see her now in this shrunken form, eh could see that even as an adult, she holds back.

Nobutora. He had down research into the name and found the great lineage he descended from. A family of warriors through and through. It sang in his mother’s blood in a way that it didn’t in his.

And while he was contemplating the family that he did not know, he was hit with a ferocious kick to his solar plexus that knocked him out the ring. The demon inside of him howled with pleasure at such a fierce opponent, but he wasn’t like that anymore, so he pushed it away into the corners of his mind.

He looked up when he heard yelling and noticed the almost fearful look on his mother’s face as Father and Grayson berated her.

He wasn’t surprise at all when the warning shot fired into the air. Todd descended the stairs dressing as in a different kind of armor. He had rolled the sleeves back on his dress shirt and his tie was loosened. He looked like an enemy no one would want to meet in a boardroom. He casually tucked the gun back into his trousers. His eyes glowed not green, but red. It was a flame that not even his alien friend’s hair could match.

They were no longer dealing with Todd.

“Step away from the kid or my next bullet is going through your throat.” He didn’t yell. He didn’t grow. The words were spoken in a matter of fact tone. Father and Grayson turned their anger onto him and yet their words held no effect.

They were no longer dealing with Hood.

“Are you okay, Demon Baby,” the words were addressed to him in the same slow drawl. Damian could do nothing but nod his head.

“Jason,” Grayson snapped and a presence that Damian hadn’t felt for years filled the room with one look.

“Shut up,” was the reply without even a glance. A glance at Cain and he could see that she recognized this force also. He watched her abort the movement of moving forward and turning his head he could see why she almost moved.

His mother was being lifted and cradled. Words were exchanged too soft for him to hear before she was being let back down to the floor. He watched as she made her way to him. “Sorry,” she told him softly.

“I forgive you,” he replied. “We were sparring.”

She smiled lightly at him and held a hand out. “Jason said you are an artist. May I see them?”

Damian startled a little at her use of full sentences before taking her hand. He knew this was just Todd’s way of getting her away. He picked her up and placed her on his hip. His body flinched harshly at the move, but Damian ignored the pain and continued his way out.

“I thought I made it clear on how she was to be treated,” and Damian could hear the underlying threat. His mother had her head turned towards Todd’s direction as the two of them near the stairs.

“He reminds me of the Ronin that Father consults with.”

Damian spared a glance back and he could see the calm and relax stature that Todd held while Father and Grayson hurled their insults and complaints at him. He shook his head as they made their way into the manor.

The Red Ronin indeed.

Jason was shaking with anger as he made his way into the warehouse. He had left Talia at his apartment with Cass and Damian. He dressed in a uniform that he only pulled out on special occasions.

Walking pass the interrogations rooms and offices, he headed downstairs where he knew his cousin to be. Having Talia’s and his own funds at his disposal turned this simple warehouse into the ultimate headquarters. The floors above ground functioned as a living area. Anyone to come here would think it was another home.

And it was. It was where he and the others lived whenever there no missions (or weren’t vacationing on the Outlaw’s Island). It’s where he’s bringing Talia as soon as his makes the upper levels more kid friendly.

The second floors are for training as it’s the only place where Kori and Artemis and Biz can really let loose. Metals from Tamaran and some planet named Vegeta made up these floors and everything underneath. The floor directly under that one was dedicated to Roy’s workshop. Under Roy’s floor, there was a medical and whatever else they threw in there.

And finally, the ground and been caved in and hollowed out until it resembled what it was now. This where he handles a mixture of Red Hood and Red Ronin’s business.

He cast a glance around his surroundings before he made it down to the cells. Three of them were occupied and when he stepped into the room, all eyes snapped towards him. His cousin didn’t even spare him a second look from where she was picking at her nails with a knife.

“Cousin mine, nice of you to drop by,” she stated as she stood lightly. She made her way over to hm and dropped into the traditional bow. “To what do I owe the pleasure of the Born-Again Prince?”

Gasps and a whimper floated from the cells and Jamila’s shook with laughter. “I heard that you brought me presents.”

Jamila rose slowly and green was dancing on the edges of her pupils. “These are the men that have turned their backs on the sanctuary Mistress Talia provided. They have betrayed the Al Ghul clan and committed treason against our family name with the help of the Forgotten One.”

Her hand had flung out in their direction before she abruptly turned towards the weapons’ wall. She grabbed a syringe and an ice dagger before facing him again.

“I humbly request to initiate the punishment for their actions, my liege.”

Inwardly, Jason was crying laughing at her theatrics before he himself headed over the wall. He picked up a weapon that would have him flinching or falling into panic attack years ago. Now it only brings him discomfort. Now it was weapon no one else would expect from him.

“I think that this is something we should do together. After all, it was our family they crossed. And it has been awhile since we’ve truly worked together.”

The answering smile on his cousin’s face brought tears to the eyes of the man in the left cage. The two of them made their way over.

“The man in the middle is the one we shall spare. He was the leader of the operation after all,” Jamila muttered in Farsi.

Jason hummed in reply as he headed left, and she headed right.

“The Joker once ask me which hurts more. A or B? Forehand or Backhand?”

Their eyes bled red and green and the only sound left to be heard was the sound of screams.

#Jason Todd #jason todd the red hood #talia al ghul is jason's mother figure #little devil #damian wayne #dick grayson #cassandra cain #bruce wayne #Talia al Ghul #Tim Drake #Stephanie Brown #duke thomas #Alfred Pennyworth #lady shiva #Red Hood And The Outlaws

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akaherosandwich · 6 years

Text

aka; purple handed

Jessica sat at the counter in the kitchen of her new townhouse, hunched over the keyboard as she pored over a multitude of open webpage tabs. It was getting late, and the cup of tea she’d brewed hours prior was cold. The bluish light from her screen lit her face as she noted the date and time of publication on seven different news reports.

A man in a restaurant killing himself with a pizza cutter. A woman slicing off her own fingers with her violin strings in the subway station. Two police officers holding guns to one another’s heads in the park. Even an entire performance venue blanketed in silence while a singer tried to garrote himself with the microphone cord. Even more reports of people acting possessed, determined to perform ridiculous and near-fatal tasks with no discernible reason.

These were all telltale signs of Kilgrave’s handiwork, each dated alarmingly close together, within the last two weeks. He was getting testy, and Jessica could tell. The last report was dated yesterday morning.

Luke’s footsteps could be heard down the hall as he emerged in the doorway. He paused there for a moment, looking at Jess hunched over her work. “Jessie, your side of the bed is cold,” he chided in a low, rumbling voice. “C’mon, this can’t wait ‘til morning?”

“I’m getting close. He’s... he’s desperate, or testing something. He keeps compelling more people for longer, if these reports have all their numbers correct,” she muttered, not bothering to peel her eyes from the screen. Jessica took a sip of her cold tea, frowned, and put the mug down quickly. “I just have to find out what he’s going to try next, what stunt-”

A harsh buzz on the granite was quickly followed by Jessica’s phone screen lighting up. One message from Trish. Buzz. Two messages from Trish.

>> Hey Jess

>> Check the news.

Jessica’s brows drew together in confusion. Taking her phone in one hand, laptop in the other, she pushed past Luke towards the den. She put her appliances down on the coffee table and picked up the remote, flipping for the news channel. She was still learning the numbers of the channels, not having had a proper television for quite a few years until now. “Wait, wait, there,” she muttered as she saw the feed of helicopters over Morningside Park.

It was late, far later than anyone should be gathered in a public park. Through the searchlights she could see crowds of people amassed in one spot. But around what?

“Oh no, no,” Jessica said, clapping a hand over her mouth. Luke stood beside her, watching the screen but not catching what had surprised her. Weakly, Jess pointed a finger at the jostling footage to a very small, but very distinct purple figure standing apart from the crowds.

The marquee at the bottom of the screen offered very little explanation, as the reporters couldn’t exactly tell what was going on. But Jessica knew. This was it- this was what he’d been testing himself for. From what she could see, a crowd of about two or maybe three hundred people- civilians mostly- standing in haphazard rows, waiting for his command. God knows what he’d already told them to do. Maybe they would kill each other. Maybe they would cause a riot. And worse, maybe they would come for her. Even those stupid fucking news crews were in danger the longer they stayed around.

Absolutely chilled, Jessica stood transfixed in horror as the scene played out- or rather, didn’t. What were they waiting for?

Just then, her phone rang. Again from Trish’s number. Jessica picked it up hastily. “Trish, I’m watching and he’s-”

“Hello, Jessica.” The voice on the other end of the line wasn’t Trish, but it was all too familiar. And if the call came from her sister’s phone...

“What the fuck have you done to Trish?” Jessica demanded harshly, her heart beating fiercely.

“Now, now,” Kilgrave chided. “There’s no need to take that tone with me. I have your sister here, and she’s fine. In fact, she’s better than fine. Much more obedient than you ever were, Jessica. Perhaps I chose the wrong sister?”

Jessica’s mind began racing- how fast could she be out of here and get to the park? Was this all a trap? How did he get Trish, and how did he get so many people under control at once? Clearly, whatever he’d been trying to do to improve his influence was paying off. But it didn’t matter- every second she left Trish with that monster was a moment of life that the other woman would never get back. And Jess had learned lately that every second was precious.

“What do you want?”

“Oh, come now. If you have to ask, you haven’t been paying attention.” He paused and Jess thought the line might have gone dead, but then he spoke again, accent cloying in her ear. “We’ll be waiting for you to make your choice. You’ve got an hour, Jessica.”

An hour was far too long to leave those people standing there, in the harsh, late night. And Jessica had already made her decision long ago. She hung up the phone without another word and threw the thing down on the couch, pushing past Luke to grab her jacket and boots from the bedroom.

“He has Trish,” she panted, tugging up her boots frantically. Luke followed her, giving her space as she bent at the waist, only slightly impeded by her burgeoning stomach. “This is it, Luke. I... I don’t have a choice. This has to be it.”

“Then let me come with you. Lemme call Danny, you call Matt, we’ll get the gang together and we’ll stop him,” he offered, already knowing what stubborn Jessica Jones would say.

“No, I can’t risk him getting any of us,” she said, shaking her head. “Besides, I want to believe whatever psychic bullshit Jean Grey put into my brain... it’ll be enough.” She grabbed her jacket and tugged the sleeves on. Jessica ran back to the front room, grabbing her phone from the couch, fingers trembling as she stuffed it in her back pocket. This had to be it, but what was it? So many variables she couldn’t know. And she was fucking terrified.

Jessica stopped at the front door, looking back to Luke in his boxers. God, she wanted to curl up in bed with him. To act like this wasn’t the very possible end of everything she’d worked so hard to build for herself. To go to sleep, curled at his side, loved and safe and warm and only waking up occasionally to pee because pregnancy was stupid. No night terrors, no thoughts of failing to face her greatest fears, her greatest foe.

“Luke, if something... if something happens to me, call Murdock and tell him to come to Morningside Park. No matter what, you need to stay out of his reach, okay?” Jessica could tell that Luke’s heart was in two places on this one. He so badly wanted to come with her- not for his own heroics, but to protect her. Support her. But he also knew the terror of losing control, and if Kilgrave had that many hundreds of people in his thrall, there was no way Luke Cage was going to be able to stand apart. And Jess couldn’t risk Kilgrave using him against her. Or worse.

She shook her head and without another word, slipped out into the night, leaping up to a nearby fire escape to make her way across the rooftops.

---

It took Jessica about eighteen minutes running and leaping at top speed across the rooftops to make it into range of the park. The news helicopters still circled, and it was a wonder they hadn’t been threatened off. At least, if they were safe in the air, it was one less thing for Jess to worry about. The last thing she needed was a kamikaze pilot under Kilgrave’s influence.

As she drew near enough, she lowered herself to the street and stood there, hands on her thighs, panting. She quickly checked her phone- no breaking updates in the report, so that seemed good. But nothing with Kilgrave was ever as it seemed. Putting her phone back into her pocket, Jessica put a hand on her stomach, which fluttered as she caught her breath. She couldn’t sense the baby’s movements yet but she had to trust everything was okay in there. A little cardio never hurt, did it?

She was well within her hour, but Jessica knew Kilgrave would grow impatient waiting for his latest plaything to arrive. The woman steeled herself in the cold night air and proceeded on foot at ground level.

Approaching the edge of the park, she was met by a throng of bodies, standing soldier-like at attention, facing the base of the Charles Schurz Memorial. Jessica couldn’t see over the sea of heads, but if she was a betting woman her money would have been on Kilgrave- and Trish- waiting there. And that would be the worst if she was lucky.

At the sound of her footsteps, one of the heads closest to her- a blonde young woman she didn’t recognize- turned and clued in to her arrival. Like clockwork, the hundreds of other bodies spun around to face her down, and Jessica had to step backwards at the oppressive weight of their collective stares. She didn’t know what Kilgrave had told them to do, but watching her seemed as good a guess as any. The silence was deafening, save for the rotary hum of the helicopters above.

“Jesus, fuck,” Jess muttered as she dared to step forward, fists clenched. She moved slowly, fearing that they may have been told to attack her, or attack one another. No one seemed to be holding any weapons- that, again, seemed like a good sign. Too many good signs in this nightmare scenario.

Silently, she weighed the exact amount of force she would have to use to knock out any of these civilians if they attacked her. Jessica knew where to hit and just how hard to put them on the ground in the least concussive, least damaging way. She always knew that much, but now she was preparing to exercise it.

As she approached, the people parted just enough for her to pass through. The crowd was still trained on her, their eyes following every step. She stepped into the cleared path, and the bodies moved in behind her to close her in. “Really? The theatrics,” she muttered, trying to get any one of them to react. How long had they been here before she’d turned on the news? She was met with nothing but laser focus. Jess shuddered, remembering what it was like to be inside of that, watching the world, trapped in your own mind.

Kilgrave’s command had never been strong enough to work on more than a small handful of people at a time. How did he have this many minds under such strict control all at once?

Walking further into the sea of bodies, Jessica began to double take, seeing what she imagined were familiar faces. Just beyond the cold stare of a beautiful Native woman whose features were sharp with focus, Jess spotted Peter Quill. There was no recognition or familiarity in his stare, just icy determination. She so badly wanted to bring herself to smile, just to assure him things would be okay. But she would be lying to herself and to him, and she couldn’t shake the abject terror that gripped her completely. So she kept walking, slowly at first, then with more determination.

She could see Kilgrave’s head over the legions of people, but she wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of acknowledgement. Jessica moved forward, noticing another familiar gaze in the throng of people parting to let her through. Her eyes widened, and Jess threw out a hand.

“Kate! Kate, no,” she shouted, reaching for the girl and shoulder-checking an older gentleman to move him out of the way. Claw-like hands gripped Jessica’s jacket, pulling the neck and restraining her. “Fucking get off of me!”

“No,” a stranger’s voice said. The tone was robotic, practiced. “You’re wasting time, Jessica. Leave her.”

Jessica struggled, wresting hands off her jacket as the crowd backed off and returned to their positions. “Oh, so you freaks do speak.” She knew better than to test them again, but...

Her heart sank. Jessica would personally take on every one of these people if it meant getting Kate to safety. Taking her away from all of this- the girl must have been breaking inside. Standing in a park, late at night. Assaulted by the mind manipulations of the sick and twisted man they both hoped would die. Well, Kate might have to watch it happen, if Jess got her way tonight.

As she passed, she turned, not touching, to speak to the girl. “Kate, I’m sorry. I’m going to make this right. I’m so sorry.” There was no assurance in her stare. No confirmation of understanding, no acknowledgement that she heard or even believed Jessica. Just blank focus.

The investigator practically shoved the rest of the crowd out of the way as she marched to Kilgrave standing at the base of the memorial with Trish kneeling beside him. To the opposite side of her sister, Jess spotted that strange eye-shaped sculpture the Bugle had written about months prior. It had been reported stolen on New Year’s Day, just after their fight with the ninjas and Typhoid Mary. So why did he have it?

“You depraved, maniacal bastard,” Jessica barked as she stormed up the steps, stopping short at the closer sight of her sister. Trish’s eyes were glistening, piqued pink in the corners as if she’d maybe been crying. Kilgrave wouldn’t have let her, but it was just so cold out that maybe the stinging night air had that effect on her anyways. Jess only turned her head briefly to see the army of bodies behind her all take a few steps closer in unison- the only way out of here was up in the air now.

Speaking of, the floodlights of the helicopters were obnoxiously bright, illuminating the scene. Kilgrave’s teeth shone as he cracked a large grin at Jessica’s arrival. “Well, Jessica,” he crooned, patting Trish’s hair like she was a housecat. “Your sister and I were beginning to think you wouldn’t show. Well, I had my doubts but she... she seemed so sure you would rush in and save the day, hm?”

His laughter curdled Jessica’s blood and she had the urge to rip off the hand that was touching her sister. The Purple Man was uncomfortably confident now that the investigator had stepped into his game. Jess balled her fists at her sides and tried to slow her breathing before she flew off at the handle. She had to figure out his angle first, or else any ‘kill yourself’ or ‘kill each other’ fail-safe commands could turn the night into even more of a shitshow than it was already shaping up to be.

“So, Jessica, why did you come here? To be a hero to dear, sweet Patsy and all of these innocent bystanders? Or did you have some other delusions?”

His grand, sweeping gesture at the crowd made her shoulders tighten. Something inside of Jessica tugged, from her chest towards Kilgrave. She wanted to tell him her plan, just so he could know what he had coming to him. So she could wipe that stupid, smug grin off his face.

In the back of her mind, the flaming words ‘Fuck You’ appeared. Oh god, that was Jean Grey’s psychic trigger going off. There was no way his powers were getting to her now, unless... That sculpture at his feet worried her.

“I’m waiting, Jessica.”

She swallowed. Over the distant din of the helicopter, she raised her voice from a whisper. “I’m here to kill you.”

Kilgrave paused a moment, brows knitting together. Then he shook his head. “Oh, well then. I could have guessed that!” He looked more amused than she would have liked. His next words were painfully deliberate, testing the bounds of his persuasion. “Tell me something I don’t know.”

Here Jessica grew confused. She hated the superheroic monologuing of so many other crimefighters- Captain America and his speeches, She-Hulk’s quipping, even Daredevil’s self-righteous shit. But now, she felt like this was her moment. Her moment to exact revenge for everything he ever did. To her. To Luke. To Kate and Peter and everyone standing behind her. To Trish, the one person she always thought she could keep safe.

But was she telling him these things because it was what she wanted to hear? Or it was what he had told her to do? Jessica’s heart beat even faster with fear.

“Tell me something I don’t know.”

“I’m pregnant,” she admitted. “And it’s Luke Cage’s. And I’m more loved than I ever have been, and killing you is the last step to ensuring that I have a future that I can look forward to.” Saying the words felt good, whether it was what she wanted to tell him or not.

At that, Kilgrave looked visibly crestfallen. Only just slightly. He stuffed both hands in his suit jacket pockets and sniffed. “Well, that explains the bit of a gut you’ve got going on right there. I didn’t want to be rude and say something, but, seriously. Jessica.” He tutted and looked around at the scene he’d created here. He looked past the investigator into the crowd, drawing out the moment. Why didn’t she just kill him now?

“Jessica, it is... so sad that you have to lie to yourself like that,” the Purple Man continued. “You really are so damaged. Which is a shame, because you’re such a lovely jewel.” He sighed and Jessica took a step forward, which she regretted instantly. Kilgrave straightened, putting a foot to the eye sculpture. Was it going to shoot lasers? What the fuck was it doing here anyway?

“But you always were a bit of a daft bitch,” the British man spat quickly. “You just don’t get it, do you? I’ve hardly had to use any power to get you here, Jessica. Just wait until you see what I’m prepared to do. This beautiful little piece here- and I don’t mean your sister- is a very powerful relic. That controls minds. With it, there’s not a soul alive that could resist my commands. Not even you, my jewel.”

Jessica wanted to believe he was bluffing, but that confidence, that ego. That was more than she’d ever seen from him. He didn’t know about what help she’d received from Jean Grey, but up against that relic, she wasn’t sure it would matter much here.

“All I ever wanted was you,” Kilgrave continued. Trish shivered by his side in the cold air, and Jess so badly wanted to give the woman her leather jacket. “I gave you everything I could, and it still wasn’t enough. And then that damned Luke Cage couldn’t even get a job done right and then what? He takes you from me? And you’re having a fucking baby with him. Augh! You know you’ll never really be happy. I know you, and you’ve never had it in you to love anyone. Not even yourself. Certainly not a baby, disgusting little thing. Maybe you care about your darling Trish here, but you couldn’t even protect her now.”

“I’m going to make you regret touching her,” Jess practically growled. “You’re going to pay for everything you’ve done.”

The Purple Man compelled Trish to stand, which she obeyed. Jessica stood rooted to the spot simply out of fear. She had to gauge the right moment to make her move without ruining everything. Why wasn’t he using the eye on her? Was he afraid it wouldn’t work? Or was he scared it would be too easy? Kilgrave bent down and picked up the relic, which was sizable in his arms. “If I can’t have you, then I will be damned sure you never forget me,” he threatened.

Jessica steeled herself against whatever unimaginable horror he could speak into existence next. Her heart was practically in her throat by now.

“Go on then, Jessica,” he said, the bright lights glinting off the sculpture mystically. “If you’re going to kill me, then get on with it. Be the big sodding hero you always think you can be. But remember, killing one person is an accident. Killing two people makes a habit.”

Kilgrave stood, staring at her relentlessly. Jessica could feel the eyes of three hundred strangers boring into her back. He was going to make her do this in front of an audience. Make her ruin her own life by doing exactly what she wanted to do. And a small part of her didn’t want to go through with it any longer, but she felt that she had to. Was he really compelling her, even now? With the use of that artifact? Or was Jessica finally taking her chance to do what she knew she had to?

How was it that she had all the power, but he still had complete control?

Numbly, she walked forward. The crowd walked with her. They closed in until there was only a small perimeter of space between her, her sister, and the suited Englishman. Jessica shoved Trish back gently, keeping her out of the way.

As Jessica approached, she could see the disappointment in Kilgrave’s glance. The sadness in his eyes. This was a losing battle- but why was he giving up the fight? The man was heartbroken, knowing he’d lost his chance with Jessica for good. It made her even more furious.

“Hey, asshole,” she said, squaring her shoulders. Before he could respond, she gripped him by the jaw and lifted him up, just as he’d made her do unto others dozens of times before. Jessica could almost recall the smell of the burning oil on the grill at the teppanyaki restaurant in the cold night air. Her fingers squeezed tightly on his neck, the veins in his face turning...purple.

“Smile.”

With her off hand, Jessica quickly grabbed his skull and snapped his neck with determination, dropping his body to the pavement in a muffled thud of purple suit fabric. The eye sculpture fell from his arms and clattered as the metal hit concrete. A massive shudder ran through the gathered crowd as three hundred people suddenly, slowly regained their faculties. It was like a great sigh was exhaled as people began to come to clarity, seeing themselves in the park, gathered around a dead man’s body.

To be sure he was truly dead, Jess knelt down and checked for a pulse. Nothing. For a moment, she imagined this was one of his mind games, maybe a trick he was playing now that she was under his control. But it felt real. Horrifyingly real.

Sirens howled all around the park perimeter as law enforcement arrived, as if they too had been waiting for the spell to break. Jessica wanted so badly to check on Trish, but a gruff voice urged her to stay down. She slowly lifted her hands away from the body, putting them over her head. There was no fight left in her.

She’d done exactly what she set out to do. So why was she still so afraid?

“You have the right to remain silent.”

Her arms were twisted into cuffs and Jessica was pulled upright, led to a police car with flashing lights. She didn’t resist.

She saw detective Knight arrive with another squad, and the woman gave her a disdainful but confused look as Jess was more or less pushed into the back of a vehicle. The dark-haired woman tried to search the crowd for a sign of Kate, Trish, or Peter. Anyone familiar, anyone who could provide a friendly embrace, a reassuring word. Nothing. Just cops moving in to mark the perimeter of the crime scene. There was no way they could reasonably question all these witnesses. And they practically had Jessica dead to rights.

She was tired. Oh, so tired. And so Jess sat in the back of the squad car, hands behind her back, head bowed. She remained silent, all the way back to the precinct.

#fightasone #coupdevoix #fao: fear itself #cosmicjive #shcrpshccter #foundoutthehardway #//for all them fun cameos #tw: purple man #//this one is a lot yall #//break out the champagne tho like damn

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eternityunicorn · 5 years

Text

Love Me Apocalyptic: Part Five

Author: eternityunicorn

Genre: Romance/Drama/AU

Pairing: Elijah Mikaelson x OC

Warnings: Violence, Smut (*Smut chapters marked +18)

Summary: AU of an AU: Elijah Mikaelson and Eternity had been lovers centuries ago. Betrayed, he had thought that he would never see her again. However, in present time, she has returned with a purpose, intertwining their paths once more. Elijah hates Eternity for the past, but finds his addiction to her is still as profound as it had been before and he cannot fight it, leaving him in a complicated relationship with his former lady - in an apocalyptic love.

NOTE: OC and original elements are from my up and coming novel series!

AUTHOR’S COMMENTARY: This chapter is an AU of TO Season 3, Episode 3!

———————————————————————————————————

Elijah paced back and forth in front of the fireplace as Niklaus spoke of one newcomer in town from the past, Lucien. He was listening, of course, but only partially. His mind was clogged with his thoughts of Eternity. He was disturbed, captivated, salacious, and violently bitter all at once where she was concerned. He had no control over the rage or the lust he felt toward the ethereal woman. It frightened as much as it thrilled him.

His hand shook at his side as his mind wandered back to the events at the gym, forcing him to shove it into his pants pocket, mirroring the other one. He d don’t need questions asked about his odd behavior. Just what was wrong with him anyway? How could that woman have him so undone in ways that no other ever had him? What madness was this...addiction?

The older Original distracted himself then with his brother’s continuing conversation, as to not drive himself to insanity.

“And, given the circumstance, Lucien qualifies as both friend and foe, and according to Freya's prophecy-,” Niklaus was saying.

“-You are to beware both friend and foe. But, let us not forget family, Niklaus,” Elijah cut him off, jumping into the conversation as if he hadn’t been distracted at all.

“Lucien's two out of three - I say we put him down. Just like old times,” his little brother replied.

Freya, their long lost sister, had predicted a terrible threat similar to that of which Eternity had already personally warned him about. Their big sister had foreseen the destruction of Niklaus, Rebekah, and himself, as well as their entire sirelines involving a mysterious weapon and something known simply as “the Beast”.

“You two have a terrible shadow over you,” their dear sister had said to them. “Rebekah, too. If this prophecy is fulfilled, you will all fall. One by friend, one by foe, and one by family.”

After that, everyone remained guarded, ready for whatever was to come. Now, one possible enemy was here, in the form of Lucien, though Eternity had spoken of others. She had said he had to go to Marcel’s to find them.

“You can deal with Lucien, but do not kill him,” instructed Elijah, taking charge. “There are questions that need answering. Specifically, we need to find out why he is here?”

Niklaus smirked at his choice of words, “We? Have you finally forgiven me?”

Forgive? No, he was still angry toward him. He had not forgiven the hybrid for killing his paramour or for virtually imprisoning Hayley within the compound; though he was still impressed with Niklaus’s leniency toward the female hybrid. He could have done a lot worse to her for taking Hope away. Even so, he had not yet forgiven him any of it.

Instead, he gave his little brother a false smile, “I will consider it...when Hayley forgives you for locking her away here at the compound, when Gia rises from the dead, and when hell freezes over. For now, however, we have our mission. Let us focus on that, yes?”

With that, before Niklaus could respond in any way, Elijah left the room, heading to where Eternity had told him to go to next.

When he arrived at Marcel’s loft apartment, it was to quite the sight. The younger vampire’s brood of followers were sprawled out all over the floor unconscious. It didn’t seem as though any of them were dead, only had their necks snapped by whomever had assaulted them. Marcel himself was nowhere to be found, but Josh his right hand man was and he started to come to.

Coming to stand over the young vampire as he roused, the Original gazed at him with patronizing amusement as he asked, “Joshua, would you kindly enlighten me as to what happened here?” As he did, he pulled out his pocket square from his suit jacket and dropped it on the lad’s chest, who’s face was covered in his own blood.

While Josh groaned in pain and clambered up from the floor, Elijah moved around the room taking in the carnage. The other vampires were still out of commission and the appallingly subpar furniture was tossed all over the room. Whomever had done this had been strong and powerful.

“Ohhh,” the younger vampire replied as he rubbed his shoulder in pain, “God, this woman....”

“What woman?”

“I don't know. She walked in like she owned the place. Said she had to talk to Marcel in private,” Josh paused to wipe the blood away that was under his nose, then he said, “We tried to get rid of her, and boom-- Smackdown City. Which obviously went quite well.”

As he explained, Elijah notices something on the floor next to one of the unconscious vampires. He crouched down gracefully and picked up a small black business card with a stylistic looking owl stamped on the front in white ink, of which he examined as he held it in his hand.

“Did this woman happen to have a name?” He asked Josh next.

“I don’t know,” replied the boy at first, but after a moment’s thought, said, “Um...Aya?”

Upon hearing that familiar name, Elijah closed his eyes and sighed, “Aya. Let me guess-- Five-foot-seven, built like a goddess, vicious as a viper?”

“So, you know her?”

“I sired her.”

Then the Original dipped the business card into the nearby pool of blood and watched as writing beneath the owl insignia appeared in the form of an address: 7041 St. Charles Ave, New Orleans, LA. This was where he would find Aya, Marcel...and the Strix, including their serpent of a leader, Tristan de Martel.

Immediately did he leave the loft with haste. If that brood of elites were in town, then that meant trouble of the worst kind. Eternity had been right. Old friends were in town and a new storm was brewing. He needed to find out just what exactly was going on and quickly. Though he could guess it had something to do with this damned prophecy against he and his.

Speaking of the ethereal woman, upon exiting the building, he found her waiting for him. She stood there with her arms folded across her chest, a smirk upon her plush lips, and dressed in the exact same silks and leathers he had torn from her body in blind, angry passion not an hour before. She approached him slowly, the breeze making her wispy white locks ripple and wave about her as she came closer. It also shimmered in the sunlight, making her appear divinely otherworldly.

“So, you have found the location of one old friend, as I said you would,” Eternity said to him.

“Yes, I have,” he replied curtly with one hand in his pants pocket. “I’m heading there now. Thank you for your insight. You may run along now as this does not concern you.”

As he turned from her, mostly to put distance between them since he could not trust himself around her, she called out to him, “I think I’d rather accompany you!”

Elijah inwardly swore and turned back to face her, though he didn’t draw closer, “That won’t be necessary. I have things well in hand.” He smiled tightly at her.

Eternity grinned amusedly in response and closed the distance between them, “Oh, I wasn’t asking. I was very much telling.” She patted him on the shoulder, before moving around him to head in the direction he had been going.

With an tightening jaw and a hidden white knuckled fist, he growled annoyedly to himself. Then he sharply turned to follow her, praying for someone or something to save him from this torturous nightmare he found himself in.

Before long, they arrived at the address on the business card Elijah had found inside Marcel’s dwelling. In that time, he had remained quiet, though Eternity had tried to engage him in nostalgic conversation, speaking of the good parts of their shared past. It was more than he could bear. He didn’t want to remember it. He wanted to forget.

“This reminds me of our past adventures, when you acted as my familiar, my right hand,” she smiled fondly as they reached their destination, her still walking in front of him. “We had a lot of fun throwing our weights around as alphas - I as the Universal Queen and you as an Original. You were my greatest familiar. It will be interesting to see our prefect rhythm in action again as it has been an age.”

At those words, Elijah could no longer stand being silent. He grabbed Eternity by the arm harshly and spun her to face him. “I am not your familiar nor your right hand, not now, not ever again,” he growled down at her quietly. “In fact, let me make it perfectly clear to you that I am the one in control here. We are not partners as we may have been in the past. You will follow me, do as I say. Do you understand me?”

She gazed at him momentarily as if she were going to protest, but then she nodded in acceptance.

“Good,” he released her, moving ahead inside, snapping his fingers at her as he did, when he noticed she didn’t automatically follow him. “Shall we move, please?”

It was Eternity’s turn to look at him in displeasure. He heard her quietly dangerous growl at his command and the condescending way he snapped his fingers at her, but could only grin to himself as he headed inside, with her following him per his order.

Elijah could hear Marcel talking to Aya as they entered the ornate and elegant building. He moved down the hall at vampire speed, stopping just outside the open doors, as he heard the younger vampire laugh, “A great sales pitch, really.” He echoes of mockingly clapping could be heard and then Marcel said, “Just one thing - who’s ‘us’?”

The immortal queen caught up to him just then, coming to stand behind him in the shadows.

“The oldest society of vampires this world has ever known,” Aya was heard replying. “We are called The Strix.”

It was here that Elijah moved to make his entrance, coming to stand openly in the doorway of the room. “Quite the prestigious organization,” he said to the occupants. “Responsible for countless wars, numerous plagues, assassinations....”

He found it rather amusing how Aya froze at the sound of his voice and refused to immediately turn around to face him. Her body language told him that she was displeased with his sudden appearance there.

Good, he thought. He wasn’t exactly fond to see her either.

“You have to break rules if you want to build a new world,” Aya responded to him haughtily, turning to face him at last. “Hello Elijah. It’s been a while.”

Marcel sighed exasperatedly, “You two know each other.”

“Intimately,” Elijah replied to him, just as he sped toward the tall woman, grabbed her by the back of the neck and bent her backwards with his hand shoved into her chest, literally holding her heart in his hand.

Eternity had moved into the room behind Elijah, if the resounding gasps and whispers from the Strix members around them were any indication. It was a curious thing their seemingly familiar reactions to his companion, but he refused to be distracted by her or the reactions of the others to the ethereal woman. He remained focused on his other former lover, whom he currently had at his mercy.

He gazed threateningly at a gasping, pained Aya as he murmured, “Whatever you are doing here, I know you're not alone.”

“Let her go, Elijah. No need for this to become vulgar,” called a familiar make voice suddenly from the doorway.

With a roll of his eyes and a smirk, he said, “And there he is.” He turned with his hand still embedded in Aya’s chest and finished, “Tristan.”

The little weasel stood there in a dapper suit with more Strix members around him.

Elijah noticed that Eternity stood behind the group near the doorway, unseen by any of them, looking rather amused by the whole scene before her. For now, it seemed she was remaining neutral, which was fine by him. He didn’t want her interference anyway.

The Strix members moved in around him and Marcel, prompting the younger vampire to murmur to him, “You go left, I go right?”

Unsure of his intensions with the infamous vampire society, Elijah yanked his hand out of Aya’s chest, much to her relief, and turned to Tristan as he replied to his companion, “Why don’t you stay where I can see you?”

“It's been ages since I've enjoyed a good scrap, but, uh...it’s not why I'm here,” Tristan said bemused, rolling his eyes and handing Elijah his pocket square for him to clean Aya’s blood from his hand.

Annoyed, the Original took the offered piece of fabric and began to clean his red stained hand.

“Mr. Mikaelson and I require the room,” the little weasel politely ordered the Strix. “Please leave us.”

Immediately did everyone else leave, except for Marcel and Eternity, whom remained in the same spot so far.

As soon as they were alone, Tristen began to explain, “Elijah, your sireline - your life - is at stake. You want to hear what I have to say.”

With a reluctant sigh, Elijah dismissed Marcel, whom was displeased with being treated as an underling instead of an equal partner or friend, but begrudgingly did as he requested. He knew better than to try and dismiss Eternity. She wouldn’t go, even if he requested her to. So he paid her no mind and focused on Tristan.

However, it seemed that the weasel had noticed her presence after all, when he said to Elijah, “I’ll tell you, but first, I have been dying to meet your lovely companion. Please, introduce me to the notorious ‘White Goddess’ of legend amongst the worldwide Strix community.”

Elijah was surprised. He had never heard of this nickname for Eternity before nor had he ever heard of such a phantom plaguing the Strix. This was the first he was hearing of it.

Before the Original could react, Tristan turned to face Eternity, who finally moved away from the wall and gracefully approached. “So you have heard of me...Mr. de Martel, is it?” The queen said.

“Please, call me Tristan, my dear,” the little weasel replied charmingly, lifting one of the ethereal beauty’s hands to his disgusting lips and kissing her knuckles gentlemanly. “And you are?”

“My allies call me Eternity, but since you are not that, you may refer to me as Your Majesty,” said Eternity with a tight, unamused smile, “You understand, yes?”

Immediately did Tristan drop her hand and swallowed thickly, clearing his throat nervously as he turned back to Elijah, whom had been rather amused by her response to the other man’s false charms.

“Yes well,” the weasel said to the Original, changing the subject, “perhaps we should get down to business.”

The amusement left Elijah as quickly as it came. He turned and moved over to the large window to gaze out over the New Orleans cityscape. “You waltz into my city unannounced with your flock of sycophants flaunting news of a threat,” he spoke gruffly. “All the while, your little lapdog Aya is conspiring with none other than Marcel Gerard.”

Tristan rolled his eyes yet again as he replied with a bit of amusement, “‘Conspiring?’ How grandiose. I thought I was the one with a flair for the dramatic.”

Elijah turned then and moved toward the other man as he coldly said, “Watch your tongue. I am not the patient, fun-loving social butterfly you might recall.”

“Your Marcel is a potential recruit,” Tristan sighed. “He has nothing to do with the larger issue we face.”

“The larger issue?” He responded skeptically, while dramatically turning a nearby chair toward the weasel and sitting fluidly upon it.

“You've no doubt heard about the war between the sirelines?” The other man told him. “Well, as it happens, your line, thanks to my Strix, has wreaked all manner of havoc on Lucien and his assorted interests. As a result, he's desperate to exterminate the lot of us - me, Aya, everyone you've sired. Of course, the economical way to complete this task would be for him to kill you.”

Eternity stepped in then, coming to stand beside Elijah with a hand on his shoulder protectively, “This Lucien can try to kill Elijah or any of the Originals, but he won’t get far enough to succeed. It so happens that the Mikealson family is under my protection and I’m afraid any Earth-based immortal is out of their league if they think they can get anywhere near those I stand guard over.”

Elijah was moved by her determined words, though he fought those softer feelings with every fiber of his being. He did not show how they affected him, keeping his poker face in perfect order.

“Well, that is a surprise, my lady,” Tristan replied rather neutrally. “Seeing as it goes against your reputation as an unstoppable vampire hunter. Your body count is notoriously impressive, especially amongst my Strix, many that have fallen by your hand throughout the centuries, if I recall. So forgive me, if I am a little skeptical about your intentions for my sire - and the rest of the Mikaelson clan too, of course.”

Eternity stepped forward then, “I only kill those whom pose an immediate threat to the innocent through war and mass killings and other such vile behavior. Your Strix and others like them are threats, whom do not seek peace or coexistence amongst the innocent. As Mr. Mikaelson pointed out, you and yours are rather infamous yourselves in your disregard for others, in being the cause of so much chaos and destruction. If you sought peace, then I would leave you be, but you are a dangerous lot and I fear your time is about done.”

Tristan swallowed thickly in nervousness again, averting his gaze like a sniveling coward.

“The Mikaelsons, though flawed as well, are not quite as wicked as you,” the ethereal woman carried on, turning back to Elijah, whom gazed at her curiously, “despite what some might claim. Are they of light? No. Have they left death and destruction in their wake? Yes. However, I see the potential in each of them to change, to be better than the monsters they were created to be. I see hope in them, a flicker of light - the very thing that I do not see in you or yours or any of the other vampires I have slain over the years, Mr. de Martel. So do not doubt my intentions, sir, for I will defend them with all that I am until the end of time. Are we clear?”

Tristan nodded, “Of course. Forgive me.”

Elijah gazed in wonder at Eternity, feeling a well of emotions coming to the surface at her words. He couldn’t believe what he was hearing, though he didn’t doubt what she said. She didn’t just profess protectiveness over himsekf, but over the rest of his family too. Yet, he still kept what he was feeling hidden, especially as she rejoined his side with a small smile flashed in his direction.

“Now that’s settled,” the ethereal woman said to the weasel. “Perhaps you can continue your explanation, Mr. de Martel?”

Tristan opened and closed his mouth several times, before he hopped to it and returned his attention to Elijah, who patiently waited for this charade to conclude.

“As I was saying, Lucien will try to kill you,” he began again, but paused at Elijah’s unbelieving face. “You don’t believe me. I know that you have a friend in high places, but you shouldn’t be so careless as to think Lucien cannot still get to you. Your companion cannot protect you twenty-four seven, after all. I’m sure she has other duties to attend to, not pertained to your safety or that of your family.”

Tristan briefly gazed at Eternity, whom only grinned humorlessly in return, before once more returning to Elijah, “Perhaps you underestimate Lucien's ambition? While I doubt he'd have the gall to attack you directly, I believe he might try and find someone else to do it-- namely, Niklaus.”

Elijah narrowed his eyes at the little weasel, intrigued, but still doubtful, “What makes you so certain that Niklaus would select Lucien over his own family?”

“From what I hear,” the other vampire replied, “he tortured his friend Marcel, cursed the mother of his child, and burned your paramour in front of you, all because he thought it the logical way to defeat his enemy. With Lucien in his ear, how long before the logical thing is to get rid of you?”

At the reminder of losing Gia, Elijah grew angry and saddened all over again, clenching his fist as his poker face momentarily slipped. Then he felt Eternity’s hand upon his shoulder, giving it a reassuring squeeze. Her small gesture of comfort was enough to help him to pull the mask back into place.

“Well, how very fortunate, indeed, then — Niklaus is on his way right now to put Lucien out of our collective misery.” he said, as he gracefully rose from the chair and turned to leave with Eternity following him.

“You have to stop him!” Called Tristan, stopping him.

Elijah turned back to scoff, “And why would I do that?”

“Lucian has a seer that believes there's an object capable of killing you,” the other man said.

“I'm well aware of the object in question. My sister also foresaw it,” he smiled tightly.

“Well, I don't have it,” Tristan told him. “I'm quite certain my sister doesn't have it, either. Logically, then, one must assume that Lucien has it, or he knows where it is. If he dies, none of us will find it. Not until some other assassin attempts to use it against you. If you've any hope of finding that which can kill us all, Niklaus needs to be stopped.”

Elijah sighed and inwardly swore. Damn this fool for being right, he thought.

Immediately, he once more turned to leave. This time he was unimpeded and was allowed to leave. Eternity followed him out, but not before she issued a threat unto Tristan, “You wish to live, yes? Well then, do be careful how you step in the future, Mr. de Martel, because I will be watching and waiting for you to...misstep.”

The Original couldn’t help but to smirk to himself as he heard this, but like always covered his amusement up quickly as she caught up to him. He couldn’t afford to allow the lady to see anything other than his hostility and hate.

Elijah still refused to show her his admiration...or his love.

To Be Continued....

———————————————————————————————————

Tag List: @elejah-wonderland @dendrite-lover @inmylifeilovedthemall @elejahforever @xanderling @hawaiianohana15 @missnmikealson @phoenix-potter-bailey @lolelijahishot @x-memi12 @iamaquarius2 @echosnowflake666 @scarlettsky0998 @zillahvathek @elijahandkollover @mikaelsonwetdreams @elizamonet @freshsuitcasewinnereagle @loulouisa @esclisa

#elijah mikaelson #daniel gillies #original character #elijah x eternity #romance #drama #alternate universe #the originals #the originals fanfiction #the vampire diaries #the vampire diaries fanfiction

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nextdaygarage-blog · 5 years

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rwbyconversations · 6 years

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The Princess and her Pauper- A Weiss/Emerald Character Contrast

One of the greatest weapons in the arsenal of a creator is the art of contrast. In storytelling, characters that contrast, often referred to as foils, can serve to highlight particular qualities of each other. How one acts to a situation and the other reacts. It’s why rivalries form the backbone of many a great story with conflict in its theme- why the most memorable moments in action titles like Devil May Cry 3 and Metal Gear Rising are when two rivals who serve as foils for each other come to blows in a winner-take-all clash of wills. Not all foils need be rivals, however- George and Lennie in Of Mice and Men are built as foils, with George being wire-thin and razor-sharp mentally while Lennie is a lumbering giant of a man with the intellect of a child.

Rooster Teeth’s RWBY is a series that loves to set up connections between its central heroes of Team RWBY and the villainous factions under Salem. Although the connections between current villains Team WTCH and RWBY have not yet been solidified (Watts screentime when), RWBY’s initial foes in Team CRME (Cinder, Roman, Mercury and Emerald) all complimented aspects of RWBY’s personalities. Ruby and Cinder were both leaders, Ruby through example and optimism and Cinder through manipulation and fear, Blake dual-contrasted with Adam and Roman, Yang with Mercury and (regardless of what TVTropes tells you), Weiss contrasts with the sharp-tongued, fast-fingered gem thief Emerald Sustrai.

Despite having not technically met in canon*, with their appearances relegated to sharing fights in the Volumes 2 and 3 OP, with their dialogue being two lines in a Chibi episode, Weiss and Emerald are almost perfect narrative foils for each other. I am convinced that they were purposefully written to contrast each other, and if/when Emerald has a redemption arc, you can be sure that this material will be used to show how similar Weiss and Emerald can be... not that either of them would admit it. And for the record? This is my OTP and Weiss and Emerald rank in my five favorite characters each, so this is going to be a self-indulgent mess. Consider it my two and three hundred follower specials wrapped into a neat little bow.

In this post, I am going to show the narrative, backstory and character contrasts between Weiss Schnee and Emerald Sustrai, and why I think they could have one of the best-written rivalries/friendships/bond in the entire show if Miles and Kerry play their cards right in the coming Volumes. As usual, the post is under the Read More for the sake of users on their phones.

(Art source: @nibbles-scribbles)

* (In before “Didn’t Weiss fight Em at Haven during the Checkmate scene?” offscreen doesn’t count and Let’s Not Talk About Haven This Is A Happy Post)

Part 1- Lonely eyes, well, it sure looks like you just might be looking for something

Weiss and Emerald’s backstories on paper couldn’t be any different- which, again, is one of the purposes of narrative contrasts, connecting the impossible. Weiss lived in the lap of luxury her entire life, part of a family that probably had the combined net worth of half of the Fortune 500. The Schnee Dust Company was such a profitable venture that it bought out rival families and took them out of business. Weiss’s every need was catered for, she had a loyal servant in Klein, and became a popular attraction at parties thanks to her singing voice.

And she couldn’t have been more soul-crushingly alone.

A young Weiss sits at a piano, basking in the praise of the adults around her

Weiss, narration: Words of praise were often overflowing around me. Whatever I did, with a little effort, I did better than average. I expected the praise as a matter of course and believed I deserved it all. As the daughter of the Schnee house, I would be the best. Nothing else would do.

Weiss reaches out to her father who is walking away from her. The door shuts in her face. Weiss’s face comes into the panel. The smile is gone.

Weiss, narration: My father felt the same way. So his indifference... was expected. - RWBY Manga,Shirow Miwa

Weiss was little more than a toy when she was a child, something Jacques brought out for the guests to coo at, but they never cared for Weiss herself:

Everyone only cared that I was part of the Schnee family, not that I was me. They were honoring the Schnee name. I thought all that praise was for me. It wasn’t. It messed with my head when I figured that out.

Weiss’s Volume 5 focus song, and the first chronological song about her, The Path to Isolation (AKA Mirror Mirror 0.5), is about when Weiss realizes how alone she is in Atlas with the realization that people only care about her for her money and surname, and not for Weiss as a person. We see this in person with her interactions with Henry Marigold in Volume 4 and Jacques spells it out later:

I don’t give a damn what you want! This isn’t about you!

Miwa’s manga alongside Path To Isolation makes it clear that Weiss lived in the lap of luxury, but it was a cold, sterile lap where she never felt loved even with Klein’s presence and Winter’s distant love, thanks to Jacques’ distance driving Weiss further into her personal hell. Weiss lived a tragically lonely life in her childhood and its effects are still seen on her even in the present day. For a long time, all she was was an accessory to Jacques who got pushed into his obedient shadow.

Emerald’s backstory is less concrete than Weiss, but from what we do know it’s no less painful. She lived alone on the city streets with no parents (dead or neglectful we don’t know) or friends to look out for her, and every day was a struggle to survive. By the time we see Emerald in Volume 3′s flashback, she’s barely holding it together and is stick-thin.

Her clothes are frayed in various places, held together with belts and straps, and Emerald is nearly emaciated. She’s jumpy, paranoid and resorts to blatant daytime robbery of a jewel store just to cover the costs to get some food for a night. When Cinder finds Emerald, she finds a cornered street-rat barely staying alive.

If Jacques manipulated Weiss through inaction, Cinder in turn twisted Emerald through action, providing the young thief everything she ever wanted. Cinder gave her a warm bed, food whenever she wanted it and possibly even the love of the mother that Emerald might not have had. Chibi Season 3 in fact had a skit where Emerald (within a dream) jokingly notes that Cinder really is “The mother figure I may- or may not- have never had.” Regardless, Cinder learned from Salem the best way to get people to follow you is to give them exactly what they want. She gave Roman some Dust and a chance to commit crimes, she gave Mercury a target and people to hurt, and she gave Emerald a sick, twisted lie. She made Emerald fall in love with her.

I don’t care about Salem! But I owe Cinder everything.

Cinder twists Emerald around her finger and makes her almost entirely dependent on Cinder’s approval and love. And make no mistake, this is (at least from Emerald’s warped perspective, the poor girl) love.

This is not the face of a heterosexual woman upon seeing Cinder Fall.

Em sadly closing her eyes behind Cinder just... gets me, man. I care for that mint-ice-cream too much Jesus Christ.

Cinder, of course, doesn’t love her back. I don’t think Cinder knows what it means to love beyond that she can use other people’s love in her pursuit of power. She manipulated and tricked Emerald, making the thief fall for her in a worthless attempt to impress her. And every time Emerald stepped remotely out of line, even if by complete unintentional accident, Cinder harshly made her judgement clear and forced Emerald back into her obedient shadow. Cinder definitely didn’t love Emerald. But damn if she didn’t know how to abuse her.

Emerald: We don’t need him (Mercury), everything was going fine- A slap is heard. Emerald shouts in pain. Cinder: Do not mistake your place.

As pointed out expertly by @alexkablob, Emerald’s body language when Cinder gets angry in this scene is very telling- she almost shrinks and hides herself, trying very hard to avoid Cinder’s wrath in that immediate moment. The mere threat of reprisal has Emerald assuming a more subservient position

Here’s what connects Weiss and Emerald from their backstories. Both had terribly lonely childhoods, with Weiss lonely in a crowd as she realized people only loved her for her money and name, and Emerald forced to live alone as a street rat with no one to rely on. Jacques manipulated Weiss through making her seek his approval which manifested as physical abuse, and Cinder as well manipulated and abused Emerald into falling in love with Cinder or seeing her as a replacement mother figure. Both were lonely children, abused and scorned by everyone around them, especially those who had the most direct power over them. Both of them, tragically, are victims of those above them who see them as tools and not even as people. Ones who occasionally fall out of line and need... percussive maintenance to fix. Weiss and Emerald have some of the darkest backstories in RWBY and in their tragedy, they compliment each other beautifully.

(Source: @nibbles-scribbles, who gave me permission to use her art)

Part 2: Sight Unseen

Now that we’ve covered their backstories, let’s actually contrast Emerald and Weiss on a fighting and character level.

Weiss and Emerald fight each other in the OPs for Volumes 2 and 3. They are so far on the very small list of fights in the OPs that have never occurred and are in fact the only notable fight to not happen ever four years since it was first teased, especially since it happened in two sequences.

Both characters use revolver mechanisms in their weapons- Weiss for her Dust and Emerald for a ranged component. Both are agile fighters who dart around the battlefield and can be very damaging in the right circumstances and are the most fragile member of their respective teams (Weiss having the worst solo win/loss record of anyone on RWBY and Emerald being a stealth fighter who dropped very quickly when Amber focused fire on her being my evidence).

What’s interesting in contrasting the two is their Semblances. Emerald creates vivid hallucinations for a single target that effects all five of their senses but ultimately is a purely mental effect on the subject’s reality. Her Semblance can’t create physical matter. However, Weiss’s Semblance is a purely physical one that lets her influence and change reality on a primal, physical level- be it for Glyphs, time dilation or using Summoning to create physical constructs to fight for her. Depending on if Weiss’s Summons can be affected by Emerald’s hallucinations (or if Weiss being hit with Em’s Semblance has consequences for her Summons), the two could serve as hard counters in the event of a fight.

Long story short a fight between these two would be really cool.

Character wise, one of the more interesting bits of contrast between Weiss and Emerald is how they approach friendship. Both are equally sardonic and have razor-sharp wits on anyone who irks them, but while Weiss is cold at first and softens as she gets to know and trust people, Emerald throws up a facade of being chummy with people, a facade she hates. If her friendship with Mercury is anything to go by, Emerald can make some very biting remarks at the expense of those she’s close to. If her love for Cinder is anything to go by however, Emerald is very tender and affectionate when it comes to the people she loves. She rushes to give Cinder a hug in Volume 2 and in Volume 4, acts as Cinder’s translator, being almost sickeningly tender and rushing to come to Cinder’s side when she asks.

And while Emerald’s a villain, it would be a shame to waste a rivalry between her and Weiss. Both are passionately devoted to their leaders and are willing to cross the world for them and fight in this endless war for them (note how Weiss volunteers for the war while Emerald is drafted). Emerald hates Ruby because she maimed Cinder at Beacon, while Weiss hates Cinder because... bitch shoved a spear in her. It’s more than enough conflict to kickstart a rivalry and as proven despite their lack of screentime, the contrasts between them write themselves.

Part 3) Dry your eyes now, baby, broken wings can’t hold you down

In the event (by which I mean when) Emerald undergoes a redemption arc and leaves Cinder, Weiss will definitely play a significant role in facilitating her joining the heroes, much like Blake did with Ilia. Weiss is honestly the only RWBY member who really can facilitate this redemption in the coming Volumes- Ruby will likely never forgive Emerald for her role in Penny’s death, Blake has basically done this arc already for Ilia, and Yang will be too caught up in her Raven/Blake issues. I have no doubt that Blake’s own abusive past can be used as a bonding point as well with Emerald (a common vector used for fans of the rare ship Cat Burglar), but Weiss perhaps more than anyone else shares a fundamental understanding of Emerald’s “love.” The love of someone determined to win any shred of approval that they can from the monster that haunts their nightmares every night.

Given how Emerald has allusions to Aladdin and Weiss is Snow White, their relationship also works in referencing their fairytale sources- Aladdin saves Jasmine in his story, after all. Rags to ritches is also one of the most prolific tales out there, especially ones where a person destined for greatness falls in love with a member of high society and rises through the ranks. Weiss is a princess after all, and every princess does need her pauper so that she may find true love. Weiss has already tried her hand as the upper echelons of society romantically (Henry and Neptune) and they were found lacking.

(Source. Art by @nibbles-scribbles)

In some cases, literally.

Does this need to mean a romantic connection, especially when Emerald will be coming off her last lover being abusive? Perhaps not, but a close bond between them would be impossible to avoid. However, a romantic attachment between Emerald and Weiss would be a beautiful thing to see develop. Two women, nearly broken down by their oppressive abusers, coming together and helping each other heal from their past traumas? I don’t know about you but that sounds like it could be a great story to me. Emerald already wears a lot of white too, so their color schemes unite smoothly.

To conclude this extended love letter, Emerald and Weiss are two sides of the same coin. Young women beaten down and abused by those with power over them who had desperately lonely childhoods. Women who developed into strong and capable warriors with Semblances that altar different facets of reality, who could have a natural rivalry that leads into a smooth friendship and maybe even more beyond, all of which could be backed by organic references to both of their fairytale sources and allow for a wonderful string of character development for Weiss and Emerald as they heal from their past traumas. This may be a rare ship, one that may have gotten all the references it ever will when Emerald complimented Weiss’s dress.

But damnit. It’s my rare ship and I’ll go down with it, I’ve made too many great friends thanks to it. If you’d like to see more EmWeiss content, check out my great friends @goldibox, @dabby-the-house-elf (the main for @nibbles-scribbles whose seminal art I’ve used throughout this piece), SassyUnicorn7′s A Fight To Remember (one of the best fanfics for both EmWeiss and Yang/Merc, and Sassy herself is a delight to know who lights up my day when I get to talk to her).

(Thanks to @weisscoldglare for this)

Thanks again for reading.

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vrfly · 6 years

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Behind Closed Doors : Ninjago Angst - Day Three: Scars~Cole

You probably think ghosts are cool, right? I mean, wow, they can fly and go through walls. I've even see some be keys before and shape shift!

But what do you think about actually being part of the undead? What if you actually had that horrific reputation pinned on you after being put through so much pain you died and now all you did was roam lifelessly throughout the Departed Realm, or better yet? Stuck in Ninjago as a see-through, green-tainted blob because you were cursed.

People stood in fear when they looked at you. Well, they stood in fear when they looked at me. I stood in fear while attempting to see my reflection. Because there was none and it was bone-rattling. It was if I had no future.

Hey! It's alright, though, since I now know Airjituzu! And none of the other ninja were cursed; they made it out of the blasted temple in time. That's what really mattered...

And if I was so invaluable before, I was worth everyone's wild now.

I could do more than throw rocks. I could hover; Sensei also taught me how to phase invisible. And I could possess certain items. Of course it's nothing compared to what Morro could do, but I was just getting the hang of it. Sure, it takes a lot of concentration, but it's a trait the others do not have. I was different.

I didn't get hungry anymore - ugh, I was missing out on cake - and I could not touch water - I couldn't touch anything, really. Sometimes, my hand and the rest of my body would not solidify in time and I just...I went through everything. It was worse when one of my brothers' - my best friends' - life was on the line. I didn't know how the wind felt against my face, or the earth under my toes.

I was a ghost. I was different. I was dead.

But it was all for the team - the power of positive thinking, as Jay says.

I mean, sure, there're a few cool perks about being dead. But nothing beats actually inhaling the breath into your body to live.

Although somehow I eventually became used to it. I guess because so much time had passed and it dawned on me I may of never truly been alive again. Also because my family was so accepting about it.

By family, I mean more towards the other ninja.

I don't quite know what my father would have said, realizing his son was...not dead...but not exactly alive either.

Our relationship has always been rocky, to say the least. It did get somewhat better when we had to get a Fang Blade from him and I dropped the bombshell that I was a ninja, not a dancer. However, something between us changed when my mom died - it was an odd thought when I realized I was so close to my dead mother as a ghost but still so far away. Let's just say my father and I have different coping mechanisms.

Eventually, I fell into a pit of sadness. I really did not think I was going to get human again. And while we were on at the museum for the Day of the Departed, I started to see things, hear things.

Then I realized later that psycho Sensei Yang was using me and it just made the matters worse. To add on to the problem of not being able to feel anything for the rest of my life, I would also not be able to walk freely around Ninjago; I could've been trapped in a cursed temple and stuck there as the master of the house. All the while my friends were battling undead foes we already won against alone, I was roaming around the temple and kicking cursed students' butts.

And that moment was one of the greatest of my life, because not only was one of my demons comquered - Sensei Yang - but I passed through an opportunity of a lifetime. Literally.

I went up and Airjituzed right through the Yin-Yang Eclipse portal.

I became human again.

I could touch my face and feel my smile curving upon my lips. My feet actually stood on the dirt, kicking and tossing the beautiful earth around. But most of all, I missed the physical contact I had with my brothers - and sister. I could hug them, squeeze them like I would never see them ever again.

And that's what I did.

We laughed, and joked. Also on the plus side, we had a bran new place to stay: the Temple of Airjituzu because Sensei Yang was now pretty chill.

When I fought after having my body all to myself, there was something new; and no, not the fact that all my limbs were actually solid. I had this really cool Earth Punch! My hands, arms, and scar glow bright orange and I can smash through anything.

Now days I try hard to forget what had happened - I also think Lloyd does the same, given the wind is a fear of his now. Some times, I succeed on not remembering those awful days I was stuck as a ghost.

But then other days, Jay will unintentionally make a quippy joke and remind me or I will look in the mirror; there's a thick green scar on the left side of my face, visible through my black hair. When I am stressed or things become tense and bad, so does the scar. And I can feel it; it painfully throbs.

It is a constant reminder of what I went through.

My sense to touch was worthless for such a long period of time. A slight fear over water had grown deep in my bones, although I know now I can swim, or take a shower without harm. But when you train your mind to go off of something for so long, you get used to it.

I was stuck in my own body. I was used like a pawn for someone else's advantage while I was at my lowest.

It is okay now, because everything is the way it was - to the greatest extent it can be when you live in Ninjago.

(for @ninjago-angst-week)

#ninjago angst week #ninjago #angst #ninjago-angst-week #cole brookstone #cole #scar #scars #fanfic #I wrote this

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kingdomofthelogos · 4 years

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The Light & The Beast

Read Nehemiah 6:10-19

The beast is real, and it stirs in the deep like a hungry nightmare, desiring to master the sons of Adam and daughters of Eve. The beast grows when the light is concealed, therefore we must be people of the light. Nehemiah faced the darkness when the prophets within his own house conspired against him, and tried to deceive him with fake prophecies, with trojan horse morality. We must be fortified in our souls and learn from Nehemiah’s example of how powerful it is to stand up to the darkness.

There is much to be said about the sequence in escalation of attacks that came against Nehemiah. They increased in degree, and climaxed in an attack that, if successful, would be worse than death. They conspire to ruin Nehemiah's name that he may sin and be separated from his God. When Sanballat and Tobiah failed to destroy his body and work, they conspired to corrupt his soul.

First, Nehemiah’s enemies tried to convince him to come down from his work on the wall to negotiate with them in the regions below. When this tactic failed, these terrible foes escalated their scheme in hopes that Nehemiah would not call out their bluff. Their second attempt employed two chief doctrines of Satan himself, in that they made dishonest accusations and bore false witness using partial truths. Despite what came out of their mouths, it was clear that they wanted to kill Nehemiah.

The third and climactic attempt against Nehemiah in chapter 6 of his memoir is fascinating. Sanballat and Tobiah hired false prophets inside the house of Israel to tell Nehemiah a lie, a lie that would have him corrupt himself if he fell for it. They conspired to attack Nehemiah in a way that would make use of his strong faith. If he were living out a shallow and superficial faith, one that appeared to be strong and genuine on the outside but was actually hollow in his heart, then he could have easily been tricked into this. A false version of the light was used against him, a trick meant to ensnare people who lack a fortified faith.

We do well to consider that lying prophets are the most vicious and powerful attack in Nehemiah 6. It truly is fascinating that this is the ultimate line of attack against Nehemiah; furthermore, we must recognize that if it had been successful it would have done more damage than just killing the man. Had he merely been assassinated, then his revival could have continued. Yet, had he been spiritually corrupted, then the inertia of his ministry would be erased. Those who were meant to be voices of light and truth were corrupted to do the bidding of darkness, and they constructed a message that was fool proof. But Nehemiah was no fool.

The fake prophecy itself is worthy of investigation. Shemiah the prophet comes to Nehemiah saying “Let us meet together in the house of God, within the temple, and let us close the doors of the temple, for they are coming to kill you; indeed, tonight they are coming to kill you.” This is quite fascinating, indeed, for it is a lie wrapped deeply in truth. It is true that Nehemiah has enemies who want to kill him, and even kill him on the day in question. It is also true that it is forbidden for the likes of Sanballat and Tobiah to enter the Temple. Once again we can find it true that one should turn to God when dealing with serious problems. So where is the lie in this text? Well, the lie is in every word because its words were motivated by wickedness to take Nehemiah to a place of ultimate destruction. It would be shameful for Nehemiah to hide from his enemies and sinful for him to abuse the Temple of God in this manner. One can learn to see clearly through the world by examining the motivations and fruits of those who bring us news. Nehemiah sees clearly because he is motivated to serve God and not the words and narratives of his enemies.

As we consider the lying prophets who conspire against Nehemiah, let us consider the image of the beast in Revelation 11:1-7. Nehemiah is not unlike the two prophets in Revelation 11 in that his mission is to do great works for God, albeit in a less mysterious and more practical manner. Moreover, the false prophets in Nehemiah 6 are not unlike the beast itself, which has a powerful desire for destruction that is unconstrained by time. The beast comes, growing as it emerges from the deep, coming to kill and conqueror the holy prophets of God.

I can only imagine what it would be like for Nehemiah to look into the eyes of Shemiah as he lied so perversely. Shemiah’s face must have been similar to the devilish face described by C.S Lewis in his book Perelandra. Lewis describes the face of a man possessed by the devil as being so terrible to behold, for mere sight of the devil is one of the greatest torments in hell, and to see him smile could destroy someone’s life and soul in an act of final calamity. Many may never take the words “devilish smile” seriously, but Lewis describes the smile as follows:

“He had never taken the words seriously. The smile was not bitter, nor raging, nor, in an ordinary sense, sinister; it was not even mocking. It seemed to summon with a horrible naiveté of welcome, into the world of its own pleasures, as if all men were at one in those pleasures, as if they were the most natural thing in the world and no dispute could ever have occurred about them. It was not furtive, nor ashamed, it had nothing of the conspirator in it. It did not defy goodness, it ignored it to the point of annihilation. Ransom perceived that he had never before seen anything but half-hearted and uneasy attempts at evil.This creature was whole-hearted. The extremity of its evil had passed beyond all struggle into some state which bore a horrible similarity to innocence. [...] no child would have any difficulty in understanding that there might be a face the mere beholding of which was final calamity. The children, the poets, and the philosophers were right. As there is one Face above all worlds merely to see which is irrevocable joy, so at the bottom of all worlds that face is waiting whose sight alone is the misery from which none who beholds it can recover.” Lewis, C. S. Perelandra

In our modern age there are many who like to enact ancient evils without the superstition of believing in evil. There are those who publicly pray to satan as if there is no danger in mocking the very God who holds the breath of life. There are many who take pride in their covetousness, seeking to redefine and remake the world in what they desire to be true as opposed to what actually is. Still, there are others who seek to resurrect murderous ideologies that they may once again wreak destruction on our earth. These miserable souls tell themselves that all will be different when they are the ones in charge, that they can create a utopia on this earth without suffering or judgements, their evil is like the devilish smile in that it has stark similarity to innocence. However, be not deceived, such is evil.

Yet, evil is fully real, although it is not part of the created order, but a trespasser against logic and laws of nature and nature's God. It falls into a category of the uncreated, the unborn. Evil is an invasion of the meaningless void of unreasonable darkness that seeks to kill, steal, and destroy so much of God's noble creation that all may be reduced to the horrible darkness.

It is important to recognize that evil is both real and conscious. However, it is also important to hold a proper expectation of evil in the fact that its consciousness does not exist in the same manner as does human consciousness, or any other mode of existence designed by God. The beast is unborn, and it will grow stronger so long as it is concealed from the light.

Let us for a moment appreciate the great tenacity of Nehemiah's personal constitution, and the power of light over the darkness. Unlike ourselves, who are graced by the invigorating gifts of both Christ's resurrection and the day of Pentecost, Nehemiah was a man prior to these events. Yet, he finds himself to be a man of God standing against a manifestation of the beast. Although he lacks the assuring knowledge of Christ's eternal victory, he is a man of such strong composition that he finds victory against the beast by seeking only to serve the light and truth of God.

Nehemiah casts out the darkness of the beast. He does this by recognizing it as darkness, and not an alternative light. The false prophets who betray Nehemiah, along with all of their brothers and sisters in Jerusalem, desire that Nehemiah listen to them and negotiate with them as if they are the light. But they are not the light, but a trojan horse.

We are hardwired to be spiritual and moral creatures, who value decisions that are considered moral and fulfilling more so than decisions that are merely cold and calculating. Yet, the sin nature has created a void in our souls between our naturally born selves and God. There is a gap between being made in the Image of God and corrupted by sin. Creation simultaneously longs to be restored to God and lashes out against Him. Evil likes to step into this gap and offer people false light, a dark light, because it knows that we desire for this void to be filled. The God shaped hole is real, and evil is happy to fill it.

Our world is littered with trojan horse morality, fake and counterfeit virtues that want to be integrated into your life and nation as if they are the true virtues of nature and nature's God. The trojan horse morality masks itself well, and like all forces of evil, the beast desires you. It desires you in order to consume you. It knows that if it can convince you that it is the light, then you are likely to allow it in. Luke warns us of this in his account of the Gospel, saying Luke 11:35, “Therefore consider whether the light in you is not darkness”. In Matthew’s account we are told in 6:23 “If then the light in you is darkness, how great is the darkness!” This evil wants you to negotiate with it as if it is the light, but you must defeat it by recognizing it as the darkness. The true virtues of God are noble, but the trojan horse virtues of the beast bring destructive chaos that leave heaps of ash and death.

Looking to 2 Corinthians 4:4 we are reminded that “the god of this age is blinding the minds of unbelievers, to negate the radiating illumination of the glory of the Gospel of Christ Jesus, who is the Image of God. Evil consciously wants to instill unbelief, even among the faithful. Yet, the victory is ours and the Gospel of Christ Jesus radiates like a piercing lighthouse. Christ is present and there is great peace in this truth.

The beast is real, and it stirs in the deep like a hungry nightmare, desiring to master the sons of Adam and daughters of Eve. The beast grows when the light is concealed, therefore we must be people of the light. For us to be people of revival, we must be people who speak truth to a world uninterested in truth. The beast likes to infect our world in such a manner that darkness is not held accountable, where the light is not allowed to shine in the public. We are in such a moment right now, but the best tool for defeating the darkness is to simply shine the light on it.

Nehemiah shines the light. He is motivated by the light, and thus he is not fooled by trojan horse morality that pretends to be the light. He can see clearly; moreover he has such an impulse to act on what he sees. He does not mind saying "no" to anyone, or calling out people for their lies.

Our modern culture is truly tailored so that only darkness can spread. The light is held in restraint while the darkness is excused by public voices who refuse to speak truth. Yet, let us not be discouraged, for even a man like Nehemiah, who had neither the assurance of Christ’s resurrection or the sanctifying power that came with the Holy Spirit at Pentecost, was able to cast out the darkness. God does not demand that we have all the answers, but that we simply be motivated to love Him and live by His light.

The church is called to cast out the darkness, and we have been commissioned with great power by our Lord Christ Jesus, who is The Light. Let us not be discouraged by the great evils that assail against our world, for the victory is ours. We must have a firm conviction to stand up to the world, and to be men and women who bring the radiating illumination of the Gospel of Christ Jesus to the world around us. As we close, let us pray for strength to shine light into the darkness.

#Christian #Faith #Trojan Horse #Spiritual Warfare #Culture WAr #Theology #Prayer #Church of the Nazarene #Holiness #Christ #Nehemiah #Revelation #Beast #Pastor #Sermon #Bible Study

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lightaflametoburnmethrough · 7 years

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Ep. 11 - The Logical Route

Here’s my interpretation. If I made any factual errors, feel free to correct me. *wipes tears, cracks knuckles* Alright, then…

As it turns out, Kunihiro wasn’t targeting Ryoma nor did he have any intention as big as wanting to overturn the Restoration of Imperial Rule. All he wanted to do was prolong Hijikata’s life.

That’s what the episode appears to be suggesting to me, anyway.

Going by this notion and what transpired in the confrontation between him and Kane-san, it brings a lot of new things into perspective.

To start, it seems that just because Kunihiro wants to save Hijikata doesn’t mean his desire to protect other people has completely disappeared. Him rescuing this little girl proves that. That he still retains some sense of dedication to the Second Unit’s mission.

Or at the very, very least, Kunihiro doesn’t want people who didn’t die in the original history to lose their lives to the conflict caused by the Time Retrograde Army.

In other words, it is not Kunihiro’s wish to change overall history. That is not what’s he setting out to do.

However, as Kane-san said, Kunihiro’s wish for Hijikata to live past Hakodate will change history, regardless of whether Kunihiro doesn’t intend for that to happen or not.

Making sure history remains the same while ensuring that Hijikata survives, it’s a total contradiction. There’s no possible way he can have both. Yet it doesn’t stop Kunihiro from wanting both all the same because you can’t change how you feel that easily. And Kunihiro will still yearn for it as long as he still breathes and exists.

But let’s put that aside for a minute to focus on this part. What does Kunihiro mean by “the history that you (Kane-san) want to protect”?

Are they implying that Kunihiro has something he regards as more important than protecting history? I think so. If so, what is it?

That will be the foothold of the rest of my analysis. So keep this question in mind as we continue.

Kunihiro then goes on to describe Hijikata’s life. It’s similar to Kane-san’s version from ep 10 but also not quite the same.

Kunihiro says Hijikata lived for the sake of others (the Shogunate, the Shinsengumi) while Kane-san says he lived for himself.

Actually, aren’t they both correct? Hijikata did devote himself entirely to being a warrior. He became the very embodiment of his harsh ideals, earning himself the nickname “Demon Vice-Commander of the Shinsengumi”.

But if he didn’t have a cause to fight for, if he didn’t have the Shinsengumi to be a part of, those ideals and his intense enforcement of them probably wouldn’t have been born. It’s possible that without those, Hijikata wouldn’t have become the Hijikata we know in history.

The qualities he’s best known for, they will always be associated with the fact that he aligned with the Bakufu. And that’s why throughout history, people will always be more familiar with the man who lived by the phrase “more warrior-like than a warrior”. The most they’ll ever know about Hijikata is that he was a fierce and merciless samurai who died for his ideals.

They’ll probably never know how many times Hijikata must’ve uttered that phrase to himself in order to stick to those ideals. How he must’ve driven any second thoughts or hesitance out of his mind by viciously reminding himself on what he’s fighting for.

Because though Hijikata was a strong warrior, he wasn’t invincible. He was also a man. He was human.

It’s impossible for a human being to not have a weaker, vulnerable, compassionate side, no matter how little of it he’s shown in real life.

How many times did it cut away at Hijikata’s humanity whenever he killed someone, foe or ally? How often do all the deaths he’s responsible for come back to haunt him at night? How did he shape himself into a person so strict and unforgiving that it was enough to block out any uncertainty that would threaten to lead him off the path of being a warrior? What crucial part of him did he have to trade to become a demon?

We may never know and hell, even the people who were closest to Hijikata may never know. The only ones who are privy to that information, that more human Hijikata, are the swords he kept by his side. Horikawa Kunihiro and Izuminokami Kanesada.

And this holds especially true for Kunihiro, who’s been with Hijikata longer than Kane-san has. Kunihiro was with Hijikata before Kane-san was forged and he was with Hijikata after he sent Kane-san away, up until his master’s last breath.

Because of that fact, of a time with Hijikata that exists for Kunihiro but didn’t exist for Kane-san, it’s only understandable that there are deeper depths to Kunihiro’s loyalty and affection for Hijikata that Kane-san’s may never have. And the same principle applies to their respective understandings of Hijikata as well.

So what was it that Kunihiro saw on that fateful day that almost broke his heart? What was the expression his master wore at the moment of his death?

Did it show regret? Regret for a life he could’ve had if he didn’t dedicate himself to supporting the Shogunate, to being a part of the Shinsengumi? A more quiet, peaceful life where he could’ve had a family and grown old and been happy? Or was it shock? That he, a warrior who lived by the sword and wanted to die by the sword, would meet his end by a fatal bullet, a product of the West which he so despised, that pierced his back?

…whatever it was, it seems (Katsugeki’s) Hijikata wasn’t able to leave this world satisfied. Even as a warrior who was determined to go down with the old government.

And only Kunihiro knows that, the true face of a man that would only show when he’s at death’s door. Kane-san doesn’t because he wasn’t there that day but Kunihiro was so he knows.

That is why Kunihiro wants to save Hijikata. He doesn’t want to see Hijikata die with such an unfulfilled expression. He doesn’t want Hijikata to suffer his final moments thinking everything he’s fought for, everything he’s given his years and life for was meaningless.

Because Kunihiro believes his master should have that for all he’s done, at the very least. Hijikata deserves to pass on with dignity. Dignity that, apparently, his life as a warrior couldn’t give him.

Which is why Kunihiro plans on trying to persuade Hijikata to leave that path now, three years before the Battle of Hakodate happens. Three years before Hijikata is destined to die.

Three years is ample time to redirect Hijikata, if Kunihiro can, to a life less stained with carnage and broken ambitions.

But it’s just like Kane-san said. That if Hijikata’s destiny was to be changed to what Kunihiro wants for him, he will not be the Hijikata that history knows him as. He will no longer be the Hijikata that Kane-san is so fond of.

However, to Kunihiro, who values his old master’s life more than his image or what the textbooks say, it doesn’t matter. Anything would be better than having to witness Hijikata’s death a second time. Anything would be a million times better than facing the regret of not even attempting to find another way for Hijikata now that he’s actually here.

And when you think of Kunihiro’s history as a sword, how he must have gone through decades of his authenticity as a Horikawa Kunihiro sword being questioned and doubted, how that is still happening in the present day, you can see why he’s so insistent on saving Hijikata.

Because when Hijikata chose him, it no longer mattered whether he was fake or not. Hijikata wanted him regardless of that. Hijikata gave him an irrefutable identity as Hijikata’s favorite and trusted wakizashi. As his “other life”.

For that, Kunihiro must have felt an endless amount of love and gratitude towards his master. Hijikata had given him a place to belong, Hijikata had given him happiness. Hijikata brought Kane-san into his life. So perhaps Kunihiro wanted to show his utmost loyalty and return the favor in some way. Except that unlike when he was just a sword, he actually can do something now that he has a human body.

This is part of the “deeper depth” that Kane-san may never comprehend. This is why the both of them cannot come to an agreement on this issue. For Kane-san, he can let Hijikata go because his memories of his old master will suffice. But for Kunihiro, whose attachment to Hijikata runs more profound for the reasons above and his last recollection of Hijikata being an utterly sad one, memories will never be enough.

In truth, their discord at this point has veered away from the actual mission itself. What Kane-san wants and what Kunihiro wants, they’re both for the sake of their own selfishness.

Kane-san wants Hijikata to remain the same and to be remembered as the ruthless warrior he was. Kunihiro wants Hijikata to change even if it means giving up that lifestyle and his reputation.

One explanation why they’re so divided is because of the manner of their separation along with their master’s last influences over them.

On that night, when Hijikata handed his belongings over to Testunosuke, Kane-san was sent away with the purpose of representing the greatest things Hijikata stood for. Therefore, Kane-san inherited Hijikata’s will and feelings for the future which explains why he won’t budge on his refusal to change history.

Kunihiro, on the other hand, was chosen to stay by Hijikata’s side until the very end. The “other life” that died when Hijikata died is represented by Kunihiro. That life holds everything Hijikata could not accomplish. They are his regrets of the past and his final defiance against what history has dictated.

Inherently, Kane-san wants to preserve history because he wants to carry out what Hijikata entrusted to him that day he was sent away. Inherently, Kunihiro wants to fight against fate that would have Hijikata die for not being able to accept the new order. They are two sides to the same coin. The coin being Hijikata Toshizo.

Furthermore, there’s another layer to Kunihiro’s desperation, one that is implied to be directed at Kane-san himself.

Kunihiro admits Hijikata’s flaws. That if Hijikata didn’t go that far, perhaps he could’ve avoided the strife he brought upon himself.

How difficult it must have been to see his master lead such a life that became increasingly hopeless as the Tokugawa Shogunate gradually came to an end.

And how difficult it must be for him now to watch Kane-san, always watching Kane-san, endure so much remorse over what he couldn’t save as he tries to protect history.

Even though Kunihiro knows that the both of them, Hijikata and Kane-san, are really good deep down. He knew there was a part of Hijikata that didn’t want to punish his comrades but his stubborn adherence to the samurai code propelled him to.

He knows there’s a part of Kane-san that doesn’t want to stand by and let people, whether they play a role in history or not, get hurt (see ep 1). That he doesn’t want to let Hijikata die even though he can’t, won’t act freely because the rules forbid him from doing so.

Seeing Kane-san, who resembles Hijikata so much, like this is like reliving Hijikata’s life all over again. And that is so painful. That leads Kunihiro to question why. Why is it always the people he cares about who have to give so much and never receive enough back? Why does fate continue to hurt the two he loves the most?

What can he, Kunihiro, do to help them break free of this cycle of torment placed on them?

Because if he and Kane-san continue to follow this mission and all the missions that come after it, they’ll never find peace. Kane-san will always regret the things he couldn’t save, even if he did protect overall history and Kunihiro will always regret not being able to help him get through those grievances, no matter how hard he tries.

Those feelings will pile up and pile up and pile up…until at last neither of them can go on anymore. Kane-san’s mentality might break under the weight of his guilty conscience and Kunihiro might break over the failure he feels at not being able to save Kane-san. Like how Kunihiro’s heart broke at the sight of Hijikata’s dying face.

Both of them. Unfulfilled.

In order to not let this premonition of a despairing existence become reality, Kunihiro proposes the insane.

“Let’s fight and protect history” or rather, “Let’s claim the freedom to carve our own histories”.

Let them create a world where Kane-san didn’t have to separate from Hijikata. Let them fight off the abnormalities that shouldn’t interfere with the affairs of humans. Let them “protect” history that way.

It will be out of their own wills, not Saniwa’s.

But of course, Kane-san cannot accept.

It doesn’t matter how tempting Kunihiro’s proposal is or how much he doesn’t want Hijikata to die because the current Kane-san recognizes himself foremost as Saniwa’s sword. And as Saniwa’s sword, he cannot disobey his master’s order.

But Kunihiro doesn’t sound the least surprised at this response. He even fully expects Kane-san to treat him as a traitor and to execute judgment on him.

Because as Kunihiro goes on to explain, he will leave the Second Unit. He will abandon the mission to follow his own sense of loyalty if Kane-san doesn’t stop him right then there.

Kane-san’s loyalty lies with what Saniwa wants. The future that needs the past to stay the same.

Kunihiro’s loyalty lies with the well-being of his old master, Hijikata Toshizo. The past that at this moment can go in another direction.

They seek different things and that’s why they can’t reconcile.

What’s chilling and heartbreaking at the same time is how calm Kunihiro is going into the end of their talk. How willing he is to accept punishment for defecting.

When only minutes before, he poured out all his pent-up emotions about Hijikata and expressed how determined he was to save him. You would think he’d show frustration at Kane-san or prepare himself to face the reprimands of the rest of the Second Unit for forsaking the mission.

But no. Kunihiro is anything but that. He’s level-headed and composed while Kane-san is the one who’s been overcome by emotion. A reversal of their situation from ep 10.

And that’s when I remembered how scarily logical Kunihiro can be, going by Mutsu’s description of him from the game. How he’s extremely practiced in suppressing rash tendencies so that he can think things through.

What I mean is…

Kunihiro predicted for this exact outcome. Not only on Kane-san rejecting his offer but everything else as well.

He knew nothing he said would ever convince Kane-san to come to his side.

He also knows that whether it took 3 years or a lifetime, he would never find a way to get Hijikata to lead a better life.

Because he knows Hijikata as well as he knows Kane-san. They are resolute when they’ve set their minds to something. They won’t change, not even for the benefit of themselves.

So Kunihiro’s wish for them both, to protect them from the pain that’s ahead, it will never come true.

That leaves Kunihiro’s feelings because he can’t change those either. Probably no one can. As long as the opportunity to save Hijikata exists before him, he will pursue it even if it’s in vain. Kunihiro is aware that’s a dead-end…and he knows he cannot return the Second Unit, cannot serve Saniwa, when he still carries this burden and is incapable of adjusting to their values because of it.

Kunihiro has nowhere else to go, nowhere to run. He is like Hijikata at Hakodate in that respect.

So he slowly approaches Kane-san and resolves to die. To break.

Except unlike the scenario where he has nothing to gain if he were to stay intact and try, he can at least see a guarantee if he were to broken. And it has to be done by Kane-san’s hand.

Recall what I said earlier about them being two sides to the same coin. About Kunihiro representing the darker aspects of Hijikata’s life while Kane-san was to represent the nobler ones. To be a symbol of Hijikata’s pride, resilience and courage and ensuring those virtues live on.

Kunihiro, Hijikata’s “other life”, was meant to die that day that Hijikata did. He was meant to take all of the failings of the old era and be buried with them forever, to make way for the new.

And it’s up to Kane-san to put him back into the grave now that Kunihiro/the past has resurfaced and is beginning to pose a danger to the mission.

Kane-san has to cut away the past and anything that would disturb that resolve Hijikata has bestowed upon him. Anything that can cause him to waver in focus so that it will not hinder him in his duty. And that is Kunihiro, who took it on himself to be everything Kane-san must not be.

That’s why Kunihiro has Kane-san’s haori in this scene because that too is a reference to the past, to their time spent as part of the Shinsengumi. If Kane-san holds onto it, if he lets Kunihiro go after Hijikata as a way to respond to his own regret over not being able to fight alongside his master at Hakodate or not being able save him from his fate, he won’t be able to concentrate on what’s most important. Protecting history. Kane-san cannot prioritize his feelings of the past, his affection for Hijikata or his bond with Kunihiro over that.

And it’s Kunihiro who understands this the most because he understands Kane-san better than anyone. He understands what Kane-san wants and needs better than anyone.

Kane-san wants to practice his loyalty like how Hijikata did? Kane-san believes this is how he can efficiently protect history? Then he has to go all the way. Even if that means breaking his long-time partner. Leave no room for doubt.

That’s why Kunihiro deliberately said all those crazy things, pushed for the taboo, threatened to change history. It wasn’t so they could join forces. It was to hammer the idea into Kane-san’s head that there’s no saving Kunihiro.

Kunihiro chose to become the bad guy because no other option would give them what they both want. So he has to make the best of it. This way, history can be protected. Because Kunihiro does understand the mission is the correct the thing to do. He knows he’s the one in the wrong and that the mission is right.

This way, Kane-san can put a lid over the ghosts that keep coming back to haunt him and learn to move on. To not be trapped by the past.

This way, Kunihiro can face his demise without the fear of unfulfillment. He can break while staying true to himself, his loyalty to Hijikata and most of all, his loyalty to Kane-san.

Because let’s face it, everything Kunihiro’s done…

From the moment he saw Kane-san’s tears and deciding he wanted to save Hijikata to erase those regrets Kane-san has…

To intentionally inciting Kane-san’s anger, manipulating Kane-san’s weakness/his temper to get him to draw his blade…

Everything. It was all for Kane-san’s sake.

When Kunihiro’s voice broke for just a second during this moment, like he was about to cry over how they’ve come to this tragic conclusion, it isn’t because he was still trying to get Kane-san to change sides.

It was Kunihiro’s very faint hope that Kane-san would somehow realize why he’s driving Kane-san to do this. Before Kunihiro retracted it and drew his expression firm and grim so that Kane-san would not notice. So that Kane-san would not hesitate in “killing” him.

Kunihiro, who cannot give up on Hijikata, but also Kunihiro, who treasures Kane-san more than anything else in this whole world. More than protecting history, more than Saniwa, more than what Kunihiro wants, more than even saving Hijikata.

For Kunihiro, none of those things are as important as Kane-san.

When Kunihiro said he must protect what’s important to the both of them in ep 10′s preview, he meant what was important to Kane-san. Because what is important to Kane-san is important to Kunihiro as well. And what does Kane-san consider the most important? Protecting history. Unfortunately, Kunihiro cannot do that but he can at least make sure nothing gets in Kane-san’s way, including himself. That’s why he has to go. That’s why he has to break.

So that he, Kunihiro, can protect the history that Kane-san wants to protect. He’s eliminating himself, the threat, in order to protect history. The history Kane-san wants to preserve.

Remember the start of this post? That question at the top? This is the foothold. This is what Kunihiro meant.

And of course, there’s no way that Kunihiro isn’t aware that this will be very hard for Kane-san if he is broken.

For Kane-san to lose his partner this way. For them to part ways again, on even worse terms than the first time. For Kunihiro, of all people, to hurt Kane-san, even if he thinks this is for Kane-san’s own benefit.

It is most definitely not the best plan nor the one that leads to the happiest ending (because if there’s any place these two would want to be, it will always be by each other’s side). But it is a plan Kunihiro came up with. A plan he made while he was separated from the group. A plan that he thought out carefully, taking in the circumstances of their situation (where Kunihiro stood, where Kane-san stood) and then processing it through all the (arguable) rationale Kunihiro still possessed. This is the most logical route Kunihiro could think of for him and Kane-san to proceed.

Kane-san won’t be okay, not for a while if he really does lose Kunihiro… but Kunihiro knows he’ll be strong even without him. And he knows Kane-san is in good hands. Though he couldn’t fight alongside them after all, Kunihiro knows all the Second Unit swords are good comrades and that Saniwa is a good master. They will look after and care for Kane-san in his place. He can “die” at ease because he can entrust Kane-san to them.

So Kane-san in the long run will be fine. Because Kane-san knows to do the right thing. He was always meant to walk the right path locked-in hero protagonist, something Kunihiro couldn’t do. No matter how arduous it is, Kane-san is strong enough to handle it. And there’s nothing that can ever make Kunihiro not feel proud of him. Even though they’ve disagreed this badly, even though this may be what severs their partnership, Kunihiro will always regard Kane-san with the greatest reverence and love because he’s Kane-san.

That is why Kunihiro could do all these things.

That is the extent of how much Kunihiro feels for Kane-san.

(and ok yea, I exaggerated things a little cuz I can’t help but be melodramatic when it comes to these sort of discussions but whatever, I’m upset)

*sigh* My baby. ;__;

After going through all this in my brain and typing it out, I hope that (if they really are going to have Kane-san break him) Kunihiro’s soul can finally find some relief from all the pain he’s had to endure throughout the show. He deserves it. Because even though he’s turned onto the wrong corner, he is certainly not evil.

Kunihiro, like everybody else, fought with everything he had, struggled through his own demons and tried his very best to do what’s right. By himself, by Kane-san, by history. Kunihiro really did try until he couldn’t anymore. And no one has the right to discredit that effort, to treat his anguish as anything less than what is. Especially when you don’t even have half an inkling of how hard it must be for him. Try putting yourself in his position. Can you say you would fare any better? Can you say every decision you ever made is clean of imperfections? If you do, you’re a fucking liar and shouldn’t come near me.

I know I would choose the ones I care about over the world. There’s no consolation the world can give me to lessen the self-hatred and grief and shame I’d feel if I gave up on what’s truly important to me. The world is not worth that pain.

Which is why I appreciate Kunihiro so much for his honesty and staying true to himself. Others may criticize him but I won’t. Not on this. Because choices are never a black-and-white deal, people can do the wrong things for the right reasons, and when you’re told by someone else on what you should think is right or wrong, stop for a minute to figure it out for yourself first. Even if by the general standard you’re considered wrong, it is more important on whether it’s wrong for you. Not anyone else, you.

Because everybody will always try their best to live without regrets. Nobody’s an exception to that. And to do that, they must know what’s right for them.

And Kunihiro made the choice that will leave him with no regrets. He protected his own beliefs and chose to “die” for the sake of the one most important to him. That is what’s right for Kunihiro.

On another note, I’m baffled that Kane-san did not even say anything to try and get Kunihiro back. Really, not even a “please don’t do this”.

All he said was “You’re wrong” and “No, I refuse”…and then he got mad.

ლ(ಠ_ಠ)ლ

To me, Kane-san doesn’t look like the type to be eloquent with sensitive words and maybe Kunihiro was going so full force with his arguments that Kane-san couldn’t find it in himself to disagree, especially on the topic of Hijikata.

But when Kunihiro told Kane-san to break him, he just readily drew his sword and aimed it at his partner? Yea, Kunihiro purposely egged him on but there wasn’t even one part of him that loudly protested “Stop it, don’t hurt him, don’t break Kunihiro!” or anything like that?,

…I mean, sure, I came up with all those explanations for what Katsugeki shows me every week but I can’t lie that there’s something off with the characterization and writing here (even when I haven’t looked over the game content in full yet). Especially and progressively so with Kane-san and his attitude towards Kunihiro.

Which then makes me think that the writers seem to have some bias against Kunihiro for some reason I can’t comprehend. Negative development is a thing, alright, but it doesn’t feel like that with this case. Not when Kunihiro is always getting the short end of the stick in the storyline.

I’m sorry, I’m rambling. Will save that for another post, another time (but I still suspect unprofessionalism at work here).

Anyways, back to Kane-san. Whether he really went through with cutting Kunihiro down or not, we won’t know until the next ep. Nevertheless, it should dawn on him that perhaps he didn’t go about dealing with everything the best way either.

Because Kunihiro isn’t wrong about Hijikata’s close-mindedness being a large part of what resulted in his death. And now that Kane-san is on the brink of losing Kunihiro (because he kept pushing Kunihiro away instead of helping him, going on about loyalty and all that crap), maybe he’ll realize he can lose more if he doesn’t notice the problems of those around him.

And I think in order for that to be really effective, to really make Kane-san reflect on this issue, Kunihiro might have to break. Don’t get me wrong, I don’t want that to happen (KUNIHIROO~!! >A<) but if this wants to go down the “decent” story route, then sadly, that’s the way that makes the most sense.

Or y’know, they’ll go with what I call the “anime” route where something inexplicably prevents the worse from happening.

Like the sword stopping short of touching Kunihiro’s head despite PHYSICS or it actually being flung out of Kane-san’s grasp despite his grip on it or Mutsu somehow getting in between the two even though he couldn’t have possibly reached them in time. Not with that distance.

Or Saniwa interfering by teleporting everyone three years ahead to Hakodate or something…even though there was no sudden lightning or sakura magic when the camera panned up.

But the next title indicates that there’s a good chance Kunihiro hasn’t broken yet. Again, how he could’ve avoided Kane-san’s blade, we don’t know…but…ok, I have officially ran out of fuel. I can’t think or type anymore so I’m shutting up.

I’m sorry this is so stupidly long. I swear, if I don’t cry myself to death over this dumb show first, I will by rambling too much about it.

(;; ￣Д￣)

#the feels hit me in the chest so hard I went unconscious for 40 min after finishing the ep #not lying #when will this end?#I'm so tired of being sad T_T #kanehori #horikane #horikawa kunihiro #izuminokami kanesada #katsugeki touken ranbu

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