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purple-goo-writes · 3 years

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The Shadows Watching Gotham

Or Watcher as most knows them,is a popular YouTuber and Podcaster and is the outside world's only reliable source of information about the on goings of the Mask Community within the crime ridden city known as Gotham. Aka the No Man's Land and the Crime Capital of the World.

Rumor has it that Watcher is the only way an outsider can contact the Bats. If this is true or not, Superman is about the find out.

Chapter 1: A rattle of bones

The Justice League of America and their younger counterparts watched the monitor in their meeting hall with rapt attention. On it, Barry had pulled up the channel of a popular youtuber, The Shadows Watching Gotham, hoping to get some more intel on the situation on Gotham and the vigilantes that the JLA wished to recruit. Though while the older members were listening with only half an ear, the younger ones were entranced with the hypnotizing and haunting narrative as Watcher spoke. His soft, raspy voice wrapping around them like an intoxicating perfume leaving the Young Justice Members wanting to hear more. Perhaps it was the strange ambient music playing in the background that added to the mystery surrounding Watcher that had them so entranced.

"...Just a friendly reminder for all my Gothamites listening in, Dr. Crane, otherwise known as The Scarecrow, escaped Arkham during last months breakout. Please do not forget your gas masks at home as he is still at large."

Watcher sat at an old and cluttered desk, the only light from an offscreen lamp, possibly a gaslamp, which bathed the teen and his surroundings in a soft golden glow. Though the JL couldn't see anything behind the teen except for pitch blackness, possibly the result of a backdrop. They couldn't see much of the Watcher as his face was blocked by the arm, the pop filter and mic of the studio microphone the teen was using. The teen was wearing a white long sleeved shirt which was rolled up to his elbows, showing off wiry, yet muscular arms covered in an odd variety of scars most Gothamites had littering parts of them, and a pressed red vest with black embroidery swirling across it, a gold tie could be seen just below the arm of the mic. Over all, the Watcher was just as mysterious and cryptic as the vigilantes he talked about.

"Now as the sun rises upon the decrepit bones of our fair city, I must bid you all a fair the well and a hopefully Good Morning. This is Watcher signing off."

And with that the screen went dark, snapping many out of the trance they had fallen into whilst listening to the Watcher speak.

Superman cleared his throat, before standing, "As I was saying. In order to hopefully meet with these vigilantes, I have managed to establish contact with The Watcher, as he is so far our only reliable source on the vigilantes that are not simply rumors spread by the Gotham Gazette or hearsay spread about through the villain network."

Hal frowned, leaning back in his chair rocking it back on two legs, "Yet isn't he just as hard to get a hold of?"

"Which is why I am going to meet him as Clark Kent with Kon acting as my back up in the form of my son shadowing me at work," the man of steel replied, ignoring how his clone/son rolled his eyes and muttered, "Isn't that what I normally fucking do?"

Their relationship was still rocky at time, but Ma Kent was determined to get Clark to do right by the boy. After all they were only on good terms due to Ma Kent. But, Kon was going through what Ma called his rebellious stage and trying to break out of his father's shadow as most teenage sons do. Which lead to snippy comments during meetings and Clark wondering just how Kon managed to get another new piercing, personally he blamed Lex for those because of course the man would figure out how to give a Kryptonian piercings just to piss Superman off.

Clark simply sighed and went back to addressing the others, “The Watcher agreed to meet with us tomorrow evening after I explained that I was writing an article about Gotham and it’s rumored vigilantes and found that he was the only reliable source I could find with recent information. And that I learned about him thanks to my son, Conner.”

“Meaning, I have to watch over fifty videos on Youtube so not to sound stupid when I talk to the dude,” Kon muttered to his best friend, Bart, who giggled softly into his hands. Both ignoring the looks their mentors gave them, though Barry’s was more fond then reprimanding like Clark’s.

“Exactly how will you know if it is this Watcher that you are meeting?” Wonder Woman inquired, a frown settling on her face in contemplation, “After all we do not know what this mysterious Watcher looks like…”

“We will be meeting him at the abandoned opera house within Central Gotham. He said he would know it is him by the red feathers he wears,” Clark sounded confused at this but only shrugged, “It’s the best I could get, he wouldn’t agree to meet outside of Gotham. Due to Gotham being declared No Man’s Land still by the President, even with the major rebuilding done by the Waynes… Most Gothamites don’t leave now.”

He sighed at the confused looks he was getting from the other members, “That was how Watcher explained it to me after I asked.”

The next evening…

Gotham was just as gloomy and foreboding as it was described in all the forums Kon had schemed the night before. What they had failed to mention was the literal stench of despair and fear that hung in the air. Or how Kon felt like the shadows were closing in slowly around him and his sorta-dad/Genetic donor as they hung outside the desolate opera house. Really the building was something out of a horror movie, and that was saying something considering this was Fucking Gotham and most places were probably used as references for horror movie scenery. It was huge and probably had been grand looking back in its prime with its gothic architecture and scale...though now the huge dome of the building was crumbling, slowly caving into itself and the once bright walls of it’s outer shell were now grey and covered in graffiti with most of the stained panels of it’s windows busted out from various villain attacks, bullet holes littered the siding and the once bright letters announcing the next play were broken and mostly missing. Honestly, Kon expected either a ghastly apparition from Hamlet to start monologuing or a serial killer to leap from the crawling shadows of the building looming over them.

He was not expecting someone to fucking sneak up on them out of the shadows and nearly scare Kon into fucking space!

“For an investigative reporter, you aren’t very observant, Mr. Kent,” came a soft, yet raspy voice like smoke behind them, causing both Kents to nearly break cover and leap on top of the building they were standing in front of. A smoky chuckle greeted them as both Kents whirled around just shy of inhuman speeds, “Really, I’ve been standing here watching you two nervously pace for about an hour now.”

An hour?

But how did they not hear him?

Kon was distracted from his thoughts as he took in just who was standing before them. The other teen, as their voice sounded young and didn’t yet have the full changes that signaled adulthood, only came up to Kon’s chin making him around five foot something compared to Kon’s near six feet. (He was so glad they fixed the aging and growing thing. He did not want to be stuck at the height of a thirteen year old forever.) They looked possibly male, but Kon wasn’t going to assign pronouns until they properly introduced themselves it was only polite according to Ma. Kon was still surprised that they managed to sneak up on the two Kents. They were wiry, yet muscular, built mainly for running from what Kon could tell, it was hard to tell with them still somehow blending in with the shadows despite how they were dressed. A white button down, sleeves rolled up to the elbows, with a bright red vest with black embroidery, a golden tie tucked into the vest, black dress slacks and slightly scuffed yet still shiny red loafers. A black trench coat was slung over one shoulder as the person watched them with amused blue eyes, the only part of their face they could see thanks to the bulky, yet futuristic looking, black gas mask with red lights. Kon could only see the person’s eyes thanks to the clear face shield protecting their eyes from foreign objects. Shaggy and long black hair framed the person’s face, the inky blackness of their hair almost blending into the Gotham night if it wasn’t for the bright red feathers tied throughout the inky mass.

Bright red feathers…

Feathers!

“Oh you’re Watcher!” Kon exclaimed being the first to recover, causing the podcaster to chuckle, “Oooh? I see you actually did remember. I was beginning to think that staring was just what Metropolians did.”

#the shadows watching gotham #podcaster!Tim #tim is a mystery man and apparently the YJ teens dig it #listened to Heather Dale Incantations 1 album for this #batman #batman au #isolated batfam

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n3rdybird · 4 years

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Healing Touch

Written for @star-spangled-man-with-a-plan‘s Hamilton Lyric challenge! This story went through so many re-writes and changes, god I hope this mangled mess is okay, haha. My prompt was the line “My name’s been through a lot. I can take it.”

Vikings

HeahmundxReader

Rating: Teen

Warnings: Some blood, talk about Church, self-flagellation etc (referenced, not described in depth) suggestive language, oogling a man of the church (haha)

Gossip was always a funny thing in small villages. Perhaps you had not been thinking clear when you established your home on the edge of the holy town of Sherborn. Nestled in the woods near a stream, you were both close enough to the town to visit for supplies but far enough away that your arrival stirred up a bit of mystery.

As an unmarried woman with no known family, you already raised a few brows of the more prominent families. But it was your talent for herbalism that set most of the tongues wagging. The smallfolk were more pragmatic towards your skills. They could overlook your marital status if it meant well-made salves and tonic for their aches and illnesses. With their payments, usually traded goods that you could not make yourself, and the bounty of the forest, you rarely had any need to visit the town marketplace. Which only furthered the mystique around you.

When you did grace the town with your presence, most of the townsfolk gave you a wide berth, allowing you to shop in peace. Even the merchants seemed to deal in your favor, giving you more than was due for your wares. You heard the rumors. Half the town believed that you were a cunning woman and would bring misfortune to any who wronged you. The other half sang your praises, that you were even more skilled than the clergy.

So it was to your great surprise as you kneeled to rearrange your parcels in your basket that a shadow loomed over you. You glanced upward, schooling your features as you saw the Bishop of Sherborne himself, Heahmund, standing over you.

You nodded your head in greeting before standing, slinging your basket over your shoulder. The bishop was a popular man, known for his devotion to God as well as to the sword. And lesser-known, his propensity for women. Mostly gossip, but living as you had, you knew there was at least a kernel of truth to any rumor. His handsome face did not help, nor the way his stubble gave him a rakish air. He was a far cry from the average holy man, fat and week from a sedentary lifestyle.

“Your Grace,” you greeted and dipped into a shallow curtsey, giving the most powerful man in Sherborne due deference for his position.

“You know who I am?” he asked.

“Of course. One could scarcely live in Sherborne without knowing of its Bishop,” you answered.

He nodded in agreement, before gesturing for you to walk with him.

“Please allow me to escort you home if you are finished for the day,” he offered.

You had no intention of spending any considerable time with the church official, but you erred on the side of caution and walked in step next to him.

“I apologize for not making my acquaintance sooner, I meet most of my parishioners on Sundays for mass,” he said, keeping his eyes forward.

You hummed noncommittally, but inside, you blanched. Heahmund's statement seemed polite on the surface, but you knew he was angling for an answer to why you had yet to make an appearance in church. In all honesty, it wasn’t that you weren’t Christian. You were, in your own way. It was the idea that one had to go to church to be considered religious that you didn’t agree with. So you had to pick your words carefully.

“Well then I am pleased that I’ve had the chance to meet you today,” you said, avoiding the point about the church, focusing on his former words rather than the latter. Heahmund cut his eyes towards you, clearly noting your evasion.

“Quite.” His tone was sharp and you felt as if you failed an unknown test.

The conversation dwindled to Heahmund telling bits of history about the town or gesturing to points of interest as the two of you left town. You were glad when you walked past the boundary of Sherborne. You were used to the curious stares when you were alone, but with the Bishop as company, it seemed the gazes were amplified. The gossip mill would soon be in a frenzy. The path home took you past the open fields and into the shaded forest along a winding path.

“Living alone, so far from town, must worry you,” he noted.

“Why would I be worried?”

“Well a woman such as yourself, living alone. You would be far better protected living in town. Roaming bandits, animals, or even the occasional Viking incursion.”

“I worry as much as the next, I suppose, but living in town has never appealed to me. Not to mention it is easier to collect wild plants,” you explained.

“Yes, I’ve heard of your skills. Where did you learn?”

You paused your walk, noticing a crop of comfrey sprouting from the ground. You knelt in the dirt, brushing the purple buds with your fingertips. Too young. You’d have to wait a few more days to harvest. You stood up, wiping the dirt off your skirt. You glanced back at Heahmund who had stopped several paces away. He was watching you closely but looked away as soon as your gaze met his.

“Family mostly, I’ve never learned formally. I’ve found that there is much in nature that can help or hurt. It only takes a practiced hand to know the difference.”

Heahmund stiffened, his hand resting on his sword. His gaze turned to stone as he eyed you critically.

“And do you only heal? Or do you hurt? I admit this meeting was no coincidence. There have been rumors that reached my ears. Half the town believes you to be a cunning woman, a witch, and I do not suffer pagans under my watch.”

You swallowed. You shouldn’t have disregarded the gut feeling you had the moment he began speaking to you. If the Bishop found any fault in your words, he could kill you now and be firm in his belief that he was in the right in his duty as a man of God. There was no one around who could come to your aid, not that any would stand against the warrior.

“Do you deny it?”

“Perhaps you could tell me which rumors have graced your ears, so I may better defend myself.” The words you spoke were calm and confident, the complete opposite of how you were feeling. The sounds of the forest melted away and all you could hear was your rapid heartbeat as you tried to control your fear.

Heahmund tilted his head as if trying to suss out your guilt or innocence.

“‘Which’ rumors? You are aware of what people say about you?”

“My name’s been through a lot. I can take it. Women are always subjected to gossip, especially unmarried ones. I would be a fool to believe otherwise. I hardly see the point in trying to change someone’s opinion of me. People do not like to be wrong.”

“Lord Oswald has claimed that you hold dark influence over his daughter, causing her to act out and defy her father. And that you placed a curse upon him, causing illness.”

At the mention of the man, you clenched your fist. You had first met his daughter when she visited you, draped in a cloak to hide her face. The purple bruise that spread across her cheekbone like a wine stain caused your immediate hatred towards the man she called father. You may have let out a few choice curse words as you treated the abrasion and consoled the young woman.

“That man is a pig. I couldn't care less what he thought of me. As for his illness, perhaps he should be blaming his poor diet.”

“Lord Oswald is an upstanding and-”

“Upstanding? That man would sell his daughter to the vilest devil on earth if it meant he’d get more power!” You blurted the words out, angry that that man would be considered upstanding.

“His daughter is his by rights, and as such may marry her to a man of his choosing. That is the duty of daughters,” the Bishop intoned, repeating the words drilled into him by years of church teachings.

You scoffed at his words, biting back harsh curses. Duty, you’ve never cared for that word.

“Duty, what a hollow promise. Is it not a father’s duty to protect his daughter? And not to lay a hand on her in anger?”

Heahmund’s face softened at that particular bit of information.

“Did you place a curse on Oswald?” he asked again, his voice low and stern.

“I wouldn’t have to. That man will drink himself into an early grave,” you spat. You nodded to where his hand was still resting on the pommel of his sword.

“So what is your judgment? Is thinking a man worth less than a pile of shit enough to die? Or not congregating with hypocrites on Sunday who profess their goodness only to hit their wives or cheat on their husbands or sleep with clergymen? Are those my crimes?”

The last bit of course was aimed at the Bishop. He was taken aback by your words. He too knew the hypocrisy of humans, he had seen it firsthand in others and himself.

“Regardless of any sin committed, man can repent and ask forgiveness.” It was what he told himself every time he failed in his duty to God.

“But I am judged by the words of one man, and that’s enough to condemn me? And what of all the kind words said in my favor? Because they are from the smallfolk they aren’t as important? But as soon as someone with ‘prestige’ speaks horrible lies, you must come running to investigate. Like a trained hound set out by its masters.”

Dismissing the warrior bishop, you shook your head. Rigid, sanctimonious, and arrogant.

“If you are going to kill me, kill me. I do not wish to suffer your presence any longer.”

When Heahmund did not speak but removed his hand from his sword you gave him a terse nod.

“Enjoy the rest of your day, your Grace.”

Heahmund watched as you walked away, your skirts swishing behind you. You had spoken the truth. He had no interest in you until the upper echelon started their complaints. He was all but demanded to get to the bottom of it. As much as your words stung, you were correct. He could have denounced the hearsay as soon as they were spoken, owing to the fact that smallfolk all but revered you. So he bowed under the demands to keep his place secure.

You, however, were not what he expected. Young, unmarried, and striking. He thought you might be an older widow, with the talk of your skills. Instead he got you, a fiery, educated young woman, who wasn't afraid of speaking her mind. It was almost refreshing to have someone not fawn over him. Yes, you treated him with respect but did not trip over yourself to please him. You had no problem criticizing him.

He rubbed the pommel of his sword, worrying the raised designs with his thumb. You were interesting indeed.

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After you left the bishop to mull over your words, you had hurried home, half expecting him to come after you and take you in for your supposed crimes. When he did not follow, your steps became shaky and you found yourself stumbling into the small cottage you called home. You flung the latch closed and leaned against the door, trying to regain your wits.

You had been accused of crimes, as untrue as they were. The Bishop himself was sent to investigate. And you had thrown a tantrum, insulting him and his life. The next few days you did not venture far from your home, fearing retribution. You debated leaving your home, going to another area. But you tired of running away. As the days passed, you breathed a little easier. No one had come to take you away, and the smallfolk continued to do business with you.

After a particularly grueling morning over a cookfire, and setting a poor child’s broken arm, you were exhausted. With the hot sun overhead, you plucked at your tunic as it stuck to your skin. A dip in the water would do nicely.

Gathering your satchel and clad in a lightweight chemise, you began your trek to your preferred bathing spot. A small bend in the river where the water calmed and you could bathe in relative peace.

Placing your bag within reach of the water, you glance around before unlacing your chemise, letting it fall to your feet. The water was cool, refreshing on your overheated skin. You ducked under the water, brushing your wet locks away from your face. You wiped the water from your eyes before reaching for your soap to wash away the grime of the morning.

“Perhaps you are not a witch, but a water nymph from Greek stories,” a familiar voice called out. You spun and stared gobsmacked at the bishop sitting near the edge of the water. You bristled at the nerve of him openly staring as you bathed.

“Shouldn’t a man of the cloth look away when a woman is bathing?” you retorted, wishing for the first time that the water was not so clear.

“Ah, but you have already judged me a hypocrite, would that not be proving you wrong?” he replied but turned his head away from you.

You grumbled, a bit irritated that he had thrown your own words back in your face. Making your way to the shore, you all but snatched your chemise with outstretched fingertips, and dressed with haste.

“Is there something you need, your Grace?” you huffed out, irritated that he had spoiled your bath. You grabbed your satchel, swinging it wildly over your shoulder, hitting his chest with the soft leather. You immediately dropped your pack in alarm when he hissed in pain.

“I came to apologize,” he said between clenched teeth. “Would that be amiable, or would you prefer to hit me with your bag again?”

The weight of your bag should not have caused him any pain, especially if it caused him to grit his teeth. You peeled back his tunic and gasped at the sight of several scratches adorning his chest. Though most were superficial, a few deep welts drug across the expanse of his skin.

“What on earth happened?”

Heahmund jerked away from your grip.

“It’s nothing to worry about," he said, brushing off your concern.

“I’d ask you not to lie to me. Take off your shirt.”

When he didn’t follow your command you rolled your eyes.

“Lord save me from bullheaded men,” you muttered, reaching for his shirt.

“You can either take off your shirt, or I will cut it off. It matters not to me what you choose.”

Heahmund raised a brow at your demands and pulled his tunic over his head with a grunt of pain. Kneeling in front of him, you tried to not ogle the Bishop as you took in his wounds. Most were already scabbed over, others dark with crusted blood. You curled your lip in dismay. You traced your fingers over his skin, the newer cuts crossing over old scars. Some of the deeper gashes were warm to the touch, a sign of infection. You looked up, his eyes watching your hand as it moved across his chest before looking at you.

You pulled your hand away, clucking in a scolding manner. Rifling through your pouch, you pulled out a strip of cloth and some salve. You dipped the cloth into the cool water, wringing out the excess before blotting at the wounds.

“You would think someone with your knowledge would know to treat cuts, no matter how trivial,” you said, as you washed the crusted blood away. “You look like you got in a fight with a cat,” you joked.

“Thorns actually,” he amended. When you looked at him confused, he clarified.

“My self-penance, along with asking for your forgiveness.”

You paused in your ministrations, horrified at the thought.

“You believe God would want you to harm yourself to seek forgiveness?”

“It brings me clarity, to better understand what path God wishes me to take.”

You shook your head before reaching for the salve.

“What is there to understand? God gave us free will, for us to make the choices in our lives. Maybe making mistakes is part of his plan?” you said softly, applying the paste with deft fingers.

“I fear I make too many mistakes, stumble too often in my path,” Heahmund confessed.

“You were right. About Oswald and the rumors. His daughter confirmed it in confession. She was quite worried about you when she heard I came to visit you.”

You shook your head, sighing. The last thing you wanted was to cause more trouble for the young girl.

“I hope you told her she was not at fault. I can take care of myself. Please tell her not to worry.”

He took your hand in his, his calloused fingertips running along yours. Your hand was calloused, but not from holding a sword. You had burn scars from hot pots, tiny cuts from mishaps with knives. Your hand that he had accused of witchcraft and misdeeds was the hand that wiped away his blood and applied medicine, something he did not deserve. A healing hand.

“Choices and mistakes shape our lives, make us who we are. My life brought me here, to Sherborne. As your choices brought you to me. It was your choice to let, rather than kill or imprison me, something I am grateful for,” you said matter of fact.

Heahmund laughed.

“We shall see if that works in my favor. Provided you didn’t poison me,” he said, nodding towards his chest.

You rolled your eyes and licked your fingertip, still coated in salve. Heahmund’s eyebrows jumped in surprise at your action.

“Well if it were poison, now I would die as well. So fear not your Grace, you should be on the mend quickly,” you jested with a smile. Heahmund returned your smile with one of his own. You felt your stomach flutter at the expression on his face, and the threat of a blush warmed your neck.

He brought your hand up to his lips and planted a warm slow kiss on the back of your knuckles. The rough brush of his stubble sent a zip of desire down your spine. This was dangerous. This was a mistake in the making. But you found yourself caring little as you stared into his eyes.

“Please, allow me to repay you.”

#vikings fanfic #heahmund x reader #star's hamilfilm lyric challenge #heahmund fanfic #vikings fanfiction #bishop heahmund

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vampire-the-askerade · 5 years

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What’s Beckett’s opinion/view of all the clans?

[You asked for all the clans, you get all the clans, my dear! This is a bit long, but I had a ton of fun with it. Also, this is my first time trying to write something from a character’s perspective and not just writing dialogue for them, so I hope it turned out alright.]

Banu Haqim- Ah, yes. While their dedication to their beliefs and clan can be seen as very commendable, their methods are rather too abrasive for my tastes. The Banu Haqim are simply a clan one does not wish to tangle with.

Brujah- To see the difference in this clan from when I was first embraced to the current day is rather staggering. The elders of my time often spoke of how my Brujah contemporaries were not as philosophical as they once were and how continuing this path would lead to the decline of reason entirely. While I might not agree with my elders completely I can see where they were coming from when I see these hot-headed childer go about the streets. Though much of their anger is very understandable.

Gangrel- Yes, my own clan. There are many of the rituals that even after all these years of being one of their still baffle me to this day. Many abandon civility all together and charge at anything that breaths in their general direction, fellow clansmen included. Yet, for all my boasting, I must admit to feeling the need to puff my chest and prove myself superior when met with my fellow beast.

Giovanni- To be honest this whole group has been a disaster since their conception. They were a living soap opera before those were even created. There has been scandal after scandal to the point where I'm whole-heartedly convinced that the only reason other kindred respect them is because they either use their ludicrous amount of money to pay off whatever critic they don't kill outright. And, that's not touching on their more... Hapsburgian nature. What I wouldn't do to find their necromantic secrets, though.

Lasombra- The self-proclaimed royalty of the Sabot. I do have a dear comrade of this clan. While they're actually a rather reliably bunch if you find yourself in their good graces. But, all have an almost constant air of haughtiness about them, whether deserved or not (nothing personal, my dear Lucita. But, as you know I am honest to a fault.)

Malkavian- A dear group of people. Arguably the wisest among us, yet they are horribly misunderstood. Yes, their manner of communication can be rather difficult to parse though at first, with some effort they are easily deciphered. They have their... peculiarities; but, then again don't we all.

Ministry- While I do at least partially agree with their base goal, there have been... events that have left a bitter taste in my mouth for these who were once known as the Followers of Set. And, before you ask, no, it is not something that I wish to elaborate upon.

Nosferatu- Not many people know this, but there is a certain, unspoken understanding betwixt the Nosferatu and the city-dwelling Gangrel. While both clans until recently were considered part of the Camarilla, we were considered the dirty, unspeakable side of it; albeit the Nosferatu taking the brunt of this. While they are excellent at their craft, they are ultimately loyal to themselves. Great to hire for stealth and inspection, yet if you choose to do so guard your valuables (especially your wallet.)

Ravnos- I haven't met with any of the few left after what happened. The westerners' unique boon of following personal impulses has been both a help and a hindrance in the past. That is until they merged back with the ways and beliefs of their Eastern progenitors. None of these politics matter as much now with their current predicament.

Toreador- While I might not hold the same animosity for the almost glossy life and appearance of the clan, I do rather understand it. I have had my fair share of their scorn and fashion related hubris. What they have in sociable prowess they lack in tactfulness.

Tremere- While I don't try to hold the sins of one's forefathers on them, it's difficult not to notice the almost smothering aura of diablery with most of them. In fact, some of them have this aura so strongly, I fear that they have commited the act themselves and are simply using the history of their clan to cover this fact. (Note: contrary to what many have said of me, I do NOT hold these feelings toward them as a form of spite for not being permitted to study the archaic ways and histories of their trade.)

Tzimisce- No comment. I will leave it at that.

Ventrue- Many a kindred has taken their fair share of blows (both mental and physical) at the Ventrue. Quite honsetly, that's because the Ventrue invite animosity from their actions at almost every turn. They might be seen similar to their Sabbat cousins the Lasombra, except for slightly more docile. What they don't have in bite, they make up for in cunning, however. They are always the most likely to plan before rushing headlong into things like the rest of us. Depending on who you ask that could be both a good and a bad thing.

Salurbi- I have never personally met a unicorn. I would be interested to see their version of history and how it differes from the one that is widly known. That is if they still exsist. There has been plenty of rumors of a certain amount of them ligering on in what many are erroroniously calling the final nights. However, if I were to base all of my knowlage off hearsay and not facts then I would be a jouralist rather than an anthropologist.

Caitiffs- While I do understand the inharent danger of not knowing one's clan, there is a wisdome in actually giving them a chance to prove themselves rather that having them meet their final death so soon after their initial one. I have actually heard many tales of caitiff discovering to whom they belong to when actually given the chance to dicover the fact. But, pehaps that's the Gangrel in me talking seeing as we are all functionlly caitiffs for our first winter after embrace (or until we got emotional enough to be introduced to our bestial side.)

#vtm #beckett vtm #vtm beckett #cuthbert beckett #vampire the masquerade

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writings-in-ebony · 5 years

Text

Heritage - Chapter 1 Steve Rogers/Black!reader

Summary: With only a few weeks until his departure to college, Steve must still endure the requirements put upon him by being in the Rogers family. This included attending galas that his family hosted in order to boost their ego and flaunt their successes. Steve would rather be at home doing anything but showcasing himself as the family runt, but whatever his grandfather says, goes.

Author’s note: Welcome to the first official chapter! It took a while to write because I was trying to figure out which direction I wanted this to go in. The reader, who is not present in this chapter, will show up soon and her appearance will be explained in that chapter’s author’s note. Likes and reblogs are always well received and I love comments and asks! Thanks again, everyone!

Word Count: 2784

Warnings: If bad language counts as a warning…

Chapter 1: 1987

Steve stood in front of the large mirror positioned over his dresser, fumbling with the sliver of silk that was wrapped around his neck. He twisted the silk every which way, not understanding why it wouldn’t take shape, and it began to frustrate him. In actuality, the entire night awaiting him was going to be frustrating. It was the annual gala his family held. A night advertised as a showcasing of the achievements of the Rogers family, but it was actually a circle-jerk filled with bloated egos, secret promises, false compliments, and all the other unsavory traits that the upper percentage held. And Steve had to entertain that nonsense for an entire night. Oh, and he was livid.

He had begged, begged, his father to allow him to miss the gala, to which his father happily obliged considering he was already ashamed at the runt he had for a son anyway. But after notifying his own father, Cashel, of the news, Jeremy quickly returned and told Steve that he was required to go due to his grandfather’s orders. Jeremy didn’t seem very happy about the news either, but Steve had no choice. He’d rather face a thousand galas back-to-back than face the wrath of his grandfather, so he faced the music and was taking it like a champ.

Seven minutes later and Steve still was struggling to tie a fucking tie. As if sensing his frustrations, Bucky appeared in the doorway and smirked at him. Bucky was Steve’s own personal bodyguard, personally hired by Cashel himself. However, it was more of a friend protecting a friend since both boys grew up and were raised together. When questioned about it, Cashel merely waved a hand and stated that “He knows you better than anyone, therefore, he should be fit to protect you from any of the dumb circumstances you always get yourself into.” Bucky thought this was the funniest thing, but Steve didn’t crack a smile.

“You need help with your tie?” Bucky offered, already stepping into the room.

“I would say no, but I’ve already waisted so much goddamn time,” Steve grumbled, dropping his arms to his side as he gave up.

“You kiss your mother with that mouth?” Bucky pursed his lips as he mocked his friend. Steve didn’t even satisfy him with a reply. Instead, he pointed to his tie and raised his chin.

Bucky stood a head (and a few inches) taller than Steve, making Steve look like a child next to him. It also didn’t help that Steve had a soft, boyish face and his appearance made him look like an overly grown 12-year-old. So, one could imagine how flirting with the opposite sex went.

“There, done,” Bucky announced as he patted the sides of Steve’s suit jacket to smooth out the wrinkles. Steve nodded and muttered a thanks, turning back to look at himself in the mirror. He really was a poor sight. His skin was too pale, his cheeks and eyes were sunken in, and he looked too thin. But this was the usual. He was born a runt, which meant that he didn’t possess the quality characteristics that were passed down to every firstborn in his family. He didn’t have the strong build, chiseled jawline, piercing eyes, nor the basic ability to shift into a majestic wolf. No, Steve was just fucking regular. And that’s why he hated these galas because that is all his family saw him as. A regular born to a family of gods.

He really thought that when he hit the peak of puberty, age 16, he’d have a sudden change and become the wolf he always knew he could be. But it never came and now, just a little over a year later, Steve felt like it would never come.

“Hey, what’s on your mind,” came Bucky’s quiet voice. He sounded concerned; all sense of humor sucked out of his voice. Steve didn’t want to tell Buck, his pride flaring up at the sign of weakness, but he’d been feeling shitty this entire week leading up to the event. And knowing Bucky, who was also a wolf and had gotten the gift early on, he could smell the mixed emotions flowing through his friend.

“I…I just wonder whether I’ll ever be good enough,” he sighed, pushing away his pride. “And don’t say, ‘Hey Steve, it’s okay. You know your family cares for you,’ because you know that’s bullshit.” He sounded so bitter and pitiful.

“Listen, I get it. You’re upset you have to go to this thing tonight. You’ve never liked these kinds of things. But think about it. You’ll be getting shipped off to college in a few weeks, somewhat free of the gaze from your family, and you’ll have a chance to make a name for your own damn self. They don’t define you, Steve,” Bucky finished, clapping a hand on his friend’s shoulder.

“I know, Buck. Thanks.”

“Nah, man. You just gotta get your head in the right space and realize that you are a wolf on the inside. You might can’t shift, or do the other crazy shit, but you think like one. You’re one of the smartest men I know and to me, you act more like your grandfather than anyone.” Steve scoffed and gave Bucky an incredulous look. “What? You don’t see it?!”

Steve chuckled and pushed Bucky away, thinking this pep talk was going wayward. “Alright, Buck. I think that tie of yours is too damn tight.”

“Are you kidding? Man, don’t let me make a list of how you both compare,” Bucky started, giving Steve a look of challenge.

“Oh, so you guys are making lists now?” came a snicker from the door. They both looked up and saw it was Steve’s mother, Sara. She was giving them both a look of amusement as she walked in. Bucky, shifting into professional mode, stepped back and bowed his head at her.

“Mrs. Rogers,” he greeted. She waved a hand at him and insisted he relax. So, he did. She walked over to her son, who was still pouting, and gave him a heartwarming smile.

“Oh, you look so handsome,” she cooed. “You might just get a girl, yet!” She looked way too excited by that fact and this caused Steve to turn intensely red.

“Mam, getting a girl is the last thing on my mind right now!” he groaned, closing his eyes. “Plus, how am I going to date her when half of the women here are basically family!” He was stopped by his mother grabbing onto his arm and dragging him out of the room.

“Hush up, boy. Women have friends! Now, c’mon so we can get you set up with someone before the introduction,” Sara grinned and stared ahead determinedly. Steve whined and heard a quiet laugh behind him. He whipped his head around and glared daggers at Bucky, the asshole.

True to her word, Sara whisked Steve around the ballroom and introduced him to about ten ladies before she was called away to mingle with the wives of some other important figures. This left Steve to go finally plunder the hors d’oeuvres and sweets table at the far wall of the room. Dinner wouldn’t be served for another hour since this was the time to mingle and schmooze. So, once his tiny plate was stacked with various meats, cheeses, crackers, and tiny cookies, he placed himself at a far table and ate in solitude. Bucky, who was still on the job during this event, was briefing with the security team and keeping an eye on Steve from across the room.

About halfway through his plate, he was approached by none other than Rumlow, a neighborhood bully and Steve’s longtime enemy. He sneered as he towered over Steve’s small frame. “What’s happening, Rogers?”

“I’m happily eating my food,” Steve announced, not caring to entertain Rumlow’s shenanigans. All he wanted was to finish his cheese and crackers. Rumlow didn’t react to Steve and still had that ugly sneer plastered onto his equally ugly face.

“Well, good to know you’re eating just fine. I just wanted to let you know that I have officially been promoted to become my father’s underling. Like his assistant, with perks,” his sneer curved into a wicked smile, as if rubbing the information in Steve’s face brought him sincere joy.

Brock Rumlow and his family belonged to the Italian mafia that lived across town. His father, Vito, was a well-known caporegime and was known for his cold exterior and brutality. There were always stories and rumors surrounding the man and how he ran his section of soldiers. One such rumor, a famous one that Bucky had told Steve, was Vito beating a man to a literal pulp using only his fists and raw strength. Steve thought it was all hearsay until he had the chance to meet the man personally. He was a hulking mass of muscle, with steely eyes and a strong jaw set in a permanent grimace. Steve hated the man on the spot and made it his own personal vow to avoid him and his idiotic son whenever he could. However, Brock’s incessant need to find and torture Steve (both mentally and physically) made that vow extremely difficult to uphold.

“Congratulations, Brock,” Steve blandly complimented, hoping that playing along will speed up Brock’s departure. “I do hope you rise through the ranks and make your father proud.” He was really rubbing it in, and he raised his glass of water in a mock toast.

“Aww, Steve, no need for the fake praise. I know it’s eating you up inside to know my father actually respects me,” Brock still had a smile on his face, but it was beginning to look like his family’s signature grimace.

“Well, Brock, unlike you, I don’t need my father’s approval nor respect to have a personality. And I definitely don’t need you coming over here and acting like you won whatever imaginary competition you’ve formed in your head,” Steve waved a hand, nonchalant about the entire thing.

“Listen here, runt,” Brock growled, loud enough to attract attention from a few others. “For someone who has so much shit to say, you can’t even stand on the same level as your grandfather and father. You’re useless, pathetic, and I’m damn sure surprised you’re still here and not in the fucking garbage where you belong.” Steve felt his fist tighten its grip on his napkin. “I’ve been promoted by my father, something you’ll never have the chance of doing. Heh, I’m surprised your whorish mother is still here.”

“Enough!!,” Steve’s voice erupted, echoing off the walls of the ballroom. His voice had unnaturally deepened and he felt a boiling rage under his skin. He wanted to fight Brock, and he was seconds away from throwing a punch. However, he couldn’t act on his feelings since the entire room had gotten silent; all the attention aimed at the seething young men. “You listen here, and you listen good Brock. You can talk about me, my father, and anyone else in my fucking family. But if I ever, and I mean ever, hear you utter something other than a compliment about my mother.” Steve leaned in close to Brock, making sure only he could hear him. “I will hunt you down and kill you myself.” And with that, Steve grabbed his plate and made his way to the attached balconies. He needed some fresh air.

Conversation began once Steve reached the balcony’s doors. He was pissed. Pissed at the fact that Brock had challenged him like that, but also because he had lost his cool so quickly. He felt the rage dampen within him as he eased down onto one of the marble benches. It was cool tonight and Steve was grateful for it. It felt like a splash of cool water on his face, something he needed right now.

He placed his plate on the bench and gazed out at the gardens that surrounded the venue. There was no one out there tonight, yet, the owners had decided to cut on the lights and the fountains. All for show, he guesses.

“I saw your exchange with Brock,” came a voice from behind him. He felt the hairs on the back of his neck raise and he turned to see it was his grandfather, Cashel. Steve straightened his back and was about to stand when his grandfather raised a hand and motioned for him to keep sitting. The man was giving him an unreadable gaze, yet he could tell Cashel was reading him like a book.

“I’m sorry about that. I didn’t mean to disgrace our family,” Steve apologized. There were a lot of things he’d do but piss off Cashel was not one of them. It was a funny situation really, given that Cashel has never shown him any direct animosity. In fact, besides his mother and grandmother, Cashel is the only other family member who doesn’t look at him like he’s…waste. But he’s also never been doting. He’d just sit and stare at Steve as if he was trying to solve the most complex problem. Like Steve was hiding the biggest secret and he needed to find it out.

“Apology accepted. However, you did not disgrace our family. It’d have been more disgraceful if you’d let the boy keep hounding you like a dog,” Cashel provided, taking a seat at the other marble bench. He looked otherworldly tonight. To any normal person, they’d think that Cashel was Steve’s father, but that wasn’t the case. The man looked a little over 50, but his real age was 108. One of the perks of being a wolf was you age at a drastically slow rate, meaning Steve looked like a child and his grandfather looked like an aged model. It sucked that this was the only wolf characteristic he had, but it was better than nothing.

Steve was pulled from his thoughts when he looked up and caught Cashel giving him that stare again. All he could do was blurt out a small, “What?”

“You know Steven. You fascinate me,” the older man chuckled, rubbing his salt and pepper beard.

“How so?”

“Here I have three sons, two who are nothing like myself and one who dedicates his…basically, his livelihood to me. And out of all of them, you are the one who I can see the most of myself in.” Steve was speechless. Where was this coming from?

“And I’m not just talking about your irritating stubbornness or the way you walk, no, there are more things we have in common than just on the surface.” His grandfather’s eyes seemed to glow as they aimed straight at Steve. “How do you feel about the family business, Steven?” The question was so sudden, and Steve didn’t know whether to answer it truthfully or lie. He knew if he truthfully answered, his grandfather might not like what he has to say. However, if he lied, which was something his grandfather hated, then the consequences would be far worse. Truth it is.

“I don’t necessarily like it,” he began, gaging his grandfather’s reaction. It didn’t move. “I don’t feel the need to exploit others for monetary gain, nor do I like paying others to carry out my dirty work and leave them with the consequences. However, I know why you do it. You came to America for the sole reason of protecting your family and the nature of us, as wolves. And this is your way of accomplishing that goal. It might not sit well with me morally, but some things need to be done in order to get what you want.” He had looked down at his hands towards the end, really taking into account the sacrifices his grandfather made. When his gaze raised back up, he was greeted by his grandfather’s lips quirked into a knowing smirk. “What?” he questioned again.

“That was well-spoken, Steven.” His grandfather raised himself off the bench, straightening his jacket. “I’ll have to take what you said into consideration. Now, I must be getting back to my party. Can’t have the host gone for too long,” he chuckled and walked off the balcony. Steve was left there staring at his grandfather’s back, mouth slightly parted, wondering what the hell that was all about. He looked out towards the garden again, eyes landing on the fountain shaped like a turtle. His grandfather was strange, but the man was always ten steps ahead of everyone. He was scarily accurate about everything and he always said everyone had a place in the family. The only problem was, what place was he considering giving to Steve?

Taglist: @mygirlrenee

#Steve Rogers #steve rogers imagine #steve rogers x black!reader #steve rogers x poc!reader #black!reader #poc!reader #marvel #marvel fanfiction #fanfiction #heritage fanfiction

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jaywrites101 · 5 years

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The City In FreeFall: Part one, Chapter One.

StreetTeam members: @ciestess @leave-her-a-tome If you want your name here, join my StreetTeam by signing up for my newsletter and be notified of all The City In FreeFall updates, giveaways and more! Also tagging: @bexminx @ednaraged @ahotpeaceofshit @nemothesurvivor @siarven and @jaclynwashere If you want on this list you should try messaging or interacting with my stuff more ;P

The happiest day of my life was when I discovered my wings. But you should know upfront that's such a low bar limbo players use it as a standard. Most children dream of flying over the trees and touching the soft clouds. I never did… No, I've always been scared of heights. My name is Sam Farsight, and I need your help. Normally, if I need something done I'd just do it myself. That's the kind of man I am. It burns my gut to ask anyone for anything, but… well, I've got other things burning me at the moment--bigger things. You see, today is the day I'm going to die. Strangely enough, this isn't the first time I thought I was going to die. This time, I think it's gonna stick… You'll see what I mean. You don't know me from Adam, but if you'll hear me out I'll explain everything in its place. I can't promise you anything as compensation--I don't have anything of value to bequeath to anyone. All I have left is my story. My legacy. It'll have to be enough. You're my only hope of getting the truth to the world. You see, I have a confession. And a promise…. I won't say whose, but there are hundreds of thousands of lives that depend on the truth getting out. Maybe even yours. Because my life as Sam Farsight means nothing to nobody. I died at twenty-one, and there's nothing more to say. But I have a secret. A secret I'm leaving to you, whoever you are. And the soul of a massive megalopolis hangs in the balance. My name is Sam Farsight. And for the last twenty-three years, I have been living as the vigilante superhero known as the Wingman. ### You've probably heard of him. I have a… reputation in these parts. But you can't believe everything the papers have said about me! Not all of it was my fault. I didn't mean for those people to die--and I certainly wasn't involved with the Nuclear swap! No sir! I stayed the hell away from that fiasco. I've done a lot of things--some of them I'm more proud of than others. But I've always tried to save lives. I've always tried to be better than the villains I put away… It's just… sometimes things don't always work out. I've made terrible mistakes. But what I have to tell you today should make up for all of them! No doubt, by the time you read this, the rumors of my death will have spread like wildfire... They're probably true. But there's something else you should know. I've saved the city. And this time, it's saved for good. What I'm about to tell you is the truth of my time as the city's savior. Please--Please! My final request is that you help me set the record straight. Things cannot ever be allowed to get as bad as they did. It took me dying to fix them. You'll have to finish plugging the holes yourself. I just hope… but that's getting ahead of myself. As they say Everything in its place. It's better I start at the beginning. Before I got my wings… If I sound reluctant, it's because this wasn't one of my proudest moments. ### The year was 2114. Old America. Jakob McCorbin was just elected President. Spring had only just faded and Summer was at our doorstep. The cars were still powered by the old steam & solar hybrid tec. Eternal Plasma Drives hadn't been invented yet. Railways had just made a big comeback for cross-country travel. I remember sitting under an advertisement for the Atlas Air&Ground commercial cross-country liner. Jerry and I would look up at that billboard and promise each other that when we got rich with our law firm, we'd book a car all the way out of Briar City, past HollyTown, past DoggWood, and all the way out of this continent! Those were the days… Let's see… 2114… International crime was dropping all across the globe. We'd just come out of a big war against Grephsnia. Jobs were at an all-time high. The politicians called it a utopia. But those of us who lived in the ghetto just thought it was another day in the history books. From our perspective, things didn't look so cheery. Jobs down there were still hard when you had them, and impossible to find when you didn't. Drug dealers still sold their product to school children. Gangs still put kids in caskets… They put a lot of kids in caskets. That's why I, Sam Farsight, thought it would be a good idea to start a gang war. The plan was simple. Goad the two gangs in Briar city, the SmashStones and the BloodBlades, into attacking each other and force the cops to actually do something to end them both once and for all. Nothing is ever simple. I was about to find that out the hard way. To find the SmashStone gang and learn their plans, I had to join them. A tricky feat since I live in BloodBlade territory. If the BloodBlades ever found out I was with SmashStone, they'd kill me. Of course, if either of them found out what my real plan was, they'd both kill me anyway. I thought I was so damn smart back then. That was the year I turned twenty-one. It was the year I got a casket for a birthday present. Jerry, my best friend since grade school, found himself on the wrong end of a shooting. That's where the Wingman found his start. Newly adulted. Chip on my shoulder. And the weight of the world in my back pocket. I wanted to do something with my life. But I decided then and there being a lawyer wasn't good enough for me. I wanted to do something "important." God, I was so stupid. I even thought the city would erect a statue in my honor. I can't believe I was ever that dumb. The only thought on my mind was no more kids in caskets. I was going to end the gang wars forever. That's why I was sitting on a brick wall in the rain just outside the 14th precinct. That's why when the cold wind blew across my face, I didn't back down. I was shivering and hungry and… and… … Lonely…. Yeah. That's the truth of it. I was so very lonely. I had a hole in my heart that was colder than the rain, and more painful than my stomach. That emptiness kept me moving. If I stopped… It would consume me. I wasn't ever going to back down. Not until I did what I came here to do. I checked my watch. 7:48 pm. He wasn't going to show tonight. I had to be back home before 9 O'clock or somebody would get suspicious. If not my family, then the gang. At the same time, sitting around in the rain waiting for a cop who might not even show wasn't the brightest idea I'd ever had. But the SmashStone goon I'd met with needed me to steal a cop car. And I had the perfect cop for the job. Officer Filbert Warren. A cop so dirty garbage washes him off. The man's a walking personification of the seven deadly sins. But… If you looked past all that. If you ignored the stink, the stains, the empty burger wrappers he leaves instead of footprints. If you looked into his soul. You'd find a second, even meaner cop living in his gullet that just wants the world to burn. Seriously! None of the other cops trusted him either. He earned himself the nickname "the Rat" back when he first joined the force, and he's done nothing but live up to his nickname since then. Rumor has it he's on both gang's payrolls. Witnesses against the gangs have a bad habit of going missing after this guy gets a look at their file. Nothing's ever proven, of course. Rumors go on to say that IA has a file on him the size of Texas, but it's all full of dead ends, missing evidence, and hearsay. Which would be surprising because Officer Warren isn't smart enough to pull any of that off. For example. Just as I was giving up hope that the fat rat masquerading as a cop would show up, he did. The cop car slinked up to the front of the precinct like a pissed-off cat. The headlights glaring angrily ahead. "Alright Berny, take this one in," I heard him say from across the road as he rolled down his window to throw out a sandwich wrapper. Littering is against the law, but Officer Warren didn't seem to mind as he dug into his burger with gusto. Berny glared at his partner in disgust but said nothing. He went around and marched some kid into the building. The girl spat at him, but the weary patrolman didn’t so much as flinch as he did his job. Apparently, he’d faced worse today. Warren chuckled after they'd gone. He gulped down the rest of his burger in one bite and waddled out after them in leisure. I swear, the car rose two feet when he got out of it. The fat lard even left the engine running. It was like he was begging for someone to steal it, but I hesitated. Not because I was having second thoughts. No, I hesitated because I knew I'd have to take a bath in acid after I'd sat anywhere Officer Warren had been. I could only hope the rain would offer me some protection. I didn't waste time driving around once I was in the car. Sure, I stamped the pedal as far down as it would go, flashed the lights and turned on the siren. I may have held my middle finger out the window like a good little delinquent, but I had a plan. The initiation required me to make some noise so people would know what I'd done, but I had to get away without getting caught. I drove the car as fast as I could to the graveyard just past the hill on the edge of the city. I expected there to at least be some kind of chase, but apparently, Warren's fellow cops didn't put too much priority on his misfortunes. I parked the car with the headlights flooding a row of gravestones. People who'd been killed by the gangs. I hoped it might remind someone they had a duty to fulfill. I opened the door and took off, being careful not to go around the front or the back where the cameras were. Step one was completed. Easy. I should've known it was too easy.

#new #book #superheores #dc superheroes #marvel superheroes #the city in freefall #jaywrites101 #my writing #my novel

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theavengingexile · 5 years

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An Outpouring of Words

So I couldn’t sleep and I ended up writing out a bunch of emotions in to the JSE-Discourse on Discord. I wanted to share those words here. Hopefully, my meaning comes across, but I’ve added some things for clarification and I’ve expanded upon it. Here we go:

Sorry for the long messages. I’ve a lot on my mind that wanted to come out, but I didn’t know where. I part want to post it on my own Tumblr, but I fear the reprisal - not just of the community, but of Sean as well.

Thanks for listening. Maybe in the morning I will post something on Tumblr. Just to have it said. I have no intention of attacking anyone or being confrontational, so perhaps the backlash will be minimal. Isn’t part of PMA believing that people can be reasonable and understanding?

I don’t want to hide behind anonymous messages sent to @jse-communi-tea like I have in the past. I want the community to see this and, most importantly, I hope @therealjacksepticeye might see it as well, just to open a discourse.

It’s weird. I feel like I’ve lost a friend and yet I’ve never met him. Can you really lose something you never had?

I just feel let down. I always try to keep an emotional distance from celebrities or any reasonably famous person because I don’t trust that they are the person they’re presenting themselves to be. When I started getting into the channel, I distinctly remember telling my husband, “I think this guy might really be a good guy.” Now... there are so many little nagging things building up that it’s draining me. I’m probably completely overreacting, but the feeling remains.

I grew tired and annoyed at the near-idolization of the community, so I did seek out differing opinions. However, where the community has a “he can do no wrong” attitude, the opposition is a “he can do no right” one. The answer is in between, I’m sure. He’s only human. I would give anything to chat with him just once, just so I can form an opinion - not as fan to celebrity, but as person to person. However, he seems to be growing more and more away from us. The chance that I might have had in the past is diminishing.

The lack of the outro bothers me. I’ve managed to come to some reasons for that at least. For me, I always did the motions along with Jack when he did. It was dumb, but it was a connection. But the thing I realized was that the line was “...thank you guys for watching...” He thanked us for being there for every video. He appreciated us for our company. And when he talked to the camera, he wasn’t talking to the masses, he was talking to YOU.

I understand why he’s become, as I would call it, distant. He gave too much of himself to the channel and allowed himself to suffer. That is a poor life balance. I am not sure how exactly to explain the feeling that he’s gone away because I don’t wish for him to put himself back in the position where he’s suffering socially and mentally again. Perhaps there is no win to be had here and I just need to adjust to that change.

His Minecraft videos speak of too many late nights and he’s talked before about how horrible his sleep schedule can be. I worry about what effect that might have. Maybe I am overthinking this but the lack of a stream for the charity is bothersome in light of it. (I am, though, quite proud of the community for coming together to raise money. Good on you folks.) His reasoning for the absence is understandable, and I also know that I cannot know what goes in on his life, but without such facts I can only tell you how I feel. And I feel that he does not have his priorities in order.

That brings me to another subject: Gab. I will attempt to handle this delicately, because, again, I do not have all the facts, and, ultimately, the subject is none of my business. My main issue here is that previously, we saw very little of his ex on the channel. It was important for Seán to be an open person, but he kept his private life private. It was something that I greatly respected him for. We’ve seen much of Gab and many changes have occurred within the same time frame. Of course, changes always occur when there’s a new relationship. We do tend to mirror our new partners in the early stages. This is normal. And do not misunderstand me, I wish for him to be happy. But I want him to be genuine and mature.

There are other things about Gab that remain restless within my mind, but I know that they are based on rumor and hearsay, and do not need to be brought up here. What I do want to say is that I’m very disappointed in the people who have verbally attacked Gab over such things. Whatever you may think of her, she still deserves respect.

There is more on my mind about Seán, but I don’t know how to put them into words as of yet. I have no desire to create confrontation, but I didn’t want to be silent either. I thank anyone who has read all this and I hope I haven’t wasted your time. Also, let it be said, you have every right to disagree with me. In fact, I wish it. I want to find the happiness that JackSepticEye once brought me. The fractures within the community have brought me low. There are valid points all around, but some questionable choices in the delivery of their messages.

I leave this long outpouring of emotions and words here. I wish I could end on a positive note, or offer some sort of suggestion for recovery, but I have none to spare. It is, after all, 3am and I’m really fucking tired.

#jacksepticeye #jse community #jse fandom

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creativi-dees1509-blog · 5 years

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First Blog: Netflix Documentary

Blog 1: Killer inside: The Mind of Aaron Hernandez

This documentary just dropped last Wednesday and I got a chance to view this three part event. During the time of the case I very seldomly kept tabs on the case. I watched it, but not that often. I just remembered everyone painting him as killer and not really giving him the benefit of the doubt at all. I remembered in that year my sister was complaining that he didn’t get a fair trial, but of course she’s a Patriots fan so I painted her biased. Fast forward a thousand years later and as I’m getting ready to watch another episode of the Magician -great show by the way- I see a trailer pop up Monday…a very dramatic trailer and labeled the Mind of Aaron Hernandez and right away I add on my list, so as soon as it debuts I view.

Here’s my take on the Aaron Hernandez case by the documentary perception. Aaron is charged for the murder of Odin Lloyd and then later a double murder in Florida. From what I gathered the evidence on the Odin Lloyd case was circumstantial. No evidence that he was the one that murdered him. The blueberry bubble gum and black and mild that he purchased prior that was found on the murder scene is only enough evidence to prove he was there…not that he committed the murder. Along with the rental car. From text messages and events leading up to Lloyd’s murder there was no motive there at all. Nothing but rumors and hearsay. Then they attempted to get him on the double murder of two “innocent” men that he randomly shot up because a drink spilled on him? Now Alexander Bradley (looks shady as hell) that was with him that claims Hernandez shot him in the head…I felt he wasn’t a credited witness from the first testimony. This dude is facing four charges and is looking for them to get drop and clearly made a deal with the prosecution, because what would be the reason for the prosecution to list the charges this witness was facing, other than blackmail of some sort. That’s what it sounded like to me. The lawyer Hernandez had previously was pitiful. I mean his representation was terrible. I literally felt like the lawyer did nothing to help Hernandez, in fact if I didn’t know any better, I’d think he was in bed with the prosecution. He could’ve made a better case than what he did. It was basically let’s see how the case turns out based on the evidence they have build up. The case had no direction. It sounded to me like witch hunt. This man’s in prison, -not sure if he’s guilty or not- waiting for a sentencing and he gets life based on the what? A jury’s bias because he tatted up with a rough past. I feel like Hernandez was painted as a killer from day one. Netflix already labeled the series with a biased titled and they’re the ones who documented the series and yet they came up with “inside killer”. I am a person who believes there are two sides to every story. I tried to watch the documentary with an open mind, and I do feel for families who had to go through these devastating years losing a loved one. I really do. We can only suggest than Hernandez is a killer. Guarantee if this was Rob Gronkowski instead of Aaron Hernandez, the state of Mass. would have presented this case in a completely different light.

They proceed with the other “disturbing” evidence of Hernandez at home playing with his kids and his “associates” right after Lloyd’s death. Because the video footage didn’t show a sad or scared Hernandez this means he murdered someone. After he was found guilty Hernandez later on hired Jose’ Baez. Someone who cared to prove the evidence they had as circumstantial. He even said in the courtroom the evidence wasn’t hard to find. He found video footage that suggested Hernandez wasn’t angry that night. Witness to testify what they saw that night. The previous witnesses…if you in the club, drinking, how the hell do you remember what Hernandez eyes look like? Were they killer eyes? Really? C’mon man. So when Baez said the evidence suggesting Hernandez wasn’t angry that night wasn’t heard to find…all they had to do was look at it. There was a lot of shadiness going on with this case. They had just mentioned earlier in the documentary that Bradley was shooting people up for no reason. A car shootout wouldn’t be up his ally? Again, the most they had on Hernandez is he had to have committed those murders because he smoked weed a lot and was in clubs. If smoking weed, drinking, bouncing around clubs, and getting in the bar fights makes you a murderer than damn, nearly 80% of American must be murderers.

Just a side note: I do believe that Bobby Kraft and Urban Meyer could’ve done more to help Hernandez. Meyer knew that Hernandez had some trouble in CT if he noticed the change every time he visited home. Why of all teams would you write a letter of recommendation to NE? I get Oakland and others…but NE? No. Then once he got to NE when he came to Belichek (spelling?) and asked to be traded, instead of just…straight…no. He should’ve been asking some probing questions. He might’ve been better off in a whole ‘nother state away all the violence and criminal activities he was involved with before. I know Hernandez is a grown man, but on his assessment his maturity level was graded 1 on a scale of 1-10. I’m assuming that means he was child-like. I do believe he might’ve needed better guidance. NFL owners and coaches only care about you when you’re making them money. Never mind the players mental health.

To conclude my review for the most part I agreed with every Baez said about the Hernandez case. The investigation was beyond sloppy and I expected a better and more thorough investigation from a big state like Massachusetts. I guess it was thorough, but they couldn’t find solid proof that Hernandez committed these murders. You can argue that he’s guilty by association and who knows he could’ve been the one running the whole operation. Truth is you can’t proof it. Like OJ Simpson. Now I will say this the documentary turned out to be watchable, but disappointing. Documentary steered in too many different directions in the narrative they were trying to run with. First it was his upbringing, watching his father abuse his mom and his toxic masculinity. Then it became some off based random document about his sexuality…which is completely irrelevant to the case. Being gay doesn’t not make you murder people. I understand blaming anger on him locking his sexuality in the closet and paranoid about someone finding out…but then they blamed his anger and sudden “violent” mood swings on CTE?! So…which was it? Then they claim the suicide was due to him trying to make his wife rich…then it became about CTE again. I really do feel that something very shady was happening with this case. By the court video footage when he was acquitted on the double homicide that was the most emotion, I’d seen him show in ALL the courtroom footage. He appeared happy to beat the charges and maybe hopeful that he would win his appeal for the Odin Lloyd case. Five days before the appeal that he likely would have won, he just ends his life? No security guards the whole night, nobody around to watch the floor. CTE caused that at age 27. Hmm. Documentary was sorta choppy, kinda sloppy for Netflix. I think the series should’ve been better organized. I love Netflix documentaries, but documentary was barely bearable. I expected so much more. Wouldnt recommend it.

#CreativiDees Aaron Hernandez Netflix Documentary InsideKiller MindofAaronHernandez NEPatriots RobertKraft BillBelicheck Blogger

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365daysofsasuhina · 5 years

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[ 365 Days of SasuHina || Day Ninety-Nine: A Promise ] [ Uchiha Fugaku, Hyūga Hiashi, Uchiha Itachi, Uchiha Sasuke, Uchiha Shisui, Hyūga Hinata, Hyūga Neji, Hyūga Hanabi ] [ SasuHina, blood, gore ] [ Verse: Then It All Went Wrong ] [ AO3 Link ]

“We share the same roots, you and I. Generations ago, your people and mine were brothers. Does that mean nothing now?”

“Our bloodlines are tied, true...but it was your ancestor that tried to tear this village apart, Fugaku. Not mine.”

The dark-eyed patriarch sighs, mouth set in a firm line. “And even now, generations later, we suffer prejudice and suspicion! Madara’s folly was his own. There was a reason none of us followed him into the dark.”

“And what of the Kyūbi?”

“That was not our doing.”

“Easy enough to claim.”

“I swear on the lives of my sons: my kinsmen and I had nothing to do with that attack. If it was an Uchiha...it was a traitor, just like Madara. Why would we attack the village we live in?”

“And yet now you ask me for backing in a civil war…?”

“Because I have no choice!” Fugaku’s voice rings out in the quiet. “...my people...have lived in the shadows of Madara’s mistakes for far too long. It began with Tobirama’s hatred of us, and has continued down the Senju-biased line. I had hope with Minato in power, but…” His head bows, pain evident on his face. “...that hope is gone, now. I refuse to let my people continue to suffer under the thumb of this village. If they will not hear us...then we will try other methods. I refuse to lie silent in the face of my people’s oppression. We helped found this village…! We keep it safe! And how are we thanked? With glowers and whispers, pushed to the outskirts of our home. I don’t want my sons growing up in an era of persecution for crimes they weren’t even yet born to be blamed for.”

His gaze narrows. “...and there must always be a scapegoat, Hiashi. If the village rids itself of us...you can’t know what will happen next. It’s clear the village fears our power. And it’s more than evident that your line and mine are arguably the strongest within Konoha. They may find flaw in you, next. And what will happen then to your daughters? Will you see them treated like my sons…?”

Hiashi’s brow hardens.

“...this village owes us its ear. And they have refused us. If they are afraid of our might...perhaps we should show them why they feel that fear. Stand with us, my brother. Help me correct this injustice. Lend the might of the Hyūga to the Uchiha. If we stand together, they will not be able to refuse us.”

Silence falls, interrupted only as Hiashi sighs deeply. Arms crossed, his head bows, eyes closed as he thinks. “...do you seek a bloody coup to seize power?”

“No. Only our rights.”

“The rest of the village will not see it that way. They will see you as Madara’s second coming: someone seeking to rule over them by force.”

“If worse comes to worse, we will leave.”

Pale eyes actually widen. “...you would abandon Konoha…?”

“It has already abandoned us. If we cannot have our freedom here...we will seek it elsewhere.”

“You would turn your backs on your allies?”

“No. I, at least, would not raise my weapons against Konoha...not unless they struck first.” Fugaku’s expression turns raw, uncensored. “...I am tired, Hiashi. Day in and day out, I listen to the cries of my people as we’re spurned. And then I approach the council with a new compromise. I’ve lost count of the times they’ve turned me away. I can’t bring myself to keep failing my clan. They deserve their freedom. If we cannot have it here - if they will not listen, even with force - then I will leave. Or I will die trying.”

“And go where…?”

“...I don’t know. North, maybe - to the mountains along the border. Anywhere Konoha will think us too far to chase.” A hand drags down the Uchiha’s face. “...but I would not expect you to follow. I just need an ally as I challenge the council. Perhaps, if I no longer stand alone...they would listen. If not...I will do what I must.”

“You realize my standing with you may damn us as well?”

“...would you want to stay within a village that would do so?”

Hiashi heaves a curt breath. “...you’re not making this easy, Fugaku. Five generations of my people have lived within Konoha’s walls. And yours! The alliance of the clans of Hi no Kuni set an example for the other lands. It brought about the hidden villages!”

“And what of it? Three wars we’ve had since then, in those five generations. The lands are still divided. We still fight as we did in the era of the warring clans. The pieces are simply bigger, now. Thousands of lives lost. And you know well that this village is not perfect. It holds its shadows. And it abuses its own people based on nothing but rumors and hearsay of an era long past! My people have striven to find our place here...but they will not let us have it.”

“Then you will take it by force?”

“...I fear if I don’t...they will instead use force against us. I am trying to be preemptive, Hiashi. I will not be caught off-guard, my throat slit in the night by someone I once called brother.”

The Hyūga’s expression goes grim at the image. “...very well. I will stand with you. But we must be cautious...and be ready for anything. I will not let my children take a fall for something they are too young to comprehend.” His chin ducks, staring at Fugaku. “...you must promise me they will not be harmed.”

“There is no one I will fight harder for than the children. They are our futures. I will begin to make arrangements: a failsafe to entrust to Itachi. He can take them somewhere where they’ll be safe.”

“Where?”

“...I’ll figure something out. You have my word, Hiashi. They will be safe.”

“Sasuke, come - this way!”

“Nīsan, where are we -?”

The brothers flinch as an explosion sounds one street over. Itachi bends his form over Sasuke, shielding him from a cloud of debris.

“Come on you two - we gotta move!” Shisui shouts, standing at the mouth of the alley.

“Sasuke, no time for questions - tōsan told me -”

“Now, Itachi!”

Gritting his teeth, the elder brother simply throws Sasuke atop his back. “Hold on!”

Burying his face in Itachi’s shoulder, Sasuke can’t help a whimper, eyes pinching shut.

This never should have happened…! Their home...their compound...is now a warzone. Hyūga and Uchiha alike do their best to defend against the onslaught of other Konoha nin.

But the trio of boys sneak around the rear as Fugaku instructed.

“How much farther?”

“Just a few blocks - we’re supposed to meet with -”

“There you are!”

Turning, they all stiffen as the sight of Fugaku. Blood runs down from a temple, and a hand is severed, stump charred by katon to cauterize it. “...ojisan,” Shisui murmurs, shocked at the sight.

“The Hyūga trio are waiting by the Naka - you’ll follow it...out of the village.” From his leg pack, Fugaku draws a scroll. “Take this...it’s a map. Follow the path marked on it, but stay off the roads. Whatever you do...you must stay safe…”

“Tōsan!” Sasuke cries, reaching for his father as Shisui takes the scroll.

Fugaku steps back, expression clear the act takes all his strength to refuse his son. “...you must promise me...you will live.”

Tears pour down Sasuke’s face, and even Itachi’s eyes glisten with unshed droplets. “...w-we will,” the elder brother replies. “...tōsan, I…”

“Don’t. All is forgiven, my son. Our future...rests with you. Do not let the Uchiha flame die. Nor the Hyūga. Promise me…!”

“...yes, sir.”

“Now go...go!”

For a long moment, the three linger, Sasuke trying one last time to reach Fugaku. But the patriarch turns away, determination in his eyes.

If nothing else...he has to give them time.

It’s all he can do, now.

Moving to the back of the compound where the Naka flows through, the three Uchiha boys make their way atop the water, chakra keeping them afloat. “They’ll be at the north end,” Shisui murmurs, tantō drawn and Sharingan blazing. “From there, we keep going. We’ll have to find someplace to make camp, but we have to get some miles in first.”

Face drawn, Itachi merely nods, hold tight on his brother.

Sasuke’s silent.

Eventually, they find three figures along the west bank. A boy, no more than eight; a girl Sasuke’s age; and in her arms, refusing attempts to quiet her, a two-year-old toddler girl cries.

“Neji, Hinata, Hanabi?” Itachi asks, to which the elder two nod.

“Come with us - we’re getting out of here,” Shisui murmurs. “Here, give me the kid.”

Hinata hands over her little sister, watching as Shisui uses a spare sash to tie her to his front. “W-where are we going?”

“North,” Itachi responds, tone short. “But all that matters now is that we run. Don’t stop. Don’t look back. No matter how tired you get...we can’t rest until we know they’re far behind us.”

She nods alongside Neji, letting Shisui pack her atop his back...and the six of them flee into the night.

An upload in the middle of the day? What sorcery is this? :O ANYWAY. Whokay, I SERIOUSLY like this idea, and I think at some point I DEFINITELY want to make a full fic out of it. I've seen ideas of the Hyūga also taking the fall with the Uchiha before, and it's a concept I've always wanted to toy around with. And today I got my chance! I like the idea of the few "main" Hyūga and Uchiha kids being left behind when the alliance goes south. And it might give me a chance to introduce a few of my own concepts in a way that makes them less...intrusive, lol For now though, with all the other projects I have going (including this one), I doubt I'll have time to really flesh this out for...a good long while. But it's one I definitely want to give more depth to in the future. Along with like ten other things I've come up with during this challenge, haha! But, either way: thanks for reading!

#sasuhina #uchiha fugaku #hyūga hiashi #uchiha itachi #uchiha sasuke #uchiha shisui #hyūga hinata #hyūga neji #hyūga hanabi #blood //#gore //#then it all went wrong [ canon verse ]#365daysofsasuhina

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myaekingheart · 6 years

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21. The Secondhand Sharingan

read the scarecrow and the bell on ao3

index | from the beginning | < previous | next >

It needed to be perfect. No matter what, it needed to be perfect. Rei pounded her fists against her desk and cried out, scrapping yet another piece of paper. “It’s hopeless” she whined, launching it into the waste basket at the other end of the room.

“Someone sounds stressed” a voice called from the doorway. Rei peered up to find Grandma Teiko shuffling nearer, a soft smile on her face. “What’s got you feeling so down, huh?”

“It’s nothing” Rei replied, turning her back to the old woman. Grandma Teiko raised her brows and leaned on her wooden cane. It took but a few moments before Rei groaned and turned back to her grandmother, spilling her guts. “Kakashi was promoted to jonin and I want to give him something special but I can’t for the life of me figure out what! But it needs to be perfect. I can’t have him thinking I don’t care about him by giving him something useless and cheap.”

“I see…” Teiko replied. She thought a moment before urging Rei to follow her. She led the young girl to her chambers, someplace sacred and solitary. Access to Grandma Teiko’s room was like stepping foot in a temple. There were strange windchimes and other ancient artifacts hanging from the ceiling, and tapestries displaying long forgotten myths cluttered the walls. There were a handful of trunks piled into the corner, all locked up tight with keys that didn’t exist. “I think I have something you may find satisfactory in the gift department” Teiko said, shuffling toward a mid-size trunk and popping it open by some strange magic. She rummaged around inside of it, tossing things this way and that, before pulling out something balled up in her fist. “Try this on for size” she said, then held open her hand to reveal a tiny silver ring.

“What is that?” Rei asked, scrunching up her nose.

“It’s called a kakute. This one in particular is very special. See this symbol inscribed on it?” she replied, pointing to a kanji word printed on the front.

“It says ‘love’” Rei read. “Grandma Teiko, where did you get this?”

“Let’s just say I have acquired a lot of things over the years from various people of sentiment” she said coolly. “This one, however, is very special indeed. And I think it’s just the sort of thing Kakashi would appreciate.”

Rei stewed over that word printed on the front. Love. A burning feeling rose in the back of her throat, and she suddenly felt feverish. She didn’t feel as if she had the right to use that word in front of him, and yet she remembered the days of their youth, back before everything went to shit, when he would call her by a name not unlike that word. She didn’t know what it meant then. She still didn’t know if she comprehended it now. Whatever it was, she doubted Kakashi even meant it. If he did, he wouldn’t have distanced himself so much over the past few years.

“What good is this going to do, though?” Rei asked. “It’s just a stupid ring. That’s like the kind of thing grown-ups give each other.”

“A little maturity never hurt anybody” Teiko scolded. “Besides, it’s more than just a ring. Perhaps you’d know that if you spent a little more time paying attention to the things in front of you.” Before Rei could roll her eyes and groan, Grandma Teiko slid the thick ring over her middle finger and displayed a set of sharp spikes on the underside right beside her palm. “Nobody said jewelry couldn’t be deadly” she chuckled. “Poison these bad boys up and the enemy won’t ever know what hit him.”

Rei blinked a moment, now trying to reevaluate her opinion on the thing. Maybe this was an appropriate present, after all. She could stand to give Kakashi a weapon, especially one as discrete as this. She could see him appreciating it. And if he liked it enough, maybe he would let her back into his life, stop ignoring her, and things could go back to the way they were. Or at least as close as possible.

Truly, the only reason Rei even knew of Kakashi’s promotion was from hearsay. She caught wind of a few instructors talking about him in the halls, and then overheard that Rin girl discussing it with that Uchiha boy at the dango shop one afternoon.

“Obito, this is super important! You need to figure out what you’re going to give Kakashi” she insisted.

“Oh, yeah, as if you already have your present figured out” Obito groaned.

“Actually, I do! I just have to pick up a few more things and then it should be good to go! I’m making him a medical kit in case he ever gets hurt” Rin explained.

Rei cursed under her breath and shook her head. There was something about the way Rin talked about Kakashi that really irked her. Pfft, a medical kit, how stupid, she thought to herself though deep down she knew it was a smart move. She had already suffered her fair share of injuries and she wasn’t even a genin yet.

When Rei knocked on his front door later on, there was no answer. She slammed her forehead against the wall and groaned. Why don’t you speak to me anymore? She couldn’t understand what she had done wrong. Ever since Sakumo’s death, he wanted nothing to do with her. She couldn’t decipher the link.

As she laid in bed that night, she stared at the kakute ring on her dresser and tried to slow her heartbeat down. Time was moving way too slowly, and no matter how hard she tried she could not fall asleep. Her mind leapt back and forth between positive and negative outcomes. She just wanted to hear the damn answer already. She wanted to hand Kakashi the little box, watch him open his gift, and see the light fill his eyes for the first time in years. For him to wrap his arms around her and thank her and call her that endearing name from when they were younger. Her stomach groaned. She was desperate.

Her alarm meant nothing. She had overslept anyway. Not surprising, seeing as she could scarcely fall asleep the night before, but still. Her head pounded as she raced down the street, the little gift box bouncing in her pouch. Perhaps fate was on her side. Perhaps she would be lucky. Perhaps she still had time after all. Her mind spun with possibilities, clouding her awareness until she whammed straight into a boy bounding into the intersection. They both fell backwards into the dirt.

“Watch where you’re going, idiot!” Rei shouted. She did not have time for this. The boy pouted and brushed his clothes off, but as he stood up there was an inkling of familiarity in his eyes. He extended a hand to help her out.

“Hey, don’t I know you?” he asked. Rei reluctantly accepted his offer, launching herself to her feet, and brushed the dirt off her own clothes. She recognized him soon enough. Obito Uchiha.

“Don’t you have a squad waiting for you right now?” Rei asked. Obito’s face went pale. He rubbed the back of his neck in embarrassment.

“I got a little held up” he replied with a sheepish grin. An old woman not far behind shuffled into her home with an arsenal of grocery bags.

“You went out of your way to help her?” Rei asked. Obito nodded. Wow, he’s a lot more public service than I expected, she thought.

“Well, I am a chunin now so it’s my duty to help out everyone in the Hidden Leaf, even if it’s just carrying a lady’s groceries” Obito explained. Then, in a much sourer tone, “I mean, not that anyone cares.”

“Oh?” Rei asked, cocking a brow.

“Yeah, apparently nobody gives a damn that I made a chunin since Kakashi became a jonin. Rin had everyone meet up in the park a few days ago and I thought it was just going to be me and her so I bought her flowers, but it turns out she just wanted to figure out what everyone was gonna get Kakashi instead” Obito explained, eyes turning deadpan.

There was one phrase in particular that really captured Rei’s attention, however. “You like that Rin girl, don’t you?” Rei asked.

The Uchiha boy’s face went bright red. “Y-you don’t know!” he shouted.

“Just a question, jeez, calm down” Rei replied. “Is she your girlfriend or something?”

“I wish” Obito sighed. “But the only person she seems to have eyes for is stupid Kakashi.”

The minute the sentence dropped from his lips, Rei’s heart leapt into her throat and she clenched her fists at her sides. So it was true, then. She had heard the rumors, she had seen the way Rin looked at him, but hadn’t heard anything official. Now that she did, she felt like she was going to be sick.

“I guess that explains why Kakashi wants nothing to do with me anymore” Rei pouted. In retrospect, she knew this did not mean that Kakashi liked Rin back but Kakashi didn’t seem to care for Rei very much anymore and therefore why wouldn’t he prefer Rin? She seemed ideal anyway. Obito liked her well enough, and she seemed to be popular among her peers. Why wouldn’t he prefer her over Rei?

For a moment, Obito stared at her suspcicously, confusedly, trying to put together the pieces, until it finally clicked in his head and a sly smile touched his lips. Poking her on the forearm, he then leaned in and asked her, “You like Kakashi, don’t you, Rei?”

Now it was Rei’s turn to blush bright red. With a gasp, she whacked Obitio on the head and recoiled. “And what would it matter to you if I did, huh?” she shouted back. Her mind flickered back to the present in her pouch, of the symbol engraved on it. She almost didn’t want to give it to him now. It was too much. It sent a message she wasn’t even sure she identified with.

“So wait a second, let me get this straight: I like Rin but Kakashi always gets in the way. You like Kakashi but Rin always gets in the way” Obito surmised.

“You Uchiha are super intelligent” Rei replied sarcastically.

“Hang on a second” Obito said, swatting at the air. “I think I may just have an idea where we can both get exactly what we want.”

“Oh?” Rei asked. “I’m listening…”

As she watched Obito run off that morning, Rei suddenly felt a lightness in her that she hadn’t felt in years. Perhaps there was hope after all. She patted the pouch on her waistline to feel the little present she was carrying and for once she knew she had made the right decision. Now was not the right time. Her and Obito had concocted a brilliant plan and when that was fulfilled, then would be the perfect moment to give Kakashi his gift. But there was nothing she could do until they returned from their mission. Until then, Rei had no choice but to wait.

The Battle of Kannabi Bridge proved to be one of the most pivotal battles of the Third Shinobi War. Talk of Team Minato’s success rang through the village, constant chatter of how this could turn the war in Konoha’s favor. And then there was the matter of Obito.

“I’m sorry, you said what?” Rei asked during lunch. Naru, the blonde, nodded dolefully.

“I heard he was crushed to death by a bunch of boulders!” she explained, sound effects included.

“That’s ridiculous, where did you even hear that?” Rei asked.

“Here and there, a few people have talked about it” Naru replied. “And also from Rin.” Rei’s face turned bright red. Rin.

Without even finishing her lunch, Rei stood up and dumped the rest of her bento in the trash. “Tell sensei I won’t be coming back this afternoon” she demanded.

“But that’s the third time this month! He’s going to suspend you!” Naru called after her.

“I don’t care! I have something far more important to do, okay?” Rei shouted back, rushing out of the schoolyard and down the street. Her heart was pounding. She had no idea where she was going to go or what she was going to do when she got there, she just knew more than anything that she needed to find Kakashi. The little box with the kakute ring inside bounced in her back pouch as she ran.

The first place she looked was, obviously, Kakashi’s home, but no one answered. She ran down every avenue afterward, every side street, scanning every face. She heard whispers from passerby about the battle, the war, the Uchiha boy who died. It was nothing they hadn’t heard before. This was war, after all, and Konoha was short on manpower. Shinobi were bound to lose their lives. But this? This was too much. He was just a kid. A kid who she had made a pact with.

By sundown, she had scoured the entire village to find nothing. She collapsed on a nearby bench gasping for breath, pressing the heels of her hands into her eye sockets with a desperate groan and wiping the sweat from underneath her bangs. There were only so many places Kakashi could have disappeared to, unless he had already been sent off on yet another mission. If that was the case, she was essentially screwed. She would’ve been better off giving up completely. Before she could go home, however, she desperately needed to catch her breath. She closed her eyes and tried to steady her breathing, draping her arms over her eyes to block out the glow of the sun.

Her mind began to wander aimlessly, swaying to and fro like a dreamy drunkard tightroping a fence. She heard Obito’s voice in her head, mingled with her own, playing out conversations that would never happen. She envisioned him running down the street toward her house, knocking on her door with a mischievous grin. She would let him inside and they would sit by the river mapping out the details of their plan. He would ask Rin to meet up with him and Kakashi, but Kakashi would never show. Instead, he wouldn’t even get the notice and Rei would swoop in and capture him before he could ever find out. Rin would be disappointed, yes, but Obito would have her all to himself. And with Rin occupied, Rei would Kakashi all to herself. They would ensure their paths never cross and they would have a wonderful afternoon together, two separate pairs. And during that time, Rin would discover just how much she truly cared about and even belonged with Obito, and Kakashi would be reminded of what exactly he had abstained from all those years. He would look at her with light and happiness again like before Sakumo died, and they would fall back into the grass and identify the shapes in the sky. Everything would be exactly as it once was.

“I hope you know how dangerous it is to sleep in public places” a voice then called from above. For a moment, Rei almost mistook it for Obito himself. She had to remind herself that she was no longer dreaming. Obito was dead.

She blinked and propped herself up on one elbow, rubbing her eyes with the other. The sun had gone down and now a streetlight glared above her, brilliantly bright. “H-Hello?” she called out to the phantom voice. A rustling in the trees and then, dropping down before her, was Kakashi Hatake.

“What? Did you get kicked out of your home or something?” he asked, arms crossed. There was something different about him, or perhaps it was just the lighting. The left half of his face was clouded in the natural darkness.

“No, I was out looking for you! Where have you been, Kakashi?” she exploded. She hadn’t expected to be quite so angry as she was, but now she was whacking him hard on the shoulder and somehow fighting back tears.

“I’ve been busy” he shrugged. “We should get you home.”

“Kakashi, wait!” Rei protested, grabbing his wrist. He glared back at her, almost offended, and that’s when she noticed it. His headband was covering his left eye. Something wasn’t right.

“Your parents are probably contacting the police trying to find you right now” he replied. “You need to go home.”

“Not yet! I want answers first” Rei demanded. She tried to match the intensity in his stare but she lacked power. “W-what happened…to Obito?”

The question clearly struck something within Kakashi. He pursed his lips beneath his mask and tried to keep his face neutral, though this was not a topic he wanted to talk about right now. “Obito is dead. He pushed me out of the line of fire and was crushed by some boulders” he explained, voice detached. This was nothing she didn’t already know but hearing it straight from Kakashi’s mouth left a particular impact on her.

Rei shook her head. “I mean, what happened?” she asked. She wasn’t sure if her message would get across but she prayed Kakashi would understand. She just couldn’t wrap her brain around it.

“Sometimes people die on missions. The life of a shinobi is dangerous. A lot of things are put on the line” Kakashi explained. He could see her line of vision wading toward his left eye, covered by his headband. He clenched his fist. “And sometimes we lose things out of our own control.” A hard lump rose in Rei’s throat and for a second, she felt like she was going to be sick. She envisioned Kakashi on a battlefield, blood dripping down his face, bright red. His eye nowhere to be found. And then, before she could protest, he tucked his thumb underneath his headband and ever so slowly tugged upwards. A nasty, jagged scar scraped down from his forehead to his cheekbone, still raw. His eye creaked open. All she could see was red. Sharingan.

Her parents said nothing to her when she retuned home that night, and she was incapable of saying anything to them. That night, she laid in bed for hours staring at her ceiling knowing full well that if she moved, she was going to be sick. Her hands were numb and tingling and nothing felt real. It was almost as if she was trapped in some sort of sickening genjutsu she couldn’t release. Kakashi had a sharingan. Obito was dead. Everything was falling apart and nothing would ever be the same again.

As the days wore on, more and more news had circulated the village about Kakashi’s mission. They gave him strange looks as he perused the village, the ninja with the secondhand sharingan. It was the same as when Sakumo died all over again, questions and contemplations about how, exactly, such an eye was acquired. Even in the schoolyard, she’d hear whispers of it passed between kids who didn’t even know Kakashi’s name. She tried to swallow back her anger as best as she could, but it was one morning in particular when she reached her breaking point.

Yuruganai Natsuki sat at the kitchen table staring dully ahead sipping his tea. Hana glanced to him every so often but it was clear he was thinking deeply and she knew better than to disturb him. “It just makes me sick” he finally said.

“I know” Hana whispered. Rei pressed her back against the wall as she listened intently.

“He just still wasn’t good enough, was he? A fucking prodigy and he’s still not good enough” Yuruganai growled, clenching his fist against the table. “Sick. It just makes me sick.”

“How sure are you that he really did it, though?” Hana asked quietly. Her husband shot her a fiery glare.

“What other story is there? It all adds up and you know my math is never wrong” he insisted. “The Uchiha are dirty bastards but they’re powerful. The only thing stronger than the sharingan is the byakugan but clearly he couldn’t get his hands so easily on one of those. The Hyuga would slice his head off if he tried anything. But the Uchiha? He had connections.”

“That still doesn’t explain things very clearly, love” Hana replied. “I just can’t understand how a sweet boy like Kakashi would do something so vile.”

“He’s a shinobi. You’d be surprised” Yuruganai replied. “I would know. Besides, you know what happened with Sakumo. If you ask me, that’s when everything got fucked up. Sakumo just couldn’t follow the damn rules, he was too kind to be a shinobi. He killed himself and traumatized his kid in the process. And now he’s hellbent on becoming everything his father’s not, even if it means killing a comrade for the sake of gaining more power. I wouldn’t put it past him. Kakashi is not stupid. He’s perhaps too smart for his own good. I don’t trust him. I don’t trust that kid one bit.”

By now, all the blood had rushed to Rei’s face. How dare he say such things? He didn’t know a damn thing. But then again, Rei didn’t either and deep down she knew that. Kakashi wouldn’t explain anything to her. He likely thought it was none of her business, or perhaps they were wounds he preferred not to rip open. But Rei deserved to know. Her plans were now ruined because of this and she wanted answers. Instead of growing closer to Kakashi, it felt like he was shifting steadily further away. And now here was her father, tarnishing her best friend’s name with petty speculation. She couldn’t stand to listen to it. Balling her fists up, she burst into the kitchen and began pounding against her father’s back, screaming at him to shut up and that he didn’t know anything. Hana clasped her hand over her mouth and cried, begging her daughter to stop. Yuruganai rose with fire in his eyes, towering over her, and gripped her tiny little wrist hard. Her tear-stained cheek stung for the rest of the day.

“I heard you had a difficult morning” a creaking voice called from the porch. Rei huffed and stared in great focus at the tree in front of her, hitting it with purpose and power. She said nothing. Grandma Teiko smirked and hobbled down onto the lawn, whacking her cane against the trunk so as to get her granddaughter’s attention. “I think it’s time we had a little talk.”

As much as the young girl loved her grandmother, Rei was really not in the mood for a philosophical spiel this afternoon. However, Grandma Teiko would not take no for an answer. She motioned for Rei to follow her around to the lake at the back of the house.

“Look at this water and tell me what you see” she asked.

Rei cocked a brow and replied “Water?”

“No, look closer” the old woman said with a roll of her eyes. Rei leaned in hesitantly toward the surface, catching her reflection warped and rushing. Before she could say anything, Grandma Teiko knelt down and splashed her granddaughter square the in the face.

“What the heck was that for?!” Rei shouted.

“I’m teaching you a valuable lesson” Teiko replied.

“No, you’re getting me all wet and wasting my training time” Rei countered.

The old woman shook her head. “You focus so much of your energy on training your body, you forget to train your mind” she said. “And now seems like a very appropriate time for a lesson in mental gymnastics.” Rei still didn’t understand where she was going with this. She pulled the bottom of her shirt up to wipe her face and sunk down into the soft grass of the riverbank. “When you see this water, what do you see inside of it?”

“I don’t know, fish?” she replied.

“Yes, more than anything we see fish. But what kinds of fish?” Teiko asked.

“I see a lot of minnows.”

“Yes, many of the fish here are minnows. But what else?”

Rei shrugged. “I don’t know, do I look like a piscatologist to you?”

“I’m surprised you know that word.”

“I read a lot.”

Grandma Teiko chuckled and shook her head. “Perhaps you don’t need to hear an old woman ramble on then. I’m sure you can just find this all in a book.” She rose to turn away, but Rei grabbed onto the hem of her kimono.

“Wait a second” she said. “Keep talking.” The old woman raised a brow but pleasantly obliged. She knew reverse psychology was always the most successful tactic, especially on someone as stubborn as Rei. Over the course of that afternoon, she quizzed her granddaughter on the different types of fish and what made them unique, and the way they interacted with other wildlife like birds and turtles. All of it seemed incredibly pointless, as did many of Grandma Teiko’s speeches initially, but after a while Rei began to understand what she was getting at. Each species was representative of a clan in the village, and each clan had their own special abilities and purpose. When one species wants what the other has, however, that’s when the natural order of things falls to the wayside. “We must stay aligned with what we were created for” she had said. Rei thought back to Kakashi and his new sharingan, to what her father had said that morning. Would he really have lied to her about the manner in which it was obtained? Would he really go so far as to kill his teammate to gain the power of the Uchiha? She hated the fact that she would never know the truth. The only ones who really knew what happened were the people who were there firsthand, but one of them was dead and the other surely wouldn’t sit there and spell it out for her. She didn’t dare question Minato Namikaze on the subject. She didn’t even really know him, save for passing glances in the village and in the rare event that he stepped foot in the academy. There was only one other person who she could turn to for answers, though she knew deep down she would’ve rather not.

“Hey! You’re that girl who lives next door to Kakashi, right?” a bright and cheery voice greeted. Rei chewed her bottom lip with arms crossed and nodded. Rin Nohara grinned and patted the seat beside her in the dango shop. “What was your name again? I’m afraid I didn’t catch it the last time we met!”

“Rei” the redhead said bluntly.

“That’s so pretty!” Rin replied. “Like a ray of sunshine!”

Or a deadly stingray, Rei thought. “Listen, I don’t have a lot of time right now” Rei began, lying, “but I needed to ask you something.” Rin scooted closer, proving she was all ears. Why does she have to be so damn nice? Just makes it that much harder to hate her, Rei thought. No wonder Obito had a thing for her. And (she was sure) Kakashi, too. Sucking in a deep breath, she then asked, “What exactly happened at Kannabi Bridge?”

“Oh…” Rin replied, voice laced with uncertainty. “Well, I’m afraid I can’t tell you everything. You see, I was captured and put under a genjutsu, so anything that happened between then and when Kakashi and Obito rescued me, I wouldn’t know anything about.”

Rei waved her off. “I don’t care about that” she replied. “Just tell me about…you know, the incident.”

“Incident…?” Rin asked.

“Yeah, you know. The one the whole village is talking about.”

“Y-You mean…about Obito…?” she asked slowly. Rei nodded. Rin was clearly uncomfortable with the subject. After all, she didn’t particularly want to revisit the death of her best friend. But Rei pressed onward, desperate for answers. “Well, he was crushed by a boulder. He pushed Kakashi out of the way and…and then he asked me to implant his sharingan into Kakashi. I guess something happened while I was captured, and Kakashi’s left eye was severely damaged. Obito had forgotten to give Kakashi a present for becoming a jonin, so right before he died he decided his sharingan would be his gift.”

So he didn’t steal it after all, Rei thought. She knew Kakashi had to be more respectable than that. The mention of presents and his jonin promotion reminded her of the kakute in her pouch. She pressed her hand against it, unsure if she still wanted to gift it to him or not. She wasn’t quite so sure he would appreciate it now. Besides, it wouldn’t be of any use to him anymore. He now had something far more powerful at his disposal.

“You know the things people are saying around the village, right?” Rei asked. Rin eyed her suspiciously, unsure if she knew what she was talking about. Rei continued. “I guess everyone thinks Kakashi killed Obito himself and stole the sharingan. Like he wanted the power or something.”

“That’s terrible!” Rin exclaimed. “Kakashi would never--!”

“I know” Rei replied. “It makes me so sick. Makes me want to punch someone until they’re black and blue, or gauge their eyes out and see how they like it.”

“That’s…dark” Rin said quietly. “You really care about Kakashi, don’t you?”

“What?” Rei asked, rolling her eyes. “He’s alright, I guess.” No matter how hard she tried, she was incapable of keeping herself from blushing.

Rin sighed and rested her chin in her hands. “I think he’s the most talented shinobi to ever exist. He’s so cool and he’s great at everything he does. I can’t believe I was lucky enough to be on his team.”

Oh, shut up, Rei thought to herself. She huffed and stood, briefly thanking Rin for her help but saying she needed to get home. Rin grinned at her and waved, saying she’d see her around and calling her by name as if speaking it would help her remember. Rei’s cheeks burned the entire jog home.

She spoke to no one as she slipped inside and retreated to her bedroom, collapsing onto the bed. She had finally gotten the answers she so desperately sought after, and yet it didn’t make her feel any better. Speaking with Rin made her feel like she needed a shower. Even worse, she knew that just because she knew the truth behind Kakashi’s sharingan didn’t mean the rest of the village did. They would continue to say vile things about him. Trying to set them straight was pointless. Why would they ever believe some tiny, buck-toothed kid, anyway? Rei had no power here whatsoever. She rolled onto her stomach and reached for the kakute in her pouch. She turned it over in her hands, running her finger along the engraving. Love. She envisoned the way Kakashi would react upon receiving it, had she the guts to give it to him. She was afraid she wasn’t quite so brave any longer. Every time she closed her eyes, all she saw was red. That eye haunted her, that secondhand sharingan. Kakashi was a completely different person now, the kind who would not be grateful for a stupid gift from a weak child he used to babysit. She shoved the kakute into her desk and slammed the drawer shut, then curled up in bed and silently began to cry. A piece of her inside felt as if it was dying. The Kakashi she once knew no longer existed, and he never would ever again.

#kakashi hatake #rei natsuki #the scarecrow and the bell #naruto #naruto oc #fanfiction

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monochrome-typewriter · 6 years

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I’ve finally managed to watch a video about the Channel Awesome debacle. Specifically the one by Obscurus Lupa, and I think I can finally pin down my stance on things.

I know I said I was gonna avoid it, but that was largely because there was a lot I didn’t know.

This is something really awful that has happened, and I’m hopeful that the attention it’s getting will cause some changes. I don’t think I’ll personally stop watching Channel Awesome right now. There are people on the channel that had nothing to do with this, and I want to support them. Not only that, but a lot of their videos have personally helped me in hard times. I don’t think it’s fair to deprive myself of that.

Many things I’ve enjoyed have had people attached to them that did awful things, and it can be hard to decide where to draw the line. I think it’s really a personal matter. Weigh what will be lost in either situation and decide for yourself how best to act.

Personally, I think I will not be giving the Channel any more support outside of weekly viewership until something drastic is done to address these issues. This isn’t going to change much, but if I’m given the chance to see them in theaters or meet them at a convention, I won’t do it.

However, being as sick and alone as I am all the time, depriving myself of content that brightens my day and that’s very easy to consume will only hurt me. I’d go crazy if I didn’t have new videos to watch frequently. There are other channels I follow, and they’ll absolutely get my full support, but if a Channel Awesome video will make me happy, I don’t think it’s wrong for me to want to watch it.

I don’t think I’m great at articulating myself, so I don’t know if I’ve made it entirely clear why I feel this way. A recent Mother’s Basement video did make some points that I think help explain this, though, so I’ll leave a link to that at the bottom.

Judge for yourself what you think is right. Please don’t harass anyone for their opinions or choices, and make sure you don’t make decisions based on rumors or hearsay. You should understand the situation before taking a stance. Still, you can absolutely stand your ground, whatever that may entail. I’ll support you in that.

This is going to be my last post on the matter unless something serious comes up, but I wanted to address this because I think it’s important. I hope nobody misunderstands me and thinks I’m defending Channel Awesome in any sense. I’m just trying to do what I can while also taking care of myself.

Here are the links:

Lupa’s video

Mother’s Basement video

Google Docs document

EDIT: Adding the link to this twitter thread because it contains the thoughts of some individuals currently working for Channel Awesome, and I think their words are also worth considering.

#channel awesome #controversy #discourse #i guess?#i'm tagging that mostly just for blacklists

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berjhawn · 7 years

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Death Ever After - Part 7 - Wedding Dress

Death Ever After - A Modern Marvel Alternate Universe x Reader - Reader is a Childhood friends with the Barnes Children; Richard, Bucky, and Rebecca. A terrible accident occurs forcing the Reader to move in with her biological father. Years pass and destiny decides to play a joke on the reader. Chaos Ensues.

Warnings: Abusive families; Accidents; Death; blame game; etc

Pairings: Modern Marvel AU X Reader; Slight Richard X Reader; Bucky X Reader

(A/N) This is a Modern Marvel Alternate Universe. In this universe the Barnes parents, George and Winifred are still alive. I brought in Bucky’s comic canon sister Rebecca but added an older brother named Richard. Howard and Maria Stark are also still alive along with Jarvis. Some Characters may seem OOC at time but this is an alternate reality people, shit happens. I hope you all like it.

Death Ever After Masterlist

Part 1 - A True Hero

Part 2 - A New Life?

Part 3 - Becoming A Stark

Part 4 - Therapeutic

Part 5 - Hearsay

Part 6 - Shake It Out

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Bucky sat in the dress shop with his mother and ex-girlfriend Natasha as his little sister had the final touches done on her dress. His brow furrowed as he listened to his Mother prattle on and on about the wedding details to Natasha. He didn’t want to be here. Hell, he’d rather be in the middle of a lecture from his father than here with his mother. He glances at Natasha who smirks at his annoyance. She was loving this. Rolling his eyes, he pulls out his cell phone and sends a text to Steve.

Save me, please – Bucky

From? – Steve

My mother – Bucky

Oh, too bad, you’re on your own – Steve

“Dammit,” Bucky says aloud sliding the phone back into his jacket pocket. He turns his attention back to the ladies only to see his mother cocking an eyebrow at him. “My apologies, there was a mishap at work.”

“Is everything alright?” He hears Rebecca ask as she comes around the corner wearing her dress.

“Yeah, it’s all taken care of.” He answers quickly as he stands up and walks over to her a bright smile on his face.

“Good,” Their mother says as she moves to stand next to them. “Aww Rebecca you look gorgeous.”

“Thank you, mom.” Rebecca replies as tears of happiness fill her eyes. “So, Bucky, what do you think?” She asks as she turns back to her brother.

“I think you look beautiful Becca.” He says making a smile fill her lips.

“Of course, she does, she’s a Barnes.” Winifred says patting him on the shoulder causing him to roll his eyes. “Oh Rebecca, I was going over the guest list last night and a name on it caught me by surprise.” His mother continues making worry fill Rebecca’s face. Bucky furrowed his brow at her expression.

“Oh?” Rebecca replies trying to hide her expression.

“Yes, I was surprised because I didn’t realize you knew the Starks.” Winifred says a hint of something hopeful in her eyes.

“Wait, you know a Stark?” Bucky asks his eyes focusing on his sister.

“Uh, yeah. We met in college.” She was hiding something, Bucky knew it, and he was gonna figure it out.

“I was so surprised I just couldn’t keep it from your father. He wants to introduce your brother to her.”

“Wait what?” Bucky exclaims taken aback.

“No!” Becca cries making them all cock an eyebrow at her. “I’m sorry but she already has a boyfriend. A very nice one.”

“You think I’m not nice?” Bucky asks even more curious.

“That’s not what I meant.” She covers her face as she lets out a heavy sigh. “I need a moment. Nat, will you help me?”

“Sure thing,” She says as she follows after Rebecca into the back. Bucky watches completely confused until they are gone.

“Now James, when we meet Miss Stark I want you to be on your best behavior.”

“Mother, did you not hear what Becca just said? The girl has a boyfriend.”

“I know, but things happen and relationships end every day. Just think what kind of opportunities it can open for us.”

“Can we talk about this later please, Becca is stressed out enough already.”

“You’re right, we can talk about it more at the wedding.” She says patting him on the arm. Bucky knew this wasn’t over. He could see the wheels in his mother’s head turning. Saved by the bell, his phone rings making him excuse himself to the other room to answer it. His head hurt. This day needed to end. “Hello?” He asks pinching the bridge of his nose.

“Wow, dude it’s only been like what ten minutes since you texted. Did it turn that bad?” Steve asks making Bucky let out a chuckle.

“You have no idea. Mom’s trying to marry me off to women I’ve never met again.” Bucky replies a groan of annoyance leaving his lips.

“Oh, and who may I ask is the unlucky lady?” Steve asks making Bucky lean against a nearby wall.

“Apparently the Stark’s daughter. Honestly I didn’t even know they had one.” There was silence on the other end making Bucky cock an eyebrow in curiosity. “You still there, pal?”

“Oh yeah, sorry, was lost in paperwork. What’d you say?” Steve asks a hint of worry in his voice.

“I told her no, considering Becca said she has a boyfriend.”

“Well then you did good. Especially considering who her boyfriend is.”

“Oh, do you know him?”

“I kind of, am him.” Steve replies making Bucky’s face whiten.

“Oh my god, I am so sorry.” Bucky replies as he reaches up and rubs his forehead.

“Buck, it’s fine. You already told them you weren’t interested. I know you wouldn’t do that to me.” Steve says making Bucky’s brow furrow.

“Still… How come you never told me that’s who you were dating?”

“Well considering how well the press would handle the situation we decided it was best for us to keep it quiet.”

“Was this your idea or hers?”

“Mine, she was worried they might spread rumors that would hurt Sarah. So, I suggested we keep things quiet.”

“I understand that; but why didn’t you tell me? You’re my best friend.” Bucky asks looking back into the other room to see Rebecca coming out of the dressing room a look of relief on her face.

“Look, let’s talk about this later. I’m about to go into a meeting.” Steve replies worry in his voice.

“Sounds bad.” Bucky replies making Steve grunt in reply.

“I’ll be glad when we catch this asshole. I’m tired of letting him slip through my fingers.” Steve replies making Bucky nod.

“Same here pal. I’ll let you get back to it. I’ll see you Friday for the rehearsal dinner?”

“Yeah, (Name) and I’ll be there.” Steve replies and Bucky feels a feeling of worry and panic fill his stomach at the mention of her name.

“Okay, I’ll see ya then.” Bucky quickly hangs his phone up and tossing his head back lets out a breath he hadn’t known he’d been holding. (Name), just the mention of the girl’s name sent waves of regret and pain throughout his body. He knew it was most likely not her considering he couldn’t find her. He glances to the other side of the room and for a moment his heart stops. He practically runs out the door to get a better look at the young girl that had just walked by when she glances back at him. A sigh of relief escapes his lips upon realizing its not (Name).

He offers the girl a polite business smile before he turns away to let out a heavy sigh. Were his eyes playing tricks on him? The memory of her fear filled face as she sat in her wheelchair hiding behind his sister fills his mind making his stomach churn. It was his own fault he felt this way. No one could tell him different. A hand on his shoulder causes him to jump in surprise.

“Woah! It’s okay.” Natasha says griping tightly to his arm helping his calm down. “What’s got your panties in a twist?”

“Sorry, my heads messing with me.” Bucky replies straightening his suit.

“Oh, can I ask what about?” She asks and Bucky nods slightly as he tells her about his conversation with Steve and about him thinking he saw the girl from his past. “Wow, I can’t believe Steve’s dating Becca’s friend. I don’t mean anything bad by it, I just thought he wouldn’t date again after Peggy.”

“I thought so too.”

“It’s very surprising; but still, I’m glad he’s found someone.” Natasha says a soft smile filling her lips.

“Same, I just wish she had a different first name.” Bucky replies a shaky laugh leaving his lips.

“Have you ever thought about therapy for your trauma?” She asks worry feeling her face. “You can’t always drink the pain away.”

“Trauma?” He scoffs shaking his head. “This,” He motions to his head, “Is nothing compared to what I did to that girl. This is what I deserve.”

“I hope someday, you find someone that is able to help heal you.” She replies gently touching his arm. “I’m just sorry it wasn’t me.” He scoffs as he reaches out and pulls her into his arms and holds her tight.

“Don’t say that, you helped me enough.” He gently rubs her back as he continues, “besides you have someone better than me that loves you how you deserve to be loved.”

“Well aren’t you just a great guy?”

“Shh, don’t tell anyone.”

“So, are you excited to the rehearsal dinner Friday?” Natasha asks as she pulls away.

“No, not really.” Bucky replies straightening his jacket.

“When was the last time you went home?” She asks making Bucky remember the painful memories of the last conversation he had had with his brother fill his head.

“Not since I graduated high school. When college came around I couldn’t get out of there fast enough.”

“So, this will be a form of therapy for you. Make you face your fears. All the more reason I can’t wait.” She chuckles as she walks back into the store to rejoin his mother and sister. Bucky shakes his head as he turns back to look at the building around him. He had done Natasha wrong, that wasn’t a lie, and it surprised him how the two of them could go back to being friends after all they had been through. It helped that she had found someone better. “This wedding can’t go by fast enough.”

Will Continue -

Tags;

@learisa @lxdyred @elaacreditava @dugan365 @marvel-fanfiction @debzybrazy @nathallyah @vibraniumass

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recentanimenews · 4 years

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Accepting the Loss While Covering the Kyoto Animation Arson

K-ON!! (via Kyoto Animation)

On this day one year ago, Kyoto Animation was attacked by an arsonist. It also happened to be the first day I started working for Crunchyroll News. Here is the story of my first byline as an anime journalist, the day a beloved studio was attacked, and how I covered the events as they unfolded in the days, weeks, months, and now year after the tragedy.

11:30 AM. Thursday morning. July 18, 2019. Tokyo.

I am shaken awake by my wife who has been reading the news in the other room. I’d been awake most of the night trying to sort out my new position at Crunchyroll News. My first piece was to be a review of Weathering with You, Makoto Shinkai’s newest film that released the next day. Then, tragedy struck.

Kyoto Animation was on fire, and it was purposefully lit.

I couldn’t believe it. I turned on NHK news to see what was happening and all it was showing was Studio 1 engulfed in smoke. It was unbelievable. I had only visited the studio and surrounding area three months prior for a pilgrimage to see the studio where my favorite anime was created and visit the locations that inspired the creativity.

But it was going up in smoke, literally.

Woke up to the news that KYOTO ANIMATION WAS ON FIRE. NO. THIS IS JUST NO. https://t.co/EUwiEnpz0O

— Dazza (@DoctorDazza) July 18, 2019

As I was the only online at the time, I hit up the Crunchyroll News Slack channel. I didn’t yet have full privileges – I was meant to start in a few days – so I couldn’t break the news myself on the website. Together with Humberto Saabedra, we worked together to make sure all the information going up on Crunchyroll News was as accurate as we could find.

I translated as much as I could through the tears, trying to find out who was okay (thankfully it was confirmed early on that Directors Yamada, Ishihara, and Ishidate were alive), and sadly watching as rumors swelled on who was missing. Thankfully, the facts were easy to find as the Japanese media were all over the story — though sadly, some of it, like the rest of the internet, was hearsay.

Memorial at Kyoto Animation Studio 1 (via JapanTimes)

I never thought my first piece for Crunchyroll would be working on the biggest mass-murder in Japan since World War II. No one ever working in anime journalism would think a day like this would come. Due to working in the US, Humberto rightly needed to sleep, so I was left on Twitter getting as much information as I could to get the facts out. It was raw. It was emotional. The people who made me happy, gave me joy, were fighting for their lives.

The world was mourning for Kyoto Animation.

August 27, 2019. Ikebukuro.

It was August when they announced the first people who had died in the arson attack. The police and Kyoto Animation waited until the families had been notified before publicly releasing the names to the media – not that it didn’t stop the media from investigating themselves and releasing the names themselves against the families’ wishes.

The term “mass gomi” (mass garbage), a play on the term “mass komi” (mass communication), was coined to call the media who released the names of those who had died before the families wished them to do so. Both domestic media in Japan and websites internationally were the cause of frustration, and one personally I didn’t like.

I do remember the day in late August when the second group of people was announced.

It was August 27.

The Disappearance of Haruhi Suzumiya (via Kyoto Animation)

I was sitting in a Starbucks in Sunshine City in Ikebukuro. I’d just finished visiting The Quintessential Quintuplets exhibition and was going through the photos I’d taken while waiting for a friend to join me. My friend was only traveling through Japan, so we were going to make the most of the time he had.

But while scrolling on Twitter, the news popped up. Another 25 names were released to the public. I was fortunate enough to be at home when the first group of names was released, where I could sit in silence after finishing the story, but not here. I was sobbing inside a Starbucks over my computer while translating the names and trying to keep it together to finish the story.

My friend turned up in the middle of this and luckily he instantly knew what I was working on and was gracious enough to wait me out while I uploaded the story through the Starbucks Wi-Fi network, comforting me afterward. It was nice.

November 3, 2019. Kyoto.

Going into November, I knew there was a memorial happening in Kyoto in place of the festival the studio usually puts on. I also knew that I would never have the chance to go to it – to pay my respects. That’s when I got the Slack message.

“We’ll pay for you to go to Kyoto to cover the memorial.”

I was happy. It was a funny feeling. I knew it would be one of the hardest things I’d ever do, but I was happy that I’d be able to do it.

You can read my coverage of the memorial here.

Kyoto Animation in November (photo: Daryl Harding)

I got to see Kyoto Animation Studio 1 for one last time. I’d got see it all shiny and yellow in March 2019, and again as a husk of its former self — from a distance, of course, there was no way I was able to get close to it.

What wasn’t written about in the coverage was that I was thankful to have friends to lean on who also came to Kyoto to pay their respects. To drink by Kamo River at 4 AM in the morning, to get Okinomiyaki in the busy main street. It was cathartic. It helped me heal.

July 18, 2020. 12 PM. Tokyo.

A year on and a lot has changed. Sadly Violet Evergarden: The Movie still hasn’t been released due to the ongoing coronavirus (COVID-19) pandemic. The scars from that day a year ago can still be felt in anime films and series that have either been postponed or just outright not even discussed due to the passing of key staff members.

As I sit here watching the memorial video being streamed on the same TV as the fire listening to the somber music being played as it rains out, reading the words that Kyoto Animation have been saying over the last year, I can't help but feel hopeful that no matter what, the spirit of Kyoto Animation lives on in those who continue the great work.

youtube

For an overview of the Kyoto Animation and where they’re at now, Kyle, Cayla, and I got the privilege to speak to Kyoto Animation President Hideaki Hatta and Lawyer Daisuke Ono to get their perspective and thoughts.

On a personal note, while it still hurts thinking about those who we’ve lost, those who were taken from us too early, I’m able to look past the events and to the future. The anime they made still exist, and their legacies will be felt forevermore and Kyoto Animation will continue to push the boundaries of what animation can do and bring smiles to our faces, which is what those who have passed would have wanted.

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Daryl Harding is a Japan Correspondent for Crunchyroll News. He also runs a YouTube channel about Japan stuff called TheDoctorDazza, tweets at @DoctorDazza, and posts photos of his travels on Instagram.

By: [email protected]

#Anime #News #Latest in Anime News by Crunchyroll!

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theavaevans · 5 years

Text

A Mother’s Fight

THREAD: Ava M. Evans TIME FRAME: Monday, February 3, 2020 LOCATION: Bellevue High School; Seattle, Washington SUMMARY: Ava goes to Siena’s school for a meeting with the principal and dean of students, to discuss the problem with Siena and the bullying that has occured. Unfortunately for the principal and the dean, they left a bad taste in Ava’s mouth about how they run their school.

Ava let out a hum as she walked into the high school, stepping past a few students as she made her way to the principal’s office to speak with him and the dean of students about the rumors going around about her daughter. As she entered the main office, she signed in and took a seat, pulling her phone from her purse as she responded to a few text messages in her work group chat. She really hoped they didn’t keep her waiting long, she had a surgery to get to in a few hours and she needed to prep.

Principal White walked out of his office after checking the time. He had dealt with Mrs. Evans several times and knew the woman was always, always punctual. Just as he thought as he rounded the corner from his office, he saw Mrs. Evans sitting there and he sighed deeply. “Good Morning, Mrs. Evans,” he said as he moved around the front counter, greeting her with his hand out for a shake.

Ava looked up from her phone, gazing at the principal as he held his hand out to her. She took his hand into her own shaking it quickly, before she stood up and dropped her phone into her purse. “Hello, nice to see you again,” she said easily. “I wish it was under better circumstances,” she said with a curt smile at the man.

“I can understand that.” Principal White stated as he moved for his office door, opening it and gesturing for Mrs. Evans to walk in before him.

Moving behind Principal White, Ava looked around the office as she moved through it. Not much had changed since the last time she was there. “Yeah,” she said with a shake of her head. “It honestly doesn’t make any sense,” she voiced as she stepped into his office and took a seat, crossing her legs at her ankles as she sat her purse off to the side and pulled her skirt down her knees a little.

Principal White looked to Ava and rounding his office and moving to sit down at his desk. “I agree” he said subtly, though he also knew children would be children and you couldn’t control them all.

Ava watched as Principal White sat and she looked around his office as she nodded, waiting for Dean Michaels to begin. “Uh, is Dean Michaels on his way?” she asked curiously, really wanting to get this over with.

Looking at his watch, the man looked to before he said “he should be, I have no clue what’s holding him up” he sighed. He picked the phone up and dialed an extension before he looked to Mercedes again. Reaching no one he hung it up and said, “I am sure he’s on his way” Principal White told her.

Dean Michael’s huffed as he drugged Blue into the office. “Sit down,” he fussed at her angrily, grunting softly as Blue kicked a chair before she dropped herself down into another one. “Wait here,” he said with a stern look as he moved into White’s office and looked at Ava sitting in the chair. “Blue just got into a fight with another student.”

Nodding, Ava licked her lips slowly. She glanced back into the open doorway hearing commotion in the main office before she turned back straight in her seat. Until Dean Michael’s came in speaking to her. She looked up at the man and shifted in seat, crossing her ankles in the other direction. “Okay,” she said as she stared at him. “But that’s not why I’m here,” she told him easily. “Are you ready to start this meeting?” she asked him promptly, tilting her head to the side slightly. Ava was almost positive the student Blue fought was Jessie, since the girl had been fuming since earlier that morning, so she wasn’t even the slightest bit upset. The boy got what he deserved.

Principal White looked up looking to his right-hand man essentially and his eyebrows rose. “Au contraire” he replied back to the woman as he stood up. “Did you see what happened?” he asked the Dean before he said, “where is the other student now?”

Looking to Ava, Dean Michael’s was shocked at her passiveness towards the situation. It wasn’t at all like her. Turning to Principal White he said, “no, I got a call from a teacher, apparently Blue fled the scene after being told to come to the office, so I had to go and find her,” he said shaking his head. “Jessie is over at the nurse's office now. She banged him up pretty bad.”

Ava listened to the conversation and she sighed out. “I am not here to talk about Blue,” she said loud enough to break through their conversation. “I am here to discuss the bullying of my other child, Siena, since it’s been weeks, and no one has done anything at all.” Looking between the two men, she added, “I don’t have much time to sit here and go back and forth about Blue right now. She’ll be dealt with at home,” she told them easily. “Now can we focus?”

Principal White looked to Ava and said with as much respect as possible “Mrs. Evans” he breathed as he looked to his colleague. “With all due respect” he told her calmly “this subject” he said using air-quotes “is all hearsay” he told her. “We haven’t seen definitive proof of anything bullying Siena. We have kept a watchful eye and she seems to just be going through a phase, which teens do” he said. “We’ve asked a few students about this event, and even the one in question” he said sitting back down. “No one has seemed to come across this little rumor” he breathed “besides Mr. _ has spoken to me in confidence about the situation. It just seems to us, that you daughter… embarrassed herself within an adult act. Your daughter’s sexual lifestyle should be less of our problem and more… her parents? Don’t you think?” he asked her.

Dean Michael’s was completely taken back by Ava, in all of her years of coming to the school, he had never known her to not care about one of her children acting out and here she was completely dismissing Blue physically hurting another student. “Mrs. Evans, I work closely with the students as you know and I also, haven’t heard anything about Siena being bullied in any type of way,” he said easily.

Ava sat there, gazing at the two men as they spoke and she swallowed her spit, nodding along. She tapped her foot against the tile flooring and waited until they both were finished before she said, “with all due respect Mr. White, that is frankly bullshit.” Rolling her ankle slightly, Ava said, “of course these students aren’t going to come to you and tell you about what is going on, their teenagers and no you wouldn’t have heard anything because none of it is verbal, they’re talking via text messages, DM’s, and whatever else these kids use,” she said with a roll of her eyes at the thought of communication falling this low. “So, this little rumor you say you have heard nothing about is ridiculous,” she said as she leaned against the armrest towards the two men. “Now you say you’ve spoken to Mr. Holmes, who is indeed the one that started all of this foolishness, in case you did not know, but did you ever think to speak to my child?” she asked. “The receiver of all this hate and animosity?” she asked him. “No, no you did not. Furthermore, yes, my daughter’s sexual lifestyle is my problem which is exactly why I’m here because you’re allowing these kids to sit up here and call her a whore and everything else under the sun after Mr. Holmes himself spread nasty lies about said sexual encounter. Now you’re sitting up here trying to tell me something about Blue, which I completely understand, violence is never the answer, but in your policies and guidelines you’re also supposed to have zero tolerance for bullies and hatred, but you’re sitting here allowing it and if you can’t think to dig deeper than simply speaking to lying ass children, instead of really trying to uncover the truth, then we really have a true problem here. Siena isn’t going through some phase as you put it, something as drastic as a happy-go-lucky teenager, literally shutting down should be taking a bit more seriously than ‘oh it’s just phase’ when we have suicide rates of children and teenagers killing themselves due to bullying rising each and every single year.”

Principal White looked to Mercedes as she began to spill her piece on the subject, and he tilted his head at her as she used language that was far beneath them all. He rested back in his chair and he clasped his hands together as he swapped a glance with his Dean of students once more. She wanted him to punish a boy for having sex and announcing to the world just what that sex consisted of and personally he didn’t think he should have. In his mind, Siena could’ve conducted herself as a lady and they wouldn’t be sitting here right now. The man was educated in areas and fields of study of which generally made him feel that the concerned mother needs to spend more time getting down to the root of her daughter’s problem verses making it his priority to do so. After she was finished preaching, he said “my hands are tied Mrs. Evans” gesturing so with his own. “I have done all that I am capable of doing. I can’t blackmail him; I can’t force him to agree that he has done something he may or may not. I can’t search a student’s phone” he shrugged “I don’t have legal ramifications for that, if you were pressing charges against Mr. Holmes, perhaps maybe we could do more to assist you, that’s unless Mr. Holmes beat you to that at this point..” he told her. “Every day, I hear about another young lady or man around this school sleeping with each other and I spend less time wondering who knows and more time trying to understand why’d a parent who shows more interest in a PTA meeting would take out the same time so teach their children some self-respect or even safety” he said looking to Michaels. “However,” he said bowing his head slightly before he looked to her “I do have the power of suspension, and Mrs. Evans as you said. I can’t allow the bullying of another student… so Blue will be going home with you. For more than just a day, sorry” he reasoned.

Licking her lips slowly, Ava arched a perfectly manicured eyebrow at the man. Her head fell to the side as he spoke and she nodded slowly, her tongue rolling over her teeth. She was honestly getting a bit agitated. How was this man even a Principal? He had no understanding of how to run a school. Did he never read the school’s by-laws? Tilting her head to the other side, she continued to nod until he finished, and she said, “now first and foremost, you honestly haven’t done anything,” she said out-right. “You’ve sat on your hands because Jessie’s family is loaded and you don’t want those kind of problems,” she said knowingly, “but see now you have one with me, and if you have one with me, then you have a problem with my husband and that,” she said with a chuckle, “is not what you want,” she said with a shake of her head. “Now I don’t know about you, but I’ve read the by-laws and they clearly state that your school has zero tolerance for bullying so if you don’t want to do anything I can surely call the school district and speak with them on the matter, I’m sure they’d love to know about how you’re not doing your job,” she said easily to the man. “Two, I don’t care about other students or their parent’s, that has absolutely nothing to do with me, I don’t even know why you felt it relevant to speak on and if you call yourself saying my parenting skills are lacking sir you are sadly mistaken,” she said as she shifted in her seat once more. “Now as far as Blue, we can just go ahead and schedule all of her work and assignments to be mailed straight to the house and you can type on that computer over there,” she said pointing, “and set her up for online for the rest of the semester because she will not be returning and you can go ahead and mail us her diploma as well because if I’m not mistaken, Blue is mainly taking unneeded electives this year,” she said with a hum. “So yeah, gon’ head and send that with the rest of her work so we can be done with it,” she said to him.

Principal White looked to Michaels again, he smirked a little. She was right, healthy families kept the school doors open and the hallways filled as well as the books on shelves and lunches in people like her children stomachs. “Do as you see fit Mrs. Evans” he told her “but much like this rumor, your perception of me having done nothing is only hearsay. Words leaving your mouth and no one else’s” he told her. “I didn’t speak to Siena personally, because she didn’t want to speak to anyone… per our guidance counselors’ words” he told her. “So since she doesn’t want to involve herself in her own predicament, and Mr. Holmes outside of her are the only people that know the truth..” he shrugged again at her and said “I can get you that number” easily as he moved in his drawer and grabbed a card before handing it over.

Ava sucked her teeth. This man really wanted her to act a fool in his office, didn't he. However, she knew that she couldn’t do that. It would only prove his racist behind right. So, she shoved it down as she stood up and grabbed her purse with a chuckle as she reached for her phone inside the bag to call her husband. “You don’t even know, what you don’t even know,” she said with a hearty laugh. Her husband would surely set everyone in this school straight. “No need, I have it,” she said as she flicked the card onto his desk before she turned to leave. “You two have a wonderful day,” she said as she exited the room. “Blue let’s go,” she said to the child as she walked out of the office completely, dialing her husband’s number.

#thread: a monthers fight #thread with: ava mercedes #thread

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oumakokichi · 8 years

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I am so glad I stumbled upon your metas! My bitter feelings for this game are changing. The story is actually much more intruging and morally ambiguous than I thought. I am a sucker for plot-driven stories. Now a question: Do you think that most of the negative reception is due to the fact that the fans wanted more of a simple character-driven story?

This is such a nice ask! Thank you, and I’m really glad thatyou’re liking ndrv3 a lot more! There’s so much about the game that gets lostin translation, and it’s easy to get the wrong impression about things fromeither mistranslated information or vague rumors. I wanted to start this blogto try and clear up those things and let people decide for themselves whether theyliked it or not once they had more reliable information, and I’m glad if that’sbeen the case!

As for the negative reception…hmm, that’s a veryinteresting question. A lot of the most negative reception in Japan hit in thefirst week or so after the game’s release—and most of it came from a relativelysmall but verbal bracket of the fanbase. The same people in particular were theones leaving multiple 1-star Amazon reviews, calling the game “Kodaka’s attemptto blow up the franchise,” etc.

But the reception from the Japanese fanbase overall has beenoverwhelmingly positive in the monthsthat have followed! Comparing sales of ndrv3 two weeks after its release tosales of dr1 and sdr2 two weeks after their respective releases showed thatndrv3 outsold both by a huge margin.In a recent poll, ndrv3 was also listed as most Japanese fans’ favorite entryin the franchise, again by a pretty notable margin.

This means that most of the remaining negative reception isactually coming from western fans, rather than the Japanese fanbase. Mostpeople I’ve seen disliking the game most strongly are western fans who stillhaven’t actually played the game for themselves but have only heard summariesor partial (and unreliable) translations—and while it’s understandable to basean opinion based on hearsay, I think it’s rather unfortunate that there’s stillthis kind of lingering sentiment of “ndrv3 is so bad and Kodaka was just tryingto flip the fanbase off with it” when it’s really clear while playing the gamethat that’s not the case.

I feel like for many people, it’s hard to understandspecifically what the ending and epilogue of the game were going for withouthaving actually read or played the game for themselves. All the themes aboutfiction being meaningful and impacting the reality around it even if it is “alie” of sorts, the grey morality of the situation, and the open-endedinterpretation of the catbox ending sort of become jumbled and much harder tounderstand without actual translation and analyses being provided.

And I think to some degree, the desire for a story much moresimilar to what was provided in the past is part of the issue too! The factthat ndrv3 specifically deals with and subverts expectations regarding the Hope’sPeak arc of the franchise is proof of that, in my opinion. Where dr1 and sdr2always dealt with the “hope vs. despair” conflict in a very “good vs. devil,”showdown between beloved characters and memorable antagonist sort of way, ndrv3definitely provides commentary on how this desire and this sort of ingrainedexpectation that this is the way DR always has been and always will be isitself part of the problem in the killing game show. It’s much less aboutproviding “the characters the fans want to stick around” and much more aboutviewing things from the characters’ own perspectives, realizing theimplications of what this kind of trauma and horror does to people, andthinking critically about “what makes Danganronpa what it is.”

I myself love and enjoy both dr1 and sdr2 very much, andKodaka does too—his staff and many fans who have actually interacted with himhave stated in multiple interviews how whenever he talks about his owncharacters, “you can really tell how much he loves them,” and “it’s like he’stalking about real people.” There’s nothing wrong with being attached to theHope’s Peak arc and its characters and story because it’s something pretty mucheveryone who’s gotten into DR has gotten attached to, including Kodaka himself.It’s expected that you would still bewith the franchise this far because of how invested you’ve been thanks toprevious installments.

But Kodaka himself has talked about “wanting to constantlybuild on and surpass” himself with each new game that he makes. You can’tconstantly challenge yourself and write something completely beyond people’sexpectations if you’re following the same kind of routine and formula everytime. And I think ndrv3 was definitely Kodaka’s way of taking the franchiseinto much more meta, much more morally grey territory which leaves peoplefeeling interested, but also conflicted.

Those polarized opinions are themselves what he was afterwith ndrv3, and I think he really succeeded, because the story isn’t supposedto make you feel very hopeful or make you feel despair: it’s supposed to makeyou think. By calling into questionhow much of what the characters and even the story itself is telling you isreally true, and by making the players want to immediately replay the game andquestion how much of every single thing was “a lie” or “the truth,” ndrv3 issupposed to leave you trying to form your own theories about what was reallygoing on the whole time, and that kind of thing is so much fun in a mysteryseries.

That’s how I’ve come to see it, of course. It’s quitepossible others won’t agree, but I hope that by playing the game for themselveswhen the English localization hits in September, a lot more people might warmup to it! There’s so many fun, interesting things about ndrv3, and I really, reallylove the characters too. It’s not an attack on previous DR games in my opinion,just a way of taking the series into all-new territory.

#ask #opinions #ndrv3 spoilers //#okay to reblog #anonymous

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