#this mission single handedly restored

[4giorno]

hoyo....... i will destroy you jdkdddkfk (kinda spoilers in the tags)

anyway im gonna pretend i didnt see all that and just admire his divine beauty

[gay-dorito-dust]

I have fallen deep down the mortal kombat rabbit hole and I have no intention of climbing out. Could you possibly write a smoke x reader where she can sense that Bi-Han will betray them before the mission the brothers go on and she and smoke get in a big fight about it. When they reunite she isn't even angry about the fight at seeing how heartbroken he is? Just lots of fluff at the end. You're amazing!

Needless to say you never trust Bi-Han, you couldn’t explain why but you just couldn’t bring yourself to trust the guy. The ice cold man always looked as though he was on the verge of betraying his own kin if it meant ascending himself and the Lin Kuei to a higher position of power. Bi-Han was always a condescending fucker in your eyes, who took great pleasure in reminding Tomas that his blood wasn’t ever Lin Kuei on a consistent basis; A statement of which you found as stupid as it was harmful.

Ounce upon a time Tomas looked up to Bi-Han but upon realising that the cryomancer wanted nothing to do with him, never less ever return the gesture, Tomas would then look for what he wanted from Bi-Han in Kuai Liang instead. Now Kuai Liang on the other hand was nothing like his brother, he was warm in not only abilities but in personality also. The best way you could go about describing Kuai Liang was that he was akin to that of a cozy fireplace, one where you could comfortably cuddled up with a loved one when cold and in need of respite.

You were happy that Tomas had finally came to his senses and -in your opinion- began looking up to the better brother, seeing as how Kuai Liang didn’t hesitate in treating Tomas as though he was his own flesh and blood, even going so far as to openly remind him that despite not actually being blood related; he was still his brother through and through. You could easily tell that was what Tomas had always wanted to hear come from Bi-Han’s mouth just from the way his eyes glossed over, as though he were on the verge of crying and the way he tried to fight back a wide smile, for Kuai Liang had single-handedly put to rest every insecurity that had burdened him since being taken into the Lin Kuei.

And you couldn’t be happier for him and be eternally grateful for Kuai Liang for doing what Bi-Han actively chose not to out of pride and self righteousness.

So when Tomas had informed you that him and his brothers were setting off to stop Shang Tsung, you felt a sense of unease overcome you, an itch you couldn’t scratch. They may leave as brothers but you had a gut feeling that only two would come back, broken by inevitable betrayal. Naturally you wanted to warn both Tomas and Kuai Liang about your assumption without Bi-Han nearby to eavesdrop, firmly believing the cryomancer to have all the plausible motivators for deception; After all he thinks that the Lin Kuei has become a ghost of it’s former self, a subservient laughing stock and wanted nothing more then to restore it’s rightful purpose, even if that meant betraying all he had been raised to uphold.

Without sparing a single second, you rushed to Tomas as to warn him, only for him to believe that you were instead spreading lies.

‘You think Bi-Han is going to betray myself and Kuai Liang?!’ Tomas asked in disbelief. ‘I can’t exactly put me trust in your assumptions when he has never shown signs of ever betraying us, betraying tradition.’ Apparently Tomas’ loyalty to his brothers knew no bounds, even if one of them in particular had treated him like shit throughout his entire life. It truly baffled you as to why he bothered defending a man who’d feed him to the wolves at any given moment. ‘Then signs all point towards him throwing away the values, upon which the Lin Kuei were founded upon by your father.’ You deliberately pointed out to him.

‘So of course i would firmly put trust into my own assumptions because they’ve never once proven me wrong, Tomas. Bi-Han can and will betray you and Kuai Liang.’ You finished but upon seeing his unchanging stance, you knew that your rebuttal was getting nowhere through to Tomas. It hurt not having him believe you, not even a little bit, but you had to keep trying and make him see reason, so you continued. ‘Bi-Han is growing ambitious and is more than willing to forsake tradition for a shot at gaining power, just so that the Lin Kuei may never be under anyone’s foot ever again. Don’t you see Tomas?’ You stepped towards him, watching his every expression morph into one of anger, hurt and denial. He knew you were right but was just too scared to admit that such a thing could be possible.

‘Under Bi-Han’s rule the Lin Kuei will be seen as a threat. He’ll become a tyrant of his own making.’ You were just about to place your hands upon his arms when Tomas took a step back, retching himself from your grasp, causing the hurt to strike itself even further into your heart.

‘You know nothing about my brother.’ Tomas snapped, something he very rarely did. ‘So don’t go pretending that you know him better then I do, like you know his character and then go and boldly accuse him of high treason just because you had a hunch. I’d much rather prefer you admit that you disliked Bi-Han and left it at that.’ Tomas then looked at you with utter disgust before showing you his back. ‘But I guess that too much of a tall ask. I’m going on that mission, and when I get back I don’t want you waiting for me, I want you gone.’ He said before then making his exit out the room, leaving you no opportunity to speak as you then collapsed onto the floor, placing your hand where your heart lied within you; desperate to stop it from shattering as you silently wept.

‘I’m sorry Tomas but I am not leaving until til I know you’re okay.’ You whispered before leaving the room yourself and headed off to bed to sleep the away the disaster that had been today…

‘You we’re right. Bi-Han betrayed us. Kuai Liang confined in me that he even admitted to willingly letting our father die.’ Tomas was happy that you didn’t actually leave, he knew you wouldn’t but some part of him had thought that you would’ve tempted the idea, given how horrid he had treated you. He wouldn’t even blame you if he had came back to a cold and empty home, he truly didn’t deserve you, not even a little bit. If he could go back and smack some sense into himself and tell him to put more faith in you and your words he would, but he guessed that was the whole point to life. ‘I’m sorry.’ Tomas said as he looked towards you with his sad puppy eyes. ‘I should’ve listened to you but instead i dismissed you and said some things that you should never say to a loved one. There’s no excuse for how I acted but I can only hope that in due time you’ll come to forgive me.’

Whilst furious as you were that he didn’t listen, you couldn’t bring yourself to express your disappointment, you did not want to kick him when he’s already down. ‘It’s nice of you to acknowledge when you’re wrong, but i must admit that I too am sorry for the way I acted during our fight.’ Tomas furrowed his brows as he placed one of his hands onto yours, squeezing it. ‘What do you mean? Everything you’ve said about Bi-Han was proven true. He was an ambitious tyrant who was biding his time to show his true colours.’ He then sighed, bowing his head before muttering under his breath. ‘He even gave Kuai Liang a scar as a reminder of his deceit.’ The way the words left his mouth, so full of venom and unbridled anger was enough to tell you that Tomas felt partially responsible for Bi-Han’s betrayal.

Even though he wasn’t here to torment him, Bi-Han still found a way to get inside Tomas’ head and you fucking hated it. However you managed to kept yourself composed for this wasn’t about you, but instead about Tomas and comforting him. ‘You didn’t know any better and you were defending your brother like any good sibling should.’ You told him, grasping onto his hand tightly. ‘Admittedly I had crossed the line, forgetting how closely you held Kuai Liang and Bi-Han to your chest. They’re your family and I went ahead and insulted that, all because I had grown worried for you and Kuai Liang. So much so that I had forgotten that Bi-Han is your brother too.’

‘Was.’

You looked at Tomas, who was staring straight forwards now. ‘Bi-Han was my brother but not anymore.’

‘You don’t mean that Tomas.’ You uttered softly, reaching a free hand out to grasp the side of his face and gently guided his head so that he was looking at you. ‘I do’ he told you, tired eyes looking deep into your own. ‘For all I’m aware Bi-Han is dead to me. I don’t understand why he would do such a thing, why he would betray tradition, betray us, his own brothers!’ At this point Tomas had begun sobbing and without missing a beat, you held him tightly into your chest as his strong arms held you in place, holding on ever tighter despite your hushed whispers of never leaving him. You continued to stroke his hair as his voice- while muffled- kept saying things along the lines of, ‘Why?’ Or ‘Why did you do it Bi-Han?’ Yet the longer this continued for the more you heard things along the lines of, ‘Was it something I did?’ But the one that broke your heart the most was; ‘Was I not a good enough brother for you?’

You remained silent through it all, only wanting for Tomas to release everything that had had been wanting to say to Bi-Han for a very long time. You even pressed a couple of kisses to his hair as to remind him that you were with him no matter how rough the road ahead looked. You didn’t care whether you had fights in the future because that was a natural part of life, you’re not always going to get along or stay in the honeymoon period forever; you’re both humans who had flaws, how had tempers, who had moments of weakness and vulnerability but that’s the beauty of being human. You may wish to take away all of Tomas’ pain but you also come to realise that he must experience pain to overcome it.

Which he would, you thought to yourself as you continued to soothingly rub his broad back, kiss his face and head whilst whispering words of comfort into his ear as his arms continued to tighten their hold on your waist, afraid that you might disappear on him. ‘I’m not going anywhere Tomas, not now, not ever.’ You reminded him as he pulled his head away from your chest, red eyed and with tear streaked cheeks.

‘You mean that?’ He croaked, desperate to hear you say that you’ll never leave him, he needed you in his time of need, he quite literally needed you to properly function at this point.

‘Yes.’ You replied without an ounce of hesitation before pressing your head up against his, feeling his uneven breaths brush against your face. ‘You’re safe with me Tomas. I promise, we’ll get our revenge on Bi-Han for all that he has done to you and Kuai Liang, his deeds won’t go unpunished.’

‘I love you.’ Tomas said sweetly, making you smile for the first time that night.

‘I love you too Tomas.’ You replied in kind, watching as his face visibly relaxed from your words, his eyes fluttered shut as a small smile graced his lips. For a man who had been crying just moments earlier, he sure as hell looked ethereal in his brief happiness. Now if only you could make that happiness last for a lifetime.

[kneelingshadowsalome]

is pt. 4 the last part of ‘just friends’?

impeccable series, btw. you single-handedly restored my will to live.

Restored your will to live? 🥹

Ok but (thank you 💕😭) yes, Just Friends is done, I wanted to do a fic with some solid character and story arcs so there will be no additional chapters to that, no. I have made a few drabbles set in the JF "universe": one is a short, angsty piece that can be found on my König masterlist post (K returns from a mission).

I also have a few wips, one is based on a request (König's thoughts and POV when he first sees reader/Engel), the other is set in an AU where reader has escaped König and tries to start a new life without him. König goes full yandere, finds reader in no time and reminds her who she belongs to 🙄

Will hopefully share both of these in the near future! 🩷

[easternmind]

L.O.L is initialism for Lack of Love, a 2000 Dreamcast game by Love-de-Lic. But it might as well stand for Labour of Love, as Sakamoto single-handedly composed, arranged, produced, performed and mixed this soundtrack in return for but a nominal fee. Additionally, he used mostly his own instruments, including a programmable music box (4. Transformation) and an antique pump organ he had restored (5. Mission). By using unexpected sounds and textures he aspired to produce music that would not be immediately recognized as game sound. 

On the insert back notes, he expresses his gratitude for his friend and game designer Kenichi Nishi. The concept behind Lack of Love originated from their email exchanges on topics as broad as evolutionary biology, earth sciences or cybernetics. The history of video game music is replete with masterpieces, the talent of its past and present composers increasingly divulged, recognized and celebrated. 

And yet there is a distinctive quality to Sakamoto's work that begs to be listened to. Attentively.

This soundtrack can be found on @Spotify or @Apple Music.

[stulovecorners]

Mission Viejo Persian Rug Cle

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=H1xtUxIVtXI

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[123freemoviesfun]

The Expendables 4 (2023)

"The Expendables 4" continues the legendary story of the team of unstoppable mercenary fighters led by Barney Ross. However, this time the team faces serious losses: Barney Ross is out of action and Lee Christmas is suspended from future operations. Internal strife and discontent within the team make them powerless in the face of a new threat. To deal with it, the team needs to recruit new fighters and send them to repair the damage caused by the failed mission. However, the newcomers too face the cruelty of fate and find themselves captured. Now Lee Christmas, the only one left standing, must single-handedly sneak into the enemy's lair, free his teammates and prevent a global catastrophe. "The Expendables 4" is a movie about great male friendship, fearlessness and dedication to justice. Lee Chrismas takes on the awesome responsibility of saving the world and restoring the reputation of the Unstoppable, and his journey is filled with danger, battles and incredible adventures. Read the full article

[justselect]

Hot shots web series hot scene

#Hot shots web series hot scene crack

"Weekend Box Office : The Summer Doldrums Continue". But it may yet prove to be the third-best summer on record". "In the Wake of 'Terminator 2,' a Slow Season : Box office: With three weeks to go in the summer, it appears there will be no records set. "Weekend Box Office : 'Terminator 2' Surrenders Top Spot". "Weekend Box Office : List-Toppers Are Listless". The film was chosen for the 1991 Royal Film Performance. Audiences polled by CinemaScore gave the film an average grade of "B" on an A+ to F scale.

#Hot shots web series hot scene crack

The site's consensus reads, " Hot Shots! hits most of its parodic targets with aplomb, excelling as a daffy good time thanks to inspired gags and Charlie Sheen's crack comedic timing". The film holds an 85% approval rating at Rotten Tomatoes based on 26 reviews. Hot Shots was both a critical and commercial success, grossing over $180 million worldwide. The film debuted at number one in the United States. Ryan Stiles as Dominic "Mailman" Farnham.William O'Leary as LT Pete "Dead Meat" Thompson.Jon Cryer as LT Jim "Wash Out" Pfaffenbach.Lloyd Bridges as RADM Thomas "Tug" Benson.Charlie Sheen as LT Sean "Topper" Harley.The end credits show Dead Meat and Mailman in spirit with Dead Meat saluting, Mailman giving a thumbs up and Elvis Presley (who was mentioned earlier in the film). Back in port, Gregory hails Topper as a great pilot and gives his blessing to Ramada to be with Topper. Back aboard ship, Wilson's plan is revealed, and his standing with the military is lost. With his self-confidence restored, Topper single-handedly beats the Iraqi fighters and bombs the nuclear plant, dropping a bomb directly on Saddam Hussein. All the planes' weapons fail, and Block, realizing what has happened, tells Topper that he saw what really happened with Buzz and Mailman: That Buzz tried to do everything possible to save Mailman, but ended up falling out of the plane, failing in his attempts. Block just starts to call out for the mission to be aborted when Iraqi fighters attack the squadron. In the midst of the mission, Block mentions Buzz Harley to Topper, who has a panic attack and is unable to lead. Wilson, who is also on board, instructs a crew member to sabotage the planes, putting the pilots' lives at risk. Essess, Benson reveals the mission to be an attack of an Iraqi nuclear plant and Block assigns Topper to lead the mission, much to Gregory's protest. Topper develops a strong emotional attachment to Ramada, but she is haunted by her past with Gregory. Block believes this is enough to convince the Navy to buy new fighters, but Wilson calls it a "minor incident", saying the planes need to fail in combat. During one of the last training missions, an accident between Pete "Dead Meat" Thompson and Jim "Wash-Out" Pfaffenbach leaves Dead Meat killed and Wash Out demoted to radar operator. Block would then report that it was the Navy's planes that were the real reason for the mission failure and that they need to be replaced with Wilson's planes. Block reveals that he brought back Topper for the reason of making Sleepy Weasel fail. Wilson, who has recently built a new "Super Fighter" that will make the American pilots superior. Meanwhile, Topper gets into a feud with another fighter pilot, Kent Gregory, Mailman's son and a former boyfriend of Ramada, who blames Buzz Harley for his father's death and believes Topper is dangerous.īlock starts privately meeting with an airplane tycoon, Mr. His therapist, Ramada, tries to stop Topper from flying, but she relents, and also starts to fall in love with him. Harley experiences intense psychological problems, especially when his father is mentioned. Navy, to help on a new top secret mission: Operation Sleepy Weasel, commanded by the senile and accident-prone Admiral Benson. Commander Block asks him to return to active duty as a pilot in the U.S. Topper Harley wakes up from a nightmare he is having about the event when Lt. Although Mailman survives, he is mistaken for a deer owing to the branches stuck to his helmet and is shot by a hunter. A pilot named Leland "Buzz" Harley loses control of his plane and ejects, leaving his co-pilot Dominic "Mailman" Farnham to crash. The film begins at Flemner Air Base 20 years in the past.

[celestiel]

konoha was supposed to be different. a place of rebirth and revival, the seeds that would let her grow into something, someone who was better than this              destruction. how was she ever going to be a great shinobi like kakashi-sensei if she couldn't even complete a simple c-rank mission? (  was it paranoia, or was everyone casting sharp eyes at her?  ) on and on she boasted about how she was going to single-handedly protect the village with everything she had, and yet . . . the villagers of namigakure refuse to meet her sorrowful gaze. part of her wants to believe it's because they're focused on restoration efforts. another part of her spits that they wouldn't need to restore their village if it weren't for her. if only she had known that their target was highly skilled in fire jutsus            then she could've anticipated that he would counter her tornado high jutsu with a fire-based one. then her attempt to help wouldn't have turned into a fiery inferno that wiped out half of an already vulnerable village. if only she had listened to kakashi when he told her to wait. " kakashi-sensei . . . " her voice is uncharacteristically small, lost in the sounds of the aftermath of her mistake. " i'm not gonna get sent away, am i? i really just wanted to help, i swear. i'll help rebuild everything i wrecked. i won't eat or sleep or go back to the village until it's done, just please           " hands clench into fists and her head tilts down hiding the tremble of her chin and the watering of her eyes. " please don't let them send me away because of this. "

                                                                                          continued    ,    @hatakaka​

[synersofttechnologies]

Why SMEs Need to Make Cybersecurity Their Top Priority

There is no time more bullish than the present time for Indian SMEs. They are on the mark and ready to embrace GET SET GO moment. Yes, I have all reasons to believe that MSMEs are ready to conquer the global markets. They have weathered the dynamic external forces and demonstrated perseverance. Let us have a logical scan of how SMEs are all set to change their trajectory and enter another orbit.

 Stage one thrust is from the Government of India to our own SMEs by all reasonable means. Consistent policies supporting SMEs like skills development, finance availability, debtors protection, infrastructure development, make in India, and Atmanirbhar India initiatives have equipped these fantastic entrepreneurs with the confidence to advance towards any global opportunity.

 Trust me; the net practice was already on since last decade. Significant Foreign Direct Investment in the last decade has brought global industries to India. These MNCs have boosted MSMEs’ prospects through their vendor development programs. It has given a blanket exposure to SMEs about global markets, quality management, technology adoption, and of course, the connections. It has made SMEs confident and ambitious to expand to new markets.

 The Covid crisis has exposed the influence of China on global trade and supply chains. It has sensitized the rest of the world to establish a balance. Russian aggression in Ukraine has major world markets looking for a friendly trade partner. Somehow, the world finds its comfort zone in dealing with democracy compared to pseudo-democracy. India, a democracy with all its demographic features, tops the list of the countries to look up to to restore trade and supply chain balance, as seen by the affluent western world. It is a stage two thrust for our SMEs on their mission to change the orbit.

 What is changing in the new orbit? SMEs are tasting the fierceness of the global competition. Competition standards have suddenly changed, and technical sophistication and compliance are the new normal. SMEs who shy away from digitization, automation, IoT, and smart manufacturing won’t be spared. It has undoubtedly led to these things, which are the adoption of information technology, a transformation of physical assets into digital assets, and zero tolerance toward information security lapses. Imagine all designs, drawings, cost sheets, customer data, formulae, IPR, business data, documents, communications, and transactions have gone digital and are exchanged electronically. There is a catch here. Digital intruders and hackers of the world have reasons to party.

 In the last decade until five years ago, MSMEs were considered lazy on IT adoption. For them, accounting software was IT, and IT was accounting software. Suddenly, they are compelled to adopt the latest form of IT, go through rapid digitization, and comply with the stringent global standards of information security. They are like soft targets for cybercriminals. Unfortunately, these SMEs do not have access to IT Talent who can adequately protect them because good IT Talent does not aspire to work for SMEs. We frequently see them losing their business continuity due to ransomware attacks. They are likely to fall prey to cybercriminals who defraud them by email identity theft, phishing, and data breach. They tend to fall short of customers’ expectations about information security compliance. They end up assuming significant contractual liabilities without adequate provisions to avert the defaults.

 Indian SMEs must claim the global opportunities served to India for all right reasons. They cannot afford to fail. To maintain business continuity, avoid competitive exploitation, and comply with the highest standards of information security, they have to reshuffle their priorities and make Cybersecurity their top priority. It is not the SMEs who can do it single-handedly. The government, IT Industry, and SMEs will have to make this happen. The government’s scheme to entitle SMEs with a subsidy on ISO Certification can be widened to cover subsidies on Cybersecurity measures. IT Industry can invest in developing SME-specific products that are simple and affordable. SMEs can change their perspective toward IT by taking it as an investment and not an expense. With a crucial role played by the IT Industry, the determination of SMEs and facilitation by the government will do wonders. The first step is to change SMEs’ mindset to make Cybersecurity their top priority.

 Vishal Shah

Co-Founder, Synersoft Technologies

 Tags:

Data Loss Prevention Solutions

Data Security Solutions India

Gmail Recovery Software Solution India

[starwarsloverpizza]

ok ok ok ok...

i just ... wow... 😳😳

you dropped this, queen: 👑👑👑

i hope you know, and if you don't i'm making it my mission to bring it to your attention, that you're not only a beautiful human being, but a very talented author as well

you're beautiful and smart and ilysm

your fic "again" has single handedly restored my faith in humanity, cured my depression, vanished my acne, watered my crops, fed my family, etcetera 🥰✨💖

i hope you're having a great week, dear!! xD ✨

Oh my, thank you so much!!!! ILY ILY ILY UWU <3333

I am so happy I was able to bring you happiness through my writing! It's what I strive to do, your joy is mine!

I legit cried when I read this, happy tears ofc.

Again, thank you thank you thank you!!!

Have a nice day/morning/noon/night dear!

<3

[saber-of-dreams]

The Song - A Brief Analysis

The song.

Oh the beautiful song that has singled-handedly inspired me to take up Norwegian.  Not joking.  Already over 200 XP on Duolingo.  

I keep going back to it, because, let’s be honest, it’s a beautiful song and Tom Hiddleston clearly has a nice voice.  But I’m more interested in why.  What narrative purpose does that song serve?  Why include it?  

In terms of plot it’s a useful way for Sylvie to figure out that someone has been eyeing Loki, but it’s not necessary.  You could achieve the same ends with a lot less extra work by just having him act drunk and telling a story - and let’s be honest, he has pretty compelling material.  And Loki isn’t one to shy away from bragging.  So why a song?

The best reason that comes to my mind is a subtle bit of foreshadowing.  A man on an adventure and the maiden who loves him, waiting for him to come home.  Sort of reminiscent of the Odyssey.  And it’s a story.  Our characters are on journeys.  Literal and figurative ones.

Now, I may be new to the Norwegian language, but I’m decently familiar with Norse mythology, and there are two lines in this story that stand out to me, because they relate to it in an off-hand way. 

So this comes later in the song, but the line “I eplehagen står møyen der venter.”  In the apple orchard, the maiden is waiting.

The second is “I stormsvarte fjell, jeg vandrer alene/Over isbreen tar jeg me frem.” In storm-black mountains, I wander alone.  Over glaciers, I make my way.

(*sorry if the Norwegian is incorrect - did it pretty roughly, I’d appreciate the correct translation if I’m wrong!).

So.  We have a man on a journey and the maiden waiting for him to come home.  Lovers separated.  And the many times repeated phrases “when she sings, she sings ‘come home.’” 

Now here’s the thing.  You can interpret this two ways.  

Literally - Loki is going to have to find his way back to Sylvie.  Like, you know, across the multiverse and all that (Hello, Odysseus too?)

Figuratively - Sylvie is going to have to find her way back to Loki (i.e. she’s going to have to come to terms with her choices and accept who she is and grow as Loki did this season, to reunite with him).

Nice, right?  

I’m honestly probably reading too much into it, but it makes sense from a narrative perspective.

But wait - there’s more!

Now.  If you’re unfamiliar with Norse mythology, basically all of the gods live in Asgard, as you know.  And they are all kept “gods” i.e. immortal/powerful, by eating the apples from the goddess Idunn. And one day, Loki is forced to lure Idunn out of Asgard, where she is captured by a giant.  And the gods lose their immortality.  But, knowing that Loki probably had a hand to play in it, the other gods force him to go on a mission to get her back.  Alone.  

This one’s probably a reach, but I like the idea that this song plays homage to the idea of the maiden of the apple orchard - the goddess of immortality, and Loki who had to rectify a mistake to save everyone and restore long life, by going on a journey by himself to rescue the maiden of the apple orchard.  (To be clear - Loki and Idunn are not a thing.  They’re both married to others.)

Like I said, that one’s probably a stretch, but I like the idea for my own amusement.

I’ll post the other thoughts rolling around in my head about this scene tomorrow.

In the meantime, what do you think?

[corvusravenette]

FanFiction: Qi Ye

I’m still hung up on Qi Ye “Lord Seventh”, and this is a sort of add on to the battle scenes in the Final Chapter and what happens in the three months of Beiyuan’s recuperation afterwards from Wu Xi’s point of view because I wanted to write about Wu Xi’s angst, as well as how much he suffered from Beiyuan’s betrayal. There’s so little fiction on these two men, that I just want to throw it in there for fun. Enjoy! 

Title: I Thought of You and Yet You Came Based on Original Work: Qi Ye Author: Priest Genre: BL Warning: Gore and Violence Rate: Teen / Young adults Pairing: M/M (Wu Xi + Beiyuan) Chapter: 1 of 5  +-+-+-+-+-+-           The cavalry rode another seven or eight more days. Wu Xi had lost count of the hours, only silently bearing it in his heart, refusing to admit to the nightmarish fear that besieged him every night. His outward demeanor was as frosty as ever, a gaze often darkened with unfathomable secrets - causing the men who follow his relentless gallops to the Capital City break out in cold sweat whenever those pitch black eyes landed on them. They saw him as a strange deity, a restrained aura about him brewing underneath the surface, as though if provoked, would unleash the devil’s wrath. These battle-worn men continued to watch him secretly in awe, inspired by the image he portrayed - broad shouldered, sitting poised atop his steed, his black cloak flapping in the wind, his raven colored hair adorned with the silver crescent moon hairpiece, whipping freely behind him - stoking the fire inside the hearts of these men. 

          All these awed reverent thoughts of him were unknown to Wu Xi, nor did he care what others though of him. The Great Shaman fixed his gaze forward, urging the black stallion underneath him faster - the desperation and trepidation in his heart growing as the sun disappeared behind dark clouds. Nuahar had told him the night before, judging by the increased heat and humidity in the air, a late autumn thunderstorm was imminent. The Great Shaman issued his orders that they would continue to ride through the night, they were less than a thousand li away from the capital.           His decree was met with boisterous cheer - his Nanjiang men, and those of the Great Qing cavalry could feel the spike in adrenaline as the thought of war became all too real. They were close, so very close to the city, as they continued to ride relentlessly on through the stormy night and into the scant hours of the morning. Thunder and lightning accompanied their mad rush. An unspoken prayer in every heart were sent up into the sky, praying to whichever God they believed in - please let us not be too late.            Beiyuan... wait for me.           The name was whispered in his heart as a flash of lightning arced through the early morning sky. Rain continued to fall unrelentingly from the heavens, soaking the clothes and armors they were wearing to the skin. The cavalry persistently pushed their warhorses onward as though they could not feel this deep bone penetrating chill, their hearts set on fire as echoes of clashing swords and battle cries became increasingly audible in the bleak horizon.           Wu Xi’s heart was about to burst in his chest as he saw the flat land facing the imposing Martial Order Gate coming up in front of him. The very gates where he single-handedly slaughtered twenty-four assassins from the renegade Black Shamans who were under the orders of Helian Qi, the second prince. The very gates where he had waited for Beiyuan every day to come back from his month’s long mission to the North. The very gates that he and Beiyuan had left not too long ago to seek that quiet woodland pleasure away from the hustle and bustle of the city.           The very gates that Beiyuan had sent him away from so the former could stay and get himself killed in a war that was not his responsibility, wanting to keep him safe like a child needing to be coddled and protected. Wu Xi’s anger flared at this final thought, his hands gripping the reins of warhorse, the veins on the back of his hands bulging, the emotions he had been holding in leaking out of the tight lidded cauldron that was his heart. He would prove that he was no longer a child. He would find Beiyuan, if alive and kicking - dragged the impudent man back to Nanjiang with him, locked him marriage and if... if dead, his corpse would be entombed and buried in the soils of his homeland. Even in death I would not let go of you, Wu Xi vowed darkly to himself, steeling his resolve.            On his heels were the Nanjiang-Great Qing border army, and his personal Nanjiang troops numbering in the tens of thousands. The troops had travelled long and hard, resting little, pushing forward with all their might. The Great Shaman ordered this army to advance, a deep roar bellowing from deep within his soul, his voice carried by the wind into the ears of his men as he raised his long saber up high towards Martial Order Gates, “Kill the Vakurahs! Kill them ALL!”            His roar was echoed like a tidal wave from the frontlines to the last of the soldiers, igniting the inferno deep in the hearts of his men and the Great Qing defenders. The deafening sound almost like thunder striking multiple times against the overcast skies. He swung his saber in a wide arc as he entered the foray of clashing men caught off guard by the sudden arrival of reinforcements and sliced off the first head closest to him clean off his neck.           His warhorse soared over the quickly fallen bodies in his deep-seated rage as they came up behind the Vakurah barbarian’s cavalry, effectively throwing the latter’s battle formation into disarray. All he could think of was the not too far distance in front of him. Heads flew wherever he was, him alone had trampled many in his path, his blade shining crimson bright despite the rain while blood continued to curved in multiple arcs into the air.           The very image of this black clothed demon - rich ebony hair, jade-like skin that looked as though it hadn’t seen enough sunlight, deep-seated eyes under striking thick dark eyebrows, a malignant grimace across his red lips and the deep crimson blood streaks that marred his porcelain skin as he slaughtered man after man relentlessly - struck terror into the hearts of both the already exhausted Vakurah warriors and the battle-weary Great Qing defenders. It was far less than half an incense stick time afterwards that the Great Qing army realized this gleaming black Asura was on their side, the roar of their comrades accompanying him as he led the way forth. The fear they felt quickly turned into paramount elation - vigor injecred deeply into their hearts as belief in the war’s glory was restored.           “Reinforcements! Reinforcements are here! Reinforcements are here!” the echoes that carried the renewed faiths for the tired Great QIng army reached the ears of Heaven’s Pane’s messengers as they raced towards Helian Yi to inform him of the Great Shaman’s astonishing arrival when hope was all but futile.           Where are you, Beiyuan?!           The small voice in his heart sobbed desperately. He broke through the line of defense, the Great Qing warriors protecting the Emperor getting out of his way quickly, to come up to Emperor’s side, pulling the reins of his warhorse sharply. The stallion neighed loudly, its front hooves lifting in the air before crashing back down, its rider expertly pulling it away from a head long crash into the Emperor’s royal steed.            The stallion turned in a small arc, as Wu Xi came to a near halt, his dark eyes piercing, his demands needed no words spoken as he stared down the Rongjia Emperor. The newly crowed Son of Heaven, Helian Yi, was dumbstruck, a complicated look flashing across his face along with a final resignation of sorts. He no longer recognized this dark man in front of him.           “Upcurrent of Full Moon!” As though the king suddenly had a profound realization, he shouted the location without waiting for Wu Xi to ask.           Nodding his acknowledgment, Wu Xi whipped the reins of his ride the opposite direction, his heart in his throat, his eyes stung from the onslaught of wind and rain as he urged his stallion faster. Beiyuan... His mind was in a tumult, panic clenching his heart in a vice-like iron grip. The bloody image of his most beloved resurfacing in an open-eyed nightmare. The hammering of his heart was so loud in his ears as he made his way towards the hidden path he had shown Beiyuan just mere weeks ago.           Towards that tiny valley where he had snuck in a kiss and was allowed to hold his most precious beloved in his arms, the memories resurfacing of them lying down together on the comfortable velvet ground where he had watch Beiyuan’s sleeping form, his beautiful face free of worries amidst the early autumn breeze. Against the chaos around him, he entered the outskirts of the surrounding forest, the clanging of swords and spears, and the shouting of men slowly faded away, leaving a loud silence to ring in his ears. Urging his horse upwards, uphill, along the riverside, he broke through the last line of vegetation only to have his heart in his mouth, his eyes wide open, his body reacting faster than his mind could catch up.

          NO!!!           Urgently pushing the last vestiges of his stallion’s strength, he bent his body low, gritting his teeth as he reached out his arm - stretching just a little bit more as he hooked his target up around the waist - unconsciously registering the dead weight of the person before pulling him up onto his seat. With his other free hand, he blindly swung in a large arc towards the warhorse about to collide into him, successfully slicing the other horse’s throat clean through and watched it topple a few steps ahead.           He held the man in his arm tightly, as tight as he could, not daring to look down, not daring to see the nightmare that had haunted his every sleeping and waking moment to become real. He could feel something cold touched his chin and despite his apprehension, despite slicing through the remaining Vakurah soldiers who had scampered out of their hiding to ambush him, his eyes forced themselves down to look at the pallid vision of his most beloved. “It’s you....” he whispered with a small satisfied smile on his face, “you came...” he murmured listlessly before the lights in his eyes faded out and his head lolled unto his shoulder lifelessly, unmoving, blood dripping from the corners of his mouth.  “Beiyuan...” Wu Xi whimpered, his voice breaking into pieces as he cried his name again, “BEIYUAN!!!” *** Click Here: CHAPTER 2

[melonsmessymusings]

Preventing ‘Dark Willow’

This essay is based off an argument with my brother a long time ago. The question is if Giles staying in Sunnydale in S6 would have prevented Darth Rosenberg. There are many thoughts on this, but I’ve probably put my foot in my mouth as per usual and made a mess. 

No. Giles staying in S6 would not have prevented Willow from being a magic junkie. 

Throughout the show, magic is used as a metaphor for drugs and sex, albeit ham-handedly. In this case, it’s about drugs. With this in mind, let’s focus firstly on Willow. From as early as S1, Willow expressed an interest in learning magic. Her relationship with Jenny Calendar and her Technopagan badassery led to her forming what seemed at first to be a harmless interest in magic and Paganism. Towards the end of S2 in I Only Have Eyes For You, Willow admits to Giles: “I found loads of websites and stuff on paganism and magic... it’s really interesting.” which demonstrates her interest may be a little more than purely ‘educational fun’.

Her first taste of powerful magicks was restoring Angel’s soul at the end of S2. In Becoming Part 1, Giles warns Willow of the consequences of such mystical forces: “Channelling such potent magicks through yourself… it may open a door you won’t be able to close.” The Passion of the Nerd touched upon it briefly and explained the choice of phrasing is especially key here. It’s not as simple as a one-off spell that has no ramifications, the nature of the Soul Restoration uses a kind of magic that will stay with the caster forever. It leaves a mark. As we know, Willow does the spell anyway after waking up from a coma (don’t even go there) and successfully restores Angel’s soul. This is how her addiction started and it is the ONLY explicitly direct warning of the impact caused by using magicks that Giles gives her.

In Faith, Hope and Trick, Willow tries to persuade Giles to let her help him with the ‘spell’ to bind Acathla and lets slip that she knows more about the black arts than she’d originally led him to believe. There’s an interesting bit of dialogue between the two:

WILLOW: Are you mad at me?

GILES: No, of course not, no.

It’s obvious that Giles is anxious about this but because of his well-established role and priorities at this point, he’s not going to dwell on it too much, despite it being a genuine concern. Later in the episode, Willow also says, “Giles, I know you don’t like me messing with mystical forces…” so it has evidently been the topic of discussion previously. In Gingerbread, Willow is messing with magic again trying to make a protection spell for Buffy. The symbol used by Willow, Amy and that other kid is one commonly associated with human sacrifices according to Giles. The Black Arts. Even if that isn’t the spell they were casting, the symbol had other less pleasant implications. And so, it continues. By S4, Willow is doing much more than floating a pencil, progressing alarmingly quickly and becoming highly proficient by the end of the season. Giles reminds her of the dangers of magic subtly, “I don’t think it’s wise for you to be attempting spells, your energy is too unfocused” and Willow is still doing magic that is both powerful and harmful enough to have caught the attention of D’Hoffryn, Lord of the Vengeance Demons despite his apprehensions.

In S5 we get a first look at ‘Dark Willow’, when Tara gets brain sucked by Glory. There’s no way the whole gang didn’t know about that. Not a chance. Yet oddly, it’s never mentioned? Obviously, the writers had other priorities with the main plot and Glory etc. but it was criminally neglected. Willow used extremely dangerous dark magicks to go after Glory for hurting Tara at incredible risk to herself and the others who ended up having to rescue her. Justifiable or not, her actions were a reckless abuse of power that very nearly had fatal consequences. How any of them just let it slide without so much as a comment is infuriating. In The Weight of The World, Giles says to Xander, “It’s extraordinarily advanced” when he learns that Willow is trying to enter Buffy’s mind yet again, concerned. Also, we start to see the black eyes when Willow attempts more advanced spells, like teleporting Glory away in Blood Ties, or casting the protective wards in Spiral so it can be theorised that the magicks Willow evokes are steadily darkening.

Roll on S6. Set after Buffy’s death, a huge trauma for all the characters. Willow raising Buffy is evidently a massive achievement from her perspective. She considers herself to be a God. In Flooded, she gets the gut-punch from Giles that he is not in fact pleased with her at all. She’d expected him to be “impressed or something” which he was, but in the wrong ways.

GILES: The magicks you channelled are more ferocious and primal than anything you can hope to understand, and you are lucky to be alive you rank, arrogant amateur!

He blames himself for not stopping her, and rightfully so... to an extent. He failed to provide her with proper guidance or even show an interest in the types of magic that she was engaging with. If he had done so at an earlier stage, then perhaps Willow would not have taken things as far as she did. One interpretation of the argument in Flooded is that Giles is lashing out at Willow because he’s frightened. Most likely for Willow instead of Willow herself. He makes a point of saying that she was “the one [I] trusted most to respect the forces of nature” and bringing Buffy back defies the laws of nature. She had no respect for these forces, bending them to her will which is a scary concept. The argument that the Scoobies were selfish for bringing Buffy back notwithstanding, Willow was the one that actually performed the spell, hell bent in succeeding. That horrifies Giles and if anything, is a wakeup call for him to pull his head out of the sand and deal with this seriously. Willow meanwhile doesn’t want to hear a word of it, pacifying him instead of actually understanding the implications of her actions and listening to anything beyond his anger. There’s a lot that could be dissected in this scene but that’s unnecessary at this moment.

Magic is also the primary factor that caused Willow and Tara to split up at the end of Tabula Rasa. Tara had brought her concerns to Willow as early as Tough Love, saying that she was ‘scared’ about how powerful Willow was getting. When Tara tried to explain why she felt this way, Willow refused to listen. Every single time that Tara raised a concern about Willow’s use of magic, Willow either ignored it or reassured her that it was fine, and she was totally in control. But Willow has a history of altering people and their actions to suit her. She attempted to do so in Lover’s Walk by casting a spell on Xander to stop them having feelings for each other. Again, in Something Blue, while unaware of the effects of the spell, she still made the conscious choice to use magic to ‘have her will be done’. She ended up hurting her friends, however unintentionally. Then in S6 when Tara and Willow are arguing about magic, instead of having a proper conversation, Willow uses the Lethe’s Bramble to make Tara forget they were even arguing. A direct invasion of her mind. And Willow didn’t show any indication that she thought it was wrong. Barely two episodes later, Willow then used a spell which caused everyone to forget who they are after promising Tara that she would go a week without using magic. It’s no surprise that Tara wanted to break up.

Willow does get ‘clean’ by Entropy. Subsequently Tara comes back, and it all seems to go well until the brutal, vicious, non-sensical murder that causes Willow to launch herself back into the dark magicks stating, “I’m not coming back.” Only then does Giles do something about it. Only then does he take it upon himself to step up and realise that he has failed her, by which point it was far too late and resulted in her very nearly killing him, a price he deemed a suitable penance for his neglect.

But NOT ONCE prior to this did Giles intervene. He had the resources and was capable of it, and not once did he sit her down properly and say, “Willow, I think we need to talk about your use of magic because I’m a tad concerned.” Even after resurrecting Buffy, he only chastises her for her recklessness, he doesn’t actively do anything beyond this except a few powerful glares. He is watching her make all the mistakes he made as a young rapscallion and doing nothing about it. Then in S7, he fulfils the mentor role to her and helps keep on track of her recovery, an older addict helping the younger. It just highlights that he could have helped her sooner before it was out of control.

This comes back to Giles’ basic structure as a character. He’s a Watcher, the mentor to the Slayer. His purpose is to be in Sunnydale for Buffy. His whole life is revolved around Buffy, she is factored into every single one of his decisions. He never signed up to be the ‘father-figure’, despite appearing to adopt that role very quickly. He never signed up to care for Xander and Willow, he isn’t the Watcher of them. He has never given any indication that he wants that responsibility, and it shouldn’t fall to him to care for a group of random teenagers. It’s this fundamental construction of Giles’ character that means that he’s borderline dependant on Buffy, which isn’t her fault at all. He sacrifices everything, even parts of himself for her and most of the time gets nothing in return. The point is that Giles is so busy being a Watcher that he can’t think of anything else. It’s not necessarily his fault, that’s exactly how he was trained, and arguably after the whole Eyghon debacle, it’s unlikely that he ever truly had faith in his judgement again. Remember when Giles put Buffy before Jenny, the woman he loves? Buffy comes first, always because the mission is what matters.

On a more speculative note, Giles was aware of Willow’s obsession with magic and didn’t know what to do, instead choosing to believe that he wanted to help her, but he didn’t trust himself to teach her the control she needed. It does narratively fit for Giles to be reluctant to help Willow learn the magicks given his past. However, he neglected her and is at least partially to blame for Willow becoming a magic junkie. He had every opportunity over YEARS to step in and offer her a proper education. He had the skills and if he were hesitant, certainly had the connections to find someone who would teach Willow properly, e.g., the Coven in Devon. The audience is acutely aware after The Dark Age that Giles has a history of abusing dark magic. Note that throughout the series, he does not actually use that much magic himself. This abuse led to Giles having to murder one of his friends among whatever else he and his ‘friends’ got up to, which means he knows full well the ramifications of messing with that kind of power and doesn’t want to go down that rabbit hole again. Magic is an addiction and he’s a recovering addict.

Equally, Willow never asked Giles for help. It’s all very well blaming him for being negligent and grossly irresponsible, but she didn’t ask him to teach her. She didn’t ask him for guidance or whatever, at least not memorably. Assume that he did help her. That he trained her and gave her a proper education in the magicks. There’s no guarantee that any of that would have prevented Willow from taking it too far. Willow has an addictive personality and therefore it makes logical sense for her to become addicted to magic. Ultimately, Giles could have spent years training her, but he can’t make decisions for her, nor does he wish to. Willow is her own person, a bright, capable young woman who is an adult. He cannot push her to do anything and it’s not in his nature to do so. Dark Willow is an inevitability in a sense.

Essentially while Giles staying in Sunnydale would’ve been preferable on a personal level, it would have made very little difference as to whether Willow would abuse the magicks. She’d already done so on countless occasions with no intervention therefore he likely wouldn’t have interfered until it was too little too late. It’s not that he doesn’t care for Willow, but he had other priorities, right or wrong. Should he have helped her? Absolutely. But it takes two to Tango...

[cheshiresense]

Could you do KoyoIchi (Swinging Pendulum), please? C: I have fallen in love with this ship ever since you posted those short one-shots (or whatever they are called) a while ago.

Hmm you didn’t include an AU and I’ve already done a KoyoIchi SP AU in the last batch, there’s not much else I can write for that I think. So how about KoyoIchi post-canon AU instead, where Ichigo’s human body gives out after the Quincy War, so he ends up splitting his time between SS and the Human world afterwards.

Edit: omg wtf did i do i went off i’m sorry this ended up semi-background pre-relationship KoyoIchi + like a dozen unrelated headcanons thrown in it’s a mess fml

1. It’s not usually done, he’s technically dead now (but not a Shinigami, not a Quincy, not a Hollow, and not even a Human anymore), but he has a lot of support from a lot of people - Kisuke has no qualms crafting him a gigai that would allow him to draw his blade even without stepping out of it, and Kyouraku basically gives him free run of Soul Society after they hammer out what Ichigo is supposed to do there considering he’s now stronger than the entire Gotei combined but also he’s technically only eighteen years old.

(It would be scarier, Kyouraku thinks, if Ichigo’s moral fibre hadn’t already proven itself superior.)

In the end, they settle it like this - Ichigo attends the Academy part-time for all the lessons Kisuke and Yoruichi and Shinji never bothered hammering into him because it was never important to the war, attends university in the human world, and the rest of his time is his do with as he pleases, whether that’s taking missions directly from Kyouraku, visiting with his friends in various squads and being roped into doing paperwork, or digging up yet another rebel faction or secret invasion out of the woodwork (”Please don’t dig up yet another rebel faction or secret invasion out of the woodwork for at least a month, Ichigo-kun. One month, you hear? We still haven’t finished cleanup from the last one.”).

Because it’s Ichigo, it works. it’s not like he wasn’t already coming and going from Soul Society when he was still human. The Shinigami have let him get away with far too much already to put restrictions on him now, especially considering he’s saved all their asses twice over now, and that’s not even counting all the trouble in-between. If there are some who complain, well, there are even more who are capable of making sure nothing ever comes of it.

So okay, no rebel faction, no secret invasion, but Ichigo’s not Ichigo without something to work towards, and he’s always wondered why the Shinigami side of his family was slumming it out in Rukongai when they’re supposed to be nobility like Byakuya and Yoruichi. The answer is simple enough - Aizen had mind-whammied everyone after Isshin ran off and fabricated a coup that resulted in assassinations courtesy of the Second Division before the remaining Shibas were ousted from Seireitei overnight.

(It was only too easy for Aizen to make them believe it.Nobody ever questioned whether or not the Shibas could. They had the power. They just never had the ambition, which nobody could understand.)

No way is Ichigo going to take that lying down. So he goes and yells at Kyouraku, who says it’s complicated and would take time, but Ichigo reminds him of the Visored and Kisuke and Yoruichi and Tessai, all let back in in the wake of the Winter War. If they could be pardoned, and rightfully so, why can’t the Shibas too?

“I’m not saying they can’t forever, Ichigo-kun,” Kyouraku says placatingly. “But Central 46 will want… assurances-”

“You mean they’re scared to let my family back in cuz they might still be a little bit pissed from having three-quarters of their members murdered in their beds,” Ichigo summarizes flatly.

Kyouraku sighs and gives up all pretenses of a neutral party. “If you have a better idea…” He waves a hand at the general situation, eyes dark and intent on Ichigo’s face.

Ichigo snorts and straightens up. “Yeah. It’s called ‘being too strong to fuck with’. The old bastards are in session right now, aren’t they? I’ll be right back.”

One day, Kyouraku muses as he watches Ichigo go, this will probably not work, and it’ll come back to bite them all in the ass. Then again, Central 46 has run Soul Society their way or no one’s way for far too long; Yama-jii had always given them too much power. They’d learned nothing from Aizen, so maybe Ichigo is exactly what they deserve, straightforward and running on emotion, but fair, always, and decent in a way that Kyouraku thinks most of their government has forgotten how to be, if they ever knew to begin with.

One day, even Ichigo’s threats won’t make Central 46 back down. But a god doesn’t bow just because someone demands it, no matter how important they think their bloodline or rank or status is. And Ichigo is probably the closest thing they have to a god these days. A god, with plenty of friends to back him up if he needs it.

So Kyouraku leaves him to it - better Ichigo than him, less headaches in the long run - and he isn’t at all surprised when Ichigo sweeps back into his office five hours later, expression grim but triumphant, reiatsu still writhing like a living shadow around him as he informs Kyouraku that his clan will be needing their old estate back.

Kyouraku pushes over the paperwork he’d completed an hour ago, authorizing the full restoration and compensation of the Shiba Clan. Ichigo smiles at him almost fondly, features only slightly tinted with a banked sort of inhuman rage that he carries around almost constantly these days - it’s three steps left of his cousin’s memory, with Hollow glinting in his eyes and the shade of his ancestor draped across his shoulders. He’s gone again in the next moment, off to tell his family the excellent news, and Kyouraku thinks it was probably a good thing Yama-jii died when he did. However reasonable Ichigo still is, he is no longer that boy with the too-forgiving heart who took the insults they served him with all the doormatted self-sacrifice of a storybook hero.

(He came back from the Soul King Palace equal parts pensive and victorious, with old eyes and reiatsu levels they could no longer sense and a terrifying sort of detachment when he looked at them all. But his friends had fallen on him without care, only relief, and the icy distance in Ichigo’s mien had melted. Kyouraku had understood though, in that moment, that Soul Society would stand only so long as Ichigo allows it.

He likes Ichigo, he genuinely does. Jyuushirou had too. That hadn’t stopped his old friend from attempting to leash him, which had almost backfired in the end and literally only hadn’t out of the goodness of Ichigo’s heart, and it doesn’t stop Kyouraku now from catering to Ichigo’s whims. Only time would tell if this approach will work better or worse than Jyuushirou’s law-abiding one, and in the meanwhile, it doesn’t hurt that Ichigo doesn’t actually want anything Kyouraku doesn’t want to fix anyway. Soul Society has been his home for over nine centuries now. He does not want to see it burn. If that means dragging it kicking and screaming into a new era with a boy their world created to fight their wars for them looking over his shoulder, then Kyouraku will do it gladly.)

It takes almost three months for the Shibas to gather again and move back in. They’d scattered, after their exile, all across Rukongai, but Kuukaku is their head, and Ichigo has single-handedly wrested back their birthright for them, and when both of them call, the rest of the clan answers, trickling in in twos and threes and fours, suspicious and wary and not inclined to trust anyone but their own, but they come, and the first thing they do is raise wards around their home strong enough to withstand a siege from the Royal Guard.

“That’s everyone?” Ichigo asks, looking from the civilians to the once-Shinigami to the children. All in all, they barely make thirty total, and over half of them are from their retainer families.

Kuukaku shrugs tiredly at his side. She’s never looked older than she does now. “You know Isshin’s staying in the Human world for your sisters, but other than that, pretty much. Everyone else is dead.” She pauses. “Well, except one, but I doubt he’ll come. Kaien’s wife’s brother,” She adds for Ichigo’s benefit. “Koyonagi Senzou. He was the Kidou Corps Commander before Tessai, demoted to Academy teacher after some mission the higher-ups covered up. He was the only one the Gotei kept on after we were kicked out. Never found out whether he actually wanted to stay or if Central 46 insisted he stay. I wouldn’t be surprised if it was the latter. He’s wasted at the Academy, too useful to kill but too dangerous to let out of sight. As far as I know though, he’s still there.”

Ichigo frowns as he digests all this. “And he won’t come by to see you guys?”

Kuukaku shakes her head. “I doubt it. He was never really one of us.”

“Why not?”

Kuukaku shrugs again. “He never wanted to be. I didn’t know him very well, Ichigo, but he loved exactly one person, and she was more or less killed under Kaien’s watch. It wasn’t Nii-san’s fault of course, but she was sent out on a mission given to her by the Thirteenth Division lieutenant, and she never came back. He attended her funeral. That was the last time any of us saw him, although our Shinigami members reported glimpses of him in and around the Academy over the years.”

Ichigo hums. Kuukaku gives him an arch look and then snorts. “Shall I prepare a room for him anyway when I start renovations?”

Ichigo grins at her. “That’d be perfect, Kuukaku, thanks.”

2. Of course Senzou has heard of Kurosaki Ichigo. You’d have to be living under a rock in a cave in a different dimension to not have heard of Soul Society’s God-Slaying Saviour.

And of course he’s a Shiba. That lot always was more trouble than they were worth, too powerful for their own good, and too reckless or too confident or too stupid - Senzou has never really figured out which - to hide it from the world or at least play it down to keep the world from turning on them because of it. No subtlety at all. And look where it got them in the end.

In the aftermath of the Quincy War, he hears of the Shibas’ return to the city, and he can feel the power in the wards they almost immediately erect around their home. For protection, no doubt, because old dogs can learn new tricks after all, but to Senzou, it just looks like a very pretty cage. Why they - or the Visored for that matter - came back to serve the very people who betrayed them in some of the worst ways possible is beyond him.

Not that it makes much of a difference to Senzou. He’d ignored them for decades before their exile; no doubt, he’ll happily ignore them for decades more. They’re related only through an unfortunate marriage, and considering both parties are long dead now, what little obligation he had to them likewise expired years ago.

But, he thinks, as he watches an increasingly familiar head of orange hair slide into his classroom, someone forgot to give that memo to the Shibas’ newest pride and joy. Even Senzou - with expectations that literally no student has ever met - can admit that Kurosaki Ichigo attending Kidou lessons is a complete waste of time. Senzou spends his days teaching idiots the incantations for each of the ninety-nine standard spells, trying not to scratch his own eyes out when he has to grade their papers, and making sure they don’t blow themselves up when they practice producing them. Even the most advanced of the sixth-years can only manage spells in the fifties range, with a fifty-fifty chance of average-at-best success.

Ichigo memorized all the incantations in the first two weeks he was here. His first essay on the use of forbidden Kidou - instead of a regurgitation of laws citing the illegality of them that everyone else turned in - became a dissertation on their pros and cons, arguing that every case in which they’re used should be thoroughly investigated not only by Central 46 but also by a panel of Shinigami, and why the laws against them should be amended to allow for unexpected circumstances. The brat even had the gall to throw in quotes of interviews he’d conducted, and if it had been anyone else claiming to have received firsthand and eye-witness accounts of forbidden Kidou usage from names like Tsukabishi Tessai and Hirako Shinji, Senzou would’ve set them on fire for being such a bad liar. He couldn’t even fail the boy for incomplete research because the books he referenced might not be found in the Academy library but they all had Urahara Kisuke stamped on them.

And his practicals? A high level of reiatsu usually means the caster would have a harder time performing Kidou, especially when they’re first starting out, too much power shoved into the lower-level ones, too little control to hold together the higher-level ones.

Not Kurosaki Ichigo. That boy spent the first week putting holes into everything except his targets, went away for a weekend, and then came back with singed eyebrows and bags under his eyes but a resolute set to his jaw and picture-perfect Kidou at his fingertips. He didn’t even need the incantations anymore. And to make him even more of an anomaly, he could perform spells right up into the nineties. In fact, the higher the difficulty and reiatsu output, the better he was with them.

There is nothing the standard Kidou curriculum from any year can teach him. His learning curve is insane, and his essays read like he’s gearing up to go toe to toe with Central 46, never mind an Academy class.

He doesn’t need to be here. Senzou knows it. The other students know it. And Ichigo most certainly knows it too. And with the special allowances granted by the Soutaichou himself, he doesn’t even need permission to skip. The boy’s been given unprecedented free reign to come and go as he pleases, and yet he comes back, week after week after week. He doesn’t even have the decency to sleep through Senzou’s lectures. He’s a flickering candle in the corner of Senzou’s eye, all flame-bright hair and brown-gold-brown eyes and shadows that won’t stop moving, and that unwavering attention he pins on Senzou every time makes it damn clear exactly what he’s waiting for.

Shibas. No subtlety whatsoever.

The bell rings. Bags are packed. There’s a scramble for the door.

“Kurosaki-chan,” Senzou calls in bored tones without looking away from sadistically adding an extra assignment to the board. If no one notices, that’s their problem. “Stay behind.”

There are some interested whispers and prying eyes, but one glance from Senzou sends them scurrying away. And then Ichigo is there, sauntering up with his perpetual scowl - not at all like Kaien this one. The two are as charismatic as each other, from what Senzou’s observed. But Kaien had people wrapped around his finger because he had a knack for putting them at ease and making them feel special and making himself both approachable and worth looking up to. Ichigo on the other hand scared a lot of people when he first showed up at the Academy with an armful of books and a gruff disposition that didn’t lend itself to making allies, let alone friends. He wasn’t arrogant, just introverted, but it made him the kind of genius that people resented.

And then Senzou caught him in the hallway one day, looming over a mousy-looking fifth-year student huddled on the ground, and at first, he’d thought Kurosaki was bullying her. Everyone’s golden boy, picking on a shrinking violet of a girl. But then Ichigo had stooped down and gathered up all the books spilled across the floor before offering them back to the girl. The girl had still cowered, but she’d accepted them, and when Ichigo reached out and hauled her to her feet, she’d flinched but hadn’t moved away once she was on her feet again and Ichigo had let her go.

Then Ichigo had told her, quite clearly, “Next time someone can’t keep their hands to themselves, break their fucking wrists. Or kick them in the balls. Or tell them to fuck off. Start a scene so they have to stop. Do something. Don’t just fucking stand there.”

And then he’d stormed off, and the girl - Fujiwara, from the Kyouraku family - had stared after him, all baby-duckling wide eyes. And the next time Senzou had happened across her, it was just in time to see her chuck one of her textbooks at the head of one of her bullies. Said bully had staggered back, and then purpled with anger, already moving forward with fists clenched. Half a second later, he was on the ground and wailing from a broken nose, and Ichigo was standing over him, murder glowing gold in his eyes and black reiatsu streaking his hair and pooling at his feet.

Nobody had touched Fujiwara after that, especially since the girl had taken to following Ichigo around. Ichigo had still scowled like no one’s business, he’d also been seen kicking Fujiwara’s ass in one of the training rooms, they studied together in the library, and they ate together in the courtyard when Ichigo happened to stay for that.

And gradually, other students joined in, tentatively, some nervous, some with hero worship in their eyes, all hopeful. Ichigo never turned any of them away, but one day, he started a debate in the library about laws that would take species outside of Shinigami into consideration that ended with raised voices and enthusiastic opinions that got the whole giggling bunch thrown out, and another day, he suggested a free-for-all game of tag where only Kidou could be used to catch each other which ended with everyone sweaty and gasping and wanting another round, and in calmer in-betweens, he answered when the others finally asked him about what Hueco Mundo was like, what the Material world was like, what Arrancar were like, what Humans were like, and he never lost his temper with them even when he had to explain something more than once.

He was still blunt and borderline rude and not at all like Kaien, like a Shiba, not outgoing or friendly or instantly personable. But the charisma was the same, people couldn’t help but be drawn to him, and it took weeks for Senzou to realize he was just as susceptible to it as Ichigo’s growing circle of friends within the Academy. So susceptible he was literally stalking him everywhere just to see what other chaos he was sowing.

That’s probably why he wants the boy gone so badly. He’d sworn he’d never forgive the Shiba Clan for taking his sister away from him, the only leeway they got was that he wouldn’t actively go after them either because Miyako wouldn’t want him to, and it wasn’t as if it was difficult to keep such a vow. He’d never liked the Shibas anyway. When they’d been slaughtered and cast out, and no assassins had shown up at his door in the aftermath, all he’d thought was good riddance.

But Kurosaki Ichigo…

Under any other circumstances, Senzou would be thrilled. Here is a student who challenged the world around him and brought a storm to the Academy.

But this isn’t any other circumstances, and as Ichigo stops in front of his desk, a beast glinting behind his eyes and a dead king’s inheritance pulsing in the shadow splashed at his feet, Senzou meets his gaze and slices a mocking smile in his direction.

“Kurosaki-chan,” He starts, smirk widening when Ichigo’s eyebrows twitch. “The Academy’s star part-time pupil. What exactly are you still doing in my class?”

Ichigo shrugs. “I signed up for it, your lectures aren’t boring, and I’m trying to figure you out.”

Senzou feels his smile grow fixed. “And how is that going for you?”

Ichigo scruffs a hand through his hair, pauses briefly to frown tug at the shoulder-length strands like he wants a haircut, and then shrugs again. “You’re the one following me around all the time, what do you think?”

They stare at each other for a moment.

“Let me make one thing very clear, Kurosaki-chan,” Senzou finally says. For once, he doesn’t feel like weaving his usual mind games. “I don’t know what your clan has told you, but I have no desire to play happy families with them. I know you Shibas tend to be all about bringing family together, but I am not one of you.” His lip curls. “Do not push this issue any further than you have. Am I understood?”

Ichigo cocks his head, something animal in the way he watches Senzou now. “Kuukaku agreed to reserve a room for you at the compound if you ever want it, but you don’t have to if you don’t want to. I’m not here for that.”

Senzou’s eyes narrow. “Then what are you here for?” He gives the boy a sardonic look and cuts him off preemptively. “Besides class.”

Ichigo grins, quicksilver bright, and something in Senzou recoils with surprise.

“I don’t really have a plan,” The boy tells him. “But I’m getting my family settled back in, and making sure nobody can fuck with them ever again.” He aims another considering look at Senzou. “If you don’t wanna be all buddy-buddy with them, that’s fine. It’s not any of my business if you wanna hammer your shit out with them or not. But you were connected to them even if you didn’t like it, and that doesn’t change just because that connection’s gone. So I guess what I wanted to figure out was whether or not someone’s fucking with you too.”

Senzou opens his mouth, then closes it when nothing comes out. How embarrassing. He settles for a derisive smile that feels a touch too brittle on his face. “I don’t need your protection, God-Slayer.”

Ichigo immediately makes a face. “Don’t call me that. And I didn’t say you did. But when I start something, I like to see it through, so I thought I’d check just to be sure.”

Senzou scoffs with disbelief. “Then why didn’t you just ask?”

Ichigo rolls his eyes like he thinks Senzou’s being dumb on purpose, which is a new experience for Senzou. Usually he’s the one rolling his eyes.

“Well you didn’t want me to, did you?” Ichigo says, looking exasperated now. “You were curious about me, and all the stalking was recon or whatever.” He levels a thoughtful look on Senzou before snorting with something like amusement. “You are the type. But yeah, anyway, now you know. If you need help, the offer’s open indefinitely. But I’ll stop coming to class if you don’t want me here.”

He trails off, arching an eyebrow in question. When Senzou doesn’t reply, the boy shrugs once more, adjusts the strap of his bag, and turns to leave.

Senzou… Well, he’s pretty much been on the back foot this entire conversation, hasn’t he? There’s something about Ichigo that just… throws him off. It’s frustrating. Unnerving.

And yet… Ichigo didn’t push. Kaien would’ve pushed. The rest of his family would’ve pushed. It’s what Shibas do when they want something - push and push until they get what they want, a single-minded persistence hidden under their signature cheerful geniality that makes the rest of the world believe them to be the nicest clan in all of Soul Society.

Miyako had said no, the first time Kaien had asked to court her. But he’d asked again and again, until she’d said yes, and she’d been happy to, Senzou had made certain of that, she’d been perfectly willing, had found a good man in Kaien and been glad she’d finally given him a chance.

But she’d said no first, and Kaien had pushed, and it just… rubbed Senzou the wrong way. Because once upon a time, Shinigami had plucked them out from Rukongai, dusted them off and provided the training and shuffled them into the military, all expenses paid, but no had never been an option, and that had become all the more true after Miyako became such a public, vulnerable figure, not only Third Seat of the Thirteenth but also wife of a clan head.

When Central 46 had come knocking, interested in Senzou’s prodigal skills with Kidou, they hadn’t even needed to drop Miyako’s name for Senzou to know that saying no then wasn’t an option either. He’d been pushed into their service, and it had taken Miyako’s death for Central 46 to finally leave him alone, solely because he had no one else for them to hold over his head.

It’s not the Shibas’ fault, not really. It’s been long enough that Senzou can admit that, if only to himself. Miyako’s choices were her own, and even if she hadn’t married him, Central 46 probably would’ve found another way to get to him through her. But Senzou has always been petty and vindictive at heart, and he’ll blame the Shibas for the rest of his life, because at the end of the day, they’re just like all the other nobles in this place. What they want, they’ll push until they get, because privilege is in their blood.

So Senzou flounders when Ichigo doesn’t push his advantage. The boy is already halfway to the door, and somehow, Senzou is certain, if he doesn’t say anything now, Ichigo won’t come back. It’s so wildly different from what he’d expected, so unexpectedly not-like-a-Shiba, that he has to fumble for something to say for an unforgivably long moment. Him, fumble. This whole conversation has been one unexpected surprise after another, and later, Senzou will blame the shock for his next decision.

“Wait.”

Ichigo stops and turns back. He doesn’t look surprised, but neither does he look triumphant or even just smug.

Senzou suppresses a grimace. “The school has nothing left to teach you about Kidou.”

Ichigo nods in unabashed agreement.

Senzou snorts softly. “But I do. And I guarantee it won’t bore you.”

Ichigo blinks, and a crooked smile slowly curls at his lips. It doesn’t erase his frown, but it softens his brow and makes his features look less harsh. “You sure you wanna teach me?”

Senzou scoffs and pulls out his chair. “I wouldn’t have offered otherwise.” He gives himself a mental shake and drags a grin back onto his face, sharp enough to cut. “Sit your ass down so we can figure out a schedule, Ichi-chan.”

Ichigo instantly loses the smile and glowers like a thundercloud. Senzou all but basks in the familiarity of it, inwardly relieved at being back on steadier ground.

“Don’t call me that, asshole!”

He probably shouldn’t have offered, should’ve just let him go and good riddance. But Senzou hasn’t been taken so off-guard so quickly in a long time, and it had been frustrating and unnerving but underneath both…

There is a storm waiting on the wings of Seireitei, and Kurosaki Ichigo is the one holding its reins.

And Senzou. Senzou is just curious enough to want to see what that storm will bring.

3. “Did your hair grow three inches over the weekend?” Senzou asks the moment Ichigo walks into one of their weekly lessons.

Ichigo dumps his bag in a chair and scowls at him. His hair has been swept up into a bun, which is certainly a feat considering the last time Senzou saw him three days ago, it had only brushed his shoulders.

“This body is seriously shit at regulating itself,” Ichigo grumbles. “I didn’t have time to go to the barber’s, and Kuukaku threatened to shave me bald if I tried to chop it off with my Zanpakutou again.”

Senzou squints at him. “You realize that’s not normal.”

Ichigo rolls his eyes. “I didn’t have a knife on me, and it was getting in the way, okay? Don’t judge.”

This time, it’s Senzou’s turn to roll his eyes. “That wasn’t what I meant, Ichi-chan. Shinigami bodies don’t suddenly grow several inches of hair overnight.”

“You’d be surprised,” Ichigo mutters before shaking his head, and Senzou watches as black reiatsu crackles lazily across his shoulders. “I’m just kinda weird. Excess reiatsu plus funky biology apparently means random hair growth and dye jobs.” He shrugs. “Kisuke’s still figuring it out.”

Senzou hums noncommittally. “Urahara Kisuke. Your… mentor?”

Ichigo pulls out the books Senzou had given him last week, along with a notebook and the latest essay Senzou had assigned him. All are tagged with multiple sticky notes.

“Kind of?” Ichigo sounds like he isn’t all too sure himself and even less concerned about it. “He’s… Kisuke.”

Senzou eyes him curiously. “You don’t care that he basically engineered half your life then?”

Ichigo stills. Then he glances up with Hollow-gold eyes, and Senzou smiles and meets them without flinching.

“Why would you say that?” Ichigo asks in even tones, but the office suddenly seems darker.

Senzou shrugs carelessly. “Urahara has a bit of a reputation for… working outside the box. It’s not just me who thinks it, Ichi-chan. There aren’t many who knew him who wouldn’t take one look at you and guess that he had something to do with your existence.” He pauses. “Although admittedly, I suppose the worst of these rumours come from the ones who want him back most. Central 46 doesn’t benefit half as much without his skills in assassination and technological development. It must’ve been a blow to their egos when Urahara refused their invitation to come back after the Winter War. They might be hoping enough unease over any other projects he’s bound to be working on would be enough to make him come back under their protection-”

“That’s not called protection,” Ichigo growls, and Senzou stops, words withering on his tongue.

There is something about the black abyss of Ichigo’s unblinking stare that makes some base instinct in even Senzou want to back away, run, throw himself at this eldritch entity’s feet and beg for mercy. He squashes the urge and smiles like monsters don’t exist.

Ichigo blinks. The darkness in his eyes recede, and the room clears again, bright with the sunshine pouring in through the open window. A shadow passes over his face, and when he opens his mouth to speak, Senzou catches a glimpse of fangs.

“Well that sucks,” The boy remarks succinctly like the silhouette on the far wall behind him doesn’t outline a grinning mouth with too many teeth. “It’s none of their business anyway. Kisuke prefers his shop. He’s his own boss there, and he likes it that way. Central 46 will just have to deal with Kurotsuchi.”

He flips open his notebook and shoves his essay over. “Now come on, we only have an hour today, and you said you’d go over this bit with me.”

Senzou nods and drops the subject. But three weeks later, he laughs when whispers tell of five Central 46 members retiring from their seats, replaced by one Shiba elder, one Shihouin, one Kuchiki, and two seated officers from the Gotei, one of which has served long enough that she doesn’t mind semi-retiring, and the other who prefers more time at a desk job over constant fieldwork. Both have roots that trace back to the slums of Rukongai. Twelve days after that, the Soutaichou announces a new official position filled by Urahara Kisuke - Human World Liaison - and a team of his choice, effective immediately.

“You don’t waste any time,” is Senzou’s greeting the next time he sees Ichigo after that debacle.

Ichigo, seated on the edge of the Academy roof and surveying the rest of Seireitei (like a ruler looking over his kingdom), waves a dismissive hand that trails solid shadows through the air. “People who’ve never been Shinigami shouldn’t be allowed to judge them. Kyouraku-san agreed.”

“I’m sure he did,” Senzou agrees, fighting near-hysterical glee down to a chuckle as he drops down to sit beside Ichigo.

He wonders if this is what it looks like, for a man to crown himself without even trying while most of the world cheers him on.

He glances to the side, arching an eyebrow when he finds Ichigo watching him. “Yes, Ichi-chan?”

There’s a disappointing lack of irritable twitching this time, but the thoughtful look Ichigo has levelled on him instead is more interesting.

“I have finals starting next week,” Ichigo says abruptly. “So I won’t be coming by the Academy until I’m done.”

Well, less interesting than he’d expected. “I’ll pick up your assignments for you,” Senzou offers, feeling generous. It’s not every day Central 46 takes a beating. He doesn’t care about Aizen, but if there was one thing he did right, it was butchering the judiciary authority on the way out. One group of them anyway.

Ichigo snorts. Rude. “Thanks, but I was thinking, you could join me down there for once instead of me coming up to meet you here. I want to concentrate on my university exams, but I have to eat and stretch my legs sometime. If you want, I could show you around campus. Kisuke can lend you a gigai so you won’t even have to request one from the Twelfth and wait for the acquisition forms to be approved.”

The first thing Senzou wants to say is I can’t. Because he can’t. Central 46 can’t make him do shit anymore, but short of slaughtering his way to the Senkaimon or disappearing into the Rukongai and living out the rest of his life as a fugitive, he can’t leave Seireitei. He doesn’t hate it here so much that he’d prefer either of those options, but the truth of the matter is, this is as much his home as it is his prison.

(A very pretty cage indeed.)

So he can’t, but Ichigo isn’t stupid, he should’ve already figured it out, or guessed, if not from the start after whatever his family told him about Senzou, then in the five months since. Stuck at the Academy because he’s too much of a wild card to go on missions.

Ichigo isn’t stupid, but neither is he cruel, not to those he has no quarrel with - that much Senzou can accept as truth. That he’s bringing this up anyway…

So, “How?” He asks instead, raising his eyebrows when Ichigo actually barks out a laugh. And then his eyes widen when Ichigo twists fingers through the air, and a Garganta springs into existence beside them.

“This can take us there,” Ichigo grins. “And no one will ever even know if you don’t want them to.”

Senzou stares from him to the murky void and back again. “…Why?”

Why are you doing this? Why would you offer?

They’ve known each other for five months, six if you count the one Senzou spent studying him. Most of that time has been spent in private tutoring sessions, and it’s benefitted Senzou as much as it has Ichigo. He technically shouldn’t be teaching Ichigo even half the Kidou Corps secrets he’s already imparted, but Ichigo makes it worth his while - quick on the uptake, a challenge in the sparring ring, and a breath of fresh air from the tedious drudgery of teaching his other students. Occasionally, they even go out for meals, tucked away in a quiet corner of a restaurant or a food stand. And sometimes, Ichigo brings souvenirs back with him from his trips to the Human world - fiction, toys, tech, trinkets the living modern age has that Soul Society does not - and he gifts them not only to his friends amongst the students but also to Senzou these days.

It’s a friendlier relationship than Senzou thought he’d ever have with anyone outside his sister, doubly so for a Shiba. Then again, Ichigo’s barely that, thank the Soul King, even if he was raised by one of the worst examples of that clan.

“Why not?” Ichigo counters, like it isn’t downright unnatural for anyone to do anything for Senzou, mostly because he’d rather stab himself in the face than fall into anybody’s debt. People avoid him when they can because he is cruel, and that’s the way Senzou likes it. He has high standards and little tolerance for things that bore him. Nothing bores him as easily as people do.

Until Ichigo.

“You don’t wanna be stuck here all the time,” Ichigo continues. “And I have an easy way out. So yeah, why not?”

Senzou turns his gaze to the horizion, past the sprawling streets and buildings of Seireitei to the sun setting beyond the wall.

He looks at the Garganta again. When Ichigo doesn’t move to stop him, he reaches over and lets his fingers drift past the mouth of the portal. The void is cool to the touch but not freezing the way he’d half-imagined.

He retrieves his hand. “A campus tour then?” He muses lightly, and Ichigo’s features brighten in response.

Senzou almost sighs. He thinks he might understand now. Ichigo is a little more like a Shiba after all. It’s just that he’s also a little more manipulative than one would expect of him. Senzou had all but told him not to interfere, to play hero for someone else, so Ichigo had backed off. But he’d figured out what Senzou wanted anyway, and his solution was to offer another way out instead.

Persistent, without disrespecting boundaries, and cunning enough to find another answer. In that regard, he’s nothing like his Shinigami relatives, who are always so loud about their intentions.

Charismatic, but… discreetly, almost insidiously so.

Senzou blinks. And then glances sharply at Ichigo again. His eyes look bronze in the light of the sunset, with the heat of his Hollow just beneath it. He has his head propped up against one loose fist, elbow balanced on one knee.

He smiles, almost guileless if not for the possessive resolve in the curve of that expression, and Senzou thinks, unbidden, ah. That’s how he won their devotion.

He gave his friends and family and allies everything they wanted, everything they needed, threw his heart and soul and body into every fight in their defense, shattered himself and rebuilt himself to protect the ones he’d taken under his wing, and so when the time came, how could any of them have done anything less for him?

It had probably not even been something Ichigo had done consciously from the beginning, it was just how he was built, through a quirk of the genetic fun park Urahara had ensured, or perhaps from the numerous near-death experiences life had forced him into. Ichigo probably hadn’t been aware, at first.

But he definitely is now.

Senzou thinks Ichigo is only just starting with him. Senzou’s already been claimed, because - for whatever reason - Ichigo wants him.

It probably says a lot that even this early on, even having already figured it out, Senzou… can’t say he cares enough to protest.

A Shiba in his bones, but leagues more dangerous by far.

4. The Human world is bigger than he remembers. Size-wise, it’s the same. But there’s a lot more in it than he thought, and he isn’t sure if that’s due to the passage of time or because he’d never spent more time than strictly necessary here when he took missions on the material plane back in the day.

Either way, he’s free to explore it now, even if just a small part of it for the time being. The campus of Ichigo’s school is large and sprawling, and with Urahara’s gigai and fake IDs and some Human money (he trades them for a box of seal traps even Tsukabishi Tessai wouldn’t know of because they’re Senzou’s own creation, and Urahara smiles like he understands and doesn’t object), it’s easy enough to come and go once Ichigo drops him off.

“You bought an apartment?” Senzou asks the first time Ichigo shows him the place and lets him poke around inside. It’s recognizably a living space, but it’s foreign to him all the same, with a generous open floor plan and wide windows, marble countertops in the kitchen and dark wooden cabinets and a bathroom constructed of polished chrome and gleaming tile.

“Kisuke bought me an apartment,” Ichigo corrects, flopping down on the couch where he has papers and books spread all over the coffee table and floor. His hair’s shorter today, barely past his shoulders, tipped black and hanging loose. Senzou is vaguely curious about what the boy’s classmates think of it.

“I wanted my own place,” Ichigo explains. “But Kisuke took one look at the rent I could afford and practically frog-marched me here instead. Then he had Yoruichi-san steal all my stuff and move it here, and then he said I might as well just take it because staying would be less work than moving all my stuff back.” He snorts, but it’s a fond sound. “The asshole. It’s not like I’d want to turn this place down. But it’s a bit much, so I try to help him with his research projects whenever I can in exchange.”

Senzou digests this with briefly raised eyebrows but says nothing. Urahara probably considers this another desperate form of making amends, and Ichigo probably knows it too. He probably wouldn’t have accepted otherwise.

“There’s a guest bedroom,” Ichigo calls after him as Senzou wanders down the hall to investigate exactly that. “Rukia’s stayed overnight, Renji too, and a few of my human friends have as well, but I always clean the place after they leave, so if you wanna stay tonight, feel free.”

That’s all the conversation between them for the rest of the day. Ichigo already showed him the campus the day before, and after tossing him a key to the apartment, Senzou is free to wander off and explore on his own.

Two weeks of regular visits to the Human world, and he still feels a little awkward in one of the shirts and jeans and sweater that that Quincy friend of Ichigo’s had shoved on him before whirlwinding back out again, apparently neck-deep in the middle of his own finals project.

“It’s Ishida, he makes clothes for everyone,” was Ichigo’s unhelpful clarification. “You help by walking around and looking good in them.”

So Senzou does, and part of him feels like he should stand out more, but nobody gives him more than a passing glance at most. Well, some do, but he recognizes shallow attraction well enough to ignore it.

In the end, he finds himself spending the most time in the libraries and lecture halls, slipping into the back of a classroom and listening to lessons he actually has to pay attention to to even understand some of what the professor is talking about. The science lectures mostly go over his head, and he’s never been interested in that field anyway so he doesn’t bother putting much effort into following them. It’s the literature courses he likes the most. There aren’t any at the Academy, not like this, and there are so many more books in so many more languages and genres than Senzou ever thought there existed in the world.

Soul Society suddenly seems so small in comparison.

It’s always an exercise in patience every time he has to return to Seireitei to teach now. After the first two weeks of almost daily trips to the Human world, he orders - on a whim - the students from his upper-year classes to split into groups before assigning each of them a project due at the end of the term on the theoretical creation of three new Kidou spells.

Group projects are not a thing at the Academy. Senzou wonders why.

He tells them that at least two of the research sources have to be from outside the Academy, and he smirks when he follows Fujiwara Asuka to the First Division compound to speak with her cousin, and then the Eighth to speak with her cousin’s former lieutenant, and then even braving the Fourth, straight-backed and stiff with anxiety but marching in anyway with her nervous group members in tow until she manages to wrangle fifteen minutes of time from a few of the healers willing to answer her questions about Kaidou.

Even here, Ichigo’s influence flourishes.

Outside the classroom, Senzou begins collecting copies of Human books. He half-bribes, half-blackmails the librarian into setting aside a section for him, and then he begins his own project of filling it.

“You’ve been busy,” Ichigo remarks when he staggers in from his last exam and collapses into a chair just as Senzou finishes setting the table for dinner.

Senzou arches an eyebrow, smirking when Ichigo just rolls his eyes.

“People tell me things,” Ichigo informs him, barely waiting for Senzou to sit down before falling onto the meal like he hasn’t eaten in a week.

“You would make a poor king if people didn’t,” Senzou murmurs, smiling serenely when Ichigo’s eyes flick up to meet his. It’s not as intimidating when his cheeks are bulging like a chipmunk’s.

Actually, Ichigo in the Human world just seems less… overwhelming in general. It isn’t as if he’s any less powerful. This particular gigai doesn’t restrict him in any way. But there’s a relaxed quality in him here that Senzou’s observed in the past three weeks that’s always absent when he’s the rawest form of himself up in Seireitei.

“Soul Society needs to change,” Ichigo says at last, instead of denying anything. “If that means kicking it in the ass until it stops fucking up the lives it’s supposed to be looking after, then that’s exactly what I’ll do.”

Yes, and Senzou has no doubt he’ll succeed. The majority of those in power have no desire to stop Ichigo. Those who do aren’t strong enough. And Ichigo wants it. He wants it with a conviction Senzou has never seen in anyone, almost obsessive in its unfaltering desire… like the abyssal hunger of a Hollow and the eternal grudge of a Quincy and the timeless pride of a Shinigami all rolled into one.

Ichigo wants it, and he’ll get what he wants.

The Soul King knows the universe owes him that much, and even if it didn’t, Senzou doubts it would make a single bit of difference to their God-Slayer.

He lifts his mug in a toast. “Then I look forward to your endeavours. You’ll need to watch out for Central 46′s spies though. I’m sure they won’t take this lying down.”

Ichigo cocks an eyebrow. “Is that an offer to keep your ear to the ground for me?”

Senzou attempts an innocent face, which works about as well as he expects when Ichigo snorts. “A mere Academy teacher like me probably can’t help much, but…” He thinks of the seals he’d planted throughout the entire Central 46 compound every time he’d had to report in, slowly but surely sneaking invisible ears into the heart of Soul Society’s government. “I might hear things now and then. I’ll pass it on if it happens to be interesting.”

Ichigo grins and tips his own mug at Senzou like they aren’t talking treason.

5. “So.”

Senzou almost rolls his eyes. The Shibas’ commitment to their theatrics clearly hasn’t changed.

“Kuukaku-chan,” He says instead as he strides into his office and smothers the urge to draw his blade on the woman sitting on his desk like she’s posing for Most Dramatic. He smiles instead, hiding the teeth of it behind his lips. “What a pleasure.”

Kuukaku grins back without any of the same courtesy. Of course. “None at all, I’m sure, so I’ll get straight to the point. What are you doing with Ichigo?”

Senzou does roll his eyes this time. “You’ll have to be more specific. As of yesterday, he’s teaching me how to drive a car.” His lip curls. “It’s a mode of transportation Humans have developed.”

“I know what a car is,” Kuukaku snaps, finally hopping down from the desk to prowl across the room. “Why is he teaching you? What do you want with him?”

Senzou pauses halfway through setting down a stack of essays to be marked. “…If I said vengeance on the Shiba Clan once I’ve convinced him to side with me, would that be about what you were expecting?”

Kuukaku glares and crosses her arms. “Ichigo would never.”

Senzou smirks. “Then you have nothing to worry about, do you? You’ve wasted a trip.”

He brushes past her to flip through the paperwork on his desk. End-of-term reports are coming up, and that’s always a waste of his time, so the sooner he gets them done the better.

“I know you resent us for what happened to Miyako,” Kuukaku says from behind him, and Senzou wonders if he can just walk out. Probably, but there’s no way this woman won’t cause a scene. “But Ichigo wasn’t part of any of that.”

Senzou heaves a sigh and turns back around. “Kuukaku-chan, I thought we just established that we both know that using Ichigo against your family won’t work.”

“No,” Kuukaku nods. “But you could hurt him to get back at us.”

They eye each other for a long moment, not quite hostile but far from amicable.

“…My vengeance for Miyako was not lifting a finger when your clan was all but massacred,” Senzou finally says, ignoring the way Kuukaku’s expression pinches. “And so long as contact with you and yours is kept at an absolute minimum in the future, I don’t care anymore. Besides, there is no point in targeting Ichigo to get to you.” He sneers. “He’s a Shiba, but it would be an insult to consider him one of you.”

Kuukaku bristles but doesn’t explode in anger the way some of her even more hot-tempered relatives would. She stares at him instead, and when she doesn’t speak right away, Senzou goes back to organizing the contents of his desk.

“Say I believe that,” Kuukaku finally says, ignoring Senzou’s scoff. “Maybe you are hanging out with Ichigo with no ulterior motives. The gods know he makes that easy. But if that’s what you’re doing, there’s no way you won’t be seeing more of the rest of us eventually. He wasn’t raised the way a Shiba should’ve been, with none of our traditions and only a fraction of the family he should’ve had. That’s on us. But he’s still family, and so long as he doesn’t say no, we’re going to be a part of his life. You’re going to have to accept that if you plan on marrying in.”

The shelf closes with a resounding thud under his hand, and judging by the give, he’s probably cracked the back of it too. He barely notices as his gaze snaps back up to stare incredulously at his uninvited visitor. “I beg your pardon?”

Kuukaku smiles thinly, and this time she looks more amused than anything else. “Something to consider. But you’re more like Miyako than most people would think.” Her arms drop to her sides as she turns abruptly towards the window. “That’s all I had to say. You’re a smart man, Senzou. I don’t need to tell you what will happen if you fuck up.”

And before Senzou can demand an explanation or - more likely - set her on fire for cracking such an abysmal joke, she’s gone, disappearing through the window in a rush of Shunpo.

Senzou stares after her, then at the books he’d carried in earlier, then at the paperwork he’s putting off for the weekend because he has dinner with Ichigo tonight… just as he does almost every night nowadays.

He runs a hand over his face.

Shibas.

6. He says nothing. He’s self-aware enough to know (now, damn Kuukaku) that there’s something there, a spark, a connection, a pull Senzou has never felt towards anyone. He isn’t going to call it love or whatever Kuukaku thinks is happening because it isn’t. He finds Ichigo fascinating and endlessly entertaining, and anyone willing to face down Central 46 is worthy of some admiration in Senzou’s opinion. That Ichigo plans on turning the whole system upside-down and actually has the power to achieve it only raises Senzou’s esteem for him.

But he says nothing because Ichigo knows all this already. The day Senzou’s first instinct, when an assassin sent by Central 46 attempts to take Ichigo’s head, is to slit the hapless woman’s throat - even though he knows full well that she wouldn’t have come anywhere near to succeeding - is the moment Ichigo gets irrefutable proof that Koyonagi Senzou is willing to kill for him.

Ichigo doesn’t gloat of course, he isn’t the type. Senzou half-expects it anyway, breath caught in his lungs for a moment with something disgracefully close to fear twisting in his gut as he turns to check Ichigo’s reaction.

But Ichigo only wrinkles his nose and toes the fresh corpse at his feet, and then he glances at the blood splatter dotting Senzou’s shirt and offers to get him a new one.

He also reaches out to touch the hilt of Senzou’s Zanpakutou before nodding once, deliberately, solemnly, the weight of it as much a thanks as it is an acknowledgement.

And that was that. Senzou relaxes, doesn’t bat an eye when shadows surge up and swallow the body whole, and goes to change into another shirt. The incident passes, and it will be longer still before Ichigo’s enemies realize they probably should’ve tried harder to get rid of Senzou years ago. They’d thought themselves safe enough though: they would never earn Senzou’s allegiance, but at the same time, nobody - including Senzou - ever thought anybody else would earn it either.

But the point is, Ichigo knows. Senzou has no need to speak of it, and both of them are content with that. If something more comes of it down the road, Senzou doesn’t think he’d fight it. He lost this battle a good while ago, and he never even cared.

In the meantime though, he spies on Central 46 and enjoys what time he can spare in the Human world and continues reconstructing Seireitei’s education system brick by stubborn brick. There’s a kingdom to conquer and a god Senzou has pledged himself to, and for now, that is enough.

[unchartedterritoria]

Dangerous (Sam Drake x OC) - Chapter 31

NEW CHAPTER!!

Previous Chapters:  

Chapter 1 * Chapter 2 * Chapter 3 * Chapter 4 * Chapter 5* Chapter 6* Chapter 7 * Chapter 8 * Chapter 9 * Chapter 10 * Chapter 11 * Chapter 12 * Chapter 13 * Chapter 14 * Chapter 15 * Chapter 16 * Chapter 17 * Chapter 18 * Chapter 19 * Chapter 20 * Chapter 21 * Chapter 22 * Chapter 23* Chapter 24 * Chapter 25 * Chapter 26 * Chapter 27 * Chapter 28 * Chapter 29 * Chapter 30

As always, you can read the story thus far on A03  HERE

Tags: @jodiereedus22, @shambhalala, @missdictatorme​ @bechobbi​ @the-winchesterboys

Reviews and comments are always appreciated!

The first sign of dawn began to show itself on the open ocean of the Gulf. Like a sleeping eye tentatively raising its lid, a small hint of light shown in the east. A subtle blue pushing its way through the dark night. Lighter colors began to follow suit, an array of purples, pinks, and oranges that looked like sand art spread across the sky. Each new tone emerging quicker and transforming to another before the edge of the bright sun shone on the horizon.

It was breathtaking, and at that moment, Sam Drake didn't give two shits about it.

His mind was focused on revenge and redemption. He had made three promises. He had made a promise to Victor he was going to keep Faith safe. He failed. He made a promise to Faith; he would help her find the answers she wanted. He failed. Lastly, he had made a promise to himself that he wouldn't get attached to Faith, to the situation. Once again, he had failed. An angry red mist had settled over his thoughts, his plan to just storm through the front of the fort, guns blazing—a hail of bullets taking out everything and everyone in his path.

“There she is,” The gravel of Sully's voice over the growl of the plane engines pulled Sam back to reality.

Sam's eyes focused on the discolored blotch in the distance. A brick blob floating in the vast blue ocean. As they approached, it began to take shape, a massive brick hexagon, encircled by a moat and a ring of land that looked to serve as a port for ferries, seaplanes, and a walking trail for tourists. A cistern and weathered pikes, remnants of an old jetty no doubt, sat in the water along two sides of the path.

"You sure this is how you wanna go in, kid?"

Sam's vision remained unwavering on the approaching building.

"Just get me down to that dock," Sam answered, his voice almost zen-like.

The landing gear of the plane cut quietly through the crystal water as Sully brought the plane down gently with an experienced hand. Sam was up and out of his seat in an instant.

“How long you think we got til Jasper's guys get here?” Sam asked, checking the holster at the small of his back he slipped his 9MM in, securing it with a snap.

"Couple hours, if we're lucky. It's a lot of island to search, and he'll want them to get an early start. I'll monitor the chatter, update you if I hear anything," Sully said, driving the plane up to the dock. Sam nodded absently in agreement.

A small scrap of land a thousand meters from the fort stood its old, yet still maintained, lighthouse. Though even cared for, evidence by new dock planks and fresh paint, the island itself was overgrown thick with lush plant life. Mangroves and manchineel grew high and wide, obscuring whatever paths lay on the ground.

“Put the plane near the lighthouse, I'll let you know when we're coming out,” Sam said, taking his favorite gun in hand. He popped the door of the plane open.

“Wait, wait, wait a minute,” Sully pivoted in the worn vinyl seat.

“What?”

"That's all you're taking with you? You got all that firepower, and you're just gonna bring in those two pistols?" Victor jutted his chin towards the gun in Sam's hand.

“With any luck, that's all I'll need,” Sam let sardonic grin pull at the corner of his mouth.

“Since when have you had luck?” Sully snorted, making Sam frown momentarily.

“That's why I got Plan B.”

“And what's Plan B?” Sully asked, chucking a small walkie-talkie to Sam. He clipped it to his back pocket.

“Just trust me.”

Ready.

Sam clenched his jaw, a determined sigh jetting through his nostrils.

"I'm gonna make this right, Victor," Sam said, a quiet declaration to both Sullivan and himself.

“I know you will.”

Sam jumped from the plane down onto the dock below him.

"Just be careful of the crocodile," Victor added.

Sam's nose wrinkled.

“Crocodile?”

"Go," Sully commanded, revving the plane's motors, signal that any further discussion of this warning was over. Sam, albeit a little confused, slammed the metal door on the plane shut, giving the old girl a couple pats for good luck.

Alright, Drake, let's go get our girl. The last of the sentence in his head formed spontaneously. He wanted it to be right, part of him did, but the truth of the matter hit him like a mule kick to the gut. It was wrong. With what he had done, she would never be his. There could be no forgiveness on her part or even to himself. He was right; this was a mission of redemption, but with it would follow a hollow ending. Though he could make the world safe for Faith again, he could never set it right for her and give back what he had taken. His existence was like an unknown toxin in her life, corrupting each person around her he touched like a cancer, growing, consuming all grace. If he could take it, purge it from her system, purge him completely from her life. If he set this right and disappeared, it could finally be a cure where she could start over. She deserved that.

The building before him was old, massive, and intimidating, not to mention giving a whole new meaning to the phrase, 'middle of nowhere.' The delicate thwack of the water's waves mixing with the hissing winds through the giant archways echoed; A foreboding acoustic mix that did nothing but add to the feeling of intimidation creeping up Sam's back.

So, to fight it off, he did the only thing he knew to do. Sam Drake shook a smoke from his pack, lit it with a quick flip of his lighter, cocked his gun, and started walking forward.

He hiked over the packed gravel bridge that spanned the width of the fortresses moat, a large ring of water clear enough to call its identity as a moat into question.

The day's heat and humidity had already started to rise. He felt a damp film of cool sweat tickle his lower back as he entered the fort, the masonry retaining its coolness of the night. Sam passed in front of the empty guard station and a small sunken room off the central passage that acted as a gift shop. He reached the end of the main entrance, the concrete parting wide and grand to usher Sam into the fort's sprawling courtyard.

Scrub grass crawled over the sandy surface, yellowing or balding patches pockmarking the ground's attempt at healthy green growth. Ruins of red brick walls clawed up through the grass, trying to give shape to what was once some military building. The occasional palm tree swaying to its own music. It was a vast open space that had been stripped of anything useful to society over time, leaving the big building feeling naked and sad.

Sam stood quietly while he scanned the courtyard for any sign of Nox or his men. The smoke from the cigarette between his fingers swirled gently up his arm—the sounds in the air nothing but waves and the occasional squawk from an island bird. Sam allowed himself one last long drag before blowing large unsettled plumes out of his nostrils and crunching the rest of it under his boot. He took a couple of steps back into the main doorway and grabbed a glossy brochure from in front of the gift shop alcove, shaking it open while he walked towards the light of the courtyard.

Sam stared at the commercially colorized map.

"Faith does love a good map," He muttered under his breath as his eyes ran over the glossy commercial colors. The sound of her name dripping from his lips, a sweet rain that used to make him grin now single-handedly enveloping him in a cloud of shame. Sam shook it off. Like most touristy maps, it highlighted the main focal points and prominent locations within the fort, ruins of the artillery shed, the cistern, the officers quarters, and the second floor at the end of a long hallway, the cell of its most famous guest. Knowing Jasper's penchant for drama and theatrics, Sam already knew that's where he would find Faith.

He crumpled the map and shoved it into his back pocket and headed for it at a jog. Sam hurdled over the sill of one of the inner archways and inside the running ring of the fort. Dirt and sand crackled under his boots as he passed arches, all in different states of erosion. Some of the more decrepit reduced to nothing but a craggy, terrifying gap dropping off into the courtyard or the sea. Yellow caution tape had been haphazardly strung across their width and pieces of orange, plastic snow fence pieced across them—enough of a precautionary measure to avoid a lawsuit. Sam passed loose bricks and pieces of rebar, scant evidence of some sort of restoration effort that had occurred at a point in time. The hallway veered right, leading him to a way up. The staircase was dark, narrow, and spiraling, enough room for him but indeed not wide enough for two people side by side. Circling tightly and encased in concrete, it revolved only one and a half times before spitting the climber out on the second floor. It was a claustrophobics nightmare.

Before he could mount the stairs, the clatter of falling gravel on the steps above him gave him pause. Hearing faint movements but no conversation, he hoped it was just one guard. Slinking his way up the stairs, Sam kept his gun raised, and his back pressed flat against the wall. Reaching the top, he peeked around the corner.

One guard was pacing slowly around a set of arches, his sidearm still sitting idle in its holster. The guard dragged the toe of his black workboot through the sand like a mandala, creating swirls and patterns. He let out a sudden, vicious sneeze. His foot twitched and spasmed, ruining his budding work of art. Frowning in disappointment, he swiped his foot through the rest until all that remained of his art, just a pile of silt, dirt, and sand. Sam watched it all silently from the staircase.

Got some real winners employed here, Jasper, He thought, stowing his gun as he watched the guard leaning against the side of a stable arch, his gaze fixed on the ocean in front of him. Seizing the moment, Sam emerged from his hiding spot and, with one quick kick, swept the officer's leaning legs out from underneath him. He landed on the ground with a harsh thud, his face slack with surprise until a firm boot to the jaw from Sam rendered him unconscious.

Sam dashed soundlessly along the hallway, ears pricked up, eyes darting and alert. He reached the end of the hall and its staircase to the next floor without incident. Sam eagerly ran up the stairs, taking two at a time-

THUMP!

A solid mass of a man slammed into his chest, the moment catching both of them off-guard. Sam hit the back of the concrete capsule and rolled down along the wall, the edge of the stairs bit into his hip as he slid until he spilled back out onto the ground floor. Sam righted himself, scooting backward as the large guard emerged from the shade of the staircase.

“Jesus, you're a big fella now, aren't ya?” Sam quipped. The massive man approached, adjusting his belt.

"Well, you know what they say, 'the bigger they are...," Sam prompted raising one foot, thrusting it towards the guard's knee. A moment before he could make contact, the guard swooped down with quick cat reflexes and grabbed Sam's boot.

"Ah, shit."

The man jerked Sam's leg violently sideways, the tendons and nerves in his ankle and knee strained and screamed with pain. Sam yelled as his other foot shot out with pure reflex. The blow landed in the guard's ample stomach, making him double over. The burly man's retching gave Sam the window he needed to slither away from his grasp. He was trying to reach the closest archway to get himself to his feet when a large boot slammed into his lower back.

Sam wheezed a curse and rolled awkwardly towards the wall, trying to lessen the blows of the quick kicks being administered to his stomach. Able to reach the eroded bottom of an archway along the wall, Sam grabbed frantically for a rock, a pipe, anything useful. Settling on a grapefruit-size chunk of concrete, he whipped it at the guard. The rock thudded against the zipper of his crotch, sending him hard to his knees. Sam steadied himself upright. Back on his feet, he landed a right hook in the sweet spot, knocking the big guy out cold.

“Shit, why do they always have to go for the same knee?” He grumbled between heavy breaths. Sam worked it back and forth and tested putting pressure on it. He took a few hobbling steps as he batted the dust off himself and feeling for his gun still stored beneath his red overshirt. The pain amounted to all of a gnawing ache, nothing that his body hadn't felt and dealt with before.

The view from the arches passed like shuttering frames of film as Sam jogged towards his final set of stairs. The fort was still quiet, Jasper and the rest of his goons tucked away for now. Not knowing exactly how many men Jasper had already on the island, not to mention how many he had incoming that day, Sam planned on saving his bullets until he had no choice but to start shooting, something entirely not his style. He took the last staircase with more caution than the last; his ears were still raised for any sounds of people. The narrow opening from the stairs gave way to one last row of arches, all almost all intact. A massive oak door faced him from the other end, a large worn beam securely seated to hold the door closed.

An all too familiar sign hung above the door, the words on it making his stomach churn.

Whoso Entereth Here Leaveth All Hopes Behind.

Mudd's cell. Faith.

The realization of how close he was to her drew him like a high powered magnet. Sam raced towards the door, heart pounding, the ache in his knee forgotten. He just needed to get her out.

Sam grabbed just underneath the center of the beam that was keeping him out. The veins on his forearms strained against his tanned skin as he tried desperately to lift the substantial chunk of wood. Sweat coated his palms, and the erosion of smoothed wood worked against him, the locking beam barely creaked in its cradle.

"Shit!" He swore loudly. Sam looked around wildly for something, anything that could be used to aid him in opening the door. The quick search produced nothing but a couple chunks of masonry and the remnants of a bag of mortar, the bag torn and scratched open—Nothing at all useful.

Sam's frustration and anger grew with every attempt to open the door. He was so close, this godforsaken door his last hurdle. In one last rage-fueled action, Sam slammed his shoulder up underneath the end of the log. Phantom silver flecks flashed beneath his closed eyes as he strained against the wood.

"Please. God. Move...you...mother.." Sam commanded through gritted teeth, his whole body vibrating as he called on every ounce of energy he had. Sam finally felt the one side of the log begin to give. Sam slid himself under the end and, with all his might, and a groaning, yelling swear, unseated the beam as thunked to the floor, missing Sam's toes by a scant inch.

No wonder it took both me and Nathan to open doors and shit in Libertalia.

Sam grabbed ahold of the large, iron ring and pulled, the door coming open with the hinges offering only a minor protesting squeak.

The adrenaline in his veins came to a sudden stop, along with his breathing.

He thought he was looking at himself in Panama.

The cell was small, with one small window, like his. Instead of humid sweat and sewage, this smelled of ocean salt and mildew. No cot, no sink, no bucket. Just a cement drain to keep the blood from pooling. The cells they stuck you in after un achicalada, to reflect, to repent, and to bleed. Hideyholes for the guard's handiwork kept you all tucked away until one could stand, walk, possibly breathe through their own nose again. From experience, Sam remembered relishing in the coolness of the concrete and eventually passing out against it, trying like hell not to lose your mind.

Sam snapped back to the present.

Faith had passed out against the back wall at some point in the night. The side of her body leaned against the concrete, her chin tucked to her chest. Dried blood flaked around her mouth and her nostrils, which whistled desperately for air. Judging by the familiar sound, Sam could guess her nose was more than likely broken. Sam's brow furrowed as he gingerly lifted her arm. Her knuckles were red and angry while the meat of her hands was so swollen, her rings squeezed into flesh that was a massive purplish bruise. Her arms and legs were covered in welts, bloody, torn open raggedly, and blistering burns that already starting to weep and go raw. Sam bit the insides of his cheeks.

Jesus Sweetheart, what the hell did they do to you? Sam thought, his stomach knotted as he looked at every burn, welt, cut, bruise and puncture mark, knowing the amount of time this kind of pain took to inflict.

Sam put her arm back down gently against her legs, which looked to have gotten the same attention as her upper body.

I gotta get her out of here. If her outside looks like this, who knows what her goddamn insides could look like.

“Faith," He called her name quietly. His hand hesitated in the air, settling on the side of her neck and running his hand across her shoulder. A site that looked like it hadn't seen much damage.

He called her name again a little louder, resisting the urge to pick her up and just haul ass out of there. If they ran into trouble, he knew he couldn't shoot and carry her at the same time. And she was in no condition to shoot for him.

Faith's eyebrows twitched violently at the third call of her name. Her eyes flew open as she took in a breath and began to cough like a woman drowning in a dream. The pain in her head made her eyes shut tight again while she gingerly brought her hands to her temple, her hands barely making contact.

“Faith, it's me,” Sam said gently.

The cloud around Faith's brain made her ears ring, her head roar, and her face scream. Through it, she thought she heard Sam's voice. Truth be told, she had been hearing it all night in micro dreams where they were still in their hotel room, each with a beer in hand, none of this or any of what Jasper said, having taken place. All a bad dream. If I was only so lucky, she had thought miserably during the night. But this voice was clearer, closer, and was delicately stroking her neck.

Faith let her hands drop slowly, a curtain reveal to see if this was just another trick of her imagination. She saw his eyes, the hazel that was usually bright and bursting with golden tones now a deep green-brown like a muddy lawn.

"Sam?" Her voice croaked out his name, and Sam thought there was no sweeter sound on this Earth.

"Yeah, sweetheart, it's me. It's me. Let's get you out of here, alright?"

Sam saw Faith's face darken and knew something wasn't right.

Words flew through Faith's fogged brain. Some old. Some new.

Sam Drake caused this.

After all the misery Samuel Drake has caused to you and your family...

What happened to your father was his fault.

How in the world can you trust that man...

What happened to your mother was his fault.

Now myself, personally, I couldn’t do it...

What happened to you is also his fault.

Arthur Bixby and Jasper Nox's voice playing in her head. A hellish, harmony, doubting tune she couldn't shake.

Faith batted away Sam's hand and coward against the wall. A constant chant of 'no, no, no' dribbled from her lips as she inched her way back into the corner with her heels.

Sam backed away slowly as she did. He stood and watched as Faith returned herself into the safety of the corner of the room, her knees brought to her chest, her face cowering behind her arms. She looked like a kicked puppy, scared to move, untrusting the hand in front of it held out in friendship.

An onyx Eagle came from behind to rest of Sam's shoulder.

"Now what on God's green Earth makes you believe she would go runnin' back into the arms of a murderer? Especially yours?"

[dalekofchaos]

Poe Dameron did nothing wrong

Hot take and total offense. Poe did the right thing in destroying The Dreadnought

While he lost a lot of lives, Poe was right in trying to bring down that Dreadnought. Poe’s reasoning for this run is that the Dreadnought is a “Fleet-killer”, and taking it out now could save hundreds, if not thousands of lives down the line. Yes, they lose all of their bombers and some of their fighters. Maybe 50-60 soldiers. However, the run is successful. The Dreadnought, which we see obliterate the surface of a planet with a single shot, is destroyed. 

Poe was revealed to be completely justified with the attack at the beginning, that destroyer was the only First Order ship with orbital bombardment cannons that have longer range, punch through the toughest shields and shred the biggest ships. If he didn’t do that, it would’ve followed them through hyperspace and destroyed the Raddus pretty quickly.

Poe didn’t disobey an order, he had convinced Leia of the plan. She was always in command, the call was always hers, and she decided to go through with it. However, when the consequences of the run are made apparent, she blames Poe instead of taking responsibility for her own call.

The Resistance drops out of hyperspace and is followed by the First Order. Poe’s concerns are entirely vindicated, and I think it’s hard to deny that the following engagement would have gone far, far worse for the rebels had the Dreadnought still been in play. Even assuming they survived that, what were they going to do once they got down to the salt planet? We saw this thing kill a planet earlier in the film.  

If The First Order was lead by competent leaders, that Dreadnought would have fired the orbital cannon on The Raddus and by destroying The Resistance and their fighters could’ve easily picked off their transports one by one. And guess what, if The First Order did have another Dreadnought on stand by, then they would have destroyed The Resistance on Crait. Poe Dameron single-handedly saved The Resistance. He should be commended and praised, not demoted and demonized. Leia slaps him, yet if Poe followed her orders they all would have died. Holdo keeps Poe in the dark despite Poe being her second in command and having the respect of the entire Resistance. Leia sanctioned the mission and did not see the bigger picture. Holdo kept the entire Resistance in the dark and they have the audacity to lecture Poe.

Poe did nothing wrong. Holdo didn’t just keep Poe in the dark, she kept the ENTIRE RESISTANCE in the dark. Holdo did more damage to The Resistance than the actual people trying to kill them

The only reason the rebels ultimately survive is because of this bombing run. This is never acknowledged, however, and Vice Admiral Holdo takes command and proceeds to dress Poe down just for asking for his orders and the plan. Keep in mind that Poe isn’t just some grunt. Even with his demotion, he’s your second or third in command, and he has the respect of the entire crew(Poe is the one who destroyed Starkiller Base yet that’s ignored), as evidenced by his later leading a majority of the crew in mutiny against Holdo.

Finn and Rose come up with a plan to stop the Hyperspace Tracking. He knows The Supremacy will continue to track the Raddus no matter what,  at this point Poe doesn’t really see any other alternative besides just possibly letting everybody die at the hands of an incompetent commander. It’s the only plan he’s been given, so he goes for it.

Holdo brought her personal crew from her ship and worked with them while snubbing the main rebel crew entirely. That’s a bit of a dick move, protocol or not. Continuing on Holdo.  In Bloodline, Holdo doesn’t stand up for Leia when Leia presents evidence that the First Order is a real threat. Why would Holdo have a ranking position in the Resistance when she didn’t think there was a need for it?

Connix assisted in Poe’s mutiny and she is  the “ultimate authority” on carrying out a retreat. Why was she not told about the plan? Her position and placement on the bridge next to Holdo is pretty “need to know”.

One of the biggest issues was not that Holdo wasn’t telling Poe the plan, but it was acting as if there was really no other plan. She was literally taking personal jabs at him when he was trying to find something out. If she said something like. “While it seems bad , we are working on a plan right now. We are not just going to stay here and have everyone die. Just have your pilots ready to go at a moment’s notice” But she didn’t even give him that. Remember up until Poe taking over, they were watching ship after ship being picked off slowly. The crew was given nothing and was told just to trust her. Blind faith in leadership is a horrible message. If that is the take away then why not just do what the First Order or the Empire wants. I mean seemingly they are in charge of stuff now. And we should follow orders blindly. Moreover they were down to < 1000 people, and from the POV of everyone else she was just watching people die. Rank be jammed. Anyone who cared about their crew would do something. He was a Commander and the flight commander there is NO way he should have been left out in the cold. Then Holdo has the nerve to say “he’s a trouble maker, I like him” while stroking his unconscious body.....THIS ALL COULD’VE BEEN AVOIDED WITH SIMPLE COMMUNICATION SKILLS 

When Poe finally mutinies with a large portion of the crew, Leia stuns him and it’s revealed that the plan was to empty their fuel reserves and send the escape pods to a nearby salt planet. However, when the plan goes into action, Finn and Rose’s contact betrays them and tells the First Order about the escape pods. This results in many of the escape pods being destroyed.This is played up to be Poe’s failure, but I disagree immensely. It’s Holdo’s failure.She had literally no reason not to tell anyone the plan. Poe, while his plan ultimately failed, had no reason to believe that Holdo wasn’t going to get them all killed. Nor did the crew. She’d given neither of them any indication that she was a competent commander, or that she had anything resembling a plan. In the face of that, Poe had the choice of either possibly letting everyone die, or trying something that, while it probably wouldn’t work, might just save the lives of everyone on that ship. In the context of the situation, I think Poe absolutely made the right choice, and any blame for what happened falls firmly on Holdo’s shoulders for being an incompetent leader who never inspired her crew or gave them any reason to believe in her, and yet expected them all to trust her with their lives and just believe that she was making the right decisions.

Holdo’s plan was stupid. Based on the First Order not having any WINDOWS. And based on being unwilling to admit she HAD no plan, and WAS in fact just trying to bail everyone out and see how many, if any, survived. She didn’t ram the Supremacy until almost every escape pod had been destroyed. HOLDO caused the deaths of far, far more Resistance personnel and soldiers than Poe ever did. HOLDO let her vanity and vainglory get in the way of effective leadership – if the people ON THE BRIDGE, FUELING YOUR TRANSPORTS, are helping to organize a mutiny against you because your plan is bad and going to get them killed, that’s a bad plan.  Holdo’s entire action was based on wanting Leia to be proud of her, and not Poe, honestly. And granted: that’s a perspective we know that Poe can have, too, but what Poe wants more than anything else is to make sure the Resistance survives and the First Order is brought down without a chance of restarting the way the Empire did. Holdo mainly seems to want to be in charge and restart the New Republic that failed to stop the Empire’s roots to grow into the First Order in the first place, and she was unwilling to ACT against the First Order until what, twelve Rebels were left?  She could have saved all of those unarmed, unshielded escape pods if she’d rammed the Supremacy as soon as the last pod detached from the cruiser. But she didn’t, because she never planned to take any actual actions to stop the First Order. Holdo’s idea of resistance was so passive, so laissez-faire, that she might as well have been a First Order mole for all the good she did. The difference between “the fire that will restore the Republic” and “the fire that will burn the First Order down” is immeasurable. Holdo – quintessentially in a White Feminist move – wanted to “rebel” only as far as it restored her own place of power in the Galaxy as a Senator in the broken New Republic that ignored the growing threat of fascism until the NR itself was destroyed. (This New Republic she wants to restore being the same one that allowed slavery to flourish “in secret” across the Galaxy, allowed for poverty like that on Jakku, allowed for the immoral disparity of wealth and power on Cantonica). In the novel Leia Princess Of Alderaan, Holdo’s “rebellion” doesn’t actually exist – she cares about people, specifically her own friends and the people for whom she is the Junior Senator, on Gatalenta. Holdo doesn’t really care about the good of the Galaxy. She cares about herself. Poe doesn’t care about restoring the New Republic. The New Republic is who looked him in the face and said that deaths caused by the First Order didn’t matter – or didn’t exist. They were corrupt and complacent, and they refused to acknowledge that the ideals of the Empire had not actually died down. Their treatment of poor, disenfranchised Systems – those whom the Empire had most exploited, in some cases – caused those same Imperial ideals to take root again and blossom as an open secret. They allowed for the Centrists’ (literal) xenophobia to be communicated like a legitimate viewpoint, keeping some Imperial POVs mainstream when they could have been condemned. The New Republic did not deserve to be destroyed with Starkiller Base, but it also didn’t do enough good to warrant being restored as it was. Poe cares about ending the First Order. Holdo doesn’t. If Holdo doesn’t care about preventing the tyranny of the First Order, then what exactly is she resisting…? Poe Dameron did absolutely nothing wrong in this movie, and he’s by far the most competent commander the rebels have at the moment.