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Fanfiction - A Lifetime of Her (Part VII)

Part VII – “You bleed just to know you’re alive”

Twenty-eight

Why do sirens cry in blue and red?

Are they calling for help, for the crushing urgency, the need to rob time of time itself? Or are they warning us to look away, to prepare ourselves because tragedy is upon us – we might as well be next?

Even after many years, I’d recall their grieving sound. The way my hands pressed upon Claire’s belly, blocking the exit of her life with my palms. The screams around me, senseless, enhancing my growing despair. How her eyes never left mine – daring me to stay with her, to keep death at bay.

The paramedics came. They could have taken from seconds to a lifetime to reach us – I wouldn’t be able to say. Time skipped and jumped, a leaf on the fury of wind, fragile at the thought of flying.

“I need you to step aside, sir.” A small man told me with assertiveness, trying to dislodge me from my position, kneeled next to Claire on the ground. His gloved hands were already evaluating her pulse, placing an oxygen mask on her face.

“I will not leave her side!” I growled, ferocious. He gave me a serious look, but didn’t make any further attempts to take me away from her, certain I would strike and maim any man foolish enough to try. He was right.

They quickly bandaged her abdomen with a pile of snow white compresses, held tight against her body by a bandage skilfully applied. Claire tried not to moan, but I could see her pain in every ragged breath, in the sweat that dripped from her brow.

The ambulance flew across the roads of Edinburgh, transporting us to the closest trauma centre. The driver had opened his mouth – about to object my presence – but was shortly discouraged by my menacing glance and a shook of head from the short paramedic.

“Hold on.” I repeated to Claire, like a mantra, holding her band – being almost thrown to the opposite side of the ambulance as the vehicle raced to the hospital, jumping on speed bumps and sliding on the curves like a car in hot pursuit. “Dinna die on me, mo nighean donn. I won’t let ye, do ye hear me?”

“I’m… not… too keen…. on the idea… either.” She puffed haltingly, making a weak attempt of a smile, which almost broke my heart.

“Woman of thirty, victim of an armed robbery, gunshot wound to the upper right quadrant with no exit wound – she’s losing blood fast.” The paramedic announced, as they erupted through the emergency doors, a team standing by to receive them. “Glasgow fifteen, she has been responsive during transport. Her blood pressure kept dropping, the saline is wide open but ineffective fluid challenge.” He informed to a man with brown hair and olive eyes, who nodded in acquiescence, leading the gurney carrying Claire to a trauma room as I followed closely.

“Denzel.” Claire whispered to the young surgeon, as he started to unpack her abdomen to access her injuries. “Is that you?” He looked at her face, surprised at hearing his name, and his eyes opened in shock.

“Claire!” He touched her face in greeting, as nurses hurried around, preparing trays and drugs that might be necessary. “Dear God! What happened?”

“Do ye know her?” I asked, grabbing her hand in spite of a nurse’s protest, prepared to shoo me away from the secluded room.

“Of course.” He looked at me with concern in his calm eyes, as he started to palpate her belly. Claire hissed in pain and he pursed his worried lips. “I met Claire during medical school in Boston and was very pleased when she decided to return to Scotland and be a resident here, as I am. You really shouldn’t be here, sir.”

“Please…” Claire pleaded, closing her eyes for a second and licking her chapped lips. “Let Jamie stay…just a while longer.”

“Alright.” Denzel Hunter patted her hand in reassurance. “As long as he doesn’t faint on me.”

“How… bad… is it, Denny?” She asked, her eyes more unfocused and glassy. “I’m…fairly…sure…it went through…my liver.”

“And I’m sure you’re right - brilliant even in this situation, my dear. I’ll ask Doctor Myers to come in to operate.” Denny smiled, skilfully inserting a catheter on her jugular vein.

“I’ll be dead…before…he gets here.” Claire said sheepishly, raising her brow. Her face was hazardously pale, her whiskey eyes shining even brighter, her orbs dilated from pain and blood loss. “It has…to be you. I trust…you.”

Denny nodded, solemn, checking her pupils with a small flashlight, as she suddenly became unconscious – the monitors around them going crazy with alarms. “She’s bleeding out! Let’s move people, hang that saline wide open and two units of blood on the rapid infuser!” He commanded, concentrated in the wound’s trajectory. “Do you know her blood type, by any chance?”

I didn’t know her blood type – never had the chance to ask her, that information amongst a million other precious details of her that I knew nothing about. I didn’t know her birthday, even though I knew the position she slept in. I didn’t know her favourite dish – even if I was aware she preferred sneakers than high heels. I almost choked at the realization of the lifetime of things I could be robbed of, so devastatingly – left wondering, forever, because the time we had been offered hadn’t been enough. Knowing how much I loved her – and yet knowing so little of the one I loved.

“I dinna ken.” I admitted, gripping my fists, fighting the urge to curl into a ball and weep on the floor, stained with her blood.

“That’s alright.” Denzel assured me, throwing away compresses soaked in blood. “Let’s go with O-negative! I need a blood gas test as soon as possible and someone call the OR, let them know we’re coming! I want to be doing the first cut in less than five minutes!”

“Is she going to be alright?” I fearfully asked him, reluctantly letting go of her hand as a nurse took blood from her wrist with a fine syringe.

“She’s going into shock from the blood loss.” He explained in a steady voice. “I need to repair the damage right away, before she’s too unstable to endure the procedure. We’ll take her away now.”

I approached her, feeling numb as if my own blood had been turned to ice in my veins. I kissed her forehead, my lips hot against her perspired skin.

“Don’t leave me, Claire. This time I’ll beg.” I whispered in a broken voice. “Don’t leave me.”

****

I roamed the strikingly white corridors, incapable of sitting any longer in the waiting room outside the OR, where other husbands, daughters and mothers gathered, hope and fear lurking inside their eyes.

I came upon the small chapel, whispering of shelter and tranquillity in the half-light. I sat on the wooden bench, my hands entwined in prayer – I was ready to surrender to His will well enough, but was intent on offering a bargain.

“Lord, ye gave her to me.” I whispered, my eyes fixed on the cross where he had been martyr, symbol of the most loyal of loves. “I canna make sense of it in any other way. When my need was greatest ye set her upon my path so she could heal my soul. All along I was meant for her.” A warm tear streamed down my check, too raw to be contained. “And I intend to love her well the rest of my days – to care for her and make a home of her heart. I shall repay the gifts bestowed upon me by loving her to the best of my abilities. So I ask ye now – dinna take her away.”

I clenched my teeth, fighting against the sobs that threaten to wreck my body. “For if ye ever loved, ye know this – there’s this place inside me that only exists as long as she walks the earth. Once she’s gone, the part of me that lived in her light – the best, the one that makes me myself and no one else - will die with her.” My voice was unhinged, resounding in the naked walls, pulsing as the chambers of His heart. “I’m none so brave as I was before, ken?” I added very softly. “Not brave enough to live without her anymore.”

I heard footsteps approaching the door – I didn’t bother to clean away the tear tracks on my cheeks. I didn’t turn either – I knew who had come to bring me news.

“Does she live?” I asked aloud – the hint of pain, of shaped glass an inch away from shattering, creeped into my voice.

“She lives.” Denzel Hunter sat next to me, sighing in tiredness as his bones found comfort in transient rest. “It was touch and go for a while, but I was able to retrieve the bullet and repair the vessels – she lost a bit of her liver, but it will regenerate itself with time.” His outline was sharp, softness mixed with edges, akin to a bust of an angel descending from grace to speak of hope to the lost crowd. “It will be a slow recovery – but she lives.”

“Thank ye.” I closed my eyes and bent my head, my body shaking from supressed grief, as I let go of the leash I had been using to keep myself together. “Thank ye.” I repeated. I didn’t know if I was thanking Denzel Hunter or God – but to me, in that moment, they were one and the same.

He squeezed my shoulder in silent acknowledgment and left me alone – to cry for joy and gratitude, for my heart had been saved.

****

I sat by her side as soon as she went to a room in recovery. I jumped each time a monitor bleeped, startled to the point of panic – but she slept peacefully, her lips still hauntingly pale.

I knew sleep wouldn’t touch me – my task was to watch over her. To guard her. To will her back to me.

I marvelled with each heartbeat – found terror in the infinitesimal space between each and every one of them. I talked to her in the Gaidhlig, the language of my dreams, in which I could best tell her all my heart. I brushed her hand with inquiring fingers, learning the lines of her to make sure they were still the same. I kissed her lips softly, remembering the promise of her laugh.

And as the moon rose outside, I watched the circuit of air inside her lungs, the tiny movements of flesh and bone, adjusting to the challenging rhythms of life. I watched her breathe again and again, until she opened her eyes to look at me – and I discovered that I too could breathe again.  

anonymous asked:

Isn't long hair a hyuga thing? tbh i'm kinda squick about pairing the younger gen with oro, but then I thought hizashi? i'm totally down for that. That way NEJI IS THEIR SON. Neji is the pretty baby. amazing. And then when Hizashi decides to sacrifice himself for his brother, Oro is like 'fuck no' and serves A's head on platter to his pretty husband.

Ughhhhhh, why did you make me ship this. 


It’s Jiraiya who brings him the news, bare hours after the decision has been reached.

(For this, rom thinks, he’ll forgive every slight and sin of their long friendship, without exception.)

“You’re sure?” he asks quietly, trying not to let his voice rise the way he wants to, because Neji is asleep in the chair by the window, blanket dragged up over his nose and head pillowed on the book he’d been reading.

Jiraiya nods, face grim, a deep frown pulling at his mouth. “I—” He stops, drags a hand over his hair, sighs. “Peace is one thing. I don’t want another war to break out, either. But…”

But. Orochimaru’s hands curl over the edge of the lab table, putting faint dents in the metal. But this is family, and Jiraiya will always put family above all else. He’s never had occasion to be this grateful for it, Orochimaru knows, but he’s not going to forget this moment, no matter what happens next.

“I have to—” he starts, and then stops short, eyes falling on the vulnerable form of his beautiful son. Leverage, should the worst happen, and Orochimaru has been a shinobi long enough to have every expectation that it will.

“Go,” Jiraiya says, a command rather than a way to finish Orochimaru’s sentence. “Hiashi tried to stop him, but Hizashi knocked him out, and the clan’s keeping him sedated so he can’t interfere. If you don’t help him, I don’t think anyone will.”

It’s the first time in years that Orochimaru has felt kindly towards Hiashi, and he allows himself a flicker of satisfaction as he pushes upright, stepping away. “Will you watch Neji?” he asks, meets and hold Jiraiya’s eyes so his former teammate will see just what the request means.

Jiraiya has never been as much of a fool as Orochimaru used to call him. He returns Orochimaru’s stare with a steady gaze and inclines his head. “I’ll take care of him. And if things go south, I’ll get him out of Konoha and come find you.”

Orochimaru isn’t one for sentiment, and never has been, but that moment is probably the closest he’s ever come to hugging Jiraiya. “Thank you,” he says instead, and without waiting for a response—because, knowing Jiraiya, it will be something that makes Orochimaru want to hit him, since that’s how things go between them—he turns to climb the stairs into the house.

“Good luck,” Jiraiya tells him, quiet but entirely sincere. “I’m sorry I can’t help more.”

“This is more than enough,” Orochimaru returns without looking back, and keeps moving.


The handoff is happening in Frost Country, neutral ground, and alone and moving fast Orochimaru makes it there hours ahead of the Konoha squad, even though he leaves later. The Kumo nin are already there, the Raikage among them, smug and satisfied and bristling with weapons, a show of force that makes rage crawl hot and biting up Orochimaru’s spine.

In the trees, carefully beyond the range of the guards, he takes a breath. The jinchuuriki is with them, crouched near the outside of the circle, and he’ll have to be the first one Orochimaru deals with. Behind him A is speaking with one of his guards, smiling, and Orochimaru is prone to losing his temper but this fury is as cold as the arctic, as devastating as an avalanche.

Hizashi is his, the first in decades to see him, even when others turned away.

They can’t have him.

This is every misguided and reckless idea Orochimaru has ever had, smashed together and magnified by the power of ten, but war and death and failure matter nothing at all in the face of hearing that his husband sacrificed himself without even letting Orochimaru know. Without facing him, because he knows Orochimaru would never agree, and that he isn’t as easily dealt with as Hiashi. There will be a reckoning for that, but only when Orochimaru is absolutely certain all threats have been dealt with.

He takes a breath and drops from the branches, shakes back the sleeves of his robe, and calls up his chakra. It boils across the clearing, sharp-edged and unsettling as a knife slashed across a bared throat, and before even Killer Bee can react Orochimaru is in front of him, Kusanagi in hand, his free palm already glittering with five points of light.

“Death to warmongering fools,” Orochimaru hisses, and slams the Five Elements Seal into the jinchuuriki’s chest with all the force of his chakra behind it. Bee crumples, collapsing at Orochimaru’s feet, and Orochimaru steps around him and brings Kusanagi up in a sweeping slash that cleaves through skin and bone with equal ease.


The Konoha nin take one stride into the clearing and stop dead.

Seated on a fallen tree in the middle of the blood-soaked grass, Orochimaru coolly looks up from where he’s polishing Kusanagi’s blade with loving care. He eyes his old teacher for a long moment, then uncoils himself and comes to his feet, sheathing his sword and reaching down to pick up what’s sitting next to him.

He doesn’t look at his husband, wrists bound, standing behind Sarutobi.

“Forgive me my impetuousness, sensei,” he says, and gracefully dips to set the Raikage’s severed head at Sarutobi’s feet. “I’m afraid my temper got the better of me.”

There’s fear in the faces of those watching him, but Orochimaru doesn’t care, doesn’t look to see if Hizashi shares their terror at the sight of him in blood-drenched robes, with streaks of it drying rust-red across his pale skin.

“Orochimaru.” Sarutobi sounds torn between exasperation and true anger. “This—you have—”

“Prevented you from making a mistake,” Orochimaru finishes for him, and lets his gaze slide past his teacher for the first time. Hizashi is staring at him, lavender eyes wide, and he looks exhausted and grief-stricken and so very pained that all of Orochimaru’s immediate anger slides away.

I’ve seen you on the battlefield, and only a fool wouldn’t fear you there, Hizashi had told him, one quiet night in the midst of the Third War, alone around a campfire and just come from a fight. Orochimaru had never spoken to him before, never looked at him with any thought beyond his abilities and his eyes, but that night changed many things. But the way you keep going, even when everyone else is ready to give in and die—that’s the reason I would fear you.

Hizashi has always given in too easily, and Orochimaru has never learned how to surrender. It’s in the middle where they meet that they can build something functional, but sometimes—

Sometimes a reminder that there are merits in both extremes is necessary.

“Orochimaru!” Sarutobi’s voice is as sharp as Orochimaru has ever heard it, but he brushes past the Hokage without pause.

“The jinchuuriki is alive, but unable to touch his chakra,” he says disinterestedly. “Use him as a bargaining chip. Kumo will not want to lose its only adult human sacrifice.”

Hizashi looks at him as he comes to a halt before the man, and there’s something in his face that feels like wonder and tentative joy. “You—for me?” he whispers, and raises bound hands.

Orochimaru catches them, presses his cheek to one callused palm and lets his lashes dip to hide the violence he’s sure is still burning in his eyes. “Neji would be heartbroken,” he says, and feels the faint flinch Hizashi gives without remorse. Hizashi knows by now that Orochimaru has never been one to fight fair; he should have expected nothing less.

“I couldn’t be the cause of you going back to war,” Hizashi says, and Orochimaru glances up to meet his tired eyes. “Not with Neji. Not after it almost broke you last time. I would do anything to keep my family safe.”

My greatest hope is to find something to live for, Orochimaru had told him, years ago, in a tent with walls too thin and more battles looming, his hands splayed across a broad chest. Exhaustion and too little chakra, coupled with the rare intimacy—so strange with a person who didn’t shy away—had made the words as simple as a thought. I have no reason to give in, but—

Sometimes I think that I would like one.

“So would I,” Orochimaru returns, and slices through the ropes holding him with a kunai. Instantly, Hizashi wraps his arms around him and pulls him in, drags him up against his chest and buries his face in blood-soaked hair. Orochimaru leans into his hold, feels the strength and solidity of him, and forces himself to breathe.

Even if this is the last moment before another war, Orochimaru doesn’t care. Hizashi and Neji are the only reasons he’s ever had to stop fighting, and now that he has them there’s no force in the universe that can take them away.

Hearing Voices Part II - Roscar
  • Oscar: So you've been surprisingly quiet on this subject.
  • Ozpin: Well... when I knew Miss Rose, she was a bright and promising student of mine, and several scores younger than me. My input on the subject feels...improper.
  • Ozpin: If you're looking for advice on romance more broadly, it is not something that is off-limits for us. We have known many great loves throughout our lifetimes. However...it is complicated.
  • Oscar: Of course it is.
  • Ozpin: Destinies such as ours require full dedication. Shaping the future of mankind is not a part time undertaking. When we make choices, we often have to put what is best for the people ahead of our own wants and needs. This makes it understandably...difficult for the people we love. For the people who love us.
  • Ozpin: We have known many great loves...but those loves come with great hardship. And great loss.
  • Oscar: (dejected) Terrific...
  • Ozpin: Further, regarding Miss Rose, regarding Ruby, her path will not be an easy one either. The silver-eyed warriors were renowned for their fierceness, their courage, and their unmatched skill on the battlefield. But their power comes with a cost. They are the protectors of mankind. They take on challenges far greater than other warriors...sometimes challenges that can be more than even their great power can defeat. The silver-eyed warriors, more than the average Huntsman, are known for their heroic, but very premature deaths.
  • Ozpin: Ruby inherited her silver eyes from her mother, and she died very young. Ruby was only a small child. I hope the same fate doesn't befall Ruby, but that is not in my hands. When Ruby's battle comes, she alone will be the one who can determine the outcome. Regardless, however long or short Ruby's journey is, it will be a difficult one. You both have destinies that require great sacrifice to achieve.
  • Ozpin: So about what you are thinking about starting with her, that is your choice to make. But be warned: with the paths each of you are on, with the challenges each of you will face, there is little likelihood that the two of you will have a happy ending.
  • Oscar: You're just here to bring me sunshine and good news, aren't you?
  • Ozpin: I'm afraid not, no.
  • Oscar: Seriously? Don't you have anything that isn't gloom and doom and sacrifice and destinies? Can't you tell me one thing that is positive?!
  • Ozpin: There is a pastry shop two streets over that makes an excellent cup of cocoa. I highly recommend you stop in.
  • Oscar: *facepalms*

Excuse me guys, I bring bad news: this morning I fell from a ladder while I was at work. I dislocated my right shoulder and I beat stronger the elbow (always right) so much that my arm is totally immobilized now. I have already solved all without surgery and I didn’t need plastered, but the orthopedist told me to sit still at least until Friday. therefore my work will suffer a slowdown. I don’t know if I will remain blocked until Friday, I might go crazy (damn)…

Originally posted by dbareactions

ok hi guys

for those asking for it, this is a post about 7x10

but please keep in mind these are my own opinions and feelings and I don’t mean to influence anyone with them whatsoever

I do also have a theory which I’ll be including at the bottom because reasons

click the cut if you feel like listening to me ramble

(and also beware of possible spoilers)

Keep reading

A/N To the sweet anon who requested the other Ben imagine, here ya go :)

Summary: Reader was separated from Benjamin a while back and then taken in by Rick and the others, she think’s Ben is dead until she sees him in the kingdom 

Warnings: Mentions of death kind of ??? Idk that’s to be expected in twd 

Benjamin

“Holy shit,” you laughed, a wide grin on your face as you looked at the tiger that sat next to a man on a throne, King Ezekiel you supposed.

“Jesus! It pleases me to see you old friend!” The supposed king exclaimed, a large smile on his face.

“It pleases him indeed,” a larger man who you guessed was supposed to be a jester. The king held up a hand,“Jerry.” You hadn’t yet realized who the boy in between them was, not getting an extremely good view of him as you stood behind most of the group, even if you did have a good view you were staring at the tiger.

“Tell me, what news do you bring good king Ezekiel. Are these new allies you have brought me?” The man on the throne questioned, causing you to look up at him.

“Indeed they are, your majesty. This is-” Jesus paused as he turned around, taking notice of their shocked faces. “Oh, right, I forgot to mention-”

“Yeah, the tiger?” Rick stopped him, glancing back at him. Jesus gave an apologetic look before turning back around,“This is Rick Grimes, and these are some of his people.” They all began to walk forward, some going to stand in between the seats, while Carl, Tara, Michonne, Daryl, and you stayed standing behind Rick and Jesus.

“I welcome you all to the kingdom, good travelers. Now, what brings you to our fair land? Why do you seek an audience with the king?”

It was only then you realized who the person standing next to the king was.

Benjamin.

One of the three who had helped you survive before Rick’s group had found you. You had been split up from him, his father, and little brother by a large herd. It was too late when you realized you’d run the opposite way as them. Three months of you looking for them had passed, that was when Rick had found you.

They had been your family ever since, after you’d come to terms with the fact that Benjamin was dead.
It was hard, as the two of you were so madly in love it hurt to think that he had become a walker. You didn’t realize there were tears in your eyes until Michonne gently grabbed onto your wrist, eyebrows furrowed as she followed your gaze. “Y/n, what’s wrong?” She muttered as Rick talked to Ezekiel. You shook your head, unable to mutter anything other than his name,“Benjamin.”

Benjamin noticed you as well. Once he looked over your group as you walked in, he took note of how similar you looked to his y/n, the one who had died quite a while ago. He couldn’t look back at you, it hurt too much.

He didn’t look back until he noticed you staring out of the corner of his eye, and saw how your eyes glistened in the light. He knew it was you.

When the failed conversation was over and you followed the group out of the building, tears drying against your cheek. Michonne paused, grabbing ahold of your arms,“Hey, who was that back there? Why were you crying?”

You sighed,“Do you remember the people I told you about? The ones I was with before we got split up and you guys found me?” She nodded. “That was one of them. Benjamin. I thought he was dead.” Her eyes widened slightly as she stared at you, until something caught her eye behind you. With a confused look, you turned around, seeing Benjamin standing about twenty feet away. His eyes widened as he realized it really was you, he wasn’t just imagining it. Without realizing it, your feet had begun to run in his direction, as did his. You jumped onto him, arms wrapping tightly around him.

“I thought you were dead.” You sobbed, holding him tighter than you ever had before. “I thought you were too! We looked, but we couldn’t find you.” He said, tears dripping out of his eyes and onto your shirt.

“Where’s Henry and your dad? They’re okay, right?” You questioned, pulling back with a concerned gaze.

“Uh, dad died when we fought against the saviors, Henry’s okay though.” He spoke quietly, eyes glancing down. “Oh, Ben. I’m so sorry.” Benjamin shook his head, grabbing onto your face and pulling your lips in to meet his. Your hands gripping onto his shirt as you sighed into the lips you never thought you’d feel again.

You heard a cough, causing the two of you to jump and look in the direction of the noise, seeing your group staring at you with amused and questioning eyes. You laughed nervously,“I’ll explain later. Give me a minute, please? Just wait at the gate for me.” They hesitated, but nodded, beginning to walk away. “Don’t take too long,” Rick smirked. You brought him back to your lips, giving him a short kiss. He leaned his forehead against yours, eyes staying shut.

“Stay here, y/n.” He muttered. Pulling back just slightly, you glanced away with a sigh, before looking back at him. He was staring at you with begging eyes, the same eyes he would use on you to get whatever he wanted. You caressed his jaw,“I can’t, Ben. I wish I could, you have no idea how bad I wish I could… but they need everyone they can get. A lot of people I care about have died because of the saviors, and I’m not going to stop until he’s dead.”

He wanted to argue, you knew that, but you also knew he wouldn’t. Benjamin could tell by the sound of your voice that you wouldn’t abandon them. A single tear fell out of his eye, but you wiped it away,“I’ll come back, when this is all over. I’d say come with me… but it’s too dangerous for you and Henry. I don’t want to risk losing you again. At least with you here I’ll know your safe.”

“As safe as you can be in a zombie apocalypse.” He said, a small smile on his face that told you he understood. You chuckled, nodding. “I better get going, we have an asshole to kill.”

Benjamin pressed his lips against yours once more, pulling you in for a hug,“I love you, please be as safe as you can out there.” You squeezed him one more time,“I love you, too. Tell Henry I love him and miss him, alright?” He nodded, and the two of you parted, hesitantly walking away.

“Oh hey, you have got to tell me how the hell he got a tiger!” You called out with a laugh, causing him to laugh too.

“When you get back!” He promised, smiling as he watched you laugh once more before turning around and jogging to the gate where your group was impatiently waiting.

“Got yourself a boyfrien’, y/n?” Daryl smirked, causing you to playfully glare at him. Michonne laughed, looking at you,“Don’t worry, I explained to them who he was.” You gave her a grateful look as you all climbed into the car, attempting to prepare yourself for all the teasing you were about to receive. You didn’t complain once though, not really, as it just reminded you that he wasn’t a zombie.

He was still alive, and no amount of teasing would ever tear that bit of happiness down.

Ghost In The Shell: An Ode To Kamikaze - Quill’s Scribbles

MAJOR spoilers ahead for the Ghost In The Shell movie, so don’t read if you haven’t seen the movie yet… which you’re not going to obviously because it’s a whitewashed, racist piece of shit and you would never support such a thing, would you? No, of course not.

I’ve been asked a few times to write something on Ghost In The Shell and up until now I’ve been reluctant to do so for two reasons. 1) I’m not really a fan of Ghost In The Shell. I know roughly what its about from what people have told me, but I just never really got into it, and 2) I’ve pretty much said everything I’ve wanted to say about whitewashing, mostly in my numerous Doctor Strange posts. If I started doing stuff on Ghost In The Shell, I’d run the risk of repeating myself. Whitewashing is bad, Hollywood are a bunch of racist opportunists and you shouldn’t pay money or support these kinds of projects in any way, shape or form. That’s pretty much it. I had no intention of watching Ghost In The Shell and neither should you. Enough said.

But then some rather interesting news came to my attention, courtesy of @gabriel-strange. VEEEEERY interesting news indeed. So interesting in fact that I honestly thought it was an April Fool’s prank. So I double checked. I triple checked. I quadruple checked. And I discovered to both my horror and delight that it was true.

But first, we have to set the scene.

Ghost In The Shell is a Japanese series of anime and manga titles that takes place in the year 2029 in a fictional city in Japan. In this cyberpunk future, the lines between humans and technology have been blurred, with people placing more and more reliance on cybernetic implants and prosthesis, and computer and electronics permeate every aspect of their lives. The main protagonist is Major Motoko Kusanagi, a cyborg who works for the counter-cyberterrorist organisation known as Public Security Section 9. Her main job is to hunt down and capture cyberterrorists and hackers, who are especially dangerous in this futuristic society due to everyone’s over reliance on technology. It’s even possible for a skilled terrorist to hack into a person’s brain and make them act against their will.

The series has been heavily praised for its creativity and its philosophy, posing some very interesting questions. How do you define who or what is human in a world where a person’s mind can be copied and where body parts can be replaced with machine parts? Where do you draw the line? It’s a very rich and thought provoking subject matter, so naturally Hollywood wanted in on some of that. In 2009, Steven Spielberg and DreamWorks acquired the rights to make a live action Ghost In The Shell movie. Paramount Pictures agreed to co-produce the movie in 2015 and Rupert Sanders signed on to direct.

All they needed to do was find a talented, up and coming young Asian actor to play Motoko Kusanagi. Who did they go with?

Yep. Scarlett Johansson. An actor most famous for not being Asian. She was cast in the role when talks with Margot Robbie (another actor whose defined by not being Asian) fell through.

This, naturally, sparked a huge amount of controversy from both fans and people working within the industry, and as night follows day, people started to try and justify this bullshit. Some people (let’s be kind and call them idiots) posit that there was never any indication that Motoko Kusanagi was Japanese in the original manga.

Originally posted by elittlejoia

Right. Because why would one assume that a woman with a Japanese name, living in a Japanese city in a series originating from Japan would be Japanese? 

Guys, she’s about as Japanese as you can get! Wake the fuck up!

Others say that the race of the character shouldn’t be an issue because the themes the series covers are universal and can be applicable to everyone regardless of race. Oh good! In that case, she should definitely be played by an Asian actor. Well… if the themes are as universal as you suggest, the fact that she’s Asian shouldn’t alienate me, a white person, at all, should it? Unless you’re suggesting the themes are somehow more universal if the main character is white. If that’s the case, you may want to look up your definition of universal.

A popular excuse is that the Japanese fans have no problem with the casting of ScarJo, with many assuming that a Hollywood production would have chosen a white actor. Even Mamoru Oshii, the director of the original anime films, gave his blessing, saying there was no basis for an Asian actor to play the role. So if they don’t have a problem with it, why should we? Well first of all it’s kind of tragic that Japanese people just assume their beloved characters will be whitewashed because Hollywood have done this so often now they’ve basically gotten used to it. But it doesn’t justify it. A child might get used to an abusive parent over time. It doesn’t make the abuse okay. It’s still wrong. And as for Mamoru Oshii, Well, with all due respect, his opinion is fucking irrelevant. No, really! His opinion carries no weight whatsoever! He’s a Japanese man working in a Japanese industry in a country where 98.5% of the population are Asian. Here in the western hemisphere, Asian people are very much in the minority and, especially in the US, it’s very difficult for them to break into this industry. The last thing they need are white actors stealing all the good roles they could and should be playing. (And for the record, the most vocal people criticising this movie are Asian Americans who have become sick and tired of Hollywood constantly screwing then over, so fuck you).

And finally there’s the age old excuse that ScarJo was the best person for the role and that casting an A-list actor would help to bring the franchise to a more mainstream audience. I mean there are no A-list Asian actors, right? Well apart from Jackie Chan and Lucy Liu (and they’re debatable), no. There aren’t any A-list Asian actors. And do you know why? IT’S BECAUSE YOU DON’T FUCKING CAST THEM! Of course there aren’t going to be any A-list Asian actors because you’re not giving any of them a chance! You keep handing over the roles to white people and depriving Asian actors of job opportunities that were intended for them in the first place!

The studios and filmmakers of course have been offering their own insightful comments, saying how this is a future world and that they’re depicting an international city. That seems to be their go to word. International. Code for ‘populated mostly by white people’. Even Motoko Kusanagi has been renamed as Mira Killian. Seriously, Ghost In The Shell is only a decade into the future. What happened between now and 2029 that the Asian population has somehow decreased exponentially?

And of course Scarlett Johansson doesn’t hesitate to get her thoughts heard, first by saying that this was about gender over race and how this was an opportunity to bring a strong female character to mainstream audiences. Now if you were wondering what White Feminism is, this is it. An actual feminist would encourage and celebrate the casting of an Asian actor in the role because it would be a massive step forward for women of colour. Old ScarJo clearly doesn’t meet those requirements. And then she said this:

“I certainly would never presume to play another race of a person. Diversity is important in Hollywood, and I would never want to feel like I was playing a character that was offensive.”

Uhuh. Okay. Dear readers, do me a favour. I want you to remember this quote for me, alright? Trust me. It’ll be very important later ;)

From Doctor Strange to Iron Fist to the upcoming Death Note adaptation, there seems to be this weird obsession in Hollywood recently of exploiting and fetishising Asian culture whilst surreptitiously telling the Asian community to go and fuck themselves. This Ghost In The Shell movie seems to be less of an adaptation and more like a white person’s self insert fanfic. And trust me, you have no idea how true that statement really is.

Which brings me to the interesting news I was telling you about. Again, massive spoilers for the movie ahead, so be warned.

Are you ready? Okay.

Well…

Turns out that Mira Killian is actually Motoko Kusanagi. She has the brain of a Japanese girl inside of her whose memory was erased in an effort to create the perfect soldier. There’s even a scene at the end of her meeting and hugging her Japanese birth mother and embracing her true identity as Motoko Kusanagi.

Oh yes! They actually went that far! Somebody actually thought this would be a good idea! And don’t get me wrong, it’s horrible. It’s racist as shit. I’m utterly disgusted by this, but at the same time I can’t help but admire the ballsiness of it. They chose to depict literal whitewashing in their movie. A Japanese girl is stripped of both her identity and any character traits that would identify her as Japanese and replaced with the body and mind of a white person in an effort to create somebody ‘perfect’. It practically borders on self parody.

But do you want to know the best part? Remember what ScarJo said?

“I certainly would never presume to play another race of a person. Diversity is important in Hollywood, and I would never want to feel like I was playing a character that was offensive.”

Tell me Ms Johansson. Do you know the Japanese translation for ‘lying, racist scumbag’?

Because let’s not deny it. What ScarJo said was a blatant lie. She is playing a Japanese character and now she’s quite rightfully being torn to shreds by the critics, most notably the Asian American Media Group. Yeah! Who’d have thought they’d have a problem with this?! Call it a hunch, but somehow I think there might be less demand for a Black Widow movie now after all this. So I wouldn’t hold your breath.

It also puts all those other claims to shame too. That the character’s race isn’t important and that this is an international city and that the themes are universal and so on. Let’s not forget that in the early days of production, they were considering using the same CGI from The Curious Case Of Benjamin Button to make their chosen white actor look Asian. The fact that they’re practically bending over backwards in a desperate and pathetic attempt to justify their whitewashing actually proves that the race of the character is actually important after all.

I can’t help but find this just a bit hilarious. I mean at least Doctor Strange didn’t pretend Tilda Swinton was Asian. At least they didn’t stoop THAT low. And the irony of it all is Rupert Sanders and co could have gotten away with it if they just kept their mouths shut. I know how gullible general movie going audiences can be. They probably would have blindly accepted a whitewashed Ghost In The Shell movie if the story and acting was good. But because the studio just couldn’t leave well enough, because they were so paranoid that they’d be accused of racism and that they’d upset the fans, they tried to tinker with it and ended up not only making the issue even more awkward than it already was, but also highlighted their racism in big bold neon lights. They haven’t just tied a noose around their necks. They’ve practically built their own gallows as well.

Already they’ve started to feel the effects. On its opening weekend, Ghost In The Shell pulled in less box office earnings than DreamWorks’ Boss Baby. And I don’t know about you, but I would love to have seen how that conversation played out to the studio execs. Your movie is losing to an animated film featuring Alec Baldwin voicing a talking baby. LOL. In fact I’m almost tempted to go and see this movie for myself just to witness it commit cinematic suicide live, right in front of me. This has got to be one of the most glorious kamikaze moves I’ve ever seen in my entire life.

And I can’t think of a more appropriate way to end this Scribble than with the ironic use of this classic from the 80s. Enjoy :)

This “Monster High is ending! The reboot failed!!!” thing is bringing me back to the days of “I heard big news about Mattel’s secret doll plans from my waiter at PF Chang’s”

In all honesty, a private Instagram account with only a few posts seems just as reliable as a waiter at PF Chang’s for news about Mattel’s business plans

There’s literally nothing to back up the idea of MH ending right now. We have plenty of more dolls and minis incoming and a show on YouTube is in the works.

If this were about EAH I’d agree that it actually looks that way. EAH has no (announced) specials coming and they’re not even available at one of the big 3 retailers now (that being Walmart)

I feel like the person that started the rumor is just bitter about the reboot. There’s just no logical reason for them to start to pull the plug on MH right now

Hades and Persephone

Originally posted by kougami-shinya

Request: “Hades/Persephone: reader is the only friend Ben ever had at his uncle’s Academy. After the fall, the Knights of Ren hunted her and brought her to Ren, at his command. She chose to remain, seeing her lost her friend in Kylo, as much as he tries to deny that. Little she knows Ben had feelings for her and Kylo Ren is selfish enough to desire to keep her by his side.”

“An interesting concept could be a Hades/Persephone story with Hades as Kylo Ren and Persephone as the reader. For Demeter i thought about Rey,but instead of being Persephone’s mother, she could be her older sister.”

“Would you be cool doing a Kylo x reader fic where reader is force sensitive and can see the future? Her village is raided but she escapes because of her ability. Kylo eventually catches her though. I love your writing.”

“Could I request an Emperor!Kylo x reader fic where the reader is the princess of a planet at war with The First Order? He ends up taking her captive after her planet loses and asks her to be his empress.”

Summary: Emperor Kylo has conquered a good portion of the galaxy at this point in his life, has unsurmountable power, a far more advanced base, surpassed his mentor and completed his training, however it’s still not enough. Recalling an old friend, one who has haunted his dreams for years, Kylo calls upon his Knights of Ren to find her and bring her to him. Though he knows it’s selfish he can’t help himself, and he tries to keep her with him…eternally.

A/N: If you have ever wondered how many requests I can bundle into one fic, well here you go haha. Yay for Greek mythology AU’s! I tried to make this as relevant to the SW universe as I could but still kept at least most of the myth in there. Also song recs if you want a creepy vibe while you read haha “Night Time, My Time” Sky Ferreira, “Rolling In On a Burning Tire” Dead Weather, “Once Upon a Dream” Lana Del Rey. Hope you enjoy the fic! :)


Ben watched as (Y/N) sat in the tall grass, whirling a stream of small leaves around her with a smile beaming like the sun that was illuminating around her. Her (Y/H/C) was highlighted with a halo like frame from the streams of light around her. Their afternoons almost always consisted of this, sitting in the fields by themselves finishing their lunches, showing off to each other with tricks of the force. 

Staring at her contagious smile, Ben sighed to himself. His brown eyes were focused on her, his expression dumbfounded. (Y/N) to say the least was a luminous being. Almost everything around her seemed to come to life when she strode through. Her smile could heal the sick, her laugh restore hearing to the deaf, sometimes it seemed as though her simple touch could revive life into things that were otherwise dead and dreary. Giggling (Y/N) turned to him with her same smile.

“Your turn!”

Suddenly shaken out of his admiring gaze Ben’s brows furrowed.

“What?”

“Now you show me a trick!”

Pausing he tried to think of something that would impress her. The longer he pondered however, the more his aura dropped. All of the tricks he could think of were only destructive, chaotic, things created out of anger. The older he got, the harder it seemed to be to simply be appeased with himself using only forces of the light. It wasn’t enough. He wanted more. The voice in the back of his mind kept encouraging him to seek out more. 

“You do know a good trick don’t you?”


Staring at the fruit in his leather clad hand as he recalled the memory, Kylo rolled the round food around his large palm with the smooth motions of his thumb. The blood red exterior satisfied him greatly, especially with the stark contrast against his black leather gloves, as well as the all dark colorless surroundings he was engulfed with. A pair of Nexus deep in slumber lying at his feet, one at each side of his throne. 

Soon after he had completed his training, Kylo had carried out the ultimate task of defeating his original mentor and manipulator Supreme Leader Snoke. Though it freed him of his mental prison forced on by Snoke, it did not eleviate his destined path. He was in far too deep to be anything but solely committed to the Dark side. Now he sat on the ominos black marble throne, rigid and harsh in its design, as Emperor. He was finally the highest ranking soul of power on the Dark side, after years of dedication and torment, he had come out on top. 

Relishing in the fear he scattered across the galaxy, Kylo took it upon himself to make even more alterations to the First Order and its presence. Taking his Emperial throne, Kylo decided that a palace visible to the public would not be smart for his widely scorned kingdoms preservation. Sending out patrol after patrol, he searched far and wide for a planet, similar to Starkiller, to settle his kingdom onto. Snubbing Hux’s efforts with the newly improved base, Kylo wanted something, something far more impressive for his Empire. Finally, after months of scouting around every system known to the galaxy they came upon an otherwise scarcely populated arctic planet to make their new abode. 

The rolling hills of snow covered rock were seemingly deserted, deathly silent aside from the howling winds, it was like a blank canvas. Though beneath the snowy white surface, within the rocky terrain of the planet laid expansive miles of caverns. Within these grey caverns, twisting and winding through the dark, Kylo built his Emperial abode. It not only kept him concealed and protected, it added to the eerie persona he had established for himself as well as his Empire. 

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