During a hunt, an ally tells Dean. “You know what I learned, all these years, if you fall in love with someone and I mean…really in love, you don’t ever let them leave your sight with out holding them, kissing them and telling them that you do…that you love them. It don’t matter if you’re in a fight or if they’re goin’ out to get milk. That might be the last time you ever see them.”
By the end of the episode Cas and Dean get into argument, probably about Cas risking his life again. Cas lays down the law but before Cas leaves, Dean grabs him and squishes a kiss to his forehead and says; “Hey, I love you. Come back alive yeah? Or so help me I’ll make you suffer.”
Then he leaves Cas on the stairs, hesitating on whether to leave, a new found respect is wavering in for his own life.
Akatsuki doesn’t meet all that often, too busy with
mercenary jobs or tracking the bijuu across the continent. It does happen
sometimes, though, and right now every last member is scattered around the main
room of the base.
Obito watches them, hovering back in the thickest shadows without
any concern that he might be seen. They’ve never noticed him before, after all,
and he’s all too good at staying hidden. His eyes linger, just for a moment, on
his cousin, tucked away in the far corner of the room. Itachi looks a little
pale, a touch uncertain beneath the Uchiha blankness, and Obito feels his gut
A world of truth built on a world of lies, and between Madara,
himself, and Itachi the Uchiha own quite a few of them.
He takes a breath, takes a step. The shadows cling to the
edges of his cloak, Akatsuki’s red and black, before they part and fall away,
and his sandals thump lightly on the stone.
Instantly, Konan raises her head, rising and turning in the
same smooth motion. The moment she catches sight of him, though, wary hostility
shifts into surprise, and she takes a step back to put herself next to Pein
rather than in front of him. The Deva Path glances at her, then back at Obito,
and his eyes narrow. He stands as well, and says, “This is a surprise.”
The sound of his voice has Sasori glancing up, distracted
from his argument with Deidara, and he blinks, which is about as much a show of
surprise as he’ll ever give.
“What?” Deidara protests, offended at losing his verbal
sparring partner’s attention. He turns too, eyes landing on Obito, and falters.
“Who are you, un? Did we get a new member?”
Obito doesn’t waver, though. All of his focus is on the shape
next to Kakuzu, half dark and half light, watching him with building confusion
and a little bit of wariness.
“Tobi,” Zetsu says, falsely cheerful. “What are you doing in
here? Be a good boy and let’s go back to—”
“You tricked me,” Obito says, low but sharp enough to cut
through the chatter, and ignores the way Hidan and Kakuzu are rising to their
feet as well, looking interested and wary. “You tricked all of us. I’d
congratulate you on a job well done if I wasn’t so ready to rip your throat out
“Hey, hey,” Kisame says, a cheerful lilt in his voice as he
steps between them. “Easy now.”
But Kisame standing right in front of him eats away the last
restraint on Obito’s simmering temper, and he reaches up, grabs his mask and
flings it away with a snarl to shatter against the wall. The crash and clatter
almost manage to cover Itachi’s soft sound of shock, but Obito doesn’t take his
eyes from the Kiri nin looming over him.
“Lie to me,” he says, and it comes out guttural and angry. “Kisame.
Tell me a lie.”
Kisame’s eyes narrow a little, and they slide from the scars
on Obito’s right side to meet his gaze, considering. “What will something like that
accomplish?” he wants to know, and his tone is light but there’s a warning
buried behind the words.
“It doesn’t matter!” Obito snaps, frustrated. “Tell me the
damned sky is green if you want. Just lie.”
He holds Kisame’s eyes, trying to convince him, trying to tell him that,
knowing how Kisame feels about falsehoods, he wouldn’t ask without a good
Something of that must carry over, because Kisame’s expression
eases just a little. He nods, opens his mouth, and says—
Nothing. Not a single whisper of sound makes it past his
The swordsman’s face pales three shades, and he stares at Obito
as if he’s never seen him before.
Viciously satisfied, Obito steps around him, glaring at Zetsu.
“You told me Rin was my soulmate,” he
says dangerously. “You told me my soulmate was killed by my teammate. You lied to me.”
In a blur of sudden movement, Zetsu leaps back, chakra
pouring into the ground. There’s half a second before he vanishes into the
earth and escapes, but half a second is all an ability like Obito’s needs. He snarls,
and Kamui snatches Zetsu right off the ground and whirls him away.
The surge of chakra needed to carry the plant-man not just
into the Kamui dimension but across it, straight into another with no way back,
makes Obito stagger as his knees give way. Half an instant before he hits the
floor, though, a big hand grabs his elbow, and a blue-skinned arm slides around
his waist. Obito grips his forearm, closes his eyes as rage and hatred and
grief all surge inside of him, and—
It’s done. It is. But no matter what happens now, nothing
can ever be undone, and the past twelve
years of Obito’s life have been nothing but a lie. Rin wasn’t his soulmate. Zetsu
and Madara told him that to manipulate him. All his hope for kindness and love
died with her, but it’s not hopeless.
There’s still a chance. And that chance is currently staring at Obito, holding
him up as if he’s afraid letting go will leave Obito broken.
For one half of a moment, Obito thinks about telling Kisame to
Instead, he turns in Kisame’s grip, looks up to meet his
wide eyes for half a second that’s just about all he can bear. Then, with a
snarl directed at himself more than anything, he fists his hands in Kisame’s shirt
and leans forward, dropping his forehead against the swordsman’s chest.
“Tell me a lie,” Kisame says in his ear, lowering his head
to place a kiss on Obito’s scarred cheek.
Obito takes a breath, opens his mouth to say my name is Uchiha Madara.
Silence is the only answer, and Kisame laughs like it’s the
most beautiful sound he’s ever heard.
So I guess I should start by explaining myself about the so-called folders. I started with one short story in high school, set in medieval fantasy, which eventually became one of my favorite genres and a guilty pleasure in general. Then that story became a slightly longer story that was terrible. Then that became another story that was slightly less terrible. BUT. Then that story became a goddamn multi-book concept with a gigantic setting and thousands of years of simulated history. My largest project by far. Of course, eventually, focus wavers, new inspirations happen, or, more accurately described, I think something is cool, it gives me a shitty, derivative idea, and I chase it like a mad dog, then try to polish it into something remotely justifiable much later.
Arguably the second major project I ever thought of was inspired by the anime Tokyo Majin Gakuen: Kenpucho and its opening theme “0:00 AM”. Even though I never did finish watching it, I loved the high school setting mixed with darker, bloodier tones and equally stylized magical powers. So I took the name of the song as the title for a new story in that vein. Add some Bleach in, because I loved it despite its serious flaws, add some Egyptian mythology, because I’ve also always loved that and because I’m clearly insane, and the result was the second clearly mine, clearly thing of writing I ever made.
0:00 AM is the story of the far-too-opulently named Hohenheim Nacht, a blonde, blue-eyed German high school student in Japan who cares nothing for high school, and Tsugumi Shiku, a Japanese high school student who is crushed by the weight of the real world as college entrance exams loom, and also looks like she came out of a well in a creepy Japanese television. Shiku has always had an unwanted connection to the supernatural, ever since she saw Death (a little brown girl with pigtails and a blindfold, wearing all white with a scythe) take her parents away after a car crash when she was young, and when Hohenheim shows up, her head is a constant alarm giving her migraines. She stalks Hohenheim relentlessly, who is extremely put off about being followed anywhere, until she inevitably discovers that he is what he calls a Blood Reaper: metahumans who are in tune with the supernatural and possess a craving for the blood of monsters, which makes them stronger when consumed, but can be dangerously addictive for the reckless and uninitiated. Blood Reapers have Souls which are embodied weapons or abilities with which to hunt monsters, and the strongest Blood Reapers possess a power called Conquest, which is the ultimate manifestation of both their Soul and all of the monster power and abilities they’ve consumed over time, and represents the conquering of the self. After discovering his secret, and unintentionally causing the destitution of his temporary residence in Japan, Shiku is forced to hide Hohenheim in her own home, and friendship (and eventually very weird, standoffish teenage romance) blooms between the two.
At first, 0:00 AM was nothing but high school wish fulfillment and shounen tropes. Hohenheim is a monster-slayer with supernatural abilities, orphaned at a young age and subsisting solely on fantasy: fantasy of being a hero, revenge fantasy of becoming strong enough to slay his parents’ murderer. He meets other metahuman allies, he wraps up Shiku in his adventures, and together they discover the pantheon of Egyptian gods, all modernized and bureaucratized, that govern the world, as well as the enigmatic Blood Reaper with a shotgun Soul, the Dead Man, who seeks to upheave it. They fight the King of Monsters, the Dead Man’s plot comes to fruition, the world is pushed to the brink, and subsequently saved. Completely cliche.
But I eventually realized that that wasn’t what was important about the story at all. Despite being born of patchwork cliches and tropes, what ended up making me excited and care about 0:00 AM’s characters wasn’t just how cool or funny they were or what powers they had, but how they get through the story together. It wasn’t a story about Blood Reapers, Nekogami, and the Egyptian gods, but about reaching adulthood. Hohenheim refuses to acknowledge the real world, tries to subsist solely on fantasy and become a hero or rebel or really anything that allows him to escape. His loss pushes him to want to exist solely among the supernatural, and pushes him to only want to connect with others superficially. When he is no longer able to consolidate the two worlds, it drives him further into escapism, and he starts consuming blood like an addiction, justifying it by thinking that if he can simply fulfill his revenge fantasy and be done with it, a happy life will be waiting on the other side. Meanwhile Shiku is on the other extreme, of being crushed by loss, shutting herself off from things like dreams, hopes, and emotions. She is both physically and emotionally unapproachable because of her peculiar gothic appearance and stoicism, and has few friends as a result. She has a passion and love of painting, but resigns herself to the “truth” that it will not bring money or allow her to survive in the real world. She rejects even the slightest measure of idealism and thinks it is her fate to end up a miserable old woman. The two of them together pull each other up from their pits without knowing it, and despite the heavy fantasy involved in things like Blood Reapers, an Egyptian pantheon, and the end of the world, the story ends with both characters looking forward to a more mundane, but happier future.
This was the first time I learned that characters have a tendency to bring out what’s really important and meaningful in a story, its own soul, so to speak. My tastes and my inspirations still bleed through in painfully obvious ways, and I fear I’ll never really be able to escape derivation entirely. But being able to see through the styling, setting, and fantasy elements to what a story is really about and what the people in it are really doing, I feel, helped me make progress towards writing better stories overall. I still think the coming of age mixed with Blood Reapers, and Nekogami, and Nephilim, and Egyptian gods, and all the supernatural powers and mechanics, and the wacky high school adventures, and all the subplots involving other students are all cool as fuck, but knowing that, at its core, the story has a heart and soul that are fundamentally human, is what makes it worth working on and polishing.
summary: sharing is caring – or, at least, it’s supposed to be.
“Papa, this is my dinosaur. His name is Bubbles-chan. Look!”
Sighing, Sasuke lowered his newspaper to take a look at
whatever new toy Sakura probably wavered at the sight of Sarada’s pout for and
purchased. He expected something neon and obnoxious, so he froze when he found
in her arms a familiar green dinosaur.
Sarada grinned at him. “I found it in the attic when I was
helping Mama clean up because you’re…” She turned to the direction of the
kitchen and yelled, “What did you say Papa was, Mama?”
“A useless moron, sweetheart,” Sakura replied from the other
She climbed the couch to kneel beside Sasuke, leaning on his
arm until he folded the newspaper and set it aside. “Say hi to Bubbles-chan,
337-338: "Plunging into the Devil’s Sea! The Mysterious Skeleton Floating in the Fog!" and "The Joy of Seeing People! The Gentleman Skeleton’s True Identity!"
tempus-nexus said: Oooh, don’t worry. The Florian triangle is very much canon. So canon you’ll feel it in your bones
slaxtheraven answered: Binkusu no sake o, todokeni yuku yo~~♪♪
Oh, you guys…
There I was, wondering what the hell you were talking about with no idea of the sheer joy canon was about to deliver.
It brought me one new character (who I love so much already I will totally fight anyone who hates him); two brand new locations; one sad and mysterious past; and a new Strawhat crew member! Well, Brook isn’t quite a member yet, but he totally will be, once he gets his shadow back.
So, I just hit 3000 followers and I’ve been wanting to do this for a while. I’ve been tagged in so many of these and I know that a lot of you all watch my videos on YouTube that just saying thanks just isn’t enough. Even this isn’t enough to express my gratitude but it’s all I can do at the moment. Thank you all for the support and I apologize if I miss anybody!
SO I READ ALL THE COMMENTS/MESSAGES ON THE SUBJECT ‘OUR SCENE’
There are two things you can think of when I ask about “our scene”. Most people take it I speak of the entire dark scene, what all derived from the original 80s scene. Not really. Honestly I don’t care what’s going on in there. Sideways, I pick up how this scene is dying - goth metal was killed years ago, cyber is dead and loads of physical goth shops are closing down – goth bascially is not cool anymore / dead. The interest it gained in the ‘00s is killed gone in the '10s. Glad that goth is gone. Subcultures revive in waves and some of them need to die out for a longer while, thank you.
Then 'our’ scene. Not dead. Then I do not mean 'old skool / trad goth sound’ alone either. No, for me it was always intertwined with synthesizer music - even back then this was the case. New wavers and experimental bands were one of the first to pick up the synthesizers ('making music with the computer 1980 edition’) The music based on 'goth’ from the 80s that is synthesizer based has always changed more in our scene, whereas lots of guitar, 'postpunk’ bands try to produce exactly the same 1980s sound… This cycle have made the trad goth scene (the parties that only lean on 80s ) very boring. Some just start a band with that sound for the sake of it? Without being creative (The Soft Moon is one of the few good ones) The point of our scene was being experimental and creative… I avoid that type of parties as they keeping hanging in something’s that is gone, and it only attracted the same 25 people every time. That’s usually not what I want when I go out. I want to meet far more, and same-age people with different backgrounds.
That there’s less talent in our scene is not in every subgenre the case. But, it could be the case that you are just used to the production sound of the 80s and therefore lean more to the 80s, than to now or the other decades.
(for me this was often the case, as I found newer stuff less easy to the ear)
I think a lot of our lot either don’t know that our scene is evolving
nowadays OR that they do know it and genuinly dislike the sounds they bring (fair enough)
Many do not realise that the 'hipsters’ they accusing of hijacking our scene are coming from different scenes (pop, indie, noise, house, techno, metal) and adding interesting stuff to our music. Did I just say that? I did. If you would speak to me 5 years ago I would be on the '80s is the only decade our sound was performed well’-page. I remember there was a fuzz about artists like TR/ST and Zola Jesus and how we were annoyed at Drop Dead Festival (started of as deathrock/wave fest) was playing entire DJ sets with this type of stuff. These were all artists that either evolved as a trad goth into their sound or came from elsewhere and 'borrowed’ our dark themes and sounds. Not all of them are 'hey I just discovered a new band called Joy Division, probably way to obscure for you’- type of ‘hipster’ (Honestly those can die together with their stupid little lookbook/vintage clothing blogs. Get a life) (The only thing they added to our scene which was outstanding, was that they pushed dressing minimal black more in our scene and I am thankful for that, I long thought I was the only one doing that!)
Anyhow, I couldn’t hear any difference between them and that whole witchhaus scene coming up back then. In retrospect, I do see major quality difference between what was going on then (yes, most withchaus stuff was horrible, talentless).
Because of my blog and book, people think I am a major ‘80s worshipper. Not really? I like to document the beginnings of this scene just a lot and have spend years within the music from the 1980s, which I still enjoy. I once called this blog nowthisisgothic, because I wanted to bring back the ‘right’ association with the word ‘gothic’ again - that people realised where it came from and how it looked. It does not mean I do not see gothic as a broad term for what I call gothic today.
Trent stood out from the crowd. Allegheny College was very conservative and preppy. There was no hipster/indie scene at all. He was pretty much the only person who had a distinctive style. He was like a mod or a new-waver. He used to wear parachute pants, and this was back in the ’80s, that whole MTV era. He looked like he had just stepped out of a video.
I approached him one night. We were queueing up for dinner, and I said, “Hi, are you from New York?” And he said, “No, I’m from Mercer, but thanks for the compliment.” That was the beginning of our friendship. Within a day or two, I noticed a flyer for his band, Option 30. They were playing downtown. I gathered a bunch of my girlfriends, we went down to see the band, and I was just instantly blown away. He was so charismatic, and he put on such a great show—it was obvious to me that this kid had a lot of talent. The next day was my birthday, and he showed up at my dorm room with a bunch of Twinkies with candles in them and sang “Happy Birthday,” which I thought was very endearing. It’s hard to imagine Trent Reznor doing something like that, but when I knew him he had a very playful personality. He was a big practical joker.
ANDREA MULRAIN, Former Atlantic Records A&R, college girlfriend