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bakerstreet2014-09-06 05:33 pm
redheels) wrote in bakerstreet2014-09-06 05:33 pm
Love You to Death Shipping Meme
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| For centuries, cultures all over the world have anthropomorphized the concept of Death. It's easier to comprehend something so infinite, so complex as actually being like us. That's how we can wrap out minds around what is inevitable. Characters in many canons have come close to dying, have been in danger of dying, or have actually died at some point. The more that's at stake, the more interesting the narrative. So, naturally, let's take those two commonalities and blend them up into one simple meme: shipping with Death. And why not? Plenty of terms describing death-related scenarios are framed in words that are romantic or intimate. Kiss of death. A brush with death. What if those things were literal? In short, your character has attracted the attention of Death/a grim reaper/a shinigami/any other litany of macabre spirits...or your character is the shadow of death. Is your character not Death in vaguely human shape in canon but you want to play them as such? AU them! Everything else here is played a little fast and loose, after all. Of course, all of this will leave you with more questions than answers: how did this love blossom? Is it unrequited or returned? How can the two characters be together if one is alive and the other is more than just dead? Isn't it against the rules for Death to love a mortal? What kind of shenanigans could this cause, from affecting mundanity to intimacy?
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Shisui Uchiha || Naruto
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Sorry about the novel.
Shisui had come when he felt the fight, and watched the entire thing.
He didnāt know how he knew that his would be Itachiās last stand, just like he didnāt know exactly how he had arrived at the battleground, watching the devastating Kirin Sasuke used (so much older now, so much colder), then watching the trump card of SusanoāO by Itachi. Everything was hazy since he had died years ago, an event that felt more like a dream than anything else: there was darkness without his eyes, the rushing of the wind as he fell, and thenāthen nothing. Only silence. Only this. Sometimes there was simple nothingness, and other times, he appeared at familiar destinations, incorporeal, as if waiting. Watching.
And he watched. Oh, did he watch. The night of the massacre, he watched and welcomed all his wayward clansmen into death, comforted them as they cried and screamed over their own betrayal. He held them as they wailed, confused and afraid, and ignored the questions of his own demise. Itachi killed you, too! We knew it! If you were alive, you could have stopped him! But Shisui only shook his head and said the truth: he had taken his own life for the good of them all. He smiled at Mikoto and bowed to Fugaku, listening to them both say how they wished he could be there for Itachi now when he needed him the most.
When his mother died, he greeted her and showed her where to go to pass on. She begged him to follow, butā
Iām waiting for someone.
Shisui was sad that his wait was over. Itachi was too young to be going through this, was too good-hearted to be fighting his brother. He should have a wife and a herd of children; he had so much to share with the world, so much wisdom, and to have it cut short seemed criminal. There had to be another way, but yet, there wasnāt. Shisui knew it. He could see the thin thread of life-force dwindling inside of Itachi, and there was nothing he could do but wait. It was beyond his control.
Sitting atop the rock Sasuke was leaning against as he stared in abject horror, Shisui looked down and watched the way Itachi lurched after his younger sibling, finger outstretched, wondering what he was doing. What he was planning. What he was thinking. Itachi had always been the one he couldnāt crack, but craved to, and this proved as difficult as every run-in they had before.
Itachi was close, close to death, teetering that thin line between worlds, and he wondered if the elder Uchiha brother could see him yet, sitting with his legs dangling above Sasukeās head, looking young and bright as he had on their last mission. In the afterlife, he even had two eyes, though he had to become a temporary visage of Death itself to lay claim to them. For the time being, it was a fair trade.
"Yo!"
You're not sorry!
At some point whilst he laid there he felt his life flicker away, and it was strange to be aware that he was still there moments later, when the rise and fall in his chest had stopped and the aching throb of his wounds died away, he had vision when he opened his eyes and there was nothing.
No, that was...
He recognised the voice before he noticed who it was up there, perched at the top of the wall, and knew all over again that he was dead. Sasuke? He turned his head to look across at his little brother, frowned and turned his head away again, focusing instead on the best friend he'd lost so many years ago.
As if something had tapped into his feelings the scene in front of disappeared, all except for Shisui up there on the stone wall. He sat up slowly, looked again at where Sasuke had been and then up at Shisui.
'Yo'. As if it were the most normal thing for the two of them to meet again here. Perhaps it was. He would have done the same, wouldn't he? Wasn't he going to do the same for Sasuke?
"How much have you seen?"
Okay, yeah, not really.
Itachi just asked him a question as if seeing his dead best friend was normal.
He smiled, bowing his head a little before he pushed off the rock, landing on his feet before he started walking towards him. It had been a long time, a long, long time since he had last been able to talk to Itachi, and their parting then had been bittersweet. His face, that impassive face, and been the last thing Shisui had ever seen before he gouged out his own eyes; Itachi's voice was the last thing he had ever heard.
Shisui had waited a long time.
Holding out his hand to help him up, he nodded. "More than you probably wanted me to. More than you probably wanted anyone to."
like tears in the moonlight and eyes filled with pain as you walked away from a small brother in footprints thick with blood
"I come and go."
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Still, he didn't falter as he reached to take Shisui's hand, covering it with his own once he was up onto his feet properly. He knew what Shisui was inferring, but he had nothing to hide from his friend and in some ways that he already knew was better than having to explain it all.
"... I see."
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But Shisui did feel happy to have that hand in his own, the hand he had been waiting for all these years. He pretended it felt warm, and he closed his eyes with a small smile as fingers instinctively squeezed it. Itachi. How long had it been? How many years? Had Itachi thought of him as much as Shisui thought of Itachi?
"I'm not here to judge you, my friend," he murmured softly. "That isn't my job. Don't worry; I wouldn't be good at it if it was, and that's why I'm doing this instead." There was a little bubble of a laugh. "They were worried I would be biased, and I can't say I'd blame them."
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A deep breath, which he let slowly escape him - even if it didn't feel like he needed to breathe any more, it seemed to do a lot to settle his thoughts.
"Thank you for waiting." He whispered quietly, glancing briefly up at Shisui and then in the spaces around them, taking in the sights, the quiet, the unknown.
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He squeezed that hand warmly in his own, twisting to twine the fingers together. It was intimate, more than just a guidance, and he wondered if Itachi felt the same from him. He didn't dare ask, just as he didn't dare to presume. But he pretended that he could feel his own dead heart race in his chest; it made it feel more real.
"I only wish something could have happened to Danzo," he hissed, a little growl that made the air around him sizzle in a deep violet. "I hate to think about him walking around with my eye and arm."
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Whether there was another life after death hadn't been a question he'd allowed himself long to ponder the answer to, but he couldn't deny that there was an intense relief knowing that he and Shisui could have this. He loved him. Loved Shisui.
"... He'll get his own, eventually." He whispered, hoping to soothe his friend. In fact, in a gesture that he had never even considered before, his free hand came up to gently rub down his best friend's forearm.
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Shisui didn't want to seem doubtful, not of Itachi, and not of his placation; he simply wasn't sure. Danzo was sneaky, wily, he was a manipulator of the highest order, had wormed his way up the ranks of the Leaf and made himself important on some level. The idea of someone taking him down and giving him the just end he so deserved had dwindled to Shisui over the years until it was nothing more than a transparent dream.
Shisui was a forgiving person, but he wasn't a fool. And he wasn't someone to forget. Somehow, it would happen. Somehow.
That hand on his arm, though...that was a surprise. It was enough that it made him stop walking and look back at him, his own hand finding its way to lay on the back of his gently, warmly. That...that was nice. Nicer than he had been expecting.
"Itachi..."
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He had faith. Someone would see how he had, and would continue to damage the future of the Leaf that even in death they loved so much. The future lay in the hands of people like Sasuke, Naruto, the other ninja that had lived a different life and wanted peace. He'd paved the way for it, and although things hadn't gone as well as he had hoped, he still had hope.
It was pointless to concern himself too deeply with what would happen now. There was nothing he could do to change it, nothing they had the power to change.
Instead, there was this. The heavy sensation of Shisui's hand over his own, the look in those eyes, the sound of his voice, the sound of his name. They'd sacrificed more than anyone else could possibly know for this future, and perhaps, rather than throwing it away, they had just set it to one side for the time being.
He couldn't bring himself to say anything though. Shisui had once been a few years his senior, and yet he'd rarely felt any more than a few days younger. It was different now. He was visibly older. Did he still wear the signs of illness? His sight was as clear as it had been the first time he'd activated his sharingan, so perhaps... did it matter? Could he even bring himself to admit, even in his thoughts that there was something between them that defied everything? One word. Four letters.
"Mn." It was mumbled with a smile, eyes on Shisui's.
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But Itachi was looking at him. No, not just looking, but looking and smiling, in a way that was more than just pleasure at seeing an old friend. And anyone else, he might have questioned their sanity over the lack of grief and pain, but from Itachi, it only made sense. Here, it only made sense.
The instinct to repeat his name came hard enough to part his lips, before closing his mouth again. He had waited a long time for this moment, and now that it was here, he didn't know what to do. Could the dead blush? If so, he was doing it now.
"Your parents...they're waiting for you, you know," he murmured, unsure of what else he could say. "I...do you have any interest in seeing them?"
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Fear tried to consume him on a regular basis. He refused to let it.
Right now, though... at the end. When there was nothing but the path he couldn't choose, he feared. The things they had done. Would his parents really be waiting for him in the afterlife? Shisui was here to guide him. One last pleasant memory before he was thrown into the depths of some hell that he could never escape? Would the memories of that night haunt him for the rest of eternity? Would reincarnation come for him? Would he live another life? Or was it nothing? Just-- nothing.
He'd never pondered the answers to these question, and now they were here. Imminent there was nothing else he could focus on. Except Shisui. Shisui was the one solid thing. It made his fingers grip tight in his friend's hand, made him search for some truth in those eyes - but all he could see was Shisui. His Shisui.
His Shisui whom he loved dearly. His Shisui who had waited for him for all those years, been with him on a journey that he'd never quite felt completely alone through. He'd been the one he'd thought of every night before bed, and cast aside the answers to questions he couldn't ask. Questions about the decisions they'd made. The things they'd done. The things they hadn't done. The things he'd wanted, the future he'd dreamt of.
That last moment. Seeing him smile as he fell to his death.
It had been a long time since he'd let his emotions take control. A long time since he'd let the pain of his path bring him to tears. Tears that had fallen within the walls of the village he'd sacrificed everything for. Would that sacrifice truly include his little brother too, after all this.
When had he closed his eyes? When had his grip on Shisui's hand, on his arm tightened so much that his fingers felt like they might go numb any moment now?
Morty | PokƩmon | OTA
Alleyne - The Headless Horseman ā OUAT OC ā OTA, prefer F/M
Mia | .hack/IMOQ | OTA
Amaterasu | Åkami
Rose Lalonde | Homestuck
Hazel Lockwood | OC
Nepeta Leijon | Homestuck
Ritsuka Aoyagi | Loveless
Tessa | Supernatural | M/F
Masakaki | C for Control | OTA
Zipp | Salem | OTA
Zita | DC Comics | OTA
Battler Ushiromiya | Umineko no Naku Koro ni
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A god. The representation of the thing humans feared the most, instinctively. And as the third game of Beatrice's drew to a close, A black butterfly suddenly flitted into the room that Battler was in-the same room Beatrice had just left, in order to prepare for the fourth game. The little insect alighted on the table in front of Battler, flapping it's wings once...and then more filtered in, looking remarkably similar to the way the Golden Witch came into being, the only difference being the color. And as they formed....
A man stood to the side of the table, clad in the same black. His clothes-like most of the beings in this world-were western style, although under the black and red cloak he wore, the eastern trimmings of his outfit could be plainly seen. The only thing that didn't match the stark black, white, and red was his hair-bright orange and spiky.
With a scowl, he looked at the discarded game board in front of him...and then at Battler.]
Oi. Are you a participant in this game?
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[ Even after that shameful display, more people were making their grand appearance? This was a damn shame. More people interfering with their game! Battler put on a slightly cocky expression, knowing full well he didn't know just who he was dealing with, but not willing to take guff from any more of Beatrice's pieces. ]
Of course-- isn't that kind of a dumb question to ask? You were called here by the witch, weren't you?
[ All joking aside, Battler couldn't believe that this was another sorcerer. What could the game possibly have to gain by adding another nosy person out to control it however they wanted? ]
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....well. It's terrifying, to say the least. You know the feeling you get, the one that has a cute phrase like "Someone just walked over my grave?"
Yeah. there's that.]
Did you seriously just ask me if I got called here by that witch?
[That's a huge insult. Like, seriously huge. The gods didn't move to witches or sorcerers, and while they knew about their games...if they followed the rules, they didn't care. And, well...Beatrice did something she shouldn't.]
I'm here because she broke a rule, not because I'm her damn guest!
[Angrily, he sweeps his hand over the table-and the game board vanishes, leaving only 15 chess pieces behind.]
If you want to play your games or whatever, go ahead-But I'm picking up the souls she put into these pieces.
[And he'll just....grab them.]
Tell her to make pieces without souls this time, like you witches normally do if you play around with dead people.
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He was fighting for his family, and no one was going to interfere with that! While he knew he didn't want them to suffer because of him, there was no way he was going to let some guy waltz in and take the pieces. Beatrice was nowhere to be seen, but he had to... he had to protect them!
So he'll smack the pieces right out of Ichigo's hand, sending them clattering to the floor. ]
You're not going to interfere! The game I have with Beatrice is ours and ours alone! No matter what part of it...... I can't let you take any of it!
[ There was resounding pain in knowing they were dead. A truth he couldn't avoid, apparently, but only fifteen people were accounted for in death. Was this a clue? Delivered in an irritating, roundabout way? ]
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The pieces on the floor glow...and then, slowly rising out of them, were softly shimmering circles of light. 14 of them, moving in the air and floating around Ichigo, as kneels down and picks up the fallen pieces.]
Look, I told you already. You can have the pieces, and you can continue your game. But you're a sorcerer, right? You should know the rules.
[Casually, he dumps the chess pieces back on the table, as the board reappears.]
"No Witch or Sorcerer shall use humans in their game that have already died." You're lucky I don't report the both of you to your witch counsels.
[Although honestly, that'd be too much paperwork. He's more willing to just take the souls and give the witches in question a warning. With another wave of his hand, the souls in question turn into glowing butterflies, and vanish into the ether. With the souls safely where they're supposed to be, Ichigo turns to Battler with a sympathetic face.]
Look, I know you guys get wrapped up in your games. So I'll let you both off this time-but don't do it again, alright? I won't let it slide again.
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[ Battler balled his hands into fist and almost looked like he was going to smack death in the face. His family was gone, and it was this guy's fault. Now... what on earth was he fighting for? The very thing that Beatrice staked her game on had vanished into the abyss.
He didn't think what had just been done could be undone, but he pitched a fit anyway. ]
I don't know who you think you are, but you can't just do this! Bring them back, right now!
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[While he was getting angry, a sudden thought occurred to him. He'd grabbed 15 pieces-but only took 14 souls. So where...Where was the 15th person?!
As he thought that, a cold chill ran through his body-and he stared at Battler, as if comprehending what he really was.]
...No way.
[She wouldn't, would she? She couldn't have broken the rules so completely....right?]
You...You're human?
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[ Battler was fuming. This guy was insane and more importantly, there was no way to bring his family back to life because now they're perma-dead. He was definitely more than angry enough to throw a punch!
He'd restrain himself for now, as he glared back and was basically snarling. ]
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This guy was human-and Beatrice was playing with the lives of his family in a game? Shit, he'd just-
He thought it was going to be like every other time he was brought to a gameboard-simply scold the two witches for playing with dead souls, take them, and leave. No hurt feelings, and normally the witches didn't care, beyond possible tricks being revealed when the souls were taken. But instead, he was facing an angry human-who had every right to be angry-and for once in his long existence, he was at a loss.
Looking stricken, he swallowed hard.]
Listen, I-I didn't know. Normally, it's....
[His voice trailed away, and he shook his head. No. He wasn't going to make excuses.]
....I'm sorry. But....once I've taken them, they can't go back.
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You've forced me to lose all of them.
[ Ichigo might have looked sorry, but that didn't mean Battler wasn't going to hold him accountable. He didn't know the rules of witches and death, even perhaps denied them, but didn't think for a second that this wasn't a huge loss. That Battler needed those lives in order to fully and unconditionally win the game.
He slumped back into his chair, refusing to look at the god. ]
Haven't you done enough damage? If you can't do anything to help, then take your sorry ass out of here!
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[He doesn't know what causes him to say that, but the words slip out of his mouth nonetheless. And once they're out...
...So is everything else.]
I don't know what the witch told you, but even if you won? They would remain dead. She may be endless, but that only applies to pieces and beings already in her grasp. It's impossible to bring the dead back to life...and you're included in that number.
[He doesn't move from where he's standing, but he looks at Battler steadily. He won't back down from the truth-even if it is harsh and terrible.]
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[ He spits it out harshly. He's not going to let a death god take him, even if he supposedly is dead. Beatrice wouldn't allow it, and he'd go to his afterlife unfulfilled and full of rage for not facing her properly. For backing down here. He wouldn't allow it under any circumstances. ]
So just get out of here! This is my game, and I won't let you take it from me!
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[Despite what he's sure Battler must think of him, he's not quite so heartless as to take him right then and there. Instead, Ichigo merely looks away himself, closing his eyes.]
...For whatever it's worth, I'm sorry you had to find out this way. I won't interfere with your game anymore.
[But....
He allows himself to look back at Battler, seeing the hurt and anger that his actions has caused....and feels a strange tugging feeling inside of his chest. What is it?
...he doesn't know.]
...Goodbye.
[And with another burst of black butterflies, he vanishes away.]
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Now, what exactly was he fighting for? Was there something to look forward to, even at the end of a Rokkenjima with no survivors? ]
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It was inevitable that he'd return. And also Inevitable that Battler chased him away, yet again.
But...he didn't let it stop him. Time after time, he returned. Time after time, he was sent away. And each time, that strange feeling in his chest simply grew, along with the horrible feelings of guilt he suffered.
What was it? What made him hurt like this, like he'd never been hurt before in his life?
...When he realized the answer, he almost felt like laughing in despair. That outcome was probably horribly dashed by now, wasn't it...?
And yet, he still returned. Like he does now, the flutter of black butterflies probably irritatingly common to Battler by this point.]
....
[He doesn't say anything-he's long since learned that any attempts to will simply be shouted down. So, instead...he just waits. Waits for the angry words that will be flung his way once again.]