「 Yorozuya Gin-Chan 」

While you cast away a hundred, I formed bonds with a thousand. Paired with Yang Xiao Long. Affliated with Fate/Stain Lens.

[silversadmurai-blog]

[[ Hi Stormblood stole my soul (still has tbh), but I’ve gotten a new laptop which I told myself is for writing so I’m going to try and ease back into things.

So uh. Let me know if you want to drop our threads. Otherwise I’ll start wading through my drafts over the weekend.

[silversadmurai-blog]

A hard plastic bottle is thrown at Gin-chan, hitting him in the head. It is filled with strawberry milk, and a small letter is sticky taped to the outside.

The culprit is nowhere to be seen.

He’s about to yell when something hits his head — killer litter is very dangerous you know. But then he sees the letter and there’s a soft smile to his face.

The strawberry milk tastes extra sweet today.

[silversadmurai-blog]

inherlikeness:

The stranger hardly spared the makeshift weapon a glance, looking straight past it and meeting Norman’s eyes. The boy grew tense involuntarily, his heart thudding in his chest. Most would likely not have been daunted by a child with little more than an iron pipe, but the way the man carried himself… It wasn’t an excess of self-assurance, nor a patronizing attitude. It was simply knowledge that he had control of this situation – all too familiar. He could see her face, cold and hard as the iron in his trembling grasp, though the woman had smiled.

He could hear the bone breaking all over again.

His blood curdled at the memory intruding in his head. The man spoke, equal parts terse and stern – not mocking, not derisive – and it was gone, but not without leaving a sick sense of fear turning in his stomach. He was helpless. He was helpless.

“Something as hollow as that…will never be able to protect the things that are important.”

Give up resistance. He didn’t dare break eye contact. But before he could so much as blink, the pipe was ripped from his grip, and the man had spun and slammed the two weapons in his hands into two dark figures that Norman hadn’t even noticed approach. Infected, he realized. He felt himself take half a step backward, felt his body trembling. The pipe clattered to the asphalt and he froze at the noise, tense as a wire.

The man, still completely calm and in control, held the second weapon out…to him. For him to take. Norman stared at the handle, and then raised his wide eyes to the man’s. He could see one of the infected pushing herself to her feet, but it seemed a distant, unimportant thing.

…He’s helping me. The realization broke through the near-paralyzing fear clouding his mind, and he managed to stay standing only by a tenuous, desperate thread of self-control.

“A weapon that’s swung while fearing others should be thrown away.”

Slowly, he raised his hands to grasp the base of the wooden sword.

“From now on, you should swing this sword not to cut down your enemies or your weakness, but to protect your very soul.”

The words would stick with him, and later, when he had time to think, he’d question, doubt, dissect for the deeper meaning, but in that moment they made perfect sense, in his mind. The infected woman had again found her footing, painfully, her ribs likely cracked or broken from the force of the man’s attack. Still, she lunged for him, sluggish with pain. He leveled a strike at her ribs in much the same way that the man had done, a little clumsy, but hard enough to leave her crumpled and snarling in half-mad pain.

In pain. That’s right. She was a person, even if driven mad from this illness, writhing at his feet, agonized.

He tightened his grip and brought the sword down like an executioner on the side of her neck. The woman fell still and silent. And for a moment, so did he.

Only when he released his breath softly did he begin to tremble.

“…We need to go.” He raised his head to meet the man’s eyes again, gathering every ounce of forced calm that he could manage around himself like a wall. He clutched the sword so tightly in one hand that he could feel the tremors in his muscles. “I – the rest of them must have heard that.” I don’t want to fight more of them. It was a hushed whisper of a thought, one that he hardly allowed to form before crushing it away. With a steely expression, he set his eyes toward the other end of the alley and took a step that felt like it took every ounce of strength he had left – and then another, and another, past the man.

He could only pray it would get easier.

For a moment, Gintoki wondered if he had made a mistake. Placed a sword into the hands of a boy who should have had no part in it. His attack to the ribs was clumsy, and the strike to the side of her neck easy enough to dodge for any seasoned veteran. But it was how he would handle that power that mattered. Too many times he had seen those who’d been given power over someone else abuse it. But that was no reason to deny someone else the strength to grow strong and protect their soul, was it?

His fears were laid to rest when the boy looked him in the eyes. There was no joy in what he had done in them, no smugness. He would probably be alright. And the fact that he wanted to run rather than fight unnecessary battles came as a relief, for what was he to do if the boy had gone on a power high and decided he was strong enough to take all the infected on?

If he struggled with this, then so be it. It might never get easier. Better that it didn’t get easier.

Having to get used to taking lives and hurting was...painful. Sometimes, it paid off when they were real bastards, and sometimes, there was no choice. But that was for them shitty adults to take care of, right? Not the children.

Silently, he followed after the boy, keeping an eye out for any other infected. The boy was trembling. Perhaps some reassurance was in order?

“She’ll be fine. Sore, maybe, but she’ll be fine.”

[silversadmurai-blog]

gentlysweeps:

@silversadmurai

May had dealt with coming to terms with a lot recently. Her home world, the entire freaking planet Earth, had apparently gone boom for some reason, then she apparently had magic powers of some variety, for the purpose for helping rebuild humanity or something like that. Which, also, came with the whole ‘oh yeah, magic is apparently real’ thing underpinning the deal. And multiple universes. And who knows what else.

Turns out she may not have been ready for said ‘what else’ as much as she had hoped. This challenge was truly a test of her very being, something terrifying, daunting, yet somehow inescapable. A stark, insidious reality laid bare before her. What was this thing, you ask?

Well, this naked guy might have something to do with it. A naked guy who apparently had no problem knocking an Infected or two flat with minimal effort, if any. She wasn’t sure; details were insignificant before this trial. As she prayed to whatever deity she felt might be out there, she found the strength to use the mouth currently frozen in a mix of shock and uncertainty.

“D-dude…” A shaky start, but she could do this. Just picture-…wait no, not really valid here. “Uh.” C’mon May. “So. The weather’s…good?” Sly? Real sly, May(???)

To be honest, Gintoki’s not entirely sure how he ended up naked as a bloomin’ newborn. Some convoluted plot development of the chimpanzee in charge of the script recently, probably.

He’s not the stupid gorilla with an addiction for stripping himself and stalking a violent hostess, dammit!!!

But there are more important matters at hand, like not letting the infected lay hands on his unprotected body, so he sets about knocking them out before he turns to the woman who’s staring at him and trying to make polite conversation. She’s trying to help him out of an obviously embarrassing situation. She’s sincerely trying to help him??? This is seriously humiliating!!!

But since she’s kind enough to help him, he turns to face her and forces a smile that looks a lot more suave than he feels.

“Actually, it’s a little chilly. But there was a homeless man who looked really cold so I gave him my clothes to him. I was on the way home and then these guys decided to attack.”

Yes, go on and pretend that’s what actually happened. Save what’s left of your dignity.

[silversadmurai-blog]

casterofturnabout:

And among the possible anyones that could have heard Gintoki and his rumbling belly, it just so happened that Phoenix Wright was the one that fate picked to notice this peculiar phenomemon.

He was investigating this park for any signal of a Fragment in the area, inspecting every nook and cranny not much unlike his old friend Edgeworth. With how small they are, however, this proves to be an herculean task no matter where he settles to investigate.

After checking a whole grass field (and feeling his eyes strain from the effort of searching for the slightest glint under a sunny day), he’s now turned his attention to a bunch of bushes, all neatly kept and trimmed, except this one by his right that shows signs of having been recently messed with. Likely someone searched for Fragments on it, so he knows not to bother with that one. The one on his left seems more promising anyway.

So there he is, messing and looking at a bunch of leaves, twigs and roots, completely into his current task, when all of a sudden, a rumbling comes to his ears. One very similar to a human stomach, yet nobody else is onto his field of vision, much less close enough to allow that hearing.

But that was far from being everything. Then he hears a very human voice complaining about being hungry. Yet, the only thing around close enough to talk… are these bushes. A bush… speaking about how hungry it is. Yeaaaaaah.

(Why am I even thinking so much about this? Bushes don’t talk, Phoenix! You’re losing focus!) Yet, didn’t he find a living rubber chicken the other day? And considering the whole emphasis aboutt this place being filled with magic and spellcasters and Masters and whatnot, well… it’s not really a possibility that Phoenix can eliminate by simply applying common sense.

Which’s really a sad thing about Utopia in the first place: Phoenix’s common sense is mostly useless to deal with the people and events that transpire here. How utterly bothersome.

But in any case, how should he approach this? Just ignore the bush and go on? No, that wouldn’t feel right. If it’s just an innocent being, he’d be refusing to help someone (or something) out of sheer ignorance, and if it’s malicious… it might make himself its next meal. Neither are scenarios that Phoenix would enjoy dealing with…

Yeah, it’s overall not a good idea the possibly talking bush, even if a reaction includes just running the heck away from this area. But no, he’ll go against his common sense and do something that’ll make him seem utterly stupid to an outside onlooker.

He turns to look at the other bush, a look of incredulity on his expression. “Uhhhh… bush? Please, tell me that there’s a logical explanation to this.” Honestly, he doesn’t know which’d be worse, the bush replying back or something that isn’t a bush replying back. (I’m already feeling ridiculous…) “W-What do you want to eat?”

Gintoki’s just about ready to nod off when a voice drifts over, jerking him back to the land of the living. It’s not like he’d expected anyone to actually reply or anything, so this is honestly unexpected. And it seems it’s some sucker who really thinks the bush can talk to boot? What a right ol’ hoot.

If Gintoki were a decent person, he’d almost feel bad, but the fact is that he isn’t, and getting a free ride off of someone is not something he’s beyond, consequences after be damned.

Shoulders shaking as he curls up and laughs in silence, he takes a short moment to compose himself, because he’s not about to ruin his shot at a free meal by snorting out loud. It doesn’t take him long (food’s on the line after all), and he pulls an overly serious face so as to project a somber sounding voice.

“Ah? Logical explanation? We bushes have always been able to talk, you fool. You humans have just never bothered to listen. I’m surprised to find a human who can hear me, after all these years. Who knows, you might be the chosen one, yes?”

Is anyone seriously gullible enough to buy this shit? Who knows, but he’s having too much fun to let it end there. He clears his throat before continuing.

“As for what I’d like to eat...a bowl of ramen and some pizza sounds good after all these years. Squirrel gets boring after all these years, ya’know?”

⧼ Bushes don’t eat squirrels? Please stop feeding this poor defense attorney your alternative facts. ⧽

Any misgivings this poor narrator has are promptly ignored as the Samurai decides to land the finisher.

“Ah, some strawberry milk to wash everything down would be great. The only drink I’ve gotten besides rain...Well you can imagine, can’t you, sonny?” He fakes a traumatised shudder in his groan.

Well, he doesn’t actually know if the guy’s going to get him his food, but here’s to hoping.

[silversadmurai-blog]

[[ Just Feenie and May left in Gin’s drafts for event replies! Will try and get those out tomorrow night! Thanks for the patience!

[silversadmurai-blog]

panthermask:

     certainly, ann comes to expect the saint fragments to be in a variety of places. she finds some in the ground, upon treetops; in fact, one’s even in the cake she bites into! who the heck does that?! talk about dangerous! she supposes they can’t exactly control where the fragments spawn. otherwise, they’d just spawn them in a convenient place, right?

     so to say the least, ann isn’t too shocked by the sudden surprises of this world anymore. at least, that’s what she likes to think: infected, fighting, servants? sure! but she hears someone calling out to her and she glances up, thinking they’d be in a window and instead seeing a man spiraling towards her, her immediate reaction is to let out a shrill shriek. quick reflexes, thankfully honed by fighting in the palace, allow her to throw her body to the side; so rather than being beneath him, she’s to his side and watching when he slams into the ground.

     immediately she’s on him with a mix of worry and shock, fingers shaking as the sight of someone falling sends chills down her spine—though she might not even know this man, there are already tears about to spring into her eyes. she’s seen this sight twice now, once with shiho and now with him, and two is two too much for her.

     ❛   oh my god! are you okay?!   ❜   she asks, hands hovering over him in a frantic manner, before she carefully touches his face and shoulders. her eyes glance allover, unsure of where to focus before she has to shake her head and stare directly at his face. a hand gives a light tap against his cheek.   ❛   hey, stay with me! are you alive?!   ❜

     without a second consideration, she starts casting dia upon the man—several times, if necessary. she’s just going to keep healing him until he says something. no way is he dying on her watch!

Falling off of a building hurts like hell. Obviously it does. But Gintoki has plenty of experience falling a great distance, and manages to twist his body to avoid the worst of it. There are things that hurt a whole lot worse than a few broken ribs anyway.

He’s about to struggle to get up and make more fuss over it than is really necessary for the sake of getting some sort of perk out of this whole ordeal, but then he feels a strange sensation coming over him, cool relief running through his body and carrying with it the pain. In shock, he gets up, lifting his hand and checking over his body.

It doesn’t hurt. Feels a little sore, perhaps, but it doesn’t hurt. Was this some kinda strange Amanto technology or something?

Gintoki looks up at the girl with amazement on his face, only to see the watery eyes that serve as a prelude to tears, and immediately there’s a softer, even guilty look on his face.

A samurai can’t stand to see a woman’s tears, after all.

“O- oi. Don’t cry. Look, Gin-san’s perfectly alright! I dunno what you did there, but it took all the pain away!” To prove his point, he flexes his arm, and plants a huge idiotic looking grin on his face. Right now, all that’s in that empty head of his is to get her to not cry. 

[silversadmurai-blog]

kougaown:

Super sa*yan? Who in this day and age would reference Dragonb*ll out loud?

Goro had seen his fair share of infected-related incidents today, but this would take the cake…or, perhaps more appropriately, the ice cream. Previous incidents reminded me of low class zombie movies. This one was more akin to an absurd comedy watched by children after class. At first he stuck around because a sole infected individual seemed like easy pickings, except he got beaten to the punch by somebody else who seemed like even easier pickings.

Not in terms of strength, of course. He could see that bokuto hanging about by his side. But if this idiot thought of a better way of storing his saint fragments, then he wouldn’t have to face the risk of losing his beloved ice cream alongside it.

Goro had been thinking of summoning forth Robin Hood so he could snipe the bag out of both their hands when the bag finally gave out. The next thing he knew, the ice cream was flying straight towards him and –

Splat.

It was sticky. Sticky and cold and okay the strawberry flavor was quite nice but it was also all over his hair, did this white haired buffoon even knew how much time he had to spend every morning just so it would always appear presentable!?

Of course not, because his accustomed Fake Smile was all across his face, because right now Goro wants to make this man think that everything is alright, and that he would absolutely not plan for revenge the next moment he gets.

“Hahaha… Don’t worry about it, I’m fine. I apologize for your ice cream.”

This man. He is going to take this man’s saint fragments and he is going to make him choke on it.

Listen, don’t you know that Dragon*all Super is still airing? Super S*iyans are just getting their second wind. Get with it man.

But back to the more important things at hand. There was a look of dismay on Gintoki’s face, and all of it was because of the ice cream, may it rest in puddles. There was absolutely no sympathy left for the unfortunate victim created in this whole mess. Zilch, nada, zero.

At the very least, Gintoki had the cheek to look humbled by the time he turns to the bystander, who at the very least has had the chance to taste his limited edition Jen and Berry’s ice cream. Is he bitter about it? Kind of, maybe! But he was a grown man and would absolutely. Not. Be a child about this—

Having been through so many battles and seeing the hypocrisy of men, who hid schemes and the intention to betray behind amiable smiles, the samurai had grown accustomed to sensing the hidden intentions mankind so often seemed to enjoy concealing behind practiced masks. All the world’s a stage, and all that bullshit.

It was no different for the teen in front of him. That smile was not fooling anyone, and Gintoki could sense the malice bristling below the surface. He recognised this feeling. This kid was taunting him because he’d tried the ice cream, and Gintoki hadn’t!

— “That infected made a damned mess, eh? You doing alright there?” He’s not going to lose against this malice. DRAGONB*LLS GIVE HIM STRENGTH.

So much for not being a child about this.

[silversadmurai-blog]

hanasou:

Ayano was watching it all, from a safe distance. She didn’t mean to just watch, in fact, she was planning on helping– unlike Gintoki. She dealt pretty well with the children. When he had the troubled look on his face, this is when she decided to jump in and assist. 

A couple of strides and she was beside Gintoki and the two younger children. She knelt down and smiled, a hand gently held out towards one.

“It’s scary, isn’t it? You’re allowed to be scared, but you have to be brave, too.” She began softly. “I need you two to listen carefully, kay? Take a few deep breathes.” She reached out to hold their hands. “There’s some bad guys trying to get the treasure. See that rock you’re holding? That’s what they want, but you saw how strong this mister was, right?” Ayano gestured to Gintoki, and she smiled again. 

“He’ll do a good job of protecting it, but right now, you need to give him the rock to do so, and then we’ll find a safe place to hide, alright? It’s okay. You can rely on us!” 

Somewhere along the line, the kids managed to calm down, wiping away their tears and both standing up, with a nudge from the older sister, the younger boy handed over the fragment to Gintoki. To which Ayano wrapped her arms around the two, giving them a brief hug. Now. She glanced up at Gintoki, and waited for what he was going to do next. She wasn’t going to just leave the kids here!

It wasn’t as if Gintoki couldn’t play the part of the gentle stranger. But it was kind of a pain, so the girl who’d stepped in was more than welcome to the task. When she gestured at him, he couldn’t help but avert his eyes and look the other way. The kids looking up at him with eyes damp with tears and holding a mix of fear and admiration was...a little hard to look at directly. Especially with the knowledge that it wasn’t likely that they’d be able to give the kid his fragment back.

But kids were kids, and they latched on to one thing only to find another treasure soon enough. Better to be without for a while and be alive.

Thankfully, the teen handled the thing like a pro, and with the encouragement of his elder sister, the boy had stepped forward, holding out the fragment, still shaking a little. Squatting to look the boy in the eye, Gintoki took the fragment with a gentle smile. “I’ll take care of this for you, so you can have my treasure in exchange.”

He takes out a Dokkiri-man sticker. Do they even have the cartoon here? Probably not, but he’s kept it all this while, and at the very least, the boy can have something to replace the fragment.

He’s never forgotten the tears in their eyes as they begged for him to avenge their father. Not even after over 300 episodes.

A gentle but steady hand was extended to pat the boy on his head, and then he straightened, turning to assess the situation. It was simple enough. The infected were drawn to the fragment, so all he had to do was hold them off until the girl could bring the children to safety.

“Oi, I’ll take care of the infected, so you take the kids and get them home.”

What, this amount of infected was nothing. His sword could still protect that which mattered.

[djozura]

                                  “It would be too boring to keep walking without them.”

[silversadmurai-blog]

They say keep your friends close and your enemies closer, but what about that one-eyed guy who wants you dead?

[silversadmurai-blog]

takathugi:

Indeed, five million certainly sounded like a great, selfish motive for cooperation, especially when there was a promise that the winner would be allowed to use that quantity to their liking, a possibility that brought an apparent lack of limits along with regards to the management of such currency. Humans are greedy, and this bait that had been placed in front of them was sure to attract the attention of many — Takasugi was no less. After all, his unwilling arrival here meant he had to start from scratch; a little financial help could do wonders for him at this early stage.

Being the man he was, no one who knew him would be surprised to see he had decided to start this fragment hunt alone, and again, it wouldn’t come as a surprise to many to see he had managed to both find a good amount of them and also keep his way free from the infected. Still, after a while, his lone search came to a halt due to something (someone, actually) he had somehow expected to see from the moment he set foot in this world: him. 

The thought almost brought a smile to his lips — almost. He would follow him even through dimensions, wouldn’t he? Even if it wasn’t his intention, seemingly unaware of the situation, the one who had always stood in his way was doing it again. 

Hardly faced at the body flying in his direction, he dodged with a few calm steps to the side, turning to check where the poor citizen had landed. It was only a few seconds later that he shifted enough to let the other see his face.

“Almost hit me.” Mouth curling up in the lightest of smirks, he focused a lone eye on the familiar figure across him while a hand came to rest on the handle of his katana. “I was told I’d have my loved ones brought along with me to this world, but I see nothing of the sort.” 

The voice, an almost lazy drawl, gave Gintoki pause, and he looked up at the raven-haired man, a look that was a cross of anger and relief mixing momentarily into a conflicted expression on his face before he blinked and it twisted into a taunting smirk in response, a sharpness to his eye. If this had been ten years ago, he might have rushed straight at the other and killed him. But things were different now and...where did they stand?

The other man’s taunts fanned to life a flame of irritation within him. Some things never changed, and their ability to piss each other of was one of those things, it would seem. Rationality was thrown out the window, and an overly nonchalant mask slipped over his face as he  rubbed the back of his neck.

“Ah, really? Should have aimed more to the side then.” As if to make a point, he knocked another infected, this time directly at the other man. And another. Ichi...Ni...San...Shi. Where were all these infected coming from suddenly? Does it really matter at this point?

He knew full well that such lazy attacks would be easily dodged, and the poor infected would be very sore from this ordeal, but he was just so damn annoyed.

“I dunno about loved ones, but the system’s obviously broken if it brought a bon-bon like you to save the world. Your lego army couldn’t save or destroy the world even if you had a thousand daddies funding your war.” He smirks, his eyes jeering at the other man.

Hot damn, it seemed that this was going into juvenile attack territory. That always ended well.

[silversadmurai-blog]

burntogold:

What poor timing. She’d been trying to find these fragments, trying to keep them away from the crazy people - experience with Ruby and the cookie jar was truly invaluable - even if she wasn’t sure it was really worth it. Being caught in the middle of a group was definitely an inopportune time for a command to come through.

“You’ve got to be joking. Now’s really not a good time.”

Of course, complaining out loud wasn’t going to help much. A swing with her right - hopefully these people knew where the hospital was - would clear them enough to get to the cube, punching in her master’s number.

Great, now she had to juggle three things.

She wasn’t sure if he’d picked up, or if it would go to an answerphone, although it didn’t really matter. Seeing a convenience store that was probably on the way, she’d make her way towards it, cursing whatever had caused this to happen.

“You’re shitting me, right? You didn’t check— ugh, whatever. Where are you?”

He’s left unsure as to whether or not the use of a command seal worked aside from the fact that the pattern on his hand is different, so it’s almost a relief when he realises that ringing sound is coming from his triplicatas, with the cube’s inbuilt caller ID identifying the caller as Yang.

Of course, seeing as he’s stuck with a dirty ass on the toilet, there’s only so many ways he can express his relief, which he promptly does by answering the call with much vigor.

“Oi, it was an emergency. A real life or death situation. You’ve had those, right? I didn’t have the chance to check in that situation. My ass was ready to go Arnold Schw*rzenegger in my pants. It was like World War III was gonna happen right there in my underwear!!!”

That excuse doesn’t even make sense. Is this revenge for the convenient lack of toilet paper? This narrator’s about ready to give up.

“Anyway, I’m at uh. The toilet. You know, that one by the convenience store. At the corner between this street and that.”

Let’s pretend those instructions are good. Anyway, the command seal’s effect should make it so Yang is able to find Gintoki. Right? He’s almost certain the power of the command seal will give her homing senses like that of a homing pigeon.

The sound of an infected groaning sounds all too close suddenly, and he realises one has somehow found its way into the toilet. Great, just great.

Please get here soon, his ass is starting to get sore from being stuck on the toilet.

[silversadmurai-blog]

mementobellum:

Why is it, that in this day and age, a man can’t simply enjoy his ramen in peace? Takumi is just about to bite into his barbecue pork when the door bursts open and a mob of frenzied civilians come pouring through. He fumbles his chopsticks and the piece of meat he was about to consume plunks into his bowl, splashing broth everywhere. He twitches. There is soup in his eyebrow. His eyebrow, do you know how high the liquid has to slosh to hit HIS EYEBROW?!

“That does it! You guys want a piece of me?!”

For whatever reason, perhaps for contrived plot-related reasons, another mob of infected emerges from the kitchen. What, did they season the ramen with powdered Saint Fragments?! Takumi is losing his mind over here.

He turns to the guy sitting next to him. “You know how to fight!?”

@silversadmurai / event: vicus

Soup on your eyebrow? That’s nothing. If you think Takumi has it bad, just look at Gintoki who’s dripping with broth. Brothing even.  He was nearly done with his bowl of ramen and had lifted the bowl to gulp down the remnants of the soup when this mishap occurred.

So there he is, smelling like umami, natural perm looking slightly less haphazard given their recent moisturizing. The other guy in the shop (why is it only the two of them anyway?!) is throwing a fit, and Gintoki’s already at the point of flipping out, so he doesn’t even hesitate when he’s asked if he knows how to fight.

Or rather, he’s already rushing at them, eyes wild with a rage that’s almost comedic rather than terrifying.

They’ve ruined his good Yukata! Absolutely unforgivable.

He flings the closest infected towards the others and they all stumble back towards the kitchen groaning from the force of it. Or is that groaning from the supports of the building itself? Is this even safe?!

[silversadmurai-blog]

pissethoff:

@silversadmurai

Ray wasn’t usually the type to get fired up about events. Heck, he wasn’t even particularly interested in the money at all. But with all these annoying adults belittling him without fully knowing what he could do, and his brother issuing him a challenge? This 12 year old boy wouldn’t say no to that. He had nothing holding him back this time around, and he would show them. Definitely.

As Ray would mull about ideas on how to go about actually winning this whole thing, a certain silver haired individual would be running in his general direction. Parfait in hand. Some infected citizen lagging behind with the speed that adult was going. Only, as if by some comedic, yes, strictly comedic, reason the man would lose his grip on that precious parfait he was clinging on to and fly right out of his hands.

Ah yes, that would be, splat. Right on Ray’s face. “…”

“Couldn’t you be doing better things than… eating a parfait right now?” He finally retorted, In public too! Really? Really!? Ray gave the old man a good glare before he wiped off the sweet mixture that landed on his face and shook it off to the ground. Man, what a waste. Not that he cared. Not his parfait, not his problem! He had other things to deal with, that were clearly not this mess. 

For starters, why was Gintoki running along with a parfait in hand? Well, there was a very good reason for it. A very good reason such as...this...and also that. Listen. It was better not to question things sometimes. Narrators were very scary creatures who could do terrible things, like leave you in a toilet with no toilet paper.

And in some weird twist of fate, Gintoki and the parfait that he was never destined to eat are parted all too soon, the creamy contents and toppings flying through the air, toppings raining on the ground as the ice cream makes its way and plants itself onto the face of a child who just so happened to be in its trajectory.

Let us have a moment of silence for the parfait...

His excuse was delivered in a deadpan. “Oi, oi, you need energy to fight the infected. Can’t fight if you’ve got low blood sugar.”Besides, it was the one parfait a week which he was allowed, and now it was gone. Curse this world and all that lived within it!

Obviously irritated, he turned to swing his sword at the infected, sending it crashing to the ground a distance away. If it hadn’t been for this damned thing chasing him, and the cruel narrator.

And also, what was with this kid anyway? Why couldn’t he understand that the true victim here was the innocent sweet parfait? Kids these days were so rude...

He scratched at the back of his head as he calmed down, and then reaching into the bag, took out a popsicle which he begrudgingly hands to the kid.

“Listen. You sound irritated. Maybe you just need some sugar.”

Just so you know, that popsicle was probably meant for Kagura.

Go sic ‘im, girl.

[silversadmurai-blog]

inherlikeness:

It had never been in his inclination to fight. Dominic had been the type to rough-house, and some of his younger brothers, and Emma some days, and when pulled into the fray, Norman had reciprocated – but he found no real enjoyment in the activity. It was more the affection and laughter and teasing that he enjoyed, the playfulness. He’d never instigated scuffles, himself.

And he had certainly never fought in earnest.

The past several days had been revealing, though, making things apparent that he had wanted to avoid if possible. Between being robbed and assaulted and having to intervene with nothing but his bare hands to fight, and finding the… In the wake of all of that, Norman considered it an inevitability: he would have to fight. Really fight. His wit and agility were no guarantee, and no guarantee meant that he needed to regard it as if it couldn’t be avoided.

But he could try. He kept to back streets still, evaded larger congregated groups of the infected as well as he could, and minimized confrontations to whatever degree he could. It was in one of these back streets, taking the long way around to avoid being detected by a throng of them up ahead, that he nearly tripped over it.

A four-foot iron pipe, with a crook on one end and a few screws protruding, broken on one end and lying in a puddle. Norman stared at it as though it would bite him, for a moment, before bending down to pick it up. It was a hefty piece of metal. Must have broken from somewhere and ended up here? He gripped it in both hands experimentally, weighing it – figuratively as well as literally.

Well…a real weapon wouldn’t hurt. Wouldn’t hurt him, at least, not in his own hands. He’d prefer it to be longer – more varied uses, better reach – but it would serve. It would serve far better than bare hands, certainly.

Approaching footsteps interrupted the thought process. Behind him? The infected, had they… The boy wheeled about with his new weapon in hand, startled and brandishing it at the ready almost without thinking. He stared, wide-eyed, at the stranger…though the other didn’t look out of his mind by any means. No reason not to regard him a little cautiously, at any rate. He’d gotten…lax about simply trusting strangers off the bat.

“Who are you?”

@silversadmurai​

Of the things that you would not expect to see every day, a kid holding a four-foot iron pipe up in self-defense, glaring at you with untrusting eyes probably ranked pretty high. Given the circumstances though, it hardly came as a surprise.

He’d been taking a breather here, hidden in the shadow of the nearby building, when the kid had gone past him, only to pick up a four-foot iron pipe as if it were a weapon.

As one who had been forced to grow strong to survive, Gintoki would hardly be the first to tell a child that they shouldn’t fight. Of course, he would have preferred if no child had to go through what he had to, but in a place as uncertain as this, there really was no guarantee.

But there was something about this boy’s uncertainty. He was obviously new to all of this, and it showed in how unseasoned his movements were. There was something almost painfully familiar about it.  That a child was pushed to this state of untrusting...the world was truly cruel at times.

A child, fighting to survive in a sea of corpses. Wielding a scavenged katana out of fear, only to defend himself. He would have died sooner or later, had it not been for a chance encounter.

So, as it sometimes occurred, Gintoki found himself reaching out, only to be met with a pipe in his face.

“What do you wish to protect, with that thing? What strength do you want to gain? Something as hollow as that...will never be able to protect the things that are important.”

His expression was stern, but his right hand remained tucked into the opening of his yukata, bokuto slung almost carelessly through his belt.

Nothing in his posture seemed like that of a man who had taken notice of approaching threats, so it would come as a surprise when he suddenly burst into action, easily disarming the kid and drawing his own bokuto and slamming both weapons into the two infected that had wandered over. And, as if to prove a point, the pipe had crumpled inward from the force, no longer usable as a weapon.

Tossing the broken pipe to the ground, he hands the boy his own bokuto.

“A weapon that’s swung while fearing others should be thrown away. From now on, you should swing this sword not to cut down your enemies or your weakness, but to protect your very soul.”

[mortaveritas]

R2 for Gin because listen. He ends up in that position while piss drunk

i still know nothing about this show, but from the little i’ve seen, yeah it seems ic

[silversadmurai-blog]

amplusmilitaris:

⊰ @silversadmurai ⊱

 It was definitely a strange time to stay in the city - with half the populace hunting Saint Fragments, and the other hunting the infected that reminded her just a little too much of the Risen, the Utopia was divided beyond the ranks of Master and Servant. In this time of strife, almost everyone was doing all they could to resolve their situation and achieve their goals as quickly as possible.

 Which was why a certain man caught her attention - not for fighting ability or scavenging skill, but because he had managed to fall asleep in the midst of it all. A sense of deja vu hit like a Thoron to the heart, and it was almost instinct to kneel nearby and try to wake him up. If nothing else, she could get him somewhere safer before he nods off again, but if there was the chance of gaining a new ally, she would gladly take it.

 “There are better places to take a nap than on the ground, you know?” She could almost feel Chrom breathing down her neck for using that line without him there to appreciate it.

When one spent as much time cornered on a battlefield as Gintoki had, you picked up the ability to grab sleep in small moments of peace. But that didn’t always mean the sleep was good. Not when the things that flitted in and out of his sub-conscious were memories of the past. Wrists bound and rubbed raw by rope. The clash of metal against metal. The warmth of tears sliding down his cheek.

This time, he was saved from having to make a choice when a gentle voice drew him out from a troubled slumber.

If there was any remnant of pain in his eyes, it was masked by the cloudiness of sleep.

Sitting up, he scratched at the back of his head with a wide yawn, looking at the one who had woken him up.

“Eh, it’s nice when it’s warm outside. Communing with nature and all, oi?” Catch a load of this bull, presented with a roguish grin even as cranes his neck to peek behind her.

“The infected still at it? Tch, I was hoping they’d be gone by now.” Getting to his feet, he scopes out the infected in the distance, giving himself another moment of quiet as he steels himself to step back into chaos.