#if i chose to freeze myself i would be effectively ending my existence for good

[nocturnaclysm]

booooooooo

survive me!

[lloydskywalkers]

*sweats* yeAH i know the one gbdfjgh. It’s very much a Halloween-centered piece so I was incredibly sad tumblr decided to end its life the one time i actually hit a deadline i’d set for myself, but it’s been kind of just...marinating in my docs folder since then. I might post it formally on FFN eventually, but in the meantime, i’ll post it on here below the cut!

“Guys, you will never guess what’s running around Ninjago City."

Jay’s announcement is met with a distinct lack of reaction, which is pretty disappointing, because it’s the kind you drop for a dramatic pause and reaction. And he did — try to, at least.

However, instead of reacting properly, like anyone in their right minds would, his team is woefully un-reactive. Nya continues to snore into the couch, her face pressed against the couch pillow in a way that’s gonna leave a spectacular mark later, and Cole’s too busy referee-ing Lloyd and Kai, who are in the middle of their sixth round of Dance Dance Ninja Revolution, which Jay can’t really blame him for, because they chose a Rihanna song this round and they’re getting a little too into it.

“How did you get that bonus and I didn’t!”

“You gotta pop your hip on that last move, like this—"

“What, and crack my spine in half?”

“I mean, your bones are pretty fragile.”

“Fragile?!”

“Yeah, ‘cause you’re so old.”

“I’ll crack your spine, you tiny brat—"

Zane is the only one to actually acknowledge him, even if it’s a slight cock of his head from where he’s video-chatting Pixal, making him the only one of these terrible people Jay actually likes right now, unless Kai manages to make a comeback and beat out Lloyd, in which case he’ll celebrate with him.

But it’s looking unlikely.

“Are you talking about the vampire rumors?” Zane asks.

Jay’s expression sours. Never mind, he retracts his appreciation of Zane now. Way to steal his thunder.

Kai snorts from where he’s waving his arms in a butchered kind of Macarena. “Seriously, Jay? Those rumors crop up every year. There’s no vampire.”

Jay glares at him, mentally switching his loyalties to Lloyd, as it looks like he’s going to wipe the floor with Kai anyways, because he’s just snatched that one difficult bonus Kai usually wins where you hair-flip like a diva.

“This is for real, though,” Jay argues. “It was reported on the police scanner. Someone’s running around biting people!”

“Maybe they’re just into that,” Nya yawns, burrowing her face further into the couch pillows. “Don’t be so judgmental, Jay.”

Jay colors, and Kai chokes. Lloyd gives a triumphant crow of victory, doubling his score at the last minute, leaving Kai solidly in the dust. Kai makes a sour face, collapsing on the couch and crossing his arms.

“You cheated.”

“Not my fault you got distracted,” Lloyd shrugs. He turns to Jay, wiping the sheen of sweat from his forehead and looking curious. “Wait, they’re really reporting that someone’s out there biting people?”

“Or something,” Jay says, quickly seizing on the attention. “Something bloodthirsty that goes around biting people’s necks, which obviously has to be a vampire.”

“It says here it steals their wallets, too,” Zane remarks, scrolling through the news article.

“A wallet-stealing vampire,” Jay amends.

The others look decidedly unimpressed, which is rather insulting and extremely disappointing. Geez, you fight one giant stone titan and a few mythical, apocalypse-bringing monsters and suddenly no one’s impressed by anything anymore.

“Sounds like petty crime, not our thing,” Kai yawns. “Besides, vampires don’t exist.”

Jay sputters. “Are you kidding me?” he exclaims. “They totally exist!”

Cole raises an eyebrow at him. “You know those vampire books are fiction, right?”

Jay presses his lips together tightly. “Are you telling me,” he says, stiffly. “That after everything — everything we’ve seen — which includes and is not limited to warriors made up of tiny snakes, a walking eldritch horror that’s actually another realm, and living skeletons — you don’t believe vampires can exist?”

“Well, yeah,” Kai says, simply. “Because those other things are real. Vampires aren’t.”

“You didn’t even think the Serpentine were real!” Jay accuses, because Kai’s opinion is clearly trash here, and he obviously should’ve started by attacking Cole, or Nya.

“Jay, chill,” Lloyd says, rolling his eyes. “Whatever it is, it’s not a vampire, unless someone stumbled off the set of a B-movie horror film. They don’t exist, Jay."

Jay opens his mouth, prepared to fire back, because of all the people to argue with him, Lloyd has no right at all, he’s a walking eldritch mutant himself — when Lloyd suddenly continues.

“It’s clearly a werewolf, if anything.”

Jay stops, his mouth half-open. He blinks. “Wait,” he narrows his eyes at him. “You don’t believe in vampires, but you’re game for werewolves?”

“Yeah,” Lloyd shrugs. “Werewolves make sense.”

“And vampires don’t?!”

Lloyd shrugs. “I mean, after Akita and the Formlings, you know?” He pauses, eyes widening as he contemplates something. “Wait. Is Akita technically a werewolf?”

Jay seizes the opportunity. “If she counts as one, then Oni count as vampires,” he argues.

Lloyd frowns at him. “What? No. That doesn’t even make any sense.”

“Oh yeah?” Jay counters. “Then explain why they both have fangs. And glowing eyes. And drink blood.”

“I don’t drink blood!” Lloyd exclaims, indignantly. “And neither do Oni!”

“How would you know?” Jay challenges. “You’re just a tiny little quarter Oni.”

Lloyd glares at him. “A quarter Oni with teeth that can bite you—"

“Okay, okay!” Cole says hastily, shouldering between them. “No one’s biting anyone, geez. I’m taking this opportunity to declare it time for bed.”

“Aw, but I didn’t get to trash Kai yet,” Nya yawns, waving absently at the still-scrolling game on the television. Zane quickly turns it off.

“We can trash each other tomorrow, after six a.m. practice,” Cole huffs. Everyone groans in unison at the reminder.

“We should start getting skip days,” Kai grumbles into the pillow. “Like, mandated days we get to just sleep in instead.”

“You would use that every day,” Zane sighs, tugging him up. Jay watches as they slowly pack up, preparing to head off to bed.

Unbelievable.

“Wait, so we’re just gonna let this thing run loose?” he exclaims, waving his arms in the air. “Ignore our civic duty for sleep?”

Cole pinches the bridge of his nose between his fingers. “Jay, there’s one article about it, and these kinds of things crop up every year,” he sighs. “It’s just some Halloween pranksters using it as an excuse for petty crime. The police can handle it, okay?”

“But a vampire,” Jay bemoans. “What if it’s real?”

“Or werewolf,” Lloyd corrects. Jay would elbow him for that, but — aha. Lloyd has that spark in his eyes, the one that means trouble. Jay’s hooked at least one person then, even if it’s for the totally wrong reason.

“Whatever it is, according to reports, it will still be here tomorrow,” Zane says. “Halloween isn’t for another day, and it usually strikes then. If it means that much to you, we can look for it then.”

Jay squints skeptically at him. Kai and Cole are both wearing expressions that say they will not be helping with that particular excursion, and Nya’s already halfway into her room, clearly writing him off as well. Hmph.

“But by then, we won’t have a sighting to follow,” Lloyd says, hesitantly.

“Good,” Kai grumbles, apparently done with the conversation. “Then we can forget about make-believe monsters.”

Jay is pleased to find that he and Lloyd are still just as effective at giving people the stink-eye in perfect unison as they’ve always been.

“Drop it, guys,” Cole warns, his dark eyes tired. “You can argue over this in the morning. When we’re all dead tired at dawn practice.”

Jay scowls, but he nods. He knows a lost cause when he sees one.

However, he also knows when a cause isn’t lost. He trades looks with Lloyd from the corner of his eyes, and Lloyd gives him a tiny, imperceptible nod. Halfway into their bedroom, Kai suddenly turns on them.

“And you guys better not sneak out to hunt it down by yourselves,” he says, his eyes narrowed. “The police have it covered. There’s no such things as vampires or werewolves, but if I wake up at three a.m. tonight and find out you guys snuck out, you’re gonna wish one had already killed you.”

“Geez, overreact much?” Jay mutters.

Lloyd rolls his eyes. “We’re not gonna sneak out just to chase down a few rumors, Kai,” he scoffs. “We’re not stupid.”

Kai eyes them both. Jay can almost see him mentally scrolling through Lloyd and Jay’s Best Hits, Screwing-Up Edition, in his brain, and he doesn’t like it. Like Kai has room to talk about dumb decisions.

Kai finally shakes his head, sighing as he heads for his bed. “I swear,” he mutters to himself. “If I have to fish you out of a river later…”

“You won’t!” Lloyd promises cheerfully. “Word of honor.”

**************

As it turns out, Lloyd’s word of honor is garbage. But so is Jay’s, so he’s not gonna judge.

“Okay, the reports said it was last sighted over in the east sector in the sewer tunnels, so I vote we start here,” Jay tells him in a hushed voice, as they plot their path from one of the city rooftops, the dim streetlights blinking down below. “There’s a bunch of bars and stuff around, so if I was looking to steal someone’s wallet by biting them, I’d go here. Down for a stakeout?”

“I’m game,” Lloyd says, slightly muffled through his mouth of—

Jay blinks at him incredulously. “Are you eating our garlic bread right now?”

Lloyd freezes, shifting guiltily and quickly swallowing. “No-o?”

“Lloyd!” Jay hisses. “We need that for the vampire!”

“Then you should’ve gotten actual garlic,” Lloyd hisses back. “I got hungry, and we’re carrying around garlic bread! Can you blame me?”

“Hmph.” Jay glares at him, then snatches the bag Lloyd had been hiding behind him. Lloyd makes a face.

“S’not like we need it anyways,” he mutters. “Garlic doesn’t work against werewolves.”

“It’s not a werewolf,” Jay retorts. “And even if it was, it’s not like we have any silver.” He frowns. “Wait, doesn’t silver work against vampires too? Maybe I should’ve gotten us some…”

“Got it covered,” Lloyd says, pulling a small ziplock bag from his sweatshirt pocket. They’ve opted to wear civilian clothes tonight, as one, they’re trying to be inconspicuous, and two, it’ll make it a lot more difficult for Kai to claim that they were out breaking their promise if they aren’t in very distinctive, undeniable gis.

“I snatched a pair of Nya’s earrings earlier,” Lloyd continues. “Sterling silver counts, right? ‘Cause they even have these little bits on the back you can stab people with.”

Jay blinks rapidly. “You snatched her—"

Well, actually, on second thought, it’s not the worst thing they’ve ever stolen from each other. And it’s definitely not the worst purpose for such a theft, either.

“Okay, nice, we got silver,” Jay says instead, trying not to think about what Nya’s reaction to finding out her earrings were used as lethal injections for a vampire is going to be.

“The better prepared, the lower the chances of dying horribly,” Lloyd says, cheerfully.

“Please don’t phrase it that way.”

“You literally said that exact same thing to me last week, on the Metallonia mission—"

“You must’ve had water in your ears,” Jay waves him off, knowing full well he did say that but having zero intent of admitting it. “Anyways, it’s just one vampire. We can handle this, easy.”

“Or one werewolf,” Lloyd says, pointedly.

Jay takes a very long breath, then lets it out. If it were Kai or Cole, maybe he’d pick the fight. But it’s Lloyd, and he’s risking Unholy Big Brother Wrath as it is.

“Fine,” he half-surrenders. “If it’s a werewolf, we can handle that too. But it’s not, because it’s clearly a vampire.”

“That’s what it wants you to think,” Lloyd grouses.

Jay rolls his eyes, shoving the rest of their supplies back in his ratty old backpack. He cranes his head over the edge of building rooftop, watching the evening crowds just beginning to flood into the bars.

“Now what?” Lloyd whispers, materializing next to him.

Jay, with his reflexes as sharp and well-honed as they are, does not nearly jump off the roof at Lloyd’s sudden appearance. He doesn’t squeak, either, the look Lloyd is giving him is just — Lloyd being a terrible gremlin.

“Now,” Jay clears his throat instead, taking on an air of expertise, because he is an expert. “We wait.”

**************

In the excitement, Jay has, tragically, forgotten how absolutely boring stakeouts are.

Really, he should’ve brought a board game or something.

“—somethin’ strange, in your neighborhood. Who you gonna call.”

Jay punches his hand in the air without enthusiasm where he lies on his back, yawning, “Ghostbusters.”

“Dun dun, dun dun, du-du-dun—" Lloyd continues humming the bridge, staring up at the sky where he’s got his arms beneath his head, sprawled out next to Jay.

“You know, I still swear I heard the ghosts playing this back at Styx,” Jay murmurs.

Lloyd’s humming halts, and he snorts. “Maybe they had a sense of humor.”

��Heh. Yeah.” Jay frowns. “So wait, this is your favorite holiday song? The song about ghosts? Really?”

Lloyd nods. “I ain’t afraid of no ghost,” he sings.

Jay makes a face at him, then shrugs. Well, he guesses he doesn’t have room to judge people’s coping mechanisms. He still deals with spiders by blowing the entire room up. “That’s one way to deal with it, I guess.”

“I like the irony,” Lloyd continues, with a lopsided grin. “Also, like, do any of us deal with our issues?”

“Ye—" Jay pauses, considering. Huh. He knows they’ve all been putting off therapy, but sometimes they, like…cry all over each other? At three in the morning? That counts, right?

He supposes that doesn’t quite equate.

“I stress-baked eight batches of brownies with Cole one night and ate half of them after the Oni thing?” he offers weakly.

Lloyd stuff a fist over his mouth, holding back a laugh. “I ate a whole container of frosting with Nya after the SOG thing.”

“That’s where it all went?” Jay snaps his head up, his eyes accusing. “Lloyd, that was our only cream cheese frosting! I was going to use that for a meltdown!”

“Oops,” Lloyd says, unapologetically. Jay digs his foot into his side, and Lloyd jerks away, giggling.

“You, I’d expect, but Nya…” Jay grumbles, processing this betrayal. “That’s like, cliché teenage heartbreak coping there.”

“Well, I mean,” Lloyd says, his smile suddenly painfully forced. “Kinda…was. A bit.”

Jay frowns. “Wha — oh.”

Oops. Too late, Jay realizes that he has accidentally stumbled into a mine zone. He should know better, seriously — Lloyd probably does not want to talk about teenage heartbreak right now. Or any time…soon, considering his last and only romantic excursion kind of…stabbed him in the back and got crushed by a building. Amongst other things.

“So!” Jay quickly says, trying to cut through the sudden awkwardness and turn the conversation to something better. “How is, uh, your life going, in that…area…?”

Never mind, Jay’s mind screeches at him. Abort, abort, this is going somewhere worse—! Maybe if he’s lucky the vampire will just come attack them now. That would probably go better.

Lloyd’s expression screws up, like Jay’s forced him to eat a lemon, or a ghost pepper, or like, swallow pure Venomari venom. “You mean my love life?” he spits, as if the word love is a personal insult.

“Not necessarily,” Jay says quickly. “I mean, no, but also…yes?”

“Nonexistent as usual, which is probably the best I can hope for,” Lloyd mutters, kicking at the ground.

Jay bites his cheek in sympathy. His poor baby brother. His voice finally stops cracking and he immediately decides to swear off love for life.

“Look,” Jay says tentatively, feeling like he should at least try to impart some wisdom on his kid brother. “Have you thought about like, I dunno, trying to meet new people? Just like, you know, being open to, uh, the idea of trusting someone…like that?”

“Yeah,” Lloyd grinds his teeth. “I’ve also thought about getting ‘love is a joke’ tattooed on my wrist as a nice reminder because that’s about how well it tends to go for me.”

Jay cringes. “Aha,” he breathes. That is — that is bad. Yikes, that’s…bad bad, maybe they should book a therapist. One of these days. Probably sooner than later, going by that statement.

Lloyd sighs, suddenly deflating. “I dunno, Jay. I just…maybe someday? I don’t really wanna think about it.” The edge of his mouth twists wistfully. “It’d be nice to just be a kid again, so I could stuff my face with candy instead.”

“Hey,” Jay says, elbowing him. “Who says you can’t stuff your face with candy now? We can totally hit up the store on the way home, you know. Zane can’t stop us if he’s not here.”

Lloyd cracks a grin, and Jay is infinitely pleased with himself. “After we catch the werewolf?” Lloyd asks.

Jay glares at him. “After we catch the vampire, and I prove all you heathens wrong,” he grinds out. Lloyd snickers.

“You’re fighting a losing—"

A piercing scream rings out from the streets below, and Lloyd and Jay jolt to their feet in well-experienced unison. Jay sweeps his eyes across the street below, his head whipping widely back and forth as he tries to spot—

“There!” Lloyd calls, already sliding down the fire escape. Jay follows his arm, and spots a disheveled man now crumpled in the street, other partygoers crowding around him. Lloyd’s hand is pointing just beyond, though, locked on the shadowed, dark figure fleeing into the alleyway.

Jay grins viciously at him. Lloyd grins back.

Normally, they’d have Zane at their backs, insisting on safety and such nonsense, but tonight it’s just Lloyd and Jay, who gold-medal at being an awful combination of adrenaline junkies. So by the time they’ve finished hurling themselves off the building and surfing down a couple of unfortunate clotheslines, they land in perfect synch just behind the fleeing figure. They immediately break into a sprint, following their quarry down the dark alleyways and gaining rapidly.

One of the few perks to being the smallest on the team — Jay and Lloyd are fast.

The figure jolts, finally realizing it’s being pursued, and suddenly takes a hard left. Jay yelps as he almost overbalances, his momentum nearly toppling him before Lloyd catches his arm, yanking him upright. They follow where the figure’s fled into an abandoned tunnel, one of the ones Jay recognizes leads to the sewer.

“Why in here?!” he gasps between breathes, as their feet splash through dirty rainwater the deeper they go. Ugh, he hates these tunnels — they’re too small and close and dark.

Lloyd doesn’t grace him with a reply, simply lifting his hand up in an eerie, makeshift green flashlight that lights up the tunnels around them.

“They went that way!” He hurls the bright globe of energy down the tunnel, throwing green shadows up all around, and illuminating their prey far ahead.

Darn it, Jay curses to himself. He forgot vampires are supposed to be fast, too. They need a way better plan then just running after it.

“Trap, we need a trap,” Jay pants. “What do they do in Scooby-Doo to catch the vampire?”

Lloyd glances at him incredulously as he runs beside him, his hair dyed a white-green in the eerie light where it bounces around his head. “Scooby-Doo?!” he exclaims. “There aren’t any vampires in Scooby-Doo!”

“Uh, yeah there are,” Jay argues, ducking under a rusted pipe. He almost has to pause to swipe his own hair out of the way before he gets blinded by falling curls. Mental note, book a haircut later. “Remember that movie with the bands and stuff?”

“Oh. Right,” Lloyd huffs, sliding through a puddle of water. “Forgot about that. Don’t they die or something?”

“I don’t know, that’s why I’m asking you! Come up with a plan, you’re leader!”

“Not right now, I’m not!”

“You can’t do that — you’re our designated team captain, live up to your role!”

“Only in big crisis situations!”

“This is a crisis!”

“Fine! Here’s me leading — I order you to come up with a plan.”

“Oh for — what kind of Green Ninja even are you, huh?”

“Oh yeah, static for brai—agh!”

Their argument is cut short as the floor suddenly decides to take the day off, and drops neatly out from beneath their feet. Jay screams, Lloyd shrieking beside him as they both go tumbling down the sloping sewer tunnel, sliding through broken rock and upturned stone. The sharp slope finally evens out, leaving them to roll to a graceless stop in a heap of limbs and freezing rainwater.

“Ew,” Jay scowls, swiping at his hair as he kneels, supporting himself on one hand. “Sewers are the worst.”

“Ge’off me,” Lloyd wheezes, hitting his shoulder. Jay belatedly realizes that he’s got one elbow and a knee digging into Lloyd’s middle, and pulls back quickly.

“Whoops,” he says, cheerfully. “Hey, no broken bones, at least!”

Lloyd just makes a face, straightening his hoodie. He pushes himself to his feet, offering a hand to Jay and hauling him up. Jay brings a crackle of lightning up in his fingers, squinting around the tunnel they’ve fallen into. Lloyd finally remembers to pull out their actual flashlight, and shines it warily around the tunnel, lighting up the old, molding stone around them.

“D’you think they fell, too?” Lloyd questions, taking a hesitant step forward as he brandishes the flashlight like a weapon.

Jay shrugs. “Vampires aren’t normally clumsy,” he says, starting down the tunnel. “But who knows.”

Lloyd pauses for a moment, reluctant, then quickly hurries to catch up, falling into step beside him.

“Ninja aren’t normally clumsy either,” he huffs.

Jay snorts. “Have you seen us?”

Lloyd eyes him. “I control your training schedule, you know.”

“A heinous abuse of power which never should have been given to you,” Jay sniffs.

Lloyd’s eyes narrow. “I’ll stick you on stair sprints. Endless. Stair sprints.”

“You wouldn’t dare,” Jay retorts. “You’re too chicken to do that. Too soft.”

“I am not!” Lloyd says, offended. “I’ll make you run a gazillion stair sprints, watch me.”

“Oh yeah? Whatcha gonna do when I start tearing up on you, Mr. Marshmallow Heart?”

“My heart is not a marshmallow,” Lloyd grinds out. “It’s—"

“More like cotton candy,” Jay nods. “‘Cause you hit it with one tear and it melts all over the place.”

“I will trip you face-first into sewer water,” Lloyd threatens. “And stop using candy metaphors. I’m starving, and you won’t let me eat the garlic bread.”

“That’s ‘cause we need it for the vampire!” Jay huffs.

“Werewolf.”

Jay throws his hands up.  “Do you need glasses or something? Because tell me, please, if that looked anything like a were—"

Jay cuts off abruptly as he and Lloyd freeze. Directly across from them, a mere ten feet away in the connecting tunnel, the hooded figure they’ve been chasing freezes as well. For a beat, the three stare at each other, the only sound the steady drip-drip of the sewer tunnels around them.

Then—

“It’s the vampire! Grab it!” Jay yells.

He and Lloyd dart forward just as the vampire makes to run, turning for the tunnel. Jay side-steps, using the wall to push himself up and flip neatly over the vampire’s head, landing in the tunnel before them and neatly cutting them off. “Gotcha,” he grins.

The vampire’s eyes widen from beneath their hood, and they backtrack, only to nearly run into Lloyd, who points the flashlight threateningly at them.

“Stand down,” he orders. Jay rolls his eyes. Oh, now he decides to sound like a leader.

The vampire makes a hissing noise of frustration, shaking their head. Lloyd goes to move forward, a familiar green glinting at the edges of his fingertips—

When the vampire suddenly snaps into action, rushing at Lloyd. Before Jay can blink, they snap a leg up to kick the flashlight from Lloyd’s grasp, snag him with their forearm, bare two glinting teeth, and—

Snap. Lloyd gasps sharply, his eyes going wide as the vampire bites right into the juncture of his neck and shoulder.

Jay shrieks. “Lloy—!”

His scream cuts off, trailing into a gaping wheeze.

Jay is not entirely sure what — no, he’s not sure why what happen next happens. Maybe Lloyd panics. Maybe he forgets he’s a god-powered elemental with the capability of blasting people to heck with his hands for a second. Maybe both his Oni and dragon instincts decide to suddenly kick in and overpower the human. Or maybe he’s just so ticked at getting bit in the neck that his childish side comes out with a vengeance.

Either way, not even half a second after the vampire bites him, Lloyd snaps out his own too-sharp teeth and bites right back, firmly chomping down on the forearm pinning him in place.

The vampire gives a muffled scream, releasing Lloyd as they stumble backward, frantically clutching their arm. Jay takes this chance to send a bright bolt of lightning after them, just barely missing as they turn and flee, skittering away down the tunnels. Any other time Jay would give chase, but he’s got a slightly more pressing concern right now, and by that he means a big fat bad concern, because his brother is currently sporting a bleeding neck and trying to hack his own lung up.

“Oh god, the vampire bit you, Lloyd, the vampire bit you,” Jay babbles frantically, dancing around Lloyd as he doubles over, coughing and spitting frantically.

“—freaking — gross—"

“But —but then you bit the vampire,” Jay pauses, eyebrows furrowing. “So does that like — negate it?”

“—need hand sanitizer in m’a mouth—"

“Or does the vampire turn into an Oni?” Jay rubs his head. “Wait, wait no — you both swap, because you bit each other, so—"

“—tastes like battery acid—"

“Either way your neck is bleeding and why didn’t you just use your powers!” Jay shrieks at him.

“I panicked, okay?!” Lloyd cries in defense, wiping his mouth as he sticks his tongue out, clearly trying to rid himself of the taste. “Ugh — gimme that garlic bread, this is awful—"

“No way,” Jay snatches his bag away. “We definitely need it now.” His eyes narrow down on the two sluggishly bleeding marks on Lloyd’s neck, that he should really be patching up, actually, but first—

“Besides, garlic could be toxic for you right now! Since you might be turning into a…a vampire.”

Lloyd turns two smoldering, angry red eyes on him, and Jay swallows. Oh FSM, he’s already turning into a vampire, his eyes are red—

Oh wait, right, Lloyd’s eyes are red anyways.

“I am not turning into a vampire!” Lloyd hisses. He winces, clapping a hand over his neck. “I probably have like, rabies or something though,” he says, half-panicked.

“I don’t think vampires have rabies,” Jay tries to assure him, finally shaking himself into action, pulling his jacket off and pressing one of the sleeves against Lloyd’s bleeding neck. Lloyd jerks away on instinct, before letting Jay examine it.

“I can’t turn into a vampire,” Lloyd says, an edge of fear in his voice. “Kai’ll kill me if I turn into a vampire.”

“That’s your main concern?” Jay exclaims, swiping blood away — the bite doesn’t look too deep, and it seems like it won’t need stitches, or anything. He suddenly pauses, considering Lloyd’s words. “Okay, I will admit you have a valid point there,” he concedes.

Lloyd nods tightly, then makes a face before spitting again.

“So gross.”

Jay watches him, then speaks up hesitantly. “I mean…you have to admit that it’s definitely a vampire now, right, haha? Like, not to say I told you so, but—”

Lloyd turns his head, ever so slowly, his eyes narrowing into slits as he does.

“I will kill you.”

“Duly noted.”

**************

In a noble sacrifice of true brotherly love, Jay lets Lloyd get his weird mutant blood all over his hoodie as he uses it as a makeshift bandage.

“Rude,” Lloyd mutters, sounding wounded.

“Weird mutant blood is cool,” Jay assures him. “You Oni-dragon-hybrid, you.”

“I don’t even get any of the cool stuff, like shapeshifting or wings.”

“Yeah, that is a pretty lame tradeoff,” Jay admits. He pats his hoodie where it’s wrapped around Lloyd’s neck once more, nodding. “There. We’ll just…dump an entire bottle of sanitizer on it when we get home.”

“Can’t wait,” Lloyd sighs. His eyebrows furrow into determination. “After we catch this thing, though. It’s personal now.”

“Agreed,” Jay says. “But we definitely need a plan this time, ‘cause like, the biting thing worked, but it worst-case-scenario worked, you know? We need something a little less primitive, like, say, um…”

“Like this?”

Jay turns to Lloyd where he’s bent over one of the canal drains. He lifts the object he’s fished out, revealing a soaked but intact fishing net, likely abandoned from one of the boats.

A grin spreads across Jay’s face. “I have a plan now,” he says.

“Good,” Lloyd breathes in relief.

“You’re bait.”

Relief successfully obliterated. “Wait—"

**************

Jay’s wristwatch glows a dim 3:30 in the morning by the time their vampire finally takes the bait.

Said bait is very put out at being bait, granted, and is doing a frankly awful job at it, if anyone asked him, but he supposes that’s the best he can ask out of Lloyd when he’s been denying him their garlic bread the whole night.

“Oh no,” Lloyd intones dully, kicking through the tunnel water half-heartedly. “I’ve lost my way, whatever am I going to do with all this money in my wallet.”

“Boo,” Jay hisses at him, where he’s perched atop of a broken sewer pipe. Lloyd pauses his melodramatics to glare at him.

“I’d like to see you do better.”

“Oh no, you’re a much better damsel in distress than I am,” Jay assures him.

Lloyd looks furious. “Listen—"

He might’ve finished, but then the vampire jumps him from the shadows, and they both go tumbling as Lloyd’s voice turns to a shriek.

“Don’t die!” Jay hollers as he jumps down onto the vampire, startling a shriek out of them as he desperately tries to yank them off of Lloyd. “Roll, roll, get out of teeth range!”

“I’m trying!” Lloyd yelps, twisting himself free from the vampire’s grasp. The vampire makes to grab him, but Jay is already pouncing, tossing the net out so they run smack into it and go flailing to the floor, twisting themselves further and further into the rope webbing.

“Oh, thank FSM,” Lloyd mutters into the ground, where he’s yet to move. Jay ignores him, giving a cheer of triumph as he finishes knotting off the net.

“We got it!” he gasps, stepping back and surveying their struggling captive. “We caught the vampire!” He turns to Lloyd, grinning brightly in victory.

“Everyone else is gonna eat their words.” Lloyd nods, and Jay holds his hand out, slapping it against Lloyd’s before knocking their fists together.

Who’s stupid now, Kai? he thinks triumphantly.

Striding forward, he places his hands on his hips, smirking down at the vampire where it writhes against the net they’ve caught it in. He bends over, yanking their hood down.

“No use struggling. We got you now, you malevolent creature of the ni — ight, wait.” Jay blinks rapidly, staring at their quarry. “You’re….not a vampire?”

“No, you ssstupid human.”

Oh. Oh. Jay is incredibly, massively, thoroughly disappointed to realize that the figure on the ground glaring daggers at him, is not, in fact, a vampire. Not unless vampires come in Serpentine flavors.

“A Serpentine?” Lloyd blinks rapidly, looking as colossally disappointed as Jay is. “Aw man, we both lose, then.”

“A weird Serpentine,” Jay frowns, leaning closer. “This one’s got hair. Why do you have hair?”

The Serpentine — who is a she, from the looks of it — rolls her eyes. “I’m part human,” she hisses. “Ssso I do not look like other Ssserpentine. You humansss are just ssstupid enough to think I am a vampire.”

Jay opens his mouth, then shuts it. “Ah,” he says. He then brightens, glancing at Lloyd.  “Oh hey, you have that in common, then! Lloyd’s a freaky mutant anomaly of nature, just like you.”

“Hey!” Lloyd exclaims, looking offended. “A freaky mutant anomaly?”

“I mean it in love, Lloyd.”

“Would you let me out of thissss infuriating net.”

“Uh, yeah, no can do, pal,” Jay replies to the furious Serpentine. “We aren’t letting you off the hook just ‘cause you told us what you were. You’ve been running around and biting people in the neck and stealing their wallets.”

“You bit me,” Lloyd accuses, glaring hotly at her.

“You bit me back,” the Serpentine snarls at him.

“You bit me first!”

“Guys, guys, it’s not a contest,” Jay laughs, a little nervously. “Please. Calm your mutant anomaly selves.”

Lloyd looks as if he’s going to smack him — which he probably should, all honesty, Jay’s been pushing him — but the Serpentine just frowns.

“How issss he one?” she scoffs at Lloyd. “He looksss like a normal human. Maybe with rabiesss.”

Lloyd looks incredibly offended. “Like you can talk.” He shakes his head, sighing. “I’m…part Oni. And dragon. A bit.”

The Serpentine's mouth drops open, and the color leeches from her face. “O-Oni?” She stammers. She looks at the hastily bandaged wound on her arm in alarm. “Did you poissson me?”

“Wha—no!” Lloyd exclaims. “Oni aren’t poisonous!”

He pauses. So do Jay and the Serpentine, leaving the tunnel in silence for a beat.

“I don’t….think?” He turns to Jay, eyebrows furrowed in question.

Jay shrugs. He’s not the one with a bunch of inhuman relatives. “I mean, she hasn’t gone all, y’know — grey-skinned, purple-eyed, turned-to-stone, so?”

This does nothing whatsoever to quell the look of fear on the face of— Jay frowns. “Hey, what’s your name, by the way?”

“What, ssso you can tell the copsss?” their Serpentine hisses dully.

“Well, you’re a criminal, so,” Jay shrugs. “But look at it this way — I won’t call you Elvira Vampira, Terror of the Night, the whole way back instead.”

The Serpentine rolls her eyes, but she does look mildly threatened at being called Vampira for the rest of the evening.

“My name is Sssiri,” she finally admits, looking put out.

“Siri?” Lloyd blinks. “Like the phone voice?”

The Serpentine makes a face as if he’s called her the scum of the earth instead. “I hate that ssstupid company,” she hisses. “And their ssstupid phone voicesss. I hate them.”

“That’s nice,” Jay tells her. He exhales, placing his hands on his hips. He glances at Lloyd, who looks every bit as tired.

“Time to drag her to the police?”

“Time to drag her to the police,” Lloyd sighs, sounding disappointed, if not a bit vindictive.

**************

The cops are nice, at least, and the guy whose wallet got snatched thanks them profusely, so the night doesn’t end up being a total bust. Everyone looks pretty relieved that there isn’t an actual vampire running around, though, which Jay feels a little resentful at, because he’s losing a bet here.

“Hey, cheer up,” Lloyd tells him, elbowing him lightly. “At least no one ever has to know about it.”

“True,” Jay admits. He gives a sigh of melancholy, watching as the cops lead a put-out Siri into the car. He glances at Lloyd, then grins wickedly.

“Hey!” he calls quickly, waving at Siri. He slaps a hand on Lloyd’s shoulder, shaking him. “You don’t have a boyfriend, do you? Because this guy here is a hundred percent single and looking to ack—"

Jay’s idea is immediately torpedoed by Lloyd viciously throttling him in front of the entire crime unit.

“Jay what the heck!” he whisper-shrieks, sounding on the verge of an aneurism.

“I’m trying — to get you — back in the game—" Jay croaks out.

“With a neck-biting criminal?!”

“I wouldn’t be oppossssed,” Siri remarks, cocking her head as she studies Lloyd.

Lloyd goes an odd purple-scarlet color, then immediately turns on heel, marching away and looking not a little bit like his father storming off to destroy a village.

“He’ll call you!” Jay mouths at Siri, before hurrying after Lloyd. “Well, I’d call that a mild success, at least.”

“I am not calling her,” Lloyd grinds out, as he stomps down the street.

“Oh, obviously,” Jay says. He snickers. “Can you imagine Kai’s reaction, though? He’d blow five blood vessels at once.”

Lloyd remains stubbornly stoic, glaring forward. Jay winces. Oops, crossed a line. Still too sensitive. Maybe he can try again in like…a year.

“Hey, on the bright side,” Jay tries. “We can eat the rest of the garlic bread now?”

Lloyd’s pace slows. Jay holds out half of the buttery loaf they have left. Lloyd eyes him for a second, but Jay can see his resolve quickly dying. Lloyd finally snatches it, sighing.

“Tha’ is a bright side,” he says, through a mouthful.

“Garlic bread solves half y’er problems,” Jay nods through his own bite, pleased to find that it’s still good, even if cold.

They walk in silence for a minute, quietly chewing at the rest of the bread. Then Lloyd speaks up.

“Like….can you imagine being a real vampire though? And you couldn’t eat garlic bread?”

“Oh yeah, that would suck.”

“Seriously. I wonder if it’s maybe like, a lactose intolerance thing, where they can have a little bit before breaking into vampire hives or something?”

“Or maybe it’s like a peanut allergy thing, where their throats swell up and they have to use like, vampire Epipens.”

“If I was a vampire, I’d risk it either way.”

“Oh yeah, same. Totally worth it.”

“Totally.”

**************

The thing people tend to overlook about Jay is that, despite how loud he can be — and yeah, he’s admitting it, he can be a big enough person to recognize that he can get a bit worked-up sometimes — anyways, despite how everyone seems to think Jay has one default mode, he is, in fact, one of the best people on the team at sneaking. It’s one of the perks of being small — he’s learned to be light enough on his feet that even Zane can’t pick him up. And everyone expects him to come in all excited and loud anyways, so Jay’s got that advantage. No one expects him to be quiet.

And it is, of course, a trait he’s dutifully passed on to his little brother, who already has experience from sneaking around Darkley’s and lurking in Serpentine tombs, so by the time the alarm is an hour away from going off, Lloyd and Jay are safely back in bed, snoring quietly with the others, who are none the wiser.

Granted, Jay’s got the worst eye-bags ever in the morning, and Lloyd’s running a record for how long he can get around without actually opening his eyes — but Cole doesn’t say anything, and Zane isn’t looking at them suspiciously, so voila! They are off the hook.

Jay supposes he has the usual array of night terrors to thank for that. Always a good cover for sleeplessness, those.

He does have to drag Lloyd to the bathroom first so they can fix his gi collar high enough to hide the rather incriminating bite marks. Jay doesn’t even want to think about explaining those, because any plausible excuses he can come up with for them are just more likely to make Kai barbecue Jay on the spot.

“Good to see you this morning,” Cole tells him pointedly, as he joins the team around the breakfast table. Jay resists the urge to shoot him a gesture, and grabs for the coffee pot instead.

“Did you sleep alright?” Kai is asking Lloyd from across him, his eyebrows furrowed in concern. Jay can’t really blame him, seeing as Lloyd keeps falling asleep in his cereal, dark circles vivid beneath his eyes.

“Jus’ tired,” Lloyd yawns. “Didn’t sleep that well."

Kai pats him lightly on the shoulder, looking sympathetic. “Take a nap or something later,” he tells him. “For my sake.”

Lloyd nods, and Jay leans back in his seat, sipping contentedly at his coffee. As he said, no one suspects a thing. All’s well that ends well.

And then Zane turns the radio on.

“—the neck-biting thief was caught early this morning by the Ninjago City Police, with the aid of two accomplices—”

Jay goes pale.

“Huh, isn’t that what you guys were talking about last night?” Nya remarks.

Jay and Lloyd look at each other, their eyes wide. In a desperate grab for survival, Jay dives for the radio, fully prepared to hit it with a lightning bolt if it means turning it off before—

“—special thanks, of course, to the green and blue ninja, looking out for us as always.”

Jay finally smacks the radio off, plunging the kitchen into silence. There is a long, ominous pause of utter dread. Kai slowly turns to look at Lloyd.

“You went after them—"

“We didn’t!” Lloyd says quickly. “That’s not what we were doing!”

“Oh yeah?” Kai says, and uh oh, that’s a scary look. “You’d better have a heck of an excuse, then.”

“We do, we have a really good excuse,” Jay defends quickly. “We were out there for something way more important.”

“Oh?” Cole says, looking close to blowing a gasket. “And what was that, exactly?”

“Well,” Jay says, looking Kai dead in the eye. “We were trying to get Lloyd a hot date.”

Then, before anyone can react, Jay grabs a sputtering Lloyd by the hand and runs.

[jjkpls]

crayons ‘set’ (PG)

> genre : fluffy fluff, light angst, comedy

> pairing : kim namjoon x reader

> words : 3.8k

> warnings : none (except a rusty quill)

>Y/N, a primary school teacher, is way too soft for the quiet, timid new child in her class. Little did she know, the adult version, who engendered this cutie, is even more charming.

> prior

> next

The principle of balance. 

It’s a curious concept. Like most of the things that turn people into different versions of themselves, just from an unconscious force brought to light by the sheer inner sense of competition that inhabits every single person. It’s quieter in some people. Feel non-existent sometimes. But it’s here, dormant, just waiting on the right trigger to awaken. 

You didn't think you would see it in Jimmy. The little boy lacks completely self-confidence and affirmation. But a voice and a stance, easily remarkable, end up fitting him.

It turns out that you witness it quite quickly after the Progress has started. And it manifests in the most adorable and comical of ways. 

It’s been a few weeks since you've met his dad. There wasn’t much to talk about with him yet. Every day, longer lingerings of the gaze, less tucking away in the far back of the rest of the group, more definite wordless participations during class -nodding and clapping along. The progress you've been wholly satisfied with but nothing so drastically different that you thought necessary to call his father in for. 

Nothing absolutely astonishing. Therefore you didn’t call and what a surprise this one Thursday afternoon turns out to be when he appears at your class’s doorway.

He’s wearing very casual clothes, a simple light linen shirt and some distended jeans to pair, sneakers and his hair -you've only seen neatly tucked to the side- is floating about his forehead, freshly washed and devoid of any wax. It’s a pleasant surprise, especially with the evident appearance of calm and quiet tranquillity he’s carrying. 

This man looks rather handsome when he’s on vacation, stressless and well-rested and seemingly content, you note.

“Mr Kim?”

He looks up from his son he is holding the hand of, eyes wide and bewildered as he stares a little. You chuckle, confused but amused. He’s the one paying you a surprise visit but he’s shocked when you do talk to him?

“Is it bad timing? I can come back another day...” From the look he’s giving you, or more accurately, barely sparing you, body already aiming for the corridor, you wonder if you should return the question. It'd be cruel though, to tease, therefore you choose to simply shake your head and insist on him walking in. And then it happens, the man can’t take a step inside, for some reason. He’s just paralysed, looking like a million contradicting thoughts are fighting inside his brain and he simply cannot make out the best option, if he would or not step in; and it’s Jimmy who takes the decision for him. Puffing his cheeks out in annoyance, he pushes against his father's leg, small hands pulling the bigger one towards him. It’s like watching a tiny mouse trying to drag along a giraffe. It has little to no physical effect until there’s an aggravated tiny whine of “appa”. He moves, at last, letting himself stood in front of me before Jimmy lets go of his hand. 

He gives you a look you're not sure you interpret well. Dark eyes all serious, attention loud, he seems to be intrusting his father to you. A gentle smile, hiding your teeth biting back a hilarious grin, sends him away towards the very back of the room. Taking a seat next to the bookshelf, it takes Jimmy a few minutes only after you've diverted your attention from him to grab an image book and start going through it patiently.

He's so comfortable. Almost too comfortable. He looks strange, like that. Strange because different from usual but still, oddly, it fits him well. It's like a projection, a little vision of a future little boy, easygoing, at peace with himself and his environment, that won't take too long to be born again.

And it's now the dad who's acting weird. He's standing on his two never-ending legs, the tip of his fingers toying nervously with the button of his vest, his mouth keeps teasing, opening slightly, as if about to spill a word, only to shut itself right up, a lightly aggravated sigh following soon after. It happens quite a couple of times until you get tired of waiting. Tired of the eyes avoiding you, the tension heavy for no particular reason that you could decipher, you ring him awake with an abrupt overexaggerated clearing of your throat.

"Mr Kim?" He's confounded again, caught off guard somehow. "Did you mean to discuss something with me?" It's hard to make an adult talk, you realise. Sometimes children can be difficult. Put aside Jimmy's case, sometimes children are like that. Making them want to share, especially when they are at that age where they can't express themselves and their ideas as well as they wish they could, frustration, laziness at times can get the better of them and having a fairly constructed conversation with them is like pulling teeth out of a very adamant, unwilling person. But you manage. Adults, on the other hand, have never been too much of your cup of tea. There's a reason why you chose to spend the better part of your weeks with children instead of adults. You're not that terrible at getting along with them, you do it pretty well, honestly. But the reason is probably the fact that you're not difficult. You're convenient as a person, always willing to help, always trying to be positive, you do not get in people's way and most of the times, it's enough to make it through.

You don't deal with adults the way you deal with children. With great pleasure and passion, you insert yourself into your pupils' existence, try to leave a mark and help them have the better, feel the better, be the better. Adults, you don't get too involved. They sound complicated, complexed, too many compromises, too many facets. You know because you are one too.

And Mr Kim, looking all nervous and troubled seem the very embodiment of this bias you have. He looks some sort of troubles. Probably nothing that terrible. He appears too childish for it to be that grave. But he's serious about it, about the anxiety, the struggle, the uneasiness he's feeling, you can tell, just from the way he hasn't been able to look at you in the eyes since he appeared in your class. Still, whatever it is, will cost some of your time, and with that, might clog up some very much needed space you require in this busy head of yours.

It's happened before. A new neighbour trying to get closer to you, maybe because they've just moved in the city, didn't know anyone, and you looked friendly enough and they needed someone to listen to the exhaustive list of all the things that made them leave their hometown -even though, you don't necessarily care for any of it. Or a colleague, trying to get you involved in their office dramas, simply because people need the attention, the feeling of importance and support.

Quite frankly, you've never been interested in any of them. Adults sound like too much work, especially given the fact that, as filled with flaws as they are, they are a pain, and often impossible, to fix. And they say things they don't mean. And they want things that they don't need. Their words and their acts hardly ever match. They're for the most part unrecoverable and unfixable, and you don't want any of it.

But Mr Kim and his dimples -invisible to the eye at the moment, but that you realise marked your brain so strongly you can picture them exactly where they should be winking- are piquing your interest. You're ninety-nine per cent sure it is not about Jimmy but you'd like to know. Never mind that curiosity killed the cat.

“Yes, uh-“ Clearing of the throat, scratching of the neck and more clearing of the throat. “about last time...”

You're lost. For a second, your body freezes to give your brain its full capacity to wreck through the whole place and retrieve a memory that seems to have been lost somehow, somewhere. You have no idea what time he is referring to. 

He seems so invested, so intensely experiencing his emotions you're left shocked and deeply embarrassed to not remember something that had that effect on him yet didn’t leave a single trace on you. 

He insists then, having to face your transparent confusion. The more you stand in pure oblivion, the more awkward he gets. Stuttering more, an accent, very deep, adding rough edges to his voice, colouring his words with new shades that you've never heard before.

“Mr Kim-“

“Namjoon.”

“I’m sorry?” 

“No, it’s me, I am, I’m-“ You will, later, feel terrible for it. It’s undeniable. But right now, facing this grown-ass man, usually so collected now decomposing in the most adorable red-cheeked boyish thing, you can only start laughing. It renders him speechless which in a way is almost an improvement and when you finally can restrain the giggles from bubbling straight from your belly, you start again,

“Maybe take a deep breath, take your time.” You bite your lip down to the blood, poorly concealing your grin when he actually does it. “What did you mean by ‘last time’?” You're mortified to ask, honestly, persuaded that you should know but at this point, it’s pretty mean but you don’t think you can embarrass yourself that much in front of him, not when he’s been such a mess himself. 

“When we met. When I came to talk about my son.” Calmly, diligently he answers. Like a good boy answering his teacher’s question, a shadow of worry covering his usually sharp gaze. 

“Oh, what about it?” Curiosity melts with confusion as you refrain yourself from pressing him further into elaborating faster, eager as you are to understand. You were sure he was not going to talk about him. 

“I’d been a bit much and I wanted to apologise personally to you.”

Been a bit much? 

“In what sense? I’m not sure I understand.”

“It’s just- I poured myself and our luggage on you when you’re- I know you care about my son but I shouldn’t have, I don’t know, I shouldn’t have-“

You hate cutting people off. It’s a terrible habit you are constantly trying to teach your students to drop. But here he is, struggling to express an idea that irks you strongly. Is he able to put the words he needs? Does he even know them in his own mother tongue or do they even exist? Maybe what he's trying to express are pure emotions. Unease coming from a heart shameful for having shown itself vulnerable to a stranger. You'd know about this feeling. You've experienced it plenty of times, throughout all your life. Even if it wasn’t in the form of you stripping your heart off to someone, like he did, simply showing that you cared gave you the same sense of vulnerability, of terrifying exposure you've always had a hard time dealing with. 

You hate the idea that he regrets it, especially with you. At that time, you could tell he had words to pour out. You were glad, you were even enchanted to be the one helping out no matter how small you just assumed your impact to have been. And now, he's trying to say that he regrets it?

“You said you were thankful to have someone to talk to.”

“I did say that.” He mumbles, pressing the pad of his fingers against his closed eyes. 

“Then don’t regret it. I don’t want you to be embarrassed about this, seriously. I had parents do way more, actually embarrassing, things in my career. Don’t even worry about it.” He’s thinking it over. You can tell your words have little to no impact on his bruised ego. “I’m not sure how appropriate it is for me to say that but if you need it, whenever in the future, don’t hesitate. I’m not a psychologist, but I’m just- I’m willing to listen if it can help. I mean me or anyone else, really, you should in general just share. It’s important. You don’t want Jimmy to mimic such bad habits like so, holding in and all.” You may be talking too much. The man just looks so eager to hear those words and it spurs you on. “You really shouldn’t feel embarrassed. I can understand the feeling, where it comes from, but it’s pointless with me.”

“You’re really kind.” You give a smile, only. It’s not much but you're pretty sure it’s the genuineness tinting it that renders it enough. Again, he seems surprised. As bewildered as last time but undoubtedly convinced. “I’m glad he has you as his teacher.”

Your cheeks burn intensely. You don’t know how conscious he is of his words. If he realises that he perfected the art of flattery and of slipping people in his pocket. He really did. Especially when he’s leaning slightly towards you, gaze intense and on you now that the embarrassment has vanished for the most part and he can bear looking at you, seemingly hanging out for any other words you may have in stock.

There’s nothing left for you to say though. It takes you quite a few attempts to skim over your brain, trying to formulate a sentence, any word, but you come out completely empty. You can’t even stutter a thank you from how utterly flustered you're feeling. 

Therefore you choose the easy way out. Waltzing on your heels to give him your back, your hands reaching to the barely messy top of your desk to pretend they’re busy. You believe yourself to have been sleek enough but apparently not so -maybe it’s the fact that you're just picking up stuff to put them exactly where they belong, at the exact same place. 

“Was I inappropriate? I’m really sorry, Mrs ___. Sometimes I just talk too much and I don’t realise that maybe I shouldn’t.”

“Please stop apologising. It’s fine, you’re fine. You’re just- You saying nice things that you mean,” You stumble upon the last words as if maybe you're getting over your own head to just assume and claim so loud that he must mean the sweet things he said to you but that bashful yet adorable expression he's wearing, with the eyes a bit wide and the bottom lip munched, fill you with a regain of confidence, “can’t be an issue. It’s just unexpected and- I mean you’re fine you can say whatever you want. I mean I’m not asking for more compliments, I’m just saying-“

It’s terribly unnerving. You don’t know what impression you're giving off as a teacher. Lacking so much elocution, scrambling to form sentences and turning into a messy, overwhelmed emotional mess. 

“I don’t mind giving you more compliments, Mrs ___.” Here comes that curious principle of balance again. You're half-dying of mortification and he seems to be having fun, smiling kindly, with a hint of something else -amusement, maybe even smudginess. 

Is he flirting with me? There’s no way he’s flirting. I think I’m losing my mind. 

“It’s Miss, actually.” You swear to yourself, silently, that you're not flirting back -assuming he is, in fact, doing just that- and you just mean to be called by an accurate name. 

“Oh.” He almost gasps. Looking shocked and you don’t understand what’s going on anymore. Was he really not flirting? Why does he look so shaken as if you misinterpreted his intentions and now he’s misinterpreting yours and think you're getting over your head -because you're not, you were not flirting!

“I’m not flirting with you, I’m just clarifying!” 

You hate this whole conversation. You hate yourself, your life and anything and everything that may or may not have led you to this tragic instant.

You're positive you screamed a little. You get confirmation of just that from the tiny mop of hair bouncing up in your peripheral vision, as Jimmy gives you two a slightly concerned, curious look. 

The tension is blatant. It's a mixture of irritation, of anxiety, of embarrassment. You couldn't have messed up any worse than you did and you positively want to simply die, right about now.

The mere thought that you'll have to live with this humiliation not only for the whole day ahead, blatantly hanging out at the back of your head, sometimes probably too close to your consciousness for any sense of comfort to ever inhabit you again, but for your entire life makes you want to throw yourself out the window. You decide not to indulge in the pressing pulsion only because you're on the ground floor, therefore, it would be pointless if not even more humiliating.

Mr Kim, somehow, helps a little. By not wearing a mask of pure revolt, revulsion or aggravation. He stares soundly, expression not giving off much to work with. Just enough to understand he is not mad, simply lost in his own thoughts he doesn't seem too keen on sharing.

A spark of sensibility blooms suddenly in your brain. You're so thankful for it, you jump right on it, grab it with your two hands and start again, as if nothing happened, as if you haven't just humiliated yourself in front of this man (and his son), "Jimmy has made a lot of progress, I've noted."

Mr Kim blinks a few times, unnaturally so. "Yeah? I mean, yes, I've noticed too, actually." He keeps staring with the same obnoxiously loud thoughts running in his mind. His brain is on full activity mode. It's obvious. And he doesn't care too much about talking about his son right this second (even though he doesn't seem to care much about sharing what's going through that private head of his either).

How disappointing. You sincerely thought the one subject that matters the most to him would successfully tear the attention away from you but you're a fool. Apparently, even the cute little bean of a son he has can't divert the attention from the humiliation you've just submitted yourself to.

"Anyway, I won't hold any more of your time, you must have work to attend to."

"Actually I'm not working today. I have the day off." Your lip now too sensitive, you attack the inner part of your cheek with your teeth -thankfully you've turned your back to him again, feigning observing with great attention something through the windows- to stop yourself from screeching. It takes him so long, so fucking long for him to decide, finally, that maybe he should leave. The longest dozens of seconds of your life. Staring outside, picturing him behind you, probably watching you wondering to himself how you can be so lame and how he could have thought you a good fit to be his precious son's teacher. "Ah, I should leave anyway. Your class is about to start?"

"Ah, yes. Well, thanks for passing by. I hope you rest well." It's the least genuine you've been with this man, and anyone for the matter, in so long. Your heart and mind are in such a shamble you don't actually remember the reason for his coming and if, really, anything positive came out of this conversation.

It's ridiculous how you feel, all bothered and nervous, aggravated with him for making you feel so flustered. You give him the most convincing fake smile you own, not taking the time to check if he buys it as you don't dare lingering your attention on him for any longer than the blink of the eye takes.

When he leaves, only after having scattered a bunch of smooches on Jimmy's face, you find yourself breathing again. It's like you've been holding in for so long, you're getting dizzy at the taste of oxygen again, heart beating furiously in your chest, sweating all over.

Fuck, that was painful.

You're such an idiot sometimes. Why do you have to be such a fucking idiot? It's not like you're asking much in this life, honestly. You're not aiming at any groundbreaking, universe shaking novelties. You're staying in your line, trying to be good and do good in your own little world. Not asking much, not taking without beforehand being offered. Is it really that much to ask to not be absolutely humiliated in front of one of your kids' parent, who happens to be a stupidly handsome man? (Yes, he is. You can admit that -to yourself. It's probably the reason why your brain stopped working properly, by the way.) You're cursed. I'm cursed, I'm cursed, I'm cur-

"Mish?" The quietest little call comes from the quietest little boy. Standing a secure meter away from you, his peculiar big black eyes staring with a silent demand in them, Jimmy waits patiently for your attention to be given to him. You offer it to him with great enthusiasm. Because between self-pitying your dumb ass and celebrating the first-ever-self-willingly-uttered word to you by this boy, the choice is not even to be pondered over.

"Yes, Jimmy?" He's holding in one hand your crayons he slowly tends your way, careful not to spill them all from his tiny fist. In the other one, there's a paper he's drawn on. Your eyes instinctively are driven to it, curious to see what he decided to draw when he felt comfortable enough to do it. He catches the line of your attention, evidently, and it takes him a second but then, finally, he decides you're allowed to see it. It's a too accurate copy of the ugly cat you made for him the other day. The colours are different, the traits a bit shakier yet, completely unbiasedly, you have to admit that he somehow made it look better. "That's a very pretty cat, Jimmy."

He looks at it, ruminates your words, trying to make sense of them, verify their accuracy. Suddenly he seems to decide that you're right and giving you another candid look, he returns to his table where he proceeds to carefully slip the drawing in his bag.

You realise your eyes are filled up with prickling tears while you sniff. You're not sure how much is due to this, how much the terrible, terrible encounter with his dad worked your emotions so intensely you're so sensitive now. In any case, it turns out for the better. It's this cute little cat that ends up making you and your day ahead feel better. You're so thankful for it.

Again, you know you're too involved but how are you supposed to do any different with them? Maybe it wasn't a punishment earlier. Maybe it was the storm before the ray of sunshine. It's probably the case. You're less aggravated, suddenly. Less vexed and probably more lenient on talking to this man again given, not the ray of sunshine, but actually rainbow that he may have helped cause to colour your day.

A/N: thanks for reading 💜

[blooms-of-ice]

Wyda is officially retired...for now. She had a good run, and I loved writing for her! GOD the existential dread I felt as I drew closer and closer to running the event that would end her.

Her story continues through another. Give a follow here! :D

I’ll be keeping this blog up as an archive, although I might still post every now and again. But since her arc is done, here goes! An unedited, unfiltered slurry of words-directly-from-brain-to-keyboard about Wyda! I’m warning you, this is true farm fresh to you stuff. And spoilers for many events in FF14. Read on if you dare.

Strap in, it’s going to be a long and bumpy ride.

Did I say that I love Primals?

Primal lore gives the FF14 devs a lot of creative freedom when it comes to designing bosses. Want the arena changed? Want something/someone to look absolutely wack? Want to spin up a threat without having a villain train for years prior? Bam, primals.

It also gives us, the players, the same creative freedoms when it comes to roleplaying!

The requirements to summon one are humorously low. At first, primals result from misguided and zealous beastmen shenanigans. Ifrit, Titan, Ramuh, Leviathan, Garuda...but then we get a bunch of weird summonings. Like when Ga Bu summons a funky version of Titan through his despair alone. Or when Yotsuyu brings forth Tsukuyomi because she really, really wants to see the world burn. Hell, Gilgamesh just thinks about his friend Enkidu in the presence of some crystals, and that’s enough to bring forth a primal. So I guess the only requirements for a primal summoning are 1) crystals and 2) thinking kinda hard? Strong feelings, especially negative ones, seem to be more effective but then again! What the heck happened with Gilgamesh? Who knows?!

But this is one of my favorite things in FF14. It’s a powder keg of a situation that will, and HAS, gone off multiple times.

Being tempered, meanwhile, is a fate worse than death. You’re forced to change sides and fight for the enemy. You don’t even find peace when you die - tempered souls linger in Eorzea thanks to how messed up they are by the process. But you don’t become a mindless servant either. *Points to Emet-Selch who is....kinda...on your side (???) but also on Zodiark’s side*

Things aren’t nearly as dark now that tempering can be cured. I’m very thankful, since otherwise my campaign would’ve had a very, very depressing ending. One that I originally planned for but STILL. I’m weak. ;_;

Riding off the Rails

Primal lore is flexible. In ARR, the rules are established, but later expansions took those rules and went “Well, what about this? And this? And this?” In other words, this is me admitting that I’m shameless and will stretch this lore until I reach the moon.

Developing Wyda was a ‘chicken first, egg later’ sort of situation. Though trite, I gave her amnesia in order to give myself an excuse for knowing nothing about FF14 lore (and because I was new to roleplaying). When I finally sat down to flesh her out, my mind kept returning to primals. I love ‘em and their potential for drama! So yeah, I was determined to make it work.

There were a lot of questions I had to answer. If Wyda is a primal, then why isn’t she tempering everyone she meets?! How is she getting away with being a ‘normal’ person? And how do I avoid power creep? I know, for a fact, that if I walked into an RP event and just said...hey. My character is a primal, are you cool with that? The answer would be a solid no. Nooooo! I’d tell that to myself! So I wanted to solve these questions in a fair way that would allow others (and myself) to remain immersed in the roleplaying world. Luckily, FF14 lore is like a bottomless chest of building blocks. It was just a matter of stacking them carefully.

Primals are summoned when someone thinks around some crystals (Ah, Gilgamesh...)

The primal’s purpose is based on the summoner’s desires, but with a monkey’s paw twist (Ga Bu’s Titan punching the other kobolds away is indicative of this)

The amount of aether used in the summoning determines how powerful the primal will be (Shinryu being beefy as hell)

Primals can be summoned out of thin air, or be channeled into someone’s body

When a primal is channeled, the summoner needs the Echo to resist (Ysalye and Ryne). Otherwise the summoner is tempered by their own creation.

Now, with those blocks in hand, I started spitballing...and it led me to this thought. If a primal’s purpose is to NOT be a primal, what happens?

Would they know that they’re a primal?

Can they still use their primal powers?

What happens when the primal is based off of someone who still exists?

For Wyda, I chose to swing this way.

Her memory is garbage because she’s a primal based on someone else. Even if you know someone really well, you can’t perfectly recreate/emulate them.

She’s normal-powered because all her primal magic is going towards suppressing her powers. Extremely inefficient. And she’s very human-like because she’s possessing someone else’s body, as opposed to being made purely of primal aether.

Primals temper whether they want to or not - aether leaks, and it corrupts. To solve this for Wyda, instead of leaking aether out of the wazoo...thanks to the nature of her summoning, she just leaks a tiny bit all the time. Not enough to temper.

But I also wrote myself into a corner. If Wyda isn’t going to behave like a primal, then how does she exist for so long? They need a constant source of aether to survive, and she’s not doing primal stuff since she’s too busy being human. And so...the answer is that she doesn’t. Once her aether runs out, then poof.

See? Fun! (But also pain. So much pain.)

Playing with Fire

Eorzea (like most fantasy RPG settings) is a nightmare factory. Most, if not all, who make their living ‘adventuring’ are scarred from what they have to face. For every success story (WoL), there are countless more tragedies (Avere). And even if you survive...who wouldn’t get trauma if you were an adventurer and it was normal for your buddies to be eaten by a beast, tempered by a primal, possessed by a ghost?

Which is to say, Wyda's scars run deep. Shit goes down. 

To repeat that in slightly more words: Wyda is an accidental byproduct of Cravendy’s grief and longing. At her lowest moment, Cravendy (a Seawolf pirate) thinks of her friend Dots and the unfairness of it all. And oops, there are crystals nearby. So now, we got Wyda walking around in Cravendy’s body, thinking that she’s someone named Dots. By the way, Dots is still alive! Very awkward.

Wyda is a denial incarnate. She is Cravendy’s dream for safety, family, and happiness for Dots. But denial does not erase the past, nor does it change how you feel. By existing, Wyda suppresses those feelings for Cravendy and freezes the other woman in the past. With the both of them like this, Cravendy will never accept her trauma and Wyda will be plagued with a stranger’s guilt.

Primal souls are weird. I have no idea where they come from, but they seem separate from the summoner’s. So as Wyda’s influence wanes, Cravendy’s soul begins to resurface. This forces Wyda into a cycle of self-discovery and self-destruction that, unfortunately, convinces Wyda that she ought to disappear. It’s a tragic conclusion she reaches after having her worldview shattered. She’s a copy of Dots, she’s a primal. What’s real, and what’s not? What even matters?

The Power of Love

Love is a persistent theme for all of my characters. For Cravendy, love is why she hurts, so she would rather forget it than bear any more pain. But Wyda is the opposite - she loves too much. When all else is a sham, Wyda trusts that the love she feels is real. And ultimately, this love dooms Wyda and saves Cravendy.

Wyda’s fatal flaw is her self-destructive selflessness. Thanks to being mistaken for Dots all the time, Wyda develops a low sense of self. Then events of the campaign erode that into nothingness. She’s a second rate copy full of brittle memories, she’s a fake! And discovering Cravendy’s sleeping soul only pushes Wyda further into her flaw. Here is my purpose, she thinks! My original! And I’ll save her no matter what, because she deserves to live!

But it’s a mistake. Certainly, Cravendy is saved, but Wyda deserves to be saved too. Although she loves with all her heart, Wyda never learns to love herself and see her own self-worth. She doesn’t understand that her friends don’t share her view of herself - as a worthless copy that can only find value in saving another. Her selflessness loops into selfishness.

Maybe Wyda will come back...She certainly has a lot to learn still!

The TLDR version of all this is that I accidentally pulled a Kingdom Hearts plot with this character, and now I understand, Nomura. I UNDERSTAND WHY YOU BRING BACK YOUR CHARACTERS. ;_;

[thalsianiii]

Do you find it difficult to RP a "villain"? What is appealing to you about playing such a character? (Sorry if this has been asked before, but I'm new to this)

No need to apologize! I love talking about myself and making new friends. You’re doing fine! Going to answer this backwards because I get ranty about villain stuff.

What’s appealing to RPing a villain?

Part of it is the novelty. Nobody plays actual villains. Everyone is a hero, a noble, a civilian, or a “Morally grey” warlock that’s still objectively good. I lost count of how many warlocks I’ve met over the years who were “secretly a warlock.”

Nothing wrong with that, mind you. I understand why. If they were open about it, they’d end up like Percy did; treated like shit.

The other part is the fact that it was all part of character progression. I didn’t necessarily just wake up one day and say “I wanna write a villain,” as much as it was what the Roleplay lead up too. For years past, being treated like dog shit and excluded simply because he chose dark magic helped push him in this direction. Ultimately, of course, it was my choice. But I don’t think I would have done it if story didn’t drive it forward. 

Do I find it difficult to Roleplay a villain?

Fucking absolutely. But not for the reasons you think. Getting into the mindset isn’t terribly difficult. But actually getting to Roleplay as a villain is almost impossible. People don’t really want us around, not really. Plenty of people around love to praise about what a great character he is and how it’s nice to see a villain. But that’s where it stops. Everyone likes his villainous ways... from a distance. But no one wants to actually be a part of that aspect. Everyone always looks for a work around to play nice instead. Which is fine... but not really what I was after.

I do have RP with other ‘dark’ characters or the like where we do RP villainous things. But it’s really the same RP everyone else does, just backwards. Instead of the heroes going in to kill evil cultists. It’s evil cultists going in to kill a group of priests. Same thing, different perspective.

But a villain exists as a challenge for heroes to overcome. They are, by their very design, intended to be stopped. But in the world of RP, nobody wants the wild card of a third party to dictate their success. Most guilds want their perfectly controlled NPC villains who will take X damage and then die. Most individuals want to defeat their own proverbial demons they conjured up in their own backstories. Maybe people are afraid of conflict with another person vs their own NPC’s for some justified reasons. Or maybe they just dislike my character and ideas and I’m way off base with everything. I don’t know. I’m not a mind reader.

But being a villain, a real story villain, not just someone who does evil things for kicks, is almost impossible.

It’s also REALLY difficult to find people who don’t just go “well I’d just kill him.” and be done with it. Actually had this exchange when talking with a person about my character earlier this week. It was all machismo and bravado on their part and when another person called them on it they did follow up with something to the effect of how he was exaggerating to detail his character better. But regardless, that seriously kills my interest in RPing with you when you say shit like: “Yeah My guy would just freeze him in place and chop off his head before he could escape.”

Like... buddy... I can come up with a dozen ways to be an antagonist that doesn’t involve killing your character. Is it really so difficult for you to calm your testosterone for 5 seconds and let a villain escape after you shamed him with defeat? Like if stories and media killed off villains right away, we’d never have such amazingly detailed and fan favourite villains like Dr. Doom, The Joker, Venom, etc. Defeating a villain but leaving them alive opens so many doors. Why are RPers so gung ho about closing doors instead? I’ll never understand. Anywho, that’s my rant.

tl;dr The novelty of being a villain is fun but man people kill my vibe sometimes.

Nice to meet you, new friend @melorica

[flameofchaos]

Whispers in the Dark - The Slayers Fanfic

Warnings: none (I suppose)

 Beta: @naiokiara <3 (this girl is a treasure)

Chapter 3 

Of the group of adventurers, Princess Amelia first appeared downstairs, as always with a broad smile on her delicate face, and stretching her body happily.

“Good morning!” she waved to the innkeeper and two still-a-little-sleepy waitresses. “Birds are singing with the first rays of sun and there is not a single cloud in the sky. The day is SO BEAUTIFUL, I want to dance and… Oh, I’m sorry, Mr. Xellos!” The dark-haired girl finally noticed a very sour expression on the Mazoku's face, as her positive energy literally filled up the room. “I didn’t know you were here.”

“No hard feelings, Miss Amelia.,” The demon almost immediately returned to his usual innocent and polite smile, already tasting the sweet flavour of regret from the princess. The poor girl was so pure and good that she was even worried about how her happy attitude could be unpleasant for a Monster. “Did you sleep well?”

“Yes. I assume the others still aren’t up? They are missing such a wonderful morni-” She bit her tongue at Xellos’ eyebrow’s twitch; “Oh… I mean, Miss Filia will be angry that we still aren’t on our way.”

The demon’s face was now literally angelic. “She tried to wake you all up by knocking on the doors, but I decided my friends deserve good rest… so I have thrown a silencing spell on your rooms, so that no one could disturb you. I suggested that Miss Filia take a refreshing walk meanwhile.”

“And what did she say?” Amelia took her seat on the other side of the table.

“Should I omit filthy words?”

“Of course!”

“Then she said nothing," Xellos took a sip of tea.

“Hello there,” Gourry joined them, yawning like he was ready to swallow them for breakfast. Zelgadis was just behind him, visibly not happy with the fact the Mazoku was still here. 

"What has happened, Xellos? Aren’t there people other than us whose existence you can poison with your presence?" The chimera sat next to Amelia, as far away from the Monster as was possible. Even after so long, he wasn't very fond of the demon. The fact that in the past Xellos burned, with his eyes, a precious manuscript that may have contained a remedium for Zelgadis’ cursed look (the Mazoku insisted there wasn’t any useful knowledge, but could the word of a demon be worth anything?) still burnt Zel painfully.

"I couldn't deny myself such a delicious breakfast as your helpless anger, Mr. Zelgadis," said Xellos, with a voice sweeter than chocolate, looking at the chimera with slightly more open eyes in a way that forced Zelgadis to move uneasily in place. He snorted and waved for a waitress if only to break eye contact with the demon, but halfway to their table the girl was attacked by Lina, who practically yanked the menu from her hands.

“Those five things! Double portions!” She ordered, pointing at the card.

“But maybe your friends would like to choose by themselves, Miss?” the waitress mumbled, overwhelmed with the sorceress' confidence.

“You understood me wrong. It’s only for me. I’m starving!” Lina passed her and placed herself on a free chair between Xellos and Gourry. 

The blonde swordsman waved. “I want the same! Lina always chooses the best dishes!”

“Sorry about them,” Amelia sighed, a little embarrassed, taking menus for herself and Zelgadis.

“Where is Filia?” Lina finally counted her group and gave Xellos a very suspicious look. “Did you eat her?”

“Golden dragon scales are hard to digest even for me,” The demon answered with a nasty smirk. “Don’t worry so much about her, Miss Lina.”

“I’m not worried about her. I’m worried about my breakfast. Filia is the one who pays our bills. If you did something to her-” The sorceress tried to throw a proper threat, but then she reminded herself who this man at her side was. “-you’d better have enough coin in your pouch, because I am ready to eat everything that isn’t fast enough to run away.”

Xellos sent her a smile. “So I assume you did rest well, Miss Lina. The proper relaxation after a hard day can be incredibly effective.”

The sorceress blushed a little, knowing the second layer in the demon’s words. A fast peek at her friends: Gourry was napping with his head resting on his arms on the table and Zelgadis studied the menu with Amelia, probably happy that Lina’s presence meant that he wasn’t any longer the centre of Xellos’ attention. 

“I have a slight headache.” The witch tried not to show her unease, and a thousand questions had been buzzing in her head from the moment she had awakened. The number of holes in her memory seriously worried her. She remembered bathing, talking with Xellos, and the massage of his long skillful fingers on her feet. And later he entered her head.  What had he done to her? She had awakened in her bed wearing a nightgown.

“I only presented you with the offer, but it was a little too much for your mind and body, so you lost consciousness in the bathtub,” whispered the demon calmingly. “I took care of you.”

“Don’t read my thoughts!” she snapped at him, suddenly panicked about what might have happened when she was blacked out.

“I don’t, and I can’t, do that. Reading thoughts is impossible even for Mazoku.” The Trickster Priest sounded offended. “But your emotions are behaving like scared wild horses, Miss Lina. I assure you, I didn’t do anything inappropriate to you. I didn’t even take peeks.” Not too many, anyway, he ended in his mind.

Lina’s face was at the moment far redder than her hair, however, she somehow knew he wasn’t lying to her. Probably indeed better he had transported her to bed rather than leaving her in the cold water where she might even have drowned.

 This is like ending up playing games with Mazoku, the witch realized sourly. She’d let him get into her head not knowing the consequences and he had touched her naked body, even if he wasn’t interested in using the opportunity.

“My, my, Miss Lina! Are you really so disappointed nothing more has happened?” Asked a surprised Xellos, his smile wider with every second, making the sorceress feel the blood flow away from her face. If she only could block his empathic skills.

“I am NOT!” she hissed through teeth, however they both knew it was a lie.

Xellos’ smug smile made her want to punch him or do anything else that could make this handsome face not so handsome anymore.

Suddenly she felt a touch on the inner side of her palm under the table, tickling like someone was brushing fingertips against her skin. Lina froze, seeing that both of Xellos’ hands were actually busy holding a teacup. Who said that human-shaped hands were the only ones the Mazoku had, and that the shadow under the table was just an ordinary lack of light, not a living darkness? The sorceress cringed.

“If you are so interested in more naughty games, we can discuss the conditions of my offer again, Miss Lina,” purred Xellos… and sighed heavily, as Lina had hit his teacup from below, so the warm beverage was now pouring off of his face. “My bad. I guess you need time to rethink the idea. One more tea, please.” The demon asked the waitress with an apologetic smile, wiping up his face with a cloth the woman quickly had offered him.

***

It was late evening the same day when Lina thought (not for the first time) that Filia and Xellos in one place were a greater threat to the world than a gathering of all four Dark Lords created by the Lord of Nightmares. 

The group had ended up camping in the desert because of an embarrassing adventure.

"It is all your fault, you cockroach! You raw garbage! You… you!" Filia's anger finally burnt off and she just drowned in tears, while Xellos’ face was literally a visualisation of the sentence: This time it really (almost) wasn’t my fault! “My dignity has been destroyed! I hate you! Hate you! Hate you!!!”

Amelia massaged the dragoness’ back, pleading with her eyes for Lina's help, but the sorceress could barely suppress her own rage. Her dreams about a cosy room and tasty supper had literally turned into ashes… in Filia’s dragon breath.

"Enough of that! Go sleep! All of you! Gourry, Zel, make a small campfire," she ordered, and something in her voice made the swordsman and the shaman obey without further questions. "I'm taking the first watch near those rocks. Xellos, you are going with me! If I don’t keep you far away from Filia, I will go insane soon!”

“Don’t blame me just because I’m a Mazoku.” The demon followed the redhead girl. “It was all her own fault! She destroyed the town. Filia was the one who chose our path this morning.”

Lina massaged her temples, trying to get rid of her murderous impulses, remembering the quarrel between the monster and dragoness about which way to choose. Xellos’ choice had been definitely rejected by Filia… only because it was a Mazoku’s proposition. Filia was stubborn to a crazy degree, so finally the group had followed her lead and they had reached a nice town.

A wonderful place except one, but important, defect.

“Why the hell didn’t you tell her that dragons aren’t allowed to enter there when she chose that damn path?” Lina yelled at the demon with so much anger that Xellos took a small step back.

“Do you really think she would have believed me? Some people, even dragons, have to burn themselves a little to learn from their own mistakes.”

“But it is MY ass that will freeze now in the desert all night! And you had chosen the right, safe path only because you KNEW she would be in opposition to you. You planned it, didn’t you?”

A smug smile and a light shrug were all from Xellos’ side.

“You aren’t even pretending to be sorry.” Lina sat heavily on sand, leaning her back against one of the rocks.

“Pretending something like that would be an offence to you, Miss Lina. You and I know each other well enough to abandon some false games. Besides, no one there knew Miss Filia was a dragon, but Valgaav’s minions appeared and told that to people in town. She was jailed and they were ready to execute her. Luckily a big bad Mazoku - Me! - appeared to piss the golden dragon off enough that she freed herself from the chains. I was a hero!” He pointed at his own chest happily.

“Filia literally leveled the town to the ground trying to catch you in her rage, you asshole!” Lina ran her palm across her face, tired, knowing the demon definitely had too much fun with this story.

Even from afar the sorceress still could hear the Priestess of Light’s whining:

“I destroyed the town! How embarrassing! What a shame! If only that devil hadn’t provoked me to change into my dragon form!”

“The other outcome would have been you bringing her severed head to the Flare Dragon King’s Temple,” reminded Xellos, sitting low by Lina’s side, to disappear from Filia’s sight. “Don’t worry. People there were fast enough to survive. They will rebuild the town and this time they will be sure to put there also a giant sign: Seriously! Dragons aren’t allowed to enter here.” He burst out with a loud laugh. “Did you see Valgaav’s minions' faces? ‘Oh dear, she REALLY is a dragon’, " the demon parodied the surprised tone of Gravos and Jillas, who hadn’t run quickly enough, and the impact of Filia’s tail had catapulted them high in the air.

Finally Lina chuckled too. Yes, maybe that view had been worth a night under a starry sky, here in the middle of desert. She would have paid to see Valgaav’s face when his servants gave him the report. Anyway, whatever Xellos did, the sorceress just wasn’t able to be angry with him for too long. This damn monster always knew the ways to distract her.

The air was cooler and cooler. The heat of day in such a place quickly changed into cold night, and Lina embraced herself tighter with her black coat. 

In the camp, Filia finally got quiet, and one peek told the sorceress that the exhausted dragoness had fallen asleep cuddling herself up to Amelia. Gourry was already snoring near the fire. Zelgadis also was preparing for rest. 

Lina inhaled deeply, enjoying the quiet and peace. Xellos’ side was warm and sheltered her from the wind, so she allowed herself to relax a little.

“You can rest too, Miss Lina. I will keep guard.” The velvet demon’s tone made the witch snort.

“I’m on watch also to keep an eye on you, Mr. Evil,” she noted, patting his nose sympathetically. “What if you sneak up to Filia and fill her sleep with nightmares?”

“Miss Lina, don’t give me such delicious ideas. Now how could I resist that?” His white teeth flashed in a grin, and Lina answered with her own bright smile, before she rested her head on his shoulder, sighing heavily.

Xellos was surprised with that sudden show of trust, so he reached his senses into Lina’s aura to check it. The demon suspected she was too tired to be fully on guard, or maybe she believed that their agreement about cooperation against Valgaav was valid. Her feelings confused him a little. The sorceress was tired, of course, but Lina had simply sought his closeness because… she was accepting him as one of her tribe. There was neither embarrassment in her now, nor hostility. Only uncertainty. She was far away from home. These were unknown lands, and Filia was also a stranger to her, unlike Xellos. The Mazoku was something familiar to Lina. She knew he was dangerous as hell and that she can’t believe him, but… somehow he was hers, a stable part of reality, from her point of view. 

Xellos considered how to use the new situation to his advantage, but finally he also let himself to put aside his mischievous nature and enjoyed the unusual atmosphere. In this fight between him and Filia over Lina, he was winning at the moment, and the art of manipulation sometimes demanded patience.

“I’m glad you are again with us, Xellos.” The girl’s murmur confirmed what the demon had concluded from her emotions. “Like in the good old good day.” She was observing stars, but her mind was somewhere else. “So many adventures behind us. This town today reminded me of when we snuck into the city where only ladies were allowed to enter and we forced you, boys, to dress like women,” she chuckled, covering her face in his blouse.

“I remember. Mr. Zelgadis as 'Miss Lulu' was quite popular there. I can recall the taste of his embarrassment.”

“And poor Gourry. Till this day he shivers when he sees a pink dress.” Lina wiped away a tear of joy. “Not to mention you. Martina said later that she had to hide you from others’ eyes because of how sexy you were in that red outfit. With what did you fill those false boobs, huh?”

“Who said they were false?”

Lina choked in the middle of laughing on her own breath and looked at the demon in disbelief.

“Nooooo… Seriously?” she blinked.

“Mazoku don’t have males or females,” the priest winked at her. “Being a shapeless darkness which can take preferred form has many advantages. But I am the most used to the male vessel I have now.”

“That explains those perfect hips in that red dress too. How many convenient secrets do you have, you beast?” Lina enjoyed the new fact to the point that she was biting the fabric of Xellos’ coat so as to not awake her friends with laughter.

“As many as I need. I am always open to new experiences. Even those including your lovely but sharp teeth. Do you remember that my clothes are part of me?”

Lina immediately straightened her back and cleared her throat. It was quite dark despite the stars and the faint light of the nearby campfire, but the Mazoku’s eyes could easily notice a deep blush on her cheeks.

“I’m sorry,” she mumbled, but then shivered when, away from his closeness, cold attacked her fragile body. In the next moment she found herself in the previous position as the demon wrapped her shoulders with his arm, pulling her to his warm side. Lina stopped breathing when she felt how that which looked like his “coat” moved itself too, covering her tightly.

“We don’t want you to change into an icicle, do we?” Hypnotizing amethyst eyes with vertical pupils flashed a little too close for Lina’s preferences. “What is it? You have goosebumps? Just like then, in that doll tower. You were so scared there, because of that little horror story I’d told you all the evening before. Scared of ghosts, ha! If you could have known then that a real Mazoku was just next to you. What a silly adventure. I adore those times when you all didn’t know who I was and were acting so boldly. I remember Miss Martina protecting me, a poor victim, from the rage of cruel Lina Inverse.”

Lina’s stiffness slowly vanished as she noticed that Xellos is still in a talkative, rather harmless mood and she adjusted her position under his arm, looking for comfort, resting a cheek on his chest. Somehow it hit her a lot when she noticed the lack of a beating heart sound. Her brain reacted nervously to the conflict of expectations and reality.

“Oh, my apologies. Next to you, Miss Lina, I’m not so on guard about the human form in such detail. Take it as a compliment that I feel good with you.” The demon finally noticed her confusion, and a moment later, the girl caught the slight beating under her ear.

A cheater among cheaters, she rolled her eyes.

"Poor Martina, you broke her heart! She was so devastated when she discovered that her charming prince was a monster.” Lina still could feel the satisfaction from seeing the annoying princess of Xoana's face in the moment she had understood the awful truth about her chosen man.

"Miss Martina was so funny and delicious! And full of energy in many ways." The demon sighed dreamingly.

Lina raised her head to look at his face suspiciously.

"Did you and she… you know…" 

Was there really a sparkle of jealousy in his redhead sorceress? "Curiosity killed the cat, Miss Lina.” The witch gasped, surprised, when she felt a light kiss on the tip of her nose, and she wrinkled it in a lovely way, ashamed by the cold feeling of wetness that his lips had left on her skin.

Lina suddenly became aware that most of the intimate moments in her life (all of them unplanned), she had experienced with Xellos, and it didn’t help her to feel better.

Him and his teasing games…

"I'm asking only from a scientific point of view." She added quickly. "I wondered if it was possible for your race to-"

"Engage in a sexual act?" Finished Xellos with a low voice that made the girl’s heart drum. He laughed quietly. "Some kinds of knowledge you have to earn."  His fingers ran lazily through long red locks. "Mr. Zangulus was gifted with Miss Martina's innocence during their wedding night. It was not her who I am interested in." 

The demon's words confused Lina more than everything else. It wasn't a clear declaration, she tried to convince herself, ignoring the tips of his nails gently caressing the skin of her head. The sorceress realized that his hand was bare again.

"So there is a woman you are interested in?" She asked, regretting it in the next moment.

"The fact it is a woman isn't important for me. Human mating rituals aren't natural for my kind."

Lina felt suddenly very uncomfortable. The creature next to her looked exactly like a human, but it was only an illusion. To be honest, the Mazoku race was a great mystery even for those who spent all their lives studying black magic. They were evil. They were darkness. And power. Especially power.

"What's happened, Miss Lina? I thought we are talking from… a scientific point of view?" The thumb on the arm he was using to embrace her body brushed her cheek. His cruel lips were smiling mockingly. Oh, how he was enjoying the moment of the storm of her emotions now: the desperate wish to withdraw from this embarrassing moment, to distance herself. And fear… yes, she was scared of him again.

"Yes." She mumbled with an offended tone. "Only from a scientific point of view."

The monster giggled, calmingly massaging the sorceress' shoulder to give her more warmth.

"From a scientific point of view humans aren't constructed to fly, but they do that using spells like Ray Wing or Levitation.” He pointed. "Mazoku don't need intimate acts to breed like humans, but… unknown terrains are always very tempting to explore. Am I not right?" He played with one of her red locks, slipping it among fingers.

"Enough of your seductive tricks," she tried to push him away, but it would be easier to move a mountain than Xellos’ arm.

"It wasn’t doing anything like that. Should I show you my seductive side, Miss Lina?" he whispered, grabbing her chin and pulling it up, so she looked straight into his  gleaming demonic eyes. The sorceress became as if paralyzed, when she felt his breath on her own mouth. He smelled of black magic. She could easily recognize this scent, heavy but fresh, like thunder ready to strike a tree in an open field. "You awoke curiosity in me, and a curious Mazoku is rather hard to get rid of." His lips brushed against hers when he spoke. Suddenly it became definitely too hot for Lina. Growing panic took control over her and she reacted like always, with a burst of anger.

"Let me go, you awful…!" A mistake. In the moment she opened her mouth, his tongue slipped inside, teasing hers and withdrawing before she was able to bite him. 

"Mmm… you are more delicious than I thought." The beast murmured huskily and then chuckled. "What’s with that terrified face? I was only teasing you."

Lina slapped his cheek.

"Oh, dear." He caught her wrists before she could hit him again. "Watch out, sweetling." Amethyst reptilian eyes started to glow delicately. "Violence is a language in which I am better versed than you."

Lina breathed fast, trying to fight down her own fury. Again he had done with her as he pleased. Monster!

The sorceress snorted, giving up. It wasn't possible to win with Xellos, so she sighed and laid her head back on his chest, observing stars and remaining silent. Soon his hand returned to caressing her hair. 

She still could taste the flavour of him on the tip of her tongue. It was like little lightning, tickling her taste buds in a rather pleasant way. Lina wasn't able to compare it to any other taste she was familiar with. Slowly the sorceress calmed down.

"Asshole." She said, resisting licking her lips.

"And still you like me as I am, Miss Lina." He noted, sensing that the girl was now more amused by her own helplessness than angry with him.

"Oh, shut up." Lina yawned widely. It was too comfortable to lie like that by his side. Warmth, the softness of his clothes which weren't clothes, the soothing caresses of his fingers in her hair. She started to get sleepy.

Then she felt it. His aura brushed against hers in a delicate but demanding way.

"No way. Not again. I’ve had enough of that for now." She refused with a tired voice and Xellos withdrew his astral parts obediently. 

"For now," he whispered, and kissed the forehead of the drifting girl. "There is always a new day, like you, humans, say."

[synthsizedproductions]

Chapter Five: Fall

CW: Violence, fire, suicide mention, attempted murder, death threats

I tried to ignore the stares of the civilians as the Judge carried me through town toward a large stone building. The crowd parted ways for him like they feared him, skittering out of his path as if panicked rodaks. “You certainly have an effect on these people.”

The Angel glanced at the individuals we were passing. “That is because they respect me and my authority over them and the city.”

I shook my head and used what little energy I had to attempt wriggling out of his hold. “Looks more like fear to me. Those things aren’t the same.”

He glared at me as I struggled and tightened his grip. “As long as they listen to what I say, I don’t care which it is. Fear, respect, they aren’t that different. Besides, they should be afraid. No one wants to see me in the city. It means something serious is happening. I am what stands between them and the Corruption. There is not a person here that can protect this place as I do. This is my hill to defend, and I won’t lose it to people like you.”

I returned his glare and a whisper of heat rose from my Spark. “People like me, huh? Is one young-adult Scorpid really that serious a threat to an entire city apparently guarded by Angels?”

He shook his head and readjusted his hold on me. “Angel. Singular. This is my city and I will not have Corruption sneaking its way in. I’m doing you a favor. Some people would torture you first. I have no interest in watching you suffer. Forcing you into The Nine Pits is punishment enough.”

His words left me horror-struck, the fire inside me freezing. “What do you mean? Death collects everyone and weighs their balance. He’s supposed to give us a choice. They promised me we got a choice.”

He nodded as we began climbing a hill, the village fading into the distance. “That is usually correct. However, I’m not bound by that in specific cases. One of which is any case that involves Corruption. You must have the curse burned from your very Spirit. You should be able to return to the Living Realm in a handful of generations. That might be enough time.”

I contemplated his words in panicked silence as the Judge carried me up a steep set of stone stairs. The higher we rose, the deeper my terror became. I wanted to figure my way out of this situation, but my thoughts were a constant high-pitched ringing, and I couldn’t process anything beyond my fear.

Don’t get scared. Get angry.

I swallowed my anxiety, and the ringing faded into the background, returning my focus to what I could do about the danger I was in. “I thought your people were all about Order. Doesn’t breaking the balance of life and death go against what your Patron stands for?”

He halted in his tracks and focused his blazing white eyes on me. “Did you, a Child of Chaos, just tell me, an Angel of the second highest degree, how my Patron would feel about breaking the balance created by Them?”

I meant get you angry.

I could sense his rage building, but returned the Angel’s intense gaze. “If that’s how you want to interpret it. I just figured you’re committing an unforgivable act by breaking something so important to the balance. Dalin would surely be disappointed in you.”

The edges of his gray feathers glowed like his eyes, and the air was heavy around us. “How dare you allow Their name to pass your filthy, Corrupt lips? I’m already going to kill you. Don’t make me change my mind on the torture.”

Stop antagonizing him.

I scoffed at him and ignored the instinct to placate my aggressor. Reasonable words weren’t working; it was time to get mean. “I imagine that is another act that disappoints Dalin. Torture’s messy, which doesn’t sound very Orderly of you. I’m sure Dalin tallies up your misdeeds and will present you with a list of failures before condemning you to the Pits.” His rage spiked higher each time I said the Deity’s name, the surrounding air crackling with excess energy.

He looked ahead of us and stood still as a statue. “You have made very foolish choices today. This one is suicidal. What good has it done you to make me angry? I told you I would be merciful. I told you that your death would be swift and painless. Why would you choose to enrage me?” The Angel spoke with a dangerous tone.

It took me a moment to find my voice beyond the blinding fear. “If I’m gonna die, I’m gonna earn it. You think I’m a monster? You think I want to have this…” I glared down at my bound hands. “...this thing inside of me? You think I chose this?”

He shook his head, but didn’t look down at me. “No. I do not believe that you chose this. No one would choose to be a pariah, a disease meant to be cured by force, if necessary. You choosing or not has nothing to do with this.”

I stared up at him in utter confusion. “Then why are you doing this? I can’t help what I am just like you can’t help what you are. I was born this way. It wasn’t a deal or a curse by a Corrupted Magic user. You’re right. No one would choose this. So, why am I being punished as though I did?”

The Angel turned his cold eyes to me again. “Because you all must be eliminated before you bring about a new age of Chaos. Your very existence is a pox upon our reality. You are the one breaking the balance more everytime you take a breath.” He was shaking with anger.

I tsked at him with a forced grin. “So, what you’re saying is the longer I delay you, the more I’m hurting your cause? Well, that’s gonna be a huge negative on Denali’s list.”

The Angel spread his wings and shot into the air, moving faster than I thought was possible even with Magic. The wind hit me so hard it was impossible to open my eyes, and it felt like my lungs were under pressure. He came to a sudden stop as we reached the clouds and hovered there. Just as I took my first full breath, he folded his wings and went into a nosedive. I was certain he was going to drop me or throw me against the stone fortress, and all I could do was again reach out to any Deity that would listen to my plea for mercy.

The air rushed out of my lungs when the Angel pulled up at the last minute and landed on a stone bridge which connected two of the fortress’ towers. My entire body was shaking as I tried to process what had happened and why I wasn’t dead.

The Angel dropped me to the stones, glaring down at me. “I could have broken your body against that wall. It wouldn’t have killed you with that, just shatter every bone in your body. I am a very patient person, yet somehow, you have made me so furious that I wish harm upon you instead of justice. You’re in luck that I found any sense before making an unwise choice.”

I pushed myself up against the bridge and took deep breaths to stop the shaking. “You think you’re the good guy. That you have the right to end someone’s life for something they can’t stop.” I drew the rest of the manic energy from my adrenaline rush into my Spark. “You’re not a good guy. You’re just another monster like all the others I’ve faced. And you know what?”

He raised a disdainful eyebrow at me. “What?”

I smirked at my captor and my eyes lit up. “I got away from all of them, too.” A wall of flames erupted from my extended hands and I scrambled to my feet, running toward one of the connected towers. It felt like I was going to pass out without access to any of my Magic, but this was my only opportunity to escape with my life. My heart sank when I rounded the corner and found the tower I chose had no way down.

The smell of burned feathers enveloped me, the Judge standing in the only exit. “Your foolishness knows no bounds.” He backed me up to the wall, his eyes piercing my Spirit. “I grow weary of this game. I have more important things to do than deal with an insignificant brat like you.” He grabbed me by the throat and carried me to the edge of the bridge, holding me over it with a contempt expression.

I stared down at the distant ground covered in rocks and debris, tears running down my face. I held onto his arm with my bound hands. “Please, please just let me go.”

“Gladly.”

My grip slipped, and I stared at the sky above me as I fell to my certain demise. There was nothing I could do. Even if I had the Power to fly, I didn’t have the Magic to fuel it. All I could do was wait while I fell for what seemed like an eternity.

I jolted when something hard and fast hit me and it took me a moment to realize it was a person. I stared at him with bewildered eyes, trying to form a question or express my appreciation with no luck. Instead, I examined his features, and I was unsure if a Demon was the savior I would have wanted. He had horns that wrapped around the sides of his head, the points resting on either side of his chin.

He shot up the side of the fortress and landed on the very bridge I was just thrown from. “You really need to talk to someone about your penchant for throwing people from high places, Syndriel.” The dark-haired man grinned at the outraged Angel, Syndriel’s wings ruffling from frustration. “What? You don’t look happy to see me.”

Syndriel clenched his fists. “Why are you here, Samuel?”

Samuel pouted as he folded his skeletal wings, which had a layer of skin so thin it looked like it might rip at any second. “Not even a hello? Even after I caught your friend?” Samuel laughed at the angry Angel. “You’re cute when you’re mad.”

Syndriel rubbed his temples. “They are not my friend, they are a criminal I am executing, so if you would kindly hand them over, we can all go about our days.”

Samuel grinned at Syndriel, showing off his set of fangs. “Well, you won’t mind if I take them, then. You’re wasting good potential.”

The edges of Syndriel’s feathers glowed again, but far less bright than before. “This is none of your business, Demon. Drop my prisoner and walk away, or be hunted for breaking the agreements between our people.”

Samuel glanced down at me. “What’da ya think, kid? Life on the run or no life at all? Personally, I know my choice.”

Syndriel stalked toward us. “Your death will be so much worse if you go with him. Show yourself mercy and let me end it now.”

I shook my head, which was enough of an answer for Samuel. “Well, looks like it’s time to go. Lovely as usual, my friend. Let’s not meet again, shall we?” We shot up into the air just as Syndriel was within arm’s reach and soared away from the fortress.

I looked back at the bridge with a frown. “Won’t he just follow us?”

Samuel laughed, turning to face the fortress. “If he could follow us, we wouldn’t have gotten this far. You messed his wings up real bad. Good job, newbie. I think we’ll get along.” He continued in his intended direction. “What’s your name?”

I stared straight ahead, contemplating if death would have been a simpler fate than whatever the Demon had in mind. “Kindred. Kindred Karuda.”

[thatsthepan]

The Bad Days Won’t Stay

Summary: Dan’s a lot happier, and everyone knows it. But that doesn’t mean he’s “cured”. Depression doesn’t just disappear like magic, and sometimes, we just have those days.

Word Count: 2473

Warnings: mentions of depression, mostly fluff/positivity/affirmations though

Notes: I loved writing this (and having inspiration and motivation again), not to mention it struck real close to home. So merry Christmas, happy holidays, and happy weekend to everyone out there-here’s something to read while you’re bored or just chillin! Enjoy:)

Dan

I woke up with the oppressing thought of “great, life is shit again” to start my weekend off. For some reason, weekends were always worse for me. I didn’t keep busy, I didn’t have anywhere to go, no expectations set upon me to keep me motivated to function as a person-and so here I was.

First of all, I was cold as fuck. Particularly my hands, nose, and feet, which were all poking out from under my duvet and were exposed to the harshness that was our subarctic flat. But I didn’t really care enough to move, so I just mildly groaned and wished for death.

I really did hate these days. You see, when I’d had these days every day, it was like I didn’t even notice. I didn’t know what “good” or “normal” or “better” felt like. I was always miserable, all the time, and so that became my constant state of existence. I’d wake up and think, “ah, yes, the feeling of meaninglessness and impending doom is still here, which means I am, unfortunately, still alive.”

Now, however, since I had finally gotten the help I needed and started an actual road to recovery (which never ended but was better, was so much better), I could definitively say I loathed these “bad days”. They reminded me of my old normal, and I didn’t want that back. Ever. But I was stuck in a rut for now, and my nose was cold, and there wasn’t much I could make myself care to do.

Except text Phil.

Calling him or yelling for him was way too much effort, but I shot off a simple text, pulled my blanket over my head, and sighed. It was going to be a long, difficult day.

Phil

The only reason I woke up was because my phone dinged. It was ten in the morning on a Saturday, so the only reason anyone would be texting me was if it were snowing!

Or so I thought.

Dan had only texted me “sos”, which we had decided, a long few months ago, he would only do if he were in a bad place and needed me. So I immediately went to his room, tapped three times on the door, and walked in.

I’d expected him to be on the floor, like the old days, so I was at least relieved that he was buried under his blankets on his bed this time. I sat beside him, not doing anything at first. I knew Dan, had known him for a long time now, and had discussions before about what to do in these situations.

“Bad day,” he finally mumbled, no inflection in his voice at all from under the mountain of blankets. I made a sound of understanding, since he couldn’t see me nod.

“What do you need?” I asked gently, not touching him yet. We’d both learned that Dan would ask for comfort on a bad day, but that being overly aggressive wasn’t the way to go. Too much sensory overload.

Dan was silent for a long time. “I want to watch you cook.”

So we did that. I went to get things set up in the kitchen, and Dan followed me out a few minutes later, in pajama pants and a big sweatshirt. He sat on the counter, knees pulled up to his chest, as I quietly hummed songs while I cooked pancakes. His eyes followed me the whole time, lacking their usual shine, but I smiled brightly at him whenever I met his gaze.

The pancakes turned out pretty good, in my opinion, but I hadn’t made that many because I knew Dan wouldn’t eat that much. He picked at the middle part, not bothering with syrup, but managed to eat at least half. I knew he mostly did it for me, and I appreciated it.

I lifted my eyebrows at him when we were done, silently asking him what he wanted to do next. He sighed. “I dunno,” he mumbled, shrugging. “Pick a game or something, I’ll watch.”

I smiled a little, offering him my hand as we walked into the lounge. He took it, holding onto it tightly as I clicked through our game uploads on the PS4.

“Crash Bandicoot?” I asked.

“Resident Evil,” he replied, letting go of my hand so I could play, but grabbing a blanket off the back of the sofa and shifting closer to me.

I played for an hour or so, jumping every so often and glancing at Dan, who’d smile slightly as I did. He had his head positioned on me to where he could hear and feel my heart speed up, and he’d chuckle silently when it did. I was glad I was making him feel something, even if it was just a little. I wanted to do whatever I could for Dan during these times; it wasn’t much, but we could both say it was something.

I hadn’t realized Dan had dozed off until I jumped again, startling him awake. I chuckled, going to apologize, but the look on his face stopped me.

“I’m going to go shower,” he snapped, shoving off the blanket and whipping the door of the lounge open, letting the glass bang shut behind him. I winced-I forgot Dan’s irritability got worse on these days, as well. So much for being a good boyfriend.

And then I remembered there were no towels in the bathroom, and got an idea. I went to the washer, grabbing a towel out of the pile of Dan’s dark clothes that were currently in it, and tossed it in the dryer, turning it on high so it would be warm when he got out.

The timer had just gone off when Dan yelled for me, still sounding pissed. I grabbed the towel, smiling when I handed it to Dan, who looked surprised at its warmth. “Did you-?” he asked, his face softening.

I smiled, nodding. “Wanna take a nap when you get out?”

He actually smiled back. “Yeah.”

Dan

I stared at myself in the mirror for a long time before I went to lay down with Phil. You’re shit for being mean to him, I thought. He didn’t deserve that. He played that stupid game for you. It’s your fault you fell asleep. You shouldn’t have gotten mad at him. He didn’t have to bring you a warm towel, but he did, to make you feel better, because you’re being a dick for no reason. So stop it, get ahold of yourself. You’re shit. He doesn’t deserve this treatment. You don’t deserve him.

Ah, yes, the self-loathing will get to you, if you’re not careful. I wasn’t careful, not on bad days. Nope. I let a few tears fall, wiped them away with the still-warm towel from Phil, fixed my hair a bit, and went to find him. I wasn’t going to be a little bitch in front of Phil today, if I could help it. It was only a bad day, not a really bad day-I could do this.

I found him in his room. We still had separate rooms for our things, and alternated where we slept (even though we mostly chose my room). Everything just felt soft and familiar in Phil’s room, especially the bedspread. I climbed under it with him, still freezing, and rolled over so as to try and hide my splotchy face. Phil was onto me instantly.

“Hey,” he said softly, propping himself up on one arm. I faced him, raising an eyebrow. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.”

He didn’t believe me. I decided to try the distracting method, which was low but I figured could be effective. I started out by just kissing him, but when I moved to his chest, I felt his hands stop me. I looked up, asking what the problem was.

Phil was smiling softly, but his eyes said really? Honestly, I was asking myself the same thing. Like that would have ever worked.

“Bear, I think you should try to sleep.”

I sighed, giving in and rolling back over. Between my overall exhaustion and Phil rubbing small circles on my back, I was out in minutes.

Phil

I wish I knew how to help. As I felt Dan’s breathing slow, I felt myself fully relax, able to finally think he’s okay. At least for the moment. He hadn’t been okay, not last night, not all morning, and not in the bathroom just a few minutes ago. He could try to hide it all he liked, but I could see right through his mask, the walls he put up, everything. The tears were fresh on his face, his eyes too-bright and his face too hot for how cold he was, and everything was just off.

I wished Dan didn’t have to feel like this. It wasn’t fair, that some people had to go through life with different sets of problems while others got off better. I was one of the luckier ones; Dan not so much. I had mild social anxiety; Dan had major depressive disorder. It just wasn’t fair, and I’d be lying if I said that it didn’t make me angry sometimes, watching my best friend suffer because of his own brain. He was his own worst enemy, trapped inside a personal hell of his own creation.

The one thing I could say, however, was that he was doing better. Despite the days like these, he was making loads of improvement overall. That’s what I focused on, when the anger would sometimes make me want to scream and cry with him. Dan was happy. Not today, not all the time, but as a person, Dan was happy.

And that’s all I asked for.

I must’ve fallen asleep eventually, because Dan woke me up, his cold fingers lazily tracing over my face.

“Hey sunshine,” he smiled a little, his dimples barely forming. I smiled back, poking one of them.

“Hey gorgeous.”

The dimples disappeared altogether, but I didn’t acknowledge it or stop smiling. “What meal of the day is it time for?”

Dan checked his phone, shrugging a bit. “It’s only five. Dinner?”

I shook my head. “Too early. What are you up for?” It was a better question than asking what he wanted to do-I knew the answer I would have received to that. But Dan was still frowning, his eyes still lacking their usual shine, and I wanted to make him feel better so, so desperately, even if it was only a fraction of what “good” would be.

“Dan?”

His eyes snapped from staring distractedly at my duvet to my face, looking worried. I took his hand, pulling him to his feet, and led him over to stand in front of my mirror. I stood behind him, my hands on his shoulders, and spoke softly into his ear, my breath rustling the curls that were hanging near his eyes.

“You see your face?”

Dan nodded, avoiding my eyes-and his own-in the mirror. I waited until he reluctantly looked up, unsure and mostly looking at me, but it was something.

“I love that face. I know you sometimes don’t-maybe how it looks, or what it says, or the sounds and looks it makes without your full permission or knowledge-but I love everything about it. I love your little freckles and your dimples and that spot on your cheek, and I love the way you talk and how loud you are and even how vulgar and opinionated you are sometimes, and I love the way you snore so softly that it puts me to sleep, and how you smile with your entire face.”

I could see a minuscule smile forming on Dan’s face, but he was looking down at his feet, shifting around under my hands, wanting to run. But I wasn’t done. I tapped his shoulder, meeting his eyes in the mirror once more.

“You see your body?”

Dan did want to run now, the smile vanishing. He swallowed hard, nodding again.

“I love that body. I know most of the time you really don’t, and you try to cover it up, but I see it more than anyone else and that means I’m qualified to say it’s beautiful.”

I caught him rolling his eyes, but I continued nonetheless.

“No, listen. I don’t care how many negative things you tell me, or yourself, none of them will ever be true. You’re the only one who can’t see how gorgeous you are, Dan. You’re warm and soft and tall and strong and I’m the luckiest guy in the world to be able to touch you every day of my life. I know you’ll never believe me, but that doesn’t make what I’m saying any less true.”

The tears were slowly starting to well up in Dan’s eyes, so I spoke softer this time, making sure he would believe me.

“But looks only matter so much, bear. You know that. What really counts is that you are the most amazing person in here,” I touched his head, “and in here.” When I touched his heart, a loud sob escaped his throat, and I smiled. He’d been shoving that down all day, and I was glad he’d finally let it out.

I hugged him to my chest while I finished talking, his hot tears soaking the front of my shirt. “You’re smart, and kind, and funny, and caring, and innovative, and passionate, and creative, and likable, and lovable, and influential, and strong, and brave. If you need proof of any of that, just look at the last year alone. Not just any person could have done the things you did, Dan. There’s not another Daniel James Howell. I don’t have another best friend. I don’t love anyone as much as I love you.” I ran my hand over his hair, smiling at our reflection in the mirror. “The bad days won’t stay, Dan. But I will. We will.”

We went to the lounge so Dan could finish crying himself out, which he very much needed to do. I made tea, grabbed my duvet, and pulled Dan to my chest again as the last of the tears fell and the sniffles started. I hummed him a few songs, tapping the beat out on his back, which had always seemed like an effective method of calming him down. It didn’t fail me this time, either.

“Thank you,” Dan finally mumbled, sniffling again. I hummed, thrumming my fingers down his back.

“I haven’t said it in awhile. Felt like you needed to hear it again.”

I felt Dan smile. “I did. Thank you.”

We were quiet for a long time before I asked, “How’s your bad day going?”

“Better,” Dan chuckled, snuggling closer to me. I winced as his elbow dug into my rib cage, laughing with him.

“Good.”

[peetabreadgirl]

The Effect You Have On Me, 5

A/N: I know it’s been a while for this one to be updated, and possibly most of you don’t know this story even exists, but it only has a few more chapters left. I will be focusing on it more regularly so that I can mark it complete. I hope you’re still interested, and that this update makes you squee instead of roll your eyes. I have delicious plans for this universe! @sunsetsaremydreams, I dedicate this chapter to you, since you’ve been waiting so patiently while still letting me know how much you love it. Thank you, darling! And many thanks to the girls that keep me in line when I write - @burkygirl and @xerxia31. You can find the first 4 chapters on Ao3 and FFnet. 

It’s been a week since Madge came home. We quickly fell into our old routine of busy and busier thanks to our demanding lives and now the wedding. Every time I try to have a conversation with her to tell her what I did while she was away, her phone rings with some catering question or flower emergency, and it’s not like I can just blurt it out. Instead, it sits inside, festering. It may come out in a way I’m not prepared for if I wait too long. And the bakery is no place to talk about it, either. No one else needs to know our personal business.

 I know weddings are stressful and take months of planning. I do plenty of cakes for them, but all of this seems to be more of an inconvenience at this point rather than the exciting time it should be. I always thought if I felt any nerves about getting married it would be because I was deliriously happy and anxious. Sadly, what I’m feeling is definitely not that.

I’m confused, and… scared. But scared of what exactly? When I search deep down for answer, the only thing I can come up with is that I’m either afraid of losing Madge, or of never seeing Katniss again. It’s probably both, but which of them commands more of that fear is what I can’t put my finger on.

 I both dread and rejoice every day that my credit card statement doesn’t come in, but it’s due any day now. I check for it daily when I get home from the bakery, but no dice. I know when it does come I’ll have to sit Madge down and explain it all - no excuses - and beg her forgiveness for my stupidity.

 Even with that daunting conversation looming over me, I haven’t been able to get Katniss off my mind. Our last encounter, when she stripped her shirt off and practically forced herself on me, replays on autopilot almost hourly. It’s a heady concoction of a fantasy and a nightmare rolled into one. I wanted to reach out and touch her. Hold her. The mere presence of her almost compelled me to. But it’s the mixture of hurt and anger in Katniss’s eyes when I rejected her that haunts me after dark. I don’t sleep much, but I don’t have to be asleep to have her on the brain. She’s always there, even when I will her not to be. The thought of her is just as stubborn as the real thing, it seems.

 I haven’t seen her since our confrontation. Haven’t heard a peep about her or her cousin after my phone call with Gale. Turning him down was one of the hardest things I’ve ever had to do. It was basically turning Katniss down. I thought some time and distance would help clear my head, put my priorities back in place. But instead, the water is murkier than ever.

 It’s not right, these thoughts about Katniss, yet I can’t stop them. And when I look at Madge all I feel is guilt. All-consuming, limb-numbing remorse that’s going to eat away at me until I’ve purged it all. I owe it to her to be the best husband I can be, but even that seems as daunting a task as climbing Mount Everest right now.

 Madge and I have only been intimate once since her return, and it didn’t seem either of us was into it. Neither one of us got off. I apologized and blamed it on lack of sleep and stress. She said she understood and the next day asked if we could wait until our wedding night, that abstaining now would make it more special then. Any red-blooded male would balk at that, maybe even argue, or at least try to talk about it. What’s got me most worried isn’t 14 weeks without sex. It’s the fact that I was relieved and agreeable to her idea.

 What am I doing? I think I’m losing my mind. I need someone to talk to, so I ring Finnick and let him know I’m coming over after I leave the bakery today. Glancing at the clock, I note that’s only two hours away and there’s still so much to do here. I really need to hire another person, but that’s not something I can think about now.

 I double my speed, getting as much done as I possibly can before I leave to meet Finnick. Rue sweetly accepts responsibility for the few tasks I couldn’t get to. I should give her a raise. That, too, will have to wait because I’m late to meet Finnick. I leave quick a note for Madge, who will be in after five to work on the books, and rush out of the bakery, driving a little faster than I should to the coffee shop near his work.

 I find him in a corner and swiftly make my way over to him. I feel jittery. My fingers tingle and I bounce on my toes as I walk. To anyone else I might look peppy or extremely caffeinated, or on drugs, but Finnick knows me. I can see it in his creased brow.

 “What’s going on, Pete?”

 I sit down and order a water before I launch into the story. I’m still trying to figure out the best way to tell it. I imagine the out-with-it style would sound something like ‘I was seeing a hooker while Madge was in  Mexico’. That’s no good. I rap my knuckles lightly on the table while I think, staring at nothing really. I almost decide to feign illness and go home, but I need to get this off my chest in a big way.

 “You’re acting stranger than you were when Madge was away. Spill it.”

 It’s almost as if his command to spill it carries some voodoo quality with it because what pops into my head, and subsequently out of my mouth, is something even I am not prepared to hear.

 “I don’t know if I want to marry Madge.”

 I freeze, listening to the echo of my statement as it fills the air. Finnick leans forward, elbows on the table, eyebrows above his hairline.

 “Come again?” he asks with an edge of concern in his voice. It eases some of the nerves I’m having.

 “Okay, maybe that was… too much. I’m just, I don’t know… having second thoughts?” Explaining without thinking first isn’t going to help. I need to get my thoughts together before I say something detrimental to my relationship with my future wife again.

 “It’s alright, Peeta. Lots of guys get cold feet.” He reaches across the table with his long arms and pats me on the shoulder.

 I cock my head and look at him, wishing I could blame it on that. But I’m not sure I can. How did things change inside me so quickly? Madge was gone all of a week. One week. No, it’s not cold feet. I’m actually the world’s worst fiance.

 I shake my head slowly. “No, that’s not it.”

 “You wanna tell me what it is, then?” Finnick asks after I don’t elaborate.

 It all comes pouring out. I start with Katniss under the tree in the rain, then move to the recurring dream, ignoring the confusion I see on his face, knowing it will be cleared up by the end of the story. When I get to the part about seeing her picture on the card, he stops me.

 “You were with a hooker?” He gives me a surprised look.

 “Yes, but not like that-”

 “How exactly do you spend time with a hooker and not do that?” His question is layered in doubt, but there’s a tiny smirk on his lips, and I see now how difficult this is going to be with Madge. Finnick is just my friend. He might be shocked, but it won’t change our relationship much if at all. Madge, on the other hand… Brrrrr. I shudder thinking about it.

 “Just - I didn’t okay? Trust me.” Finnick nods his head in a display of faith, another thing I know I won’t get from Madge, at least at first, and motions for me to continue. I take a deep breath and start again. “I just feel this connection to her. Like I was meant to protect her. Help her in some way. But, damn, if she’s not the most stubborn girl I’ve ever known.” I talk about Katniss, but leave out some of the better descriptions, like beautiful and alluring.

I stick with the basics. I tell him about the multiple visits, her history and why she chose that particular profession. I don’t know why, but I feel like I need to justify that she’s a virgin. My heart sinks that it may not be the case anymore, but it’s the last I knew of her so I’m going to keep telling myself that until I know otherwise. If  I ever know, that is. But I can’t stand the uncertainty I see in his eyes. I know it’s not for me; we’ve known each other for years. It’s for Katniss. He doesn’t trust her.

 I finish the story with her cousin Gale reaching out to me, my refusal to do any more, and how it’s gutted me like a fish. When I finally stop I feel so much lighter now that somebody knows.

“You did the right thing, Peeta. You’re a good man. You did what you could for her, but in the end, you can’t force help on anyone.” I know he speaks from experience. His crackhead mother is still on the streets, using. Doing whatever she can to score a hit. But his encouragement falls flat because Katniss isn’t addicted to anything. Except maybe her stubbornness.

 “What are you grinning for?” he questions, and I realize I’m smiling at the thought of her fiery nature. I shake my head, not sure I want to bring up.

 “Look, you’ve got a good thing going with Madge. You really wanna risk that for a prostitute?”

 My answer is barely audible. “No.” Maybe?

 “You did something noble, although stupid in hindsight.” There’s no denying his words. “And if you, in fact, paid for a hooker and did not have sex with her, I’m sure Madge will believe you and, given time learn to trust you again, and all will be forgiven. And then I may need to show you what to do with a woman,” he adds and grins at me like he’s found out a secret. “Especially before your wedding night.”

 “That’s not why I didn’t have sex with Katniss,” I reply, only slightly annoyed. I feel like I’ve been caught sneaking back into the house. I know what I think about Katniss, but I’m scared to explore what it means about my feelings. For her or Madge. I do love Madge. I want to do right by her, but when I think about Katniss, everything just doesn’t add up. It’s like putting 2  and 2 together and getting 7. Inexplicable.

 My phone rings. The number isn’t familiar so I let it go to voicemail.

 “You know what,” I say to Finnick, glancing at my watch. I’ve been here for an hour already. It’s time to face the music. “I should go. I need to get home.” I told my friend what I came to tell him, but the rest… I’m not ready to share.

 The phone rings again from the mysterious number as I turn on my street. I send it straight to voicemail, my mind too preoccupied to deal with a number that’s not saved in my contacts. If they want to reach me they can leave a message.

When I pull up to the house I see Madge’s car. My heart starts pounding and my gut twists. She’s usually not home until after six. I guess it’s a sign. I sit in my car and breathe, count to twenty, then fifty, then one hundred before I get out. My feet feel like lead as I trudge up the walkway. I’m about to break my fiance’s trust, and most likely her heart. For the second time today I ask myself how I got here.

The door creaks when I open it, something that’s never bothered me before, but now it seems ominous, the soundtrack to what’s about to unfold. She’s not immediately visible in the living room so I move to the kitchen. My pulse spikes when I spot the stack of mail I usually retrieve. Other than being transported, it looks completely untouched, stacked in a tidy bundle. I flip through the envelopes quickly, breathing a sigh of relief when I don’t see it. She’ll still find out from me instead of VISA.

I head down the hallway to our bedroom, ignoring the churning in my stomach. I just want this tall to be over with.

As soon as I step through the door my eyes fixate on the open suitcase sitting atop our bed. There are clothes already in it and I hear sniffles and quiet rustling coming from the closet. I walk over to it and freeze. Next to the suitcase lays a tri-folded credit card statement. With a lot of charges on it.

 I pick it up. The paper’s edges flutter back and forth in my trembling hands. There are four transactions on here for the District 12 Lounge; one more than I made myself.

 “You.” The word comes out almost demonic and my eyes snap from the paper to Madge’s face; red, swollen and enraged. The statement falls back to the bed as I turn to approach her cautiously. She looks like she wants nothing more than to kill me right now. I feel like I’ve been fast-forwarded to the inevitable fight, which could have been avoided had I told her sooner. Or in retrospect, had I not paid for Katniss’s time.

 “It’s not what you think, Madge, if you would let me explain-” I duck as one high-heeled shoe and then another sail past my head, landing with hard thunks on the wall behind me.

 “Explain that you’ve been using a fucking prostitute?!” A few things that tip me off as to how angry she is? Madge never uses the F word. And I’ve never heard her voice at this pitch before. It could shatter glass. “How on Earth could you explain this any other way than you’ve been cheating on me?” Her fists are clenched at her sides like she’s holding herself back from pummelling me, and her teeth are locked down as she speaks.

 “It’s a mistake! I swear! I wouldn’t do that, Madge, you have to believe me.”

 She marches over to me and snatches the statement from the bed, ramming it into my chest. “So these are, what, mistakes?” Her eyes don’t blink once as she waits for me to answer.

 “Well, yes and… no.”

 “Yes and no? What the fuck does that even mean!”

That's twice now. “I didn’t sleep with her, Madge, honest to God.”

 “Her?” Madge’s hands settle heavily on her hips as she levels me with an even more incredulous glare, if that’s possible. At this rate her sky-blue eyes are going to pop out of her head “You saw the same girl four times?”

 “No. I saw the same girl three times,” I say honestly and she growls at me. I don’t think much about the extra charge. “But only because I was trying to help her!”

 “Do you think I’m fucking stupid, Peeta? Help her? You really think I’m going to believe that you were trying to help her? Was the fucking zipper on her neglige so bad that you needed to pay to help her FOUR TIMES?” Her voice rises with each word until she’s shouting, our noses just inches apart. “Four times, Peeta! I was gone for seven days! We don’t even have sex that much in a month!”

 Her chest is heaving in anger and mine matches it in fear.

 “I don’t even know you, Peeta,” she hisses, looking at me with withering disdain. “And to think I felt guilty about kissing another man in Mexico.” She throws her hands up and backs away. “And you were back here fucking a whore!”

 I completely miss tallying the sixth F word she's used because she just dropped a bomb on me - and not of the fucking variety. “Wait - you kissed someone else?” Now that it’s out of my mouth, it doesn’t seem so smart considering what the topic is, but it’s the only thing that doesn’t make sense right now. I know what I did and didn’t do with Katniss. My intentions were honorable even if they don’t look it. I pushed Katniss away when she offered herself to me, but my fiance didn’t push away another man’s advances?

 “Really, Peeta? That’s what you focus on? Not the fact that you’ve run up thousands of dollars on your credit card for sex!” Madge isn’t ready to talk about it. Fine. We’ll deal with my problem first. She turns to walk away but this is far from over.

 “Listen to me-”

 She whirls around, pointing her finger at me. “No! You don’t get to-”

 “Listen. To. ME!” I yell the last word because there is more going on there than my misguided attempts to help a young girl.

 Madge is silent, staring at me as if she’s never seen me before. I’ve never raised my voice to her. Or anyone. My mother used to do that constantly. I don’t think I ever heard her natural voice when she was alive.

 I pinch the bridge of my nose and take a deep breath, sit down on the edge of the bed and let my arms fall to my knees. “Four years ago I saw a girl. Outside the bakery. She was leaning against a tree, starving. I wanted to do something, but… my mother.”

 She narrows her eyes much the way Finnick did earlier. “I swear to God, Peeta, if you start telling me you seeing a whore has something to do with the way your mother treated you-”

 “Stop right there, Madge. She’s not a whore,” I say. I can’t not defend Katniss against that word anymore. She’s decent and good and, as far as I know, pure. “She’s a girl that’s fallen on a difficult time and has had to resort to despicable means to take care of her sick mother and little sister.”

 Madge purses her lips as if she wants to dispute it. But she’s lived in this town as long as I have. She’s seen what it does to people. The opportunities available to make quick money. Katniss’s isn’t the only story like this. She’s one of thousands over the years. She also just happens to be the story that landed on my back doorstep.

 “I’m ashamed I cared more about keeping the peace in that moment than about the safety of someone else. I’m ashamed every. Fucking. Day. that my mother turned a blind eye to the homeless, even a young girl, and looked down her straight nose at those less fortunate than herself. And that it influenced my behavior that day. I didn’t help Katniss because some stuck up, old bitty didn’t approve and would have made my life miserable. But how miserable is Katniss now? Having to sell herself to men who want nothing from her but the use of her…” I can’t say the words. It makes me physically ill to think about her that way. She may look the part - barely - but in only three visits I know that’s not who she is. I’ve never been more assured that one can never judge a book by it’s cover, no matter how lacey or olive-skinned it is. Covers are designed to divert the attention from the secrets and the pain that lies inside.

 Madge is still staring at me, arms crossed, though more loosely now than they were. Her defenses are slipping somewhat.

 “When I went to the bachelor party, I was approached by a guy, and he shoved a card in my face with a girl’s picture on it. Her picture. Her face was burned into my memory all those years ago, Madge. I can’t forget. It’s like the Universe wants me to constantly remember that moment of weakness so I can right a wrong. And this was my chance. So without thought for you and what it would look like, I took it.”

 I stand from the bed and take a step forward. She doesn’t move or flinch, and in her eyes I can see she wants to believe me, but doubt lingers. As it should.

 “I never meant to hurt you or lose your trust. And I swear on my own soul that I didn’t lay a hand on her. Not once. I can’t say I’m sorry I tried to help her, but I am sorry for hurting you. And for not telling you as soon as you got home.”

 She takes a deep, calming breath and her eyes shift away, arms falling to her sides. She chews her lip as her fingers fidget with the hem of her shirt. She’s trying to decide what she’s going to do - forgive me or keep her distance. But there’s something else we have to clear up before there can be any reconciliation.  

 “Now that you know everything that happened when you were gone, we need to talk about your trip.” Strangely, I’m not crippled that she allowed some strange guy to put his lips on hers. Lips that should have been reserved for only me. But I need to know why she did it.

 She hugs herself and the blue eyes that look so much like my own are staring back at me with the same guilt I felt moments ago. A guilt that seems to have been partially relieved with my confession. But we aren't out of the woods yet. Not by a long shot.

 “I'm sorry, I… don't know what happened. One minute I was having a nice conversation, and the next he was kissing me.”

 “Did you kiss him back?” She nods. “Why?”

 Her shoulders raise in a shrug. “I guess there was something that just… I don't know?” She looks genuinely confused. “We hit it off conversationally. It was like he wanted me to know everything about him and he wanted to know all about me too. And he was always attentive to me when he took our group on tours. At first I thought he was just being nice, but looking back, and after the kiss, I guess I was being a bit naive. And then it just… happened, and I couldn't take it back.”

 I nod my head stiffly, my lips pursed in thought. I wonder what Finnick would say now. “I think we should postpone the wedding.”

 Madge's eyes widen, then her face falls. She's seconds away from tears. I reach for her and she comes willingly, slipping her arms around my waist. Mine wrap around her shoulders and hug her to me tightly. She cries into my chest and I let her, rubbing up and down her back to try and comfort her. She sniffles a few times and finally steps back. My hands hold on to her arms and I dip down to look her in the eyes because she won't raise hers to mine. “Just until we get this sorted out, alright? It stressful enough as it is, and with all this between us I think it’d be a good idea.”

 She nods, but I can see she's unconvinced, and in all honesty, so am I.

 I leave Madge at the house and head up to the bakery. I know I probably should stay, but we’ve said everything we need to for now. We both need time to cool off and process, and nothing helps me think like being in a kitchen, kneading dough, shaping pretzels or mixing up icing, smelling the sweet scent of yeast and sugar baking together.

 On the way, my phone beeps. I have a voicemail notification from the strange number that called earlier. I pull it up to listen, anxious for something to take my mind off the part of my life that’s spiraling out of control.

 “Peeta?”

 I suck in a sharp breath. It’s Katniss. I know it before she says her name.

 “It’s Katniss. Look, you have to stop. Stop interfering in my life. Nothing good can come of it. All you’re doing is prolonging the inevitable. You’re going to end up spending all your money on me, and for what? So I can be your project? So you can be my superhero? Do you know how humiliating it is that you don’t even show up anymore? Just stop.”

 I hear her draw in a deep breath, and realize I’m holding mine as well. She begins speaking again, softer now, so I send my questions about what she’s just said to the back of my mind and focus on her voice. That smoky, raspy tone that stirs things inside me. Things an engaged man probably shouldn’t be feeling.  

 “I really appreciate what you’ve done, but how many more times can you spend money buying me and not using my services? It’s clear you don’t want to be with me, so I think we need a clean break. I’m going to tell Gale not to accept your payments anymore. Seven times is too much. It’s more than too much, actually. Goodbye, Peeta.”

 I replay the message several times for many reasons. First, her voice. Second, I feel connected to her again. The soft quality of her goodbye doesn’t convince me she actually means it. That if we saw each other on the street she would say hello. Maybe even ask how I’ve been doing.

 But third, and most confusing, is she thinks I’ve paid for her seven times.

[yi-dashi-a]

Whispers from Ionia - A Fortune in Misfortune

[Previously]

“What?” The Demacian took a swig of his drink. A simple act, but the pause in their conversation somehow managed to boil and freeze Yi’s blood. Death… The word could mean so many things, yet all of them were terrible, “Stop it, Terrius. What do you mean? What death? Who?”

“They seek execute her. Not sure how yet. Hung probably? Maybe a beheading…”

“Wh… Why?” Then the man basically downed the whole mug. All Yi could do was watch,

“Because people are stupid. This whole thing is stupid. I petitioned for exile. That’s what this would usually call for… but every person I’ve ever spoken to doesn’t want that. Everyone who’s seen this case thinks she deserves to die for stealing bread and coin? That’s not justice. That’s just cruel! I serve Demacia for fair justice, not to just execute people under false pretenses and suspicion of magecraft.”

“I…” Yi thought to indulge in his own drink, and his darting eyes between it and the archer might have ceased if he had obliged himself. However, he let the wine be. For the moment he was strong enough, “… I am calm. It is okay. They think she is a mage. This is what you say to me, yes?”

“Yeah, even though it’s clear she isn’t. Annuller investigators have already been and gone because they’re their own damn matter entirely. While they said nothing either way, ‘course they’re not going to waste their time on a damn outsider if she’s going to die anyway, people are quick to cry mage.”

“But why Terrius?”

“Why? Do you know how many people saw what you did on that day, Master Yi?”

“What I… did..?” That wine once again looked so inviting, “… I am aware there were people who witnessed me take a hold of her that day, if that is what you mean.”

“That one act. All your Wuju, or whatever it is…” Terrius hissed a breath through his teeth, “… is the reason she is being put to death.”

Yi’s gut flew to his throat, but he tried his best to steady his mind as the emerald eyed man spoke on. It was a wasted effort though. His nerves were always so powerful once his reason left him, “But I know that was you and not her, yet everyone saw you and immediately thought her. I let you go, and maybe you would’ve been executed if I had arrested you that day. Instead you walked free, and in your innocence everyone was left to assume it was her who did the magical feats everyone saw. And people want reassurance. They want comfort that there isn’t foreigner mages among us. That leaves us where we are now. She’ll be dead by the end of spring if nothing is done about it…”

And then Terrius sat there, simply waving down someone to get him more alcohol. Finally, Yi felt the tug of his own drink take shape, and he was hard pressed not to gulp some down.

Sour relief. He’d relish that for a time. He could drown his troubles in the red of his wine so easily.

What a weak, foolish man you are, Hui… Said something, somewhere in his mind.

“They think Wuju is a mage work…”

“Even I think Wuju is mage work, Yi. I don’t have any other explanation for what I saw…”

“Your fellow guardsman saw me heal before their eyes!” Yi proclaimed, caring little as he almost spilled his drink upon the table as he slammed it down, “If they must take anyone, then they should take me.”

“I know.” Terry shouted back, before the stares of tavern revelers had him reign his voice in, “No one should die for magecraft though. I’m terrified of it, yet even I know better. Demacians shouldn’t in the business of murdering falsely accused mages when there are honest to Gods demons outside our walls. You shouldn’t have to die either, but… I still let you go. It’s lost me my job, no doubt…”

“Now what is it you mumble about?”

“My job! My everything. You’ve taken everything from me.” Now it was Terry’s turn to lean forward, and Yi found himself hiding behind his tankard, “There are questions about me too. If I’m a mage sort. If I had anything to do in a conspiracy that doesn’t even exist! Why did I shoot? Why did I let you go?” He slumped back down, audibly cluttering into his seat, “… And I don’t even know the answers to these questions myself. All I know is that I’m… relieved of my duties as of now. All thanks to you, that girl, and my damn twitchy bowfinger.”

“Do you think I will weep for you?” Yi offered in response, voice cold with his monotone. He took another drink to keep his nerves in check, “You are mistaken.”

“I know.” The Demacian sighed, chest seemingly heavy, “But that’s… just the lay of the land right now. I’m kept around because I have connections to you, and as I said all those months ago…” He flourished a hand as if he expected Yi to fill in the blanks. Yi did not obliged him, “… no one speaks her language! Fancy that. But she’s in talking spirits now, even if we don’t know what she’s saying. We don’t even know how to ask her name…”

“So what would you have me do?” The Ionian’s voice had finally settled, and he felt safe behind it’s indifferent barrier. The night was lost to him anyway. Surely he’d drink more than just this, and then he’d forget everything that occurred. But such things were not apparent to the archer, with his conviction bubbling on even as he seemed to be pained by his own position in these events,

“… You want to ask her questions, right?”

“I do.”

“Then we need you. Or… She need you. One of my friends is leading the investigation now, though that doesn’t give me room to do much. But this is what he’ll offer you. You get to ask what you want so long as you ask what they want, alright? Someone has to speak on her behalf, and if it isn’t you then who else is it going to be?”

“As if I have the choice to say no…”

“Do you want her to die, Yi?” As much as that simple quip strained his posture and broke his expression, he forced himself to remain quiet. Agitating all the more, the man seemed to tremble with his conviction, “Because I don’t. I shot you. Okay! Be angry about it. Hate me. Hate this whole damn country and hide away with your estranged nobility. You and I both know there isn’t a word I could say that would make you any less bitter, so why even bother with this?”

Yi drank onward in silence, but his companion hardly took pauses for breaths, “But this is beyond you and me, Master Yi. There’s a woman who spends her days in agony because we both messed up. Me, and you. I wanted her off the streets and in prison for her harassment of the people. That’s it. She’s paid a fortune in misfortune for her crimes, and yet they want to kill her without a second thought. You have to work with me now. This is the last time I’ll ever ask you. We can find a way to at least get her out of this country. At the very least she needs a proper punishment for her crimes. We both want the same thing now, right? The enemy of my enemy is my friend, right?”

Silent all the more, Yi chose to take his time as Terry had in finishing his drink. His body somehow expected an instant numbness, but there was nothing then. He was still lucid, and still bombarded with all the thoughts of this terrible situation. In time he grit his teeth, turning his cataract eyes downwards almost instinctively. Why did he feel like crying, all of a sudden? It was a good thing his hair hung thick like a curtain about his face.

“… I do not want her to die.” He said in time, trying to take a deep breath against his crumbling resolve, “You perhaps underestimate the distance I would go to protect this woman. I do not even know her name, and yet I feel well equipped to fight for her.”

“You don’t have to do anything stupid if we work together.” Without looking at the archer, it was almost as if a different person was speaking. His tones were steely and resolute, with the timbre of his accent sounding out with that Demacian flair, “Please trust me. While I won’t ever know the context from your end, I know that for both of our own reasons we don’t want to live with this guilt.”

“Even if us deciding things for this woman already placed her in this position.”

“We’re dumb men. Maybe we’re separated by country, class, and age, but we’re still dumb men.” Yi found himself chuckling at that somehow, even as tears fell into his tankard.

“When is it you will need me?” He asked, and the man’s response reeked of his relief,

“As soon as possible. Tomorrow, even.” Terry replied, “Which means… I probably shouldn’t drink much more. You probably shouldn’t either, yeah? I don’t want to push you off your horse like this…”

“It was my choice.” He said, as the ramifications of his choices washed over him with a sickening guilt “And I do not think I am done drinking yet. I certainly cannot return to my home, even after this one drink. The Lady of the House will know what I have done…”

“Lady Buvelle, right?” Without even thinking Yi wrenched his gaze upwards and out of his protective barrier of hair. His face was twisted into some form of melancholic snarl, and it was enough to have the Demacian jump in his seat, “Woah… Okay, uh… Won’t press that button, then. But I think it’d be better if you were less hungover come morning. Do you have a place to stay?”

“No…”

“Well, it might seem dumb to ask but you’re welcome to stay at my home. It might be easier too. I’m honestly… quite afraid to venture outside of the city proper just to ah… knock on a noblelady’s door. If we’re in the same place come morning, then we can just get it all finished within the early hours.”

To that, all Yi responded with at first was to push his empty tankard out towards the other man, letting his soft tears fall upon the table. After eyeing the quizzical look from Terrius, he sighed and mumbled,

“… If you buy me a few more drinks of this size, then I will have no choice but to stumble home with you.”

And that was just about the last thing the Wuju Bladesman could recall. The guilt of a man was an effective way of opening his coinpurse.

[stevedonnellyfaith-blog]

Curley’s Choice (Post 83) 4-18-15

                        My dad told me that young Natalie crumbed to the floor in a heap when told the news. She stayed there a while before her Grandfather asked her if she was okay.  She was in shock she explained.  “Good shock or bad shock?”  My dad asked with a fascinated smile.  Medium was the answer.

Young Natalie had always expected to return to California; I just couldn’t figure out how to work things out.  Nor could I figure out a way for me to return to Ohio. Returning home seemed like a fairy tale which I convinced myself that I would someday accomplish, but never really seemed to make any progress towards.  Each time I would search for a job near Cleveland the avenues that lead back home seemed to be blocked with barriers and barbed wire.  It actually surprised me when this time all the options to stay in California were delayed or obstructed while the one opportunity that would facilitate my return to the buckeye state sped along.

Finally, all my migratory preparations were completed and I was ready for the dreaded drive most of the way longitudinally across the North American continent.  I usually don’t mind driving, but my Aveo doesn’t have a lot of leg room and Stephen and I were loaded down with all the stuff we could foresee needing before mid-June when Abby and Nick will arrive with anything that we forgot.  I considered planning an involved itinerary to hit all the sights where we had stopped on the trip we made as a family in the other direction eight years ago, but Stephen’ not very nostalgic and I had mixed feelings about whether I wanted to awaken that old pain that largely rests like silent rocks under the quiet surface of my consciousness.

We left early in the morning and GPS guided me across the spindly bridges from Discovery Bay to Stockton, spans that made Pam decidedly nervous; she usually would route trips in any direction other than Route 4 east from Brentwood.  Stephen quietly slumbered and the drive proceeded without incident all through the quiet Thursday morning.  I was surprised at how quickly the little silver Chevy reached the woods near Tahoe where I had my first encounter with long-ago memories.

On the ride from Ohio to California all those years ago, the travel had not been interrupted by weather even though we were making the trip on the Northern route and leaving on Thanksgiving Day, a naive plan, but we didn’t know any better and got lucky.  We assumed that if it snowed, someone would salt the roads and, anyway, we were driving a Yukon XL.  At Tahoe we encountered a the first blizzard of the season and while we had made good time up until we reached California, the last leg of our journey was slowed to the speed of a Conestoga wagon under the blanket of driving snow.  

At about that time, little two year old Natalie became sick of the trip.  We had bought her a little mini DVD player because our vehicle had been manufactured before installed entertainment systems were an option.  During the drive she watched the same Sesame Street movie over and over as little children are wont to do in a way that torments exposed adults especially when the video includes an inanely happy and silly soundtrack that becomes madly monotonous as it incessantly repeats.  Abby still sings the songs to me whenever she decides to be particularly annoying.

Anyway, standard operating procedure for the little diapered one was to await the conclusion of her movie and then snap the DVD player closed and launch it onto the floor of the Yukon to announce that her show was over. It was sort of cute and we chuckled at her delinquent ritual knowing that we were getting good use out of the $50 we had spent at Wal-Mart or Best Buy despite the fact that the abuse would surely eventually lead to a bad result.  Keeping the two year old entertained was a very high priority for us on an incredibly long trip for a family of six in tight quarters. Finally, began on the road into Truckee as flurries began to float down like marshmallow rain, Natalie launched her little electronic device for the penultimate time and the device finally surrendered to the abuse.    Initially, we thought things would be OK without it, but we discovered that fifty miles can take five hours if traffic rolls along at a pre-industrial pace. Under the onslaught of my little daughter’s crying, all the other family members began to deeply regret our collective prayers for deliverance from the cheerful inanity of the silly Sesame Street soundtrack.

Nearly a decade removed, while Stephen snored quietly from the shotgun seat of the Aveo, I thought nostalgically of our previous family migration.  A Yukon full of Easterners driving west towards our California adventure.  Sometimes my old life seems as far away and unreal as a black and white episode of the Lucy Show or Mayberry RFD, but for that short fifteen minutes the two chapters of my life seemed to fold together.  It seemed like I could almost leave my eastbound car, cross the median and join the other family headed on their westward way, a family of old friends that I remembered intimately but had lost track of somewhere among the long series of sterile hospital rooms.  In reality I knew that resuming my old life was not an option, and an impossible hitchhike into the past also would involve retreading paths painful enough to exceed my remaining emotional stamina, so I released the memories and focused my attention on the current drive in the opposite direction up I-80.

“And besides all this, between us and you a great chasm has been set in place, so that those who want to go from here to you cannot, nor can anyone cross over from there to us.[Luke 16:26]”

I knew that given the opportunity, I would still knowingly exchange places with the younger me and live it all over again even knowing that the Angel of Death would have a part to play in the adventure.  There is a scene that I remember from the movie City Slickers in which the cowboy Curley, played by Jack Palance, explains to the hero, Billy Crystal’s character, why he chose not to seek a relationship with a beautiful farm woman that once offered him a cup of water.  In Curley’s mind the memory that he kept was perfect in itself and could only have been sullied if he had come to know and love the woman.  Curley’s explanation seemed very profound to Billy Crystal’s character, but it is a rationale that I have never accepted.  While beauty can reside in a perfect face, in a perfect sunset and with a perfect landscape, discovering intimate truth requires effort, action and, unfortunately, pain.

The remainder of my trip included a fair share of unpleasant moments.  Wracked with leg pain and trying to stretch the day’s drive, I attempted to cross Wyoming sipping a late evening McDonald’s latte with the cruise control set at the speed limit, 80 MPH.  Suddenly, I noticed that the rural expressway blacktop that had seemed to quietly wind off to infinity, was now coated in inch deep slush.  With white-knuckle clarity, I touched the brakes and rode out my momentum without turning my drive accidentally into an X-game.  Seeing that even the most hardy truckers had pulled into rest stops and called it a night, I did a 180 and headed back to Rock Springs, Wyoming where Pam and I once visited 18 years ago eventually deciding to turn down a job offer that would have made us truly unlikely prairie folk.

The drive the next day was excruciatingly slow as I discovered that snow is still more than a possibility in the High Plains Desert even in the month of April.  I chuckled when I realized that Wyoming too was part of the Western conspiracy against road salt.  As the state seemed to be pretty much a dirt bowl planted with assorted species of sage, I don’t expect that the environmental trade-off for safety would be too steep a price to pay.  If budgeting is an issue, perhaps they could just sneak across the Utah border at night with Bobcats and dump trucks – their neighboring state seemed to have plenty of salt to spare.   Regardless, Wyoming seemed to have substituted dirt for sodium chloride to no good effect so each truck that passed me drenched my driver’s side and windshield in a spackle of freezing mucky wetness.  Driving blind for what seemed like thirty seconds every five miles or so was an extremely unpleasant experience.  In the end Wyoming seemed to be a last beautiful, frozen, hair-raising four hundred miles during which God allowed Satan to buffet my little car however he pleased before calm normality again reigned at the border of Nebraska through Iowa, Illinois, Indiana and then I was finally home.

Ad Deum qui Laetificat juventutem meam.

I sit here on a Tuesday night in a comfortable chair in my parent’s house before the fireplace that reminds me of the Rivendell in Middle Earth of which I read over and over as an adolescent dreaming of attending West Point and living a life of heroic adventure.  Perhaps our sojourn to California was my version of There and Back Again.  Certainly, I hope like Bilbo and Frodo that I can retire quietly to an existence of engineering pool products without the aggravation of managing scores of employees and without the horror of visiting oncologist offices with family members. Still, I don’t regret the journey and truly appreciate what I have gained from the initiation price of pain and heartbreak.  While Curley chose his pristine memory of a single sunrise tinted with the possibility of perfect love, the Donnellys decided instead to stop and get to know folks. We entered into the lives of others and allowed people to befriend us.  Parting is only painful when one has dared to love, we feel the price was well worth it.

[danielle-leigh-4socialjusti-blog]

Becoming an Ally

I would like to acknowledge that the land on which we gather is the traditional territory of Anishinaabeg, Cree, Oji-Cree, Dakota, and Dene peoples, and on the homeland of the Métis Nation. Hey guys,

My name is Danielle Leigh and I am a social work student in Winnipeg Manitoba. I have had the opportunity to take Indigenous People and Social Work Practice this semester at Booth University and it has been life-changing. During this class, we had one week where we met for 8 hours a day and had many Indigenous people from the community come and speak to us. We learned about residential schools, colonization, and the trauma that resulted from those experiences. We learned about land being taken, and cultural genocide, children not being loved because they were sent to institutions where they couldn't see their families. We learned about the sexual and physical abuse that was done to these children, by the hands of governments and sadly churches. We learned about all these devastating things that we don't speak about in society. Things that are not taught in high schools. The Canadian government created the policy to assimilate the children into the Euro-Canadian culture, and the devastation that erupted from that is outrageous. We also learned about the beauty of the Indigenous culture, how ones well being are interconnected to their spirituality, psychological being, physical being, and emotional well-being. We learned about resiliency, strength, and the power to overcome one's situation. We also had the opportunity to learn about something really cool happening right now. The Reconciliation Commission of Canada has released 94 calls to action to address the enduring legacy of residential schools and its impacts on the Indigenous population within Canada. Although there are 94 calls to action I am going to speak about one section which is Justice. There are 17 calls to action under this section. The reason I chose this section is that it relates directly to another social issue that I am learning about in this class and that I am very passionate about, which is gang violence and the impact on the Indigenous population. What I have learned from my studies is that the criminalization of gang members (youth specifically) is not producing any change, and if we want to create the change we need to do it some other way. I believe in all the calls to action but here are some that I believe relate to gang involvement and gang violence.  These calls to action demand that the government eliminate the over-representation of Aboriginal adults and youth in custody, and to provide education about residential schools and the trauma done by the Canadian government. It requires the Government to provide Indigenous people with their healing lodges, and culturally relevant resources. These calls to action represent people’s rights, why in the twenty-first century anyone would be denied these things is mind-blowing…. But here we are… but still, there is hope… hope for a brighter future… hope that Canada will stand up and do what is right for our Indigenous brothers and sisters. This leads me to share about an organization I had the chance to go visit.

Meet Me at The Bell Tower, Winnipeg Manitoba

So, if you live in Winnipeg Manitoba and you haven’t heard about Meet Me at Bell Tower, then you really should go check it out. They meet every Friday night at 6 pm at the North End Bell Tower, but don’t worry if its really cold outside (Which it was the night we went) you will only spend about thirty minutes outside to talk about who they are, why they are there, and if your lucky you will get to hear some drumming and singing, then go inside to meet with everyone, eat, and hang out.

This organization was formed by Michael Champagne and community members at a time where there was a lot of violence happening. They wanted to see change happen in their neighborhood, so they formed an organization that seeks to create a healthy and safe community, awareness and education to those around them. The environment was very welcoming, and everyone was in good spirits.

I went to the Bell Tower with another student Ruth from my class, and although we had never been there before we had a great experience. The evening began with Michael telling everyone about the organization, how they got started. Then we listened to drumming and sinning, there was a smudge, and then the bell was rung… Which was then time to go inside where there was a market set up and community members came to sell, or barter handmade items, there was a meal prepared and time to get to know each other.

Every Friday attendance changes, they mentioned that it was a smaller group on the evening we went, I believe there were around twenty people. It seemed like everyone knew each other except about five or six of us. There were students from Red River College who would be making an article for their school paper, myself and Ruth and a couple other individuals who mentioned they had not been there before. This event was well organized, there were time and effort put into the meeting, they had arranged for people to come and sell their items. They meet every Friday, so they have a system on how they operate. I believe they are doing really good work at Meet Me at the Bell Tower and that they are very successful in bringing about change. So How has going to Meet Me at The Bell Tower impacted me or brought further awareness to my life? First thing I observed was these are real people out in the community trying to create real change, and that one person can create something that becomes much bigger than just them, and it is effective, and if that’s not inspiriting then I don’t know what is. Secondly, when we were there I witnessed someone screaming racial slurs at this group for no reason. It was an eye-opening experience to witness first hand the oppression people face for simply existing and not being white. It was heartbreaking and I felt a sense of responsibility because my skin is also white, I couldn’t understand why this person would say such things. It was a reminder that change needs to be made in this country, and it starts with people trying to create change. Finally going to this event helped me picture who was affected by violence, whether gang-related or not. These are real people who are losing their lives and its good to get out of the books and put a face to this reality.

So, if you want to experience meet me at the bell tower here is their Facebook page and their website, you just show up and they welcome everyone! http://www.trc.ca/websites/trcinstitution/File/2015/Findings/Calls_to_Action_English2.pdf https://www.ayomovement.com/mmbt.html

I will also link the calls to action right here: http://www.trc.ca/websites/trcinstitution/File/2015/Findings/Calls_to_Action_English2.pdf

P.S. Here is a picture of me and Ruth at Meet Me At The Bell Tower, You can't really tell but I am the girl in the blue coat with all the fur who looks like she is freezing.

[awkward-twentysix]

under the cut are good feelings about unpacking something i’ve been carrying for three years

Taking a moment to decompress.  I am sitting in a place I never thought I would return to, about to do something I ever thought I would get to do.  Two years ago my class walked across the stage celebrating their graduation-- nine months prior I tried to kill myself.  Seven times. I hid it, a first well, and near the end horribly. Depression had always been an undercurrent to my life-- but the summer before my senior year it swept me up, and left me gasping for air. I drove without my seatbelt at breakneck speeds down winding roads, and hoped for something awful to happen-- something that would passively take me away so no one would know how badly I hated and hurt myself.  A week into my senior year of undergrad I was hospitalized for a suicide attempt that someone finally caught, and diagnosed with severe depression, anxiety, OCD, and an undefined eating disorder. In the next six months I was hospitalized twice more, and was forced to take a medical leave.  I pushed away the people who had become my chosen family in order to make it easier for me to disappear. To try to destroy our relationships so that the warped mental image of my life would become a reality. Desperately I wreaked havoc on my life knowingly forcing people to cut ties so that it would be easier for me to die. I aggressively spiraled downward. I acknowledged that I was spinning out of control, and worked harder to crash land. All I wanted was to not exist. It took months for me to return to some semblance of equilibrium. I proved time and time again that recovery is not a straight line. It's messy, and often eye opening and upsetting. It's hard, and easy to regress into the safety of the downward spiral.  Once I found something steady I realized the reach of my destruction. I was left to take stock of the friendships I had destroyed and the people I had hurt. It was a devastating blow. I was ashamed, and disgusted with myself. The reality that I had been so terrible is something that I will never forgive myself for.  I continued to keep my distance from people who I had once been fixtures in my life. When they reached out all I ever wanted to do was apologize, but sorry never felt like enough. I decided I didn't deserve these people, their kindness just reminded me of my awfulness.  In the almost three years I forced myself to finish college. I didn't want to. I was embarrassed and angry. I envied everyone who was still on campus, and I longed to come back; but I couldn't imagine being there. I didn't belong there, or deserve it. I had to be punished-- and since I was the only one left to punish myself I chose exile.  I missed birthdays, life events, and cheering my friends on as they accomplished things-- I watched from what felt like another planet. I was so happy for them, and so proud of everything they did-- without the language to express it to them.  When I finished college my diploma was sent to me by mail. I opened the envelope when I got back from work near midnight, and quietly set it up on the shelf. It wasn't something to be celebrated. I'd watched my class, and my friends in the year below me celebrate with so much joy-- and I felt outside of it all. Even though I had earned my diploma the same way they had, I felt disconnected.  When I decided to come back and walk I was prepared to apologize. I was prepared to spend the whole week apologizing. To anyone who had been effected by me, and my destruction. I was a wreck the whole nine hour drive to campus. Scared that I would spend the week outside of everything, screaming apologizes that were too late to mean anything.  Instead I spent the week surrounded by the people I had exiled myself from, being pulled back into their worlds. I still don't feel deserving. It feels so alien to feel so free among them. I bring it up every so often, because it feels weird not to address it. Again I don't have words to express to them how sorry I am. But it feels so good to just let it go for a few days. I don't deserve these people. And I know their lives have moved on (I have been their observer for so long) but I just want to hold on to this feeling. While they return to new friends and their own lives tomorrow I want to freeze in this moment. And really sit in this feeling that I used to be so accustom to-- being happy-- and remember before I refused to open my parachute.  I have spent the whole weekend trying not to cry. I'm so overwhelmed by the waves of acceptance and love that I haven't let myself be a part of in almost three years.  And I'm terrified that after tomorrow it will go away.  I hope that I can carry this feeling forward.  That I won't fail myself again-- and fail these people I don't deserve.

[ragefilledslut-blog]

Silent treatment and the thoughts you leave me with

This comes from a place of pain and anger and sadness. its all my irrational overdramatic thoughts that I want to yell at you just to even the playing board of petty games- but i told you i don’t like games so i refuse to play them, but you’ve forced me into position because the only way to stand up for myself is to give you what you give me..even when it still ends up hurting me. some of this is just me trying to understand what the fuck is going on. I wouldn’t say any of this to you because it would hurt you and i never want to purposely do that but sometimes venting the ugly keeps me sane. im in pain, but I still love you.

someone just fucking slap me in the face and remind me that no matter what I do its never going to be enough. Why keep fooling myself into believing that I’m  actually worth a damn when everything else is telling me that I’m fucking worthless. thanks for making me believe you and actually think you were telling the truth when you said that you loved me more than anything and wanted to spend your life with me. thanks for all the reassurance when I told you my fears of never being enough for someone, that I was scared of losing you because of how much I love you, Good joke boy. Thanks for crushing me when I don’t deserve it. thanks for pretending I don’t exist when you fucking live with me. thanks for making me feel uncomfortable in my home (i’m writing this from the spare room while he sits playing on his laptop in my room on my bed ) thanks for putting me into such a place of anger sadness and fucking pain that i broke my own promise never to use a fucking blade again. and yet the cuts i make are small enough to cause pain and show red but not enough so as to leave a scar so that you never have to live with the pain of knowing your actions have consequences you don’t think about because thats how much i love you, i put your interests before my own even when you treat me like shit. because i know that hurting the people you love even when you’re mad at them isn’t fucking okay. there is no excuse for wanting to inflict pain on someone just because your in pain. I didn’t do shit, i don’t need to ask permission for things that only affect me, its not my fault you think the world revolves around you and that everything is going to effect you negatively. guess what it doesn’t and it wont. sometimes people intervene for the best interests if everyone involved and just because that might include you doesn’t mean its meddling in your life..YOU ARENT THE ONLY ONE AFFECTED. i understand you’ve been through fucking hell and you’ve been fighting against control over your life but there is a difference between control and help. Controlling tends to include manipulation to leave you in a place where you have no power of your own. helping is lending aid when there is an opportunity and doesn’t come from a place of personal self gain. remarkably sometimes people do things to take the burden off of someone else so that they don’t have to struggle alone. I bear your struggles as a partner and help where i can, what part of that is control? explain it to me oh wait i forgot you’re to busy giving me the silent treatment.... for the past 4 days. what does that solve? does it make you feel right because no one else can take away your perceived validity in treating me this way? is it because you worry i may have been right and you’ve been treating me like shit for no reason other than your own need to make something out of nothing so you can have an excuse to be mad and remain a victim of the world where nothing ever works out for you and you’re better off alone where you can leave your future to chance and if you live or die who cares? guess what I would care. but i guess i don’t matter huh? i guess all the love i have given you this past year doesn’t count for shit? all the times i’ve stayed up to make sure you’re safe? the times i drove out of my way to keep you safe. how about helping you avoid authorities so you could runaway? remember that? oh right you lost your shit at me and declared you would rather sleep outside because i had dared to ask what was going on. you saw i was hurting and chose not to care and yet still i said i was there for you, and lo and behold you accepted my help when you realized it was cold and uncomfortable. i found you freezing and damp from the earth at 3am, and i helped you to my car and drove you home and held you close....and then i let you leave in the morning even though it broke me. so how exactly am i controlling and always meddling in your life? how exactly to you justify treating someone this way, when all i have ever done is loved and supported you even at the risk of my own health and future? oh yeah thats right i dropped out of acting school so i could be there for you in your time of crisis and need. i said it was because i wasn’t happy and needed money, and sure those are true but by no means was it enough to make me want to quit, but i valued you and your life too much to risk not being able to be there for you, to risk being in class when you called and needed help. i chose you so how about for one you choose me.cause i would do it all over again. i will choose you every time because thats what having my love means. you’ll have it forever and it wont stop even when i’m so mad i’m not sure i can handle the pain i feel and contemplate just giving up, but i know i don’t get to think that way. you aren’t the only one with pain and trauma. my past doesn’t negate your past, it isn’t a competition nor is it a trophy of accomplishment. it is life and you just have to keep living it. 

and ill be here when you’re ready. I love you