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intheticklecloset · 4 years ago

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My Hero Academia Sentence Starters #81-90

A collection of the MHA sentence starters I’ve done, compiled for the sake of ease. These are all stand-alone stories.

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81) Lee Kirishima, Ler Deku

“How can you hate something that makes you laugh so beautifully?” Deku asked, poking and prodding at the pudge below Kirishima’s belly button, along his waistline. “Squish! Squish! It’s so cute, and it makes you giggle like crazy!”

Kirishima’s neck and ears were as red as his hair. He squirmed on the ground beneath Deku’s pin, his arms trapped at his sides, unable to do anything but lay there and endure the tickly pokes and pinches the greenette gave his pudge. “Nohohohohoho,” he whined, turning his head to the side to try and hide his wide smile. “It’s nohohohohot cuhuhuhute…”

“It is cute!” Deku insisted, taking a tiny bit between his fingers and pinching gently, drawing a “yeep!” out of Kiri. “Squish! Squishy! Squishy-squishy! Tickly squishy squish!”

“Stohohohohohop it!” Kiri giggled, clenching his teeth against his own giggle fit. “Midoriya!”

“But it’s so cute! And look at that big smile! I love that it’s so tickly-ticklish that you just can’t stand it!” Deku beamed, continuing his playful torture. “Come on, Kirishima – you have to admit you love how much it tickles you. Squishy-squishy! Tickly-squishy!”

“Plehehehehehease!” Kiri squealed, unable to hold back his flood of helpless giggles any longer. “It tihihihihihickles so muhuhuhuch! Midoriyahahaha!”

“And?” Deku smirked, enjoying playing with his friend this way. “What else?”

“That’s ahahahahahall!”

“Liar~”

“Nonono please dohohon’t – don’t do thahahahahat!” Kirishima begged as Deku’s hands closed around his wrists, pinning him in place while he settled in for a new kind of tickle torture. “Nohohoho, plehehehease – PLEHEHEHEHEHEASE, MIDORIYA!!”

Deku blew raspberry after raspberry along Kiri’s pudge, occasionally nibbling on it as well, keeping his friend in stitches and teasing between each round until the redhead finally gave in. “Tickly-squishy! Tickle, tickle, little squish~ Your pudge is so ticklish, it’s adorable~”

“STAHAHAHAHAHAHAP!! PLEHEHEHEASE!!” Kiri tossed his head back and laughed hysterically, completely defeated by the gentle, loving, ticklish treatment. “IT’S CUHUHUHUHUTE, OKAHAHAY?! IT’S CUTE JUST STAHAHAHAHAP IT!!”

Deku giggled, blowing one last raspberry before sitting up and patting Kiri’s tummy affectionately. “And don’t you forget it.”

82) Lee Deku, Ler Kaminari

“I’ve been meaning to try this again!” Kaminari laughed as he hugged Deku tight against him, pressing his fingers into his friend’s ribs and igniting his famous “tickle-shocks” to make him squeal and giggle uncontrollably.

“Stohohohohohop! Plehehehehehease, Kaminahahahari!” Deku shrieked with giggles, squirming desperately in the blonde’s hold, trying to push away but unable to do so. Kami could be really strong when he wanted to be, and right now Deku had a feeling he wasn’t going anywhere until his friend was good and satisfied with this spontaneous tickly attack. “Ehehehehehehehe! Kamiehehehehehehehe!”

Kami chuckled. “What’s the matter? At least I’m not tickling your hips…yet.”

“Nohohohohohoho! Plehehehease, don’t! Kami, plehehehehease!”

“I only threatened to, Midoriya,” Kami laughed, squeezing his sides and igniting his shocks there. He was surprised when Deku arched his back, a laugh being ripped from him before settling into another long string of giggles. “You act like it’ll really tickle or something~”

“It wihihihihihill! It will – plehehehehehehease, Kaminari!”

Kami began to slide one hand down to the aforementioned hot spot, grinning wickedly over Deku’s shoulder. “I’m just giving you a hug, Midoriya – why are you getting so worked up?”

“B-Behehehecause you’re tihihihihickling me!” Deku cried, squirming even harder now. He knew where Kami was going and the thought of his hips being subjected to the strong tickle-shocks made him weak in the knees already. “Plehehehehehehease, dohohohon’t!”

But Kami did, grabbing his hip, pressing his thumb into the hollow, and lighting up his tickle-shocks once more. He couldn’t help but laugh along with his friend when Deku tossed his head back and screamed with hysterical laughter, his struggling growing wild. It was all he could do to hang onto him with his free arm.

“Heh! Tickle, tickle, little Deku~”

“PLEHEHEHEHEHEASE, STAHAHAHAHAHAP!! IT TIHIHIHIHIHICKLES!! IT TICKLES – GAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!”

Kaminari laughed, finally releasing him and ruffling his hair. “All right, I suppose that’s enough for one day.”

Deku clutched his stomach as he bent over with leftover giggles, gasping for breath, smiling so big as to blind the world with its brilliance. “T-Thank you…”

83) Switches Todoroki and Kirishima

“Nothing better to get your mind off of it than a good old-fashioned tickle fight!” Kirishima declared, tackling Todoroki to the couch and going straight for his thighs, which he knew was a hot spot.

“WHAHAHAHAHAT?!” Todoroki squealed, grabbing Kiri’s shoulders and pushing uselessly, head thrown back in surprised laughter. “HEHEHEHEHEHEY!! STAHAHAHAHAHAHAP!!”

“Tickle fight!” Kiri replied with a laugh of his own, not straddling his friend on purpose so he had a chance to fight back. “Unless you want me to just tickle it out of your mind instead?”

“NAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!” Todoroki plunged his fingers into Kiri’s ribs. “TAHAHAHAKE THIHIHIHIHIS!!”

Kiri screeched, instantly bringing his arms to his sides defensively, toppling onto Todoroki’s chest as he laughed and kicked. “NOHOHOHOHOT THEHEHEHEHERE, YOU MEHEHEANIE!!”

“Meanie?” Todoroki laughed. “What are we, five?” He managed to push Kiri onto the floor beside the couch, still standing but leaning over to get a good grip on his ribs and underarms. “You started it. Tickle, tickle!”

“GAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!” Kiri indulged himself for a few moments openly before desperately scrambling to grab onto any part of Todoroki that he could. Unfortunately for the half-and-half hero, that meant his ankle was the closest thing he could reach, and after using his hardening quirk to make himself immune to tickles, Kiri pulled on his leg to knock him off balance.

Todoroki yelped and stumbled to the ground, falling onto his back in the same moment that Kirishima ripped off his sock and started scribbling over his bare foot. “Ha! Who’s getting tickle-tickled now, Todoroki?”

“CRAHAHAHAHAHAHAP!! NOHOHOHOHOHOHO!!” Todoroki collapsed weakly onto the floor, too overcome by the ticklish feeling to do much more than lay there and take it. “NOHOHOHOHOT THEHEHEHEHEHEHEHERE!!”

“Not where? Not here?” Kiri scratched his finger up and down his arch, enjoying how his usually stoic friend completely exploded with laughter, flopping on the ground like a fish out of water. “Ooh, your foot seems to be really ticklish! I wonder what would happen if I tickled the other one, too…?”

“NOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHO—!!”

84) Lees Deku and Bakugou, Ler All Might

“AIIEEHEHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!! ALL MIHIHIHIHIHIGHT!!” Deku screamed with laughter, desperately trying to dislodge his mentor’s firm grip on his hip.

Bakugou lay to his left, also roaring with laughter, legs kicking wildly. “STAHAHAHAHAHAP YOU IHIHIHIHIHIHIDIOT!!”

All Might knelt easily on one each of their legs, keeping them pinned in place while he tickled each of their worst spots. They’d been fighting all morning, and he’d had just about enough of it. “I’m not stopping until you two can get along.”

“I’M SOHOHOHOHOHOHORRY!!” Deku pleaded immediately.

Bakugou growled around his hysterics. “I’M NOHOHOHOHOHOHOT!! FRICKING STAHAHAHAHAHAHAP IT!!”

All Might considered for a moment, then said, “You both need to learn to work together. You, especially, young Bakugou. So when the two of you can break away from me by working together, I’ll let you go.”

“NO WAHAHAHAHAHAHAY!!” Bakugou yelled.

Deku squealed when All Might found the hollow that really got him hysterical, pounding his fist on the ground in submission. “KAHAHAHAHAHAHACCHAN, PLEHEHEHEHEHEASE!!”

“WHY AHAHAHAHARE YOU BEHEHEHEHEGGING ME?! I’M NOHOHOHOT TIHIHICKLING YOU!!”

“WE HAHAHAHAHAHAVE TO WORK TOGEHEHEHEHEHETHER!!”

“FORGEHEHEHEHEHET IT!!” Bakugou’s laughter suddenly went silent when both of his sweet spots were attacked at once, and Deku’s cackling died down to breathless giggles at the brief respite. All Might used both of his hands to focus on tickling the angry blonde into submission, which didn’t take long thanks to his ruthless plan of attack. “OKAYOKAYOKAY I’M SORRY TOO JUST STAHAHAHAHAHAHAP IT!! PLEHEHEHEHEHEHEASE!!”

Deku weakly sat up and used One For All to jerk one of All Might’s arms off of Bakugou. “L-Leheheave him alone, he said he’s sorry…”

“Oh? Back for more, young Midoriya?”

“Nonono – GAHAHAHAHAHAHA NOHOHOHOHOHOHO!!” It was Deku’s turn to go berserk while Bakugou recovered. “PLEHEHEHEHEHEASE, ALL MIHIHIHIGHT!! KACCHAHAHAHAN!!”

Bakugou groaned, igniting sparks in his palm. “S-Stop it – we both apologized, now let us go!”

“Not until you learn to work together.” All Might held firm, but decided to give them a chance by tickling both of their stomachs in tandem, which he knew were lesser spots on them both. “Fight me off as a team, and I’ll let you go.”

Deku and Bakugou learned a very important – albeit silly – lesson that day.

85) Lee Iida, Ler Todoroki

“It feheheels nice, okay?” Iida admitted through a couple of choked giggles, clenching his fists in his lap as Todoroki gently prodded into his side.

Todoroki stared at him in surprise. “It – it does? Really?”

“Yehehes.”

Hesitant but curious, Todoroki applied more pressure by adding more fingers than just his pointer to the mix, gently squeezing Iida’s side. The class rep squeaked and brought a knee up instinctively, but still didn’t move to fight him back at all. “I thought you didn’t really like being tickled. And I wasn’t even trying to tickle you just now.”

“I knohohohow.” Iida put a hand over his mouth to cover up his snickers and his blush at the same time.

Todoroki quirked a brow. “None of that. I’m the dorm’s resident tickle monster, you know. If I see you covering up I’ll just make it worse.”

Iida’s hand shot back down to his lap.

All Todoroki had tried to do was practice his anatomy homework by seeking out the vertebrae in Iida’s spine and each of his ribs. He’d intended to do it as lightly as possible so as not to cause his friend any discomfort, since he knew – or at least, thought he knew – that Iida hated being tickled. But now the class rep was giggling up a storm and not even fighting him back.

“I – I guehehehess even I neheheed a lahahahaugh once in a whihihihile…” Iida managed, turning his face away from Todoroki, arms shaking from the effort to hold still.

Todoroki smiled gently. “Well, you know I’m always happy to oblige. Just let me know when you really want me to stop, though, okay?”

“Okahahahay.”

Todoroki kept practicing and – by extension – kept tickling for another couple of minutes before Iida finally asked him to stop, having had enough for now. Neither of them said as much out loud, but they still agreed to keep this anatomy practice session between them for the time being.

86) Lee Todoroki, Lers Kirishima and Bakugou

“Relax, baby, just enjoy it~” Kiri purred into Todoroki’s ear, lazily scribbling his fingers over his boyfriend’s bare ribs.

On the other side of him, Bakugou chuckled. “Yeah. You love it, don’t you, icy-hot?”

Todoroki was absolutely melting under their double tickle treatment. He was lying between them on the bed, and they were each snuggled up to one side of him, leaning on his arms to pin them above his head as they scraped and scribbled and teased the skin of his bare torso. He whined through his giggles, blushing hard but loving the attention.

“Tickle, tickle, tickle~” Kiri teased, gradually beginning to circle his belly button. “Poor, ticklish little Shoto~”

“Can’t take a few light tickles, huh, baby?” Bakugou added, kissing the shell of his ear for extra tickly emphasis. “Poor thing~”

Todoroki couldn’t even speak at this point; he was far too flustered to do anything but lay there and giggle and squirm and enjoy every second of this impromptu, loving tickle torture.

Kiri dipped his finger into his navel at the same time that Bakugou sat up, gripping his arm to keep it above his head while tracing the outline of his underarm with a fingernail. Todoroki squealed and arched his back, pushing himself further into Kiri’s tickly embrace while trying to escape Bakugou’s. Both of his boyfriends were being completely ruthless tonight, but he’d be lying if he said he didn’t absolutely love it.

“Plehehehehease,” he finally begged after several moments, after Bakugou finally began scribbling in his underarm with purpose. “No mohohohohohore…”

“You don’t really mean that, do you, Sho?” Kiri asked, kissing his cheek and raking his nails along his waistline in tandem. “You don’t want us to stop~”

“Nohohohohohoho…”

Bakugou shot Kiri a smirk, and both of them suddenly pulled a necktie out of their back pockets, beginning to bind Todoroki’s wrists to the headboard of the bed. Todoroki’s eyes widened in surprise and excitement.

“Good thing, babe,” the blonde said, finishing up his handiwork with a flourish. “Because we’re not even close to done with you yet.”

87) Lee Todoroki, Ler Momo

“You’re just so ticklish, I can’t stand it!” Momo grinned.

Todoroki clutched his shirt with one hand, giggling so hard he could barely speak. “You cahahahahan’t stahahahahand it?! H-How do you thihihihihihink I feel?!”

“I think you’re having fun with it,” she replied, gently trailing the paintbrush along the lines in his palm. “You haven’t tried to pull away once.”

“Gah!” Todoroki grabbed onto the nearest thing he could find – a throw pillow – and pulled it to him, hugging it tight against his chest. The soft bristles of the brush against his palm were driving him completely insane. How could one person have such ticklish hands?! “Y-You cohohohohohould stohohop anytime you wahahahahant to, you knohohohohow!”

“I know.” She began trailing the brush across the heel of his hand, over his wrist, gradually up his inner forearm. “But this is more fun, don’t you think?”

“Ehehehehehehehehe!” Todoroki couldn’t help the high-pitched, happy giggles pouring from his mouth at this point. He kicked his legs, doing everything in his power to stay still and take it. “Momohohohohoho!”

She giggled at his ticklish reactions, dragging the brush back down to his palm, then ditching it entirely and replacing it with her nails. This seemed to get an even stronger reaction, as he actually struggled against her for the first time, his giggles turning to laughter as she neared his elbow again.

“Plehehehehehease, stahahahahahap!” He begged. “It tihihihihihickles so bahahahahad! Momo!”

Momo beamed but stopped as requested, picking up the paintbrush to twirl it in her fingers with ease. “You’re cute, you know? You must really love it if you can stay still for so long.”

He blushed so hard his whole face matched his scar. “Shush.”

“What do you say we try your ears next? I bet they’re pretty ticklish, too~”

“F-Fine,” he stammered, lifting his gaze to meet hers with a confident – if a bit wobbly – smirk. “Bring it on.”

88) Lee Bakugou, Ler Kirishima

“I’m going to count down from one minute,” Kirishima said as he settled himself on his boyfriend’s hips, grinning. “And during that time I’m not going to let up on your sweet spot. Not one little bit.” He placed his hands on his upper ribs. “Ready?”

Bakugou’s eyes widened. In a blind panic, he stammered, “W-What – no! No, I’m not ready! Ei – NAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!” He tossed his head back and screeched, clamping his arms to his sides, kicking his legs violently. None of it helped him; he was still just as stuck and just as ticklish. “FRICK, NOHOHOHOHOHOHO!! EIJIROU, PLEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEASE!!”

Kirishima was beaming, counting slowly backwards from sixty. “Fifty-five…fifty-four…”

“COUNT FASTER YOU JEHEHEHEHEHEHEHERK!! KIRI I CAN’T – PLEASE STAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAP!!”

“Fifty-one…fiiiiifty…”

Bakugou screamed through his laughter, already feeling hoarse and on the verge of mirthful tears, and it hadn’t even been ten seconds yet.

Kirishima kept his word, curling his fingers into his boyfriend’s ultimate ticklish spot with relentless precision, never stopping or letting up once no matter how loud he shrieked or laughed or begged for mercy. By the time he got to thirty seconds poor Bakugou was red in the face, tears streaming down his cheeks as he laughed himself into a kind of ticklish stupor. He was too far gone to even protest at this point; all he could do was endure it.

“AHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!! GOD, PLEHEHEHEASE – FRIHIHIHIHICK – AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!”

Kirishima couldn’t help but giggle along with him, tickling just as hard and just as fast as he got down to the twenties, the tens, and finally the last five.

“Five,” he said, really going for it now.

Bakugou was screaming bloody murder at this point, his kicking weakened but just as frantic. “STAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAP!!”

“Four…”

“PLEHEHEHEHEHEASE, EIJIROU!!”

“Three…two…”

Bakugou let out what sounded like a wail of distress when his boyfriend didn’t immediately say one – the final number that would end this ticklish torture. “ONE!! ONE, ONE, OHOHOHOHONE!! KIRISHIMAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!”

“One!” Kiri finally let up, removing his hands from Bakugou entirely, letting his poor boyfriend gasp for breath and shakily try to wipe the mirthful tears from his eyes, his face dark red. He chuckled. “Good job, baby~”

“Shut up…you f-fricking…s-sadist…” Bakugou tensed when Kiri grabbed his wrists, pinning them above his head. “N-No, wait! No more, please! Eiji—mmph!” He was cut off with a kiss that made his heart race in an entirely different way.

Kiri chuckled. “Maybe I am, but you didn’t say the safe word, now did you?”

89) Lee Todoroki, Ler Iida

“I…I really don’t think this is a good idea,” Todoroki hedged. He sat on the couch in the living room of the Class 1-A dorms, averting his eyes from his class rep as he spoke.

“Why? If you let them go untreated it’ll only take longer to heal,” Iida insisted gently. “Perhaps it’s a bit odd, but I’m very well-versed in massage therapy. I’m confident I can help you.”

Todoroki hesitated. After a long day of training, he’d complained that his feet were killing him, and Iida had offered to massage them to help him feel better. The peppermint-colored boy knew for a fact he wouldn’t be able to handle a massage of almost any kind. He was far too ticklish. But at the same time, he didn’t want to disappoint his friend. He was stuck.

“Fine,” he finally mumbled, cringing a little as he placed his feet in Iida’s waiting lap. “But…the socks stay on.”

“Of course.” Iida nodded, assuming Todoroki simply didn’t want his bare feet touched. He could understand that. He got to work pressing his thumbs into his arches, massaging small circles up and down the sole. He was so focused on his task it took him a moment to realize that rather than relaxing, his friend only seemed more tense. “Is something wrong?”

“C-Can’t…I d-don’t think I can…hrk!” Todoroki slapped a hand over his mouth to hide the growing smile threatening to give him away. He said his next words all in a rush. “I don’t think I can do this!”

“I’m not hurting you, am I?”

“N-No, it – aiieee!” Todoroki squealed, yanking his right foot away from Iida’s grip. The class rep had lightened his touch, thinking perhaps he was applying too much pressure, but the softer strokes only made his friend burst into giggles, finally revealing what exactly was bothering him about this whole situation.

“Ah, I see. You’re fairly ticklish, then?” Iida asked, unable to help but scribble his fingers over Todoroki’s other foot. He got his answer when said foot was also jerked out of his reach. He laughed. “You could have just said so, you know.”

90) Lee Deku, Ler Kaminari

“Izuku, stohohohop,” Kaminari whined, hugging his boyfriend close even as the greenette kissed and nuzzled his neck, tickling him.

“Don’t wanna.” Deku smirked into yet another kiss.

“Ugh, fine, I’ll make you stop,” Kami shot back, chuckling as he rolled over, quickly switching their positions so he was on top. Before Deku could fight back, he plunged his fingers into his ribs. “Tickle, tickle, little Deku~”

“Aiehehehehehehehe! Kamiehehehehehe!” Deku squealed, his face lighting up in a huge smile as giggles poured out of him. He squirmed but didn’t entirely try to get away; both of them knew he rather enjoyed being tickled, especially gently like this. “Ehehehehehehehe!”

Kaminari chuckled, leaning down to do exactly what Deku had been doing to him moments before. He nuzzled and kissed along his neck, making his boyfriend shriek and kick his legs. His neck and ears were far more sensitive than Kami’s were.

“Denki, plehehehehehehease!” Deku begged, but it was obvious he was having a ton of fun. “Not my neheheheheheheck!”

“Aww, is someone a little ticklish here?” Kami teased, switching from kissing to nibbling. Deku spasmed beneath him, but the blonde merely let his body weight pin his poor, giggly boyfriend to the mattress as he continued his ticklish treatment. “Seems like you are~ Poor, sensitive little Izuku~”

“Stohohohohop teheheheheasing me!”

“Never.”

“Ehehehehehe! Dehehehenki – WAIT NO NOT THEHEHEHEHEHEHERE!!” Suddenly a loud screech ripped from Deku’s throat and he started thrashing in earnest. Kaminari had snuck one hand down to pinch at his hip, making him really laugh. “DENKI, NOHOHOHOHOHO!!”

“Denki, yes~” Kaminari teased into his ear, kissing and squeezing in tandem, making his boyfriend go crazy with hysterical giggles and laughter. “I’ve got you right where I want you now, baby.”

#fanfiction #tickle drabbles #compilation #quick prompts #coffee shots #sentence starters #boku no hero #my hero academia #bnha #mha

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softbiker · 6 years ago

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Steve Rogers Oneshot

Warnings: mentions of character death, cursing, haunting, spooky stuff, angst

Word count: 7.1k

Summary: Steve Rogers is a man out of time. He knows more ghosts than people. One of his ghosts has come home.

A/N: This is waaaay longer than I normally write, but I just wanted to do it justice. This is my submission for @barnesrogersvstheworld AYAOTD writing challenge! Sort of an Endgame AU, also features an appearance from a rather obscure Marvel comics character. The prompt I had was “Don’t look behind you.” - it’s highlighted in bold. This is also really sad. I’m sorry for that...but please let me know what you think!

His tastes have changed.

Most people wouldn’t have known that - wouldn’t have seen anything abnormal about a 100+ year old man reaching for minute oatmeal and Folgers at the grocery store. There had been a few articles, before, in health or men’s interest magazines, about the ‘Super Soldier Diet’. They were much more colorful than this - full of sugary cereals and peanut butter and seasonal frappuccinos. The articles always ended with reminders that a normal human should reach for more nutritious foods.

Steve pulls his oats - plain, made with water, no sweetener - from the microwave, and stirs just a little. Not thick enough; he replaces the bowl and adds another 30 seconds to the microwave timer. On the counter, the Mr. Coffee drips away, slowly filling the pot.

He eats quietly, perched on a stool at the island; he never uses the table anymore. A few news highlights appear in the notifications on his phone, and he scrolls through them, eyes scanning as he spoons his tasteless breakfast into his mouth.

New York Nears Completion of Relocation Program he reads, letting his thumb swipe down to read more of the article.

“Almost three years after the globally devastating event in which Earth’s population was reduced by half, the people of New York City are finally seeing a light at the end of the tunnel in their relocation efforts for residents whose homes were damaged or destroyed in the aftermath of the Decimation. The project, one of the last proposals by Tony Stark before his retirement from the Department of Damage Control, is expected to end-”

He closes his phone.

**********

There are three support group meetings that he attends each week - two as a leader, one as a participant.

“You should come, Nat.” He’s a broken record, but he just keeps spinning. Like the planet, like the solar system. If he falls out of orbit- “Just once. You might be surprised…”

“Some of us still have jobs, Steve.” She raises a still perfect eyebrow, now back to its natural red. He finds a little comfort in that.

“They’re not mutually exclusive.”

“Maybe not. But don’t wait up for me.”

The Tuesday meeting is the hardest, though it was the first one he ever lead. It caters to a specific group, a group that looks to him because...well, because he lost what they lost. He wonders if they know, if they realize, that it’s all his fault.

“Jackie was...she was my rock, you know?” The new woman, Elsie, sniffs as she continues. “We went through a lot together, and I remember thinking all that time ‘God, what would I do without her?’ And now I know the answer - spiral and-and become an alcoholic.”

“You can’t blame yourself for all of that.” Steve shakes his head. “There was so much more going on - the world was practically in flames, and you were trying to cope. What matters is that you’re here now, trying to get better.”

Elsie is nodding, accepting a tissue from the man sitting next to her. She gives a shaky little smile and settles back in her chair, done sharing for now. Steve glances around the circle, waiting for someone else to speak up.

It was such an odd reversal for him, especially at first. When he first wandered into one of Sam’s support group meetings, he had felt out of place and alone - and that feeling was exactly why he belonged in a place like that. Sam could see it. It was one of his gifts; he was better at reading people than anyone Steve knew, except maybe Natasha. Even when Bucky came along, and Sam played the tough act, he could see all of that fear and pain, and knew exactly what to do with it. Over the years they were in hiding, Sam would secretly reach out to Bucky - during their visits in Wakanda, Steve found the two of them sitting at the lake behind Bucky’s hut and talking, low and intense.

“You know, sometimes-” It’s a man on the opposite side of the circle, dark-skinned with a greying beard. “I don’t know about all of you, but sometimes...I wonder if they can see us. If they know what we’re doing. Does that make any sense?”

He gets a few nods and murmurs from the group, so he goes on.

“I mean, after my old man died, my mom used to say he was watching over me.” He swallows thickly. “She was on her own, tucking a 9-year-old boy in at night, and telling me that Daddy could see me from heaven, that he was looking out for me. And I just think....well, I wanna know - where are they? Are they in heaven? Is that even possible?”

He turns to Steve, several of the people in the circle do. It’s always like this - whenever the sessions turn to specific questions or musings about what happened, they look to him. Because shouldn’t he know? He had lead them, he failed them, he was there when their lives went up in dust.

“Well, I don’t think I’m qualified to offer religious advice,” he starts with a rueful smile. “And, from everything I’ve seen, I don’t think we even know what’s possible. All I know is, we can’t live in the past...even if they see us, wherever they are, we have to accept that they’re really...gone.” He crossed his arms. “They’re not here with us anymore.”

The group has gone quiet, reflective. Most are staring at their hands rather than him, each lost in their own haze of memory and ashes. He wishes he could offer them more, but he knows grief like this, and Steve Rogers is honest to a fault - he won’t lie, even for the sake of comfort.

“We’re on our own now.”

**********

He goes for runs alone now.

No Bucky to keep up with him, pushing the pace and trying to trip him. No Sam to complain about his hamstrings and insist on coffee afterwards. Not even music on those weird tiny headphones she had gotten him. Just his sneakers and pavement and the sound of his own breath. Sometimes he hated that - how he never got winded anymore, never sounded hurt and tired, the way he would wheeze through his asthma attacks with Bucky holding him up and reminding him how to pull in air. The machine of his body was too efficient for that.

In his apartment, he takes short showers, cold and fast, like in the Army. The soap is blue, with a generic smell that is clean and reminds him of nothing. He turns and tilts his head back under the spray, allowing a few more seconds to rinse and-

He nearly jumps when a burst of heat runs down his back.

The water has suddenly turned hot, a steamy, balmy, sultry hot that turns his soft Irish skin pink. He had never had this problem with his showers before - never run out of cold water certainly. Maybe something was wrong with the…

When he turned around, he saw the hot water knob turning slowly clockwise, centimeter by centimeter, untouched.

He shut off the water and got out.

**********

“I’m gonna have to call a plumber sometime.”

“Oh yeah? I thought all you old guys were handymen.”

“Ha ha.” He watches Nat scoop some spaghetti into bowls for the two of them. “I was the artist type. Not really handy around the house.”

“Guess that means Barnes was wearing the pants?” She’s smirking, and he feels like he’s seeing the real Nat again, so he goes along with the joke.

“How could he not? Who’s gonna let a 90-pound asthmatic wear the pants?”

“So what’s wrong with your plumbing?” Nat peeks over the fridge door as she grabs some parmesan and a bottle of wine. Steve, under strict orders not to help, is watching from the kitchen table.

“It’s my shower, something happened the other day. The water turned hot while I was in the middle of showering, even though I had it turned cold.”

“Hm. Weird.”

Steve comes out here at least once a month, or as often as he can. He sees the way that Natasha would rather slip into her work, lose herself in the business of holding the pieces of the world together, let go of her own life. The pantry, open and visible from where he’s sitting, is stocked with the bare minimum dry goods and canned foods; the fridge isn’t much better. He’s seen her on missions, seen her at home in her mismatched socks; he knows that she’d barely feed herself, surviving on a sandwich a day, if the thought or the hunger struck her. So he comes and threatens to cook and she saves the compound from being burned down by making a meal for the two of them.

It’s a far cry from normal. From pizza nights with Sam and Wanda at the compound, the two of them taking turns introducing Steve to movies he missed - all the “classics” he hadn’t heard of. They were missing their monthly family dinners, too; Tony always made room in his schedule to attend, dragging Pepper along from the office, and Steve sat at the head of their long dining table watching this strange, funny little family he had share and eat and laugh with each other.

Now he sits across from Natasha at a table otherwise occupied by her scattered files and reports, a pair of pointe shoes laying in the chair next to her. He didn’t come often enough to expect her to clean for him. She had enough on her plate.

“You know, I was talking to Carol last week,” Nat says, twirling her pasta around her fork. “And she said she might make it to visit us next month. It’ll depend on that trafficking case she was working in the Pegasus galaxy.” She shrugs a little.

“That’s good.” Steve chews, sips his wine. “It would be nice to see her.”

They don’t talk much throughout their meal; there isn’t much new to share. Through the floor-to-ceiling windows along the wall of the compound, Steve watches the early sunset fall over the grounds, shadows reaching and reaching, as quiet as it was empty.

**********

Sometimes, sometimes, when he’s feeling more stupid than usual, he opens the drawer.

That drawer. The lower one in his bedside table. With her box inside.

The box isn’t really anything special - just plain black, with her name written on the top. He got it at the suggestion of the team’s - his - therapist, Dr. Rajan. She recommended that putting some things away, rather than leaving them around his room, might help him move on, realize that his life had changed. He thought about putting the compass in the box, too, but it felt wrong. She wouldn’t want that in there. Somehow it mostly ends up in his pocket, and he stares at it from time to time, at the picture inside, thinking about words like should have and what if.

He’s staring at the drawer now, remembering the night before, when he thought about getting the box after he shuffled in from support group. When he was halfway through his flask of that Asgardian shit he kept under the bed. Steve had shuffled out of his clothes and fallen asleep in his underwear instead, flask still clutched in his hand, just sober enough to turn down the bad idea.

So why was the drawer open?

**********

“Have you thought about getting back out there? Dating again?”

His laugh is humorless.

“Doc, come on. I think we both know I’m not the type.”

“All we know is that you’re a serial monogamist.” She smiles. “And a very eligible one.”

“Sure, but…” Steve pauses, rubbing his palms against his jeans. He looks around the office, trying to find something to focus on. “I feel lucky...really lucky, to have had the kind of love I got. I mean, I never really expected to have it, not after I woke up in this century. And then, with her, it just sort of happened so naturally...well, lightning never strikes twice, as the saying goes.”

“It seems like, for you at least, it did,” Dr. Rajan raises her brows. “Two great loves in one lifetime? More rare than lightning.”

He runs a hand through his hair, still long on the top.

“I-I guess so. But it won’t strike a third time.”

“Because you’re not going to give it a chance?”

“You know me too well, doc.” His smile is apologetic, kind.

**********

At night, he sweats through dreams of her. His legs tangle in sheets where they used to twist and curl around her. The pillows smell only of him, his blue generic soap, but in his mind, locked somewhere far and sweet, her scent fills the air. Fills him up until he tastes it.

He tastes her, too, in dreams; under him, around him, pressed close in that intimate haze only lovers can know. Her lips chase his and smile into his mouth, following the curve of his jaw as he tucks his own face into her neck. It’s in his veins now, her smell and taste, ripe and alive on his tongue and oh, he’s swimming in it. She sighs, blissful, and sinks her teeth into that spot at the base of his throat-

Bedsheets fly off him as he bolts upright in bed, chest heaving, the sweat rolling in little beads down his temple. The smell is fading, drifting away from the room even as he tries to hold on to it; she was here, right here, and it had all felt so real, having her in his arms again. But now he’s wading back to consciousness, unwillingly, the tide of his dream pulling away from the shore and tugging at his ankles, carrying her with it. He wants to drift out to sea on it, drown in it, never resurface in this half-empty world.

Always so dramatic, Rogers.

Something nags at the corner of his eye, and he turns to the bedside table. In the pre-dawn light of the window, he can see the second drawer open. Her box is pulled forward to the front of the drawer with its lid propped up, asking, begging to be seen. He feels himself almost chasing the tide, diving back in as he leans over the side of his bed…

He slams the drawer shut.

Steve blows a harsh breath past his lips and swings his legs out of bed, tugging the sheet from between his thighs. His bare feet brush the cold wood and he arches up on his toes, tight muscles protesting the stretch. Palms scrub at his heavy eyes, brushing away what he can of his sleep. He has no plans to go back to bed, not now. He’ll just get an early start on his run. Maybe put in a few extra miles. He runs a hand through his hair, fingernails scratching absently at his scalp.

Stumbling into the bathroom, he turns the cold water tap in the sink and splashes his face a few times, feeling the two-day stubble on his cheeks. The shave can wait until after his run, he thinks. He stands straighter and reaches for the towel next to the sink, patting his face dry - he leaves his eyes closed, buried in the cotton for a moment before meeting his own gaze in the mirror. Immediately his eyes are drawn down to - what the hell is that?

At the base of his neck, just where it meets his shoulder, is a small red mark. A love bite. He presses it with a finger and hisses at the tenderness of the skin. Unbidden, the wave of his dream crashes over him, rolling him under, and he can almost feel her lips again…

The hair on the back of his neck and arms is standing straight up, his body gone cold all over. He thinks, maybe, he should go back to bed after all. Somewhere deep in the back of his mind, he hears his own name. What if...what if she’s waiting for me? He almost turns around, almost looks at the rumpled bed, almost expects her to be in it, rolling over in that tangled mess and smiling past the curve of her shoulder…

He yanks on a hoodie and running pants, toeing into his sneakers without socks, and leaves the apartment unlocked. Hardly knowing it, he clocks 50 miles, the sun high overhead before he can force his legs to stop, even his enhanced muscles starting to twitch. His sweat is still cold.

**********

There’s a memorial. Lots of them, actually.

All the major cities have at least one, and New York has built theirs, unsurprisingly, in Memorial Park. It’s huge, a sprawling garden of sculpture installations covered overhead by a soft white canopy. A retaining wall, approximately 3 feet high, lines the garden beds and holds in the dark rubber mulch, its outer white brick etched with the names of the lost. Even Steve could admit that it was beautiful, and so different from the solemn obelisks and walls of names he had expected when the memorial was announced.

The city had commissioned a team of artists, led by the famous Chihuly, to create blown glass sculptures using...well, as much of the collected ashes of decimated people as they could. “Cremation glass” it was called. The concept was morbid; though symbolically beautiful, most hadn’t imagined a stunning art gallery, more suited to the Met than this mass grave of the unknown.

Steve was there when it was dedicated, as was Tony. He was asked to say a few words, and he did; he has no idea, now, what he read from those cards handed to him by the administrative team. A black suit stretched around his shoulders, no shield in sight, his tie more like a noose as he watched the somber faces of the attendees. Loved ones and friends of people he had failed. A living memorial. Tony stood next to him, year-old wedding band still shining as he crossed his hands in front of him and declined to speak.

There are a few locations he has memorized around the park, the Lost Garden, as it has been named. A blooming blue hydrangea bush, sculpted white flowers and leaves pressed between the green, with the name “James B. Barnes” carved a few inches below. Across from it, red and yellow globes hang from a white tree, the round shadows falling over “Samuel Wilson”. Two rows over, an exploding tower of tangled green and blue spirals, surrounded by bushes, guards the name “Wanda Maximoff”.

Hers is carved neatly - block letters, plain font - into the white brick near the entrance of the memorial. Above it, a cherry blossom tree blooms sweetly, the pink flowers joined by purple and pink glass stems sprouting up from the ground around the trunk of the tree. Soft green bushes hem in the sculpture, as though keeping the glass from growing too far. It’s whimsical, charming. Elegant.

He fucking hates it.

He hates how this is meant to honor her - the vibrancy of her memory, the slyness of her smile, the passion of her love, the ferocity of her anger. She was more solid and real and hard than the delicate stems of glass that stood for her now. It wasn’t even her ashes in there anyway - he knows that for certain. He knows because he felt her drift through his hands under a hot Wakandan sun. He had watched the dust float and settle and knew that all the parts of her he kissed and held were under his feet and in his mouth and Jesus God it made him want to scream.

He doesn’t know whose ashes are here, in the glass above her name. But he wants to smash it. Put a fist through it. Hear that tinkling glass shatter on the ground the way she did. It would only be right.

As he stands there, staring at the falling cherry blossoms scattered around the sculpture, he feels the air go cold around him. His whole body breaks out in goosebumps and the little hairs on the back of his neck start prickling. He shudders, looking around, but no one else is nearby. It’s a late spring day, warm and getting warmer, with the sun beaming through scattered clouds. He shouldn’t be shivering.

The wind picks up, light breeze growing stronger, and the long stalks of glass begin to vibrate. A low hum builds as the wind carves its way between the sculptures, a plaintive, lonely noise that he feels low in his belly.

Steve…

He whips his head around, looking up and down the row, but he’s alone - no one else is here. That whisper, his name, it was so close…

Steeeeve

He’s turning a full circle, looking for a microphone or a drone or something tiny like Scott’s suit.

“Hello? Who’s there?”

Stevie …

A cloud of cherry blossoms billows into his face, making him jump back. The chill sinks through his skin, slips down his spine bone by bone with each breath. His heart is hammering hard and fast. That name, that voice - it’s been three years. They’re gone. It’s not possible. He closes his eyes as he feels a presence close beside him, right at his shoulder, and he knows, he knows if he turns his head she’ll be-

“Captain Rogers? You alright?”

He jumps again, startled, and looks over to see a policeman watching him, eyes wary and concerned. The officer was young, like all of them now - mass recruiting in public services has been going on for a couple of years, with things nearly falling into chaos after...everything. The military, the police, trying to swell their numbers enough with what was left of the population to keep the world in check. Not like the Avengers were doing a very good job.

“Captain?” The young officer asks again, inching a half-step towards Steve. His hand, unconsciously, twitches towards his radio.

“I’m fine - really,” Steve shakes his head and offers a smile. “Everything’s fine. Just...remembering someone.”

The kid nods; Steve wonders if he himself ever looked so young in a uniform.

“I understand.” He’s tugging at his uniform jacket. “My, uh, parents - they’re over there.” He points at a patch of lilies, not far from Wanda. “And my brother.”

“I’m so sorry.”

That’s all he ever says these days. I’m sorry. Sorry. Sorry. Everyone pretends that it’s enough.

He walks the kid - the officer - back to his patrol car, shakes his hand; the boy has to crane his head back to look up at him, and he stares up at Steve like there’s still hope in this world. Steve doesn’t have the heart to tell him.

**********

The chill follows him into the summer. Even with the sun high and New York sweltering with heat, Steve shivers in his apartment, cold biting at him until he aches with it. He cranks the heat on his thermostat, yet still finds a harsh breeze blowing through his apartment somehow. He allows the shower faucet to continue turning hot - blistering hot, the way she liked it - now that this chill won’t let him go.

Despite that, he finds himself staying in more than ever. He was never exactly a social butterfly - Bucky could testify to that. It tumbles him into memory: Bucky, slicked-back hair and spit-shined shoes, a rose tucked into the lapel of his jacket; Bucky, chin thrown back and ready to laugh at the world, an arm around Steve’s shoulders as he drags them on yet another double date. “Ya gotta get out more, Rogers,” he’d say, cigarette tucked behind his ear. “I’m a piss-poor excuse for real company.”

The only people he sees now are Dr. Rajan and the members of his support groups. Occasionally Nat, but she’s been traveling more lately, following the crumbs of Clint’s trail. Their emails are few and far between, containing only the bare bones.

It’s a Friday night - or maybe it’s Saturday, Sunday. He sits on the edge of his bed, turning the little thing over in his hands. The compass stays in his pocket most days. He flips it open, stares at the portrait inside, the one he’s had memorized since ‘43. He could draw it with his eyes closed, probably.

Suddenly, the compass snaps shut, unbidden, in his hand. It shakes, the mechanisms inside rattling violently, and grows hot to the touch. He yelps and it falls from his palm, dropping to the floor between his feet. The skin of his hands is red, scalded, and he flexes his fingers, watching the trinket warily. It lies on the floor, perfectly still.

Behind him, he hears the second drawer of his dresser roll open.

**********

More dreams come to him, sweet ones, and he sinks into them without protest. He falls into his bed at night happily, searching for the smell of her somewhere behind his eyes. She’s always there, always smiling for him, reaching and pulling him further down into their own special hiding place. She’s there in her uniform, in her sweatpants, in his t-shirt, in nothing at all.

“C’mere, Stevie baby,” she nuzzles his nose, and he’s close to tears but he doesn’t know why. Then she’s tugging at his own clothes and he’s not thinking about it at all.

The ache in his throat returns when he wakes empty-handed and alone. Beneath his jaw, a line of hickeys leads down his neck and across his shoulder. His breath puffs in small clouds as he pants and tries not to cry.

**********

“You don’t look so good, Steve.” Nat’s tone is worried, her voice tight. She watches him stare at the wall with a cup of coffee in his massive hands. “Have you been sleeping?”

He nearly chuckles at that.

“A little too much, I think.” He goes quiet then, mouth turning back down, carved sadness in that larger-than-life face.

“I think...God, Nat,” Steve slumps forward, elbows on his knees. “I think I’m losing my mind.”

“Join the club.” She sits down next to him, sliding a soft hand across his back. Her voice is just above a whisper. “We’re all still struggling. You know that. You’ve seen it. Sometimes it feels...it feels like...you’re just holding on by a thread.”

He’s shaking his head before she finishes.

“Have you - do you dream about them? Ever?”

“Of course.”

“No, I mean…” Steve rubs his eyes. “I mean...do the dreams feel...when you wake up, does it feel like it really happened.”

Nat frowns.

“I’m not following you, Steve.”

He sighs, heavy and resigned.

“No, I know. I’m not making any sense.” He leans into her embrace a little. He likes the contact of it. Hasn’t had that in a long time.

“Listen, Nat. I know S.H.I.E.L.D. used to keep a lot of records of...enhanced individuals…”

“Sure. Everyone that pinged on their radar,” she nods. “So, pretty much anyone with abilities.”

“I need to have a look at them.”

“Anything in particular you’re looking for?”

“Yes. But if I told you, you’d have me committed.”

“Yeah, that really makes me want to help you.” She leans her head against his shoulder, fingers squeezing his bicep. Her voice still soft and low. “Tell me what you need.”

**********

They meet in a public place. It’s not hard now, with the world half-dead, to go about their business as though they are two men with nothing to hide. A bright, hot July sun beats on their heads, and Steve adjusts his sunglasses as a bead of sweat slides down his neck. On the street, traffic grumbles along, bikers and street vendors and tourists darting between. The hard metal chair of the café presses into the soft underside of his knees, leaving little dents in his skin.

“It is nice to finally meet you, Captain,” the man across from him smiles. The white symbol on his forehead stands out starkly against his dark skin. “I understand we move in different circles.”

They’re sitting outside a small restaurant in Port-au-Prince, only coffee on the table in front of them. The heat is sweltering, oppressive, different from the New York heat that Steve knows. Part of him wishes they were near the beach, with the wind coming off the ocean. She would have begged him to go to the beach.

“That we do,” Steve raises his eyebrows. “Even with everything that’s happened, aliens, Thanos...things like magic are still...hard to believe.”

“Hm.” Jericho Drumm leans back in his chair, steeples his fingers. “I think you are here because...it’s not so hard anymore, yes?”

He grits his teeth. There are fingernail scratches on his back and they chafe against the sweaty cotton of his shirt.

“You’re a smart man, Jericho,” he sighs. “And I think you might be the only person who can help me.”

Jericho Drumm nods.

“Yes, I think so, too.”

According to the S.H.I.E.L.D. files Steve spent all his free time digging through, there were only a few enhanced individuals with supernatural abilities. And now half of them were gone. Some, like the sorcerer Tony told him about, had managed to stay under the radar for thousands of years. With precious little to go on besides an alias, Steve commandeered a quinjet and packed a bag for Haiti.

“What you are asking me...communication with the spirits…” Jericho shakes his head. “It’s not what you think. Or what it looks like in the movies.”

“Then tell me,” Steve presses, leaning his elbows on the table. His coffee is half full. He can see his reflection in the oily surface of it.

“I’ve served as a houngan for many years; I’ve served as Sorcerer Supreme. In fact, with Stephen Strange gone, they may ask me to serve again. But inviting spirits into this world is a dangerous practice - not white magic.”

“But it can be done?”

Jericho narrows his eyes. The white streak in his hair is bright in the noonday sun.

“When Thanos tore a rift in this world, in this universe,” he speaks slowly, choosing his words with careful consideration. “He tore through the other side as well. The things he’s done affect us all, the living and the dead. It is possible, the things you describe, are caused by this. A ripple effect, if you will. A door not closed.”

“A ripple.”

“Yes. However,” Drumm raises a finger, leaning forward to speak in a low voice. “I will say something else. I may have years of experience with the supernatural, but I studied psychology as well. My time in America was mostly in a university, studying the human mind, how it works…” He pauses for a moment, giving Steve a look that is on the suspicious side of apologetic. “Our minds are powerful. When a person wishes for things, even terrible things, the mind can give them what they seek.”

Steve closes his eyes, jaw tightening.

“Believe me, I know how I sound,” he sighs. “I know. My therapist says the same thing. But if anyone’s going to believe me, it’s you. This is not in my mind.” His fingers are shaking and he curls them into fists. “This is real. She’s...it’s real. It’s her.” Haunting me.

Dr. Drumm nods, sympathetic and quiet. He watches this captain, this legend, the age showing in his young man’s body. With the sunglasses propped up on his head, the dark circles beneath Steve’s puffy eyes are on full display. His shoulders curl in, posture defensive, small. His knee bounces under the table, and his jaw ticks every so often, teeth clicking in his mouth. There is a bruise visible at the base of his neck where the collar of his shirt has shifted to one side.

“Very well, Captain. I will do my best to help you.”

**********

He sits cross-legged on the tile floor of the bathroom, surveying the items in front of him. According to Dr. Drumm, he would need only a few candles, items that belonged to her, a circle of salt to protect himself. Incense, too, burning in the corner, the smell of sage and smoke floating around him. The lights are off, only the flickering candles illuminating the room.

He feels a little silly, setting all of this up. When he was a boy, vampires and werewolves and ghosts were all just stories - hiding under the covers with Bucky and scaring themselves silly. No real monsters hid under his bed. All of that came later.

Under his shirt, the amulet rests against his chest, growing warm with his own body heat.

“If you must do this alone as you insist,” Jericho had said, shaking his head. “Then wear this. Bene gris-gris. It is the best I can do to protect you from dark magic.” His steel grip closed around Steve’s arm. “And this may be a dark thing, Captain. Her coming back to you. It doesn’t feel like white magic.”

Steve had only nodded, his hand closing around the amulet. He was beyond light and dark now, beyond counting costs. He had chased ghosts for so long after he woke up. It’s only right for him to chase her, too.

Here, in the bathroom, toes pressed to cold tile, he digs two more items out of his pockets. Dr. Drumm said to bring something that would ground him to himself, something special. He turns the compass over in his hand, flicks it open, and sets it on the edge of the circle. From the other pocket, he fishes a black velvet box. His fingers twitch, feeling the soft fabric; he doesn’t want to open it. He hasn’t opened it, since he took the ring off their nightstand in Wakanda and put it back in the box. She hadn’t worn it - didn’t like wearing it on missions or in fights. Afraid of scratching it. She had wiggled it off her finger, smiling at him, leaving a kiss on his bearded jaw-

He leaves the box closed for now, and places it in the center next to the other tokens - a photo of her, a necklace with a small silver pendant she used to wear whenever they went on dinner dates, a little jar of seashells from a beach vacation she took in college. All the little things he had packed away in that nightstand drawer. Memories he had put into storage.

Safe inside his little circle, he reaches in his shirt and grabs the amulet tight in his fist. He closes his eyes. Breathes deep the incense and soft curling smoke from his candles.

He says her name softly in the dark.

In his mind, he shifts his awareness down the plane of his body, piece by piece. He learned meditation techniques during his therapy sessions; now he has another use for them. He says her name again.

“I want to speak to you.” He says, voice low, a lover’s intimacy. “I call on your spirit.”

Her name. Her name. Her name.

He’s not sure how long he stays there, curled on the floor, but the chant of her name lulls him into a trance. His eyes are half-open, the candles wavering in front of him, casting long shadows on the walls. He licks his lips, calls her name again.

One by one, the candles snuff out.

He goes quiet. Smoke curls up to his nose, but he can’t see - the only light is coming from underneath the bathroom door. That familiar chill trickles down the back of his neck, raising the hairs. His flesh is covered in goosebumps; his muscles tense up, coiled tight, ready to spring. His tongue lies dry and thick against his teeth.

“Hello?”

Steve?

He sighs her name. “Sweetheart, is that you?”

A cold breeze passes over his face, rumpling his shirt.

“Are you there?”

The compass flies up and smashes against the wall.

Steve…

Her voice is harsher. Sadder.

“Baby, please,” he’s begging now. He can feel how close she is, she’s in the room, he knows it like he knows his own body. Like he knew hers.

For the first 25 years of his life, he lived with asthma - any little trigger could set him aching for air, his lungs betraying their purpose and seizing up on him, his whole body trembling in relief when he managed to pull in oxygen. He feels that ache for her now - acute and sharp as it was the day he first lost her, a physical pain and its cure so close, so close, if she would only let him - let him breathe-

Oh, Steve.

“Honey, I’m here, I’m right here.” He stands in his little circle, spinning around, though he still sees nothing in the darkened bathroom. He feels the tip of his nose go numb in the frigid air, his body shivering slightly.

I’m here, too, Stevie.

“Where, baby? Where are you?” He’s desperate, so desperate. He’s going to cry if she doesn’t-

I’m here. Look.

He feels, thinks he feels, cold fingers brush down his cheek, and he turns. The mirror above the sink is frosted over, he can see it now that his eyes are adjusting to the pale dark, and he stumbles towards it. Pulls a sleeve down over his hand and wipes at the fog, the remains of his body heat melting it away in streaks.

“Oh...oh god.” He grips the edges of the sink.

Hi, baby.

There she is. There she is. Standing right behind him, over his shoulder. His eyes sweep over her face in the mirror, scanning the details he never forgot, not for a moment. Her lips quirk a sad little smile, tilting her head.

You don’t look so good, Rogers.

His laugh comes out as a sob, and he nods. Fingers curl tighter over the edge of the sink because it’s all that’s holding him up right now. In the reflection, he sees her take a step closer to him - feels her presence, her smell is right behind him and if he can just turn and take her in his arms then everything will be alright again…

NO DON’T!

The force of it is loud in his mind, sends him reeling forward against the sink. Her lips are trembling in a soft frown.

Don’t look behind you.

It sounds so soft. So sad. And he knows, knows in the marrow of his bones, that this is it, this is all they can have. This halfway, this inbetween, this ships in the night barely seen as they pass - it’s all he gets. All he has left.

He presses his hand to the cold glass of the mirror, tips of his fingers stroking the image of her face. His chin feels weak, jaw slack, his hip leaning against the sink. She’s crying, too, tears shining against her soft cheeks.

“Where are you? Do you know what’s happening?” He manages to ask. It’s the question, the question everyone would ask of their ghosts. She shakes her head a little.

I...I don’t really know. But I know I’m not with you.

He nods, tries to swallow around the thick lump in his throat.

Wherever I am, I’m not with you. And I miss you, Steve.

“I miss you - God, honey, I miss you so bad-” his breath hitches, and he wonders in the back of his mind if he’s going to have another asthma attack, his first in 70 years. “I-I need you, sweetheart. Jesus Christ, I miss you. I don’t know what I’m doing without you and-and-”

He’s hyperventilating, breaths stuttering in his chest. The hand that’s pressed to the mirror has gone numb with cold but he won’t move it, not if it’s the closest he comes to touching her face. He watches her come closer to him, behind him - her smell fills the room, no smoke, no incense, only her. His teeth are clattering in his mouth even as he tries to grit them together, lungs stuttering and he’s so so cold but he only half feels it; the muscles in his back jump and twitch as he feels her, really feels her, right behind him. And then-

I know, baby. I know.

Her forehead presses between his shaking shoulder blades. Icy hands creep up beneath his shirt, pressing right over his heart. Her arms lock around his ribs and squeeze, squeeze, squeeze - as if she could brand herself there. In the glass, Steve’s lips are blue and his sobbing breaths come out as little frozen clouds. The mirror is starting to frost over again; the goosebumps on his body won’t lie down. His eyes slip closed, tears chilling in their tracks on his cheeks, and he presses his hand over hers at his heart.

I’m right here.

The ache in his chest sharpens, then dulls, slow and familiar. Something he always carries. His breaths are slowing now, the trembling in his muscles calms a little. She traces a frozen circle over his heart.

I’m right here.

He sighs her name before he blacks out.

**********

Natasha watches Steve in his kitchen, her green eyes sharp and narrow. She hasn’t been to his apartment in a long time, but three days of no answered phone calls, texts, or emails and the Black Widow will investigate. He seems...fine. As fine as Steve has been since it all happened, when he went clean-shaven and cropped his hair, like girls do after a break-up. He smiles over his shoulder while stirring the pot in front of him.

“It’s the one thing my ma made sure I knew how to make for myself,” he says. “She knew I’d need this soup every time I got sick.”

“That’s sweet,” she says. And it is, though she’s never heard him mention it before.

They eat on barstools at the island, sharing little bits of conversation, small talk, mission updates. Sound bites of friendship. Still no explanation for his radio silence.

“Can I use your bathroom?” She sighs as he scoots back his stool, scooping up their bowls to take to the sink.

“Of course - you don’t have to ask, Nat.”

She slips down the hall. Doesn’t go to the bathroom - turns right instead.

On the floor of his bedroom, she sees the candles. The circle. The pictures. A little jar of seashells on his nightstand. While they were eating, she had seen something new - a little chain around his neck, the shape of something underneath, suspiciously like a ring.

Natasha leaves without saying a word, maybe hugs him a little tighter at the door.

She won’t begrudge him this.

#steve x reader #steve rogers x reader #steve x y/n #steve x you #AYAOTDchallenge #steve rogers #steve rogers fic #steve rogers imagine

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mytastessuck · 4 years ago

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Gorillaz: Humanz

SHere it is, the comeback tour! I was so excited for this album, I sucked all the singles that came out before I could download the album. This album basically reminded me of the reasons I love Gorillaz. All of them. One particular reason a little too well...

Okay, let's get the elephant out of the room. This album is a bit controversial among the community for playing a little too hard to one of Gorillaz' strengths: showcasing cool artists. There are more than a few tracks where Damon doesn't even show up. Hell, my favorite track doesn't even have it on him. Me, I honestly don't care about that as long as I get to hear good music but for the rest of you die hard Gorillaz fans? Just think of this as a compilation album like NOW That's What I Call Alternative/Indie Hip-Hop/R&B/Electronica/Pop.

See? Rolls off the tongue. Now let's get started.

1. Intro: I Switched My Robot Off

Nice. Real ominous. Gorillaz really know how to build up a presentation. Feels like you're walking through the doors of the doors to the Shrine of the Silver Monkey. Anybody remember Legends of the Hidden Temple? Were there doors on that stage? Anyway, awesome.

10/10

2. Ascension

Holy hell, Vince really knocks it out of the park on this one. Different beat, nice flow, social commentary...He was not fucking around on this track. Damon's barely on the track but Vince makes up for it with his existential rhymes and chorus back-up. Man, Gorillaz has gotta take advantage of gospel more often.

9/10

3. Strobelite

That didn't take long, did it? Anyway, this is my favorite song on the album. Peven has an incredible voice, the music psychically compels you to dance and...that's it. Sometimes, well usually with me, you just need to go with Simple Yet Awesome. Have a good voice and a good beat. This song has both and I'm pretty sure that one day, a scientist will hear this song and will be inspired by it to cure diabetes.

100/10

4. Saturn Barz

Ah, the lead single from the album. Remember the 360 house, everyone? Yeah, you remember. Glad to have Gorillaz welcome back Reggae into their line-up with Popcaan manning the helms. He and Damon tag-team the eardrums with the power of dread as the instrumentation makes you feel like you're in a haunted house. Welcome back, guys.

25/10

5. Momentz

WELCOME BACK, GUYS! De La Soul returns to say some real shit about time and how you should, respect and stuff. Seriously, awesome track. Kicks so much ass and you can even dance to it as you wonder if this MOMENT will be one of the last times when you feel really happy. Nice...

9/10

6. Interlude: The Non-Conformist Oath

Hey, Steve Martin! I like to imagine a bunch of assholes listening to this and...just not getting it. Not us though. We get it. We're smart. Smarter than those guys...

10/10

7. Submission

This song had to grow on me but years after I got the album and after I learned to appreciate Danny Brown a little more like all humans should, this song became one of my favorites off the album. Don't worry Kelela, he doesn't carry the whole song. Her voice is so beautiful that it can calm a charging rhino or a coked-up Connor McGregor. These make the song a lot classier than it had any right being.

90/10

8. Charger

She's beauty, she's Grace...she's also Jones. Man, I haven't heard from this woman since Corporate Cannibal and she has clearly been keeping up practice. God, how can a woman's laughter both scare and arouse me? Damon's no slouch on this track either, singing about the monster that keeps us all tethered: the charger. I kid, I kid. Hey, did Damon really get a boner on stage when he sung this or are you guys messing with me? Message me if you know.

9/10

9. Interlude: Elevator Going Up

On a recent trip, I tried to go up the elevator but it was card-activated so a desk lady had to help me. That's it.

8/10

10. Andromeda

Damon has to do the heavy lifting here and his muscles have not completely wasted away from lack of use. He tells us to take in our heart and you know what? I did. I took this song directly in my heart...and my playlist.

50/10

11. Busted And Blue

Yeah, this song is a bummer. A good bummer. It's Broken's younger brother who joined the army to make his parents proud after he couldn't get into university like his older brother who managed to form a separate family with his squad and began to think that maybe he was good enough after all before his squad gets bombed and, as he lies legless dying painfully on the ground, a blue butterfly land directly on his outstretched busted hand...

Directed by Mervyn LeRoy

10/10

12. Interlude: Talk Radio

You ever wonder how we get voices in machines? I know you think it's a complicated process but I know a dude who picked up the radio in his electric fan once. Think about it.

8/10

13. Carnival

Again, this song had to grow on me but one day, while I was thinking about Gamzee for a godforsaken reason, I thought "Geez, he talks about the Dark Carnival and the Dark Carnival isn't even some of ICP's best days. What's a good song about a carnival?" Anyway, Anthony can spin a person's mind and mind around just by singing. He's wild.

80/10

14. Let Me Out

Hey, wouldn't it be funny if Mavis was Vince's mother? She's not but that would be funny as well as cool. Her and Pusha T bang on the walls of this track as they rant about the politics at the time of this song. Yeah, they're talking about Trump. That car horn can't protect you forever, you orange bastard.

9/10

15. Interlude: Penthouse

Dear Penthouse: Hi. Does anyone check in on you, just you? I'm here to say I think you're important and you provide a necessary outlet for men to brag about being perverts. At least before the Youtube comment section existed.

Thanks for everything,

mytastessuck

8/10

16. Sex Murder Party

Ooooo, this track puts me in a funky mood. Like, there's a part but there's sex there...and MURDER. So you know it's an awesome party. Kick-ass, right? I know it's kick-ass. Keep dancing, people.

11/10

17. She's My Collar

Pretty sexy song. Gotta love people vauging about being used in a song. That's why we love Offspring, that's why we love Damon on his knees onstage. Hey, there was a post that said Noodle wrote this song about her girlfriend. That was an excellent post. Well done.

9/10

18. Interlude: The Elephant

I SAID GET OUT OF HERE, YOU BASTARD!

8/10

19. Hallelujah Money

Ah, the technical first single. Remember when they said that they weren't going to put this song on the album? Anyway, this is exactly the song we needed after The Incident occurred. Benjamin manages to calm down an entire populace while Damon just fearfully wonders what our future will be like...and he's in the UK. This song is one long terrifying lullaby to an entire country...until the end, anyway.

75/10

20. We Got The Power

A great way to remind listeners that no matter what's happening, no matter who's in charge, we have the power change everything. An excellent message for people who were still recovering from The Incident.

10/10

21. Interlude: New World

Okay, the bonus tracks. Should be nothing special here, right? Just some B-sides and I've never shown favoritism towards B-sides, right?

8/10

22. The Apprentice

A nice song from the same Rag n' Bone Man who brought us "Human". Zebra manages to lay down some nice rhymes as Ray BLK backs them both up with the force of her voice. These guys should form a team with how well they work together. Oh, they should make a virtual band! All they need to do is find an artist...

9/10

23. Halfway To The Halfway House

A very nice song if a bit overshadowed by the others on the album. Still, Peven can't be beat when it comes to crooning and he raises a song from a solid C to a B.

8/10

24. Out of Body

This song had to grow on me also but when it did...lord, this song is weird. Hypnotic suggestions, telephone tones, the song starts then Zebra jumps in to help then who is this person?! Why are people applauding?! Who are you people?! Why are there so many crows gathering outside my house?!

60/10

25. Ticker Tape

Well well well, look who's back. Damon returns with his old friend Kali to join the accuser of the vain Carly Simon to beg us to stay on the album. Sorry Damon, but I got places to do and people to go. There's nothing you can do to convince me to stick around after how long this album already is.

9/10

26. Circle of Friendz

Huh. Seems like a riot is going on. Weird for Gorillaz to get this real. What, this guy is just going to keep saying Circle of Friendz again and again? Is this supposed to affect me? Get real. It'll take a lot more than a nice voice and implications to...

To...

...

...Maybe I should listen to the album again.

11/10

Album score: 25/10

Damn, that took a while. Shouldn't be the case next week when we cover The Now Now. See you then!

#gorillaz #humanz #music #review

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mamabearcatfanfics · 5 years ago

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The Ronin - Chapter 5

Eep. I know it’s been a while. And you know when I said this was definitely going to be the last chapter? Well, uh, there’s one more to go. Which is 90% done and that I should be posting tomorrow. Please don’t hate me when you get to the end of the chapter - kthxbye!

“But I wanna go too!” Shippou whined, rubbing his eyes tiredly as they stood in the cool morning air in front of Kaede’s hut. “I promise I won’t get in the way!”

The sun had just peeked over the horizon, making Shippou’s fluffy hair appear even more flame coloured than usual. Kagome bent down to pick him up and squeezed him tight, ruffling his fringe affectionately.

“Not this time Shippou. We should be back tomorrow at the latest.”

It had been Inuyasha’s decision that the kit stay behind, and Kagome agreed with it, but not for entirely the same reasons. Inuyasha was just concerned that Shippou might get himself into trouble, and he would be one more thing to worry about when they were heading into an uncertain situation. Kagome just didn’t want him to know the whole story of how she’d been injured.

Sango knew what had happened, and she was pretty sure that Miroku had some idea, based on his concerned glances towards her whenever he thought she wasn’t looking, and the way he had completely dialed back his usual flirty manner with both herself and Sango. But Shippou didn’t. She knew he was a lot more worldly than a human eight year old, but she didn’t want to see the look in his eyes if either the ronin or that woman said something. She just couldn’t bear it.

“Everything’s gonna be okay, right Kagome?”said Shippou in a small voice, nuzzling into her hand. She hoisted a smile onto her face, not wanting him to worry in their absence.

“I’m sure it will be Shippou”, she soothed, quick to reassure him, squeezing him in a hug which was just as much for her as it was for him. “Do you know what would be really helpful? We’ll probably be really hungry when we get back, and I know you’ve been practicing your hunting skills with the village boys. Do you think you could catch some fish or rabbits for a stew to help out Kaede?”

He stared at her uncertainly for a moment, then nodded.

“Sure, I can do that.”

Kagome glanced at Kaede, and the old miko nodded, confirming that she would do her best to keep the kit out of trouble.

“Travel safely, all of ye”, Kaede said, looking warmly at them. Kirara jumped down from Sango’s shoulder and transformed into her larger nekomata form, allowing Sango and Miroku to climb onto her back. Kagome took a deep cleansing breath of the crisp morning air, then climbed onto Inuyasha’s back as he bent down a little.

“Alright, I’m ready as I’ll ever be. Let’s go.”

The sun was well above the horizon when they began to approach the forest not far from their destination. The mist had all burnt away an hour or so ago, although the air was still chilled. Miroku and Sango flew above on Kirara and Kagome snuggled in tightly on Inuyasha’s back, thankful for his warmth. She yawned, wishing she’d managed to get more sleep. She’d been too keyed up to doze off, her mind racing. So much to think about. And not only about their mission. About her and Inuyasha.

She replayed their conversation at the hot spring over and over in her head. She’d told him she loved him. And even though he didn’t say the words back, everything in his expression, his body language, his tenderness told her he felt the same. In the months since Kikyou’s passing, he’d begun to return those little touches and looks in response to her own, as if he were now free to do so. Words had always seemed to trip Inuyasha up, but when you paid attention to what he wasn’t saying, he could speak so eloquently.

When she’d finally managed to get to sleep, she’d been woken by a nightmare. And he’d been there almost before she’d been able to get her eyes open, picking her up, still cocooned in her sleeping bag, and carrying her back over to his usual position against the wall of Kaede’s hut. She’d spent the rest of the night cradled against his chest, that soothing rumble of his allowing her to get back to sleep for a few hours at least.

The weight of her father’s backpack on her shoulders was comforting. He had often walked mountain trails with friends, and his bag was just as he’d left it. For the first time in a while, she felt closer to him, almost like he was hugging her close. She had felt almost naked without her bow and quiver, but having her father’s backpack helped a little. Kaede had offered hers, but Kagome worried that might leave the village defenseless against a random youkai attack.

“Don’t do anythin’ stupid today Kagome, do ya hear me?” Inyuasha rumbled, his voice barely affected by the ground eating pace he’d been setting. They were getting closer now, the large trees of the forest surrounding the village slowing Inuyasha’s pace and forcing Kirara to fly above with Sango and Miroku.

“Shouldn’t I be saying that to you?” she replied in a teasing tone.

“I mean it wench! I got that feeling in my gut and it ain’t good.”

Kagome sobered immediately. They’d all grown to trust Inuyasha’s ‘feelings’ – he seemed to have an innate sense of when trouble was headed their way; it was probably what had kept him alive so long.

She leaned forward and dropped a light kiss on the side of his neck, sniggering a little as Inuyasha almost missed a step.

“I’ll be careful, but that goes for you too, okay? Don’t underestimate him just because he’s human – we don’t know very much about how many people he’s got working for him. Most of the villagers I saw seemed terrified, but he wouldn’t have so much power over them if he were working alone. He obviously has help.”

Her thoughts drifted to that woman, her expression ice-cold as she’d slapped her, demanding submission, and the probing feel of her fingers as she was held down, the first time anyone else had ever touched her there. She couldn’t help but shiver. She didn’t know what she feared more, the violence of the ronin or the emptiness of that woman’s expression, totally devoid of feeling, like she’d abandoned every ounce of empathy and compassion long before.

Inuyasha’s rumbling purr vibrated against her chest through his back, bringing her out of her thoughts.

“Don’t think about it Kagome”, he said quietly, his thumbs caressing the sides of her thighs.

“How did you know I..”

“Your heart’s beatin’ like a scared rabbit’s, your fingers are pinching my shoulders and you smell of fear” he said gently. He slowed his pace to a halt. “I ain’t gonna let anythin’ happen to you okay?”

Kagome sighed, loosening her grip, and she rested her forehead on his shoulder, sliding down off his back. “That doesn’t seem entirely fair you know”, she smiled, “you being able to work out how I’m feeling without me telling you.” He turned to hold her close, tucking her head under his chin to rub his cheek against her hair.

“Well, I don’t think it’s fair that you smell so damn good. It’s distracting, but you don’t see me holdin’ that against you now, do you?” he replied.

Kagome snorted, not being able to help the blush that tinted her cheeks. This was obviously Inuyasha’s version of flirting.

“Well, I guess we’re even then, because…” Her reply was cut short as Inuyasha suddenly grabbed her around the waist and juked to the right, an arrow passing by his shoulder.

He shoved her behind him snarling, his ears twitching and nose working to find out where their attacker was. He could smell a few men in the area, but it was hard to pinpoint their exact location in the trees above. They watched Kirara swoop down, and there was a startled yelp from a branch not too far away. The nekomata dropped an older man at Inuyasha’s feet, purring at Sango’s praise as she scratched the feline behind her pointed ears.

“Please, don’t kill me, I missed on purpose. I didn’t want to attack you!” The old man sunk to his knees, his bow clattering to the ground. “None of us want this but he has all of them, women and children, locked up in the head man’s house. He’s threatened to burn them alive if we don’t bring you back. Please, have mercy!”

Miroku and Sango approached with Kirara riding on Sango’s shoulder in her tiny kitten form as Kagome turned her horrified gaze to Inuyasha.

“Still want me to go easy on this asshole when we get there Kagome?” he snarled. The man shrunk back a little at the sound of Inuyasha’s snarl, and Kagome squatted down to the older man’s level.

“Be at ease”, she said gently. “We came back to offer our help.” The older man gazed into her smiling face, the bruising still vibrant against her naturally pale skin.

‘Thank the Kami”, he breathed. “They must have brought you to us. Nothing has gone right in our village since we took in this man. Truly you are heaven sent.” He dropped his forehead to the ground, which had Kagome flushing furiously in embarrassment.

“Please, don’t” she murmured, waving her hands in front of her. “It’s just the right thing to do. I could just see how frightened everyone was.”

Miroku stepped forward. “Perhaps you could explain what has been happening in your village, so we know how best to proceed?” he asked.

The man sighed, still looking uncertainly at Inuyasha’s angry expression, then sat up. The three humans sat down near him to listen, Inuyasha choosing to remain standing. Kirara dozed off in Sango’s lap.

“My name is Kenta. Last year, just before the first snow, a man came out of the forest. My wife Haruna found him laying near the stream when she went to do the washing. He was wandering in his wits – he had a head wound that was healing badly and infected. She took pity on him and brought him into our home.

It was clear to me that he was a samurai; he wore silk, and had two swords and armour. But the insignia on his equipment was not that of this land’s daimyo, and we had no idea of how far he had travelled with his injury. The village council decided we should help him. We did not think he would survive, truly there was a night where his fever raged so badly we began making preparations for his burial.

But then the fever passed and he began to regain strength. My wife nursed him back to health. He was a man of few words, but he told us his name was Eto Shinpei, that he was a samurai of a lord far to the north. He said there had been a skirmish with no survivors other than himself - he had been injured and left for dead, and then lost his way. We expected that he would leave to rejoin his lord as soon as he was able. But he made no move to leave the village. Perhaps that should have alerted us as to what was to come.”

The man hung his head and sighed. “I am not sure where he got the money from, but he moved out of our home as soon as he was able and took a room at the local inn. He began inviting men to his room, handing out sake like it was water, drawing followers to his side. He said he would train them before returning to his lord, in thanks for his rescue. Some believed it was a good thing, that he would be able to protect us from the bandits that had roamed the area the previous year, but others were not so sure.

It became apparent soon enough what sort of man he was. Previously our village had been quiet and peaceful, but he began recruiting outsiders, men with an evil reputation. Fights began to break out, and it was not safe for our women to be out after dark. One of the younger village lads, who had initially joined eager to be part of the militia and learn the skills to defend his home, overheard a conversation and went to warn the headman. He had learned that Eto was planning to set himself up in a position of power in the area, and that he planned on never leaving.”

Miroku interrupted. “Could you not have sent someone to alert your lord of this man’s transgressions? Surely he would want to defend such an attack on his land and people?”

Kenta shook his head. “I am a member of our village council. Our daimyo has long been focused on major conflicts to the east, and allows his villages to self govern, as long as we supply him with his dues at tax time. It seems Eto had figured this out, and decided to take a chance to elevate himself. It is clear to me now that he had disgraced himself in some fashion and been exiled, had become a ronin. We may never truly know what happened.”

Miroku nodded. “My apologies for the interruption, please continue.”

“The headman invited Eto to his home, wanting to get to the bottom of things. Before we knew it, Eto had slaughtered the head man and his sons. The boy who had warned the head man was also hunted down and killed by Eto’s men. The women in the head man’s family were kept in the compound, no one has seen them, even though we have tried to approach. Anyone who tried to stand up to Eto was beaten, with threats made against their family.”

His fists clenched tightly. “The members of the council met in secret, and we decided to oust this man and the outsiders he brought into our village. There was a skirmish, but not everyone has weapons. My sons…” his voice caught, and he took a deep breath before continuing. “My family are confident using archery, but we are a farming village – many men had only their farm tools. It was over quickly. Eldest sons from any family that had participated were executed.”

He looked up at Kagome’s anguished gasp, his gaze bleak. “My eldest son. My Daitaro. He was one of the men killed. Nine men in all. All of them good, strong boys, who did not deserve such a fate. My daughter-in-law a young widow, with two even younger mouths to feed. So much pain and suffering as a reward for saving this man. I wish my wife had never found him.” His head bowed lower, his fists clenching on his knees.

“You said he had the women and children?” Miroku prompted. He sighed and nodded.

“All the women and children are there in the head man’s compound where Eto has taken up residence – he and his men ambushed our homes and took them by force during the night. My wife, my daughters-in-law, my grandchildren. Eto was raving, demanding that he would not allow you to escape, not at any cost. I fear the head wound he received has made him unstable, although I do not know for sure, not knowing what he was like previously. But he is a violent, unscrupulous man, who has decided his word is law. We were told that we needed to find you and bring you back, or they would be burned.”

“Even though your Lord is too far away to assist you, could you not request help from a nearby village?” asked Sango. The old man shook his head.

“He has a foothold there too. No one has been able to get far enough away to ask for help, without Eto’s men hunting us down.”

“Don’t worry”, Inuyasha snarled, “it will be my pleasure to help you clean up the filth in this village.” His voice had taken on a deeper tone, and Kagome could feel his youki pulsing. She stood, standing close by and he wrapped his hand around Tessaiga while the other drew her back against his chest. She rubbed the fist clenched around Tessaiga’s hilt soothingly.

“If he has the village men out looking for us, where are his men?” asked Kagome.

“Most are out here in the forest, and some are there guarding the compound, at least five. I’m not exactly sure how many there are,” said the old man apologetically, gazing at Kagome and Inuyasha in wonderment.

Sango nodded. “It sounds like we need to split up. Miroku and I haven’t been seen previously. We could head through the forest and gradually alert the village men and take out the outsiders, and then work our way back to the village. Inuyasha and Kagome can head to the compound so Kagome can get the women to safety while Inuyasha deals with the rest. We just need to figure out how to assure the village men that we are on their side.”

The man let out a low warbling whistle, that sounded similar to one of the many small birds that lived in the Japanese countryside. A tall burly man carrying his own bow dropped out of a tree nearby and jogged over to them. Inuyasha gave a rumbling growl, and Kagome squeezed his arm. He huffed and rolled his eyes, but ceased the growling.

“Did you hear everything Chojiro?” the old man asked.

“Yes Otousan – I will help the monk and the taijiya alert the men loyal to the village, and then we will double back to oust the outsiders”, he said, bowing low to Miroku and Sango.

“What about us?” asked Kagome. “What if we pretend that you caught us – wouldn’t that get us straight into the compound? Then we could easily capture Eto and…”

“No.”

“But Inuyasha, it would…”

“I said no Kagome. I will find a way to get you inside to help the trapped women and children and then guard your escape. You will not be getting within inches of this fucker, do you hear me?” She looked up at his face, and was a little dismayed to see the pale lavender of his youkai markings on his cheekbones, so faint that if someone was not familiar with his usual appearance they would not notice them. She sighed, then nodded her agreement.

“Alright then, let’s go.”

The walked together with the old man through the forest. Occasionally they would hear a low whistle, which Kenta would reply to, and a villager would appear out of the trees approaching cautiously. Kenta would explain the situation, sending them off to find Miroku and Sango. He led them around the periphery of the village, staying out of sight under the shadow of the trees, until they reached the back of the headman’s compound which backed onto the river.

“We’ll take it from here”, Inuyasha grunted. The old man looked at him beseechingly, and he softened his expression. “Don’t worry old man, we’ll get them all out.” Kenta bowed, then disappeared off through the trees.

“I still got that bad feeling Kagome, so don’t do anythin’ ridiculous, okay?” whispered Inuyasha. She smiled at him, reaching up to place her palms on his cheeks then drawing him down for a soft kiss.

“I’ll be good.”

She moved to pull back, but his mouth followed hers, his kiss insistent. He backed her up until they were underneath the cover of the trees again, his clawed fingers cupping the back of her head, his tongue lapping at her lower lip, taking away the faint swelling that remained from her cuts, then nibbling gently with his teeth.

“I mean it Kagome”, he groaned, his mouth dropping to press against the soft skin underneath her ear, taking in deep breaths of her scent. “I’m only just hangin’ on here. I need you safe, and I won’t be able to hold back if he touches you again.”

“Inuyasha, please”, she whined softly as he nibbled at her throat, her hands clutching at his collars as her head fell back against the rough bark of the tree. The rumbling in his chest increased at the sound of her voice, and his tongue lapped at the soft column of her neck. How could him touching her there feel so good? It was just her neck. What would it feel like when they finally ventured into touching other places? She wanted nothing more than to push herself up against him, to kiss him, to explore these new feelings. But now was not the time. “I don’t want to stop this, I really don’t, but we need to go.”

“Just gimme one more minute. I need this.” He eased the collar of her shirt to one side, biting down gently on the corded muscle between her neck and shoulder, fangs pressing gently. This obviously meant something to him, but what? She let her head fall to the side, letting him do what he wanted, and the rumbling purr increased.”

“My Kagome.” Inuyasha released his hold on her, standing up straight, and cradled her face in his hands. “Saiai, please be safe.” He kissed her one last time, his focused gaze burning amber, then turned to squat down in front of her so that she could climb on his back.

He leapt up to the top of the nearest tree, then went from rooftop to rooftop, landing almost soundlessly on light feet, until they were on the roof of the main building in the compound. No one looked up.

“Idiots. There’s no one guarding the back”, Inuyasha snorted softly.

“Maybe because they don’t think anyone will be able to get across the river?” suggested Kagome, keeping her voice to a low whisper.

“Feh. There’s bound to be guards in the room where they’re holding them, so I want you to let me handle it, okay?” Kagome nodded, squeezing his shoulder to show her agreement.

Inuyasha leaped down from the roof, landing almost silently in a small landscaped garden near a covered walkway. Kagome slid off his back, standing up to take in their surroundings. Almost immediately there was the sound of running footsteps, and Inuyasha spun to backhand the man moving to attack them so hard that he flew back against the wall with a crash, his unconscious form crumpling on to the ground.

“Oops?” he chuckled as Kagome glared at him. Another guard appeared, and Inuyasha punched him too. He toppled like a felled tree, and Inuyasha stepped over him to guide her over to the covered walkway.

“A little overkill, don’t you think?” she muttered, as they walked quietly, her attention focused ahead of them.

“Nope.”

She rolled her eyes, poking him in the ribs and ignoring his almost silent snigger. At least punching a few people had improved his temper a little.

“Which way?” she asked, when they came to the end of the path. He placed his hand on the small of her back, guiding her to the left.

“I can hear little kids cryin’ over this way.”

Her heart in her mouth, Kagome walked with him, doing her best to walk as silently as possible. She wished she had her bow – that always made her feel braver. She knew she would never be a physical close range fighter like Sango, but at least with her bow she could protect people she cared about, and fight back. When they reached the corner, Inuyasha motioned for her to stop, then disappeared. There were a couple of thumps, and then he reappeared, his smile wide, holding up two things she recognised instantly.

‘Look what I just found.”

Kagome almost squealed out loud, covering her mouth to stop the sound coming out. “My bow! Where did you find it?”

“One of the goons at the door had it. Don’t look like he used it yet.”

With a beaming smile Kagome took her quiver from him and shrugged it over her shoulder, then grabbed her bow and knocked an arrow in readiness.

“Better?” he asked, a small crooked smile lifting one corner of his mouth.

“Much”, she agreed, taking a deep breath.

They stepped over the two unconscious men, and Inuyasha opened the door. A burly man with a sword swung at him from the side, but Inuyasha had him disarmed and unconscious in moments. Kagome breathed a sigh of relief, and placed her arrow back in her quiver. She padded quickly over to the group of huddled women and crying children, who were looking at Inuyasha in alarm.

“Is there a Haruna here?” she asked quietly. An older woman looked up, surprised to hear her name mentioned. Kagome smiled. “Kenta sent us. He and your son, Cho… Chojiro was it?” The woman nodded, tears coming to her eyes as she heard the names of her husband and son. “He and Chojiro are working with friends of ours to disarm the outsiders. If you come with me, Inuyasha and I will guard your escape. We need to take you a little way from the village, until it is all safe again. Is there a hill or a clearing nearby that would be a good place?”

Another woman spoke, cuddling a baby tightly to her, while a toddler huddled into her lap. “I know of a place. There is a clearing not too far from the river, where Daitaro…”, her voice cracked a little, and then she continued, “where Daitaro used to practice his archery.” The arm of the older woman went around her shoulders, and they shared a look, both blinking back sudden tears.

“C’mon, we gotta move, this ain’t no picnic”, muttered Inuyasha. The group of women rose cautiously, gathering their children and making shushing noises when the children began asking questions. Kagome scooped up the toddler of the woman who spoke, so that she only had her baby to carry, and Inuyasha stooped down to pick up two little boys, who looked at him with wide eyes and then back at their mother. She hovered anxiously for a moment, then nodded, her arms already full of two smaller children. He led them out into the vegetable garden at the back of the compound, halting them for a moment to sniff the breeze, then gesturing them to follow along the river bank. The little girl Kagome was carrying tugged on her shirt.

“Why does he have puppy ears?” she whispered around the thumb in her mouth. Kagome looked down at the small child in her arms. She guessed she was three or four at the most, her dark eyes round with wonder as she gazed at Inuyasha's ears, hair pulled back in small pig tails, and chubby pink cheeks streaked with dried tears. Kagome glanced up at Inuyasha too and almost giggled when the ears in question swiveled back towards them, obviously listening.

“They help him hear better”, she whispered back with a smile, shifting the toddler onto her hip.

“Will he hear the bad men that killed Papa?” A faint rumble was heard coming from the hanyou in front of her, and Kagome swallowed before answering, her throat constricting.

“Yes. That’s why we’re here to help.”

“Good.” The small child snuggled in tightly against her, her eyes leaving Inuyasha to focus on the woman walking beside Kagome. “Mama?”, she asked sleepily.

“I’m here Akiko”, the woman said quietly. She hesitated for a moment, then spoke to Kagome. “I am sorry I could not help you the day he brought you to the village.” Kagome’s eyebrows furrowed in puzzlement, and the woman continued. “Eto was dragging you along the street. You looked at me and asked for help and I turned my back on you.” She bit her lip. "I am ashamed", she whispered.

Kagome suddenly remembered the terrified woman standing in front of her home with a child, who ducked behind the door covering.

“It’s alright,” she replied, giving the woman a small smile. “There is no need for shame. You are a mother – your children should always come first.”

“Thank you for understanding”, she whispered. “If Daitaro had been there, maybe… maybe…” She closed her eyes, pressing her lips tightly together, unable to stop her bottom lip trembling.

Kagome’s breath caught in her throat. She had been going to say ‘everything will be okay’, but for this family, it wouldn’t be. Things would never go back to the way they had before. She took another deep breath.

“When my father was killed, my mother was sad for a very long time”, she began hesitantly, keeping her voice to a whisper. “But Mama said talking about him helped. Talking about all the silly things he did and said, all the things we loved about him, kept him alive in here”, she said, gesturing towards her heart. “I only have a few clear memories of my father, because I wasn’t much older than Akiko, but those precious memories I do have survived because even though Papa was gone, we still talked about him all the time.”

Kagome focused her gaze on Inuyasha’s strong back and the pointed white ears twitching on his head, trying to give the woman as much privacy as she could. Even now they were under the shadows of the trees as they approached the clearing, the tears trickling down the woman’s face were clearly visible. “I am so sorry this has happened to your family”, she said, her voice determined, “but we will do our best to make things as right as we can.”

They entered the clearing, and the women sat down, gathering in a circle with their children in the centre. Inuyasha was pacing nervously and she moved towards him.

“Is everything okay?” she asked. She almost giggled when he sneezed violently, but then she caught his expression. “What’s wrong?”

“I can smell somethin’ – it ain’t a smell I know, but I don't like it. We need to be ready.” Kagome was about to put Akiko down and let her toddle back over to her mother, when Inuyasha suddenly snarled.

“Kagome, get back, he’s here!” He pushed her backwards, away from him, and she only just managed to keep her footing with the added weight of Akiko in her arms.

A small clay pot flew through the air, smashing in front of Inuyasha, and dark yellow smoke billowed out, the stench making him stagger back.

Kagome coughed, doing her best to tuck Akiko’s face into her chest closely to shield her. “Everyone cover their face and try not to breathe in the smoke! If you have a scarf, wrap it around your child’s mouth and nose!”

Inuyasha dropped to the ground, retching suddenly, and with horror, Kagome realised that whatever had been thrown at them was probably targeted to him. Sango carried powdered youkai poisons which she burned to immobilise youkai. Many only stunned but a few were deadly - what had been thrown?

She squinted into the smoke, coughing as it irritated her own throat. Putting Akiko down so she could knock an arrow, she aimed desperately from one point to another, trying to find a target, but it was impossible. She could hear the frightened wails of small children behind her, feel the frightened grip that Akiko had on her leg. Her mother was calling to her frantically, but it appeared the small child was too frightened to move. Inuyasha retched again and Kagome knew they needed to end this fast, so they could find Sango and hopefully administer an antidote.

“Show yourself, you coward!” she screamed, her bowstring pulled taut and ready for release, her weeping eyes focused on the direction of where the clay pot had come from. There was a startled scream from Akiko, and the small child was wrenched away from Kagome’s side making her stagger.

The wind shifted, blowing some of the smoke away, and Kagome blinked in terror. He was there, the ronin, and he had Akiko, one arm wrapped around her waist, and the other holding a short tanto blade against the girl’s neck, the cold metal glinting in the sunlight.

“I’ll cut her throat”, he snarled, shaking the small girl like a kitten as she struggled to get free. At the touch of cold metal on her neck the child froze, her wide eyed stare frozen on Kagome’s face. Kagome could hear the stifled wail of a woman behind her, and the little girl whimpered, slow tears streaking down her face.

“Mama.”

The word was faint, like a whispered prayer, hardly audible over the coughing growl of Inuyasha as he struggled to clear the putrid smelling smoke from his lungs. If her nose and eyes were streaming, he must be in agony. She hoped with all her might that the others might have seen the sudden plume of smoke and would come to investigate. As far as she knew, Sango, Miroku and Kirara were still leading the villagers in an attack against the ronin's mercenaries. Kagome focused on the man and child in front of her, blocking out the sound of Inuyasha’s coughing snarls and the frightened women and children behind her.

She slid her quiver slowly off her shoulder, freezing as the burly man pressed the short blade closer to the child’s neck. A thin rivulet of blood trickled down her pale throat, and she heard the mother moan behind her.

“A child makes a very poor hostage”, Kagome said, trying to keep her voice steady.

“You offering to take her place woman?” he leered. “You very rudely left before we could start anything fun. You coming back for more?”

Kagome’s back stiffened as she heard the frenzied growling from behind her. Inuyasha was obviously trying to stagger to his feet, but then fell again, hard. She had no idea what it was that had been thrown at him, whether it was meant to poison him or just slow him down. She wanted more than anything to turn to him, make sure he was okay. But a child’s life was at stake here. Maybe if she could keep Eto talking…

“What if I did agree to go with you. Would you let the child go? You know she’ll only slow you down.”

She dropped her bow on the ground, and stepped forward, holding her hands up in a gesture of surrender. Her heart was beating so fast she could practically feel it like a hard ball of muscle bouncing in her chest. The little girl blinked at her with wide frightened eyes; she’d stopped moving as if knowing it was useless to fight against the strong grip that held her. Kagome strengthened her resolve. This was the right thing to do. She could not stand by and see a child injured when she could do something about it.

“I promise, I’ll let you take me without a fight. Just let the girl go.”

In a movement that was so fast she hardly had time to gasp, the girl was thrown aside, and the ronin had hold of her, one fist wrapped around her hair, extending her neck so that her face tilted upwards, the other pressing his tanto close to her throat. She could feel the cool sting of the metal against her skin and she froze.

“See that dog? You’ve lost.” The ronin yanked back on her hair so her face was tilted skyward, and she had to struggle to keep Inuyasha in view. “My men are scattered. I will have start over again at another village. You might have destroyed everything I’ve worked for, but you’re going to be the loser. Because I’m going to take this girl of yours and ruin her beyond recognition. That poison should paralyze you for an hour or so, and my men will keep the other two busy while I make my escape. By the time you find her, there’s not going to be much left.”

Kagome’s eyes widened when she saw the pure fury on Inuyasha’s face. He tried to stand, and dropped again, his claws scrabbling convulsively in the earth. Drool dripped from his mouth as he snarled out her name.

“Inu…”, she whispered. “I’m sorry.”

She hissed as the ronin yanked on her hair again. “Not as sorry as you’re gonna be, bitch. Time to leave - you and I are going to get much better acquainted”.

The ronin laughed as he backed them into the trees, away from the clearing. Tears slipped down Kagome’s face as she watched as Inuyasha kept struggling to stand, his frenzied howling of her name growing louder. She tried her best to keep her eyes on him, wanting to convey to him her sorrow that she had been unable to follow his plea that she keep herself safe. The ronin sheathed his blade, then wrapped his fist around her wrist, dragging her off into the shadow of the trees.

#mamabearcat fanfics #the ronin #inukag fanfic #inukag #canon inukag

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waaty · 5 years ago

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submission: Devilman ovas

You said that the devilman ovas 3, 4, and 5 never came to be but that's not true. They did make the anime of them when ryo and Akira fight each other and ryo cuts Akira in half and you see them both laying on the ground after there fight. Akira guts are hanging out. For some reason it's like it never came out but it did. I remember watching it when I rented it from block buster in the late 90's. I found vol. 3 cant find the 1 where Akira and Ryo fight now

———-

i have no idea how to reply to these anymore sorry this looks weird!

honestly i’ve never seen anything like that even from the japanese side of the fandom, could it be possible you’re thinking of another OVA? there were a lot of OVAs similar to devilman in the 80s and 90s. but if you have pictures or videos of what you do have i’d love to see!

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wisdomfish · 5 years ago

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Think clearly and correctly about temptation. Paul writes, “No temptation has overtaken you that is not common to man. God is faithful, and he will not let you be tempted beyond your ability, but with the temptation he will also provide the way of escape, that you may be able to endure it” (1 Corinthians 10:13). You are not immune to temptation. You are not unique when tempted. You are not alone in your temptations. James writes, “Let no say when he is tempted, ‘I am being tempted by God,’ for God cannot be tempted with evil, and he himself tempts no one. But each person is tempted when he is lured and enticed by his own desire. Then desire when it has conceived gives birth to sin, and sin when it is fully grown brings forth death” (James 1:13-15). You cannot gain victory over temptation fighting the wrong battles. Do not blame God. Do not trust yourself. Do not be deceived about temptation.

Renew your mind.Temptation is a battle of the mind. We often lose when temptation comes, because we give up too much territory before the battle ever begins. Paul admonishes, “Therefore let anyone who thinks that he stands take heed lest he fall” (1 Corinthians 10:12). You can easily fall, if you have faulty thinking about yourself, temptation, and sin. You must renew your mind: “Do not be conformed to this world, but be transformed by the renewal of your mind, that by testing you may discern what is the will of God, what is good, acceptable, and perfect” (Romans 12:2). Victory over temptation the spiritual power of a renewed mind: “Finally, brothers, whatever is true, whatever is honorable, whatever is just, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is commendable, if there is any excellence, if there is anything worthy of praise, think about these things” (Philippians 4:8).

Fight.Temptation is spiritual warfare. To gain victory over temptation, you must fight! James gives a crash course in spiritual warfare in one verse: “Submit yourselves therefore to God. Resist the devil, and he will flee from you” (James 4:7). This is a remarkable promise. The devil will flee from you, like a defeated army in full retreat. But Satan does not withdraw automatically. You must first submit to God. In a real sense, you cannot win over Satan until you learn to lose to God. Then the submissive believer must resist the devil. Victory over temptation requires that you stand your ground and fight. This spiritual battle may require extreme measures. You may have to tear out your right eye or cut off your right hand to resist temptation (Matthew 5:29-30). But it is worth whatever it costs you to win the battle against temptation and live in obedience to God.

Avoid Temptation.Warning against sinful temptations, Solomon asked, “Can a man carry fire next to his chest and his clothes not be burned? Or can one walk on hot coals and his feet not be scorched?” (Proverbs 6:27-28) These rhetorical questions assume a negative answer. Likewise, they teach us that the best way to gain victory over temptation is to avoid it altogether. It is foolish to stick your hand into a fire and then pray for strength, protection, or intervention. If you do not want to be burned, stay away from the fire! And if you want to resist temptation, stay away from places, practices, and, yes, people, that feed your temptations. Paul exhorts, “But put on the Lord Jesus Christ, and make no provision for the flesh, to gratify its desires” (Romans 13:14). Avoid temptation. Don’t trust yourself. Don’t stick your hand into the fire. Don’t give your flesh any opportunity to gratify its desires.

Make Yourself Accountable to Godly People.When fallen leaders are surveyed, the same responses emerge. First, they did not think it would happen to them. Second, they did not have people in their lives who told them the truth. The fact that spiritual leaders fall when they do have healthy relationships should be a stern warning to us all. You cannot overcome temptation on your own. You need godly people in your life. And these godly people need to be free to hold you accountable. That is, they should be free to ask you personal questions, challenge the answers you give, and follow up to see if you are keeping your word. I know this seems inconvenient, if not invasive. But if you do not have people who will speak the truth in love to you, you will succumb to the lies your flesh tell you. “Two are better than one,” wrote Solomon (Ecclesiastes 4:9a). He explains: “And though a man might prevail against one who is alone, two will withstand him – a threefold cord is not quickly broken” (Ecclesiastes 4:12).

Put the Past Behind You. As we deal with temptation, we must forget the failures of the past. Indeed, we should remember the lessons of the past. But must not let yesterday’s failure’s control our past and determine our future. We must put the past behind us. There is only one way to do that: “If we confess our sins, he is faithful and just to forgive us our sins and to cleanse us from all unrighteousness” (1 John 1:9). If you are honest with God about your sin, he promises to blessings. First, the Lord will forgive your sin through the finished work of our Advocate, Jesus Christ the Righteous (1 John 2:1). But that’s not all! The Lord will also cleanse us from all unrighteousness. The God who forgives sin also cleanses sin. God can create within you a clean heart (Psalm 51:10) that puts the past behinds you and gives you a new start.

Set Your Desires on Godly Satisfaction. “Just follow your heart,” may seem like good advice. But it is actually the worst advice anyone can give you. Our hearts are deceitful above all things (Jeremiah 17:9). And left to their natural devices, our hearts will inevitably lead us astray. Victory over temptation requires that we set our hearts on something above and beyond us (Colossians 3:1-2). We must set our affections on God. David wrote, “Delight yourself in the Lord, and he will give you the desires of your heart” (Psalm 37:4). If you delight in the Lord, he will teach your heart what to desire and fulfill those godly desires. Temptation cannot lead you astray when your delight is in God, not the things of this world. Moses prays, “Satisfy us in the morning with your steadfast love, that we may rejoice and be glad all our days” (Psalm 90:14). True joy is only found in the satisfaction of living in the loyal love of God in Christ.

Remember the Lord. Potiphar’s wife tried to seduce Joseph. He resisted. But she insisted that he go to bed with her. Firmly refusing to give in to temptation, Joseph asked, “How then can I do this great wickedness and sin against God?” (Genesis 39:9) Joseph fully understand it would betray Potiphar’s trust to sleep with his wife. But Joseph stated that it would be a great act of wickedness against God, not Potiphar. Temptation seduces the mind and causes us to forget about God. We overcome temptation by remembering the Lord. When sin solicits you, ask yourself questions that will force you to remember the Lord. Can I thank God for what I am tempted to do? (1 Thessalonians 5:18) Can I do this in the name of the Lord Jesus Christ? (Colossians 3:17) Can I do this to the glory of God? (1 Corinthians 10:31) Remembering the Lord weakens the power of temptation and gives strengthens your resolve to please him.

Commit Yourself to Good Works. You go into the field and pull up weeds. But your work is not done. You must plant seed that will be fruit to replace the weeds. If you allow the ground to lay fallow, uprooted weeds will grow again. So it is in dealing with temptation. Paul wrote, “Do not be slothful in zeal, be fervent in spirit, serve the Lord” (Romans 12:11). The old saying is true, “The idle mind is the devil’s workshop.” The more you consume your life with the fruit of righteousness the less room you give for the seeds of temptation to grow. 1 Corinthians 15:58 reads, “Therefore, my beloved brothers, be steadfast, immovable, always abounding in the work of the Lord, knowing that in the Lord your labor is not in vain.” Always be at work for the Lord. In fact, abound in the work of the Lord. Your labor in the Lord will not be in vain. Faithful service will have a sanctifying effect in you as you serve others for Christ’s sake.

Depend on the Power of the Lord Jesus Christ. You cannot gain victory over temptation in your own wisdom, strength, or resources. You need divine help that only comes through Jesus Christ. Paul calls the saints to arms: “Finally, be strong in the Lord and in the strength of his might. Put on the whole armor of God, that you may be able to stand against the schemes of the devil” (Ephesians 6:10-11). The power of Satan is deceit. He schemes against believers to undermine and overthrow our faith in Christ. But God has given you the armor you need to stand firm. The whole armor of God is effectively by the strength and might of the Lord. You can only wear and work the armor by the power of Christ. This is the believer’s only hope for gaining victory over temptation. I can state it in five words: Jesus only. And only Jesus. Trust Jesus can clear your guilt. Trust Jesus can change your habits. Trust Jesus can conquer your problems.

~ H.B. Charles

#christianity #life #victory #temptation #overcomer

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hyojinrk-archived · 5 years ago

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— i’ll invite you to a wonderful world.

[ h2yo has uploaded a new video! ☆ ( 0:07 - 0:21 ; 0:52 - 1:35 ; 3:33 - 4:06 ) ]

TOP COMMENTS

[ +3.4k, -251 ] hyojin-ssi... are you perhaps in your dancing phase now??ㅋㅋㅋ

[ +1.2k, -10 ] omg if you’re doing a dance cover... does that mean there’s a vocal one coming up soon?? plssss do oneㅠㅠㅠㅠㅠㅠㅠㅠㅠ

[ +362, -17 ] oh woah the improvement!! i still remember when you were struggling back on tv... and now you’re here... oppa, fighting!

it’s still a foreign feeling when he stands in the studio, tugging at the sleeves of his black t-shirt subconsciously. no matter how much he practices, he can’t shake the feeling that he doesn’t really belong here.

( you’re a singer, not a dancer. wasn’t it already enough reading the netizen comments? some people are only good at one thing, and shouldn’t overrstep their boundaries. )

“ai ya ya, tonight i’m the dancing king~”

humming to himself to loosen the strange knot in his stomach, hyojin bops his head side to side to no melody in particular as he adjusts the camera, trying to push the thoughts down. he supposes that fate has had certain things in store for him when he went onto naver a couple of days ago, spotting the bright flier advertising a dance competition.

( in retrospect, the fact that he didn’t dance was made apparent to even his own body. the memories still make his muscles hurt. )

he’s not sure what compelled him to fill out the form, the action not even registering until his eyes meet with the submission confirmation.

( you can always go back on it, something says quietly. you can just not post. you can just wait a few days for it to pass, and it’ll be like nothing ever happened. )

“hello, i’m kim hyo -- hello, i’m a contestant -- hi, i’m kim hyojin, and i’ll be participat --”

sighing and frowning, hyojin shakes his head. maybe no intro.

( he’ll do better this time. with the weight of taeyang’s elimination now nothing but a small speck of regret that lingers at the back of his head during late, dark, nights, he’s a little more confident in himself. besides, at least he can’t say now that he didn’t try to get better. )

///

the moment the red light of the camera flickers on, hyojin backs up, tucking his shirt into his trackpants a final time, bouncing on the heels of his feet lightly as he makes sure to press play on his phone connected to the speakers. he has a good feeling about this runthrough.

when the music starts, he’s already standing in place at the center of the studio floor, waiting for his cue in the music to pose, rolling his arm down to point at the ground beside him and crossing his leg over, before sliding to rest his knees on the ground.

on the first ‘hey,’ he jumps up, flicking his wrist one way and then the other in time with the other shouts. his muscles feel like they’re burning ever so slightly, but it’s a good burn, not one that slows him down. it’s like an exercise session gone well, the kind that strengthens the body instead of tiring it out.

letting the beat continue to carry him away as he starts to move the rest of his limbs carefully, the movement ingrained into his muscles from many late night practices alone, a slight grin makes its way onto his face, the only expression visible underneath the visor of his cap.

fortunately, the dance had just enough pauses and poses to allow him to regain his breath without being too obvious, and by the time the final dance break came on, the bright shine to his eyes is no longer hidden as he lifts up a hand to tear off the snapback, revealing his tousled hair and bright smile at the pause before the instrumental break.

mouthing along with the “hey”s, he makes sure to keep at least every step here precise. even if the moves weren’t the most polished, at least the energy was there.

///

he barely has enough time to bow before the song ends, marking the finish of his 90 seconds. flopping on the ground right after, the camera still very much rolling but his brain coaxing him to just lay and breathe, he’ll worry over it later while editing the video, hyojin lets out a final shout before shutting his eyes.

looks like there’s no going back.

#&. h2youtube #&. galaxy #rkmbcdc #( +2 dance )#[[ i was going to do it for the memes #but then i realized he can actually kind of dance now ANKSDNKDSF #so a semi-serious (?) attempt #not really he's a grandpa don't be fooled!!#wc: 679

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zendozebra · 7 years ago

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All the Time in the World Chapter 16

Murata Ichigo was always told that he would serve the Time Stopper. That it was his birthright. A privilege. He was always told, “Obey his commands without question, and you will be rewarded.” He had seen his father commit terrible, horrible acts, senselessly. Torture for trivial amounts of information or money, and murder for even less. To Ichigo, the Time Stopper was an enigma; a man who created chaos for little to no reason, and didn’t even seem to care about it. He had always imagined a large, imposing man, that would take those who wronged him and turn them into twisted creations of flesh and blood. He was supposed to be a barbarian, a brute, one who had been allowed to live for over a hundred years while maintaining the prime of his youth, and would use that decades-old wisdom to torment those he despised. All he truly knew was that the man was meant to be feared and respected, and praised by both his father and Ichigo himself. So imagine Ichigo’s surprise when Time Enough was revealed to be a simple man, lean and muscular instead of large and towering with mass. He wasn’t even all that tall, either, just average height at most. He spoke oddly, like a man who cared too little and too much all at the same time, but his eyes were dull and dead. The eyes of someone who was bored. There were no light in his eyes, and they were often glazed over and unfocused. Ichigo’s father told him that their master was sick, that he’d lost what had given him his light. He’d gone to a bad place, and was trying and failing to bring himself back. He had been alone, all alone, for a long, long time. But Ichigo’s father was in no place to argue against the master’s wishes, for that was the vow he’d taken. Obey, and be rewarded. He was certainly rewarded, as Ichigo’s father had never once complained about money or food. Majima-sama had once asked for Ichigo to be brought to him, so there the boy kneels before the villain, barely 9 years old. His father stands to the side, nervously watching the master stare down the child. There were bottles upon bottles of liquor covering the floor, and the curtains were drawn shut, casting the room in a smothering layer of shadows. He held a cigarette between his fingers, and smoke curled through the air that surrounded him. The Time Stopper stood up, taking the pistol from the table beside him. He bent down in front of Ichigo, who looked up into the eyes of his so-called master. The words of his father echoed in his mind as the Time Stopper held the gun out to the boy. ‘Obey his commands without question, and you will be rewarded.’ Time Enough handed the boy the gun, and he gave his command. “Kill yourself.” So, without question, Ichigo placed the barrel into his mouth and pulled the trigger. He was thrown to the ground as the bullet pierced the ceiling, and Time Enough’s laughter echoed throughout the room, loud and deep. The elder Murata sighed in relief, giving Ichigo a small smile and a proud nod. “Holy fuck kid, you’re the best.” The master managed to say through his howls of laughter, “People will- Oh god I’m crying- People will usually punk out, but no, man, if you’re a fucking true believer, and you fucking believe in Majima, you kill yourself with no hes-” At this point he devolved into a mess of giggles and tears. It took the man a good few minutes to calm down, but when he did, he looked at Ichigo with a soft smile. “You know, I like your moxie, kid. I think I’m gonna help you out a bit. Got any plans for the future, little guy?” “Only to follow the path you lay out for me, Majima-sama.” “Then use your fuckin’ imagination, kid. In a world where I didn’t exist, what would you like to do for a living?” Ichigo looked at his hands, glowing softly as fire licked the tips of his fingers. “My mother was an udon ch-” “Cooking school. Got it.” The master looked over at Ichigo’s father, “Send him off, Murata. I’ve got a few ideas for what he can do, but he’s gonna need his training first. Also…” He kneeled down in front of Ichigo, “I noticed that quirk of yours… I see a lot of potential. Keep training it, but don’t let anyone know the extent of your power. Always keep an ace up your sleeve.” The master looked away, turning back to his father to talk about plans, but Ichigo had seen it. A faint little twinkle of something in the man’s dark eyes. Maybe he would regain that light one day, but not for a long, long time.

XXXXXXXXXXXX

Majima walked into the restaurant, a hostess catching sight of him and immediately sitting him down at a table near the back of house. She handed him the menu, and offered him some wine, but he waved her off, asking for some soda instead. As with every visit to Othello, he had to take a moment to take in just how opulent and elegant his best worker’s establishment was. He took a look around, noticing that the owner had changed the three tapestries on the walls since his last visit. No longer did the walls show a choir of 4 angels, the temptation of 2 of them, and how the tempted 2 were damned, while the untempted 2 were allowed to ascend. Instead they now showed a Lovecraftian monster fighting a large knight, the monsters defeat at the hands of the knight, and- “Oh my, now isn’t this a pleasant surprise, Majima-sama. What brings a man of your stature to my humble little restaurant?” The old, hunched-over form of Murata Ichigo made his way over to Majima, looking every bit like the grandfather he was at heart. Still running his beloved restaurant at the age of 99, this was the man who’d worked for Time Enough for almost 90 years, now, and had been unquestionably loyal throughout that time. Yet at the same time… “Oh, cut the shit, Murata. Humble my ass, you have a fucking crystal centerpiece not 20 meters from us. How’s the family coming along?” Murata sat down, smiling kindly at the waitress who brought a glass of water for him, along with Majima’s coke. “Oh, just fine, sir. My son is getting ready to take over for me, and my great grandson is doubling his training regime. He’s aiming to get into Shiketsu High School, you know, and I know he’ll make a great hero.” Majima raised an eyebrow at that. “Hero training? Won’t that be a little, ya know, counter productive? He’ll know exactly where to look to out you to the public, and we both know that Iwasaki and Ishii aren’t exactly made to replace you. Hell, I don’t even think your son is made to replace you.” “Well, we must make do with the best we have, sir. Besides, who am I to tell my family what they can or can’t do. I know that somewhere down the line, Hori-kun will meet you, and you will find a way to convince him to keep quiet.” “You know that I am more than willing to beat your little Hori-kun into submission, right?” “Then I hope he trains hard enough to survive you, sir.” Majima laughed, remembering just why he’d always liked Murata more than the others. He understood what loyalty was, unlike Iwasaki, who he was starting to believe was planning against him. Other than that, Ishii had always been a bit… Bland. Sure, he was a good worker, and he listened to Majima fine enough, but he didn’t stand out all too much. It’s just a shame that Ishii’s position within the Hero Billboard Chart Japan offices is too valuable for Majima to just fire him. Murata had that air of a man who’s accomplished every goal he’s made for himself, which is true, since that goal was usually just “Follow Majima Kokiri”. “We have a lot to discuss, Murata. Let’s take this to your office.” Majima got out of his seat, walking past the old man and towards the door that had a golden plaque with Murata’s name on it. Murata followed after him, worrying in his grandfatherly way, “Majima-sama, weren’t you going to order a meal?” He tittered, “We can always prepare it for you to take it with you, sir. We’ve hired a new chef since your last visit, and I know you want to try his steak recipes!” “No, I’m good. I have my whole day planned out, and it’s bad luck to go against a plan before it’s fallen apart. We have a lot to talk about, and we need to get started.” “You know, sir, a plan never survives contact with the enemy.” “I’m not facing any enemies today, Murata. Only friends, and maybe a few of my students, if everything goes my way.” Majima lets Murata sit down on his own chair. Unlike with Iwasaki, Murata knows his place in this little group of his, so asserting dominance is unnecessary. Plus, the chair is padded in a way to help Murata’s back, so it’d be rude to take that away from him. “Alright, first things first, I hope you’ve gotten in contact with Ueno’s boys already. They’re not quite as good as their father was, but they’ve got the connections needed to get the shit we’re looking for, all the high-yield stuff. For the smaller stuff that I’ve got Iwasaki looking for, they’ll be able to help him out.” “Already done, Majima-sama. Ueno Jun and Ueno Len have already provided Iwasaki with the sidearm you requested along with both shotguns, and have shipped all of the ammo for it, as well as all of the shells. They tell me that they’re having trouble finding the dragon breath shells, as well as everything to do with the high-caliber rifles. They’re proving to be quite elusive, sir.” “Then I guess Iwasaki is just waiting to get everything together before he gives me a call. How about you? Your guys find anything yet?” “It’s only been a few days, sir, so the only thing we’ve gotten our hands on are the frag grenades and the lower tiered alkaline metals. The rest of the explosives will take a bit more time to acquire.” “You have until after the provisional license exams. I don’t want any major problems to get in the way of seeing what my students can do when their skills are really put to the test.” “That reminds me, Majima-sama. Why is it you’re teaching at UA, exactly? Care to put an old man’s mind at ease, sir?” Murata gave Majima a cheeky grin, making him scoff a bit, though he did smile. “Knock it off, you shit-bag. The reason I’m going to create to get you off of my back is that teaching at UA gives me an insight into the heroes movements, allowing me to plan around my enemies.” “But the real reason, sir?” “They’re good people, and they have a lot of potential. They plan to do whatever it takes to achieve their goals, and I can respect that. I want to see where it is they’re headed, and where they’ll end up. Aimi was a hero, way back when, and a few of them remind me of her. Plus, some small part of me wanted to spite Akira in any way I could, so, you know…” Murata nodded, understanding what Majima was trying to say. “Perhaps we should get back to the plan, sir. I believe you said that you had plans for today? We wouldn’t want to let you wander too far off schedule.” “Yeah, alright. Where were we? The prison, yeah. Tartarus is going to be heavily guarded, that’s not too big a problem. Guards I can deal with. Heroes are going to create factors I’d rather not deal with. They’ll make going in and out of Time Stop a bit more complicated than I’d like. To make sure that as many eyes as possible are looking away from the prison, we need to set you up around UA, put you in one of the buildings near the school. We’ll set up your Sun directly above the school, keep eyes off of me. Only shoot your shit when you think everyone is calming down, and only aim for the buildings. If you hit any of the students, you’ll have to explain yourself to me. But, if you see a guy with blonde hair wearing leather, then feel free to take a few pot shots. I’m still bitter about that time he spilled coffee all over my lecture notes. Ended up giving out confidential information that Nezu got mad at me for.” “They’ll search the area, sir. What should I do should they barge into whatever building I’m in?” “You’re old, Murata. We’ll move all of your stuff in, set it up like you live there. Whatever happens, don’t let Eraserhead use his quirk on you. Act old and senile, and if you have to, get angry at all these youngsters barging into your house. You never updated your Quirk Registry, right?” “I’m still registered with a weak fireball quirk, sir.” “Good, good. Alright, well, I’ve got shit to do today. Make sure you call Ueno’s boys, make sure Iwasaki’s keeping up on his shopping list. I’m gonna head out.” Majima turned and left, walking out of the back room and onto the main floor of the restaurant, with Murata following a few meters behind him. “Yo, I’m stealing a bottle of wine by the way.” Majima called back, grabbing a bottle from the rack as he walked by and startling the waiter that had been taking an order nearby. “What is mine is yours, sir, you know this. But I was under the impression that you were a sober man now, trying to be better. For your students, if I remember correctly?” “Well, more for three students, if I’m completely honest. Ibara has those weird beliefs about alcohol or whatever, but Iida and Yaoyorozu had started to give me shit for it. Plus, I’ve been thinking about Kori a lot. Don’t think she’d want her old man to be drinking as much as I was. Besides, the bottle’s not just for me, I’m sharing it with a pretty lady tonight.” “A lady?” Murata had a confused look on his face. “I was unaware that you’d begun dating again sir, but…” He looked down for a moment, and Majima turned around to check why he’d stopped talking. When he brought his head up, a wide smile was covering his face, like a child coming face to face with their favorite hero, or just Izuku whenever Yagi walked into the room. “Well, I’m just so happy that you’re finally letting yourself be happy again, sir! You’ve been so sad for so long, the whole time I’ve ever known you. I’m so, so happy that you’re doing this for yourself, sir! Getting back into the game, as you used to tell me!” Majima looked away, growing uneasy with just how happy Murata was. He was always trying to look out for the time stopper. “Yeah, yeah, whatever. Get back to work, Murata, I need you to be quick with that shopping list. The longer we wait, there’s a higher chance that Akira might try to pull something.” With that said, Majima time stopped his way back to his apartment, closing the door behind him and throwing his coat onto his couch, right next to a Uraraka. He moved into the hallway, pulling his shirt off and closing the bathroom door and started warming up the water. Seriously, over 200 years and they still couldn’t get showers to start off with hot water? That’s probably the only thing he’d been looking forward to during eternity. He set his phone to play some music while he took a shower, something light and jazzy, he’s trying to stay in a good mood, after all. He hopped right i- He turned the water off, put his pants back on and walked back out and into his living room, eyeing the brunette sitting on his couch. He pointed a finger at her, saying “You better hope the school doesn’t have your parents’ phone number on record girl, cause I will be giving them a call about this.” “Wait wait wait, Majima-sensei, please hear me out!” She exclaimed, hopping off of his couch and waving her arms about. Her face was bright red, almost stammering her words as Majima backed away from her. “You stay far the fuck away from me, girl! This already looks bad enough if someone else were to barge in here. Speaking of, how the hell did you even get in here? The only people who have a key are Nezu, Iida, Midoriya and myself. Which of them gave you their key?” “A-Actually, sensei, Nezu-sensei gave me my own key. He told me it was to ‘Pay him back for running away from his responsibilities like a child’.” “That asshole!” Majima yelled, but he quickly took a deep breath and calmed himself down. Today was not the day for this shit, that’s for sure. “Look, just… Just what do you want?” “Is there… Do you happen to know a place that is willing to hire me for a part time position? Money has been a little tight, lately and Nezu overheard me talking to Deku-kun and Iida-kun about it. He gave me a key to your apartment and told me to wait for you to get back.” “Yeah, for future reference, don’t do that. Part time, huh? Whatever, not my place to ask why, not that I care, but I can set you up with a restaurant gig, how’s that? I just got back from talking to one of my guys, owns that place down on Shikifuku Street, high-end place, classy. I’ll get your number off of Midoriya, and I’ll have my guy call you. Now get out, I have a busy day today.” She surprised him by beginning to perform a rapid series of bows, saying thank you over and over in a way that reminded him of Izuku. Finally, after about a minute of this, Majima had enough and just kicked her out. “Oh, shit, uh, when you get back to the dorms, tell Sato to start preparing a little chiffon cake for me, I need it for a date later. Tell ‘im I’ll pay for it.” With a nod of her head she was off, leaving him alone to finally take a shower. When he finished up, he used a towel to wipe away the fog in the mirror, and set about doing something he hadn’t done in 200 years- Trimming his hair and cleaning up his beard. Majima’s not an idiot, he knows that he looks like a homeless man most of the time, but today is about putting your best foot forward, and god damnit, he’s going to look nice for once. Who care if his body resets later tonight, he only has to look good for one day. 30 minutes later, his hair was a tad bit shorter and his face was completely clean shaven. He left the bathroom, putting on a black dress shirt and his best pair of slacks. He glanced at the full length mirror he had on the wall, catching sight of himself. He thought he looked good, even Kayama would probably say so, and god knows she has her tastes. He grabbed his jacket and left, heading to a small soba place down the street. He picked up some hayashi chuka, since hot noodles had always given her a stomach ache. Plus, ordinary cold soba was too cheap for what he had planned, and he’d finally snuck into Nezu’s office to grab all of his paychecks. As a result, he had money to throw around, meaning he was gonna get the best of everything he needed. Good thing Murata’s place was so high class, cause the wine he grabbed wasn’t cheap. He’d even gone so far as to buy some nice crystal wine glasses for later. See, no one can try to say that Majima wasn’t making an effort. He walked back onto the UA campus, passing an irritated Aizawa as he trained that purple kid from the sports festival. That reminded him of something he’d been talking to Kayama about, should he get an apprentice? Aizawa had the purple kid, Yagi had Izuku, hell even Yamada had been eyeing Aoyama. Should he take a student under his wing, show them all about villainy? Maybe, we’ll see. He got to the 1-A dorms and looked around for Sato, finding him in the kitchen just putting the finishing touches on the cake. He paid Sato 5,000 yen for the cake, overpaying a bit because he was in a good mood. He packed away the cake, and nodded happily when he decided that he had everything he’d need for his date. He left the dorms, walking to the train station, not wanting to use Time Stop and walk the whole way to the park. The train took about 30 minutes, and Majima was careful to not jostle his bags too much, lest he break the wine bottles or glasses. Without those, his entire plan is going to fall apart, and he’d be sorely tempted to cry. Well, not real- Yeah, no, really. He’s trying really hard, it would probably be worth a few tears. He hopped off of the train, checking his phone to check the time and continued down the street, heading towards the park. Majima passed a few little fields where children were running around and playing games, and he had to duck to avoid getting hit in the head with a soccer ball. He finally got to where he was headed, pushing past those big iron gates, wincing when they screeched open. That really hammered a few things home. Just how long has it been? He carried his bags down the gravel path, passing a few people here and there, but the park was an old one, very old, so there weren’t too many that he had to worry about. Mostly small families, trying to teach their little ones a bit of family history and whatnot. Majima was heading to the farthest part of the park, all the way towards the back, so he knew he wouldn’t have to deal with any of them. Still, knowing they were around put him on edge. Where there were people, there was the opportunity for crime time funzies, and with crime time funzies came heroes. With heroes came the cops, then investigations, then blah blah blah, you get the point. He didn’t want to deal with that today. He walked for about 20 minutes, the air around him growing colder as night grew closer. He looked up, guessing he had about another 15 minutes before the last of the sun’s light fell over the horizon. That was fine, he only needed just enough time to get them all set up. Eventually, he arrived at the very back of the park, where trees were wide and the grass tall. The benches scattered here and there were old, even older than he was, and were rusted and rotted, falling apart with age. The gravel path had become cobblestone, and the tall rocks that surrounded him were crumbling away. Except for one, though, standing tall, proud, and polished against the dreariness around it, and that’s where his date was waiting for him. He smiled, and laughed as he ran the last few meters to meet here. “There you are, I’ve been looking for you. You wouldn’t believe the day that I’ve had, let me tell you. I had to visit Murata, make plans for murder, you know how that usually works out, then I had to get one of my students a job- Oh, it’s been nonstop all day.” He sat down, looking at the sunset before he started unpacking his bags. “It’s been awhile since we’ve done this, so I made sure I got you your favorite.” He put one of bowls of hayashi chuka on the ground in front of him, before grabbing his own, taking a bite. Majima pulled the chiffon cake out, setting it to the side as he grabbed the wine glasses. Grabbing the bottle of the dark red liquor, he pulled the cork out with a grunt, laughing softly as he poured himself a glass of wine. He filled the second glass and placed it in front of the stone, leaning back and taking a drink. He glanced at the sunset, casting the sky in a beautiful array of pink and purple while as the sun finally fell past the horizon. The stars were beginning to twinkle in the night, and sighed, “So much has happened lately. Let me tell you all about it.”

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loo-cuz · 7 years ago

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Jimin finds scared bunny hybrid jungkook on the streets and takes him home? And kookie needs cuddles? You don't have to if you don't want to of course...

Jimin finds scared bunny hybrid jungkook on the streets and takes him home? And kookie needs cuddles?

Jimin didn’t exactly find him more than he found him. The hybrid.

It wasn’t exactly a cold day, it was just grey but what were they expecting of London anyway?Jimin was ready to go to work, all clad in a suit with his files to work. He was not as much of an assistant as he was working with the scientists himself. They led him do smaller experiments and handle the files for a little bit of extra money and he was very grateful for that because well he needed every bit off extra money he could get because the government didn’t support their studies. They were late in the 90s when people found out how to create a hybrid, a cross between the human species and animals. At first they did it with a monkey, the guy coming out of it was as intelligent as everyone else but the features -such as the ears and nose of a monkey- made him an outcast. People treated hybrids wrong since than and it didn’t change twenty years later.

Therefore Jimin and the scientists were working to find out a way to make out rape, assault and abuse on hybrids, evennon-verbal hybrids. They researched a lot and they had already found one way or another but it always was painful for the hybrid to go under those ministrations, so they worked on further against the will of the people who thought that hybrids were just abominations who deserved the exact treatment that they were getting.

So on this early morning to work, when Jimin was trying to not let the files fall that he just collected he ran into a boy, a little bit smaller than himself, knocking him down in the process. It was a bunny hybrid Jimin noticed when he took in the ears and the way that the boy flinched when he fell onto his butt, probably the spot where his tail stuck to him. “Excuse me, Sir,” he said. Jimin was expecting just that, every hybrid needed to treat ‘normal’ people with respect because else, well there were no safety rules or any rights for hybrids as it is. They needed to be careful in any way.“But can’t you watch your step?”He looked up at that in shock. “What?”“I said what I said,” the boy snickered before he scrambled up, grabbed the cap he had been wearing before to hide his ears before grabbing onto the news papers that he had been carrying. Oh, Jimin thought. He’s the news letters guy, the one that walks by my house every time.

Jimin was on his way to apologize when suddenly a woman came by and swatted the boy upside the head with a thick purse. “Watch your steps yourself, you filthy creature of hell! You’re not even human, how dare you insult one of the human kind?”

The hybrid was about to speak up, looked like he wanted to talk back again, when the woman suddenly pulled her phone out.

“I think I’ll just need to contact your superior. The tag on your ear mentioned the realism company, am I mistaken?”

Jimin could see the flash off hate making it’s way over the guys face before another emotion stuck to his features. Fear. It cling to him like dust, visible in the way he didn’t get up from the floor, chose to bow instead in utter submission. Jimin found it disgusting how the people around them applauded when he laid his head on the ground, his hands clasped in each other but never came an apology out of his mouth.

“It’s fine, Miss. Really, it was my fault, I got it from here,” Jimin smiles kindly, got up and assured her that everything was fine until she was finally moving away.“Are you okay?”Jimin reaches to touch the hybrids shoulder but he flinched away got to his feet and looked like he was about to run off when Jimin grabbed his hand.“Don’t go back there,” he said. “I saw you flinching, I know what they’re doing to you. Please, don’t.”The other closed his eyes and took a deep breath, before he snatched his hand back, pressing his wrist to his chest as if it has been burned.“And what do you think am I supposed to do?” he spoke blinking up at the grey sky.“You heard her yourself, I’m a creature out of hell, not even a human being, where am I supposed to go? It’s not like anyone will take me in.”

“I would.”He mustered him sideways, his eyes filled with the suspicion of the streets, the suspicion that he probably has been carrying with him since childhood. A stress that Jimin couldn’t even imagine if he tried.“Yeah, to do what? You may look kind on the outside but what’s underneath? Another rapist? An abuser? Maybe someone whose gonna hold me, the abomination, in a cage to let me starve to death?”

And Jimin hated the accuracy of his words, hated how they applied to so many people who walked past them. All those people who would be kind to Jimin but would rather have the stranger die than take him home because he had bunny ears.

“I’m not. I’m actually an assistant and- well kind of part of the scientists who are searching for ways to find out who was raped and abused and other similar stuff.”He halted for a second looking at the other guy who had a look on his face that gave away that he simply didn’t want to believe him.

“You can follow me to work if you want to. And if you… well if you like it you can come home with me. You can’t have your own room because I only have one bedroom but you can sleep on the couch, maybe I could arrange a door for the living room that you can lock in the night; I don’t know man.”

The hybrid didn’t even look at him before he abandoned the news paper into the next trash can. Than he turned and jerked his head forward as if to tell Jimin to move.

Jungkook did learn that the guy worked with the scientists that he claimed to work with but that didn’t make him want to come inside. He was still scared of being caged or similar so he waited outside until late in the evening when the kind looking stranger walked out again looking a little bit stressed out.

“I’m sorry for leaving you on your own for this long. You could’ve come inside but- yeah no I get it,” Jimin stuttered.“All good. Where’s ya home?”The hybrid was moving his head every now and than seemingly scenting the air while Jimin led him home. Maybe it’s a way of remembering where they came from, maybe he just wanted to track something else or maybe it just smelled like carrots, Jimin should stop focusing on the small details, really.

When Jungkook say his first foot through the door Jimin saw the stress that was lingering upon him, the tension running through him like little electric waves, creating their own tense atmosphere in the process.“Are you alright?”“Just- just let me take it in, okay?”And Jimin stood back while the hybrid took his first few steps inside, scented the air - Jimin still didn’t know what he was searching for - before walking further in and finally falling onto the couch, the tension flowing out of him as he sunk further into the soft cushions.

“Can I come in?”He looked up, tilted his head a little and laughed. His laugh was different from the snicker Jimin heard before it was a little high pitched and noisy but still so, so endearing.“It’s your home, so I guess so.”

“Dude what’s your name?”“Dude?”“I just didn’t know how to address you,” Jimin answered. He twisted his fingers in shame before taking in the figure beside him.“Ah, right. Jungkook.” Jimin nodded. Easy name, not for English people maybe, but Jimin was Korean and so was Jungkook’s name.

“How come you have a Korean name?”“The yk bred that I come from was started in Korea so they wanna keep that mark on us with the names,” he answered easily. It almost sounded like he trained the answer over and over again to make it sound more casual.

“So your parents have Korean names too?”

Jungkook flinched at that question and although it was the slightest flinch Jimin still caught it. He looked around another time, sniffed the air again before replying.“My parents are Korean and so are their names.”

“You don’t know them, do you?”

Silence. Than he laughed a laugh full of hatred.“If I knew them? Yes, I did. I love with them in a five meter cage, well lived. I just left them, I guess.”He shrugged but Jimin saw that that fact feared him apart. Why did he do it then? Why did he come with Jimin if it hurt him so bad?Jungkook seemed to catch onto that but he didn’t answer just shrugged again and buried himself further into the couch. He was almost lying now, his back laying on the seating area, his head leaned against the back of the couch while his long legs were stretched out infront of him.

“I’m sorry,” Jimin said.And without thinking about all the things that he knew about Jungkook he moved to hug him.It didn’t work out. Obviously, it didn’t.

Once he crossed the border to his personal space Jungkook flinched, was up in a second and then across the room. His ears were pressed flat on top of his head, he’d probably bare if his fangs if he would have them but as a bunny he was a bred that couldn’t fight, so his natural instinct was to flee any confrontation.

“I knew it,” he hissed. His feet were rammed against the floor, his hands touching it maybe a meter forward. The whole position reminded Jimin of the Olympic Games where they let the people run to win a medal, what was it called again? He couldn’t remember. “You were only acting kind. How could you? And you also work with those scientists fucking-“He cut himself off when Jimin raised his hands in surrender.“I wasn’t going to do anything, really.”Jungkook scoffed.“You wanted to grab me. Don’t lie, I had a ton of people takin advantage of me, I know how it looks.”

They both were silent for a second, Jimin realizing that Jungkook didn’t know hugs. Or maybe he did, maybe he knew them from his parents but he certainly has never been met with stranger kindness.His parents probably trained “stranger danger” into his head and Jimin couldn’t blame them. Everyone was an potential abuser from their point of view.

“I was going to hug you.”As easy as that he stood up. He grabbed a scarf that was lying around and held it out.“Look you can bind my hands together and hug me if you don’t trust me enough. You don’t need to hug me at all, I’m a stranger I get it. I just felt super sorry and wanted to give you some comfort.”“A hug?”Jimin could hear the questioning mark at the end of the sentence, the light difference of pitch in Jungkook’s voice as he eyed him up and down.

“Yeah.”He didn’t move in, but he didn’t move farther away from him either and Jimin counted that as win. “Look as I said, no need for hugs, let’s just settle down. Just watch the fire, okay?”Jungkook hesitated but then he nodded. Jimin settles down quickly. One couldn’t see Jungkook move at all though. It took two minutes for him to even come up and out of his defensive position and another five to just slowly creep closer until he was able to squish himself onto the far end of the couch where Jimin could not touch him if he tried.

But after a while he moved closer. “I like hugs,” he mumbled.“They’re comforting for me.”He breathed in before lifting Jimin’s arm up and wrapping it around his waist.“But not from people I don’t trust. I’m a bunny after all, we’re basically scared half of the time. We only flip over people if we trust them and stuff like that.”Jimin hummed deep in his chest. His breath hitches when Jungkook leaned against him as to feel the vibration of the hum.

“So the rule is if I wanna get out of your hold you have to let me go immediately or I’m going to fight as much as my bred can fight. Okay?”He nodded.“Okay.”With that he let his head rest on Jimin’s chest, his arms around the waist of the latter.

They listened to the fire and at some point Jungkook fell asleep. So Jimin moved to get to his bed when Jungkook suddenly startled.“What are you doing?” he mumbled his voice lazed with sleep.“I want to go to sleep.”“Hmn.”Jungkook yawned.“Let me come with you?”

That was unexpected actually made Jimin freeze on the spot.“My bed is small though-““We can cuddle as long as you let me go when I say so.”“Yeah… we can, could.”

He lifted Jungkook in his arms because the older didn’t seem like he wanted to move soon.“Wanna be the little spoon,” Jungkook mumbled when Jimin settle into the bed next to him but didn’t move to sleep.“Ok, ok.”Jimin chuckled as he settled Jungkook between his arms. “Good night, Jungkook.”“Good night. Jimin.”

#loo answers #request

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aaronsteinbeck · 4 years ago

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lastpic21 · 4 years ago

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MORE THAN MEETS THE EYE

We are now standing next to Anka’s nest, pausing a moment from kennel chores to observe her nursing her pups. They are two days old. A heat lamp glares down over Anka, ensuring that the room temperature is kept warm and constant. She is lying with her underside fully exposed, and the puppies are lined up next to one another in an orderly fashion, each on a teat, each kneading gently with his or her paws to stimulate the milk flow. They look like little sausages attached to her side, their smooth black coats giving off a sheen under the light. Anka pants heavily as they suckle; she is unconcerned by our presence, her gaze fixed on a solid white wall that borders the nest.

Minutes pass.

Finally the calm is broken as Anka shifts herself and stands up. As the pups lose their hold on her teats, they roll off to the side, helplessly landing on their backs, squealing at the sudden disruption. This lasts for only a moment. Quickly they right themselves, and after a few seconds of crawling, they fall fast asleep next to one another. Anka, meanwhile, lies down on the opposite end of the nest and looks up at us.

After the excitement of her whelping only two days before, the quietness of the following days might easily lull us into overlooking the critical importance of this time, when the principal activity of the litter is the alternating rhythm of sleep and nursing. In this quiet, however, a great deal occurs that will provide the essential foundation for the future development of the litter.

Entering a world they can neither see nor hear, newborn pups exist in a sensory desert, necessarily well insulated from harsh disturbances. They are entirely dependent on their mother; without her (or the equivalent careby humans) the pups will die. Anka knows this. During the first days she is continuously in the nest, leaving it only to eliminate. As mother, she is a portrait of concentrated, faithful attention to every detail of the puppies’ lives, reflecting her profound awareness of just how vulnerable they are at this stage. It is a vulnerability that she is prepared to defend with her life.

An example: While the puppies are asleep, Anka remains awake in the nest, occupying herself with a rawhide bone. Suddenly her ears stand erect and she begins to growl tentatively. Strange voices drift into the kennel from outside. At once, she is out of the nest and flying through the kennel hatch into her outdoor pen, ferociously barking out her alarm. As she paces back and forth, her hackles are fully raised and her tail stands straight up. She appears, through this natural illusion, substantially larger-than-life to the strangers, tourists who have inadvertently wandered too close to the kennel building. Quickly they hurry off in the other direction, convinced of her seriousness. Anka, however, continues the warning, her bark echoing throughout the monastery grounds for several minutes. It is only when she is satisfied that the danger has passed that she returns to the nest and the sleeping pups huddled in the corner, oblivious to all the commotion.

The fact that the puppies lie clustered together should not be interpreted as evidence of neonatal sociability. It is simply a way to conserve heat. Newborn pups have poor control over their body temperature, so they tend to gravitate to the warmest area of the nest. As soon as the first pup, Sunny, awakes, he begins a restless search for a nipple by inconsiderately piling over the others, ignoring their presence. His stirring causes a chain reaction of mad maneuvering, each pup struggling to reach one of Anka’s teats. The scene confirms that the pups have no direct awareness of one another; their behavior is confined largely to reflex actions that they have been equipped with at birth, such as sucking, crawling, attraction to warmth, and distress vocalizations arising from pain, hunger, or cold.

Development

Conventional wisdom, reflected most authoritatively by Scott and Fuller, portrays the newborn as an essentially tactile creature, incapable of any real learning, and relying exclusively on the sense of touch for getting nourishment. Other astute observers, however, such as author and veterinarian Michael Fox, have demonstrated that this view needs to be broadened in several respects. First, it has been shown that a newborn puppy also possesses a well-developed sense of smell. In a cleverly conceived experiment, Fox coated a nursing mother’s teats with aniseed oil, a rather unpleasant-smelling substance, and then let the newborn pups nurse. Twenty-four hours later these pups would crawl toward a Q-tip dipped in aniseed oil and held close to their noses. Other pups who had not received this previous exposure while nursing recoiled sharply from the odor.

In addition, neonatal behavior reveals a capacity for the simple learning necessary for survival. A newborn puppy will instinctively begin a burrowing motion with her muzzle when shefirst contacts something warm. This helps her find her mother’s teat, which can sometimes be hidden beneath her hair. In watching Yola behave this way shortly after she was born, and then again several days later, we see that there is quite a difference. While at first she was awkward and clumsy, after three days she is quite adept at it. Proficiency clearly improves with time.

Over several days she also develops strength and assurance in nursing. It is interesting to feel the difference in sucking ability of a pup shortly after birth and then again after many days. We did this with Yola by letting her nurse briefly on our fingers. Initially, after birth, the pressure was a little weak, unsure. When we repeated the exercise a few days later, the pressure was surprisingly strong and forceful. This is evidence of an elementary learning that will form the basis for later, more complex learning.Regardless of how one interprets infant behavior and what constitutes true learning, the fact remains that the pups’ brain, motor, and sensory capacities are all immature during this period. The pups exist in a naturally protected environment where they possess only the basic abilities necessary for their survival. None of the behavior we most commonly associate with dogs is present: no barking, tail wagging, walking, or playing. In fact, the most dominant impression we receive of newborn pups is their need for sleep. During the neonatal period puppies spend about 90 percent of their time sleeping, waking only to nurse or to be cleansed by their mother.

This abundance of sleep is an absolute requirement. It is vital to the development of the central nervous system and the brain. When measured with an electroencephalograph (EEG) during the first three weeks of life, a pup’s brain waves will be the same whether the pup is awake or asleep. This indicates how immature the brain is at this period. In particular, the reticular formation—the section of the brain that controls sleep and wakefulness—has not yet developed sufficiently to keep the puppy awake for any significant amount of time. It is only after the third week that a marked change begins to register on the EEG, showing a clear differentiation between wakefulness and sleepand only after four weeks that pups are able to stay awake for any sustained period. Early in this initial phase, it is the quietness of sleep, combined with regular nourishment, warmth, and elementary movement, that establishes the proper climate wherein the brain and central nervous system may mature.

“Gross immaturity” characterizes what newborn puppies call to mind; they have an appearance entirely unique to this time in their lives. The shepherd pups born to Anka bear no resemblance at all to the familiar image we possess of a noble German shepherd. At six to eight inches from their pug noses to the tips of their tails, they have rounded, oversize heads, barrel-shaped chests, and short, stumpy legs. Their ears are quite small and seem stuck to the sides of their heads. Their eyes are closed tight. If you did not know better, you could easily mistake them for members of a different species!

Even the ability to eliminate is a reflex completely controlled by the mother, since newborn pups are unable to urinate or defecate on their own. During the first three weeks of life, they require the regular stimulation of their anal and genital areas by the mother’s tongue to eliminate bodily waste, which the mother licks up immediately. This keeps the nest completely clean and guards against the serious health risk of waste buildup. Such behavior may have another important function. Wildlife biologist L. David Mech, in his study on the wolf, points out that this activity may also establish the postural and psychological beginnings of submission in a pup. Although Mech was speaking specifically of the wolf, we have observed the importance of this in our own shepherds. Living as they do in a semi–pack environment, younger, more submissive dogs often assume the identical posture of a pup when submitting to an older, more dominant pack member. They roll over on their backs and expose their undersides while the other dog proceeds to investigate and sniff the anal-genital region. This posture defuses the threat perceived by the submissive dog and establishes pack hierarchy.All of these details form the background for the later growth of each pup. Overall, we can now see that a pup’s early development lays the foundation for the future, despite the obvious immaturity of a puppy at this stage. It is a simple fact: life is growth. And even now, so early in life, the individuality we spoke of begins to showthrough. In keeping daily records of weight gain, we notice that Sunny and Oka are putting on the most weight and appear to nurse the most vigorously. In the nest they are the two who consistently manage to nose out the others when competing for a teat. These are preliminary signs of dominance that we will pay attention to throughout their puppyhood. Also, because of the growth differences within the litter, sometimes we find it necessary to place the slower-growing puppies on the mother’s teats for longer periods without the presence of the more dominant pups. It is a gentle way of trying to level the playing field a bit.

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nightmareonfilmstreet · 7 years ago

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[Review] Shudder’s DOWNRANGE is Morbid, Mean, and Mostly Great

Some movies are just going to be gross. You look at the director or the source material the film is based on and you just know that it is going to make you cover your mouth and squirm. Sometimes, even with that beforehand knowledge in our pocket, we encounter a film that still finds a way to shock us into submission. Ryuhei Kitamura, director of The Midnight Meat Train, brings us exactly that type of film with his newest outing, Downrange.

The film starts off with a bang (see what I did there?). It opens on a SUV full of college-age folks as a tire blows and the vehicle skids to the side of the road. If you have seen a trailer or heard anything about this film, you know exactly what is coming next. The group, which consists of couple Sara (Alexa Yeames) and Todd (Rod Hernandez), military brat Keren (Stephanie Pearson), hunky-hunk from Hunkville Jeff (Jason Tobias), soft-spoken nice-guy Eric (Anthony Kirlew) and a young lady just trying to get home to her sister’s sweet-16 party Jodi (Kelly Connaire).

We know all of these things because they tell us within the first 10 minutes of the movie. Usually, exposition like this is annoying and lazy, but Kitamura gets around it by making this a carpool-situation where these people are all strangers going into this little road trip. It’s understandable, then, that they would introduce themselves to one another, and to the audience.

As you can probably guess, they have no cell signal and it is blazing hot outside. They spread out in the shade and try to pass the time by chit-chatting one another about their plans. Hunk Jeff takes over the changing of the spare tire when he sees what it was that caused the blowout in the first place. There laying on the ground next to the deflated tire is a bullet, and that’s when things really start to get interesting.

“The film is filled […] with some of the best gore and body destruction I have seen since Fede Álvarez’s Evil Dead re-make.”

The group in terrorized by a sniper in the trees, making them cower behind engine blocks and fallen tree stumps, picking them off one-by-one as they peek their head out to see what is going on. This is where Downrange really shines. The film is filled from this point until the end with some of the best gore and body destruction I have seen since Fede Álvarez‘s Evil Dead re-make. We see bullets tear through skulls, eyes, hands, arms, legs, shoulders, chests and throats. Literally no part of your body is safe from this killer’s aim. As the young people scream and bleed and die, we see this killer drink from his water bottle and methodically eat jerky. This is fun to him, and he can wait forever for them to try to make a run for it.

The highlight of the entire film comes when another car finally drives toward the wrecked SUV, bringing with it hope for rescue from the remaining carpoolers. The sniper takes a shot at the driver, causing the car to swerve and flip, resulting in one of the most gruesome, kinetic, and blood-splutteringly cool car crashes that I have seen in a long time. It reminded me a lot of the crash in Death Proof, only turned up to eleven when you realize that there 1) is a child in the car and 2) there are bodies already baking in the street where the car is about to land.

The gore and splatter are amazing in Downrange and they definitely deserve a watch when it is released exclusively on Shudder April 26th, but that note is really the only one that this film can hit. It suffers from a cast that is earnest, but obviously inexperienced. In The Midnight Meat Train, Kitamura was able to compliment the gore with performances from Bradley Cooper, Leslie Bibb and Vinnie Jones that brought extra urgency and emotion into their roles through sheer talent. Downrange does not benefit from this level of acting. They all do well, and they are obviously trying to bring more to their role than “be afraid then bleed”, but it doesn’t land.

Rod Hernandez’s Todd is the bright spot in this group of actors, with a poignant scene in the middle of the road after all hope for survival had been drained from his body. It was the only moment of tenderness that the film managed to successfully display, so it was definitely memorable. The ending of the film, however, seemed rudderless and out-of-place. It was an effective twist that you need to see, but it left me feeling a little let down after the previous 90 minutes of mayhem.

“Downrange is shocking and brutal in its depiction of senseless gun violence”

No creator of horror content goes into a project with no plan in place. They don’t just “wing it” until they see something that might scares some folks. They have spent months, sometimes years nailing down exactly what is going to scare the audience in their work. They use current events, folklore, myths and cultural anxieties to create a web of tension that we, as the participants, must find a way out of. Sometimes, however, current events will cause the cultural anxieties to shift since the beginning of the project. This creates a horror film that will terrify you for a reason the director and writers didn’t expect.

Downrange, I believe, is both the beneficiary and the victim of this phenomenon. I feel like the goal of Kitamura and his co-writer Joey O’Bryan with this film was to scare us because this type of shooting rampage could happen in real life. Instead, the movie scares us because it does happen in real life. This psychopathic killer, in the span of the film’s 90 minute runtime, manages to terrorize and kill twelve people. On October 1st, 2017, a 64 year-old piece of shit from Nevada opened fire on a country music concert, killing 58 and wounding 851 more in the span of 10 minutes. We’ve seen this movie before. It plays every time we gather with a crowd, whether it be for a basketball game, a concert, or for church. It plays when we leave the bar at night and when we head to work in the morning. Downrange is shocking and brutal in its depiction of senseless gun violence, but, unfortunately for those of us living in the United States, we get the same feelings just by turning on the news.

Be sure to check out this bloody, brutal treat of a film as it premiers exclusively on Shudder this Thursday, April 26th. Although there are some points in the film that are just not quite great, Downrange is definitely worth a watch this weekend.

2.5/4 eberts

Downrange held it’s world premiere at the 2017 Toronto International Film Festival and was also an official selection of the 2018 Overlook Film Festival. Bookmark our homepage at Nightmare on Film Street to catch all the hottest horror news and reviews. While you’re at it, join our Facebook Group, Horror Fiends of Nightmare on Film Street and let us know what you think about Downrange!

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goblinfruit · 7 years ago

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End of the year writing reflection 2017

I’m trying out this thing where I gather all of my thoughts about my writing and growth as a writer-person from the past year into one place. This is a long post, fyi. Here goes:

I had two workshop classes this year, one in the spring and one in the fall, and a writing conference during the summer. At the end of all this, right now as I calm down after finals, I feel like I have more self-doubt than I had at the beginning of this year, but I also feel like I’m more okay with that self-doubt. I can live with it more easily now. I might change my mind tomorrow, in a week, in a few months, but this feels like a real change and not a mood.

Before I always had this background noise of “you have to be good. You have to be the best. You have to be amazing. You’re not right now, so you have to work and get there sooner rather than later. You can’t miss any opportunity because it might be the only one.”

Maybe this thought is true in some respect. Maybe I shouldn’t let my guard down. But I wrote some stinkers in my fiction studio in the spring. I felt like my prose was okay but the stories were scattered and too much lived in my head and not on the page. The story I presented to my workshop group in my summer writing conference still deeply embarrasses me. I had written it a year ago, and it was a short story that was trying hard to be a modern folktale, as if the genre made up for the fact that nothing in the story was grounded. No concrete characters, setting, the plot was a thin moral. I love the concept or trope or whatever-it-is of reincarnation in stories but I put it into that Terrible story so now I have this weird heartburn whenever reincarnation comes up in shows or books. I had to re-watch the entire first season of 90s Sailor Moon to lessen it with overexposure (sure, that was totally the only reason I did that). To be fair to myself, I thought that workshop group in particular was a stinker. They made me doubt if I wanted to be a writer or befriend any writers because writers seemed to be, on the whole, a species of pretentious assholes trying to show-off or belittle anyone who makes the mistake of breathing in the same air as them. I’ve gotten over that doubt, partly.

At the end of the summer I just… let go. I tried to stop thinking about possible, future publication while writing every story. I stopped looking up story contests and submission deadlines. In the fall semester fiction studio, I still got righteously angry at some stories and commentary in my workshop because getting righteously angry over minor social interactions is my thing. But way back at the beginning of this year I also started a job as a writing center consultant. I leaned into that training, I started treating workshop pieces as if they were brought to me by some courageous student just trying to do well in their classes.

This was so freeing. It didn’t feel like much, in my mind I thought of it like briefly giving up, a hiatus. I knew that I would try to summon up all of my ambitious feelings again but I needed a break from myself. I needed to shelve the perfectionist within me and go on a mental pilgrimage to just ...think about storytelling as a concept and not specifically about ME and my DREAMS. The fall semester helped. I had to take a required algebra class on top of classes that needed a lot of mental energy. I tried to do NaNoWriMo but got too caught up in everything else. I was too busy to care or feel devastated that I didn’t draft a long manuscript.

I wrote around three short stories for my classes, and all of them were about haunting in some way. Still can’t tell if this is from my mood or if this is my new(-ish) interest. Two of them were throw away stories that were one or two scenes that I’ll either never touch again or will have to completely rework. But one of them, the longest and first of the three, is the ghost garden story, which I’m excited about. This was the first story I felt like I made progress with in the revision assignment for class. I see so much potential in it, I want to explore that world. I want to make it hopeful, bittersweet, and pretty, dammit. I don’t know if this will be a serious project or something I use to make myself a better writer. Technically, the start of this school year is my fourth year as an undergrad, but I have a double major in Brit Lit and in Creative Writing, so I’m going to be here for another year trying to fulfill all of these dumb requirements. Maybe this has also contributed to my change in mood—I’m more relaxed about this now. I have a new project and a new school year ahead of me, and I can settle in and stay put for a while. I’m not going anywhere in a hurry and that’s okay.

Tl;dr: This year I learned to chill out, a little, and this helped me grow as a writer, a little.

Some related but miscellaneous thoughts:

On writer friends: This was true in high school and I guess it’s true in college, too. At least for me, I always feel settled into a school during the last or later years I’m there. I have been at this university for three and now almost four years and just this last semester I finally feel like I’m making friends. Some of them are writers. There are writers around me who are not condescending or pretentious! I’ve found them! Just now, this year. This actually came about, partly, from the summer writing conference. I didn’t make any friends there, but the two other people from my school who were nominated to go are awesome and the summer conference gave me a reason to talk to them. They also complain about the conference, I’m not paranoid or a debby-downer. So thank you, writing conference, for killing my confidence and showing me the friends that were near me all along. No, I kid. Kind of.

On prose versus story: Moving forward, I’m going to try to write cohesive stories. Everything grounded—solid characters, solid settings, solid conflict. I’m still the kind of writer that puts logistics last on my priorities list, but I think I lumped in “development” in with logistics before and that’s not good. I’ve had this goal for a while, but the Terrible summer workshop story has made me even more determined. If this means writing extremely short, simple stories as exercise, so be it! I think that I’ve helped myself by figuring out why my stories haven’t been very grounded so far. I took the creative writing lesson of “your reader is smart, don’t tell us everything, show” too much to heart. My studies in just the last semester helped me realize this and brainstorm ways to work past this.

I had to read several books for a current writers class and I had to read a fiction by an established “master” writer for my senior level fiction studio, and then reflect and write essays about how these works ticked. I ended up writing three to four essays railing against the teaching that makes us hold back on exposition. Each of these writers used exposition effectively in their unique narration style. I think this is the key—I think that I’ve been afraid of using exposition because I’m a fantasy writer. I think that I should be afraid of clumsy, clunky exposition, instead. Showing, not telling, is great but my reliance on this, and not using much exposition, has left my workshop readers confused and slightly angry for each story, so I need to learn moderation.

Books: one of the books I read for the learn-by-reading reflection assignments was Margaret Atwood’s collection of short stories, Good Bones, Simple Murders. I didn’t read all of them because of time, but the many I did read were amazing. Most of the stories are concise, at about two pages long, and are brilliantly written. Beautiful, poetic, evocative, righteous, hilarious. There were also little pen-drawing illustrations by the author which were also amazing and complemented the stories so well. One of the main features in the stories is this close, personal narrative voice. The person is either first or second, or a mix of both, and usually reads like a letter, a diary entry, or a piece that addresses the reader directly. One or two were fake magazine ads. You kind of have to have a bit of exposition when your narrator is so direct, but this was coupled with a vivid voice and poetic language, so it totally worked. My next writing exercise idea is to write a flash fiction that mimics this style.

More books and stuff: I took a Chaucer class, which was fantastic. The Canterbury Tales are great and made me think more deeply about framing devices than I ever have before. The Canterbury Tales also were way more interesting once I had read more of Chaucer’s work first and got a sense of his meta and satirical style. If anyone wants to read The Canterbury Tales, I’d recommend some critical edition or something with a lot of academic notes if you can afford it, because there is so much in academic studies and even in the allusions and themes Chaucer himself uses. It’s a great thing to dig into.

I also took an Arthurian lit class in the spring and this did not make me want to read more Arthurian literature. Instead, I want to read more by Marie de France. We read her lai “Lanval,” and I remembered reading “Bisclavret” (a great werewolf story to check out if you haven’t read it) from Medieval Celtic Lit.

Also, reading her short stories made me want to start reading Margaret Atwood’s work. I’ve read The Handmaid’s Tale but that’s it for novels. This last weekend, I binge watched the Netflix series Alias Grace. It felt very Gothic to me, and had a lot about haunting, and since I’ve been obsessed with haunting as a theme, I should probably read the book. Idk what it is about haunting that’s caught me lately. Probably it’s a quick, easy way to evoke the feeling of the uncanny in a story. I mean, what’s more familiar-made-unfamiliar than a haunted house? Liminal spaces, man. They’re the best.

That’s it for this reflection. If you’re a reader and/or follower who has made it this far, kudos to you! No, seriously. I wrote this mostly for myself and I have no idea if any of these thoughts are of interest to anyone else. But I feel like writing is so much an individual, lonely thing that I like to share my thoughts or be as direct with people as I can be, when I’m allowed. This isn’t always a good thing, but despite the crushing embarrassment I feel sometimes, I prefer to be optimistic and put myself out there (sometimes) rather than have no chance to be heard at all.

#in which the envoy uses the word stinker a lot to refer to her own stories for some reason #the envoy speaks #writing #reflection #personal #long post

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riddlebot · 7 years ago

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dremis, all 100 oc questions

you MONSTER

1. How do they present themselves to others? He presents himself as a confident and sexy.2. Do they like animals? He loves animals!! Mostly small woodland creatures tho.3. How do they dress? Nipples: covered. Belly button: out. Clothing? Skin tight.4. How many languages do they know? He knows 4 languages.5. How big is their family? Pretty small at first, but it’ll get pretty big in his future. His found family is huge.6. What is their purpose in the story? Comedic relief at this point I swear7. Do they know how to fight? Yes! 8. What is their back story? [redacted]9. Why is their name, their name? His first name was the one I liked the best from a fantasy name generator, and the rest are nicknames and stuff added in the typical gnome naming convention. 10. Do they have any nick names? All his names are nicknames basically. So yeah, a whole lot.11. Do they have a romantic interest? Not currently but he will.12. How do they cope with struggles? It depends on what the struggle is. If it’s something big it’ll effect his mood drastically but if it’s small he’ll try and hide it to deal with on his own.13. Do they have anyone they can lean on? His giant found family.14. How do they react to someone dying? If it’s someone he cares about, then he’d be very upset and inconsolable. 15. Can you name 5 personality traits they have? Funny, charming, perceptive, excitable, caring.16. How did they become a character? I made a DnD character just for fun and he was a complete joke of a character and then you made me flesh him out.17. Do they get along with others? Yes! He’s a very friendly boy.18. What flaws do they have? Emotions can get the better of him easily, he’s really invested in his career, and he is not quick to get on the front lines to fight with his friends.19. How do they influence the story? I’m not sure, the same way any PC influences the story I guess.20. What do they look like? A tiny little blonde menace. 21. What are their hobbies? He likes to collect little knick knacks, and play pranks.22. What are their ticks? I have never thought about it... Probably something to do with touching his hair, like tucking it behind his ear and then untucking it over and over again.23. Do they like children? He loves children.24. How do they react to being around wild animals? If it’s a small animal he tries to talk to it immediately, if it’s big he is wary but won’t do anything unless it attacks him first.25. If they were given the task to prank someone, who would it be, what would they do, and would the prank work? He does so many little pranks, so it would probably be really elaborate and ridiculous, I’m not good at pranks though so I can’t think of anything.26. Do they have any survival skills? Not on his character sheet, but in my heart he does.27. Are they more book smart or street smart? Can you be both? He’s both.28. How do they get out of a difficult situation? He will talk or fuck his way out of any situation.29. Do they use their body, mind, personality or force to get what they want? Body and personality.30. What music do they enjoy? Tavern music.31. How do they overcome obstacles? With help from his friends.32. When faced with a difficult decision do they get stronger or break? Break, if it’s really difficult. 33. Do they have any special powers? I think technically gnomes are supposed to be able to turn invisible at will but I don’t have that on his character sheet so who knows. 34. How do they change throughout the story? He becomes more serious and adult like, and more trusting I think.35. Do they have any friends? If so, are they close knit? He has a ton of friends, and he think’s he’s close knit with them but they might disagree.36. How is their family life? [redacted]37. Are they likable? I think so, I certainly made him to be.38. Are they the hero, or anti-hero? Hero.39. Do they make questionable choices? I think to some people some of his choices in life are questionable. 40. How do they become who they are? Some good old fashion trauma.41. How was their childhood? Pretty average.42. Are they close with anyone who is going to screw them over? I don’t know, but I’m sure you know as the DM.43.How do they adapt to different situations? Do they adapt at all? He is very good at adapting.44. How do they speak? Examples - Are they soft spoken, hot heated, vulgar. Hm... It depends on who he is speaking to. He’s got a loud clear voice and he speaks in a very friendly and polite way to strangers, but is more casual to his friends.45. Are they opposed to violence? Not a ton like he would rather talk things through but he knows the world they live in works a certain way so usually problems are solved with fights.46. When is their birthday? Fuck if I know.47. Are they quick to judge? No I don’t think so.48. Do they have anything they are trying to hide from others? Not actively but his backstory is not known by a lot of the party members.49. Do they act different around different people? Yes, but doesn’t everyone.50. Do they enjoy the arts? Yeah he’s a gnome that’s like their life.51. Do they like science? This is funny because I actually decided he was a flat Earther, but instead of Earth its whatever place our DnD world is.52. Are they more emotional or logical? Emotional.53. How do they deal with their emotions? Their emotions just come out and are big and loud and a lot.54. How do they cope with sadness? He holes up in his room and cries and doesn’t talk to anyone until someone breaks into his room to get him and console him because he’s a big baby.55. What is something they care about? His job, his friends, his guild.56. Would they die for anyone/anything? He would die to protect his friends absolutely.57. What do they do when they are happy? His ears stand up and he grins and he bounces around and chatters quickly. He’s a dog.58. How would they come across to other characters? Examples- messy, lazy, childish, caring ect. It depends on the character. He could come off as suave and sexual, or dorky and silly.59. Do they have a phrase they use over and over? Praising the Gnomish god in a “oh my god” fashion, probably.60. In a crowed room are they in the corners, sides, or in the middle? Depends, if it’s just a party he’s dead center, if it’s a mission he’s a good distraction to have in the middle but he’s also tiny and can slip into shadows so he could also be on the sides, watching.61. Are they comfortable being in a crowed room? Yes.62. How do they relax? Reading in a garden.63. Have they ever harmed anyone and regretted it? Verbally or physically? I can’t think of a time.64. Do they like to dance? Yes.65. How do they get around their environment? Examples - horses, bike, vehicle? He walks and they probably use horses but he’s tiny so he’d need a pony.66. What is their pet peeve(s)? When people don’t laugh at his jokes.67. Do they have a disability? No.68. How do they react to getting flowers? He would smile and flush a little.69. Would they ever wear a flower crown? Yes I’ve drawn him in several.70. Do they like themselves? It’s complicated but I’ll say for the most part yes.71. Who do they dislike? Rich people. Human men.72. What is their motto? my brain immediately said “eat the rich”73. Do they have any markings on their body? Yes, a scar on his hip.74. Have they ever been abused? Mmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm yes.75. What is their biggest fear? [solas voice] dying alone76. What are their goals? Right now, fucking the dragonborn in our party. He’s not doing great.77. How do they go about achieving their goals? Rolling a die after every mission we go on to get a 19 or 20.78. Do they have a fight or flight response? Flight lmao.79. Is there someone in their life that they care about more than themselves? There are a lot.80. How would they fair in zombie apocalypse? Pretty good I think, he’d be freaked the fuck out by zombies but he’s a sniper and tiny and good at hiding.81. Do they have any tattoos? If so, are they significant? I jokingly gave him a tramp stamp but I haven’t drawn it since.82. Are they good at mental math? No.83. Do they get along with others? Yes.84 Are they lazy? Not usually.85. Are they self motivated? Yes.86. How do they cope with anger? His anger is scary, he lashes out.87. Have they ever been in a situation where they were helpless? Yes.88. Are they organized or messy? Organized chaos. He has a lot of things packed into a small space like a mouse.89. Can they remember a lot of information at once? Yes.90. What is their occupation? He’s a sex worker. And also a rogue.91. Do other characters respect your OC, if so, is it out of fear? Or do they respect your OC because they like them? I actually feel like most of our party doesn’t take him seriously, aside from his best friend. But people who know a lot about him respect him because of knowing what he’s gone through and how he’s come out of it.92. If they were given minutes to live, what would they do? Who would they want to see and say? I honestly think he’d just panic because he has so much he still needs to do.93. How do they deal with stress? Full on hair pulling laying on ground anguished scream.94. Do they have a more submissive or dominate personality type? Dominate. He is good at getting and holding a room’s attention.95. Do they have a pet? I had him have a squirrel but I think I scrapped that idea.96. Do they have a stash of weapons? In his room probably yes.97. Where do they live? Who do they live with? He lives in Sanctuary in a guild.98. How do they calm themselves down? Breathing exercises. 99. Are they co-dependent? No.100. Are they a day, or night person? Night.

#dremis #ocs #jesus christ #p #hauntedmusain

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cgmayra · 8 years ago

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Dark sonic flirting with Amy? >:3c

(x)

So, which Dark Sonic is this? Haha, most Dark Sonics are either an animal that attacks until gained trust/cured, or Sonic fighting his inner, out of control emotions that chaos gives power too. Sometimes, like the Canon version of Dark Sonic from Sonic X, it’s Sonic alright but he can’t control his anger or let it go. So,.. yeah XD I’ll pick one and see how it goes ;)

Prompt:

After a conflicting battle with Eggman, Sonic found himself unable to control his emotions upon seeing a powerful beam from the egg-carrier get deflected onto a neighboring town.

Lots were hurt, but luckily, none were fatal.

Sonic’s eyes shook at the scene below him, his body turned just slightly to see the beam land and destroy more than livelihoods.

His super form began to quiver in it’s aura, and suddenly, as Sonic’s fist tightened and his eyes narrowed into a hostility not usually seen in the hero; his skin slowly formed a darker hue, as his teeth clenched and his eyes shifted to a dark blue…

Eggman daintily posed a hand over his mouth, “Oh? Oppsie.” Treating it lightly, he positioned the gun over, where Super Sonic once knocked it away.

It was his fault. He deflected the beam.

Below him, stood Tails and Amy, saved by the fast thinking, but horrified at the consequences. Holding one another, they turned their eyes from the scene in the skies to the disaster to their sides.

As the ship turned, it faced Sonic directly, though Sonic’s body was trembling at this point, and he felt the dark aura starting to advance up his body.

“What’s the matter, hedgehog? Realizing you can’t save everyone?”

The tone shook Sonic out of control, as his eyes widened and he yielded to the temptation of aggression.

With a swiftness of his head, rising up to the behemoth of a machine, his eyes fully shifted to glowing white sockets.

With a roar of distain and bewilderment, blaming more than Eggman for the scene of fire below, he charged the machine, dashing through it like it was paper-mache.

Eggman, not expecting such violent reproof, immediately squirmed in his seat, as Orbot and Cubot tallied the damages as they happened.

“Damages 70%. 80%-!” Orbot flinched at a blow that shook the whole of the Egg-Carrier. “90!”

“We’ve lost the engine!” Cubot exclaimed, clutching Eggman’s leg for dear life.

Eggman pulled back the sides of his open frown, realizing this wasn’t how him and Sonic usually ‘played’.

“He’s not letting this one go.” Eggman slightly muttered to himself, starting to realize the gravity of the situation. Sonic was usually very playful, but this time…

Unforgiving.

“Cut the engine, and let it go!” Eggman took control, throwing a jacket over himself, he rose up and boarded to the top of a pillared structure in the middle of the floor. Rising up the platform, the machine had handles, where Eggman gripped and looked down to the shaking floor below him, turning to address his robots.

“Get on! If you wish to save your metallic hides!”

The two robots looked at one another, frightened, realizing this was an ‘abandon ship’, and quickly did as they were told.

The open and small airship that was released flew silently into the cover of smoke and clouds, as the Egg-Carrier was stripped with Spin-dashes and continual distortions until the entire thing collapsed on itself into a fire of explosions.

Although venting, tearing up the Egg-Carrier wasn’t enough to satisfy the intense rage Sonic was feeling. Not only was guilt there, something he hadn’t truly experienced before, but now a great regret as he turned to see Eggman through the clouds.

Still reeling in emotional pain, he ducked his shaking head, his body following the motion and stored up dark chaos energy into the front of his body.

“EEGGGGMMAAANN!!!” He gathered the force into his hands, reeled it back as it charged and directed freely like a curved comet into the sky towards him.

His whole body flung with the motion, as Eggman gritted his teeth and his lips drew back, fear at once took hold and the three were blasted by the hit, falling through the air in spinning circles before landing to be stuck in a tree.

“Maybe you shouldn’t blast people so hard.” Orbot complained, leaning backwards with his back arched on the branch.

“Or maybe you shouldn’t blast people at all!” Cubot groaned in his metallic way, his belly bent as he lay over a higher branch than the three.

Hanging by his comfortable jacket, getting pulled up and down like a small spring, Eggman folded his arms, pouting.

His mustache burnt slightly from the connecting blast, he twitched it slightly as little ashes fell and shortened that side of his stache.

He gasped, kicking his legs in anger as he threw a tantrum, “THAT DARN HEDDDGEEEEHOOOGGG!!!”

Coming down, Sonic still felt the grief of the moment over his body, the quaking never seeming to shake, as Tails and Amy ran up to him.

“Sonic!”

“Leave me…” he hunched his shoulders, as they sporadically bounced in his misery.

“Sonic…” They drew closer, wanting to help, Tails moving first with his hands out to try and comfort him…

“I said leave me alone!” Dark Sonic flung a hand back, and suddenly, the aura shot like mini-bullets into Tails and Amy, shooting them back as little sharp air lines showed where the punctures were made.

Though none were truly injured, the pain of the pressure hits caused them to flinch on the ground, before Amy looked up in shock and worry towards him.

What has happened to him? What was happening?

—-

After several attempts to calm Sonic, nothing seemed to work.

Tails was losing his patience with his friends, pulling out all the stops, he even tried to electrically hold him in place, and sent a electrocution to try and snap Sonic out of his emotional distress.

This only caused him to grow anger, wanting to be alone as he shot from his hands a powerful pressure force that increased gravity. Tails was forced down, and as he struggled, soon lost consciousness.

Sonic lowered himself from the now sparking instruments, glared almost indifferently at his friend who now carried shallow breaths, and walked away.

Knuckles, Eggman, even Shadow was hired by G.U.N to put an end to this ‘uncurable threat’, and as Sonic fought more and more, his state of mind became more twisted.

Cure?

Because he felt guilt that was haunting his conscience,… they considered him a monster?

That’s when Amy came along…

—-

“Sonic…” she approached slowly, her hands clenched together in what seemed like a plight.

His eyes had shifted to a darker blue, finally being alone to dwell on some things, but hearing her voice sent an irritation. It broke his concentration and thought, making him close his eyes, clenching his fist…

“Sonic, you’re not yourself…” She lightly approached, as he slowly turned his body, and made her quickly react by moving away, not knowing what his next move… or reaction for that matter… would be…

“Have you come to reform me too..?” His eyes opened, an icy look, almost as if it had lost all feeling… “To cure me..” he started to advance towards her.

In her fright, she stepped back, but then shook her head and stood her ground, leaning forward, stomping a foot down to try and stop him from advancing.

“No! I’m here to help you!”

“Help?” his eyes narrowed, as he re-balanced himself and stopped his advancement. “Why would I need help? Because I’m feeling now? Because I actually have a heart?” He motioned to his chest, bowing slightly, and mocking her request.

“I don’t need any help.” he swiped a hand out, but no power came from it like the last time he had seen her.

“B-but… You’re fighting this alone… and you’re hurting people!”

Her outburst sent a jolt of anger through his being, as he growled out a bit of frustration and turned around, slamming a powerful pulse into the air.

“I want to be alone!!!” he shouted. “It’s all of you who can’t understand that!”

“You’re not understanding us!” Amy counted, squinting an eye as she flung her upper body in a twisted form up, before flinching and clutching her stomach, having been knocked down. “No one should suffer alone… let us help you… please… you’re not thinking clearly… you’re not yourself…”

Her voice faded slightly, but his anger forced his hands up, his head looming down at her with utter-

….Wait.

His eyes suddenly widened, and a faint chuckle came from his lips.

He shook his head, suddenly a darker expression upon his face.

“Of course… Tails tried technology. Shadow, brute force. Knuckles, heh… tried Knuckles… and now, what do you try?” he tsked from the side of his mouth, walking dangerously close to her as she scooted back slightly, up against the first foresty tree that covered the cliff ahead of them.

He bent down, his eyes cold and mocking… Even his breath was a cruel reminder of how much anguish and uncontrolled aggression he carried.

“You come and try and to use the ‘power of love’ to cure me…”

“What?” Amy looked insulted, slightly offended as her eyes furrowed in confusion.

He tilted his head, a wicked taunt upon his lips, as suddenly his eyes started to fade into the white around him, advancing towards her.

“Well, go on then, lure me into submission… tempt me to desire your will over mine… push out these feeling with your love, Amy… you and your love alone, because that’s the answer to everything, isn’t it? Because there’s nothing love can’t do…”

He was moving over her, as she kept trying to move back, more pressed to the tree as he came closer and closer, his voice a husky mockery of her pure intentions.

“Make me fall for you… Amy…”

“Stop it… Sonic,… Sonic, you’re not well!” She pushed him back, but he slowly hand his hand coming up, and pulled her down.

“Tempt me…”

He suddenly gripped her throat, as she sucked in air impulsively, and he smashed his lips into hers.

The mocking taunt was unbearable now.

She kicked and almost screamed through it, but he kept ramming her against the ground and bashing her head against the tree.

“TAKE THIS AWAY FROM ME, AMY!”

She finally had a second to take in more air, feeling the throbbing of her head, she summoned her hammer and whammed it into his head, forcing him off of her.

He quickly recovered though, getting back on her and the two tussled before she finally got a word out, shoving her hand to his chest.

“This isn’t love!!!” she cried out, her voice a shriek in the darkness, before Dark Sonic finally leaned away, his eyes still glowing white, but his expression… somehow intrigued by her response.

She gasped, grimacing at the painful fight and letting out some of the ache through her cries.

“I’m not trying to cure you, or to take away any of the pain! I’m trying to share it with you!!!”

His body flinched, as he quickly backed up and away from her.

“What!?” he spat out, listening…

She coughed, getting up and gripping her throat, before turning to glare slightly at him from the corner of her eye.

“You aren’t well… and the only way you’ll ever get better is to let it out. Let it go, Sonic!” She slammed the hand that was desperately trying to comfort her aching throat down, refusing to try and soothe it.

Besides, it wasn’t the time for worrying about herself.

Sonic stepped back, silently, before shifting his head around, gripping his head.

“No… no..” he felt himself returning, the guilt, the discomforting realization of what Eggman had spoken… “I.. I can’t.” he leaned against the back of a tree. “I can’t.. I have to hold onto it…”

“If you keep it… then you’ll never forgive yourself.” Amy, seeing a sudden shift of consciousness over his deeds in him, got up and slowly started staggering over to him.

She gripped her arm and tried to hobble towards him, seeing him continually move away from her.

“No!” he shouted, looking disoriented. “Stay away from me!!!”

“Sonic… Please…” she reached a hand out to him.

In a flood of mercy, her touch on his cheek suddenly flooded him with emotion.

He lifted his head in defeat, the darkness fading, and waves of tears washed over his being as he fell to the ground.

He covered his face, holding himself up as he realized what he had done.

He had willingly given into his anger, submissively passed his free agency to the dark emotions of his heart, and because of that, he had lost who he truly was.

“I’m so sorry… I’m so sorry…” he kept repeating, each time envisioning the town, Eggman, Tails, Shadow, Knuckles, and then…

He turned in such miserable grief up to Amy.

“I’m so sorry..”

The air escaped Amy’s lungs, but she fell and clung to him, holding him, as he let the last of the horrible emotions flow through him and pour out.

(Super AU, but Sonic will be okay after a good cry :3 Yeah, again, super AU XD -Sonic doesn’t cry XP nor does he yield his will, pass the torch, so to speak, to emotion.- But eh. -shrug- that’s the only way I could think of that would be Sonic X like ‘darker flirting’ since Dark Sonic is evil, you know? XP But… is he?)

#sonamy #dark sonamy #dark sonic #sonicxamy #amy rose #sonic the hedgehog #sonic #sonic prompt #sonamy prompt #dark sonamy prompt #sonic au

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