#Unlocked all his chakras and ready to take on the world

[humblemooncat]

"You really think you can kill me in my own home?"

"I'll show you why people fear the Drake"

Heavensward Monk quests completed! Went and did them all first since I'm already lv. 60 so I can just focus on MSQ.

This was a fun batch of quests though! Very poetic the last duty was near his tribe's stomping grounds. He's really starting to live up to the U Tribe's reputation. I'm so proud of him. :3c

[asura22zoro]

on Korra awakening air bending at the end of b1

In this episode Korra deals with Fear. In "Spirit of the Competition," Korra deals with Love and Grief. Is she unlocking the chakras with these experiences? So maybe these seemingly filler episodes aren't fillers and all, and Korra is going though a character arc that will allow her to master the spiritual side of bending. Yuans to noodles, that is probably one reason for the Avatar to travel the world to train, so he or she can feel these feelings and then better work on opening the chakras.

The Chakras, my word, the Chakras! This series is playing out the awakening of the chakras as it progresses. Korra has dealt with fear, guilt, shame, grief, lies and probably illusion with each successive episode apart from learning Freedom of spirit since her years at the South Pole. Now she's almost ready to master the spiritual side of being the Avatar. Only one more chakra to go. It makes sense why she couldn't master the spiritual side easily. She was locked up in a cozy, cocooned world and had none of the life changing experiences or the kind of training that Aang received. But now it looks like all that might just be about to change. Especially since the whole point of the Avatar Cycle is giving the planet's spirit a chance to experience life from a mortal perspective. Locking it up in a compound was detrimental to what the Avatar spirit wanted/needed. The final chakra? Unlocked by letting go of worldly attachments. For Aang, it was his fondness for Katara. For Korra? She was so wrapped up in being the Avatar, that she could have very well been contemplating suicide when looking over that cliff. When she decided against it, when she decided to go on living despite being a broken Avatar, BAM, last chakra opened. I disagree. There's absolutely no indication she was opening her last chakra; she hadn't let go of any worldly attachments, nor did she demonstrate any display of spiritual energy until Aang showed up. She was really just opening her Air Chakra. This is shown in multiple ways: She finally airbends purely out of love and concern for Mako, putting any grief she may have felt aside to do it. Later on, as she's grieving about the loss of her bending, Aang appears (another indication of the air chakra) and helps her get over her grief by returning her bending to her. She then sees Mako and demonstrates her love for him. Further, she clearly only unlocked the thought chakra at the end of Book 2, given that we see the same spiritual plane that Aang visited during his attempts at unlocking his own, followed by a massive display of cosmic energy in the form of her spiritual projection.

Korra airbending: Why was Korra able to airbend, even after Amon had taken away her bending? Amon takes his victims bending away by physical means (bloodbending). As air is the most spiritual of all the bending elements, Korra's airbending potential was not affected by Amon's block. Or it was a case where she turned to her spiritual side in another moment of helplessness. While she was not as realized as Aang that she could energybend her connections to all 4 elements, it was still enough to restore her connection to air, which was the most spiritual of the elements and which was spiritually the "nearest" within reach. Had Korra been a fully realized Avatar, she could have undone Amon's bloodbending completely with the Avatar State. The most plausible reason is the chakras. She was able to airbend when Mako was in danger of losing his bending. Which is the chakra that is opened by love? THE AIR CHAKRA, located in the heart. The first 3 chakras deal with Earth, Water and Fire respectively. When this chakra opened, it gave Korra her spiritual connection to the air element, and that did the trick. Her love for Mako opened her chakra and allowed her to overcome any feelings of grief (which blocks the air chakra) she may have been experiencing. How did Aang get the grip of Earthbending? He was forced to hold his ground and force the moose-lion head on to save Sokka, who would have been killed if he had dodged on that run. He overcame his fear (which blocks the earth chakra) with a need for survival (which the earth chakra deals with). Now that he's got the attitude, he has no more issues with it. How did Korra get the grip over Airbending? When Mako was in danger. It really doesn't take that long to get the hang of it. Seeing a loved one in danger is one of the most powerful triggers that removes all physical and psychological limits that the brain imposes on the body for its safety. Or even simpler than that, Amon never took away her airbending in the first place. Why? Because he couldn't! He had never debent an airbender before; He never got the chance to take away Tenzin and his family's. and probably assumed that it was no different from the other elements. He was wrong. Word of God said Amon's debending technique was in fact "Chi-severing". That offers a new, entirely plausible explanation for Korra's Airbending. Amon couldn't sever an "unactivated" chi line. Assuming every bender has 1 chi line corresponding with their element, when their bending abilities manifest, their chi-line is "activated" and strengthened through training. There are 4 different Chi lines within the Avatar allowing them to bend all four elements. Because of emotional turmoil, Korra had never airbent before, therefore, her Air chi-line was not activated. When her other chi lines were severed, most of her energy was forced into the remaining chi line: air.

The Earth Chakra was opened when Korra learnt to face her fear of dealing with Amon. The Water Chakra was opened when she was able to overcome her guilt when she got over the love triangle by forgiveness and got them through into the final, though it might have even happened before that when she got the knack of the airbending movements. The Fire Chakra was opened up when she reconciled with Tenzin over her shame of not being able to airbend or being spiritually weak, and when she finally connected with Aang. The Air Chakra was obviously opened by love, and I mean Mako. The Sound Chakra was opened when she understood Tarrlok and Amon's true identities, and Amon building his whole movement on lying over his backstory. The Hiroshi Sato reveal also definitely had something to do with it. The light Chakra was probably opened somewhere between Korra realizing that she could still airbend and Amon's makeup job and waterbending powers exposed. The air chakra was probably fully open in that moment where Mako was about to lose his bending, which is why she could Airbend. Finally the last chakra was unblocked when she was planning to leave everyone and told Mako to leave her for good, despite the fact that both truly loved each other by this point - probably she was contemplating suicide, now that she could no longer do her job as the Avatar and called Aang, likely with the intention of taking her away to the spirit world, which is when she gave up attachment. That's when all her chakras were open and her spiritual connection became truly complete. While it's difficult to often pinpoint the incident as the cause of opening her chakras, it's clear that following Character Development Korra already very spiritual by the end and had successfully opened all her chakras allowed her to master the Avatar state. All that was now needed was a little help from Aang to energybend her broken connections.

This also makes sense why Korra never went into the Avatar State despite being in danger so often. She had already begun to open her chakras, and until all the chakras were opened, she couldn't enter it. This also suggests that Korra's restrained and cocooned upbringing in that South Pole fortress also caused the spiritual block in her owing to insufficient Character Development. Katara knew this, the White Lotus didn't. Tenzin figured it out after Korra's first pro-bending match that her spirit really needs freedom to grow. Aang's statement that in her lowest moments, she was open to the greatest change, was just summing up the way she had unknowingly more and more spiritual by life experience. Aang's energybending was the last piece of the puzzle. Now Korra having lost her connection to 3 elements is totally helpless to solve things by her usual badassery and so has had to let go of her pride, the reason for her spiritual block. All this time she had been feeling that she never needed the spiritual side because she had been so badass, but now she had been humbled and her spirit was malleable to Aang's energybending. All that was left for Aang to do was to energybend Korra to restore her bending. It makes more Fridge Brilliance. Becoming a fully realized Avatar involves mastering both the physical and spiritual sides of bending. The two of them are related and influence each other. Aang could bend with his chakras closed. He was wounded by lightning, and while he could still bend all the elements, he had lost his spiritual connection to all but 4 of his past lives and the Avatar State. He regained it by a purely physical means of having his blocked chi paths opened up by a sharp rock, which spiritually unblocked him. Throughout the series there has been quite a connection between Energybending and the Avatar State, with Aang using the Avatar State to debend Ozai and Yakone. He was shown to have mastered the Avatar State after he had successfully energybended Ozai. Korra on the other hand, as the opposite of Aang, lost her connection to the physical side of bending, but by that point her chakras were open, she had completely mastered the spiritual side and connected with the spirits of the past Avatars, thus allowing her to master the Avatar State. Aang then uses the Avatar State to energybend Korra at a spiritual level, restoring her physical connection to her elements, making Korra a fully realized Avatar. It's already been noted by a lot of fans before that the plot is symbolic of how the chakras are opened, by dealing with fear, guilt, shame, grief (and love), truth and lies, illusion and attachment. Aang's chakras were blocked by all his experiences and the fact that he had responded in the manner that would lock them up. Korra on the other hand face similar situations but responded in the way that would open them. Maybe the writers know that ATLA fans aren't morons and don't feel the need to spell out the beautiful symbolism behind the plot, which would cheapen the effect. Her last chakra, the Thought Chakra, doesn't actually seem to have been opened at this point, but rather when she meditated in the Tree of Time.

Based on the chakra theories and how Amon missed out taking Korra's airbending, it's likely every element has its own separate network of chi paths connected to its respective Chakra. Genetics would determine which element would be active in a bender, but only the Avatar can use all the chakras. In particular, the chi path connecting all the chakras is what allows the Avatar to use the Avatar state. The bending mechanism could be that cosmic energy from the top chakra comes down to the lower chakras dealing with the elements. Opening the chakras in general allows a person like the Guru to connect with the spiritual side and in particular allows the Avatar to take control over the Avatar state. Aang's statement that Korra becomes open to change when she hits her lowest points pretty much sums up how she got the grip over spirituality and airbending. Korra's very first lines in Season 1 suggests that her ego was far too high above the balance point and it was totally fueled by the fact that she was Avatar. Throughout the series, she's increasingly being brought down to earth and becomes more and more spiritual. What's notable is that when she is helpless and cannot fight her way out does she end up connecting with spirituality and Aang. However, it's only when she hits her absolute low, with her very identity as the Avatar being broken and she realizes that she is truly no different from any other bender is her pride finally shattered, and then she turns spiritual. Doesn't it remind you of a certain Siddhartha Gautama, who became the Buddha after that one moment where he realized that he too was not above death, old age and suffering? Also, it's Truth in Television. A lot of people who went spiritual have a devastating blow in their lives acting as the turning point. Sometimes it really takes just one, powerful Wham moment.

More Fridge Brilliance on the finale: Korra is supposed to be the opposite of Aang, and various elements of the show reflect that, as has already been pointed out. Another thing that makes Aang and Korra opposites? Aang's series ended with him learning to take bending away. Korra's series ended (remember that the first season was created with the intent of being the only season; the creators didn't know if they'd get more) with her learning to give bending back. The Equalists had control of Republic City But then, everything changed when the Fire Nation led the attack. How exactly does Korra learn airbending suddenly? Some have suggested that it's her air chakra, but there's never been any specific connection between chakras and the element to be bent (Aang, for example, doesn't learn firebending because he overcomes the shame of what he did to Katara). So why does Korra learn airbending? Because of the nature of why Korra couldn't airbend and her lack of spirituality. Bending was her life; she took pride in being a powerful bender and the Avatar. Her pride is bound in her bending. For Korra, her spirit and body are one and the same. But an airbender must free their spirit from their body. Air is the the most ephemeral element; it cannot be held within the body for too long or you die. Aang even talked about how great Air Nomad monks detached themselves from the world to achieve freedom. Korra's spirit, her self-worth, was always attached to her body via her bending, so she could never learn airbending. When Amon took her bending, he broke her body and therefore her spirit. But when Korra found the will to keep fighting, she finally separated her now weak body from her strong spirit. And therefore achieved the freedom she needed to airbend.

Aang's statement that Korra becomes open to change when she hits her lowest points pretty much sums up how she got the grip over spirituality and airbending. Korra's very first lines in Season 1 suggests that her ego was far too high above the balance point and it was totally fueled by the fact that she was Avatar. Throughout the series, she's increasingly being brought down to earth and becomes more and more spiritual. What's notable is that when she is helpless and cannot fight her way out does she end up connecting with spirituality and Aang. However, it's only when she hits her absolute low, with her very identity as the Avatar being broken and she realizes that she is truly no different from any other bender is her pride finally shattered, and then she turns spiritual. Doesn't it remind you of a certain Siddhartha Gautama, who became the Buddha after that one moment where he realized that he too was not above death, old age and suffering? Also, it's Truth in Television. A lot of people who went spiritual have a devastating blow in their lives acting as the turning point. Sometimes it really takes just one, powerful Wham moment.

Way back in episode 2 "A Leaf in the Wind" Tenzin told Korra, "Being the Avatar isn't all about fighting." And this is very true. When Korra finally Airbends and knocks Amon back she isn't doing to fight him but protect Mako, the man she loves, from being harmed by Amon. And protecting people is what the Avatar's duty.

and the air chakra is opened by love

[kobayashinm]

Ninjamanager: Beginner Mode

First of all, hi! This is a walkthrough based on my experiences with Ninjamanager, or more specifically: "Link".

I learned a lot from my month-long journey through Beginner and now Easy mode, as well as from my interaction with Discord community, and of course, my lovely clanmates. I wanted to standardise the experience and to make sure we're all on the same page, please check out the "Help" section in the Discord, as well as the Academy on the website.

Waffle over, walkthrough begins!

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Q: Which village and starter should I pick?

Your starter genin and jounin don't matter on Beginner. Once chakra becomes an issue, 0 chakra ninjas will become more relevant. But for Beginner, I recommend picking "Leaf" or "Neo Leaf" to skip the village tax on the genin you unlock in the Forest of Death.

I'd pick "Neo Leaf" to use the Ino and Shikamaru you unlock in the Forest of Death. As for why, let's move on to our next section.

Q: Which ninjas should I use?

On Beginner, you main priorities are stamina and damage. Stamina determines what % of damage you lose after each hit, which is translates to extra attacks on the World Map. Very important.

Damage however is complicated. We have taijutsu, ninjutsu and bukijutsu.

Taijutsu is a flat 0.5 damage per point. It's solid, consistent and that makes progress slow unless you scale your Critical Chance, then Critical Damage. Every crit gives you 25% more tai (woah!)

Ninjutsu is a range between 0~1 damage, scaling down until it's a simple 0.5 damage depending on your ninjas seal. At a high seal, it's Taijutsu that can't crit and a low seal, it's a gamble. This and the fact it doesn't require any support stats like Critical Chance makes it ideal for progressing (at a low seal) because you only need to win once.

Bukijutsu is 0.3~1 damage that uses ammo. Don't worry, the ammo is free, but you'll run out if you don't have enough Bukijutsu Recovery to support your Bukijutsu Boost, which determines what % of your Buki pool you use. It requires a lot of investment to use and while Bukijutsu growth is generous, it can't crit or highroll and will deal much less damage until you have the items to utilise it.

In short, pick someone with decent Stamina and a decent Tai or Nin growth. I recommend focusing on Ninjutsu because you can highroll your way through everything.

Q: I can't get past this area. What do I do?

Farm. Not for experience, but for the Legendary Weapon and Bloodline you want to bring when you reset. You can find all your options on the Codex however for recipes, use this spreadsheet: "Link". For Legendary Weapons, I recommend: Bahamut's Mane (for Tai), Python Robe (for Nin), Abaddon's Armory (for Buki) or Snakeskin Seal if you're not sure.

For Bloodlines, I recommend: Boil Release (for Tai), Lava Release (for Nin), Kidomaru's Curse Seal (for Buki) or Swift Release if you're not sure.

Remember, you can only take one with you when you reset! However you can strip the abilities (genjutsu's) from your items and Legendary Weapons, and keep those abilities forever.

Q: Which summon should I use?

Katsuyu if you're low seal. Gamabunta if you're tai. Gamaken if you're high seal.

================================================ And that's the end of my walkthrough. Yes, yes, I know. I should've given you a full team but that's the fun of it. Beginner mode is the realm of exploratation and experimentation, so long as you have a decent Summon that is. Armed with knowledge, you're more than ready to tackle it yourself! Believe it!

[airashisakura]

Pregnancy Diaries

Chapter 2 - Arguments

Chapter 1

Rating: General audience

Relationships: Uchiha Sasuke & Haruno Sakura

Summary : Sasuke takes a rash decision that leads to a little argument.

FFN Ao3

Traveling with Sakura had shown Sasuke a side of her that was less known to him. Her dedication to the medic rules and her compassion towards her patients always left him in awe. Her green eyes turned serious when the healing chakra flowed through her dainty palm and her stern expression changed to a gentle one when her patient finally breathed in relief at the end of her procedure.

He doesn’t know whether Sakura’s patients feel the same, but the sight always calmed his raging interior. In a genuine sense, she was a healer. She healed everyone unconditionally and tended to both physical and mental wounds. He thought maybe nobody else thought about  her that way because only he knew how she was mending all the open wounds of his past.

He also helped people in the places where he stopped to rest while on his journey, but Sakura amplified the whole concept of atoning for his sins just by being by his side. She was always ready to help people with her knowledge of medical ninjutsu. Sometimes Sasuke wondered if it was all necessary for her to do, especially for his sake. He had told her before too that his sins had nothing to do with her, but she always insisted that it was her duty. Being away from Konohagakure undoubtedly gave her a break from her responsibilities, but healing people always left her with a sense of serenity. And now, after months of traveling together, he always felt pride when he watched her work.

But today it irked him. He was impatiently waiting for his wife. He leaned against the door at one of the cabins of the local clinic in the town where they were staying. He furrowed his brows in irritation, watching his wife push her limits. The staff there had also asked her to not expend her chakra much in her present state, but she stubbornly ignored their advice with a reassuring smile. And to her husband, she did worse.

Sakura could feel Sasuke’s burning gaze on her even though her back faced him. She knew he wouldn't just order her to leave whatever she was doing and join him, but from the moment she sensed his chakra nearby, she knew he was there demanding the same. She didn’t even bother to turn back and give him a cute assuring smile, because she knew it wouldn't work on him now because he wasn’t there just for her, but for both of them . He had no say over her frantic working habits before, but since now she was carrying part of him inside of her, he had a right to interrupt her.

Sakura wiped sweat rolling from her forehead with the back of her hand and then took off her white coat. She promised the staff there that she would visit tomorrow to help them again. Sakura took little unsteady steps due to her overuse of chakra, but she concealed it by accumulating the meagre amount of chakra she had left under her feet so she didn’t fall over. She grinned at Sasuke, and he nodded in response.  His onyx orb fell on her slightly engorged belly, announcing the start of her second trimester.

They walked through the streets to reach the inn where they were staying. Sakura chattered about the patients she healed and asked Sasuke about his day to which he kept his answers short but informative. Even though Sakura was trying her best to act normal, she wanted to get to the room as soon as possible.. She realized that she had overexerted herself and didn't want Sasuke to worry about her health.

It was difficult to fool Sasuke, though. He had already noticed she was struggling to walk. He knew she hated feeling weak, so he discarded the thought of helping her walk, but stayed sharp in case she lost her balance.

As Sasuke unlocked the door, Sakura felt chakra dissipating from under the soles of her feet and lightheadedness started taking over. The best she could do was to recline to the wall alongside the door as the world around her spun and she heard her name in a concerned voice. It hit her hard that she’d made Sasuke worry.

“Sakura?�� Sasuke gently wrapped his lone arm around her waist, letting Sakura rest her head on his chest. In times like this, he wished he had taken the prosthetic arm.

Sakura smiled wearily as she regained her balance, but Sasuke didn’t let her go. He shut the door with his foot and then moved towards the bed. Sakura sat down carefully and started rubbing her small baby bump, smiling to herself. Sasuke hated to interrupt the beautiful scene, but he knew he had to say something.

“You are resting tomorrow,” he said as he handed her a glass of water.

Sakura knew he was concerned too, and it made him feel guilty that he couldn’t abandon his journey to go back to Konoha and stay with her. Sakura said, “But we will leave the day after tomorrow so I need to check on them once before we leave.” She drank up the water and thanked him, smiling.

Sasuke took the glass from her as he moved to keep it on the bedstand and said, “Not in your current condition,” and sat on the other side of the bed. He knew it would upset her, and he didn’t want to be swayed by her expression.

Instead, Sakura frowned and said, “Sasuke-kun, it’s necessary to work during pregnancy. I told you earlier, and… ”

He cut her off. “You forget your limits.” He knew Sakura would give him the same mini-lecture he had been hearing from day one of her pregnancy, how being active would help with her labor and all kinds of stuff, but he couldn’t stay silent and let her continue to overwork herself.

“I know.” She sighed. “But I promise this won’t happen again.” She craned her neck to look at his back, hoping he might see her pleading look.

“No.” His reply was blunt.

“I’m the medic here. I know what is good for me and my baby,” Sakura pointed out, trying to dissipate his concern.

My baby?

He repeated those two words mentally, and it broke the last strings that kept him from lashing out at her. The Uchiha was very possessive of the people he loved and he couldn’t immediately forgive even his wife for denying his concerns and untold fears for their unborn child. Sasuke furrowed his brows as he pinched the bridge of his nose, thinking deeply about a decision he had been considering for quite some time. No matter how rude it might sound, he had to voice it out.

“Starting tomorrow, we will start for Konoha. Once I drop you there, I’ll resume my journey.”

Sakura couldn’t believe what she had heard. She looked towards Sasuke, but his back again greeted her.

“W-what?”

“Aah. At least you’ll listen to people there and won’t overwork.” He tried to remain calm.

Sakura lost it then. Sasuke’s words not only hurt her but made her angry. The day she told Sasuke about her pregnancy, he had been reluctant to let her continue the journey, but Sakura promised she would be okay if he would be by her side. The best reason she had given him was that he could also see their child grow little by little, and even Sasuke didn’t want to miss that opportunity. And now, at the 16th week of pregnancy, he ignored every reason for them to be together just to win a petty argument over her.

Ridiculous, she thought.

She wanted to remind him how happy she was to be able to see the world together with their baby. But she was too tired to argue with him or try to prove him wrong. Tears started to sting her eyes as she lay down to rest on the bed and grumbled, “Fine.”

“I’ll fetch something to eat,” Sasuke said, getting off the bed. Sakura mumbled a yes in response.

Sasuke didn’t like hurting Sakura after everything he had done to her in the past, but this decision was for Sakura’s sake and for their baby’s health. He sighed and looked towards her before exiting the room.

Although he maintained a calm demeanor while walking through the streets, his inner demons reminded him that he had always been incapable of protecting his family. This fear of losing the people he loved still ran through his veins. No, Uchiha Sasuke wasn’t sulking over the fact, but it infuriated him. He quickened his pace to find a restaurant so he could return to Sakura.

Pregnancy blues had never hit Sakura until that day. Although she knew that overusing her chakra was not good for the baby, the thought of living alone again made her anxious. Although she knew living in Konoha surrounded by her friends would be safer than traveling. But after waiting all these years to be with him, and what was happening now was not fair. Sakura sighed in defeat. She felt selfish for canceling after she had promised to help the next day, but Sasuke was genuinely worried about her.

“I’m back.” Sasuke announced, and she got up from her resting position. Sasuke didn’t need his sharingan to know his abrupt behavior had upset her. A silence hung between them before Sakura spoke softly, her voice barely above a whisper.

“Please, Sasuke-kun. Let me stay with you.”

Sasuke wanted her words to calm him down, but his brooding over his failure tasted so bitter in his mouth that he spat out, “Damn it, Sakura. Just understand.” He stopped when he realized his voice had terrified her. He rubbed his forehead, choosing his next words carefully. He sighed and scooted near her and sat beside her. Sakura quickly wiped away her fresh tears.

“I-I fear losing you and…” His expression softened and his gaze fell to her bump. That was when Sakura realized Sasuke had also been hiding his fears. Not only that, but his past also haunted him.

Before Sasuke could react, Sakura wrapped her arms around his torso, pulling him in a hug. Yes, that's what he needed. No clarification through words. He reciprocated her by holding her tightly, snuggling but careful not to crush her bump. Both of them embraced their warmth, unaware that the third member was most elated by their interaction. Sakura abruptly broke out of embrace when she felt something fluttering in her stomach.

“Sasuke-kun.” Sakura squeaked, her green eyes gleaming. “Our baby moved. I felt it.”

It was rare for Sasuke to smile, but he couldn’t help it. The smile quickly wore out when he remembered what he had really wanted was to ensure their safety even if he had to miss them. He tried to rationalize every pro and con as he watched the most beautiful sight, his wife having a one-sided conversation with their unborn baby. His lips curled upward. Unlike in the past, he didn’t have to regret his decision later.

“Sakura, Stay with me.”

Sakura nodded happily, her tears foaming her green orbs, “ Just take me to the clinic tomorrow so I could apologize to them for not helping.”

Sasuke nodded in response.

The little one moved again, unaware how it settled the arguments between its parents and strengthened the bridge of feelings between them both.

Chapter - 3

[cyhyr]

Summer of Whump Day 27: Injured

Fandom: Naruto

Rating: T

Pairing: Hatake Kakashi & Umino Iruka

WC: ~1970

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply; kid whump

Notes: Caning. Tied up. Academy-age Iruka, ANBU Kakashi. Post-Kyūbi attack. AU where Iruka and Kakashi were once friends.

A/N: Happy Birthday To Me!!! I've been looking forward to this one for over a week :)

A/N 2: Combo with my Bad Things Happen Bingo Board square: Caning

~

Kakashi sighs, watching Iruka walk home without a care in the world. That prank he pulled today was genius, and it caught a genin team unawares while they were out cat-catching, but Sandaime-sama could have been a bit harsher during the disciplinary hearing. Kakashi had been in the room—the kid had zoned out, Sarutobi sighed like this was a waste of time, and then the two of them sat down and played shogi and had tea for an hour.

Kakashi steps away as Umino unlocks his door and goes inside. One of these days, his pranks are going to come back to bite him. And worse, he’ll have deserved it.

~

Iruka is particularly proud of today’s prank, having dropped a barrel of day-old frying oil on a genin team because they were too absorbed in their mission and not aware of their surroundings. Really, he did them a favor. If they’d been in a real combat situation, it could have ended with one of them dying instead of the lot of them just needing a serious bath.

He closes and locks the door behind him and slips out of his sandals. He’ll have to wait at least a week to perform the next—

The window is open.

He never leaves the window open.

Iruka fumbles back for the doorknob but there’s already someone behind him, and he yelps and turns around to face them. The kid—he’s not much older than Iruka, how did he get past the wards on his window??—grins maniacally down at him and crowds him back. Iruka takes a few steps further into the apartment, and screams around the hand that covers his mouth from behind. The one behind him drags him into the center of his studio apartment with their other arm around Iruka’s chest, pinning his arms to his side.

He goes to kick out behind himself, to get at the one holding him, but a third sticks a kunai under his chin just before he readies his foot and tsks at him.

Iruka settles down. He’s really outnumbered.

“What’s the Hokage got you doing as punishment?” The first one, the one blocking the way to his door, asks.

Iruka can’t answer. The second one still has their hand over his mouth.

The third one snaps his fingers. “That's right! I heard all about it!” His face darkens and he glowers down at Iruka, “Fucking nothing. A slap on the wrist and an afternoon of tea and shogi with the Hokage—what a punishment!”

This is the genin team he caught in his trap earlier, he realizes. And, Oh, shit, they’re angry.

Number One pulls out a spool of chakra wire with a grin. He takes Iruka’s hands and ties them together in front of him, wrapping the wire between his fingers to keep them still and preventing him from making hand-seals—as if he knew any jutsu that would be particularly useful here. The other end of the wire is threaded through the handle of Number Three’s kunai, and then Three throws it up into the ceiling where it sticks.

“Get the window, Hiro,” Number One says, and Number Two—Hiro—goes and shuts the window, and then pulls back the curtains. Number One pulls on the chakra wire, yanking Iruka’s arms up above his head until he’s on his toes.

He whimpers. “Guys, really, it was just a joke—a prank! I didn’t mean any harm by it! I’m sorry!”

“That’s right,” Number Three sneers, “You should be groveling for forgiveness.”

“Doesn’t mean we have to give it to you,” Hiro says, producing a thin wooden cane from out of his pack and tapping it against his palm.

“Ready for your real punishment, kohai?” Number One grins, stepping forward and pushing a bandana into Iruka’s mouth. He ties it behind Iruka’s head. He then takes a knife to Iruka’s shirt down his back and slices away the fabric, against his muffled cries.

“I think ten strikes should be enough to get the point through to him,” Number Three says, putting his finger into the tears running down Iruka’s cheeks. “Ten strikes each, of course. He wronged all of us.”

~

Kakashi patrols the village vigilantly, and keeps thinking about the three genin covered in frying oil. He tries to be sympathetic. Dirty oil has a way of staining, he supposes; they’ll be lucky to be able to salvage any of what they’d been wearing.

Really, Iruka did those kids a favor. If it had been a field mission and they’d been caught off-guard like that… He won’t admit it out loud, but if losing their clothes and having to wash frying oil out of their hair will teach that genin team to remain vigilant, Iruka likely did them a great service.

Earlier, they had been outside the Hokage’s office, asking about what disciplinary actions were going to be taken against Umino. And they had been pissed to hear that Sandaime-sama only gave him a stern talking-to.

Kakashi wonders if, maybe, he should check in with their jōnin-sensei.

~

Iruka screams through the gag. With each strike of the cane against his back, he sobs harder. He wonders if anyone will notice; probably not. If anyone will care; definitely not. Sandaime-sama says the village is a family but really? An orphan is an orphan. No one will—

“My turn, Kaoru,” Hiro says. Number One, Kaoru apparently, gets one more strike in before handing off the cane. He won’t be able to sleep tonight. Should he go to the hospital after this? How was he going to get to the hospital after this? Would anyone believe him that it wasn’t a prank, that he’s been attacked in his own village?

Iruka cries, trying to beg for mercy through the gag. The genin team ignores him, and Hiro moves into position. The cane comes down onto his back.

~

“I don’t keep track of them after training,” Yūto-sensei says. “As for that Umino kid, he deserves what he gets if he gets something worse than how Sarutobi disciplined him.”

Kakashi makes the call to leave his patrol and head for Umino’s apartment. He doesn’t call his team; he’d make it there faster alone. And he has a bad feeling that he should have stayed after following him home.

~

Iruka sobs heavily, his chin resting against his chest; until the tip of the cane is there, lifting with gentle pressure and sure threat. Iruka meets the eyes of Number Three—Shiori, he’s learned. As if knowing their names makes any difference. In a normal hostage situation, the textbooks say to try and develop a rapport with your captors and find out their names, offer your own. This isn’t a hostage situation; it’s torture.

They haven’t gotten to the torture resistance unit yet.

“Take the gag off,” Shiori orders. Kaoru does so.

Iruka gasps, heaves deep breaths. He licks his lips and then says, “I’m sorry,” over and over again.

Shiori puts the cane against his lips and Iruka whimpers. “I know,” he says, “but you still have to be punished. And I want to hear you scream, unburdened.”

“Shiori—” Hiro starts nervously.

“No one cares about him,” Shiori says, rolling his eyes. “So what if he screams? He’s just another orphan, having another nightmare.” He drags the cane along Iruka’s bare side as he takes up position behind him.

“Please, don’t…” Iruka whines. “No more. I’m sorry.”

“Bad kids need to be taught. You don’t have parents anymore, and if the Sandaime won’t do it, then it falls to us, your senpai, to teach you.”

The cane comes down.

Iruka cries out, thrashing in the chakra wire. Kaoru and Hiro look around nervously as the cane comes down again, pulling another scream from Iruka’s lips.

The third time, a knock comes on his door. “Umino-kun, are you alright?”

A kunai is at his throat immediately, Shiori dropping the cane aside.

Iruka doesn’t know how to respond. He needs to get away from these guys, but he doesn’t know who’s on the other side of the door—it could be a shinobi, but it could also just be the old couple who manages his apartment. He can’t tell by the voice.

“Tell them it was just a bad dream," Shiori orders, hissing in his ear.

He decides to take a chance. He pings a line of chakra through the door, something small, hoping it will hit whoever’s there and alert them. “I—I’m sorry. Bad dream,” he calls back.

He’s relieved to receive a ping of chakra back.

“If you’re sure,” the shinobi at the door says. “Have a good night, Umino-kun.”

“Thank-you,” he mutters.

Shiori waits barely another minute before putting the gag back in Iruka’s mouth and raising the cane again; but he only gets one more strike in, Iruka’s muffled cry echoing in the studio apartment one last time, before the door is kicked in. The ANBU from earlier today stands in the doorway—the one who had picked him up from the scene of his prank and brought him before Sandaime, and who thought he was stealthily following him home but was stupidly obvious.

The three genin try to escape through the window, but they had carefully closed it earlier and aren’t smart enough to break the glass to get away. The ANBU closes the distance easily, performing non-lethal blows and knocking Kaoru and Hiro out; and then when Shiori realizes that he’s outclassed, he tries pulling his kunai back out to threaten Iruka, but the ANBU flickers across the studio and disarms him, first, then knocks him out.

With his attackers unconscious, Iruka’s sobs turn from pained to relieved.

The ANBU stands before him and cuts the chakra wire holding his wrists together above his head. His back aches and he cries out as they ease his shoulders down; he grits his teeth and cuts off the cry, muttering, “Hurts.” He leans into the ANBU chest plate and sniffles.

“Do you need medical assistance?”

Iruka looks up at the voice and, finally, recognizes the mask—Hound. And he’s familiar with the mask, and who’s under the mask; they were friends, once, weren’t they?

“Kaka—”

“Hound,” Kakashi mutters. “In the mask, it’s Hound. Do you need medical assistance?”

Iruka nods, leaning against his friend from long ago. His armor is cold; refreshing against the feverish heat of Iruka’s chest. Kakashi holds him, his gloved hands gently prodding at his back where there aren’t marks. A growl rumbles against Iruka’s temple.

Kakashi seethes above him, and Iruka tries unsuccessfully to tune it out. “In the village, no less. You should have been safe…” Behind his back, Hound makes a series of seals and says, “Kuchiyose no Jutsu.”

Summoning smoke poofs around in the corner of his view, and then Hound says, “Bull, stand guard. Shiba, Akino, go to T&I and have a team come and collect these three. I’ll report later.”

“Why not—?”

“Iruka’s injured,” Hound murmurs. He holds Iruka still, and then turns and crouches down, reaching back for Iruka’s hands. Getting the idea, Iruka flushes, but settles himself over Kakashi’s back and wraps his arms around Kakashi’s neck, letting the older teen position them in a way he’ll be able to run without worrying about Iruka accidentally choking him. Then, he slips his hands under Iruka’s thighs, pulls them around his waist, and stands up. He carries Iruka on his back like he weighs nothing. Iruka hides his face in Kakashi’s neck. “I’m going to get him to the hospital first, then I’ll meet at T&I to debrief.”

“Kakashi—”

“Hound, Iruka,” he says. “Don’t worry. I’ve got you.” His voice deepens into a growl as he continues, “You won’t get hurt again, not on my watch.”

Iruka closes his eyes, finally feeling safe, and rests as Kakashi flickers them away.

[fangirlandiknowit101]

30 BTS writer asks: 1, 12 + 18? ❤️🌻

Almost forgot to add - thanks for asking<33333

1. What was the first fandom and/or pairing that you wrote fic for?

Unsurprisingly, it was for Naruto and Sasuke/Naruto. You can still read it in all its glory, even on ao3 lmao. Might be hard to believe but that fic (Unsuspicious title, don't ask why it's called that I have no explanations) is really the absolute first thing I wrote that counts as a fanfic. I didn't write about other people's fictional characters before that. I didn't really write much outside of school at all, not sure how I lived my life tbh...

12. Is there a trope you haven’t written yet but really want to?

I answered earlier that I want to write a horse rider au at some point, but what I'd also like is to write a real enemies to lovers fic. Like, actual enemies. But it might be too angsty, so who knows if I'll ever make it lol.

18. What is a line/scene you’re really proud of? Give us the DVD commentary for that scene.

Aah you guys really want that commentary don't you... maybe one day I'll release a version of tswm with director's commentary for the whole thing hahahahaha (jk I'd never have time to do that)

But alright, I'm gonna take the opportunity to comment on another scene in tswm that I definitely this deserves it, it's the reunion scene between Naruto and Sasuke in chapter 49! I hesitated to pick this one bc it's so long and emotional, and also I don't want to add any accidental spoilers... but oh well. Here we go!

[My comments will be in bold text, this starts almost at the beginning of the chapter, right when Sasuke meets Naruto in Kaguya's place.]

He reached out with a hand, the bright light reflecting in the half-moon in his palm. It glowed, and just like that, his hand wrapped around another’s.

Naruto.

He sucked in a breath, lungs desperate for air. Naruto stood before him, chest heaving, hand clutching Sasuke’s so hard he feared it might break.

Their shared beat rang loud in his ears, eyes wide as they drank each other in. The darkness had given way to white, fuzzy light, their bodies floating, suspended in air.

“Sasuke,” Naruto whispered, as if afraid to drown out the sound of their connection.

Honestly, I tried my best to make it as painful as possible. That's all I wanted lol. At first I had no idea how to write this scene, but then I just got a feeling and tried to write it in words.

There was no hiding in this place. It was similar to that strange place that seemed to exist between them when they fought, blows connecting, hearts open. Between one breath and the next, it would be gone, their shared hearts lingering long after.

Nothing more poetic than that special place Kishimoto created for them when they exchange blows... extremely gay.

Here, there was only the two of them, the heat of their bodies as Naruto reached for his face.

“Am I dreaming?” Naruto wondered, fingers stroking along Sasuke’s cheekbone. “You look so real…”

They sank down, slowly, until their feet touched solid white. He shivered, the tips of Naruto’s fingers touching his chin, his mouth.

“It could be a dream,” Sasuke said quietly, exhaling as Naruto came closer.

“I can feel your heart,” Naruto murmured, his forehead coming to rest against Sasuke’s temple. “I missed you so much.”

Images flashed before Sasuke’s eyes, impressions of the world from Naruto’s perspective. Menma as the kyuubi. Kakashi, entering through a window. Iruka, hand gentle as he reached over the table.

Sakura, pain drawing her face tight. A mountain of paperwork. Snippets of conversation. The overwhelming pain of loneliness, like walls closing in on him.

He puzzled together enough pieces to make sense of the days since they separated.

Must be convenient to just read each other's minds... I should stop making fun of my own writing. But anyway, I felt very clever when I realized I could skip explanations between them and just let them see each other's memories of the past few days. I think it fits that they could see it through the other person's eyes, all the emotions too. Especially how painful it was for Naruto and how much he was trying to keep it together in front of his friends, and still failing. It gives Sasuke a better understanding of what would have happened if he'd decided to leave after one year passed (and I'm still bitter at Kishimoto for doing that in canon.)

“Naruto,” he sighed, lifting a hand to sift through soft strands of hair, closing his eyes as Naruto pressed into him.

Hearts bared, he felt Naruto’s desperate longing as his own. It mirrored his own pain, the aching emptiness filling his chest. Little by little, the cold was pushed away by warmth, Naruto’s mouth touching his cheek, his jaw, his throat. It burned against his skin, each point of contact erupting into tendrils of heat that seeped into his body.

“I didn’t know what to do,” Naruto confessed, lips shaping the words onto Sasuke’s throat. “I couldn’t go back to you, I-“

Sasuke turned his head, capturing his mouth. The words were lost between their lips, swallowed by the sudden surge of need. Naruto’s arm wrapped around his neck, keeping him in place. A fever caught him, leaving him dizzy and faint. He felt emotions between them like a physical caress, like they swirled in and out of their bodies, like a strong wind playing with fallen leaves.

Pain. Longing. Fear.

Happiness. Comfort. Love.

Naruto kissed him like he’d die if they stopped. He might, for all Sasuke knew.

Don't mind me, I was just crying buckets as I wrote this.

Their hands were still clasped tight, their palms pressed together, keeping their marks in contact. Teeth dug into his lower lip, but he could barely feel the pain over the onslaught of emotion. It was overwhelming, to share Naruto’s heart so fully. Was this how Naruto had felt, when Sasuke had touched him by accident? When Sasuke had shared too much of himself, and Naruto had been unable to give him the same in return.

I think it actually wasn't as overwhelming for Naruto when Sasuke accidentally touched him. This place that Kaguya controls just amplifies things a lot.

No such restraints now.

Their souls were on fire, like chakra flames billowing around their bodies. It was too much to make sense of, and yet it felt as if they’d always been this close, always been one and the same. Naruto fit inside him like a key, like Sasuke was now unlocked, his body no longer keeping him prisoner.

“Naruto,” he breathed out, over and over again, every nerve ending alight as they held each other.

I was listening to this song called Heat Up by Giant Rooks as I wrote this (that's where the chapter title comes from and honestly the lyrics are just *chef's kiss*) and I really tried to use as much metaphor as I could, idk if that makes it sound boring haha but for once I was definitely thinking very hard about every single sentence. And I tried to make it as "alive" as I could, so you'd feel it rather than have it described to you.

An eternity later they calmed down, mouths sliding lazily over each other, heartbeats finally finding their shared rhythm. Their foreheads pressed together, Sasuke’s eyes fluttering open to meet deep blue, their usual strength faded into self-doubt.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, running his fingers through Naruto’s hair, thumb tracing the shell of his ear. “Don’t hide from me, not here.”

Aww look at Sasuke, so in tune with his emotions. He really is an all or nothing kind of guy. If they already share everything in this place, there's no point in having secrets. Besides, his worst fear is Naruto losing confidence because of something he said or did.

Naruto let out a sharp breath, lifting their clasped hands between their chests.

“I missed you,” he said again, eyes closing in pain. “I’m so happy you’ve been okay.”

So much pain. Sasuke struggled to make sense of it, so much of it reflected inwards, towards Naruto himself. He could understand the longing, the absence of him like a gaping hole. It mirrored his own pain, pain he’d locked inside his heart within a steel cage. It flowed freely now, wrapping around Naruto’s in recognition.

But the rest… Naruto let out a sob, and yet he was smiling. Sasuke pressed another kiss to his lips, unsure of what to say.

I know Naruto did that whole waterfall thing where he embraced his evil side and totally let go of all his negative energy... But you can't tell me he's 100% okay and only happy and never feels pain. When will Konoha start offering therapy... Jokes aside, at this moment in time Naruto is so conflicted. The whole time he's been worried about Sasuke leaving him, and telling himself that Sasuke would be happier in the other dimension, and that logically he should let Sasuke stay, but he absolutely doesn't want Sasuke to leave him. It's the most selfish thing he's ever felt, I think, this need to have Sasuke by his side. And he's got so much on his shoulders, just piling up, everyone relying on him to somehow magically fix the world. And he's afraid of failing, of acknowledging to himself that there are parts of him that aren't ready to shoulder this burden, that he's still hurting, that there's still a part of him that could have become like Menma. He's supposed to be completely selfless but he isn't, and he thinks of that as a character flaw, a personal failure. And that's kind of where his resolution to not become hokage comes from. Because he doesn't think he can remove this selfish parts of him, and so maybe he should embrace them instead.

“Sasuke, it’s so strange…” Naruto started, his words slow, carefully chosen. “You understand Charasuke so well, but Menma… I can’t accept him. And now I realize, he shows the ugliest parts of me. The parts that I’m afraid of.”

They both leaned back a little, to see each other’s faces. Light played over Naruto’s features, blurring him at the edges. Sasuke cupped his cheek, tilting his chin up so that their eyes met. Now that he knew what to look for, he could feel Naruto’s fear.

“It’s always there,” Naruto confessed, raw honesty in his voice. “The fear of losing you. The fear of not being strong enough. The fear of becoming hokage, and failing.”

Sasuke opened his mouth to say something, to reassure him, but Naruto shook his head quickly.

Sasuke, on the other hand, he never held himself up to be a good person. He's well aware that he has weaknesses, that he's putting up walls so he won't have to deal with emotions and stuff. But he does believe (a bit blindly) in Naruto, I think. Even though he thinks Naruto won't succeed, it's not because of anything that Naruto does or fails to do. He thinks it's because the world won't follow him, that Konoha isn't capable of change. But he never thought that Naruto would actually give up or have these kinds of doubts.

“Let me say this. I didn’t understand it at first. Menma always rubbed me the wrong way. I know you don’t like him either, but for me… It’s like looking at myself and knowing I gave up.”

He drew in a deep breath, his fingers trembling around Sasuke’s.

“And now, here, I can’t avoid that fear. Because all of it… all of it is for you, Sasuke.” He swallowed, and through the fear, Sasuke saw his determination. “You asked me, if there’s any room in my head for anyone but you. And there isn’t.”

Naruto's brain is 99% Sasuke and 1% ramen, that's just fact. That aside, this might be one of my favorite quotes in the fic.

Frowning, Sasuke bit the inside of his cheek to stay silent. Naruto was working up to something, he could tell, and part of him couldn’t help but think it would end the two of them.

“Don’t look at me like that,” Naruto said, drawing the pad of his thumb over Sasuke’s eyebrow, the touch equal parts reassuring and painful. “I can hear your thoughts, you know. Do you really believe that I would choose anything else over you?”

A lie caught on Sasuke’s tongue. He didn’t want to believe it, but what place did he have by Naruto’s side? How could he be all that Naruto wanted him, needed him, to be? How could he be someone that others would accept walking by his side?

Oh, Sasuke. Always so ready for Naruto to cast him aside. He doesn't want to stand in the way of Naruto's dreams *wipes tear*

“I don’t believe that you would want to,” he replied, eventually. “But maybe you should.”

They stood for a long time, looking at each other. Sasuke felt torn in two directions. He wanted to tell Naruto to never leave him. He wanted to say that he’d accept anything. That he’d remove himself from Naruto’s presence to make the choice for him. That he couldn’t, wouldn’t, stand between Naruto and his dreams.

That he’d known, all along, that the other dimension was only a dream. An impossibility. That he accepted this, and wouldn’t resent Naruto for choosing the village over him.

I think the difference between Naruto and Sasuke here, is that even though they both think the other should maybe leave them for better things, Naruto is much less ready to actually give Sasuke up. Sasuke is more of the martyr type lol.

“You deserve me,” Naruto said, voice dark with conviction. “Don’t you dare think otherwise. Don’t you understand? If you saw what I’ve been doing the past days…”

Naruto lifted their joined hands higher, shifted his grip until he held Sasuke’s palm open in front of himself.

“I thought only of you. I cared only about you. What good is the village to me, if you’re not there?”

His heart felt too heavy in his chest. Naruto’s words rang through his ears, the implication behind them ensnaring his heart until Naruto held it in his hand, too.

“I don’t want any of it, if you’re not with me.”

Sasuke lowered his eyes. He couldn’t allow himself to give in. He’d already given so much, and although he knew that Naruto would have this, too, it was too much in this moment.

“Sasuke… When are you going to recognize that you’re a good person? That even if our relationship hadn’t changed like this, I’d still need you beside me?”

I wanted to write this part so badly... To make Naruto tell Sasuke that he's a good person. That Naruto thinks so, at least. It's one of the first things I thought of for this scene. Not that Sasuke agrees haha.

“Me, a good person?” Sasuke raised his eyebrows, meeting Naruto’s gaze again. He recognized the stubborn glint in Naruto’s eyes, and sighed. “Even if that was true, you’re smart enough to know it’s not enough.”

Slowly, Naruto pulled his hand closer, his grip turning gentle. Sasuke caught himself holding his breath, as Naruto’s lips connected with the mark on his palm.

“You still don’t understand,” Naruto murmured, the movement of his lips tickling Sasuke’s skin. “The past few days, what have you been doing? Caring for the children, when I wasn’t there to do it. Putting Charasuke before yourself, comforting him in the ways he needed you to. Holding yourself together. Trusting me to come back.”

This is where we acknowledge exactly how much Sasuke has changed. Naruto spent the days apart thinking only of Sasuke, even to the point where he was neglecting his friends and duties. Sasuke, on the other hand, stepped up to fill the role he thought Naruto left behind, hiding his pain behind helping others. Ultimately trusting Naruto to hold his promise to come back. Also, I just want them to be soft with each other T_T

Staring at him, Sasuke’s breath caught in his chest at the swell of pride Naruto felt for him. Was it true, that he had changed so much? In Naruto’s eyes, he had. It was startling, to realize how Naruto thought of him. But Naruto had changed too, he thought. They had grown closer, in a way he didn’t think they could have in their own Konoha.

“I think Charasuke is a bit like you,” Sasuke said, lips twitching upwards at Naruto’s affronted look. “He needs physical comfort. I don’t mind giving it to you, and I guess I don’t mind giving it to him either. You both tend to do whatever you feel like, anyway.”

“You used to mind.” Naruto looked serious, reaching out to touch Sasuke’s mouth as if to prove his point. “Suddenly, you didn’t.”

The smile slipped from Sasuke’s lips. Naruto was right. A few weeks ago, he did push Charasuke out of the window. To be fair, Charasuke hadn’t liked him much back then, either, and the circumstances had been very different. He did understand him better now. If Menma represented Naruto’s fears, Charasuke represented everything Sasuke wanted in life. But Charasuke didn’t have Naruto, didn’t have Menma with him either, and maybe that was why Sasuke wanted to be there for him. His connection with Naruto was precious to him, had kept him going, had kept him questioning himself even in his worst moments of darkness. Had given him a reason not to give up on a life that wasn’t filled with pain and hatred.

Naruto made it worth it to change. Was he hoping to help Charasuke change, too?

Spoiler alert... yes you were, Sas.

Perhaps Kaguya had something to do with it, but maybe, even without her influence, he would have reached this point anyway if given enough time. Time they didn’t have back home. It surprised him to realize that Naruto had thought of this already. That he felt selfish for wanting Sasuke to go back with him, when he knew it would be painful.

“You minded when I touched you, too,” Naruto added, as a reminder that they were talking about the two of them.

“I didn’t.” It was easy to confess. “I couldn’t allow myself to accept it, but I never minded. And now…”

Even if Naruto could read most of his thoughts in this space, it was difficult to say the words.

“I was afraid to have more of you. I still am.  Because I know they’ll never accept it.”

Sasuke vs homophobia :( Can't really kill that with a sword. Sasuke was definitely in love with him before they went to the RTN dimension, he'd just buried it so deep that he had no idea it was there or what it was. If you separate love from attraction it's not really gay, is it? (It is)

Naruto kissed him again, desperately. There were so many thoughts swirling between them, a mess of images and emotions overshadowed by the overwhelming fear of losing each other.

Naruto’s guilt, for not being able to reach Menma like Sasuke reached Charasuke. Their worry for each other. The frustration of being forced to wait. Sasuke’s slow realization of how much Naruto meant to him. How much his family meant to him, even a different version of them.

“I can’t be without you again,” Naruto said, swallowing thickly. “There’s so much I want to say and I don’t know how.”

“I’m here,” Sasuke promised. “Any way you want me to be.”

Even though it hurt, knowing the struggle that lay ahead of them, how Naruto had struggled only the past few days.

He wasn’t sure when he’d closed his eyes, but Naruto’s hands holding his face between them made him open them again. His expression was serious, almost solemn.

“I think you’d be happier if you stayed there,” Naruto whispered, searching his eyes. “You can’t deny it. I know they’d take care of you, and I can tell that your bond with your family is important to you. In a different way than ours, but still. I’d forgive you, if you chose them.”

Stop sacrificing yourself, Naruto. I don't like it.

“How could you say that?” Sasuke grabbed Naruto’s wrists, glaring at him. “Even after everything you said about how you can’t be without me, how you’d never choose anything over me, and you still think I would leave you? Even when you can feel my heart, you think I won’t choose you no matter what?”

Sasuke calling him out, as he should.

He knocked their foreheads together, tightening his grip.

“You think I’d choose happiness over you?”

How could he be happy, if Naruto wasn’t there with him? It wasn’t even an option. He cared about Charasuke, that was true. And the other version of Itachi, of Shisui, his family… Even the Sakura of that world. But how could they compare? Losing Charasuke would hurt, but it wouldn’t rip his soul apart. Staying with them would be a life, but it wouldn’t be living. How could Naruto think of himself as selfish, and still be so incredibly selfless when it came to Sasuke? What was he supposed to do, to make Naruto trust him once and for all?

“If I deserve you, why wouldn’t you deserve me in turn?”

Naruto didn’t have an answer to that. Sasuke hadn’t expected him to, and he felt him struggle with the concept. Naruto’s hero complex wasn’t doing either of them any good.

Like, I personally don't like the concept of anyone deserving love or not deserving it. Love is something you give, freely, regardless of how society values the other person. The love you give isn't less worth depending on the person receiving it. But I think the both of them are so traumatized that they need to make peace with this concept. They kind of need to be told - yes, you do deserve love, and I will give it to you. Naruto's hero complex is like... we don't have time to unpack all of that.

“You want to do this the hard way?” Sasuke continued, tone sharp. “I’ll do it with you. I don’t think you’ll succeed but I’ll do it.”

He gathered up all his resolve, all his conviction, pushed aside his own reservations.

“Saying you’ll forgive me… that’s a lie. You wouldn’t. You never would. And I wouldn’t want you to, anyway. If you wanted me by your side and I couldn’t do it, you’d be right to hate me.”

“I could never hate you.”

“Then I’d hate myself.”

Bearing each other's burdens and all that...

Naruto made a face, as if to disagree, but Sasuke felt him smile despite the topic of their conversation.

“What kind of role reversal is this,” he muttered, pressing his thumbs into Sasuke’s cheeks childishly. “I don’t even know why I’m arguing about it.”

“Because you love me.”

They stared at each other. Naruto’s eyes widened in shock, but Sasuke held his ground. What was the point in pretending anything else? It all made sense like this, and perhaps deep down Sasuke had always suspected it, even before he returned to Konoha.

“Y-you can’t just say it out loud!” Naruto spluttered, slapping his hands onto his own face instead, hiding behind them with a groan. “Stop being so smug about it!”

Me, while I wrote this: Yeah, you can't just say that out loud! The pain of being perceived. I am suffering with Naruto.

“I won the argument, didn’t I?”

“Ugh, shut up!”

Feeling lighter, Sasuke wrapped his arms around Naruto, leaning his cheek against the top of his head, Naruto burying his nose in his neck. He’d deny it when they were back in reality, but he could feel that Naruto wanted the body contact, and he was unable to resist it. It didn’t take long for Naruto to calm down, releasing a huff into Sasuke’s neck.

“Maybe we can just stay in this place forever,” he said, sneaking his arms around Sasuke’s back.

“You’d miss ramen too much.”

If an emotional scene doesn't end with a joke, what are you even doing with your life. But writing them hug was like, releasing so many endorphins. I'm weak to it.

It was strange, to talk and immediately feel every thought behind the words, every emotion on full display. Naruto’s amusement radiated off him, and it was his turn to feel a little smug as he concentrated on everything that Sasuke felt for him.

When Naruto started imagining long days spent in bed, Sasuke rolled his eyes and decided they’d been emotional enough for the time being.

Sasuke like, I can accept the lovey-dovey stuff, but I draw a thick line in front of the bedroom door. He's got some work left to do lol.

Idk if any of this made any sense but... there you have it!

[ceruleanwhore]

Going off of the post I made yesterday, I want to talk about how the agni kai is, in multiple ways, a completion of that moment Zuko and Katara had in Ba Sing Se that was shattered by Aang. The most obvious point, here, is the scar. In the catacombs, Katara offered to heal his scar but, when Aang arrived and interrupted everything, she didn’t. He then goes on to side with Azula and fight against Katara and winds up being complicit in Aang being struck by Azula’s lightning while doing something to protect Katara. In the finale, he sides with Katara against Azula, gets struck by her lightning in order to save Katara, then she goes ahead and defeats Azula so that she can heal him, leaving a new scar in the process.

So there is a really great parallel here with Zuko, in addition to all of that, which is the comparison between him and Aang when it comes to sacrifice on behalf of Katara. The end of season 2 was all about how Aang was supposed to unblock his chakras in order to unlock and gain control over the avatar state but he didn’t, for Katara, so, in the finale, he realizes that he has to let her go and go into the avatar state in order to protect her. To begin with, there is the sacrifice itself. The chakra, as explained by the guru, had to deal with cosmic energy and was blocked by earthly attachments, ergo, Aang has to let go of earthly attachments. As he pointed out, love is a different thing that was covered in the fourth chakra. Therefore, in this chakra, when he is told to let go of Katara, he is not being told to dump her at the nearest rest stop and never talk to her again but, rather, to give up his earthly attachment to her; his crush. Aang literally threw away the avatar state, was ready to throw away the avatar cycle as a whole and the fate of the entire world over his god-given right to want to snog Katara, whether he was consciously aware of all of that or not, he did seem to be rather confused about all of it.

I think, though, that a more clear sign of how his decision was actually selfish is the scene when he decides to try again but bails when he sees Katara being taken prisoner. I say this because having the avatar state would have put him in a much better position to actually help her if she was in danger but, also, he was far enough away that five minutes wouldn’t make a difference. Instead, he threw it all away, rushed in without thinking, and made a situation where, when he naturally ended up having to give her up anyway, it was in the middle of battle and put him in a very vulnerable position so he was an easy target for what should’ve been a fatal hit that Katara healed with her spirit water.

Zuko, on the other hand, didn’t have anything to do with chakras. Where Aang needed to let go of Katara in order to be able to protect her, it was Zuko’s attachment to her that allowed him to save her. By extent, the way that Aang has to, at the last minute, throw up a pyramid and unblock that charka, which puts him in that vulnerable position and allows Azula to hit him with lightning parallels how Zuko only has to take that lightning because of how he taunted her with his hubris. Also, like Aang, there was plenty that he was throwing away, along with his own life, when he jumped in front of that lightning. I made a separate post about this, but, in throwing away his life, he also threw away the throne and showed that he trusted Katara with his country in his absence. With Aang, it wasn’t that he trusted her with anything like that, it was that he trusted himself to be able to save her. He didn’t think he was throwing away his life- he should be invincible in the avatar state, after all- so he didn’t have any thought or intent around that. 

Anyway, if, on Katara’s end, the moment in Ba Sing Se is resolved when she heals him because that was her promise that she went back on, then it’s resolved on his end when he sacrifices himself, giving up everything for her in order to defeat his sister, just like she had wanted him to and he had ‘betrayed’ her in not doing. Like I pointed out in that other post I made, at Ba Sing Se, Katara was actually expecting Zuko to throw away his family, his home, his throne, and his people, all for her, just because she made a promise she never fulfilled. In the agni kai, by jumping in front of that lightning, he is showing not just that he’s willing to throw all that away for her, like she originally wanted, by dying, but that he values her life more than his ability to be connected to any of those things that he values so much and also that he trusts her to take care of all of that in his absence. On Katara’s end, her whole thing was healing him but, also, based on the nature of his scar, providing relief for genuine trauma that originated with his family. In the agni kai, she not only heals his scar but, in order to do so, uses the strongest, most creative water bending in the whole series to defeat his sister, the prodigy fire bender who is now ten times stronger than normal thanks to the comet. Just like she would have by healing his scar, she defeats one of the main sources of his trauma and gives him that relief so that she can heal him and she also risks her own life to do so because, in that moment, his life and his safety matter more to her than her own.

[fallenqueen2]

Seeing The Unseen [NaruShika]

When Naruto and Shikamaru turn 16, they gain the ability to see their soulmate’s Daemon.

Ao3 Link

Naruto was jolted out of his sleep by something heavy landing on his chest. Naruto was a second away from jumping up onto his feet, hand curled his Kunai ready for the attack but something stopped him. It wasn’t exactly a concrete feeling, but whatever had just landed on him was safe to every part of him and even the Kyuubi stayed silent, which was rare nowadays as he and Jiraiya were working on accessing his powers.

Naruto opened his eyes and was greeted by the most adorable small jet-black kitten that was curled up on his chest. The kitten was already fast asleep and was gently purring as it rose and fell with the rise and fall of Naruto’s chest.

“Oh,” Naruto whispered as he carefully, slowly cupped his hand around the small kitten and an amazed smile crossed his lips as he gently stroked the soft fur.

“What’s going on brat?” Jiraiya rumbled as he rolled onto his side, eyes blinking slowly to look at his student.

“I…My soulmate’s Daemon.” Naruto was in shock and awe as the kitten slept on unaware of the storm of emotions that it just unlocked inside of the 16-year old.

“Yeah? Congrats kid, what does it look like?” Jiraiya asked curiously as he pushed himself up into a sitting position.

Only the two souls that were meant for each other could see their Daemon’s, well up until the two souls connect and then the Daemon’s would become visible.

Naruto knew that for sure as had been present when Iruka-Sensei had met Kakashi-Sensei and a large silver furred dog with one eye covered and a small brown-furred dog with a scar over its nose came into view, tackling the other happily and both of his Sensei’s had turned a bright red colour as they stared at the other in shock and happiness. Naruto and his team had to a lot of threatening that day, after all, Kakashi-Sensei was a pervert and Iruka-Sensei was amazing, but it seems it turned out okay for them after everything.

“A black kitten, it’s so cute and small,” Naruto said in a shaky voice, as his vision got blurry before he used his free hand to swipe at his eyes.

“Cute and small… What’s wrong kid?” Jiraiya didn’t remember crying when his appeared on his 16th birthday.

“I just… I didn’t think I was going to have a soulmate.” Naruto admitted as he stayed lying down, unwilling to move lest it woke his soulmate’s Daemon up and this all disappeared like a dream.

“What? Why?” Jiraiya was awake now and had a bad feeling in his gut as he watched Naruto stare at his chest with wide, glassy eyes.

“I’m me, a Jinchūriki. I just… I just didn’t think I had one.” Naruto admitted, forcing back the horrid memories of his childhood and all the cruel villagers hurting him, mocking him, telling him that no one would want a monster as a soulmate. Some things he had managed to move past but that one thing, that he wouldn’t have a soulmate, that no one would want him stuck with him.

“Jinchūriki or not, everyone has one. You deserve the happiness that your soulmate can give you, don’t doubt that Naruto.” Jiraiya set his hand on Naruto’s hair, messing it up playfully earning a familiar yelp and pout. Naruto couldn’t help but smile as the kitten on his chest peeled one brown eye and stared at him offended that Naruto had disturbed his sleep.

Naruto cradled the Daemon to his chest as he stood up and giggled as the kitten yawned cutely before scaling his shoulders and plopped down onto his head, making itself comfortable in Naruto’s spiky hair.

“It’s sleeping on my head,” Naruto informed his amused Sensei who was looking at him with fondness that Naruto wasn’t sure was directed at him.

“That makes things easier,” Jiraiya mused before he set about gathering their things up so they could leave.

Naruto lifted his hand and gently scratched the Daemon who purred happily in return and Naruto felt happier and lighter than he had in a very long time.

For days this feeling stayed burning in his chest and his fondness for his soulmate’s lazy Daemon. The kitten barely walked if it could manage to get Naruto to carry him somehow and Naruto would rarely say no, in fact, he fully enjoyed having his soulmate’s Daemon cradled in his arms or draped over his head.

However, when it came time for another session of trying to get the Kyuubi under control, the Daemon was pacing and hissing impatiently from across the clearing as the violent red Chakra whipped around Naruto and the blond fought to control it.

Naruto was only half aware of what was happening as he wrestled for control over the Kyuubi’s angry Chakra and could only dig his newly formed claws into the dirt below him. Jiraiya staggered up from where he hit a tree when one of the tails had lashed out against him.

Naruto, however, became very aware when his soulmate’s Daemon lunged across the clearing towards him and panic bubbled up in his throat at the mere thought of hurting it, hurting his soulmate and getting rejected just as he feared he would be.

His soulmate’s Daemon stood its ground, hair raised on end as it stared down Naruto and the Kyuubi with intense brown eyes. The kitten was suddenly covered in darkness as it shifted and morphed until it was the size of a panther, but the roar it let out was one that rivaled the Kyuubi.

Naruto felt the Kyuubi’s hold on him slip and that was all he needed to yank control back to his side and slam the gates shut between them. Naruto gasped and panted as he collapsed onto the ground, steam rising off of him as the Kyuubi’s Chakra faded away.

Naruto huffed when a familiar tongue touched his cheek and he managed to turn his head to the side to look up at the panther.

“Kage,” Naruto whispered finally deciding on a name and something he had been missing about the kitten, or rather panther cub clicked into place and Naruto passed out with Kage curling around him protectively.

~~/~~

Shikamaru never really made a big deal of his birthday, but he could honestly say that he would have preferred not to be leaping from tree to tree to avoid some hunter-nin on his heels. Shikamaru had once again become a decoy to lead the hunter-nin away from the rest of his team. Shikamaru wasn’t sure why he had agreed to that if he was being honest, but he didn’t have much time left to think about it.

Shikamaru swore as the branch he was about to land on broke in half thanks to one of the hunter-nin’s blowing it to pieces with a fire Jutsu. Shikamaru twisted in the air and managed to land on his feet on the ground below. Shikamaru took off in a different direction, eyes darting side to side as blurry shapes of the hunter-nin overtook him.

Shikamaru skidded to a stop just as Kunai’s dug into the dirt inches away from his feet.

“It was brave if not suicidal of you to act as a decoy,” one of the hunter-nin called out, respect in his tone even as he and the rest of his team unsheathed their Kanata’s from their backs. Shikamaru winced at the sharp blades and weighed his options. Not many of them were left as he heaved a sigh, tipping his head back to look at the night sky.

Shikamaru was coming to terms with his death on the same day he was born when someplace a clock struck the same time he had been born and the world around Shikamaru shifted.

Shikamaru was shaken off balance and landed harshly on his back as a large cloud of smoke engulfed the area. Shikamaru knew that some Daemon’s liked to make dramatic entrances; it depended on whose soul they were representing. Shikamaru had to assume that his soulmate was extra dramatic as he coughed some smoke out of his lungs.

“Oh my God,” Shikamaru whispered in shock as the smoke was flung away by nine large golden foxtails. The golden furred fox was the size of a mountain at the least and roared angrily at the hunter-nin who took one look at the massive distortion and echo of a roar that Shikamaru’s soulmate’s Daemon and took off into the forest. They knew better than to take on a massive and pissed off Daemon, they may be invisible but they could still touch and hurt those who are a threat.

The giant nine tails grunted in approval before its head turned and easily found Shikamaru. The fox’s tails flared out as if it was preening as Shikamaru stared up at it slack-jawed. Shikamaru’s limbs felt like jello and he refused to try to stand as the Daemon preened and showed off for Shikamaru.

The fox let out an earth-shaking roar before it glowed as bright as the sun and Shikamaru soon had his arms full of a smaller version of the golden nine tails. It purred as it nuzzled against Shikamaru’s cheek, tails swaying happily as Shikamaru held it closer on reflex.

“What?” Shikamaru stared at the now content mini nine tail fox curled up against his chest.

“The Kyuubi, a golden Kyuubi is my soulmate’s Daemon… That means…Naruto?” Shikamaru whispered as the pieces fell into place for him and the fox gave a pleased yip before licking his cheek playfully.

“This is going to be so troublesome, I suppose I should at least give you a name?” Shikamaru felt something warm spread in his chest at the thought that Naruto was his soulmate. Shikamaru gently pet the soft gold fur and felt a smile appear when the fox wiggled happily and blinked up at him with familiar blue eyes, hell even the whisker marks where present.

“Taiyō, the Sun.” Shikamaru decided and Taiyō yipped in approval before it clambered up to settle on Shikamaru’s shoulder, it’s small nine tails curling around his neck like a scarf.

“Let’s go find my team and go home, does that sound good Taiyō?” Shikamaru rose to his feet, glad his limbs had returned to normal and he wasn’t being hunted any longer.

Taiyō chirped and nuzzled his cheek again before turning its blue eyes towards the sky almost forlornly. Shikamaru understood almost at once what Taiyō was feeling as he felt it more often than not, which looking back should have been a major clue to who his soulmate was.

“He’ll be home soon,” Shikamaru patted Taiyō’s head, unsure if his words were truthful or not but he hoped he was right as he took to the tree’s again to meet his team at their pre-set meeting point.

~~/~~

Shikamaru had kept what form his soulmate’s Daemon had taken to himself. He knew most weren’t aware of Naruto housing the Kyuubi and it wasn’t Shikamaru’s place to reveal that. Shikamaru had grown accustomed to Taiyō wrapped around his shoulders and neck like an oversized, affectionate scarf or bouncing around at his side like a hyperactive pup. What Shikamaru hadn’t expected for Taiyō to leap off his shoulder while he was talking with Temari and bite at his pant leg, pulling him intently towards a certain street.

“Whoa, calm down!” Shikamaru muttered as he stumbled after the suddenly excited fox, waving awkwardly at Temari who was watching amused as Shikamaru was dragged away by his soulmate’s Daemon.

“Taiyō, seriously!” Shikamaru warned after he almost fell flat on his face as he was dragged around a corner.

“Kage, come back here! You’re usually so lazy, why are you now running?” A familiar if not deep voice rang out and Shikamaru froze as Naruto came into view. Naruto froze when his eyes landed on Shikamaru at the end of the small street that both of them had been dragged too.

Shikamaru could only blink as Taiyō lunged forward and the air shifted to reveal a small black cub of some sort collided with Taiyō. The two small animals yipping and nuzzling each other happily as they reunited.

“Shikamaru?” Naruto’s voice was quiet and unsure.

“…Welcome home Naruto,” Shikamaru followed Taiyō’s example and went to greet his soulmate.

“You’re… You’re really my soulmate?” Naruto’s voice was shaky as he stared at Shikamaru wide-eyed as Shikamaru stopped in front of him.

“I’ve been waiting for you to come back home for a while,” Shikamaru placed his hand on a whiskered cheek and smiled when Naruto shuddered even as he nuzzled the other’s palm much like Taiyō does.

“I…Yeah, I’m home.” Naruto sounded choked up, but Shikamaru couldn’t blame him, his throat was closing up a bit as well. Having Naruto here was like coming home in every possible way.

Naruto leaned forward and a smile crossed his lips as Shikamaru’s forehead pressed against his and their hands somehow found each other, twining together as their Daemons’ mirrored them and curled around each other finally content and complete.

~~/~~

I am undertaking the task of creating a ShikaNaru event, so please take some time and fill out this survey and think about joining the event :)

https://shikanaruweekend.tumblr.com/post/619579786207117312/shikamaru-nara-naruto-uzumaki-weekend

[coeurlkin]

The Journey.

It had been years. So, so many years since he had first started upon this path. Wyra'to sat in his prayer room alone, save for the wisps of smoke which rose from the incense burners on either side of the shrine. Before him lay a single flower. A lotus of the deepest red, the candlelight giving it's petals giving the impression of dancing and swaying, the colours shifting from a near translucent pink to a powerfully vibrant crimson. He closed his eyes and breathed deeply of the thin smoke, holding it within for a time before pushing it free from his lungs. It was like this when he first began his tutelage, too. The scent. The sound. The lotus. Bloodied hands, shattered bones and deeply woven scar tissue were the evidence of his diligence, his devotion to the cause which had been offered unto him. What he had done so far was admirable, but even that wasn't the first true step. An outstretched hand. An offer of absolute power. Wyra'to believed he could withstand it up until his master struck. The sensation of being torn open, of having your essence forcibly pulled from your body, only to have something of a greater magnitude driven into your core. The pain was unimaginable. A searing heat coursed through his body, veins swelling to the point of bursting. Bruises formed under the first few layers of skin within a matter of seconds. It was not possible to take a breath. His nerve endings screamed, his heart spasming within his chest as it desperately tried to accommodate to the change. The sheer power swelling within had turned his blood to mist, every waking moment feeling like a fresh bolt of levin striking him from out of a cloudless sky. There was no room for doubt, no allowance for error. It was either succeed or die. And succeed he did. A refusal to surrender in the face of pain, to find the strength to stand as he was flayed and adorned with skin anew over and over. So marked the first major step forwards.

The second came a summer later. Wyra'to was broader then, stronger, his training combining with his burgeoning manhood to give him a vessel far beyond that which he had possessed before. While he had grown inured to the cruellest of winds that Thanalan could offer, his foray into Gyr Abania would be an entirely different challenge. The tumult of a sandstorm and the night's cold teeth assailing him, robbing him of much of his sight and hearing. Their quarry was close by, and Wyra'to still remembered the impassive, bored look on his master's face as he took to combat with the beast. Coeurl. Wild creatures, this one had wandered far from home and taken refuge within the ruins, and it was loathe to relinquish it's claim so readily. The Keeper could still remember the stinging lash of it's whiskers, rending claws carving through rock as easily as ink to quill and quill to paper. In battle would he rise once more, his body being pushed to the point of complete breakdown before once again being reformed anew. With bloodied hands and body Wyra'to would rise, only for his Master to surge forth to strike him down, to drag him headlong into another fight. A lesson was to be learned. To rest was to falter. To cease travelling forwards was to admit defeat. Strength belonged to those who would claim it, to those would would prove themselves worthy of Rhalgr's divinity. Worthy. The word still stung even as his growth continued, for he would be admonished for his weaknesses no matter how many times he believed himself to have proven himself capable. The folly of youth. His worthiness would always have to be proven, his resolve put to the fire and tempered in the inferno of endless conflict. Wyra'to could not remember exactly how he had unlocked his third chakra. Perhaps it was through sheer force of will. Perhaps it was his body's way of forcing him to rise and survive after his trial - being abandoned in the Ishgardian wastes with no garments or supplies. The ice underfoot would burn, sheets of skin being torn away with every step he took towards apparent salvation. But survival alone would not be enough. It was here he would learn control, to push on even as his physical form grew brittle and fatigued. Even as he faced off against a monstrosity of claw and fur, his body refusing to give in to it's wounds and his spirit standing strong. With the life he took from the creature he was able to sustain his own, the scent of it's flesh churning his stomach, every onze of his willpower being used to keep the grossly slick flesh down. He could scarcely remember every detail of the fight, save for the shocked reactions of onlookers as a half dead, starving miqo'te stumbled up to the city gates clad in the skin of a bear. How the cobblestones felt so alien to him after what felt like days of wandering the wastes, the gentle warmth of the chirugeons who tended to his wounds, who sought to reverse the damage done to parts of him which he could not begin to name or understand. These were the things he clung to. This was how he had to learn control.

The fourth was where he learned of resilience. Dragged from his home, weighed down and cast into a pit, Wyra'to was given a simple order. Ascend. Clambering back up the sheer face of the abyss was no option, his master's frequent dropping of boulders would see to that. Rising through the caverns was his only alternative, facing off against those who would stalk and watch from the shadows, waiting for the time their prey was at it's weakest before striking. Weakness was a luxury he could not afford. Fatigue plagued him, his muscles aching from the first battle alone. The weights imposed on him could not be removed, yet they would sap much of his strength, they would tire him to a point beyond exhaustion by the time he was barely halfway. Still he pushed. He would trudge through the depths, wading through foe after foe. The pain became overwhelming, his body coming apart as though a thread had been plucked and pulled from a tapestry, his physical form unspooling from the inside out. It was only by taking from those he cut down that he was able to hold himself together, drawing upon whatever latent aether was left behind along with that which these beasts would release upon death. A void started to fill. Not a physical one, but something deeper. Every time he bloodied his hands he could feel his blood grow hot, his heart pounding as it fought to control this surge of newfound power. His skin felt as though it was on fire. As though it was peeling away from his bones with every step he dared to take in the face of utter destruction. He could give in, he could become one with everything and the pain would cease. But Wyra'to refused, his body failing but his spirit intact the moment he broke through to the surface.

For a time, he remembered, his master would disappear. He never knew to what end, nor was it his place to speculate. His purpose was simple. To continue to train. To learn. To grow of his own accord. His fifth pushed him beyond what he had already known, however. It marked the first time he would take a Spoken life. To grow in strength by tearing the heart from your enemies. This was the way of things, wasn't it? In the natural world? Wyra'to was upon his second foe as the first lay still dying, his throat torn wide open by a jagged set of fangs. This is what he was. This is what he had to channel, to become. An avatar of righteous violence. He felt it again, the swell within, his knuckles threatening to burst through the skin wrapping them. Over and over his fist met his foe's face, pummelling and crushing bone and brain alike until at that was left was a bloody, broken mess. He would roar, baring his fangs to the sky in all their sanguine glory, his eyes wild and fingers slick with viscera. His body had changed over the years, his muscles growing denser, his shoulders broad and skin thickened by wound after wound. Every fresh wound was a newly forged sacrament between himself and his God, a vow to fight ever onward and to remain unbroken. Every scar was a promise of strength, further proof that his vessel was growing tougher. Wyra'to learned the depths of his anger that day, the primal rage that lingered within him, waiting to burst free at the slightest provocation. Although by this point it had long since been subdued, the threat still lingered. Lurking, making it's presence known not through an outright release, but rather a thousand cuts by the most subtle of knives.

"So, you took a life, yes? How did it feel, my disciple, to take that which is yours by divine right? To feel the blood soaking into you? I believe you are ready for a new task."

Summers passed before he saw his master again. The man had shown no signs of change outwardly, but something felt different. Off. As though the facade could no longer be kept up. He was a smith, battle was the fire and his teachings the hammer. Wyra'to was the weapon to be forged. He would be sent into the ruins of Akh Mah and tasked with hunting the great worm there - a monstrous sandworm which was responsible for all manner of destruction and chaos, yes, but also the guardian of all knowledge held within the broken down temple structure. This journey would not be taken alone. Y'Zareen. A huntress. A one time lover whom he deeply respected for her craft. She too would walk the dark path, trekking night and day through the dunes and into the depths of Akh Mah to aid in slaying the beast. To this day he refuses to discuss what happened within those halls, save for the teeth he brought back with him as proof of their victory. It was then he discovered the truth behind his Master's actions. Just what the man had done to obtain the power he wielded so callously. So easily. He was no teacher. He was a Warmonger, and for all this time spent believing he was being forged into a weapon of the Destroyer, he was instead manipulated. A tool. The revelation shook him, but his resolve remained unbroken. The time would come to prove himself regardless of the actions of his now former master. The sins of his forebear would be atoned for, in one way or another. Then came the final trial. After seven long, arduous summers of training. Wyra'to was a fully grown adult. He had loved and lost in equal measure. Then came the call. Something deep within him beckoning him to journey to the Temple of the Fist, to walk the halls in search of answers. In search of purpose. He climbed to the Closed Fist and basked in the majesty of the courtyard, the structure itself both beautiful and horrifically intimidating at the same time. Here he stood in the presence of legends, of legacies far greater than he could comprehend. But it was his time to try.

Wyra'to would enter the Closed Fist and roam the empty halls, following his instinct and being driven deeper into the heart of the temple before coming to a grand arena. A platform, mighty coeurl statues standing at each of the four corners. Iridescent blue flames rising from braziers which bore the patina of age, the colours mingling together in hues of turquoise and earthy brown. There, in the centre, stood his foe. Vilbradr, the Wolf's Howl. Like Wyra'to, he too stood at the precipice of the proverbial mountain. He too stood poised and ready to take the final steps, entirely prepared to bring an end to the Keeper's life for not just power, but revenge. Vilbradr was older, the student of a master long since dead - one that had been slain by Wyra'to's own mentor. The battle was brutal and swift, with each of the men delivering blows which could cripple a weaker combatant. Neither would cave in the face of grievous wounds - broken bones, skin burnt down to the muscle, torn ligaments and more. Both men burned brighter than they ever had before, the full radiance of their respective gates clashing, the aether in the air growing heavier and heavier until finally one would deal a crippling blow. Wyra'to could scarcely acknowledge the pain, only that Vilbradr had sunk his claws deep within his body. The Keeper hung against his foe for a time until he was cast to the ground. It was decided. Vilbradr gloated, raising his arms. He had accomplished his task. He who had lost so much to the spawn of the great betrayer. Now he could claim the power to hunt. To track down and kill the man who stole so much from him. What happened after that was all so sudden - A blinding flash of light, an immense pressure building in the chamber behind him, and then nothing. Vilbradr could no longer feel anything save for acceptance of his demise. His hubris had cost him victory, and in turn, his life.

Days passed. Wyra'to remembered awakening on the floor of that same arena. Vilbradr was gone, all that remained were his weapons and the shredded remnants of their temple garb. The wound dealt to his body had healed for the most part, yet still raw and tender. The sennights that passed after that were spent recovering, rebuilding himself. In what he thought were his final moments, the Keeper had forced open his seventh chakra, his soul crystal empowering him with the knowledge to deliver one final blow. A desperate gamble, to be sure, but one which had paid off. Upon leaving the temple grounds to return, he would take the remnants of the temple garb with him, along with Vilbradr's crystal. A worthy foe. A man willing to give everything. One whom Wyra'to would honour, in time. He had come so far on his journey and had learnt so many things. To endure. To adapt. To accept. Humility. Perseverance. Forgiveness. He had learned just what it would mean to follow his faith. Not as a weapon. Not as a tool. But as his own man.

Wyra'to rose to his feet within his chamber. His gaze drifted down towards the lotus once again before he cupped his hands around it, gently lifting it from the shrine and back into a shallow bowl of water. A single prayer was before he stepped out of the darkness and into the welcoming warmth of his living room. The scent in the air told him that his love had returned from her hunts. This is where he belonged.

This is what it was all for.

This was home.

[toooldforfandom-liveblogs]

She-Ra and the Princesses of Power S02E02 - Ties That Bind

Intriguing title. It could be about Light Hope's efforts to make Adora drop her attachments to the world so she can unlock her seventh chakra be less vulnerable. It could also be about Bow and company trying to appeal to Entrapta's friendship to make her come back. It could also be about Adora and Shadow Weaver? It could be anything because the show is all about connections! Let's do this!

Didn't they already get Entrapta's things from there?

There's no way the badge being a tracking beacon doesn't come up later.

That's just showing off.

That feels way more important that it should considering Swift Wind was an accident. Is the rainbow lizard she transformed also part of her? Is the lizard going to suddenly appear to save her in the finale?

Welp, time to buy a new Light Hope.

oh, honey.

Although he really should know better, it probably takes only five minutes in Entrapta's presence to figure out she wouldn't understand the concept of being a prisoner.

I was tempted to make a bitcoin joke but it's already a joke.

The other princesses would jump at the chance of rescuing Entrapta and Glimmer is not even letting them take that decision. Glimmer is really channeling Angella this season, huh?

hmmmmmmmmmmmm

Is this show going to end with The Horde and The Princesses fighting against Etheria? Maybe Hordak is going to end up being revealed as a corrupted hero trying to save the galaxy from the First Ones and their planet-sized weapon.

What happened to Bow's Kitchen Knights? His Baking Brigade? His Pastry Patrol? I know they weren't very fond of Entrapta but are they really not going to make another appearance?

Setting up the pain for later.

you don't hurt Scorpia's best friend

Did they get more budget this season? The fight scenes look better.

Still weird that there are absolutely no soldiers around though

Everyone should be dead considering they just fell through a cloud unless they somehow teleported to a mountain.

It does show how much murderous potential Glimmer has though. Take someone, teleport to the stratosphere and then get back to watch the falling star. Like last episode and the robot but from higher.

Is this going to be a "Catra gets to interact with Bow and Glimmer" episode? Because I. am. ready.

Also, I didn't think "ties that bind" would be so literal.

Huh. Why is Adora so uncomfortable at the idea of connecting with Swift Wind? She loved that damn horse even before it went all rainbow-y.

Maybe she doesn't want one more person to get inside her head?

Swift Wind's therapist powers~

There should be a timer every episode counting down to the second Adora is going to explode because of the pressure.

"And the good guys never take hostages..." Bow said, already notching an arrow to dispose of the problem.

I'm not sure why Bow is complaining so much. He didn't argue when capturing Adora.

Catra may be an expert in manipulating Adora but that doesn't mean she doesn't know to use her talent with everyone else.

well, that's a shit-eating grin if I've ever seen one.

The sword doing nothing, the rock's shadow slowly covering She-Ra, Swift Wind's song... the comedic timing of this scene was just perfect.

I need a supercut of every time Catra has hissed.

Welp, that's bad news.

Also, I want more Glimmer and Bow childhood stories.

ooh, nice cold line.

I thought Catra was trying to "just" escape but she's planning something, considering she's tiring Glimmer down on purpose.

And here's the badge.

I don't have anything to say other than I love Scorpia.

oooh, direct hit.

Wow, Catra really is a genius. From the moment she was captured she's been manipulating the situation to get the chance to use Kyle's previous call, a call that she didn't even care about.

It's pretty sad but I'm glad that the weight of everything that happened is being taken seriously. The princesses failed Entrapta even before they left her for dead. The Horde is being everything to her that they weren't.

Of course all that doesn't mean that Catra doesn't deserve that punch.

yess, they are acknowledging the accident. Now please talk about the lizard.

therapist horse~

She's grown so much... I write while she's blowing a raspberry

I haven't watched JoJo but this feels appropriate.

If Mara was doing the right thing by destroying the watchtower, this is definitely going to be an "oops" moment later on.

And Glimmer still hasn't said anything about what she feels about the situation.

aaaaaaaa, it can't end here! I want their reaction!

---

Catra is such a good villain. She may not be allowed to _really_ win (because the show would end) but she's come ahead in every personal situation against the "good guys" so far even if she starts losing. She's effective in a way that not many villains are allowed to be, and she has to be to counteract the Rebellion and She-Ra.

Reading back I didn't write anything interesting. The episode _was_ good but it's basically "Catra runs circles around Glimmer and Bow doing _massive_ emotional damage, and adora continues to have issues I guess" I guess I'm more intrigued by the consequences of this episode than the episode itself.

For example, what's going to happen with Glimmer? She seemed to be chafing under the rules of the "good side", wanting to get revenge for herself and Entrapta and only managed to stop because Bow was being her voice of conscience. And now she's angry at what happened but I'm not sure if she's angry because of how she almost lost control because of something that wasn't even true, angry at herself for leaving Entrapta behind, angry for freeing Catra, or all three. There's also the matter that she's been channeling Angela a bit, is Entrapta's turn going to be her Micah's death in terms of affecting her decisions from now on?

About Adora... even if she ended the episode in a good mood, having solved the problem and bonded with Swift Bond, I feel it's just a temporal dip in the increasing amount of stress she's under. Sooner or later she'll explode.

Some thoughts:

- As a rule lethal weapons can't hit people. It's not really a problem since I expect that to happen in a kids' show but for some reason it was really noticeable this episode when Bow was trying to stop Catra. It's hard to keep the illusion that _it could happen_ when it gets too obvious.

- Catra's "and where's she now? off being She-Ra?" comment is obviously a reaction from what Glimmer had just told her _but_ it feels like foreshadowing along with Catra's training. Maybe an "if She-Ra was here, X wouldn't have happened" episode is coming, just to increase the pressure Adora is under.

- WHERE IS THAT FLYING LIZARD

Until next time!

[tannerahonesti95]

Reiki And Energy Healing Fabulous Unique Ideas

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How Long Does It Take To Learn Reiki

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[butididnottried]

So, after a few weeks i'm finally at the finale.

The Phoenix King

Excuse me, mister phoenix fire bitch king Ozai, sir, your enormous ego makes me cackling like a kindergardener that just heard a swear word. This man is just insufferable. But yeah, he is a human being (and once he was an innocent (cute?) baby) and Aang is right with not wanting to kill him. Like, they really never talked about this, and they all act like it's one of the easiest thing to do. I know that fandom likes to jokes about how Toph and Zuko we're killing people and the rest of gaang was more than oblivious to that, but seriosusly, none of them - and i mean all gaang - never killed not even a one person. Probably. As far as i know/remember. I realize that fate of the whole world is lying on their backs, but i also know that they know better than to shaming Aang not wanting to be a murderer and they fuckin know that they're not helipng with such agression.

They didn't tell Zuko about their plans to attack after the comet, so Zuko didn't tell them what his father want to do with the comet. And now The Avatar is missing and you have no time to loose. That's what happens when people do not talk to each other! Buuut Ozai plans towards comet sound kinda... important? Big? Dangerous? Looks like Zuko should tell the rest about that anyway.

But hell, they really wanted to wait out this whole comet thing and attacket later? Like, why?! They really expected that the fire lord wouldn't use it's power to do something crazy? Because he already conquered Ba Sing Se? And that's all? He won the war? What? Cooome on, Katara, Sokka, you're smarter than this. ):

Toph was way too happy about throwing flaming rocks at her freinds. And she moulded a whole Ba Sing Se in sand. With the earth king and his bear looking just like they look. Girl, that is some crazy memory superpower.

👏 Give 👏 Toph 👏 her 👏 life 👏 changing 👏 trip 👏 with 👏 Zuko 👏

I have a really hard time with believing that Azula is just 14. Aang and Toph are just 12? Ok. Katara is 14 and Sokka 15? Sure thing. Zukos 16? Yes. And uh, Azula is also 14. And i'm like... you lost me.

Gay disaster mister avatar tracking master be like "i know what to do" and he takes all his friends to meet a powerhouse lesbian.

The Old Masters

Welcome to the family grampgramp!

Seriously, Paku does not deserve such precious grandchildren.

And also seriosuly, master Pianado is not that old. He's fine and middle aged. How dare you.

Bumi can bend with just his face. He can bend a whole house. And then throw a whole house. What a man. No wonder he can just like that proclaim himself as a king. Who would forbid that to him? Aaaand, do firebenders didn't knew that eclipse would take bending powers away from them? Is this some forbidden knowledge?

Uncle Iroh, i'm really start to doubting your wisdom and common sense. You really want to leave Zuko all alone when he become fire lord? I guess that since Zuko himself recognizes his mistakes and choose the right path Iroh thinks that he's ready to be responsible enough and take lead of a whole nation. Yes. Of course. ...Nooo, no no, i would never leave my baby boy like that. But i'm a dumbass and except moral support i wouldn't be much help with ruling. But an old man having his pai sho plays every day is more important. I'm let down. ):

I read how lionturtle and his gift to Aang is just an easy and lazy deus ex machina and... no? No really? Well, yes, it was easy for Aang to just being gifted with energybending and not needed anymore to kill Ozai, but it makes sense in this world and do not came out of nowhere. Aang was so conflicted about possibility that he must kill someone, that he unconsciously seeked help from spirits. The lionturtle do not came to Aang, he didn't even know that there's a human on hic back. Aang asked him for guidance and help, and lionturltle did excatly that - he helped the avatar with his dillema. Easy. Well, i'm guessing that Aang don't know yet what excatly happened and didn’t feel different. Also, Aangs moral dillema about killing another human is just *double chef kiss*. ATLA aired more than 10 years ago and even now it's rather rare to see something like that on show for kids.

But also, all these past avatars we're rather useless. You need to be more active avatar Aang. You need to bring justice. You need to do something. Blah blah blah. These are not really substantive tips. Maybe expect that aribender avatar lady. She also didn't really helped Aang with his problem, but at least she said something new and meaningful.

Into the Inferno

All these firebenders flying around like they have jetpacks is just hysterical. And yes Toph, yes, that's A LOT of fire. I also like how they used a sound of flamethrower in firebending scenes.

Banishment for you. Banishment for you! Banishment for everybody! ...aaand idk, for me Azula slipping away was a little to fast? Maybe if we saw some some scenes with her between “The Boilin Rock” and this it would hit harder/better? Idk. I don’t really feel her. And when she's drawed LIKE THAT i have even harder time believing that she's just 14.

Oh, i like so much music choice during Azulas and Zukos agni kai. When Aang and Ozai are fighting there's proper battle music, but during agni kai scenes music was sad, emotional and dramatic, not only accentuating tragedy of this situation, but also how Zukos and Azulas personal fight is different from Aangs and Ozai. NICE.

Avatar Aang

And that's why you do not mess with the avatar! Fuck him up Aang!

But lol, how funny it is that Aangs cosmic chakra was unlocked absolutely by stupid accident? Ozai that one particular thing bring wholly oh himself. And oh, Aang knew how this whole energybending works buts still was hesistant to use it because it could be too dangerous to him and he left it at the very end, if he had no other choice. Understandable.

Aang is the best avatar, there's no discussion. When all past avatars went down to absolutely obliterate Ozai and Aang standed up to all of them? NICE.

Hmmm, there's one good thing about loser lord Ozai. His hair game. This thick mane is truly impressive. It's almost on disneys Pocahontas level when it's flowing on wind. And then he got roasted by a bunch of goofy kids. Beautiful.

Yes Sokka, it's amazing that Toph invented metalbending. You have no idea how much.

Katara taken down Azula in a very smart way. Can i get a wahoo for Katara? WAHOO!

That open plot with Ursa feels... unnecessary? Do they planned comics at this point? Like, if you're not going to resolve this in the show then why even keeping her alive? I guess that this is in presupposition, that Zuko is going to find her and bring home and they're going to be all happy and nice but idk. Maybe it would felt differently for me if i didn't know how this was resolved in the comics. :/

Ty Lee was like GIRLS, and girls we're like YES. You go, you funky little lesbian.

Aaaah, it felt so rewarding and satisfying when Aang immobilized Ozai, put a whole laser show and then calmly put down this whole fire around them. Closing scenes after that we're good, but emotionally? Aangs being at peace immediately after fight bringed me peace. My skin is clean, my crops are thriving and all that smooth jazz. So good. Such good finale. I can't believe that. Honestly, i don’t remember the last time when i felt so good after finishing something.

...and they needed to ruin it at the very last seconds. Well, not like, ruin it whole, but scratched it enough. Aang walks on porch, Katara joins him, they look at each other and blush, they see how calm the world is right now and how good and beautiful it is, they hug each other, it nice and cute and just good. And it should end right here. Because this kiss really feel like reward and it's... icky a little.

[lamourche]

We Float | JHS

Pairing: Hoseok/Reader

Genre/au: Massage Therapist Hoseok

Tags: Agoraphobia, Sad Backstories, Angst with Happy Ending, Freeformish, y/n discusses an emotionally abusive relationship she was in before the story starts, hopefully not as depressing as these tags make it seem.

Words: 9791

a/n: Last year I was listening to too much PJ Harvey and wrote this fic. It is a little self-indulgent but what ff isn’t?

Summary:

Might as well get this over with. You sigh and raise your hand to knock, steeling yourself for patchouli and shell necklaces. The door opens. A face peers out at you. There’s no beard, no long shaggy hair. For a moment, you wish he did walk around shirtless. He’s handsome. He’s taller than you, with brown hair that almost falls into his eyes and undercut on the sides. Warm brown eyes and a cute nose. It’s fucking cute his nose. He’s wearing cargo shorts, a Hawaiian shirt and white crocs. Well, that’s better. He’s still handsome and his kind eyes make you want to confess some prior sin, but it’s easy to scowl at a guy in white crocs.

x

x

Big Exit

You shiver, raising your eyes to the darkening summer sky. The afternoon heat no longer lingers after work.

Hitching your massive bag laden with your ancient laptop and your study guides higher on your shoulder, a sharp, sudden pain spreads from the base of your skull to your shoulder-blades. You grind your teeth to stop yourself from making a sound like a dying pig.

If this doesn’t work, you are royally fucked.

You walk down the uneven cement steps leading from the sidewalk to the basement apartment.

Of course, this guy, a massage therapist who works out of his home, has potted plants surrounding the front door. Each looks carefully tended as if small birds land at sunrise for an early morning chit-chat. Of course there are vines grasping at the brick wall. They strive for what little sunlight reaches the narrow entry. Of course soothing music floats out the open window covered by a shear, purple-ish scarf.

This guy probably has a beard and walks around shirtless. He's going to talk at you about auras and chakras.

As if to scold you for your unkind thoughts, your neck seizes. Cursing under your breath, you reach the door. You just stand there, not knocking.

The problem is, the doctor is talking about surgery—expensive, many weeks of recovery with no paycheck—surgery. The muscle relaxants are so tempting and the pharmacy so willing to call your doctor for a refill (which she permits again and again), that you know it’s time to give them up. They work too well. They leave you too content in your tiny pre-furnished apartment by the freeway with your suitcases still packed, as if there were someplace else to go.

You spend those evenings in a daze watching dramas on your phone. The next thing you know the sun’s gone down, and you haven’t eaten. You can’t fall asleep, either. No longer in pain but unable to turn off the thoughts that wander and float in your brain, like the cars that whoosh past. You don’t even mind that you can’t sleep, you’re too content to just exist without excruciating pain. In the morning, too many cups of coffee do little to revive you.

It doesn’t bother you, is the problem. The fact that you can’t always remember where you left your wallet or if you left your apartment unlocked. You’re too content to exist in a fog.

So, a weekly massage in a basement apartment with a guy that probably calls everyone "buddy" and likes to talk about how Burning Man has become too corporate is worth it, right? It’s worth not having surgery. It’s worth not taking the pills.

Might as well get this over with. You sigh and raise your hand to knock, steeling yourself for patchouli and shell necklaces.

The door opens.

A face peers out at you. There is no beard, no long shaggy hair. For a moment, you wish he did walk around shirtless. He’s handsome. He’s taller than you, with brown hair that almost falls into his eyes and undercut on the sides. Warm brown eyes and a cute nose. It’s fucking cute his nose. He’s wearing cargo shorts, a Hawaiian shirt and white crocs.

Well, that’s better. He’s still handsome and his kind eyes make you want to confess some prior sin, but it’s easy to scowl at a guy in white crocs.

It’s the fucking easiest, actually. This makes you feel better for some reason.

But instead of welcoming you or asking you for your sign or talking about how your aura needs work, he looks around you to the street. He gives you a tight smile.

"I’m here for the five o’clock appointment," you say, hoping to move things along. You want to get this over with.

"Can you get that for me?" He looks disgruntled, as if you are somehow blocking his way, which you kind of are, you guess.

"Seriously?" You say, before you can stop yourself. "You want me to get your that box for you?"

He stands a little taller. "Is it really that hard?"

"No, but… whatever."

You turn around, neck twinging, to walk back up the steps to pick up the brown box. He doesn’t even say thank you.

Turning back to the front door, you pause on the stoop. If it wasn’t for the surgery, if it wasn’t for waking up in constant pain or mind-numbing delirium, you would’ve left the moment you saw the purple window covering and the potted plants.

But it took two buses to get here from work, and it’s going to take another one to get home, so you might as well get it over with. You follow him through the doorway.

It’s like entering another world.

The small basement apartment is inviting with mismatched, comfortable furniture that looks cozy. Each and every thing has its place. Colorful boxes and woven baskets are tucked here and there. Bookshelves and a couch sit to the left of the door, with a kitchen beyond. A small square table squats in front of the narrow sink and counters. There’s a half refrigerator and a miniature oven. It’s a bit like a large-sized play kitchen.

On the right is a curtain behind which you can see the massage table and a small end table with a pitcher of water. Just beyond is a short corridor leading back to where the bedroom and bathroom must be.

He moves to the kitchen, pulling a kettle off the stove. "Rose hip or sage?"

You neglect to roll your eyes, so you’re proud of your maturity. "Whatever," you say, wondering how long you’re going to have to talk to this guy.

He doesn’t answer, just raises an eyebrow. He pours the tea, sets two mugs on the table and sits down.

"You should put down that bag before you fall over."

You drop the bag to the floor, but your body feels odd without it. As if the extra weight is needed to force your body in the unnatural position it now thinks is normal. It now thinks is living.

"How long have been in pain?"

You sit down, trying to think of an answer.

"The insurance company sent over your paperwork." He explains, continuing to sip his tea.

"About a year," you answer.

It’s been longer, but you don’t want to admit it. You don’t want to admit that the first time you took the steroids and were pain free, you cried great big sobs of relief and joy. It’s been a year since you started treating the pain. The pain began long before.

He narrows his eyes at you. You resist the urge to look down, taking refuge in a sip of tea. It tastes like boiled grass water more or less, and you try to hide your disgust.

"Likes coffee," he mutters. He busies himself with your paperwork.

You wonder what’s written in there—probably—has no one to drive her home after surgery, has no emergency contact name.

"Well, I think I can help you." He sighs, looking you up and down.

"Great, thanks. Otherwise, what am I doing here?"

He crosses his arms in front of his chest. "I’m not sure exactly, with that attitude."

"Can we get on with this? Some of us have real jobs and I need you to fix me up so I can do mine."

Instead of moving things along, he leans back in his chair. "I’m surprised your doctor hasn’t recommended surgery and rehab."

"She has."

"What are you doing here, then?"

"I’m not sure."

"As long as we’re on the same page."

"The rehab is helping, but I don’t want the surgery. Also, insurance is paying for you even though I don’t go for all this."

"All this," he says, voice even harder.

You wave your hand dismissively at his apartment.

"What the fu—" He slaps a hand over his mouth before.

Oh god, you just made the man with kind eyes swear at you.

"I’m sorry." He stands, pushing back his chair. "That was completely unprofessional."

You stand, wincing from the pain in your lower back. "It’s okay. I was unprofessional, too."

He huffs a laugh. "But you’re a paying customer."

"Not really, insurance, remember?" You follow him to the curtain. "You can be as mean to me as you want."

"Well, maybe we should start over. I’m Jung Hoseok. I’m a massage therapist and usually I don’t swear at people."

His smile brightens his whole face. You want to capture it, put it in your pocket for when you need it. See, you don’t even need pills for the weird thoughts.

"I’m y/n l/n." There really isn’t much more to say.

He pulls back the curtain. There is a massage table, a faded colorful rug underneath and low music playing on the stereo. Moving in an efficient, graceful manner, he lowers the thick sheet,

"I’m guessing even after the steroids and muscle relaxants you’re still fairly tense, so I won’t do anything too deep." He pauses, looking you up and down, hands on hips. "Undress to your level of comfort, but I recommend taking off your bra as it will make working on your neck and shoulders easier. It’s definitely up to you, though. Put your things on the chair over there."

You glance around.

"Just let me know when you’re ready. Take your time. It’s important to be as relaxed as possible."

He leaves shaking his head. You are certain he’s already figured out that you’ve never been relaxed, ever. Not even before this new city, new job and new life.

You undress, folding your pants and blouse neatly on the chair and hanging your suit jacket on the hook. After a battle of nerves, you take off your bra folding it and setting it under your pile of clothes. You leave your underwear on, black but nothing fancy.

As you climb on to the table, a feeling hits you so harshly, you fumble and clutch at the sheets.

It’s nothing profound. It’s nothing earthshattering. It’s perfectly ordinary, like you.

You just wish you weren’t so ugly, is the thing. You would even settle for not pretty or not that bad or not a face people forget as soon as they see it. You don’t think about your body that often, no one sees it much, not even you, really. You don’t pay much attention to it. It just gets you places and lately it just hurts. But all of sudden you dream of it, a you with glowing skin and perfect hair and bright eyes.

You wish your arms didn’t have burns from all those summers spent working in kitchens. Your fingers on your right hand have those scars from when you fell into the rotating fan droning back and forth all summer in the house where you grew up. You wish your knees and legs weren’t scarred from a childhood spent scrambling over rocks and climbing up trees and falling into haystacks, a kind of courage you can’t even remember having, you can’t even hope to reclaim. It makes you feel older than your twenty-five years. Like a patchwork cobbled together, as if you were a repaired stuffed animal with obvious stitching and a floppy ear that’s the wrong size. You wish could tear off the outer covering and reveal something new and beautiful underneath, a new you to go with your new life. You’re always a before picture, but not an after.

You sigh, shaking your head.

This guy has seen more bodies than a bartender at a strip club. He’s handsome and relaxed and probably has a girlfriend or a boyfriend who’s kind and has a nice laugh and takes him to brunch and they hold hands across the table. You sort of hate this person whoever they are.

You need to stop this foolishness. It's been so long since you talked to anyone who wasn’t a bus driver or a co-worker asking your name for the fifth time that you’re getting weirder than normal. You get under the covers, face in the cradle as instructed and wait.

"Uh, are you ready?"

"Yes, shit, sorry," you call, looking behind you.

He opens the curtain, looking down at your body, like a mechanic assessing a car that needs repairs. You might as well be the robot you feel you are. You put your face back in the cradle and squeeze your eyes shut.

"I’m guessing you don’t want any scents."

"Oh fuck no."

He huffs in quiet laughter, moving around you gracefully you imagine.

"Let’s start with some deep breaths," he says, as he lays the sheet over your body. You only met him half an hour ago, but you can already picture him looking down at you, hands on hips and shaking his head at your poor body that you have somehow let get into this state.

He starts by laying his warm hand on your back putting just enough pressure for you to feel your body respond by sinking into the table. You hate how your body responds to his instructions as if you were an instrument to be tuned. He takes a deep breath and you follow, annoyed, wondering why you didn’t just have the surgery rather than lying on this man’s table in his basement apartment. He instructs you to breathe again. You hold back a snide comment that your body knows how to breathe. It is one of the few things it’s been doing successfully on its own. This is an hour and two bus rides you will never get back. What the fuck are you doing here?

An hour later, you don’t wonder anymore.

He drags his fingertips one last time over your temples, and you stop yourself from arching back as if to chase the feeling. He pats the bed gently, one hand on either side of your face.

"All done." He says softly. He stands from the stool behind the massage table.

You open your eyes and look up at the ceiling above you. He busies himself at the counter. You hear him squeezing water from a towel and walking the length of the massage table. He places a warm towel on your feet. You don’t flinch, you don’t startle, you don’t do anything but exhale and wonder if you really knew how to breathe before you met him. You can’t remember the last time anyone touched your feet. Has anyone ever? How are you so relaxed about this?

He's giving you some thoughtful instruction, but you can’t quite follow.

Your body feels inhabited. You don’t feel like a ghost hovering just outside your body, always watching, always criticizing, always berating you for your actions. It's like a kind of reverse exorcism where instead of removing a demonic presence from your body he has instead inhabited it with an angelic one. One that is like you, but not you, because she’s not reminding you of all the fuck-ups in your life.

Your limbs don’t feel like robot arms that you have to think about. Your mind is clear. You aren’t thinking about anything. You don’t remember feeling this relaxed maybe ever. Is this what normal people feel like? If your life was a musical, you would burst into song. Jung Hoseok would dance with you around his apartment, maybe on top of the table. Goddamn, you feel better than you have in ages. For the first time in a long time you want something, you want to feel like this always.

He moves around you, talking about drinking water and taking it easy the rest of the evening. He places a hand on your thigh. It’s not intimate. He’s just reminding you that he’s there. "Take your time," he says. "Don’t get up too quickly."

You don’t speak, worried about breaking the spell. It is so fragile, and it is so newly obtained you want to cherish it like the gift it is. You want to be this person in a bubble untouched by the outside world. You don’t want obtrusive thoughts coming in and taking this from you.

Shutting the curtain closed behind him, Hoseok leaves the small area. You can hear him moving in the kitchen.

You roll onto your side slowly, feeling sad that you have to put on clothes. You blink a few times. You can do this. You can put your clothes back on and walk outside. The feeling will stay for a bit, won’t it?

Your hair is in a braid, but now strands are falling every which way. You’re sure you will look like a fool in your work clothes. As if seeing your crumpled black suit for the first time, you wonder when you ever bought such a thing. It is the ugliest fucking polyester suit you have ever seen in your life. You don’t want to put your bra back on, but you figure it is a three-block walk to your bus stop and a half hour bus ride to your apartment, so you probably need to put it on, as much as you don’t want to. You’re not even sure you could carry off not wearing a bra even in the right kind of clothes. You put on your sensible heels. You’re wondering what clothes you could wear without a bra. Is that a thing you could do? You’re about to ask Hoseok but quickly reign yourself in. The filter keeping such tight control over your thoughts has been loosened. You might really break out into song.

When you step out from beside the curtain, Hoseok doesn’t say anything, just hands you a glass of water. He looks down at you critically. "Do you want to stay for a bit?"

You shake your head. All of a sudden going home and unpacking sounds like a good idea. A little bit of work, and it would be done.

"Thank you," you say, handing him the glass of water and smiling at him. Your face feels odd with the sensation. "I haven’t felt this good in I don’t know how long."

His whole face brightens into a smile that can only be described as blinding, but in a good way. He grasps the glass of water to his chest with both hands.

"Really? I’m so glad."

"Really," you answer, moving to pick up your bag.

He looks at you critically. "Can you get a back pack or cross body bag. I’m in pain just looking at you. Why do you carry all that stuff on your back?"

You shrug. You’ve never really thought of it.

He raises his eyebrows. "Well, I guess it will give me some job security."

You move to the door. "So next week, same time same place?"

"I’ll be here," he says, smile dimming.

"Thank you, really. I just… thank you." You aren’t sure how to express exactly what it means. He smiles and nods and closes the door behind you.

The sun has set in the meantime, and the autumn chill in the air is strong, but you aren’t cold. You can’t remember the last time you weren’t cold.

That weekend you unpack all the suitcases in your apartment, even buying a few dishes and some silverware. The apartment is still ugly—with terrible corporate furniture that looks like it fell off a truck and the freeway is your only soundtrack—but you have a book on the shelf and a mug in the kitchen and its yours, whatever the hell this place is.

The Mess We're In.

So that’s how it starts, and then it continues. Every Friday you show up on his doorstep at five o’clock.

The thing is, it works. Every week you feel less like a person trapped in a robot body. You had long ago started limiting your movements, like an old woman nervous of falling. You didn’t realize the way in which your body had become encased. Every Friday, a little of the hardened shell molts. You start to think of Hoseok's apartment as a kind of magical place. A place where a little of you comes back with each visit. Your bag seems to lighten with every block that you walk from the bus stop to his small, narrow door.

You remember that you like broccoli but not peas. You remember your favorite song and listen to it over and over again, the words reverberating in your brain as you try to go about your day. You remember that you like to go to the movies. When you have a few extra dollars, you go to a Sunday matinee. Alone of course, but you’re out of your apartment. You’ve showered and put on clothes and you are existing in the world. You remember that you like bookstores. You see a copy of one of your favorite books in a store window, and you start to cry. The tears come so suddenly that passersby give you a wide arc. So you aren’t exactly normal, but you’re feeling things again. Even as odd and confusing as they are.

You don’t really talk to anyone unless it’s the barista at the coffee shop or the guy that checks out books at the library. But it’s something. Every Friday Hoseok performs some kind of magical spell and a little of you comes back, more and more the curse that you’ve been living under, is lifted.

He doesn’t talk to you when you are on the table. After the first few attempts, he quickly realizes that you don’t want to chat when he is working on you, but before and after though, that becomes much less awkward.

Hoseok knows the names of things, you realize. When you tell him you like the flowers growing in the pot on the stoop, he tells you they are crocuses. He knows the words for the parts of your body that he slowly unwinds. The words wash over you as he mutters them above you like an incantation.

You don’t know the words for anything. You know spreadsheets and data. The work is all engrossing. You like having your corner of the world organized in neat boxes. It’s satisfying to get it done, to find a problem and fix it. But at the end of the day you look up and you realize you haven’t spoken to anyone.

Now that Hoseok knows you better, he doesn’t hesitate to tell you when you are doing something incorrectly, when your posture is slumped, when your body is trying to return to its former hardened shape. He can tell how many hours of overtime you’ve worked by the way you walk down the steps to his apartment.

Sometimes on a Sunday, you take the bus to his neighborhood. You want to hate it. All the attractive people with bikes with wicker baskets and artisanal cheese and cut flowers. You go and wander like a tourist in this part of town, because your neighborhood isn’t really a neighborhood as much as it is a freeway off-ramp. The only other person who lives there without a car is the homeless guy with the shopping cart. There isn’t much to wander among. Just your apartment building and a fast food place and a church in an industrial building and a business park that looks like it houses Ponzi schemes.

You have long ago stopped pretending you aren’t looking for him. He loves all these places, you think, and his house is filled with books and flowers and fresh food. He is like the healthiest human you have ever met. You want to run into him, talk to him outside of his apartment, do something normal to prove to him you are a normal person.

You aren’t, though. You can pretend for a while but that’s all it is. One day after work you sit on the bench at the bus stop and just don’t… move. You don’t stand when your bus arrives. Before you know it three hours have gone by. So you aren’t normal yet, but you're remembering how to pretend to be a person so that’s something.

If it wasn’t for your appointments with Hoseok then your lack of human interaction would be particularly troubling. But it’s a start. A new job, a new apartment. It takes a while, doesn’t it?

Hoseok on the other hand, always has people visiting, friends arriving for dinner after your appointment.

One Friday, two months after you started, the cold weather is starting to grip the city. It is windy and raining and depressing and you just want it to be over. You want sun.

Someone is leaving Hoseok’s apartment when you arrive. The man carefully shuts the door behind him. The single bulb beside the door gives a harsh light. The blond man is tall and broad-shouldered. Wearing a dark pea coat, he looks regal almost. He is literally one of the most attractive people you have ever seen in real life. Seokjin, you think. You’ve met him before. When you had lingered drinking water after your appointment. Hoseok had been trying to think of different teas you would like and asked you questions about your particularly unhealthy diet, trying to get you to improve it.

"You pick that up for him?"

You nod. Most of his friends don’t speak to you. They look at you like you’re just a customer, and that’s the way it should be. That’s all you are.

"You’re his Friday regular?"

"Yes."

He looks at you closely, narrowing his eyes.

You feel uncertain under his gaze, as if you are being assessed, graded and falling short. "Is everything okay?"

"It’s been a year. Almost to the day."

Your confusion must show on your face.

"He hasn’t told you?"

You shake your head.

Seokjin sighs. "Be easy on him tonight. I told him to cancel, but he didn’t want to miss your appointment."

With that, Seokjin moves around you. The chill in the air is harsher now. You wish you had one of Hoseok’s thick, black parkas that hang by the door to put on. You brush your hair out of your face. The wind stings. If it was important for him to keep the appointment, then you should do your part too. You pause on the doorstep. What would you have done if he had canceled? Even if it is human interaction that you’re paying for, even if it doesn’t mean anything beyond his kindness to any client, these Friday afternoons are the only thing keeping you sane. If he had canceled, you would have been lost. You don’t know what’s going on, but you’re thankful. You wonder if he knows—that this is the only human interaction you have, and you pay for it and you know you should feel like a failure, and you also know you don’t care, because it’s helping.

You knock on the door softly.

"It’s open," he calls from the kitchen.

You enter the apartment to see him sweeping. He's wearing a worn-out t-shirt and sweats. He doesn't look bad. He never looks bad, but he looks like he just woke up—no, he looks like he hasn't slept.

A chair stands in the middle of the kitchen, the small table moved to the side. He must have just had his hair cut. It’s a little too short and it looks a little too severe on him, like a school boy on the first day of school. Suddenly you wished you knew more about him. He’s good at deflecting questions, always moving the conversation away from himself. You don’t know anything about him other than he’s a massage therapist and knows the names for plants and flowers and he has given you a gift you can’t ever repay.

You wonder if he has a boyfriend or girlfriend and, in that moment, you can’t help but be jealous of anyone who knows him, truly knows him. All the feelings you’ve tried to push down rise suddenly to the surface. Because whoever that person is, they should be here making him feel better and fussing over his hair and making him tea and giving him a hot meal. Whatever it is you imagine significant others do, that person should be here doing it. It’s clear that he isn’t himself. His expression is tense, and he doesn’t put the broom away or the small table back in the middle of the room. There are dirty dishes in the sink. You glance about. Books on the coffee table, clean towels on the couch waiting to be folded. What’s going on?

"No tea tonight," he says, in a voice that seems to be admitting defeat. You’re about to offer to make it, but the look on his face stops you. His mouth is set in a firm line.

You nod and put the package on the book shelf where he likes it.

Without another word, you move to the other room. Tonight, the familiar ritual of undressing and moving under the sheets is a comfort when everything else feels so odd. This is an alternate universe Hoseok. You wish you knew how to get your Hoseok back. You can’t be the most relaxed person in this apartment because that would mean something was terribly wrong with the universe. You still can’t touch your toes. You still take the muscle relaxants when you can’t sleep. You aren’t normal and if you are the most normal one here then something is hopelessly lost, and you can't begin to know how to get it back.

He doesn’t fuss over your sheet and ask you about your week like he usually does. He’s quiet, moving around the room without a sound so you start a little when he puts his hand on your back. He begins with the breaths, but he’s rushed and shallow.

What should you say? If only you were a person capable of the basics of human interaction, then you would know what to do, but you aren’t, so you do nothing. You lie there and try to find that center, that feeling that has never escaped you every time when you’ve been here in the past. You go through the motions, trying to relax. The fact that he doesn’t call you on it, is all you need to know that something is wrong.

You turn over at the halfway point. As usual, he starts with your hands. There is something so incredibly intimate about the way his fingers work on your palm. Last week you are pretty sure you groaned out loud. There are certainly other areas of your body more intimate, but there is something so tender and so sweet about it, it makes you ache a little.

You force your hand not to curl up and hold his, as much as you want to. It wouldn’t be appropriate, and you would never want to make him feel uncomfortable.

Hoseok pauses and for a moment you can feel his breath on your palm. It is warm and stuttering and it surprises you. Is he truly that close and you’ve never noticed?

But then you fell a small subtle splash, like a tear you think. Not like a tear, but an actual tear.

This, even you can’t ignore. You open your eyes and Hoseok is leaning against the table, slumped and sad and so involved with his thoughts he doesn’t even notice you stirring.

"Hoseok," you whisper.

He sits up suddenly, as if just remembering you are there. You gather the sheet around you as he drops your right hand. You move to sit up. "Are you okay?"

He wipes his eyes and looks at you, so sad you want to give him a hug, but you are naked under the sheet and it wouldn’t be right.

"Can I help?"

He shakes his head, wiping his eyes. "I should have canceled." He looks down at you, taking in your sheet as it gathers around your legs and covers your body. "I’m sorry, I won’t charge you." With that he stands and leaves.

Oh god, surely you could have helped him. Surely any other person on the planet would be more helpful at this moment. But you’re the only one here, so you might as well do what you can.

You dress quickly. Hopping on one foot, trying to put on your shoes and pushing back the curtain, you think, what would a normal person do. What would a character in a television show do? They go out and drink beer and eat food, don’t they?

Well, why not take a chance, without even knowing where he is in the apartment you start talking.

"Listen, are you okay? Clearly you aren’t okay, but can I help? Do you want to get some food? I don’t know what you’re going through but I could buy you a drink. I mean I never see you out of this apartment. Let’s go to a bar and you can have a drink and you can tell me what's wrong."

The entire time you're trying to put on your boots, hopping around and he's just starting at you. His back to the kitchen counter as if you had cornered him there.

"You want to go?" you ask, the question lingering.

He glances at you and the fear in his eyes is palpable. He just stares at the door and back at you.

You look at him and look at the door and back again at him.

You are the biggest fucking idiot on the planet.

"Oh god, you don’t go out do you? That’s why I get the packages and your friends bring you food and I am such an idiot."

He waves his hand. "I didn’t want you to know, which is stupid because you had to find out sometime."

"Does it take most people two months?"

"No," he admits while trying and failing to hide a tired laugh.

"I’m so sorry. I didn’t realize, and your friend said—"

"What did he say?"

"Just that it was almost a year since."

"Yeah." He finally moves off the counter. He looks so tired. He looks like he is going to fall asleep right there in the kitchen.

"You should rest."

He moves in a daze. It is painful to see him this way. Not light on his feet, not smiling. You used to think his laugh was annoying and now you would give anything to have it back. He's always telling stories of funny things his friends have done and you used to hate it because you have no friends.

You realize maybe you don’t have friends because in addition to not knowing how to be a normal person, you’re kind of an asshole—so focused on your own pain, you willfully ignore anyone else’s.

He sits on the couch. You hesitate. Instead of sitting next to him you hand him the blanket and sit on the worn leather chair.

"The last time I went to restaurant there was an incident." He looks up at you, pleading with you to understand.

"Oh god, of course," you say. It was before you moved here, but it was in all the papers. You open your mouth to ask questions, but what is there to ask. You can’t help him, and you can’t know what he's going through. Even if you were better at any of this, you can’t fix people. If you have only learned one lesson in life, it's that you can’t fix other people.

"It started slowly. I didn’t want to be in crowds and then I didn’t want to be at work. I've always had clients here, and it just became easier not to leave. I had a panic attack in a movie theater a few months after. After that, I never really left the apartment. It wasn’t a choice really, not a conscious one anyway. It just became my life.

"It was easy to switch my practice to my apartment. It happened slowly. A switch got flipped and I can’t flip it back." He looks at you. "You’re the first friend I’ve made since it happened. I used to have a lot more friends."

"I’m pretty sure you have a lot of friends. I mean, I’m sure they're still your friends even if you haven’t seen them."

He laughs.

"Can I make you some tea?"

"I won’t even make you drink some."

"Thank you."

You’re glad to busy yourself. You move the table back to its place and do the dishes while the water heats. Having watched Hoseok so many times, you know what to do. By the time you bring the pot and the cup to the coffee table, he looks as if he's going to fall asleep.

"I don’t know how to help you."

"I’m your first agoraphobe."

"You’re my first friend in a long time."

He has never asked about what brought you to this city for a boring job where you know no one. His hands have never stuttered over the scars on your body. You wish you could thank him for that, but you don’t know how.

You bite your lip. "I don’t want to say the wrong thing. I mean, I’ve already said the wrong thing, so I guess it can’t get worse."

"You know that café on 3rd."

You know exactly the place he is thinking of. You always look for him there. "Yeah, I go there every Sunday. I pretend to do the crossword, but mostly I look a dumb stuff on my phone."

"I miss that place," he says, as he leans his head back on the couch and closes his eyes. "They still have the scones?"

"Yes, and they have these cinnamon rolls that make you think you can see god." Maybe there is something you can do. "Do you want me to bring you some?"

He winces. "I’m tired of friends bringing me things."

"Oh, look I’m there every Sunday morning. I won’t bring you anything, I promise, but if you ever want to join me there you can. I’m not great at human interaction though, so you're going to have to teach me how."

"I haven’t left this tiny apartment in almost a year."

"I know, but your social skills are obviously better than mine."

He laughs and puts his head on the arm of the sofa, stretching out.

"Do you want to call someone? Is there someone that can come over?"

He turns his head to look at you. "You know, you’re doing okay at this being a person thing."

You hand him his phone. He calls a friend while you do some more dishes and wipe down the counters.

Hoseok is asleep when Yoongi arrives. You’ve put on your coat. Your bag is packed at your feet. You feel like an interloper, a spy without a mission.

"You’re his Friday regular?" he asks.

"Yeah."

He looks at you accusingly as if the state of his friend is somehow your fault.

"I didn’t know."

"Jesus, how did you not know?" He shakes his head. You leave as he sits on the leather chair you just vacated, head in his hands, staring at his sleeping friend.

Winter hangs in the air. The steps up to the sidewalk seem particularly steep tonight, and you grip the railing like a mountain climber holding a fixed rope on a frozen slope.

When you get to your bus stop instead of standing under the shelter, you continue walking.

If only magic were real, you think. You’ve paid the price, certainly, to be owed some fearsome power. You’ve paid the price in scars and terrible boyfriends and missed meals and lost hours waiting for buses that never came.

But instead of something useful in exchange, the universe gave you suffocating armor that almost destroyed you before Hoseok began to dismantle it in his gentle way.

You’ve always kind of been an asshole. It helped you get out of that farm house you grew up in, and it helped you get away from a bad situation, but it would be better if you could make the world suffer for what it's done to him. It should. You would happily deal out punishments like a vengeance demon.

By the time you get home, your feet are bleeding and your body aches. You don’t know why you decided to punish yourself for the universe’s misdeed, but at least someone is paying. It just isn’t any of the people who fucking deserve to pay.

Hoseok doesn’t come to the café on Sunday. The tea you ordered gets cold, but that’s okay because tea can't really solve anything.

The next Friday he looks at you under his lashes. You don’t mention it.

Slowly the magic comes back. He’s himself again. Whatever it is that happens that makes you leave his apartment feeling like a ghost that is re-inhabiting its body, returns.

Every Sunday you order a pot of tea and a cup of coffee and he never comes, and you never mention it.

Beautiful Feeling

Spring is about to break but winter is holding on.

You drink tea on this Friday night, because there is a first time for everything. Hoseok tells you about the meal he’s cooking tonight for his friends. He moves around the kitchen, his movements graceful and fluid.

"Did you used to dance?"

"Yes." A shadow falls over his face.

You realize you’ve done it again. "You should teach me, because I can’t dance."

"Everyone can dance."

You shake your head.

He moves the small table to the side of the kitchen.

"Come here," he says. He has that note in his voice. The one that tells you when you are slouching, or when you are lying about how late you worked.

You move toward the kitchen and step up to him, feeling once again like a fool. He puts a hand on your waist and moves you toward him. He shifts your hips as your body is once again in robot mode, and you try not to blush. He has seen almost every inch of your body more or less, but standing in his kitchen like this is surprisingly intimate.

"You need to relax."

"Do you know who are talking to?"

"I know, I know." He mutters. "I thought you had made more progress."

Oh. Your eyes glaze over as you try to keep your composure. You’re not sure why such an offhand comment hurts so much.

He takes his finger and puts it under your chin, directing your gaze to him. "I’m sorry," he says, searching your face. "Don’t look down, look at me."

There’s no music, and you are in his tiny kitchen. Instead of counting off, he does this babababa thing, and you start to slowly move with him.

You realize that he wasn’t just a dancer, he used to teach. You don’t say anything, just enjoying the look of concentration on his face. This is must be what he looks like when he is working. When you start counting under your breath, he can’t hide his smile. You spend the entire time apologizing for stepping on his toes. At a certain point he can’t hold back his laughter when you move in the entirely wrong direction. He is supporting you with a hand on your back, directing your movements and whispering encouragement between smiles. But he seems happy, you think, and that's enough for you.

At one point, he spins you around and catches you in a dip. He stares down at you with a smile. You can feel his warm breath from the exertion. You have a momentary vision of him leaning down to kiss you. You can picture it so clearly, the feeling of his lips on yours, breathing in the same air, hands gently pulling you to him.

He jerks you up and immediately drops your hand, taking a step back.

"We should get started," he says, moving to the back of the apartment where he always goes while you change.

You shake off the mood quickly. He’s right. You’ve wasted too much time already, and you try not to think of his breath on your skin or the way he smelled of vanilla while he held you in his arms. It's just been so long since you’ve been with anyone, not since you moved here. You're making a big deal out of nothing. You strip off your clothes, leaving them in a pile. You forget to tie up your hair, but you just want it to be over. You want to be back to when things were normal.

You call to tell him when you are ready, and he comes in and everything is normal. Normal, normal, normal. Before you can stop them, the thoughts float in your head. What would it be like to wake up with him, lazy morning and loose limbs? What would it feel like if he held your hand, like he really wanted to? You try to rein in your thoughts.

Then he is touching you, the familiar routine starting, and you try to distract yourself. But this time every pressure, every movement seems filled with longing. You don’t know what to do with yourself.

Your body is betraying you once again. It wants. It has come out of whatever hard shell it had been living in since leaving your old life and deciding to craft a new one with just a few hundred dollars and your bare hands. Now it wants so much. It wants to feel this warm and happy all the time. It wants to have someone touch you in a way that feels like love, like this does.

Your body is confused. It’s confused these hours with real affection, with real tenderness. It doesn’t know any better. It’s just starved. It doesn’t know not to fall in love with this feeling. It doesn’t know that you don’t get to fall in love with him. It doesn’t know that he doesn’t love you back. Your heart hates you because it isn’t real. No one as kind as him would ever fall in love with you. Now your heart and your body hate you for it. They want to be at peace. For the first time in a long time, maybe in forever, that you've felt at peace, is here. And its' not real.

By the time the massage is almost over, when he is running his fingertips over your temple, you can't help the emotions rising to the surface and the tears that fall.

When it starts you can’t stop. Hoseok pauses, he hands stuttering, confused. You bring your hand up to your mouth as if that will stop the gulping sobs that are threatening to start at any moment.

You keep your eyes twisted shut wondering when he will leave you alone to your strange humiliating episode. But he doesn’t, of course. Instead he moves around to the side of the table, calling your name softly. He doesn’t say to stop or its going to be okay. He just keeps repeating over and over again that he’s here. I’m here he keeps saying and you want to push him away, but he has gathered you up in his arms. He has buried his face in your hair, and you can feel the gentle nuzzling of his cheek against your hair. It is so sweet you might die. He is sitting on the massage table, holding you in his arms. If only this could be real, you think. That’s the problem, you started wanting too much and now you can’t stop.

I’m sorry you keep saying and he keeps saying don’t be.

You open your eyes, suddenly aware of your nakedness under the sheet and the awkwardness of this position. You want to cling to him like this until he has peeled the sheet from your body and touched your skin again, but this time for real. You can’t stop the visions in your head of what it would be like to be with him.

You pull back. You need to get yourself together.

He's looking down at you, eyes intense. He bites his lip and his grip around your waist tightens. "Y/n" he breathes.

It comes out like a prayer. You're thinking that you may finally fucking get what you want, when the front door opens, and god knows how many of his friends walk in the apartment.

Hoseok screams and almost drops you, and you cling to the sheet. Oh god, nothing about this is funny or sexy. It is just incredibly humiliating. He over corrects and yelping, almost falls backwards on the floor. Thank god, the curtain is still pulled.

"What the fuck, Hoseok. You need to stop screaming." Someone calls.

"Uh, just finishing up."

"You have a client back there?".

"Uh, yeah." He lets go of you slowly as if worried that you will fall if left to your own. You nod, and he nods back. The two of you just continue to stare at each other like fools.

"I should get dressed."

"I need to make dinner."

"Cool. Good talk."

You move off the table still wrapping the sheet around you in a poor attempt at dignity and gesture for him to leave.

"Right, okay. We good?" He winces.

"Leave, Hoseok."

He moves into the other room, careful to shut the curtain behind him. You put on your clothes hopeful that nothing is backwards or out of place. What do you have to be embarrassed about, you think? You got a massage then cried like a total oddball and then he comforted you and looked like he wanted to kiss you. That’s all. Normal, normal, normal.

You push the curtain aside a little too forcefully. The hooks dangle ominously. Seven pairs of eyes stare at you and you want nothing more to get out of there.

"I’ll be going. Thank you."

Hoseok glances at you. Seokjin narrows his eyes and you don’t miss the This Is The One I Told You About glance he exchanges with the boys arrayed around the apartment. You don’t want to know if that is a good or bad thing. Hoseok wipes his hands on his apron and walks over to show you out. You’re sure your eyes are still red, and your hair is a wild, and this whole thing could not be more humiliating.

"You’ll be okay?"

"Yes."

"You’ll text me when you get home?"

"Yes."

"Okay then."

Please let me go your eyes must be pleading. He seems at war with himself wanting to ask what happened.

"Are you really okay?"

"It's nothing."

He shakes his head at you, disappointed in your answer. But he can't ask you to explain, not here, not like this.

He lets you go with a final nod of his head.

This Is Love

It's Sunday, two days later. You take the bus to Hoseok's neighborhood like you always do. The routine is comforting. It's cold, but spring is trying to find its way. The sun is making its presence felt. It's trying so hard to bring warmth and heat. It will be okay, you think. He's kind, and he won't think less of you because of your mini breakdown that was probably long overdue.

Your steps take you to Hoseok's apartment. You want to make sure it hasn't disappeared like in a fairy story. Sometimes you think the buildings on the other side will have swallowed it up, and it won't have been real. You imagined the whole thing just to get you through the last six months.

Your steps falter as you cross the street in front of his apartment.

He's there.

He's sitting on the stoop, eyes closed. You can see his chest heave. His hands grip the rail as he sits on the top step as if he’s just run a marathon. There's sweat on his brow, and his muscles are tense. The sun's rays make his skin glow, as if his inner kindness made manifest.

"Oh fuck," you say. "Holy shit."

He smiles.

"You did it."

He nods, his hands don't loosen their grip. He blinks his eyes open, dazed and a little lost he looks, as if waking from a pleasant dream, so handsome and sweet. You're so proud of him you could burse.

"Do you want to join me?"

"Sure, yeah, thanks." You squeeze in next to him. It's uncomfortable and cold on the uneven step, but you could stay there for hours if he wanted.

"Come here often?" he jokes.

Oh God. "I’m not stalking you or anything weird." Your face heats. You need to improvise. "I shop at the co-op."

He laughs. "You eat a lot of artisanal cheeses?"

"I go for the artisanal mayo."

"Does that place still smell like weed and old vegetables?"

"Yes, it's so gross."

He smiles.

You don’t know what to say or do. How can you talk to him when he’s out of his apartment? "So do you have any plans the rest of the day?"

He laughs so hard his eyes water. "I haven’t left my apartment in almost a year, so I’m not sure."

Goddamn, you are such a fucking moron.

"You really are terrible at this, aren’t you?"

You nod, afraid to talk for what might come out of your mouth.

"I thought it might be me. Because I haven’t made new friends in a while, but it is really you, isn’t it?"

"It really fucking is. I wasn’t lying when I said I don’t have any friends."

You can see the question on his face.

"It’s not very exciting."

"I was thinking maybe you were an assassin on the run from the government." He bites his lip. "What happened to you?"

"It's incredibly ordinary."

"Not a princess with amnesia?"

"No, but how would I know?'

He laughs. "Not in witness protection?"

You smile and shake your head. "How much have you thought about this?"

"I've thought about this a lot. You're pretty mysterious."

"I guess being angry and uncommunicative has its perks."

He removes a hand from the handrail, slowly carefully, his elegant fingers moving to clasp your hands, and it is so sweet and so intimate to be with him like this, squished on the step. It is the first time he's touched you in a deliberate way, a way like he wants to.

"Tell me."

You take a deep breath. You aren’t sure how to say it. You’ve never put it into words. "I was in a relationship. Everyone told me how lucky I was, everyone told me how I should be grateful. 'He wants to be with you even though you're not pretty, even though you say those odd things.' Everyone said it."

Hoseok shakes his head and grips your hand tighter.

"I was grateful. I was so grateful I didn't notice when it was easier to have him decide where we went and what we ate and what we should do. I was grateful and quiet. Then it stopped hurting when he told me I was dumb or when he laughed at me for wearing the wrong thing. I thought this was progress, you know, that it didn't hurt. But then it all stopped, all the feelings. I was suffocating."

Telling the story now, it feels like a story that happened to someone else. First the first time maybe ever, you think, I survived, not why didn't I leave sooner.

"One day after work I came home and with the last of my energy, I packed my suitcase. I got on a bus and I came here and I found a job and a place to live."

"You're very brave," he says, solemnly. It is a relief to hear him say it, and you are starting to believe it too.

"The thing is, I thought it was over. I thought I had won, but there were still ghosts to battle, you know."

He wipes the tears from your cheeks. "Do you think we could hang out sometime and not cry?"

"It’s because of you, you know."

"What?" he asks.

"I’ve never even said, thank you."

"You say thank you every week." He says, gently scolding.

"But not for the real reason, not for the way I’m slowly becoming a person again."

"I haven’t said it either."

You look up at him. "What could you have to thank me for?"

"Everyone has been really nice to me since everything happened." He shrugged. "But you… weren't. You’re the first person who didn't know, who didn't treat me like I'm dying of a nameless disease. It was obvious you had been through some kind of war and survived, and every week you were just yourself, and it was wonderful. I mean, you're the first person I got annoyed with since this whole thing happened. You really need to take better care of yourself."

"I'm socially inept and kind of an asshole, so we've got that going for us."

He laughs. "I think I should tell you, I have a crush on you."

"Oh, thank god." You cringe. "I mean, me too. I'm terrible at this."

He laughs, and it sounds like he doesn't mind.

"Though that isn't very professional," you mock scold.

"Those sounds you make on the table aren't very professional."

"I can't help it," you admit. "Honestly, I tried."

"I like it." He pauses. "The thing is… I still have bad days sometimes, not often, but I'm not even sure I can take you out on a date."

"I’m terrible at dates. You're not missing much."

He cups your cheek and even in the cold, his hand is warm. "Y/n, I’m getting better, but I might never be fixed."

He says it like it matters, as if you could ever find fault with him. He looks worried, searching your eyes. You do the only thing you can think of, you wipe the tears from under his eyes and kiss his cheek. He hums and leans his forehead against yours.

"Me neither," you say, gripping the strings of his hoodie as if he might float away. "But this is the best I’ve felt in a long time."

"Me too." He has a small, hopeful smile on his face when he pulls back, running his thumb over your cheek. "Can we sit for a while?"

You nod, and he puts an arm around you. His body is warm, protecting you from the cold and brittle wind. Tucked into his chest, you watch as he closes his eyes and raises his face to the sun.

a/n: thank you for reading. i really wanted the ending to be hopeful, and I’m praying that it is.  I wanted to write a story about how love can’t fix you, but give you strength to make your life better.

[chwrpg]

Murray, I have asked you repeatedly not to call me "woman".

A NOTE FROM ADMIN R: Oh, oh, oh ! Y’all don’t know how happy I am to be accepting this application. Dylan is truly one of my CHW faves and to have her taken up by you, Cailin... that’s just an honor. I can not wait to see what you do with her, but I know one thing... this dash ain’t ready fro the looks Dylan is about to serve us. Thank you so much for applying and welcome back, love !

OOC NAME/ALIAS, PREFERRED PRONOUNS, AGE & TIMEZONE:

cailin, (she/her), 25, est

DESIRED CHARACTER:

queen mother, dylan davenport

HOW ACTIVE WILL YOU BE?

8-10

SECONDARY CHOICE:

taylor flick

DESCRIBE THE CHARACTER:

Dylan is shrouded in beauty, bold fashion choices, witty comebacks, and her daddy’s debit card. But the woman wearing the Amina Muaddi heels to 7/11 is much more interesting than her out of this world clothes. If Chanel’s head is in the clouds, Dylan’s feet are planted on the ground. She’s the fuel to the fire, the one who gets shit done. Things don’t move without her — and that includes the fashion scene in Rosewood. Dylan could’ve been a surgeon, she has the brains and attention to detail for it, but, you see, what Dylan says or doesn’t say goes. She predicted high waist jeans making a comeback before Vogue did, telling the girls one day during first period. So she’s a bit of a culture oracle. It’s why people care about what she’s thinking, who she’s endorsing, what designers she’s buying. They even want to know what she’s watching on a monday night. Her confidence and sincerity is inspiring. When she’s not taste making though, she’s the loyalest, most straightforward friend you can find in her tax bracket. Balancing the thin line between being no-nonsense and fun to be around. She does it well, though. In fact, she does most things well (driving not included.)‌ Her peers boast about her style and charisma, her professors brag about her work ethic and creativity, her boyfriend….well, her love life is a tumultuous roller coaster but every icon needs a fixer upper. Plus she gets diamonds every time he fumbles.

SAMPLE WRITING:

( Alexa, play Daddy )

The day Dylan was born she became a daddy’s girl. Stevie Wonder could see it. Dada was her first word much to her mother’s chagrin. He never raised his voice at her, never got impatient with her when she spilled her juice or threw her food. He got up in the middle of the night so his wife wouldn’t have to even though he had meetings at 7 in the morning. It didn’t stop there, though. Mr. Davenport didn’t put her down at parties. He carried her around on his hip as he mingled and held court, demanding on no one use baby talk for his brilliant baby girl. “She’s smart like her mom.” He would say to his captivated audience. For her third birthday he rented out an entire amusement park. It didn’t matter that she wasn’t yet tall enough to ride the rides, she had asked for it so he made it happen. He was a doer and a fixer, but he wasn’t perfect. Mr. Davenport had always been a better father and provider than a husband.

So, when she was five, her parents went through a nasty divorce. The papers their lawyers drew up cited irreconcilable differences but she’d come to realize, many years later, that was just how rich people skirted around the truth in hopes of keeping people out of their business. In truth, Mr. Davenport had spent the better part of his career sleeping with secretaries, temps, and clients. Basically anything that was of age and not nailed down. Mrs. Davenport had only grown tired of it after watching Halle Berry cry over Eric Benet  on Oprah. But like she’d taught  Dylan, Mrs. Davenport thought three steps ahead, and had arranged to have a cheating clause in their prenup. She saw the board before she’d even stepped foot on it. And, Sure, they’d been in love when they got married at twenty three, but a cheater never changed its spots, just his lies. In an instant, she got half of everything. Twenty percent of his future earnings, and 360 lipo for a girls trip to Maui to celebrate her emancipation.

All Dylan got out of the deal was two houses, two birthdays, two Christmases, two cars she still couldn’t drive when she turned sixteen. The court awarded them joint custody, ruling they both had enough sense to figure out the schedule on their own. But since that was the year her mom went back to school for her PhD, Dylan spent the majority of her time with her dad and a nanny. Those double holidays also served as a good distraction from the heartbreak she couldn’t explain. Though she was sharp as a whip and actually funny, not laugh because it’s a kid funny, but really funny, she still couldn’t wrap her little mind around why her parents drove to separate houses at the end of the night now. At all those parties, what stuck out the most was everyone saying what a handsome couple they were, how lucky they were to have another. They danced and laughed. They seemed so happy. But looks are deceiving and lucky for her, the loneliest year of her young life was also the year she met her best friend.

( Alexa, play Wannabe )

Dylan and Chanel became an instant package deal, and she thanked her father for not being able to keep his dick out of seedy holes because she wouldn’t have went to school in another district if her mom hadn’t won the house in the divorce, and she wouldn’t have sat down next to Chanel at show and tell, and they wouldn’t have bonded over their pretty dresses, or shared their organic apple juice. God worked in mysterious ways like that. She had a partner for life, and nothing came between them. Not even boys. And, despite having the power to date any eligible bachelor in her grade, she really liked one in particular.

The day she brought Paxton home her took one look at him and chuckled. Dylan figured it was because of the grill he hadn’t learned to talk without slurring with yet, but her mother had other ideas. “He reminds me of your father.” She said, long after he’d gone home, but not before Dylan spent fifteen minutes walking him to his car. The driveway was super long but her lipstick was nonexistent when she returned. That didn’t matter though, because Dylan knew what that meant. Her mom thought Paxton was charming, likable, handsome — but she also knew he was a liar and a dog. They argued for well over an hour, and she said some things she regretted but that’s what teenage girls did, they rebelled against becoming their mother all while doing so. She didn’t realize just how much he was like her father until she caught him DMing other girls on instagram and got a diamond necklace out of the deal. Still, it was clear that he could shoot a man in broad daylight and she would always be daddy’s little girl, nothing could change that.

“Daddy!” Dylan whined, clinging to her dad’s arm as they traipsed through another commercial property with their real estate agent. Today was the day she was finally going to buck up and switch locations from her dad’s pool house to an office space in scenic, downtown Rosewood. Being interviewed by magazines had been life changing, sitting front row of the hottest runways next to A-listers had its perks, doing a skincare routine video for vogue was dope, but expanding her business because the calls wouldn’t stop coming in to be styled be Dylan and her associates? That was something she’d done herself from the ground up. She’d started with styling her friends and now she was going to style the world.

( Alexa, play Successful )

Her heels were tall enough to greet God but she still only reached his shoulder. “I hope this one has vaulted ceilings.” Her tone was way past passive aggressive. She would’ve dialed it back had their agent not been set to make serious bank off of this, but had only been showing them office spaces with disgusting lighting and rude doormen. For all of their sakes, she hoped this one was better. “I need two sessions of hot yoga after the last mess you showed us, at least. My chakras are all out of wack now. Thanks a lot, A.” She was being dramatic but her dad didn’t stop her. He just smiled that infamous smile at the agent and excused himself to the back of the elevator to take a call. Dylan rolled her eyes when she caught their real estate agent, Angela, fawning. She was a slender woman with the proportion of a fashion model who only modeled in theory, never practice. With cropped hair and full lips. She’d been their families real estate agent for decades, found the house her mom had one in the divorce, but Dylan couldn’t shake the feeling that she’d slept with her dad while he was married to her mom, and for that she hated her.

The light dinged to signal they were at their floor, and the elevator doors slid open. When she bothered lifting them from a lengthy text she was typing to her beau, her eyes lit up like when her dad gifted her a patek for her eighteenth, or the G-Wagon that was still collecting dust in the garage for her sixteenth. Whatever the occasion was, she was aglow just like then. The floors were European oak, all the walls were white sans a charcoal accent wall that would be the space of her future desk, and yes, the ceilings were vaulted with windows to match. It was beyond.

“Daddy!” She squealed, running around the space and dreaming up renovation ideas. “This is the one. It’s, like, perfect.” Dylan ignored the real estate agent when she repeated the price tag. 1.2 million may have been a lot for some people, but some people weren’t his little girl and Angela should have known that by now. “Wait. I need to call Chanel!”‌ Dylan could bet she’d be calling Chanel the day Play got down on one knee ( What?‌ A girl could dream ) before she even said yes. She was greeted with a selfie when she unlocked her phone, tapping her chanel platform sneaker clad foot against the wood while the facetime call connected, “What do you think about staining the floor another color?” She asked before absolutely beaming when Chanel’s face appeared on the screen.

“I found it! I found the perfect space.”‌ Without another word, she flipped the camera and did a little dance when Chanel’s excitement nearly exceeded hers. She knew a squeal of absolute glee when she heard one, “I know! Ok, so Just imagine a chaise here, we can install some shelves here. Do you think we can get a Prosecco fountain?…” She walked her through the office like Angela had done moments before, moving out of earshot so her dad could handle business, while they discussed all the possibilities. “Today an office with a view, tomorrow Dylan Davenport’s Fashion Academy,” she beamed.

All her daddy had to do was sign on the dotted line, and she knew he would. He was, after all, her doer. He wouldn’t dare break that illusion…right? The journey from the bathroom back to the main area of the office space was a short one, and she was all smiles until she rounded the corner only for her dream to turn into a nightmare. Her face cracked along with the screen of her phone as it hit the ground and shattered, “DADDY!” She screamed. The sight of her dad and Angela kissing over paperwork causing her to gag instantly.

“Honey, let me explain…..”

There was nothing to explain. Horrible step parents was Jasper’s lane, not hers.

( Alexa, play Ring Off )

ANYTHING ELSE?

1985.

[amitds]

Sasusaku Month Day 2 Prompt: Side by side.

Summary: Sasuke and Sakura fight side by side against the 10 tail clones, moments after Sakura attains her yin seal and finally reached Naruto and Sasuke’s level a they formed a new three way deadlock (Kishi and Sakura said it so ;P)

Notes: It’s basically me inserting my own filler scene in chapter 633. This takes place while the rest of the rookie nine are pulling out their new moves and before Sai falls and they summon their slug/snake/toad. For the sake of the prompt and SS month I am not dwelling on team 7 or the NS BROTP as much. I tried to focus on SS in this scene. Also there is no actually issue or story here, it’s more so, musings and small interactions between SS 

Lady Tsunade, it looks like I’ve finally caught up to them!

Sakura has always thought of herself as a full fledged shinobi but despite that she always found herself being protected by Naruto and Sasuke. Sakura hated that and during the chunnin exams she vowed to become stronger and let the boys stare at her backs for once. Alas as time went by, her teammates continued to grow stronger and for a time she thought that reaching her goal was impossible. They were just too incredible. However Sakura pressed on and after three years of constantly focusing chakra in one spot on her forehead she had finally unleashed her byakugo no in and armed with her herculean strength, passed down from Lady Tsunade, the cherry blossom kunoichi was finally able to stand at the front lines with Naruto and Sasuke, she was finally able to match their backs. Now, backs faced to one another, team seven braced themselves for what was to come. 

As much as Sasuke didn’t want to dwell on it, his heart and mind couldn’t fight his chains to the past, his chains to team seven. Reuniting with his former team and seeing Sakura finally live up to her full potential as a kunoichi, sent an undesired spark of pride and excitement surging through his being. Hmm. Monster strength and medical ninjutsu... ah. Sakura’s chakra control was always superb... and Naruto... so this is how the nine tail’s chakra looks under control?  I guess these two really did some training in these three years. As much as he denied it, Sasuke indeed felt a distinct comfort and warmth being beside these two. Naruto was always his rival but Sakura... he still couldn’t completely get over it. She was no longer the same Sakura he knew. She was stronger, more courageous and more powerful. Sakura had blossomed into a fine kunoichi and she is holding her own side by side Sasuke himself. No. He can’t give in to these feelings. He was no longer a part of team seven and he was going to be hokage. Sasuke could not afford to dwell on past rivalries, friendships... a cast away love. Sakura is able to fight with us now. Why do I care so much? I severed these ties so long ago. Sakura doesn’t mean anything to me now. 

“Guys! A lot of those bastards are coming here!” Naruto announced as the behemoth beyond them birthed more savage monsters onto the battlefield. “On the left! Kiba and the others can’t fight those new ones off if they circle around so I’ll head them off with some clones!” “You’re right. Naruto you go, Sasuke-kun and I’ll handle the main forces charging here,” Sakura responded, a nervous glance cast at Sasuke’s indifferent expression, his only response a taunt to Naruto. “Hmm. Don’t hesitate to yell for help if you need any, Naruto,” Sasuke jeered, eyes closed and amusement painting his face. There it was again. Once more Sasuke felt a warmth, a twinkle of happiness. He was enjoying this. Taunting Naruto... no that wasn’t all. He was glad to be teamed up with Sakura. Slowly but definitely the feelings he tried to erase were springing to life within him. Pushing his turmoil to the side, Sasuke declared, thunderously, “Let’s go! Sakura.” Whatever was happening had to take a backseat. New enemies dotted their arena. 

“Inferno Style: Flame Control!” Sasuke bellowed thunderously as onyx flames, the color of obsidian sprung forth from his katana, bathing the monsters before him. Dozens of clones fell as his feet, his read eyes glowing in the wake of the battle. Just as he finished with this group, another swarmed towards him. How many of these things are there? As the first creature encountered Sasuke, the ninja now ready for another round, the battle was halted as a colossal explosion engulfed the battlefield. The explosion consumed all of the juubi clones behind them and with the immense pressure of the shock wave, Sasuke’s enemy, too, was propelled yards away. Only Sasuke’s activated susanoo stood, blanketed by dust clouds. “Sasuke kun!” Sakura called making her way to his side once again. Sakura was the one who saved him, Sasuke realized. She covered for him. After strictly leading Taka and then abandoning them Sasuke had forgotten what it was like to actually operate as a team, with equals like Naruto, and now Sakura, at his side.

 It made him reminisce of his days with team seven. Thoughts of spending his days training with Kakashi, fighting beside Naruto and spending time with Sakura now flooded his thoughts. Sweet fantasies of what could have been had he remained in Konoha erupted in his mind. Without losing focus on the battle at hand Sasuke, if only for a second, allowed himself to ponder, to be pulled back into the light. “Sakura huh?” was his only comment as the kunoichi, her fuschia locks dancing in the breeze and dust hurried to his location, joining him as they both readied themselves for the onslaught that was coming. Unbeknownst to Sasuke, just as he had done before, a simple smirk crept up upon his face as if welcoming Sakura’s presence by his side. No. Those days are over. Naruto and Sakura are useful to me now and we need to end his war. I’ll be hokage after. That’s it! Sasuke forced control over his untamed happiness, once again focusing on the mission at hand. Indeed, something had happened to him since rejoining his former team. Something he needed to extinguish. 

Something’s strange about Sasuke kun. Ever since Sasuke announced his intention to become hokage and rejoined their side, Sakura was uneasy. Wisps of excitement, yearning, of suspicion and of doubt all swirled in her mind. Could she trust Sasuke? No. As much as her heart thirst for this, as much as she needed Sasuke to be safe and back with team seven, Sakura was too much of a realist and she knew Sasuke too well to expect any of her dreams to come to fruition. Not like this. Still... Sakura couldn’t ignore what played out in front of her. There it was again. This is the second time Sasuke had smirked at her. The first, when she unlocked her seal and now again, when she covered for him. Sasuke could have easily dealt with those clones but regardless as Sasuke’s teammate, as his equal and as Sakura, the kunoichi couldn’t just idly let him do it all. If she could help him she would and so she did. Sasuke enjoyed being with them, Sakura concluded. Being with her. Even with the darkness that plagued him team seven, she, held a small place in his heart. Of this she was sure! Sasuke kun... 

“Guys! I managed to beat them back!” Naruto announced, jogging towards their location. “Some reinforcements arrived and Shikamaru and Kiba’s groups are kicking it into overdrive to handle those plant bastards!” Sakura’s thoughts were disrupted by his arrival. “Hey Naruto.” As team seven gathered, Sakura quickly composed herself, pushing that thought to the side. Whatever was to happen, Sakura was elated that team seven was back and that even a glimmer of light, of love within Sasuke for his old team still shone. For now, Sakura concluded, that was enough. A bright smile now decorated her face, a slight blush now under toning her sallow complexion. She was here with Naruto and Sasuke and they were going to save the world. Side by side with her team, side by side with Sasuke. She knew this and she knew that along the way she would eventually see her dream blossom, she would see team seven together smiling again. 

Sai?!

[manikas-whims]

She is the Spring

A/N: Reposting this promotional fic that I wrote for the SasuSaku Festival 2017 on tumblr.

Title: She is the Spring

Summary: Sasuke is all locked-up in the prison with nothing but torture to accompany him. But on the festival of Hanami (Flower Watching), someone decides to pay a visit to him...

Rating: T

Word Count: 2488

As the faint rays of sunlight peeked-in through the small iron-barred window of his cell and fell upon his blindfolded eyes, Sasuke Uchiha shuddered in realisation of the fact that yet another torturous morning has arrived. Another morning where they’ll drag him out towards one of those interrogation rooms and throw him on the stool; Ibiki Morino sitting directly opposite him. Then they’ll start-off with the usual questions and as always he’ll remain tongue-tied because truth be told, he really has nothing to inform them. Nothing at all…So when their talking won’t work, they’ll begin removing the numerous bindings and the straightjacket from his form to start with the real stuff. They’ll pull out all types of knives and needles and pliers and whatnot!

He shuddered again and instinctively huddled closer to himself in one corner of the cell. The sensation of his fingers being broken and then mended in an iterative manner was still fresh in his mind. This is the worst part of all these sessions— they break his bones and burn his skin and then don’t even heal him completely. And this partial treatment of his wounds is what keeps him awake for most part of the night, the other part being his sleep full of nightmares.

He sighed again and waited anxiously for another one of those nasty guards to fetch him for the day. To his surprise, an hour elapsed without anyone entering his cell. Then another hour passed…and another..and another..and then, all of a sudden he heard the echoing of footsteps descending down the stairs that led to the dungeon and finally stopped before his cell. He felt as if he were being watched but no one actually spoke.

“Get him already.” One of the anbu guarding his cell spoke up.

The man that he felt was watching him, responded, “No..not today. I just came to inform you that we are celebrating today so you guys must also join us for the evening.”

“Who’ll guard this little monster?” Another of the anbu guards asked jokingly.

“Ah..well..Lord Hokage is looking for someone who’ll willingly waste their time watching over him instead of enjoying the festival.” The unknown man informed.

“I see. Then..we’ll leave here and join you as soon as that person arrives.” The first guard assured.

“Farewell then.” The man left.

Left…

Without any words about him being required to be sent to the torture department’s room or anything like that and Sasuke let out a breath in relief. He knows that today is some kind of celebration day in Konoha as he had heard cheerful banter of children and excited conversations between some elders through the only small window in his cell. He didn’t really care much but still, a small part of him felt irritated at being left out of all of this even though he has returned peacefully and with no ulterior motives of revenge. He must not be locked-up inside some stingy, dark, underground prison. He should be allowed to reclaim the Uchiha compounds as their sole-surviving owner and even be given freedom to rejoice with Team 7. How much do they want him to suffer before finally granting him pardon? He was just an adolescent driven by revenge...

He sighed again and tried to get some sleep…

.

.

“I said..it’s an order from the Hokage!”

Those were the first comprehensible words that reached his ears when he woke-up. Instantly he shot-up from his supine position to listen more clearly.

“Heh! And what?! The Hokage sent you?!” The guard guffawed.

The other one added, “Yeah..like..I don’t want to be rude but..out of all those sycophants in this village, Hokage chose you?!”

“Ofcourse he didn’t choose me! I wanted to come and so, I did!” ,stated the third person, voice sounding feminine and known.

Sasuke tried to run the gears in his brain to recall this weirdly, well-acquainted presence but nothing showed-up in his mind’s eyes. It was when he felt that female walking past the guards towards his cell that a soothing sort of chakra tingled his senses. Instinctively, he took in a deep inhale of the air and a very faint but alluring scent of jonquil engulfed his nostrils. He sighed in relaxation because only one person is blessed with this soothing chakra signature and the scent of love and desire— Sakura Haruno.

“What’s with that heavy bag?” One of the two guards asked her.

“Just go and see the Hokage and don’t forget to inform him that everything is well…under control.” She commanded and swiftly unlocked the gate of his cell.

He felt her trailing towards his hunched form. The scent of jonquil became stronger because of the proximity of their faces and she placed one of her dainty palms on his stubbled jaw. He gulped to calm his senses, waiting for her to proceed.

“Sasuke-kun..” she called softly in her innocent tone, “Would you mind getting-up?”

To everyone’s shock, he nodded like an obedient child and staggered into a standing position, her hand never leaving his face. She smiled at the docile action and with that same palm, began removing the blindfold over his eyes, releasing the binding jutsu using her other free hand. Not even allowing him to open them, she placed her palm on his closed eyelids and passed a surge of green healing chakra through the intricate ocular network of his eyes. Having done that job, she removed her palm and it was in that moment that he fluttered his eyes open, blinking them to adjust to the darkness of the room. She was the first thing that came in his line of sight and he couldn’t help himself but stare.

“Sakura” he greeted politely, reminiscing everything that he had done to her in the past.

“Sasuke-kun” she returned the greeting.

Surprising him, she smiled cheerfully, her irises flickering with joy and she moved her hands to undo the zipper of the straitjacket, followed by freeing him off the jutsu restraints. He stretched and flexed his limbs to ease some tension and lowered down a bit of the zipper of his high collared shirt to allow some air to his scarring chest. She gasped at the sight and immediately unzipped the shirt completely to have a better view of his injuries. Several cuts, lacerations and burns were covering his chiselled torso. Placing a hand shakily on his chest, she waited to see his reactions but none came. Sasuke on the contrary, merely shrugged and waited for her to do whatever the hell she was asking permission for. He knows that she’s surprised by his reaction (or lack thereof) but it’s not his fault that he has grown so used to pain that he doesn’t even feel it anymore.

From the distance a guard spoke, “Fine Haruno-san. We’ll be leaving but don’t get carried away by your emotions. There are other guards still watching from hidden spots.”

“Yeah!” The other one said, “And be careful. We don’t want him killing you and escaping.”

“I won’t.”

It was Sasuke who responded to the guard’s mocking statement in his husky-tone that was laced in threats of murdering them. He has already committed the sin of trying to take her life more than once and he doesn’t want to hear or do anymore of that. The guard immediately shut his mouth and began walking out to the stairs.

.

.

After getting properly healed by his ex-teammate, Sasuke was made to sit down right next to her on the hard floor of his cell. Sakura took-off the heavy handbag slinging onto one of her shoulders and smiled again.

“It’s hanami, Sasuke-kun!” She said excitedly.

Realisation dawned upon him at that and things began clicking in his head. So all this hustle and bustle that he has been hearing about through his small window was for nothing but the Hanami Festival? For flower-gazing? But..then too, Sakura has chosen to stay with him for this celebration, leaving the much better option of the company of her friends and family?

“Why?” He asked quietly and she understood without him having to explain.

"Well..Kakashi-sensei asked if I would like to join you and..I did?“ She replied sheepishly.

“No Sakura.” He shook his head in disapproval, “You have better people to see.”

“I’d rather stay here with you than join a group of people who don’t pay much heed to the fact that you saved their lives.” She hissed in her defense.

It’s true that nobody really gives a fuck that he, along with team 7 and Obito, are the ones who saved the whole shinobi world. But it doesn’t really bother him. What is seriously confusing, is her loyalty towards him. Even after everything that he has done, she is ready to forgive and forget. She still confides in him the way she used to when she was just twelve. He smirked at those nostalgic days and looked back at her with gratitude. She smiled and then, looked around the prison. She knows that there are still several guards watching their activities from the shadows but she just doesn’t care. Smiling sweetly at him, she did something way too unexpected. She placed a quick, lingering, chaste kiss on his lips.

It took him a moment to comprehend her act but he only turned his face away from her to hide the small tilt of his lips. The act didn’t faze him much. For him, it is like the most natural thing amongst them. She on the other hand blushed furiously when a guard coughed awkwardly, having witnessed the kiss.

To cover-up for her action, she hastily pulled out a sitting-mat and a Bento from her bag. Lastly she took out some candles and began lighting them. Instead of just watching her, Sasuke helped her in arranging the candles in different corners of the room to light up the cell. After that they sat back on the mat, which Sasuke noticed was embroidered in beautiful Sakura-no-hana designs and he felt the pangs of guilt hit him. She really shouldn’t be spending the Hanami with him.

What he didn’t know was that Sakura was feeling equally guilty in this situation. She silently opened the bento and muttered, “I’m sorry, I didn’t have enough time so I prepared only one box. Is it fine if we share?”

“Aa” He nodded and she smiled again.

He noticed the contents of the medium-sized lunchbox which consisted of a strip of onigiri arranged alternately in shades of white and pink food-colouring in the centre of the box. On the left side, there was freshly cooked salmon and miso in one corner and some carrots and ferns in the other corner. To the right there was chicken karaage and sakuradai sushi. He wondered how much time Sakura had spent in the kitchen in order to cook such a delicious meal. A part of him wanted to ask but that would be too rude and direct. So he just watched her as she pulled out two small cups and a bottle of sake.

After taking up their chop sticks, Sakura joined her hands while Sasuke, because of the lack of his left arm, simply closed his eyes when she did and they prayed.

“Itadakimasu” Both of them spoke in unison and opened their eyes, their gazes locking onto each-other for a moment.

Then Sakura moved her hand towards the salmon but as she did so, she noticed the shaking of Sasuke’s palm. A chop stick fell from his grasp and he lowered his head. Worriedly, Sakura placed her own chop sticks down and began stroking Sasuke’s shaking palm. He hitched at the contact and she noticed that his whole form was shaking now.

“Sasuke-kun?” She glanced up at his bangs that were silhouetting his expression and patiently awaited his response.

“It’s been five years since I last celebrated this with someone..” He mumbled so quietly that Sakura is sure that she is the only one who heard.

“Mother..she used to..she used to feed me with her own hands…” He added after a short pause.

After that no one spoke a word and Sasuke began sulking even more. He felt stupid because of his past sins. Once, he had spent a Hanami with team 7 as well when they were still together and he hadn’t yet committed the mistake of leaving his home village. If only he would’ve listened to his teammates back then…

“Sasuke-kun” His female teammate called him again and he tilted his head up only to come face-to-face with a piece of sushi being held close to his lips. He glanced at pinkette’s hand holding the food item and then at her gentle smile, which appeared to be so much like his mother’s. Slowly, he opened his mouth and took in the piece, munching and swallowing it.

Sakura giggled at him and asked, “Feelin better?”, to which he nodded quietly.

“I can never take your mother’s place, Sasuke-kun but I can surely try to fill in for her…” She mumbled.

He nodded and opened his mouth again, waiting for her to continue feeding him. She smiled at his acceptance and continued with the task, alternating between feeding him and then eating herself.

“Hurry! We need to find a good tree!” They heard a kid yelling from that small iron-barred window and Sakura huffed.

She pouted her lips and mumbled sadly, “I’m sorry we couldn’t convince the council to allow you to have a proper celebration of the festival. I wanted to take you to watch a Sakura Tree as well but Homura-san and Koharu-san didn’t allow me and Kakashi-sensei.” She explained.

“It’s fine.” He assured.

“It’s not! What’s a Hanami without a cherry blossom? You can’t say that you celebrated it without even being able to gaze at the flowers.” She reasoned and glared at him.

Sighing, he passed a hand through his raven locks and gestured her to come forward. She stared curiously at his hand and he gestured again. When she finally complied and scooted her face closer to his, he poked her head with his index and middle finger. She was slightly taken aback and pouted.

“You are here.” He stated as if it was the most important part of this celebration. She didn’t understand the meaning behind his words and pouted even more, this time slightly puffing her cheeks as well.

He smirked and picked-up his long time abandoned chop sticks. Taking a piece of salmon, he brought it up towards her lips and waited for her to open up. She didn’t even budge so he touched the salmon softly to her lips, making her sigh in defeat. Biting into the meat, she kept pouting at him, making him smirk amusedly at her antics.

Sakura will not understand this but she really is more than enough. With her baby-pink hair and contrasting emerald eyes along with the scent of jonquil, she really is like the cherry blossoms in every aspect— beautiful and ephemeral. Watching his teammate is very much like watching those delicate flowers.

The Sakura Trees may symbolise the arrival of spring but for him, so does she. She has always been there for him. She is the only light in his dark life. She is indeed the spring personified…

“Sakura,” he called and then stared directly into that beryl shade of emeralds, “Thank you…”

A/N: Well..just a repost to get started with this new blog. Hope you guys enjoyed reading..:3

~Manika

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