#because normal motivation in this field of work is more insane than anything

[madwomansapologist]

there is a certain insanity that makes people decide to become sorcerers. having an innate technique isn't enough, they have to want to work in such a cruel field and more than that they need to not have anyone willing to do anything to stop them from doing so.

miwa and nobara are, from the younger cast, the only ones with mundane reasons. one wants to help her family, the other would rather die than staying on the same fucked up town. it's clear miwa has a great relationship with her family, and clear nobara hasn't.

which makes me think of nanami, the most normal sorcerer from the older cast. the only sorcerer of his family, putting his life and innocence in danger when he was still a student. if you have a family that will have your back (like nobara hasn't) you don't do that. if you have a good socioeconomical situation (like miwa hasn't) you don't do that. for me, it's clear nanami lacks both of them.

not only i think he used to live dangerously closer to the line of poverty during his youth, i also think someone with at least a bit of care or love for their own family would judge suguru for killing his parents. but nanami couldn't care.

[calpalirwin]

Numbers

Summary: Sebastian doesn’t want to be another number to you, but little does he know he’s the only one.

A/N: Everyone say thank you to @jessalyn-jpeg​ for always being willing to cry over this man with me. 

Important distinction: Italics represent his thoughts, while bold italics represent hers

Word Count: 3.2k

And away, and away we go!

__

The sun was high and warm, and the sounds of wood cracking against leather grew louder as Y/N walked towards the baseball fields. “Yo, Number 1, lookin’ good!” she whistled, her fingers wrapping themselves in the chain link fence surrounding the field.

There was a loud laugh from the man playing shortstop, and he turned to either flip her off or stick out his tongue, but a baseball came flying in his direction, high and powerful. But not high enough. Almost lazily, Sebastian lifted his heels off the dirt, raising his left hand in the air, the ball coming to a stop in his glove.

“Right field, get ready!” Anthony, the pitcher shouted. “Stan’s lucky charm showed up!”

“I don’t need luck, Mackie,” Sebastian taunted, pulling at the sleeves of his jersey. “I’m Number 1 for a reason. Best shortstop in the state, right here, baby!”

“Mackie! Stan!” the coach barked in warning.

“Sorry!” both men laughed. And with his brief pause, Sebastian took off his hat, waving it at Y/N in greeting as she took a seat in the stands, before putting it back over his sweaty locks of brown hair.

As the practice continued, more girls made their way out to watch the team, and Y/N couldn’t blame them. Something about a guy’s ass in baseball pants, especially when that ass belonged to Sebastian Stan. And the college baseball team didn’t have any complaints about the attention they gathered, plays becoming more dramatic than they needed to be as a chance to show off, until the coaches finally called it quits.

“So,” Anthony asked Sebastian as they headed for the dugout. “Is today the day you ask out Y/N finally? Or should I try to shoot my shot? Like what's going on here, man? Cuz whatever it is between you, it’s gone on way too long, and I only got so much patience.”

Sebastian wasn’t sure how his face could grow warmer after being in the sun practicing for two hours, but it did. “I- We’re friends, ya know? And it’s not that I don’t wanna ask her out. It’s that I don’t know how. Or how she’ll react. It’s… a whole thing, ya get me?”

“Dude…” Anthony shook his head. “I say this because I care. But if you’re gonna make a move, make it fast. No one wants to be the one to cross you when we all know you got a thing for her. But if you’re not gonna shoot your shot…”

“Thanks…” Sebastian said, not sure if he appreciated the obvious advice or not. He knew he needed to ask Y/N sooner rather than later. But the idea that his teammates were lying in wait for him to either make a move, or step aside stirred up feelings of jealousy. But the only way of making sure they didn’t date her… He slung his bag over his shoulder, before squaring them and strutting out of the dugout, headed straight for Y/N. “Now or never, Stan,” he whispered to himself.

“Seb!” a girl called out and he turned to the sound, putting a smile on his face.

“Hey.” He offered a small wave, his eyes spotting Y/N, and kept walking, but then more girls were calling his name, batting their eyelashes, and touching his arm as they asked questions, and somehow Y/N got lost in the shuffle.

Y/N watched from her spot, the smile on her face dropping as she watched Sebastian get swarmed by girls who only wanted his attention so they could later brag to their friends that they’d gotten to talk to the star of the baseball team. And Sebastian wasn’t the type to be rude, even when he should.

Sighing, she shouldered her bag, heading down the bleachers, figuring she’d she go rescue him from his oh-so terrible prison of adoring girls.

“Hey, Y/N,” a shy voice called out as her feet hit concrete.

She lifted her gaze to find one of the newer players smiling at her. “Oh, hey, Tom,” she smiled back at him. “Good practice out there.”

“Heh, thanks,” he mumbled, his cleat digging into the ground. “So… you waiting for Seb?”

“I was yeah,” she admitted, looking over at Sebastian who was still under siege. And then a swell of anger bubbled inside her. If he couldn’t be bothered to pull himself away from them for her, then she didn’t have to wait for him. “But I’ll just catch him later. So, what’s up?”

Tom blinked in surprise. “Uh… I… Not much really. Was gonna head back to my dorm. Ya know, normal stuff I guess.”

“Well c’mon, I’m headed that way myself, I’ll walk with ya.”

Tom brightened as someone whistled from behind. “Damn! Kid’s got moves!” Anthony’s voice called out loudly. He jogged a few steps to join the couple, “Yo, Y/N, what about Seb?”

Y/N looked over her shoulder at Sebastian who still wasn’t even looking her way. “What about him?”

~~~

She mumbled airplane sounds under her breath, twisting her wrist to make the paper airplane fly around, before she really sent it flying across the living room. She watched as it glided through the air before nose-diving into the carpet as the front door opened.

“Apology food?” Sebastian asked with a hopeful smile, holding up a bag of takeout as he kicked the door shut.

“And what’s the apology for?” she asked, rising to her feet and crossing her arms.

“For being a dick after practice.”

“Chinese?”

“Your favorite,” he said, handing her the bag.

“Fine. Your transgressions against the crown are forgiven. This time.”

He tilted his head back as he laughed. “Thank you, your Highness. Although a little birdie told me that you ended up alright. Holland, huh?”

“Mackie is worse than girls with gossip, I swear…” Y/N said with an eye roll. “But yeah, Holland and I talked.”

“You know he’s a freshman, right?”

“Aw, is somebody jealous?” She flashed him a sardonic smile as they both plopped down on the couch and dug into the food.

Sebastian let out a scoff. “Me? Jealous of Holland? Pfft, yeah right.” Yes, insanely jealous, actually.

“Oh, so if I said he walked me all the way to the apartment, that wouldn’t make you mad?”

“You’re not my girlfriend, Y/N,” he said around a swallow of food. Despite how much I wish you were.  “If you wanna make baby Holland feel like a man for escorting you home, I really don’t give a shit. But you can do better than a freshman.” Like me.

Like you? “And you’d smell better with a shower,” was her retort as she knocked her shoulder into his.

“Mmm, you gonna join me?”

“Pfft! In your dreams, maybe.” And in mine.

Only in my dreams cuz once again, I fucked up.

~~~

Y/N figured one date would be enough to stir Sebastian into action. But one, the man had already made himself scarce by the time she left for her date. And two, the date sucked.

You’re not Sebastian was all she could think about throughout the dinner of cheesy one-liners, and bad jokes that bordered on offensive.

“So…” he asked suggestively as they walked out. “Wanna head back to my place?”

“No, I’m kinda tired,” she declined politely.

“Oh… well then I’ll call you sometime and we can do this again, maybe?”

“Yeah… no,” she said, shaking her head. “This was… nice. But no. You and I? Not gonna happen.”

“Right… I forgot you’re friends with Stan.”

“What does that have to do with anything?”

“Oh, c’mon. Dude obviously likes you. And he’s not the one anyone wants to have on their bad side.”

“Then why did you ask me out? If all of you are so scared of Seb?”

“Cuz you’re hot, and I’m not on the baseball team,” he shrugged.

“Yeah… I’m gonna go home now. And you… ugh… yeah, no. Not gonna happen.”

~~~

Sebastian turned his head as the door opened. “Back before curfew, huh? Whatta gentleman.”

“Fuck you,” she told him with a roll of her eyes before stalking off towards her bedroom.

“Whoa, whoa, wait,” he said, bolting up off the couch. “C’mon, what happened?”

He wasn’t you. “He’s a pig. Said all the wrong things.”

“That sucks. But hey, can’t all be winners, right?”

“I guess… Although he did say one thing that was somewhat interesting.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah. Apparently you scare people off from asking me out.”

He snorted. “That’s fuckin’ stupid. Will I be pissed if some jackoff makes you feel like shit? Yeah, and I’ll probably say something. But shit… I’m not your boyfriend, or your dad, or some shit. Sounds like a lame cop-out because they just don’t wanna admit they’re pussies.”

And what’s your lame cop-out? “Ugh… I need a drink.”

“Grab me one, yeah?” he asked, sinking back down into the couch as she changed directions to head into the kitchen instead.

“So, how was your night?” she asked, grabbing two beers from the fridge.

“Uneventful,” he shrugged. “There was a girl I was hoping to go out with, but it didn’t work.”

“Aw damn. That sucks,” she said, as she joined him on the couch and handed him one of the beers. 

“Eh, it was my fault for not asking sooner,” he shrugged again, clinking his beer against hers. “To shitty nights.”

“Here, here,” Y/N cheered half-heartedly as they both took a long drink. “Fuck it. Paper airplane contest?”

He snorted into his beer. “We’re not seven anymore.”

“Aw, afraid you’ll lose?”

He sat up straighter. “Loser buys next case of beer?”

“You better get your wallet out, now.”

~~~

Sebastian knew he should have taken his chance after that first date gone bad. And Y/N knew she should have pushed him harder in her confrontation. But for whatever reason, the friends stayed at their stubborn stalemate.

Without Sebastian willing to make a move, Y/N began to wonder if maybe everyone had it all wrong. Maybe Sebastian was simply protective of her without having an ulterior motive behind it. So, she continued to go on dates with other guys on campus to ease the ache, until she couldn’t pretend they weren’t Sebastian anymore.

For his part, Sebastian not only took careful notes of the reasons Y/N gave for each of her short-lived romances, he also stupidly pointed her in the direction of new interests. And then he tried not to drown in his jealousy, before learning to grow doubtful of wanting a romantic relationship with her at all. Why would he want to sacrifice a lifelong friendship just to become another nameless guy she tossed to the side once she had her fun with him?

~~~

“Sebastian!” she gasped at him when he came home one night as she nursed away the end of yet another short-lived romance that wasn’t him.

“You’re drunk,” was the observation as he dropped his duffle bag to the floor.

“Ooooohhhh yeah,” she giggled at him with a wide grin, eyes hazy. “You gonna join me?”

“So we can both be sick? Yeah… Not a chance.”

“Boo…” she pouted. “You never wanna do anything with me.”

“One night. One night I don’t wanna drink with you, and that equates to me not wanting to do anything with you ever? Make it make sense, Y/N.”

“Well, you don’t wanna date me, that’s for sure,” was the drunk scoff.

He balked. “When did I ever say that?”

“Well it’s true, isn’t it? Everyone keeps saying that you like me, but you don’t do anything about it. Are they all lying? Or are you?”

He shook his head. “I’m not doing this. I’m not having this conversation with you.”

“Why not?!”

“Because you’re drunk off your ass!”

“Just answer the question!”

“I don’t know!”

“What type of bullshit answer is that?! How do you not know if you wanna date someone?!”

“It’s the answer you give when you used to think you wanted to, but now you’re not sure anymore! Now… I gave you my answer. And I already told you once I’m not having this conversation. Not when you’re drunk. I’m going to bed. G’night Y/N.”

“COWARD!” she hurled the insult at his retreating back.

In his room, Sebastian didn’t sleep. He lay in bed watching his ceiling fan spin in slow hypnotic circles, cursing himself for letting it get this bad. If he had just asked her out after that one practice… If he could just rewind the clock…

In the living room, Y/N sobbed into her hands. The distractions never worked, even the promising ones. And Sebastian… If it turned out he didn’t want her…

Thoughts spiraled and time ticked by, Y/N growing more sober, and Sebastian more angry with himself.

“Seb?” she asked in a small whisper, knocking lightly on his door as she pushed it open, finding him still awake in bed, the little lamp on his nightstand illuminating the room.

“What do you want, Y/N?” he asked, more harshly than he meant to, as he pushed himself to sit up against his headboard.

“I- Nevermind… It’s stupid…”

“No, wait,” he called out to her as she turned to leave. “I didn’t mean it like that. I- What’s up? What did you wanna ask?”

She took a slow breath to steady herself as she turned back around to face him. “Do you like me? God, that sounds so juvenile…”

“Of course I like you, Y/N. You’re my best friend.”

“But you don’t like me enough to date me. Just enough to be protective about me dating anyone else.”

He sighed. Now, or never. “It’s not that I don’t wanna date you, Y/N. It’s that I’m scared to.”

“That doesn’t make any sense.”

“To you, maybe. But to me, it’s perfectly valid.”

“How? How is that a valid reason? Sebastian Stan, scared of dating a girl? A girl who he’s known his whole life? Make it make sense.”

“You think I wanna be one of the guys you date? Maybe if you actually dated people, I wouldn’t have ever thought twice about dating you myself. But you don’t date, Y/N. You… God, I dunno what it is you do, but it’s not dating.”

“Fuck you,” she spat, feeling tears well up. “Fuck you! You don’t get to slut-shame me!”

“Slut-shame you?! How is it slut-shaming that I don’t wanna be another number to you?! That I don’t wanna be another source of entertainment for you until you get bored of me?!”

“Because you’re not a number, Sebastian!”

“Bullshit I’m not! You literally call me Number 1! You don’t love Y/N! You… you entertain yourself until someone better comes along!”

“That’s not true…” she whispered, heartbroken that he thought it was.

“It was for all the other guys! I don’t wanna be like them, Y/N! I don’t wanna be some random number to you! I wanna be the one! I don’t know how much clearer I can make that.”

“You know I only dated them to make you jealous, right?”

“Well congrats… you win. I’m insanely jealous of every guy that you parade through that goddamn door.” His mouth twisted and his vision started to swim.

“I didn’t wanna win, Seb. I wanted you.”

He hissed through his teeth. “Past tense… that, uh… Yeah, that hurts. Thanks for that… For this…” he twirled his finger about the room. “Awesome conversation. Glad we could have this talk.”

“You wanna know why it never worked with those guys?!” she yelled at him, her hands flying up in the air. “They weren’t you! God, I tried so hard to make it work with those guys! Any of them! But none of them made me feel the way you do. None of them get me the way you do. And… God! I wish they did! I wish at least one of them did, because then I could finally stop wasting my time on you when it’s obvious you don’t feel the same way about me!”

“I don’t feel the same?!” He grabbed a small notebook, hurling it at her. “If I never felt the same, explain that!” He pulled down the collar of his shirt, pointing at a small tattoo of a paper airplane on his chest “If I never felt the same, explain this!”

“Y-you got a tattoo? When?”

The sudden drop of her voice level took him a moment to realize what she’d asked. “When you started dating the guy with tattoos…” he told her.

“And this?” she asked, bending down to pick up the small notebook he’d thrown at her, thumbing through it. “Blue eyes, tattoos. Text back on time. Don’t say stupid shit,” she read aloud. “A-are these notes on how to date me?”

He shrugged. “I like to think they’re observations.”

“W-why would you need notes on how to date me?”

“To make sure you don’t get bored of me. To make sure you don’t forget me.”

“Seb-”

He shook his head fiercely, feeling his throat close up. “Don’t. Just don’t, okay? I know this is all my fault. I know if I had just stopped being a little bitch, and said something sooner like I wanted to, none of this would be happening right now. But I- Fuck… It’s always been me and you, and I dunno what I’d do if that stopped happening. You’re my best friend. And I’ve been in love with you for as long as I can remember. And… I can’t risk losing you. I won’t lose you. Even if that means spending the rest of my life jealous of the guys you date.”

“And you never bothered to think that I had the same fears? That I’m just as in love with your stupid ass?”

“Why would you be? I’m just the idiot best friend.”

“Haven’t you been listening? I- God, did you really get a tattoo?” she asked. “What even is it?”

“It’s a paper airplane,” he mumbled, face turning red.

“Can I see it again?” she asked somewhat shyly.

He shrugged, taking off his shirt and tossing it to the side. “Happy now?”

“Oh, Seb,” she giggled, crossing the room to him. “You didn’t have to take your shirt off. You could have just tugged down your collar again.”

“Are you complaining?” he teased lightly, pulling her into his lap.

“God, no,” she said with another giggle. “Oh, Seb,” she sighed, her fingers tracing the ink on his skin. “God, we’re so fuckin’ stupid, aren’t we?”

“Oh, I’m definitely stupid,” he admitted. “Said and done so much stupid shit I shouldn’t have said or done.” His nose nudged against hers, his lips brushing against her cheek when he said, “God, I’m so sorry. I shoulda manned up sooner. And I shouldn’t have said those things about the guys you dated. I just- I fucked up. I let my insecurities get in the way, and I fucked up.”

“I fucked up too, Seb,” she whispered, carding her hands through his hair. “I was trying to fill a you-sized hole when I had you in front of me the whole time.”

“So you still want me? Even after I was the idiot coward that kept fucking up?” The blue eyes were big and watery with small traces of fear as they held her gaze steady, foreheads knocked together.

“Of course I still want you. You’re the only one I’ve ever wanted, Seb.”

__

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[ahopelessromantic]

I’m yours, you’re mine ➳ S. Reid

Pairing: Spencer x reader

Word count: 3,2k

Prompts: 10, “I’m pregnant; 16, “Marry me.”; 30, “You want a family with me?”

Warnings: slight angst, pregnancy, Spencer is a whole baby and a half

You’re ready to take the next step in your relationship. The question is: Is Spencer? 

(I loved writing this so much and could maybe even imagine writing a part two, tell me if that’s something you’d like!)

“Good morning, everyone.” Hotch’s greeting for the morning only came through to you as a faint echo. He was giving out the details of you team’s newest case as clear as always, but to you it sounded like his voice came from a distance. Instead of paying attention to him all you could to was to stare straight ahead, trying to force down the wave of nausea threatening to overcome you. Why was everything spinning? For a moment you thought you had gotten it under control.But then a waft of Emily’s morning coffee hit your nose and you felt your stomach turn. “(Y/N), can you work the victimology?” Of course, just in that moment you were addressed. “Sure- “ You started to answer before you felt your breakfast rise into your throat. “Coming up right after I’ve coughed up my lungs.”, was the only thing you managed to yelp out before you sprinted to the nearest toilet.

The cold bathroom tiles beneath your knees almost felt like a sweet relief while your stomach painfully clenched around itself. Once there was nothing left to throw up anymore you leaned against the wall of the bathroom stall, trying to calm down your breathing. Somehow, you felt even worse than you normally felt after throwing up. You heard someone enter the toilets and then a knock sounded against your door. “Honey, are you okay?” It was JJ, and not bothering to get up you just unlocked the door for her to get in. You nodded at her, wiping away the tears on your face. She looked at you worriedly. “Did you eat something wrong? I know Garcia’s sushi orders can be weird.” You chuckled but shook your head. “Nah, I’ve been feeling off for weeks. This was the first time I had to throw up though.” JJ kneeled down across from you, closing the door behind her. She held out a paper towel to you which you gratefully took, not missing the weird look she was giving you. “You know...” She started to speak, unsure of how to bring her words across without upsetting you. “When I was pregnant with Henry, I felt awful for weeks before I realised what was going on. I constantly felt dizzy, and the worst was looking at all the crime scene photos every day.” You felt your eyes widen with every word she spoke. Normally, you only felt this weird around the time of your period, but now thinking back you realised that you hadn’t bled in some time. A pregnancy definitely made more sense to you now than a very resilient stomach bug. “Hey, (Y/N), don’t pass out on me now!”JJ warned, shaking you out of your trance. >You had probably only gotten paler the more the realisation had sunken in. “Jayje, shit, I think you might be right.” She sent you a gentle smile and squeezed your shoulder. “Should I go get you a test?” You felt tears well up in your eyes at her kindness. “Thank you, but no. I think I’ll actually head home and do it there. I just need some time to… I don’t know, mentally prepare for whatever the result will be.”

Once your legs felt stable enough to walk again you went up to Hotch’s office to ask for the day off, which he thankfully allowed. You really needed to lie down and sleep for a few years. On your way out of the office Spencer stopped you in your tracks, the worried look on his pretty face even worse than everyone else’s. Pulling you close, he held the back of his hand to your forehead. “You’ve got a fever. Come on, I’ll drive you home.” You took his hand from your forehead, pressing a kiss against it. “I’m fine Spence. Go back to work.” But he just shook his head and went ahead to the elevator. “No discussion. I’m not letting you drive like this.” A soft smile on your face you followed him, forever grateful to have him. “Take a nap, and maybe eat something. Okay?” He told you after dropping you off at your shared apartment. You nodded. “I’ll try.” He sent you one last worried look, as if he was trying to assess whether or not he could actually leave you home alone in this state. Finally, he just nodded to himself. “Alright. Call me if you need something.” Spencer pressed a kiss to your forehead. “I love you.” He murmured and left through the door; gaze trained on you on his whole way out. You mouthed the words back to him, only able to fully relax once he was gone. You needed a plan, some tea and, well, a pregnancy test.

After a quick trip to the pharmacy down the street you sat down with a cup of your favourite tea, caught in a very intense staring battle with the pregnancy test’s cardboard box. You for yourself knew that one day, at some point in your life, you wanted to have kids.And considering the fact that you hoped to spend the rest of our life with Spencer by your side, him being the father of your children would probably only be practical. So far you had just never brought it up with him, somehow sure it was going to be a sensible topic for him.

But sitting there now, the test in front of you, made you wish you had brought it up at some point. What if he absolutely didn’t want kids of his own and you were actually pregnant? Would he break up with you? Oh god, he was going to break up with you. Now more than ever needing certainty you got up, grabbed the test and disappeared into the bathroom. The time you had to wait for the results only passed excruciatingly slow, and by the time your phone’s timer went off you had already chewed off half your nails. With a mixture of fear and excitement you looked at the little screen. A little happy emoticon smiled back at you, taking your breath away. You were pregnant. “Holy shit.” You gasped out, sinking down on the rim of your bathtub. “I’m going to be a mom.”

“(Y/N)?” Spencer called out through the apartment later that day, closing the front door behind him. “Bedroom!” You told him, feeling your hands starting to tremble once again. “Hey.” Your boyfriend smiled, peeking his head through the door. The sight of his smile somewhat calmed your nerves. “How are you doing?” He asked calmly after sitting down by your side on the bed.

You straightened up to lean against him, burying your face in his neck. “Better.” You mumbled against his warm skin, taking in his scent of cologne and books. “Still feel dizzy though.” He pushed your hair out of your face, looking down on you softly. “Do you want to eat something? I bought soup.” A large smile grew on your face. If he wanted the baby he was going to be an amazing father. But you needed some more time with your Spencer, before you took the risk of losing him over something serious like this. “I’d love some soup.” You smiled. “Can you go ahead and heat it up for me? I want to get changed before I eat.” Without a word of protest, he left for the kitchen, giving you a moment to collect your thoughts. Then you got up, got changed, and made sure the test was hidden somewhere he would never look.

During the next two weeks the nausea finally began to ease up on you, and a visit to the doctor’s office had only confirmed what the pregnancy test had told you: You were about nine weeks pregnant with a healthy baby, whose heartbeat you had even already been able to hear. Oddly, since hearing your little bean’s heartbeat, you felt a lot more certain and happy about the situation you were in. Of course, you still had to somehow tell Spencer, and you more than anything in the world hoped that he was going to be on board with it. But you were going to be a mom with or without him. You had talked to Hotch and asked him to put you on desk duty for the time being, not exactly telling him what was going on. He had just been too happy to have someone do the paperwork to question your motives. But Spencer, who knew how much you loved being out in the field, was starting to notice the changes in your behaviour. You had managed to act like everything was fine for a while, but even though your boyfriend was sometimes clueless he was still a genius.

“(Y/N), honey, can we… talk?” He hesitantly asked you at work in your tenth week of pregnancy. He had pulled you aside into a storage room for files, hoping to get a moment alone with you. You sent him a nervous smile. “Sure, uh, what’s up?” He sighed. “You know what’s up, (Y/N). The problem is that I don’t, and it’s starting to drive me insane. Are you going to break up with me?” You had been so caught up in your own head the past weeks that you hadn’t paid enough attention to your boyfriend, and it was only now that you realised how tired and frightened he looked. You were both idiots, so afraid of losing each other that you would even avoid resolving everything because it meant having to talk it out. A heavy sigh escaped your lips. “You might want to sit down.” You spoke softly, gesturing to the deserted old desk in the middle of the room. Spencer looked at you, shadows darkening his face, but still sat down. “What’s going on, (Y/N)? Are you…” His eyes widened. “Are you sick?” You slowly shook your head. “No, not exactly. Spence, I need you to know that I love you, okay? I love you more than anything in the world, and I just really didn’t know how to tell you.” He looked at you, wide hazel eyes trained on you, head moving in a barely visible nod. You took a deep breath, trying to calm your erratic heartbeat. “I’m pregnant.” You finally spoke, voice wavering. Spencer completely froze up. For a whole moment he didn’t move, scaring you that he might pass out. But then he cleared his throat, lowering his gaze to the floor. “I understand.” He mumbled. You frowned in confusion. “What?” “You don’t want to keep it. I understand that.” Shocked, you stepped closer to where he was sitting on the table. “What? No, honey! I want to have this baby.” His eyes bolted up to look at you. You could see the gears in his head turning, his big brain trying to make sense of the situation. “But... I’m an ex junkie. Schizophrenia runs in my family. My own dad abandoned me; I have no idea how to be a father. I’m the last person who should have a child.” You felt tears well up in your eyes at his words. Did he really feel that way about himself? You knew he doubted himself on the regular, you had made it your job to build him back up whenever the doubts kicked in, but this was a whole new level of self-depreciation. Didn’t he know that he was just as deserving of happiness as everyone else? “Spencer.” You uttered, cupping his face in your hands. “The risk of our baby becoming schizophrenic is less than ten percent. That’s a risk I’m willing to take.” He looked up to you from his seat, a desperate look in his hazel eyes. “But (Y/N)-“ He tried to plead but you interrupted him. “My love. You are the only person I could see myself doing this with. You’re compassionate, kind, intelligent, and no one knows me the way you do. I’ve seen you with kids, they love you. You understand them. If anyone should get to be a father, it’s you. And I want this, us. I want us to take this step.” He looked up at you in wonder, his eyes glistening suspiciously. “You want a family with me?” You laughed, finally allowing your tears to fall. “Yes.” You hushed, pressing your lips to his. “I want you, I want us, and I want this baby.” He stood up, engulfing you in the warmest hug. You could hear him sniffling but decided to give him this. He needed to cry without being seen for a moment. “I love you.” He finally choked out after pulling away to look at you, placing a hand on your stomach. You knew then that his words weren’t only for you anymore.

The two of you waited until the three-month mark to tell the rest of the team. You assembled all of them in the bullpen after a long day of work and told them as straightforward as possible, both nervously standing next to each other. All of them erupted into laughter and happy words of congratulation and you could swear you had even seen Garcia shed a tear or two. Another baby in the BAU. Amidst the chaos of everyone smothering you in hugs, you didn’t see Spencer pull Morgan aside, the two of them in a short, quiet conversation until Derek clapped your boyfriend on the shoulder with a bright grin. Even Hotch had hugged you, jokingly telling you that the paperwork was yours for the next few months. Your team’s reaction to the news only made you look forward to the changes to come even more, and you couldn’t be happier. Little baby Reid was going to be so loved.

“Are you up for a mini road trip?” Spencer asked you after leaving your office building, getting into the drivers’ seat of his car. Still feeling so overwhelmed with happiness you just nodded. In that moment you would have said yes to basically anything. You were so giddy that you didn’t even notice how quiet your boyfriend had gone, usually he would be just about talking your ear off right now. The radio filled the comfortable silence between the two of you in the car, and you made yourself comfortable. You could tell you were driving to downtown DC, a route you had known by heart ever since working in Quantico.

Less than an hour later Spencer stopped the car right outside the Smithsonian Museum, one of your favourite places to go together. “Shouldn’t they be closed by now?” Instead of answering, Spencer just winked at you and got out of the car to open the door for you. Hand in hand you climbed the stairs to the entrance, where a guard was waiting for you. “Doctor Reid.”, he nodded at your boyfriend, stepping aside to let you in. You looked at him in wonder. “Spence, what are you planning?” He smiled at you. “I called in some favours.” In just that moment the two of you entered the massive rotunda, the beauty of it stealing your breath away. You had been here what felt like a hundred times, but never like this. There was no one around but you two, and the low lighting gave the whole room a magical feeling. “Wow.” You whispered, trying to look at everything at once. Spencer just looked at you. “Just how many favours did you have to call in for this?” He smiled shyly. “Not as many as you might think, actually. I helped some people here with their dissertations.” “Of course you did.”, you giggled, stepping close to him. “What did I do to deserve this?” You asked, trying to remember if you had forgotten about an anniversary or something. “Can’t I just do something nice for the woman I love?” He asked, stealing a kiss from your lips. He always got way more confident when there weren’t any people around. You just deadpanned at him. “Honey, everything you do has a purpose. You once scolded me for baking a cake because ‘it was no one’s birthday.’” It looked like you had caught him there, taking in the way he started playing with his hands. “Do you want to…sit down?” He asked, pointing at one of the museum’s benches. You nodded, following him suit. “You know, I never thought I would have this one day.” Spencer spoke up after a few moments of silence. Even his quiet words echoed through the empty marble-clad hall and gave them a whole different weight. “Have what?” You asked him and encouraged him with a squeeze of his hand. “A girlfriend, a baby on the way. My own family.” You chuckled. “Me neither. I never thought I would ever meet someone like you. You felt Spencer move, and suddenly he was kneeling in front of you. You were sure your heart stopped beating for a moment. “I love you, (Y/N) (Y/L/N), more than I ever thought myself capable of.” He seemed awfully serious for a moment, but then he started searching for something in the pocket of his jacket and back was the Spencer you knew. “This was way smoother in my head.” He muttered before he finally found what he had been looking for with a quiet “ha!”. It was a black velvet box. With trembling fingers he opened it, revealing the most beautiful diamond ring you had ever seen to you. “Marry me?” He asked, a pleading look on his face. “No matter what happens, we will always be a family. And I want to make that official, for everyone to see. I want you to be mine in life and on paper, (Y/N). Marry me.” You bit your lip, unable to speak for a moment. Afraid your voice might fail you you just nodded heavily, tears already streaming down your face. You leaned down to capture his lips in a passionate kiss, hoping he would understand that as a yes. Still, just to be sure, you whispered “yes” again and again after pulling away from him, tracing his whole face with your fingers. You wanted to forever be able to remember the way he looked in that moment, the museum’s low lights reflected in his eyes, the happiness on his face. He leaned up from where he was kneeling in front of you to kiss you again, the both of you full on crying now. “I love you.” You both whispered at almost the same time. It took you a few minutes to calm down, your full attention on nothing but each other. “Morgan helped me choose the ring. I hope you like it.” He spoke up after a while. Oh, right. The ring. You looked at it glistening on your ring finger, fascinated by the diamond’s thousand facets. Just as many as you boyfriend, no, fiancé, had. “I love it, Spencer. But I love you more.” You ended up spending half the night in the museum, the beautiful building now forever having taken on a whole new meaning for the two of you. Spencer was yours and you were his, and soon you would have a little proof of your love running around. You couldn’t wait to go on this journey with him.

[hallesfloralshop]

Peter Parker x Reader: Letting Go

Being half-Goddess came in handy, especially when you were fighting Thanos.

Tony, Thor, Cap, and you were all alternating fighting Thanos. Sure, you were younger than the rest of them, but you were also much more powerful. You were easily the most powerful, of the whole lot, because of your godly powers. Wanda and you trained together a lot because of your matching powers, before she...faded.

Wanda was like your sister and best friend. But her disappearance wasn't the only one that affected you more than normal. It was also Peter Parker's. Peter, your best friend at Midtown, your school, but also your ally, Spider-Man. You were going to confess your feelings towards him before he faded, thinking you were going to die, but he had gone before you could say a word.

You were in agony, but you were lucky your dad, Tony Stark, was still alive, though he was hurting as much as you were. It was too hard to stay on Earth, so you visited your mom up in another world. Time worked differently there. A day there was a year on Earth. 5 days later, you had gotten the alert that the Avengers needed your help once again, as they found a way to save the world. You quickly came down, excited to rescue your friends, and only five days older than when they last saw you.

When you heard about Nat's death, you broke down. She was like your older sister, protective, fierce, sarcastic, and loving all in one. You almost couldn't go on, but the thought of bringing others back was the only thing that kept you going.

You quickly got your mind back to your battle. Thanos kicked Thor down, and battled Steve, who had wielded Mjolnir and his shield at the same time. They both fought each other quickly. Steve threw his shield and Thanos deflected it easily. Then, Steve threw Mjolnir at his shield, creating a shockwave which made Thanos trip a little bit. Steve quickly fought Thanos on the offense, shooting his shield and lightning at him.

It didn't last for long, though. Thanos eventually received the upper hand and took off his helmet, stabbed Steve in the leg, and knocked Mjolnir out of his hand and onto the ground. You yelled, but you were wounded and on the ground. There was a stab wound in your arm and it was quickly healing thanks to your Goddess mother, but you were still on the ground.

Steve tried to get up, but it was too hard. Come on, you willed yourself. Even though you could barely walk, you stood up and glared at Thanos, who looked at least a little bit scared, but easily hid it. You shot small bolts of ice at him. Then big ones. You shot fire after that, creating smoke around him. When he started coughing, you shot more and more fire at him, but he managed to knock you over. You rolled over and hit the ground. Stupid stab wound.

"In all my years of conquest��� violence– slaughter– It was never personal. But I'll tell you now– what I'm about to do to your stubborn, annoying little planet– I'm gonna enjoy it. Very, very much." Thanos laughed like the insane thing he was.

He raised his arms, and all of his army appeared. The Children of Thanos. Chitauri, Sakaarans, Outriders, gorillas. Everything suddenly brought you motivation to get back up, along with Steve. You both winced in pain, but looked at each other determinedly, knowing you would die saving your country (in Steve's case) or your friends (in both of your cases).

Suddenly, your com starts to crackle. You frowned as you heard a familiar voice speak.

"Hey, Cap, Y/N, can you read me?"

You stopped and stared at Steve, confused.

"Guys, it's Sam, can you hear me?"

You heard something behind you and turned. It was a shiny, yellow portal. "On your left," Sam said, making Steve smile. The portal opened up and people come out. Okoye, Shuri, and T'Challa all walked out, making you gasp. More and more bright portals open up around the field. Sam flew in from the top, his falcon wings gracefully completing the beautiful sight. The people you loved came out of the portals: Dr. Strange, the Guardians, and your beloved best friend, Spider-Man. Your heart thought it was going to burst. It felt good, seeing him after 5 whole years.

More and more heroes came out. The Wakandan army, Valkyrie and the Asgardians, Wong and the Masters, Ravager ships, and more and more beings. Another portal opened, and your own dear friends came back. There was Bucky, Groot, the Wasp, and your own best friend Wanda. Your heart was so full of joy.

"Is that everyone?" Strange yelled.

"What, you wanted more?" Wong called back.

The last few remaining heroes came back. Your army was up and running. You just had to fight. You nodded at Steve, who looked curiously at you.

"Avengers!"

He summoned Mjolnir.

"Assemble."

Battle cries came. Warriors charged on both sides. It was chaos as everyone battled each other.

You fought through everyone, pushing Chitauri and weird gorillas everywhere as you tried to get to Peter.

You got close to him as you heard his distinct voice. "Hey! Holy cow! You will not believe what's been going on. Do you remember when we were in space? And I got all dusty? I must've passed out, Because I woke up, and you were gone. But Doctor Strange was there, right? He was like, 'It's been five years. Come on, they need us.' And then he started doing the yellow sparkly thing that he does all the time–"

Tony brought him into a hug. "Oh, this is nice."

You started crying. It felt so good to hear his voice again.

"Peter."

He turned immediately. "Y/N? Oh my God, it's really you." He couldn't say anything else, and neither could you. There was nothing to be said, after all. You immediately rushed to him and hugged him, squeezing him tightly. You sobbed onto his shoulder as he held you comfortingly. You pulled away, not wanting to but knowing you had to.

"I didn't age." You said.

He laughed. "Neither did I."

You suddenly saw Dr. Strange, beckoning to you. "Okay, I'll talk to you later? We need to fight." You kissed him on the cheek and rushed off, running toward Strange.

"What do you want?"

"Y/N. This is important, and you have to promise you won't tell anyone."

"What, are you gonna show me the future or something?" You forced a chuckle.

"That's correct."

Your smile disappeared. "Who dies?"

Strange sighed. "I think you know."

You felt a sudden pain in your chest as it finally hit you. This was why Strange wanted to talk to you. Because you were the only one who could take the fall.

You came back when Wanda and Thanos were fighting each other. "You took everything from me," she said angrily as she fought him.

"I don't even know who you are," Thanos said annoyed.

"You will."

She picked up some debris and crushed him with it, or at least attempted to.

Ebony caught the gauntlet and tried to stop T'Challa from getting it by using his telekinesis.

"Here!" You yelled, grabbing it using your goddess powers. Chitauri surrounded you and you created an ice trail to make them slip as you skated away. They were gaining on you when-

"I got it!" Peter yelled. You threw it to him and he swung around as Chitauri started crowding him instead.

Suddenly, fire began to rain down upon all the troops. In return, you shot out ice to make it disappear. Somehow some of the fire broke a dam, and water spilled out. While you tried putting out the fires, Strange used his magic to remove the water from the battlefield.

"I got this! I got this! Okay, I don't got this, help, somebody help!" Peter yelled, still trying to hold onto the gauntlet.

"Hey Queens, heads up," Steve called. Peter got saved by Pepper. As you continued fighting, the other women help Carol, who now had the gauntlet, to get through everyone. You were stuck destroying everyone who followed them in their tracks. They all fought, and alternate between taking the gauntlet.

At one point, Thanos was about to snap, but he ended up not doing it as Carol pulled his fingers apart. But, at the last second, he pulled out the power stone, which made Carol fall back.

You looked back at Strange, who pointed his finger at you, signifying a one. The one reality in which they won, that was at risk. You know what to do. The voice resounded in your head, and you nodded. Thanos put the power stone in and you could easily tell the gamma radiation was almost too much for him. You made one more attack on him and with some struggle he knocked you away.

"I. Am. Inevitable."

Snap.

Nothing happened.

The Infinity Stones were missing.

"Hey, where did my gauntlet go?"

It was your dad. You held up your hand, the gauntlet on it with all the Stones.

"And I am (Y/N L/N)."

You snapped your fingers.

There was a blinding flash of white light. All the Chitauri and the rest of Thanos' army disappeared. Thanos sat down in despair as he started to fade away too.

It was over.

Your entire right side felt numb. You stumbled for a few seconds before finding your balance by leaning against a tree. Everyone crowded around you.

Wanda came next to you, bowing her head, knowing that all of the damage was done and there was nothing she could do about it.

Suddenly, your dad came forward.

"Dad..."

"Hey, (N/N)." He said gently. He grabbed onto your hand, and you held it, grateful for the support.

"Hey, we're going to be okay, yeah? Me and Pep and Morgan, you don't need to worry about us. We love you, so so much honey." Tony gave you a sad smile, and you managed a small one back.

Suddenly, you heard the voice that you were waiting to hear. Spider-Man swung by, and Peter took off his mask quickly and knelt down next to you.

"Y-Y/N?" You could tell tears were starting to form next to his eyes. "Hey, can you hear me N/N? It's Peter. We won, N/N, we won. You did it, you did it Y/N. You're amazing."

"P-Peter-"

"No, don't say anything Y/N. Save your breath." He actively started crying at this point, and you gave him a sad smile.

"I don't have a lot of time, Pete—"

"No! Don't say that, you can't die on me Y/N, I need you," he sobbed.

"You're going to be fine, Pete, but I have to t-tell you something. I love you, so much. I've wanted to tell you for so long."

"I love you too," Peter breathed. You both knew it was now or never, and you brought your lips to his. You wished you could say your kiss was slow and sweet, but it was passionate, deep, and rushed, yet gentle at the same time. Because this was the only kiss you would ever have with your superhero.

"Y/N, I'm not ready for you to go."

"You're going to be okay, Pete. Find someone else, fall in love with her, and be happy, yeah? You're going to be just fine without me. I know it's hard letting go, Pete, but you can do it. I believe in you."

"I'm going to miss you so much."

"I'm going to miss you too, Parker." You were fighting to stay a little longer, just a little bit longer.

"You can rest now."

Your heart stopped.

You didn't know this, but that was when Peter broke down. He put his head on your shoulder and let it all out. Pepper and Wanda and Tony were crying. Everyone else was somber and sad and crying and it was too painful.

Slowly, every single warrior kneeled. Because you had sacrificed your life willingly for the people you had loved and cared about, and for the world. Because, that's just the kind of person that Y/N L/N was.

[theres-no-protocol-for-this]

Apologies & Logistics

This is the end of the “Humans Adopt a Combat SecUnit” story, or at least this part of it.

Jae

I had expected the governor to fry my organic neural tissue for disobeying a direct order, but it had merely immobilized and disabled me. I couldn’t move or see, but my hearing continued to function normally. It was a non-optimal outcome but still significantly better than my initial predictions.

In my ear, Serenity provided a running commentary of ongoing events. I felt like an oddly captive audience to a ship that suddenly eager for conversation, no matter how one-sided. And it had a variety of opinions on topics ranging from the Corporation Rim to cargo haulers, handlers, and the intricacies of wormhole travel. I wasn’t bored.

Meanwhile, external voices came and went.

I heard Cass leave the control room moments later with a squeaky gurney that could have used some grease in her wake. Kris’s booming voice echoed on the bridge while he negotiated docking procedures with one of the incoming rescue vessels. He notified them about the rescued corporate higher-up but failed to mention my existence. I suspected either they would dispose of me or steal me. My risk assessment module deemed the former option unlikely, given my handler’s determination in reversing the governor’s freeze command.

Presumably, I was still on the inventory lists of the security and tactical support company that owned me, and the humans would need to make me disappear in order to leave the sector.

“I’m not sure you can hear me.” Kris’s voice was suddenly close enough that I thought he might be sitting on the floor next to me. “And I’m not sure which option is better, honestly. I hope you’re not just trapped in there until Cass figures out how to fix this. But if you can hear me, I want you to know that I’m grateful. You protected my best friend when I couldn’t, and that means a lot to me.”

The human’s voice trailed off for a moment before picking up again. “Anyway, we’re going to finish this cargo run, but before we do, we’ll meet with a friend of mine who, uh, locates documents that don’t strictly exist and formally assign your ownership to Cass. Just in case.”

More silence. Human processing time is slow, but this was different. “Deity, it hurts to even say that. I really hope you’re not hearing this.”

Meanwhile, Serenity explained, “What Kris is referring to is a forger or a fixer. Probably one of Kris’ friends from his university days.”

The human kept talking. “I’m sorry about calling you a bot. You’re obviously not, and right now, I’m fucking hating the rules that say otherwise.”

I didn’t understand the human’s concerns; to me, the facts remained immutable. I was property, and if I belonged to this crew in a legal sense, they wouldn’t be stopped by Port Authority wherever they went next. If I could speak, I would’ve recommended that exact course of action.

A moment later, Cass returned from the medical room. I could hear her light footsteps as she moved around the bridge, and Serenity gave me an excellent overview of what the human was doing. My handler’s voice was gentle when she said, “All right, let’s take care of Jae. How’re you holding up, SecUnit?” I could hear someone unspooling a cable. “Ready, Sere?”

“Of course,” the ship answered in its mechanical tone.

I recorded a brief but frantic burst of activity between myself, my handler, and the ship that was mediating between us. Cass wanted to disable my governor permanently, but there was no practical way to do so without access to a Combat SecUnit manual, which we didn’t have. She implemented perhaps the next best thing — the module would no longer react or take action without my handler’s explicit permission.

Then Cass overrode my governor’s freeze command, and I could move again.

I opened my eyes to find Cass staring at me with a worried expression on her tired face. Serenity reconnected me to the feed, so I reached up and removed the feed interface from my ear. Now the ship could bother me anytime it wanted.

“How are you feeling?” my human asked nervously.

Better than initially anticipated. I’d added the sentence to my buffer once I’d understood what Cass was asking. It was becoming easier to modify the buffer with each attempt.

“You weren’t expecting to survive that, were you?” The human sounded suspicious.

I shrugged.

“Don’t ever do anything that stupid again! That’s not an order, Jae. This is me telling you that we like you alive and safe, and I want you to consider your own well-being when deciding how to best handle a situation.”

Understood, Cass.

I sat up, and the woman hugged me with probably all the force she could muster. I… I didn’t mind it. At all

***

Kris

The rescue ship that finally docked with Serenity was a small patrol vessel that belonged to the station's towing company. I was pretty confident that the warship would not need a tow at this point — there wasn't enough of it left out there to warrant cleanup operations. Since I had performed the rescue spacewalk and had gotten injured, a company representative took my statement first. Te pulled out a display surface and took down notes, presumably so ter corporation could figure out who to bill for the unnecessary services.

While Cass and I dealt with the tercera and the legal bullshit in this sector, Serenity edited the video and audio of my spacewalk to make it look like Jae had been destroyed by one of the weapon-wielding bots. In my report, I noted that we had a Combat SecUnit on board at one time, but it had suffered catastrophic damage during the rescue operations. When prompted, I mentioned that we'd put what remained into the recycler.

It was a bald-faced lie, but the bored and cranky representative seemed entirely disinterested. Te didn't even review the video before signing off on the documents, didn't ask for any logs, and performed only a cursory examination of the unconscious corporate employee still in our medical suite. For a small fee, te even offered to take the woman back to the station so we could be on our way quicker. Frankly, I wanted nothing more than to be rid of the human.

Cass had other ideas.

She and I huddled in the mess while the representative returned to ter ship to finish scanning the debris field. Te grumbled that billing back damages on an infiltration attempt would be a nightmarish hell of solicitors from the owner company and wasn't motivated to make anything easy for them.

"What if she tells someone?" Cass demanded after the tercera had departed.

I sipped my coffee and shrugged. "It's going to be a he-said-she-said between the corporate and the station."

"No, I mean later, when Tatiana returns to work minus a construct."

"They'll probably deduct its cost from her salary and demote her. The company cares about profit margins. And she won't be able to prove anything anyway since I destroyed her interface."

The captain looked unconvinced. She paced the room, running a hand through her shoulder-length hair in a nervous gesture. "I don't know…"

"Cass, we are literally stealing one of the most dangerous weapons in the Rim. I think we have bigger problems than one pissed corporate." I tried not to sound patronizing, but it was a struggle. "We absolutely can't take her with us."

"What if we could change her mind? About Jae."

I tried not to spit out my coffee and almost succeeded. The smell of coffee in my nostrils was unbearable. "I don't think so, love. If she doesn't think it's a person now, after working with it for the entirety of its life, what are the odds that we can say anything to change her mind?"

Cass sighed and stopped pacing. "Yeah, you're right. I just…"

"I know. You want to do the right thing. But at this point, absconding with our new friend is probably the best we can manage."

"Yeah." She still sounded reluctant. "Maybe I can reach out to Mom's friend and see if she can help somehow."

I glanced at her dubiously. "You sure you want to talk to Dr. Mensah? Didn't you say she was a councilperson or something?"

I knew pitifully little about Cass's home planet because she never spoke of it. It was a freehold planet unaffiliated with any corporate entities where people were apparently nice to each other. At one time, she'd mentioned growing up on a farm alongside a large extended family, but the story always ended with her leaving home as soon as she was old enough to make her own way in the world. That her mother knew one of the Preservation Alliance leaders reminded me that Cass had connections, even if she chose to do everything on her own, all the time.

"She was until she retired a couple of years ago, I think. I haven't been back in a while, and I barely talk to move. I definitely don't keep track of her friends." She scratched at a scab on her arm. "I remember a news burst that Mensah rescued a SecUnit, but that was..." She frowned. "Well, long enough ago that I completely forgot about it until just now."

I cleaned up the mess I'd made on the table with the coffee. "We're sending the crazy corporate goon back with the tercera. And if you want to call your parent, that's up to you. I'm sure she'd love to hear from you."

"Says the guy that doesn't speak to his parents."

I stiffened and then remembered that Cass had no idea why I avoided my family. "My parents still believe I'm female. I'm not willing to add jack shit to that conversation."

The captain looked at me with the same warmth that had initially convinced me to join her crew. "Oh, man, I'm so sorry, Kris. I didn't realize your parents were idiots."

That made me grin. "Idiocy is a nice way of putting it, love. I used some stronger words last time I saw them." I got up and wrapped an arm around Cass's thin shoulders. "Come, let's go see about finishing this transaction and getting the hell out of here. I bet Jae is bored sitting in its cabin."

"It's recharging," Cass told me, another reminder that she knew what the SecUnit was doing at all times. "But yeah, let's go. Enough insanity for one day."

The End!

I don’t know where the characters go from here. I have some ideas but maybe that’s a story for a different time.

I wanted to tell a story about stealing a CSU and there it is. And CSU in this case is a complete sweetheart, so. :)

[irarelypostanything]

Software engineers make a lot of money, but…

The average annual salary for an American software engineer is $86,000; the average annual salary for an American is $48,000.  The above figure may be seriously skewed by Techlead, who makes a million dollars every time he comments on YouTube, and Silicon Valley, where it costs $3000 a week to live in a broom closet...but those are the statistics.  So, compared to the average, software engineers make a lot of money.

Is that a lot, when you account for the amount of money it costs to become a software engineer?  This is where things get interesting.  Coding bootcamps are springing up, and some are good and some are borderline scams.  Colleges themselves tend to be incredibly expensive, so the argument becomes more of a “computer science pays better than most majors” than a “computer science is worth it,” in my opinion...though actually, if you work out the math, student loans might be worth it if you major in computer science, MAYBE.  Another interesting thing is comparing it to other majors, in a cost-benefit sort of way.  Do doctors make more than software engineers?  On average, definitely.  Do you have to pay more for school to be a doctor?  Probably...maybe…

This post wasn’t supposed to be strictly economic, but I still think about this from time to time.  College for me is over - the question isn’t “Should I have majored in computer science?”, but “should we keep encouraging anyone and everyone to major in computer science?”  There’s been a massive push to get more people into computer science.  Anyone who’s watched “What most schools don’t teach” knows exactly what I’m talking about.

And it’s probably good, but what I take issue with is when money becomes the opening statement.  I saw some people burn out of computer science in college - not that many, I’ll be honest (some of our classes weren’t tough, but we were Davis...not Berkeley), but some.  One commenter on Piazza/Facebook complained that people come into computer science thinking it’s an easy route to money, when in reality it’s as rigorous as other fields of engineering and math.  I think Cal Newport said it best: If you know in your heart that you’re in this major because YOU CHOSE IT, yourself, you’ll find the motivation to keep going.  If someone chose it for you, then you might burn out.

Actually, I don’t even remember if he was talking about computer science.  Maybe it was a general statement, or something crazy like astrophysics.  

I knew a math major in my dorm.  She loved math as both a hobby and a career - that alone should give you pause, and I don’t know why she never saw the campus therapist, but let me continue - and she decided to take on a little coding for a possible minor.  I wrote out a study guide (admittedly irrelevant because the class changed) for her and tried to make sure she stayed motivated.  For her, as it turned out, this was all a non-issue.  She told me she loved it.  It was her first time coding, coding was hard, and frustrating, and took forever, and she absolutely loved it.

In the actual field, we had an intern whom I shall leave unnamed.  To be honest, working with him was pretty frustrating in some respects, or at least stressful.  We planned out his task and vision.  We knew his experience level, or his supposed experience level, and so we plotted out exactly when we expected each milestone to be completed.  I was prepared to give him a better experience than what I had - just empathy, and motivation, and making sure he had the resources he needed.  

Then he started, he came up to speed in a day, and he blew each task out of the water within days.  Half-way through his internship and he was done with everything we thought he would complete, and then some.  He apparently hadn’t worked with any of our various technologies before, but he picked up on each one, excelled, asked tons of questions, and then dominated.  After learning our system through some walkthroughs on day one, he barely needed any sort of help at all.  I think the best parting gift I gave him was leetcode frequencies, because God forbid a software engineer of that potential ever pay $14 a month for Leetcode premium.

So...for some people...there’s no need to motivate.  They’d probably be engineers even if engineers were paid average salaries, and they’d probably do this even if it were just a hobby.  Is software engineering for everyone, though?  What about people like me, who have brains that were probably better suited to major in something like English, or history?

Well...they can be, I believe.  I think we get wrapped up in this idea that software engineers, like my insane dorm mate, have to love coding so much that they relish the opportunity to sort names in C.  But there’s a lot more in coding than just sorting names in C.  There’s also C++, and then there’s this thing called Java, and then there’s that one language everyone swears will be the future.

We start people with C, and a lot of normal people like myself look at it and think, “Wow, this is confusing and boring as hell.”  Then it kind of grows on them when they realize how far they’ve come, but for some people it doesn’t.  They stick around for C++, maybe for the intellectual challenge, and they learn data structures.  Then comes all the extraordinarily useful theory, and algorithms that will definitely come up in extremely relevant interviews, and if you get to the very end of your college career without failing (since it’s a ladder) you might just get to take the boring stuff like hacking, graphics, AI, bioinformatics, and that one class where you actually build an app for a real company or campus client.

And we sure as hell don’t start people off with frontend, where they can reap the benefits of their efforts in days instead of weeks.  I actually see why this part makes more sense, but...there’s a lot of coding out there.  Even if you realize you despise most coding, there’s a whole world of UI/UX that...I admittedly have not seen in a while because we’re back in middleware.

But then in middleware, there’s that whole world of stock trading, where every nanosecond matters, and books explaining why every nanosecond matters, and infrastructure with applications that...that…

...there’s a lot to coding, and there’s also money.  But you can make money doing anything.

[leiaevans]

leia’s decision to audition for the summer musical had been a completely last minute choice that left her scrambling to put together her game plan. she practically had two days to pick a song, memorize a monologue, and practice for pieces in both her and joey’s. normally she felt like she worked well under pressure, more motivated even, but it would be a lie if she said she didn’t feel the pressure surrounding her. could she actually do this?

when leia had first heard the announcement that this year’s summer musical was going to be mamma mia, auditioning hardly crossed her mind. sure, she had been a part of the new directions and the cheerios for all four years of her high school career, but the one of mckinley’s musicals were one of the things she had never been crossed off her list. it wasn’t that she hadn’t been interested in the musicals, in fact it was rare to find someone in an arts school who didn’t want to be involved in some way or another, but leia had always found an excuse or a way to talk herself out of it. from her inexperience to her busy extra-curricular schedule, she had practically burnt out every excuse in the book for herself which made it that much harder to say no when both joey and drew continually encouraged her.

at first, leia had told herself she would help with joey’s dance and nothing more. that way she was helping out her friend while still getting a little taste of the auditions. a dance she could do, she had learned plenty of dances and routines for the cheerios, how was this any different? but after not being able to get the musical off her mind and talking things through with both joey and drew, their encouragement for her to try it out giving her the small boost she needed, she finally decided two days before the last audition day that she would follow their advice. she already was going to be there to help joey out, why not give it a shot? it wasn’t like it was one of the bigger productions the school put on, it was simply their summer fundraiser. or at least that’s what she told herself to get her past the school’s glass double doors.

walking into the school building, the gust of cold air circulating the building hit leia unexpectedly, a small smile on her face. she hadn’t thought she’d be walking these halls again so soon, but as she walked down the fluorescent lit halls to the finn hudson auditorium, she couldn’t say it wasn’t nice to be reminded of the good memories she had in this place. and in a way, she was still adding to that list, even if she didn’t make it into a huge role. feeling herself starting to become more and more distracted as she went, leia had to force herself to reel in her focus on one thing at a time, her first obstacle to pass being joey’s audition dance number. she wanted to do well in this dance number because she knew this was part of joey’s audition, but in a way this was part of her own audition too. she was trying her best not to let her thoughts roam past this first task of the day, knowing if she thought too much about it she would start to psych herself out, so instead she gave herself little to no room to think about anything except running the dance steps in through her mind once more while rushing her way to side stage where she was meant to wait for joey’s cue. 

when joey stepped over and grabbed her hand, she felt like she was right back on the side of the field during a football game as her smile went on and she was swept away into the music. by the time the pair had finished and leia was walking off the stage once more, not only did she feel good about how it went, but she had fun. after all the practice they had done in preparation, the steps were easy to keep up with and she was able to just enjoy the music and the dance without any stress clouding her every thought. in fact, recreating the waterloo scene almost made her begin to feel excited to be doing not just mamma mia, but the musical in general. as she made her way back to outside of the auditorium to sit in wait for her own audition, not wanting to listen to the other auditions and psych herself out, she truly let herself get lost in her thoughts. after all that had been happening around her, from school ending to the ongoing distance between her and theo, she was ready for a distraction. for something to get her out of the house for more than just a day. maybe it wasn’t trip to the coast to some beach or a summer road trip, but this could be the event that really does make her summer the special ‘last’ summer before college is in full swing. she had a good feeling about this summer. that is, until she heard her name being called, the weight of her nerves finally hitting her as she shakily stood.

truthfully, it all boiled down to leia’s lack of confidence in herself. she had never been one to be insanely conceited or self-assured in her skills. she knew she wasn’t the worst performer in any sense, but if anyone asked she would be the one to humbly say she was ‘decent’ or ‘alright’ and truly believe that. it was a fault she had always had, despite her parent’s unwavering support and reassurance that she was just overthinking. she had just always had the fear that she would get up to the stage and completely bomb her audition, or even worse, get a decent part and let everyone down because she couldn’t memorize her lines or keep up with the numerous dance numbers required. but if there was one thing she had learned from her previous talk with julien, it was that she couldn’t let these worries and insecurities prevent her from performing her absolute best. she needed to be present in the moment instead of dwelling on the ifs, ands, or buts. as long as she believed she had put her all into it and she did all that she could, she couldn’t be disappointed in herself. 

with one last deep breath and reassurance muttered to herself, leia pushed open the door and stepped into the auditorium. despite her quickened heartbeat and nerves feeling like pinpricks covering her skin, she kept her head high and her thoughts positive as she made her way to center stage, a smile spread across her lips. “hello everyone, i’m leia evans and i’ll be singing requiem from dear evan hansen.” she spoke out, her usual bubbliness was still there but between wanting to remain professional and her nerves, it was dialed back in comparison. “oh, and uh, i would be happy with any role you see fit for me,” she finished with another smile sent to the directors and a nod towards the pianist. leia waited with closed eyes, feeling herself shift her weight from foot to foot as she was unable to stay still. she knew this song was one she practically knew by heart, being one of her favorite musical soundtracks throughout the years, and she had practiced it nonstop over the past couple of days, she just had to simply begin. all she could do now was her best, so that’s what she did.

as the music began to play, leia finally opened her eyes as she began the first line of “why should i play this game of pretend?” she hadn’t necessarily picked this song for the relation to mamma mia like she maybe should have, but leia had always thought the music in dear evan hansen was beautiful, even if the message wasn’t. she also thought this would be one of her best bets to show off her vocals and emotional range to a certain degree, seeing as she had no real experience in acting but had learned how to show the emotion behind a song. while she personally had no situation she could compare to that the musical portrayed, with such an emotional ballad she felt like she could dip into situations of her own to portray that sense of emotion. leia had always been one to bottle up emotions, especially when her parents went through their divorce. while it wasn’t a death or a true loss, she had felt like it was the loss of her family. all of the pieces of the loving family were still there, but they didn’t fit together anymore. she had always tried to play off her feelings, wanting to be strong so that her parents weren’t having to worry over her at the same time, but truthfully it affected her, more than she’d liked to have admitted. 

before she knew it, she was finishing out the song with the final “i will sing no requiem tonight”, practically on the verge of tears herself, just thankful that her voice hadn’t cracked during the last verse. giving herself just a moment of pause to catch her breath and return to the present, leia then quickly moved on to the monologue portion of the audition. while both the song and dance seemed to take no time at all, the performance of the scene she had chosen went by even quicker if at all possible. when she had fully completed the audition, she moved to thank the directors for their time before quickly moving off stage and out of the building. it wasn’t a broadway level performance in any sense, having stumbled over a word or two during her monologue, but overall leia could easily say she felt relieved. despite the over thinking and the nervous haze that had seemed to follow her there, she actually felt good, confident in what she had done, and that’s all she have asked for.

[animebw]

Binge-Watching: Akagi, Episodes 18-26

Yep, that’s right. I went there.

Pro Gamer Move

You know, there are benefits and drawbacks to watching anime where I don’t have that much to analyze. On the one hand, I do this hobby because I like talking about anime, and my favorite shows always leave me with tons of shit to talk about. You don’t get to be a masterpiece without having plenty of qualities that warrant in-depth discussion. So whenever I’m faced with a something like Akagi, where things are kept simple, Spartan and straightforward, it can feel like the lack of things to talk about is evidence of some error on the show’s part. On the other hand, though, writing only a couple of notes per episode lets me blaze through long stretches of show at the speed of a caffeinated comet. And good fucking lord, I’ve topped myself this time. I just watched nine straight episodes of Akagi, taking me from the first volley of the second cours all the way to the end of the goddamn show. I burned through pretty much Akagi and Washizu’s entire battle in a single session. I’ve gotten through five or six episodes a post in the past, and I’m pretty sure my previous record was a seven-episode post in the middle of Myriad Colors Phantom World (easily KyoAni’s least worthwhile show, don’t bother watching it). But that was also back in the first few months of this blog when my analysis was still incredibly paired down and simple. I’ve never done anything close to this before. But that’s the kind of thing you can get away with when a show leaves you with so few thoughts on a regular basis.

This really is a testament to the differences between newer and older anime. New anime runs on a seasonal schedule, and it’s always competing for attention with twenty or thirty other shows airing at the same time. It just doesn’t have time to be this insanely methodical and precise; most audience members would’ve run out of patience by the end of the first match after it took three episodes to end. Stretching an entire battle out over a single cours in order to examine every last punch and blow and reversal and motivation in exhaustive detail? The only examples I can think of off the top of my head are Hunter x Hunter’s Chimera Ant arc and Haikyuu’s fantastic third season, and those both came well into their story’s run, after countless arcs with battles of more reasonable length and plenty of downtime outside the playing field fleshing out the characters in smaller, more varied settings. Imagine if we got the Chimera Ant arc right after the Hunter Exams in HxH, plunging into this extensive, lengthy, drawn-out battle of attrition that stretches across ten or twenty episodes in mostly the same location, with mostly the same characters, before they’d had pretty much any significant development. Would anyone have been invested enough to stick around? Hell, we don’t even reach the end of the match; the show ends on an unresolved cliffhanger with a good third of the battle still left to go, meaning this whole arc stretches out even longer than we get to see on screen. If nothing else, I gotta give Akagi credit for the balls it takes to pull something like this off. You just don’t see this kind of storytelling in anime these days. Of course, most modern anime is also kind enough to at least reach some kind of stopping point by the end of a season so you’re not left dangling with frustratingly unresolved story points, but eh. Old anime had its strengths and weaknesses just like modern anime, I suppose.

Crazypants

So once again, without much to speak of outside the basic experience of watching this intense match play out, and not even a solid ending to give us closure, we can really only judge Akagi on the quality of how fun it is to watch a couple insane maniacs play mahjong under intense pressure and life-threatening constraints. And surprisingly, I think it really works here. Now that we’ve abandoned any pretense of being a normal gambling anime and jumped headfirst into the heightened brutality and insane stakes that would become famous in Kaiji Ultimate Survivor, watching the madness unfold is honestly really goddamn entertaining. Everyone’s playing a million different angles at once, every lengthy exchange hits hard, and there’s a real feeling of excitement to seeing how Akagi’s gonna wriggle his way out of every stroke of bad luck. It also helps that I’m honestly starting to wrap my head around mahjong at this point, so when Washizu gets a stroke of luck that leads to him drawing a triple dora indicator that gives his hand a twelve-dora bonus, I actually understood just what a terrifying fucking prospect that was and starting freaking out on a visceral level. Like, shit, I could probably fake my way through a round or two of mahjong myself by now, provided I wasn’t facing anyone as insane as these guys. Though if I’m being honest, the real secret weapon is the fantastic production and direction. This kind of grungy intensity is right in old-school Madhouse’s wheelhouse, and the use of CG backgrounds and playing pieces to facilitate dynamic camera movements makes every dramatic moment smash with genuine impact. When Washizu digs ferociously into the piece pit searching for his winning tile and demons start sprouting from his back, it legitimately feels like he’s about to swallow us whole. And it keeps layering sick-ass imagery on top of sick-ass imagery, with the reaper’s scythe coming in to cut Akagi’s life short and the spiraling path up to the closed door to victory. Seriously, if it weren’t for how damn good the production is, I don’t think I’d be having nearly as much fun.

Staring Death in the Face

But, of course, the real meat of this showdown is the psychological games the participants play in order to come out on top. And it’s here that this match gets just enough thematic weight on its bones to kick ass on a near-emotional level as well as a cerebral level. Washizu almost sees himself as immortal; he’s survived so many hardships that he’s come to believe he’ll never die. No matter what obstacles are in his way, luck will always be on his side. Of course, this is nothing but a defense mechanism against his continued march toward his inevitable grave. Mortality is the one danger he can’t defeat. And Akagi can see full well just how much the scares the piss out of him. Washizu is a man hiding behind his power and money and influence, using them as shields to keep himself from harm while presenting himself as a grand warrior who will never be laid low. But strip away that armor of money, and the man underneath is nothing but a crazed rat, lashing out against the walls of inevitability closing in. He’s scared, and that fear of death is what inspires his urge to kill. He wants to kill because he doesn’t want to die. By killing others, he asserts his dominance over death. Look how I use you to my ends, he says. Look how I slaughter the young who should’ve outlived me and deflect fate from its natural course. It’s his way of pretending that death, too, is an enemy he can triumph over.

And that’s what makes Akagi the perfect opponent to bring him to his knees. Because Akagi is his polar opposite: he doesn’t fear death at all. He takes huge risks and waits that allow opportunities for Washizu to get in hits against him. He refuses to gamble his blood back, pushing himself closer and closer to death’s door and taking all his winnings in cash (”I’m only here to grab money like a miser.”) He is the embodiment of what Washizu fears most: someone who’s most powerful desire is the desire to see him dead. Not even Akagi’s own life is more important to him than bringing this titan of the Shoya era to his knees. And unlike Washizu, Akagi is fully self-aware of his own perspective. Which means he’s able to weaponize it. By showing off his indifference towards death over and over again, proving through action how little he fears dying, he instill subconscious fear in his foe. He presents Washizu an opponent who can’t be cowed by the fear of death. In other words, Washizu can’t rely on his defense mechanism of pretend he’s conquered death by making his opponent dear it. And slowly but surely, that fear comes bubbling to the surface. The longer the match goes on, the less cautious Washizu becomes, taking bigger and bigger risks and making more and more mistakes out of a desire to kill Akagi as fast as possible, kill this maddening boy who doesn’t fear death, kill this man and re-assert his dominance over death.

But Akagi’s refusal to crack only makes Washizu crack more and more, all while Akagi’s slowly draining blood makes the prospect of victory seem that much more possible. As long as the hope of victory exists, Washizu will continue to press forward for his pride’s sake no matter how bad things get. And Akagi uses that bait to lure his foe into the perfect trap, climaxing in an absolutely gobsmacking reversal where after holding on to the critical 1 or circles for so long, Akagi finally discards it and deals into Washizu’s hand, giving him an enormous, overwhelming win... until Yasuoka head-bumps it out of nowhere and drives his triumph into the dust. The single best hand we’ve seen yet, and it’s completely destroyed by one of the side characters. In one fell swoop, the hunter has become the hunted, and for the first time, Washizu knows what it means to tremble in fear while playing for his life. Shame we’ll never get to see the end of it, because that moment was fucking awesome.

Welp, I guess that’s Akagi. Damn, I’m gonna have to think on this for a bit. Expect my series reflection later tonight, as well as what show will take its place!

[lamergelee]

Indian Horses Once or twice, I don’t know, maybe three times, a horse or donkey, yes a donkey I think because it had the ears and the coat and the X shaped cross of those Cotentin ones, but anyway, anyway, isn’t that animal wholly consigned to the country of its registered designation of origin, according to height, which decides whether you belong to the higher plane or if you are a plain beggarly size, this animal wasn’t a horse, or else it was a small one with big ears, which goes to say a donkey and not a horse, observe, these animals are always being compared and always in the same way, the donkey to the horse and not the horse to the donkey, you see a donkey and you think of a horse but when you see a horse do you think of a donkey? Anyway, whatever this donkey was, once, twice, once and once again and then it was clear, then it cleared off, which is to say it jumped over the gate, whether to go somewhere or because it was being beaten or couldn’t bear living fenced off in a field or maybe its mind was on greener grass, as the saying goes, or maybe it was dreaming of a milder climate, or maybe it was expecting a better life expectancy, it’s hard to say, what do we know, you and I, about the donkey’s life, and who are we to judge its motives, how could we know and what good would it do? All we know is that it wanted to leave, or had to, or both at once, as having to leave couldn’t be enough, willpower must still heed necessity, which is to say must listen and understand and rise up against the arguments of resignation, this is what we mean by courage perhaps, if courage is insane willpower and not the perseverance of courageous sorts like us, you and I, who don’t end up all that cultured as a result. When there isn’t any insanity, courage is nothing but prolonged pain, that’s what I tell myself but this isn’t even the start of any lecture, as I don’t have anything to say about courage, you know my age-old love of little subjugations. What perseverance I had within my own enclosure without even having the idea of a donkey. There are so many arguments for dying in your own geography that, right now, right where we are, we must consider that the necessity of leaving is still not enough to provoke leaving, still you need that insane willpower, and this willpower cannot be conceived without an idea of freedom, an idea that burns even more fiercely in donkeys or apes than in the people around here. You and I have always weighed up the advantages and disadvantages which are tallied-up in the assets and small superiorities to which we cling like bits of driftwood so as to grow accustomed to any kind of fate, so if some madman escapes and runs across the forests, mountains and plains or crosses the sea and keeps on going by sheer willpower, that same mad willpower is rebuked, their courage slighted, their journey across nature’s hostilities a sign of barbarity, as people around here won’t leave without their return ticket, you and I prefer cultural trips made by reservation, we still hope to put good times behind us, our life insurance is the fear of losing everything. Thus have we lost, you and I, through the accumulation of contrary constraints against our first nature, the ability that we had when we were Indians: in that nameless country where you never come, where every tree makes you sick and each blade of grass kills you. I hear the combine harvesters and some bees in the soft breeze and the too hot sky, I wonder what kind of childhood we have given our children, how we have taught them to detach themselves from their desire to go where they want, how we have reduced them to their education, how we have prepared them for this future which awaits them, how we have fought against their insane willpower, to the point of pushing them to turn the blade back onto themselves, to turn their arms into roadmaps with the lines of razor blades and bleed red to feel alive. Feeling alive is so rare around here that it has to be sought out beneath children’s skin. It reminds me of a tiger that escaped from a cage or a circus in Paris last winter, it was shot at and it died, shot down is what they say in hunting, which works for humans as well in certain accounts such as news stories, shot down and killed which doesn’t exactly mean eliminated or liquidated or executed but killed anyway, whatever that means, which isn’t ok when in comes to preserving the living world as you say, the living world, yes because it’s a global subject and a question, as I too say, which will never cease to concern us, I quote you, if living beings stopped wanting to choose the place where they didn’t want to live, would they die any less? There are some reserves for the living world, in Africa there are some, the Indians too live in reserves, they survived elimination because of reserves, that’s what has allowed a few representatives of Indian culture to be preserved before their extinction and those Indian customs inscribed into human heritage, well, all that Indian folklore that children love anyway, the feathers, the painting, the peace pipes, the culture that we have, you and I, full of heritage and preservation, but I’m not trying to say that Indians should be compared to African animals. I’m not going to lower the Indian to the level of an animal, I also refuse to lower the animal to the level of an animal because this animal level is a problem here, on this continent which normally treats animals like a dog, and the majority of living things like a dog, and so then treats dogs like dogs too, like we treat them and not like Indians treat dogs because Indians do not enslave things in this way, there’s something in this, about treatment, we have this history of treating people as slaves, even if the slave trade was terminated with its abolition, this term of treatment has remained in our vocabulary, so present is treatment in our minds that we have to treat a question as we treat people, dogs and things, that’s why I want to imagine a horse for example, or a donkey, who cares, escaping in our place, seeing as we have given up wanting for fear of madness. But do you remember those Indian horses that carried us, when we were free, through the tall grass and in the pale dawn and far away, remember, there were beautiful young bison, calves perhaps, they were like a backdrop, gently grazing, free from any history in this nameless country that is so good at fencing off its herds, which makes me think, now, because of this donkey, because of the weight of our assets and our small superiorities. What are we going to do, you and I, when it comes to liquidation, with these old things that form the miserable wealth of people here. --- "Indian Horses" : Texte de Noémi Lefebvre traduit en anglais par Jessica Spivey. Vidéo : STUDIO DOITSU.

[youngjusticeslut]

Let’s Talk About Will Harper!

Hello friends, and welcome to another round of analyzing Will Harper’s character: finale edition!

This will be a (very) long post that will contain spoilers for the remainder of YJO (you’ve been warned), and is a general analysis and my feelings about his character this season. I will also make a general disclaimer: I love Young Justice, and while this season wasn’t my favorite, I still enjoyed it as a whole. However, because I love this show, I care enough to point out things I wish could have been changed, or questions I have regarding character development. I also love Will Harper, despite the things I’m about to point out. I have and will always love his character. So with that out of the way, let’s dig in! 

This season started off strong with Will. Each time Will showed up in the first 13 episodes, we learned something new about him. In ‘Princes All’, we learned that he and Artemis are roommates and co-raising his daughter. In ‘Private Security’, we learned how much he’s grown since S2, has a stable relationship with Jim and Roy, has a successful business, and cares about his daughter. In ‘Home Fires’, we learned that he participates in the ‘Superhero Mommy and Me’ playdates, and struggles a bit with being a single dad. In ‘Exceptional Human Beings’, we learned that he still holds a candle for Jade and wants her to come home because he and his daughter needs her. 

All solid, character-driven moments. Pretty strong. 

However, in the second half of the season, this character development pretty much halts, and I’m left with more questions rather than answers. My biggest qualms with Will’s character (esp in the latter half of the season), are his relationship with Lian, his relationship with Artemis, and his existence to serve other characters. 

Will’s relationship with Lian: I know, I can already hear you. ‘Ariel, you’re the biggest Will and Lian lover like wtf do you have to complain about’. Valid. But I have criticisms about how their relationship was portrayed in the latter half of the season, especially once Lian started becoming more prominent. For the normal people out there who only watch their interactions once, you probably don’t see anything wrong with it. Will is a good father, he loves his daughter, all is well. However, being the insane person that I am who has watched their interactions approximately 67 times each, I started to notice that things were... off. 

If you go back and rewatch the scenes, Will only interacts with his daughter twice this season: In ‘Private Security’, when he touches her head, and in ‘Leverage’, where they share the adorable moment over dinner and she gets another head-ruffle. That’s about... it. Heck, Will met Lian on Valentine’s day, and yet, on a Valentine’s day episode, there’s no mention of it, and he instead has Violet babysit her so he can hook up with Artemis. Every other moment involving Lian, you’ll notice that she’s usually in the care of Artemis. Artemis is the one who administers bath time and who snuggles her when she’s scared of a thunderstorm. Artemis is the one who is usually encouraging her and has a pet-name for her. Despite an entire season of moments with our favorite toddler, we have very little indication of what her relationship with her father is actually like. 

In the comics, Roy and Lian are incredibly close. He isn’t a perfect father, but he loves Lian and very clearly shows it. In Young Justice... Well, I know Artemis loves her niece. It’s the little things that I wish would have been different. Small changes. Like Will kissing Lian’s head before Violet puts her to bed in ‘Overwhelmed’. Will being the one to have a nickname for her. Will could have been the one about to give Lian a bath while Artemis has coffee with Helga and Jefferson. As a viewer, it’s more important to me to see a father’s relationship with his daughter, rather than an aunt’s. Especially when this father-daughter relationship was so crucial to Roy’s character in the comics. 

Also, I’ll make an addendum and say I know Will and comic!Roy’s personalities are different. I know Will is more stoic and has a harder time expressing emotions. But I think there is a middle ground between ‘interacts with daughter via 2 head touches’ and ‘smothering her with kisses’. And I truly hope this is developed more in Season 4. 

Will’s relationship with Artemis: I will go to my grave saying that I don’t understand why Will and Artemis’ relationship was a plotline this season. I really would have liked them to remain platonic, they served as excellent roommates/family to each other. However, I respect the writers’ decisions, and on a surface level, it makes sense. Let’s think about it for a moment. Artemis and Will are both single, and both hurt by a previous lover. They have someone that connects them (Lian), and are pretty attractive people. Thinking about it from a totally non-biased standpoint, I can see why they would form feelings for each other. 

I just... don’t care for how the relationship worked out. I wish we’d gotten some more explanation as to what they truly saw in each other, aside from a few longing glances. Was it a matter of convenience? Was it a matter of grief? I don’t know. I wish I knew. I would have liked to see Will’s reactions in episode 25. In episode 10, he was still hung up on Jade. And yet in episode 25... nothing. Not even a thought when he kisses her sister? A glance at a photograph? Did he regret it? What were his emotions? 

I thought his feelings for Artemis came out of left field, because other than two weird glances, we didn’t know anything about how he felt about her. We have one scene in which she admires his domesticity and how he interacted with Lian, but nothing on the reverse. Maybe it was solely physical. Who knows? At the end of the day, we’re at the same place we started: with both of them in a platonic, roommates/family situation. So.. why go down the romance path at all? Now I’m left with more questions, and little answers.

Will’s existence to serve other characters: I know, I know. This sounds super harsh. I promise I have a point, though, if you bear with me. In the first half of YJO, as mentioned previously, Will has direction, thoughts, and motivations. He owns a company and wants to help Dick realize his errors in ‘Private Security’. He chats up Lynn in ‘Home Fires’. He tries to reason with Jade and bring her back home in ‘Exceptional Human Beings’. Again, this halts in the latter half of 3b. For the rest of the season, Will is essentially an accessory to Artemis’ journey. His presence in the plot is to exist around Artemis and serve as her potential love interest, without any real thoughts, feelings or motivations of his own. How does he feel about having a full house? No clue. Is he concerned for his daughter’s well-being? How is he doing, personally, in his life? I wish I knew. What about his relationship with Kaldur? Did they have a falling out, are they still close? Does he still talk with his former friends? What about his relationship with Jim, Roy, Ollie and Dinah? So many questions, not enough answers. 

Again, I’ll bring up the scene and my analysis above on when he and Artemis kiss. Though, I’m going to take a swift turn and put a positive spin on this scene for a moment. Because outside of all this, I do feel bad for Will. You can tell that he tried, by setting up a romantic dinner. Has Will Harper ever even been on a date? I’m sure he hadn’t done many, if at all, with Jade. This poor guy, probably only ever been with Jade until she left him and (likely) broke his heart. He was just listening to her by moving on, hoping that maybe he had a chance with her sister Artemis. You can tell he’s grown as a character, and took the liberty to set everything up and do it the right way. And in the end, he was still turned down. Jury’s out on whether he was actually relieved, or lying and lamenting a girl he really cared for, but still. I have to give him kudos here. Poor Will. 

If I could rewrite the Will and Artemis scenes from episode 25, I would change a couple of things. I would not have had Will initiate; Artemis should have initiated. She could have kissed him, and Will would have been the one to pull away. He could have said something, anything about it not being right, about still having feelings for Jade. Artemis still could have ran off and felt ashamed of herself. Upon coming home, Will would apologize, and they still could have had a talk. And everything would have worked out just the same. 

If you’re still reading, amen to you, and thanks for sticking it out! Again, I do love Will Harper. I’m just frustrated by his portrayal in the latter half of Season 3. I do hope that we get to spend some more time with him in Season 4, and hopefully his relationships with everyone will be improved upon. 

[writingonesdreams]

Novel Prep tag Game 3 - New wip: Flickers in the dust

So a new wip, another Novel prep tag game. These questions are just perfect for testing and developing ideas so here we go.

Rules: Answer the questions and then tag as many writers as there are questions answered (or as many as you can) to spread the positivity! Even if these questions are not explicitly brought up in the novel, they are still good to keep in mind when writing.

1. Describe your novel in 1-2 sentences (elevator pitch)

The question: How can a bunch of people with "useless" skills survive an post-apocalyptic world?

Impassive procastrinator Alysa travels with her self-destructive childhood friend Kyle, and the energetic 8 yeal old neighbour Iris, with the delinquent but vigorous boxer Roman and his werewolf friend Wes through the desolated world left after the apocalypse, trying to reach a better life in a bigger city.

2. How long do you plan for your novel to be? (Is it a novella, single book, book series, etc.)

A novel for now.

3. What is your novel’s aesthetic?

Dusty wastelands. Long field road. Vacant ghost towns and abandoned cars. Dust storms. Constant dark cloudy sky.

4. What other stories inspire your novel?  

Megalo Box, Wolf’s rain, The promised Neverland, Ergo Proxy

5. Share 3+ images that give a feel for your novel

6. Who is your protagonist?

Alysa is a talented, thoughtful girl and former child prodigy, but she had trouble deciding what she wanted from life and started to fail her university exams. Her lack of self-discipline, motivation or healthy socilaization led her to believe she is quite unfit for the adult life or the world in general. After the apocalypse happenes she is forced to drastically change her priorities and negative thinking for the sake of survival.

7. Who is their closest ally?

Kyle is emotionally abused, burned-out genius with a self-destructive streak and fondness for dark humor. His will to live and emotional stability has steadily decreased over the years. Staying alive has been enough of a challange, so activelly fighting to survive seems like a pretty impossible feat to him.

8. Who is their enemy?

The desolated world after the apocalypse and it’s survival challanges, including insane mutated humans, ruthless gangs, isolated research centers, way too intelligent wolf packs and their struggle not to give up on their will to live.

9. What do they want more than anything?

The main characters want to be capable enough to survive and in addition to that live in a somehow meaningful way. To find out what's really important and what's the main difference between survival and living.

10. Why can’t they have it?

Alysa was pretty much a failing existence when it came to finding her place in the adult society and now she is supposed to survive in a world that's 100 times worse after the apocalypse. How can she do that when she had trouble surviving in the normal one?

Kyle struggled to find reasons to stay alive after his emotional abuse and depression. He has been saved by his friends and family from this, but now it's not just his survival at stake. Will a boy that had to be constantly saved from himself, be able to save someone else?

Roman was a boxer and convict before the apocalypse happened. His violent past marked him as unfit to decent people, but ironically made him exceptionally suitable for this destroyed world- he pretty much has better chances for a good life now then before. Does this make him a bad person? Does he deserve to win against the world or will he change to match it's cruel conditions?

11. What do they wrongly believe about themselves?

Alysa believes she is worthless and incapable as a person.

Kyle feels like he is living on borrowed time anyway and doesn't see any perspectives for himself.

Roman isn’t sure if his abilities to survive that are based on his violent past don’t make him a bad person.

12. Draw your protagonist! (Or share a description)

Alysa is tall and slender girl, has middle long wavy blond hair, light blue eyes and ivory skin. She has very delicate features and is rather pale.

Roman is muscular and tall with tanned olive skin, black curly hair and amber eyes. He is covered in scars, most notably on his chest, arms and neck.

Kyle is tall, lanky and not visibly muscular even though he is trained in martial arts. He has a bit longer black hair, with bangs falling in his eyes, very pale skin and grey eyes.

Wes in his human form has dirty blond curly hair and eyes that change from green-blue to black according to his mood. He has dusty grey fur in his wolf form.

Iris has short red hair and vibrant green eyes.

Plot Points

13. What is the internal conflict?

The characters struggle with their will to live in a destroyed world and with their feelings of worthlessness and inaptitude to fend for themselves or build happy lives.

14. What is the external conflict?

Surviving in the destroyed world, maturing and growing stronger, adapting to change and fighting for themsleves in a world that is aiming to make it as hard as possible for them.

15. What is the worst thing that could happen to your protagonist?

To die because they gave up on life instead of the world actually killing them. Losing to the harsh conditions of the world would be better then losing to themselves (albeit not much).

16. What secret will be revealed that changes the course of the story?  

How do you not give up when everything seems hopeless? Who is the worse enemy in this destroyed world - the mutated monsters or the humans left? Where does the will to carry on come from? Is it possible to hold on to humanity in a world of ruin? And what is it that makes us human?

17. Do you know how it ends?  

Nope. I’m happy I don’t, since it makes it seem like a very exciting story to work on!

18. What is the theme?  

Self-worth, aptitude for life, will to live, not giving up, true companions, bonds, drive, meaning

19. What is a reoccurring symbol?  

Dust, wind, dark sky, endless road, storms

20. Where is the story set? (Share a description!)  

A destroyed post-apocalyptic Earth, where the majority of the population died and the rest flocks together in desperation into cities for protection from the zombie-like humans affected by the radiation and mutated over-intelligent wolves.

21. Do you have any images or scenes in your mind already?  

Many scenes, dialogues, themes, flashes of setting and atmosphere.

22. What excited you about this story?

Something about the destroyed post-apocalyptic world fascinates me. It’s a plot around survival and hard conditions forcing the protagonists to face their inner demons and self-doubts if they want to survive and have the will and drive to fight, witch often makes the difference between life and death. Also the necessity for the characters to trust and rely on each other and their group dynamics development is very exciting.

23. Tell us about your usual writing method!  

I always start with characters that I stick in different scenarios or in my favourite movies and series or books and let them interact. From those I mostly get inspiring scenes that I try to connect through a plot. Afterwards I work on characterisation, world-building, research details and outline stuff a bit. I also write little snippets that sometimes turn long and can be used as chapters.

-

I'm tagging a few peeps I haven't seen doing this game if you are interested: @piratequeenofpixies @imaghostwriter @tenacious-scripturient @writingwhithotchocolate @cabaretofwords @nemowritesstuff @emmathenovelist  @bos-ingit @my-desk-is-full-of-used-pens @purpleshadows1989 @whiteblack-raindrops @surroundedbypearls & anyone who wants to!

Wip tag list:  @tenacious-scripturient @hyba @urbanteeth (tell me if you want to get on/off)

[ciestessde]

Phantasma Magica Ch. 8

STORY SUMMARY

Clockwork and the Observants send Danny to Hogwarts on a special mission. But, cryptic as ever, that Old Stopwatch never actually told him what would happen on it!!! “All you need to do right now, Daniel, is stay focused on your mission. And remember, the-” “‘The Lions with the time-turner, lightning-bolt scar, and hair like fire are friends; watch out for the rat; and the black dog is not a threat.’ Yeah, you’ve only repeated that a few dozen times today.”

Next → ← Previous (First)

When Danny arrived in Lupin’s office without the promised rat, well...

Sirius was furious. They now had essentially no way of finding Pettigrew -- except wandering around and hoping against hope that they spotted him.

Remus tried to calm him down. “He won’t have gone far. He has no reason to suspect Danny’s true motives. I’m sure he’ll turn up again-” “But for how long?! We had him! I KNEW I should’ve gotten him myself!” Danny floated down and let his feet touch the floor near the pacing Sirius. “I’m sorry. I can try to track him, but it’s hard to feel a living human soul under an animal’s mind.” Sirius stopped walking and spun to face him. His jaw tight, he growled, “I have a better idea.”

They spent several hours using Sirius’ dog nose and knowledge of the castle (helped by Danny’s invisibility) to search. But with no luck.

Still. The walk and passing of time helped calm Sirius a bit. After finishing by searching the castle grounds -- still with no luck -- they ended their search in the Shrieking Shack.

Defeated, Sirius changed back into a human and sat on the dilapidated excuse for a bed. “...” Danny floated there awkwardly. Remembering how he had almost attacked innocent Sirius in this room... “... I know there wasn’t much you could do.” Sirius head continued to hang -- he was looking at the news clipping he’d shown Danny. The one with the picture of “Scabbers.” “He knows this castle just as well as Moony and me. I just…” A shadow passed over his expression, but he looked up with a fire in his eyes. “I refuse to let that traitor go free. I don’t want go back to Azkaban -- you have no idea what being around that many of those things is like -- but I’d rather that than let Wormtail continue living like nothing happened.” His gaze softened, and his mouth thinned into a line. “That’s no excuse for taking it out on you, though, so… I’m sorry about that. We’ll just have to keep our eyes open for now.”

It had been a particularly long day for Danny, so, despite the sun being up, he decided to sleep in his makeshift bedroom in the Pipes. He had taken some pillows from the Divination classroom, a spare blanket from a closet -- and so on -- to form as cosey a resting area as he could manage in the damp space. Granted, the cold didn’t affect him (thankfully), but these things (the cushions especially) made it easier to relax.

“Scabbers” never showed up again, though, and the disappearance of his beloved pet had a rather unexpectedly drastic effect on Ron. As more and more time passed with no evidence as to what happened, he came to the most natural conclusion: “First the Firebolt, and now this! That bloody cat of yours ate him! He ATE SCABBERS!” If Danny didn’t know better, he probably would’ve agreed with Ron -- Crookshanks had shown a lot of interest in hunting the malnourished rodent, after all. But the extent to which Ron was blaming Hermione for his pet’s “death” was… actually mildly concerning. Danny excused most of Ron’s behaviour as raging hormones, but still… 

A part of him, a large part of him, wanted to tell them what actually happened -- that Scabbers was Pettigrew, that they had no reason to worry about Black anymore… -- But he just couldn’t risk it. If he told them, they’d act differently. And he had no way of knowing if or when Pettigrew might be watching. He couldn’t afford to tip him off. So instead... he let Ron mourn his rat.

Danny had been going with Harry to his anti-dementor lessons, regularly talking with Lupin about phantasms afterwards. The professor had decided to write a book about him. (No personal information, of course!) It was during one of these that Danny’s dislike -- bordering on hate -- of the wizards’ Ministry was solidified. “It was in the Daily Prophet this morning. The Ministry have given the dementors permission to suck out Sirius’ soul if they find him.” “-What?!” “It’s not that surprising, really. It’s one of the most extreme punishments for criminals -- but that’s the type of criminal they believe him to be.” “How are you so calm about this?!” “I assure you, I am not. But there’s not much more we can do about it than we already are doing. Sirius will just have to be extra careful not to get caught.”

Danny couldn’t argue with that. And besides, he had other things to distract him when he saw his friends the next morning. The teachers had finally satisfied themselves that Sirius’ anonymous present to Harry, the “Firebolt” broomstick, was safe. But while Harry was just excited to have his broom back (him and the entirety of the Gryffindor House, who seemed to think the Quidditch Cup was practically theirs because of it) -- Ron took this as yet more proof of Hermione being a terrible friend. “See, Hermione? There wasn’t anything wrong with it!” “Well -- there might have been!” Danny supposed Hermione’s arguing back didn’t help matters much… “I mean, at least you know now that it’s safe!” “Yeah, I suppose so,” was Harry’s response. ‘Oh wow. I hope I wasn’t this oblivious back when-’ He cut off that thought. There was no point in thinking about that now.

With Ron even more opposed to spending time with Hermione; and Harry thoroughly distracted by the Firebolt, his lessons with Lupin, and the upcoming Quidditch match against the Hufflepuff house… Danny decided to spend more time with Hermione. Hermione, who was secretly using a time-turner to time-travel and attend more classes than she should be able to, but was somehow now drowning in homework in the Gryffindor Common Room… … Danny was very confused.

He tapped her shoulder lightly before speaking so she’d know it was him. “Why don’t you just use the time-turner to get more rest?” he whispered. “What?!” She flinched. That was too loud. She checked to make sure no one noticed, then whispered, “How do you know about the time-turner?” “I was sent here by Clockwork, the Master of Time, remember? That thing is giving off faint time-aura from under your shirt. Although, I can probably only detect it because I’ve been around the stuff so much.” She was silent for a moment. “I’m supposed to avoid changing time as much as possible. Loads of wizards who’ve meddled with time have ended up killing their past or future selves by mistake! To use it for anything other than the absolutely essential is too risky! Professor McGonagall was very clear about the rules I was to follow in order to use it. It’s all part of her agreement with the Ministry.” Danny contained a snort of laughter. “Um… Actually… It’s more like the agreement they have with Clockwork.”

Hermione stopped writing in her notes. “I can personally guarantee that using the time-turner to, y’know… not go insane will be perfectly fine by my mentor.” “... Could we… Speak in private for a bit?” Danny thought he knew where this was going. “You want to know more about Clockwork and stuff?” “If that’s alright.” “I can share a little, anyway.”

Hermione packed up her schoolwork, and they moved to an abandoned classroom. “So the Ministry -- or someone at the Ministry -- knows Chron- I mean, Clockwork?!” “Well… Kind of. I’m not allowed to tell you much, but let’s just say that most of those deaths were actually Clockwork following the orders of HIS bosses. Time travel’s not all that dangerous, really.” “What about paradoxes?” “Things just split into a new timeline.” “Huh… So then, why all the rules?” “To keep humans from abusing the power. They -- Clockwork’s bosses -- don’t like not knowing what’s going to happen.”

There was silence for a few moments while Hermione thought. “Danny… You said Clockwork is your guardian.” “Yeah…” It wasn’t a question. “I’m, uh… Not a normal phantasm…” Hermione winced. “I don’t want to make you uncomfortable.” “No, it’s alright.”

Danny settled down at one of the desks. “... I used to be human. My parents were ghost hunters -- some of the best in the field, in fact! They built what was supposed to be a portal into the ghosts’ dimension -- the ‘Ghost Zone’ -- but it didn’t work. I, like an idiot, went inside to get a closer look. It turned on with me inside it.” Hermione’s eyes widened, but she didn’t speak. “In order for a phantasm to form, rather than be born, a soul has to come in contact with a large amount of ectoplasmic energy and have a strong enough will to live. Clockwork… He saved me. If not for him, I wouldn’t have become a phantasm -- I’d just be dead.” “Oh…” “...”

“Have you… ever gone back?” “...” Danny looked at the desk in front of him. “A few times. But, uh… Going back for too long or often would… not be good. I could become ‘tied’ there and never able to leave. And if that happened…” He paled, “I’d-rather-not-think-about-it.” “I’m sorry!” “--No, no… It’s alright.” He smiled at her. “You, uh, actually remind me a lot of one of my friends from back then.” His eyes lit up, and he smiled. “Sam, she was this big activist. She was a self-proclaimed ‘ultra-recyclo-vegetarian’ and goth, and she always had a cause -- usually multiple -- that she was fighting for! She would’ve loved your whole ‘free the house-elves’ movement! And my sister, Jazz -- you’re both ridiculously smart and like taking care of your friends.” Hermione was blushing a little bit, but seemed pleased. “You must miss them terribly.” Danny grimaced, his smile fading. “Yeah…”

She moved over so she could rest her hand on his arm. Cold, but not as freezing as she expected. “If there’s anything I can do to make this place feel more like home to you…” She smiled comfortingly at him. “Just tell me. You’re my friend.” He smiled back at her.

“So, uh… You going to start using the time-turner more?” “Oh!” Hermione moved back to where she had spread out her homework and grabbed a blank piece of parchment. She started muttering and working out some math problems. “... Yes, if I take a few hours out of my sleeping schedule, there should be enough room for two of me in my bed… And that room should be empty during this period…” She seemed satisfied after a few minutes. And indeed, Hermione looked much more rested after that. Danny even played lookout on occasion to make sure no one noticed multiple Hermiones wandering around.

‘Now that I’ve solved that problem…’ Ron had noticed Danny was spending more time with Hermione, and he took it as a sign of betrayal. Danny tried to think of some way he could bridge the gap between the two: ‘He’ll come around eventually. Even if it won’t be until he finds out about Pettigr-though... I guess that might just make him MORE upset…’ … But he was coming up empty.

Harry (or rather, Harry’s Firebolt) was more successful at cheering Ron up. There was a lot of excitement as the first match came up that Harry’d be riding it in. And when Danny got to see Harry fly on it, he understood why.

It wasn’t quite as fast as Danny was when he flew -- but it was pretty damn close! No one else on (above?) the field stood a chance! And to put icing on the cake, Harry completely humiliated some bullies who tried to sabotage him, too! Malfoy -- (‘Why is it always Malfoy?! That’s it. I need to ask them how this rivalry started!’) -- and some of his friends had thought it was a brilliant idea to try and scare Harry by dressing up and pretending to be dementors. But, as Lupin put it, Harry “gave Mr. Malfoy quite a fright” when he used the “patronus charm” he’d been working on in his anti-dementor lessons against them. The group of Slytherin students got into a lot of trouble for their stunt, AND Harry won the game for the Gryffindor team!

And for a while, things were actually peaceful -- for both Danny AND his friends.

But still without any sign of Peter Pettigrew.

~~~~~

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Next → ← Previous (First)

[darknessprinceofasuretha-blog]

The Seamless Boy Born In Blood

Notes: my soul intent is to horrify everyone who reads this but if it’s not scary to you? Oh well I tried my best to scare people. I hope you are disturbed too. This is what happens when I’m allowed to write whatever I want and I’ve been reading too many stories of horror and murder and this happens.

⚠️ Trigger Warning: this contains four semi detailed death scenes, mentions of suicide, Murder, insanity, profanity ! Tread carefully, if you have a weak stomach I do not suggest reading ! ⚠️

The boy sat in his parents blood, his cheeks tear stained and his hands bloodstained he had been sitting in his parents blood for hours days even and no one has yet to find him, how fitting for him, don’t you think? His eyes are blue his hair light pink, his mother's hair red and his father’s white. He was the direct result of his mother and father trying desperately for a baby and mother was so happy when she figured out he was coming and he was healthy unlike his miscarried siblings who lived for a max of thirty minutes or less after birth.

The boy had a perfect life now it meant close to nothing because of the fact that both of his parents were taken away from him so brutally and he hopes that he will be able to recover from this tragedy but who knows it basically depends on who took him in. it was seeming to get darker and darker and darker, as footsteps and worried voices grew louder, louder, louder. Though he had not the energy to care he had been with his parents rotting corpses for five days now, the smell was rancid.

The boy you will know as Reimlas Dorlana, five days ago witnessed his parents being brutally murdered in front of him. His mother sawed in half and then chopped into little pieces to be fed to fish though they beheaded her and kept her head, his father torn apart limb from limb and also cut up into tiny pieces that they were going to try and make the boy eat, they took his father's head too, even went as far as cutting out his tongue and digging out his eyes. Though why did they leave him alive? To suffer the burden of knowing the murderers of his parents? They were close friends they were jealous of his mother, so they killed her, though the behavior leading up to them killing his parents didn’t surprise him.

The boy was so weak he wouldn’t make it if paramedics didn’t show up soon. The door slammed open to reveal the face of the young man who lived next door but he couldn’t do anything at that point he then blacked out and he couldn’t remember what happened after that he woke up in a hospital bed. The next thing he knew he was being towered over by an extremely kind nurse who tended to his wounds, he too got wounds for trying to protect his mother which resulted in him getting hurt.

She could not yet fathom the psychological horrors that he just went through, she never will until she watches her parents torn limb from limb, tongue cut off and eyes dug out, just to be squished under a shoe. Oh, evidence the clothing would be burnt by now. That alone will put him through years of therapy, though even that will not ease the pain of seeing his parents murdered in front of him.

Every time it seems he has something good he seems to just lose it. Just like his sanity he’s begun to question it, he has lost all feelings, maybe it’s for the best, if he did feel things maybe he would act a bit more normal? Reimlas didn’t know nor did he care, he can’t seem to care about anything anymore other than his cat.

Yet the thought still is chilling when his mother died she smiled as if she knew it was coming, yet she didn’t care? Maybe but the motive for her and her husbands murder is unknown to the police but Reimlas knew everything he would not be mocked by the details so he simply just left he did not care for what the police found for they would mock him. But he was not of age to leave on his own, having both of his wings broken he was given to his grandparents and they were murdered too. The same way his mother and father were they were beheaded though this time grandma was just torn to shreds intestines everywhere blood was dripping from the ceiling, the intestines hung up as if a child was going to swing in them. Grandma had her eyes in her mouth and tongue cut down the middle and put in her eye sockets, that alone made Reimlas throw up. Though you didn’t see what happened to grandpa they broke his neck hung him and disemboweled him, he was in one piece other than grandma.

It was sickening he knew who did it but he couldn’t do a single damn thing, or they’d kill his cat, If they killed his cat the last thing tying him to his sanity will be gone and he will go f*cking insane, also he didn’t want his cat to be dead too so he kept quiet on the sidelines and it just never gets better. He’s slowly going insane, he can no longer take the mistreatments he’s done with it all. At this point to Reimlas he thinks that these people think it’s a game, who will become insane first?

Apparently it would be himself. Because if he told a single soul he would become labeled insane that’s how this world works if you say something someone else doesn’t believe they will fight you over it. But if you say something that is right, people have enough money then you will be the insane one. But that’s what the world has come down to, if you have money you will survive if you don’t then you’re irrelevant. It’s almost like saying only the fittest survive and the weak die, but that wouldn’t be the case at all.

Reinmlas was so done with the world what could he do? Slit his throat and die? No he isn’t going to go insane that’s what he thinks anyways and the thought just never seems to be getting better, it just seems to get more distorted. Reimlas woke up and seen his cat was dead, hard in his arms and he went out to bury mittens and said goodbye. Something seemed to break inside of him and he gently grabbed some of his pink locks and pulled starting to laugh maniacally, tears of sorrow, joy, and laughter he was breaking, he was finally going insane.

You know that moment when you’ve held something secret for so long, it’s starting to break you? That’s what Reimlas was experiencing at the moment he was going insane because he kept the truth from everyone now the only things that he remotely cared about are dead, but now it’s time to reap what had been sown Mr. and Mrs. Johnsonis.

Mind you Reimlas has went through multiple courses of study throughout the years so it wasn’t just that, he’s now a young man, he is a forensic scientist and he has a lot of degrees in the specific fields, his teachers even said they wouldn’t be surprised if he pulled off the perfect murder one day and that’s saying something sadly. Reimlas hasn’t been the same after that day, his emotions are all faked because he just doesn’t feel anything, gratification for his work does nothing either.

Reimlas was going to murder the Johnsonis, but he had an even better idea. Though at this point he wasn’t even human anymore, he murmured to himself as he twirled a scalpel on his gloved finger. “I am a monster..born in blood but something oddly reminds me of home, the place my parents were murdered, though something doesn’t feel right, I don’t think I’m even human anymore, though life doesn’t have to be fun, I suppose it only has to be lived and that’s the end of it.” Reimlas said throwing his scalpel and it shatters a pot. “The guilt of what they have made me will be enough to eat them alive.” He’s right if someone feels guilty enough for what they have done they will try and repent for said sin. “Though this game is over now... I win.”

Reimlas had a horrific smile come across his face as he started to laugh manically again. He broke completely, not even looking at the deep cuts on his wrists could get him to stop and even when looking at them he laughed harder. “Weakness is a sin, it’s top to stop being weak HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA.” Reimlas started twitching as he laughed, he reached into his pocket to grab his freshly sharpened scalpel and drove it into his leg, it cut into him like butter like he anticipated, he didn’t scream or cry he simply just stopped laughing.

Reimlas let the blood on his fingers fall to the ground as he held the wound he created it wasn’t that deadly. He lifted his hands to look at them and he immediately got flashbacks of that small room he was crammed in with his parents dead and rancid smelling bodies, he was crying, traumatized.

Reimlas got up and wrapped up his wound and headed towards the door with his keys in his hand and gloves on, a smirk on his face. It’s time to pay the Johnsonis’ daughter a visit. Reimlas got in his car loosened his pink locks opened the mirror and then did his make up and grabbed his guitar, the Johnsonis Family think that Reimlas has forgotten the crime they have committed against him but no he hasn’t in fact he thinks it’s fitting to say, an eye for an eye.

Reimlas closed the mirror and the thing it was on before starting his car and backing out of the driveway. Reimlas still lives in his grandparents neighborhood so he didn’t exactly go anywhere the house his parents got murdered in still belonged to him, people were fighting him over the house and losing terribly. Reimlas sighed he needed to put on an emotional mask real quick which he achieved by smiling to the old lady that’s just a hag and then he waved to the newly married couple who were watering plants together up each other’s ass.

To be clear the neighborhood that Reimlas lived in is for the rich people to live no poor people or middle class allowed here. Giant houses and mansions anything you could think of is probably here. Reimlas dodged a cat with his car that he almost hit and killed, he would have tried to be upset if that happened because that’s a normal response to killing something. Reimlas pulled into the driveway of the Johnsonis house and got out grabbing his guitar he made his way to the front door.

He rang the bell three times to have the door answered by the youngest daughter, Lola, Reimlas leant in and kissed her lips, her parents were home but were passed out. This is what he has to endure for five more seconds before she takes him up to her room. It’s very girly and pink, neon fucking pink. And he hates her room so much but he never says a word.

‘Think like a forensic scientist on a crime scene what am I looking for?’ Reimlas thought before he covered Lola’s beautiful blue eyes and pushed her down on her bed, he had blind folded her, made her move into a comfortable position and told her an extremely sad story, his backstory and made her cry.

He still had gloves on as he seized the scalpel he had earlier sharpened but he didn’t use this one to stab himself, he made her take the scalpel she didn’t realize what it was and he told her it would check her heartbeat it had to be jabbed onto the place where her heart was.

She was stupid to believe it, killed herself instantly because she made her own heart burst. ‘That will be ruled a suicide.’ Reimlas said in his head and then he got up making sure no evidence was left behind and then he grabbed his guitar and casually left the room.

The brother how did he take care of him? He gave him a drug that makes you claw your own eyes out and itch until you bleed, the dude just shot himself in the head. He found the easy way out of the suffering and Reimlas smirked. ‘Two suicides that must be linked to something don’t you think?’ Reimlas thought grabbing his belongings and leaving. ‘Nothing extraordinary needed to happen just revenge and it feels good, I hope you guys like being childless. Like I liked having no mother and father.’ Reimlas thought as he walked out and laughed running a hand through his pink locks and then he left before the neighbors seen him.

[karenhikari]

You Are My Sunshine

Summary: It was an insane idea, but perhaps, Blitzen thought to himself, he could be the one to bring the sun to Nidavellir for this elf. And maybe, just maybe, he was doing much more than simply saving an elf's life. Spoilers for all three of the books.

Hello, hello, hello! Remember all those months ago when I said that you could expect a Blitzstone story from me soon? I messed up. Of course I messed up. This story has been sitting on my desk for weeks, ready to be published, but school mercilessly consumed whatever leisure time I had. So, it wasn't until now that I could find the time to publish this little something.

Without further ado, please read and enjoy!

You Are My Sunshine

–*–*–

You are my sunshine, My only sunshine.

–*–*–

If someone had told Blitzen that, one day, he would share his house with an elf, he would have laughed. After all, elves were creatures of light and sun, of green fields that smelled like dew drops and pine needles. The mere idea that one of those beings would ever set foot in Nidavellir was absurd. So no, Blitzen had never spared more than a vague thought for those aurous creatures.

However, Destiny had a tendency to work in bizarre ways and, somehow, Destiny had dropped ―literally dropped― Hearthstone in the dwarfen realm.

The day he met the elf started normally to say the least. Blitzen had woken up at around noon. He'd invested a considerable amount of time in getting dressed and tidying up his bedroom, making it around one in the afternoon when he finally got to the kitchen to fix himself breakfast.

He had ―with much reluctancy, let it be said― accepted that it was time to go grocery shopping. Sighing, Blitzen prepared an insipid plate of scrambled eggs and didn't even bother to clean up the dining room before he grabbed his keys and left the house.

Unfortunately, the son of Freya never made it to the grocery store.

Blitzen had only walked two or three blocks when something caught his attention. Certainly, Blitzen was not the kind of dwarf that walked straight into an alley or that peeked into a rubbish bin. However, just as he walked around a corner, a strange sound escaped the metallic coffins of a dumpster, and he couldn't help it.

Naturally, Blitzen knew all the obvious rules for staying alive―don't walk alone into what could very well be a trap, don't go unarmed into an unknown territory, do not trust your surroundings and follow your gut. To summarize―don't do stupid shit.

On the other hand, the noise he'd heard wasn't the growling of a big animal or the clinging of swords. Rather, it sounded like a weakened whimper.

It would have been so easy to merely keep walking, to hush the tiny voice that told Blitzen to turn around and check what had uttered such a small sound. It would have been so simple to ignore the thought that urged him to follow his hunch and drown it in his grocery list, to focus on the carton of milk he still had to buy. Regrettably, Blitzen had inherited a sense of curiosity of both of his parents. Whenever an idea wormed its way into his head, he couldn't let it go. And so, Blitzen didn't turn the next corner in his trip to the store, for he turned on his heels and walked straight into the dead-end alley.

As soon as he walked closer to the trash can, it became obvious that the metallic dumpster was where the snivel he'd heard had come from. Usually, the son of Freya would not have gone anywhere near a pile of garbage. This time, however, curiosity got the best of him and he promptly stood closer to the bin, careful not to touch anything.

His resolution did not last for too long. As soon as he was able to take a peek into the dumpster, he recognized the whimpering creature. Shivering and surrounded by trash bags the same color of his outfit, laid a clearly unconscious elf.

There was no mistake―it had to be one of the inhabitants of Alfheim. Hair so blond it was almost white, delicate yet sharp features, snowy skin that Blitzen supposed looked even paler than usual at the moment, since he hadn't seen the sun in the gods knew how long. Blitzen had never met an elf, but he damn right knew what they looked like, and the creature in front of him sure as Helheim was an elf.

And a rapidly fading, sick-looking elf, at that.

There was a reason why elves stayed out of Nidavellir and dwarves only ever traveled to Alfheim in old tales. Doing otherwise could kill them. It was because of that reason that Yggdrasil was divided into different worlds to start with. Elves and dwarves could not coexist, it was absurd to even consider it. So, either that elf was trying to get himself killed, or he had ended in Nidavellir by mistake.

A few hours later, Blitzen would ask himself what had motivated him to practically jump into a trash can bin so that he could push an unknown elf out of it. He was not sure of how he had managed to drag the elf to his apartment without calling someone's attention either. Perhaps the reason for that obliviousness was merely that his neighbors were used to his bizarre ways by that time and knew better than to ask him what he was doing.

Getting the elf to his apartment was only half problem. The elf was still unconscious and he kept shaking. Blitzen was not an expert. In fact, he was as far of an elf healthcare expert as one could get, but he was pretty sure that elves could only last a couple of days without their beloved sun, and if this elf's state was anything to go by, he was dangerously approaching the last hours of his second day.

As soon as he got the elf into his home, Blitzen paced around his apartment, promptly collecting every single blanket he possessed. He then proceeded to drop them on the benumbed elf in a desperate attempt to help him keep whatever warmness his body still had.

Blitzen had never seen an elf before and, quite frankly, the wounded, whimpering young man in front of him seemed nothing like the majestic creatures he'd read about. Instead, the person lying in his couch only seemed weakened, hypothermic and wounded. For some reason, Blitzen felt an even stronger drawn to him than he would have, had he met an overwhelming, luminous elf instead.

The gods knew how that elf had ended in Nidavellir. However it had been, Blitzen was not about to let him die in his own living room. It was clear that the elf was much too weakened for Blitzen to even try to make him travel through Yggdrasil, though that did not mean that instead of taking the elf to the sun, Blitzen could not bring the sun to the elf.

It was an insane idea, yet a plausible one, and Blitzen was short of other options.

Perhaps, Blitzen thought to himself ―and it was a very vague 'perhaps' indeed―, he could be the one to bring the sun to Nidavellir for this elf.

–*–*–

You make me happy

When skies are gray.

–*–*–

It was almost ironic, that, in the same way that Blitzen had managed to steal an artificial drop of sun to keep Hearthstone alive while in Nidavellir, Hearth was now returning the favor by endeavoring himself in burning the kenaz rune above his head in the middle of Niflheim. On one hand, Blitzen was beyond proud of the skill level Hearth had accomplished. Not so long in the past, his elf had only managed to summon the power of one rune for a few seconds before he passed out. Now, Hearth had calmly wielded the power of the torch rune for an extended period of time while managing to remain almost unfazed, with the added challenge of the inhospitability of the field they were in.

On the other hand, however, Blitzen was also extremely concerned. Hearthstone's skin, snowy-white on a good day had gone almost transparent from the cold and the effort. His lips, instead of the rouge color Blitzen knew to be a healthy one for his friend had turned crepe pink, and green veins peppered his hands and cheeks, emphasizing the translusence of his skin.

The cold was so intense that Blitzen could hardly feel Hearthstone's hands between his own, as both of them clung on to the blanket that covered their bodies. The action, useless as it was, gave him something else to think about.

He'd told Magnus that the two of them would be the last of them to succumb to death, although he was more than aware that such knowledge was of no comfort. If anything, the one thing that gave the son of Freya some sort of vague relief was the certainty that he would die cradling Hearthstone in his arms. Even if that meant he would have to feel him grow colder with each passing second, to the point where it was as if he were holding ice cubes instead of his friend's hands.

At least, in the end, he would have Hearthstone to cling on to.

–*–*–

You'll never know, dear How much I love you. Please don't take My sunshine away.

–*–*–

Ever since Hearthstone had met Blitzen, he'd known the dwarf had some outlandish ideas. Being around the son of Freya was bizarre on a regular basis. As an example of the heartwarming oddity that came so naturally to Blitzen, Hearth could quote the fact that he was still alive at the moment. After all, what other dwarf in the Nine Realms would have done what Blitz had upon a half-dead elf lying on the street? None other, that was which―none.

Not only had Blitzen picked him up and taken him to his own house, no. The son of Freya had also spent that afternoon and the better part of the consequent night working, until he completed another one of his crazy ideas―a sort of tanning bed that emitted a white light that felt as pleasant and warm on his skin as the sun rays.

Blitzen could have easily kicked him out after that. He could have sold off his design of the tanning bed for mountains of red gold. He could have, at the very least, asked Hearthstone to pay him rent. Instead, the son of Freya let out a fruity laugh whenever Hearth mentioned any of those things.

"You are still too weak to leave, my friend," he had brushed off every single time Hearth suggested that it was time he returned to where he'd come from. "This house is big enough to keep us both comfortably, there is no need for you to leave."

The one and only time Hearth had proposed Blitzen began selling either the design of the tanning bed or the artifact itself, the dwarf's features had darkened. "I don't need their money," he'd said. "I made the bed for you and that's it. I wanted to save you. They wouldn't understand that."

Eventually, Blitzen had resorted to several excuses and illegitimate reasons to make Hearthstone stay. First, he'd told Hearth that he couldn't leave until he had taught Blitzen proper ASL.

To be completely honest, Hearth had not believed Blitzen's interest at first. He'd thought it was merely something the son of Freya had said, although he did not necessarily mean it. Something that was not like the other elves' glares of contempt or like his parents' open despise, albeit it held the same meaning. At the time, Hearthstone had thought nothing of Blitzen's proposition. It was something the dwarf had said out of pity, a poignant offering, an attempt to make him feel better about his deafness.

However, Blitz had learned. He'd sat in front of Hearthstone every afternoon for months on end, genuinely paying attention to the elf's corrections. Less than six months after Hearth had first appeared in Nidavellir, Blitzen was already capable of holding a fluent conversation in ASL. Blitz rarely spoke using his voice when they were alone, and they were alone for the most part.

Still, Blitz had not let him leave then either. The reason he had offered then was still plausible, albeit a little risible too―Hearth was the only one out of the two who could cook to save his life.

Inge had taught him how to handle himself around the kitchen, despite the fact that she always insisted that he left in the most polite of ways. She said that he did not need to learn such things, that they were below him. The truth was, Hearthstone actually enjoyed cooking. He had to pay close attention to the measures of the ingredients, to the correct order of the steps, to the times. It gave him something to keep his mind busy, something where it didn't matter if he could listen or talk.

It had proven to be a valuable ability while he stayed in Nidavellir, seeing as taking care of the kitchen was the one chore Blitzen allowed him to do. No matter how many times Hearth reassured him he was fine and that he could do something as simple as sweeping or doing some laundry, Blitz insisted. Hearth was a guest, he said, and he would not allow him to work.

Finally, when Hearth had dared suggest Blitzen collected rent from him, nearly a year after the elf had first appeared in Nidavellir, Blitzen's instant reaction had been to frown. "Excuse me?" he'd asked, forcing Hearthstone to repeat himself. Although that was mostly etiquette, as Blitz proceeded to interrupt him midsentence, grasping Hearth's wrists. It was then that the dwarf turned to raise an eyebrow at his friend. Slowly, Blitzen readjusted the position of his hands, until they were holding Hearth's.

"Honestly?" he'd smiled, mouthing the words so he didn't have to let go of Hearth. "I like having you here. I really enjoy your company. I think… I think there's a reason why you fell on Nidavellir rather than any of the other worlds. You told me that you didn't want to go back to Alfheim. Then don't do it. The doors of my home are open for you, as long as you need or want to stay here. The gods know that I had felt loneliness creep around the corners of this house before you showed up. So, really, if the reason you want to leave is that you don't want to be a problem or to cause me an inconvenience, I'm telling you right now that it isn't like that at all. You're my best friend, you know? If you feel comfortable staying here, then please, feel free to do so."

Ever so slowly, Blitzen let go of Hearth's hands, allowing him to sign. Even once he was free of the dwarf's restraints, Hearth took a moment to consider his answer. Finally, he exhaled a sigh and raised his eyes to meet Blitzen's.

"Do you… do you mean that?" he asked, shaking fingers drawing the words rapidly in the air.

"Every word," the dwarf confirmed. Needing to show Hearth how convinced he was of what he had said, he accompanied his speech with the movement of his hands―first, he made the thumps-up sign with his left hand at the height if his chest. He placed his right hand, doing the same gesture, behind his left one, his left thumb touching the back of his right hand. Then, the sign for 'word'―his left index extended vertically, while his right thumb and index, extended horizontally, not touching his other hand*.

Blitzen, bless his heart, had taken the time to know him so well, that he didn't add anything to those two words. Neither did he move. Instead, he tilted his head and he waited with a gentle smile on his face. Blitz didn't pressure him for an answer, much less did he demand one. And it was a good thing, as well, because by the time Hearth was certain of what he wanted to say, his hands were shaking so much that he would have found himself unable to answer anything.

Being deaf, Hearth knew better than anyone that actions spoke louder than words. Although, given his upbringing, he'd never been one to initiate physical contact. Blitzen, on the other hand… Blitzen was different. From the first day he'd been there, Blitzen had showed no qualms about taking Hearth's hands or fixing his clothes. He didn't mind hugging him or linking their arms. Of course, he wasn't bothered either when Hearth corrected the position of his fingers when he taught Blitz ASL.

For once, Hearthstone decided to follow Blitzen's example. Rather than trying to spell something out with his faltering hands, Hearth leaned forward to engulf his dwarf friend in a tight hug. It was probably the first time he initiated a touch of that kind. Unlike anything he could have expected, Blitz didn't pull back or react badly at the contact. Hearth had to tell himself that of course Blitzen would not do something like that to him. Ever since he'd met him, Blitzen had been nothing if not kind and patient to him. Instead, no more than a millisecond later, Blitz was returning the embrace. Hearth felt the vibrations of his laughter resonate through their entwined forms.

When Blitzen's laughter died down and a different, slower form of reverberation filled the space between them, Hearth had a very clear idea of what Blitz must have been saying―That's alright, bud. That's alright. He'd seen Blitz spell out those words so many times that it wasn't hard to picture his hands moving or his lips spelling out the words.

Sighing, Hearth allowed himself to hide his face in the crook of Blitzen's neck, inhaling the dwarf's familiar scent. This was home, he told himself. This strange relationship he'd built with a dwarf, this bizarre stay of his in the one world where it should have been impossible for him to survive. This was home, the one place in Yggdrasil where he was wanted, alien as that idea was to him.

In a rushed thought, Hearth sent a fast expression of gratitude to whoever god had guided his path to Nidavellir instead of any of the other worlds, to whoever had made his path cross with the one person in the Nine Realms who was selfless enough to take care of a stranger and offer him his very own house to live n.

That afternoon, nearly a year ago then, Blitzen had done much more than simply picking an unconscious elf up. He'd saved his life in more ways than Blitzed would ever know.

–*–*–

The other night, dear

When I lay sleeping,

I dreamt I held you in my arms.

When I awoke, dear,

I was mistaken,

So I hung my head and cried.

–*–*–

Of the many reasons, Hearthstone had imagined he would go back to his parents' house, needing the Skofnung stone to save his best friend's life had never crossed his mind. It wasn't that he actively wanted to go back to Alfheim, but on the nights what he could not stop thinking of his parents' disdainful words, on the days when he asked himself how long it would take before Blitzen grew tired of him and asked him to leave, he wondered. He did so with dread, with a daunting emptiness in his chest and a hitch in his breath. Where would he go? Back to the humiliation his parents had subjected him to for as long as he could remember? Would he try to find a way of living in another of Yggdrasil's worlds, on his own?

Hearthstone had never been able to come up with an answer that settled the thumping between his ribs. He knew that there was no answer to that question that would ease the knot of anguish that formed in his chest whenever that thought assaulted him. And so, he prayed. He prayed to every god he'd ever heard of that Blitzen was kind-hearted enough to not send him packing, even if the day came when his dwarfen friend realized how useless he was, Hearthstone prayed that Blitzen chose to keep him. Even if it was out of pity, even if it was only an act of commiseration, he prayed.

Blitzen had not given up on him, no matter how many times Hearthstone proved he wasn't worthy of the devotion Blitzen treated him with, the son of Freya only insisted that Hearth was more talented than he gave himself credit for. Blitzen trusted him, that much was crystal clear. He counted on him with the same blind dependence with which Hearthstone had leaned on him from the day that they had met.

Hearth couldn't let him down. Not then. He couldn't fail Blitzen. It was simply not an option.

His decision had been instant. If Blitzen needed the Skofnung stone, then Hearthstone would get it for him. Blitz had done so much for him… this was the least he could do to repay him. So Hearthstone had gone back to the sumptuous residence that had always felt too cold and too indifferent to call home.

Blitz had asked him not to. Of course he had, as he frantically tried to stop the hemorrhage in his chest, always too selfless and too generous, but he didn't understand. Hearth could not lose him. He wouldn't allow himself to forsake the only one who had believed in him, the first person who had ever cherished him.

No. there was no 'maybe', there was no 'trying'. He would get the Skofnung stone for Blitzen or he would die while attempting to obtain it. There was no other possibility.

So that night, the first one he spent in his parent's house in over a decade, Hearthstone held on to the memory of Blitzen's laughter, to the way his eyes softened in his smile, and he prayed. He prayed to the All Father and to Sif and to Freya that he would be strong enough to save Blitzen's life.

–*–*–

You are my sunshine,

My only sunshine,

You make me happy

When skies are gray.

–*–*–

As the cold water of the shower un-prettified Blitzen, Hearthstone felt droplets of his own pool at the bottom of his eyes. However, it was not long before the water began dying with red and Hearthstone's shaking hands fidgeted, trying to find the Skofnung stone. With faltering fingers, he placed the gravel on top of the dwarf's bleeding wound. Immediately, the edges of his injury started to sew themselves together, stitching the skin back in place.

Too slowly for Hearthstone's taste, the color began returning to Blitzen's features, and his body grew limp in Hearth's arms instead of the frigid stiffness of granite. In a rapid motion, Hearth caught sight of the dwarf's lips moving, no doubt to question where they were, how he was alive, to insist that Hearth did not return to Alfheim.

He couldn't have cared less about what Blitzen was saying. Even if he had, tears clouded his vision, making it impossible for him to read the dwarf's lips. There would be time to answer all those questions later. There would be time to explain his friend what had happened.

For now, it didn't matter. For that exquisite, perfect moment, nothing else mattered. They would deal with his father later, with Andvari's ring, with Ragnarok itself if it were to come, but they would do so together. At least for those stolen minutes, the only thing important enough to be worried about was the wellbeing of the man in front of him.

So he let Blitzen know. He hugged him fiercely, clinging to him for dear life under the icy gush of water. Hearth's hands bowled into fists around the fabric of Blitzen's shirt. He felt the vibration of the dwarf's voice, his arms encircling his waist. As if by magic, the tension in Hearth's shoulders melted away, not by the art of the water, but by the steadfastness of Blitzen's embrace.

Hearth rocked them both back and forth, pulling them as close together as it was humanly possible. He couldn't get enough of the feeling of Blitzen being next to him. He was there, confused, certainly, befuddled, disoriented, but alive. Blitz was alive and Hearth was home.

There was nothing, nothing in the Nine Worlds that Hearth wouldn't have done to recover this feeling. This closeness, the simplicity with which he could limply fall into Blitzen's arms and forget about the rest of the existing world. And so, he clung to the son of Freya, and he thanked every god he could remember for allowing him to have his dwarf back, and he cried.

Not only had he paid his debt to his father that day; rather, he'd also given Blitz back a small amount of everything the dwarf had given him. In a way, Hearth supposed it could have been summarized as him saving Blitzen's life, in the same way the dwarf had saved his all those years in the past.

Nonetheless, Hearthstone knew better―Blitz might have built a machine that was able to reproduce rays as bright and warm as the sun's. However, they could not compare with the radiance or the closeness Hearth felt when Blitzen held him. And, in the same way that he had done the first time Blitz had successfully signed a full sentence without making a single mistake, Hearthstone vowed to devote his life to the one he owed it to.

–*–*–

You'll never know, dear,

How much I love you.

Please don't take my sunshine away.

–*–*–

Well... here goes nothing. This is it. I really hope you enjoyed reading this little something, because I sure enjoyed writing it.

Now, after finishing the series I was as convinced as any other that Hearth and Blitz are a married couple and Magnus didn't notice. So, of course I knew that writing a Blitzstone story would simply be a matter of time. The other day I was reading some Solangelo fanfiction and came across a story with this song. And you know how catchy this tune is, so I was trying to come up with a decent plot for Hearth and Blitz with this song still going around in my head and then... I realized that the lyrics actually worked great for this lovely couple. So... here we are now.

As for the "*", I must admit that I do not speak ASL. I really want to learn it, because it is fascinating to me, but at current time I do not speak it. I searched for those signs on the internet and then tried to describe them as best as I could. If any of them are wrong, please, please point it out to me.

Alright, it seems that this is all for today. In case any of you is reading "Tales of a Caged Animal", I hope to publish the next chapter soon. I really hoped you enjoyed this story and if you did, please leave a comemnt!

Read you soon!

[whistlevevo]

characters — jade kristine qi

GIVE ME THE STRENGTH AND HEIGHT OF GLORY

full name:

— jade kristine qi

nicknames:

— none. jade likes her name and prefers to be called by it.

date of birth:

— july 16, 1998

age:

— as of july 17, 2016, jade is 18

nationality:

— american

ethnicity:

— mexican, cuban, filipino, and chinese

place of residence:

— new smyrna beach, florida

languages spoken:

— english

— spanish

— enough tagalog to get by

— jade also knows how to count to ten in chinese and thinks it counts as knowing chinese even though it really doesn’t

sexuality:

— bisexual

GIVE ME GLORIOUS LIFE, THE STRAINING AND THE STRIFE

general:

— jade is honestly, pretty hot. she’s got that trendy instagram look that makes even the straightest of girls question. she has an oval-shaped face with a sharp jawline and defined cheekbones. her nose is thin, but rounded and points up into a button nose. her eyes are light and almond-shaped, with thick eyelashes and eyebrows to frame them. her lips are thick and surly, and her skin is dark and clear, only peppered with freckles. 

hair color:

— naturally, brown, but jade likes to dye it all sorts of colors. she did most of her experimenting as a pre-teen and for now, is sticking with a bubblegum pink hair color, but she’s been known to dye her hair green, silver, blue, purple...the list goes on.

hairstyle:

— jade’s hairstyle varies from day to day. jade’s hair is naturally slightly wavy, so she normally either leaves it like that or puts it back in a messy low ponytail. jade’s not the one for extravagant hairstyles.

eye color:

— jade’s eyes were bright green when she was born, but as she’s gotten older, they darkened down to green and eventually, to her current hazel.

body:

— i hate to be crude, but jade has a rockin’ bod. she’s one of those people that works out for fun. like, she’ll go to the gym and have fun. wild, i know. not only that, but she excelled at sports. i’m talking field hockey, cross country, track, basketball, soccer—jade did all of it, and it gave her a pretty high metabolism, hence her smokin’ hot body. she has a pretty small waist with toned abs, muscular arms, and thick legs.

height:

— jade stands at 5′6″ or 168 centimeters

weight:

— jade weighs 130 pounds or 59 kilograms.

LOVE, PASSION, HOPE IN THEIR DIVINEST SCOPE

casual style:

— jade’s everyday wear is simple. she dresses like your typical “instagram baddie,” just with more comfort. i’m talking sweatpants, crop tops, and sneakers. most of her clothes aren’t that expensive, mainly because jade is super broke, all the time, but it looks fine on jade. it’s nothing special, really.

formal:

— jade rarely goes anywhere where she needs to dress up, but when the occasion arises, she also usually goes for a simple look. jade would normally dress in an unadorned, long dress, maybe with spaghetti straps or a leg slit, but jade prefers to keep the attention on her face and not on her clothes. she’d probably wear some nice heels, too, or at least ones that look nice, and some jewelry from claire’s, probably.

sleepwear:

— jade’s sleepwear isn’t anything fancy. she usually just wears a big sweatshirt, even if she has people sleeping over. no one important’s really gonna see her anyway, so...

swimwear:

— jade’s swimwear is pretty much just the basic bathing suits you’d find at target, your simple bikinis with a few fun patterns or interesting cutouts. living in florida, she goes to the beach often, so she’ll pretty much wear any bathing suit that’s cheap, functional, and looks somewhat decent. she’s not really too picky.

athletic wear:

— jade’s workout clothes are pretty much based on comfort and they don’t really deviate from the usual “leggings-and-sports-bra” thing that most people have going on. no one’s going to see her, so what does it even matter?

dreamworld style:

— jade’s subconscious favors clothes that are a little more rugged than your typical dream keeper. she can be seen in short, dark green skirts and capes. they’re not exactly armor, but they’re easy to move around in, and they allow her to blend in with the other dream keepers. they’re adorned with gold pins.

— however, when the time comes, jade wears as much protective gear as she can. that is, while looking cute. her armor covers her up much more than her casual clothes. there are few rules of physics and science in the dreamworld, so often, armored clothes look exactly the same as normal clothes, similar to the uses of vibranium in black panther. normally, one would wear whatever armor is available, as there aren’t very many battles in the dreamworld and therefore, not a lot of armor, but jade likes earth-toned ( usually green ) armor that hugs her body and doesn’t weigh her down too much. she will often wear a cloak, a cape, or a poncho, just because most of the battles take place near the nightmare realm, where it’s much colder. she also wears a black gas mask, to try to protect her from hallucinations and any attacks that may affect her face.

HIGH WINDS ON MIGHTY SEAS, NOT SHELTERED BAY

personality overview:

— jade is kind of a confusing person. on the outside, she seems extroverted and crazy. she’s reckless, insane, and honestly, kind of mean. she’s egotistical and refuses to think about anyone but herself. anything she does is for her immediate comfort and benefit, even if it hurts someone else. she seems stupid on the outside too, and she kind of is. she focuses on the present, which makes her terrible at making plans and getting out of situations, but either way, jade picks up on social cues very well. she just doesn’t care. jade doesn’t look for anyone else’s opinion on her, which is both a blessing and a curse. she’s rough around the edges, and seems like an open book, when really, it’s just the tip of the iceberg.

— once more, jade isn’t stupid. she knows that people wouldn’t fear her, listen to her, or really even like her if they knew who she was at her core. so, she bottles everything up. she doesn’t disclose her past, her emotions, or her pain to anyone. she’ll whine about papercuts like nobody’s business so people think she’s open, but she’ll suffer in silence if she suffers from anything bad. at her core, jade is a cunning girl that prefers being alone, but she turns on her facade of a happy, extroverted, life of the party when she has to. maybe she feels like she has something to prove. maybe she doesn’t want people to see her weak. who knows?

personality type:

— istp-a

strengths:

— energetic // jade is a seemingly, endless ball of energy that doesn’t seem to get stressed out over much, only if she believes that something will seriously have consequences.

— creative and practical // jade isn’t super smart, but what she does know with a combination of her anxiety, makes her combine creative solutions with practical information to figure things out. 

— spontaneous and rational // jade doesn’t think much before making decisions. she doesn’t overthink things and sees a crossroads sort of like a multiple choice answer. she thinks through all the scenarios and chooses the most logical one.

— knows how to prioritize // jade tries to focus on the task at hand and moves everything else to the back of her mind until she can come back to it later, which usually works pretty well.

— tough // jade’s really good at repressing all her emotions and only complaining about stupid, petty things. she can remain pretty relaxed during a crisis, giving her the impression of toughness.

weaknesses:

— stubborn // jade does this fun thing where she disagrees with anything you say, even if she doesn’t really believe it. that’s how stubborn she is.

— insensitive // jade cares little for the feelings of others and uses logic and her own personal agenda to get what she wants, even if it hurts others.

— private // as i said before, jade seems like an open book, but most people who think they know her really don’t know anything important about her.

— dislike commitment // jade has a really hard time forming meaningful relationships with the people around her, especially romantic ones, because in jade’s mind, a relationship would only weigh her down, so she just....doesn’t commit.

— reckless // jade is bored easily, which leads to terrible decisions and unnecessary trials that could’ve been avoided had she just sat still for a few minutes. with jade, situations often escalate quickly and she can quickly lose control of a situation.

STILL LET ME SNATCH THE CROWN

stats:

— strength : 10 // jade was a boxer for a few years. not only that, but the endless sports she did as a child and many, many fights she got into left her with a lot of brute strength.

— agility : 3 // while jade did many sports, gymnastics and/or dance was not one of them. she’s not very graceful and the little agility she has came from jumping hurdles.

— stealth : 2 // jade is a classically loud person, and very clumsy. stealth is definitely not her forte.

— intellect : 5 // jade is also fantastically bad at thinking ahead. she’s not good at planning ahead. she is good at deducing things, though.

— hand to hand combat : 7 // while jade is strong physically and her boxing and karate skills do come in handy, jade isn’t particularly good with weapons, so her hand to hand combat skills are merely average.

— weaponry : 0 // jade doesn’t even know how to shoot a gun, and jade’s far too clumsy to be good with swords and knives.

physical disabilities:

— a bad punch in her left ear left jade slightly hard of hearing. she should probably use a hearing aid, but didn’t really ever have the money to fix it.

mental disorders:

— jade has severe anxiety. it can always be seen in one way or another, usually by bouncing her leg and going through every worst possible scenario in her head.

— jade also has adhd, hence her not-so-great report cards. jade initially wanted to learn in school, but her adhd made it so difficult and she got so little help that  she simply lost her motivation. 

OF ALL LIFE HAS TO GIVE

friends:

— jade doesn’t need friends. they disappoint her. also, her commitment thing...

family:

— ana paulina rosales : mother // jade’s mother was always busy, which wasn’t her fault, but they never formed a meaningful relationship. jade learned from a young age to stay away from her mother, as to not bother or inconvenience her, so while jade would certainly like to protect her mom, she rarely talks to her about anything important.

— christopher andrew qi : father // jade never met her father. she detests him for leaving her and her mom. plain and simple.

past relationships:

— god, where do i start? jade’s had countless relationships, but none that really lasted more than a week. again, fear of commitment, so...

pets:

— jade’s family never had the time or money for any pets, so none.

AND TO CRY BUT ONCE

pre-conception:

— jade’s mother, ana paulina rosales was the daughter of a filipino immigrant and a poor mexican farmer. neither of them had anything, which meant that neither did jade’s mother. determined to break the cycle of poverty, jade’s mother tried her hardest to finish high school and actually did. like many immigrants, jade’s mother knew that she had to the united states if she wanted to do anything more than be a beggar on the street. so, she hitchhiked and walked all the way to monterrey, saving as much money as she could to finally get a visa and buy a plane ticket to dallas, texas, where she met christopher andrew qi, a cuban-chinese lawyer who promised ana paulina the world. she got pregnant, and when he found out, he bailed, leaving her broke, homeless, and pregnant.

— jade was born nine months later, and lived in dallas for the first few years of her life, until her mom managed to get back on her feet and save enough money to move to new smyrna beach, florida, a quiet and quaint town filled with retired white people, so if you’re a maid, basically prime real estate. jade used to help out, too, until she had to go to school. she was diagnosed with adhd at around seven years old, but no one really did anything to help jade learn, even though she really did want to. eventually, she simply lost interest which just led to jade listening to hours worth of green day during school, which didn’t help anyone at all.

— jade realized she was bisexual when she was in seventh grade and kissed a girl in her class, which was a lot less fun than it sounded. jade spent the next few years denying her sexuality, and her town wasn’t the most accepting of gay people, especially not lgbt+ women of color, which is when jade started to get into her first few scrapes, which began escalating. jade was keeping to herself, frying ants with a magnifying glass in eighth grade-ish, and before she knew it, people were punching her. she punched them back, but she didn’t have enough time to react, and the kid hit her left ear, hard. it sent her to the emergency room, and to this day, jade’s still hard of hearing. but life went on nonetheless.

— that fight was the first time jade went to juvie. she was accused of assault and battery, and come on, this is florida. who are they gonna believe, a straight white male kid or a bisexual woman of color? yeah, jade went to juvie. after that, it mostly went downhill. no one trusted her, so she was convicted of various things that never happened, for example, drug possession and distribution, resisting arrest, trespassing, and burglary. jade pretty much stopped caring at that point, and was arrested a total of 27 times, mostly for things she hadn’t done. after that, she figured that if people thought she was guilty, then she might as well live up to their standards and started regularly breaking the law. she only got caught sometimes.

— jade had originally made her instagram account in 2013, when she was 14 years old. obviously, most 14-year-olds are ugly and disgusting, so jade didn’t have a lot of followers from the start, but as she got older and prettier, her pictures started gaining recognition. she even did a few modeling gigs, which is where she found her passion. sadly, she had to drop out of high school her senior year to work and help her mom. she did help a lot by getting sponsorships on instagram, though, which brings us to present day. i can’t say much more because it’d give away the plot, so i’ll just leave it at that.

BUT ONCE I LIVE

likes:

— shopping // jade doesn’t go shopping often because she’s super broke, but when she does, she enjoys it.

— modeling // jade finds it relaxing and it helps her focus. plus, she’s good at it.

— boxing // out of all the sports jade has done, boxing is her favorite. it lets her harness her anger and frustration into something productive.

— the beach // who doesn’t like swimming, getting tan, and getting sand up your buttcrack for weeks?

— meat // jade tried going vegetarian, but she lost so much muscle mass that she had to keep eating meat. she got a taste for it eventually.

dislikes:

— creative writing // jade is only good at things that make sense, things that have a formula to them. creative writing does not.

— insects // they’re weird and disgusting and jade does not enjoy them.

— children // jade has a little bit of a potty mouth, so kids around jade is a sure recipe for disaster.

— fish // jade eats meat, yes, but she can’t stand the smell of fish, so even cooked fish is something that jade definitely stays away from.

— police officers // they’re annoying and kind of a nuisance and definitely a wrench in jade’s illegal shenanigans.

extra:

— jade can play the drums. not well, but she can carry a beat.

— jade auditioned for america’s next top model, but didn’t make it.

— jade met chris hemsworth once. or, rather, she broke into chris hemsworth’s house and tried to get an autograph. he kicked her out and she did not get her autograph and is now not allowed within 100 feet of chris hemsworth.

[darkcivet]

Of Unsound Mind

A GaaSaku Fanfic

Alternate Links: FF.net & AO3. Pairing: Sakura/Gaara. Summary: It's only when her life has crumbled down around her that Sakura finally finds some kind of peace. GaaSaku. Modern AU. Rated M just in case. Warning: Psychologically dark elements. (No blood or gore.) Sexual themes.

There were many words used to describe Sakura Haruno during her fall from grace.

Anti-social. Cynical. Violent. Bossy. Obnoxious. Friendless.

And those were the friendly examples.

There was also, whore, bitch, psycho, tight-arse, freak, and various interpretations of the hysterical woman stereotype.

It was depressing enough to be called these names, and more heart breaking to embody them. But the worst part was that they came from people she’d never have suspected. From people she loved and had trusted for years. Some hadn’t even waited until her anger had reached its crescendo before writing her off.

She’d lost her cushy office, her friends, her aghast family, and all hope of returning to her former life; Sakura was at least grateful that her OCD meant she had a decent amount of money saved up for this seemingly unending rainy day.

It was in moments like this, that she took pride in her tight-arse ways. It was a cold slap in the face in the wake of the reality of her responsibility to clean up her mess.

And somehow, sitting on a chair, next to others arranged in a dysfunctional, sparsely spaced circle and being lectured on the meaning of her anger issues did not strike her as particularly constructive. But Sakura had no intention of reacquainting herself with her inner demons, so she had to try to put it behind her.

For years, she’d built a damn in her mind to keep her inner, sanctimonious persona quiet, but it had all come crashing down several months ago when she’d been tossed aside for a more available girlfriend. A seemingly innocuous event that many others went through and came out the other end unbroken, but not Sakura Haruno. She snapped like a proverbially twig over a roaring fire. It was like letting a beast out of a cage that had been perfectly crafted to contain it. White hot rage; she had no control of herself, and for a short while, all Sakura knew was the burning, angry harpy that lay within her mind.

The need to make someone bleed for it.

Now, she had no-one. No friends. No family. No glimmer of a hopeful future. Her inner had driven them all away.

That was why she was here of all places. A group anger management session; the judge had been clear that evading these weekly torture sessions would land her back in Konoha Psychiatric Hospital. She couldn’t go back there. Everyone there was crazy. It would drive her insane.

“Let’s begin, shall we?”

Doctor Kato – possibly the hospital’s most likeable tight-arse. She was always friendly enough to Sakura, but the pinkette could never fully respect someone who played by the rules so religiously. Squashing herself inside a tin can and answering, “how high?” whenever her superiors said, “jump”. It boggled the mind.

She sighed, sitting up straight in an effort to not be called out. Again. Today was her first session in a group and this whole anger management thing was just another part of her community service – though the question of who she was supposed to be helping right now, was anyone’s guess.

She forced herself to listen as Shizune Kato started her morning sermon.

“Anger management is the process of learning to recognise your anger for what it is and control it. Anger is an emotion we use to mask feelings of fear, inadequacy, guilt, confusion, depression, hurt, or loneliness. It is not uncommon for us to fall into this trap when we feel too helpless to do anything else.”

Sakura rolled her eyes and regressed to slouching in her chair. Shizune tended to drone on about the definition of things. As both a Clinical Psychologist and a nationally recognised motivational speaker, she was the enemy of succinctness

Sakura smiled at that.

She’d been acquainted with the brunette for years, but never truly known her. Despite her pleasant yet oddball nature, Shizune wasn’t the most charming person Sakura had ever met, especially one-on-one. They’d both been mentored by the great Lady Tsunade Senju – an actually motivational person who didn’t like to get up on podiums and talk about it.

Sakura interned with Tsunade straight out of high school; she’d been interested in psychology for years, because of her inner, fascinated with the inner workings of the human mind. Keeping her inner quiet helped her pass as “normal”, but she always got the impression that Tsunade knew her favourite protégé had issues.

Their bi-weekly “let’s build a snowman” sessions were a dead giveaway.

“Sakura?”

The pinkette snapped out of her internal musings and rattled off a few facts about herself while keeping it impersonal. Shizune gave her an odd look and Sakura sat up straight again, suddenly self-conscious.

But she couldn’t help but lose focus again as the brunette pointed to each of her patients in turn, asking for introductions. Even though this was her first group session, she knew some of these people anyway, from her time in hospital. There was the girl who’d run over her boyfriend when she found out she was pregnant. The older man who beat up the teenage boy who was screwing his trophy wife. Another girl who blamed God for her voices and repeatedly stole from and trashed her family Church. Not to mention the guy who attacked a mime because he wouldn’t give him directions.

Some Sakura knew only by face, but it was a safe bet they were all violent in some way.

But there was this one guy that everyone seemed to be giving a wide berth. He had this dark aura around him, like a solid barrier made of hate and bloodlust. His blood red hair seemed to finish off the look of death and wrath nicely. Not to mention that he was the only person she’d ever seen with a kanji tattoo on their forehead of all places.

“Gaara?”

Sakura watched the others suddenly become uninterested; she imagined Shizune only called on him because those were the rules.

The redhead grunted out his name and something inaudible; she caught the words, “temper”, “family”, and “fucking”. Shizune didn’t press any further.

Sakura couldn’t take her eyes off Gaara as the introductions continued – some clearly more enthusiastic than others.

Based on appearance alone, she gathered he fit into the goth stereotype, but she’d never been much of a profiler. Her field of study was psychiatric rehabilitation and Sakura had just been promoted before her life went to shit. She was rising fast for someone her age. And enjoying the perks that came with a higher paying job.

‘I miss my office.’

She blinked heavily as Shizune started talking again.

Gaara swivelled in his chair suddenly and unintentionally caught Sakura’s eye. Though clearly startled by her attention on him, he didn’t look away. She felt her face warm under his stare. She’d heard that, during his first therapy session, he threw a chair out the window and broke the psychiatrist’s teeth when the man had tried said “hello”. They said the shrink needed counselling after that. Though plausible, she highly doubted that had happened – he wouldn’t have been considered for group sessions, if he was that easy to rile up, surely.

“Who wants to talk about why they’re here, first?”

Shizune’s voice snapped Sakura to reality and she tore her eyes away from Gaara to listen to the pregnant girl whine about men and how unfairly the “quacks” had been treating her, but she could still feel his eyes burning a hole in her.

His dark aura shifted, and he seemed a bit content then, to Sakura. She chanced a look at him; he didn’t look ready to kill her. His reputation had to be wrong, then. She had to remind herself how easily rumours could get out of hand.

Unlike her therapy companions, Sakura had a degree in psychology. She had a many great deal of things that were no longer important anymore. Like people in her life.

“Sakura?”

She mentally cursed herself for not paying attention and sat up straight, realising she’d slumped again. “Y-yeah.”

Shizune smiled at her. “Why don’t you share something more in depth with the group.”

She wasn’t here for her health, that’s for sure.

Sakura cleared her throat, avoiding Gaara’s gaze; it was getting unnerving. “Um. I’m doing these sessions as part of my community service.” At Shizune’s insistent look, she added, “I... uh, had a breakdown.”

“That blows.” One of the girls gave her a sympathetic look.

Sakura just stared back at her. The old her would’ve smiled back and maybe engaged her in conversation; the new and improving version didn’t have the energy for that shit.

“Moving on.”

Shizune rounded off the session and they started to file out. Sakura noticed that Gaara wasn’t asked to add anything more in depth. She sighed and stood, stretching out her muscles and keeping her attention settled solely on herself; a certain redhead was still staring.

“Same time next week!” Shizune called.

Sakura hurried out, unwilling to remain under such close scrutiny any longer.

This group therapy thing was going to be exhausting.

 .:.

 “Got a light?”

Two weeks later, Sakura decided to bite the proverbially bullet. He’d been staring at her on and off, and she had finally worked up the nerve to approach him. In between bouts of self-loathing and therapeutic jogs along the beach, she’d been keeping up-to-date in the world of mental health. Call her an optimist, but she figured it would help her get back into it once all this community service was over.

It beat picking up rubbish – that was on her morning schedule.

Gaara was Shizune’s problem case, but Sakura wanted to reach out to him. She wanted to see if anything she did or said could make a difference. This would go a long way to seeing if she still had what it takes to be a Psychologist. Obviously, it would be in a non-professional capacity, so she couldn’t be reprimanded for it.

In her planning stages, Sakura noticed he took the time to smoke both before and after the sessions, like he was bolstering himself for battle and then rewarding himself for not annihilating everyone. That was a start. So, she used their common ground to start a dialogue.

Without removing the cigarette from his mouth, he looked up at her question, stared at her for a second, and then nodded his head. She swore to herself up and down that she would quit these disgusting things one day. But that day was not today.

He tossed a red lighter at her and grunted out, “this is going to kill you. You should give it up.”

She fought the urge to roll her eyes until after he turned away. “I will if you do.”

He didn’t respond.

They’d just spent an hour in a gruelling session, so he clearly needed to unwind.

Sakura took a seat two feet from him, overlooking staff parking; they were far enough away from the front doors of the hospital to not be called out, but she somehow figured Gaara was less concerned with that rule and more concerned with solitude.

She stayed quiet, settling in and lighting up. He didn’t ask for the lighter back straight away and she waited until she was ready to leave before returning it. Gaara’s pale fingers stretched out to grasp it, and she made a note of how he deliberately avoided her touch, before standing to leave.

Slow and steady; she didn’t want to startle him. It was a good start. His moods during the sessions was always dark, but some days he was clearly holding on by a thread. For all the darkness and chaos that stormed inside Sakura’s head, she had a feeling what he kept bottled up inside was worse.

 .:.

 The following week, Sakura beat Gaara to his usual smoking spot, prior to their weekly torture session. She didn’t light up during the six days they had off and felt no urge to do so until she drove into the Konoha Hospital parking lot and remembered what she was about to do.

Yeah, the dark aura around Gaara still intimidated her. And the mindless prattling of her fellow therapy inmates made her want to slap their heads together and tell them to grow up. The redhead continued to stare at her during the sessions and then ignore her when they fell into silent, mutual cancer inducing stupors. She knew it was wrong, but she couldn’t help herself.

One month on from their first interaction, she decided to finally break their monotony of silence.

And then chickened out when his head snapped around and he stared at her, suddenly, like he knew it was coming. Jade orbs stared blankly at her and she summoned her courage, mentally berating herself. She’d come this far.

“I was thinking...” Sakura drifted off; his eyes widened, and lips twitched. The cigarette hanging lazily from his mouth jerked with the movement. “...of smoking something a little stronger next week.”

He blinked slowly, almost owlishly, and then looked away from her. She almost continued talking several times, waiting for him to respond.

“Don’t do that.”

“I just–”

“You’ll just get sent back to the loony bin.”

And that was the end of that.

Sakura felt herself flush with anger; she wanted to rant and rage at him, tell him he didn’t know what the fuck he was talking about. She closed her eyes and concentrated on her breathing instead. It wasn’t her intention to fly off the handle at him. She just needed to focus. The object of her rush of anger sat quietly as she calmed herself.

And just like that, she was calm again. She sighed, put out her cigarette and turned to face him. He was looking back at her, those intense eyes curious; she almost forgot what he’d said to annoy her. “I didn’t know you cared.”

“I don’t.”

It took a few seconds to sink in, but before she could formulate a response, he stormed away from her and back toward the front doors. A full ten seconds later, Shizune’s voice drifted over to her and Sakura knew she’d lectured Gaara on the rules involving smoking near government buildings. There was no way, however, that Shizune was brave enough to confiscate them.

Sakura joined them and was both annoyed and confused when Gaara pointedly ignored her for the first time in weeks.

‘Men.’

 .:.

 Sakura arrived early the following Wednesday, and sat in her car, writing in her journal. She wanted to get down everything she was feeling before heading in there – last week, Shizune had suggested this when the pinkette let it slip that she’d almost lost her temper again. She hadn’t had a black out in almost two months. She was getting better.

But Gaara’s attitude was not conducive to her mental health.

The worried look on Shizune’s face bothered Sakura too – she’d figured out that two of her patients were smoking together, outside the hospital and wasn’t amused. That dark aura around Gaara was more powerful than Shizune’s disapproving glare, but the brunette’s made Sakura feel guilty. That was nothing, however, compared to how Sakura was feeling now.

Tsunade’s car was in the lot, today. She was here.

‘Did Shizune go running to shishou about my fascination with Gaara?’

Sakura was torn between annoyance and happiness; it wasn’t their business, but it had been too long since anyone cared if she got herself hurt. Was she supposed to feel angry or comforted? Maybe both? She was a red-faced child wrapped in a warm blanket brandishing a bloody knife with one hand and nursing a cup of hot cocoa with the other.

She wasn’t crazy. She knew she wasn’t. The dark voice inside of her was quiet and she hadn’t lost control in so long. Sakura felt like everything was falling into place. The only hiccup was where Gaara fit into everything. Anyone with eyes could see he was worse off than her – he may never get better – but she didn’t know his history. She didn’t know how bad off he was.

She had to find out, if she had any hope of putting her fascination with him in the proper context.

The tap on her car window startled her, but somehow, she wasn’t surprised to find Gaara’s questioning stare on her; rugged up against the cold, his red hair poking out from under a black beanie, and his breath fogging up her window. She took a moment to truly appreciate how good he looked before he indicated wordlessly behind him – toward their usual smoking spot – and she nodded in acquiescence.

Sakura smiled after he turned to lead the way. It seemed she wasn’t the only one that look forward to these morning rituals.

 .:.

 An hour later, Sakura was trying to sneak glances at Gaara while pretending she wasn’t interested in doing so. Tsunade had taken over the group today, with Shizune nearby taking notes, and the busty blonde was currently questioning Gaara – in a way that no-one else had the balls to do so.

Everyone else normally avoided looking at the emo boy who had a reputation for trying to kill people for looking at him wrong, but today they were staring unabashedly as he was questioned. Like he was an animal in a zoo. His simple, clipped responses delivered in angry undertones that promised pain and retribution didn’t deter Tsunade; his audience was hooked on every word.

When the blonde finally relented, everything went deadly quiet and Sakura found herself alone in watching him. Shizune and Tsunade conferred as the session came to an end and the pinkette forced herself to not get up and follow Gaara as he stormed out.

Murmuring broke out, but she ignored them, making her way over to Tsunade. The blonde hugged her.

“Sakura, it’s been too long.”

She smiled. Her first real smile directed at anyone but Gaara for a while. “Yes, shishou. I’m glad to see you.”

She wanted to question Tsunade – she undoubtedly had information on Gaara that she needed.

Shizune would be against it – that girl had never met a rule she didn’t worship – but Tsunade was the type to indulge her pupils, be they present or past. During her internship with the busty woman, Sakura had often had access to information she wasn’t supposed to know. She trusted her. She knew she wouldn’t repeat anything she read or heard. It was a level of trust Sakura had never had before and was sorely missed in her life.

That “I have no-one” voice in her head was sounding further and further away the longer she felt the warmth of her mentor’s smile on her.

‘How could I ever think shishou would turn on me?’

They both understood mental illness and didn’t judge it.

Tsunade spoke before Sakura had a chance to ask her; that mind reading thing of hers was still annoying, after all these years. “If this is about your sudden interest in a certain redhead, you know I can’t tell you anything.”

A bubble of annoyance swelled in Sakura’s chest, but as her mentor made a show of shuffling her papers, the pinkette forced herself to calm down. Shizune sat nearby, finishing off a few notes; when she was done and left to find something to eat, Tsunade indicated to Sakura to take a seat.

“I want to preface this with I understand,” Tsunade said. “Gaara’s a good-looking boy and you’ve always had a thing for the emotionally closed off type.”

“Shishou–”

“Let me finish.”

Sakura nodded her head, admonished.

The blonde pinched the bridge of her nose. “You’ve been through so much lately and your life has become a black sinkhole. You’re so cut off and confused; you know you are,” she added, when the pinkette huffed in annoyance. “It’s understandable to find comfort in a kindred soul. But Gaara’s different than you. You should be more careful with him.”

Sakura frowned. “Why?”

Tsunade lowered his head to whisper and the pinkette leaned in conspiratorially. “It’s in his file, but you didn’t hear this from me.”

Sakura nodded; her heart pounding in her chest. Doctor-patient confidentiality was still a thing between doctors, but Tsunade loosening her tongue was motivated purely on a personal level. She’d always thought of Sakura as the daughter she never had.

“What he has is a touch disorder; his anger manifests similar to an extreme case of Skin Hunger.”

Sakura nodded, understanding. Skin Hunger was a yearning to touch, basically; if Gaara’s anger was connected to this, she assumed it meant he lashed out when touched. All awhile craving that touch.

It was interesting.

“Don’t set yourself up for failure with him.”

Sakura frowned. “What do you mean?”

“All I’m saying is that whether your interest is professional or personal, don’t get your hopes up. So far, all observable outcomes from people trying to get close to him have resulted in some form of violence.”

“I already understood: you’re saying he always attacks people who touch him.”

“Or it manifests itself sexually.”

Her eyes widened. She didn’t need to know that part.

Sakura was already checking Gaara out every time he passed in her field of vision. She didn’t need to know that an accidental touch on her part could end with her flat on her back and screaming his name.

She was definitely going to make a point of not touching him.

“He is not a rapist, Sakura, I assure you.” Again, Tsunade was reading her mind. “I spent six months working with him after I was asked to profile him; he’s capable of a great many things, but he isn’t capable of that.”

‘No... he’s not going to force me.’

Sakura knew that, despite her initial concern. He was the type to make her want it. Badly.

‘He already has.’

She closed her eyes for a second, just absorbing everything Tsunade had told her. Her attraction to the redhead had started without her really noticing and escalating into full-blown, make-out session with herself.

It gave her goose bumps and made her never want to go to bed fully clothed again. And strangely, gave her a desperate craving for cheese and ice-cream.

It boggled the mind.

“Then why is he here, among people?” Sakura realised the answer the moment she’d finished asking but had to hear it.

“This is the only thing keeping him out of jail.”

Anger management for most people was a program with steps and slogans and learning about yourself.

And that annoying prayer circle thing.

For people like Gaara, it was avoiding the worst-case scenario of getting locked up and never seeing the light of day again. She felt sorry for him, though she was sure he wouldn’t appreciate it.

Sakura was torn between continuing her curiosity driven desire to crack him open and give him his space, so he could get through these sessions untouched. She really wanted to pick his brain.

(Must be the therapist in her.)

“Lady Tsunade!”

“That’s my cue.” Tsunade hugged her former apprentice. “Just be careful, Sakura.”

“I will. I promise.”

Sakura stayed in the chair for a few minutes before remembering she was technically standing Gaara up and rushed out to find him. He was leaning against the building, his hands in his pockets, eyes closed, and no cigarette to be found.

She hesitated to disturb him, but as her feet carried her over to the enigmatic redhead, he seemed to come to life and turned to face her. The look he gave her was new; she wasn’t sure if it was calculating or distrustful.

Had he heard her conversation with Tsunade? No... he’d have been too far away, and they were whispering. But her shishou had questioned him pretty intensely and Sakura stayed behind to talk with her afterward. Perhaps he just put two and two together. Her mind went back to what Tsunade had said about being his therapist for a while.

‘They already know each other.’

Maybe he wasn’t as bothered by the questioning as she’d thought.

“I’m not a good person,” he said gruffly. “But I won’t hurt you.”

‘Is there anyone around here that can’t see right through me?’

“Okay...”

He sighed.

They shared sessions once a week, and every time, Sakura followed him outside afterward to ask for either a cigarette or a light. He would grunt one-word answers to her questions and then take off on his Kawasaki without so much as a glance in her direction. But today had gotten under his skin, apparently.

He watched her, waiting to see if she would flee from him.

She gave him a small smile. “I was thinking...”

He scoffed. “You do too much of that.”

“...that maybe we can do an experiment.”

He didn’t ask for clarification, but the question weighed heavily in his eyes.

“I... think maybe we could do that thing Shizune suggested last week. Together, I mean.”

She was too cowardly to put it into words, worried he’d hear the hope in her voice. Basically, Shizune had suggested to all her patients to let their anger out on something constructive – kind of like kickboxing or tae kwon do – in a controlled environment, with a partner. Sakura tried to school her features so Gaara didn’t think she was excited by the idea of getting hot and heavy with him. His calculating stare pierced right through her and he raised a non-existent eyebrow.

“If I let my demon out, it will break you in two.”

He really knew how to end a conversation.

 .:.

 “You ever tried to kill yourself?”

Every week she asked a question, he answered it, then he asked her something, and the cycle went on. It was the only experiment she suggested that he would go along with. Now, with only one more shared group therapy session left, Sakura was feeling the deadline to break through him fast approaching; the end of having him in her life.

She thought of the craziest question she could conjure; the rumours of his violence having escalated to murder lingering on the edge of her mind. And the question blurted itself out of her mouth before she could stop it.

Gaara didn’t look offended though, just nodding his head slowly. After a minute, he asked “you ever killed anyone?”

“No.”

She came close once, though. It wasn’t something she was particularly proud of. It was a line she didn’t want to cross. Even in her darkest moments while her inner was in control, that last breath and final punch to the gut never came. She never did it. It was why she’d been carted off to the loony bin rather than jail.

Sakura was not grateful to her inner, but rather grateful it at least wouldn’t do that.

“It’s almost the same thing,” Gaara said. “Except the pain isn’t yours.”

Her heart was racing now, but she just had to know. “What does it feel like?”

Sakura had no idea what she was expecting from him – perhaps, “horrible” or “it feels like dying”. She held her breath, waiting.

“Only an idiot would ask that.”

She seethed. “Fuck you. It was just a question. Why are you such an arsehole?”

He reached over to her and she stiffened. Gaara gave her a wry grin and plucked the unlit cigarette from her fingers without making physical contact; so absorbed in their game, she hadn’t remembered she was still holding it.

“It’s my turn to ask a question.”

She huffed. “So, ask.”

“Why are you such an arsehole?”

Sakura sighed. She rubbed her forehead and groaned. His light chuckle startled her. “What’s so funny?”

He waved her cigarette at her patronisingly. “I don’t think you understand the rules of this game.”

“I don’t like this game anymore.”

“You don’t like to lose.”

“What? I’m not losing.” She frowned, realising her slip. “This isn’t a competition.”

He just shrugged.

Sakura glared at him; as usual, he was unfazed. The nerve of him! When he continued to ignore her heated glare and put her smoke in his mouth, she growled. “Fine. I’m an arsehole because it keeps people away who I don’t want to deal with.”

He stopped flicking his lighter to stare at her. “And that’s all?”

“No.”

He gave her a Cheshire grin. “Why else?”

“Why else?”

Gaara nodded and inhaled; shuddering and closing his eyes for a few minutes. He looked like a satisfied cat that had just dismembered a bird. Or maybe a whole flock of them. She could just visualise the speck of blood on the corner of his mouth while his tongue darted out to taste it again.

She shuddered, then shook herself, almost forgetting to answer his question. “I don’t like that goody-two shoes act. I used to play it all the time. It’s annoying. Why are you so pushy?”

“It’s fun. Why were you in the loony bin?”

Sakura bit her lip to keep from snapping something inappropriate at him. It wasn’t until she regained control from her inner that she’d been locked up. It wasn’t fun. It wasn’t a game. She’d have thought he, of all people, wouldn’t make light of that.

“Sorry,” he whispered.

She offered a small smiled. “No, it’s no worse than me asking you what it feels like to kill someone. I shouldn’t have asked it. I just...”

“Wanted to know.”

“How do you read me so well?”

Gaara shrugged. The truth was, it was like looking into a mirror – one with pink hair and a cute little nose, but a mirror nonetheless. She was a version of himself without the need to tear things apart. He loved that.

Sakura fiddled with the hem of her shirt. She wanted to avoid that murder question, but she didn’t want to ask anything trivial. Everything seemed bland by comparison.

“Why... when did you start smoking?”

He snorted. “Lame.”

“Stop telling me how stupid my questions are and answer me.”

Gaara stared at her blankly. “I was thirteen.”

“Why?”

He sighed. “My turn.”

“Sorry.” Again.

He nodded but said nothing. After a few minutes, she started to fidget. As soon as she opened her mouth to tell him to ask her a question, he spoke.

“When did you start smoking?”

“Talk about lame questions.” She giggled when he glared at her. “Fine. I was nineteen. But I don’t smoke often. Never have. Uh... why–”

“No more simple questions. I’m bored.”

She bit her lip. “I noticed you don’t touch people.”

“That’s not a question.”

“Can I touch you?”

He didn’t stiffen like she thought he would, just stared at her – almost unseeingly. “No. Why do you want to?”

She blushed. “Uh... because...”

He rolled his eyes.

“Craziest place you can imagine having sex.”

“On a plane.” Gaara held her gaze unblinkingly. “The last time you had sex?”

“Uh.” Her face must look like a tomato by now. “Um. Maybe... a year ago.”

Gaara had put out his cigarette (her cigarette, the thief), and was leaning closer to her. She could feel his breath on her skin. She had to get the topic away from sex before she touched him and let him crawl inside her. And die. She would literally die.

“Uh...” She cleared her throat. “Where else in the world would you rather be right now?”

That was a safe topic, surely.

“Inside you.”

‘Fuck me.’

She stuttered. “What happened to you not wanting to touch me?”

“I never said I didn’t want to.”

“I thought–”

“Doctor Senju filled your head with the he can’t touch people routine?”

Sakura growled at him. “Are you accusing her of lying to me?”

“Just skirting around the truth.”

“She warned me to be careful with you.”

“Kittens aren’t supposed to be masochists,” he snarled.

“I’m not a cat.”

“Yes, you are.”

She frowned at him. “What’s gotten into you?”

Gaara smirked devilishly, his fingers now tugging at the top button of her shirt. She made no move to stop him, but Sakura had gone stiff, terrified of the animalistic look in his eyes.

He stood, leaning over her, and shoved her backwards; she’d been sitting on the edge of a concrete garden, hedge flowers at her back. Gaara held her down, climbing over her; she spared only a momentary thought for the fact that her shirt was getting dirty and was laying at an odd angle before gasping. His hand was on her throat; his body encased hers. Fingernails scraped along her neck; not enough to bleed but enough to hurt.

“Do you ever dream of me?”

Gaara was continuing their game, even as he nipped her throat and settled between her legs.

“Y-yes.”

Gaara shifted his weight on her to kick her legs apart. “Is this what you wanted?”

She licked her lips. “Y-yes.”

He chuckled when she groaned. There was a sharp pain along the back of her legs from being held down like this, but she ignored it. What she really wanted suddenly scared her. “Wait.”

Gaara growled; his grip on her throat tightened and Sakura gasped for air. “No more waiting. He wants you.”

Sakura coughed and spluttered. “He?”

He added a little more pressure but eased enough to allow her airflow. “Yes. He’s been thinking about you hot, wet, and wriggling underneath me.”

“Are you...”

It suddenly clicked. Sakura had an inner – a voice that spoke to her and lashed out. A female voice. It wasn’t inconceivable that Gaara had something similar. From her one-on-one sessions, she’d begun to unravel her inner; to see the reflection of her psyche for what it really was. But clearly, Gaara hadn’t made that leap into redefining himself. He still thought of his inner voice as something separate from himself. Something that can’t be overcome because it had a mind of its own.

She pushed her pity down and shifted into medic mode. He needed her more than she needed him, right now.

“You can pull away if you want.”

It pained her to deny herself something she had grown so desperate for, but maybe taking it slow and letting this come more naturally would be good for her, too. Sakura had no doubt they would progress that far eventually, but in the bushes, just out of sight of the hospital entrance, was not the place to have sex with him for the first time.

They had time.

“Gaara.” She reached up and touched his forehead. The complicated kanji felt just as smooth under her fingers as the rest of him did. Almost like it wasn’t even there. “Push him away.”

He growled down at her, almost like that persona was speaking through him. “I will fuck you. I don’t play games and I don’t fuck around. Next time you push me, I’ll push back. This is your only warning.”

He shoved her again, and then jumped up, moving away from her. But he didn’t go far before half turning to frown at her. “If you do that again, he’ll kill you.”

She swallowed heavily, watching him through her blurry vision as he limped away from her; whether he was in pain from something he did to himself or being so turned on, she couldn’t tell.

She’d pushed him too far. She knew it.

And if it wasn’t for the fact that he had already proven himself to be possessive, Sakura would worry about never seeing him again.

No.

He wasn’t done with her yet.