#do you only watch dimly lit live action dramas???

[cartoonus-maximus]

Honestly can't stand when people on here complain about comic book art or animated films "looking bad," but their complaints always end up boiling down to the thing being "too stylized." Like, buddy?? That is the point!! It's supposed to be stylized!!

[moonlit-stay]

Kinktober 2022: Day 15

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Pairing: Hyunjin x Female Reader

Kink: Hair Pulling

Genre: Smut

Word Count: 1k

Warnings: Soft!Dom Hyunjin, Sub!Fem reader, established relationship, reader is very sensitive to Hyunjin's touch, hair pulling (male and female receiving), slight cockwarming, rough sleepy sex, unprotected sex, creampie

Please let me know if I missed anything

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Color(s) Of This Fic: Seafoam and Periwinkle <3

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If you are under the age of 18, please do not interact with this fic. This fic contains inappropriate content and is strictly 18+

Everything in not only this event, but all of my work in general is consensual. Even if not stated within the work.

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Enjoy :)

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The hours grew late as the light from the TV flashed in the dark room. Hyunjin's form sat on the couch with his knees brought to his chest as his eyes stay glued to the screen. His diary, freshly written in and safely sat on the coffee table, accompanied by his favorite pen and a half drank americano.

You shuffle out to the living room with one of Hyunjin's large t-shirts hanging loosely on your frame, sleep desperate to take over your form as you slowly make your way over to Hyunjin. He peers over at you, pausing his drama as he watches you shuffle your way in front of him. He gently places his hands on your waist, pulling you closer before resting his forehead on your tummy.

"Hi, angel." He quietly greets, feeling your hands carefully embrace his head.

"Hi, Jinnie." You mumble back, watching as he tilts his head up to look at you.

He gazes up at you, his eyes soft and beautiful as he smiles, his eyes forming into small crescents when he does. You meet his eyes, noticing how they twinkle in the dimly lit room as you mirror his smile, admiring just how beautiful he looks.

"C'mere." He softly says, adjusting himself so he's sitting straight before he carefully pulls you onto his lap, your thighs on either side of his as you straddle him.

You wrap your arms around his neck before you rest your head on his shoulder, his arms winding around your middle to hold you close. You two stay clung to one another for a short while, enjoying the warm embrace and overall comfort the other's presence brings.

Hyunjin carefully rakes his fingers through your hair, admiring how soft your hair is as it laces through his long fingers. You hum at the feeling, sinking further into his embrace as you bury your face in his neck.

"That feels good." You mumble against his skin.

"Yea?" He asks, gently rubbing at your scalp.

"Yea, feels good, Jinnie."

He continues his actions, altering between massaging your scalp, and raking his fingers through your hair before he grabs a small handful of your hair and gently tugs at the roots. You let out a small whine at the feeling, a slight smirk appearing on Hyunjin's face as he repeats the action. Just like before, another small whine leaves your lips as you squirm on his lap.

"I forgot how sensitive my baby is when she's sleepy." He coos, slowly trailing his hands down your body until they reach your hips.

He pulls your hips forward, a soft moan slipping past your lips at the friction before he guides your hips to slowly grind on him. Your grip on him tightens as your breath hitches, soft moans quickly slipping past your lips. He sits you back on his knees, quickly pulling his sweatpants down just enough for his hard length to spring free before he pulls you forward once again, pulling your panties to the side and slowly pushing into you. You whimper at the stretch, squirming against him as he inches further into your tight heat.

"Easy, baby. Just relax for me, ok?" He whispers against your skin, holding you in place as he pushes further into you until he bottoms out. "Let me make you feel good."

You moan at his words, your head spinning as he rests his thumb on your clit, rubbing slow circles against the bud as your head falls back.

Hyunjin watches your face contort in pleasure as he thumbs at your clit. Your eyes blown wide, and hair a mess as beautiful noises leave your parted lips. He grabs a fistful of your hair, tugging on the strands as he pulls you into a heated kiss, lips messily colliding as you moan against his lips. You feel Hyunjin's length throb against your walls and you absentmindedly clench around him, a moan slipping past his lips in response.

With his hand still tangled in your locks, he wraps his other arm around your waist, holding you up against him as he thrusts up into you.

"So tight," he moans out his hands falling to hold your hips in place as he pistons into you.

Loud, high-pitched moans spill from your lips as the feeling of Hyunjin's bare length pressed against your walls sends you into overdrive. Your head cloudy with pleasure as you desperately hold onto Hyunjin's biceps.

"God, you're so fucking sensitive for me." He groans out, watching how you react to his every touch and movement with a loud whine or moan.

He pulls you flush against his chest, wrapping his arms around you and holding you in place as he continues to thrust up into you. You bury your face into his neck as moans of his name tumble from your lips. Your right arm wraps around his shoulders as your left trails up to the back of his neck, your fingers weaving into his hair, involuntarily tugging at the strands when the pleasure becomes overwhelming.

Hyunjin groans in response, burying his face into your neck and holding you as close as possible as he roughly pounds into you.

"Jinnie," you mewl out, your voice being cut off by a loud moan of Hyunjin's name tearing from your throat.

"I know, angel, I know." He breathes out, his thrusts growing sloppy as your legs tremble against him. "Cum with me."

Your vision goes white as your eyes roll back, a scream leaving your lips as you cum around Hyunjin, your walls fluttering around his length. Hyunjin thrusts into you a few more times before he cums inside you with a moan, collapsing back onto the couch with you still secured in his embrace.

Loud pants fill the room as you both try and even out your breathing. Hyunjin presses a kiss to your forehead before connecting your lips in a tender kiss.

After shy smiles, and giggles, soft eyes, and gentle pecks, Hyunjin picks you up, his length still buried inside you as your arms and legs wrap tightly around him. He makes his way to your shared room, quiet hums leaving his lips as your breathing evens out.

"Come on, baby. Let's get you cleaned up."

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Main Masterlist

Kinktober 2022 Masterlist

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*·°Author's Note°·*

In all honesty, all of my content for kinktober is self-indulgent, but days 1, 5, 11, 13, 15 (today), 19, and 20 are REALLY self-indulgent.

I am not sorry, honestly. I needed this😩

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°·*Taglist*·°

@kpophubb @whatudowhennooneseesyou @skzgallll

Send me a DM or an ask if you'd like to be added to the taglist!!

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·°*Other Tings*°·

©All rights reserved to Moonlit-Stay. Reposting, modification, translation, and plagiarism of any kind is NOT tolerated. Please notify me if you see any work similar to my own.

Released: October 15th, 2022

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Please reblog my works. Share your thoughts if you'd like, even if it's just a simple keyboard smash.

I read every caption, tag, reply, ask, and dm. Feedback is what motivates me to continue to create content <3

[epochofbelief]

Under the Influence: Prologue

A Throne of Glass/A Court of Thorns and Roses Youtube/College Crossover

alwayss-reading masterlist

 Hey! I said this was chapter one in my announcements but it’s actually the prologue:) Please let me know if you want to be tagged! Enjoy! 

Triggers: cheating, a break up

PROLOGUE

“Dorian? It’s late.”  

“Aelin.” Something about Dorian’s tone had me sitting up a little straighter. “Have you checked your phone in the last half hour?” 

I glanced at my watch. It was nearly midnight. Chaol had just left after watching a movie with me and I hadn’t had a chance to catch up on my social media.  

 “No, why do you ask? I’ll check now,” I said, putting Dor on speaker and sliding up to check my apps. “Did Rifthold Weekly post those pictures from my photoshoot yet?” 

“Stop!” My finger hovered above the Instagram app on the screen. “Do not check your phone. I’ll be at your place in ten minutes. Do not check your phone Aelin, or so help me I will never, ever make another late-night dessert run for you again.” 

“Can you please just tell me what’s going on? It is bad?”  

 In the pause before he answered, all my usual anxieties came flooding in, including everything I worried about daily—public scandal, being cancelled, really bad hate mail, particularly nasty anti-Aelin Ash Instagram accounts.  

 “No. Do not check your phone, Aelin. I mean it.” He hung up. 

I usually didn’t listen to him, but Dorian sounded really serious about this one. I tossed my phone onto the couch. 

Dorian was only a few years older than me. In addition to his status as my manager, he was one of my closest friends. I knew when he meant business, and the fact that he was rushing to my house at midnight on a Sunday meant something big was happening. Normally, I checked social media every hour or so to see what was going on with my followers and subscribers.  

But Dorian’s tone and rush to my place worried me. Only one thing could make him so serious: the threat of me being cancelled.  

I shook my head. No. I thought over everything that could have possibly happened that would make Dorian act like this. My legal team had a tight handle on every piece of content I ever released—podcast, Tiktok, Instagram, YouTube, even the few Snapchats I posted every once in a while. It was virtually impossible for me to say or do anything that could get me in any sort of trouble in the public eye.  

That made me feel a little better. I took a deep breath and watched my hands. Maybe if I willed it hard enough, they would stop shaking. After all, I probably had nothing to worry about. I padded into the kitchen to find something sweet to eat.   

Seven minutes later, Dorian burst into the house (he had a key) and made a beeline straight for me. I offered him the bag of chocolates I was snacking on, but he declined. I didn’t get a clear look at his face until he placed both his hands on my shoulders and stared down into my eyes. I stifled a sigh. Dorian really was quite attractive. That might have been one of the factors that contributed to me hiring him two years ago. I had been deeply upset when Dorian contacted me right at the start of my career asking to be my manager, not my boyfriend. But he was off limits for about a thousand reasons, and of course, I had Chaol.  

I shook my head and stared into Dorian’s pale, uncharacteristically solemn expression. “Have you talked to Chaol today?”  

I nodded slowly. Odd. Dorian knew my every spare moment was spent with Chaol. “He left like twenty minutes ago. We watched a movie.” 

Dorian let out a long breath and stalked out of the kitchen, now rubbing his forehead with his fingers, muttering under his breath.  

“Dorian. Would you cut the crap and spit it out? Tell me what the hell is going on!” I demanded, stomping over to prevent him from walking deeper into my home.  

“About an hour ago, some photos were leaked. Of Chaol. . . With another girl.”   

I blinked. “Okay. . . Chaol gets photographed with people all the time. So do I. Those are all rumors. Everyone knows Chaol and me are together.” 

“These photos aren’t like the others.” 

“Tell me, Dorian,” I said when my manager refused to meet my eyes. I had a feeling that nothing would be the same after what he said next. Because whatever was going on with Chaol would affect me, my following, my career in some way or another.  

“You’ve heard of Nesryn Faliq? The TikTok star?” 

“Sure.” A horrible sinking feeling settled into my stomach. Nesryn had a bit of a reputation for drama on the Internet. 

Dorian brandished his phone. “You’re going to see them sooner or later,” he said. 

 I took the phone and slowly tilted my head to see. I nearly dropped the phone when I saw the screen. My boyfriend, lips locked with Nesryn, in a dimly lit parking lot, not a centimeter of space separating the two of them. One of his hands gripped her ass, the other was tangled in her dark hair. From what I could tell, her hands were somewhere under his shirt.   

“No. No, no, no. Chaol wouldn’t do this to me,” I managed to say, shoving the phone back into Dorian’s hands and making a beeline for mine, powering it on before Dorian could stop me.  

My Instagram was blowing up (more than normal) already. My DM’s were full of the pictures of Chaol and Nesryn, from various angles, the pictures sent from fans and haters and gossip accounts alike. Neither Chaol nor Nesryn had posted any responses to the images yet; of course, it was late on a Sunday night and I doubted anything would start happening until tomorrow.  

I took a quick peek at some of the photos to read what the gossip accounts were saying about the pictures. 

“Is this the end of Chaolin?”  

“Aelin Ash’s delicious boyfriend. . . Cheating?”  

I nearly threw my phone at the television.   

“He’s. . . cheating on me?” Was all I managed to say as I slumped sideways on the couch.  

Dorian came to set next to me, pulling me to rest on his shoulder. “I’m sorry, Ae.” 

I let myself lean against Dorian for a moment. It would be smart if I took a few moments to process everything, decide on a rational course of action.   

So after about two seconds, I rose from the couch.  

“That bastard is going to pay for this,” I said through gritted teeth. I was not going to be sad about this. No, it was time for Aelin Ash to get angry. “I’m gonna Tweet something. I can’t let this fester all night.” 

Dorian plucked my phone out of my grip. He’d moved from the couch to my position in front of the TV without my notice. “You are not Tweeting. We have to be absolutely positive that these pictures are what they are—” 

I fixed him with what I thought was my most withering stare. He ignored it. 

“And then we have to make sure that you come off as the bigger person in all this. Remember your promise to yourself? No internet drama?” 

I kicked the couch. “Yes,” I mumbled. Why did Dorian have to be so reasonable? “But this one’s out of my hands! Chaol started it.” I wanted to scream. I wanted to go key Chaol’s car. Or better yet, set it on fire.  

“And we’re going to let him explain himself before you act.” 

“I want things between us to be over. Right now.” I kicked the couch again. It felt good. 

“Wait til tomorrow and I promise you can call him and force him to explain and then kick his ass to the curb not a moment later. Then we’ll figure out a way to respond publicly. You and Chaol have to work this out peacefully so that you can come out of this looking strong and reasonable. The last thing we want is for the entire Internet to start taking sides.”  

I stalked away from the couch. Barely an hour ago, Chaol and I had been cuddled up next to each other watching some rom-com from twenty years ago. How dare he cheat on me and then waltz into my house like he owned the place? How dare he touch me after he made out—and possibly did more—with Nesryn Faliq?  

I’d have to get a new couch. Maybe even a new house.  

“Aelin?”  

I threw up my hands. “Fine! I’ll wait. Go home and get some rest.” 

But Dorian shook his head. “Oh no, I’m couching it tonight. If you need me, I want to be right here.” 

I rolled my eyes. “I don’t need a babysitter, Dor. I’m not going to do anything.” 

He looked at me sadly. “I know you don’t need a babysitter, Ae. This is in case you need a shoulder to cry on.” I opened my mouth to respond but he cut me off. “And that’s final!” 

I huffed out a large breath but relented. “Fine. But I have a guest bedroom, you know. You don’t have to couch it.” 

“Nah, I’m crashing right here,” he said.  

I shook my head and turned to go upstairs. “Good night, Dorian! And thanks.” 

“I’m here if you need me!” Was all he shouted.   

I rolled my eyes in the dark hallway. I wouldn’t cry over some jerk who couldn’t keep his dick in his pants. No, Aelin Ashryver Galathynius of the Aelin Ash YouTube empire did not get upset over losers like Chaol.  

But about an hour later, when I’d given up on sleeping for the rest of the night after tossing and turning, I padded downstairs and into the living room. Dorian sat up immediately.  

“Dorian—” I said, and my voice caught on his name. 

“Come here.” 

I resumed my place next to him on the couch and let him hold me as I cried.

TAGLIST (a smol one)

@elriel4life​

[marewriteblr]

Traits And Quirks For Characters In Fantasy (list)

idk if I’m the only one, but when creating characters for my wips, I like to google lists of traits and quirks to give a bit more depth to them. and since I mostly write fantasy, I thought my characters deserved some more fantasy-related traits and quirks, so here’s a list of 150+ traits and quirks for characters in a fantasy setting!! hope it helps some of you too

has tattoos that keep changing

bad vision—takes magical potion to see clearly

addicted to magical food or drink

weird things happen when they laugh, sneeze, cough…

sees things that aren‘t there—or are they?

speaks in rhymes

has a wandering scar

has a wound that never stops bleeding

shows symptoms of a curse but pretends to not know how they got it

physical signs when lying, eg hair growing unnaturally fast

can summon any mythical creature easily

has a mythical creature for a pet

brings a slight breeze with them whenever they enter a room

was dead once

refuses to eat certain type of food for no specific reason as though it were amoral or inethical

obsession with a particular period in history

obsession with a magical creature/species

doesn‘t dance or make music because weird things happen

haunted by a ghost, their best companion

always has a candle lit (eg for their ghost companion)

can speak a mystery language only very few people understand

can turn the light of single stars on and off as they please

used to be part of a secret society

wears shoes with wings, no one knows if they actually work

can predict the future correctly for a ridiculous/bizarre reason

lives at court, no one knows why or where they came from but they let them stay

can only talk in questions or riddles

always seen reading spell books though they can‘t do magic

always seen reading books though they can‘t read. bonus if the reason for this is magical

tells everyone about the time they did something they‘ve certainly never done

tells everyone they used to be a dragon, is obviously lying

is actually blind, no one has noticed

never speaks, only talks to people telepathically, they’re used to it by now

has blood of unnatural colour, tells the weirdest stories of why that is—story changes every time

sacrificed 7 years of their life to magical creature who might claim them any minute

sacrificed a body part, determined to get it back

sacrificed their good looks

always learning spells by heart and seen using them the next day as though they’d prepared it for the occasion

has a secret identity, eg can do a certain type of magic and sneaks out to commit crimes/perform on stage/meet their companions…

keeps getting into trouble because people are convinced they have magic, but they don’t

belongs to a human/non-magical species but was kidnapped years ago and never went back

is actually a ghost

is immortal but doesn‘t know anything about history—can tell you all about the migration of dwarf antelopes on their continent throughout the centuries though

always corrects people on history/mythology facts with things they can‘t possibly know if they weren‘t there themselves

allergic to magic. bonus if they‘re a powerful wizard or deity

obsessed with knives and swords. you can fight them but they‘re more interested in the crafting of your blade

allergic to a certain spell and only that spell for no apparent reason

always has a certain item or food in their pocket in case they need to bribe a magical creature today

miscorrects others‘ pronunciation of spells and pronounces them wrong themselves (eg emphasis on wrong syllable)

talks in a fake elf accent to piss off elves

pretends to be a species they clearly aren’t judging by their appearance, and gets defensive when told so, calling people racist

gets themselves into trouble by trying to seduce nymphs when drunk. also an alcoholic

is cursed to never remember any names—has forgotten their real name a long time ago so no one can ever have that power over them

introduces themselves with a different name every time they meet someone

heavily worships an evil trickster god

ominously refers to themselves in third person

doesn‘t walk but jumps from roof to roof instead

predicts the future but is always horribly wrong

challenges people to a quest all the time

seems to know every person in the entire kingdom

seems to be enemies with every person in the entire kingdom

spends a lot of time in dimly-lit taverns seeking opponents for a strange board game

likes to look for bizarre monsters deep in the forest

talks to their dagger

talks too much during sword fights

gets involved in sword fights but only ever carries a paper sword with them

makes up crazy and hardly believable stories when asked about their past to hide their guilt

collects a particular type of item that can only be found on adventurous quests to dangerous places

has large horns on their head despite their species having no such thing, refuses to tell anyone why

never seen eating

never seen sleeping

takes every time anyone mentions something being hard or dangerous to do as a challenge to try it

wears an eyepatch solely for the looks of it

collects dangerous enchanted jewellery

random hissing

an excellent storyteller, like unnaturally excellent

politically involved and fights for giants‘ rights

has a finger that‘s mysteriously shorter than the others

is best friends with a demon

is nocturnal but loves sunlight

pretends to be completely resistant to pain

always sneaking around

has a tattoo that keeps dis- and reappearing

enchants people with their acting

has a wooden prosthesis

doesn‘t wear shoes

changes eye colour every day

wears gloves all the time and tells people it‘s for their safety

hears the trees talk to them

believes the apocalypse is near

pretends to be immortal

breaks into people‘s homes to steal food. no jewellery. only food

pins pressed flowers to their walls

believes that flowers grant wishes

has random visions of other people‘s pasts that aren‘t necessarily true but always get them into trouble

strongly believes in reincarnation

talks in a different accent every day

is convinced they are cursed

sees every minor conflict as a challenge to a sword fight

fights their battles using nothing but darts

is an archer and also blind or missing an arm

accidentally stabs themselves. a lot.

always carrying poison around „just in case“

is at fault for the fall of a mighty god

knows all about mythology

always up to date regarding drama and gossip between the gods

immediately scared they’re about to be cursed whenever someone raises their voice

still mourns over the death of a friend

whatever they touch breaks instantly

chews on their wand (definitely not a good idea)

always wears their hair tied up into a bun, is longer than rapunzel‘s when worn loose

brags they were good at picking locks but actually just hit it really hard until it breaks

accidental shapeshifting

still waiting for an ominous prophecy to foretell their destiny

makes weird/seemingly unnecessary bargains with strangers

has something slightly off about their appearance that makes people stop in their tracks to watch them

unhealthy obsession with cloaks

is a great fan of wizards. collects wands and hats like action figures

horses don‘t like them, they ride a wolf instead

sings the spells they use

constantly mumbling to themselves or someone others can‘t see

can duplicate themselves but can‘t do math so they‘re always a bit confused

has a leaf sticking to the back of their hand. don‘t ask them why

is a painter, travels very far to obtain a particular kind of paint

sketches their dreams in a book after they come to them at night

always seems to be charged with electricity

freckles on their cheeks dance when laughing or when light hits them

makes up prophecies and tells strangers about them

grows wings when high up due to fear of falling

gets arrested regularly for pranking nature spirits and deities

sneezes when using magic

insomniac, needs a particular spell or magical food/herb to fall asleep

magic makes them fall asleep (when they use it or when others use it nearby)

mixes the weirdest potions all day

can‘t eat spicy food, literally breathes fire

necromancy but only to revive their dead cat

turns the same colour of any food they eat

dreams of becoming a knight

horrible short term memory but can easily recite anything they read two centuries ago

makes their eye colour look white just to mess with people

can‘t remember spells for shit. says them incorrectly which always goes horribly wrong

terrible handwriting. bonus if they’re a messenger who has to send important letters on a daily, causing things to go very wrong

can correctly guess anyone‘s magical power on a scale from 1-10. is stupid enough to point it out aloud, too

wears cloaks that are way too long

carries a fake sword on their hip

carries way more weapons on them than necessary

uses their dagger as a toothpick

plays with dagger when thinking

supernaturally heavy sleeper

gets the different species mixed up a lot

tells everyone how many people they‘ve killed in their life

a die hard fan of a well-known assassin

a die hard fan of shakespeare‘s puck

desperately wants to be abducted by the fae

heavily affected by the phase of the moon

[serotocin38]

As Film & TV Genres

Shen Qingqiu as Murder Mystery: Shen Qingqiu would make both the perfect villain and the perfect detective in a murder mystery show or movie. Just imagine... A camera slowly panning into a dimly lit room, covered wall to wall with pictures and newspaper clippings. A silhouette of a man stands in front of the wall, slowly fanning himself. The fan snaps shut with a very satisfying click as everything suddenly becomes clear, and the mystery is to be unveiled. Honestly, it’s the fan. The whole “hiding half of his face behind his fan” thing could definitely be a perfect modus operandi for a killer shrouded by shadows, or the detective who is cold and aloof on the outside, but hides a dark and painful past behind that mask. Also, if Shen Qingqiu were the detective, he’d be the one that values his work above all else, causing him to have a nonexistent love and social life. But who can break this workaholic shell of his? Cough, definitely not his coworker who also happens to be the killer he’s chasing, cough

Luo Binghe as Thriller: Not only does thriller go hand-in-hand with mystery, but a thriller film is characterized by feelings of both anticipation and apprehension. If that doesn’t describe Luo Binghe, I honestly have no idea what else can fit him. If one were to ask Shen Qingqiu pre-relationship what he felt about Binghe, it would probably be along the lines of “he makes me want to shit myself in fear, but he’s also kind of sweet and makes really good food, but also I’m terrified of him”. I think it would be cinematic gold for a movie to open up with: It’s an empty room, backlit with a foreboding red glow. A man walks in slowly, his footsteps echoing with each slow thud. And then he chuckles, low and quiet, head cocked to the side tauntingly. All we can see is his cold smile, the slight curl of a sneer or a smirk. Maybe he even licks his lips once, showing a glint of canines. And he says one line before the screen goes black, “I’m coming for you”. And we’re left wondering, who is this character? Is he a good guy? A bad guy? Either way, he’s pretty sexy, but also a bit scary because what if he’s a psycho murderer? We’ll just have to find out...

Wei Wuxian as Western: Hear me out, hear me out. Westerns are generally pretty cheesy with the exaggerated drawl, the gunfights, the macho men slowly walking towards each other with a squinted eyes, flicking aside the toothpick they’ve been chewing on the whole movie. But it’s exactly that setting that I think would fit Wei Wuxian perfectly. It’s a rom-com and action salad tossed together with a handful of tumbleweeds and a healthy dose of dusty streets. Wei Wuxian would be the charismatic outlaw who thinks he has no cares in the world aside from booze, women, and righting the wrongs of the money-greedy government. But he was wrong. Because suddenly, his best friend gets shot in front of him, and his friend’s dying wish is for someone to watch over his little brother. So suddenly Wei Wuxian, the lawless loner, is saddled with some law-abiding teenager who seems to hate his guts. And Wei Wuxian can’t exactly get rid of him, so he puts up with this burden who slowly grows on him as they travel the Western wilderness on horseback. Wei Wuxian tries teaching the kid the ways of drinking and flirting, but the kid’s obviously not interested. In fact, the kid’s disapproving glare every time Wei Wuxian returns with his saddlebags filled with cash is actually starting to make him feel guilty?? Anyway, my point being, it’s not a Western without some cheesy romance ;)

Lan Wangji as Nature Documentary: There’s not much of a reason for this other than the fact I feel like Lan Wangji would have a very soothing, deep voice that would be perfect for narrating nature documentaries. Just imagine him saying, “The male peacock continues to flaunt his beautiful feathers in front of the drab, colorless females. He is rejected again... and again... and again. They don’t seem to notice his efforts............... *soft sigh*”. And that’s all the reasoning I feel is necessary to provide.

Xie Lian as Reality TV: With Xie Lian’s ability to be so unbelievably unlucky, he really needs a crew of cameramen following him around. They wouldn’t even need to script fake drama into it because his life is so crazy to start with. He gets dragged into conflict after conflict when all he really wants to do is to settle down in his run-down shrine and live a domestic life. Xie Lian may not have many brain cells to spare, but he’s still the unwilling parent figure of the Upper Heavenly Court, and they cannot function properly without his interference. Not to mention, he often has a band of “children” he has no relations to following him around (e.g. Lang Ying, Gu Zi, small Hua Cheng, Ban Yue, Quan Yizhen, Shi Qingxuan, Qi Rong, Mu Qing, Feng Xin, etc.). His viewers are very sympathetic towards the 800+ year-old virgin who is immortalized at the age of 17 to be saddled with such a huge responsibility (but they love the drama, so they’re not that sympathetic).

Hua Cheng as Action: If a building were to explode, the only person who would turn and walk away in slow motion would be Hua Cheng. There’s no doubt that he has a flare for the dramatics, wanting to stand out and do extreme things to grab attention. But plot twist, Hua Cheng isn’t the hero of the story, no, no. He’s actually the “bad guy”, but he’s really, really, really good at his job, so we just watch him escape over and over again, running back home to his little wife who is waiting day and night, wondering if his husband will return today. But Hua Cheng made a vow that he would always come back, no matter what. So Hua Cheng is painted as an evil, manipulative, cunning villain to the public, but Hua Cheng doesn’t care, and will continue to do even crazier and even riskier stunts all to fulfill his promise to return to his beloved. Plot twist part 2, Hua Cheng didn’t actually want to be the bad guy. He just volunteered himself when his beloved got into some trouble with some really bad people, and he found out that he’s actually really good at kicking ass and is a natural-born escape artist or something, so he’s just winging it, really. 

[aquaticalay]

Centurion .Chapter Four.

Bucky Barnes x Reader

Sequel to For Something Greater

Summary: (Y/n) is an active duty Navy SEAL Commander, the first and only woman to ever become a SEAL. After successfully stopping a genocide with the help of the Avengers, she becomes a bridge between the military and the earth's mightiest heroes. But even as her relationship with Bucky grows, she decides not to tell him about the nightmares and trauma that haunt her. Both their secrets begin to unravel when Bucky accidentally stumbles upon a piece of dangerous information about (Y/n) that she doesn't know about herself— something she must never find out about.

Genre: Action, Drama, Romance

Warning/s for the series: cursing, violence, death, eventual smut, PTSD

Warning/s for the chapter: nothing, just Bucky and the reader trespassing lol

Word count: 2.1k

Note: The plot is heavily inspired by the song 'in the dark' by Bring Me The Horizon, and 'Mercy' by Muse. So yeah, go listen to it if you want to :)))  I'll post a new chapter every two days.

Let me know if you want to be in the taglist

(Taglist will be reblogged)

THIS IS A SEQUEL TO 'FOR SOMETHING GREATER.' IF YOU HAVEN'T READ THAT, THE MASTERLIST IS IN MY BIO.

TRIGGER WARNING! THIS SERIES REVOLVES AROUND POST-TRAUMATIC STRESS DISORDER. (Including, but not limited to: anxiety/panic attacks, extreme mood swings , nightmares, intrusive thoughts, insomnia, irritability, hypervigilance, and hyperarousal)

Bucky woke you up at three in the morning. He told you that you're going to go to a place that might hold some information about Petrov. You agreed reluctantly, wiping the yawning tears from your eyes.

After you got dressed in leggings and denim jacket, and him in a black zip-up hoodie and jeans, he gave you a gun. It was a black Avengers-issued semi-automatic gun similar to a Sig Sauer P320, only more powerful and practical. Small with a built-in silencer, it was obviously made for concealed carry, possibly for espionage purposes. He handed a black inside-the-waistband holster that came with it. He eyed you carefully, "There's seven bullets in there," he informed, then his voice became low, "For emergencies only."

He was serious about it, and you understood. To be honest, you weren't planning on using it either. Not unless you really have to.

You nodded, tucking it under your waist band, the holster pressed tight against your skin. You would expect red marks there when you take it off.

You watch him do the same with his own gun, a similar model to the one he gave you, slightly bigger in size and darker in color. He opened the door, his steps heavy and motioned his chin to the door, a gesture to tell you that you should go out. 

When you went out, the hallway was lit by dim lights, illuminating only what needed to be seen. Buciy followed you out. He closed the door behind him so gently, that you can only hear a tiny click from the wooden frame.

"Friday," Bucky called the AI in the hallway, "If anyone asks, we're going on an early morning dri—"

"Whoa, what's going on here?" Sam asked groggily from the other end of the hall. He had a nearly empty glass of water in his hand, and he was wearing shorts and a shirt. You assumed he was thirsty and decided to go to the kitchen for water.

"We're going to Brooklyn Bridge," you manage to say quickly, before the silence became too suspicious. "To see the sunrise," you finished, a convincing tone in your voice.

Sam was still half asleep. You could tell by how he walked clumsily and how his eyes fluttered. You hoped this would give you an advantage. After a few tense seconds, he eventually let out a chuckle. "Alright," he shrugged lightheartedly, "You two lovebirds have fun."

You threw a smile and 'thank you' at Sam before hastily going the other way, pulling an impressed Bucky with you.

The two of you descended to the basement, slipping into a car. 

The car Bucky got was an Audi R8, sleek black like a stallion in the night, perfect to blend into the dark.

Driving out of the facility and into the streets of New York, Bucky glanced at you, a cheeky grin on his face. "Nice save back there," he told you.

Weakly, you let out a laugh. You sank back to the car seat, making yourself comfortable. You ignored his statement, taking it as playful, but pointless banter. “Where are we going, anyway?” You asked, tilting your head slightly.

“I know where Nick Fury lived in New York. I know he’s not home either,” he told you, his metal arm gripping the wheel tightly, his eyes focused on the long, urban road ahead. There were only a few cars aside from you. So few, in fact, that you could count them with your fingers. It was an exceptionally empty early morning for New York standards.

“And?” You urged him to elaborate his point.

“He might have a file or two on his computer on Petrov,” Bucky confirmed. You looked at him curiously. “And would you like to tell me how you know?”

“Before he went to… wherever he is now, he told Sam and I about his computer servers on old SHIELD data, and since Hydra infiltrated SHIELD…”

You nodded. “Hydra and SHIELD are the same,” you concluded his sentence. You were mildly surprised that he had thought about the plan this far.

You watched the long city roads stretch out in front of you, dim city lamps like lighting bugs fluttering above you. It would've been romantic, given different circumstances. 

Bucky didn’t turn up the music, but you didn’t mind the soothing silence. In fact, you quite liked it. You liked the way the low hum of the engine and Bucky’s breathing was the only thing you could hear. It felt peaceful. You haven’t been able to feel serene in a while, and this was a nice change.

As you looked out the window, admiring the architecture of the concrete jungle, you felt Bucky’s hand snake into yours. You let him grip you palm and he took it up, pressing a firm kiss on the back of your hand. He didn’t say anything, but you knew he did that for reassurance. For comfort, for both you and him.

When you looked at him, you notice that he was wearing a silver chain around his neck. You recognized it. It was your dogtags. Knowing that he was wearing you sent a feeling of warmth in your chest. You had his, too, inside your bag in the avengers facility. You need to remind yourself to wear it next time.

"You know," Bucky muttered, eyes glinting with an idea, "What you said about going to the Brooklyn Bridge for sunrise…"

"What about that, hm?" You hummed in response. His hand was still holding yours, laid on his lap.

"We should actually do that some time," he suggested.

"I like the sound of that," you said. You rub small circles on his hand, giving him a feeling of tranquility. Bucky smiled, but it's too small for you to notice.

Before you knew it, he pulled up on a neighborhood in Newark, New Jersey. He parked a few blocks from the actual destination, just in case. The two of you walked out and on the concrete floor in silence, the early morning breeze stinging your skin, prickling like frost bites.

You had put on a baseball hat, and he threw his hood over his head carelessly and just enough to cover his face, just in case there were unsuspecting cameras. The two of you had put on gloves, too, to avoid fingerprint identification if anything went wrong. Oh god, you wish nothing will go wrong.

Nick Fury’s apartment was on Clinton Hill, an old building and in the third floor, a three minute walk from where Bucky parked. It was old, red bricks as the interior. The front door was dark wood, mosaics decorating the small window, making it not as bland as it would be without it. The staircase was the same color as the door, squeaking as you stepped on it. 

You’d say you were breaking in, but Bucky had a key, presumably the one Fury gave him, which lead you to ask yourself, is it really breaking in when the owner of the apartment gave you the key?

He slipped the rusted copper key in the hole and turned it. The door creaked open, and you slipped in.

Neither Bucky nor you wanted to turn on the lights. You didn't want to deal with the risk of dealing with suspicious civilians. Instead, you fished your phone from your back pocket and turned on the flashlight.

Dimly lit, his home was a simple studio too small to be a functional and strategic safehouse. As you looked around more you realized that you'd rather not describe it with the word 'home.' It felt cold. There was no personal touch whatsoever, nothing to make it feel homey. It was outdated by about thirty years, old kitchen and filing cabinets pinned against the peeling drywall. There wasn’t even a bed, just a dusty red couch that looked straight out of a retirement home. The only thing that was remotely modern was a windows computer on a small desk from the 2000s.

Like an instinct, you knew what to do. You let Bucky hold your phone for light, and you sat in front of the computer. Bucky followed behind you, watching it load slowly. You tried to crack the password, covered fingers dancing on the keyboard.

You didn’t know why, but your regular bypass technique did not work.

Of course it didn’t work, you thought to yourself, This is Nick Fury. He must have layers over layers of security and protection, even over this outdated computer.

Bucky cursed under his breath when he realized what was going on. Without a great hacker, getting inside this computer would take forever. You would have brought Scott Lang with you if you could. But that would mean your little secret wouldn't exclusively be yours anymore. It's not that you didn't trust him, it's just that you weren't willing to risk it.

Bucky started pacing around the room, a sign of distress. Suddenly, he noticed a creak on the floor. It was quiet, but both his and your supersoldier hearing could identify the sound. You glanced at him, knowing what he’s going to do. He kneeled down, taking the loose floorboard out. It was a small piece of wood, tiny, even, but what he saw under the hardwood floor was satisfactory. 

You saw him pull a roll of paper from under, and he passed it to you quickly, flicking it in the air and into your palm.

You unrolled it, and sure enough, it contained the binary code of the password, and translating it wouldn’t be too hard, since a custom software on your phone allowed you to do it quickly.

You entered the password, and you were in.

Bucky quickly inserted the USB. You started searching for Project Mercy, but frustratingly, nothing showed up. 

“Try searching ‘Michail Petrov,’” he suggested, his voice barely above a whisper. You did as you were told, and hit search. A few profiles appeared on the screen. 

Three people were named Michail Petrov in Hydra.

Bucky took a closer look on the screen, and on their photos. His eyes were suddenly fixed on the third photo in the list, jaw tightening at the sight of him. He pointed at the profile, then growled under his breath, “That’s him.”

You clicked on it, and windows of his history opened, flashing on the bright screen. Looking through it carefully, you tried to find a few keywords: lab, project, bioengineering.

As you scanned the files, your eyes found one word that you’d been searching.

Petrov graduated from Moscow State University in 1975 with a PhD in genetics. He began his bioengineering project by making lab-grown animals in his lab in Kaunas, Lithuania. His project was shut down in 1994, for ethical reasons.

Ethical reasons, you repeated in your head. If anything on here is about Project Mercy, it would be this one.

You searched the files for Kaunsas, Lithuania, and found the full address to his last known lab there.

You quickly moved that file and a few other important ones in the USB. 

As you ejected it, Bucky placed the roll of paper back in the floorboard. It looked untouched. 

You nodded as a sign that you were done, and you can go now.

Just as you and Bucky were going out the door, you heard footsteps from upstairs. Bucky held you back from the exit, waiting for the footsteps to pass. You knew, as long as you were quiet, everything would go according to plan. You and Bucky froze, waiting for whoever was out there to get out of the way.

As the footsteps neared, you heart dropped.

You phone suddenly rang, bells echoing throughout the room. Diego Miller’s name on your screen.

Damn SEAL protocol. The protocol that didn’t allow you to put your phone on silent, the one you unconsciously brought into your habit. You managed to turn it off just a second layer, but it was too late. You heard the voice of a woman call, “Hello? Is anyone in there?” 

There a was a fake courage laced in the woman's voice. She knew no one was supposed to be there, that it was an empty apartment. She knew the bells didn't belong there.

She carefully put down her basket of laundry and knocked on the door. Once, then twice. Nobody answered.

With trembling fingers, she pushed it open to find it unlocked. Looking around the empty apartment, she was both relieved and confused that she found nothing.

You and Bucky already jumped off the three-story building and disappeared into the dark.

The only evidence you left was an open window, curtains blowing in the morning breeze.

-

[wesleyhill]

Behold Your God

A homily on Isaiah 40:1-11, preached at Trinity Cathedral, Pittsburgh, on the second Sunday of Advent

It’s been a long time since any of us have been to a theater to watch a performance of a play, but our Old Testament lesson this morning at least gives us the script for one. As I preach this morning, I’d like you to imagine a stage here with a troupe of actors to perform this script. And as you file into your seats to watch the production, I’ll start by handing you the program notes: I’m going to tell you which characters will appear on stage today. In the first place, we have a booming voice coming from off stage, behind the curtain. This is the God of Israel, the Lord who made promises to Abraham and rescued His people from their slavery in Egypt. Then we have a group of prophets, with one of them singled out as being in the wilderness. Next we have the city of Zion, the holy site of Jerusalem, who is portrayed here as a character, as an actor in the story. And then we have the surrounding cities of the kingdom of Judah in the southern part of modern Israel, each of them played by one actor. So our stage is a bit crowded here, but you’ll be able to follow the action once the characters start talking.

I’m going to read the script for this play again this morning in the King James Version, because its poetry here is just magnificent and also because it keeps the second-person plural personal pronoun, which we’ve lost in English today (though we do still have it in Pittsburgh — “yinz”). Also, I’m guessing that if any of you know this portion of the Bible, you know it in the King James Version through Handel’s Messiah, which majestically set it to music.

Listen again to how our lesson begins. And picture the stage very dimly lit.

Comfort ye, comfort ye my people, saith your God. Speak ye comfortably to Jerusalem, and cry unto her, that her warfare is accomplished, that her iniquity is pardoned: for she hath received of the Lord’s hand double for all her sins.

This play begins with the voice of God booming from off stage. God speaks here not just to one person but to the multiple prophets, God’s messengers, who are all milling around on stage. In the background, you can see the wreckage of war. Smoke is wafting upwards from what look to be the smoldering remains of the temple in Jerusalem. When they hear God’s voice, you can see the faces of the prophets slowly looking less despairing, less humiliated. The word they hear from offstage — the word they are given to speak to the city of Zion — is a word of comfort. The war is over. The judgment has passed. And God is now announcing the forgiveness of His people’s sins. The prophets begin to sing in unison.

Then suddenly, from stage right, which is set up to look like the Judean desert, one of the prophets cries out:

Prepare ye the way of the Lord, make straight in the desert a highway for our God. Every valley shall be exalted, and every mountain and hill shall be made low: and the crooked shall be made straight, and the rough places plain: and the glory of the Lord shall be revealed, and all flesh shall see it together: for the mouth of the Lord hath spoken it.

The rest of the prophets on stage left suddenly burst into motion. They begin moving various props hurriedly. The big hills in the background begin to flatten themselves. The rocks that are strewn all around the stage are cleared away. The deep hole in the stage is filled in, and the actors are able to walk across it. And at the end of all this frenzied motion, a brilliant light, orange like fire, appears, bathing the stage with a bright warm glow.

Then God’s voice again booms from all around: Cry.

Then the prophet in the wilderness on stage right speaks up, even as he covers his face in his hands, as if he is in deep sorrow:

What shall I cry? All flesh is grass, and all the goodliness thereof is as the flower of the field: the grass withereth, the flower fadeth: because the spirit of the Lord bloweth upon it: surely the people is grass.

The prophet falls to his knees. He is bowed low with the weight of his mortality, his awareness of how feeble and futile and fleeting all human speech is. What good could he possibly do by preaching, in the face of the tragedy of Jerusalem’s sacking?

And then comes the answer:

The grass withereth, the flower fadeth: but the word of our God shall stand for ever.

The prophet places his hand over his mouth and bows his head in humility.

And now comes the climax of the drama. All the prophets make a circle around the character of the city of Zion. They cry out in unison:

O Zion, that bringest good tidings, get thee up into the high mountain; O Jerusalem, that bringest good tidings, lift up thy voice with strength; lift it up, be not afraid…

As they shout these instructions, the actor who plays the city of Zion begins to scale a mountain at the back of the stage. When she reaches the top, she looks out over the entire stage, where the actors representing the cities of Judah surrounding Jerusalem appear exhausted and wounded. Their costumes are ragged and smeared with ashes. Their faces are streaked with tears. They have clearly just returned from a long journey, only to find their land in ruins. But as they look up to the mountain where the city of Zion is standing, she raises her voice and shouts with joy:

Behold your God! Behold, the Lord God will come with strong hand, and his arm shall rule for him: behold, his reward is with him, and his work before him. He shall feed his flock like a shepherd: he shall gather the lambs with his arm, and carry them in his bosom, and shall gently lead those that are with young.

At this, all the cities of Judah and all the prophets raise their hands in triumph and shout hallelujah!

And the curtain descends.

What has happened in this drama? I have often taught the script of this play to my students at the seminary where I teach as though it is a drama about Israel’s exiles returning from Babylon. The imagery of the drama is the same imagery that we find in the book of Exodus, in the much earlier story when God leads His people out of Egypt, through the waters of the Red Sea, so I too quickly assumed that God’s people or the prophets were at the center of this drama.

But listen again to what the city of Zion cries out in the play’s final scene: Behold your God! It is God, not His people, who in this drama strides across the desert. If God’s people of old walked toward Mt. Sinai to meet Him in the wilderness on the other side of the Red Sea, here in this drama God walks toward us, to find us where we are, to pardon and heal and embrace us. Here is how one of the drama’s most astute reviewers says it: “The news that Jerusalem is to take to the cities of Judah is not ‘Behold the returning exiles,’ but ‘Behold your God!’… The miraculous road in the wilderness for which mountains are leveled and valleys filled up is before all else ‘a highway for our God.’… What all [flesh] sees is ‘the glory of the Lord’” (James D. Smart, History and Theology in Second Isaiah, p. 46).

This drama is about what happens when people face up to the true reality of human misery and sin and hostility and mortality — and still find hope. Not in themselves, not in their words or movements or fortunes, but in their God, the Lord who rules and comforts and shepherds and carries us when we cannot comfort ourselves.

And this, friends, is why we read this script during Advent, when we are waiting for God to appear again. A few moments ago, Fr. Aidan prayed, “Merciful God, who sent thy messengers the prophets to preach repentance and prepare the way for our salvation: Give us grace to heed their warnings and forsake our sins, that we may greet with joy the coming of Jesus Christ our Redeemer.” We, like the actors in this drama we’ve just heard, are being called today to lift our eyes from the rubble of our lives that we’re standing in and to hear again the word that came to Israel’s prophets. That Word is Jesus Christ our Lord who comes to us again today — and who will come again — with mercy and with hope.

Behold your God!

Amen.

[logansanderslove]

Logan 3.0  (7/?)

CO-AUTHOR: @demented-dukey

Summary: Remus is an incorrigible flirt, and Logan can only bear the innuendo for so long until something has to give. Passions erupt, but there are more lasting repercussions than either could have predicted, including a significant transformation to Logan himself! How will these new changes affect the delicate balance of Thomas’s mental state? When a new dark side threatens the lives of several of the other sides, will Logan and Remus’s love be strong enough to save everyone, including Thomas?

Ships: INTRULOGICAL

Sanders Sides: Logan, Remus, Thomas, Roman, Virgil, Patton, Deceit

Fic type: Drama, Romantic, Action, Flirty

Trigger Warnings: no character deaths, but a lot of very close calls. Consensual knife play and bloodplay, and lots of bloody fighting and monster attacks. If you’re sensitive to unsympathetic characters, some parts flirt pretty close to that, but there’s also a lot of extenuating circumstances to explain the situation, and there’s a happy ending once you get through the angst and misunderstandings. Self-harm and references to such, and suicidal tendencies.

MASTERLIST

Chapter 7: Broken

Remus puttered around his room for about an hour or two, doing his own version of “tidying up”. He stripped the bed, carefully folding the blood-stained sheets into a special keepsake box in his closet before remaking the bed with fresh linens. He cleaned and sterilized the knife he’d shared with Logan, putting it back into his nightstand - he’d considered leaving the knife bloody and framing it above his bed as a memento but decided he’d rather have the option of using the knife repeatedly than risk it being a one-time occasion.

He spent a little time collecting any dishes that were growing their own subcultures, along with any other obvious health concerns - he didn’t mind it himself, but now that it looked like Logan would be a frequent visitor to his room, he wanted to minimize the health risks. When he was done “cleaning” there was still quite a bit of trash spread around his room, but the overall result was a slightly less-soiled mess, so Remus was pleased.

He checked the clock - several hours had passed since Logan had gone to meet with Patton, and nobody had called for his presence or come by to bother him. Probably a good sign. Remus felt a little lonesome but quickly shut that feeling down - he was fine! He didn’t need any company! If the other sides didn’t want to hang out with him, he was fine hanging out without them! He had plenty of experience at making his own fun, after all.

Too jittery to do quiet activities like watching a movie or “creating” something new in the imagination, Remus defaulted to his old favorite method of killing time: “killing” more of the creatures that lurked in the subconscious. Grabbing his trusty morningstar, he headed out the back door of his room and down a dimly-lit, steeply curving stairway. 

Remus was extremely familiar with the Subconscious - most of his earliest memories involved exploring their depths. Time didn’t work right in the deepest parts of Thomas’s mind, and Remus still had no idea how many minutes or centuries he’d spent that very first night wandering around and screaming in the dark before Deceit had found him, shown him how to escape the subconscious, and how to find the dark sides’ rooms. These days the darkness greeted him like an old friend, and Remus loved sifting through the detritus that had been cast aside from the other Sides before winding up in the sewers and trash heaps of the subconscious.

The subconscious was not without its dangers, however. Creatures lurked in the shadows, nightmare beasts and unchecked fears. Roman was often careless with his creations, and many of the creatures he made and forgot about found their way to the subconscious, breeding with the monsters there to create new beasts full of nasty, big, pointy teeth and claws. Remus had faced countless horrors in the darkness and had learned that nothing down here could be judged by its appearance - he’s almost lost an arm once to a “cute” and “innocent”-looking rabbit that had possessed razor-sharp fangs and a thirst for blood.

But today, when he reached his usual hunting grounds, he heard the cry of something new. A roar, unlike anything he knew… or that he thought he knew. After hearing it again, he smirked, his eyebrows turning down.

"Ah, Roman, let one of your pets out to play again, didn't you?" He muttered. Roman was constantly making Dragon Witches and letting them loose in the Mindscape, a lot of the time setting them after Remus. But he had done away with hundreds of them. What was one more? He knew his morningstar couldn't hurt them, so he manifested a sword and a mace, hands tightening on the grips. Slowly venturing further, he eyed the overcast sky until a darker shadow streaked across in almost a fraction of a second. He heard the roar again, and he flipped his sword around in his hand. "Come out, come out, wherever you are..." He muttered in a sing-song voice.

The shadow swooped lower and Remus planted his feet, watching his target. "Gotcha." He drew back his arm and threw his sword, watching it fly through the air, then a loud screech brought a triumphant laugh from him. "HAHA!! I got you!!" He heard a thud on the ground far off, and he ran to retrieve his sword and admire his win. A smile was on his face as he pushed back branches to reach a small clearing, full of weeds and knee-high grass. He raised his eyebrow, looking around as his smile faded. He saw no body of the dragon anywhere, but he knew that this had to be where it had landed. He slowly started across the clearing, then the smell of blood hit his nose. Fresh and pure. But...it didn't smell like Dragon blood…

He continued, using his mace to push some thick areas of grass out of the way, then up ahead he saw a flattened down area as if something had landed. He kept on his course towards it, then he raised his eyebrow when he saw the shape that lay motionless on the ground. It wasn't like any creature he'd ever fought... it looked like...a man? He lifted his mace onto his shoulder, walking forward with a curious face. "What the hell..." He muttered. As he got closer, he could see that it was indeed a man, with all black clothing and spiked hair and sharp...glasses…

Remus' breath hitched in his throat as he saw the moonlight glint off of the small star charms cuffed to the man's left ear. "Logan..." The mace fell from his hand and he sprinted to the fallen man's side, lifting him up in his arms. "LOGAN!" Remus' eyes widened further than he thought they could when his gaze fell on the large wound that slashed across his chest, blood soaking his dark clothes. The same crimson liquid ran from Logan's mouth and down the side of his head from another cut. His breath was faint, eyes closed, head hanging limply over Remus' arm.

Remus shook his own head slowly, barely able to breathe. "No...no, no, no..." He murmured, then he rose to his feet immediately with Logan in his arms, flashing back to the Dark Side common area. Laying Logan on the couch gently, he brushed his hair, tears running down his face. He had done this... why had Logan been in the Mindscape Subconscious in the first place, and how in the hell had he been a Dragon?! But none of that mattered. All that mattered was making sure that Logan stayed alive. Remus started to call for someone, then froze in fear as he realized that if he told the truth about what actually happened, he'd never be spoken to or looked upon again. They would make sure he never saw Logan once, and his life would be back to the miserable mess it was, attempting suicide again and again. So he thought of the only lie plausible and then screamed for the others. "VIRGIL!! ROMAN!! PATTON!!! DEE!!! HELP!!!"

Virgil was the first to appear, Remus’s panic already bleeding through the mindspace and warning the Anxious side that something was wrong. His eyes widened, taking in Logan’s bloody and limp form, and he rushed over to check for a pulse. Roman appeared shortly after, sword brandished and looking for something to fight.

“What’s wro-” the sword vanished as Roman stumbled over next to Virgil. “Is he-?”

“He’s alive,” Virgil said, “But just barely. Go keep an eye on Thomas - if anything is going to send him into a horrible, dysfunctional breakdown, it’d be this.”

“You can count on me,” Roman said, sinking out.

A creak of a door opening and Deceit was stumbling out of his room dressed in a robe, his nightly facemask already on. “What’s the emergency?” he yawned, somewhat used to Remus randomly screaming when he got too bored, but he stopped as he saw Logan bleeding out on their couch. “Get the others,” he told Virgil, who nodded and vanished. Deceit's outfit morphed back to his typical daily attire, then he manifested some bandages and pressed them to the gash across Logan’s chest. Using short commands to avoid being misunderstood, Deceit said, “Apply pressure,” to Remus, who quickly obeyed. Deceit then checked Logan for other obvious wounds, finding a cut inside his mouth where his teeth had sliced the inside of his cheek, and another cut on his head that was quickly swelling into a tender knot.

“What happened?” he demanded, knowing that they had only moments before Virgil would return with the others. “Tell me, Remus, now.”

Remus bit his lip, not wanting to tell the lie to his best friend but feeling that he had no choice. "I found him in the Subconscious. He must have been attacked by a monster." He said, his voice cracking. Technically, Remus thought bitterly, it wasn’t a lie at all. Only a monster wouldn’t recognize their lover in any form. Who else but a monster would attack another side so viciously?

Deceit’s eyes narrowed, but if Remus was lying, it was a fib close enough to the truth that he couldn’t detect it. He knew that Remus spent an exorbitant amount of time in the subconscious, so it was plausible that he could be telling the truth. Deceit decided not to press him - as long as Remus wasn’t outright deceiving him, he would let it slide in favor of more pressing matters. Manifesting a pair of scissors, Deceit began to cut away at Logan’s shirt so they could better access the wound on his chest. Lifting the bloody fabric away, Deceit noticed less-fresh cuts spanning across the width of Logan’s chest, forming an intricate pattern. “Your work, I presume?”

“He-- I--” Remus stuttered.

Deceit shook his head, “Doesn’t matter.” He took over from Remus, applying pressure on the bandages. “Kitchen bowl. Warm water,” he said, and Remus leaped up, sprinting to the kitchen to fetch the required items.

Gathering the items Deceit asked of him quickly, Remus was on his way back to the couch from the kitchen when he heard another frantic voice.

"Oh my goodness, WHAT HAPPENED?! LO!!!"

Remus flinched at Patton's screech, running back in. He knelt next to Deceit, handing him the bowl then turning to face Patton.

"It...it's going to be okay, Pat. We're gonna help him. I'm not going to let anything happen to him."

Virgil knelt next to Deceit and manifested a washcloth, using the warm water to wash away the blood. Deceit was still holding the bandage down tight, but he’d manifested a few extra hands so he could balance the bowl of warm water while also keeping a finger on Logan’s pulse.

“He was supposed to be reading! In his room!!!” Patton exclaimed, waving his hands wildly as he freaked out. “What happened??”

“I… I found him in the Subconscious,” Remus explained again, sticking to the lie he’d told Deceit. “There’s a lot of monsters down there… he must have been attacked.”

“What was he doing down there?” Patton gaped at him in astonishment, “Did you see what attacked him?”

“No,” Remus shifted guiltily, “It was too dark to get a good look.” He took Logan's hand in his own, closing his eyes as he felt the very faint pulse running through his paling skin. "C' mon, Lo...just hang on..." He begged, then under his breath he muttered, "I'm so sorry...I didn't know it was you..."

Virgil suddenly jerked, his head shooting up to meet Patton’s gaze. “Thomas is calling - it must be more than Roman can handle. Pat, can you-” he was going to ask Patton to go comfort Thomas while he helped Dee, but a worried Patton would probably just make Thomas worse. Instead, he handed the washcloth to Patton, “-take over for me here, while I go see what Thomas needs?”

Patton nodded and began cleaning Logan’s wound as Virgil sunk out. Remus bit his lip, counting the seconds until-

“Wha-what are these?” Patton stroked the washcloth gently over the cuts forming the chemical formula. He looked up at Remus, who couldn’t meet his eyes.

“Not important.” Deceit said firmly. Patton stared at him for a moment, about to object, and then thought better of it. “Can’t you… not… heal him?” Deceit forced out, the double negative tripping up his tongue.

Patton hesitated, wide-eyed, “I… the last time I tried, it hurt him!”

“He is… not… gravely injured already,” Deceit grimaced. “Worth… a try…”

Patton frowned, biting his lip, then he nodded. His hands hovered over Logan for a moment, then he slowly placed it on Logan's chest, hoping it would work.  "Please..." He whispered, then Logan jolted, moaning in pain, his breath becoming short and ragged. Patton drew back quickly, eyes wide and ready with tears. "I...I don't understand!! Why can't I heal him?!" He cried.

Deceit didn’t bother trying to comfort Patton, there was no time. “Remus!” he snapped, and the side’s head jerked up. “Try.”

“But,” Remus said, looking between Logan to Patton and back to Deceit, “I can’t- it’s not- healing isn’t one of my powers! I can’t even heal myself!”

“TRY.” Deceit growled again, his voice reverberating.

Remus gulped, nodding. He copied what Patton had done, placed his hands gently on Logan’s chest, and closed his eyes. He tried to focus on anything good he possibly could. Unicorn porn. Gay rainbows. Sex. With Logan. But that last thought just brought him more visions of knives and all thoughts of any type of healing left his head completely and were immediately replaced with blood. And as much as he tried, he couldn't stop thinking about them. After all, there was no way to force intrusive thoughts out of his head. He knew that better than anyone.

He took his hands away after his head started to hurt, dropping it forward with a sigh. "I can't..." He said quietly. "I'm sorry..." His voice was broken, and Deceit could tell that Remus was hiding something. He had told a lie. He didn't know where, but he knew that something was off about the Duke.

“Get Thomas.” Deceit hissed, before focusing back on Logan. He was out of ideas, but maybe the host could do something. If they lost Logic… the consequences didn’t bear thinking about.

Quickly sinking out, Remus rose up in the Real World, where Thomas was huddled on his couch, shaking and hugging his knees while Roman rubbed circles into his back. Virgil was perched next to him, trying to talk him through breathing exercises, but it didn’t appear to be helping.

Roman looked up at Remus’s entrance, hope fading as he took in the expression on Remus’s face. “Damn.” he muttered, causing Thomas to look up.

“Wha-?” Thomas noticed Remus, noticed the tears marring his eyeshadow, and the blood staining his sash and turning his shirt an even darker black. “You’re all bloody,” he mumbled.

Remus glanced at Virgil, who sighed, “Logic… isn’t working right now. Obviously.”

Thomas' eyes went wide. "What...what do you mean? What happened to him?"

“Logan got hurt. Really bad.” Remus said, avoiding the details. “We… we can’t heal him. Dee’s hoping that you can.”

“I...I don’t know how,” Thomas fretted, wringing his hands. “Roman… Virge… I don’t… What do I do?”

Roman stood up, holding out a hand to pull Thomas to his feet. “You come with us, back into the mindspace. Patton will show you what to do, and together we will save Logan.”

Thomas nodded shakily, biting his lip. "O-okay..." He took a deep breath as Virgil and Roman sunk out with him.

Remus stayed topside for a minute, praying to whatever he could that he hadn't messed everything up. That Logan wouldn't die...well, it wasn't really possible for him to die...At least, he didn't think. He then began to worry. 'Maybe...since Lo is completely different than us...he can die?' He thought painfully. What would happen to Thomas without Logan? It's impossible to live without Logic...you need it to breathe and to think! He couldn't die!! He couldn't!

Remus clenched his fists, ready to tear himself apart, just like he had told Roman that he would if he ever hurt Logan. But if he did, and Logan survived, then he'd be leaving Logan alone and he'd never get to see him smile again because the others would know it was Remus' fault. Either way, Remus felt like his whole world was collapsing around him. He knew that getting close to someone was dangerous. He knew that he should have called it off. But he was happier than he had ever even dreamed of being when he was with Logan…

Happy. What an abstract concept. Did Remus believe that he'd ever feel happy again? That everything would be fine? Hardly. What was the point of hoping if you just get let down? He'd had too much pain in his life already, and now he had caused the ultimate mistake... he had attacked his love. Remus felt the tears begin to roll down his cheeks, sniffing as he tried to wipe them away. But they wouldn't go away. He knew they wouldn't. Why should they?

Pain. Pain was good. Guilt. It was Just. Rage. He hated himself. Sorrow. He was losing everything. Gone. He opened his eyes finally, not even realizing that he had sunk to his knees. Gone... 

"They'd be better off without me... They were all so happy before I showed up again..." Remus muttered. He wanted to leave. He wanted to make sure that they never had to deal with him again. He'd go to the Subconscious and stay there. Alone. Just like he should be. So he couldn't hurt anyone else.

But...something kept telling him he had to stay. And he knew what that something was. Logan. He had to make sure that the others didn't lose Logan. As soon as he knew he was okay, then he would leave. He knew it would shatter his heart into a million pieces, and he knew that it would possibly break Logan's heart too, but it was for the best... Logan would mend. He was the type of person who was strong enough to come back from something like that. Remus wasn't. He hadn't been strong enough ever since he and Roman split. Something inside him had broken that day, and it never put itself back together. And he knew that keeping his broken self locked away from the others to keep them safe was the best thing he could do. It was the only thing he could do.

Nodding to himself, Remus wiped the tears away with his sleeve. He had a plan now, and he knew what he had to do. Sinking out, he reappeared in the Dark sides’ common area.

“Where have you been?” Patton grabbed Remus’s sleeve, dragging him forward. “Thomas is going to try to heal Lo, and we all have to help him if this is gonna work.”

Thomas was kneeling next to the couch, eyes closed, with his hands on Logan’s chest. The other sides formed a semi-circle around him, each with one hand laid on Thomas’s back, providing him strength and energy. Remus and Patton completed the semi-circle, and together they connected to Thomas.

The circuit complete, Thomas gasped, his head thrown back as the power of all the sides coursed through him and into Logan. Light filled the room as Thomas began to glow, casting rainbows that danced and sparkled across every surface. The light flowed from Thomas’s hands into Logan, and the logical side shuddered.

Everyone held their breath.

Slowly, like watching a timelapse of a sunrise, the wounds began to heal. Blood seeped back under the skin, and all the wounds knit back together before their eyes. Remus felt a pang of loss as the chemical formula he’d so carefully etched into Logan’s chest vanished, leaving unblemished skin behind.

Logan jolted, the last of his wounds healing, gasping as his eyes shot open.

Patton's eyes widened. "LO!!" He threw himself down with a bear hug, shocking the intellectual, who caught Thomas' eye. 

"What...what just happened?" He asked, his words slightly slurred but still understandable. He blinked hard, clearing his throat, a signal for Patton to get off. Morality let go and sat back with a sheepish smile. 

"Sorry."

Thomas laid his hand on Logan's shoulder. "You were gravely wounded, and we all worked together to help heal you.”

“Remus said that he found you in the Subconscious, that you must have been attacked by a monster," Patton explained, and Logan put a hand to his head.

"Yeah...I had gone there so I could just fly around, y' know? Night Fury, always night time there, and it's really freeing. But then I was hit by something, fell out of the sky, and that's the last thing I remember." He shrugged. "It must have been one of the Dragon Witches or something that Roman keeps forgetting he makes that then go dark."

Roman crossed his arms. "HEY!" 

"It wasn't a Dragon Witch."

Everyone turned to see Remus staring down at the floor, rubbing his arm. "It wasn't a monster, either." He scoffed. "Well, that could be debated." He said, sounding like he was holding back tears.

Roman raised his eyebrow. "Re, what do you mean?" He asked. Logan sat up behind him and eyed his boyfriend with concern.

"Remus? Are you okay?" He asked, standing up and taking a step forward before Remus held his hand up. 

"No, Logan. Don't come any closer." He said, Logan freezing with wide eyes. 

"What?" He saw a tear run down Remus' cheek, then the Duke finally raised his head to look at everyone, facing their curious stares. 

"It...it was my fault..." He said shakily, the eyes of everyone suddenly widening. He wrapped his arms around himself. "I went to the subconscious to go monster hunting like I usually do, and I thought I heard one of Roman's Dragon Witches. It was really dark, and all I saw was the shadow, but still I threw my sword, and... I heard the dragon fall." His breath became short as Logan stared at him with the largest eyes. "When I got closer to where I thought it had landed, I didn't see anything at first...  then I saw someone lying in the clearing, and as I got closer... I saw it was Lo. The second that I saw the wound I knew that it had been me who did this." Tears streaked down his cheeks, and he took a step back. "Y-You're all safer without me." He choked out.

Logan shook his head. "Remus, please. Don't say that. I forgive you. With all my heart. If anything, I'm at fault. I hadn’t had a chance to tell you I could morph, so you had no way of knowing the Dragon was me, nor could you have expected me to be out in the Subconscious in the first place. So please. Don't do this to yourself."

Remus clenched his fists. "Don't you get it, Logan?! I could have killed you!!" He screeched, tears pouring now. He shook his head. "You're in danger anytime you're near me! I'm not a good person. I'm not!! I told you the first time we ever talked civilly and when we first started dating that you can't fix a shattered mirror without getting cut. This is my fault!! I'm worthless!!! What purpose do I even serve?! I'm never needed, and when I do show up, no one wants to see me. Why would they?!" He laughed sadly, shaking his head. "I don't blame you all for hating me. I mean, what am I but filth?!" 

He looked at his brother, who held the expression of someone who was being stabbed through the chest. "You're the good brother, Ro. You're the real hero, and you're the one everyone deserves. You're better than me. You always have been. You make them happy, and I'm glad for that. I'm glad that you have people who care about you."

Logan started towards Remus. "What do you mean?! I care about you, Remus!!! I LOVE YOU, for Newton's sake!!" His lip was quivering, although barely noticeable. The others could hear the tears in his voice. "I love you..." He choked out.

Remus nodded, meeting Logan's eyes, getting lost in the deep ocean they held just like every single time he stared into them. "I know. I love you too. And that's why I won't let you get hurt again because of me." He closed his eyes with a shaky breath. "Goodbye."

Logan's eyes shot open. "NO, REMUS, WAIT!" He shouted, but Remus disappeared before his eyes, and the room was dead silent as Logan stood, his hand outstretched to where Remus hand been standing, frozen in pain. His chest tightened as his shoulders started to shake with silent sobs.

"Remus..."

Logan began to sink out, trying to follow Remus even though he didn’t have a clue where his (ex? No, don’t think about that) boyfriend was headed, but Virgil grabbed him around the waist and hauled him back up, muttering, “Dude, you can’t-”

“DON’T TELL ME WHAT I CAN’T DO RIGHT NOW!” Logan screamed, shoving Virgil away to land in a sprawl on the couch.

Virgil leaped forward again, grabbing Logan by the wrist and holding on firmly, “You almost DIED, Lo!” he shouted back, “I’m NOT going to lose you again, not after we just got you back!”

Logan glared at him and Virgil glared right back, the others in the room too frightened to say anything lest they make the situation worse.

“At least stop and think,” Virgil said at last, “Use that big brain of yours. Remus has probably gone back to the subconscious, and you aren’t going to fix anything by blindly running after him. I doubt you even could find him if he wanted to stay hidden - nobody knows that part of the mind like Remus.”

“That’s true,” Roman admitted. When the others looked at him curiously, he elaborated, “Re and I used to play hide and seek, once upon a time. He always knew the best places to hide.”

“This is all very fascinating,” Deceit drawled, “But if the crisis is over, I’m not going to go back to bed.”

“Dee!” Patton yelped, scandalized, “The crisis isn’t over! We have to figure out how to get Remus back!”

“Or,” Deceit shrugged nonchalantly, “You could not respect his decision. Remus isn’t a grown man and he certainly can’t make his own choices.”

“They’re not his own choices if they’re hurting Thomas.” Virgil snapped.

“Does Thomas look hurt to you?” Deceit said, and all the sides turned to look at Thomas, who patted his chest self-consciously.

“I… I don’t feel hurt?” Thomas admitted. “At least… I feel a lot better than I did a few minutes ago when Logan was…” he trailed off.

“See?” Deceit said, “Remus is definitely a primary function, and Thomas is obviously affected by his departure. Unless something else is wrong, please do disturb me again.” He waved off their protests, going back into his room and shutting the door firmly behind him. Letting the careless facade fall, Deceit quickly crossed the room and exited out his own back door, taking a shortcut around the edge of the subconscious and hoping he wasn’t too late.

~*~

Remus was in his room, shoving clothes and weapons into a duffle bag. He knew from past experience that the longer he stayed in the subconscious for any given length of time, the weaker his powers would become, and after a few days, he’d usually lose the ability to conjure more than a bit of food and water to keep himself going. A few days after that...

He worked fast, afraid that one of the others would follow him and wanting to get as big of a headstart as he could. He pulled drawers out of chests, dumping the contents into his bag before tossing the drawer aside and moving on to the next. What little he’d managed to tidy up that morning was long undone, his room now looking like a tornado was passing through it.

Remus pulled the drawer of knives out of the nightstand and was about to dump them in, too, when his gaze caught on the knife. The knife Logan had used to cut him, the same knife Logan had let him return the favor with. He touched the blade, drawing a small pinprick of blood from his finger, and gasped as the tears threatened to overwhelm him again. Gently setting the knife back down on the top of the nightstand, he dumped the rest of the blades into his bag and closed the zipper. He wasn’t worthy enough to keep any mementos, and soon it wouldn’t matter anyways - he’d wander the subconscious until he was too weak to fend off the nightmares, and then he’d be killed and probably reabsorbed into the ether from which he’d been created. Any belongings he left behind would either be re-absorbed into Thomas’s mind or re-assigned to another side. Tossing the strap of the duffle bag over one shoulder, he headed out the back door of his room and made it down the steps before a voice in the darkness stopped him in his tracks.

“Leaving so soon?” Deceit hissed from the shadows.

Remus jumped, spinning around with wide eyes to stare at the snake-faced man. 

"D-Deceit...." He gritted his teeth. "JUST LEAVE ME ALONE!! NO ONE NEEDS ME! I'M USELESS AND ALL I EVER DO IS HURT PEOPLE!!" He pursed his lips, holding back tears. "I'm doing everyone a favor." He turned and started to walk away again.

Deceit shook his head, dropping his lies that he had never needed with his friend anyway. "Are you that desperate to kill yourself, Remus? Your boyfriend is about ready to jump ship, too, because you just broke his goddamn heart!!" Deceit yelled, stopping Remus in his tracks. 

He had never, ever, heard Deceit yell. And that tone was absolutely terrifying. Whenever Deceit was really serious about something, he would cut all his lies. And he just had.

Remus rubbed his eyes with the heel of his hand, sniffing. "He...he's better off without me, Dee. I told him that when he first told me he loved me. I told him that I was just too dangerous and something was bound to happen. I wanted to just accept that we had feelings for each other and move on. I never expected to actually stay with him. I never...I never thought that he'd actually love me."

Remus blinked back more tears. "Dee, I'm giving up all that I've ever wanted and all that I've ever had to keep them safe. Now, they may think that I'm a Dark Side, but that doesn't mean jack shit. I care about the lot of them, especially Logan and my brother. So, just let me be! Let me fade away and never bother anyone ever again." He turned his head away. "Please."

“Make me a deal,” Deceit demanded. Remus paused, not turning back, but not walking away either. “One week. There’s a… bomb shelter, for lack of a better term, in my room. No one else knows about it. Stay there, for one week, and if you still feel like killing yourself, I’ll let you run off on your fool’s errand.” Now Deceit was lying through his teeth - he would do whatever was necessary to stop Remus - if he had to, he’d knock Remus out and lock him in the bomb shelter for years without his permission, but it was easier for everyone involved if Remus submitted willingly. “I won’t stop you. But give me this. For old time’s sake. You owe me that much.”

Remus sighed, and Deceit knew he’d already won, “...one week?”

“Yessssss.”

“And then you’ll let me go?”

“Of course.”

“...fine.”

Deceit led the way back to his room, making sure Remus followed close behind and didn’t run off. Entering his room, he checked to make sure none of the other sides had come in while he was gone and then set to work. Remus watched askance as Deceit walked over to what looked like a window made with a stained yellow glass mosaic. Dee pressed several shards of glass in what appeared to be a random order, and a panel on the wall slid away to reveal a large button. Dee pressed the button, and what had been a normal section of the floor mostly hidden by a rug lifted up at an angle, revealing a set of stairs. “After you,” Deceit gestured to the stairs.

Remus wasn’t sure why he felt more nervous descending into Deceit’s “panic room” than he did heading towards oblivion in the subconscious, but he swallowed down the uneasy feeling and headed down the stairs. His movements triggered lights to come on, and the stairs opened up into a wide underground area set up like a studio apartment, filled with enough food and entertainment to keep him busy for months. Books lined the walls, movies and games were stacked next to the TV, and since he was still in the mindscape, Remus could always manifest toys and games to keep himself busy. “Try not to wreck the place,” Dee said, knowing it was a futile request.

“No promises,” Remus said, flopping onto the couch and burying his face into the cushions.

Deceit turned to go, “The door will lock behind me, and it is programmed to open for me alone. Text me if you need anything.” Remus waved him off, and Deceit left him to it. Once he was back in his room, he made sure that the trapdoor in the floor was fully concealed again, with no sign that anything was amiss.

Finally allowing himself to sprawl face-up on his bed, Deceit let himself relax for what felt like the first time in hours. Logan was healed and safe for the moment, and Remus was tucked away for his own good. He had a week to work on changing Remus’s mind, as well as keeping Logan from killing himself as he scoured the subconscious for Remus. The next seven days were going to be hell, but at least he had time to try to fix things. Rolling over on his side and cuddling his favorite snake plushie, Deceit let himself drift off to sleep.

[neraawritesxx]

i wish

pairing: kakashi x sakura genre: romance, drama, humor, nsfw word count: 13,935 rating: mature 

↬ note: So, I finally got around to finishing one of my Secret Santa gifts for my discord server. This piece of work is dedicated to YummyFoods! I hope you had a wonderful holiday, hun. Also, special shout out to @mummapaintstheblues for keeping my sane throughout this entire writing process. I wouldn’t know what I would do without you bby ~

September 30th, 2018

"Don't you even think about it, Forehead." Ino's threat is thinly veiled, but there is no real hostility behind her words.

Sakura blinks, suddenly being pulled from her reverie. The bar is dimly lit and smoky with the pungent scent of stale beer and…something else she can't quite put her finger on. The heavy rock music pulsing through the speakers is more background noise than anything else, and unfortunately for the patrons who paid money on the jukebox, the tunes are drowned out by the brash group of bikers who take up the far corner of the bar.

She's not sure why Ino brought them all here for a girl's night out. It's not their typical scene for a Friday night, but then again, the blonde always had a soft spot for the local hole in the wall. Cheap, watered down liquor and all.

Sakura turns her head towards Ino, with an eyebrow raised, and asks, "What are you talking about, Pig?"

"I see you staring at the door. Don't even think about leaving."

Sakura grimaces and Ino scoffs, eyes nearly rolling into the back of her skull. She throws an arm over the back of Sakura’s chair and leans in close to deliver her next words. "I know what you're thinking. Stop. It took me two weeks to plan tonight around everyone's schedules. You're going to keep your pretty little butt planted in that seat, have another drink, and enjoy our girl’s night out. That is final."

Sakura's nose wrinkles with her displeasure at being scolded like a child, but she says nothing in retaliation. She swats Ino’s arm off the back of her seat and turns her attention to the cocktail in front of her. It’s some obnoxiously blue citrus drink that TenTen ordered for her. She has no idea what’s in it, nor is she too keen to try and find out, so she fiddles with the straw instead.

Sakura could play dumb, deny that she wasn't thinking about coming up with an excuse that would lead to her inevitable escape. She knows Ino wouldn’t fall for it though, so she doesn’t offer any type of apology and keeps her head held high. Unfortunately, now that the topic has been openly addressed, it doesn’t merely end with Ino’s brusque and portentous command. It’s now time for everyone at the table to give their two cents. TenTen is the first to voice her opinion on the matter.

"Oh, leave her alone, will you Ino? She just misses her man, and I can't say that I blame her."

A hot flush of embarrassment crawls its way up Sakura’s neck, staining her chest and cheeks crimson. She buries her face in both of her hands and groans softly, trying to keep the sullen note out of her cry, but it’s to no avail. It sounds pathetic even to her own ears.

"TenTen!" This time it’s Hinata who cuts in.

"What!?" Tenten exclaims, and it sounds almost remorseful – almost.

Sakura raises her head just enough to level TenTen with a baleful glare between her splayed fingers. The brunette takes this as a challenge, however, and meets Sakura’s soured look with a matching one of her own.

TenTen tosses her arms open, looks around the table, and challenges the entire group with, “Someone tell me I'm wrong! Go on!”

She's not wrong. Sakura knows it, TenTen knows it, Ino and Hinata and everyone else within their friend group, even those who weren’t present, know it.

However, Sakura would rather not be faced with the uncomfortably awkward topic that is her current relationship status. Nor does she want to hear Ino harp on what she firmly believes is the right course of action for Sakura to take. They’ve gone through this same scenario a handful of times now and it has only ever lead to one thing: an argument.

When no one raises to her taunt, Ino – shockingly – included, TenTen drops her hands into her lap, sitting further back in her chair with an air of triumph. Her eyes drift over to Sakura, who has now fully come out of her hiding spot and offers her a small, delicate smile.

“It’s nothing to be embarrassed about, Sakura. A few years back, when I had that internship in Suna, I was forced to leave Neji behind. It was hard. Really hard. I went from living with my boyfriend and seeing him every day, to a phone call or maybe a FaceTime, three times a week. I missed him so much, and I didn’t give two shits about who knew it or not. You’re allowed to miss him, Sakura."

Sakura considers her words, feels somewhat pacified by them, enough so to let her shoulders droop. She runs a hand through her hair, twirling the ends between her pointer and middle fingers.  

"Oh please," Ino mutters narrowly. It’s dry and mocking and oh so condescending and immediately Sakura is put on the edge.

And this is precisely why Sakura was worried to begin with: the judgment.

Best friends are there to keep you grounded, to slap you with the harsh reality of any situation. Ino and Sakura are no exception to those rules. They worry about one another, take care of each other, and Sakura wouldn’t have it any other way. However, that doesn’t necessarily mean Sakura wants to hear about what Ino believes she is at fault for.

Especially right now.

She would rather not get read the third degree about her current relationship in a shady ass bar on the outskirts of town, who's main populace is bikers. But, like clockwork, Ino doesn’t disappoint. Her judgment is harsh and swift.

"You guys are blowing this whole thing out of proportion. They aren't even really dating. It’s not a real relationship. There's nothing for her to miss.”

And that is…well, that is the real brunt of the issue, isn’t it?

Again, Sakura rather not deal with this under the influence of alcohol, but Ino’s words are like a hard slap to the face. Sakura isn’t about to sit back and let her pick apart what little happiness she’s managed to cling onto. Anger flashes hot in her blood and Sakura grits out her retort before she even has a chance to think about it.

“And you’re the expert how? Like your relationship with Genma is so picture perfect. How’s Kurenai? I’ve heard she and Genma have been spending a lot of time together recently."

Her words are snappish and harsh, and the entire thing comes off a lot more confrontational and abrasive then Sakura intends. But she’s pissed off and upset with what Ino has been saying over the last couple of weeks. Sakura knows it’s a lie. A downright dirty lie that isn’t even based on some semblance of the truth, but then again, Sakura doesn’t need it to be true; she needs it to wound. That small, dark, vindictive side of her wants Ino to hurt just a fraction as much as she hurts right now.

The funny thing about revenge though, that spitefulness and greed, is that it’s like a plume of smoke. It’s there, it’s tangible and real, but when you reach out for it, you’re grasping at nothing but air. It’s fleeting, just like the smug pride that puffs out Sakura’s chest just a handful of seconds before Ino’s face falls.

That’s when Sakura knows she’s fucked up.

Sakura immediately scrambles to try and correct her mistake. She leans across the table, reaching for Ino, but the blonde evades her gasp by pushing back in her chair and standing up from the table.

“I need another drink,” Ino announces bleakly. Without waiting for anyone to comment, she spins on her heels and walks over to the bar.

There’s a beat of silence, then the sound of another chair scraping against the wooden floor is heard.

“Well, that escalated quickly,” TenTen jokes as she stands, but it falls flat. Her eyes soften as she takes in the stricken expression that has crossed Sakura’s face. She pats Sakura’s shoulder once, then twice, lips curling into a lopsided smile. “Don’t worry about her. She just needs some time to cool off. You’re both so hot-headed and stubborn sometimes. I’m surprised you two don’t come to blows more often.”

The lighthearted remark causes the corner of Sakura’s mouth to twitch, but the smile doesn’t hold. TenTen takes it as a victory anyway.

There’s a loud holler from across the room, and all three pairs of eyes search for the source of the interruption. None of them are all that surprised to find Ino sitting on a bar stool, surrounded by the group of bikers, shot glasses raised in the air in salute.

“I’m going to go make sure she doesn’t drink herself silly,” TenTen states, amusement apparent. Hinata buries her fit of giggles behind her hand and Sakura’s smirk is a tad rueful. “Be back in a bit.”

Sakura watches as TenTen treks across the room, skillfully maneuvering past one of the men that tries to put an arm around her. She smoothly sidles up next to Ino, occupying the bar stool beside her. Sakura observes them talking for a bit, sees them both laugh at a joke that TenTen tells, and releases a breath she didn’t realize she was holding. She turns her attention back to their table and is surprised to find Hinata’s pale eyes surveying her.

“TenTen is right you know,” the quiet woman declares. “Just give her some time. She’ll get over it.”

Sakura hums her agreement, head nodding slowly, almost absentmindedly. “I know she means well. It doesn’t excuse what I said, though.”

Hinata offers a nod of her own. “No, it doesn’t. Then again, that’s what friends are for. We’re used to the good and the bad, the highs and the lows. We forgive one another, even for hurtful words.”

The table falls silent after that and Sakura takes the time to mull over the entire situation, teeth digging into the flesh of her bottom lip. She becomes lost in thought for a while, not that Hinata seems to mind. It’s her cell phone ringing that breaks her from her trance. Sakura looks down at the device just as Kakashi’s face lights up her screen.

Instinctively, Sakura hits the mute button, cutting off the cheery chime of her ringtone.  She glances at Hinata, who’s is pleasantly occupied with watching Sakura’s phone light up again with another incoming call.

Brow arched, Hinata probes, “Are you going to answer that?”

“No.”

“No?”

“No,” Sakura affirms and toggles her gaze from the tabletop to the other side of the bar to where TenTen and Ino are still occupied.

The unspoken reason why Sakura won’t answer Kakashi’s call hangs in the air between them. Sakura can feel Hinata’s stare drilling a hole into the side of her head, and she mentally prepares herself for another verbal lashing. However, the question that comes out of Hinata’s mouth is the complete opposite of what Sakura expects.

“You look pale. Do you feel dizzy or sick at all?”

“What?”

“I said,” Hinata reiterates with some emphasis. “Do you feel dizzy at all? Like you need some air? It’s probably because of all the smoke in the room. Maybe you should go out back and take a few minutes to collect yourself.”

Sakura stares, and stares, and stares; brows drawn down and lips parted in her confusion. It takes longer than Sakura would like to admit – and Hinata clearing her throat, looking pointedly at Sakura’s cellphone and awkwardly jerking her chin in the direction of the hallway that leads to the alley out back – but, revelation finally dawns.

Hinata is giving her an out.

They both know that Ino wouldn’t let Sakura hear the end of it if she were to leave unannounced, especially after everything that has occurred, but under the guise of needing some air…well, that just might work.

Without another word, Sakura stands from the table, phone in hand, and beelines for the back exit. The door hasn’t even closed fully behind her before Sakura has her phone tucked between her shoulder and the side of her face, the dial tone blaring in her ear.

The night air is humid and somewhat sticky but not so unbearable with the soft breeze blowing through the alleyway. She finds herself nervously pacing, waiting for him to answer. He picks up on the fifth ring.

“Hey,” He greets in that calm, cool tenor, albeit somewhat breathless.

At the sound of his voice, the entire world around her ceases to exist. It halts and melts away until there is nothing left but her and him.

“Hey, yourself,” She returns, fighting back an elated smile. Sakura stops walking around in circles and presses herself against the brick wall next to the bar’s back door. She untucks the phone from her chin, holding it to her ear with her right hand. “Sorry I missed your calls before, I’m actually –”

Her explanation is cut short by the sound of a dog barking in the background on Kakashi’s line.

“Is that Pakkun?” She asks, bemused.

Kakashi chuckles. The sound causes warmth to bloom in Sakura’s chest. She loves that sound.

“Yeah, it is. It’s like he knows when I’m talking to you. Hey Pakkun, you wanna say ‘hi’ to Sakura?”

There’s more barking on the other end of the line and Sakura makes a few cooing noises into the receiver. They both laugh when Pakkun howls his own greeting.

“So,” he hums. “How was your day?”

She doesn’t tell him about the argument with Ino, nor does she tell him that she has snuck away from her friends and found solace in the alley behind Konoha’s local watering hole. Instead, they talk about everything and nothing. He tells her about a new podcast that he’s been listening to recently, and she fills him in on some of the cases that she has taken over at the hospital.  Sakura is overly pleased to be speaking with him, so much so, that she loses track of time.

When Ino barrels through the back door on unsteady feet, Sakura squeaks in surprise. Ino whips her head around at the noise, taking in the scene with bleary, unfocused eyes.

“Sakura?” Kakashi calls. He sounds worried and Sakura does her best to try and not be too delighted by that. She shouldn’t be ecstatic that he’s panicking over her. “Is everything alright?”

“Uh…yeah. Everything is fine, Kakashi,” Sakura assures, knowing that it won’t placate him in the slightest. “I’ve got to go, though. I’ll talk to you tomorrow?”

He clears his throat, and there’s a rustle on the other side of the line like he’s moving around. Sakura can tell that Kakashi is a bit put off by her abrupt end to their conversation by the way he begrudgingly replies with, “Yeah, that’s fine. I’ll call you after work tomorrow.”

Sakura offers her goodbyes and goodnights, then hangs up the phone and pushes off the wall before sliding the device into the back pocket of her jeans. A hushed stillness descends on the alley, thick and stifling, but Sakura wisely chooses to let Ino take the lead on whatever is about to play out.

Ino breaks the ice with a slurred, “You know I didn’t mean what I said before, right?”

Sakura dips her chin towards her chest and offers a wan, but apologetic smile. “I know you didn’t. I’m sorry for what I said also.” She peeks out at Ino from underneath her lashes. “Forgive me?”

“Forgiven,” Ino confirms with a solemn nod. She wanders over to where Sakura is standing and leans against the wall on one shoulder.  “I’m just concerned about you, Forehead. I’ve never seen you like this with a guy before. Well…not since Sasuke.”

At Sakura’s hate-filled glower, Ino throws her hands up in a placating gesture, but her grin is impish. “Okay, okay, bad joke. I’m sorry. Seriously though, boyfriend or not, you care about Kakashi. Why don’t you tell him how you feel or, at least, talk things out? Why are you both okay with this weird ‘we should be dating, but we don’t like to be adults and address our feelings’ thing that you two have going on?”

And that is the million-dollar question, isn’t it?

Why is she so afraid to tell Kakashi how she feels?

Everything about Kakashi fascinates her; from his explosive wit, to the flirtatious way he touches her, to the way he let her read over his shoulder when he is nose deep in those smutty books of his.

His smiles always reach his eyes, and he never minces his words. He isn’t afraid to break out a sarcastic quip or a tactless comment, even if the situation doesn’t call for it. Sakura understands he is quiet when he has nothing to say, and that it is often mistaken for aloofness. The more time she spends with him, the more she can read his moods, and it seems…he lives his life freely. There is no careful containment of his emotions, no order to his chaos. He doesn’t care if he is offensive or nice. Kakashi is Kakashi, not someone else’s idea of what he should be.

Sakura had been envious of him when she first met him. It must be nice, she remembers thinking. No restrictions. No expectations. No fear.

It’s what drew her to him in the first place.

Their romance wasn’t some whirlwind. There was no love at first sight, no candlelit dinners, or carving a heart with their initials into the bark of some tree.

No, Kakashi and Sakura started their relationship ass-backward. Cue one very sloppy, drunken one-night stand that left them both embarrassed, unsatisfied, and hoping that they would never cross paths again.

Unfortunately for both of them, their liberal arts college had a requirement that all freshman needed to take a welcoming seminar. The point of the class was to assist them with the transition from a high school environment to that of a university. It was a bullshit class, an easy A to put on her transcript, something that should have gone off without a hitch. However, when she came to class on that first day and found out that her partner was the guy who she slept with on a whim, two nights prior, things had gotten a little uncomfortable.

It hadn’t been easy. Kakashi was just as thrown off by the circumstances as she was, and they tiptoed around one another consistently, walking on eggshells. Neither wanting to address what happened, but the issue weighing heavy on both of their shoulders. She brought him coffee one morning, about three weeks in, and that seemed to help ease the tension. They worked together to the best of their combined abilities from there on out.

And when the semester came to a close, they just kind of…stuck together.

She couldn’t tell when it happened.

When had late night cram sessions and take-out and passing encouraging messages written on review notes turned into this? When had their usual brand of camaraderie turned into something that could mean so much more? 

She can't place that moment in time where their relationship shifted from exchanging inappropriate comments in the lounge of their dorm building to this deep sense of companionship.

Because Kakashi Hatake? Well, she felt something for him – something completely and undeniably real — a kind of kinship; a connection; a sense of belonging, like they were two people who, at their bare bones, understood each other. But she didn’t know if she has earned the right to feel that way, especially about him.

What she is sure about though, is that Kakashi has always been there. Since that first night at the party, throughout all four years; the ups and the downs, the good and the really, really bad – like that one incident where a professor accused her of plagiarizing her midterm paper – Kakashi has always been by her side, and that was more than Sakura could ever hope to ask for.

Kakashi wasn’t her first choice in a man, nor was he her second or even her third, but no one else in her life was as concerned about the little things like he was. He texted her to remind her to eat on her busier days, dropped off notes when she was sick and couldn't make it to lectures, and was even open to being the designated driver on the nights that they went out. He was a pain in the ass most of the time, like a nagging mother, but he was her pain in the ass, and one of her best friends.

When graduation came along, and Kakashi was offered a position in an up and coming law firm in Iwa, she encouraged him to go with a smile.

And after he left, Sakura tried to put her pieces back together because that’s what you do when someone you love leaves. You pick up the pieces and make them work again, somehow.

And yet.

And yet…she really fucking misses him, and there is nothing that she can do to fill that void. His presence in her life is unmistakably irreplaceable, and she knows that he feels it too. All this unspoken shit that continues to grow between them needs to be addressed, but a phone call or a video chat isn’t the proper way to handle it.

He deserves better. They deserve better.

“I don’t know, Ino,” Sakura murmurs dejectedly, breaking herself from her train of thought. “I really don’t know.”

Ino pushes off the wall, flicks her ponytail over her shoulder, then gives Sakura a long perusal from head to toe. She huffs, throws an arm around Sakura’s shoulders, and with all the overzealous flare and dramatics of an inebriated person – which includes a lot of strange hand motions and head bobbing – proceeds to tell Sakura all the reasons why she needs to ‘man up' and 'tell that bastard how you really feel'.

By the end of Ino's rant, Sakura doesn't know whether she wants to laugh or to cry, maybe a combination of the two, but she does feel better about the entire Kakashi situation and where she and Ino stand on it.

"Seriously, Forehead," Ino states. "What am I going to do with you? Your love life is a mess. I thought I raised you better than this."

Sakura responds with an unladylike snort and nudges Ino's side with her shoulder.

"I don't know about my love life, but I do know that I could use a drink. Let's head back inside. I want to be on your level by the end of the night."

"Fuck yes! This calls for shots!"

-⇞-

October 15th, 2018

“Sakura, will you please put your phone away and help us? I’m struggling over here!”

Naruto’s whine goes unheard and unnoticed by Sakura. She instead focuses on holding her camera steady, lining up the perfect shot to capture a photo of an absurdly robust pumpkin in the middle of the patch. It takes a minute or two, but she finally snaps a picture that she likes. Sakura swipes right on the touch screen a few times, finds a filter that makes the entire photo pop with color and adds a silly, little gif-sticker of a person dancing in a pumpkin costume to the bottom right corner.

Sakura posts the photo to her Snapchat story, sends Kakashi an individual copy, then shoves her phone into her sweatshirt pocket.

When she turns back towards Naruto and Sasuke, they are both leveling her with varying looks of contempt – though, to Sasuke’s credit, that’s his typical facial expression. He looks more bored than pissed off.

“What?” She asks innocently.

Sasuke grunts and shakes his head, but doesn't say anything. He rearranges his arms more securely around the two pots of mums he has in his hands and then pushes past Naruto, cutting his way across the field and into the parking lot.

Sakura rolls her eyes and closes the distance between herself and Naruto, taking one of the pumpkins awkwardly balanced within his grasp. He releases a sigh of relief at her assistance, adjusts the two remaining gourds in his grip and starts to take off after Sasuke, Sakura falling into step beside him.

Most of their walk is in companionable silence; Naruto occupied with making sure he doesn't drop the pumpkins they paid a pretty penny for, and Sakura content with watching hordes of children running around the grounds with their parents hot on their heels.

They are halfway to the car when Naruto ventures to ask, "Where has your mind been all day? You've done nothing but check your phone every five minutes."

Sakura nearly trips at his question, boots scuffing along the gravel. Thankfully she doesn't harm or destroy her precious cargo.

"I have not!" She tries to deny, but Naruto is giving her that look. It's the same look that Ino gives her whenever they've broached the same topic over the last couple of days. It's the 'you're-not-fucking-fooling-me-now-spill-it' look. Sometimes, Sakura swears that her friends are all conspiring against her.

She tries to think of the best way to explain it. It's not like she's kept Kakashi as a dirty little secret from Naruto and Sasuke. It's just...well, given the history that she shares with her two childhood friends, it is a bit uncomfortable. How do you address your dating life to the two overprotective lugs who have chased away most of your romantic prospects over the years? Especially when one of those lugs used to be a romantic prospect?

"It's that guy from undergrad, isn't it? What was his name again? Hatake, right?"

Both Naruto and Sakura look up at the sound of Sasuke's voice. He's leaning against the bumper of Naruto's beat up pickup truck, arms crossed, looking all the bit off-put as he usually does.

"Is that true?" Naruto quires, turning from Sasuke to Sakura, head comically cocked to one side like a confused puppy.

She bristles, but it's not out of embarrassment at being caught red-handed. It's out of general annoyance that Sasuke always seems to know what's going on in her life even before she does.

"How the hell do you know that?" Sakura snaps, the inquiry clipped and measured.

Sasuke smirks. It's that trademark, 'I'm-an-insufferable-bastard- and-I-know-everything' simper that, once upon a time, Sakura turned into a pile of mush over. To this day, she looks back on her high school self and wonders what caused her to think Sasuke Uchiha was the bee's knees.

"It's not like you're hiding it very well," Sasuke explains, his dull tone matching his flat affect. "You two were close in university. Freakishly, attached-at-the-hip close. You constantly talk about him or bring him up in conversation, and you don’t even realize it. It’s like it’s natural for you to talk about him. Plus...," If possible Sasuke's smile grows all the more condescending. "He's your top best friend on Snapchat."

“Ohhh,” Naturo screeches, excitement mounting. “You know what that means!”

Embarrassment tickles along the expanse of the back of her neck, hot and apparent. Sakura scowls, gritting her teeth and tries to ignore the sudden rise in her body temperature.

"What are you, my stalker now?"

Her jibe doesn't garner her the reaction that she would have preferred. Sasuke outright disregards her and Naruto bursts into a fit of giddy snickers. Sakura somehow finds herself once again overcome with the shocking realization that these two idiots are like brothers to her. Two brothers that are pushing her into dangerous territory. The ‘were-gonna-talk-about-the-birds-and-the-bees’ territory and Sakura is not sure she wants to have this conversation once again in so few weeks.

Turning her nose up, Sakura strides over to the back of the truck and tosses the pumpkin she was carrying over the lip of the bed. Sasuke and Naruto’s combined bemusement follows her as she makes her way to the passenger side door, but Sakura keeps her chin held high and with as much dignity as one who is exceptionally flustered can muster, climbs into the truck, slamming the door behind her.

It's a few more minutes before the boys join her in the car, Naruto sliding into the middle seat between Sasuke and Sakura from the driver's side. The first half of their trip home is spent in an increasingly painful bout of silence, nothing but Sasuke's classical playlist filling the stillness of the vehicle.

It's Sasuke, astonishingly, breaks their self-imposed quietude.

"Ino brought it to our attention a few days ago. The whole thing with you and Hatake." His eyes slide from the road to Sakura. It's not a stern or sardonic look; it's a look that tells her to keep her mouth shut while he explains further. Sakura does right by him and actually listens for once. "And before you go off the handle about her spilling your little secret to us, she wholeheartedly wanted our opinions on the matter."

Naruto cuts in eagerly, gesturing with his hands while he speaks. "She's worried about you, you know? The whole 'I don't want her to end up alone' thing that all you girls all panic over. She wanted us to see if we could figure out what's holding you back from finally putting yourself out there with this guy."

He leans in close for his next words, resting his head in the nook between her next and shoulder.

"And imagine our surprise, Sakura-chan, that we had to find out you were seeing a man, behind our backs, from Ino of all people!" Naruto's childish antics bleed through his mock upset. He pouts his his lips and bats his eyes, but he's smiling, and Sakura doesn't fall for his games.

"He wasn't a secret per se," she whispers sheepishly, shrugging Naruto off. She doesn't let him get far though. Before he can fully recover from her shove, Sakura tucks herself against his side, resting her head on his chest. One of his arms comes across her back, pulling her closer.

Sasuke huffs one of those weird sorts of breaths that you can’t tell if he’s amused or aggravated. She thinks it the former, though. It's the closest thing to a laugh that she's heard from him in years. "Then why didn't you tell us about him?"

"I…don't know," Sakura reluctantly admits, waving a hand helplessly before letting it fall into her lap. "The whole thing is confusing. We're confusing. I’m not entirely sure where we’re going or even what I’m looking for. I know how I feel, but I don’t even know how he feels. Besides…talking about my sex life, or lack thereof, with the two of you is the last thing that I want to do.”

The mention of Sakura and sexual intercourse in the same sentence throws Naruto and Sasuke for a loop, much like she figured it would. Naruto releases an indignant squeak and squirms uncomfortably in his seat. His dismay is rolling off of him in waves, and Sakura feels the rise and fall of his chest as he tries to gather his bearings. Sasuke…well, Sasuke looks like he’s about as uncomfortable as someone would be if they swallowed broken glass.

“Did you…did you sleep with him Sakura?” Naruto bravely asks.

Sakura harrumphs. It’s weird, trying to have a conversation with her ear pressed to Naruto’s chest. She shifts, readjusts herself and places her head against his shoulder instead. "Out of everything that I just said, that's the only thing that stuck out? Seriously? Do you guys think I am some twenty-three-year-old virgin?"

“Change of topic. Right now,” Sasuke begs. “Please.”

Naruto snorts dryly. “We’re in the presence of an asexual being, Sakura. No inappropriate talk allowed.” There’s a beat, and the atmosphere in the car changes. The humor is gone. Then, Naruto continues in that sinfully serious, considerate tone of his, “You know, if he makes you happy, we would never be opposed to the two of you being together.”

“Hn.”

And that admission warms Sakura, right down to her very core. “I know,” she says quietly. “Thank you.”

The remainder of the car ride passes with Naruto making snippy remarks about Sasuke’s driving. As they arrive just outside the city limits, their bickering escalating into something that could potentially put all three of them into a dangerous situation, Sakura’s phone begins to ring in rapid succession. She wiggles slightly in Naruto’s arms, pulling her cell from her sweatshirt pocket. The screen is filled with notifications of missed messages, one from Ino and multiple from Kakashi.

"Your boyfriend?" Sasuke inquires. He doesn't try to hide the entirely smug tilt in his voice.

"He's not my boyfriend," Sakura corrects.

Naruto interjects with, "Well, technically, he kinda is. Or rather, he's not your boyfriend, yet. That's the keyword: yet."

"You two are insufferable."

"Don't not answer on our account," Naruto says. He's wearing a grin so wide it causes his eyes to crinkle in the corners. "Please, carry on. Pretend like we're not here. Hell, call him if you would like. We won’t say a word. Right, Sasuke?"

Sakura quickly jerks her elbow, catching Naruto in the ribs. "Not gonna happen. Do you think I’m dumb enough to get him on the phone in the presence of you two?"

“Ohhh, she’s embarrassed, Sasuke. She doesn’t want to show us what she’s like with Kakashi. Look at our little Sakura, all grown up with a boyfriend.”

“Hn.”

“Will you two shut up!”

-⇞-

Later on, long after the boys have dropped her off at her apartment, raided her pantry and left behind a mess for her to clean, Sakura Facetimes Kakashi to tell him about her day. She informs him of Sasuke and Naruto’s teasing and about how, inadvertently, he has gained their seal of approval as her ‘not real boyfriend.’

She says it as a joke, something lighthearted and playful that they can both laugh at, but Kakashi doesn’t see the humor in the situation like she thought he would.

He’s quiet and contemplative and looks far too serious as he mulls over her words.

“…Is everything alright?” She eventually asks. This isn’t like him. He’s never this quiet, not with her.

Kakashi starts at her question, like he has forgotten Sakura is on the other side of the video call. “No, no. It’s nothing. I uh…I gotta go. I promised Genma I’d give him a call after work. Something about Ino and some fight they had. You know, guy stuff. I’ll message you sometime tomorrow.”

Before Sakura can sarcastically quip that relationship advice isn’t exactly his forte, Kakashi has already hung up on her without so much as a proper goodbye.

Judging by the lack of missed calls or text messages from Ino, Sakura knows Kakashi is lying about the Genma scenario.

And She’s not entirely sure how she feels about that.

-⇞-

October 31st, 2018

"Well?" Sakura asks. "What do you think?"

Kakashi is uncharacteristically silent, and Sakura turns from where she is admiring her costume in the mirror to stare at her phone screen propped up on her dresser.

He has an odd look on his face, a cross between exasperation and unease and…longing? She’s not quite sure what to make of it. Things have been off between the two of them for the last couple of weeks. Kakashi’s been avoiding her. Their video calls are now few and far between, and if she does happen to rope him into a regular phone call, they don’t chat for long.

Sakura’s trying her best not to let it get to her, but it's not as easy as she would have initially thought. She thought she missed him when he left, but she finds herself yearning for his attention and validation even now.

“What is it?”

His reply is instantaneous. “You’re going out…wearing that?”

Sakura looks down at her witch’s costume. Sure, the black dress was a little too short for her liking, and the neckline was a lot less modest then she would have preferred, but it was cute and it fit her nicely, plus the bell sleeves really pulled the whole thing together. It also had a hood, and in the absence of buying a pointed hat, that was the next best thing.

She frowns. “What’s wrong with it?”

On the other side of their FaceTime call, Kakashi snorts. “I can see your thighs.”

“I’m wearing stockings. You can’t see anything.”

“You have a lot of makeup on.”

“I’m supposed to be a witch, Kakashi. You know, ‘double, double toil and trouble,’ and all that dramatic flair? Makeup pulls the whole look together.”

“You don’t have a hat. You can’t be a witch without a hat.”

Sakura reaches behind her and pulls the hood over her head. It rests haphazardly over her curled hair, but she doesn’t make any move to straighten it. “Boom. Who needs a hat when you have a hood? Next.”

She crosses her arms and watches as Kakashi’s eyes narrow to slits before slowly trailing down the column of her neck.

In a last-ditch effort, he proudly exclaims, “You’re showing a lot of skin.”

Sakura jaw drops open, but her stupefaction is short lived as irritation fights its way to the forefront. “If you’re talking about my cleavage, you know from firsthand experience that there’s not that much to show. My chest is basically nonexistent.”

Kakashi grumbles and turns away from her. He’s sulking, brooding in his silence. Sakura can’t figure out for the life of her why he’s acting like this. And then, finally, it dawns on her and Sakura has to fight down the unexpected bout of laughter that begins to bubble in her chest.

"Are…are you jealous?"

Her query is met with the response she expects. Kakashi burrows further into the pillows at his back, bottom lip jutted out like a pouting child, still refusing to look at her through the phone screen.

“That’s what this is, isn’t it? You’re jealous and upset that I look good.”

“You look great,” He corrects, and if it weren’t for his deadpan manner, Sakura would have taken it as a real compliment.

“Don’t change the subject. Is that what’s been going on with you, lately? Some kind of…of warped jealousy that’s been making you act all weird.”

She watches the line of his shoulders tense at her accusation, watches as the muscle in his jaw ticks in indignation, and Sakura knows she’s hit the nail right on the head.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Oh, bullshit. Ever since I went pumpkin picking with Naruto and Sasuke, you’ve been acting strangely. You don’t call or reach out as much, and even if we do talk, it’s always a one-sided conversation.”

Her frustration is mounting and Sakura knows better than to put him on the spot like this. Kakashi never reacts well under pressure, but she can’t help it. Whatever his reason is for acting the way that he has needs to be addressed now or it will eat away at her for the rest of the evening. It may be selfish of her, but she is not ruining her Halloween night because he’s in a bad mood.

“Hell,” She accuses, palm smacking the top of her dresser as an outlet to her aggravation. “You can barely stand to look at me right now!”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake, Sakura. You’re right. I’m pissed off! How would you feel if the person you were interested in makes your feelings the butt of a joke with her two dimwitted childhood friends?”

Sakura stills, shoulders slumping as the ferocity drains out of her. "What...what did you just say?"

Kakashi's face is an otherworldly shade of purplish-red, and if Sakura weren't so shocked by what she just heard, she would have told him to call a doctor. From the bottom of his chin to the tips of his ears, his mortification and horror stain his face in blotchy patches of crimson. He tries to fix his little slip by hastily backpedaling.

"No...it was just...I uh, didn't mean it that way."

She's not going to give him an inch. "What way did you mean it then, Kakashi?"

He doesn't answer and Sakura is left with nothing else to do but stare at his image on her phone screen, wringing her hands in uncertainty.

How have they gotten to this point?

They talk every day, but they really don't communicate well with one another, do they?

Sakura understands and accepts that half of the blame is her own, but despite her efforts, everything over the last five years has come to a head. This was the issue with the dance of courtship. Especially a courtship as misconstrued and messed up as their own.

"I wanted to tell you," Kakashi finally says. He runs a hand through his hair, pulling at the ends as he derails. "I wanted to sit down and talk to you about this when I was home for Christmas this year. I wanted to lay everything out on the table and finally address this thing going on between us, and see if we could move forward from here...together. But then you started talking about Naruto and Sasuke, and they made a joke of our relationship, and you laughed along with them, and I know –"

"Kakashi, stop talking."

"You know, that's really kind of rude to say to someone who's confessing their feelings for you."

"Kakashi, stop talking."

And he does. He listens, he always listens to her, but he's not happy about it. He's frowning, lips pressed together in a taut, thin line. Sakura takes a deep breath, then another, and then another. When she finally feels the flush of her impatience leave her cheeks, she says, "I have been crazy about you since sophomore year."

He doesn't respond to her admittance. He looks shocked and angry and a bit relieved, and Sakura has a hard time keeping up with all of the emotions that are crossing his face. His eyes never leave her, though. They bore into her, grounding her. They are dark and stormy and smoldering, and for a long moment, Sakura forgets how to breathe.

Eventually, she proceeds with, "I can't tell you when my feelings changed, but they have, and I'm not sorry about that. I want you to know that my intentions of telling you about Sasuke and Naruto wasn't to hurt you or make a joke of your feelings. I didn’t know how you felt. They both, including Ino, have been pressuring me for the last month to talk to you about everything. About how I feel...and if you're serious about this...about us, then so am I. I'm all in. So, I’m going to ask: are you?"

Her profession brings back that alarming violet color to his cheeks. Sakura, with all the patience of a saint, gives him time to collect himself and Kakashi readily takes it. The way he processes her confession brings about a new myriad of emotions. His face contorts from apparent shock to pleasure, then he grimaces sheepishly, then stares at her blankly for a long while. After a few minutes pass, the corner of his mouth curls up, slowly, then the other.

And before long, he’s smiling.

It's a big, goofy, megawatt grin that lights up his entire being and radiates his absolute elation at the turn of events. Sakura doesn't think she's ever seen him look so happy.

Kakashi swallows thickly, then releases one, long, drawn-out exhale. His voice is heavy and heady with emotion when he murmurs, "You don't know how long I've been waiting for you to say that."

“Fucking finally!” A voice shouts from the doorway.

Sakura yelps in surprise and turns to find Ino leaning against her bedroom door frame. She’s dressed to the nines in her rendition of a modern Jessica Rabbit costume and Sakura finds that it’s a bit difficult to keep her eyes solely on Ino’s face. Showing a lot of skin, indeed.

“I tried knocking,” Ino enlightens, observing Sakura’s befuddled look. “But you didn’t answer and the front door was open, so I let myself in. Now, though, I can see why you were too busy to answer the door.”

Ino looks at the cell phone propped up on Sakura's dresser and her grin broadens. Though Kakashi can’t see her from that angle, Ino gives a tiny, coy wave of her fingers in the direction of the device.

"Hello Kakashi," she sings.

"Hi, Ino," he politely returns.

Sakura smacks her forehead with her palm and grumbles.

-⇞-

November 9th 2018

It has been a shitty week. A really fucking shitty week and all Sakura wants to do is go home, crawl into her bed, wrap herself into a bundle of blankets and pillows, and sleep for the next three days.

One of her long-term patients at the hospital took a critical turn, and despite her best efforts, he passed away in the middle of her shift the night before. Dealing with the family and the paperwork was one matter, but the emotional turmoil sitting heavy in the pit of her stomach is another.

Tsunade tried her best to turn the loss into a lesson; this might have been the first time Sakura lost a patient, but it would not be the last. Though the bonds she forms with those in her care are important, she needed to learn how to cope with the grief adequately. It didn’t help that last night’s shift had also been her third in a row, and the second day at the hospital that turned into a fifteen hour, around the clock stint in the emergency room.

Sakura is run ragged, emotionally and physically weary down to her bones. Everything fucking hurt, and if it weren't for the fact that she was currently holding on to the stair railing, she is pretty sure she would collapse into a boneless heap right in the middle of the stairwell.

There were other things on her mind as well. Sasuke and Naruto were fighting over something that she can’t, for the life of her, even remember anymore. She was caught in the middle of two bothersome, stubborn men who refused to apologize to one another and admit that they were at fault. She had been receiving passive aggressive messages from both of them throughout the last two days.

Ino was having problems with Genma – again – and despite Sakura’s best efforts to try and be there for her friend, Ino’s sour mood was festering to uncontrollable proportions. No amount of consoling and cajoling could calm her down.  

Sakura was sure that Kakashi was getting the same treatment from Genma, but she could neither confirm nor deny that, solely based on the fact that she and Kakashi hadn’t been speaking all that frequently. Now, that wasn't to say that things between them weren't going well.

They were going better than well. Things were amazing.

After they had laid everything out and expressed how they felt, they were finally on the same page and progressing forward, together. Things were still new, but she is giddy with the possibilities of a new romance. It was uncharted territory, and though she was acting like a lovestruck high schooler, Sakura is excited for the things they could experience with one another.

The distance was still a disconcerting factor, but relationships take work and effort, and Sakura would be damned if she wasn’t willing to buckle down and power on through.

But, with the holidays approaching, things were getting especially hectic. Being in medical school, and as low on the totem pole that she was, Sakura had been forced to cover up a majority of the slack at the hospital. The patient census was low, more nurses and senior staff were taking off to spend time with their families, and it left the interns scrambling.

Kakashi wasn’t faring much better then she is. His firm is just as busy and he’s stuck covering most of the grunt work.

Phone calls were few and far between with their conflicting schedules, but they managed to text each other here and there. Or, more accurately, Kakashi sent Sakura very colorful, very threatening messages about remembering to eat properly and take care of herself.

Sakura manages – just barely – to pull herself up the two flights of stairs to the floor that her loft was on. Her mind is focused on nothing but reaching her bedroom and the sweet oblivion to be achieved once she makes it there, but as she approaches her apartment door, two things become apparent.

One, there is a teenage boy who looks barely old enough to drive, dressed in a polo and khakis, blocking the entrance to her apartment.

Two, he’s holding one of the most massive bouquets of roses that she has ever seen.

“Hello?” She calls out tentatively. “Can I help you?”

The kid turns at the sound of her voice. He looks relieved to see her. “Are you Miss Sakura Haruno?”

Sakura nods, letting her gaze shift from his face, to the bundle of flowers in his hands. She then gives him a quick once-over, recognizing the logo of the local flower shop stitched into his left sleeve.

“I am. How can I help you?”

He seems overly delighted by her confirmation and thrusts the bouquet into her unsuspecting arms. Sakura struggles to receive them without crushing a bud or two.

"Awesome! I'm glad you're here." His enthusiastic manner reminds her of Naruto. "I didn't want to leave these outside your door where anyone could step on them. You don't need to sign for them or anything. Have a nice day, ma’am! "

The delivery boy is there one second and gone the next, and Sakura is too flabbergasted to fully contemplate if she's insulted by him addressing her as 'ma'am.’

She looks down at the bound blossoms, a neat array of reds, pinks, and whites, and she spies a little card mounted on a plastic display nestled in the center.

It's a simple note, written in elegant, feminine script.

Just a friendly reminder --

Thinking of you always.

Yours,

K.

Suddenly, Sakura doesn’t feel so tired anymore.

-⇞-

Later that day, when Ino stops by and notices the bouquet sitting as the centerpiece on Sakura’s kitchen table, she proceeds to call Sakura a sappy, love-sick fool.

Sakura couldn’t and wouldn’t bring herself to care, because it was undeniably true, and no amount of teasing was going to wipe the goofy smile from her face.

-⇞-

November 16th, 2018

"If you're not going to help, I'm going to hang up on you."

"Now, Sakura, that hardly seems fair."

"Listen here you brat. This case is the make or break of my residency at the hospital. Either you help me go over the case files, or you quit distracting me. If you keep bothering me with useless nonsense, I’m going to fly to Iwa and beat you with a stick."

“Sounds like a good time to me.”

“Kakashi.”

"Alright, alright. Geez. Remind me to never get on your bad side, babe."

“You already are!”

-⇞-

November 22nd, 2018

It's the middle of the afternoon on Thanksgiving Day, and Sakura is panicking.

"Sakura, sweetheart, you need to calm down."

She glares at the phone sitting on her counter, hoping that he could feel the weight of her scowl all the way in Iwa.

"That's easy for you to say," She grounds out through gritted teeth. "You didn't just ruin Thanksgiving dinner! Seriously, how the hell did I manage to burn a fucking turkey!"

There's a noise on the other end of the line, it sounds like a snort, she perceives it as a snort, and Kakashi is lucky that he is calling her from his office because if he were home, she would rip into him for finding anything about this situation hilarious.

Sakura settles on raising her middle finger in the direction of the phone, and that mollifies her – if only slightly – despite him not being able to see it. She continues to frantically turn the pages of the recipe book her mother gifted her when she moved out.

"If you're not going to help, Hatake, get off the phone."

"It's just Naruto and Sasuke," is Kakashi's flippant dismissal. "You could put instant noodles in front of the both of them and they would still praise you for it."

Sakura releases a distressed whine and turns another page, eyes skimming for something that she can whip together in a matter of an hour and a half. She hears Kakashi click his tongue and there's an echo of movement on the other end of the line like he's switching the ear that he’s pressing his phone against.

"Take a deep breath," he coos into the receiver. "You said you managed to save all of the side dishes, right? You can still serve those. I’m sure the boys wouldn’t mind.”

There's a murmur of another voice on Kakashi's end followed by Kakashi's muffled response. There's a pause before his says, clearer this time, “Sakura, I need to go. Make a noodle dish for the main course. I'm sure you have all the ingredients at home. I'll call you later, alright? Have a good time. I love you."

The call disconnects right as the cookbook slips from her lifeless fingers and clatters against the countertop. The noise that emanates from the back of her throat is a mix between a squeak and a whimper and is entirely distressed in nature.

Did he…did he just…?

The ringing of her cell phone interrupts her thoughts and Sakura looks at the brightened screen to see that she has messages from Kakashi waiting for her.

Kakashi Hatake (3:36:15 pm): So... I totally just said that... Kakashi Hatake (3:36:32 pm): Sorry for throwing it on you like that. Kakashi Hatake (3:36:47 pm): But it's true, and I'm not taking it back. Kakashi Hatake (3:36:59 pm): Remember, deep breathes, cook some noodles, and enjoy your time with your friends. I'll call you tonight.

For the next two hours, Sakura is too distracted with staring at those messages to try and salvage dinner.

They eat Pad Thai takeout for the main course and Sakura’s not even the slightest bit ashamed when she serves it.

Naruto and Sasuke – mostly out of fear for what would happen if they were to complain – tell Sakura it's the best Thanksgiving dinner they've ever had.

-⇞-

December 16th, 2018

Ino shows up on her doorstep that morning, and in all of her assertive glory, demands that Sakura help her bake something for her office holiday party.

Though Sakura would love to tell Ino that she is on her own, she has always been susceptible to Ino’s puppy dog eyes and her futile resistance crumbles before it even has the chance to form fully. The two of them make their way into the kitchen, and Sakura’ falls into the rhythm of a familiar and comforting routine: shooting the shit with her best friend, laughing about inanities, and dancing around her home as they prepare food in concert, singing along to one-hit wonders from the early nineties.

After the last couple of months, nothing could have been more uncomplicated or more healing than returning to this normalcy.

Cookies in the oven and coffee brewing, Sakura uses the lull in their baking to check her phone, and Ino notices the preoccupation instantly. Being an excellent friend, she misses exactly zero opportunities to rub Sakura’s face in it.

“Who you talking to, Forehead? Your boyfriend?” Her voice was sickly singsong, light, and teasing.

Sakura shoves her shoulder in repentance and laughs. It’s just as much jubilant as it is incredulous, and she shakes her head instead of getting defensive.

Sakura is in a good mood. It’s Sunday, and that means she and Kakashi have a movie date later on – which meant they would watch television while on the phone together and comment on the absurdity of whatever shitty horror film that they put on.

Ino walks over to the counter where the coffee pot resides, pours two mugs full, then returns to Sakura’s side, placing her cup on the table in front of her. They sit in companionable silence for a few moments, relishing in those first few sips of a fresh cup of coffee.

“Are you happy, Forehead?”

The spontaneity of the question catches Sakura off guard. Slowly, she places her mug on the table, keeping both hands wrapped around it and stares at Ino. The juvenile cheerfulness that her friend had exhibited that afternoon is long gone, leaving behind nothing but mindfulness and concern.

Sakura is aware that Ino’s question has nothing to do with her job, or her impression in that exact moment. It’s about her relationship and how it makes her feel and Kakashi. It’s always about Kakashi.

“Yeah, Pig,” Sakura reassures. “I’m happy.”

The gravity of the situation dissipates as Ino nods once. “Alright then.”

Sakura snickers. “I should be the one asking that question. How are things with Genma?”

Ino snorts, rolls her eyes skyward, and they fall back into the comfortable, compatible joviality that they had shared throughout the afternoon.  

Later on, about a half hour after Ino leaves, Kakashi calls and apologizes, but he has to cancel their movie date. He cites work for his excuse, and though Sakura is disappointed, she doesn’t hold it against him. She spends the rest of her evening flipping through Netflix and noshing on the cookies that didn’t make the cut for Ino’s dessert platter.

She readies herself for bed shortly after her movie ends. She plugs in her phone and cozies herself between the numerous blankets, sheets, and quilts on her bed. With the lights out and the only sounds in the room being the hum of her breathing and the buzz of the heater, Sakura begins to drowse. The chime of an incoming text message startles her out of her light snooze. Glancing at her clock, Sakura grunts and rolls onto her elbow, reaching for her phone on the nightstand.

Kakashi Hatake (11:01:30 pm): I have to speak to you tomorrow. Can you call me in the morning?

Just as she begins to thumb a response, another text message arrives.

Kakashi Hatake: (11:01:45 pm): You should be sleeping.

Then another.

Kakashi Hatake (11:01:51 pm): Seriously. Put the phone down. You have a shift tomorrow afternoon. Just call me in the morning.

Sakura does as she was told, a sly, little smile on her face.

Read receipts. She should really turn those off.

-⇞-

December 17th, 2018

There are some emotions that are difficult to explain – that exist in the kind of liminal space between other, more easily understood feelings like happiness and hate and fear. There are some emotions that don’t have a name: the sensation of looking up at someone and one day beginning to wonder, not for the first time, whether or not you really love them. The moment when you get exactly what you always wanted, but begin to feel guilty for all those who never will; the sense of coming home to an empty apartment after a long shift, and feeling both an abiding comfort and a profound impression of loneliness.

And Sakura was feeling one of those confusing, nameless emotions at that moment – a deep and personal sense of mourning for someone she was deeply tied to, but unable to adequately express the magnitude of her feelings.

"I'm...sorry...," she mumbles faintly. "Can you repeat that?"

She's back in the alleyway behind that sketchy bar Ino insists on dragging them to whenever their schedules align. She didn’t get the chance to call Kakashi that morning. Tsunade called her and asked her to start her shift a few hours earlier than intended. The patient census was still low, but her mentor wanted someone in the ER that she could trust.

By the time she was relieved of duty, Kakashi was still at the office, hence the late-night phone call.

Kakashi is insufferably silent on the other side of the line. He sighs, then sucks in a deep breath. There's a pause, a beat, where Sakura thinks that he might actually elucidate what he just said, but he merely sighs once again.

"I said," He finally mutters and then stops. Sakura hears the clink of his teeth as he snaps his mouth closed.

Sakura squeezes her eyes shut, bites back the tempting urge to vocalize her inherent irritation, and waits for him to confirm her fear. It's another two whole minutes before he speaks again.

"I said, I won't be able to make it home for Christmas."

Her plea is instantaneous. "We already have everything planned."

It's feeble and needy, but it's the only counter-complaint that makes sense in her mind. Sakura knows that Kakashi understands why she's unnerved by the news. If he doesn't come home for Christmas, the next time that he would be able to visit Konoha would be in March.

March.

“I know, and I’m sorry.” He really does sound remorseful, but the sinking feeling in her gut doesn’t go away with his soft words. “I have no say in who the partners decide to keep on during the holidays. They chose me, Sakura, and I can’t change that.”

It’s the first time in their relationship that Sakura hangs up on him out of spite.

-⇞-

December 25th, 2018

“You can still come out with us, you know,” Ino’s voice echoes throughout her apartment. “Genma and I are going to dinner, and we’re meeting everyone at the bar for drinks after. Seriously, Forehead, come get dressed.”

Sakura leans over the arm of the couch, digging her feet between the cushions to keep herself from falling too far forward. Facing the hallway that leads to her bedroom, Sakura yells out, "Thank you for the offer, Pig, but I'm not really in the mood to be a third wheel to you and Genma."

She hears Ino scoff, followed by her footsteps padding down the hall, and Sakura perks up at the sight of her best friend in her borrowed outfit.

Ino chose a pair of patterned tights and an over-sized, cream-colored sweater-dress with an off-the-shoulder, folded-over neckline that she made her look diminutive and cute. Her hair was pulled back into a high ponytail, and she foregone any dramatic makeup, instead opting for a mostly bare face and some lip gloss. Ino moseys her way over to the couch and begins to tuck her feet into her knee-high black leather boots that she had earlier disposed of.

"Are you sure you don't want to come?" She asks, making her way into the kitchen where she had dropped her coat on the back of one of the chairs.

Sakura sinks back into the soft cushions of her couch. "I'm sure. I'll be fine. I've got a pint of chocolate chip ice cream and half a bottle of chardonnay with my name on it."

Ino returns a second later, donning her wine-colored coat. She eyes Sakura curiously, and with a hint of doubt, head cocked slightly to the right. Sakura can see the gears turning in her head, watches as her lips part like she's about to call bullshit on Sakura's excuse. She doesn't let Ino have the chance.

"Honestly, Ino." The use of her real name gives the blonde woman pause. "I'm alright. I wouldn't let you out of this apartment if I weren’t. You know that. Go have fun tonight. Have a shot or two for me."

Ino scrunches up her nose, and her lips twist with displeasure, but she doesn't argue. She reaches across the space between them and ruffles Sakura's hair playfully. "If you need anything, call me. You know I'd come running."

Sakura gives her a dismissive wave of her hand. "Yeah, yeah. Get out of here already, or you're going to be late."

Ino doesn't fight her, and without another word, she's out the door.

Sakura occupies the rest of her evening with deep cleaning the majority of her apartment. Her kitchen floor has never been so clean. When her shoulders ache, and when her knees are sore and red from the amount of time she has spent on them, Sakura finally decides to call it quits.

She takes a long, relaxing shower, letting the hot water beat against her back and tries to find a sense of calm that has evasively eluded her for the last couple of days. Since Kakashi broke the news that he wouldn't be returning in time for Christmas, Sakura has thrown herself into her work at the hospital.

It wasn't his fault, she knew that, but it didn't make it hurt any less. Ignoring his calls and texts for the remainder of that night was juvenile and childish, and in recognizing her error, she apologized to him the following morning. Kakashi never held it against her, he understood. He always understood — that silly, stupid, reliant man.

Though things between them were fine, they weren't precisely copacetic, and the closer they drew to the destined day, the more strained things seemed to become. Sakura sent him a text this morning with well wishes for his holiday and received an immediate reply, but beyond that, she hadn't heard from him.

When the water turns cold, Sakura shuts off the shower and towels herself dry. She spends enough time in her bedroom to change into her pajamas and brush her matted hair before she beelines for her kitchen. A little while later, Sakura is halfway through her stash of ice cream, the drone of some news program on her television filling her living room, when someone knocks on her front door.

Whoever it is, is impatient, because before she can even put down her spoon, there's another knock, quickly followed by another, their volume increasing.

"I'm coming! I'm coming!" Sakura calls out, disgruntled at the prospect of her dessert-for-dinner pity party being interrupted.

Scratching the back of her head, Sakura throws open her door and comes face to face with a very disgruntled, yet strikingly familiar pug with a Santa hat on his head.

“Pa...Pakkun?” She gapes, caught off guard.

Her eyes dart down to the hands holding him around his middle, then trail up a toned arm, and then...he comes into view.

Kakashi is there, staring at her, looking so much the way she remembers him from their last video call.

He’s the same, but then again, he’s different.

He’s real.

He’s taller in person then she remembers, and his hair is a bit shaggier, but that jawline, the broad set of shoulders, those are all the same. Just the sight of him stirs something so powerful within her. It’s longing and something so horribly nostalgic that everything around them melts away into faded insignificance. Sakura watches, transfixed, as his mouth moves to form the one single word.

“Surprise?” It’s more of a question than a statement.

There’s a pause long enough to span a single heartbeat before she’s in his arms, squishing Pakkun between their bodies as she clings to him.

“What are you doing here? Better yet, how did you get here?” She’s vibrating with her giddiness, bouncing on her toes.

Home. This is what coming home feels like. It’s here, in his arms.

He laughs at her excitement. There's something about him that softens the longer he embraces her, giving way to such an air of contentment that Sakura can help but hug him tighter.

“It took some convincing, and a lot of overtime, but I was able to get off for the next couple of days.” The mood shifts and the corners of his mouth turn down into a small frown. His expression contorts into a remorseful grimace. “I didn’t want to disappoint you by not making it home.”

Guilt tightens her chest. “I’m sorry,” Sakura states quickly. “I didn’t mean to act the way that I did the other night. I’m not disappointed. I was being childish. I’m so sorry, but I could never be disappointed with you. Not when you’ve worked so hard to be here.”

Kakashi smiles that same smile he had when she confessed her feelings for him, and he finally does what she’s been wanting him to do since the moment he showed up on her doorstep. Her lashes flutter as he leans in, head tilting slightly. He presses his lips gently to hers, once, twice, and then pulls back, pressing his forehead to hers. He breathes out a sigh.

"I'm sorry I'm late," he whispers. "I got here as soon as I could. I’m home.”

Sakura is so overcome with the emotion that swells within her at that phrase.

The canine stuck in between them releases a whine and nips at his owner’s fingers. Kakashi pulls back further, and Sakura laughs at the dog’s antics, reaching out to softly scratch at the fur behind his right ear. It garners her an appreciative lick to the tips of her fingers.

“I love you,” are Kakashi’s next words, soft and sweet and filled with so much feeling.

And nothing else seems to matter, not the stresses of work, not the long distance, not the tension between from the last couple of days. All Sakura knows is that those words have come out of Kakashi’s mouth, here and in person, and it’s like all nine planets have aligned. Everything makes sense. They make sense and Sakura finds herself falling all over again.

She wasn’t about to let him go.

"I love you too," she breathes. "Welcome home."

Kakashi smiles and takes a step in her direction, then another, forcing Sakura further inside her apartment. He takes the time to close the front door behind him and crouch down to release an impatient Pakkun from his grasp; then he straightens, eyes having never left hers.

They are molten and warm, and he looks like he wants to devour her.

He closes in on her again, and Sakura readily jumps at the opportunity to meet him halfway, but there’s something about his movements. They're slower, more measured. He brings both of his hands to her face, runs his thumb across the curve of her lips, parting them slightly, and rests it in the corner. Kakashi moves his other hand to the back of her neck, opening his palm against the shape of her skull, pink hair ribboning through his fingers. Then still, slowly, sacredly, he tilts his head, lets their foreheads brush, then their noses, then plants the lightest, daintiest ghost of a kiss on the bit of her right cheek by the corner of her mouth. Sakura doesn’t feel as lax in this situation as he is, she doesn't want to draw this out, so she turns her head and their mouths lock instead.

Any coherent thought in Sakura’s head almost vanishes at the faint, fragrant whiff of his cologne. It envelops her, drowns her. Kakashi utters a muddled sound in the back of his throat that causes Sakura’s toes to curl. She’s the one to pull back from the kiss this time, but she doesn’t get very far before his mouth descends on hers once more.

Warm, smooth, slightly wet, he presses his lips against her own, briefly. Once didn’t seem like it was enough because a second kiss soon follows, and this one lingers, deepens. He pulls away infinitesimally and his smoldering black eyes peer into hers, which flutter in wonder.

“Hmm,” he hums with a chuckle, and Sakura hears the soft breath escape his lips, feels it as it fans hot against her flushed cheeks before he kisses her once more.

Sakura closes her eyes, fully embracing this beautiful dream and kisses him back. Her hands reach out to touch his chest, and it rumbles beneath her touch. She has a moment to relish in the feeling, and he takes the time to pull her towards him gently. His one hand inches down to tangle into the hair at the nape of her neck, while the moves from the side of her face, follows every dip and curve of her body, and comes to rest at the small of her back, tracing slow, tantalizing circles.

Their soft kisses become more passionate and the tip of his tongue, searing hot, teases and coaxes at the seam of her lips as they kiss, and Sakura doesn’t hesitate to open her mouth to receive him. All Kakashi gives her is one teasing lick before he withdraws, moving his lips to ghost along her jaw, nuzzling into her neck. Sakura moans, a delightful pressure beginning to build within her, and rocks forward to close whatever space is left between them, breasts pressed flat against his chest.

The hand on her back dips lower, squeezing over her shorts, kneading and caressing.

She pulls away from him with a breathless chuckle. “Eager, are we?”

“It has been a while,” he replies before nipping at her collarbone. He uses his nose to push the strap of her tank top down her shoulder and chases the fabric with his tongue. “That one night from freshmen year doesn’t really count.”

“I’ve sent photos as a little preview,” Sakura says, rolling her hips into his. A thrill of excitement shoots down her spine as she rubs against his hardening erection.

“Mm, but photos don’t compare to the real thing, do they?”

As delicious as his playful affections feel, Sakura would rather not waste another second. She steps out of his arms and before Kakashi can complain about the loss of her body, she’s slyly beckoning him with one finger, walking backwards into her living room.

There’s a blur of movement, a flurry of shredded clothing, and a shrill of laughter before Sakura finds herself bent over the arm of her couch.

Kakashi is between her splayed legs, his large hand pressing deliciously on her lower back, pushing her further down. He's taking his time, exploring her, reacquainting himself with what is his. Every once in a while, his fingers take off, thumb trailing across her spine, tracing the sharp indent of her waist, dipping into one of the two dimples just above her backside – the ones that she distinctly remembers him having a sort of less-than-healthy obsession with the last time they were together like this.

"Look at you," he murmurs into the tender skin at the base of her neck. Sakura mewls. “So beautiful.”

He pushes a lock of coral hair over her shoulder for no other purpose than to lick the spot he has just bared.

Sakura sucks in a breath, leaning forward a little more to grant him better access and coaxing him to where she wants him most. Kakashi readily takes the invitation, and when he's crouched behind her, he hovers there, hot breath ghosting against her skin. His fingers delicately trace along the backs of her thighs, running over the curves of her ass and Sakura can hear him utter profanities as he marvels at the sight of her, open and waiting for him.

Face still close, warming her with his breath, his finger traces a path from her clitoris, down, collecting the moisture that has begun to weep from her. He spreads it around on his way back up to tease her bud. Over and over he does this, fingers gently past her clit in one turn, then pressing hard against it on the next.

Sakura squeezes her eyes shut in frustration, feeling oh so good, and wanting so much more, and when she finally opens her eyes, lips parting so that she can tell Kakashi precisely what she would prefer those fingers to be doing, she feels it.

The hot, wet drag of his tongue, from bottom to top, followed by his lips closing around her clit. Sakura gasps. He applies a gentle suction, the tip of his tongue lapping at her intimately, while two of his fingers travel down to insinuate themselves within her. As soon as he's entered her, Kakashi curls his fingers upwards, increasing the suction of his lips incrementally to make the intensity of his caress almost intolerable. He keeps his pace steady, almost languid and a warmth pools heavily in her stomach, building up inside of her.

Sakura’s orgasm overtakes her in an embarrassingly short amount of time, though Kakashi doesn’t seem to mind. The combination of his fingers, his lips, and his tongue prove to be too much for her, and she cries out her release into the couch cushion underneath her.

She doesn’t have time to recover her breathing. Kakashi, one arm wrapped around her waist, yanks her up to a standing position. He makes sure that she is steady on her feet, before gently, but firmly, pushing her in the direction of the hallway.

“Bedroom. Now,” Kakashi commands, accentuated with a playful smack to her ass.

Sakura squeals in surprise which shifts into a stream of giggles as she makes her way down the hall to her bedroom, Kakashi hot on her heels.

Sakura’s not sure how she manages it, but she wrestles him down on the mattress first. The sight of him, lounging back in among her pillows, cheeks flushed in excitement, turns her on more than she realizes. She plants a knee on the mattress, quickly followed by the other, and she crawls demurely towards him.

When she’s hovering over him, Sakura kisses a trail up his left thigh, narrowly avoiding his weeping member that is begging for her attention, and nibbles harshly into the sensitive skin of his groin, laving at it gently with the flat of her tongue.

“Sakura.”

Kakashi’s warning is clear. He doesn’t want to wait, and truthfully, neither does Sakura, so without any concern or modesty, Sakura sits astride him, knees planted on either side of his hips, and shamelessly rubs herself against his cock.

She brings her hands to his shoulders for balance, and Kakashi cranes his neck up to kiss her just as his hands guide her as she lowers herself onto her onto him. Sakura sighs her pleasure as he fills her to the hilt, grinding greedily down onto him until she is seated tight up against his pelvis. When their kiss ends, they pull apart, and Sakura pants at the sensation of him bottoming out inside of her. His hands wrap around her hips, and he leads their movement as she continues to ground against him.

The first few moments are spent fumbling and shifting, both of them trying to find a rhythm that suits both of their needs, and try as she might, Sakura can't get a good enough angle to put enough pressure on her clit, but she's aching for it, and it causes her to whine. Kakashi seems to sense her frustration and sneaks a hand between them and harshly plucks and presses on her quivering bundle of nerves.

And then, all at once, every sensation becomes unbearable. His cock is so large and deep within her, stretching her deliciously from the inside, and the press of his fingers against her clit, the dragging of her hardened nipples against his chest. It’s too much.

A long, low moan accompanies each exhale, and Sakura presses her forehead to Kakashi's shoulder, continuing to rock over him frantically. Her body begins to coil in on itself with the buildup of another orgasm. His grip on her waist is bruising, and Kakashi starts to snap his hips up to meet hers.

Sakura can feel it, like a wave cresting in the tide, and she screams out her release, collapsing forward, sated and boneless. Kakashi stops moving, eyes closed and brow furrowed, fingers twitching on her waist. He holds perfectly still within her as she cums, a satisfied grunt escaping his lips.

Kakashi rearranges them on the bed, pushing her back on the mattress, torso hovering over her as he remains buried deep within her. When Sakura's collects herself, eyes focusing on him, he begins to move again, sliding into her in a luxuriant pace. Each time he pulls back, he nearly withdraws completely, before pressing forward until she's squeezed around him to the root. She was coming down from her previous release, and one breath later he was building her back up. This man would be the death of her.

But what a sweet death it would be.

Kakashi raises himself upright, spreading her legs wider with one hand, while the other occupies itself with cupping her right breast. It doesn’t stay there long before his fingers caress her heated skin, right up and past her collarbone. His fingers wrap gently around her neck, and there's no pressure at first, but then, there's a little squeeze. The slight amount of compression feels surprisingly good, adds to her lightheadedness, and Sakura closes her eyes and groans. One of her hands comes up to wrap around his wrist, and she cants her hips, trying to meet his, thrust for thrust.

Kakashi's eyes close as well and his rhythm stutters a little. Sakura's lids flit up so she can watch the concentration marring his brow, the sheen of sweat over his smooth, pale skin. He groans, quickening his pace before releasing his hold on her throat. He slumps forward onto his hands, one on either side of her head. Sakura wants to cum with him. She snakes a hand down between them and rubs herself frantically, trying to catch up and the other wraps around his neck, pulling harshly at the hair at the nape of his neck.

The feeling of him inside her, over and over, the press of his skin against hers, the flex of his abdominal muscles, and the delightful pain of his teeth digging into the flesh of her shoulder all work in tandem to rewind her up just in time.

He shudders over her, hips snapping and stilling, then moving again, as he releases within her. He continues with small, shallow thrusts, seeking the last delicious sensation of pleasure as his orgasm passes. When it’s finished, Kakashi collapses over her, his weight and heat welcome.

They remain like that for a while, recollecting themselves, but he eventually pulls out of her. They both whimper simultaneously at the sensation, and Kakashi rolls off of onto his side, pulling Sakura along with him. He tucks her against his side, wraps his arms tightly around her and Sakura presses her forehead to his chest, lips brushing along a pectoral. She sighs in contentment.

She feels his lips on the crown of her head, a butterfly kiss, and Kakashi murmurs, "Best Christmas present, ever."

Sakura snorts and nips at his skin. “You’re an idiot.”

He hums his agreement to her name calling, running his one hand leisurely up and down her side.

“Yes, but I’m your idiot.”

Sakura lifts her head and leans in to place a kiss on the underside of his jaw. “You’re not wrong there.” A pause. Then, “Merry Christmas, Kakashi.”

“Merry Christmas, Sakura,” he says before bending down and capturing her lips with his own.

[i-growl-growl-growl]

Love Never-ending

Genre [Rating] : Yandere, Stalker

Length: 1.5k words

Pairing: NCT member (unrevealed), OC

not proof-read

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Tonight’s a beautiful night.

The stars can be seen beyond the smog and city lights, however barely, which is a rare sight within the district of the city in which you’ve chosen to reside. Many people can be spotted coming out onto their private balconies from the apartment complexes off in the distance to gaze at the bright white dots that cover the sky beyond the tops of the cities’ jungle of skyscrapers. They join those who walk the cramped paths of the dark, dimly lit alleyways and city streets which still buzz with quite an array of traffic, below them in the calming activity despite the late hours of the night that have washed over this city. Even I have caught myself looking up to the sky above to catch a glimpse of the wondrous sea of sparkling beings every now and again, however, they don’t appease my soul’s standards and desire for beauty like you do. Unlike everyone else who are enamored with the sight of the stars above, I am enamored with the sight of you.

Unlike the stars, you are a constant source of light and beauty in my life. The stars could never give me the same soothing feelings of happiness, optimism, and courage like you do. They fail to make this world seem like a brighter place and their inconsistency of appearing in one’s life to soothe the aching of our weary hearts when needed is enough to drive me mad with anger and anxiety but you… you fulfill all of those necessities and wash away those unwanted emotions. You are always there, you are always consistent, you always appear where you to need to be and you’re always on time for such appearances.

That’s one of many reasons why I have fallen for you.

That’s one of the reasons why I must have you.

There are a few things that have kept me from taking you, however.

Before I could have you as my own, I’d realized that I must confront these things. Fortunately, I have confronted most, now there’s only a few more obstacles that I must get though before I can have you and completely call you my own.

Of all things left that I must confront it’s that of distance. I must confront the distance between us, once I’ve done that every other obstacle that appears will be a piece of cake to eliminate.

Although you’re already a constant in my life, one thing that you and the stars do have in common is distance. Even though we’ve had plenty of run-ins where the proximity between us was close enough that we could practically feel each other’s breaths on our skin there’s still a connection that hasn’t been made which closes you off from any of my advances. Despite our run-ins we’ve never actually talked to each other other than the simple exchanges of greetings, “hellos” and “how are yous?”. Despite our run-ins with each other you are still oblivious to the feelings I harbor for you, you still don’t know my name, you’re still unaware that my eyes only want to gaze upon you and only you, you’re still unaware that you and I are meant to be together. There is some hope for me yet though, I’m always nearby no matter where you go, I’m never far behind and I know that you’re at least slightly aware of this, just this slight amount of acknowledgement from you is enough to keep me going and have hope.

Your obliviousness to my existence in full, the disconnection between my feelings and yours, this is what the distance between us consists of. Well, not only that but, also the simple fact that you aren’t by my side and we live in what feels like separate worlds.

You live in a world where you’re loved by many. You’re beautiful, smart, popular and opportunistic, a popular student who’s got plans for the future with many friends and family members to back you up and cheer you on in your endeavors to achieve your goals. Wherever you go, you always seem to be in the limelight. Everyone wants to be around you, everyone wants to know all about you, everyone wants you to notice them and acknowledge their existence, everyone wants to be with you.

I, on the other hand, may as well be nothing more than a shadow cast in a dim light. I am a being that not many see and not many acknowledge. I am smart, I am opportunistic, and I also have plans for the future just like you, that much we have in common, but no one desires me the way everyone desires you. I don’t mind that though. What I do mind, is that everyone seems to have the same goals as I do, everyone wants you, and I can’t have that.

That drives me crazy.

I must find a way to close off this distance between us and quickly. I must do it before someone manages to take you before I can.

Luckily, from the moment I first saw you, I knew that there’d be obstacles like this that I’d have to face if I were to pursue you, so I’ve been preparing everything that may seem even the slightest bit necessary for our initial encounter with each other. These preparations are the confrontations that I had to annihilate before I can take you. Unfortunately for you, these preparations that I’ve made aren’t things that you’ll be too fond of in the beginning. Our first encounter won’t be like the encounters that everyone dreams to have either, it won’t include some cliché drama scenario where we bump into each other at a park, café or convenience store on a rainy night and end up talking to each other for hours over similarities that we have in our choice of music, movies or books.

No.

Our first encounter will consist of me stealing you away from everyone and hiding you in a place where no one can find you. The preparations have consisted of my ability to build a place for us to hide away from society, a place where you and I will have the ability to live our lives together and learn to love one another equally. In the beginning, there will be no way for you to escape: no windows for you to jump out of, no rooms that you can leave upon your own free will, no places where you can run to and be heard by anyone as you scream for help but, as time goes by and you become more compliant, you’ll gain more freedom.

As I watch you join the others around us at looking up into the sky to see the stars, I can’t help but hate myself for what I’ll have to do to you soon, but I must do it. I’ll continue to lay in wait for you to leave the café where you currently sit and sip on the coffee that you always order while looking out the large windows to see the stars. Once the café closes, I’ll watch as every customer leaves while you bide your time by sipping on the little remnants of your beverage before the staff tell you that you must leave then I’ll watch as you throw away the empty cup and leave the café the same as all the rest of the customers had. I’ve been doing this for a while, so I know your routine but tonight won’t be like every other night. I won’t watch you leave the café then follow you from a distance until you make it home and shut off the lights from your room like I usually do

No.

Tonight I’ll take you as I must before anyone has the chance to do it.

Once you leave the café and turn into any empty, unlit alleyway a mile from your place that’s when I’ll spring into action and claim you for myself.

I know this isn’t what you want in life and you won’t be happy with me at first, but I promise you that you’ll learn to love me and desire to be with me the same way I desire to be with you.

As I take out the rag from my back pants pocket and the chloroform from my bag, make a silent apology to you for what’s to come soon.

I’m sorry that I have to do this to you, but I can’t risk losing you to someone else.

You’re the love of my life.

Y/n, if we have as deep of a connection as I believe we have and you can hear my thoughts, I just want you to know that I’m sorry but don’t worry your pretty little head. You’ll only have to fight me for a little while before the chloroform does its magic and send you into a deep sleep. Than I can take you to our secret hide out and we can be together forever.

I love you y/n.

Now and forever.

[bigyack-com]

Vir Das Is Afraid of Not Having It

Vir Das is, in his own words, a small things guy. The 40-year-old, best known for his stand-up comedy, doesn't stress about stuff too much. His biggest concern? Getting home in time to walk his nine-year-old bulldog Watson, whom he hasn't seen much of because he's been travelling. Das namechecks pollution — “if I had to pick a big issue,” he adds — before returning to the small things. “I act, I do stand up, and I do music,” Das tells Gadgets 360 from Chennai. “And I've done a heavy amount of acting and I've done a heavy amount of stand-up, but I haven't made a lot of music. So I've been missing my band a little bit.” If you haven't heard of his music career, Das' band is called Alien Chutney, self-described as India's first comedy rock band. “Alien Chutney has always been one of those things that I think Vir saw as a holiday from the stand-up and acting,” the band's pianist Kaizad Gherda, who has known Das for 12 years, says. Within the other two, it's largely been stand-up recently. Das hasn't had a film role in over two years. That's in part due to his deal at Netflix, where he released his first hour-long stand-up comedy special — Abroad Understanding — in 2017. That led to a 36-country world tour in 2018, plus a second special — Losing It — in late 2018. “I consciously didn't because I fell back in love with stand-up,” Das notes. “You don't get to perform in Oslo and try and figure out what they find funny without some serious commitment to that process. And I just hadn't done that before. So, I took a year-and-a-half to really get good at stand-up.” But that's been slowly changing. In early 2019, Das was part of the short-lived ABC action comedy-drama series Whiskey Cavalier — it aired on Colors Infinity and can be streamed on Amazon Prime Video — which was cancelled after a season. In late 2019, Das acted in sketches for Jestination Unknown, an Amazon comedy travel reality series he also hosted. That's set to continue in 2020. In addition to two unnamed films, Das has a series called Hasmukh — he wouldn't reveal the platform attached — about a comedian who's a serial killer, which he has written, creative produced, and acted in. Das thinks it has elements of crime dramas Dexter and Fargo. It's currently in post-production, so expect to see that on your screens soon. “It's nice to do some Hindi stand-up, and it was nice to murder people every episode, I enjoyed that as well,” Das adds with a chuckle. “Hopefully, an avatar of me people will not expect.” Before that, Das can be seen alongside Preity Zinta in an episode of Fresh Off the Boat — it airs on Hotstar Saturday — the immigrant sitcom that's currently in its sixth and final season. On it, he plays someone “who has infectious enthusiasm and zero pragmatism. He's fully 900 percent into everything but has no clue how to do it whatsoever.” If it does well for its network ABC, it could end up being turned into a spin-off series. Das says it was “the luck of the Irish” how the Fresh Off the Boat role came together. In July last year, he was at the Just for Laughs comedy festival in Montreal when he got a call. Das flew down to Los Angeles to meet with writer Rachna Fruchbom and executive producer Melvin Mar. 48 hours later as he landed in India, he was told he had the job.

Das and Zinta in Fresh Off the Boat Photo Credit: ABC And then there's the new stand-up special — his third, which makes him one of just six comics to hit that milestone on Netflix. Titled For India, it's out Republic Day — Sunday — on the streaming service globally. With it, Das also makes his directorial debut, co-directing alongside Ajay Bhuyan, whom he previously worked with on Jestination Unknown. “I really got into the theme of this special,” Das adds. “And the shot-taking and the breakdown and how visually a special — yes, it's a piece of stand-up comedy but it's also a piece of cinema. There is an artistry to how to shoot a special. I learnt on this special to not have the fancy stage or the fancy lights or the swag suit or the big set. There's basically no set in this special.” That's not an exaggeration. In For India, Das — in loose-fitting clothing and a pair of jootis — walks out of a blue door that's placed in the middle of nowhere and then takes his place on the three steps that follow. The only thing next to him is a kulhad. The audience, sitting on lit-up chairs, surround him in a semi-circle. “I really wanted this special to feel intimate, because you can't do a special about India without making Indians as much a part of this special as the artist,” Das says. “Usually the audience is dimly lit; we've deliberately brightly lit. So if a joke works, you can see them laughing at it, and if they're uncomfortable with a joke, you can see that too. You're watching the audience as much as you're watching the comedian.” That intimacy isn't a natural environment for Das, who admits he's never been a “conversationally confident” person through his life. But those inhibitions magically disappear on stage, he adds: “Ever since I was a kid, school grades, debating, dramatics, ‘What's the Good Word?', quizzes, poetry recitals, anything on the stage, I was up for it.” Das was born in 1979 Dehradun, a small town on the foothills of the Himalayas, some five hours north of India's capital New Delhi. Just a few months old, the Das family — including his elder sister, Trisha — moved to the bustling Nigerian port city of Lagos, where he spent most of his early childhood. But his parents wanted him to have an Indian education, so at age nine, he was sent off to a boarding school in the sleepy town of Kasuali, five hours west of his birthplace. After splitting his time between India and Africa throughout school, Das came down to Delhi — his family had also moved back in the interim — for college, opting to study political science. But halfway through his degree, he packed his bags and moved to Chicago on a scholarship. There, Das would have his first taste of stand-up, writing and performing a 90-minute show in the final year of drama school. Soon after, Das was on his way to a master's degree in theatre in Alabama. But life had other plans. Das returned to Delhi for five months before he started grad school. During that time, he got another lick at stand-up. Loving it and wanting to become a full-time comic, Das dropped out of university in three months. His upbringing has made him “the perpetual outsider”, Das notes, “and that's something that I've had to make peace with. I'm very Indian for American audiences and very Western for Indian audiences. I'm way too Bollywood for music festivals and I'm way too indie for Bollywood. But I do believe that not getting lost in either one of those bubbles is a very valuable thing. “It took me a while to figure out comedically that I couldn't write for a particular audience because I didn't come from a particular audience. I just kind of had to write for myself and pray to God that the audience came along.” Back in India in the early 2000s, Das did anything and everything that came his way. That included stand-up specials, hosting TV shows, doing improv, and being part of a larger comedy ensemble. During one of those specials, Das thought of pairing comedy and music. “The only reason that I play with Alien Chutney is because it stands out,” Gherda says. “Even though the song has the same joke or the same punchline, it always lands differently for different crowds. Vir may have to twist it and turn it for different cities when we tour India. It's not like we're trying to play it perfectly. We're trying to ensure that the joke always remains funny.” Around the same time, Das would make his way into Bollywood, which included a leading role in the black comedy thriller Delhi Belly. Alongside, Das wrote a play called History of India.

Kunaal Roy Kapur, Imran Khan, and Das in Delhi Belly Photo Credit: AKP/UTV In fact, that was the original title for the new special — now called For India — an insider told Gadgets 360, before it underwent an overhaul of sorts. It still retains the essence, which involves Das looking at “what it means to be Indian in today's world. A mix of nostalgia and social commentary and just little s--t from India that I thought was funny.” For an hour and 15 minutes, Das talks about everything from chyawanprash to Ram Mandir, making a big deal out of little things and making light of controversial topics. He channels that outsider perspective by working two crowds — one Indian and the other foreign — in the same room. Every time he lands on a very-Indian thing like chyawanprash, the lighting changes as Das addresses the Westerners to explain it in their words. What's more interesting, in terms of what Das discusses, is the how. By and large, every time he wants to arrive on a political joke, he approaches it via a cultural association, be it a film, a book, a drink, or Indian uncles. It's a clever bait-and-switch, though viewers will likely see it coming after the first few instances. Mowgli is linked to Amit Shah, and Indian uncles are tied to Babri Masjid. “Sometimes you're like, ‘I want to write a joke about Doordarshan's Jungle Book.' And then you arrive at a political joke somewhere just because that's kind of floating around in your subconscious,” Das explains. “I did want to write a show that brought all Indians to the table because I think that the show — sort of a celebration of India — would need it as well. But at the same time, you don't want to stay away from things that — I do have beliefs.” For India is also like a homecoming for Das, who hadn't shot a special in the country in two years. And it kicks off a self-proclaimed “interesting” year, he says: “2020 is a year I decided not to repeat myself. The movies that I'm doing are extremely different and challenging. I don't look or sound like myself. I have a new show that I'm touring the world with and it's an incredibly personal show. “I'm going to release a hip-hop album at the end of the year, which is something I'm excited about because I think I'm at rap, and I wanna see if I can try and take Alien Chutney in a new direction. We're getting into the studio in a week to lay down like seven tracks.” “I think he's pretty good at that, because we previously had done a song called ‘Government Man' in that style and he was a little nervous as to whether everything would land or not,” Gherda remarks. “But it became quite a catchy and popular song. I think it's given him confidence to do right in that zone now.” “I love playing big music festivals with my band. I don't get to do that enough,” Das adds later, asked what he misses the most about his early years. “And I really enjoyed the job at CNBC. Because I was just this kid who they let on the nine o'clock news bulletin to joke and I had nowhere near the intelligence or maturity of anybody in that office building. “But they still put me on air on prime time, so I used to enjoy just being a kid raised in the newsroom. That was interesting. Sometimes I miss being part of a topical comedy show, and I think that's something I might do later in my career is get back to the Jon Stewart, John Oliver kind of game.” In his fifteen-or-so-year career so far, Das has explored virtually every art form available to him. Gherda says he does “a billion things” and adds: “There were days when it was just us. And Vir used to answer a call, and Vir used to quote for us, and Vir used to organise a car, and Vir used to book our tickets and our hotel. He had the motivation to do this without the celebrity attached to him.” Is there something Das can't do? “If I know that I can't do it, I usually want to do it,” he replies, before adding with a laugh: “Even if I'm going to be terrible at it.” That fearlessness has made him one of India's highest-earning comedians. Das' biggest fear is “not having it. I never want to get to the point where I'm not nervous before the show. I never want to get to a point where I'm not nervous about some of the products that I'm putting out. I never want to have a first day at work on a new project where I'm not terrified, because I think those three are good signs about artistic evolution. “If you constantly feel like a newcomer, and you're probably not good enough to do it, chances are you'll work that much harder.” Read the full article

[everythingtimeless]

Welcome to EverythingTimeless’ Weekly Roundtable, a sprawling discussion in which your friendly neighborhood Mod Time Team breaks down episodes of our favorite show, Timeless. We can’t promise to be coherent, but we’ll try our best. 

This week: Season 1, Episode 2 - The Assassination of Abraham Lincoln

Sarah: Friends, family, Time Team. We are gathered here today. To talk about Robert Todd Lincoln. (Right? That’s what we’re here to talk about?) 

Kate: Can I say it is still to soon even if I was supposed to be prepared to? Because, RTL. 

Gissane: That’s exactly what I signed up for. I also think we should make a fan club. Posters. Tees. Mugs. ALL THINGS RTL.

Ann: Girls, we must be PROFESSIONALS about this now. We are SERIOUS bloggers. So we can only squee over Dreamboat Lincoln in due order of the episode conversation.(Also maybe set up a side-side RTL appreciation blog?)

Kate: Maybe? Definitely.

Sarah: Decorum is the name of the game. (What do you think - Robert Toddless? Thinkin’ Lincoln? Todd Team?)

Gissane: Todd Team. YES. Can we be the Todd Team?

Kate: Alright, perhaps we gather what is left of our dignity and start at the top of the episode. I shall begin with the brave opinion that John Wilkes Booth is a toady dumpster fire of a human.

Sarah: Opinion super sustained.

Ann: I always appreciate the complete and utter loathing he inspires.

Gissane: Agreed. Very much agreed.

Sarah: It really does quickly pull you into the episode - something so recognizable and startling.

Ann: It absolutely does.

Kate: Like every time I see Titanic and think they will avoid the huge chunk of floating ice, I saw it and was still somehow shocked he was assassinated? Timeless knows how to deliver the drama, even when we see it coming.

Gissane: Yup, because on a show like this, we somehow hope that it can happen, but at the same time, we know that it shouldn’t. And a huge part of that drama was that amazing debate among the Time Team. It breaks me every single time.

Ann: Well and there is the *actual* chance they can change history, they could right a wrong. And even if we know that would royally fuck up so much more, a part of us still wants to save Abraham Lincoln, you know?

Kate: I love that the team members each have a voice though. Like a passionate though respectful debate about changing the entire course of history because how do you pass up the chance to save Abraham Lincoln?

Gissane: Always save Lincoln. Always.

Sarah: Well, Rufus’s point of view actually makes me cry.Because for him the ramifications of Lincoln’s death are so rooted in his oppression.

Kate: Rufus always providing such an important representation of a perspective rarely entertained.

Sarah: And seeing the hope in the soldier’s eyes as they talked about freedom - devastating.

Ann: That scene where the soldiers asked him to write letters for them? I cried.

Kate: And the whole while Rufus knows what is coming for them historically, so then when he might have a chance to save Abraham which would go a long way in saving them all? Gahhhhh. I am undone.

Gissane: It literally doesn’t matter how many times I watch this episode, I will choke up like a baby every time. I don’t think any episode has gotten to me as much as this has, to be honest.

Sarah: Right Kate - Lucy idolizes Lincoln, Wyatt sees saving Lincoln as proof that fate can and should change - which would in turn save his wife. But to Rufus, he still lives with a piece of that. 

And agreed so much, Giss. One of the soldiers - who had fought for the country, for his freedom - hasn’t seen his wife since she was sold. Timeless took this Lincoln episode seriously, and it shows. 

Kate: Rufus is the character that won’t allow us to conveniently forget the implications of history. HE IS SO IMPORTANT.

Gissane: I feel like we’ll say this every week, but I love how unapologetic this show is in regards to painting the ugliest sides of history to remind viewers of just how awful it was and essentially still is at times.

Sarah: Yes and yes.

Ann: It’s scary how much these lessons both still resonate and beg to be learned, you know?

Gissane: I love that even though we can definitely mess with history, the show still sticks to telling us truths that we may have forgotten upon learning or that may have been concealed from the textbooks.

Kate: Both, so so much Annie. 

Let us take a sojourn to another important little piece of the episode. In which the impeccable Jiya offers to help Lucy figure out what happened to her sister.

Sarah: Here. For. Lady. Friendship.

Gissane: You mean in the second episode of a show two women had a conversation that didn’t revolve around a man!?And it was done so effortlessly, you could tell right away that because both these women are incredibly kind, they’d get along perfectly with one another.

Kate: Meanwhile Conner “I have the sympathy of a plastic bag” Mason is all like, ummm sorry bout your sister maybe not really.

Gissane: Connor “No Chill, No Grace” Mason.

Sarah: Someone did not attend Mason Industries sensitivity training. 

Kate: It tickles me that every time the Time Team returns and reports a disturbance in the history force that Denise and Connor are all like, whatttt? Nooooo. How?!?!?! 

Ann: I also live for Denise’s face every time Connor speaks.

Gissane: She is all of us.

Kate: She wants to hit him so hard. Upside the head, really quickly and repeatedly.

Sarah: Can you imagine, though, finding out that not only is your sister just…not in existence…but the man who you thought was your father was, in fact, not your father…and then you are pushed into a small deathtrap and flung back to the assassination of your country’s greatest leader?

Kate: Also she is engaged to a stranger. Lucy has way more composure than pretty much anyone ever.

Gissane: And we can talk about how Wyatt slams Connor about being a little more sensitive. But in all seriousness, if I was Lucy, I’d lose my head in a heartbeat. Actual QUEEN.

Ann: Oh I would have crumbled immediately, if not sooner. I would have traveled back in time to crumble sooner probably.

Kate: This is where Wyatt really begins to take a stand for his team and I love it. First with assuring Lucy that they would fix the timeline and get her sister back. Then with Rufus, building up his self confidence.

Gissane: YES. I love his moments with Rufus too much to be able to form words.

Kate: Wyatt started becoming more than just a super pretty face with a head that rocks a hat like nobody’s business this episode.

Sarah: It also begins one of my favorite pieces of this stupid (wonderful) show - which is Wyatt helping Lucy with her seat belt. (And Wyatt’s perpetual motion sickness.) 

Ann: Sarah no.

Kate: Yes Sarah. YESSSSSSS. Yep. 

Gissane: SO. MANY. EMOTIONS.

Sarah: I don’t know what I did in a past life to be punished? rewarded? thusly. But I curse and praise some deity.

Ann: I swear to god every time I put on a seatbelt now I am pissed as hell that it’s my hands and not Wyatt Logan’s adjusting the strap for safety.

Kate: Wyatt Logan is the sear belt fastener we all deserve.

But also, and finally going back to where we feverishly began. Lucy and RTL. Going to the Ford Theater. Making eyes at each other. DISCUSS.

Gissane: THE WAY HE WALKS IN. Just. I need to go lay down.On a serious note though, the thing that gets to me is how proud he is to be Abraham Lincoln’s son. He doesn’t feel pressured to live in the shadow, he appreciates it. An absolute babe with a heart of gold? I cannot handle. 

Sarah: It is a beautiful thing.

Kate: I will never get over the anguish in his face when he found Lucy outside of the theater.

Sarah: I think all of it is so lovely in setting this scene - it’s a story we (or, well, we as Americans in this chat) know well. But he helps to humanize it. All of the small details - including the mailroom and the dimly lit theatre and trying to avoid the show (or help Ulysses avoid the show).

Kate: I feel like we think of Abraham Lincoln as ours, you know? Leader of a country through one of the most tumultuous times in our history. But he belonged to others, and this show allowed us to see the imitate cost.

Gissane: Oh man. I have chills. 

Sarah: Yes, Kate. 

Gissane: KATE. SARAH. Wow.

Sarah: Even seeing Ford’s Theatre now, it’s hard to place it back to that time. But I think that Timeless really succeeds. All while weaving an interesting story and building this new relationship between our 3 main nuggets.

Gissane: The first time I ever passed by Ford’s Theatre. I couldn’t describe that feeling even if I tried.

Kate: Yes. It gives new breath and dimension to characters or stories we felt we knew, and draws us into the new stories of this team.

Sarah: There’s a Sephora about 300 feet from Ford’s Theatre now, so it really is worlds removed. It also created a high stakes mission. 

There were several moments where I thought, “Oh damn. Lucy is going to save Lincoln.” And Lucy had to make the choice (Though, in that moment, the chaos made it impossible to save him anyway. And here we see Fate in action once again.)

Gissane: But I also love that she clearly tried towards the end, but it was too late. It was just not meant to be I guess. IT HURTS. 

Kate: And considering she was in the box when it happened. How traumatic. Lucy Preston is so damn strong I cannot.

Sarah: SO strong. (Of course RTL sees that and comes to her immediately after…)

Kate: A small aside. Garcia. We don’t know him yet, his motivations, his past. It is jarring to be attached to him  now (because damnit I am) and go back and see him at his most detached.

Sarah: He was outright terrifying. He killed Lincoln point blank, no hesitation. 

Kate: But I swear there was regret in his eyes when he shot Lincoln, so this is when I started wondering just what the hell he was up to. Or maybe I imagined it because he has really pretty eyessssss.

Gissane: But I feel like Flynn is the kind of man who’d look up to Lincoln in one way or another. If there’s one president that could win even the cruelest hearts, it’s Lincoln.

Sarah: True, Giss.Which makes his desperation all that much more apparent.

Well, friends and Todd Teamers. Final thoughts? 

Kate: Other than poor Lucy, she goes from watching the president be assassinated to an engagement party to a man she is just meeting? Time Travel Whiplash, my friends

Gissane: After this episode, I became Timeless trash. There was no turning back.

Sarah: Mostly I think they’ve started to really carve a few important paths for the show: There seem to be no stakes too high for Garcia. Fate appears to be unavoidable. And time is malleable. 

I cannot wait to see what timeline our friends mess up next - and hopefully we get some Amy-related answers? P.S. I would also not cry about seeing Wyatt shirtless again

Kate: Until Atomic City, location Trash Vegas, my friends.

Gissane: Good day, darling souls! 

Kate: (On to dream about Wyatt shirtless, thanks muchly!)