#hope dissolves away and u just exist to be useful. and i feel like its easier to maintain that than trying to b happy

[opens-up-4-nobody]

...

[sugar-petals]

Can u introduce yuzuru to us the caro way?👀

so you want to know about the one and only. ♡😌

yuzuru hanyū (25) of sendai, japan: the most beautiful ice prince with a heart of gold.

….an artist clearly not of this world, he’s been sent to us from another realm. 19 world records, two olympics won, dubbed the greatest figure skater of all time. and the most precious bean on top of that.

but let’s start from the beginning, shall we ♥︎

so, want to spot yuzu on the ice? use this checklist. slender silhouette, an even slimmer waist, feather-like outfits (he sketches those himself; the fandom lovingly calls him swanyu), soft blushy face. he has great androgyny.

outside of performances, you see him either with a deer’s gaze or the brightest, biggest eye smile. also, he’s usually found sitting with his wife: 

which is the ice 😄 these two are together forever. you can discern yuzu from a mile away by how he treats his working ground. 

there is a purity to him. you’d not guess that this is one of the most ardent athletes if you didn’t see what’s around his neck after competitions. the guy’s cuteness is as compelling as his skating technique.

look for it: yuzu’s face is super suave and rosy up close, even after his most energetic performances. some men are handsome, others pretty, he is both. 

even acoustically, he’s hard to miss. applause is all around, and he’s highly expressive. if you see a crying young man getting the high score, that’s yuzuru hanyu. you’ve not seen more beautiful happy tears.

and score reactions, anyway:

so, aye loves, the rumors are true. a cutie-pie off the ice, animated, a real unabashed meme — yuzu is easy-going, talkative. cheery, cheeky, one of a kind. his facial expressions are a league of their own.

if you thought this is the sort of guy who watches cat videos, you are correct 😄

yuz-uwu hanyu, everybody:

his undoubtedly feline behaviour is often unexpected, it stands out with its adorableness, too. a sweetheart par excellence. 

and, how else could it be: vice versa, the big beast on the rink. he’s cutesy, dorky, very well-spoken in daily life, but when it comes to skating, his seriousness escalates. you blink once and suddenly hanyu is a bedazzling, strutting lion :’D his performances stun with confident elegance.

he becomes full of ardor, drama, and focus. you’d never suspect so much fire burns in him. a showman and ambition icon, hands down. 

his skating is dynamic, perfected, and emotional. if you want to see art and the extra mile, tune in when hanyu competes.

the downside is; more light, more shadow. it leaves him crawling on the ice afterwards. yuzu performs so hard, it’s worrying.

he delivers it all. you won’t believe it:

this guy is an asthmatic.

the symptoms aren’t as bad as they used to be, but there are still regular attacks. he said that he’ll never take it as an excuse and often recalls how he started skating because of it. he’s a badass, extremely inspiring. yuzuru defies all limits, including gravity. his jumps have legendary status. 

off the rink, you guessed it: he turns into a wholly different person. 

it all dissolves completely when he’s dorking around again. 

don’t let it deceive you, he’s the no other option than first place type. he could not be any more decorated with titles, he achieved the grand slam in all competitions as of 2020. and still, king of sportsmanship hanyu is respectful and smiley towards all colleagues and never lets anyone feel left out. especially when it comes to his juniors (e.g. yuma kagiyama, 16, below) which says a lot about him.

he bows in every direction before an audience, too. lower than a 90° angle, even. this is more polite than any existing formality in japan.

talk about audience: i introduced fellow japanese skater shoma uno last week, who’s more uncomfortable with social contact and aggression. yuzu, extrovert he is: the exact opposite. he withers away with no people and competition. he’s befriended rivals, had crises over not having someone who could challenge him. when a competitor retires, he’s the one crying in their arms (e.g. with team mate and bff javier fernandez from spain below).

beside his competitive spirit and princely wow factor, hanyu is popular for his winnie pooh tissue box that he caresses, squeezes, and carries everywhere. he loves good luck charms & rituals, pooh is the most important one.

fans throw pooh plushies on the ice after his performances because of it. since it’s gotten so intense, yuzu recently started cleaning them up himself on top of the flower girls for the upcoming skater who could get delayed otherwise. (more about what happens with the piles of plushies later.)

so, the burning question is. 

what made yuzuru hanyu emerge so outstanding an entertainer? how does someone causing so much uproar become like that? it’s not just what kind of appearance he was given, although he really looks his part to a T. you don’t have to be an insider to see it right away.

like literally to a fault. and you can tell the way his blades sound on the ice is different. it’s soft even if he does the most hardcore quadruple jumps. i think it’s because his drive to do this is a higher one, hanyu has an altered relationship with the ice. where his devotion comes from has a more severe reason so, massive trigger warning. 

this is no exaggeration: yuzuru is considered a hero to the japanese. a survivor of the earthquake 2011, he narrowly escaped the collapsing rink in his hometown on that very day. he’s often talked about how the ice shattered underneath his feet and it was the moment that defined his life forever. he could have been dead by the age of 16. his motivation has been set ever since. this man is compelled by something bigger, that’s why you hear it and you feel it. he wants to skate not just for himself but others and seize every day. 

much of his copious charity work — that’s where all the pooh plushies go — went to mend the consequences of the tsunami ever since, he’s looked upon as a great hope in japan. the minister gave him the people’s honor award in 2018. 

now you know why yuzuru has such a fanbase and treats the ice as sacred, you see it in every gesture. his manners are without a single flaw, he helps staff repair the ice after performances. 

you might think it’s odd, but he honors the ground. he’s invested in the integrity of it. that’s why he’s the best skater. it’s gratitude and the will to live fully.

he hates to fall on the ice, he hates to damage it. alongside his feathery weight, that’s why the sound he makes while gliding along is so tender. 

i think that’s also why hanyu’s signature element is the ina bauer. it doesn’t rely on brutal force, instead this element slides across the rink like a swan. yeah, oh my god.

it’s his most well-known dramatic move. the way he surrenders into it. 

hanyu’s back arch and perfect split allow him to do elements no other male skaters can. his biellmann spin, for instance. i know, it’s ridiculous.

and those are just two elements of dozens and dozens. hanyu is a kinetic wizard. i highly rec this record-breaking delivery of his olympic program. in front of his home crowd! he’s just… mind-boggling. i live for his smiles here.

exceptional skater, exceptional mentor: it’s time we look at another puzzle piece that made yuzu the way he is. the masterful brian orser is hanyu’s beloved coach. missing gold by just one mistake at the olympics 1988, brian is now committed to give others what he couldn’t have— successfully so.

orser took the ice prince to gold twice, this hasn’t happened in 66 years. brian is the nicest and most supportive pooh carrier and yuzu’s utmost rock. hanyu’s talent rests safely in these hands.

he gets strict about punctuality lmao! but other than that, his guidance is gentle. canadian he is, brian’s courteousness mixes well with yuzu’s politeness. their bond is strong. as. hell. 

brian picked up yuzu from rock bottom several times. most fateful being hanyu’s accident with a fellow skater during competition warm-ups nov 2014. they collided at a high speed, it was unspeakably nasty. yuzu got knocked out for half a minute and had grave breathing problems but still decided to skate on with what later turned out as an almost-concussion. brian was the most worried ice dad in the world that day.

yuzu cried and crouched and bled like mad and my heart has been broken ever since. i hope he never suffers like that again. promise me you don’t search up the video, it’s a harrowing watch like a stab to the chest. sadly enough, hanyu’s body has still been a notorious wreck, esp. ankle issues regularly give him a hard time 😔

it hurts like a bitch with every jump landing but he takes meds and still manages to win, god knows how. sometimes even with crutches on the podium. at his worst, he’s still the best, it’s a tragedy.

he’s been recovering, or always is, but he pushes himself through injuries. his ambition and perfectionism are boundless. the cause is more important to him than his well-being. this is not an easy guy to stan once you see how he sacrifices and self-destructs. so, it’s good someone protects him. 

mostly from himself because nobody has profoundly surpassed hanyu. he has let himself no choice than to contest himself. not even health, only age can stop yuzu. i think that brian understands this ‘curse of a genius’ effect. his mere presence can make hanyu say these rare words:

his two other coaches contribute to that. tracy wilson (left) has proven to understand his playful side the best while ghislain briand (right) helps yuzuru deal with his fears. so you got 3 people taking care of the golden boy. brian once said: “he is very sheltered” and you can see it’s true.

yuzu eased into learning english and communicates well with his coaches. like with everything, he studies hard and often forces himself to speak during interviews to practice. his skills are astounding. his speaking voice is also very soothing, very amicably low and high alike. yuzu is highly intelligent. he always says something eloquent and interesting.

now, privately, hanyu is very much like you’d expect someone so devoted to skating would be like. he doesn’t go out, has no social media, can’t eat nor sleep very well. no cameras allowed during practice. it figures he is attached to winnie pooh, think about it. in the cartoon, pooh is someone who sleeps, eats, and engages with friends plenty. 

these are the things hanyu can’t do, doesn’t have time/energy/incentive for. he is barred from balance in life but can at least admire this little carefree plushie for it. especially because pooh represents eating lots while yuzuru doesn’t have a good relationship with food (he says it doesn’t go well with jumps etc.), hanyu lives vicariously through him. 

what’s more, you have to see how he throws himself onto others and never wants to let go, yuzuru is extremely cuddly. 

to the degree that mere social customs can’t meet how much he really needs. so, what else can he resort to, he loves mascots and plushies. it’s how the tale goes in japan generally, tough work ethic, high responsibility, high pressure, so people turn to cute fluffy things.

he always fondles pooh’s head, even pretends he’s come to life so he has someone to snuggle with. i think that his isolated lifestyle doesn’t help. so, he gets his affection at least there, you can see how happy it makes him. and again: he does this all for charity.

that’s why fellow skaters are so important to hanyu. it really brings out his social spirit and comforts him best, it’s so wholesome. i’ve not seen someone react so relieved to being embraced, like he’s not been touched for months. skating this, skating that. at the end of the day, hanyu wants love.

as he once said, what motivates him is to express himself in the first place. hanyu is a romantic. it’s written all over him. it reflects in his music choices, his elegant motion, how he designs his outfits:

… and how thoughtfully he talks about marriage. he has big plans for starting a family and coaching after he retires. i won’t be the only one squeezing lucky charm pooh in my imagination so it turns out well for him. please make this heart of gold heal and see all his wishes come true ♡🐻

[oghoneytryst]

savior;

continuation from the sunflower. series / part 3

where a fan becomes a friend

a/n: thank u for being so patient with this. my inspiration and writing just ... hasn’t been it lately, but I'm really pushing through and i am so happy to have finished this part. honestly, we’ve got a long road ahead of us, but I will try my absolute best to drive this wild ride down.

pls let me know how you feel about this part! pls be nice b/c I'm currently in sad bitch hours :-)

also sorry that tumblr is a weirdo and made the format for text super strange, idk what to do about it but i hope it doesn’t affect anything!

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

~ Nov. 14 ~

Every digit embodies a shapely mark of intimidation; all ten, with their loops and their curves that shower in iridescence through her late morning eyes. Midnight ink saturates the sticky note’s pale yellow, tiny creases in the square body and little curls at the edges. She knows the value of this ordinary paper, and in her hands, it dances in the flame of eternal possibilities.

The pregnant woman sits on an office chair with desperation in her chest. Beneath the buttons and ruffles of her bright marigold blouse, her heart beats against her clammy skin. Heavy thighs stick to the squish of the chair, a mermaid’s tail in a muted pencil skirt. The material expands and shapes over her little bump; her growing joy; her inconvenient little bundle that she adores so much.

As a result of her punishable overthinking, she tears away the inside of her cheek, gnawing teeth at war by mindless command. In a pile of her worries, the minimal harm is at the very bottom. At the top are these ten digits that transfix her curious eyes. It isn’t as if she hasn’t considered dialing the number before. Insignificant pregnancy whines, however, cannot compare with the favor she would be asking of him now.

Without trouble, she recalls the days that had followed Harry’s visit. She recalls her tears on the couch, angry at nothing, angry at everything; the frustrating changes of her body, the awful work days. In all of her recollections, she complains to her roommate, who she admires greatly for putting up with all of her dramatics.

On the 6th, she had obsessively craved some Dippin’ Dots. It had been on the 6th that Aaron found himself arguing with a pregnant woman, a feat he had never wanted. It hadn’t mattered that such a pregnant woman had been his infuriatingly needy roommate, someone he actually does care for. He really had no trouble telling her no after her incredibly annoying behavior that afternoon.

She, of course, is never able to control her pregnant mannerisms. Yet, Aaron has always been suspicious of what she had been like prior to the bun in her oven. He has only ever known her as a woman-carrying-child in need, so perhaps during this process a lot of her personality hyphens instead of alters.

Nonetheless, her demand had been frankly impossible on the 6th. The nearest Dippin’ Dots is more than a half hour drive away from their home, and nighttime had been approaching soon. There hadn’t been a chance that Aaron would bear through Los Angeles traffic for, quote, “fucking balls of ice cream.”

So, with the fire of the sun drizzling to a bedazzling California sky, she had wept over nothing and everything at once. The timeline of her pregnancy had not made her emotions plausible. Instead, it had been the collective world turning against her on a tiring, unwelcomed day.

In the flash of a second, she had heard the ding in her fuzzy brain. The sticky note with the fruitful digits ... maybe he has some connections! Maybe he can bring us some! Do you think? If he’s not busy? What if he has a special freezer meant for his own supply of Dippin’ Dots?

It had been harmless on her part; an oh-so-bright idea crafted from a momentary desire for soft frozen food. She had been so close to make the call, if not for her dearest roommate and his not-so-delicate intervention. Aaron, the man who she believes admires Harry more than she does. With a high percentage of certitude, she knows he’d be first in line to invite the Cheshire man back to their unimpressive home. 

In truth, that had been the reason for his disapproval of ringing him up that night. He believed it to be lunacy, sharp scissors at the ready in order to cut the special ties she had somehow knotted up with Harry. The man’s exact words – in that richly Northwestern accent – had been: “if you ever need something, please, don’t hesitate to call this number.” Something, in Aaron’s eyes, had not been anything. While he does not have a single doubt that the rock star would fly to her rescue in any situation, he advised against calling him for certain things.

Not everyone is so fortunate to have Harry in their lives. Aaron, with all of his respect for the man, knew that this had been a game to play carefully. If his pregnant roommate really enjoyed Harry’s company, she would have to play every card right, especially with a man as reserved as he is.

His points had been compelling, but she had not seen it as seriously. Her intuition had not stopped her from rethinking her decision once and twice and thrice. In the end, she had put her trust in Aaron’s madman words and had not called Harry. In the days that had followed, his charismatic voice lured in the back of her head whenever she scanned the sticky note, second-guessing herself about whether her temptation to call him had been worthy enough of his time.

It had been more difficult to resist calling when she had been alone one unfortunate night. The bustle of the neighborhood brought her to a reality that she did not particularly enjoy. Forced by the comfort of her pregnancy pillow, there had been a magnetic pull of the stars that whispered to her eyes through an overbearing distance.

She only wanted a friend that night. Someone to talk with, to hear their voice so that it could bring her back to the bit of sanity she had left. Previous nights, Aaron had been a solace for her, soft-spoken words lulling her to sleep after suffocating in the clouds for too long. Except that night, he ended up at his workplace until the late hour, and she recognized her loneliness as dangerously frightening.

For hours she cried, wanting a hug, wanting something to make her feel real and existent and safe. On that night, in her most calamitous moments, she later came to notice the vivacity of her swollen stomach. It had been – always is – comforting to feel something there, even without having to actually feel movement. It had been therapeutic to whisper her fears and truths. It had been on that night, she would never be alone again.

She hasn’t thought to call the number since. While it has only been a mere 10 days, there feels to be an infinite timeline of moments in-between. She knows it to be more accurate for him and his busy, ever-changing schedule.

They’d had a conversation last time, when he brought her that treasured gift. He sat on the dusty floorboards, her rested on a heavenly cloud with a smile to match. It had been simple, a little awkward at times, though never once had it felt forced. She feared them reverting back to strangers, to sense the shift in energy that would put a strain on her heart.

She scans the note again. xxx-xxx-xxxx. A dime of kisses, where no other option lies.

With her phone face-up on the receptionist’s desk, she rolls her eyes. Messages of apologies and excuses flood in, though her scant aggression dissolves into an antsy frown. She cannot be mad at Cindy/Sydney for cancelling on her, especially when she does not even know her actual name. The frustration of her anger devolves into frustration of herself, for this damn appointment that she had not set up a backup plan for.

“Excuse me?”

Breaking up with an intense, one-sided conversation, she raises her head to a sheepish man in his late 30’s, early 40’s. He stands at a short height on the other side of the receptionist’s desk, square glasses disguising his truest features.

She grins at him, a cheery delight overpowering her honest glum. “Hi, how are you?” her voice chirps, a shift in her behavior that she considers a skill-set. “What can I do for you today?”

“Uh, I’ve already spoken with you. I have an appointment with Sanders at 10 and you told me to fill out a form. I’m still waiting for it.”

The woman’s smile falters at the man’s irresolute explanation. He ends each sentence as though it is a question, not wanting to step on a wrong foot. She takes in his appearance, and there is familiarity in his rusty red, untucked polo. 

“Right.” Her eyes close in repent of her common forgetfulness. “That’s right. I’m sorry.” She scurries to get the papers together on a clipboard, pushing the rolling chair in every different direction. “I’ve just been a little slow today.” The man laughs off the mistake, assuring her that there are no worries.

“Really, no trouble at all.” 

He thanks her for the form once it is secure in his hands and walks to the waiting area. This accidentally precedes her rushing to hand him the sticky note, to which she quickly realizes her mistake before he has a chance to read the numbers. He sits down in a modern arm chair next to its twin, where a young preteen girl shifts around nervously. Out of plain assumption, she recognizes the pair as a father-daughter duo. The man smiles at the girl, crossing his legs, trying to console her nerves as best as he can with humor.

The pregnant receptionist smiles.

The ventilated air of the office smoothens in her lungs.

For her child, she would do anything – everything. As hesitant thoughts surge through in hungry waves, she dials the number in her phone anyway. In the back of her head, she contemplates whether it is actually his number or if it belongs to an assistant of his. It doesn’t sound completely off from what a celebrity would do. He doesn’t know who she is. It’s better to play it safe than to make a foolish mistake that he later regrets. 

The trio of short, snippy buzzes vibrate through the line. It is an electric feeling, comforting almost to hear its warm murmur during her wait.

“—Hello?”

Her languid eyes illuminate in the mirror of neon signs; her body freezes over with a blizzard of nerves. His voice is somehow deeper than she remembers from 10 days ago, an ironic sultriness in his polite tone.

“Hello?” he asks again with a tad more infliction in the single word.

“...H-Hello,” she responds, tongue running dry and the last sensible part of her brain sabotaging her. Why didn’t I prepare for this? It is feasible that deep in her subconscious, she had expected an assistant to answer. She practically wanted an assistant to answer. 

He repeats himself, “Hello,” a little more chirp in the melody of a mockingbird.

“Hi. Harry?”

“Who’s calling?”

The question stumbles her for a second. Is it good or bad that he cannot recognize her voice? Admittedly a consequence on her part for taking so long to reach out. She answers anyway, her name spoken with so much dubiety, but really, what is she afraid of? 

“You know, the uh, the one from—”

“Oh—”

“From Mel’s and, the one with ... pregnant, y’know—”

“Yeah!” he exclaims, echoing her name through a mildly static output. “Of course. How are you? Doing alright? Baby’s fine?” 

She pulls away from the phone to breathe, suddenly elated over his reaction. His charisma is virtually magical. She touches her cheek to the screen again to answer:

“I’m doing great, thank you. Baby’s fine, I hope.”

A delay of worry replaces his lack of an immediate response. “You hope? Why, what’s – is there something wrong?”

“No!” she bursts out, the father and daughter staring back at her in surprise. She nervously chuckles and smiles at them, deflating in her chair as she continues. “No, sorry, that came out wrong. I meant to say ... well, I’m sure the baby’s fine. Nothing feels wrong, but I do have an appointment for an ultrasound today.”

A faint crackle from the line resonates in her ear. She clearly pictures Harry’s sigh of relief.

“Really? That’s great. I hope it all goes well.”

“Thanks! Thank you, I do too—” she snickers, “Obviously, but I have uh ... there’s a bit of a predicament.”

“Predicament? Fancy word.”

“Right, well, it’s not so much of a fancy situation that I’m in. See, I was supposed to be picked up later today by Cindy Sydney so that she could take me from work to the appointment, but she just called and cancelled because she has to pick up her aunt from the airport. She got the dates mixed up somehow, which makes no sense because pregnancy has made me very forgetful, and even I didn’t get the dates wrong. I think that might have to do with the planner, it does keep me organized, but even then—”

“Darling,” Harry stops her, unaware of how she chokes on her own tongue at the endearment. Darling. Darling again! From darling to love, she is in a storm of beating hearts. “You’re gonna ‘ave to slow down. What – you don’t have a way to get to your appointment, is it?”

“Yes. Right. I don’t have enough for an Uber or a Lyft right now without affecting my budget for next month. She offered to pay for it, that or for cancellation fees, but I don’t really trust those kinds of transportations right now, and I already got approval from my manager, so switching the date would just be super inconvenient.”

“Right. I understand.”

“I’m so sorry, it’s just that no one else that I know of is available, and I don’t want to bother you if you’re busy. I wouldn’t be calling if—”

“No, no, that’s alright. I’m glad that you’re calling.”

The pregnant woman simpers, a needle pricking at her heart. “R-Really?”

“Of course. I would be more than glad to help. If you could just send me the location of your workplace and where you’re getting your ultrasound ... what time is your appointment?”

“At 2. I want to get there maybe fifteen minutes earlier. You’ll never know how much the traffic will back up at that time. Is it okay if uh ... are, are you picking me up or...?”

“Yeah, why?”

“N-No, nothing, I just ... didn’t know if you were busy. Didn’t want to assume.”

“Yeah, my schedule’s fine. Not really doing anything that I can’t do later, so everything’s fine.”

“Oh, okay. Good. Great. So, uh, is it okay if you arrive here at, say, one-oh-five-ish?” 

“Oddly specific.” Harry chuckles. “But sure. I can make that happen.” 

“Great! Thank you so much. You have no idea how much this means to me.”

“You’re quite welcome ... thank you for calling.”

While her appreciation for him has always been so strong, this heavy thump in her pink and red organ is nearly unbearable. Ever since he fell intertwining into her life, she tries her hardest to ignore whatever feelings may occur. Now it seems more ideal to control it than to suppress it.

“You’re welcome,” she speaks softly, 16 again with a crush on a boy. “Thank you for picking up.”

Unbeknownst to her, he smiles on the other end. “S’ my pleasure. Now, get back to work, you over-achiever!” His accent purposely thickens on his second sentence, eliciting a natural, honest laugh. “Don’t forget to send me the addresses. I’ll make sure everything works out.”

Their phone call ends with innocent expressions of repetitive gratitude and gentle goodbyes. The pregnant woman does not waste a second to send him the addresses via text message, not allowing herself to fall victim to her lapse of memory. She checks over the numbers, the street names, the zip codes – all more than once, to make sure that all is well and not in metaphorical flames.

new message: Got it. See you later. H

H. She bites on her silky lip, a refreshing taste from her natural balm. She is familiar with the signoff, though she doesn’t know if it is something he does regularly or if it is only a one-time confirmation that this is, in fact, his number. Does he expect her to save his ten digits in her contact’s list, somewhere underneath a family member and above an old friend? She is giddy, undoubtedly so. An unspoken dream of hers as a plain teenager unraveling into reality! It causes the brightest smile this orthodontist office has ever seen.

So much esteem fills her up at eleven in the morning, and to her expectation, the hours go by very slowly. Alternating clients, each with different lives, somehow bound to this one place and time. Sorting forms and making calls and opening emails; a distraction in one way or another, but neither can steal her attention entirely.

Due to a much-needed bathroom break, she almost misses the message. Relieving her bladder had not been the first or even second of the day, but it is important that she stays hydrated, and this is especially true during her pregnancy. She really cannot afford a preventable trip to the emergency room right now.

When she reaches the receptionist’s desk, the message hides behind the black screen of her phone for an entire minute. She is lucky that her outdated iPhone can still be trusted by reminding her of a message succeeding two minutes from when she receives it.

new message: I’m outside. Toyota Camry in black. 

Despite her anticipation for his arrival, the message throws her off any and all guards. Primarily it is because he arrives six minutes before their agreed time, whereas her friends are usually a few minutes late. Secondarily... 

“Toyota?” she whispers to herself, eyebrows arching together. She isn’t too up to speed with car models, but she is more than certain that Harry has driven some different sort of vehicles in his time. The only moment she can ever recall him in a Toyota had been that commercial he had done years ago.

Regardless, she raises steadily from her chair on wheels, pushing it back as she collects her belongings. It is without trouble that she notices the slight shake of her hand, the sweat collecting on different sections of her skin. She ignores it. “Ang!” she calls, groaning at the absolute mess of her work bag. It is more professional than her casual bucket bag, wide with its faux leather, but it is just as much of an interior travesty.

She picks up her phone to send a one-handed message:

Conch.

Coming* 

Be out soon.

“Ang!”

There is a franticness to her as she steps around the receptionist’s desk. She sports an added height in her footwear, something that she tries to savor before her feet start to swell. She thinks it will be unbearable to wear heels then, but she’s not for certain.

“I’m here, I’m here!” Ang announces, stepping into the light of the front area in her navy scrubs. “Sorry, nena, I had an alarm set for one in case you forgot. Guess it didn’t go off.” 

The pregnant woman watches her coworker situate herself on the rolling chair. “No, no, you’re fine, it’s not one yet. Honestly, I don’t think I would’ve been able to forget. I’m just so excited, you have no idea.”

“No, I don’t.” Ang smiles. “You’re about to see your child! That’s a huge deal.”

“I know! I know, I can’t wait.”

“I can. Especially until Stefan buys me a ring. Otherwise, I’m going to keep working on my career.”

The woman smiles at her friend, thanking her once more for taking over her station while she is gone. She repeats the same gratitude, expressing how much this truly means to her, because it all comes from her honest heart. She really is in awe of how willing people are to help her when she is in need.

“Also, turn that alarm off before it starts ringing. It makes me anxious every time I hear it.”

“You and I both.” Ang snickers. “You’re off to your appointment then?” 

“Yes, my uh, my ride’s here so ... better early than late when it comes to these things, y’know?”

“Mm-hmm. Who’s taking you?”

The pregnant woman hesitates. “A friend. Has the day off from work, thankfully.” 

Ang begins to sift through a small pile of paperwork, sparing her coworker a measly glance. She’s not unfamiliar with the receptionist’s work, so she takes this as an opportunity to rest her active legs. She can also recognize the strange tone of the pregnant woman, a shaky smile that carries suspicion.

She doesn’t think too much on it. “Great. Be safe. Let me know how it goes.”

For that, the pregnant woman is grateful. “Thank you.” She smiles, a frail wave in Ang’s direction as she blindly scurries away. “I’ll see you tomorrow!”

She almost runs belly first into the glass door, but stutters her movements before any panic arises from Ang. Still, she sighs with relief when she hears the chime above her pregnant coworker’s head. “...Be careful.”

“Got it! Bye!”

The woman’s face twists in agony as she exits the office. A tenacious heat buries her in an embrace. Parallel to the sidewalk she stands upon is a dark vehicle, a protective tint rises from the brim of the tires and extends beyond the sleek windows. She gravitates in its direction at the sound of the passanger door unlocking, considering it symbolic, the single click of the door a new breath of feasibilities. 

She stalks a couple feet to her right where the car reeks with caution. It isn’t until the passanger windows rolls down that she can sense her blood settle and burst all at once. “Hi.” Harry leans forward at his side, revealing his face amongst the darkness of his surroundings.

“Hey, hi,” she greets him back through the open window. “Good to see you. Nice car.” 

“Thanks.” He smiles, scarce eyes pulling to her every movement. In the most mundane activities – fingertips at the door handle, crouching to the seat, buckling the seatbelt – she highlights his curiosity. “Good to see you as well. Also, s’ actually not my car.”

With her lips as barriers around a reusable straw, she pretends to be surprised. “It’s not?” she smacks her tongue, relishing in the purity of her water.

Harry shifts the gear in drive, setting the GPS up and maneuvering out of the lot with high-alert. “No. I’ve borrowed it.”

“Why—”

“Starting route to—” The animatronic voice interrupts their conversation.

She tries again, “Why would you do that?” with slight disappointment in their reunion. It lacks excitement, but somehow picks up where it’s been left off. No longer a drastic stretch in time are those 10 days.

Harry shrugs casually, turning onto the main road where other vehicles swim along. “Draws less attention.” He pauses, to which she then decides to look over. With the exception of him driving, she gets the impression that he avoids her eyes more so to keep her from catching the sadness in his. There is only a sprinkle, a shimmer that is never truly absent. “Thought you’d might be a little anxious about your appointment,” he continues, “Didn’t want you to have to worry about something else.”

“Oh.” She warms up, her organs all collectively combusting. “Thanks. Thank you for thinking of that.” Her words express gratitude with ease, but the glimmer in her eyes twinge with empathy. She doesn’t ponder over her privacy, or how simple it is for her to go out and do as she pleases. Since his 16th year, he had not been so lucky.

“Of course,” he replies, professionally monotone, as though he can shut off even the faintest flicker of emotion. “S’ my pleasure. How are you feeling? Nervous?”

“Uh, yeah, a little. I’m really jittery and I’ve been drinking water nonstop. On top of that, my bladder is the size of a bean. I’m really good at holding it in though, so I’m not afraid of ruining your seats or anything. Or ... not your seats, but your seats for now. Not like ... not that you were even thinking about that...”

Harry chuckles throughout the entirety of her run-on spoken thoughts. It is never at her – no, never. It is because of her, because despite any situation, she is this fountain of goodness drowning in gold. “Very nervous then?” he teases.

“Yeah ... sorry.”

“No, it’s alright. Nothing to be ashamed about. It’s an important day for you. I’d expect—”

“Turn left on—”

“I’d expect nothing less,” he finishes, lowering the volume of his pesky GPS. “Must be surreal, if anything.” The robotic voice is still present, but becomes more of a background noise that allows them both to speak freely. 

“Oh yeah, completely. It’s like ... it’s like I can’t feel them yet, like movement wise, but ... I don’t know. I guess ... obviously I know they’re in there, but even without movement I can feel them. I know they’re present, heartbeat and everything. Does this – is any of this making sense?”

“Yeah,” he quips amusingly, “it is. Even if it didn’t, doesn’t matter. It makes sense to you and that’s more than enough validation.” 

“Mmm. Right, but it’s still nice to have someone understand.”

Harry sneaks a glance in his peripheral, inhaling and exhaling as to settle into the moment. “I know—”

“In 500 feet, keep right—” 

“What was, uh—” he digs into another topic, the robotic voice somehow a savior that refreshes the conversation. “What you said on the phone about ... Sin City, I think it was?”

“What?”

“You said something about being picked up near Sin City? From your work to your appointment? I thought there might’ve been a store or somethin’ near your job, but I don’t think I saw anything like that.”

“Sin ... oh!” The woman laughs, slapping her knee consciously. “Cindy Sydney. She’s my ... well, yeah, I guess she’s my friend.”

“Cindy Sydney?” he repeats, slowly enunciating every syllable so as to make sure he’s got it right. “Huh. Eh ... that airport story makes more sense. Didn’t know who you were talking about.”

“Yeah, my bad. I know I tend to ramble, probably explains why no one calls me anymore. They can’t even understand what I’m saying.”

“I understood!” he proclaims, expression of his pride lacing around his lazy smile. “Yeah, got it now. Cindy Sydney. That’s really her name? Like ... Phillip Phillips?” 

“No.” The woman laughs, almost choking on her water. “N-No, it’s ... I don’t know her name, to be honest. One of them might be it.”

“Wh—how do you not know?”

“Okay, so basically, I met her maybe a month and a half ago? Somewhere around two months, I guess. And it wasn’t like this everyday sort of meeting at, say, a retail store or something. Can you believe that one night I wake up to use the bathroom I half-pay for, and this woman who I’ve never seen before comes out, no pants, maybe underwear, and what I now assume to be Aaron’s shirt?”

“Aaron?” Harry questions nonchalantly, as though the thought of him is of half-importance. “What, like a—”

“Yeah, so, he usually never brings anyone home. If anything, he’ll go over to someone else’s and come back really early in the morning. So, picture me, pregnant, really loopy because I have to pee, half-awake mind you, running into a complete stranger in my own home.”

Harry adds dramatically, “In the middle of the night!”

“Exactly! So, while I’m tiredly freaking out, trying to not literally piss myself, she’s apologizing and introducing herself. I don’t know if I heard Cindy or Sydney, hence why she’s both, but it could be neither. Anyway, we ended up talking in the hallway and I told her about my situation and why I was living with Aaron. She was actually really nice and offered to drive me whenever I needed a ride.”

“Hmm. Interesting how that played out.” He shoots her a look, to which she can only shrug. “Why haven’t you asked Aaron what her name is?”

“I did! I think he’s annoyed that I befriended his one night stand because he told me her name was Sierra. Then again, he probably doesn’t know himself.”

“Jesus. Why don’t you ask her yourself?”

“Oh, it’s too late for that. I’ll just be extremely awkward. I really do feel bad about it though. She is a nice person, except for, y’know, cancelling on a pregnant woman. I mean, it’s not a huge deal or anything, but ... c’mon. Would you ever do something like that?”

“Dunno,” he playfully smirks, “Maybe if she forgot my name...”

“I didn’t forget it! I never knew it!”

“I’m joking, I’m joking. But I have noticed that you like to play the, uh, the pregnant card a lot.”

“Oh yeah!” she fixes her position on the seat, pulling the seatbelt to her preferred adjustment. “Not a doubt about it. Coming from a place where no one really took me seriously. I mean, yeah, maybe I was a little dramatic when I was younger, but that shouldn’t invalidate my feelings. Now it’s like ... you have to take me seriously. Not only am I going to raise a child on my own, I’m literally growing said child inside of me. Isn’t that just ... just fucking amazing?”

Harry stops at the red stoplight, which he is glad for, because now he can look over and mesmerize at her. He can see before him a woman who smiles at the window, water bottle between her thighs, hands on her belly. It’s grown a bit, he thinks, and it is truly, wonderfully, unimaginably powerful.

“Yeah,” he silently agrees, “fuckin’ amazing.”

The woman smiles, but her wandering eyes suddenly widen with worry. She holds her hands out, an aura around her belly as she props an inch forward. “Did I...” she thinks aloud, “I didn’t ask you how you were doing today. How are you, Harry?”

She looks at him with features full of soft inquiry. The now green light ever so symbolic, he wonders how magical such a mundane thing must be in the dark of the night. “M’ alright,” he answers, pressing on the gas, somewhat wishing that the drive never ends. “Thank you for asking.”

~

Her angled feet dangle from her seat on the examination table. Harry sits in front of her on a separate chair, leaning back in a position juiced with supremacy. His index finger taps against his lips in sync with the tick of the black and white wall clock. 

“So, you work as an orthodontist?”

She looks to Harry with her body stiff in discomfort. “No,” she answers, noticeably quieter in such a mellow area. “Just at the office. I’m a receptionist. Didn’t go to like ... an orthodontist school or anything. Even if I did, I’d probably still be there. Probably takes a lot of years.”

“Right,” he agrees. “A receptionist, then? Do you like it?”

“Sure. It’s not my dream job, but it pays the bills. Plus, I get along with everyone in the office. They’re like ... my distant second family.”

“Alright...” he gradually begins to smile. “What’s your dream job then?”

The woman shrugs, so quickly that it is considerably sad. “I don’t know. I went to community college undecided.”

“What did you graduate in?”

“Well, I got my A.A., but beyond that I haven’t ... finished. I transferred to the nearest University but after a semester or two I just ... I just didn’t finish.” She looks to her lap where her fingers play with the material of her blouse. Harry discreetly frowns at her dejected expression, an ambience of regret seeping out of her system. “It’s hard enough for people to get a job with a Bachelor’s degree. Competition is high, especially in Los Angeles. I’m lucky as it is with just my A.A.”

“Yeah. I understand. M’ sorry for bringing it up. Didn’t mean to pry.”

Her features immediately shine with worry. “No, it’s completely fine. I’m the same way. Always curious.” She forces a laugh, but the intention is sincere enough. “If anything, thank you for asking, or even ... caring at all. Not a lot of people show an interest in me, especially not after this one.”

She points an accusatory finger to her belly, which he takes as another opportunity to marvel. It is so fascinating to him, as he believes it would be to anybody. This power she holds, the strength she gives off. This strange and endearing woman who he had met by questionable circumstances of fate – she opens his eyes to something he’s not quite sure of yet.

“Anyway, being a receptionist is fine for me,” she continues. “I’m basically Pam Beasley except knocked up and without a Jim Halpert. I mean, she was pregnant twice, but by then she was already married.”

Harry narrows his eyes. “I’m sorry, who?”

“Oh ... um, The Office reference.”

“Ah. Alright. Still haven’t seen it.”

“Finished the series again. At least Pam wasn’t a receptionist forever.” She allows her eyes to wander around the room. “...Thanks for coming in with me,” she offers, meekly smiling amidst a thick, awkward air. “I’m sorry if it’s super weird, they’re probably going to assume you’re the dad, so just so you know—”

“Oh—” 

“Just so you can be prepared—”

“Right, no, it’s fine. It’s good. That’s fine.”

“...Really?”

“Of course. I mean ... like, I’m not the father, duh, but it’s harmless. I’m honored to be here with you either way.” 

She looks down to her belly, where her freshly painted nails – she’d recoated for the special occasion – search tenderly. “I didn’t ... picture it like this. Not everyone wants to have a baby, or get married, or things like that. But those who do ... you just can’t help but picture it, y’know? You dream about your wedding, what the venue will look like, what you’ll dance to or wear. Or when you have a kid, you imagine that first look. Your first look at your baby to know they’re actually in there, and you can almost see your whole future right before your eyes.”

By now, Harry is in a trance of both comprehension and disbelief. For him, it is difficult to find people in which he can relate his thoughts to; someone he can honestly understand. With the spontaneous flow of his life, he isn’t able to picture the future as he once did at 16. Yet, as her defenseless words spew out, he contemplates the quick flash in his eyes.

She smiles, and though it does not reach her eyes, it is authentic in the purest sense. “I ... wish the circumstances were different. No one ever really wants to picture it like this.”

He doesn’t find offense in her honestly, no matter how poorly she constructs it. If anything, with his entire body and soul, he aches to turn back time. “I understand,” he says, because while she most certainly does not need or depend on the father, she had pictured it differently. He knows that she had pictured herself to be in love instead of broken and built up again. She doesn’t need him, but she wants him, at least a little bit. It is for that that he can never entirely hate him.

“...Except you,” she confesses shyly. “And I’m not just saying that for obvious reasons. If you weren’t here, I’d be alone. I probably wouldn’t even be here. That’s why I’m always thanking you, because it really does mean more than you can imagine. Being alone is fine, I can sort of manage, but ... it’s nicer to have someone with you, y’know?”

“...Yeah.” Harry blushes, failing to cover it up with a cough and a sniffle. “I’m ... I know. I understand.”

The sound of the door unlatching rattles their bodies. “Hi!” the doctor storms in, breaking their moment. The two of them smile, the pregnant woman nods as her name from the lips of the lady in the form of a question. “This must be papa?”

The pregnant woman silently snickers at her oh-so-psychic abilities. She offers Harry a witty raise of the brow, but due to the blindness of her pride, she fails to recognize the cheeky glint in his eyes. As she opens her mouth to deny the doctor’s innocent assumption, Harry chimes in and steals her words. Except, they’re not her words at all.

“Yes,” he announces, his accent supplying to the playful sarcasm of his tone. “Yes, that is me. As Maury would say ... I am the father.” 

To say she is shocked ... well, it is not all that off-character. Harry is a humorous man, one that loves to entertain. The statement makes her do a double-take, jaw opening with a single throaty chuckle. He responds with an animated grin and cartoon wink – how can she not play along?

“Right.” She nods. “This is my baby daddy ... Halpert.”

Harry snickers, but covers it with a cough. “Halpert. Yes. Says so on my birth certificate.”

The doctor smiles at them both, amused by their charade. She has probably seen many acts in this office, so she lets their humor be. Besides that, she begins by asking a few simple questions, reconfirming everything before directing the woman to lie on her back.

“Sorry I didn’t dress practically,” she discloses, “I just came from work. Didn’t really have time to change, or even think about bringing clothes to change into.”

“It’s no problem. We’ll just open this up...” The doctor starts with the lowest button on her blouse, continuing to undo the following three. “And lower this down a little,” she continues, carefully dragging the upper part of her pencil skirt down until her belly is nicely exposed.

The pregnant woman tries to ignore the discomfort that she feels. Firstly, lying on her back is a nightmare without her pillow. Secondly, with her blouse pried open, a mere centimeter of her bra peaks out. Harry sitting next to her is the third basis of her discomfort, intense concentration on his part with the upmost awareness. The fourth, the icing on the cake, is like literal icing. While the doctor had told her to prepare for the cool gel, it doesn’t make it any less frosty on her skin.

Despite it all, her minds swivels around a haze. The doctor’s equipment runs along her stomach, eager to discover. Her hands clench without her noticing. She feels as if her lungs run out of oxygen – she forgets to breathe! Nothing is important to her other than what the doctor has to say about what can be seen on that unreadable screen, the one where she strains her neck to catch even a glimpse of meaningless motion.

She looks to the doctor, taking in every feature that may indicate something, anything. She momentarily forgets about Harry, who leans forward in his seat, risking everything by placing a hand over her knuckles. She doesn’t notice. All she can focus on is the doctor’s smile.

“Found them,” she announces, continuing her movement with more confidence than before. 

“You...” the pregnant woman’s chest deflates. Her breath hitches, needing more than two words to convince her that everything is okay. “...You found?”

“Yes. There’s the head,” the doctor points to the screen, brown muck never more beautiful. “the body...” The woman listens, matching up the body part with the picture on the screen. A wave of newfound contentment vanishes every worry away – almost, because really, she can’t help herself. “Everything looks great, mama.”

“Mom...” she stumbles out, swallowing thickly as her fingers fall loose. She shakes her head, overcome with every emotion she’s ever known on top of those that are entirely new to her.

Harry smiles at her, noticing the light drips swaying down her cheeks. “That’s your baby,” he says, disregarding the possibility of destroying his cover as Halpert. He himself begins to empathize with this woman, this calm of a storm that he’s only known for a few short weeks. “Congratulations.”

“C—” She can’t seem to tear her eyes away from the screen, the ache in her neck multiplying, but she just doesn’t care. “My baby...” she speaks softly, the room almost entirely silent, but still it feels like there are a million things going on at once. And yes, she is smiling. She is over the moon, over this entire universe and the next. It is dangerous territories to be so elevated, and she knows this to be true when she begins to feel the low.

~

A bitter California sun never truly settles. When she walks out of the imaging center, heels scraping against the dry and jagged sidewalk, she winces and sighs. Her blouse now intact, her skirt lifted again, but the residue of the gel makes it stick to her skin more than any perspiration. In her hands, she holds onto the envelope with the printed pictures of her son or daughter – she doesn’t know yet. With the baby’s position, it had been a little hard to tell. She’s relieved for it though. There had only been so much that she could absorb in such a short, life-changing moment. 

Harry follows after her, already with his shaded sunglasses scooted close to his face. He mimics her position as she leans against the side of the Toyota, staring down at an enclosed envelope. Very steadily, she lifts the flap open and slides the picture out, running a thumb over the body of her child. 

“Sorry you couldn’t find out the gender today,” he speaks up, observing the way she cradles the print. It is natural, the way she possesses that tender quality of a mother. “Must have ... must be—”

“It’s fine,” she says, not wanting to hear the end of his sentence. “It’s not like I’ll never know.” 

“Right.”

“Right.”

“Good. Still a beautiful moment, eh?”

“Yeah...”

“Thank you for letting me be a part of it.”

She looks up at him, but the connection is blocked by his sunglasses. She smiles either way. “You’re welcome. That sounds weird to be saying.”

He looks down, ankles crossed, hands in his pocket. “I know I can’t, um ... ever know what you’re feeling, but ... how are you feeling?”

“...Good?”

“What I mean is ... I’ve never been to an ultrasound. I’ve been friends with lots of pregnant women, and I know that doesn’t mean I have a clue about ... I just, for the moments like these, I imagine the woman to be happy. Happier than happy, and I just ... I don’t know. How are you feeling?”

A period of elongated seconds pass as the pregnant woman considers his talk. Birds chirp, an ambulance sounds in the near distance, and the faintest wind kisses her face with the leaves of the rustling trees. “I’m ... happy,” she answers truthfully, closing her eyes as the burn in her chest rises up her throat and to her nose.

“And...” Harry presses on, noticing how her answer hangs off the edge of a cliff.

She swallows, face molding like a ceramic statue on which the rain pours. “...And scared.” Her voice quivers. She doesn’t want to open her eyes. She’s far too cowardly to envision the colors. 

Harry stands still, watching as she unravels the rawest parts of her. He doesn’t want to ask why – it should be obvious to everyone. She is a single mother-to-be. Her life is moving quicker than she could have ever imagined. Of course, she is scared. It would be strange of her not to be. Therefore, he doesn’t ask, but instead calls to her. In a faint second, she breathes in, coming alive to the world again. Her shaky hands wipe frantically at her blinking eyes, a sorry attempt to erase the remnants of her weakness.

“God...” she scoffs. “I can’t – why am I crying? This is so dumb.”

Harry shakes his head, his entire body now turning to her. “No, it’s not. So, you’re scared. Everyone is. I am. Why wouldn’t you want to be scared?”

“Because I don’t know what I’m doing!” she bellows, entirely turning to him. As her words sink in and flow on, he slides off his glasses, letting them hang from the fine stitch of his t-shirt collar. “Or – or what I’m going to do. I’m ... I was a child yesterday. That’s what it felt like. I was ... searching for independence and purpose and now I’m...” A breath trickles out. “I don’t want to ruin this child, Harry. But I have absolutely no clue what I’m doing.”

“No,” Harry argues. “No, you won’t. I know you won’t. You’re going to do everything you possibly can for your child. That alone makes you an incredible mum.” By now, his hands are on her shoulders, thumbs absentmindedly smoothening her nerves. “And incredible mums don’t know the answer to everything, that’s what makes them so incredible. They don’t know anything!”

She sniffles at the sidewalk. “Yours does,” she mumbles, indicating how well-rounded she sees this kind man. The manner in which he had been raised ... he is a foundation for reckless excellence.

“To be fair, I’m her second child,” he reasons, even tittering a little. “When she had my sister, she didn’t know what she was doing ... but she learned. Even after all these years, she’s still learning. You can’t expect yourself to be perfect ... at least, perfect without any flaws. You’re scared, that’s ... it’s important. You can’t skip that stage, alright?”

She reluctantly nods, but she has to admit to herself that his charisma is magical. To be a mother at her age – perhaps it is not uncommon. Yet, it is a vague new-coming of an experience. This growth that she possesses, her body ever-changing in the autumn to spring, the little person that will resemble parts of her and no one else. If that is not a future more uncertain...

“You’re going to be excellent. An excellent mum. And you’re not alone. You have Aaron. Maybe Cindy Sydney Sierra, if her aunt’s not visiting ... and you always have a friend in me.”

...but how sad it would be to plan every waking moment and every dying night. How safe it would feel to stumble upon no surprise. In the end, a future without uncertainty is no future at all. She doesn’t know what she will do when her baby fusses and whines and drives their mother to insanity. Previously oblivious of the happiness it will bring, the overwhelming flutter in her chest is a euphoric feeling like no other. To love another person unconditionally, entirely – to be loved in return – that is the greatest and only certainty she will never need.

[thepartyresponsible]

after a somewhat prolonged absence (moving is a goddamn nightmare), here’s the second soundtrack fill! this one is for an anon who asked for jason todd + "why you gotta kick me when i'm down" by bring me the horizon.

so here’s what happens when superheroes/vigilantes are (vaguely) legitimized and organized into authorized teams, but jason still manages to ruin his life.

no real warnings for this one, except it’s not overly kind to bruce wayne.

Jason gets traded to SHIELD after he shoots the Penguin in the face. He’s probably supposed to be grateful that he gets traded at all. Unnecessary kills are frowned upon all over, and Bruce especially takes a pretty grim stance on them.

Hell, Bruce is so pissed about this kill that two of Jason’s molars are still sitting a little loose in his jaw when his plane touches down in D.C.

The media’s been brutal about it, especially in Gotham. It’s nothing new. They’ve hated Jason since he crawled out of Crime Alley. They hate Jason, and they hate the Outlaws, and they’ve been gleefully running grainy videos of Bruce backhanding Jason’s mask to pieces all Goddamn week.

There were reporters camped outside Titans Tower from the moment Roy Harper brought him in, and Dick, because he’s Dick, never sent them away.  

“It’s public property. They’ve got a right to be there,” he’d said, while he packed Jason’s mouth with gauze and cleaned up cuts and clucked over bruises. “They can’t get inside.”

And Roy would’ve chased them off, probably, except Roy got dragged into trade negotiations immediately and left before Jason even woke up the morning after Bruce kicked his ass.

Jason wasn’t part of any negotiations. Dick ran what interference he could, but half the country, including Bruce, wanted Jason in prison. In the end, SHIELD is better than he could have hoped for. It’s better than he deserves. He’s got no right to be angry about it, even if D.C. is not his city. Even if he worked damn hard, for years, to stay out of SHIELD and its reach.

But the collateral damage is pissing him off. Roy, pulled from the Titans, stepping in to run the Outlaws. Kate Bishop, loaned to the Titans to fill their archer slot. And Peter Parker, graduated early from SHIELD, sent to round out the West Coast Avengers.

Parker, who’d been angling for a spot on the Avengers. Who earned that spot. Who’s everybody’s Goddamn darling.

Jesus Christ, people barely tolerate Jason in Gotham. He’s not going to be able to set foot in New York for years.

When he steps off the plane, he expects to be met by agents. He’s not technically in anybody’s custody; he’s been traded, not incarcerated. But Dick and Wally escorted him to his gate, possibly to keep any riled-up civilians from spitting in his face, and he feels rootless and exposed, navigating the airport alone.

It’s fine. He’s not armed, but, in a place like this, he doesn’t need to be. There’s no threat here.

He nudges his teeth with his tongue, feels them give more than they should. The stitches dissolved two days ago, and the swelling’s mostly gone, but the bruises on his face have settled in to linger.

He gets a few wide-eyed stares, but it’s hard to tell if anyone actually recognizes him or if it’s just the bruising turning heads. Most people only associate Red Hood with the mask. He’s lucky that way. He’s been careful to keep his face out of the press.

SHIELD, of course, does all its work with its Aux agents bare-faced and uniformed, all their stats and headshots available for public perusal. So that’s probably the end of whatever anonymity Jason had managed to preserve.

Which is fine. He wouldn’t’ve had any anonymity in prison, either. So it’s not like he’s losing something he ever had a chance to keep.

He’s standing in baggage claim, waiting for the duffle bag of clothes Artemis brought over, when a man wearing a decent suit and a blandly pleasant expression approaches from his left. “Phil Coulson,” he says, hand extended. “From SHIELD.”

Phil Coulson is a name that sounds vaguely familiar, like something Dick said to him a couple dozen times while Jason was busy trying to pretend none of this was going to happen. Jason sizes him up and then reaches out, shakes his hand. “Hey. Jason Todd, from--” He cuts himself off, flounders.

Jason Todd, from the Outlaws.

But he isn’t. He built that team. He was the cornerstone of that team. The Outlaws have never existed without him. And now, for nothing, for a father that maybe at some point cared about him, he’s ruined the whole Goddamn thing.

“From SHIELD,” Phil supplies, patiently.

“Yeah,” Jason says. He turns away, grabs his bag. “From SHIELD.”

Phil gives him a long, evaluating look. His eyes linger on the bruising around Jason’s jawline, and Jason doesn’t fidget, doesn’t drop his eyes. After a tense, drawn-out moment, Phil nods. “Alright, Jason,” he says, “let’s go.”

  He doesn’t expect a warm welcome. He escaped SHIELD training by virtue of Bruce’s dogged resistance to oversight and the fact that, technically, Jason put on his first costume before the Auxiliary Justice Department was established. He was grandfathered in, had to register but never needed to be licensed, and, for the past seven years, he’s just been one of the many now-authorized vigilantes who refused any kind of PR-pleasing government training.

Now here he is, showing up at SHIELD’s doorstep like a puppy no one wanted. And he’s taking Parker’s place, which sure as hell isn’t going to endear him to anybody.

He’s heard about trades like this. People being traded into teams that don’t want them. It was never like that on the Outlaws, because the Outlaws were, technically, under Bruce’s watch, and Bruce’s theory on teamwork has always been less is more.  And it’s not like that on the Titans or the Teen Titans or any of the teams directly below the Justice League, either, because they’ve got enough draw to only get the best.

But some of the government teams. Some of the military teams. Not so often with the higher-ranking SHIELD teams, but everybody heard about the mess on Rumlow’s team a few years ago. Everyone knows what they were doing to Barnes before Rogers found out.

Hell, Xaiver’s school is full of former government recruits who dropped out and need to be reconditioned – whatever the hell that means – to civilian life.

“Regulations require that you stay on base through the weekend,” Coulson tells him.

“Sure,” Jason says. He’d been under the impression that he’d be staying on base through the rest of his natural life, so weekend, in comparison, sounds mercifully reasonable.

“Pending clearance from Medical, you’ll be moved into the team’s building on Monday.”

Jason stares out the window, watches the cars. “Medical?” he asks, because it seems like the least treacherous part of that sentence.

“I was told,” Coulson says, with a sudden sharp edge to all that quiet patience, “that you were cleared for fieldwork.”

Jason’s tongue goes to his teeth, works at the swollen line of his gums. “Jesus,” he says, “it’s just cosmetic. And I probably shouldn’t blow anyone for a week, so maybe swap someone else in for the time-sensitive dick-sucking jobs.”

The look Coulson gives him is dangerously, infinitely bland, and Jason’s heart double-skips in his chest as it occurs to him that maybe that kind of shit is supposed to be on the table now. What the hell would he know? He’s worked with Bruce his whole career.

Jason, for the record, would happily take a mask-shattering, teeth-loosening backhand over being sent out to suck some scummy government dick. Jesus, he’d take the hit every day of his life.

“Is that a common work requirement in Gotham?” Coulson’s tone is light and even, professionally curious.

“It absolutely is not,” Jason says.

“That’s good,” Phil says, as he expertly navigates a u-turn through four separate lanes of traffic with all the nonchalance of someone turning right on red. “So you’ll have Medical, and then sexual harassment training, and then you can move into the team building on Monday.”

“Jesus Christ,” Jason says, forehead thunking into glass hard enough to make his bruised temple ache. “You fucking Feds.”

  They don’t go to the SHIELD base. They go to a small Italian restaurant in a strip mall. “We’re a little behind schedule,” Coulson says, as he unbuckles his seatbelt. “They already have a table. Let’s go.”

Jason follows because he’s got no right to stay behind. He keeps his mouth shut because he’s got no reason to need more information. He’s not running anything; he’s nobody’s captain. He traded all of that for a bullet in the Penguin’s head, and maybe it was worth it, maybe it wasn’t, but it’s already done.

Coulson gives him another look as Jason falls in step beside and a little behind him. It’s a thoughtful, calculating look, eyes unreadable, mouth a flat line. It’s the kind of look Bruce used to give him, before he gave up and kicked Jason out of the cave. It’s the way someone looks at an investment they’re starting to reconsider.

Well, it’s not Jason’s fucking fault if SHIELD made a bad trade. The whole world was running headlines saying the best thing to do with him was lock him up in isolation, keep him confined for the next ten, fifteen years. It’s not like SHIELD wasn’t warned what a shitshow Jason is.

As they step into the restaurant, make their way toward the back, Jason wonders if SHIELD did this as a favor to the Titans and Outlaws or as a way to get some kind of leverage on Bruce. He hopes they had the sense to angle for a favorable relationship with the Titans. If they think Bruce Wayne is going to give a damn what SHIELD does to him now, Jason has two loose teeth, three bruised ribs, and an impressive array of week-old bruises that would argue to the contrary.

“Here,” Coulson says and nods towards a table with two occupants.

Jason knows, in a glance, that it’s Hawkeye and the Widow.

They’re both watching him. Barton’s subtler about it. He’s got a sort of hapless, heedless air about him that makes his awareness seem accidental. It’s hard to take him seriously with that line of butterfly bandages above his eyebrow, the half-healed scab over his badly split lip. He reminds Jason of Roy, a little, and Jason almost smiles at him, because it’s good to see anything that looks like home.

And Romanoff could be Artemis, with the catlike stare she levels his way. Not aggressive, necessarily, but patient, intent. Assessing. Her body language lacks the casual, lived-in ease of Barton’s mannerisms. But that could be because she’s sipping elegantly from a glass of red wine while Barton is wrestling a plate of spaghetti into submission with a fork held awkwardly between bandage-wrapped fingers.

“Clint, Natasha,” Coulson says, as he slides into one of the open seats across from them. “This is Jason Todd.”

“Hey,” Clint says, around a mouthful of spaghetti. “I ate your breadsticks.”

“And he’s very sorry,” Natasha adds. “And he’s buying you more.”

Jason stares at them. And then he stares at Coulson. And then, because he’s got fuck-all else to do, he settles into the seat across from Clint and narrows his eyes. “You’d fucking better,” he says.

Sometimes, when he can’t find the fight he knows he’s losing, he starts a new one. It saves time.

But Clint just grimaces, looking good-natured and abashed. “Sorry. Got hungry.”

Jason furrows his brow, keeps staring. Clint blinks and shrugs, ducks his head so he can funnel more spaghetti into his mouth, and Jason wonders if he’s actually supposed to think that Clint Barton – Hawkeye, World’s Greatest Marksman, Avenger – is as friendly and harmless as your average Golden Retriever.

“Let’s see you,” Natasha says, leaning forward, and Jason goes completely still as the Black Widow’s fingers curl around his chin.

Jesus Christ, he thinks. Jesus Christ.

The Avengers are the reason their work was ever legitimized. The Avengers are the reason the Accords were reworked toward mercy. Without the Avengers, there would’ve been a war, and Jason knows exactly how that would’ve ended up for groups like the Outlaws, who were always a special target, even back when all vigilantes were criminals.

The Widow’s fingers are cold against his skin. She lifts his face toward the light, runs her thumb so lightly over the bruising along his jaw that he barely feels it.

“Get fussy with the flight attendants?” Clint asks. “I got locked in the lavatory once.”

And he is like Roy, because, when Jason glances over, he’s got a big dopey smile on his face and a look in his eyes like someone, somewhere, is going to lose blood over this.

“You guys don’t watch TV?” Jason should pull away from the Widow. Her fingers are still on his face, and he has to speak soft and careful to keep from dislodging her. It’s making him sound young and unsure, almost shy. “Batman doesn’t keep killers on his teams.”

“If you’d been a shade less study,” Natasha says, tone strangely controlled, nearly singsong, “Bruce Wayne would be a killer.”

Jason blinks. He remembers the hit that shattered his mask, the starlight sickness of heat-pressure-pain that broke his brain to pieces, left him too Goddamn dizzy to remember to get his hands up to block the next punch.

He remembers, also, the hot splatter of his own blood when Bruce opened his fucking throat with a batarang years ago.

“Bruce, you know.” He tips his head out of the Widow’s grasp and steals her wine, just to give his hands something to do. “Sometimes, when people don’t listen, he gets loud about things.”

“Sometimes,” Clint says, lifting the wine right out of Jason’s hand, “when I don’t listen, Coulson pulls me from the field, makes me go to therapy.”

“Wow,” Jason says, “I think I’ll take the punch to the face.”

Clint grins at him. His grin is sharp enough to cut someone. Beside him, Natasha mirrors it. “Yeah,” he says. “Devil you know, huh?”

“Okay,” Jason says, because this whole week has been a stretch of nightmare after nightmare, waking up to realize it’s getting worse every time he opens his eyes. He was ready for a bleak SHIELD room that locked from the outside. He was ready for revenge. He was ready to be made into a point, a cautionary tale for all the other Auxers who refused licensing. “What the fuck is this? Why am I at dinner with two Avengers? The fuck is going on?”

Natasha swipes her wine out of Clint’s unresisting fingers, brings the nearly-empty glass up to her mouth. “Coulson believes in team bonding rituals,” she says.

“I’m not on your team,” Jason says. He’s not. He’s here because nobody wanted him. He’s here because SHIELD was better than prison. He’s here because he fucks up every single thing he touches.

“Well,” Clint says, “not until I get you those breadsticks.”

Jason gives up on the pair of them and turns to stare at Agent Coulson, who’s been casually perusing the menu throughout the entire conversation. “What,” Jason says, as clearly as he can, “the fuck.”

Phil Coulson smiles at him, calm and unconcerned and vaguely benign. He looks like someone who’s used to dealing with people like Jason, which is a hell of a change from the way Bruce always looks at him. For years now, Bruce has been staring at Jason like he’s got no idea what species he is.

“Jason,” he says, “what do you know about Strike Team Delta?”

[chrysolina]

The fury within

Ask - @lovesteverogersbaeworld Can u do a Steve Rogers x reader oneshot where the reader get into a huge argument but then (somehow 😂) they end of confessing their love for each other? Thank uuu ❤️❤️

Here it is hun! I’m so sorry it’s a bit later than I hoped )): 💕

Summary - When on one mission you risk your life for a friend caught in trouble, you expect the self-sacrificing Captain America to comfort you and acknowledge your skills - how wrong could you possibly be?

Warnings - mentions of fire, angst, fluff, kisses

“For the last time Steve, if I didn’t do what I did Wanda would’ve been fucking toast!” You yelled at the super soldier with an anger unseen by anyone before - not for long though.

Five of the avengers were called to a mission in Thailand in an abandoned gas station, according to witness statements and local officials the gang that resides there had weapons unseen by anyone before and were highly destructive in their wrong hands.

Alongside Steve, Bucky, Sam and Wanda you all went to destroy or remove these weapons from this gang and return them back to the US where they’d be stored in a highly secure vault for as long as possible.

The mission was a success but like all, it had its drawbacks.

A lit match came into contact with some petroleum spilt on the floor and the whole station went up in flames. One of the weapons, a deployable chain that limits telekinetic powers or objects that was magnetic caught Wanda’s hand and had her stuck on a storage unit that was getting closer and closer to the flames.

You saw her in danger and risked your life to save her, your nano-tech super-suit Tony built saved you from being burnt alive or scared in the process. Due to your quick thing and heroics, Wanda came out with only a nasty cough due to the fumes she inhaled and was quickly put on oxygen once in the Quinjet.

With the weapons now yours, the gang sent to prison and nobody too badly hurt, bar the odd muscle or cough, you’d easily say the mission was a success.

Steve, being the bossy captain he was, however, begged to differ.

He was furious at you. Not anyone else, just you. All for saving one of your best friends. A knife hit central of your heart when you arrived in the Quinjet with Wanda over your shoulder and found Steve scowling abhorrently at you.

It didn’t help that you had feelings for him either but you knew those feelings were never reciprocated since Steve always snapped at you when you did something wrong in the field and seemed to always make goo-goo eyes at Agent Sharon Carter when she was around the soldier.

Like you did with all things, you huffed it off and helped Wanda off the Quinjet once it landed. Well, you would’ve if Steve hadn’t told you to go to your room and wait for him - as if you were some scolded child.

The nerve of it!

Now here you were, yelling your point across to Steve fruitlessly whist trying not to bawl your eyes out in heartbreak. You saw an anger you’d never seen in his eyes ever before, and it was all directed to you - you and your ‘stupidity’ - so Steve said from his very lips.

“And for the last time Y/N, your recklessness almost caused the both of you to die! How tall do you think those flames were? Hm?” He chided like a parent scolding their child after a tantrum. In fact he wasn’t justtreating you ‘like’ a child, he was treating you as if you were an actual child out in a dangerous world you shouldn’t have been in.

There was only so much you could take and your end point was nearing. “Those flames you just walked straight through were eleven feet high Y/N. Even feet? What where you thinking?” You couldn’t bear to look in his eyes in fear of your tears spilling and Steve say something about them.

“Why did you do it Y/N? For Wanda’s life?” You could feel his looming presence near your shorter and most probably weaker frame.

A shiver of fear for the worst ran down your spine at the mocking tone of his deep voice, he knew your past and your condition when coming to SHIELD all those years ago - abused, malnourished and desperate for positive affirmation - you couldn’t guarantee his safety if he did choose to bring that up.

“Or was it all just to please Nick, hm? Just to prove that you’re worthy to be here?” Your eyes snapped wide open and boiled with fury at what he just said. He just chose to go there. He chose to fucking say that.

How dare he?! Quicker than you thought, you spun around to face Steve and slapped his cheek with all the force you could give, tears streaming rapidly down your face.

“How dare you!!” You screeched. “How dare you be so sly as to bring that up. How fucking dare you!” You seethed and watched Steve touch his face where the red hand mark was.

“Y’know for a man with a fucking silver star, you don’t act like the hero everyone paints you out to be! You’re a fraud Steven, a fucking fraud that everyone has fallen in love with! Fucking scratch that then, I see now that the man I fell in love with isn’t really the man I really thought he was.” You stopped your little speech to wipe away your tears and even your laboured breathing.

You didn’t bother to look in his irresistible blue eyes and turned away in disgust. “Just. Go.” Your voice broke and quivered as you told Steve to leave. At this point, you didn’t know what hurt most: what he said to you or the heart that was breaking inside your chest.

The sob of your heartbreak broke through your lips once the door closed; your knees felt weak, your world was spinning and before long, you were face first on your bed, crying like hell into your duvet.

:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:

For what seemed like an eternity, you finally stopped crying and cleaned yourself up. You had a shower, washed your hair, put on your comfy jumper and leggings and settled in for a night binge watching Netflix with your favourite company - food.

Two series and one nap later, a quiet knock came from your bedroom door and started You out of your post-sleep haze.

“Yes?” You spoke out in a grumble and looked to the door bleary-eyed. It wasn’t until the sight of Steve slipping through the opening he made you woke up entirely and without warning, you lobbed the remote that sat next to you at him, hitting him square on the forehead pretty fiercely.

“What was that for?” He yelped out and held his head cautiously. You watched a long dirty blonde lock fall out of his hair and scowled at - why did he have to be this perfect yet so infuriating at the same time?

You’d never know.

You rolled your eyes and sat up straight in the bed, you sweater sliding down a shoulder due to its size.

“I don’t know Steve, why did I throw the remote at you?” You snapped at the soldier and waited for a response but to your misfortune, none came and he only looked to the ground in shame.

“Cat got your tongue now, hm? Where was the cat earlier Steve?” You snapped again and looked away from him in a disgusted manner only you could master.

“Y/N, I didn’t mean any of what I said..i—it just came over me I didn’t-“

“Don’t say you didn’t know you said what you said Steven. Because you and me both know that to be lie.” You deadpanned your voice to look at the teary-eyed Captain. You didn’t know what it was, but swing him like this - disheveled, ghostly pale and on the verge of breaking down - made you heart break for the man.

You sighed tiredly and pointed to the end of the bed. “C’mere,” You grumbled and he complied, sitting at the edge of the bed. The anger that boiled within you had now dissolved to the shared sadness you both shared right now, regret laced the air and hung heavily around you two.

With a sniff, Steve looked to you and smiled sadly at you. “Earlier on, y—you said you loved me...was that true?” His voice broke at the end of the sentence and pained you from the inside out.

How were you gonna get round this?

Yes, you said that but what would it do now?

Would it just be an excuse for not giving an apology?

No - that’s not Steve’s style, or was it?

“I did, yeah.” you said nonchalantly and liked down to your lap in embarrassment, ‘so much for overthinking it Y/N..’ you thought to yourself.

Before your mind could register it, Steve had wrapped his arms around your torso and had you pressed back into your mountain of pillows, his torso almost lying on top of yours.

Before you could act on what he just did, sobs very similar to your own earlier escaped through his lips. Steve was full on crying into your neck, a rarity seen by maybe Bucky and nobody else. “Oh god Y/n..I’m so so sorry..” he wept his words into your wet neck and made the tears you thought had ceased to exist resurface again.

“I should..I shouldn’t have said wha—what I said—at all—all I ever want—to do—i—is to keep you sa—safe..” your mind froze up at his words. All the pieces of this intricate puzzle were finally coming together to form the final product - but there was only piece missing; Why was he really was trying to keep you safe?

“Why thought Steve? I—I can handle it myself c—can’t I?” You wept quietly as he rose to look at you from your neck, your face mere inches away from each other.

“No Y/N,” he laughed sadly and wiped away your tears with his thumb. “It’s because..I love you,” Steve smiled warmly at you, tears continuing to roll down his cheeks and land freely onto yours. You couldn’t help but mirror Steve’s smile and gaze into those nearing eyes.

His bearded face grew closer and closer to yours but you didn’t reject him instead you wound your arms around his shoulders and neck and pulled him into you, your salty lips meeting in a tender warm kiss.

Your lips moved together with such synchronisation someone could easily see it and believe it to be fake but you didn’t care, to you it seemed like your lips were built for each other. Two puzzle pieces sliding together to perfection.

“God I love you,” he kissed your jaw tenderly. “So,” then your neck, “so,” then your collarbone, “much,” and then back to your neck, where he sucked on the place he just kissed with a hunger you’d never seen before.

“I..I need..” Steve heaved into the crook of your neck much to your delight. “What do you need Steve?” You sighed softly and played with his long blonde strands in a tender manner only reserved for one person.

“I need to feel you...everywhere..” a giddy smile broke out along your lips once you understood what he was telling you.

If it wasn’t now, when would you have this chance again?

In compliance to Steve, you placed your hands on either cheek and kissed him like you were starved of him and gave him your answer.

-:-:-:-:-:-:-

After a long long night in each other’s arms, you finally stirred when the morning sunlight drifted onto your eyes and made you dig your face into the crook of Steve’s neck with a groan. A soft chuckle left Steve’s mouth at your adorable action, he smiled dreamily and continued ghosting his hand up and down your bare back, allowing one hand to rest above his head.

“G’mornin’,” Steve yawned and scratched his beard lazily. You mumbled a ‘good morning’ in response and drew lazy patterns around his pecs that were lightly dusted with freckles and dark blonde hairs.

A thought fleeted through your mind as you lay on top of Steve and as much as you tried to ignore it you jut couldn’t stand it.

“Hey Steve..y’know after last night..” you motioned with your hand to your steamy night together with your hand “w-what are we?” You spoke in a hushed tone similar to a sinner confessing in church.

For a minute or so, Steve was quiet and then hummed in question. “Well, call me old-fashioned but considering we confessed our love for each other and made love all night long,” he spoke with a slight tease in his deep morning voice, making you hit his chest in sheer embarrassment.

“How about a couple?” He smiled teasingly at you when you rose your head to look him dead in the eye. You thought he was joking or just having a laugh with you but the look in those beautiful blue eyes told you, he wasn’t joking at all.

Instead of agreeing, you quickly slid your arms around his neck, planted your lips on his and engaged in a passionate makeout session. When the time came to breath, you pulled away and was quick to snuggle yourself back into the crook of his neck. “I think I’d like that a lot,” You smiled carelessly.

“Next time you two go at it like animals, try not to do it next door to me!” Yelled a seemingly irritated Bucky from the wall on the other side of the bed. Both you and Steve looked at each other and let out a shared hearty laugh that Bucky could also - most probably - hear.

“Sorry Bucky!”

“Sorry pal!”

“You better be...goddamn lovebirds.”

Taglist : @patzammit

[ohnohetaliasues]

1+2p Hetalia High {Ch.3}

(Kat)

let’s delve into some more madness.

{Kat}'s POV

It was getting late so I drove home. I took in all of the bags and set them down. I sat on the couch and held the cupcake in my hand. It wouldn't be a good idea to eat it. He wouldn't blow his cover by poisoning the cupcake. 

I mean probably not, but I dunno man.

Right? I decided against eating it and put it on my counter. I went upstairs and changed into my pajamas. I flopped onto my {Purple} bed. 

My bed isn’t purple but okay.

Friday. The day I can sleep in and not worry about homework.

Um.

You have school on Friday.

 I fell into a deep sleep. I woke up to loud knocks at my front door. I moaned grumpily. I was so close to eating a giant marshmallow. 

None the less I walked downstairs with my messy {Brown} hair. "I'm coming! Stop banging on the door!" I said. The banging didn't stop. I sighed and opened the door. Standing there were the allies along with the axis. "What are you guys all doing here!?" I asked surprised. A lot of them had notable blushes. Shit. I remembered i'm only wearing short shorts and a tank top.

No bra in front of many men.

I closed the door enough to cover everything except my face. "Okay now what do you want." I asked blushing slightly. "W-Well sorry to intrude. But we wanted to make sure you were okay." Arthur said still having a large blush.

Why wouldn’t I be fine?

 "I'm fine. Like I told those three yesterday." I said pointing at the axis. "Do you mind if we come in love?" England asked. 

Stop calling me that.

I nodded and opened the door letting them in. "I'm going to get changed." I said running up the stairs. I came back a little later with a t-shirt that said "fries before guys" and longer shorts.

My sister has a shirt like that.

 I also had combed my hair. "Okay i'm back." I said walking down the stairs. The countries were looking at the flags I had on my walls. "You like flags love?" Arthur said looking at the British flag. 

"Yea. I love countries actually." I said smiling. "Kesesese I see the frau (girl) has good tastes in flags!" Gilbert said looking at the Prussian flag. 

Sure, I just casually hang a flag from a dead nation on my wall.

That’s normal.

I stood next to him "Well Prussia is the most awesome country in existence." I said also looking at the flag. 

IT WAS DISSOLVED IN 1947 IT NO LONGER EXISTS IN 2018.

Gilbert blushed "Ja! Exactly!" Gilbert said trying to hide the blush. 

wAI.

I heard loud scrambling sounds as my dog ran into the living room jumping on, and knocking down Ludwig. He started licking his face all over.

I laughed as Ludwig smiled and pet the dog while it was still on him. "Mantequillas! (Butters!) Down!" 

Still a weird as heck name for a dog.

I said making him get off of Ludwig. He sat at Ludwig's feet. Ludwig gave him a belly rub. "Hey what's that on the table?" I asked pointing to some dishes of food. "We all made you some food to say thank you!" Feliciano said smiling. "Oh you guys didn't have to!"

I like how they just casually pamper me.

 I said. Wait something's missing. Where's the cupcake from last night!? I saw Arthur holding the cupcake with a horrified look on his face. 

We can address your irrational fear of cupcakes later, Arthur.

"I meant to throw that away! Just give it to me Arthur." I said trying to take the cupcake from him. He wouldn't let me have it. "{Kat} where did you get this from?" Arthur asked sternly. "I got it from a bakery." I said half telling the truth. "Did a man with strawberry orangey hair give it to you? Did he look like me? Did you eat any of this?" Arthur questioned getting in my face.

 "U-Um…" I gulped. "Dude what's wrong?" Alfred said looking at Arthur. Arthur was distracted for a second so I was able to take the cupcake away from him. I ran and threw it in the trash. "There it's gone. Happy?" I said looking at Arthur. He looked guilty "Sorry love. 

StOp.

I didn't mean to get into your face about it." Arthur apologized. "It's fine Arthur." I said smiling again. I turned my head towards the counter. I knew it. One of the plates had the black rocks I knew as England's scones. 

Oh go figure.

Arthur noticed me looking at them and picked up the plate. "T-These are my best batch yet. I-It's not like I made these specially for you. I just had extra that's it."

And now he’s being tsundere. Which is normal.

 He said turning away and blushing. Well I guess I had to die at some point. 

Wow.

"I-It's okay Arthur i'm not hungry." I lied. My stomach gave me away by growling. "You don't want one do you?" Arthur said looking crushed. "No one ever wants one." he said sadly. Great now I have to do this. I grabbed a scone from the plate.

Welp. I guess I’ll die young.

The rest of the group gasped. "I w-would love to have o-one!" I said trying to smile. Arthur looked hopeful as I brought the death scone closer to my mouth. "{KAT}! NOOO!" I heard Alfred scream as he tackled me.

America is quite a bit larger than me, so--

Ouch.

 The scone fell to the floor making a black mark on my tile. America landed on me hurting the bruise on my stomach. "AUGH!" I yelled as the bruise got hit. Ivan ran over and threw Alfred off of me. "Sunflower are you okay?" Ivan asked. 

WHY DO YOU ALL HAVE NICKNAMES FOR ME?!?!

I held my stomach while on the floor. I had a few tears in my eyes. Ludwig ran over and tried to help. "Where does it hurt!?" he asked worried. I was starting to calm down "M-My s-stomach…." I moaned. 

Well, I mean, America weighs around 190lbs seeing as he’s around 5′10″, so yeah. Me, at my 140lbs body weight, would have been crushed if he’d just launched himself onto me.

Matthew kneeled down next to me and lifted my shirt enough to see my stomach. The group's eyes widened as they saw the huge bruise the bully had left. It covered about half of my stomach. 

Dude bruises don’t form that fast.

"That bastard!" Lovino yelled. I tried to get up but Francis picked me up. "Don't move mon cher (my dear)."

Thanks?

 he said putting me on the couch. The pain eventually subsided. "T-Thank you Francis." I said. "THAT BASTARD HURTING YOU LIKE THAT!" Lovino yelled angrily. "It's alright Lovi." I said. Wait shit he hates that nickname. Lovino blushed "IT'S NOT ALRIGHT. I HOPE HIS MARINARA SAUCE NEVER STICK TO HIS PASTA!"

Why the heck are they all babying me so much?

I hate it.

 Lovino said ignoring what I called him. Feliciano gasped. I laughed out loud. Eventually the group left.

They left fast.

 I had to put all the food I couldn't eat away. I feel so freaking full. I think I may have eaten twice my weight. I needed to take a walk to help my digestion. I lived fairly close to some woods.

 I put on my hiking boots, grabbed my outdoor bag, 

Outdoor bag? You mean like a backpack? 

What does an indoor bag look like?

and walked out the door locking it behind me. I stuck on the path until I heard some growling mixed with whimpering. I walked off the path to find where it had come from.

 I followed the sound until I found a wolf trapped in a bear trap. It growled and snarled at me. I slowly approached it stopping at a safe distance. I let him smell me. He calmed down and started to just whimper. I walked up to the trap.

Stay away from wild animals, kids.

They can carry diseases, no matter how cute they are.

Also, where do I live? Alaska? Montana? Canada? The state I live in has no wolves. All we have is coyotes. And possibly foxes.

I found a large rock and started hitting the trap. Eventually it released. The wolf tried to run away but it's leg 

Its*

Putting the contraction of ‘it is’ makes no sense in this sentence.

was too badly injured from all the struggling it was doing. I took out some bandages from my pack and wrapped it around the wolf's leg. It stopped the bleeding and the wolf limped away after licking my hand. 

Injured wild animals will attack. 

This is a known fact.

I smiled. FUDGE YEA! {KAT} HEALER OF ANIMALS! I yelled in my thoughts. "You healed it pretty well." someone said from behind. I jumped and turned around in a fighting stance. SHIT. Not another one! Standing in front of me was 2p! Canada. "Calm down. I'm not gonna hurt you. I'm James."

James?

No.

2p! Canada’s name is Matt or Mattieu. 

It was given to him by Himaruya. 

 he said holding his hand out. I hesitated then shook it. "I see you helped that wolf." James said. "I couldn't leave the poor thing like that." I said truthfully. James smiled and smirked. "Hmph. Hot and likes animals. My type of girl." James said eyeing me. 

Why does this happen to me. I heard someone scream "JAMES YOUR BEAR GOT OUT!"

That’s casual.

 someone screamed as a giant polar bear ran towards us. CRAP! I tried to get out of the way but the bear pushed me down to the ground. The bear bit the collar of my shirt and picked me up. 

Welp. I’m going to die.

He sat down and dropped me onto his belly wrapping his giant arms around me like I was a plushy. His fur is so soft! "What the hell." James said confused. "YOU'RE SUPPOSED TO BE A BLOOD THIRSTY ANIMAL NOT CUDDLING RANDOM GIRLS KUMA!" James said trying to pry me away from his bear. The bear growled and James backed off. "Great. Just great." James said sighing. "Oh my god he is so cute." I said with fluffy bear arms around me. Another man walked up next to Canada. FOR THE LOVE OF THE FROG UNIVERSE. 

The what now?

Standing next to 2p! Canada was the bat wielding man 2p! America. I was not having a good start for the weekend.

Oh, this is just fantastic.

I’ll review the next chapter soon.

I’ll see you guys later.

~Kat

[castlehead]

beauty seems to be really funny most of the time and i like dat.

this idea that sends pop definitions of beauty running for the hills makes for some

quality distance, if only one step back.

what if i had any idea who i was but could see into everybody else

phone home cheeky cosmic touch m8 gonna think this is too easy

yeah but not let’s feel this way without before examining ourselves

for anything fake about it first parting from the idea that there wasnt anyway

and then parting cuz that knows so much

that part of me knows so much abt what do you call it extreme fear of maudlin

i run naked thru the grass singing abt yesteryear

                        ...There’s a move in social situations I like to call, “around the sun” whereby you wait for the game to end to play music, or wait patiently for one plan of another to say its peace so you can say yours. I like to take it to a more extreme level and say, turn down the fuckin tv, I want to listen to a thing I find beautiful.

SONG ONE : like the earth

1. Sit back and dream of clouded metaphors Reveal the schemes that we devised Back in the day, when ur hands were small And the WORLD splayed out colorfully Before our eyes

(chorus)

Take ur thronging bussloads of the living dead Take all the lifetimes of a million busy heads Ur sly intellectuals that laugh in the dome The only place, the only place is in the peaceful tones Of singing birds perched on ascending wires, like notes

2. Caught u up past three, sitting on the porch I woke up from a dream that I immediately forgot That seems to happen a lot, especially if previously I torched a dutch and passed the fuck out But from the ether of my dreams I heard, from the scope of reality I heard you shout

(chorus)

3. The sun and the moon both live in a box And the box is a square made out of lead And the square lies motionless in ur head Like a body on the rocks

Watch the hour tuck away into an evening A day nestled in afternoon light From the beginning In ur mind that made all minds the same The twilight creeping across ur paper brain And I can only burn and burn and burn

And I can turn round like the EARTH And I can be a sphere like the EARTH And I can stitch up the nations With fear, like the EARTH

(chorus)

                        ...people who call it a false flag just don’t wanna think it’s their own who bomb, if it can’t be a towelhead.

SONG TEW : the rainbow

The sinister rainbow blinks over the clover And the dawn is a monster in my brain I'll take a picture before this song is over And I’ll fix u in a wheel to keep me sane

Don’t break out the gin for the old lady creepers Smoke until the blur makes ur head float around I live in hades, burn my tongue on the heater When I lick this heaven ill taste yur sound

(chorus)

What Im saying isnt deep What Im stealing isnt cheap But I know that if i play it loud and long That this song in my head will instead Form a beat

Like a stranger in the rain Slowly driving me insane There's a fork in the road And I dont know whether Or when, all this shit will come together In the end

2. I got a stupid friend who lives in a pause He takes life from the tiger’s jaws, and prays

That life begins again, after it is over And the rainbow shines like a dream, in a daze

Ill take u thru the eye of the needle Ill breathe a testament to ur false gods Ill tell the truth, and contaminate the evil And zap u like a lightning rod

(chorus)

3. Dont you know that the rainbow is the world? Dont you know that the news is already told? Im gettin too old to be unfurled Im seein the rainbow in my mind Im waking up for the daily grind Im singing useless things for useful people The rainbow is not evil, its kind Dont u know that the color kings rattle like a marble In a tin can? And the rainbow eats the darkness like a mother Without a son? Dont u know that u can never be a man? And the rainbow drags across the empty land And the rainbow drags across the empty land

(chorus) (chorus)

                        ...the only division is classical and romantic. all else is contributory to these two. postmodern, modern, no. romantic. it all follows the romantic objective. one is ruled by the time at which it occurred, and the other is ruled by the mechanism of breaking from any present time.

SONG THREE : an ending that promises to begin again

1. A legend sleeps in yur head somewhere You take yur trembling hands And grope for mine, like a bum for spare Change... You cant explain

This strange perdition that engulfs Yur position in the sane... And the trouble of the pulse That leads a broken synapse Up into my eccentric brain... Theres a clot in my neck And the ruins of time Keep me from being able to find A comfortable spot to rest

(chorus)

Im stuck in erasure--a constant exposure To the elements still provides me with eyes To see bad karma writhing in my spleen And I wonder if ill dream While the whole WORLD is awake Will I be the manufactured figure, Will I be fake?

Or will I take these petty abstractions And roll them up into a ball And put them in my pocket Just to feel the reason stall In my throat... Is life a puzzle, or a joke?

2. The life you led one sunny afternoon Is the life you never led again... I can appreciate the reasons For why you did not blend Like a chameleon in the room But cant discern the seasons Of the moon

Yur whispers prosper, loud Like a passionate apostle And the lords are proud of ur Painting on the wall... That skritter of an evening gone Is enough to scatter colors When the sky finally falls, And the lords are like the brothers Of what lorded over them... Take these idols and shatter them... The racket in my brain is loud And does not end And does not end And does not end, even when the jig is up Cuz ive gotten fucked by time: Its an ending that promises To begin again

(chorus)

                        ...Nobody starts an Apollonian, and only those are Dionysian who have the capacity for restraint needed to confer the Apollonian chariot, tho some die without a revision of the vision etc. some die restraintless

SONG FOUR : chauncey ames and the case of jenny preston

1. Chauncey loved the flowers Chauncey loved the trees Chauncey smelled the wind And knew that he was free

Chauncey took a cab home Chauncey felt the air flow Thru the window He paid the driver extra Just for keeping him From being alone... Back, once again To the place that he had left Long ago

In fact, it had been years and years and years Since the man had seen walls Not fortified in concrete... In fact, it had been years and years and years Since this man had put to rest That lying cheat

(chorus)

Chauncey was a killer That was his disease Got off on manslaughter: Fingerprints on a pair keys Got him twelve years For offing someone's daughter Even tho she was eighty three Cuz no matter how old u are Everyone Is a daughter or son To someone

2. Now he's out, but he has his fears... Maybe people will not like him For his past It is unclear Even after all the facts Had been presented... Whether Jenny Preston Was murdered, or just had a bad fall Onto a bed of broken glass They found her in the hall At the head of the stairs, flat on her wrinkled ass

(chorus)

Chauncey was a man of few words But in the end he was unheard His eyes were petrified In delirium His arms shook As he held the gun He took aim On the good book Instead of his brains just to prove a point His neck is craned His eyes like coins That shine their milky matter On the barrel of a luger

(Chorus)

                        ...doubt any of y'all would live up to the wit/confidence/sardonicism y'all judiciously sculpt for hours on the book of face.

SONG FYVE: my summer home

1. This is food for thought Write it down in chalk: The chimney puffs From the fire in the fireplace And erupts in a black plume And with luck The old man Balances a spoon On his nose He sits inside a room As the room grows Smoking from a pipe While its raining outside And the light Is waning, slowly waning, outside

My fingers and my toes Are numb to the bone And I will have my wish To swim with all the fish In the sea of my mind In time ill find A little spot in the country Somewhere peaceful and secluded Ill save up all my money And hope im not deluded And hope that I can find a place Thats nice, a lush spot For a good price

(Chorus) Do you feel that I feel you? Do you feel that you feel me? The time is right to live again To let the atoms wiggle In our spherical galaxy That seems to have no real end But the one that we assume Is reality, and soon We'll eat up all the doom

2. Concentrate upon a single understanding Dont let the sisters on the throne Rage in the dome And find out that this trip Needs more planning to exist

The sky is silver and the universe is green Ill show you things in this world That you have never seen Things that have been waiting So long to be unfurled Things for boys and things for girls Without an explanation Ill bring the nation together And hold it by a tether Show you things for boys And things for girls

(Chorus)

                        ...for example i would never be able to muster the cognitive stones to say all of this, in order, amongst the company of people, even friends

SONG SIX : notion

#1 im in the middle of this phrase Stuck between the lines Bless these simple chains I'll see what I can find In my simple mind To lead to some way out The drip, drip drip of water From the trippy rusty spout Keeps me awake I'll explain that to ur daughter The world is fake The world is miles away:

Chorus: Put a notion on the river And see it travel downsteam Suspended on liquid creature dreams I sweated thru the fever And, between the middle of this phrase Passed all my days in solitude And grew weaker, as the days Passed on in solitude

You can call me daft You can say im frozen In technicolor time That im stranded on an island In the middle of the ocean But I dont have the spine To wiggle thru the shaft And give you back This simple notion

#2 I gots a paper boat Lofting on the water It travels down ur purple throat And dissolves in the water

I set a fire just to see if it could think And I questioned the venom Just to see if it could blink Nonsense on the edge Of the bullshit day Chillin on the ledge, you shape the clay And drive the screws on down And drive the screws on down

I thought of you, thought of you And I felt like a clown

(chorus)

#3 I crawl out, I crawl out I crawl out of bed I walk down the hall To turn the notion into thread And whisper rumors to the dead Sometimes I try to talk And my voice drops Sometimes the vague paralysis Defies analysis And you are left sitting on a chair In a yellow room That is a technicolor tomb Without a door, confined and spare, I crawl, I crawl I crawl out of bed And walk down the hall And fall and fall and fall Into the creation of sound Until I hit the ground And everything is mother night And the imperfections in yur eye Spangle in the strange notion of the twilight

(chorus) (chorus)

                         ...the broad concept of subjectivity has as much to do with a detailed exegesis of one tenet of it as death itself with the specific way we die

SONG SEVEN : collected and connected

You're a sharp one You're a dumb one You got nobody But the people in yur head

And everybody is connected But you aint connected to them Yur a ghost, on the interim While the fringes die out You live them out To the last splinter Until it is winter And the trees are all white with snow And the blue wind blows

Yu spend twenty minutes Feeling for the lightswitch In a room made out of figments That you shovel into a ditch And bury, along with all yur Dangerous ambitions And as you drive away, you feel The religion Of yur memories corrupt u And yu reel

CHORUS. Cuz everyones connected Everyones collected Into the same intangible organism That lives life in the schism Of ur teeth I watch ur lips move And cannot hear u speak I pick up on the clues and watch the pressure leak Until all of it is used And nothing much is left To be abused

Everyones connected by a string That trembles across the space Of every living thing The fractions of my face illuminate in the light I shake when i sing I am a yellow kite Mangled in a tree Forgotten by the breeze I am a thing, wafting in the breeze But I have begun again, my friend, Just by following the string Follow, follow the string

#2 Two days ago the WORLD was made of angles I opened my eyes to the lost ways And came upon a shallow swale The brush and branches tangled And the rays of the sun, barely Coming thru the jail Of the scary fray

Dont you think that yur fellow men Would like to lend a hand? And dont you think That this desert you have crossed Only gets u more lost Until u arrive at the brink Of the sahara, and find A single, solitary house Where a mumbling old man Is confined

(CHORUS) (CHORUS)

i always dress nice when i have no place to go. otherwise i look like a sweaty coked up hobo. its my chic, paranoid hobo chic. my comportment u say? quirky to the acquaintance, somewhat sad to the friend, an endearing mix of both with a dash of worry to the best friend, and an embarrassment to the significant other. im usually the life of the party bc i bring drugs so people are forced to tolerate my horror of a personality.

rejection is a rare and beautiful flower my time is spent tending it my life wants it to be a gift i water the flower it sits next to my bed it is next to a lamp littered under the lamp are dead ladybugs ladybugs are all over my house but if i am not meant i am not meant and i cast my line of poetry here trying to figure out if it was meant to be there wonder exactly why what is innumerable can be rare and think of lots of things

[lubdubsworld]

Taekook .

it’s 2.00 Am. What am I doing with my life?

Kim Taehyung is a prick.

Jung Kook can't remember the last time he's wanted to peel the skin off someone's face just because they smirked. At least ,not a someone who isn't Kim Taehyung. And here he is, with his arms around Jung Kook's shoulders, leering at him and smirking at the blonde girl in front of them.

The girl, who had just been about to ask for Jung Kook's number , blinks up at Taehyung with a bemused look on her face.

"Oh.. are .. are you guys... together?" Her face is flaming red, as red as Hobi hyung's hair and Jung Kook opens his mouth in horror because, christ, the mere thought of being together with Taehyung is horrifying and of course they...

"Of course we're together. Right sweetcheeks?" And he leans over , purring into Jung Kook's ears.

Sweetcheeks? What the fuck was that?!

But the damage was done and the girl scarpers off before Jung Kook can voice his displeasure at the ferret.

"What the fuck are you doing? I was talking to her!" He hisses out in anger but Taehyung merely shrugs.

"Her nose is off center and she giggles like a fucking hyena. You can do better Jeon."

Kim Taehyung is a sap ( when drunk )

Jung Kook watches the blonde as he tumbles over the back of the couch, his long legs hitting the coffee table in Yoongi's apartment with a deafening crash. He winces. He doesn't move to help him up because, God, that could go wrong in so many ways. Instead he waits till Taehyung has finally righted himself , apologized profusely to everyone in the vicinity and settled back against the dirty couch before making his presence known.

"You've had enough, Taehyung. Lets get the hell outta here." He prods him at the base of his skull and Taehyungs head lolls forward, his chin hitting the edge of his collar bone.

"Jung Kook... I love you."

Very few people actively react to the confession because its a standard equation. Kim Taehyung plus alcohol equals love confessions to all and sundry.

"Yes, blondie. I know. Now get your ass off the couch." Jung Kook walks around to stand in between Taehyung's legs, hands slipping around his shoulders in an attempt to yank him to his feet. It works quite well and he soon has a swaying , wasted Taehyung, teetering on his toes, one arm draped around his shoulders the other clutching a glass of champagne .

"Will you marry me?"

"Of course. I'm all yours." Jung Kook is too amused to sound sarcastic.

"Forget about Eunha. I'll make you happy."

Jung Kook stifles a smile.

And then it happens. Taehyung kisses him. Its never happened before and Jung Kook is stunned. Too stunned to realize he almost, kinda , maybe a little , likes it. Likes it so much that he kisses back, their tongues tangling and hands getting frisky, right there on the balcony and only when Taehyung knocks one of the flowerpots to the pavement, Jung Kook comes back to his senses.

Taehyung doesn't remember it the next day and Jung Kook sees no need to change that fact.

Kim Taehyung is an enigma.

"You won't believe who I ran into today. " Jung Kook exclaims excitedly , practically flouncing into their shared apartment, a bagful of Taehyung's favorite snacks and a carton of beer held in his hands. Taehyung relieves him of the baggage and hums a question.

Jung Kook waits till he's on the couch, pulling off his socks. He wants to share his big news in the most amazing way ever. Like a punchline or something cocky so that Taehyung would be like No shit ! Potter really?! Wow! That is totally awesome!

He glances at the blonde , who's pouring a glassful of beer ( which is totally dumb ) and finally gives up. He's never been good with words and he can't wait to get the news out.

"Eun Ha. She's back from Egypt."

The sound of shattering glass has him on his foot, staring wildly at Taehyung who has blood running down his palms and is looking at him with a blank expression on his face.

"Oh, shit, are you alright, Taehyung?" He rushes to his side but the other is already swearing and kneeling right into the shards on the floor and Jung Kook rolls his eyes , slipping an arm underneath the guy's armpits in an attempt to pull him away from the massacre on the floor. But Taehyung pushes him away. So hard that Jung Kook collides with the dining table catching himself at the last second.

"i.. I'm fine. " Taehyung is shaking, his eyes flitting wildly between the shattered glass on the floor and the blood in his hand. He mutters something and without warning punches the dining table, nearly splintering the wood.

The pain seemed to bring him to his senses,

"Oh, fuck. I'm sorry, I-" Taehyung looks clinically insane and Jung Kook reaches out, stopping him from hurting himself further..

"Hey. Its alright. You.. you should take it easy. I'll take care of this." Jung Kook mutters.

He wants to take care of the cut on Taehyung, but he's not particularly good at that.

He carefully cleans the cut on Taehyung's smooth skin and tapes it up. He stops for a second to admire his handiwork .

"there, all better." He places a kiss on Taehyung's finger and feels his entire body seize up. Taehyung bounds to his feet and with a mumbled 'goodnight', disappears into his bedroom. The sound of the door slamming follows almost immediately after and Jung Kookis left blinking in confusion.

"You're welcome!" He calls out to the closed door.

He doesn't get a response.

Kim Taehyung is a life saver.

From : KTaehyung.

To : JJkook

Whr r u? Meeting starts in ten. They're picking ppl for promotion exams in may. Don be late you fool.

From : JJKook

To : KTaehyung

Shit. 4got abt tat. Taehyung help me out. Promised  Eunha will take her out for dinner. Cover for me.

From : JJKook

To : KTaehyung

Tae?

From : KTaehyung

To : JJKook

K.

From : JJKook

To : KTaehyung

I love you, dude. You're the best.

Kim Taehyung is the best roommate ever.

Taehyung walks into the apartment at the precise second when Jung Kook has managed to wiggle his hands underneath Eunha's blouse. The blonde freezes on the spot and Jung Kook curses his impeccable timing , as always.

"Tar. I.. We.." He stops as Eunha scrambles to her feet, adjusting her clothes with disturbing quickness and smiling, wide-eyed and blushing .

"Oh, Taehyung. You're home?" She moves forward but Taehyung is already shrugging his coat back on. He waves his wallet a bit.

"I was just here to get this. You guys.. you should.. you know.. continue with..."

And he leaves quickly , before any of them could be more embarrassed.

Eunha smiles at the locked door and turns to Jung Kook.

"He's a lot more handsome now." She says, running a finger up and down his jaw.

Jung Kook is too busy staring at the freckled skin of Eunha's neck to make sense of her words.

"Who? Tae? Oh.. Yeah.. He's awesome. Now, where were we?"

Kim Taehyung is an idiot.

" Taehyung, why would you-?" Yerin looks stunned when she finds out that Taehyung is the blind date Eunha has set her up with. Didn't Eunha know about how badly the guy was in love with Jung Kook??

Taehyung quickly shushes her and drapes an arms around her shoulder and squeezes. Jung Kook frowns, not sure why he's manhandling the poor girl.

After dinner, Jung Kook moves to the rest room and Yerin goes to talk to some of her friends at the other table. When they return, Eunha is flushed and red.

"You're still the world's biggest git , Kim Taehyung. Jung Kook,I'd like to leave." She gets up, prodding Jung Kook's shoulder. Jung Kook catches the sneer on Taehyung's face and automatically mouths what did you do?

Taehyung shrugs , calmly drinking his wine and making no attempts to apologize for whatever he's done to Eunha.

Later, Jung Kook confronts him.

"What the fuck was that?"

"Maybe you should ask your precious Eunha."

"She's too nice to tell it out loud. She told me she doesn't want to come between the pair of us. What the hell did you say, you moron?" Jung Kook snaps.

Taehyung looks stunned.

"Forget it, Jeon. Since you've already decided who's mistake this is, I'm not going to hang around and justify myself."

"You're a fucking idiot!" Jung Kook screams at his retreating back.

The door slams shut in his face .

Kim Taehyung is heartless.

"I'm moving out." Taehyung announces and Jung Kook works hard to keep his face neutral. Like it isn't really a big deal. Like best friends ceased existing without warning and friendships dissolved everyday.

"Fine."

Taehyung packs all his clothes and stops at a Mario figurine.

"I'm taking this." He says , quickly picking the toy up.

"What-No! I paid half! And we bought it for the house. So its supposed to stay in the house." Jung Kook snaps, holding his hand out. Taehyung sneers.

"Whatever. It getting a new house. I bet its sick of sticking around with you anyway".

Jung Kook opens his mouth in shock and then pounces on Taehyung. They roll around on the couch, the carpet and the coffee table till their hair sticks up in odd angles and they're both breathless and panting.

"I'm not letting you leave with that." Jung Kookglares.

"I'm not leaving without it." Taehyung glares right back.

"So don't!" Jung Kook snaps. Taehyung looks stunned and then collapses against him.

"Fine." He mutters.

Jung Kook fights to keep the goofy grin off his face.

Kim Taehyung is unpredictable.

"I proposed." Jung Kook says casually.

Taehyung doesn't reply. They're both sitting on the stairs leading to the terrace and Taehyung is smoking .

"She said yes."

The cigarette drops to the floor and Taehyung snuffs it out before turning to him with a smile.

Its wide and bright and blinding and so fucking artificial that Jung Kookis embarrassed.

"TAe, I..."

"I'll kill you if you apologize."

Jung Kook gulps, nodding.

"I might not make it to the wedding." Taehyung says casually and Jung Kook feels a bit wronged. Maybe Tae was a little possessive of him but missing his wedding?

"What? No! Come on, Tae... I was hoping you'd be my best-"

And Taehyung explodes.

"Okay stop! Okay! I've had enough of you and your fucking obliviousness and God knows I've put up with more shit that any half-wit should but I'm not going to stand here and pretend I'm happy for you and that its alright for me to come and stand next to you in a big fucking church while you swear your love to some other ..." He stops , glares and rushes out and Jung Kookis too stunned to do more than blink.

What the hell was that?!

Jung Kook doesn't go after him but when he does reach home he finds that Taehyung has vanished. With his things.

And he has left the Mario behind.

Kim Taehyung is gay.

"He is what?"

"He's gay , Jung Kook. Everyone knows that." Hoseok gives him a look. Jung Kook tries not to have a panic attack.

"What- No! He isn't...I mean.. I'd know.. I'm his best friend and-"

"He's always hanging around with you and hugging you and holding hands and shit. How can that not be gay?" Namjoon snickers and Hoseok elbows him on the ribs. Jung Kook however is too mindfucked to notice.

"That-That's just Tae. I mean its like me and Jimin, I mean its nothing new or different-"

"Me? When was the last time I got drunk and asked you to marry me?" Jimin rolls his eyes.

And the kiss.

And the hugs and the frisky hands and the lingering glances and the stupid nicknames and the home cooked meals and the way he would take a day off every time Jung Kook caught a cold and-

Taehyung likes me.

like, really really, likes me.

and maybe, kinda, just a little bit, I like him?

Jung Kook feels his breath catch. He isn't ... gay. He isn't. He's attracted to Eunha. even though he feels a little fake around her , like he's acting unlike him but that's expected. You can't just be yourself with the girl you love right?

Right?

But his mind isn't agreeing and he keeps getting flashes of being himself with  Taehyung.

He needs to get his head on straight.

So he goes right up To Eunha's apartment.

And finds her in bed with some other guy.

Kim Taehyung is a smug bastard.

" I'm sorry."

Taehyung looks up from his place in Yoongi's couch and raises an eyebrow. Yoongi is on vacation with Jin for a month and Taehyung is crashing here for the duration. At least that's what Jimin says.

"That day at the restaurant. She came onto you didn't she?" Jung Kook studiously stares at Taehyung's face although he wants to look away.

"Does that make a difference?"

"I suppose not. I just.. I wanted to apologize. "

"Apology accepted." Taehyung doesn't look up from his position, face down on the couch.

"I called off the wedding."

There is just a tiny fraction of a pause.

"A simple sorry will do." Taehyung shrugs.

Jung Kook curses the stubborn blonde and prods him on the shoulder.

Taehyung finally turns around.

"Jeon, I don't have time for-"

Jung Kook cuts him off with a kiss. Its frantic and fast and over before Taehyung can even acknowledge it .

Taehyung blinks .

"What was that?" He doesn't look angry . Just curious.

"I'm not gay!" Jung Kook blurts out. Taehyung raises an eyebrow and if he's fighting laughter on the inside, it doesn't show on his face.

"You aren't?"

"No.. I mean not in general."

"In general?"

"Yeah, but you, you're like... different. An exception. Like an anomaly. "

"An anomaly?"

"Yeah, you know, like the deviation from the normal. Not that you aren't normal. Because you are. You're normal. But not in a boring way. You aren't boring." Its a train wreck and Taehyung thinks that Jung Kook's lucky that Taehyung's already madly in love with him because there's no other way he'd enjoy this confession.

"Christ, Taehyung. A little help here?" Jung Kook finally grunts looking heavenward in exasperation. Taehyung carefully wraps a finger around the waistband of Jung Kook's pants and yanks him to the couch. Jung Kook yelps. Lands on the taller boy with a plop.

"You're so clueless , ?Jeon its rather endearing."

Jung Kook rolls his eyes.

"I just-"

Taehyung kisses him, slow and smooth and Jung Kook whimpers , the sensation new and frightening. He opens his mouth instinctively and Taehyung pushes his tongue in , the soft pink muscle exploring his mouth with relaxed patience. Jung Kook tightens his fingers on Taehyung's shirt and groans as their hips make contact.

He suddenly realizes that he's having a little problem down there and tries to rise up but collapses again when Taehyung wraps his arms around his waist and yanks.

"Fuck." Taehyung hisses when Jung Kook's arousal grinds into his hips and he cants his hips forward till they're lined against each other, breath coming out in pants, grinding down between each exhale.

Jung Kook waits a bit, swallows the saliva pooling in his mouth and can't bring himself to look up at Tae. Instead he shifts a bit more and tries to look for some reaction , anything that says this isn't alright but what he gets is -

"Oh, fuck.. " Taehyung's eyes are glassy, his breath whooshing out in a gasp. Jung Kook wants to sit back up, suggest moving this to the bedroom but the moment he rises himself to his elbows he gets hit by a bout of vertigo and his blood rushes south, collecting somewhere around his belly button and he groans.

White noise fills his ears as Taehyung kisses him. Slow and deep, his fingers tangling into Jung Kook's messy black hair, massaging his scalp. One hand slips up his shirt and traces his stomach muscles , fingers pebbling the nipple and eliciting a yelp of pleasure from his mouth.

Jung Kook feels fingers ghosting on the front of his pants and he returns the favor, shocked to find Taehyung equally hard.

At first it seems a rather pointless attempt at friction. Jung Kook can guess that this isn't going to get them off, but a particularly forceful impact sets his nerve endings on fire and he grinds down , eager for more. Taehyung flips them over and even though their dicks aren't aligned completely, they fall into a rhythm.

Its not perfect and its not something anyone would even consider doing but its them. And its fucking perfect.

And suddenly Jung Kookis hit by the thought that this is Taehyung and they're doing this and he feels the familiar tug at the pit of his stomach .

"Shit, Tae I think I'm gonna-" He feels Taehyung's fingers reaching between them, pushing against his cock through the fabric of his slacks .

"Yeah- fuck- Jung Kook..." Taehyung grunts and grinds down and in a frenzy of heated hips, they both come into their pants , shuddering .

Jung Kook tries to calm his pounding heart and collapses against Taehyung's chest. His nose tickles as he burrows it into soft blonde hair.

"I'm good aren't I?" Taehyung grins.

"Shut up, you smug bastard."

Kim Taehyung is amazing.

When Jung Kook pushes into Taehyung he has a million thoughts warring inside his head as he pants into the pillow next to Tae's head. The sensation surrounding his cock is otherworldly ; tight and warm and hot and fiery and he can't help but wonder if his brains gonna be fried by the time they're done with each other.

But the thought of this hurting Taehyung is keeping his pleasure at bay.

"Are you all right? Is this okay? Am I hurting you too much? Fuck Am I doing this right? Should I stop? I'll stop." He pants, staring into the blonde's face.

But Taehyung reaches out, fingers curling at the base of his neck, his eyes squeezed shut as he pulls Jung Kook down for a kiss.

Jung Kook relaxes into the kiss, angles his hips carefully and pushes, brushing against the blonde's prostate and enjoying the way he keens and shudders, back arching off the bed and mouth open in a 'O'.

"I love you Kim Taehyung. You're so fucking amazing."

[sagara-megumi]

SasuSaku Month - Day 17: War Torn || [Fanfic] Forgotten Tales from an Ancient Time - Chapter 1

Title: Forgotten Tales from an Ancient Time - Chapter 1

Rating: T/PG-13

Notes: As I answered in the questions (some in private), this story is going to be darker than the Omiai one. It’s the first time I write something like this, so I hope that you like it ^^ The inspiration came because of an episode of the Galileo jdrama whose plot and setting was related to Tengu. But also, there are lots of influences from a couple of anime and manga, so it’s a big mixture.

What is a Tengu? For those who don’t know, it’s a supernatural being in the Japanese mythology. To make it short, since I don’t want to bore anyone, I’ve seen it translated as “goblin” quite a few times. Nowadays, they are protectors of mountains and forests, though before they were well-known for their mischief and evil ways. They are normally represented in two ways: a human with a very long nose and red skin, or like human-like birds (usually crows -Karasu Tengu-, but before, they were depicted as birds of prey). For more information, I’ll leave here a couple of URLs that I used as a reference.

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Tengu https://www.tofugu.com/japan/tengu/

*There are other notes that I’ll leave for the end of the chapter, since I don’t want to explain/spoil (? ô__o) anything before your reading.*

The setting is going to come mostly out of my imagination, so it won’t be really accurate this time regarding locations, especially. I don’t know if this will change in the future.

Probably, the prompts will be in a different order from the one in the calendar, but since the SasuSaku Month already passed, I think it won’t have much importance. Also, I’ll be a bit irregular in the updates. I have an idea of what I want to do, but it’s not as clear as in the other story, so (as what happened with this chapter) it’s taking me more time to write it (and, as I told you, I’m unfamiliar with the genre, so I’m being extra-careful with everything ^^U)

Be aware that the rating is T/PG-13 for all the story. There are (and will be) depictions of violence and blood, and in this one (I don’t know the rest), a brief reference to sex.

Glossary:

-Obon: an annual Buddhist event for commemorating one’s ancestors. It is believed that each year during Obon, the ancestors’ spirits return to this world in order to visit their relatives.

-torii: a traditional Japanese gate most commonly found at the entrance of or within a Shinto shrine, where it symbolically marks the transition from the profane to sacred.

-Chimata-no-Kami: Gods of the crossroads, highways, byways, and footpaths. They help and protect their people and are honoured with roadside shrines.

As always, if there’s something wrong (spaces, brackets, words in another language…), please, tell me.

Words: 5553

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FORGOTTEN TALES FROM AN ANCIENT TIME

Chapter 1

The Shadow entered one house after the other through the open windows, swiftly. The humans from those times were careless and sceptic, and that made their spirits weak to perceive the creatures that surrounded them. So many technological advances and knowledge had made them think they were invincible and disregard the beliefs of their ancestors, their respect for the things beyond their comprehension. It looked around as he slithered in the shadows around the street lamps, watching as the supernatural beings floated around the few individuals that still walked around when the moon was still in the sky or lurking in the darkness, waiting for a chance to possess them. If humans knew that they could be devoured by those entities whose existence they denied anytime they wanted, they would not be so proud believing there was not anything or anyone above them. A cruel smile drew across one of the several tentacle-like shapes It adopted as It slid between the narrow space between the floor and the door of a flat. They needed a Divine Punishment. However, that was a thing of the gods and the only interest he could have in it would be watching as those little beings suffered. It spilt on the wooden surface, invading everything given the lack of light in the place. Better leave the gods to their own matters and concentrate on Its.

A couple was having sex in that room and It stopped to watch briefly, especially after realising the nature of the man, as he sucked the vital energy out of the woman from her mouth. He looked at It for a moment, creasing his brow at having a voyeur, and the Shadow retreated quickly. Some youkai were so zealous of their own matters… However, mingling with humans to feed oneself was disgusting. It considered that Its methods were much more refined. First, finding the right prey. For the Shadow not all humans were acceptable, it was the inconvenient of being on that world so many centuries, that It had become a pleasure-seeker regarding Its food. Moreover, it was so exciting to hunt them and then, watch their agony as they withered away, their panic faces when they did not understand what was happening to them, and their futile struggle when they did, make them suffer as It fed on them… That was an ecstasy…

The Shadow knew that if, in that moment, It could shapeshift into a human form, It would lick its lips. Oh, yes, that was the best part… It was the moment when their fear took the best of them that their taste was exquisite.

The sky above started to tint in a lighter shade and the Shadow knew It had to look for a place to spend the day. It could not, by any means, stay out in the sun. Soon, he found it. As the Shadow dissolved in a small corner on the ground, It rejoiced in the trepidation that would continue once the darkness returned.

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As most days, the alarm clock went off at exactly half past six in the morning. Reaching out a hand to it, Sakura opened one eye and looked at the ceiling of her small flat. It was bathed in the soft light of the first rays of sun, and the shadows of the curtain that moved slightly in the breeze, played games of hide-and-seek on it. Then, she closed it again, feeling drowsy. She had not slept well that night. The city was in the middle of a heat wave that summer and she had had to leave the window open in addition to turning on the electric fan. The noise of the cars and had kept her awake till the early hours of the morning, when she supposed she had finally fallen asleep from exhaustion. However, she could not afford to sleep anymore or she would be late for work. She stretched slowly, feeling the creak of her back and the slight roughness of the sheet under her on her skin. No matter how thin and short her nightgown was, she had ended up discarding it after it clung uncomfortably to her body because of the sweat. Absentmindedly, she put a hand on one of her breasts, sliding it to her stomach. She had never liked too much to sleep without clothes, it made her feel strangely defenceless. However, in cases like that, she preferred that sensation to the sticky one of the heat. Her head turned lazily to the alarm clock and she almost had a heart attack. Eleven minutes had already passed from the time she had supposedly had to get up and if she did not do it soon, she would miss her train. She sat down on the bed in a hurry and grabbed her nightgown, putting it on quickly before closing the curtain and turning off the electric fan. Grabbing a towel, she entered the shower.

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Barely on time, she ran down the stairs of the station to enter quickly in the train just before the doors closed. She sighed, relieved, and looked around. The coach was almost empty, except for an old man who was reading the newspaper and a young one who had fallen asleep and whose head, leant back against the glass of the window, rolled from one side to the other with the swaying of the train. It was really different from work days, when she usually was squeezed between people as she fought to keep her balance while receiving one or two pushes from people who moved towards the doors. She sighed in content. Even though the day before had been her last day of work before the holidays, the library where she worked was preparing an exhibition related to Obon and one of her workmates in charge of it with her and other two, had asked her the favour of covering her. She had promised her children to take them to the amusement park that day, before the shifts of that month were assigned, and she did not want to disappoint them, especially her younger one, whose birthday was that day. She had promised her that she would cover for her on the day she had to go back, so she could have an extra-day in her holidays. Honestly, even without that agreement, Sakura would not have minded having to go to work on Sunday. She loved what she did, and the library was like her second home.

She took out a folder from her bag and pulled out some papers stapled together that showed defined pictures of the pages of an old book. She had found it while looking for materials for the exhibition. It was a compendium of old myths in the prefecture, some of them well-known by her, with the location and descriptions of those deities’ shrines, including a map for pilgrims. She knew that some people considered her fascination weird, but she could not help it. She had been brought up in a small Shinto shrine and her adoptive mother, Priestess Tsunade, had instilled in her the respect for the Gods and supernatural beings, and the thirst of knowledge about her cultural roots. She liked to take trips and visit sacred places, famous or forgotten, and was planning to dedicate one or two days of her holidays to that hobby of hers.

Minutes later, she got off the train and walked the too familiar road to her workplace, going over the content of the exhibition and its order in the display cabinets once more. When she turned at one of the corners, the library appeared in front of her eyes, at the top of a slope, a hill full of trees and bushes before the city development reached it, devoiding it from its natural beauty. It was a relatively modern building made of cream coloured stone, with seven floors and large windows on the first three. There were five steps that led to the main entrance, a big wooden gate with a classic European design. She went around it to enter through the back door. Immediately, her nose perceived the smell of books that she loved so much, and a huge smile drew across her lips.

“Good morning!”

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The Shadow roamed around the city once more. After days of hunting, the hunger was starting to get unbearable and that made It slower. It paused to rest behind the fence that surrounded a building, between the lights of the street lamp and the entrance. It needed to find Its prey quick. If It did not, It could not carry out a much more important task, the one that really mattered. But for that, the Shadow needed the strength to shapeshift and be able to touch material things, and years and years of waiting for the perfect moment had weakened It. Now, It was merely that, a shadow.

Suddenly, a shudder went over It, like a wave. Near, Its prey was near. It could feel it. Gathering its strength, It slithered along the street to the end of it, and crawled the wall of a two-floor building, entering through the open window. It moved sinuously along the wall junctures and the shadows casted in the room with the most insignificant objects, anxiously. Finally, It reached Its target and, despite the overwhelming desperation, the Shadow looked at it for a moment, its rosy cheeks and slightly parted lips. It was so tender, so warm… As it slid under the prey’s back, It could feel the softness of its skin, as it wore few clothes because of the heat and It delighted with the sweet smell. A prey of such quality was not found every day…

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The baby next door started to cry suddenly, and Sakura woke up with a start. The room was still in darkness only an occasional car’s lights disrupted the shadows in the ceiling. The electric fan was working, blowing air on her legs, and she lifted her nightgown just under her breasts to feel the cool on her stomach, damp from the heat. She had been having a strange dream where she walked alone along the dark streets of the city, but she did remember anything else. She looked at the alarm clock with half closed eyes and sighed. There were still two hours left from the time she had set it and she turned on her stomach to cool her back and hid her face in the pillow. She had planned a short trip for that day to a small village half an hour from the city by bus where there was an ancient shrine dedicated to an old forgotten mountain god and she needed all the rest she could get. After a few moments, though, feeling uncomfortable, she lifted her torso just enough to grab the nightgown and pull, letting it fall beside her. She sighed in content as the cool air fanned across her back, and little by little, she fell into a deep slumber again, not realising that she was not alone in the room anymore.

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The Tengu landed on the tree after taking a surveillance flight of the mountain. It was one of the few things He still enjoyed doing in that life of His, too long now that He was alone. Not even humans came to the mountain anymore as they did before when it was one of the fastest ways to reach the capital, that it was not the capital anymore. Now, they rode those strange things with wheels that moved on their own. Only a few had ventured, laughing and making fun of legends; or beings with a skin of the colour of the milk who spoke strange languages in a loud voice, not minding the sacred place they were stepping on. They had got what they deserved, though, he remembered with a smirk. However, tricks were more fun when He did them with His brother and cousins. Now, it was more a way of releasing His anger against all that surrounded Him. He looked up and half closed His red and black eyes, leaning back on the trunk, watching the leaves move in the soft breeze. All that was deeply buried in old times, and He had stopped bothering or fighting against something He could not change. What only mattered to Him now was that everything was calm on His mountain.

.

Sakura got off the bus and looked around. The village where she had stopped, located at the foot of three mountains, one much bigger than the other two and clearly a place of worshiping, was really small, just a few houses in a line along the border of the forest which covered them, framing the torii that marked the entrance of a shrine dedicated to the god of the highest mountain, a famous one which appeared in quite a few legends. She entered the sacred place and made a pray for her safe journey. Then, she went to buy some food and took out the photographed pages of the book to be sure, once more, of the route she had to take.

The myth said that there was a very small sanctuary deep in the forest of the mountain on her right, the one with an average height, dedicated to an old forgotten mountain deity worshiped and feared by the travellers who had to cross the mountain to go to the old capital, a legendary creature famous for His mischief and rage against those who did not pay a proper homage to him. Then, she looked around, trying to orient herself. The path to the mountain had to be near there.

“Excuse me,” she asked, walking towards an old lady who was watering the road outside her house. “Sorry for bothering you, but could I ask you some questions, please?”

She had learned in her little trips that old people were the most willing to share information about local myths, but only if they were approached with respect and politeness. The old woman looked at her upside down and then straightened a bit her bent back.

She took out her map.

“Could you tell me the way to go to the mountain, please?”

She lifted her brows scornfully.

“There’s a small stand just next to the bus stop. Didn’t you see it?”

“Oh, yes I did” she smiled. “But I don’t want to climb that mountain, but that one” she said, pointing at the one behind the lady’s house, and she opened her eyes in surprise.

“This one? Why? Nobody goes there nowadays, Miss.”

“I’m a librarian, you see, and I’m interested in traditional legends” she smiled a bit; she had also learnt that to receive information, one had to give a little first. “Moreover, I grew up in a shrine and I’d like to visit the ones I hear people talk about, or read in books, and that are not so well-known.”

She eyed her, and Sakura had the impression that she was evaluating her, trying to see if she was lying or not.

“A few years ago, some stupid kids or a fool tourist came from time to time and went from one mountain to the other, behaving really poorly. But the gods punished them because they usually came back scared and saying things about rolling rocks that almost squashed them and a strange laughter in the air.”

“Really?”

“Yes. Our ancestors believed that a Tengu clan lived in that mountain.”

Sakura opened her eyes in surprise. That was not what the book said. She felt a bubbling excitement in her chest, as if she was going to open a present.

“There was a small shrine dedicated to Them and they went there once a year to make offerings so they wouldn’t fall victim of Their impishness. However, the legend says that They angered the gods and they exterminated Them, and it’s this the fourth generation since we don’t go up there. But some of us still leave a small offering on the path to said shrine. Even though They are not there anymore, we have to respect Their spirits. And to tell you the truth,” she beckoned her and lowered her voice, “no mischief had happened to those of us who do it… while I can’t say the same of those who don’t… so maybe there are still some of Them up there” she regarded to the young woman with a lifted brow. “Do you want to go up there yet?”

Sakura looked at the mountain pensively, and then, nodded.

“Oh, I see that you’re a stubborn one, Miss…” the old lady put her hands in her waist and looked at her once more, this time with a small smile. “Wait here.”

The woman came out a few minutes later, carrying a small parcel.

“Take this with you for your lunch” she said practically pushing it in her hands, and Sakura knew it better than to refuse, even if it was politely, or telling her that she had already bought food. “And this” she added putting another small bundle on her palm. “As an offering from myself. Don’t unwrap it under any circumstances. Only They can do it.”

“I’ll do it as you wish” she opened her backpack and put the things inside carefully. “And thank you for the lunch. I really appreciate it.”

The woman moved her hand, playing it down.

“Now, show me that map of yours” she said, pointing at the pages Sakura carried on her hand. “Oh, and one more thing,” she added after showing her the way. “Buy something to offer Them. That way, They won’t play pranks you on your trip.”

Sakura nodded again, adjusting her rucksack to her back and nodding politely. Then, she turned and started her journey.

“And don’t forget to pray to the Chimata-no-Kami before you go up!”

“Don’t worry!” she waved with a smile and turned at the corner the old woman had told her.

The lady shook her head with a sigh. Young girls those days…

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After a brief prayer and an offering of a few coins, Sakura started the path that went up the mountain. At the beginning, it was wide and the trees, tall and proud, were well kept. However, as the slope started to get stipper, the track became narrower and there were fallen pieces of wood, already half decayed, here and there, which she had to get around. Big rocks covered with moss bordered her way for some time, and the roots of the trees nearer the trail had risen from the ground and twisted in disturbing shapes. The sun she could see among the crowns, now was barely visible, the branches twining over her head, making a green cave. She shivered slightly, feeling a mixture of reverence and unease in that quiet, uncanny atmosphere. It truly felt like the home of a deity from the past.

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The Tengu startled, straightening on the branch and scanning his surroundings, frowning deeply. Someone had entered His territory. He stood up and unfolded His wings, taking off at a high speed and flying through the trees, not even brushing one with the tip of His feathers, as if they opened at His passing. The presence was near Him now, and He wrinkled his nose at the stench that humans always brought with them: smoke, sweat, impurity, deep-buried desires… However, there was something different about this one. The smell was not so strong as He had expected, but also, there was something hidden in it, a strange scent he could not name. He landed on a branch just above the ground just in time to see her approaching along the barely seen path with papers in her hands. She stopped a bit under the tree, looking around and then, she sighed, frustrated.

“I think I got lost…” she murmured softly, as she compared one of the pages, which was brownish and had something written in an intricate calligraphy, with the map depicted in the other one. “I should have turned to the right in this intersection…” she was talking to herself.

She sat down under the tree, and the Tengu observed her as she took out a bottle of water and took some sips, staring down at the papers she had put on her lap. He crouched a bit curious. The calligraphy seemed really old and He could barely make out most of the kanji, only a few that talked about the path across the mountain and something about the deity of the place. A deity. He smirked. Typical of stupid humans not being able to distinguish a goblin from a god…

He sat down on the branch. She seemed harmless, so he relaxed against the trunk and closed his eyes, letting one of his legs hang from the branch. A long, long time ago, He would have possessed her to tempt any stupid monk who dared to cross His mountain. In other circumstances, He would have, maybe, kidnapped her and left her in the middle of the forest just to amuse Himself seeing how she tried to find her way again. Or probably, He would have taken his anger on her for feeling alone, and forgotten by those who had to pay Him homage. But that was all in the past now and He did not feel like having fun.

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Sakura reached the crossroads where she had strayed her way and took the other path. It was in a similar state to the other one, and she had, once more, to walk looking at the ground to avoid any roots or small rocks hidden by the fallen leaves. Then, she looked at her maps again. If the old one was correct, something that, in that moment, she was not so sure anymore, the shrine should be around that area. She walked slowly, paying attention to where she put her feet and her surroundings. Otherwise, she would not have seen the torii half hidden by two trees, one of them completely leaning on it, covering the top part with its branches. Through them, she could see the sign which marked the sanctuary, that filled her heart with a sincere feeling of happiness, and she smiled satisfied at having reached her goal.

Tengu

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The Tengu snapped his eyes open, His pupils changing into a six-points star, cursing himself. So that human was looking for His clan’s sanctuary. He gritted His teeth, it had been too long since the last human stepped through His mountain and he had become careless. But He would not forgive those who dared to desecrate His land. He vanished.

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The short paved road was cracked in several places and roots and plants grew between its stones. The small shrine was in shambles and the climbers had taken possession of the place. It seemed that it was true what the old lady said. Nobody came to pray there anymore. She felt sadness replace the happiness that she had been feeling until that moment. As her adoptive mother said, no creature, supernatural or from this world, should be forgotten because that meant a much worse death than the physical one. She clenched her jaw. Well, if there was not a single person who went there to show her respect, she, who had reached what many thought a figment of men from ancient times’ imagination, would do it.

.

The Tengu appeared on top of the torii and knelt, a rock materialising in His hand. A well-aimed throw to her back would not kill her, but she would learn not to mess with the goblins of that mountain. A few hours in the outdoors without being able to move and feeling the humidity of the summer heat in the air and the wild animals sounds would be a good scare for someone like her. Then, the girl turned to go where the old purification fountain was and He stopped His movement suddenly, frowning confused. She took the bottle from her backpack, that she left at her feet, again and performed the ritual with water from it.

Then, she returned to the shrine and clapped twice, bowing in respect and prayer. The Tengu closed his fingers around the rock, so strongly that it became dust, feeling something soft grow inside Him. It had been a long time since someone prayed at His clan’s shrine. He remembered the difference He had perceived when He had seen her, and now He knew what that was. Sincerity and respect for what was above her understanding.

Then, she went back to her backpack and took something from it.

“This is from an old lady who lives in the village at the foot of the mountain” she said, putting a small wrapping on top of the offering box after she pushed some wild ivy aside. “She told me to give it to you… But she didn’t tell me her name…”

The smell of the offering reached Him and He knew immediately who she was. She left offerings for Him every year at the start of the path, just after passing the Chimata-no-Kami stone. Before, she went higher, but He supposed that, with each passing year, her age weighed her down more and more. Also, she left some little things, like a riceball or some pickled radish, for him in her back garden sometimes. He knew because her prayers always reached Him.

“And this is from me. It’s store-bought and I didn’t think about offering it at the beginning, so I don’t know if it will mean anything.”

She bowed again and then, taking her things, went back to the forest.

There was a change in the air and the Tengu lifted His head sharply, taking out one of His swords from their sheath at His back. Looking around cautiously. He had not felt such an evil energy in the mountain for centuries. The last time had been when…

As soon as the girl put a foot outside the torii, energy cracked and she was suddenly surrounded by a black crackle and pushed forward, falling down the stairs with a panicked cry. After tumbling down the steps, she landed at the base of the steps, hitting her head on a rock by the trail, lying lifeless for a moment before her lips left out a weak pained moan. His pupils widened and He gritted His teeth. Such a pure soul attacked in His mountain, in His shrine, spilling her blood in His clan’s grounds. He was not going to allow it.

The Tengu looked around, angered, and His eyes changed again, three slits parting from His pupil, as His body brimmed with power, surrounding it in a dark blue aura that winded like a blaze, and His wings spread out. A fan made of feathers appeared in his hand. He perceived a sudden movement on his left and a spear of black power materialised out of thin air, aiming straight at her. He fanned towards it and the strong gust of wind made it disappear. However, it was not finished with just that. The whole atmosphere was still filled with darkness, and He kept up His guard, knowing there would be another attack, trying to perceive the direction from which it would come with the fast movement of His pupils. And then, in the tree on His right, a flash of crackle, louder than before, wrapped it around one of the branches. He moved the fan again and all trace of a magical presence suddenly vanished. However, the branch was already damaged and with a sickening crack, it broke off, just as the young woman, who had regained her consciousness was trying to lift herself from the ground, supporting herself on her elbows.

“Idiot, watch out!”

Sakura heard the words clear, very near, and afraid, she looked from one side to the other, not seeing anyone. When she twisted her body and looked up, she saw the branch coming to crush her in a slow motion. She tried to move, crawling with the help of her hands and feet but she was still dizzy from the injury on her head and a cut in her leg made her actions slow. She braced herself for the impact.

Suddenly, Sakura had the feeling that something, someone, was covering her.

The branch fell down on Him and the Tengu grunted, feeling something that was not really pain but that surged through all His body. He looked at the woman encased in His arms, her hands covering her head and her eyes closed tightly. She seemed fine and He smiled lightly, relieved. With his arm, He tossed the branch aside and then, tried to stand up. And then, it came. A lacerating burning surged from His back and He collapsed on top of the girl who he had just saved.

Sakura opened her lids slowly after a few moments of deafening silence after the noise of the branch hitting the ground that still resounded in her ears. She was still alive. And she was alone. Uncovering her head, she made a quick mental check of her state. Apart from the injuries from the fall, she did not feel any new wounds. Carefully, she sat down, cleaning with the back of one of her hands the blood that had run down the side of her face, and set her eyes briefly on the branch, that strangely was a few metres from her. Then, her pupils wandered her arm and her body, and then, stopped on her lap. There, lying lifeless, it was one of the most beautiful birds of prey she had ever seen. She was not sure about the name, but it was not very big, with long narrow wings and tail. It was brown, but in some parts of its body, it was a paler shade. Its legs ended in sharp claws. She gasped when her eyes fell on the big wood chip sticking near the joint between its back and wing.

“Hey, little one…”

With extreme care, she touched it with a finger. Its feathers were soft and she ran it along the shape of its chest, very slowly. Not obtaining any reaction, she took it in her hands, staining them with blood. The bird trembled once.

“No… Please, no…” she whispered, feeling her eyes fill with tears.

She frowned. It was not the time to cry, she had to make a decision, and quickly. But, she berateded herself, what decision was there to make… There was only one. Delicately, she wrapped the bird in one of the towels she had brought with her, and taking it in her arms, ignoring the searing pain in her head and leg, she started to go back along the path at the fastest pace she could muster.

Going down the steep was easier than when she had started her journey, apart from the fact that she remembered the places she had passed by before and in half the time she had taken to reach the shrine, she was already at the foot of the mountain. With a quick bow, still half running, she apologised the Chimata-no-Kami for not thanking them properly for their protection in her trip, making a mental note to ask for forgiveness later and make a more generous offering.

“Miss!” the old lady, who was at the corner, twisting her hands frantically and looking at the path, went to meet her as soon as she saw her, staring at her with wide eyes and a pale face. “I was very worried! There was wind coming down the mountain and a thundering sound-!”

“I need help!”

The other woman looked at her wounds and the blood that soaked part of her clothes anxiously, but she shook her head, playing it down, and she showed her the bundle in her arms. The woman startled letting a strangled cry leave her lips.

“This is…!”

“It needs a vet urgently. Is the bus here yet?!” Sakura interrupted her.

“It just departed-” she rummaged in the pocket of her apron. “Give me a moment!”

She took out an old mobile phone and dialled a number.

“Shoichirou, stop the bus now!” someone answered to her. “There’s an emergency with a girl!”

Not waiting for an answer, she hung up.

“Quickly” she said pushing her. “The bus is still down that path” she looked at the bird. “And please, take care of Him…”

She nodded curtly and started to run as fast as she could, not noticing that the old lady put her hands together, like in a prayer, and bowed deeply.

Sakura found the bus just after turning the sharp curve after leaving the village. The driver had got off the vehicle and was waiting for her, with his arms crossed on his chest and a mixture of annoyance and confusion on his face. However, seeing the state in which the young woman was, his expression changed to one of deep concern.

“Sorry” she said bowing first to him and then to the passengers who were looking at her through the windows with deep curiosity painted on their faces.

“Come on” he ushered her in, getting on after her. “You need to see a doctor immediately…”

She paid her ticket and then, sat down on the first free seat she saw, barely containing a gesture of pain as she took off her backpack. The bus started its journey again and as it went down the mountain, Sakura put the bird, who was losing its warmth little by little, against her chest.

“You can’t die…”

TO BE CONTINUED…

Extra-notes:

-I won’t call Sasuke by his name until probably the middle of next chapter because of reasons that I hope I’ll be able to explain properly in the story, so be patient, please ^^U

-Sasuke’s Complete Susanoo is a Tengu. In this story it's dark blue because that’s the colour it has in the original manga. There are a few fanarts which depict Sasuke with Susanoo’s armour. His Tengu form here is inspired by these ones:

http://jmbfanart.deviantart.com/art/Sasuke-Perfect-Susano-o-Armor-475753671 (I love it ♡)

http://tuanenam.deviantart.com/art/sasuke-vs-naruto-susanoo-armor-vs-bijuu-modo-357840182

-I’m still thinking if Sasuke’ll have black eyes at any moment in the story. I read somewhere that Tengu have red eyes, so Sasuke’s pupils will be the Sharingan. When he’s relaxed, he’s got the normal one, if he’s on guard, his eyes change to Mangekyou Sharingan, and in his Tengu form, Eternal Mangekyou Sharingan. My descriptions regarding the Sharingan are not very good yet, but I promise I’ll get better at them.