#hopefully gonna find a balance soon if the world doesn’t explode

[maoistired]

They return!!

[trvelyans-archive]

a commission for @sexysideoftheforce of his lone wanderer sarah and butch deloria <3 thanks for commissioning me andy, i love you so much !!! i hope i did right by your gal :)

---

The hot, heavy sun beats down on them. It cooks them in their travelling gear as Butch follows Sarah down a narrow pathway between two huge boulders he swears are going to fall on them any minute, and he frowns as he glances up at them uneasily, wiping his forehead on the back of his hand and then wiping the back of his hand off on his dusty pants. She said they weren’t too far away from Megaton, whatever the fuck that is, and once they get there they can take a break at her house (which Butch didn’t know she had until she mentioned it), but they’ve been walking for hours without a break and Butch needs a drink.

He leans against the rock and pulls his flask from his pocket, tipping his head back and taking as long of a swig as he can until he chokes.

Eventually Sarah realizes he stopped and turns around, raising a hand to shield her eyes from the light. “Hey, we need to get a move on, DeLoria,” she says. She doesn’t say it soft but she doesn’t say it rough, either, and that’s the only reason he actually listens. Normally he wouldn’t – if she bitches, he bitches back, and he feels like that’s only fair, but right now they’re both wiped and he just wants to find some place to sleep that isn’t covered in mutated animal shit.

“Fine,” he says, pulling away from the rock and stowing his flask away again. “You better keep your promise about a nice home-cooked meal, by the way.”

She frowns at him as he lumbers down the path to join her again. “I don’t remember making any kind of promise like that,” she says pointedly as he brushes past her and continues down the path.

“What happened to getting a move on?” Butch calls to her over his shoulder, trying to disguise his disappointment. “We can argue over dinner if you want to, gal, but we actually need to make it alive to that dinner first.” Hopefully she’ll be tired enough by the time they get there that he can just trick her into making it for him. She’s not gonna be very good at it, he thinks, since she can barely cook a can of beans over a fire without burnin’ them, but he’s sure he’d end up blowing something up if he tried and then she’d shoot him through the skull like she does to all those raiders. Otherwise, he would.

Maybe. If he felt like it.

Sarah says nothing more to him. Instead she follows him down the path for a minute or two until he very nearly trips over a rock and then, once he recovers and straightens himself out, they both realize he has no idea where he’s going, and she pushes in front of him with a huff to take the lead again. Butch rolls his eyes as he adjusts his grip on his gun, the one she gave him after she was finished with it.

She was right – it’s a piece of shit. It’s the only thing he’s got, though. God knows she isn’t gonna give him anything better.

Well, he has two things, actually, he thinks after a little while. He may not love Sarah, but she’s what he has left of the Vault, and she’s taken care of more than a few bloatflies and radroaches for him over the few weeks they’ve been together. So, it could be worse. Not much, but it could be worse.

To be honest, he doesn’t know why she invited him along with her, especially when he was practically black-out drunk when she found him in that run-down bar in Rivet City. They barely get along now and they got along even worse back home, and they beat the shit out of each other a couple times when they were kids, and she seems like the kinda person who wouldn’t look past that stuff so easily and would probably hold a grudge strong enough to kill a guy just by starin’ at him, but still, here they are, and it surprises Butch every day that she doesn’t throw him into a river and let him drown.

Now that he thinks about it, he probably shouldn’t push her about making that dinner…

Still, he catches up to Sarah, who’s fiddling with her own gun and staring off into the distance to where Megaton probably is, at least he hopes so because his stomach his grumbling and he thinks that the soles of his feet might be bleeding in his boots, and then clears his throat to get her attention. “So,” he says. “I wanted to ask you somethin’. Or… say somethin’, I guess.”

She nods in reply, and he clears his throat.

“I know… Okay, look.” He reaches for her arm and pulls her to a stop. “I just wanted to say sorry.”

Sarah raises an eyebrow, shifting her weight from one foot to another. “Ok-aaay,” she says uncertainly. “Is… uh… that’s everything?”

Butch furrows his eyebrows. “Uh… I guess?” He cocks his head at her. “You’re not gonna except my apology? I-it takes a big man to apologize about his… uh… wrongdoings, you know, so I think you should… I don’t know… be a little nicer to me about it. Maybe.”

“What are you apologizing about?” Sarah asks. “Do you even know?”

Butch stares at her blankly. “… Everything?”

“You know what I want an apology for, Butch?” She steps towards him threateningly, her eyes narrowed. “I want an apology for you making my life as shitty as you could when we were kids. My mom was dead, and my dad was super busy all of the time, and you made me feel like I had no fucking friends! So…” She breathes in deep as if she can’t believe she just said all of that and her voice comes back a little quieter. “Maybe I’d like an apology for that instead of your general... I dunno... headassery.”

He rolls his eyes and gives her a scoff, crossing his arms over his chest. “So what?” he says defensively. “You want me to apologize for being a dickhead kid? We were all dickhead kids! You kicked the shit out of me sometimes too, you know!”

“Yeah, only because you started it!” She jabs her finger into the centre of his chest, and it hurts a little, and he pretends like he doesn’t wince.

“Only because you were a little –“ He stops himself. “Asshole!”

“You were an asshole first!” Sarah protests. “You tried to steal a sweetroll from me at my 10th birthday party, Butch, do you remember that?”

He doesn’t. “You probably deserved it.”

“No, I didn’t!” She shakes her head, laughing. “I was 10, and you were 10, and we could’ve been friends because I really wanted to be, but…”

“You had friends,” he points out as if he’s one-upping her, because she’s pointing out all of his flaws right now and he really didn’t expect that, especially because he’s hard enough on himself as it is that he doesn’t need her chiming in and giving her opinion. “Well… A friend.”

“Yeah, and you picked on her every chance you got, Butch!”

He bristles. “She deserved it!”

She didn’t. She was a kid. They were all just kids. But he’s trying to get by and he can’t have her dragging up the past like that.

And Sarah is fuming so hard that Butch expects her explode like a nuke so instinctively he takes a few steps back only for her to follow. “No, she didn’t!” she says. “And after I left, she took care of you and everyone else in that Vault anyway, even though none of them really deserved it. You didn’t, either.”

“Don’t say that about me,” he says, reaching up and knocking her hand away before getting up in her face like she had to him a few seconds earlier. “Don’t say that about me, Sarah, okay? I work my ass off out here to make sure you don’t get killed by all these bullshit monsters, okay? The least you could show me is a little goddamn respect!”

“Respect?” she says. “You think you deserve that?”

“Is that why you hate me?” he asks, sneering. “Because I picked on your little…” His bravado is fading quickly, but he’s not gonna back out of this argument for anythin’. “’Cuz I picked on your little girlfriend? That’s why you hate me, huh?”

She punches him before he can think of anything else to say.

He staggers back and loses his balance as he reaches out for the rock to steady himself, and then he falls onto the ground sideways, the rocks scraping up his other cheek and his arm as he collapses onto his side. As if that wasn’t bad enough, he lets out the most childish, pathetic string of noises in the world before he can help himself and after he realizes that he did, he’d rather lie here and rot than get up and face her, especially because she’s probably right. No, she’s definitely right.

Pretty much the worse way to end a fight, he thinks. He’s going to be embarrassed about this whole thing for days.

Then, he realizes, something is blocking the sun from view, and when he cracks an eye open, he can see Sarah bending down with a hand outstretched, looking more sad than angry like he expected.

“Come on,” she says quietly. “We’re almost there.”

It’s night by the time they trudge into Megaton, though which is a dump exactly like Sarah described it, but from where he stands beside her he can see her shoulders relax (though she’d probably never admit it). He barely has time to take it all in before she’s heading towards some beaten-up two story building around the edge of town, fishing in her pocket for something, and he hurries to follow her, rubbing his scratched-up cheek because shit, it really stings.

When they pass through the door, she swings her bag off and throws it on the ground; her jacket follows soon after. Butch uncertainly tugs his own jacket off and stores it in a nearby locker, stowing his gun in there as well because he doesn’t wanna accidentally shoot something.

He finishes unloading his stuff, and as he turns around, Sarah clears her throat, arms crossed over her chest.

“You don’t look too good,” she says.

“Yeah, didn’t think I did,” he replies, stuffing his hands in the pockets of his pants.

There’s a long, awkward pause, and then Sarah jerks her head towards the stairs. “Go sit in the spare room,” she tells him, “and I’ll be up in a minute to deal with you.”

For some reason, he’s scared that ‘deal with you’ means ‘shoot you between the eyes and throw your body out the window’, but he goes, anyway.

Lots of fucked up things are happening today, it seems.

He should’ve known he had nothing to be afraid of, though, because after he makes himself comfortable on a shitty well-worn couch in a spare room, Sarah just comes up to meet him carrying a small cloth filled with ice and a bottle of somethin’ to clean the cuts on his face.

“Take this,” she instructs, handing the ice out to him. He does, because he’s not going to challenge her now that they’re in her house and she could poison whatever food she decides to make (or not make) for him. “Now sit back.”

He leans back against the couch and she sits down next to him, pulling a second cloth from her pocket.

“I’m sorry,” she says evenly as she wets it with liquid from the bottle. “I shouldn’t have… uh… punched you.”

“You think?” Butch says, but he’s smiling a little.

“You deserved it,” she retorts, but she’s beginning to smile, too. “Well, maybe you didn’t. But I am sorry.”

“I am, too.”

It catches her off-guard, and he feels proud for it. Good. He wanted it to surprise her.

“You were right,” he murmurs. “Everything you were saying, you were right. I shouldn’t’a picked on you guys, Amata especially. She was… She’s a good gal. You are too.”

Sarah’s eyes flicker towards him, and Butch takes a deep breath.

“My mom was just… not the greatest.” He laughs but doesn’t mean it. “And I couldn’t… I dunno… Give any of it back, yenno? And I loved her, and I’d never want to. So… you got the most of that, I guess.”

She nods in understanding. “I knew that, I think, actually,” she says. “Consider it water under the bridge.”

“I was gonna anyway, but thanks for your permission.”

Sarah chuckles, wiping his arm clean as he ices his cheek.

“Friends?” he asks, holding his free hand out to her.

The cloth is unexpectedly soft in his palm as she shakes it. “Friends,” she agrees, and Butch can’t help but give her a grin.

[mianite-season-3]

Unofficial Mianite S3 - Chapter 15

Chapter 15 - It’s About the Journey

Tom was exploding with energy, and Jordan was not up for it this morning. He hadn’t slept well and he felt like his eyelids would soon become so heavy that he wouldn’t be able to stay awake.

“Joooooordan!”

He blinked and stumbled back. Tom was in his face, looking over him with a curious expression. “You look like shit, dude. What’s wrong?”

Jordan shoved him away, shaking his head. “I’m fine. Just tired. Can I borrow some of your energy, since you seem to have more than enough,” He snarked, and Tom grinned.

“I would if I could, man! I feel amazing, like I could fight a god or something!” The zombie man bounced on his toes and twirled his sword. Jordan felt drained watching him.

“Glad you are.” Gods, he was so tired. They’d been walking for what, an hour? He should not be drained like this, if he’d gotten a good night’s sleep. He was fed too, though fish and bread for a month hardly filled his stomach anymore.

Then again, maybe he wasn’t the anomaly. Everyone else had seemed at less than full this morning, and they had for the past week or two. This world had an energy that was different than the ones they’d been to before. It was heavy, dark, like thunder clouds hanging low overhead. The air was thick, making it hard to breathe and think properly. It made everyone want to seek shelter, stay inside and lie in bed—to wait until the clouds finally broke, because none of them wanted to be caught in the rain that wasn’t an if, but a when. Hopefully once it finally did, the sun would break through and they could finally be free from whatever it was that made them feel so strange.

Only Tom seemed to be able to resist the ever present weight on their shoulders, staying lighter than air. He wasn’t even aware of it, since the one time Jordan asked him about the bad feeling this world gave him, he didn’t understand. He pointed to the chaotic organization of the land as why he felt uneasy, rather than the oppressive feeling in his gut. Everyone else had known exactly what he was talking about, but Tom… didn’t.

“Do you really think we’re going to find anything out here, Tom?”

The Dianitee tilted his head, jumping down from a small hill and falling into stride next to him. “Well, I don’t really think we’re gonna find anyone that we’re looking for. It’s been a month, I think we’d have found something by now. But you never know, we might find someone else who can help us. Like pirates or something! Or like, an old temple that’s got a bunch of gear! Anyways, isn’t this better than staying at home? Fresh air’s good for you, since you look like death!”

That neverending optimism did make him smile slightly. While he’d love to see Ianite in this world, and speak with her, finding any clue about this world would also be good.

Hopefully Sonja would be able to get that at least. As much as he tried to hate Star as vehemently as his friends did...  he couldn’t. Ianite stood for balance, and that meant he had to consider both sides. And weighing everything against each other, the evidence suggested that Star was a good person, albeit angry and with a short fuse. She hated Ianite for a reason, but he’d seen that before.

What killed him was that he wasn’t able to help directly. His presence would only serve to worsen the problem. It was the exact opposite of what Ianite was supposed to stand for. It made him a little sad to think about it.

“Ok, but Tom, Martha was sure you’d be able to track down Mot and Dianite somehow.”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m trying, but I dunno how she expects me to do that. What, does she think I’m some kinda compass or something? It’s not like I can see souls like she can, so what the hell does she expect?”

Jordan shrugged. “She said because you’re a Dianite follower, you might have a connection.”

“That’s bullshit. If that was all it took, we’d have found all three gods by now!”

He shrugged again. “I don’t know. If you concentrate, can you feel anything?”

Jordan saw a flash of something appear in Tom’s eyes, but it disappeared before it registered. “I’ve never felt Dianite in this world, not once. Not even the other world’s Dianite.”

They’d been friends long enough for Jordan to know when he was blatantly lying. “Can you at least try? Who knows, maybe it’ll work this time,” he insisted, taking a seat on the ground himself. Tom made a face at him, but surprisingly didn’t put up too much of a fight before joining him.

“Fine. Just for you, Sparkly-dick, I’ll try.” he winked flirtatiously and Jordan rolled his eyes, leaning back and using his arms as a pillow. Might as well try to get some rest while he could. Within minutes, he was asleep.

Tom glanced back at his friend as he fell asleep. He may be loyal to his friends, but he was also loyal to his god. And Dianite had told him that he wasn’t to say a single word until he could gather enough energy... “Wait, what am I supposed to do?” Tom said out loud, frowning when Jordan doesn’t answer, due to being asleep. The Dianitee groaned, then crossed his legs, rested his hands in his lap and closed his eyes.

“Um, so, Dianite, if you’re around somewhere, can ya please show yourself? I don’t wanna have to find you.”

No response but a faint whistle of a breeze in his ear. “Come on, we’ve offered you literally hundreds of diamonds, that’s more than enough.”

A nerve in his right forearm twitched, and he winced. “Gods, this is pointless. You’re not around. I might as well be trying to talk to a ghost!” Tom sprang to his feet, energized with his frustration. He paced around, punching at the air to try and calm himself down. “Come! On! Dianite! You talked to me before, what the hell did you mean?”

He looked down at his hands, taking a breath. “You said to not abuse my power... but I don’t have any power!” he said it out loud, but part of him knew that wasn’t completely true. He remembered the incredible surge of power within the dream. It wasn’t real… but it was.

An idea. He sat down again, now a little ways from Jordan, and resumed his position. His lids fell and within the darkness of his mind, he summoned the image of the dream. The flames, suffocating. Them swirling into the visage of his god, terrifying and powerful. The words, spoken in a tongue he could only understand in a dream. The spark landing on his hand, and the incredible power blooming inside his body. The floating feeling that he was capable of anything, if he just put his mind to it. “I’m sick of fish and bread. If I could just have something else… an apple, or melon, or something!”

He concentrated, squeezing his eyes so tight that he saw stars and gave himself a headache. With eager anticipation his eyes flew open, and looking around, he saw…

Nothing. There was nothing laying on the ground, besides his friend a few meters away.

Tom moaned in annoyance. He tried so hard! What good was Dianite’s cryptic message if he didn’t actually get superpowers?

He spun around to wake Jordan. They should get going, they didn’t want to get caught at night with the millions of mobs. The flat field they were in wasn’t going to be the best to dig a temporary base into.

“Jordan? Jordan, wake up!” The older man groaned, batting at his friend. Tom rolled his eyes and shook his shoulder, but Jordan still didn’t rise.

“Jardon, get up!” Tom reeled back to kick Jordan’s foot, but before he could he heard a small “pop” come from behind him. He froze, the small sound had somehow reverberated within his entire body. When he finally managed to turn his head, he did not expect what he saw. A single apple, floating a few inches above the ground. Waiting. Tom blinked, sure that he’d just gone crazy. But it stayed. He closed his eyes for longer. It was still there when he opened them.

“Jordan! Holy shit!” He exclaimed, and that brought Jordan out of his nap. He squinted at Tom, irritated.

“What?”

“Look! Look what I did!” Tom pointed excitedly, and Jordan rolled his eyes before sitting up. They widened as he focused on what he was seeing. “W-What? Where did that come from?”

“I did it! I was just thinking really hard about wanting an apple and there it was! Hold on... I want... a million diamonds to rain from the sky!”

He threw his head up to the sky expectantly, but not surprisingly nothing came of it. Shrugging, Tom moved to scoop up the apple, taking a big bite out of it.

“Whoa whoa whoa, hold up, why do you get to eat it!?” Jordan’s eyes were intense, ready to pounce for something other than bread. He lunged for it, but Tom danced out of the way. “Cause I spawned it, so it’s mine!”

“How could you have spawned it?!” Jordan exclaimed, still trying to get the bitten apple.

“I dunno, how else does it exist?!”

“I don’t care, give it to me, Tom!”

Jordan was in a frenzy, and in the heat of the moment Tom’s only option was putting some space between them. Unfortunately for Jordan, that meant throwing a punch right into his solar plexus. The older man fell to the ground, suddenly unable to breath. He gasped, trying to drag air back into his lungs.

Before he could get back up, Tom shoved the rest of the apple into his mouth, nearly choking. That was... intense, especially for Jordan who was usually so collected. This world was getting to him more than Tom had thought.

“You... suck...” Jordan huffed as he started to regain air. “How did you even... do that?”

Tom shrugged. “I don’t know! I was just concentrating, and then I thought about how hungry I was, but that I didn’t want bread or fish, and then it just appeared, right there!”

Jordan blinked. “And it wasn’t, you know, a god or something that you just didn’t notice?”

“And they didn’t say anything? The gods are attention whores, Jordan, they always say something when they appear. If they didn’t, isn’t that weirder than me summoning it?”

He pursed his lips. “I guess... but, you’ve never been able to do that before!”

“Yeah, well, maybe you can too! That girl had a bunch of spawn eggs, remember? Maybe people in this world can summon items sometimes?” He didn’t sound too sure of himself, but it was the best suggestion he could come up with. Why else would he be able to summon an apple out of thin air?

“You try it!” Tom shoved Jordan forward, causing his friend to stumble. “If I can do it, you can too!”’ “But what did you do?”

Tom rolled his eyes. “I just imagined it was there, and then it was!”

Jordan shook his head, confounded. But Tom didn’t let it go, so he sat down and closed his eyes, focusing on materializing something. Anything. He squeezed his eyes so tight that he saw stars, but when he opened them again, there was nothing sitting in front of him. Tom patted his shoulder after a minute of waiting. “I guess I’m just special. Alright, c’mon, let’s go!”

“What?” Jordan asked incredulously, standing up and following his friend. He was re-energized by this phenomenon. “Tom, shouldn’t we think about this some more? You made an apple appear out of thin air! Aren’t you curious?”

Tom thought about it for a second, then shrugged. “Nah. Weird stuff happens, it’s whatever.”

That wasn’t the right thing to say, according to Jordan’s reaction. “What do you mean? Does stuff like this happen to you a lot?”

“No! I just meant, you know... look around! The land’s like this, why not summoning random items sometimes?” Tom lied. But now was not the time to spill to Jordan about the weird things that have been happening to him. “Now come on, we’re s’pposed to find Dianite and we’re not gonna do that if you don’t move!”

They continued on, and Jordan dropped it after Tom refused to answer any of his questions. But only for now. Tom was hiding something. That in itself wasn’t new. But there was something about how he was acting, how serious he kept getting, that gave Jordan a bad feeling in his gut.

He would get the answers from Tom, because it felt like they were racing the clock, and whatever Tom was hiding was the key to their victory.

[iammarylastar]

11. Rollercoaster, 1746.

Fucking wasted mission today. We were sent for a bombing mission, the targets were Japanese weapons stockpile’s buildings on a tiny and so called secret island named Nauru. We flew with an entire squad of bombardiers, we dropped the bombs and destroyed half of the enemy’s military base. Louis is a fucking good snipper, he could shoot and hit an ant from the sky.

But Bandits appeared all over the place and we’re taking fire as balloons in a fair riffle shooting. Bombardiers are too heavy and too slow to avert an attack by those sneaky mosquitoes. Our salvation is in the snippers’ hands in the back, that fought back and shot all the attackers. It was raining bullets and wrecked aircrafts, hopefully not from our side.

Our old bird is seriously crippled, riddled with bullet holes, hopefully nothing I can’t deal with; I’m a fucking good pilot, remember.

I’m nonetheless focused as fuck, I have to get that bunch of asses back home. And I have a personal fucking good reason to get me there in one piece.

With land in sight, I can’t help but bursting into laugh. Fuck, we did it.

We’re back to our base. I’m back to Angie.

Holy shit. We begin our descent and the landing gears are dead. So is Harry. Shot at the beginning of the fight.

My nerves start to wreck, could that fucking fate be on my side for once? I didn’t survive an air battle to die stupidly on a crash. Harry’s death will be the only one today, trust me I’ll put that fucking aircraft down there, even if I have to land it on its belly and brake it with my own feet.

That lucky bastard; Louie managed to get those fucking landing gears down with his bare hands, fuck I’m gonna kiss him with tongue as soon as I can.

Angie, Angie, Angie is the only image I can see while the sky and landscape are running before my eyes. My grip on the handle tightens like I’m going to rip it out of the board, but the aircraft finally lands on its wheels, half on its belly to be honest but who cares. It took more than forever for the plane to stop, but it finally stands still at the very end of the landing zone.

Fuck me, that old bird is on the ground and nobody is dead, not even hurt. Except Harry. And two boys of ours shot but alive.

We all stay silent, holding our breath, waiting for any other shit to happen, but everything is obviously alright.

Mac sighs heavily, Louis stops praying, Phil wipes a tear on his cheek, I chuckle nervously. Then we all cry out in joy and relief, laugh like the crazy lucky bastards we are.

We stumble out of the wreck of a plane, arm in arm, exhilarated, alive. With my feet on the ground, I realize there’s only one thing I miss. Adrenaline is still burning in my veins and fear keeps biting my guts. My sweet girl in my arms would be a perfect cure. A strong drink could help too.

I miss her so much. I have to go and find her, whatever. No way I’m waiting till dark tonight. I nearly died today and I’d rather die for real with her in my arms than live one more second without her.

Before I dive further in a perfect daydream, a loud high perched scream comes from afar.

Turning around to the sound, I see my sweetheart running to me, her hair wildly dancing around her face.

“Cup!” She screams, out of breath.

‘Angie!“ My voice breaks, so does my heart. She’s here, back in my arms in a couple of seconds. A wave of warm insane love runs through me and the whole world disappears. She’s my world. My everything.

My everything jumps on me, wrapping her arms and legs around me and all I can see are red lips attacking me. My world flips upside down as I lose balance under the force and we toppled over backward, falling heavily, my back on the floor.

None of us care, we just kiss and cry and clung to each other like there’s no tomorrow.

Her lips are all over my face, covering every piece of me with pepper kisses, tasting my lips, making love to my mouth. I’m not dead but I’m in Heaven.

Angie pulls back a little to check on my face, hastily covering my mouth with another kiss.

"God, Cup, are you OK?” She manages to speak between kisses. “ I saw the plane coming back and knew it was you. I ran as fast as I could and… and I thought… Cup the plane almost crashed down and I thought I lost you.”

She bursts into more tears and I have to cup her face to stop her frenetic kissing.

“I’m Ok. Angie I’m fine.”

I study her face, these sweet outlines that I missed so much and filled my dreams. She’s put make-up on, she surely was beautiful as ever but it just turned into disaster. Her eyeliner and mascara have melted into a river of tears and drew black trails down her cheeks. The sexy ring of her lips just painted my face with red lipstick but I don’t care.

“Don’t you dare die on a mission or crash down again, or I swear I’ll find your corpse and kick the shit out of you!” She scolds me.

“Ha ha, I’m so scared” I make fun of her so serious face, which absolutely doesn’t match her disastrous make-up.

“I’m serious Hugh ” She’s never called me by my name before, nobody ever has.

“Never leave me again.” She whispers

Brushing tears and strands of her long hair from her face, I chuckle.

“Shhh…I’m not going anywhere. I’m here with you. I’m where I belong.”

She draws a cute smile on her lips before attacking mines again.

I’m lying on my back on the landing zone, where I could have died minutes ago, with the love of my life over me, in the sight of the whole base, possibly in the Colonel’s firing line.

“Tell me.” She says before kissing me again. “Tell me you love me.”

“Oh God, Angie I love you.” There’s no word on Earth to say how much, not even close.

“Tell me you want me.”

I grab her bottom cheeks and grind against her, showing her how bad I want her right now.

“Love, I want you. Always and forever.”

My love for her overflows and tears are knocking behind the door of my lids. The urge to have her takes over and my lips crash on hers eagerly. I’m so hungry for her I devour her mouth, hugging her the tightest I could. Never ever let her go.

She pulls back but I’m not enough. I beg her to kiss me again but she doesn’t let me.

Still hovering over me, she stares at me: “Ask me.”

What? OK. Though the answer is obvious, it’s always nice to hear someone saying 'I love you’. Even more when told by that drop dead gorgeous piece of cake straddling me.

“Do you love me?” I try teasing her with my low sexy voice.

“Naaah. You know I love you. Ask me!” I’m stunned by her tone. So confident, so…. She speaks like me.

What the fuck does she mean? Ask her… but wh..?? The large grin on her face and the excitement in her sparkling eyes put the words in my mouth.

“Ask you… about… marrying me?”

She nods her head frantically.

“But…” Everything collides in my head. How does she know I wanted to propose? Did she hear me while I was rehearsing the question, thinking she was asleep? Has she forgotten Gessepp almost killed us both a few weeks ago? Does she want us to elope, condemning me to death for desertion? If that’s what she wants, I’d gladly comply.

That’s still not how I pictured my proposal to her. I’m covered with sweat from the landing, dust from the ground and red make up from her lips. I even don’t have any engagement ring to slide up her finger.

“I had a talk with him. Jessie talked to him. It was hard. It was horrible. But he finally agreed. He wants to meet you. Tomorrow. ”

Holy shit. That woman won’t stop to kill me. She has more guts than I’d ever have.

That shit eating grin is back on my face and as I lift us up on our feet, my mouth suddenly goes dry and my throat tightens. My heart is likely to explode in my chest, there’s only one thing I have to do.

Unable to keep my hands from shaking like crazy, I kiss her the more gently I could and kneel before her, doing my best not to break her thin fingers in mines.

“Angelina Kathleen MacCarthy, will you marry me?” The floodgates are open, we’re both crying, those tears feel so good.

She drops down on her knees, gently stroking my cheek.

“I wanna be Mrs Hugh Franklin Cupernell. I wanna be your Angie. Yours.”

Both our heart explode as we melt in each other in a passionate kiss.

I’m running out of breath but I can’t stop tasting her lips. We finally part, panting, crying, laughing, still cupping each other’s faces. We share beautiful I love you’s and light kisses, this is the more intense and happiest moment of my whole life. My bride, my wife . Fuck me if there’s something sexier on Earth.

“Angie, I have nothing more to offer than my endless love. And dirty shirts.”

“I’ve been warned. And I take them all!” She laughs.

All of a sudden, a rain of wildflowers and grass shower us, daisies run down her hair. How beautiful she is.

Finally breaking our stare, I look up to find what the fuck is happening. Here they are, my mates, my brothers cheering and wooing at us, stupid huge smiles tapped on their faces.

Laughing like kids, Angie and I stand up, immediately engulfed by our friends in a giant, warm family hug.

I deserve a beer or something stronger. I survived a crash, a breathtaking proposal, I have to survive Gessepp torture tomorrow and I’m done.

Let’s celebrate. I’m going to down some drinks. Then take her hand and bring her in a safer place. And make her mine again.

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[redlemonz]

Day #9

Nothingness again. I furthermore am reaching the conclusive clarity that she's already moving on with her life away from me. And once again, that's great, but when it seems as though it's so easy for the other party - I'm not sure where it leaves me at all in everything, let alone her life. Who am I to her at this very point & what does she feel? It's not something I can question or have any right to for that matter, because it's not my business at all. The reality keeps sinking in that we're not together regardless of how we act towards each other - even if there are aspects of our relationship that feel so unchanged, familiar and comfortable as if we were still best friends, as well as more. But we're not, and the distance continues to inch her away from me which each day that passes. I want nothing more than to see her and be in her presence, even as a friend right now, but that's just one of us at this stage because she's made it clear that I can't come to see her at this point. Meaning, don't interrupt her period of healing and moving on from any leftover thoughts about me in that way, because well, even though she joked about giving it a couple weeks of distance - could it actually be coming to fruition? Am I just another meaningless soul all of a sudden? Well is exactly how I feel unfortunately. Either way, my mind is the culprit of doing this to myself once again - the overthinking & drawing of conclusions that would hurt my heart, and accordingly punish myself in preparation for the potential correctness of my perception upon us. All of our friendly banter and conversation - I've just overly romanticised a bit in my head due to the fact that it makes me so uniquely happy, when really it's just nothing more than as stated - friendly banter and conversation. And the snaps she sends me are unlikely special for just me - I'm probably just part of a generic group who receives them all. Because I'm not actually special.. at all. Not anymore. I smirk at myself, as this dawning revelation (which should've obviously been common, logical sense right?) reminds me yet again, that I'm an idiot. Day 9 - fear of being forgotten At work, mid week - it's gonna be the second social soccer tonight without her. Sucky. She's been a soccer star since she was very young after all (and was of course my shining star also). Still reflecting upon my craziness and stupidity to even think about looking for an alternative job in her town. Dropping everything for a girl who doesn't even want me anymore, after we've fallen apart. What in the world was I even expecting would change? Nothing. She probably still wouldn't even wish to see me even if I were down there, and would ultimately and ironically distance herself even further away from her overly attached past. It's not even about utilising that last hurrah mentality of "what more do I have to lose?". Because there is still much to lose. It would undermine my affection and care for her a friend, and our current after- relationship circumstances, as it implies that is not enough. I've been more than graced and lucky to even still have her in my life the way I do, and part of my mind is telling me to ruin that by taking inevitably non-positive leaps in the wrong direction. Because there's always underlying, yet absolute minuscule hope that we as human beings create for ourselves - fake as it may be. To help us get through. If only I could find a balance between this craziness and leaving things completely into this nothingness I feel. What kind of loser just steps back and watches it all fall apart, even when all the odds are stacked against him? It's not very superhero, or vigilante like, for that matter, of me. It's just not me at all to give up like this so soon. But I'm learning that not being me is a good thing, especially in this case. The fact of the matter is that she wants me to step back and give up, though knowing my otherwise nature. And even it kills me and my principles, I at least have to try.. for her. So I'm the kind of loser who has to keeping reminding himself that this is the best methodology to ensure I'm putting her first, above my own selfish desires. Being human is truly fucked up. Never having the knowledge upon what's right and wrong for certain, with the exception of what your own brain and accordingly, perception, dictates it to be. Just a constant, damned life of learning until it's too late, and you've already missed out on what really matters. What I can visibly identify is wrong is the fist fight that me and one of the three just witnessed outside the mall in our break. Up to 10 teenagers of mixed gender just swinging away at each other - just another fucked up representation upon our society today, and how we devalue each other as human beings. Even more messed up, back in the office, the first question we received upon explaining what just happened, is whether we video recorded it. No - didn't even cross my mind, because it's absolutely stupid and even more messed up. We called the police straightaway and stuck around in a reasonable vicinity, so not to put our own lives in harms way, but to also ensure there was no fatal results. This all just conveys how incredibly mindless people can be - which doesn't rule me out as an exception. Just because I'm not violent in the physical sense to others, doesn't mean I haven't been emotionally or mentally. Which I have been to her and others in the past I suppose, due to my own inability to think and function as a better human being. Because look at me even now - pondering the selfish ways in which I could ultimately screw up her life even more. Though it would never be my purposeful intention ever, acting upon the possibility and risk of that knowledge is just as criminal, maybe even worse when you can grasp an understanding of it. All I know is that I'm not a good person, no matter what I do. Because I either can't do anything right, or can't ever do enough. Just like how I'll probably be a liability in soccer tonight too - not looking forth to the social surroundings, and having to speak to people once more. I don't wish to answer any questions directed me about how I'm doing, and how I'm handling everything that's going on. Which is why I'm probably being an asshole and I'm not responding to a few concerned friends who keep messaging me. I don't want their pity, I have enough an endless supply for myself already in this bottomless pit I keep falling through. I just hate the amount of effort required these days to try and continue to function in every environment Im placed within. I'm not normal and I can't be, and never will be. I've been messed up since much before than I can even bother to remember, and though I've made it this far, my march is slowing down, and my feet are just tired of waking on this burning coal. Football went as expected, nothing much to say. Tried my best to be upbeat (probably too much - many occasions of utilising bad puns than usual - likely subconsciously also inspired by her) to hide any light or visible display of feeling like an outcast from society. The pack still felt empty without her presence. These occasions just continually make me miss her more. Perhaps we wouldn't have gotten smashed either in tonight's game if her goal scoring feet of fire were present. Anyway, so I went home alone after soccer again and got some takeout on the way - reminiscing yet again, and promoting the lonely soul even further. A part of me really has been lost.. it remains with her. Can't put your heart into things as much as you'd like when it's still damaged I suppose. So she snapped me a picture - received my little package in which I sent her some pieces of our city. I can now reveal the very anticlimactic truth that they were simply shells from various different beaches around the City. Also a small pack of chocolate shells to make up for the disappointment and well, feed her addiction (that has been emphasised upon in a previous day). She took it well I guess, because she didn't get mad about it - visibly to me anyway. Hopefully she didn't mind the gesture. Yes I'm still potentially thinking too much about it, and even more so, as a negatively conclusive thought. But hey, pessimism is key right? I mean I've said countless times now that I can never do the right thing, or enough for that matter. Nothing makes a difference in the end - my fate has already been sealed. I'd rather just time hurried up & let me die alone already. It's what I deserve for not being enough, and not being able to live up to anyone's expectations. A constant disappointment who probably peaks at first impression, and then rapidly fades into an oblivion of insignificance and plain, boring, and empty personality with nothing to offer you. Seems as though time isn't necessarily always a healing factor for all, and for me it's certainly more of a time-bomb ticking away rather than a clock. Because as those hands continue to turn, day by day, my acceptance level of my own worthlessness continues to grow.. until the day that bomb finally explodes. Anyway, dark & suicidal themes and thoughts aside (I can assure you and trust that they will remain that way), she also is restarting soccer, or as she calls it, futsal tonight. Late game. You go, goal scorer - all the best. I miss you - and it's sucks that we're slipping away from each other.. but good for you, cutie. That team is lucky to have you on their side, like I once did. Speaking of this absolutely sucky situation of mine (I mean it's all I talk about after all), reflecting back to a work moment today where I conversed with my own previous (and favourite) team leader regarding this general subject. When I say conversed with her, I mean ranted to her and had a 12-year-old salt-spree about love and marriage, and everything I essentially wanted all being an absolute sham, and not being an existing reality for anyone in any situation (thankfully she understands my current circumstances and more importantly, my sense of humour - I'm not purposely a dick to other people, come on). Though I was having a light hearted kid-around about the subject, I started to detach a bit from the simple fairytale of love, and love as a concept at all - as when spoken aloud - you can't help but question the reality further. That maybe such a simple idea such as true love doesn't really exist at all. People just have temporary moments of ultra joy, and well, that's about it. It's just a stupid concept we made up to explain such non-lasting behaviour or feelings. Oh if only I could ever believe any of it - it'd make life so much simpler, wouldn't it? But I can't. She's a constant living proof and reminder to me that true love does exist. And furthermore, it's worth every bit of pain and suffering - before, during, and even after. Her smile is all that matters. Also, I have a wedding to officiate tomorrow evening, so I should probably stop having a tantrum about my own failed love life. At least I can continue to bind others together, even if I'm ultimately left behind on my own.