#i get that people are angry and hurt but imagine she is a caged bird and there's no way of escaping

[yakam0z]

actually ... to be honest ... hated everything about this gut-wrenching blood-clogging moment i wish this terror wouldn't live in my head siding with reed is the least fulfilling ending everything feels wrong and like you played right into myers' hands i'd rather have songbird betray me a second time than be responsible for this 😔😔

[stromblessed]

Mizu was wrong to let Akemi be taken because they both deserve better

First, a confession. When I saw this for the first time:

I was relieved. I knew that was what Mizu was going to say and I felt like it's what I would have said in that situation too.

When Akemi does this:

I cringed, because if we know anything about Mizu, it's that she (1) isn't quick to make friends (though to be fair, even though Akemi did try to kill Mizu, so did Taigen - multiple times! - and look how that turned out lol), and (2) doesn't take orders.

So when Akemi and Ringo and later Taigen get angry at Mizu, are they being unfair?

Sure, Mizu isn't obligated to treat Akemi - or Taigen or Ringo or anybody else - nicely, or to serve them, or to be honorable, or be a hero to them, or whatever. No human being is obligated to any other human being. We all have the choice to do whatever we want to anybody else. But the point of flawed characters in storytelling is the tension between those characters and their potential. Their growth into someone who can choose the higher, harder path, who chooses to be obligated to others, who chooses kindness and compassion.

Because Mizu's problem isn't revenge. Nobody is preaching at Mizu that revenge isn't the answer. Her circumstances do suck, her life has been incredibly unfair, she is marginalized, and as far as we and Mizu know for most of the season, she is a child born of violence and no one is saying that that violence doesn't deserve to be repaid in kind.

Mizu's problem is isolation. And the fact that she thinks she has no responsibility toward her fellow human beings, because her hatred of her own circumstances and her having no life outside of her quest devours everything else. This is a problem because it turns Mizu into the worst version of herself. A version that hurts the people who like Mizu, the people who care about her.

Practically, Mizu has just taken on an entire army almost by herself. She's hurt. She's exhausted. If she were to defend Akemi now, it'd be yet ANOTHER fight, this time against horsed and armored samurai.

But that's not the reason Mizu gives Ringo. Mizu's ability or willingness to fight isn't even on her mind. All she says is, "She's better off."

"She's better off" is Mizu deciding what's best for Akemi. Akemi's entire story is about her being a caged bird longing to fly free.

One after the other, every man and woman in Akemi's life makes her decisions for her. She has to grovel and smile prettily and lie through her teeth just for the chance to be heard. Mizu judges Akemi for being a rich princess who isn't being more grateful for what she has, all without understanding Akemi's situation, and without any curiosity for why Akemi feels the way she does. From Akemi's perspective, Mizu is just one more person (one more man!) in a long lineup who ignores Akemi's wishes and (casually!) makes a decision for her that impacts Akemi's life greatly.

In the end, even Seki concludes that Akemi should get to decide what's best for Akemi. What others think that Akemi SHOULD want does not matter compared to what Akemi wants for her own life. As Madame Kaji said - Madame Kaji, who despite calling out the weirdness of Akemi's situation as well as the childishness of her decision to run away - is the only person Akemi meets who doesn't try to make decisions for Akemi, but instead only challenges Akemi to work for and be worthy of what she wants - she needs to decide what she wants for her own fucking self, and then take it.

Mizu being born female does not make her automatically wiser for letting Akemi be taken, and it does not preclude her from having a hand in giving Akemi back to her jailers. A patriarchy that Mizu knows full well would stop Mizu from achieving her own goals if she didn't present as male.

Mizu is still understandable here. She just had to kill Kinuyo, a disabled girl sold by her father into prostitution, a girl in a situation so far beyond Akemi's worst imaginings that I can practically feel Mizu's world being rocked just by comparing them in her mind the way she most likely is. That still doesn't make it right for Mizu to let Akemi be carried off to be sold into marriage by her father against her wishes. Those "good options" Mizu thinks Akemi has don't exist, no more than they ever existed for Mizu. Akemi and Mizu both have to get creative, make the best of their circumstances, take dangerous risks, and break rules in order to have any control over their own lives.

Even on my first watch, when at first I thought that Mizu had made the right decision and that Akemi was being unreasonable, Akemi screaming Mizu's name while being dragged, LITERALLY DRAGGED, back to her father was haunting as hell.

Mizu had the power to help Akemi, and simply chose not to.

Mizu lets Akemi be taken, Akemi who has just begun to trust Mizu. Mizu calls Ringo weak and quickly - seemingly easily - turns her back on him. Mizu values her quest over Taigen's life, after Taigen has endured days of torture to protect her, and she not only risks his life in the process, but doesn't tell him that Akemi is engaged to someone else, or that she came looking for Taigen, or that she is in danger.

Mizu's sword breaks because it is too brittle. Too pure. Too singleminded. Mizu only melts down the meteorite metal when she mixes the metal with objects from parts of her life that have nothing to do with her quest. Objects from the people she cares about, and who care about her.

All I'm saying is - Mizu doesn't have to be a hero. But she is the better version of herself when she reaches out to help and connect with others. When she's just a decent, kinder human being. And I think that's what this story is telling us that we should want for Mizu.

[chalk-reverie]

Pain things

At the end of my college chapter here are my thoughts in my art journey and maybe my life in general.

I am not a good writer, but I will try to express myself here transparently.

Internship thoughts

I was insecure, jealous of my peers.

My works in character design are always rejected, or yet rather too many revision, which is alright until I keep on comparing myself to my classmates. I notice their work was always accepted, mine was rejected. I know we all lack in study but I felt insecure, since I was static during the pandemic. I hate that other people are better than I but I know myself, I am not working hard enough.

I also felt motivated to study and work more after this internship since school lacks the creativity part, anatomy and basic structure of art. I want to grind, to reach and satisfy myself. I want to create more! I have so much ideas now that my school wasn't supportive on those ideas that I have.

I recognize my lack of practice and self-discipline. I then to go happy go lucky or overestimate myself when I lack the accuracy on drawing things from real life. I get lazy, and easily tired. I am more excited on other things, especially playing games. Because it is easier to do that and socialize than doing what I really want to do; express myself through art.

I am afraid to express what I love. To the world, to my mom, to myself. I want to do it, but I just have too many excuses.

I am honestly, need to learn more.

Thesis Era

I was burnt out. I run my imagination wild again, not looking at the reality that I am facing. During my thesis

I was proud. I told myself, maybe this leadership, is what I fit in, and try that again. I told myself that I can do it. But it was all in my head, I lack communication, and expect to much on the future me.

I am a hoax. A coward, I tried my best, I said, but I really don't.

I am angry. And sad, for people who I suppose to trust with, but it was I, who's only believing.

I was hurt. I cried, felt betrayed once again. Ano pa nga ba aasahan ko sa kanila?

Retreat Era

In Calaruega, where the figure of God Transfiguration: a great change of form or appearance. especially : a change that beautifies, glorifies, or makes more spiritual.

It really did change, comparing to the first time I was there.

Before, I was disconnected with myself, and kept distance with others. But now, I felt disconnected with other people, while I am much interconnected with myself.

I also saw, the difference between me first and the second me who visited this area. Four years, I really did change a lot. I was more willing to forgive myself, and much more reflection than before. Although the hatred was there, I see the world with much more light. Before I was more focus on myself, but now, I was seeing the bigger picture, myself, to others and to my shadow self. But I have a lot of work to do, and I am tired, so tired. The tiredness has never gone away.

My Appearance

I still don't have the confidence. But always want to cut my hair. To cut ties with my mother. I don't want to see her traumas, nor listen to her childhood fears. Their arguments. I don't want to hear it. She scarred me enough during my childhood days. Now that I am an adult, I don't want to hear your advices when they themselves couldn't do it. Hypocrites. I am not relying on my clothes, my appearance... Never. I am tired of fitting on what was pretty on your eyes and other peoples mouth's praises on me.

I AM NOT WEAK!!

My Sexuality

Was r**ed by my peers. They don't understand and I did not try to explain. Melbin keeps making fun of it, insensitive of it. I just have to roll my eyes on him, who doesn't give a fuck about understanding just one bit about it.

Sad, my close friends doesn't understand it as well. Well, I don't really know how to explain it. There is no safe space to talk about it, I am afraid, that my parents would know. I don't want them to know, so I keep quite about it. Like a caged bird, I am afraid to fly.

Low-key talk

I- would like to share one bit. I like, girls, a lot than men. I have terrible experience with men so I could not imagine being happy with them. For other people yes, and I kept saying they are lucky. They are seen, as for who they are. Unlike mine, who was seen for a pretty body, pretty face, the outside. Boys like that, my fucking big butt, my lumps, and not for who I am. My PAIN, my ANGER, MY SCARRED SOUL. No boy wants that, a broken cry-baby nonbinary girlson. No man would understand my pain, or even recognize my insanity. A girl might be. I have my trust on girls, even they broke my heart so many times. They don't want my body, they want to see me, as me. At first they don't want to pry, because they don't know me yet. But when they did, it's like a whole universe expands, and all of my burdens are lifted. I felt that so many times. Soulfully. It just feels so right. I don't know my sexuality yet, I haven't dated anyone, nor talk about it in real life. If ever, I'd like to open my heart once, because I only want to live my life once, but willing to die all over again for anyone who see me as who I am.

[theramseyloft]

I revere pigeons. Their care and history is my special interest and they occupy my mind almost all the time. The knowledge that someone is deliberately hurting and neglecting ones they've stolen from caring, safer environments and people that were concerned for their wellbeing has me crying. Imagine being so empty as a person, to go so far as to injure a pigeon for imaginary internet points and attention.

I have been trying to work up the energy to write a post about this for weeks.

Christmas eve of 2018, my business page was contacted by some one looking for birds. 

In January 2019, he let slip that he was a minor, and that his parents were adamantly opposed to him having birds.

Minors whose parents are not fully supportive of their choice of pet are a hard no in my screening process. He kept asking questions as if preparing to care for birds he expected me to sell or adopt to him, and every time, I would ask to speak to his legal guardian. He did everything he could, from telling me his mom would call me later, to eventually calling my personal phone in the middle of the night to try and coerce me into sneaking him birds under the cover of darkness. I got to the point where I would only answer his questions about available birds with "Have your legal guardian ask me." About this time, Palomacy's head, Elizabeth, came to me privately to warn me not to adopt to him. I know she thinks breeders will do anything for a sale, but my screening process for babies I have hatched is every bit as strict as my screening process for rescues. I told her I had no plans to. But confessed that I’d had a troubled history of using rescue as a coping mechanism for an abusive home situation when I was in college, and felt obligated to mentor him. I was also taken in by the charming 'enthusiastic teen who really wants to learn' facade that he's so artfully developed. So, when he used a different name to get into the Small Scale Rescue and House Pet/Therapy pigeon discord servers, and let slip who he was by accident, I was content to let him stay, hoping that the information we share would help him develop into a better care taker. But more and more red flags started popping up.

One pigeon’s bare neck, claimed to have been a wonky molt, but inflamed and bristling with filoplumes (The avian equivalent of whiskers;thin hair like feathers that also fall out during that heavy a molt)

The same bird claimed to have eaten playdough and thrown it up, in a photo with a cage full of green, moldy poop. (Where did the bird get playdough? Why was it allowed to get far enough to swallow it?)

The same bird claimed to have coins and chunks of carrot pulled out of his crop (things a pigeon can’t physically swallow unaided)

In every progressive photo, the feathers are thinner and more bedraggled and the bird himself was losing weight.

That pigeon mysteriously vanished, only got him to get two more, and mention nonchallantly after the fact that “Oh, puff died last week.”

His new pet pigeons, who supposedly lived in their own room in his house, got out while he was moving a couch.

He got, and promptly lost two other rescue birds from the rescue I posted about late in the summer that was shut down by her city and urgently needed homes for their birds.

When told Great Lakes Pigeon Rescue was going to be warned about adopting to him, this is what he posted on my education server:

He had his eye on a bird of mine (Frito), talking him down like he was undesirable or unadoptable, and reasoning that I’d have a hard time finding a home for him because of his bad personality.

Frito washed from therapy training due to INTENSE dislike of his harness.

That, and that he had developed a strong independent streak and prefered the company of other birds to people were the first things I told Brysen when he asked after that specific bird.

In one channel of the server, he would be talking to me about how he didn’t mind Frito just being a pretty house bird and would be ok if he never warmed up to being handled...

While, in another, he would be posting harnesses, asking if they would work for Frito, and asking other residents how to make an independent bird get used to being handled.

When I called him on it, he came into my DMs with this mess:

(The turn around in tone in the 12 hours I was too angry to respond is almost funny..)

Remember that rescue from earlier?

These are screenshots of her conversation with him (used with permission) about the birds that were lost, sent to the person in charge of Palomacy, where he was an active member on their platform at the time, to warn that he was preying on rescues to get more birds:

This conversation clearly illustrates that he was using us and Palomacy only to adapt the way he preys on rescues.

There is a reason he preys on rescues. We are hopeful for people to improve. So he expects infinite chances from us. And he expects that a correctly worded apology will erase any consequences. He preys on pigeons because there are no laws in the US concerning their welfare. Despite being domestic animals (the pigeons brought by Europeans to North America had been domesticated for thousands of years, and there were no natives of the same species or even in the Columba genus to mix back with); Pigeons are under the jurisdiction of the Department of Natural Resources, which governs wildlife, and legally classifies them as an invasive pest. The Department of Agriculture is the one that presides over domestic animals and investigates animal cruelty. They may only act for the welfare of pigeons under the specific circumstance of the pigeons in question being meat breeds bred for squab intended for human consumption via restaurants. In any other instance, killing a pigeon by any means, including torture, is legally equivalent to pest control. There are no legal consequences for it.

After I blocked and banned him, it came to light through several sources in personal contact with him that he maimed, killed, and discarded 25 birds that we know of, and he is still trying to get more.

Several people who denied him birds shared screen shots with us proving that they were also sexually harassed and threatened with sexual violence by him.

Several of the people who came to us told us that they had also tried to warn Palomacy, but their comments were immediately erased.

Brysen was allowed to continue to speak openly on their platform with no consequences, allowing him to truthfully say that he was being mentored by Palomacy to lull smaller rescues into a false sense of security and convince them to give him birds.

They had two articles on their website about what a wonderful young rescuer he was, only taken down after they tried to claim I had doxxed an innocent child, and it was pointed out to them that their public articles had his full current address, date and place of birth, and a photo of him in front of his house. I had beef enough with the organization before this that I will not go into on this post, but I am disgusted by the way Elizabeth silenced her own admins and community members from warning other rescues and individuals and tried to shut the rescue up who sent the above screen shots when she came forward about the birds he tricked her into bringing to Ga who were immediately killed. And then blamed her for their deaths. @tutu.pigeon brought me those screen shots the day after I banned him and one of my server mods took it upon themself to be a voice for his other victims by creating the Instagram @exposing_helluva_duv What ever respect I might have had for Palomacy is permanently destroyed.

You cannot call yourself a rescue if you cover for a serial abuser, actively prevent his victims from warning the rest of their community, and then blame those victims for having been taken advantage of.

The harm that that, combined with everything else I have beef with, has done so out weighs any good that I can no longer, in good conscience, attempt to put aside our differences and meet in the middle.

I’m not gonna waste the energy to start any shit, and I don’t think any one else should either. 

But I’m done trying to be any degree of supportive to them.

Gonna put my energy into encouraging more small shelters so there are better options.

[squirrelacorngliterfarts]

Blood 2. 44.

Everything Taglist: @gold-dragon-slayer @your-internet-granny

@darkwhisperswolf​ @youbloodymadgenius​ @blonddnamedhandz​ @thelastemzy​ @inforapound​ @supermassiveblackhope​ @captstefanbrandt​ @roonil-wxzlib​  @syreni-dea​ @cynthianokamaria​ @rosiebrosie @loliismutt@pinkisokay @heavenly1927​ @annekleyn​  @rose-02468​ @ilikealotofpeople-younotsomuch @moonie-flower101​ @xinyourdreamsx​ @ir-abelas-telanadas​ @peachyboneless​ @feyrearcheron44​ @ir-abelas-telanadas​s @http://lgkoval.tumblr.com/

“do you think the gods love me, floki?” (Y/n) asks, sitting close to his side on the dock, watching the birds fly low to the sea.

floki scoffs and looks down at her, tickling at her sides, making her scream with laughter.

“of course they love you, my little dove!, they adore you”.

his feet swing below them, enjoying the cool breeze upon his skin. he always loved the time he spent with his tiny friend.

“why would you ask such a thing?” he looks at her with his eyes squinted. questioning gaze on her.

she sighs, calming down against his side.

“sigurd says they do not love me......because i am not........”.

she didn’t have to say more for floki to understand.

he pulls her in close, kissing the top of her head.

“do not listen to him, do not listen to anyone. you are the daughter of ragnar lothbrok, you are. and the gods love you above all” floki mutters into the wind.

(Y/n) closes her eyes tightly, squeezing floki’s hands.

the gods love you above all....................

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

its cold, its wet, its eerily quiet, all except for the children whimpering  in the corner, asa with torvi, hali, resting his head on (y/n)’s lap.

bjorn is sitting in the corner, eyes on the floor, arms on his curled up knees.

ubbe, with bound hands, stares outside the caged door.

“how easy it proves to fool people. hmm?” ubbe says, pausing to turn around in the giant, old, musty cell. “look at us!” he angrily shouts, showing off the chains on his hands.

“i have no fear of death. i will embrace it. but it is too early for my children to die” torvi says, voice breaking off at the end, making (y/n) lower her head, not wanting to think of her niece and nephew that way.

she knew the Christians wouldn’t accept them right away, she knew it would take time, but she didn’t think they’d immediately imprison them, minutes after arriving in England.

(y/n) is sitting by a wall, feeling good enough to sit up, watching her family communicate among themselves.

“we sailed right into a trap” ubbe says, smiling sarcastically, feeling powerless, something he always loathed. he felt once again, that he failed his family.

“bishop heahmund has betrayed us” bjorn says, and lagertha, standing shackled in the corner, speaks up.

“i can’t believe that”.

“how else was he going to get home?. he needed a ship. he needed a crew. we just gave him both” ubbe says, chuckling dryly, running his bound hands through his hair.

“imagine how famous king alfred will be when he shows the saxons our heads. and the best part about it is, we gave it to him on a plate!” bjorn shouts, his chains rattling about as he angrily waves his hands around.

“i still cannot believe that he has betrayed us”.

“and i cannot believe that the famous lagertha has proved to be a fool for love” bjorn retorts back to lagertha, and torvi steps in.

“well, you have never been a fool for love. have you, bjorn?”.

bjorn says nothing, just making a face at her.

“this is where ragnar was imprisoned and betrayed. and now, we will all die here too”.

“stop.......it” (Y/n) wheezes in the corner, causing all eyes to look at her.

“you...are...scaring....the children” she says, and everyone notices how curled up hali and asa were, looking around with wide eyes, their hands shaking.

“i.....stand with.....lagertha”.

bjorn scoffs, not being able to say anything back to her.

“i don’t......believe......bishop heahmund......betrayed us”.

lagertha gives a small smile, and ubbe crouches down beside her, less angry.

“how so?”.

“he.....wouldn’t....have....stayed.....with us.......he.....prayed...for me” (Y/n) says, placing her hand on his.

“whatever......happens......we.....are.....together”.

ubbe smiles, and the others become conflicted at her words, not knowing whether to trust the christian man, or let go of their alliance with him.

“always the voice of reason” bjorn mutters, and (y/n) smiles, but their happiness is short lived.

suddenly, she gasps with pain, hurling forward, gripping her side.

“(Y/n)?, (Y/n), what is it!?”.

she screams with pain, the loudest she’d been in months, blood pouring from her side.

lagertha rushes over, sitting on her knees, putting all her pressure on her side.

“i need something to bind the wound!” lagertha shouts, and bjorn is quick to rip at his shirt, coming over and placing it over her side.

“please! someone help!” torvi tried, but no one else was down there with them, the door fully sealed.

“someone help!”.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

hours had passed, (y/n) had fallen asleep moments ago in torvis arms, ubbe putting pressure on her wound to try and keep it closed.

“she can’t keep going on like this” lagertha says, looking out the smallest window to the outside, trying to get fresh air.

as soon as the words leave her mouth, the doors to the cell open, guards piling in.

“get up!!”.

they come in, grabbing all of them, one by one, angrily shoving them to their feet.

the guard from before, the one who had asked about (y/n)’s condition, looks her over, wondering how they were going to carry her out of there. 

he bends low, speaking to her in her language.

“may i carry you?”.

(y/n) weakly opens her eyes, she doesn’t even have the strength to reply.

“don’t touch her!” ubbe shouts, fighting against the guards.

“i won’t hurt her!” the man says with anger, just trying to make this easy so the girl didn’t have to suffer.

he gently scoops her into his arms, holding her against his chest.

he is the last to leave, making sure she was tucked into his chest. he’s holding her tight to his chest, his hand becoming warm and wet with blood as he tries to keep her wound closed.

she opens her mouth, trying to speak, but she’s lost so much blood, so much energy.......

“where.........” she couldn’t finish her words, lips quivering, but he understood.

“to speak with king alfred”.

[depressedhatakekakashi]

This is Not Relaxing

AU: None/Canon

Words: 1560

Rating: Teen

Characters: Hatake Kakashi and Tsunade Senju

Warnings: Mentions of Alcohol

Summary: A day off was something special. Time for shinobi to relax and enjoy themselves. Apparently, Tsunade-sama has different plans for Kakashi’s day off.

Days off were a rare treat for Kakashi.

A chance to kick back, relax, and not have to stress about the newest mission that Tsunade-sama had decided to send him out on. Somewhere under a nice tree, he’d huddle up with his favourite book and spend hours just getting lost in a familiar world. Maybe he’d even take a nap.

All of those plans were thrown out the window as soon he woke up that morning to find none other than Senju Tsunade, Hokage of Konoha, sitting at his dinner table.

“We’re hanging out today.”

The words were still ringing in his ears as he followed her through the streets of Konoha, wondering where it was they could possibly be going. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to hang out with the older woman. He quite enjoyed her company, when she hadn’t consumed too much sake to stand on her own anymore.

When he thought of a ‘day off’ though, the first thing that came to mind was not spending the day with the Hokage.

“So, I don’t suppose you’re willing to tell me why I just got dragged out of my apartment by the Hokage,” Tsunade-sama’s only response was the slightest shift of her eyes. Something that was easy for anyone else to miss, but clearly said ‘Stop there or die’ to Kakashi. “Right, of course not.”

It was his mistake.

He should have known better than to use her position when referring to her, even if it was the correct thing to say. Being Hokage was as much a dream for Tsunade-sama as it was for Kakashi himself.

In other words, it was the furthest thing from what either of them wanted in their lives. Kakashi was surprised Naruto had managed to convince the Sannin to take the job at all. Of course, he was the number one unpredictable shinobi. If someone thought a job was impossible, there was no doubt that Naruto would find a way to do it just to prove them wrong.

“Mah, I was really looking forward to relaxing today.” extracting his hands from his pockets, he poked the older woman’s rib cage and chuckled when she responded by trying to deck him. It wasn’t an easy punch to dodge, but he managed to duck under it at the last second, avoiding having his head popped off by her incredible strength.

“If you keep this up you’ll be relaxing for a week in the hospital, brat.” She warned. “Jeez, you’re just like your father. You always have to bug me.”

His father.

A small smile tugged at Kakashi’s lips. He hadn’t heard her mention his father in years. Partially because she was always out of the village travelling, but mostly because the last time she had tried Kakashi had yelled at her.

He had been so young back then. Angry about what had happened, and hurt beyond imagination because of his father’s choice. When he had heard fondness in the older woman’s voice at the mention of his father, he snapped.

Told her never to bring his old man up ever again. That he was dead and gone and Kakashi was better off without him.

Back then, he had believed his own words. Now though, he’d give anything to take them back.

“How about some Sake,” Her smile is wider than he has ever seen it before, with a glint in her eyes that screams danger. “I’ll pay.”

Well, as long as he wasn’t the one having to pay.

“How can I say no?”

With the invitation accepted, Tsunade-Sama took hold of his right arm and tugged him through the streets of Konoha to whatever place she had decided to get him drunk at.

He wasn’t looking forward to the hangover in the morning, but there was one bonus to getting drunk with the Hokage. If it was her fault that he wasn’t in any shape to do a mission, she’d have to give him an extra day off to recover.

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

Agreeing to go out drinking with Tsunade-sama had been a huge mistake. There’s no reason he shouldn’t have known better. Everyone knew about the Hokage’s terrible drinking habit and her high tolerance for alcohol.

There was no way he was going to be able to keep up with her, but here he was. Sitting across from her at a small restaurant watching as she poured him a fourth glass of Sake like it was no big deal.

His head was already starting to get foggy, and he’s pretty sure the filter on his mouth stopped working after his third shot of Sake. That was the only explanation he had for the fact that he had just told her, without fear of judgment, that he had never gotten the ‘birds and the Bees’ talk.

“No wonder you’re always reading Icha Icha,” setting the bottle of Sake down, she lifted her glass towards him and then proceed to shoot back her fifth cup. Already one ahead of him and looking like she was handling it a lot better. “You know, Jiraiys books are the worst place to go for information on that kind of stuff. I wouldn’t call him ‘experienced’ in the subject.”

“Meh, where else am I supposed to learn it?” Giving his shoulders a shrug, he stared down at his own cup of sake. “I’m an adult with no parental figure to ask about that sort of thing. At this point, it’s sink or swim.”

“Did Minato never give you the talk?”

“I think Sensei had bigger things on his mind around the time I might have gotten that particular talk from him,” His pregnant wife, Rin’s death, Kakashi’s trauma’s, his duties as Hokage. There were a lot of things his Sensei had to take care of at the time, and then before they knew it he was dead. “Besides, he would have made it awkward. He was always so…”

“Embarrassing?” Tsunade-sama chuckled. “That’s the impression I always got of him when I would watch him training with Jiraya.”

“It’s not the wrong impression,” Kakashi agreed. “Sensei was a deadly shinobi, but he was also a dork at heart.”

“Sounds like someone else I know,” Picking up the bottle of Sake once more, she held it up for him to see. A silent question that he quickly answered with a simple nod towards his still full cup. “Even the most deadly shinobi’s in the world can be giant dorks, Kakashi. You should know that better than anyone. After all, your father was the biggest dork of them all.”

Kakashi laughed. A shallow, bitter laugh with no real joy in it.

“You don’t believe me?” Tsunade-sama waved a finger towards him. “Don’t tell me people really have you thinking he was some suave, sophisticated guy. He was a huge dork. Most days he could out dork Minato without even trying. Heck, Even Naruto isn’t as dorky as Sakumo was.”

“I believe you,” holding up his hands in surrender, he watched as she narrowed her eyes. “I just…”

It was hard to admit.

Most people had pictures of their families. Memories that they held dear to them of the loved ones they lost.

Him?

He had nothing. The few pictures his father had been able to take between missions had been lost to time. Some of them still hidden somewhere in the old Hatake residence that Kakashi refuses to step foot into even though he continued to pay for it so that it wouldn’t be torn down.

“Tell me a story.” The filter on his mouth failed him once more, but this time he couldn’t be bothered to be embarrassed about it. It was his day off and he was supposed to be enjoying himself. What better way to enjoy himself than to actually hear a good memory about his father.

Something to combat all of the vile spewed on his name after his death. All the hatred that had been thrown at him and Kakashi for the simple mistake of choosing his teammate’s lives over the mission.

“A story?” There’s a sad look in her eyes. One that Kakashi knows deep down is because of him. “Are you sure that’s what you want? Last time-”

He waved a hand, cutting off the rest of her sentence. “I was a kid. Angry and bitter about things I really didn’t understand,” but he had come to terms with it all. Accepted what he couldn’t understand back then. “I just...You’re the only person I know who has stories about him. About who he was outside of missions and duty.”

Sadness gives way to fondness, and with a playful smile, she leaned forward and propped her elbows on the table.

“It could get embarrassing,” She warned. “Are you sure you’re up for it?”

“If there’s one thing I know for certain about my father, It’s that he is easily the most embarrassing man to ever exist in this world,” Picking up his cup of Sake finally, he tipped it towards her and gave her a soft smile. “Beside’s, nothing you can tell me could possibly be worse than what I have to endure with Gai most days.”

Judging by the look of sheer glee the made its home on Tsunade-sama’s face, he was wrong.

So very, completely wrong.

And he couldn’t wait to hear all about it.

[holylulusworld]

Little Bird

Summary: You ran – Dean chases you.

Pairing: Mobster!Dean x Reader, OFC’s

Warnings: angst, language, mobster business, pregnant reader (sue me), unhealthy relationship, choking (light; non-sexual), mentions of blowjob (no description), violence, blood, characters death, threats, scared reader, infidelity, protective Dean (overprotective bordering on possessiveness)

A/N: This is fanfiction! Please be aware if anyone treats you like Dean in this story, get help! It’s an unhealthy dynamic in this one. Dean is not aware he treats his wife badly. She does not forgive him but has no other choice as her life would be in danger. 

You saw the end of the line, so you ran. It wasn’t a hasty decision, rather a slow built up until you just couldn’t go on like before.

That’s how you ended here, in the middle of nowhere working at a random diner to make the money to pay your bills.

You must admit, it was way easier when your husband still provided everything you needed or wished for, but his generosity came with a price.

In the beginning, you believed your bond, your marriage could work out. In the end, you gave up understanding Dean or his life.

All you remember of the day you ran was that he had you pressed against the wall, one hand around your throat as he whispered a silent threat with his eyes.

If it only had been you, you would’ve stayed and waited for the inevitable to happen – but there’s another life in your belly.

The life Dean doesn’t know about let you wake up and fight back – or rather run for your life.

Six months ago, …

It’s another morning you wake up in a cold and empty bed. You got used to the life Dean offers. Since your father insisted on a bond, you are forced to live with the cold mobster.

Not that you never had a thing for Dean, you know him since childhood and always dreamily imagined marrying him. You knew about the business and you knew Dean is a rough and hard man, but you didn’t know he’s a tyrant too.

Most of the time he yells at you for not doing anything right or rather he wants other people to do the things you love.

You want to cook – Dean forces you to stop and let the cook take over.

You want to go shopping – Dean calls someone to bring you the things you have on your list.

You barely can do anything by yourself without Dean insisting someone else can do it better.

You feel like a bird in a golden cage. A humiliated and scared one. Mostly you hide in the library to read one of the books of the huge collection Dean gathered. 

There’s this tiny voice telling you he did it for you as a part of him at least likes to have you around but slowly this voice becomes silent.

Days ago, you heard him talking to Sam, telling his brother that he’s not sure if you are the right choice to be his wife. It hurt, carved a deep wound into your heart.

So far you bore every harsh word, even his cold glares or that he rammed his fist into the wall right next to your face when you wanted to go out with some old friends who came to town for your high-school reunion.

Sitting onto the bed, looking around the room you sigh heavily. Dean bought everything from the bed to the mirror you liked as you saw it in a magazine.

Living with Dean is like walking on a tight rope. One day he buys you everything you want – the next day he tells you can do anything right.

His anger gets the best of him and sometimes you don’t know if he wants to make love to you or kill you.

Patting toward the kitchen you rub your tired eyes. You wish you could make yourself breakfast but this would end up in a heated argument with Dean once again, so you sit onto a chair to eat the tasteless porridge his cook prepared.

You hate porridge, told the cook a hundred times you want pancakes, but she places a bowl in front of you again.

Today your stomach protests and you shove the bowl away, glaring at the smirking bitch you hate so much. It’s like she holds more power over your life than you and your eyes harden.

“I will talk to my husband about your behavior..” Snarling the words, you throw the bowl against the wall before you run out of the kitchen.

Hormones…how you love those little bitches. “Don’t worry little bean. I’ll tell daddy we want pancakes and he’ll agree. I hope he’s happy to hear about you…”

Not caring you are still in your nightgown you knock at Dean’s office, but he doesn’t answer so you just step in and your breath hitches in your throat.

He sits on his chair, pants down to his ankles while one of his girls from the club blows him off.

“What do you want?” Asking you casually, Dean searches your face. Your hands drop from your stomach and you can’t find the words to answer his question.

“I…I want to divorce!” Floats out of your mouth. 

That thought crossed your mind before but your love for Dean never let you speak out the truth lingering in the back of your mind.

Today he showed you that there’s no compassion or love for you in him or he would’ve been ashamed you caught him red-handed. 

“This crosses the last line. Letting a random whore from your club blow you off. I offered last night, and you told me you don’t want to…” Choking the words out you shake your head.

“I guess that I am not good enough at that either…” Then you run, dashing toward your bedroom to slam the door shut behind you.

You can hear the stomp of his shoes and then the door flings open. Dean’s eyes are clouded with anger and you can see his hands twitch before he lunges forward to press you into the wall.

Stillness surrounds you for a moment before he wraps his hand around your throat. He’s staring at you, clenching his jaw and you can see the threat in those darkened green orbs.

“You’re mine. There’s no way my little bird leaves her nest. I won’t let you go. Now be a good little bird and get dressed.” Dean pecks your lips before he let go of you, leaving you alone with your trembling hands and your racing heart.

This must end. The little bird must fly away…

Now…

“Hey, Sweetie. Will you fill an old man’s cup?” Earl chuckles as you give him a wink. “How far are you?” Glancing at your swollen belly Earl gives you a warm toothless smile. “You look like my Betsy back then…”

“Earl.” Patting the old man’s hand, you sit on the empty chair at his table. “I am so sorry you lost her. I wish I had someone like that in my life.”

“Your man wasn’t good for you?” Furrowing his brows in question Earl glances at your sad face. “I am sorry to hear, Sweetie. A nice girl as you deserve the world.”

“I had the world, just no love. He was…” Sniffling you give the elder man a cracked smile. “I was a nice thing to look at but not worth to be loved. I’ll bring you more coffee.”

“Don’t let that idiot get to you, Y/N. One day you’ll find a nice man loving you and the little boy in your belly.” Pecking Earl’s cheek, you feel someone watching you.

An unease feeling spreads through your body and you turn around to look over your shoulder, but the diner is empty, and you shake the thought away. “I’ll get you your coffee and a slice of apple pie, made with love.”

“You bake the best pies.” Earl chuckles and you give him a wink. “I bet that bastard misses your pies.”

“Nah, he had a cook. Always said I shall not bake or cook.” Shrugging you remember the day you tried to make a pie for Dean and he angrily stormed into the kitchen telling you to not bake again. “I guess he hated everything about me.”

While you cut a slice of pie for Earl and chat with your colleague a pair of emerald eyes watches your every step. 

Dean’s throat tightened watching you kiss the old geezer’s cheek. No one can touch you and you can’t touch anyone but him…

Walking toward your apartment, the home you created for you and your baby you tighten the hold on your purse.

The neighborhood is not the safest and it wouldn’t be the first time you run toward your door to hastily unlock it.

Tonight, you feel someone watching you and your feet carry you faster toward your door. Footsteps follow you and your hands start to shake as you get your keys out.

“Hello, Sweetcheeks. Do you remember me?” One of your neighbor’s slurs. He’s harmless but sometimes he doesn’t get the message to leave a woman alone. “Do you want a drink?”

“Stuart, hey…no thank you. I am tired and need some sleep. I just came from my shift. Maybe another time…night.” You hope he will leave you alone but tonight luck is not on your side.

“I asked you if you want a drink!” Stuart is angry and you take a step backward. “Drink with me.”

“Stuart. I am pregnant, okay. I will not drink alcohol right now. Just let me pass.” Pointing toward the door you keep an eye on Stuart. You can see he becomes impatient before he tries to grab your arm.

You don’t know how it happened but suddenly a tall man rams Stuart into the wall. You can hear Stuart grown as the man doesn’t stop.

Ramming your neighbors head into the wall until it lulls back, and his lifeless eyes stare back at you the man grunts. 

“Why…?” Stepping backward you recognize the shoes…the shoulders…his scent. You are not surprised Dean looks at you with darkened eyes when he turns his attention toward you. “How’d you find me here?”

Panic rises in your chest and you protectively move your arms around your belly.

“Go away!”

Tears run down your face as Dean removes his bloody leather gloves.

“Sweetheart.” The pet name lets your blood freeze. Dean never called you anything but Y/N or little bird. “I was so worried. Why did you run away from me?”

“Why? Where shall I start? You treated me like I am not capable of doing anything right. You letting that whore suck you off…” Sniffling you step back again when Dean tries to touch your cheek. “I bore everything but…but you choked me. I couldn’t let you hurt my baby…”

“Baby…” Just now Dean’s eyes land on your baby bump and for the first time his features soften. “I would never hurt you. I never hurt you.”

“You did with words and your behavior, followed by you choking me.” Scared you feel his hand touch your cheek. “All you did was scaring me.”

“I wanted you to feel comfortable. I didn’t want you to cook or stuff as I think you are too precious to do things like that.” Dean murmurs stepping close to cup the back of your neck. 

“You’re vulnerable and unique to me. I wanted you to feel like a queen.”

“By letting that cook treat me like a stupid child. I told her I hate porridge but she only smirked and gave me that disgusting stuff.” Confused Dean brushes his lips over your forehead. “You let that woman blow you off after I wanted to go down on you not hours ago…”

“I didn’t want you to lower yourself. I wanted you to feel special. I…I heard you talking to Ruby once. I knew that you do not like it…” Dean mumbles as he ghosts his lips over your cheek.

“I told her I do not like oral when the man doesn’t look at me while I make him feel good – just like you did with that girl. I…I wanted to make you feel good…always…” Sniffling you feel his other hand creep to your lower back to press you close to his chest.

“Hmmm…” His lips press against yours and you start to tremble as he gently holds you in his arms. “So soft and precious…”

“You…you choked me…” Looking guilty Dean nods, pressing your closer to his body to shield you from the cold. 

“I…I was mad. Baby Girl…you said you want to divorce. I gave you everything, treated you like a queen and you wanted to leave. I couldn’t tame my anger. ‘m sorry, Sweetheart.” Shaking you let Dean wrapped you in his coat. “I’ll bring you home.”

“What about my things?” Trying anything to find a way to get away from Dean you look fearful at the tall mobster. There’s a soft smile on his lips before he picks you up. “Dean?”

“Benny got your stuff hours ago. I just wanted to come here alone to not scare my wife. No one will ever part us, my little bird. I love you.” Dean believes you give in as you rest your head against his shoulder.

There is still love for him in your heart, but you can’t wait for the next chance to break out of your cage.

This time, no one will find his little bird…

Part 2 - My Little Bird

Tags will be added in the reblog.

[astoria00]

Caged

Summary:  

“What...are you?”

She hadn’t meant to ask, but the question just tumbled out of her mouth. She could only hope it wouldn’t have bad consequences for her afterwards.The woman however seemed more amused than upset at her words, a gentle smile adorning her features, as she let one of her hands rest on the sturdy door of the golden gate in front of her, inspecting the three locks with mild curiosity.

“You could call me...a like minded soul.”

[Part of the Fractures series]

Characters: Salem & Cinder 

Genre: Angst; kinda dark;

Word Count: 5.4K

Rating: Teen

Warnings: mentions of torture; emotional manipulation; Child abuse

Then we got about seven years.

For what?

To train you for the Huntsmen exam.

That’s what he...what Rhodes said he would do.

Train her.

Cinder hadn’t known if she should believe him at first. Adults were a tricky bunch, always making empty promises...just like the woman who had first taken her to the orphanage claiming she was going to get a better life there.

All lies.

For all she knew Rhodes could have gone to Madame the very next morning selling her out...but he didn’t. He kept his word and started to train her.

At night though...only at night.

It made her lose sleep, but she wouldn't dare to complain.

This was her chance.

Her way out.

That’s what Cinder told herself over and over again to pull through...

When Rhodes left the first time without even acknowledging her.

When her adoptive sisters decided to torment her again.

When Madame made her scrub the floor for a whole day straight, without a break or food, to correct her work etiquette, only to punish her in the end anyway…

It would all be worth it.

She just needed to be strong enough to endure it until it was time.

In her rare free time...which basically only consisted of the time she was allowed to sleep, she began to practice on her own, going through the stances Rhodes had taught her diligently, cutting her nighttime short.

She didn’t need sleep, she needed to get stronger...better…

The first time she passed out from exhaustion she hadn’t even realized it, but then she started to dream.

It was a recurring dream, nothing Cinder wasn’t used to.

She was running from disfigured shadows that kept chasing her wherever she went. No matter what she did they always ended up capturing her, throwing her into a fancy bird cage made of gold with three locks on the front gate to make sure she couldn’t escape. They would point and laugh at her, calling her names, sometimes even throwing rocks at her and Madame’s voice would cut through the dark menacingly.

Without me you are nothing!

She would curl up into a ball on the cold floor and try to make herself as small as possible until she woke up again.

But of course this took its toll.

A week after Rhodes’ departure, Cinder got punished for passing out while darning her adoptive sisters’ socks. She hadn’t meant for it to happen, but when they both mocked her and threatened to tell their mother she lost control over her semblance and set the socks in her hand on fire.

Something she would come to regret afterwards, but seeing the girls’ terrified faces, filled her with...some sort of satisfaction.

Although a rather brief one.

When she was finally released by Madame after receiving her due justice, her face was tear stained and her voice coarse and rough from all the screaming. She felt hot and her head kept pounding painfully with each beat of her heart.

There wasn’t a day where she wasn’t hurting all over.

Collapsing onto her mattress, Cinder didn’t have the energy to fight sleep any longer, falling into a restless slumber.

Unsurprisingly she winded back up in the golden cage once more, the usual grotesque shadows gathering around it, ready to torment her for yet another night. Squeezing her eyes shut, she huddled down in the middle and tried to block them all out.

She wanted them gone.

Why did no one care?

She just…

‘I want to be free!‘

“Is that truly what you desire?”

Cinder looked up startled, peering through the darkness behind the bars, not daring to move or make a sound. The shadows had all disappeared, along with the Madame’s mocking voice. It was...silent? No...there was something...a soft buzz surrounding her.

This felt...different than usual.

And then she noticed it!

A slight movement, a figure, approaching her and her little cage. Gleaming crimson orbs shone through the darkness, pinned only on her as they drew nearer and nearer. With each step she could feel the air around her grow thicker.

A sudden fear sized the young girl, as she scrambled onto her feet, desperately searching for a way to escape...to hide...but of course no such thing existed. There never was.

‘Fighting it is then!’

She wouldn’t let a monster take her, not even in her dream.

In sheer desperation, she raised her fists like her mentor had taught her and tried to look as threatening as possible.

“Stay where you are!”, she yelled, baring her teeth, almost growling like a cornered animal.

Sadly the figure didn’t seem to care one bit, not paying her words any mind, as they slowly stepped into the dim lit area at the outside of the cage, stopping right at its closed entrance. The pale light finally illuminated their features.

It was a woman.

A woman unlike any Cinder had ever laid eyes on. Her skin appeared almost ashen, if it weren’t for those strange, red, angry veins spreading from her hands and crimson eyes. The long black dress she wore obscured her feet from her view, but it wasn’t like the girl cared too much about that fact at the moment...even if the thought of the woman floating instead of walking towards her caused her lips to twitch a little.

“What...are you?”

She hadn’t meant to ask, but the question just tumbled out of her mouth. She could only hope it wouldn’t have bad consequences for her afterwards.

The woman however seemed more amused than upset at her words, a gentle smile adorning her features, as she let one of her hands rest on the sturdy door of the golden gate in front of her, inspecting the three locks with mild curiosity.

“You could call me...a like minded soul.”

‘...a what?’

The confusion must have shown on her face because the strange woman began to laugh. It wasn’t an entirely unpleasant sound. It certainly didn’t sound as grating as Madame’s, nor as cruel. It was almost...nice? Inviting?

Whatever it was, it made her even more curious about the woman, her defensive posture all but forgotten, as curiosity got the better of her.

“Do...you have a name?”

The woman cocked her head to the side, appearing thoughtful before answering pleasantly:

“I have been called many names, Witch, your Grace, my Queen, my Goddess…”

She trailed off, circling the cage soundlessly, forcing Cinder to turn in tandem with her movements.

“You can refer to me as Salem...for now”, she continued amicably, before letting her hand run over the golden bars of the cage.

Cinder’s mind was reeling.

Witch? Queen? Goddess?

She couldn’t help but scoff at that. This dream of hers was certainly going into a very strange direction.

“Magic isn’t real though”, she retorted. There was a challenging note to her tone. Maybe...she wanted to be proven otherwise.

To her frustration her words only earned her a mysterious smile.

“Perhaps, perhaps not. In any case, you appear to be trapped, Cinder.”

Cinder froze at the mention of her name.

How did she know?

‘A dream!’

Right, of course this was a dream.

She tried to calm down the panic that was threatening to rise inside her, focusing her attention on that ‘Salem’ and how she tapped lightly against the bars, as she continued to circle the cage nonchalantly. It helped, but her guard had gone up again...dream or not.

“How do you-?”

“What is your favorite fairy tale?”

‘My...what?’

Fairy tale?

Why…?

Her face fell. She… she didn’t…

“I...don’t know any…”

The adults didn’t care about fairy tales in the orphanage and Cinder couldn’t even remember her birth parents. She just knew they gave her up. The unlovable child.

No one ever bothered to tell her any kind of story.

Salem’s eyes softened almost unnoticeably.

“Then I shall tell you mine. It is called ‘The Girl in the Tower’. I imagine it could help you in ways you can’t even understand yet.”

“What’s it about?”

Somehow the idea of getting told a story appealed to the dark haired girl. Something she had always wanted if she was being honest to herself.

“It’s about a girl who got trapped into a tower by her vengeful and cruel father, all alone and with no control over her own future.”

That peaked Cinder’s interest. She hadn’t realized how she had stepped closer to the woman at the bars.

“Is...is she getting out?”

Her voice sounded unusually small, but she really...really needed to know all of a sudden.

Salem motioned for her to sit down, looking at her in a way that made Cinder wonder if that was what having a mother felt like. It was...comforting.

Huddling against the bars of the cage she dropped down, hugging her legs close to her body.

Salem’s voice was something else.

She made her tale come to live, talking about magic, about heroes and freedom, kings and castles...and about the girl who managed to escape her prison through sheer wit and initiative.

“You see, she fought for her freedom. She destroyed the locks that kept the gate closed and drained the cage of its power, never to look back.”

‘Destroyed...the locks…’

Cinder’s gaze flitted to the three locks on her cage.

Oh how she wanted that. She could destroy them and run. Make them pay for what they did to her…

But…

‘Rhodes!’

/Hurting them isn’t going to make your life any better./

He was risking so much to help her. To give her a way out. She just needed to be patient...to wait…

‘Seven more years…’

No, she would endure this. Rhodes trained her to become a Huntress. Then she could go wherever she wanted...even help other people like herself...people in need. She wouldn’t disappoint the hopes he placed in her.

/Without me you are nothing!/

The girl flinched at the sudden scream, whirling around in terror.

Salem was gone...and with her with her the peace and quiet she had enjoyed in her dream for once.

xxxxxxxxxx

“The hearts of men are easily swayed. Duty is their utmost priority. I would be careful who you put your trust into.”

Since that night Cinder had some more dreams of Salem. She found that she looked forward to them. Most of the time the older woman told her fairy tales in that pleasant voice of hers that made her want to rest and relax.

It was certainly strange having an imaginary dream person to converse with, but she didn’t complain. It was better than being tormented...even if most of Salem’s words and topics confused her.

She peered up at Salem from her sitting position, visibly pouting.

“Rhodes promised to come back.

And he is the only one who even wants to help me.”

The older woman wasn’t deterred, though, giving her one of these affectionate smiles that filled her with a strange, foreign warmth.

“Sometimes actual help is found in rather unexpected places.”  

Cinder grinned at her playfully.

“Like you, you mean?”

The only answer she got was a mysterious hum from Salem and a weird twinkle in her eyes.

xxxxxxxxxx

“I told you he would be back!”

The eleven year old couldn’t stop smiling from ear to ear, grabbing Salem’s hands through the bars with obvious joy. She wished she could jump around her to further let her happiness be known. At first she hadn’t wanted to believe her eyes when Rhodes had entered the hotel this year. Yes, he didn’t acknowledge her there, but he came to the cellar in the night. He had brought wooden staffs for them to practice with. It was simply amazing.

Not even her adoptive sisters and Madame had been able to quell her good mood today.

Her excitement got even Salem to chuckle in the end, squeezing Cinder’s hands gently.

“I never said he wouldn’t be back, Cinder.”

There was a...weird undertone to her words, but she was too happy to care about this now. It wasn’t important. Salem would tell her another tale later on and Rhodes was back to train her. Right now...life was good.

“I’ll show you what he taught me today”, she said energetically, jumping back to fall  into one of the stances she had been shown today.

Interestingly the older woman agreed and even corrected her here and there, all while regarding her with that gentle smile of hers.

xxxxxxxxxx

“Is magic real?”

Cinder knew the answer to that question. It was a dream after all. Nothing of it was real...not Salem or her tales. Everything was just made up by her somehow.

The older woman seemed quieter than usual. It made her uneasy...and sad in a weird way. She had grown to like their talks...the fairy tales…

“Every tale I told you is real, girl.”

Her tone was different, more on edge. The usual warmth that accompanied it was lacking. It made Cinder shudder inwardly.

The silence between them stretched on, making her nervous.

Why did Salem seem to be...angry at her? Disappointed?

“Salem?”

“Yes, child?”

“Why did you come here when you don’t want to talk to me?”

There was a loud sigh that caused Cinder to cringe. There was only so much silent disappointment she could take...especially from someone that wasn’t real. It was enough when Madame gave her those looks.

She subconsciously rubbed her neck, lying on her back, staring at the dark ceiling, as she waited for the woman’s answer, not sure if she was dreading it or not.

“Why you ask...call it an experiment that hasn’t yielded results as of yet.”

‘Experiment?’

How come her dream constantly threw stuff at her she didn’t understand in the slightest?

“What do you mean?”

‘What did I do wrong?’

This time however she didn’t receive an answer. Salem kept quiet.

xxxxxxxxxx

“You have golden eyes.”

“Yeah, what about them?”

“You realize he is keeping you trapped here, do you not?

That he is the reason you are still suffering?”

Salem’s voice sounded almost cold, indifferent and not for the first time Cinder cursed herself for caring far too much. It was hard enough getting through the days as it was. She didn’t need the older woman to give her deepest fears and doubts a voice of their own. Also her change of topics always confused her. First it was eyes now it was Rhodes.

“It’s only four more years...I can do this.”

She didn’t know if she tried to convince Salem or herself...maybe both.

It didn’t do anything to lift the older woman’s mood though.

“If you do not act soon you will never amount to anything and ‘that woman’s’ words will become your reality. Is that truly what you want?”

/Without me you are nothing!/

Cinder had enough. A hot wave of rage surged through her, as she glared at Salem.

“I don’t have to defend myself to you!

You are just a stupid dream I have!

You’re not even real, stop wasting my time with your crazy fairy tales!”

She immediately regretted her words. Crimson eyes flashed dangerously in the dark and the temperature around them seemed to drop. A cold shudder ran down Cinder’s spine, as her expression morphed into one of fear.

“You are right...I am wasting my time with you.

You are of no use to me!”

Before the thirteen year old could react, before the words had even registered with her, she found herself alone, safe for the returning shadows thicker and closer than ever before.

Salem was gone.

xxxxxxxxxx

“Say it!”

“Without you...I am nothing…”

Cinder was in agony. There was no escape anymore. The pain was everywhere. She could feel it in her bones, the burning that made her want to scream, to rip her skin open, to make it stop.

She had tried of course, oh how she had tried. Reopening her old scars on her right wrist. It had helped at first, but then her adoptive sisters had found out about it and Madame had made sure it would never happen again.

Salem hadn’t come back for months now.

It was weird and not for the first time she had asked herself if Salem had been real after all...but that was just ridiculous. Still...she was alone again and the shadows in her dream had gotten even crueller, not shying away from outright burning her with glowing embers they would throw at her, heating the bars, making her feel as if she was going to burst into flames at any moment.

To make matters even worse...Rhodes was late as well.

Curling herself down on the floor of the cage, she tried desperately to stop the tears from falling.

“Tell me a fairy tale”, she whimpered to no one in particular.

She just...wanted someone...to care...to be there.

/And the truth is that no one ever loved you!/

She winced, hugging her legs even closer to her body, as the tears finally escaped her eyes, trailing down her cheeks.

‘I’m sorry Rhodes…

I want to be strong…

But…’

“Once upon a time there was a despicable wizard living as a hermit far far away from any civilization.”

Cinder’s eyes shot open. Wide eyed she turned her head...and there she was...circling the cage, as if she had never left in the first place.

‘Salem.’

Any other day she might have questioned where she had gone and why she came back, but she was so tired. Closing her eyes she let the older woman’s soothing voice wash over her instead, dispelling the nightmares around them and granting her a little bit of peace.

xxxxxxxxxx

Cinder felt truly happy for the first time in literal years.

Rhodes had gifted her a sword. Her very first weapon!

In only three years she had proven herself to him enough to earn that privilege. It was surreal. Her future felt so close now.

Yes, she still had to endure four more years of her family’s treatment, but it would be worth it…

It had to be.

She had finished her chores earlier than expected today. Rhodes wanted to train with her at midnight, as usual, and she really couldn’t wait.

Last night she had asked him about fairy tales. Although he had been rather confused at the time he had told her one: The story of the Seasons…

The story Salem had told her. A tale she shouldn’t have been able to know.

How could Salem know so much when she didn’t?

‘Salem...doesn’t exist...right?’

But what if she did?

...ridiculous.

Shaking her head, Cinder made her way to the cellar. It was almost 15 before midnight. She should probably get ready. Stretching her aching limbs and muscles, she searched for her sword. She wanted to fight Rhodes with her own weapon tonight.

Her cheerful smile quickly vanished though, when she came up empty handed.

‘Where…?’

Where did it go?

“Are you perhaps searching for this?”

‘No!’

Cinder felt as if she got just dunked into ice cold water, fear gripping her heart. Slowly...very slowly she turned around, her eyes finding the source of her nightmares. Madame, head held high, holding her precious weapon in her grasp, not even bothering to hide the disgust spreading over her face as she inspected it with clear distaste.

“It seems we finally found our little thief after all”, she all but sneered, causing her daughters behind her to laugh.

The dark haired girl hadn’t even realized they were present as well. Lowering her head, she tried to make herself as small as possible.

She had to endure this.

Only a few more years…

Madame didn’t seem to like her silence, drawing nearer, that damned device ready in hand.

“Now, who did you steal it from, girl?”

“I didn’t-”

‘Wrong answer.’

The electric sparks she had come to know oh so well run through her throat, her skin hot and angry, as they sliced every nerve they could reach with ferocity, leaving only destruction and numbness in its wake.

Screaming always made it worse, but she couldn’t help it.

Even though she should be used to it by now…

Why was she so weak?

‘I want to be strong…’

Madame finally stopped, giving Cinder a few seconds to breathe again, the air burning in her lung with each gasp.

“Let’s try that again, shall we?

“It...it was a g-gift-”

“Stop lying!”

And her torture continued. Her hand flew towards her neck, but it was so futile. She couldn’t alleviate the pain.

She wasn’t lying.

What was she supposed to do?

Everything hurt…

‘Make it stop!’

[Destroy the locks.]

...the...locks?

[I will make you everything.]

The pain stopped again and had Cinder gasping for air, fighting the desperate urge to curl herself into a ball...or worse…

She had to endure this.

‘Only a few more years…’

Madame turned away from her, handing her weapon to one of her daughters.

“Here, find the owner and let them know we are terribly sorry, but we won’t be serving them any longer.”

‘...no!’

Wide eyed, Cinder raised her head, watching helplessly as her sword was passed between her adoptive sisters tauntingly.

Her weapon…

Her freedom…

Rhodes…

She would lose it all.

Her chest tightened anxiously.

No...no, no, nononononononono!

Without thinking about the consequences the dark haired girl jumped to her feet in sheer desperation.

“No please...I-I want to become a Huntress!”

Her voice almost cracked under the strain she put it under, but the panic was clearly audible enough for them to hear.

This time even Madame laughed.

Compared to Salem’s it was a rather cruel sound.

“A Huntress? You?”, she mocked, clearly amused at the prospect.

Soon enough her daughters joined into her laughter as well.

She hated them...oh how she hated them…

“You won’t go anywhere, my dear.”

She didn’t even see Madame press the button this time.

It was so fast and the pain never waited.

‘Hurts...hurtshurtshurtshurts’

There were muffled sounds, steps that drew farther away.

The girls were leaving.

Leaving with her weapon…

Her freedom…

Her...key…

[Destroy-]

‘The locks!’

Something inside Cinder ripped, exploded with an icy ferocity. She couldn’t breathe. Her vision shifted.

Red...everything was red, crimson...like those eyes she knew so well. The eyes that haunted her dreams. She was cold...numb, like the fire within her. She sank deeper and deeper into the cold embrace that cursed through her veins.

Shadows took form, surrounding her adoptive sisters, tearing into them without leaving traces, slowly suffocating them from the inside out.

There was horror in their gazes...honest, naked fear...and Cinder relished in it.

She didn’t know when she had made her way towards them, but she suddenly had her sword back, safe and sound in her left hand, while they lied motionless on the cold ground.

Only the biting buzz around her neck made the dark haired girl come back to reality, her golden eyes landing on Madame, who appeared to shrink away from her in terror.

Her normally cruel smirk had been replaced with a mask of utter panic, pressing the button of the remote repeatedly to yield results.

‘Drain...the cage!’

Cinder bridged the distance between them slowly, each step sending a wave of painful electricity through her sensitive flesh, dully echoing inside her.

But for some reason...it wasn’t enough to stop her.

Something was coursing through her veins.

Rage? Desperation? Aura?

She couldn’t say, but it was enough to finally make her endure it.

The way Madame flinched when she wrapped her right hand around her neck felt...exhilarating.

Fear… there was so much fear in her eyes...and she was the cause of it.

‘I want...to be feared.’

“You’re right. Without you I am nothing”, she practically spat the words out, a weird laugh ripping itself from her throat, raising her hand higher, as she let Madame scramble for air, “but because of you I am everything!”

‘Make me...everything!’

The light finally diminished in Madame’s eyes, her whole posture going limp in her grip. Dropping her to the ground unceremoniously, she was about to reach for her necklace when…

“Cinder…?”

Rhodes!

Relief flooded her.

He was here.

He would help her.

He would understand

She turned to him with a relieved, teary smile.

“I won’t have to run now.”

“That’s all you’ll ever do.”

‘...huh?’

There was no understanding in his gaze, only tired resignation.

What was he…?

Rhodes drew his weapons and any remaining hope Cinder had left shattered…

And with it came the burning rage that had been absent before.

‘Destroy the locks!’

xxxxxxxxxx

The following night Cinder dreamed of the golden cage bursting into flames, but it felt hollow. She had trusted Rhodes. He had been the only one who believed in her...and the first one giving up on her as well. She was torn between rage and sadness and all its pointlessness. She still wasn’t free. Atlas in itself was a prison. There was no way for her to run from the authorities for too long. She couldn’t stow away on an airship with how tight controls were right now.

Hugging her legs for comfort, she tucked herself closer behind the thin wall of cardboard she used as her makeshift shelter. The alleyway was dark and cold...but oddly enough it was better than what she was used to. No one would torture her...no one was able to…

‘But for how long?’

The thought caused her to shiver. Even thinking about it made her sick, but the people of Atlas had already taught her what to expect from them.

The dull noises of the nightly traffic made it hard for her to find any rest, so she tried to count the sounds she was hearing.

5 times a dog howled…

10 times brakes screeched…

15 times a crow screamed in the distance…

20 times her heart pounded in tandem with falling raindrop water…

25 times soft, muffled footsteps could be heard echoing through the alleyway, getting closer…

30 times-

‘Wait...what?!’

Cinder held her breath and listened as intensely as she could.

Tap...tap tap...tap…

Someone was coming down here...maybe even more than one. Instinctively, Cinder gripped the handles of her weapons tighter.

“Here?

Are you sure?

I am risking a lot just by being back in Atlas!”

A man...his voice sounded similar to all those elite people she had to cater to in the hotel. Full of superiority and arrogance.

“Salem said she is. She is probably hiding somewhere.”

Another, more deeper and gruff voice joined the conversation, but she could only focus on one thing.

‘Salem!’

They said Salem!

Could it be just a coincidence? Another person named Salem? After all Salem was just a figure she made up in her dreams...right?

There was no way someone like her could actually exist.

Magic wasn’t real…

And yet she had been telling her fairy tales that Cinder couldn’t possibly know. In the end she had to know, had to make sure. Crawling out of her hiding spot, she dashed through the darkness, precise and swift, jumping on the tall man’s back, holding one of her swords against his neck.

This one was clearly Atlesian with how he dressed.

“Who is Salem?”, she snarled at them, fixing her eyes on the other, more muscular man.

The tall man scoffed at that, rolling his eyes at his companion.

“Really? Her?

Couldn’t she have gone for someone a bit more refined?”

Oh yes, he was definitely an Atlas elite with how pretentious and bored he sounded. They were all the same.

‘Such arrogance!’

She pressed her weapon closer to her hostage’s jugular.

“Watts!”, his companion seemed to chide him, before holding up his hands, maybe to show the girl that he was unarmed.

“You are Cinder, correct?”, he asked after she failed to respond to his actions, “I am Hazel and this”, he motioned to the tall man, “is Dr. Watts. We are tasked to escort you to...our queen...Salem.”

“Salem...is real?”

There was no doubt in her mind that they meant her Salem. She did mention that her people called her their queen...but that also meant…

Everything she told her was real as well?

I’ll make you everything.

Should she really follow these strange men?

You have golden eyes.

Lowering her weapon, she shoved Watts away from her, ignoring the death glares she received in return and the silent curses he muttered under his breath, focusing on Hazel instead.

If she ended up throwing her life away for a fairy tale so be it. She had nothing more to lose anyways.

“I am ready.”

xxxxxxxxxx

The flight had been...mildly uncomfortable. Cinder had so many questions, but didn’t dare to ask her strange companions any of them. If the hotel had taught her anything it was keeping her mouth shut. Hazel had his eyes closed for the whole flight. She couldn’t quite tell if he was actually sleeping or just resting. Watts, to her dismay, wasn’t sleeping. He sat in his chair, sipping some dark red wine, pointedly ignoring her entire existence. The dark haired girl didn’t mind. She would probably despise every word that came out of his mouth anyways.

It had taken them a couple of days, but finally the terrain around them seemed to change.

Cinder was the first one to notice. The sky had begun to darken...to redden even, and the land beneath them...was dead. Lifeless and dark it spread across the continent, being parted by pitch black pools and lakes that seemed to birth...grimm?

The sight was terrifying...and oddly fascinating as well. She had never really seen a grimm in her life, only listened to the stories people would tell about them.

‘Humanity's worst enemy.’

Funnily enough no grimm had ever harmed her...only humans.

They landed near a...castle of sorts. It was a mesmerizing sight. One that sent chills down Cinder’s spine, but mesmerizing nonetheless. The purple, reddish glow reminded her of something...someone, but she couldn’t quite put her finger on it.

Hazel and Watts lead her through empty halls, lit by thousands of candles, which adorned most of the decor.

She felt more and more restless, the closer they got towards the massive wooden door they were heading to.

Hazel was the one pushing the two heavy wings open for her, stepping aside and motioning for her to enter, giving no indication of following after her. Neither did Watts, even though he seemed somewhat delighted at her nervous expression, twirling his mustache between his fingers.

Clenching her hands into fists, Cinder ventured into the room alone. It was similarly structured to one of the offices she had cleaned at the hotel...with some exceptions of course. The biggest probably being the throne right behind the long meeting table...and the person sitting on it.

A woman, she had only ever seen in her dreams before.

“Salem...you are real…”

It wasn’t a question any longer, it was a statement. How long had it been since she had last heard Salem’s gentle voice?

“What is your favorite fairy tale?”

Cinder blinked owlishly. That was...the same question she had asked before. It was confusing, but so had been a lot of things Salem had talked about in her dreams. Thinking back, she tried to remember the tales she had been told.

Tales of magic…

Of freedom…

“The Girl in the Tower”, she answered hesitantly, not missing the spark of interest and amusement that shone behind those crimson eyes, holding her gaze steadily.

“An unusual choice.

Are you certain?”

“Yes.”

No more cages.

No more locks,

A fable of magic and freedom…

Salem’s tale.

I won’t have to run now.

That’s all you’ll ever do.

She would prove him wrong!

She would prove everyone wrong!

“I want...to be powerful!”

An affectionate smile spread over Salem’s regal features at her words and oh how she had missed those smiles. Standing from her throne, the older woman made her way towards her, extending her pale hand. Hesitantly Cinder laid hers atop of it. The touch wasn’t cold like she had expected it to be, instead she felt warmth.

This...this was real.

Smiling weakly she squeezed the palm beneath hers softly, not daring to hope.

Salem’s eyes softened, her fingers closing around the girl’s hand gently.

“Welcome home, Cinder.”

[alyssaallyrion]

Hard hearts and rocks and thorns. (aka InoDei arranged marriage AU)

Chapter 1

ao3 link 

It dawned cold and clear on the day Ino’s fate was sealed.

She should have known that something was amiss when she saw three ANBU members outside her family’s home. Given her father’s station in the village, it was not unusual for one or two ANBU to appear to summon him to the Hokage, but never three. Exhausted from the night shift at the hospital, Ino doesn’t dwell on it for long. Moving past them, she pushes the house’s front door open and heads up the stairs to her room.

Turning on the sink, Ino takes a deep, shaky breath and submerges her hands under the cold stream. She’d washed her hands before leaving the hospital, but somehow there’s still blood under her nails, and Ino scrubs them clean until her skin feels raw. Ino looks into the mirror and sighs, noticing her sullen cheeks and deep circles under her eyes. Due to her long shifts at the hospital, it’s been more than a week since she’s gotten a good night’s sleep.

But now is not the time to worry about her appearance.

Old hurt ran deep, and Konoha was on the brink of war with Iwa, yet again. Tension growing over the years finally came to a head, resulting in endless skirmishes at the country’s border. Konoha’s hospital was overwhelmed by the shinobi injured in the conflict, making all medical-nin, including Ino, work day and night to save lives.

And that still wasn’t enough – so many died due to the lack of resources. 

Lost in her thoughts, Ino doesn’t hear her mother enter the room.

“Your father is expecting you in the meeting hall,” she tells Ino.

Remembering the ANBU she saw outside the house, Ino frowns, turning to her mother, “Is something wrong?”

“You should go now,” her mother simply says.

Worry rises in Ino’s chest, but she does as she’s told. There are two ANBU stationed outside of the meeting hall, and her heart sinks - something is undoubtedly wrong.

Pushing the door open, Ino sees all the elders of the clan seated at the table with her father at the head. To his right hand sits the Rokudaime himself, looking more haggard than ever before. Quietly slipping into the room, Ino walks up to the table and takes her seat at her father’s left hand. Glancing at her father’s face, she knows that whatever brought the Hokage to their house must be serious – there is unusual, cold stillness in his gaze that she had only seen in the times of crisis.

She’s across from the Rokudaime now, but as she looks at him, he doesn’t meet her eyes. The silence stretches, and Ino feels her heart flutter nervously in her chest.

“Rokudaime-sama,” Inoichi says, “Everyone is here.”

His voice seems to bring Kakashi out of his thoughts.

“Right,” Kakashi says, then pauses, clearing his throat. Ino doesn’t need to read his mind to know that he’s worried, “As you know, the situation between Iwa and Konoha has been growing quite precarious. That said, the recent negotiations went quite well, so there is a chance we will arrive at a peaceful resolution and avoid the war.”

A quiet murmur runs through the crowd, and Ino smiles softly. If the fighting stops, the hospital will not be overwhelmed anymore, and so many needless deaths will be avoided. Still, there’s a worry niggling at her heart – the Hokage has brought good news, but that still doesn’t explain why he’d come to their house.

“We have come to an agreement that to bind Konoha and Iwa together and to ensure lasting peace, a marital alliance will need to take place between our villages,” Kakashi continues after a pause, “The Tsuchikage has offered up his own ward for this marriage – and has chosen Ino as a bride for him.”

The room spins, and Ino has to lean against the table to steady herself.

“Absolutely not!” Inoichi exclaims, rising from his seat, “No.”

“Inoichi…” Aiya – a clan elder – says in a warning voice, but Inoichi doesn’t listen.

“Rokudaime-sama, I hope you have refused the Tsuchikage’s terms because this marriage won’t take place,” Inoichi looks at Kakashi, his eyes full of anger, “I will not allow it.”

There is a pained look on Kakashi’s face.

“If I had refused, I wouldn’t be here,” he says.

“So you are entertaining the idea?” Ino cannot remember ever seeing her father this angry, “You know better than anyone how the Iwa-nin are. Marital alliance or not, they will double-cross us in a blink of an eye! I will not send Ino there like a lamb to the slaughter.”

Ino feels lightheaded, and it seems as though all sound leaves the room. Her future is at stake, and yet she cannot bring herself to utter a single word.

Political marriages were not uncommon among old clans, but Ino never thought that she’d end up in one. As a child, she’d always dreamed of marrying for love. First, her dreams were of a stranger who was invariably tall, dark, and handsome and loved her very much, and, later, of Sasuke. Though childhood had ended soon enough and her infatuation with Sasuke as well, she still never conceived of the possibility that she may end up in an arranged marriage. After all, her parents married for love, why couldn’t she?

“Inoichi, think of what this union can bring to our village, to the clan! The Tsuchikage’s ward is likely to succeed his seat; this marriage will bind Iwa and Konoha for years to come,” she hears someone say, “Ino is your daughter and heir, and we all care for her very much, but we cannot be selfish. Not with this. Not when the alternative is the war with Iwa.”

“Yes,” someone else chimes in, “We are shinobi, and it’s our duty to give everything for the village. Besides, refusing the offer will be seen as a grave insult.”

Ino looks at her father, and dread rises in her chest at the cold anger in his eyes.

“Don’t talk to me of duty,” he spits out, “You know better than anyone that I will gladly lay my life down for the village, but I will not sacrifice my only daughter. Never.”

“I understand your position,” Kakashi replies calmly, “But I would like to hear what Ino has to say. It’s not an easy choice – and it certainly isn’t a choice anyone can make for her.”

Ino wants to smile as fear leaves her chest. Her father has always been her greatest defender, and she knows that he will never let anything happen to her. He’ll always protect her, no matter the cost, until his dying breath because he wants her to live a long and happy life.

Ino’s about to say no, that she will never marry the Tsuchikage’s ward when she glances down and notices a fleck of red under her fingernail – a missed spot. Instantly, the protest dies in her throat as the world narrows to that single speck of blood.

If Konoha and Iwa go to war, more people will die in the hospital and on the battlefield. Her father’s life, her friends’ lives will be in danger. But if there is no war…

Ino’s heart flutters like a caged bird as she tries to steady her breath. She won’t be able to live with herself if someone dear to her dies in the war that she had the power to prevent. Her father is right, of course, the marriage is no guarantee that the Tsuchikage won’t go back on his word, but if they refuse, the war is inevitable.

If there is even the smallest chance that she could keep her friends and family safe…

She doesn’t want to say yes, doesn’t want to be a wife to some stranger from Iwa. But she’s a shinobi and has grown up knowing that one day she may have to give her life for her comrades. Only, she never imagined she’d be giving up her life like this.

“I’ll do it,” her mouth is suddenly dry, and the words come out quieter than she intends. No one hears her, too preoccupied with the argument.

Ino takes a deep, shaky breath.

“I’ll do it,” she says as loudly as she can manage, “I will marry the Tsuchikage’s ward.”

Suddenly, all eyes are upon her.

“Absolutely not,” Inoichi says, turning to her, “You don’t have to do this. I will not allow it.”

He reaches over and takes Ino’s hand in his, as though there is no one else in the room.

“You deserve to be with someone who’ll love you and make you happy. I will do anything to keep you safe – and I won’t let anyone force you into a marriage,” the break in his voice shatters Ino’s heart.

Ino smiles sadly at her father, but before she has a chance to respond, Kakashi intervenes.

“Inoichi, I understand that this is hard for you, but Ino…”

Her father’s eyes snap back to Kakashi.

“You understand how hard this is?” he almost hisses, “What could you possibly understand when you have no children of your own and couldn’t even keep safe those that were entrusted to you?”

Shocked silence falls upon the room. Kakashi slouches in his seat and glances down, suddenly looking about a dozen years older. Ino cannot bear the argument any longer, so she pulls at her father’s hand to get his attention.

Taking a deep breath, she meets his gaze.

“I will marry the Tsuchikage’s ward,” she starts softly, “Because that’s the right choice to make. I know that you want me to be happy, and I promise you this – I will be. Once I know that you and my friends are all safe and sound because there is a peace between Iwa and Konoha.”

“Ino…” her father breathes out.

“Dad,” sad smile blooms upon Ino’s lips, “I want to do this – for our family, for my friends, for the Village.”

The pain and guilt in her father’s gaze are almost unbearable. She knows that he will blame himself for putting her in this position, for not fighting hard enough to save her from this fate. Ino wants to tell him that none of this is his fault, that he’s always been the best father she could ask for, and that she is a woman grown now and doesn’t need protection but knows that she can’t, not when there are so many others in the room.

And, since so much cannot be said, she squeezes his hand in a gentle, reassuring manner, hoping and praying that he’ll understand her meaning.

She hates that this is her only choice, but she cannot show it – if her father notices her resolve falter, he’ll never let her go through with this. So Ino puts on her brightest smile as she looks back to Kakashi.

“So, when is the wedding,” she asks calmly.

She doesn’t want to get married, but having a wedding cannot be so bad, especially since she’d barely got to see her friends ever since the conflict with Iwa started. She misses them so – and a wedding is a perfect excuse to bring everyone together. Even if that means that she’ll have to marry the Tsuchikage’s ward.

“I should make an appointment with the dressmaker,” Ino continues, trying to sound enthusiastic, “After all, the dress I want will take at least a month to make…”

“The wedding is in three days,” Kakashi speaks up suddenly, “We’ve decided that it’s best to proceed with it as soon as possible to avoid any incidents.”

All air is suddenly gone from her lungs as she stares at Kakashi, dumbfounded. Three days? They want her to get married to a stranger in three days?

Ino blinks angrily, forcing away the tears that threaten to well in her eyes – half her friends are away from Konoha on different missions, and most of them won’t make it back on time. Shikamaru might not be at her wedding…

It was easy to be brave when she thought she had time, when she was sure that, at least, she’d have the dress she always dreamed of and that all her friends will be at her side, but now, staring at the dire reality of her situation, Ino is terrified.

“That’s ridiculous,” her father looks at Kakashi, “Ino needs more time! We won’t be able to organize a wedding on such short notice.”

“You don’t need to worry about that,” Kakashi replies, “I’ll have Shizune personally handle the logistics.”

“The wedding will be in Konoha then?” Ino murmurs.

“Yes,” Kakashi nods, finally meeting her gaze, and looking into his eye feels almost agonizing – it is as full of pain and guilt as her father’s, “The wedding will be in Konoha, but the Tsuchikage requested that you reside in Iwa for at least three years after you get married. After that, you are free to split your time between Iwa and Konoha as you see fit.”

Color drains from Ino’s face – she’s the heir to her clan, and she never expected to leave Konoha. She loves the village – and already hates the thought of living in Iwa. She had only been to the Earth Country a couple of times, and she did not like it at all. And, given just how “friendly” Iwa-nin were to the residents of Konoha…

Ino steels her heart – she knows she needs to be brave.

“A change of scenery won’t be so bad,” she says, hoping that her smile looks more sincere than it feels, “So long as I get to come back often.”

“If you accept all these terms, then we can proceed with the preparations,” Kakashi says softly.

Ino doesn’t want to accept – she wants to run to her room and cry and then spend the afternoon complaining to Choji and Shikamaru that she’d even been approached with such an offer – but she knows it’s too late to backtrack. She has to be strong, to do what needs to be done.

“Ino,” her father interjects, “If you don’t want to…”

“No,” Ino raises her hand, stopping him, “I accept.”

“Then it’s settled,” Kakashi nods, “The wedding will be in three days. The Tsuchikage’s delegation should arrive here the day before the wedding, and you will depart for Iwa the day after.”

“Very well,” Ino breathes out.

Everything after is a blur. Finally, the meeting ends, and Ino bids farewell to the Hokage and the clan elders before heading to her room. She wants to cry, but tears don’t come. So instead, she settles on the floor by the armchair, pulling her legs close to her chest and burying her face in her knees.

She doesn’t know how much time passes until there’s a soft knock on her door. She doesn’t need to ask – she knows that it’s her father. Immediately, Ino pulls herself to her feet.

“Ino…” her father’s voice is soft and pained when he enters the room, “Are you alright?”

“Of course, I am,” Ino says, as nonchalantly as she can manage, “Just thinking about going back to the hospital to tell Forehead that I’m getting married before she is. Not that anyone has ever seriously doubted that, of course, but she certainly had some delusions.”

“I see,” is all her father can manage.  

As Ino looks at her father, there is nothing she wants more than to hug him, bury her face in his chest, and cry about the unfairness of the situation, but she doesn’t move from her spot. She knows her father too well – if he sees just how upset he is, nothing will stop him from storming into the Hokage’s office and demanding that the wedding be called off. But she cannot allow that, not when so much depends on it.

So instead, she says, “I’m heading out now, dad. I’ll see you later.”

As she passes by her father, she’s careful lest she accidentally looks into his face. She’s a woman grown and very strong, but still her father’s little girl – she knows she’ll crumble if she sees the pain and guilt he carries.  

[lostinfantasies38]

OC Interview - Sirra Brosca

This is post-Blight Sirra, so if you haven’t played a dwarven origin story in DA:O, some of the answers may be spoilers.  It didn’t make sense to imagine her being interviewed prior to ending the Blight since they are fugitives the whole time.  You have been warned.

name ➔ She smiles brightly, turning her expression impish among her triple casteless brands and eclectic mix of facial piercings.  “Sirra Brosca”

are you single ➔ “Nope.” She playfully pops the ‘p’ at the end of the word.

are you happy ➔ “I am, now. It took a long time to get to that point.”

are you angry ➔ She shrugs.  “Not really. I am defensive of those I care about, but I haven’t been angry since leaving Orzammar.”

are your parents still married ➔ Sirra laughs as loud as her raspy vocal cords will allow before flashing him a wicked smirk.  “They never were, friend.”

NINE FACTS

birthplace ➔ “Dust Town, Orzammar.  I’ll spare you the details.”

hair color ➔ “Dark brown. But it’s easily mistaken for black.  For a long time in the shit lighting of Dust Town even I thought it was black.”

eye color ➔ “Also dark brown. Someone once said they reminded them of smoky topaz, which was...” She clears her throat and blinks back tears.  “Uh, yeah, really nice of them.”

birthday ➔ Furrowing her brows and scrunching her nose, she mutters softly to herself. “Right, Alistair said this is 9:32 Dragon, so...counting backwards...which he taught me to do...fuck...uhhh -” Counts on her fingers.  “9:11 Dragon!  I was born in 9:11 Dragon - no idea the month or the day.  Dusters don’t have calendars.”  She teases with a wink.

mood ➔ “Oh!  Like, right now?  I’m good.”

gender ➔ “I’m a woman.” 

summer or winter ➔ Humming appreciatively, she smiles wistfully. “I love summer. Everything is so...bright and happy.  I never get tired of standing under the trees and watching the light swirl on the ground.”

morning or afternoon ➔ “Evenings, actually.  Alistair and I catch up with each other at the end of our long days and talk.  And sunsets are my favorite.  The whole sky turns pink and this...muted orange!  It’s the best part of the day.” Her dark eyes are unfocused as she recalls a personal memory while a small smile plays on her full lips.

EIGHT THINGS ABOUT YOUR LOVE LIFE

are you in love ➔ Unable to restrain her broad grin or the mischievous glint in her sultry gaze, she chuckles softly.  “Have you seen Alistair?  Yes, I’m crazy about that man.”

do you believe in love at first sight ➔ Pursing her lips as though trying to restrain a smirk, she replied. “Most definitely.”

who ended your last relationship ➔ She glances away. “Let’s just say it ended...and leave it at that.”

have you ever broken someone’s heart ➔ “No...I don’t think so.” Muttering indistinctly with a worried frown, she finally shakes her head and sighs.

are you afraid of commitment ➔ “Not...anymore.”

have you hugged someone within the last week? ➔ “I hugged Alistair before he left Vigil’s Keep on a mission, but that was two weeks ago.  Umm, oh!  Sigrun gave me a hug yesterday when I gave her a spicy Nevarran…” She laughs hoarsely again, flushing in minor embarrassment.  “The answer to your question is: yes.”

have you ever had a secret admirer ➔ “No!” She snorts and quirks her right eyebrow, calling attention to the golden hoop in it.

have you ever broken your own heart? ➔ Tears fill her eyes, unbidden, and her voice is slightly strangled when she answers. “Yes.” 

SIX CHOICES

love or lust ➔ “Love.”

lemonade or iced tea ➔ Her face lights up. “Iced tea!”

cats or dogs ➔ “Ugh, can we go with - no pets?  I know some people like dogs, but mabari are...large. And...toothy.  I mean, they stand as tall as I do!  One of my recruits has a cat, but I’m not very fond of them either. They smell weird.” Her nose wrinkles in distaste, pulling her nose ring up and catching the light. “I do like birds - listening to them sing and watching them fly. But it would be cruel to cage one, so I just watch.”

a few best friends or many regular friends ➔ “Definitely a few best friends.  I have a hard time opening up to people, but I have a close circle of friends that I trust with my life.”

wild night out or romantic night in ➔ “Oh, night in for sure!  We did so much traveling for a year and half ending the Blight and I...what’s the human idiom?  ‘Sowed my wild oats’ in my days with the Carta.  When we have time to spend together, Alistair and I make sure to cherish it.”  She smiles tenderly with a faint blush.

day or night ➔ “Both. I love that being on the surface gives you options. Honestly, Orzammar is totally wrong about living topside.”

FIVE HAVE YOU EVERS

been caught sneaking out ➔ “Sneaking out?  No.  And not sneaking in, either. I am a damn good rogue.”  She laughs playfully.

fallen down/up the stairs ➔ “Maybe…” She snickers to herself.

wanted something/someone so badly it hurt? ➔ “Ancestors, yes.” She clears her throat, seemingly startled by the raw emotion that filled her words and blushes.

wanted to disappear ➔ “No. I’ve made it a point to show up everyone who told me I should.” Briefly, her gaze hardens and she sets her jaw with determination, looking every bit the Hero of Ferelden.

FOUR PREFERENCES

smile or eyes ➔ “I can’t choose...Alistair has the best I’ve ever seen and trying to pick one over the other is impossible.”

shorter or taller ➔ She grins. “Taller. Much taller.”

intelligence or attraction ➔ Rolling her eyes, she blows out a frustrated breath before answering. “Alistair would say attraction, because he doesn’t know how damn smart he actually is. I have no idea what he sees in me,” she mutters.

hook-up or relationship ➔ “Relationship.”

FAMILY

do you and your family get along ➔ She snorts. “Well, if you don’t count my mother, then yes.  My sister and I are very close even though I choose to live here.  It helps that I’m a Paragon and related to King Bhelen through marriage.  I can stay on the surface and not worry about losing my new caste.” She laughs and tries to hide a wicked smirk.

would you say you have a “messed up life” ➔ “I would say it’s a complicated life.  But for once I am the one in charge of it, so I can’t complain.”

have you ever run away from home ➔ “If you count being conscripted into the Grey Wardens as ‘running away,’ then yes.  And I’m damn glad I did, too.”

have you ever gotten kicked out ➔ “I was born casteless and then became an exile for a year and a half.  My entire life, until I moved to the surface, revolved around being kicked out or denied entry literally everywhere.”

FRIENDS

do you secretly hate one of your friends ➔ “No.”

do you consider all of your friends good friends ➔ “I only share certain things about myself with a select few, but I still love them all. It’s nice to completely trust the people in my life. I don’t have to worry about one of them selling me out to the Carta boss for a promotion.”

who is your best friend ➔ “Alistair.  And then Leliana, or Sister Nightingale, as she is called now, and of course, Sigrun.  She understands what I had to do to get here better than anyone.”

who knows everything about you ➔ She laughs, momentarily taken aback when another richer laugh joins her as he saunters into the room through a side door.  “Alistair!” 

She flies off the chair and throws herself into his arms as he kneels on the ground to pull her close to his chest.  As they whisper sweetly to each other, the Seneschal of Vigil’s Keep coughs and pointedly directs me to the exit.

[aggresivelyfriendly]

Summer’s Child

"One, two, three, four, five!" Harry rattled off the change he was counting. He was not going to break into his California fund. He was not.

He'd made a promise to himself, this one he intended to keep.

After breaking silent promises to Jillian, and a big one of silence to himself, he'd keep this important vow to himself, no dipping into the Haight fund for any reason. There  was no chemistry set for him, and he totally ignored the telescope that was in his dad's popular science magazine.

The couch cushion landed with a thud over his shoulder while he scouted for $.30 more. That would give him enough for a burger. He'd driven by and seen Will's truck pulling out of the Dairy Barn on his way home from the library. It struck him as an opportunity to fix things. He hadn't seen Jillian in a month.

Not properly. He'd seen her with his eyes, like across the hall and sitting eating lunch quietly among the hyena like athletic table. He wouldn't approach her in that environment at all. It was asking for a beating, a physical one, he was already emotionally bruised.

Black and blue, like the time she'd convinced him to try the dock swing, and he'd let go either too soon or too late and one of his legs had caught the wooden planks. There had been splinters as well. Jillian had driven him home and patched him up before they realized. Her accomplishment had seen them jumping up and down and laughing. Well, he was really excited for her, but the bouncing made him grimace. Jillian didn't know how to drive, was afraid to. "Besides, they have streetcars in San Francisco!" Was her line. But she'd done it to save him.

That seemed like a long time ago, and all the contusions were beneath his skin, under his breast bone. Nothing broken but his heart. He could pretend during break that she was busy and not avoiding him. Once school was back in session though, there was no denying anything.

She hadn't looked at him even. And that gutted him absolutely, until one day his eyes lingered over her for longer than he normally allowed.  Jillian caught him, Harry found his intestines on the floor and his heart in their place. He'd expected her to look disgusted. Be disgusted. Especially after her perceived silent treatment, it seemed the only likely conclusion.

She looked like a bird with a broken wing.

That was what she looked like. Hurt. He wasn't sure how he'd hurt her. Harry was sure he was the injured party. The confusion was what fueled his current expedition. The fact was, they had a lifetime of shared worlds between them and he wasn't willing to let a misunderstanding or a new understanding change that.

He'd eat crow, or the burger she served him, and he'd never mention the apparently unfortunate fact that he found her wonderful and beautiful and shamefully sexy if he got to keep her.

Keep her was the wrong. No matter how gilded the cage he put her in, keeping her was like caging a bird. A being meant to fly.

He didn't want to keep her or cage her. But whatever arrangement there was between people that made them come back to each other, like the homing birds who roamed, worked, but came back. "Love?" He questioned out loud. He wanted that with Jillian. He wanted to always be the place she came back to. Where she was safe. If the love looked different than he hoped, he'd accept it.

He would not accept a separation based on nothing. They'd talk it out. Work it out. Be best friends, what the other needed. She didn't talk to him about Will before, and he guessed she needed to. You couldn't talk to your boyfriend about him being your boyfriend. Everybody needed somebody. She was his, he had always been hers. He'd listen to her about Will, not the night time stuff, hopefully. He imagined that would twist him up inside. What if she was doing, that, with Will? Worse, what if she loved him?

Those fears had been enough to keep him alone and sad, but realizing Jillian was sad too was a sight he couldn't walk past. Unwelcome knowledge was better than tripping over a wordless goodbye.

No wordless goodbyes, just unspoken support and comfortable silence and daily diatribes, like usual. So he would go eat a crow burger and try to fix it.

"Yes!" He crowed when he found the last quarter and got in his truck. He put on the radio and nearly clicked it off when Van Morrison came on. He loved Van Morrison, it was like poetry. He'd been explaining it to Jillian in the summer and she'd gotten really into it. Astral Weeks had been their lakeside soundtrack. Sweet Thing was written about Jillian, he was sure, just not how. If only he could be dynamite.

He hadn't listened since before Winter Formal, when the bluesy folk rock had promised him he could be born again, baptized in her love. He was gonna tell her, he'd decided to their soundtrack, then he'd chickened out or lost his chance when she'd been swept away. She'd flown their safe little coop, become sweet on someone else. That hurt.

But, instead of letting himself shy away from feeling what he felt for her, he listened to the music. Love was love, and he knew she loved him, or she wouldn't have looked so sad Monday in the lunchroom. He may love her different, but he could love her however she needed. He'd make a damn good job of trying.

His palms were sweating so bad he wiped them on his trousers when they nearly slipped off the steering wheel as he turned into the Dairy Barn. Will's truck was still missing, which was good. He had no idea what Will was really like. Except for a braggart who told his friends things they shouldn't know about nice girls' bodies. Harry would hold that against him more if he hadn't heard so many other guys talking like that. So many he suspected of lying, he decided that Will probably was too.

Harry still didn't want to know him, or be his friend, like Jillian would insist and want to start right away if Will was at ye olde dairy haus.

It was good he wasn't. He still felt like punching him.

Harry wiped his hands one more time and walked straight in. To get this done, then back on track and in line, he'd be a man of action.

It was quiet. The dinner rush was long over, now it was the odd person in for ice cream and the crew cleaning. Harry did his homework while she cleaned lots of nights, so he could take her home. He knew the rhythms as well as if he worked there.

She was dancing with a broom like she was atop a cloud. She was spinning and he wondered if she took flight if the roof would open for her too. He bet it would.

He didn't want to startle her. "Jillian" his voice croaked out. He hadn't spoken much since his meeting with the guidance counselor.

The broom hit the floor with a clatter. He watched it fall and bounce three times before it came to a standstill. All that potential energy converted to sound and fury. Well, so much for his good intentions.

By the time his eyes made their way off the floor, Jillian was holding her elbow with one arm while the other hand was worrying the blonde ends of her hair. She looked scared.  Which would be confusing if he didn't know that was her common response when there was a disagreement, a learned response.

He didn't think of their current estrangement as a disagreement so much as a misunderstanding. That's what he'd practiced in the mirror telling her. How he wasn't an option, not if she didn't want him to be.

"Harry, what are you doing here?" She scanned the parking lot quickly.

"I had a craving for a burger the way you make it." She always slathered on the ketchup for him. It was very un-English of him, but he loved the American condiment in heavy doses. Plus. "thought you might need a ride home,  all the way home." He shrugged but wanted to bite off his own tongue. It was best not to bring up that conversation. Well, he was here to bring it up, but in a way to make up, not make Jillian feel defensive about Will.

Because she liked him.

She liked Will and felt it was important enough to say it out loud. Which Harry knew to be significant.

Her face changed a smidgeon and he wondered if she'd shut down on him, or give him a serrated comment and then return to ignoring him. He drew in a breath to prepare for the slice.

She must have caught it, his brace. She sighed and shook her head minutely. "What are you really doing here?"

No bullshit, his Jillian, his best friend. How honest should he be? "I miss you." He flashed his hands, ready for the rap he deserved on his knuckles.

She sighed, then Hermouth quirked. "I miss you too. I don't like not seeing you everyday, and so much has happened, but I'm not sure it's real because I haven't told you."

"I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable. And I have big news too." He was grinning. Could practically feel his dimples. She missed him too. Had things to share, because even her boyfriend knowing didn't make them feel real. He assumed Will knew them her life happenings. Unless they were about him. Harry's stomach twisted, because the news might be about Will, her being in love with Will. He was gonna have to make his innards cast iron to hear about that. But it was better than the last month without hearing her laugh.

She shook her hair and it danced. "I shouldn't have just left like that and not talked to you. When you didn't come after me, or talk to me, I thought you were mad."

"I wasn't angry with you. I was ashamed. Why would I be angry with you?" He couldn't think of a time he was mad at her. Maybe when she broke his magnifying glass when they were 9?

Jillian just shrugged. Did anger need an explanation? "I mean, we never talked about, that, is, like that. I was afraid..." she trailed off. "Never mind. You don't get mad. Not at me, for being honest. I don't know why I forgot why you're my favorite person." Her smile was silly.

He usually countered. "I'm your favorite creature, and you know it." They were 12 when she'd dubbed him her favorite person, 'Only person?' 'Fine. Creature.'  Echoed in his ear

He thought they'd just watched 'the creature from the black lagoon' that day. The reference was topical. There was more to the exchange, which Jillian filled in a moment later.

"I'd still like you, even if you looked like that- and still wore your glasses!" His dimples deepened at the old tease. They had so many inside jokes.

"Jillian?" Sandra Tucker, the girl who campaigned to get softball added at their high school and lost, who now managed the dairy barn, continued. "You planning on finishing this floor or flirting with your back up boyfriend?"

Harry didn't need any of Jillian's slicing words, that appellation cut him to the bone.

"No, I'll finish. Sorry." But her brow was furrowed and her cheeks flushed. If he didn't know her better, he'd guess embarrassed. But he did, she was mad.

Harry sat outside and thought about Sandra's wrong idea. Is that what everybody thought? That he was the guy she'd been with until she got somebody better and now he was still hanging around like the most pathetic person, creature, imaginable? He was singing 'Helplessly Hoping' when she brought him out the leftover fries from the pan. She huffed when she put it down but managed a smiler. Her hair was flyaway and he could smell her sweat, but the red cheeks were still anger.

"I'm ready soon. I have to take out the trash. I hate when I'm on Patio." Subtext: I hate Sandra right now.

He nodded. When he looked up and they connected eyes, hers turned down at the end, soft like the rabbit jacket she'd loved so when her daddy brought it home for her. She'd burned it when he left. Harry had helped, but he remembered petting it with her. And her back when she cried the last time she'd pulled it over her shoulders, though it only came to her elbows by them, then ripped it off, the seams giving further as it flung into the flames.

He cut off whatever sweet thing she was going to placate him with. "Yeah, I'm sure the toilet cleaning and taking out the trash plus double sweep and mop makes it everyone's favorite assignment."

She'd bit her lip. And he saw resolve. He'd wanted to talk, but not about Sandra. Or how being a backup instead of partner felt. She was feeling sorry for him. He was pathetic.

Thankfullly, "Jillian!" Came from the door.

The face Jillian made right then, and when she saw Sandra drop the big black bag on the pavement, right where it could rip easily and give her 20 more minutes work, could kill. Sandra had erased the admiration Jillian'd had for the girl who strove for small town equality. She may have been socially aware, but she was also a bitchy boss.

He was sitting in his truck with the radio on loud when he saw her pulling out her ponytail and walking towards him. He was happy 'Hey Jude' was on and 'Hello, I Love You' had ended when her butt thudded into the leather. She was a slight thing, but all her frustration hit the bench seat with force.

"Rough night?" He mused.

"Rough month." She leaned her head toward him and slid close so she could put her head on his shoulder.

"Yeah." He agreed and put the truck in reverse. His fingertips caught her shoulder when he extended it over the seat to check his path. She shuddered. He felt it when his arm went around her. He pulled it down her back and avoided touching her like she was sharp or on fire. He held the steering wheel until his knuckles were white and hoped she didn't notice under the stop lights. With her this close, the maneuver was uncomfortable.

"Sorry." He said low.

"Don't be."

They'd never been stuck with uncomfortable silences. Long stretches of air went unfilled between them, they never felt so tight.

Harry decided to break it just before they reached the fork. Her place or his? "Do you want to go straight home?"

She shook her head.

"Mine?" He made the turn and chanced a glance.

She was biting her lip worriedly. "Can we just drive?"

He had a test in the morning. "Yeah, let's drive."

It felt hard, until they sang 'Don't Worry Baby' and she hooked her arm through his. Harry clasped a hand over hers and drove to the lake. The edges were frozen, would be another month at least before you could walk on it , but the truck was warm and they were thawing.

"Oh! Dick moved out!" She suddenly said right after the last note. "Mom even told him his name was perfect for him and slammed the door."

"That's good!" He turned toward her with high eyebrows.

"Yeah, except I had to pay the rent this month. But it was easier because Will's parents spoil him. So I hadn't spent any of my paychecks." She sighed and flounced her shoulders against the back seat and threw her hands out before looking at him.

Harry winced, he'd hoped she'd been a moment to late with the glance, or that it was dark enough to cover for him. There was a gap between them now, so she could talk with her hands with all the space she needed to gesticulate and he needed to breathe.

"Buts it's so much better. Well, my mom was a mess for the first week, but then it got better!" She gleed up at him and he couldn't help but smile.

How much of a mess he wondered. Just passed out and raging, or like that time he had to help Jillian take her to the shower and turn on the cold full blast? She'd cried all the way through it. But when her mom came round, her eyes had turned to green glass, all emotion and wet reflected away.

He didn't help her dry her mom out this time, and he'd seen Will drop her at the Kellerman's recently. Jillian had done it alone, so he figured this heartbreak called for beer, not whiskey. It wasn't good, nor as bad as it could be. It just was.

That's what she'd told him before, when he'd tried to get her to talk about it a couple years ago. 'Does it make you mad?' He'd prompted a day to late.

'What?' She'd looked up from the paper she was supposed to be writing and he was allegedly helping her with. She'd slept over the previous night. Her eyes were red when she arrived and he'd tried to ask all the questions he'd had since her dad left the house and black eyes behind him. He'd started with the most important one.

'You okay?' He'd finally got out while he pulled her through the window. It was too chilly to ride, but her very cold cheeks against his told him she had along the dark streets and in her too thin sweater. They may have been cooler for the wet there. He had to check.

'It's nothing. Just too quiet.'

'Quiet where?'

"Everywhere. Except my head.' She'd taken off his sweatshirt to reveal flannel pajamas. It was obvious there were not so many places to shop in town . He was wearing the same ones. They may have been the Christmas present his dad had got for both of them. His pants were too short now. Hers strained at the third button down.  'Can we sleep?' She's called his attention back

He nodded, and stopped asking questions when she may have answered. Was he being a bad friend? Or was he being a good friend? "It's better now?" He asked on his back and felt her hand search for his in the small space between them. Twin beds weren't meant for two, it's why he knew he'd move to the floor when she nodded off. Safer there.

"It's always better now." And he didn't push, because he was happy he was her safe place.

Did he push now? Maybe because he let her not say everything it may have been better to say before it was to late. That's why they were in their current predicament. What he didn't say, what she didn't. Harry let her off the hook. Because she didn't want to talk and because the things he thought he knew but had not had confirmed already haunted him.

But they'd just started talking again. Now, asking now would muck everything up. Maybe send her away. And they had other things, more prescient things to discuss or ignore. Their current issues: his hard on and soft heart for her. Her rejection of both.

What happened now? They missed each other. She missed him. It counted for something.

"Are we better?" He heard himself say, like if he said it louder it would crack the ice.

Her face pinched and he waited for whatever that face, he couldn't remember ever seeing that one, meant.

Suddenly, Jillian turned to him on the bench seat and pushed his glasses up onto his head and gripped his shoulders.

Oh god, was she going to kiss him? He'd never been kissed, well that one time under the mistletoe. But they were twelve and he didn't count it. He just remembered it. Could still feel it in his dreams.

She leaned in and looked in his eyes and his fell closed without his permisssion.

"Please look at me. I know you can see this close." She cocked her head and smiled. He was glad he'd opened his eye to see it. "Does that make you farsighted or nearsighted? I always mix those up."

He could feel her breath.

"I'm nearsighted. I can see better up close." He swallowed, "Like your face right now."

"Harry, I want you to look at me." She breathed. "I love you."

Oh god. He'd put that on a record if he could. Spin it round for the rest of eternity. "I love you too!" Bubbled out, a geyser. All the pressure, years of feelings and history and hope. They loved each other. His heart raced, he was buoyed up to the top by all their force. He forgot universal laws though. What goes up..... He was grinning, but she'd gone back to biting her lip. If he wasn't so selfishly elated, he might have noticed.

"Harry," her voice was gentle. Like the flap of a wing. "I love you, and I want to be with you forever, and live with you and dance in golden gate park with flowers in our hair."

"Yeah, yeah, me too!" God this was exciting, even the beginning of the free fall. Could he take the leap and tell her his plans? That was relevant news. They could. He'd been accepted. Even had a back up place. He was about to jump when he remembered the bottom.

"So we can't, it's not, there can't, not that kind of love. It ruins..." She trailed off. "There can't be any romance between us." Her voice was sure, but the needle skipped repeatedly while she was trying to get it out, like a scratch over the very surface of their song.

"What?" He didn't understand. How could there be forever if there was no romance?

"Look, I know what all the movies say, I've seen them too. But look around you, and think. That stuff, it may feel far out for a minute, maybe 15, or a couple years like your parents. But it doesn't last. When you mess it up with kissing and screwing." She sighed. "It doesn't last. People get stupid and then they get mean. Men especially. And if I've learned anything watching my mom, the easiest way to make a guy split is to sleep with him, or depend on him. I'd die if you cut out on me Harry."

"But I'd never, I wouldn't.." but he was caught up in what she was saying. Her reasoning. Did that mean she was or was not with Will? "So you're willing to risk it with Will?" He really had no brakes on his mouth when he was all worked up. His thoughts just sped out, from his broken heart into broken pleas.

"I'm not, we haven't." She shook her head. And he felt such relief. Though why he couldn't say. He had no ownership of her virginity, just jealousy. "I'm making him wait."

"So he won't leave?"

She nodded. "Will's not important, well, he is, but he's not forever, Harry." She looked up at him and the moon shone off the whites of her eyes. Pleading and hope and resignation.

Jillian hugged him then, and it wasn't the kiss he hurtle toward the sky for, but the tumble down, well he just became part of the cycle again. The Jillian one, where she got his hopes up and he felt so high on her, her love, and then crashed down when it wasn't what he hoped. But stayed right by her, to be sucked under and pushed up and crashed down again. Helplessly, he hoped her way gave them Both what they wanted. Or something like it. He wanted to be forever.

"Okay." He heard himself agree to whatever she wanted.

"Okay?" She smiled and pressed her forehead together. "Far out! That means we get to be one, that we don't ever have to be alone! I won't leave you and you won't leave me. Promise?"

"Promise." He agreed and she hugged him up and like to crawl not just into his lap, but all the way into his heart. Like they were one person. And he didn't feel so alone. But Will made for an uncomfortable third. One he knew would hurt an confuse him as long as he was around.

After him? Who else would make them a triangle?

He may have been a big square, but he just wanted it to be the two of them, for each other, only.

He hoped, helplessly.

AN-I’m helplessly indebted to @emulateharry, @dirtystyles, and @bleedinglove4h! Thanks ladies! I hope you guys enjoy- little time jump next chapter, we’re gonna got to prom!

Talk to me! or scream at me-whatever!

[inrainprose]

I wish you would write a fic where... it sorta takes place in your Flip the Coin AU (Sasuke’s fam is alive, Naruto’s very broody, etc.) except on one mission Team 7 goes on they stumble upon one of Orochimaru’s many hideouts and discover a captured Suigetsu. They decide to bring him to Konoha and on the way back there he starts getting along with the gang :)

They carried him back like a sack of potato and the bonding happened then. Hope you’ll enjoy! Still taking those prompts too ^^

cross-posted on ao3

When he came back to himself, Suigetsu was careful not to move, or make a sound, or open his eyes. He had no idea where he was, with whom, and he could hear voices nearby – it was best to remain still for now.

“Is it going to be a thing from now on? Just so I know if I need to invest in a mansion or something,” a man said. Young, by the sound of it, and not nearly as angry as his words suggested.

“Don’t look at me. It was the kids’ idea,“ another one answered. Slightly older, slightly slurring his words, like he couldn’t be more done with this conversation. In fact, after a hasty farewell, he opted out of the entire situation in the characteristic puff of a shunshin.

“Sorry our wish to rescue people is an inconvenience to you,” came a third voice.

This one was closer to Suigetsu’s age. Sulking, displeased. The first man sighed.

“Don’t get dramatic on me, Naruto. I’m just saying, I need to know if I’m going to be housing any more strays. My house is not that big you know.”

“We can leave if you want,” the boy, Naruto, spat out. There was a lull – Suigestu imagined they communicated by glare and face alone.

“We can leave,” the boy said again, slower. “If you want.”

It didn’t hold any defiance and provocation this time. In fact, the boy sounded shy, unsure in the suggestion, like he didn’t want to voice it and yet fully expected it to be agreed upon. Another heavy sigh answered.

“Stop spurting nonsense and go get some food for our guest. He’s awake.”

Suigetsu spluttered, but tried to keep a dignified front when he rose from the futon he had been laid upon. Facing him were a man with dark hair and a friendly smile, and a blonde boy with whiskers and an impressive frown on his face.

“Who the fuck are you people,” Suigestu asked, tone hard enough, he hoped, to hide the hint of panic creeping into it as he realized how clueless he was about this new situation. The last thing he remembered was the cave trembling around his tank – he had thought an earthquake was bringing him the most pointless end imaginable. He had heard some people, seen some shapes… but then the cave had come crashing down indeed, knocking him out probably.

One thing was sure, he wasn’t in Orochimaru’s den anymore.

“I’m Uchiha Shisui, and this sulking brat here is Uzumaki Naruto. His team rescued you from some lair a couple of days ago, and brought you back here.”

“Here?”

Suigetsu could see trees, hear birds and the bustling of a village. The sky was blue, cloudless.

He didn’t like this one bit.

“You’re in Konoha.”

Great.

.

“Just sit still dammit!”

“Why! Why are you doing this? I didn’t ask you for anything!”

“And I asked you to stand still and shut the fuck up, so do it!”

The girl punctuated the order with a mean stab of her acupuncture needle right between Suigestu’s shoulder blades, paralyzing his whole upper body. He flopped down on the futon with an undignified yelp, and she didn’t even have the good taste to look apologetic as she proceeded to stab him some more, humming under her breath on top of everything.

It had been more than a week since he had woken up, and he should have been far, far away from that horrible place already, if not for the small but significant fact that his body was apparently very displeased at having to be moving and doing things again. Basically his muscles had been melted to goo by months of inactive floating in his tank, and now he had to suffer Sakura or whatever her name was and her mean needles.

Suigestu’s life sucked.

He was still living at First Uchiha’s place – there were many of those and he wasn’t about tor remember their name, so he had numbered them by order of meeting. Second Uchiha was the girl’s teammate, who also partook in needle stabbing when he wasn’t busy arguing with Naruto over one thing or another – so, not that often. A shame, because he was actually more delicate about it than Sakura and her lumberjack hands – who would have thought such a girly girl with hair so pink would be such a brute?

As if reading his thoughts, she stabbed a needle at the back of his knee with way more force than necessary.

“Why are you even doing this,” he mumbled again, growing groggy under her ministrations but stubbornly refusing to give in to sleep. It was bad enough that he shared a room with Naruto – although at least the disgust seemed metal, and they did their best to avoid sleeping in each other’s presence – he wasn’t going to take a nap while the girl was playing long and sharp needles at his exposed skin.

“You need to gain back strength,” she sighed for the umpteenth time.

“No, I mean… Why are you doing this.”

It was maybe the acupuncture relaxing all muscles in his body, and it was maybe the warm air and the quiet day, and maybe he was more tired than usual and she was less tightly coiled. In a corner of the room, Naruto and Second Uchiha were arguing over a sealing scroll, pretending quite badly not to be eavesdropping, but they too seemed calmer today, at ease.

Whatever it was, he actually voiced the question, and she actually answered.

“People shouldn’t be caged,” she said.

There were a million words lodged in the silence that followed, a thousand things Suigestu wasn’t aware of, couldn’t begin to understand. From what he had gathered, Naruto had lost it that day, stumbling upon the rows of cells in Orochimaru’s hideout, hence the place collapsing on top of Suigetsu’s head. He had no idea why Naruto was always so defensive and angry, why people looked down upon him in the streets – they glared harder at Naruto than Suigetsu, and wasn’t that saying something – and why it made his two friends glare in turn, almost protective. He didin’tknow no idea what had passed between the three genin, what was their story, but their bond was plain as day, deeper and more meaningful than Suigetsu believed team bonds to be.

Or maybe he just never had seen a real team before.

.

“Do you want me to remove it now?” Naruto asked, although he looked perfectly fine with not doing that at all. Suigetsu almost flipped him off, but he was getting antsy and restless, and he really wanted it off indeed. So he sucked it up and nodded curtly.

A hand seal and a good shove on his chest – unnecessarily forceful – and the sealing chakra tag Third Uchiha had slapped on him earlier during training came loose, unfreezing his chakra system at last. Third Uchiha was the older brother of Second Uchiha, and undoubtedly the worst of them so far. He had been tasked to supervise Suigetsu during training, a condition for him to be allowed to practice fighting again. And yeah, Suigetsu didn’t have to go that hard on Sakura and Second Uchiha, and he didn’t have to try to drown him and stab her with her own sword – they wouldn’t even give him one, he had to make do. But what was the big deal? They were training, weren’t they? They were supposed to get a little hurt.

Third Uchiha disagreed. He had sealed Suigetsu’s chakra, and sent him off, back to Shisui’s place, with a cold stare but impassive face.

What a bunch of losers. Unable to stand a real fight. Suigetsu didn’t hurt any of them on purpose. It was just how it was. He used to break skin and bones all the time when he trained in his village, used to beat his fellow shinobi into unconsciousness, the only way to prevent from being the one ending in the hospital or passed out in a ditch for three days. What was the big deal?

But it was, apparently, because in Konoha people had to be nice to each other or something, and now they were all mad and sulking. Maybe it was for the best. Maybe they were finally going to kick him off for good.

He could have left days ago really, but why the rush? It’s not like he had anywhere to be, and if they wanted to house and feed him free of charge for now, he wasn’t going to just pass it up. But maybe it was time to move on now. He needed to get on finding the seven swords, not to waste time in this terrible, dry place.

He looked around the room. Packing would be quick, at least.

Of course that’s when fucking Naruto decided now was a good time to hang out in their room.

“Don’t even think about it,” he said as soon as he entered. Suigetsu wasn’t even doing anything.

“What?”

“They’re not going to let you go.”

Suigetsu frowned, fists tightening.

“I thought this was no cage,” he spat. He was still itching for a fight, and Naruto was a decent opponent at least – he could walk off most injuries somehow.

“That’s not what I meant,” the other boy sighed. He seemed to debate whether or not to even continue this conversation, and settled on a yes, for he went on.

“They’re not going to give up on you. To let it go. No matter what you do.”

“You don’t know that.”

“Believe me,” he retorted, full of undisclosed emotions. “I do.”

It made no sense to Suigetsu, none at all. What was he even doing here still, why had they taken him in in the first place and why were they keeping him around now. It made no sense at all.

“I could leave, if I wanted to,” he said, stubborn, just because he could. He had to.

For a split second, Naruto looked almost bitter.

“You could.”

He could. He really could. He could just walk away right now. Any time.

Sakura kicked down the door, startling them both.

“We’re having dinner,” she announced. “Get your asses down.”

First, Second and Third Uchiha were already sitting at the small kitchen tables, and it was a tight fit with all the six of them, but they didn’t seem to mind. No one said a word to him, commented about the afternoon events in anyway, so Suigetsu just sat down in front of his bowl and let the conversation wash over him, Sakura berating Naruto to eat properly, Naruto kicking Sasuke under the table over one comment or another, Shisui and Itachi watching over them, looking amused.

He could leave anytime. And he would.

Just. Not right now.

[vyselllaa]

introducing . . . VYSELLA ANASTASE ! 

aurora ruffino , female, she/her ♛ gracing the halls of the academy is vysella anastase from the region of danruba. they are known to be of noble blood and they are twenty-seven years old. their gift is pain illusion and they have been in the academy for three years. i hear that they are intrepid & meddlesome and they remind me of armour-plated dresses with the ends covered in dirt, laced boots splattered with mud and the thorns that cover the beauty of roses, i guess that’s why they call them the halcyon. after their graduation, i can see them becoming a warrior when they go on to serve their king.

CHILDHOOD

vysella has always felt the demands of her nobility even as a child, she often felt suffocated by the requirements of her family name, she was harshly punished for any tantrums or any lashing out, vysella had to keep a certain image for the noble family of anastase and due to this vysella suppressed a lot of negative feelings towards her parents 

 she was restricted to the walls of a classroom, reading, sewing, learning to play instruments, she wasn’t allowed to play outside with her siblings, being the youngest daughter, her tutors and her parents instilled in her that she must be perfect because she wasn’t to inherit anything so her only purpose was to strengthen her family’s power through marriage 

she’s always hated this predetermined fate, she felt like a bird in a cage, she wanted to travel, she wanted to talk to other people outside the nobility circle, she wanted change, a break from her seemingly perennial cycle of lessons

YOUTH

because of the cage that she felt she was in, vysella let out a lot of emotion during her teenage years, she became more rebellious, she spoke out more, she fought with her siblings and her parents more, at night she would sneak out and she would talk to the townsfolk, sometimes even stay the night, she was desperate the escape this kinda cage 

when she was 18, she met a townsfolk during one of her night outs and she fell in love with him and for a whole year she saw him and it was really intense love for him really quickly

when she found him with another girl, she was so angry and she just started to think of bad things in her head and then it started to come true, she was so angry that she imagined him writhing in pain and it was instant, as soon as she thought of it, it happened to him right in front of her 

because of her anger and broken-heart it was difficult to stop but she eventually snapped out of it and she went back to their castle when she realised what she had done and what she was capable of, it scared her right to her bones, after that night she locked herself in for a whole week for fear of hurting someone else 

ADULTHOOD

she attended mircea at the age of 24 after another incident had happened with one of the guards who was hurting one of the townspeople and she was happy to leave since childhood she’s been yearning to not be seen by the nobility that her blood deemed her to be

she was excited and ready to learn, she adapted to things very quickly, she grew to become very ambitious, wanting to be very strong and the best at everything, she is also very competitive and has this deep need to be victorious 

she is known around mircea as the person who would raise their hand at every question, stay back after classes, ask for more work, do extra training but at the same time she has been known as a person you should never cross, she’s a bit of a spitfire and is blatantly honest, she’s very adventurous and kinda reckless 

WANTED CONNECTIONS

best friend 

confidant 

close friends

secret affair 

betrothal ? ? 

childhood friends

family friends 

townspeople friends 

training buddies 

OUT OF CHARACTER

hi everybody i go by N !! and i am in the GMT+8 timezone, this rpg looks super awesome so i’m really excited to get the ball rolling with interactions between our characters  !! 

unfortunately tumblr has been acting very weird and i can’t seem to send asks/submits/messages on my primary blog and i can’t edit the theme for the primary blog either! so the admins have kindly allowed me to use a secondary blog for vysella ( @vyselllaa​ ) where all interactions will take place and all communication for plotting will be through there so please follow that blog. 

but because it is a secondary blog, i would have to follow with my primary blog which is this ( @vysellaone ) , i will only be liking and following from this primary blog.

[unholyhelbig]

Triple Treble Prompt-Chloe (a vet) & Aubrey (a lawyer) are dating but feel as if something is missing. After a long day at work & heading home for the night, Aubrey gets attacked. She is later saved by Beca (parkour delinquent & part time DJ), but just as Aubrey is about to thank her. Beca leaves without a word when they hear sirens. Chloe learns what happened & both searched for her but had no luck. One day at work, Chloe sees a girl, Aubrey’s rescuer, in the lobby with an injured dog.

[A/N: Again, this was a lot, and I tried my best to keep it to the prompt. Tell me What you think] 

Send me prompts HERE

Beca held the animal close, her warm sense of self wavering like it always had in situations like these. She had a strong disposition, one that prevented her from shedding a tear when she saw that movie about the boat (She hadn’t even bothered to remember the title.) And the one time she came crashing to her knees and shattered her elbow when she first started riding her skateboard.

But animals were different. She refused to watch Marley and Me, she pulled back at the thought of kill shelters and videos where dogs didn’t’ get a happy ending. That’s the only reason she had melted, the only reason she let her ice-cold heart thaw out enough to pull her into this random 24-hour emergency vet.

The blood had wicked into the fabric of her white t-shirt, staining it with a sharp splotch that made her want to strip and scrub it out. She was angry, tears in her eyes. Who had the gumption, the stomach, to hit a poor animal and then leave it on the side of the road to perish? She certainly didn’t. The scent still thick in her lungs as the mutt whimpered softly in her arms.

It wasn’t a pretty dog, even if it hadn’t been hurt the way it was. Its hair was straw colored, and eyes a muddy brown- well, one was. The other shone so blue that it was almost earth-shattering. They were pained, and his breathing was fast between whimpers of agony.

Beca let out a small sigh as she shifted in her seat, not by much. This place was packed, there was a man in the corner cradling his annoyed looking rabbit in his hands, little pink nose wiggling softly. A woman who wore a lot of layers clutched onto a cage with a multi-colored a bird in it. It was loud, Beca would have put her headphones over her ears if it weren’t for the agonizing wait in the room that smelled of urine.

“Shh,” She said, running her fingers soothingly over the dogs muffle, a pink tongue darting out in a moment of relief to thank her, in a way, to calm her as she fought against the urge to sob. The urge to march back there and grab the tech who kept telling her Five More Minutes and pull her over the counter.

“Beca Mitchell and-“A man spoke, he had pulled the brown door open, staring down at a clipboard. He noticed, noticed the woman who held the crying animal in her leather jacket. He abandoned trying to finish his call.

“I don’t want to move him,” She stated, earning a thoughtful nod.

“You found him like this?” His scrubs had little puppies on them, it made his features softer as he disregarded the blood that now pushed against his front. Beca pulled the door open for him, following dutifully down a hall that smelled like sterilization and antiseptic.

“Someone hit him,” Beca’s voice cracked despite herself. Her fingers were trembling.

He leads her into a small exam room at the end of the long hallway. There was a large light that hung over a metal slab table that looked frigid. Cold as the nurse placed the animal onto the surface with a small huff. There was a little stool, black and on wheels. It reminded Beca of her own checkups. Made her uncomfortable as she raised her fingers to play with her gold necklace.

“You guys were the only ones open, I couldn’t’ let him die.”

“You did a kind thing, Miss Mitchell.” He said, soothing her as if she were about to have a mental breakdown. She was sure that she was- eyes flicking to the large laceration above the dog’s eye. The blue one. The one that was so breathtaking. “Doctor Chloe Beale will be in right away. This is a high priority.”

Beca nodded with a sniff, pressing her back against the wall. She was left in a quiet state, the sound of the dog breathing painfully the only thing that took up the empty feeling in her stomach. She was running through her thoughts; she had gotten him here, she had done her part. It was all up to fate now. This dog- it had made an instant connection with her. And more than anything, more than anything, she needed him to live.

It let out another pained whimper, Beca running her fingers over his glossy coat. “You know,” She sniffed, quiet in her words as if not to startle him. “If, when, you make it through this, I think I’ll name you Crash.”  

“That’s a good name.”

There was a smooth voice, it drew the younger woman’s focus away from her companion. The vet stood there with a calm, yet exhausted, look on her face. It was nearly one in the morning. Who wouldn’t be tired? Her skin was pale compared the fire-filled mane of hair that was tied back in a messy bun. Her scrubs were dark blue, not littered with cartoons, or Disney characters.

She was breathtaking, Beca losing all air from her lungs as she kept her touch on the dog. “Sorry, I-“

“No, you should talk to him.” The doctor said, closing the door behind her as she stepped closer to the table. There was pity in her eyes, understanding in pain. Like she could feel his agony. “You seem to calm him down, Miss?” She paused for a name.

“Beca is fine.” She said, “Is he going to be okay?”

Doctor Chloe Beale let out a small hum in concentration. She had steady hands, getting a good look at the animal on the table. Beca had stepped back to allow the woman to work. The taller of the two mumbled to herself and the dog as she rounded the slab of metal.

“Okay, buddy.” Chloe whispered, “I think he might have some broken ribs and a laceration above his eyebrow that might need a few stitches.”

Doctor Beale lifted her gaze up to Beca. “Oh, Me? Me buddy?” She poked her own chest dumbly. Under the fluorescent lights, she had noticed a lot of things. She had noticed the way those scrubs hugged close to Chloe’s body. The way her deep ocean eyes reflected with such passion for the animal in front of her.

“Actually, I was talking to Crash and you,” Chloe giggled “He should be fine, but if he stayed out in the cold like that if you hadn’t have picked him up then he most likely wouldn’t have made it through the night.”

“Oh,” Beca let out a small breath as she cupped the back of her neck. “Oh wow, I’m glad I brought him in, then.”

Chloe nodded with a breathtaking smile. “I’ll check him for a microchip, but I doubt he’ll have one.” She darted her eyes back to the dog for a moment. “would you be interested in full-time care?”

Beca ran a hand through her hair. It was shaky, and the dirt didn’t’ bother her as much anymore. Her shirt still stuck to her midsection with a mix of dried blood and what was once snow. She stared down at the dog, at Crash, and she couldn’t’ imagine letting this animal end up behind a chain link fence in some shelter. He was hers, and every part of Beca knew that.

The summer air filled her lungs in a bit of a calming way. The docks of San Francisco had its own atmosphere to adhere to; the boats pushing into a long wooden port, the walkway filled with street performers, and most importantly the park that was filled with patches of grass too green for its own good.

Beca threw the ball once more, her shoulder stiff as she reared her hand back and pushed it forward. The dog in front of her yipping in excitement as he bit at the empty air. He was goofy and clumsy. The dog had developed a personality of his own over the past five months.  

He was awkward, chasing after the tennis ball with his pink tongue slipping past his lips. Crash barked as he trotted up to the object that had landed on an edge of the grass. He dipped his head down and pushed it between his jaws before looking back to make sure Beca had seen what he did.

“Good job, Boy!” Beca called out the affirmation like she was urging on her child on a stage during a dance recital. The moves didn’t make any sense, but she would be kneeling with a video camera obnoxiously in the aisle.

It seemed to settle Crash, pride him in a way as he trotted back over, Beca kneeling in the grass as she smiled at her friend. He dropped the tennis ball in her hand with a plop. “Gross, Crash.” It was coated in slobber.

He let out a small whimper before turning around on a whim. Beca lifted herself up from her squat. She had trained him well. The leash that hung in her other hand wasn’t usually necessary, but she still clipped it onto his collar each time they walked closer to the city. Now, she found herself sprinting after her dog as she shoved past a few random people with struggled apologies.

Her chest was starting to burn as she kept a steady eye on Crash, his little tail wagging with excitement as he finally stopped by some random bench on the walkway. The tiny brunette was not too fond of cardio unless it had to do with the skatepark. Which, she hadn’t gotten much time to visit lately.

Crash had found the only bench in the whole entire park that was occupied by people. Sweat was coating every inch of her body at his point, her hands resting on her knees as she struggled to pull breath into her lungs.

“I’m-“Beca gulped down the dry taste in her mouth “Sorry, I don’t know what came over him.”

“It’s okay, Beca.”

The voice made the woman freeze, her eyes shifting up as her touch pushed against the small of her back. The vet, the doctor that she had spent a few hours with every once and awhile. The one who gave her a personal phone number to call if she had any questions about her newfound motherhood. She wasn’t alone- Chloe Beale had her fingers resting on the thigh of someone else. A woman who looked familiar, one that she would recognize more if she was in the dark.

Her mind flashed to a memory; one that she wished she could forget even though she had done something good that night. Even though the blonde woman with the breathtaking eyes was most likely here today because of her. Because of an angered reaction to a man trying to force himself on her. She had fought back- hard, and Beca was there to help. Just a stranger in passing.

She flushed at the sight, Aubrey, she remembered, seemingly doing the same. “You uh,” Beca panted, rolling her shoulders back. “You two know each other.”

Chloe let out a small laugh, a breathy one as Crash put his head on her knee. She almost absently scratched under his chin, earning a grateful wag. “Well, it would be awkward if I didn’t.”

Aubrey, still in her composed shock, held up her hand. One with a diamond ring on it. One that glittered in the mid-morning sun. Beca raised her eyebrows. Married, two random women that appeared in her life at two different times had a large part in each other’s reality.  

“yeah, it doesn’t stop her from flirting, though.” Aubrey laughed, moving to run her hand over the dog’s head, he leaned into her touch with content. It made Beca ache in a confusing way. One that she had to blink back. “Isn’t that right, Beca?”

“I uh,” Beca scratched the back of her neck “She uh-“

“Relax, sweetie.” Chloe gave out a simple chuckle. She sat forward, letting Aubrey take over with the scratching. Crash seemed perfectly content, having women dote over him like they did. “Aubrey knows we text.”

“It’s mainly about flea’s if that eases your mind.”

“Oh, what a charmer.” Aubrey beamed, standing from the bench as she stretched out her taut muscles. “How about we go get some breakfast?”

That was a startling question, Beca lifting her eyebrows. Part of her knew right then and there that she couldn’t deny these two women even a second of her time. She wasn’t sure if she wanted to. Chloe was captivating and ways unimaginable. Aubrey strong and mysterious in her edge. Just being near them made her mind hum.

“That’s a great idea,” Chloe raised herself, glancing down at the cold nose that pressed against her knee. “I know a place that’s dog-friendly, if you’re up for it, Beca.”

The brunette couldn’t help but appease the smile that filled her features. “I would love to.”

[buckysdiary]

Healing Hands - Prologue

Pairings: Castiel x Pandora

Prologue

Read This on DeviantArt!

Summary: Sam is in the cage. Dean is with Lisa and Ben. Castiel is back up in Heaven. And Pandora, Sam and Dean’s sister figure, is left with Bobby and a sticky note to explain what happened and where everyone went. Both Dean and Castiel left Pandora on her own, telling her to try and have a normal life and stop hunting. However, this only makes Pandora angry, since she thought family would never leave each other on their own. She fights with herself over being kind and staying with Bobby, or actually moving far away to forget that she ever knew Sam, Dean, or Castiel.

Words: 5,039

Warnings: Violence, Blood, Gore, Swearing

A/N: It’s been a while.

   I've done a lot of stupid things in my life. I've ruined friendships, family connections, and even my own health because of all the idiotic, senseless things I've either said or done. Most of them, I regret, but not all of them; like the one time I threw a baseball so hard it flew through the window of my neighbor's house. Of course, I was scolded for that - but in the end, it got me a place on the girl's baseball team for a few years as the lead pitcher. Another time, I accidentally missed the bus to visit my Aunt - my father was furious, yelling at me about a wasted ticket. It actually turned out pretty well, because later that day, the bus ended up swerving off of the highway and crashing into the opposing traffic. If I had been on that bus, I probably would have been seriously injured, if not dead.    So, like I said, I don't regret everything, even if the things I did held no beneficial result; but the dumbest, ridiculous, most foolish mistake I have ever made was tagging along with the Winchesters.    I'm not saying that I regret it; I'm not saying that I don't. in fact, I couldn't tell you if I did or didn't. Every day with these two was a roller coaster. But joining forces with them was pretty damn stupid of me to do. I got myself into more trouble with Sam and Dean than I did before I met them - and I was often in a good amount of trouble.    You see, I was a victim once. A long time ago, when I was 16 years old. My father had always been abusive towards me, was ridiculously short-tempered, and would often leave the house for days at a time after beating me. It just so happened that on one of those days, a ghoul had killed him; he returned home, disguised in my father's skin, and immediately began to treat me as any loving father would their daughter. And I, being unbelievably gullible, thought that he had just had a change of heart. For three days, I let this creature kiss my cheek and tell me, "I love you," thinking it was my own dad; but it felt good. I believed that things had taken a turn for the better.    That was, until the blood-sucker grew a bit thirsty.    I'm not going to go into detail about what happened after that. Let's just say, I lost a lot of blood, the Winchesters killed the ghoul, and the next thing I know, monsters are real. After that whole incident, they both gave me a pep talk on creatures such as that, and told me to go find my next closest relative to live with. Basically; don't wander around by myself.    But who were they kidding? I wasn't about to live with a distant relative that I hadn't spoken with in years - for all I knew, they could be some sort of monster as well. The only two people that I trusted at the moment were Sam and Dean. They were the only people I could be sure weren't monsters. So, unless my aunt Mandy was wiling to cut herself with a silver knife to prove she was in fact not a blood-thirsty beast, I was sticking with those two baboons. Long enough that, after a few years, they actually accepted me as a sister-figure.    And there, dear reader - there, is where I signed up for the longest and wildest thrill-ride that would be the rest of my life. -------------     One Year and Six Months Ago    I couldn't believe it. No matter how many times I told myself, no matter how many times I tried to look past the meat suit, I still couldn't believe it - I was less than twenty feet away from the devil himself.    I knew Sam was in there, too. I knew he could fight through this, fight Lucifer and win his mind back. But as I watched him, how he acted, how he spoke... I couldn't register it as two different souls in one body. I translated it as Sam - a sarcastic, asshole Sam that was low-key trying to kill us all. Then, there was Adam - or currently, Michael. He looked normal as ever, only angry as Hell (no pun intended). Adam was their half brother that they had met not too long ago. Or, at least, they had met his Ghoul twin. He and Lucifer were just getting ready to fight, until the four of us had pulled up, cutting the showdown short.    I stood behind Castiel, with Bobby and Dean to my left. Rock of Ages was still blasting from the Impala's radio - it felt pretty empowering, listening to the song as we casually drove into the cemetery. But now that we were actually facing down two archangels, it didn't seem to offer any comfort or assurance. My hand rested on the angel blade in my pocket, although I knew it wouldn't be any use. My entire body was trembling despite my efforts to calm myself down. I didn't want Lucifer to know how terrified I was, or else he would use my fear against me. Still, the very thought of that made me afraid, and I only continued to panic with each second.    While Lucifer and Michael were focused on Dean, Castiel took his chance to catch them by surprise. "Hey! Assbutt!!" shouted, and threw flaming glass bottle of Holy Fire at Michael. Moments after it hit him, the archangel screamed and burst into flames, disappearing into thin air. Just the sight of it made me quiver, as I realized just how much we had gotten ourselves into.    Lucifer glared menacingly at Castiel, while Dean sent him a disappointed look. "Assbut?" he repeated.    "He'll be back, and upset." Castiel ignored him. "But you've got your five minutes."    "Castiel?"    We all looked at Lucifer, who was now closing the distance between him and Cas. My knuckles were white around my angel blade, and in my fear, I began stuttering the Lord's Prayer under my breath.    "Did you just Molotov my brother with Holy Fire?" he asked angrily.    Castiel's mouth quivered into a nervous smile. "Uh... no?" he stammered.    Lucifer stopped a few feet away from the angel. "No one dicks with my brother - but me." Seconds later, he snapped his fingers together.    Suddenly, Castiel exploded into a red mist. Pieces of him went flying everywhere, landing on me and Bobby, and hitting the front of the Impala.    "CAS!!" I screamed. My eyes were shut, trying to avoid looking at the remains of him surrounding me.    Lucifer smirked mischievously. "This is why you don't mess with an archangel's stuff."    I snapped. "You fucking BASTARD!!" I shouted. It had completely slipped my mind that this was still partially Sam, and not wholly Lucifer. I began to pull my angel blade from my coat pocket.    "Panda, NO!!" Dean's voice rang out, loud and clear - but I didn't listen. I had spend years with Castiel, listening to him, laughing with and at him, watching him hunt with Sam and Dean. He had been one of my closest family members, even though we never shared the same blood. He was important to me; and now, this selfish parasite that was infested into Sam had just demolished him, right in front of my eyes.    Angrily, I took the angel blade from my pocket and threw it at Lucifer.    "PANDORA!!" Dean shouted again.    The blade hit its mark, and perfectly. It landed right between Lucifer's eyebrows, causing him to stumble from the impact. For a second, I felt proud of my aim. Baseball practice really paid off, I guess. Then, as I realized what I had done, I was devastated. Not only did I hurt Lucifer, but Sam as well. I had probably ruined any chance of saving my brother that we had. I had killed Sam, and in that moment, I wished I could take the angel blade back.    However, despite having the blade lodged into his head, Lucifer steadied himself. He looked at me with a proud smirk. "Wish granted." he stated.    Before I could even register what he had meant, the blade was thrust from his forehead and straight into my throat. A painful, burning surge was sent into my chest -  I tried to scream, but all that came out were choking sounds. I grabbed my throat, instantly recognizing the warm, wet, red substance running through my fingers. I sank to my knees in shock, unable to tear my eyes away from the blood.    No...    In seconds, Bobby was kneeling on the ground behind me, trying to cradle my head and muttering empty words. "Panda, look at me - keep your eyes on me - you're ok - everything's gonna be fine - "    "Oh, what a shame..."        I met Sam's smiling face.    It's not him... It's not Sam... It's not Sam!!    "Sorry, Panda." he said, so sincerely.    It definitely sounded like Sam. It felt like it was Sam who had just slit my throat. So, in my half-dead state of mind, it was Sam, smirking at me, taunting me, watching me die.     In a snap, my head hit the cold ground, and I was staring at the grass and Dean's shoes. It was all so quick; I went from angry to panicked, the blood was quickly rising up into my mouth, and my mind was quick to black out.    And that was the last of it... for a while, at least. ---------------- Six hours later    I had been awake for quite some time, listening intently. I heard birds outside, faint chatter coming from a radio, and the sound of willows swaying in the wind. Strange, that I would hear such things, when I was dead. Unless I was in Heaven... did Heaven have birds and trees? I always imagined that there were, but that was before I had found out that angels were often jerks, and God wasn't home all the time. Still, where else would there be birds and trees? Certainly not Hell. Well, I thought, if I would actually open my eyes and check, I would know where I was. However, I didn't want to open my eyes. No matter how beautiful my Heaven or how awful my Hell may be, I didn't want to accept that I was dead. Not to mention, I'd probably be alone where I was. I remembered the slit in my throat, the dull feeling of my head hitting the ground... but after that, I couldn't explain what I felt. There was definitely a memory after I blacked out, but the only word I could use to describe it was... nothing. Non-existent, was more of an understandable term, though no one could understand it unless they had felt it.    But now, I was in... Heaven? Right? Or Hell? I knew I had moved on to one of those places, because I felt something. I was lying down, and the scent of dust and grease filled my nose. Where would I be where they would have dust? I thought. Hell, probably... but is this as bad as Hell gets? What about the sounds of the birds and the radio and the wind? Where's the fire and the torture and the screaming? Maybe my Hell is just... not knowing where I am. Being forced to wander around for eternity, never understanding where I am or where I'm going, what'll happen to me, who I'll meet-    "Pandora?"    I stiffened at the sound of my name - more, at the voice that had said it. It was definitely Bobby's voice. But then, that would mean... he was dead too? And we were both in Hell? Or Heaven? In my confusion and fear, I forced myself to open my eyes.    I was greeted by the familiar living room of Bobby Singer, lying on his older-than-shit couch. He sat in front of me, his eyes filled with concern and caution. My thoughts were racing. Why is Bobby here? Where the Hell am I?! Where are Sam and Dean?!    "...Pandora?" he repeated after a while.    I stared at Bobby with wide eyes, as I felt my heartbeat pounding in my chest. It was strange to hear his voice; it felt as if I were hearing it for the very first time, though I knew that wasn't true. For a moment, I faltered. "Are... are we...?"    "No," he replied, "we're very much alive. This ain't Heaven."    I slowly processed his words. "Hell?"    "Afraid not."        That's not possible... I thought. "But- " The words were hard to say. "-but I died. He... he slit my throat."    "Cas healed you and Dean, right before he left."    "Cas is alive?!" I sat upright on the couch, disbelief plain on my face. Despite being dead a few hours earlier, my body was strangely full of energy. "So... so it must have worked? The plan that Dean had?"    He hesitated for a bit. "Well... you see- "    "Wait, why did Cas leave?" I asked. There were so many questions in my head. Mainly, how Cas was somehow revived from the dead, but also, why he would take off right after he had been blown to bits.    "Said he had business up in Heaven." Bobby replied.    "Alright, that's fair..." I tried to calm myself down and process everything that was going on: Cas died, I died, Sam somehow got Lucifer back into the cage... so we were alright? Despite the adrenaline still pumping in my veins from earlier, we should be okay?    "Where's Dean?" I asked.    Bobby didn't reply. He was staring at the wall behind me, avoiding the question. Panic struck me at his response    "Where's Dean?!" I said again, a bit impatient.    A sigh escaped his lips. "He's gone, too."    I bit my lip as my emotions took over my mind. "What do you mean... gone? Like, 'I'll be back' gone, or... 'I won't be back'?" I chocked, thinking about what could have happened to him.    "Well, he ain't dead." Bobby said, matter-of-factly, and I sighed in relief. "But he ain't coming back either, Panda."    Anger now replaced any emotion I had beforehand. "Why? What does that mean?! And where the Hell did he go? Why would he leave us behind, just like that?"    "He left a note."    I scoffed. "Yeah, leave a note, that will fix everything." Bobby sighed again, before motioning towards a sticky note on the table.    I bit my lip. An indirect message - not a good sign. Panda- I know you're probably mad that all I left was a note - I just didn't want to make this harder than it had to be. If I told you what I was doing in person, you wouldn't have let me go. The fight's over. It's all over. Satan's back in Hell with Michael, and Sam- well, Sam is gone too. And I'm sorry to say that so am I. This is your chance to start a new life, to be a normal human being. You can put hunting behind you and pretend none of this had ever happened. If you ever wanted to start a family, go back to school - here's your chance. I'm going back to take care of Lisa and Ben, to try and live the life I was never given the chance to start. I'm done with hunting. My family is now my first priority. But if you ever need me, you'll know where to find me. -Dean    "He wants you to know that he left you here for your own good." Bobby said, never looking me in the eyes. "To keep you out of trouble."    My head was shaking as I read the note over and over, tears stinging the edges of my eyes. "That's it?" I said angrily. "He just dumps me on your couch for you to take care of, and then drives off to live with Lisa?! I've been hunting with him for how long? And he suddenly thinks that I need protection?" I was fuming; " 'My family is now my first priority.' Who does he think is his family?! Apparently, not you or me, who fought next to him for a good chunk of his life. Apparently it's this fling he had a few years ago?!"    "Pandora, I'm hurt by it just as much as you are." Bobby said. "But you gotta understand, Dean's right. He never got to live a normal life because of the way John treated him; he should be allowed to have this much."    I shook my head. "I just don't understand how he could leave us behind like that. Family isn't just the person you have feelings for, family is the people who would risk their lives multiple times just to make sure you live to see another day."    Bobby fell silent and stared at his hands in his lap. I was still furious over Dean's note, rereading it again, hoping that I would get some form of relief from it. But it only made me more angry. "I didn't get bitten by a vampire and save his ass for nothing. I didn't go through those stupid Djinn hallucinations for nothing. I did it because I knew he would do the same for me." I slammed the note back onto the table in anger. "Or so I thought."    Bobby quickly spoke up. "Panda, you know he still cares about you. You're practically his sister."    "Then why did he leave?!" I screamed. Bobby jumped in his seat at my outburst, but had nothing to say. I fell back down on the sofa, resting my head in my hands. "And what about Sam?" I asked. "Did he leave with Dean? Did he give up on hunting too?! He would have been livid if he knew what Dean was doing! He wouldn't have let his brother just walk off, Sam wouldn't do that! Where is he?!"    Bobby was silent all throughout my rant. His eyes moved from mine to the floor, and he sighed.    A sick, twisted feeling suddenly rose in my stomach. "Bobby, where's Sam?" I managed to whisper the words out, but I had a vague idea of what the answer would be.    Bobby looked back at me sadly. "Panda... Sam didn't make it."    I knew he would say that. I knew it was going to be bad - we had expected that Sam wouldn't survive from the beginning, and had accepted it. But knowing that he was dead was a whole different feeling. My mind was screaming with agony, and I wanted to cry as loud and as long as I could. But I forced myself to swallow it all, and instead stared at the floor. If I looked at Bobby, I knew I would fall apart.    "So we didn't win?" I stammered, fighting the bile that threatened to rise into my throat. "Lucifer got to Sam?"    "Well, not exactly..." Bobby said. "Lucifer is back in the cage, but only because Sam..." he choked on his own words. "He threw himself in there with him." His voice was hoarse as he spoke. "Adam - well, Michael, should I say - fell in the cage too."    As Bobby was telling me all this, I chuckled. I don't know why I did, and I was appalled at myself for doing it. Bobby looked at me, astonished just as much as I was, as to why I would laugh in such a time. It was more of a nervous laughter - my body's own response to sorrow, an attempt my mind was making to try and cheer myself up. But I only felt like shit for giggling, and I wanted to stop.        "Panda, you alright?" Bobby asked.    Looking into his eyes, I noticed that tears were just about to fall from them - and I felt sick. I couldn't hold back my own emotions, and I began to sob. I was still in shock and disbelief that I had died (as anyone would be), and that I had been revived from death. And when I woke up, everyone had left; one was torn from me, and the other two abandoned me. What the Hell am I supposed to do when that happens? Did Dean and Castiel expect me to feel happy that I was alone? And did they not feel any guilt, leaving Bobby here alone to tell me what had happened? I mean, Dean couldn't even stay to tell me that his fucking brother had died?! Was I stupid enough to believe that he would actually take a bullet for me?    Bobby began to choke on his own sobbing. "Pandora, we're gonna get through this- "    I ignored him, instead leaving the room in a hurry. He called out my name frantically, but I ignored him. I ran into the guest bedroom and threw myself onto the bed. My head throbbed with anger and confusion, questions were racing through my mind... I was crushed. I was alone. But if Castiel and Dean truly believed that I could survive alone, then I was going to do just that. I wasn't going to care anymore. I was going to accept that the Winchesters and I were never as close as I thought we were - nowhere near as close. I was going to be by myself, be independent - I never relied on them all that much, but now, I was going to be completely and utterly on my own. And I wasn't going to regret anything.    Except... Only that I never got to say goodbye. ---------------- Three hours later        With a frustrated sigh, I finally was able to get my suitcase closed. I had stuffed all of the extra clothes and necessities that I always kept at Bobby's, including an old picture of me and my dad - I never knew why I hung onto it, since it didn't make me happy. There was also a small bird made of elm wood that Sam had carved for me - or, had attempted to, anyways. He knew how much of an avid fan I was of Edgar Allen Poe, so for my eighteenth birthday, he tried to carve a raven for me. We all agreed to just call it a 'bird' and ignore the fact that it barely even resembled that. Next to it, I had stuffed a compass that Dean gave me. He had no reason to, except that he found it during a hunt and believed he was too good for using it. Still, it held some significance to me - it was the only thing Dean had ever given me that wasn't also accredited to Sam. Along with those things, I packed my pocket bible, some extra rock salt, a copy of Jane Eyre (my favorite), and an extra hand gun I had kept hidden from the boys. Lord knows they would have never trusted me with anything again if they knew I had one of my own.    Lastly, I put on Dean's old Commander Slub Twill jacket that I most definitely did not steal, and tucked my angel blade into my belt loop. I was finally ready to get out of here.    Don't get me wrong - I wasn't taking Dean's advice to begin a life that I was never able to have. The life of an Average Joe sounded completely dull to me, and the last thing I wanted to do at the moment was follow orders from Dean. I just wanted to get away from the wreck that had been left behind. I could keep hunting monsters and just completely forget the whole first twenty years of my life. Well... somethings wouldn't be forgotten, of course, like all the knowledge I had learned about hunting from Sam, and my so-so combat skills from Dean. Also, Bobby taught me plenty about which beer is the best to drink after killing which creature. Those were precious memories I planned to hold for life.    Quietly, I pattered down the staircase, carrying my single bag of luggage and avoiding the creaky spots. One last glance around the house, one last peek at the cluttered bookshelves and dusty furniture... it wasn't at all difficult to say goodbye. My home had always been in the back seat of the Impala (or the front, if Sam didn't feel like fighting me for it) and in old motels. However, an easy goodbye didn't make me feel any better. I felt empty, almost as though I was walking through a dream and just waiting for the moment where I would wake up to my normal life.    "You gonna leave a note for me?"    I jumped; in the kitchen, Bobby was sitting at the table, head in his hands, his back to me. There were several empty beer bottles on the table, including a few pictures scattered beside them. It looked as though he hadn't moved since I fled the living room earlier, save getting up to get the beer.    "You didn't lose everyone, Panda." He turned to face me, and I noticed his eyes were red and swollen from crying. "I'm still here. I didn't leave you."    A pang of guilt struck me right in the gut. I hadn't even thought about what leaving would do to Bobby - I had just assumed that he didn't need me, just like Dean and Cas had figured. If I left him here now, all alone... I would be no better then those two. I'd be doing exactly the same as they were doing to me, and Bobby didn't deserve that.    But what was the other option? If I stayed, what would my future be? Watching old television programs with Bobby, killing a ghost every now and then, drinking beer, working on cars... It was sickening just to think about it, that my life wouldn't progress into anything.    "I have to go, Bobby." I said, although I didn't believe it myself. "You know that, I can't stay here."    "Why not?" he asked, his voice quivering.    I hesitated with my answer. "I don't belong here anymore. The fight's over, there's nothing to do now. I need to move on."    "Why does moving on have to mean leaving me?" His head was once again resting in his hands.    "Because I need to go somewhere in life. I need to do something, or I'll just spend the rest of my life rotting away in this old shack." I didn't mean for my words to sound so harsh; then again, maybe I did. Maybe I wanted to make it easier for Bobby to let me go, by making his last memory of me a sour one.    "Alright..." He took a sip of his beer, refusing to look at me. "Then go." he said. "Leave, go find a better life. If you ever come back, promise me you'll toss out my rotten corpse."    I bit my lip; it was painful to hear him say that. But what did I expect? Wasn't this a better goodbye than one filled with empty promises to return one day? Wasn't it better then staying here at all? "I'm sorry, Bobby."    "Don't try to sweeten your words, you already spat them out." he said coldly.    I faltered at the scorn in his voice. If I walk out now, this will be my last memory of Bobby. I could stay and try to be his family, since he has no one else. I could try-    "Why are you still standing there?" he asked, raising his voice. "If you're gonna leave me, then leave! Just get out already!!" He raised an empty beer bottle and threw it in my direction.    I quickly dodged it and let it crash against the front door. Panic filled my chest as the shards of glass fell around me, and I was shaking with fear and anger. Feeling his words in the core of my chest, I dashed through the front door into the pouring rain, letting the wind breaker slam behind me. My eyes were hot with tears as I ran - I need to get away. I couldn't stand this - the entire day had been so awful, and it had all started and ended at Bobby's place. I just had to escape it, and I didn't care where I would end up. I just had to leave it all behind.    "FUCK YOU DEAN!!" I screamed, and threw my bag down. "AND FUCK YOU CAS!! I HATE YOU!! I HATE YOU BOTH!!" I let my emotions take over me as I pulled out Dean's compass and, with perfect aim, chucked it right through the window of a nearby, broken-down Chevy. "I NEVER WANT TO SEE YOUR DISGUSTING FACES AGAIN!!" As I stepped back after my throw, I slipped in the muddy ground and landed on my back, knocking the wind right out of me. I squeezed my eyes shut in frustration and... screamed. I just screamed. I couldn't think of anything else to do or to say. Castiel and Dean didn't just leave, they took everything I had.    "Because all I had was you two and Sam!!" I shouted again. Whether Cas could hear me or not, I didn't care.    I opened my eyes and sat up. My clothes, now soaking, were beginning to make me shiver, and I had to start walking before the rain got any worse. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Bobby. He was staring at me from the kitchen window, a beer bottle in his hand. I stared back, neither angry at him nor ashamed of myself. I just stared. Get one good look at him before you leave him to dry out on his own. Did he hate me now?    Suddenly, I remembered a friend I had in Bar Harbor, Maine. Lena. She was a good soul, although careless, but I knew she would let me in if I asked for her help. Deciding that was the best place to stay in my current situation, stood up and wiped the rain from my eyes. I made sure to avoid meeting Bobby's stare again, instead glaring at the road before me. Leaving the embers of those burned memories behind, along with Dean's compass, I set out towards my new destination.    It was going to be a long walk.

[phoenixmakeswords]

Dented AU

Chapter 4 of the AU. Gotta say Kris is generally less of a butt.

Ransom’s already waiting at the Cajun place for me. It has the best crawfish etouffee in the city, and it reminds me just enough of Home to be nostalgic without being painful.

“You had a bad day. It’s all over your face,” he remarks by way of ‘hello.’

“Horrible. How was yours?” I pad after him into the restaurant. There’s no point in trying to keep up with him.

“It was good. I, um, I have something to show you when we get inside.”

“Do I wanna know?”

“I got my first tattoo.” He pauses at the hostess station. “Booth for two please.”

The hostess leads us to a booth near the bathroom. I don’t miss the way she ogles him. He doesn’t notice.

“What’d you get?” I ask, sitting across from him.

He holds his right wrist out, letting me see the black bird cage with a bird in flight leaving it.

“I like it. Who did it?”

“Kaiden. It’s to symbolize coming out.”

“Your family knows now?” I know he’s been waiting to tell them. He’s been afraid to tell them. Being adopted means he’s afraid of disappointing them.

“Yeah. It went over decently. I need to have a talk with my mom, though. She, uh, has the mindset that my being gay means instant shopping buddy. And girl talk. And that I'm automatically into any other gay or bi guy. She does not know about you or any other guys. As far as she’s concerned, I'm still her innocent little boy.”

“She does realize you’d rather have teeth pulled than go shoppin’, right? And that attraction doesn’t work like that? Your mama’s gonna kill you when she finds out you lied.” I tap my short nails lightly against the tabletop. I do everything in my power not to lie to Mama. She’s very scary when she’s mad.

“I think she forgot that. I know, right? I mean, she’s not into every guy she sees, so why would I be? What she doesn’t know won’t hurt her.”

“What she doesn’t know might put you in an early grave.” I nudge his hand playfully.

“Kristoff, what’re you doin’ here?” Mama calls, startling me. “Is this your friend?”

I might be imagining the extra emphasis she puts on ‘friend,’ but, judging from the way Ransom arches a thin brow at me, I don’t think I am.

“He’s my tattoo artist,” I explain. “Ransom, this is my mama, Elena.”

Mama grins like the Cheshire cat as she shakes his hand.

“So, where’s your person?” I ask before she can say something embarrassing.

“Bathroom. If things go decently tonight, we might have a dinner with his kids and you three.”

“Family dinner? With Regan? I thought I was good son.” Why am I being punished for her finding a guy?

“You can bring a date. She’ll be bringing her boyfriend.”

Oh, yeah, bring Ransom to family dinner with my sister who went off on him and called him a racial slur. Even if Ransom was my least favorite person, I wouldn’t do that.

“Um, I'm gonna be out of town that day,” I tell her quickly.

“You don’t even know what day it is.”

“Put me and Regan in a room with knives right now and one of us is gonna get stabbed and it ain’t gonna be me.”

“Kristoff, that’s your sister!”

“Not accordin’ to her.”

The waiter’s arrival pauses our conversation. I order the same thing I always get: Cherry Pepsi, the shrimp and grits appetizer, and the crawfish etouffee.

“I’ve never been here before,” Ransom whispers, glancing hurriedly over his menu.

“D-did you pick this place ‘cause of me?” I ask. I don’t have words for how happy his slight nod makes me. “Um, they have really great gumbo. The jambalaya is good too.”

He orders the vegetarian jambalaya.

Mama and her date have been seated at the booth behind ours. Great.

“Have they done anything with Regan’s app?” I ask.

“They’re not hiring her. Thankfully.” Relief lights up his green eyes.

“I'm glad.”

“So, what happened today?”

“Eight hours of being harassed. He thinks it’s fun. My boss knows. She doesn’t care. She thinks I'm makin’ it up. That it’s not that bad.”

“You don’t lie about stuff like that. I know you. Are you okay? I mean, I know you’re not in the greatest place right now.”

“Honestly? I wanna move far away from him and start over.”

“Can I go with you? Start my own studio. Be my own boss.” He smiles shyly.

“You wanna run away together?”

“Yeah. Whatcha think?” He grins easily.

“Why does this sound like you’re tryin’ to romance me?”

“Can’t two gay guys run away together platonically?”

“Platonic, huh?”

“We could be.” He smiles pleasantly when the waiter brings our food. “Your shrimp and grits look really good.”

“I’ll share. You can have shrimp, right?”

“Um, shrimp sorta falls under the ‘meat’ category. Thanks, though.”

Their shrimp and grits are like none I’ve ever had before. For one thing, the grits are formed into patties and fried. And the shrimp are breaded and fried. It’s the bomb.

“Okay, how ‘bout I share my dessert?” I offer.

“Which is what exactly?”

“Their hot fudge beignet sundae. With extra whipped cream. Vanilla ice cream, surrounded by fresh beignets, drowning in hot fudge, and with whipped cream and cherries on top. It might actually be better than sex. Well, maybe not sex with you.”

“I'm not saying anything.” He has the biggest grin, though. “I'm completely down to share. Are you feeling better?”

“Fake it till you make it, right?”

I wince when Mama asks the waiter if they can move to our table. I don’t want them to join us. I am not having a double date with my mother. This isn’t even a date! But, if it was, that would be weird. I mean, it’s weird now.

Ransom scoots to sit next to me, leaving the opposite side of the booth for Mama and her date. Ransom looks as thrilled as I feel.

“Ransom, did you say you know my daughter?” Mama asks.

“I, um, I did a tattoo for her.” A careful edge slips into his voice. “We don’t get along.”

“One more kid and you’ll have tattooed all of mine. Not a lot of people do get along with her.”

“I thought we were the only ones.” He gestures between the two of us. “She pushes Kris’s buttons really bad. Which is why his kitchen has been overrun by bread.”

“It’s not that—Okay, it is that bad. But who doesn’t love bread?” I respond.

“You bake bread when you’re angry?” Mama’s date queries curiously.

“It’s cheaper than a punching bag. I'm Kris, by the way. I wasn’t tryin’ to be rude.” I reach across the table to shake his hand politely.

“Grant. I’ve never heard of someone doing that before. Now, what do you do?”

“I work at a bakery. But I might be quitting to work with Ransom.”

“I do tattoos for a living. I, um, I'm not into drugs or anything. I just like making art on people,” Ransom explains. “I’ve done all three of Kris’s pieces. He’s actually my favorite customer. Especially compared with his sister.”

“What’d Regan do?” Mama asks resignedly.

“Your daughter called me a racial slur. Told me I was stupid. My boss stepped in.” He toys anxiously with his necklace.

“She knows better. I didn’t raise her to behave like that. Kristoff doesn’t, I hope.”

“Do you think he would’ve done three tattoos for me and been staying with me if I had?” I retort. And now it sounds like we’re a couple. Or at least having lots of sex.

“How long have you been dating?” Grant asks. He doesn’t sound judgmental, which is more than I expected.

I glance at Ransom, hoping he can come up with something, because I'm freaking out. I feel like they’re all expecting me to say we’re a couple. I'm almost wanting Ransom to say we are, even though I know we aren’t and we wouldn’t work anyway because I'm too much of a mess. But the lie would be better than the truth. I don’t want Mama’s potential boyfriend to know what happened.

“Not long. We, uh, kinda rushed at first, but we’re taking things slow now. He’s pretty special to me,” Ransom replies easily, squeezing my hand gently.

“You look good together. Are you happy, Kristoff?” Mama says this like it’s the most important thing in the world. I don’t think she realizes I can be happy and depressed at the same time.

I smile and nod the best I can with a mouthful of grits.

“I thought you guys weren’t going out until Friday?” I ask once I can speak again.

“We were both able to get time sooner. Why’re you leaving the bakery? I thought it was your passion,” Mama replies.

“Because my boss doesn’t care I'm bein’ sexually harassed. And that it escalated today. She laughed at me. Said I was lyin’. Called me an attention whore. Felt like I was dealin’ with my sister.”

“Wait, escalated? You didn’t tell me that.” Ransom touches my hand gently. I don’t like how worried he sounds. I don’t like worrying him.

“I was gonna tell you at home.”

“Are you okay?”

“You’re funny.”

“Do you mind if we stay at my place tonight? It’s the first night of Hanukah.” He smiles uncertainly, like he thinks I might say no. Or might rip into him.

“No problem.” I brush my fingers lightly over his.

It’s a relief when we leave. I’ve never been to Ransom’s apartment before.

“You’re not upset with me for lying, are you? If you are, I get it. Will the futon work? I don’t have a spare room,” he says in his Blazer after picking me up from my apartment. I can barely hear him over the rumbling engine.

“Not really. I can sleep just about anywhere, as long as it’s flat. Bathtub, table, doesn’t matter.”

“What happened today?”

“He assaulted me. And I almost walked out, but I didn’t because I need the job and I don’t want you to think I'm some spoiled, lazy rich boy who doesn’t wanna work.”

“I’ve never thought that.” He grimaces when the car jerks into gear.

“Just put gas in, didn’t you? We could’ve taken my Mustang.”

“Yeah, and I would’ve had a dead battery. Kris, I meant what I said back there about you being special to me.”

“I know. And I know you think us dating would work and we’d be happy and all that, but my life’s never been a fairy tale. Maybe I don’t get a happy ending. I’ve never planned on one.”

“So, what, you’re not even gonna try?”

“Why bother? Hurts less. You’d get attached and I’d fall for you and something would happen and it’d fall apart. That’s what happens when I get settled and comfortable. It goes to crap. And I don’t wanna lose you.” And none of that was supposed to come out of my mouth. It’s all true, but that doesn’t matter. He wasn’t supposed to know.

“Things are falling apart now and I'm still here. I'm not going anywhere, okay?”

“Yeah, well, right now you’re afraid I’ll kill myself. What about when I get through this? When I'm not some tragic excuse of a human being? Because the only time a guy has ever given a fuck about me when we’re not sleeping together has been to play the hero. Because screwing and rescuing are all I'm good for.” My voice trembles with anger. I'm so tired of being seen as pitiful. Of being used and thrown away. I'm not angry so much with Ransom as I am with his idea that he’ll be different.

“I was planning on asking you out when you got through this. I'm not shallow, Kris. You know me better than that. Or you should. If I wanted a guy to boost my ego, I’d be at a bar.” He sounds as angry as I feel, but I don’t turn to look. I can’t look at him right now.

“Why do you want me so damn much? There’s better guys out there. Not-broken guys.”

“I never thought you were broken. More like a dented can at Wal-Mart. You’re a little bit banged-up, but you’re still so good and so deserving and amazing and I’d give you the world if you’d give me half a chance.”

Banged-up fits. I feel battered. Like I’ve been through a hurricane. Made of lava.

“I think you need your eyes checked ‘cause that ain’t what I see.”

“I’m not the only one that sees you like that.”

“Mama doesn’t count.”

“Have you always been this stubborn?”

“Yes. You just haven’t been around me long enough to notice.”