#i sincerely apologize for the coloring here...also the lighting changed like three times within this small span of time

[roakims]

Baekho interrupting Kyulkyung’s birthday live + BONUS: 

[deadprocess]

Hide Away (The Trickster x Male Reader) Part 1

//Had a lot of fun with this so I might just continue! Enjoy!

T.W: mentions of violence, some nsfw content//

Ji-Woon had always known who he was. He knew his place in the world since he was a child juggling knives in that tiny restaurant on the corner street, dazzling foreign spectators. He was to be a star and when he had been signed on with NO SPIN he was even more confident in that belief. Sure, he had a slight shift in personality when he heard the shrill screams of his burning band members but Ji-Woon considered it artistic creativity that he just hadn't had the opportunity to explore before. He always loved horror films. It was only natural to be inspired by the macabre, right?

As he became in demand as a solo artist, producers wanted more from him. His performances were to become abstract. Music videos needed to be bold; powerful. His sales demanded it. Ji-Woon understood that he needed a team to produce his filmography and music production, he did. But when Yun-Jin broke the news that he would have dancers involved with his performances from his second album on, he wasn't pleased.

"I'm a solo artist. Eyes should be focused on me." His hand white knuckled the glass of tequila moon rock as he sat across from Yun-Jin. So, that's why she brought him to this restaurant. So he couldn't cause a scene. Every one of his moves was monitored by the paparazzi after all. He could just envision "Popstar throws a tantrum in Seoul's high class eatery" as a headline on the news.

"Yes and they will be. No one goes to concerts to look at the dancers. They just add...spice and uniqueness to a performance, " Yun-Jin held up a hand as she reached over to lower the star's drink, "slow down. Don't think I haven't noticed the extra drinks here and there."

Ji-Woon huffed and flicked her hand off his drink, leaning further back into the plush seat. He was getting a headache.

xx

It was his next performance that he questioned himself for the first time in his life.

Adjusting the rose colored star glasses on his face, he smirked. Tonight was going to be wonderful. He had the perfect instrument three weeks ago. Her voice was smooth as she screamed, creating a wonderful background vibrato for the brand new song he would preform tonight. He could hear the fans cheering and begging for him as he was (purposely) ten minutes late to the his performance. He enjoyed being sadistic after all.

Spinning on his heel to finally head out he became lost in thought, fantasizing about maybe pulling a fan from the crowd to have a "special" night with him. As he was wandering forward in a dream like state, Ji-Woon hit reality when he clipped a solid body with his shoulder. His lips curled up to sneer out an insult to whoever had the audacity to not move out of his way but every word was lost as he took in the man before him. The skin tight, high neck black top hugged your torso in such a delicious way and the black joggers managed to show off just enough curvature of your legs that Ji-Woon's insult died within in his throat.

You were quick to apologize but all the star could do was weakly nod before retreating past you to the stage, wide eyed and suddenly very flustered.

The lights were disorienting as he voice rang out, echoing into the stadium as fans screamed. His hand trembled slightly around his microphone, missing a few unnoticeable beats. He was distracted; he could see his dancers from the corner of his eyes. He could see you. How your muscles flexed with every move, how you seemed so into the music. So into his music.

The music hit a beat and the way your hand traveled down your throat...god, he never wanted anything more.

xx

Growing up Ji-Woon never held much interest in anyone other than himself. A passing girlfriend here and there. He enjoyed women, he did. The softness and the more delicate curves of their bodies, how their hair flowed in wind and how cute their sun dresses were. They were desirable so he didn't delve deeper into the feelings that bloomed when he would look at posters of his past male idols. He told himself that they were simply inspiration for his goals.

Now he was here. Alone in his penthouse flat and splayed out on his oversized bed with his hand gripping his cock feverishly pumping as he moaned your name and he had a faint thought in the back of his mind that maybe...just maybe...he should reevaluate those past feelings.

Laying there with you in his mind and a part of him in his hand just wasn't enough, but the private conversation he held with Yun-Jin made him ache in a way that scared him deeply.

"You know I support you and this doesn't change anything, but you need to be careful," Yun-Jin held his hand with a sincerity to the touch, "the idea of attainability is also what we sell. If you're seen sneaking off anyone...let alone a man...I just don't see this ending well."

It stung but it was true. However...

Ji-Woon's eyes stared stared forward as he walked from the stage, focused on one thing with the distant sounds of fame behind him. You were one of the last few dancers to get off the stage, heading to your designated group dressing room alone. You were almost inside when you felt him. Thin hands sliding up your back to your shoulders, the touch so light that it immediately sent a tingle as they traveled upwards. You turned to face the pop-star, surprised, about to ask what he was doing before your body was pushed to the wall.

"Just,"  the Korean's face inched towards yours. Hands now firmly pressing against your pecs, kneading the soft flesh exposed by the open button up you wore, "just let me have this."

And you let him. Sparks of lust fogged over any hesitation as you hooked an arm just around the curve of the celebrity's ass and cupped the other hand around the back of his head.

The yearning kiss and soft moans were hidden away from the spotlight and prying eyes in that dark hallway.

[whatcouldgowrong-ohthat]

Us and Andie Ch. 12

Summary: Bucky works as an Avenger because it’s what’s right. He feels he has sins he’ll never be able to make up for, but he’ll spend the rest of his life trying. However, his life takes an unexpected turn when he comes across Andie, the daughter of recently divorced Y/N. The life he had once “maintained” in hopes of surviving changes as his heart warms for a tough-as-nails nurse and her wonderful daughter.

Pairing: Bucky x Singleparent!Reader

Word Count: 3806 words

Series Masterlist - Masterlist

A/N: IGNORE WHAT THE GIRL LOOKS LIKE IN THE PHOTO. I just really wanted to add a visual similar to what her powers look like :) ALSO shoutout to @littleredstarfish​ for the awesome art!!

Everything felt terrifyingly slow – forcing Bucky to realize there was nothing he could do to catch up.

Zemo shooting the gun…

The glimmer of Andie’s skin as she turned visible…

Bucky realizing what was happening…

And then she shimmered again.

The streaks of color reminded him of light reflecting through a gem. It was only moments until he saw her move between Y/N and the bullet. Her body now changed - glowing like a rainbow, and appearing…

Diamond.

The bullet deflected off her chest, hitting Zemo in the knee. He staggered, falling to his other knee. In that moment, it felt like time stood still. Andie’s chest was heaving as her hands trembled. Her foot was coated in blood, the glass shards forced out now that she was in her secondary skin.

Her knees buckled as Y/N turned towards her. She heard Y/N scream her name, but it sounded so soft – as if she was at the end of a long tunnel. Her whole body relaxed when she felt Y/N’s soothing touch and she collapsed. Y/N caught her, holding her close and rocking her. She was still shimmering. Still diamond.

Bucky wanted nothing more than to take Andie and Y/N in his arms and never let them go. But he couldn’t. Not yet. His eyes were transfixed on Andie, completely mesmerized by her powers as he hurried towards Zemo.

“I – Did I – “ The stuttering question made Bucky feel sick. He looked at Y/N.

She looked away from him, kissing Andie’s hairline. “No, baby girl. You didn’t kill him.”

Bucky wanted to kill Zemo then and there. The sound of his breathing made him livid. Winding up his metal arm, he struck hard, knocking him unconscious just as Steve and Sam came in. Sam was offering Steve a shoulder. If the bullet were anywhere else, they knew Steve would walk it off. But the thigh was a particularly sketchy area.

Yet that was forgotten as they saw Andie and Zemo. “Help them,” Steve told Sam, bracing himself against a nearby column.

Sam jogged to Bucky’s side, hand finding his back. “Bucky?”

He blinked, not quite registering that Sam was talking to him. “Quentin – is he?”

“Currently locked in the car. I got Scott’s suit.” Sam gestured to Zemo. “I can finish this up if you…”

Bucky didn’t need to hear anything else. He stepped away from the men, eyes pleading with Y/N to let him come closer. She watched him carefully, but silently nodded, blinking away fresh tears. Bucky crouched next to them, his hand finding Y/N’s back. He mimicked the patterns he saw she was tracing on Andie’s back, not sure what to say. They were all at a loss for words.

Quentin and Zemo were down.

But Ethan was still out there.

-.-.-.-.-

Being back at the compound was difficult for Y/N. She kept thinking about what Quentin had said – how she and Andie were put in that situation because of their friendship with the Avengers. And yet here they were.

She lightly brushed Andie’s hair out of her face, fingers running through her hair. In that moment, she was utterly thankful for the bedroom Bucky and Tony had created for her. The blackout curtains were keeping out the faint light coming from an early morning. It had taken hours for Andie to feel safe enough to slip back to her natural form. And watching her now, Y/N was just happy she had stopped crying.

Every bone in her body was spent, begging for a bed and the opportunity to maybe sleep. But her brain was wide awake, craving the assurance that her daughter was safe. Leaning forward, she pressed a light kiss to Andie’s hairline before hearing the bedroom door creak open.

The tiniest sliver of light threatened to light up Andie’s face. Looking over her shoulder, Y/N’s body went ridged when she saw Bucky’s massive frame. “Hey…” He glanced at Andie, attempting to keep his voice quiet. Y/N held a finger to her lips, standing up and joining him.

Stepping outside, she quietly closed the door and pressed her forehead against the frame. Her whole body trembled as she pressed a hand to her mouth, muffling a sob. Bucky placed a hand on her shoulder, wanting to offer some sort of comfort. She jerked, pulling away from his touch and leaning against the wall. He dropped his hand, pain in his eyes because he wanted nothing more than to hold her. “Um…the others - they wanted to talk to you.”

Y/N nodded silently, adjusting her dress. Bucky’s eyes flickered down to the bruises on her arms, the ones shaped like fingerprints, and his stomach lurched. He should’ve been there to protect her.

But now wasn’t the time to apologize. It wasn’t the time to tell her that he would do anything to take back these past several months. It just…wasn’t the time. And he was far too sure that their time had passed.

So Bucky led her to the debriefing room. It was painfully quiet. As Bucky opened the door, he watched Y/N step inside where Tony, Steve, Sam, and…Everett Ross waited. She was silent, feeling Bucky’s presence behind her. His warmth practically radiated off him, warming her back and providing something similar to comfort.

“I wanted to wait till morning for this,” Tony told her, earning a roll of the eyes from Everett. “But it seems the CIA had other plans.”

“Ms. Y/L/N,” Everette stepped forward, offering his hand to shake. Y/N simply stared. Out of everyone in the room, she looked the most exhausted, the most filthy. “I just want to extend my sincerest apologies for everything that you have had to go through.”

Y/N scoffed, shaking her head as she asked, “Did all of you slip in a nap and shower before this?”

“Ms. Y/L/N – “

“Y/N – “

Y/N closed her eyes, looking away and hugging herself. She didn’t notice the look that Bucky and Steve shared. Exhaling softly, she looked at Everett and told him, with the straightest face, “You can take your sincere apologies and shove them up your ass.”

Sam coughed, covering his mouth to hide the faintest smile. Everett glared at him and he shrugged. “You’re honestly surprised?”

Tony said, “Well, we did offer for her to get a shower, see a medic, get some clothes – “

“Tony,” Steve warned.

Y/N laughed. “Yeah, you offered all of that while forgetting that I have a daughter. She is my primary responsibility. Her feeling safe, her knowing that nothing will happen to her – that is my biggest priority. And do you know how…how sick and twisted and gut wrenching it is to know that the only reason this happened to us was because we…” Tears slipped down her cheeks. “Because we knew you. Personally. We became friends with the Avengers and that put targets on our backs.”

Finally.

Silence. The one thing she wanted more than anything.

Taking a shaky, whimpering breath, Y/N felt herself teeter. She probably should have taken the time to get her head checked on. “Y/N,” Bucky whispered, helping her take a seat. Steve slid a first-aid kit across the table, relieved when Bucky caught it with ease. They didn’t need anything that would make her any more jumpy.

“I can handle that,” she whispered.

Bucky simply shook his head, immediately getting to work on cleaning the blood off her face. There was a silent plea in his eyes as he asked, “Please, let me?”

Everett was surprised by how kind and gentle Bucky was, using the smallest touches to sooth Y/N. He hoped it would be enough to make her comfortable. “I wanted to talk to you about Ethan Creed’s arrest.”

Y/N looked up, hissing when the harsh movement provided too much pressure against her head. Bucky pulled his hand back, giving her a moment. “You – You arrested him?”

All eyes turned to Tony and it was then when Y/N noticed the busted lip and faint bruising of his jaw. He didn’t say anything though. Instead, he pressed a button, allowing a hologram to appear near the farthest wall. Three separate images appeared.

Helmut Zemo.

Ethan Creed.

Quentin Beck.

All restrained in cubes with thick glass paneling. There was a cot, but nothing else. It looked like a warped, futuristic prison.

So many questions ran through her head in those moments. When? How? What about Ethan’s sons? What was going to happen to these men? Were they –

“Ow.” She flinched as Bucky finished wiping away the last of the blood.

Everett took a seat across from her, making sure to keep his distance. Comfort was their priority in this moment. “In normal circumstances, these men would be confined like this until my bosses decided what the best route would be. They would be left in the hands of the CIA.”

“But?”

Everett smiled, reaching across the table. His hand gently rested on hers, squeezing ever so gently. “Your ex-husband has friends in high places. Specifically, within the CIA, Hammer Industries, and the FoH. Which means one of the reasons he was an asset for Zemo was because, if his plan backfired, then we would be responsible for them and they would have a minimum sentence instead.”

“So what does this have to do with me?”

More silence. Everett looked back to Steve and Tony, silently asking them to step in with better words.

It was Tony that spoke up, “If you and Andie are willing to testify and go on record – “

“No.”

“Y/N, I know this is hard, but – “

“I will not bring my daughter into any of this.” Y/N leveled them with her eyes, making it adamantly clear. “Andie has been through more than any kid should ever have to. You can’t ask me to put her through more.”

“This would send all three men to the Raft.”

“No. No, there has to be something else. Anything.”

Everett watched him carefully, still unable to think of something off the top of his head. So instead, he leaned back in his chair and told her, “Give me time. I’ll think of something. Until then…I can promise they won’t be going anywhere.”

“Thank you.”

Bucky walked alongside Y/N, leading her through the compound and back where Andie’s bedroom was. “There’s a spare bedroom right here.” He pointed to the room. “And I’m two doors down.”

Y/N was silent, as if taking in this new information. “Why did you…” Her words trailed, falling silent as she lost the nerve to ask.

“What is it?”

She shook her head, opening the bedroom door and slipping inside. Bucky stared for a moment. Even though she was out of sight, he wanted nothing more than to go after her. He stepped closer, but then the door closed just as his hand reached the frame.

It made sense. Her retreating, refusing to talk. He didn’t blame her.

But god, it still hurt.

Stepping into his room, he flicked on the light and asked, “F.R.I.D.A.Y?”

Yes, Sergeant Barnes?

Bucky scratched the back of his neck. “Let me – Let me know if Y/N needs anything. Please?”

Of course, Mr. Barnes.

-

Sergeant Barnes.

Bucky woke to F.R.I.D.A.Y’s voice. Looking around, his eyes landed on the alarm clock on his nightstand. He’d only been asleep for a couple hours.

It’s Ms. Y/L/N. You asked for me to inform you if she was distressed.

Bucky was already on his feet, hurrying out of the room as he called, “Thanks, F.R.I.D.A.Y.” Taking the quick strides to Y/N’s bedroom, he was relieved when the A.I. let him in.

His heart faltered when he saw her. She was tossing and turning in the bed, drenched in sweat and hair plastered to her face. Bucky recognized a nightmare better than anyone. Immediately, he was at her side. He brushed her hair back, fingers nimbly brushing her cheeks, her jaw, her shoulders. Anything to try and sooth her.

“Y/N? Y/N, come on. Doll, wake up for me.”

Y/N whimpered, crying out in her sleep as Bucky pulled her up and cradled her in his arms. One hand wrapped tightly around her waist, the other stroking the back of her neck, playing with the spot where her hair started. Though the touch was kind and meant to be soothing, she jerked and jolted, screaming so loud that she woke herself up.

Wide, panicked eyes stared at him as she kicked between them, trying to gain as much distance as possible. She didn’t stop until her back hit the wall. Bucky’s hands fell, landing on the sheets and watching her carefully. She looked so skittish.

“Y/N?”

Her heaving chest slowly calmed as she seemed to regain her senses. Fresh tears slipped down her face as she curled her knees into her chest. “I – “

“It’s okay. You had a nightmare.”

Y/N’s gaze shifted from him to the bed and back again. She was wearing a loose t-shirt and some sweatpants, probably something that Steve or Sam had lent. Her hair was damp, but from a shower or nightmare, he wasn’t sure.

He inched closer. “Y/N…please, let me help.”

Y/N tensed at that and hit his chest, a new wave of tears hitting her. “You were supposed to.” She choked on a sob, arms trembling as he flinched. “I wanted you to – to help. To be there. You were supposed to…” She sniffled and hit his arm before pulling into herself.

“No. Stop. You’re not doing that. Y/N - ” He grabbed her arms, forcing her to uncurl herself.

“Stop! Let go!” She moved to try and pull herself free and Bucky was beginning to see where Andie had gotten that behavior from. “Bucky Barnes, let go of me!” She tried kicking him and, if Bucky wasn’t so worried about calming her down, he would’ve found it adorable. She was acting like a child. It reminded him of how chaotic she was the first night they met.

Grabbing her ankles, he yanked her close and placed her legs on either side of his lap. Every time she told him how much His hands moved then, one grabbing her wrist while the other grabbed her jaw, forcing her to look at him. “Y/N. Please, you are breaking my heart.” His voice trembled as he watched her watery eyes.

“What do you think you did to mine?”

Bucky could’ve expected just about anything, but that was not it. He held her close, shifting so his back hit the wall. Looking up at her, he gently ran his thumb along her cheek. “We…really need to work on this communication thing, don’t we?”

Y/N tensed as he wiped away any sign that she had cried. “Bucky, I’m not doing this.”

He watched her, knowing he had to choose his next words carefully. “I left a month ago on a wild goose chase for the man who ended up targeting you and Andie. You really don’t think we should talk?”

“I – I don’t want to.”

“Why not?”

“’Cause what’s the point?” She sat back slightly, using his thighs as a seat as his free hand gently stroked her knee. He just wanted to comfort her. “I tried telling you before that we are from very different lifestyles. Hell, Andie and I – we got dragged into your world just because we were associated with the Avengers.” She ran her hands through her hair, pulling it out of her face. Her chest felt so tight. “I can’t…This isn’t…” She gestured to everything around them. “I need normal.”

“So do I.”

Y/N scoffed. “No, you are an Avenger. You need bad guys and missions and battles and…”

Bucky shifted, gently squeezing her leg and interrupting her train of thought. “Y/N, listen to me. Please?” She hesitated, biting her lip as he slumped against the wall. “This is all…really…horrible timing. What happened was just a few hours ago and I’m not even sure we should be having this conversation right now, but it seems time is never really on our side. So we should probably take advantage of everyone being asleep while we can.” Y/N stayed silent, picking at her nails and letting him talk. It was a relief that someone would simply let him speak freely.

Taking a shaky breath, he told her, “I have no interest in being an Avenger.” She raised an eyebrow, opening her mouth to argue, but he beat her to the punch. “I don’t. I spent a lifetime brainwashed and working for Hydra. I did horrible things that I can never make up for, but I’m trying to do that with the team. I’m trying to take some step in the right direction.”

“Exactly! Which means we just don’t fit. There’s nothing about this that makes sense.”

“I met you because your kid got on a subway and I was worried about her. I had genuine concern for a kid I’d never met before. There’s nothing about any aspect of my life that makes sense, Y/N, and that is a prime example. But honestly?” His eyes searched hers, simply hoping that she would believe him. “I never wanted to be a soldier. Or a hero. I…I just wanted a family. And that’s why meeting you and Andie…Fuck.” He ran a hand over his face. “Why do I always struggle to talk around you?”

She stayed silent. Instead of picking at her nails, she was lightly tracing the arm next to his leg, trying to ease his nerves. Comforting each other came so easy. He found himself relaxing under her touch. “If it makes you feel any better, I have the same struggle.”

Bucky laughed, shaking his head ever so slightly. “I kept trying to tell myself that I was too broken for anything outside of being an Avenger. I thought I was so screwed up that it was my only option. And I kept reminding myself that…God, I hate that I ever thought this, but I kept telling myself that you and Andie weren’t my problem.” She frowned and he quickly told her, “That lasted four days, Y/N. Just four and you two had me wrapped around your fingers.”

Y/N slowly relaxed, any argument she had now fading away. “Bucky – “

“I know that we fucked up. If nobody else, I should’ve been more aware of the risk that came with you and Andie being a part of our lives. And that’s on me. Not you.” He took her hands in his, placing a light kiss to her knuckles. “I just…Y/N, I have been thinking about you and Andie nonstop. I am constantly worried about you two. I think about what new things I can do for her. How I can spend time with you and…” He forced himself to relax, to try and calm his racing heart. “I want to try this. I want to see if maybe I can fit in yours and Andie’s lives. If you’ll let me.”

“Um…” Y/N felt like her voice was caught in her throat. She wasn’t sure what to say or do, at a complete loss for words. So much had happened in one night. She had gone a month without even talking to Bucky and here he was, confessing emotions that she never would have expected. “Bucky…” She wanted to try. She really did. Everything about Bucky had made her smile. He had been someone she looked forward to seeing and spending time with. So why couldn’t she say that? “I can’t be a part of this life.”

“Then you don’t have to be. And neither do I. I don’t have to protect every family in the world.” A weak smile curled his lips. Those calmed nerves of his reappeared, threatening to set him on fire as he told her, “I just want to protect you two.”

Y/N could practically feel the walls around her heart crack and shatter. She wanted to fall into Bucky and let him catch her. She wanted…

God, what did she want?

She wanted to trust him. “We’re just trying?”

Bucky’s small smile turned into a grin, hope flashing in his eyes. “Yes. Trying, seeing if it works.”

“No missions?”

“Honestly?” He shrugged. “I am more than happy to leave all of that behind. I want normal, Y/N. I want you and Andie.”

She laughed. It was soft and weak, but it was there. “We aren’t normal. We’re a mess. And broken and… I mean, you saw Andie’s powers. We’re not easy.”

“And I would never insult you by assuming you were. But I want to try and take some of the drama out of both our lives.”

Y/N bit the corner of her cheek before nodding. “But we have to be slow.”

He grinned, sitting up more as his arm wrapped around her waist. Her hands found his shoulders. “I can do slow.”

“Bucky, I mean really slow. Andie can’t know. I don’t want her to get excited about a potential father-figure. I can’t do that to her after all of this.”

“Okay. Then we won’t. We will take it as fast or slow as you want. You make the rules.”

Y/N smiled at that. “Thank you.”

“But can I ask one thing?” She raised an eyebrow, waiting for whatever question he could possible ask her. “Can I please kiss you?”

Y/N really laughed that time, full and beaming smile in place as she pressed her forehead against his. “It’d be a waste of a moment if you didn’t.”

Bucky grinned and leaned forward, capturing her lips in a slow and intense kiss.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Warmth was the first thing that registered in Y/N’s head when she woke up. An arm was wrapped securely around her waist, reminding her of the events from last night and earlier that morning. Though she was still tense, nervous from everything that had happened at the warehouse, remembering Bucky comforting her was enough to put her at ease once again. She smiled as she felt Bucky tug her closer, still finding it so sweet that he refused to leave, simply wanting to hold her through the early morning.

But it was giggling that made her open her eyes.

She immediately propped herself up on her elbows when she saw Andie in front of her. That Cheshire cat smile curled her daughter’s lips, showing she was very aware of the situation.

It seemed the combination of Y/N’s sudden movements and Andie’s giggles woke Bucky from his deep slumber. He groaned, tugging at her waist and trying to pull her closer. “What’s going on?”

“Mom? Bucky?” she drawled, bouncing on her feet.

Bucky sat up when he heard Andie’s voice, finding her as he looked over Y/N’s shoulder.

Andie glanced from one to the other, eyes and cheekbones shimmering in rainbows due to her excitement. “Do you have something to tell me?”

-.-.-.-.-.-

Tag List:

@buckyssoul

@amnahs9695

@booktease21

@niahmariec

@purplekitten30​

@mr-robot-x

@lets--be-honest​

@maggyme13​

@littleredstarfish​

@mishaandthebrits​

[anigodd]

I’m Sorry, My Dears (Part 1/?)

Loosely inspired by posts from anons on @transvav page and other fics It had taken them months to realize that the Captain was not himself anymore. Then again, they never gave him credit for what a good liar he was. Or perhaps the better term here would be ‘actor’, wouldn’t it?

The Darkness had slowly corrupted Jordan when he had taken the first potion offered to him whereas the others had refused it. The presence of that potion whispered in Jordan’s ear at night, but was easily ignored by the Captain. He had noticed he’s been sleeping better, though chalks it up to exhaustion. There was also this new black cat that slept on his chest at night, which was comforting to him. The Darkness took the form of his goddess only to ignore him, her most loyal champion, to plant seeds of doubt into Jordan’s mind. To make him wonder if he wasn’t good enough, if he had done something wrong, if he was weak, if he had failed her. When the true Ianite came to visit the Captain, she felt something...off about him. He was cold to her, no longer willing to do whatever she said without asking questions, no longer devoted. He stopped giving her offerings in the Temple, and was less inclined to maintain balance in the world. The Captain convinced himself that he just needed a break from godly things and so stopped responding to requests from the gods. The more they asked, however, that exhaustion turned to annoyance, which turned to resentment. Was all he was just a pawn to the gods? A tool? A means to an end? The Captain was tired of being used. Lady Ianite felt the bond fraying. And being a young goddess, she allowed it to fray. She stopped visiting him. And this allowed the Darkness to take hold of the Captain. He accepted the gifts more readily, listened to the whispers in his ears about how the Darkness could give him so much and ease his heartache. He could make him stronger to protect his friends. Train him to never fail, if he agreed to become the Champion of Darkness. The Captain refused, but they both knew he didn’t truly mean it. The Ianitee began to spend more time alone, refusing to answer his friend’s calls to go on an adventure, share stories, or even just hang with each other. He became snappy, voicing how busy he was and how he couldn’t afford to be distracted, or how they were getting in his way of improving his house or his gear. At first, he had felt poorly about treating his friends in such a way, but his new cat always comforted him, assuring him that he had a right to act the way he was. He was always being walked over after all. They could wait for him to approach them. The Captain did not notice how his attitude and way of thinking had changed. His thoughts had become jumbled between logic and the Darkness’ influence over him. Jordan felt guilty over the way he had been treating his friends and knew they had done nothing to deserve his attitude. However, his mind always became clouded with malice and hatred towards his friends whenever they suggested a new adventure, and so he made excuses not to see them. He also felt remorse over being so cold to his Lady, but every time he asked to see her, he was overcome with anger at seeing her. Each time she had brushed him off, refused to comfort or acknowledge him, even gift him a new weapon surfaced to his mind, reminding him why he was fed up with the gods. So, refused to speak to her when she asked if he was alright. She never pressed for answers after he had called her ‘useless’ for the first time. His friends became suspicious that something had changed within their once kind friend. Tom began to notice something was not right with his best friend when Jordan had stopped laughing at his jokes. The first time it happened, the Captain snapped at him to “Bother somebody else, Tom, I’m busy.” It had shocked the Dianitee to hear such hatred from his friend but left him alone. Tom just assumed he just caught him on a bad day. The next time however, was much more hurtful. He had been setting up a simple prank, just moving his stuff around to force Jordan to find them. The Captain’s reaction, however, he did not expect. While Jordan would usually groan and yell Tom’s name in that infuriated tone that made Tom smile, he instead elytrad to Tom’s island and addressed him with a scarily calm voice. “Tom?” Jordan asked. The Dianitee, who had not even heard Jordan approach him, jumped and spun around to face Jordan. He noticed his eyes were a bit darker than normal but blamed in on the lighting. “Jordan! It’s so good to see ya buddy! What do ya need?” He said with a smile. When Jordan didn’t immediately answer, his smile faded. The Captain wore a blank expression, just staring at Tom with his hand resting on the hilt of his sword. He finally looked right into the zombie’s eyes, causing his breath to catch in his throat. Those eyes that were once blue were nearly black and brimming with hatred. The Ianitee spoke. “You know, Tom, you always want to make sure you’re not annoying me too much with these pranks of yours and I always say ‘of course you aren’t, you’re my friend!’ But you know what Tom, you’ve always been an annoying pain in my side since the day that I met you, and I regret saying that you weren’t a fucking nuisance when you are.” The Captain turned and left, not sparing a glance at the stunned expression on Tom’s face nor the tears filling his eyes as the man he once called a best friend walked away with no remorse. The zombie cried himself to sleep that night. He didn’t approach the Captain after that. Karl was shocked to hear what Jordan, the man who was never truly angry at anything Jordan, had said those things to Tom with no guilt and no apology afterwards. He did his best to comfort Tom and even offered to talk to the Captain himself, but Tom declined, saying that Jordan was dangerous when he was truly angry. Karl relented, but that didn’t stop him from going over to Jordan’s island a few days later to check on him. The caveman was nervous to talk to Jordan, which had never happened to him before, being scared of one of his friends, but his worry over the Captain pushed him forward into Jordan’s house. He found him on the top floor near the edge of the roof, cleaning a wickedly sharp sword that was the color of midnight and reflected no light. He inched forward but didn’t get too close. He blamed his hesitance on not wanting to startle the Captain into stabbing him. A black cat watched him from Jordan’s side. “Hey Cappy, are you doin alright? Heard you went off on Tom the other day. He’s real messed up about it, you know?” Karl said, and Jordan stopped cleaning and turned to face the caveman. His face was scarily blank but his eyes held hatred. “Tom got what was coming to him, Karl. He shouldn’t be so upset about it.” Jordan said it with such a flippant tone that it left Karl speechless. Since when had Jordan not cared about how other people felt? “Jord, mate, that’s pretty fucked, even on your standards. Are you sure you’re alright? We haven’t seen ya in ages.” Karl moved to put his hand on Jordan’s shoulder, but the Captain had always been faster than him, and Karl was on his back with the midnight sword pointed towards his neck, the tip nearly piercing his skin. The Captain stared down at him impassively, almost as if he were inspecting mud on his shoe. Karl was afraid to even swallow, thinking he would be killed by his own friend if he made one wrong move. He heard a purr next to his ear. “I like you Karl. I really do. But if someone asks me one more time if I’m alright, I might just kill someone for real. So please, for the last time, leave me alone.” Karl was terrified. The Captain’s blank expression had morphed into a sincere smile, but the caveman felt anything but comfort. Chills ran down his spine as the sword was removed. He scrambled to his feet and began backing away. “Yeah, sure Jord, whatever you need, I’ll be back at my place if ya want to talk.” Karl left quickly and told Tom about what happened. They were both shocked that Jordan had done these things to them, but were determined to help him through whatever it was that was troubling him. They had been through too much together to give up on him now. After Karl’s experience with the Captain, things got.... weird. Jordan apologized for his actions and explained that he had been under a lot of stress from the gods and the voices in his head lately, and had no outlet for his emotions, so took it out on them. The Ianitee seemed sincerely apologetic, and so his friends forgave him, and after a moment’s hesitation, gave the Captain a group hug. The three continued on their days as they had before this whole mess. They joked, they went on adventures, and told stories. The Captain’s new cat companion was always welcome on these trips as well. A god and goddess watched with sorrow from afar as their Captain pulled a shield of normalcy over his friend’s eyes. “We have to warn them eventually that the Captain has been corrupted by the Darkness, brother.” Ianite said as she watched the cat meow when Jordan kills yet another in this purge. There is a sinister smile on his face as he does. She feels sorrow over the way she had ignored her Champion, but didn’t know how to fix it. She had never had a follower as dedicated as him, and so felt it was best that he come to her, not the other way around. Ianite regrets ever thinking that way, and now the once sweet and devoted boy who would drop everything for her now follows a being of pure evil. All because they had pushed him too hard. She will never forgive herself. Dianite watches as his Captain falls further into cruelty, leaving behind almost no traces of the sweet and slightly naive, yet powerful man that has killed gods before. His heart breaks as he kills another, and he can’t help but remember the Captain’s sweet and gentle kisses in the mornings and soft caresses at night. His eyes narrow at the black cat sitting on the Captain’s chest. How dare the Darkness take away what he had worked so hard for? The amount of time it had taken him to convince the Captain that he deserved to be loved? The nights he had devoted to showing the Captain he was loved? The sweet dates that the Captain planned for him? The way ‘Dianite’ was spoken so fondly and the way ‘Jordan’ was spoken was such reverence? It had hurt him so deeply when the Captain stopped wanting to see him. Dianite thought perhaps he was regretting his decision to date him. Had he done something wrong? But when he began to act normal again with that strange cat on his shoulder, he knew that wasn’t the man he loved. And so, he stopped seeing Jordan, even if it felt like his heart was being ripped apart, he knew he would be hurt worse if Jordan had said he wanted to end things between them. Jordan was his everything, and he would be damned if he didn’t try to get him back. Dianite looked back at his sister and sighed. “I know, sister. They will not take it well and insist we are lying. but we must prepare for a fight.” The purge ended with the Captain as the winner with 45 kills. The cat purrs on the Captain’s chest as he sleeps that night. They never got to confront him the next day. That damned cat was the only thing waiting for them when they got to the Captain’s island.

[thecandywrites]

Of Heaven and Fire Part 10

So, the storm is building and when it get’s bigger, we’ll see a spiral and then devastation, like a tornado. And all I can say is. Buckle up and I’m sorry. I’m usually the quintessential soft, sweet and fluffy writer, I don’t know where all this angst is coming from, but this story is keeping me sane during quarentine and maybe that’s why this story is as emotionally charged as it is. 

Tagging the crew. @probablyclever​, @imherefortheforthefanart​ and @funmadnessandbadassvikings​, your comments are giving me LIFE. And if anyone else wants to be tagged, just let me know. Enjoy. 

Of Heaven and Fire Part 10

The next morning came all too soon, you barely got any sleep the night before because all your worries kept eating away at you and once the storm died out. More angels and more heavenly moura than you could ever count surrounded the fleet. Two weeks ago you would have cried tears of joy and relief, now, just seeing them gave you dread. What looked like clouds was just...all angels and heavenly moura and you couldn’t tell which was which at this distance. It was an awe inspiring sight. And all the orcs were too afraid to come up on deck. 

“My Lords.” You greeted Suriel and Prince Cordene along with Prince Oriles who came up from the water via a pillar of water as you looked out and noticed the water practically teaming with merfolk trying to corral schools of fish. 

“Benyana, as you can see we brought reinforcements.” Prince Cordene practically crooned as he gestured to his many troops. “I have brought a hundred and fifty legions.” He bragged. 

“And I brought 200 legions, all who are ready to do your bidding.” Suriel beamed smugly as Prince Cordene tried to cover up his jealous glare. But you could see his feelings in his eyes. You didn’t know if you had the energy to juggle their competing egos today. 

“I see that and I’m eternally grateful for them. But I must prey upon your patience because this fleet still needs to fish. They can not return empty handed and as it stands, they are fearful for their own innocent lives to even come up onto the deck.” You tried to plead. 

“Well let us then send messages to them that they have nothing to fear from myself and my troops at least.” Suriel was the first to offer. 

“Likewise.” Prince Cordene immidiately added. 

“Thank you, that would mean a lot to me.” You thanked him sincerely as Suriel simply raised his hand and angels flew to every ship to deliver that message followed by Prince Cordene’s troops as well. 

“And please allow me to offer my own services, even as we speak, my citizens are schooling the various kinds of fish together. Please, tell me which ones you would most prefer.” Oriles offered before he pulled a wall of water up next to the ship that had the different kinds of fish in their own sections. Organized from the smallest to the largest which made you gasp in delight and astonishment. 

“Cugas, come here please.” You called before Cugas peeked his head above deck before he seemed to be pushed onto it by his crew below deck. 

“Hi,” Cugas greeted meekly before he came over. 

“Captain Cugas, I am Suriel, let me assure you that you and your fleet have nothing to fear on our account, Lady Benyana has informed us that you need to fish before you can return home since the fish are a food source for your clan. Please feel free to do so without fear. Once your boats are at their fill, then we escourt this fleet back to your harbor safely.” Suriel reassured him which you were grateful for. 

“Thank you.” Cugas nodded. 

“Prince Oriles is being oh so kind and considerate as to offer his assistance in the fishing.” You began as you reached into the column of water and got Oriles’ hand before you pulled it out and kissed his knuckles affectionately before he quickly and easily flipped his hand so that he was holding your face as you could see out of the corner of his eye that Prince Cordene was getting insanely jealous again. 

“Cugas, since I still only know a little about fish, I will follow your lead, please pick which ones you think would be best both for your clan and for Suchi.” You put to Cugas as you pulled away from Prince Oriles as he then lowered the wall and moved it around so that Cugas could get a good look at all the specimens. 

“This is the craziest thing to ever happen to me.” Cugas muttered under his breath to you as he looked at them all. 

“Oh, just wait.” You muttered back through a smile. 

“Uh so if I could get some of…” Cugas started to order off as he went through all the fish presented to him, especially happy that there was just a huge, massive variety and even the greater fish like tuna and swordfish, ironfish, cloud shark and stromwelo was offered as he then directed which boats he wanted which fish to go on and then which kind of crabs and lobsters he wanted in the pots before they got into position around the black eye of water and dropped their nets and in a matter of minutes, every net was full to almost the ripping point of the nets and in a matter of hours every hold on every ship was so full it was to the point of almost bursting before you saw the water dragons come up and blow ice at the boats, just enough that they had a nice layer of ice around the hauls, instead of being jagged like crystals, it was smooth as if it was carved that way and the boats were suddenly smoother in their sailing and the fish holds themselves were instantly frozen solid before you thanked the dragons personally before they presented you with a bubble that floated up from below the water up past it’s surface and into your hands. It was a sphere of what looked like a large ball of jade and while it was cool to the touch, it didn’t freeze your hands but the moment it touched your hands, it started to change colors into brilliant blues and purples and even pinks and reds. It was hypnotizing. 

“A special gift for the princess, your new most precious possession.” Yingshen winked at you. 

“Thank you.” You thanked her gratefully. It looked like it should weigh quite a bit but it was incredibly light before it shrunk down in size so that it fit into one hand and you were able to put it into your little purse like satchel for safe keeping as your instincts told you to protect it because it was something especially precious and something you should guard with your life and that the power contained within it was greater than you had ever known before and you were grateful it was contained, you would have to learn how to handle such power before you could wield it. 

“So while the nets are being put away, I wish to speak to all of you. Once I return to Suchi- I will begin accepting courting proposals. However, I would like- in writing- the rules of courting in each of your spheres, according to your ways, traditions and cultures and once I have all of them- I will read them and consider them before I set out my own rules on how I will wish to be courted and terms that will be fair and acceptable to all. And I can tell you right now that the first rule that no harm is ever to be done or even threatened against myself, my family, my colony or any of the other competitors, their families and their own dwelling places, be it a town or clan or tribe or city or whatever and there will be no sabotaging the other competitors.” You put to them as they weighed those terms over. 

“More details to follow, as soon as I figure them out myself.” You added which got them all to grin. 

“Agreed,” Suriel was the first to offer. 

“Yes, agreed.” Oriles agreed before Cordene begrudgingly agreed as well as you could already tell he had planned on sabotaging everyone else. 

It was almost instantaneous that once the fleet was squared away and the fleet was pointed back to port- the stiffest breeze the sails could take began to blow before a massive ship came up from the waters, it was the largest and most magnificent ship you had ever seen in your life. Like it was it’s own city on a ship and was so much larger than any ship in Cugas’ fleet and it followed the fleet before the winds picked up. The winds were so strong and so deliberate that what had taken you three days to sail out- now took barely a day to sail back and you barely had time to pack up your room with help from Brock as he watched you anxiously clean and pack. 

“Hey,” Brock softly murmured as he stilled your hands and made you just stop for a second and look at him. “Talk to me.” Brock invited. 

“I can’t. I’m sorry, I just...can’t.” You excused yourself as you pulled away from him but he quickly pulled you into a hug and just held you before you broke down crying.  

“I’m sorry,” He apologized. “It really is all my fault. I was being incredibly selfish in taking you and keeping you, I should have set you free that first night. And now we’re both worried about everyone around us being collateral damage.” He apologized and it was like he was pouring a soothing balm to your soul as you clung to him. 

“We’ll get through this, you’ll see.” He reassured you. 

By sunset you were back at Stormbreaker’s harbor and Brock’s family was at the docks waiting for you along with another family, judging by the way they were dressed, were of great importance but the relief on Brock’s family’s face when that shackle was nowhere to be seen on you was readily seen as you watched as Oriles came off the ship, sporting a pair of legs as you could tell he was still getting the hang of walking on them, his trident however still in his grasp as he came to stand with you as you introduced everyone to your new “friends” and revealed that Suriel and Cordene were also tasked with bringing you home and that no one should be fearful of the heavenly forces above all of you. 

“Oh thank the gods.” Rhos exclaimed as she hugged you tight before you pulled away and picked Kari up and held her tight, kissing her cheeks affectionately as she hugged you back. 

“Warchief Onvan, this is our moura friend Benyana.” She introduced you to them before he introduced himself and his family. 

“It is most auspicious that you’re here to celebrate the alliance. For we’ve discovered that our clans are sister clans.” Onvan announced. 

“Oh?” You feigned surprise. 

“Yes, it’s been discovered that the warchieftess is auric orc and Hurricane Breaker is the only clan to have auric orcs.” Onvan revealed proudly as you gave a curious look to Rhos who gave you a meaningful look in turn.  

“Auric...like, gold? Gold orc?” You repeated in confusion before they all turned around and you saw that...all of them had the moura gold neck tattoo. 

Oh shit. Fuck. 

You didn’t need to feign your surprise, your jaw was on the floor as your eyes got wide as you gasped as you and Prince Cordene were both shocked as you two looked in surprise at each other with hints of alarm while Suriel simply had a knowing smirk on his face. 

“What’s going on?” Oriles whispered to Suriel who gestured for him to just watch the scene unfold. 

“Wow. That’s..that’s amazing.” You tried to flatter despite the panic whirling ferociously in your chest. 

“Come, a feast is already ready for your return, let the others unload the boats.” He invited as his little ones came forward and encircled around you and urged you to come with them as Oriles, Cordene and Suriel and Brock followed you and you could see the panic in Brock’s eyes as Rhos was just simply trying to remain calm as you walked with them to a magnificent tent had been set up across from the warchief’s house and you sat down with the other kids surrounding you as they inspected all the embroidery on your clothes with eager eyes and fingers as you made your dress even bigger with stories sewn into the embroidery on the skirt to keep them and Kari entertained as you noticed Kari also had her hair up and it showed off her own golden neck tattoo as the guys sat nearby, all except for Suriel giving Brock a wide berth. 

“So tell me about auric orcs, I’ve never heard of them before.” You invited the warchief’s family.  

“For countless generations our clan has had this mark. When our babes are born, they grow a feather blanket out of it and once the blanket stops growing and detaches itself from the baby, the gold night happens, our god Zirvush comes alive and takes the feather blanket as it’s tribute and leaves behind the most wonderful treasures as a blessing! We use these to buy what the baby needs and what the family needs. And part of the blessings is that we cry diamonds!” Duzi, on of Onvam’s daughters who was only about seven or eight,  informed you excitedly before she went over and got her baby brother from her mother, one of Onvam’s dozen wives but not his warchieftess and the baby boy- who was only a few months old and brought him to you. 

“See? It’s almost done growing but it’s still stuck, once it’s done and it comes off, like an umbilical cord after a baby’s born,” she explained as you gathered him into your arms and started to coo at him. He had to be the most precious baby orc boy you had ever seen as you held him as he stared up in awed wonder at you, his little hands reaching out to grab your own free finger before he cooed back at you. 

“Aren’t you just so handsome! And oh so strong, you have a grip like iron!” You cooed at him and begin to rock him gently as you just take a moment to appreciate him as Onvam and his family beamed happily while you were sure Onvam’s eldest son Bedhu was imagining all the ways he could impregnate you judging by his leering at you holding his youngest half brother even though he himself had six wives too, all with children his younger sibling’s ages. 

“Warchief Onvam, I’m well aware that my grandmother has contracted you to bring me home and I know all the details of that contract. And while I know you are anxious to deliver me there, I have a proposition for you.” You began as you continued to rock the baby as Onvam and Bedhu practically drooled at your choice of words while the others simply looked to you curiously.  

“I know that your clan is quite rich while Stormbreaker is poorer by comparison. I wish to bring great wealth both to Stormbreaker but also to your clan as well.” You explained as you could feel Brock flush with a bit of embarrassment which made you feel a little guilty but you didn’t show it. “As it stands, all but one of the ships in port have their holds frozen solid, frozen on purpose by my friends Yingshen and her mate Pantaou that are a mated pair of oriental water dragons that I befriended in my times in the sea as a siren. Because as you’ve been informed, I’m a moura, granted a half blood mountain moura but a moura nonetheless and mouras and dragons, no matter the species are always allies and I’ll happily group you in with the blessing the water dragons have given me. If you don’t fish right over the black eye, but fish around it with shallow nets- they won’t destroy your boats and I trust your fleet as well as Stormbreakers fleet can come to an agreement about fishing that will benefit everyone, in fact I dare say you’ll have more success if you fish together. Now the fish and other seafood in those holds is intended for Suchi. Since I know the river that Stormbreaker sits on goes straight to the mountains that Suchi rests in. At the base of the mountain, where the river meets them is something of another harbor where all the merchants who travel up this river go to unload their ships of goods headed to Suchi and that they get paid in gold for their cargo at Suchi as well as the other colonies. I wish for Stormbreaker to be another merchant to Suchi and the goods they will sell will be some of the seafood they catch. And I wish for Stormbreaker to keep all the proceeds of that sale both this time and everytime in the future. But the citizens in Suchi may not know how to cook it, or at least cook it well. When you go with us, I want every good cook in your clan to bring all their cooking supplies and when we get to the colony square inside the gates, set up cooking stations, the citizens of Suchi will gladly pay Stormbreaker for the fish, but they will also pay you to process, clean and cook it all for them. I want the cooks in Stormbreaker to also feel free to do the same and the ice around those blocks of seafood will hold until we get there. No one should eat spoiled seafood and once it all sells, then you and Stormbreaker will be free to go back down the mountain back onto your boats and go out to sea to fish again. And if you sail in the circle current around the black eye over the water dragons, they will freeze your holds but only your holds and you’ll be able to come back, not just to Suchi but to the other colony Twilla that is at the top of the other side of the mountain who’s river estuary your own clan sits on and you can repeat this process and you’ll be able to sell all that you catch twice, once raw and again cooked. Ask ridiculous prices for it, make the cheapest fish go for a gold piece a pound and another gold piece for it cooked. And you’ll be able to repeat this as much as you want in addition to improving the river and the harbors in your territory as Stormbreaker will do the same in theirs and simply ask for either a flat fee from all those merchants to sail in your river to Twilla or a percentage of their own sales, whichever you prefer. Have your people pack as quickly as possible. Once you deliver me home, consider all of the terms of your contract with my grandmother fulfilled, nothing further will be asked or expected of you and you’ll receive your final payment and blessing before we even leave for Suchi. Because you’ll need those funds to buy whatever you would need or want because Suchi is an expensive place to stay for any length of time.” You proposed. 

“My clan will need a few days to get ready, will that be too long?” Onvam returned. 

“No, that’ll be just fine, I will need time myself to convene once again with my grandmother.” You smiled appreciatively at him just as a feast was brought out for you as you readily shared the giant portion of your food with all the little ones, helping them to eat too as food was brought out to the other guys, as Cordene and Oriles looked at the food wearily but after a few bites began to dig in as Suriel and Brock ate as well as you enjoyed yourself with Hurricane Breaker. 

As you walked out of their tent into the warchief’s house, you started to pace in their living room as you tried to grasp everything and all the components to this huge puzzle and try to figure out how they could be pieced together. 

“What?” Prince Cordene asked. 

“I need everyone’s help. I need to set a trap. That baby’s cloak is a day or two away from coming off. I need to know who this “Zirvush” is.” You explained. 

“Hide in plain sight as a bird then, in a “cage” if need be.” Brock shrugged as you all blinked in surprise. 

“Have Suriel and Prince Cordene hide their legions in the clouds themselves. I’m sure Suriel has a way of hiding them in plain sight too.” Brock suggested as Prince Cordene went to point out how beautifully simple that is.

“Then that only leaves me a day to strike the deal with my grandmother.” You insisted. 

“Uh, actually, let Prince Oriles go get her, he can get her and come back faster than you can. Time is of the essence. And Yana, no need to change into a bird to hide in plain sight, I’ll do that. They’ll be suspicious if they see you in a cage since they already know that you’re free.” Suriel stopped you as Oriles was all too eager to do so before he quickly left and you didn’t think twice as to Suriel’s objections. 

Come morning, your grandma was in the water at the end of the dock as you sat on the end of it and talked with her and she begrudgingly gave Hurricane Breaker their final payment which they happily accepted as well as a gift for yourself. Quite a bit of treasure, a whole treasure trove full, conveniently in another orb. This one was gold in color and carved like it was made out of pure gold with a slot at the top, all you needed was to turn it over and limitless fortune would fall out, like a piggy bank. You thanked your grandmother and offered to go on one last swim with her but she stopped you. 

“No, don’t bother getting any more than those pretty little feet wet Darling, I’ll see you again, probably more than you realize.” She hinted with a knowing grin before she swam away into the dark depths as you mentally chided yourself for being so transparent that even she could see your affection for Brock. But one look over at the builders down the coast building their own harbor, you got a brilliant idea...

[kazimakuwabara]

Party-Pooper

Summary: Hiei hates that he’s here. Parties are not his “scene.” But while he hates parties, he’s hating even more what he’s seeing happen to Kuwabara.

(can be Hiei/Kuwabara or friendship. Whatever ya like! about 1500 words)

***

Hiei did not “party.” He was not someone who celebrated with, “friends,” or went out and met new people in a social situation. That was a human invention, it just had to be.

And yet here he was now, at an event being held by Mukuro, an event with food, drink, and a gathering of people. While it had been put under the label of, “celebration,”--it was still a fucking party and Hiei hated it. 

But this was Mukuro, one of the less than a dozen people he considered... important. She asked him to be present, even if it was for just the first hour, and so he agreed. Yusuke and Kurama were there, and Mukuro had also invited Kuwabara.

She had taken an unexpected shine to him two years ago and even went as far as seeking him out and having long conversations with him. Kuwabara made her smile, which was rare, and so Hiei couldn’t grumble too much about seeing Kuwabara hang around. It was also interesting to see jealous stares pitched Kuwabara’s way as Mukuro kept him within her inner circle.

Sipping a glass of some intoxicating beverage, Hiei watched as friends, and allies of Mukuro’s territory gathered, celebrating her victory in the latest Makai tournament. Somewhere in the next room Hiei could still hear Yusuke loudly exclaiming that his face still fell like it was going to fall off from Mukuro’s last hit. He was awfully pleased about his loss, and even wanted another go, but that was Yusuke for you.

Directly to his right, Murko was making small talk with Kurama, the two at some points joking about Hiei just to get a rise out of him. Hiei would deeply sigh and roll his eyes, and those two would smile like they had accomplished something special.

He should have never let those two be alone with one another.

He’d brought his drink to his mouth when he spotted Kuwabara passing a drink over to some demon “lord,” (as the demon had proclaimed it) over some useless patch of territory none of the three kings had been invested in enough to take over. Zekial, or something like that, was his name.

And this was the third time Zekial had found Kuwabara and specifically gotten the human to get him a drink.

This was odd in a way Hiei hadn’t quite put his finger on. When he first saw Zekial ask for a drink, Hiei had found it odd. The second time Hiei was wondering if this was Zekial flirting, which, good luck getting Kuwabara to notice that. But now it was on the third request for a beverage in under an hour, and it just... didn’t sit right.

Kuwabara, fool that he was would stop what he was doing, go to the bar across the room, make and get this demon a drink. Kuwabara would return smiling, and politely pass the beverage over to Zekial who would take it with an arrogant tip of his nose. Kuwabara would then go back to his corner with Chuu, or Jin, or Yukina, or whoever he had been hanging around, and go back about his business.

Hiei had his eyes on Zekial now. What was his game? Everyone in Mukuro’s territory knew Mukuro favored Kuwabara. Everyone in the whole realm of demon world knew Kuwabara had Yusuke’s favor--so what was the demon doing? 

Keeping an eye on Zekial now, Hiei watched as he hung around the same three people, who also were looking at Kuwabara with slightly arrogant eyes. And then one of them slipped up and allowed a sneer to cross his face. Hiei put his drink down hard, some of the contents splashing on his hand.

So, that was it.

Zekial and his small little rag-tag group of hangers-on were disrespecting Kuwabara and looking down on him in a way they thought they could get away with.

And Kuwabara-idiot that he was-hadn't noticed. Had been smiling politely, probably confused as to why these people were having him fetch their drinks. Like a servant. Like a slave. Treating Kuwabara like that wasn’t just an insult to Kuwabara, but also to Mukuro who had endured such atrocities, and yet these lower life forms thought they could act this way in her home and expect not to get noticed.

Hiei was already walking forwards by the time Zekial had poured out the drink Kuwabara had poured him, and then casually strolled back over to Kuwabara, with intentions to have him fetch a fourth drink.

Kuwabara had turned around to face Zekial and Hiei could see Kuwabara’s face now. The exasperation, confusion, and annoyance in his eyes. The forced polite smile as he tried to maintain his temper and remain polite.

So it was worse than Hiei had realized. Kuwabara had noticed but was forcing himself to behave.

If Kuwabara wasn’t going to lose his temper, Hiei would do it for him.

“Hey, moron!” Hiei snapped speaking over Zekial who had his cup extended and a question on his lips.

Both Kuwabara and Zekial snapped their attention to Hiei.

Hiei kept his eyes on Zekial and pointed a finger at the arrogant prick, “This is the fourth time you’ve sought Kuwabara out to get you a drink. And while you lost your very first match in the tournament, I see that you have legs and eyes that can help you fetch your own Goddamn drink.”

Zekial, the first wise decision of his night, remained quiet trying to formulate something to say.

Hiei wasn’t going to give him time to think, “Well? Is there a particular reason you’re having Kuwabara serve you?”

“He’s just been being... very polite to me and assisting me,” Zekial tried.

Kuwabara folded his arms, and tilted his head thoughtfully, “I have been pretty polite to ya... especially since you keep rudely interruptin’ me and anyone I talk to, and I’ve practically mapped out where you can get your own drink.”

Zekial was turning red and had begun to do so the moment Kuwabara changed his stance. As Kuwabara finished speaking, Zekial couldn’t hold on to his decorum for another few seconds to try and lie himself out of the trouble he had landed himself in. Instead, he turned a disgusted face to Kuwabara, sneering, “The day I show any civility towards something that is lower than a bug, will be the day I die!”

Hiei’s sword was pierced through a nonvital point of Zekial’s chest as the demon finished speaking.

“Do not confuse Kuwabara’s worth, with yours,” Hiei bit out, eyes narrowed. He twisted the sword, enough to have Zekial cry out in agony, and then Hiei ordered, “Kneel. I have not done enough damage to kill you, but I could do it in this very second. Kneel, and apologize to Kuwabara.”

Zekial hissed, face twisted in pain, but his fear was stronger than his pride, and with a slow painful effort, he managed to kneel, Hiei’s sword still stuck within him. 

“Now, apologize,” Hiei instructed again, smirking at Zekial’s sorry state.

“I’m...sorry...” Zekial hissed as Hiei twisted the blade another few centimeters.

Hiei smiled wide, his look bloodthirsty, “No. Apologize to Kuwabara. He’s the one you’ve wronged here.”

Kuwabara snorted, covering an obvious laugh with a faked cough.

Zekial was changing colors. He was sweating he was enraged and humiliated. Zekial’s nostrils flared and he slowly turned his eyes to Kuwabara, “Human...”

Kuwabara tsked, ”You’ve heard my name enough to use it haven’t you?”

Hiei laughed, delighted by Kuwabara’s rare show of cruelty.

Zekial, no longer able to flush red as he was already losing too much blood, managed, “Kuwabara, I apologize... for my behavior this evening.”

Hiei wrenched his sword from Zekia’s chest with an intentional force, and planting his boot into the demon’s face, kicked him back towards Yusuke who had come up behind him. Yusuke twisted the much taller demon’s arms easily behind his back, and with a savage grin of his own quipped, “Let me get this trash out. Consider yourself lucky to get to keep your life pal. If I’d spotted that shit, who knows what I would have done!”

And with a sharp jerk, Yusuke was leading the man from the room, while the rest of the attendants burst into applause. Enki, along with Chuu had gathered up Zekial’s posse and were shoving them to follow after their leader.

“Alright you lot get out too,” Enki was saying with a disappointed air.

“Yeah ya ingrates! Out!” Chuu laughed kicking one of the men forward.

Hiei sheathed his sword shaking off the blood and felt a hand on his shoulder. Looking up he saw Kuwabara smiling at him, his eyes twinkling with amusement, gratitude, and some other soft emotion that had Hiei cringing.

“Thanks man,” Kuwabara said low and sincere.

Hiei took in a deep breath, sighing and accepting his fate. He grunted in response.

Kuwabara’s arm slipped around Hiei’s shoulders in a light friendly squeeze, “Always knew you loved me.”

Hiei rolled his eyes, and spotted both Kurama and Mukuro smiling at him with shit-eating grins.

He hated parties.

[ifeveristoday]

team Slow Burn/Burn it All Down

“Real monsters don’t announce themselves or present opportunities. Not here. They enter your head, your heart, tear at you from within.” -- Angel, Hellmouth #2

Are we talking about the demons underground or the demon walking around with Angel’s face?

Hellmouth leans heavy on foreshadowing and having unspoken/underlining meanings that differ from the actual words on the page. It continues using elements from Egyptian and Roman/Greek mythos but the main draw of this issue - and I’m assuming the rest of the series, is the reluctant partnership of Buffy and Angel. I don’t agree with the criticism that taking Buffy and Angel away from their respective apocalypses ruins the flow of the overall arcs. It’s a vast story to tell and the pace of the reboots (which is something I have criticized) makes it difficult to include in the main storylines without sacrificing important character development. There are just so many characters, especially in Sunnydale. Jordie’s writing excels at the character and emotional beats rather than plots, and while we have had some great strides in Willow, Xander and Jenny’s personal journeys, there remains some distance from the namesake characters, which I feel like it was intentional to get to the place that Hellmouth occupies. 

Love it or hate it, the Buffy and Angel relationship is a huge part of both of their stories and character developments and we’ve had inklings of how Buffy is going to change/possibly wreck Angel’s life in Angel, but he’s remained a shadowy figure in Buffy’s story. Hellmouth changes all of that while retaining some of the original canon’s flaws/trademarks but also poking gentle fun at them.

Spoilers from Hellmouth #2 below the cut.

Buffy and Angel are slightly different from their canon selves - Angel is independent of Buffy’s journey at the very beginning and already has his purpose set in Los Angeles. Buffy is a newly minted Slayer, living with her secret for a whole three weeks before wacky Slayer hijinks puts her in the path of Willow and Xander. Their initial meeting/relationship is reminiscent of the very early episodes of Season 1 Buffy - with a reasonable amount of wariness on Buffy’s part and Angel’s dry/slightly cocky attitude with a 2019 update of their anxieties. There’s also a flip in roles as Angel asks Buffy how she’s feeling and what she wants to do in the future at the start. It’s just the feeling of a connection with no romantic overtones. 

The comic recognizes the fucked-upness of Buffy being a child and fighting the forces of evil and sympathizing with her via the character of Jenny. While there is an obligatory nod to Buffy’s desire to be normal, it also makes a point of isolating her from the Scoobies and her frustration at knowing how to be the best Slayer she can be. Giles tells her that he’s to direct her, but not tell her explicitly what she has to do sounds an awful like parents preparing their children for adulthood. There is no handbook. While Buffy is welcomed into Willow and Xander’s circle (and that’s another flip - it is Willow who reaches out to Buffy first and invites her into being social), they’re very much a unit while Buffy sort of floats between their friendship. But I feel due to them being so young, it’s easy to claim best friendship, because - the intensity of feelings and hormones.

This makes Buffy’s character kind of harder to read, and less sunshiney than her OG counterpart. But it’s a shared facade - TV Buffy just hid it better underneath girliness and bouncy hair, while Boom! Buffy is focused, for better or worse to her duty. This is a Buffy that hasn’t quit Slaying before, who gets slightly conflicted guidance from her Watcher and who needs Willow and Xander more than they possibly need her to be a connection to being sixteen. Everyone has their own stuff to deal with.

Hellmouth gives Buffy the spotlight and also drops her into an immediate partnership with Angel. It very pointedly is not a romance - they both get on each others nerves actually, and it inspires A+ bantering while revealing the most of each character so far. Buffy’s venting to Angel (Buffy #8/Hellmouth #1) implies that she’s worried about her friendships and failure to connect, that she’d rather tell a complete stranger this than confide in her friends/Watcher. 

Angel listening and not judging shows an immediate empathy for her - and his actions during Hellmouth show a more vulnerable/less closed off Angel. He doesn’t occupy the same caretaker vibe he has with Fred and Gunn that he does with Buffy, namely because Buffy refuses it. She calls him out on trying to be the mysterious weight of the world Loner who takes on all of the responsibilities. 

Angel quickly realizes he just can’t be That Guy with Buffy, and it makes his character hilariously resigned/looser in response. He warns her about dangers in the Hellmouth but accepts Buffy’s way is different from his, but that doesn’t make it wrong. He’s willing to admit he might have been wrong about demons being upfront when the slithery shapeshifter demon confronts them - and Buffy’s snarky response “Cool, cool. Won’t rub that in.” lightens the tense moment. 

Notably, Angel is the one that gets injured/dragged by the demons while Buffy runs to save him. The fighting sequences are highlighted and Buffy’s scenes, in particular, are very smooth and highlights her Slayer grace. They fight beautifully together and despite their prickly banter, feel a shared responsibility to each other’s well being. Their separate confrontations with the shapeshifter shows their fears - Buffy ‘abandoning’ her family and friends and failing to protect them, Angel seeing the ghosts of the people he’s failed to save. Buffy reacts strongly to how her family and friends need her, while Angel angrily tells the shifter to stay out of his head and that it doesn’t know anything about him. Circling back to Buffy saying she doesn’t know what she wants, the Ominous voice implies Angel doesn’t really know what he’s doing and who he is.

Ah, vague accusations of something evil and upsetting, how I haven’t missed you.

After Angel demands to know who’s blood is needed for the further escalation of Evil Plan, and the Voice doesn’t reply, he immediately realizes Buffy is in danger and runs to find her.

Buffy’s still fighting the shifter and it mentions she could put an end to her family and friends’ suffering with her sacrifice - namely, that her blood will save the world.

While Buffy logically knows that the shifter isn’t her mom (because of course, the shifter would take on the form of Joyce), this emotional blackmail breaks her out of the illusion and she kicks it’s ass. Almost punching out Angel in the process. 

Angel is less emotional about his ordeal and Buffy lets him have it again, telling him that it's unfair that she’s the only one being vulnerable - “I opened up because we need to work together, and you haven’t said a thing.”

Instead of being defensive and defaulting to Sir Mopes a Lot - Angel sincerely apologizes and tells her that his fears were also centered around his friends and him not being able to save them in time.

And it’s Buffy’s turn to reassure him/pass on wisdom - she realizes that the Hellmouth wants to separate them to make them weaker and that Angel deserves a little more empathy from her.

THEY’RE COMMUNICATING THEIR FRUSTRATIONS AND CONCERNS WITH EACH OTHER, Y’ALL.

Angel does have a moment of saying, “Silent suffering is more my cup of tea,” and Buffy’s quick response of “And how’s that working for you?” showcase their differences/similarities nicely. Angel despite making friends doesn’t tell them what he’s thinking because he’s used to being alone, Buffy with her very loud opinions isolates herself (un)intentionally because she’s new to Slaying and being a teenager at the same time. They can’t talk to the people who care for them--- but they can talk to each other.

When they face hurdles, they take turns reassuring/pointing out the Obvious Evil, and then a tiny moment - Angel adds onto Buffy’s observation of not getting surrounded by the demon horde by saying, “Just like Thermopylae.”

As with each issue of the Boom!verse, when names I don’t recognize I obviously google them - and Thermopylae is a reference to both the battle of Thermopylae (think the 300 comic and uh, history) and the “Hot Gates,” and is the cavernous entrance to Hades.

Is my theory/wish that there’s going to be Persephone/Hades parallels and Eurydice/Orpheus vibes in this story going to play out? God, I hope so.

Anyway, back to the moment - when they inevitably get surrounded by the demon hordes, Buffy remarks, “Well, there goes thermometer.”

The. Classic. Buffy. Malapropism.

My heart.

Angel gets slashed in the fight, and Buffy worries about him, but there’s a bigger problem - 

narrated by the Voice - “Are you sure everything is as it seems? You’ve been wrong before.”

“Blood is spilled...vessels are filled...every pretender killed.”

Shot to Drusilla as Prometheus in chains, spouting some of the worst “Dru-esque” dialogue I’ve read. Sorry Jordie, this is up there with the clunky faux Whedonisms of the early issues.

So Dru isn’t the major Big Bad, but rather the unseen Voice, who we, of course, don’t know.

Is she ultimate sacrifice, the vessel (after all she is of Angel’s bloodline) and oh, Angel Still Hasn’t Told Buffy He’s A Vampire which...

Boo.

All of the voice overs hint that the confession when it happens is going to cause Buffy Big Mad - after all, Angel knows more about her than she does of him, AGAIN.

The art and coloring is stunning as ever in this issue - Carlini really knows how to draw action sequences, and the varying light/color schemes really make the sense of Buffy and Angel descending into the Hellmouth feel vivid and real.

tl;dr I loved this issue and each issue the stakes definitely seem higher. The bantering and a slow reveal of their personalities are also excellent. The foreshadowing/double meanings of the dialogues.

The stuff I don’t like - the Dru dialog at the end, Angel being secretive about his Vampire self.

[stevenuniversallyreviews]

Episode 123: Room for Ruby

“It's sunny now, but it can always rain later.”

Catch and Release really did change everything. I’ve already discussed it as a paradigm shift, transforming the concept of what the Crystal Gems are: before, a quartet with Steven as the rookie, and after, a fluid group where Steven has some seniority. We’re in an era where Connie, a full-fledged human, is a Crystal Gem. Bismuth, who already was a Crystal Gem but got reintroduced and then left behind, will return as a member of the modern iteration. And two former enemies, Peridot and Lapis, have joined the group (the latter unofficially). So who’s to say a ruby soldier wouldn’t fit in?

Granted, Charlyne Yi’s performs a ruby that’s a little too forgiving, and power combo Raven Molisee (of the highly expressive Molisee’n’Villeco) and Jesse Zuke (of the barnmaster duo Zuke’n’Florido) exaggerate her face and words to the point where it’s at least a little suspicious from the start. But Navy, cleverly named for the gem on her navel just as Army is named for her arm gem, has always been friendly and chipper compared to the other rubies in her squad. It’s believable, despite us never witnessing it, that the other rubies are mean to her for this attitude. And because this is a ridiculous character, it was always possible that her ridiculously jolly attitude was sincere.

That Navy is lying the whole time is irrelevant to the wonder of a show that makes us believe that she might join up. Her betrayal might be predictable, but our status quo is as capable of change as the planet our heroes love; it’s a similar sensation to Alone at Sea, where even though nothing drastic happens there’s a real possibility that Lapis might relapse and go back to Malachite. It’s so much better than an episode where we know from the start that the character-of-the-week will depart by the end of the story.

Navy’s chipper behavior is variably cute and questionable, but I love the massive hint that is the rain sequence. Gems become Crystal Gems when exposed to water, so Navy gets her own little baptism as part of the orientation. But because she’s a false convert, we get artificial rain for her artificial reaction. Yi sells absurd joy as well as absurd frustration, but there’s a cloud hanging over this moment that becomes clearer on rewatch. 

Despite beginning with Steven and Garnet, then bringing Navy along for the ride, Room for Ruby becomes a Lapis Lazuli episode as soon as we head back to the barn. Navy is as one-dimensional as it gets before the reveal, blithely accepting everything that comes her way and seeming incapable of feeling negative emotions, so she needs an external opponent if we want this episode to have a plot. Yes, it’d be fun to see this goofball being a goofball for eleven minutes, but thankfully Steven Universe is willing to go deeper.

Peridot’s bossiness and desire to impress makes her an excellent candidate to teach Navy the ropes, and both can bond with fellow shorty Steven over a shared go-get’em mindset. So it makes sense that our wet blanket is Lapis, who first distrusts Navy and then gets fed up with how easy everything is for her. She’s trying, but seeing another foe-turned-friend have such a smooth go of it isn’t easy, and exploring those emotions of jealousy and inadequacy allows for a wonderful last hurrah before Lapis abandons Earth in Raising the Barn.

Lapis has a tricky role to play here, as she’s straddling the line between protagonist and antagonist depending on how much you trust Navy. Our hero/villain is portrayed sympathetically, as we’re reminded of her traumas and her slow but steady recovery process; she might come across as petty, but it’s understandable pettiness when Navy breezes by in areas where Lapis has struggled. And it helps that unlike fellow Ornery Lapis episode Barn Mates, Navy doesn’t seem to get upset at the negativity; this isn’t Peridot trying to win over a stubborn holdout, it’s a spacy ruby who ignores the venom. But at the same time, Lapis is the only protester in the Navy Parade, and her clash with Steven’s goal of bringing in a new friend makes her a huge bummer. 

Which is why I love this episode’s lesson so much: that it’s sometimes okay to be a huge bummer.

It’s okay because everyone’s going through the world at their own pace, and whether you’re clinically depressed, a survivor of trauma, or you’re just plain sad, it doesn’t make you less worthy than folks in a happier mood. Lapis attempts patience and understanding despite her annoyance, and only snaps when Navy’s attitude turns sickly sweet; feelings of inferiority are hard to work through, but it doesn’t make it okay to be a jerk the whole time. Even after the outburst, Lapis is quick to reassure Navy, acknowledging that it’s an internal problem and apologizing. She wants to like the newcomer, but as soon as she senses the forced perkiness it’s hard for her not to notice that something’s off.

A good twist is something that makes you rethink the plot, but a great twist does this duty while being enjoyable as a plot point on its own merits. The execution of Navy’s betrayal is marvelous, even as it becomes more and more obvious that it’s coming. After spending the whole episode geeking out about Earth stuff, Navy not-so-subtly suggests that she wants to go back to her ship. Steven not only falls for it, but is down to press a huge button without asking follow-up questions; it may seem inconsistent with his growing maturity, but it makes sense that an excitable kid is lost in the joy of making a new friend. The stranger area for me is his exclamation that the Crystal Gems “finally” have a pilot, as if Pearl hasn’t been successfully navigating spaceships this whole time, but again, he’s caught up in the moment.

The twist-within-a-twist is that while Navy has been plotting against our heroes this whole time, her demeanor isn’t part of the act. Yi's transition from earnest giddiness on land versus manic giddiness post-betrayal is worth the price of admission, especially as she merrily explains that she opted not to just steal the ship because she wanted to watch the Crystal Gems suffer. 

And of course, this brings about Lapis’s triumphant laughter at being proven right. Jennifer Paz is awesome throughout the episode, restraining herself when necessary for big bursts of energy to hit home, and it culminates in the sheer joy that comes from righteous vindication. We could’ve gotten a somber moment of Steven’s anguish at being tricked, similar to what we got after Peridot’s duplicity in Message Received, but Lapis allows us a sense of relief despite things going horribly. 

In an episode featuring a character as unsubtle as Navy (being tricky doesn’t stop her from being loud and hammy), I love the quieter story we get from Garnet. We only get a nudge that Navy’s story appeals to Ruby and Sapphire, but we don’t need more than that, so I’m glad we don’t get more. Yes, it would be fun to see Ruby hanging out with Navy, but the episode’s focus is elsewhere and we don’t indulge in fanservice that would take away from the plot. The two balloons Garnet brings at the end are color-coded for convenience, so we don’t need anyone to tell us that the optimistic red message is Ruby’s hopes and the apologetic blue message is Sapphire’s realism. It’s not a novel observation that Steven Universe respects the audience enough to not hold our hands, but it’s still appreciated.

(Also appreciated is a soft moment of Garnet bonding with Steven independent of the plot as they make wishes; Steven may be growing up fast, but he’s still allowed to be a kid sometimes instead of spending every episode in teen angst mode.)

In terms of criticisms, I’m a little torn about the pacing: Room for Ruby meanders a bit in that second act, even though I understand its purpose. Lapis needs to have her tolerance for Navy strained to a breaking point so she’s not throwing a tantrum out of nowhere, so we need multiple examples of frustrating glee. But it does get a little boring on rewatch to have the point driven home again and again that Navy is a perfect little angel, even if it’s all building up to the twist that she’s anything but.

Still, I can’t help but enjoy the nostalgia this structure provides, because major plot points aside, the episode fits right in with classic Season 1. We get a simple story that primes us for an obvious conclusion. Steven will find an unusual solution in his cheeseburger backpack. Steven will learn patience when Pearl takes a while to reform. Steven’s beach party with the Gems and the Pizzas will teach the Gems to respect civilians more. Lapis will grow to accept Navy’s differences. But instead, Steven’s improvisation only goes so far, and he’s impatient again as soon as Pearl returns, and the Gems still don’t care about Fish Stew Pizza, and Lapis’s negative outlook was correct. Steven Universe first made its mark by toying with the conventions of episodes with straightforward morals, and it’s nice to see that legacy continue so late in the series. 

The implications of Navy’s actions are soon made clear, as the loss of the Crystal Gems’ only means of space travel (stolen from the very barn where Steven, Greg, and Pearl first experimented with space travel!) makes Steven’s imminent sacrifice that much weightier. But before that shoe drops, we can enjoy one last glimpse of our favorite little ruby.

(I’m kidding of course, our Ruby is the best ruby.)

We’re the one, we’re the ONE! TWO! THREE! FOUR!

Charlyne Yi hamming it up and Lapis’s grouchiness paying off? What’s not to love?

Top Twenty

Steven and the Stevens

Hit the Diamond

Mirror Gem

Lion 3: Straight to Video

Alone Together

Last One Out of Beach City

The Return

Jailbreak

The Answer

Mindful Education

Sworn to the Sword

Rose’s Scabbard

Earthlings

Mr. Greg

Coach Steven

Giant Woman

Beach City Drift

Winter Forecast

Bismuth

Steven’s Dream

Love ‘em

Laser Light Cannon

Bubble Buddies

Tiger Millionaire

Lion 2: The Movie

Rose’s Room

An Indirect Kiss

Ocean Gem

Space Race

Garnet’s Universe

Warp Tour

The Test

Future Vision

On the Run

Maximum Capacity

Marble Madness

Political Power

Full Disclosure

Joy Ride

Keeping It Together

We Need to Talk

Chille Tid

Cry for Help

Keystone Motel

Catch and Release

When It Rains

Back to the Barn

Steven’s Birthday

It Could’ve Been Great

Message Received

Log Date 7 15 2

Same Old World

The New Lars

Monster Reunion

Alone at Sea

Crack the Whip

Beta

Back to the Moon

Kindergarten Kid

Buddy’s Book

Gem Harvest

Three Gems and a Baby

That Will Be All

The New Crystal Gems

Storm in the Room

Room for Ruby

Like ‘em

Gem Glow

Frybo

Arcade Mania

So Many Birthdays

Lars and the Cool Kids

Onion Trade

Steven the Sword Fighter

Beach Party

Monster Buddies

Keep Beach City Weird

Watermelon Steven

The Message

Open Book

Story for Steven

Shirt Club

Love Letters

Reformed

Rising Tides, Crashing Tides

Onion Friend

Historical Friction

Friend Ship

Nightmare Hospital

Too Far

Barn Mates

Steven Floats

Drop Beat Dad

Too Short to Ride

Restaurant Wars

Kiki’s Pizza Delivery Service

Greg the Babysitter

Gem Hunt

Steven vs. Amethyst

Bubbled

Adventures in Light Distortion

Gem Heist

The Zoo

Rocknaldo

Enh

Cheeseburger Backpack

Together Breakfast

Cat Fingers

Serious Steven

Steven’s Lion

Joking Victim

Secret Team

Say Uncle

Super Watermelon Island

Gem Drill

Know Your Fusion

Future Boy Zoltron

Tiger Philanthropist

No Thanks!

     6. Horror Club      5. Fusion Cuisine      4. House Guest      3. Onion Gang      2. Sadie’s Song      1. Island Adventure

[lady-divine-writes]

Kurtbastian one-shot “You Should Be Dancing” (Rated PG)

Summary: Kurt gives Blaine his newly decorated skates, along with some words of encouragement.

...

And Sebastian's there, too. (1591 words)

Notes: A follow up to 'Pride'

Part 61 of Outside Edge

Read on AO3

Knock-knock-knock

“Blaine? Honey? Can I come in?”

Blaine looks up from his scrapbook to the door, open a jar, with Kurt’s hand curled around the edge. He smiles, happy to see his best friend no matter what, but it’s hard for him to push away the melancholy he’s spent the past few hours wrapping himself in. The scrapbook in front of him is filled with pictures from his past, mainly competitions and shows he participated in at his old rink. Back then, he felt these pages were filled with evidence of a life well-lived. As long as he practiced and trained pretty much every waking moment, he was working towards a goal. Even if he didn’t get everything he wanted out of life that would be okay, because he’d have all this to look back on.

Genuine accomplishment.

But now he sees it for what it was.

One big, continuous performance.

He closes the book. Kurt hasn’t seen it yet. It’s too painful to look through by himself. He doesn’t know how excruciating it would be to open up this wound to someone else’s eyes, even someone as selfless and compassionate as Kurt.

“Sure,” he says, summoning his friend in. “Of course. What’s up?”

“Aren’t you coming to Pride night at the rink?” Kurt walks in, carrying a black satin pouch that he puts at the foot of the bed before he sits. “We’re going to be late if we don’t leave now.”

“You know …” Blaine busies himself flattening down the cover of his scrapbook so he doesn’t have to look Kurt in the eyes “… I think I might just stay here, if it’s all the same to you guys.”

“It won’t be the same without you,” Kurt says, knocking Blaine’s shoulder with his own.

“I appreciate that. It’s just I … well, I kind of imagine it’s more of a couples’ thing.”

“When I first met you at LGBTQ night at that rink in Columbus, you were going stag.”

“I know, but … being single … I think I feel it a little more now than I did back then. I had more hope about the way things would turn out, if that makes sense.”

“Yeah.” Kurt puts a hand over Blaine’s and squeezes. “It does. But if you come with us, you won’t technically be single. We’ll be a threesome.”

“Do you have to put it like that?” Sebastian’s disembodied voice groans from the hallway.

“That LGBT night at the Columbus rink,” Blaine continues, though he may have snorted at Sebastian’s remark, “it was an ongoing, once-a-month thing. But this is Pride. It feels like such a bigger deal.”

“I agree. 100 percent. And that’s why you should come! Westerville Ice-plex has never hosted anything for Pride. Not officially, anyway. It’s a turning point. They’re not just supporting us within the confines of their walls anymore. They’re letting everyone know. They’re saying it, in no uncertain terms. And you played a part in that.”

Blaine shrugs. “Not a big part.”

“Bigger than you think.”

“Still, you guys have been there the longest. You’ve put in all the time. No one deserves to be there more than you.”

Kurt tilts his head, watching his best friend run a finger down the spine of his book. “Do you think … you don’t deserve to be there?”

Blaine’s head begins to shake subconsciously even before he answers. “I think … maybe not?”

“Why?”

“Because I spent so much time pretending I was something I’m not. Seeing you and Sebastian, and the way you are together all the time, anywhere you go … it makes me feel like a coward for not putting myself out there sooner.”

“There’s no shame in being in the closet, Blaine,” Kurt says gently. “For a lot of people, it’s a survival mechanism.” He’s close to pointing out that if Blaine hadn’t stayed in the closet for so long, his father would have tossed him out sooner, maybe given him worse than one black eye. And without Sebastian to lend him a hand, where would he be right now? But it seems too cruel, especially considering how much Blaine has gone through to try and forget.

None of which worked the way Kurt had hoped.

“I’ve been leading two lives for so long, I had myself completely convinced that I was pulling it off. I thought I could split my personality down the middle – be the perfect son for my mom and dad, and also be myself, and I would never have to confront the issue. I’d be safe, and I’d never have to hurt anyone. But more and more, the two me’s started to bleed into each other, and it became so much harder to hide.” Blaine hangs his head, lifting the book off the bed and hugging it in his arms. “I miss my old life, but only because it had my parents in it. And my coach. And as much as I appreciate everything you and Sebastian have done for me, sometimes I feel like I did something wrong.”

“Blaine! You did nothing wrong!”

“If I did nothing wrong, why did my family turn their backs on me? Why couldn’t they just accept me for who I am? Why couldn’t they support what makes me happy?”

“Because there’s something wrong with them, Blaine! Their way of thinking is flawed! It’s not you! And hopefully, someday, they’ll realize their mistake, and they’ll apologize. But you’re forgetting one thing about family.”

“Yeah?” Blaine sniffles. “What’s that?”

“Family isn’t only the people you’re born into. Sometimes it’s the people you choose. You have a family. You’re a part of our family. We love you – me and Sebastian, my folks, everyone down at the rink ...”

Blaine lifts his eyes, smiling mischievously through bittersweet tears. “Sebastian loves me?”

“Of course, he does! Right, Sebastian?”

Both boys turn their attentions toward the door, but nothing happens. Sebastian doesn’t march in on cue, declaring his undying love in the bonds of brotherhood, as Kurt had hoped. What they do hear is a heavy sigh, one long enough and pained enough to earn its own origin story. “Alright! Yeah. Okay. I love you, Blaine.”

“Do you really?” Blaine sings.

Another heavy sigh, but followed by a sincere, “Yes, I do. And I want you to come with us if we don’t call it a threesome. Can we go now, please? If we don’t get there before Coach Beiste, she’s gonna get in the DJ’s cage and play all sorts of old lady Country Western music, and we’ll never get her out!”

“What do you say, Blaine?” Kurt puts an arm around his friend’s shoulders and holds him close. “You coming with us?”

Blaine nods, leaning into Kurt’s hug to make it last longer. “Alright, I’ll go. But what in the world am I going to wear?” he jokes, primly wiping underneath his eyes with his forefingers and shaking his curls out of his face.

“I can help you with that. But if you need an accessory to build around, maybe you can start with these.” Kurt grabs the satin bag from the foot of the bed and opens it. Blaine watches closely as Kurt pulls out a pair of black Edea skates – his skates - with crystal rainbows adorning the outsides.

“I was wondering where those went.” Blaine chuckles softly, setting aside his scrapbook and picking up one skate to examine it. He holds it up so the light reflects every color. “These look … amazing! Did you do this yourself?”

“Yes, I did. Because I love you. Because I believe in you. Look ...” Kurt turns to Blaine, resting both hands on his knees “… I’m not trying to pressure you. That’s not why I’m here. When you come out, where you come out, how you come out and how often - the decision is yours. And I know it’s not easy. But you’re not alone. And together or apart, we will always support you, no matter what.”

“No matter what,” Sebastian echoes, finally making his way through the door and onto the bed with Kurt and Blaine. He doesn’t immediately gather Kurt in his arms in that possessive way he does, just positions himself among them – three equal people, all on the same side. Blaine looks at Sebastian, who gives him one of his signature winks, then at Kurt, beaming with the same warmth his mother often does when Blaine goes over to the Hummel house for a visit. It pulls at Blaine’s heart to see them looking at him this way, with so much acceptance and pride.

Had his own parents been able to look at him this same way, half of this same way, as this boy he met barely a year ago and his boyfriend who hated him from go ...

If they’d had it in them, everything now might be so much different.

Blaine won’t go through life expecting things to change, but it’s definitely something to hope for.

“Alright.” He nods, grabbing his newly decorated skates and shimmying off the bed, leaving his scrapbook behind. “Let’s go.”

“Really?” Kurt says.

“Yeah. I’m ready. Let’s get our party on!”

“Thank God!” Sebastian says, rolling off the bed. “Let’s grab some burgers on the way. I’m stahr-ving!”

“Wha---Blaine, didn’t you want to change first?”

“Don’t have to. You know what they say about any outfit …” Blaine grabs his peacoat, heading Sebastian off on his way out the door. “It’s all about the shoes.”

[insane-control-room]

The Concept, Chapter Three

Lobotomy

To lose a section of one’s brain via an outdated and inhumane, and clearly murderous surgery for mental illnesses.

Several warnings, dear reader; depression, anxiety, suicidal ideation, murder, death, loss of limbs, blood, graphic description of a corpse, drowning, child loss, another attempted rape, and painful words.

Chapter One - Chapter two

He could not hold the ink vial steady.

Jittery, oh so shaky. His hands shook and trembled, and he constantly had to adjust his grip on the pen as he drew the cartoons. He tried not to scream. Every moment, every day, he tried to hold back the aching cry in his chest, clawing at his lungs.

He tried for so hard for so long, and he was so tired… so so tired… he could sleep forever… and ever… and never wake up….

He wanted to see Aramis again… he wanted to see his father again… he wanted to join them, wherever they were, he wanted to be with his family, his family that was torn away from him so quickly, so young… he was so young, and he felt so old, so tired, his bones creaking, his muscles failing, his head aching, his hands stiff and shaky, everything so ruinous and decimated. So corrupted, so disgusting.

What a waste of space.

Johan stayed as far away from the binary computer as possible, hiding in the corner of his bed as the bright, toxic, addictive green beckoned him, he hating every time he gave in to the temptation, giggling the night away as numerical dopamine filled his brain and limbs.

He would never amount to anything, only ones and zeros.

Henry filled his dreams, his, unreal, ghostlike, lips pressed to his, and Joey regretted ever allowing him to kiss him, now trapped by this reminder that they could never be together.

He drank often, now not only using the invisible drug but also the alcohol to drain away his emotions. Bertrum tried to get him to talk, Shawn tried to cheer him up (he accidentally snapped at the Irishman, guilt flooding his system, apologizing a day later), Susie offered to take him to a nice coffee shop (when was the last time he left the studio?), Grant asked if he wanted help with his math, everyone spoke quietly about him behind his back, discussing if anyone should go out and find Henry and get him to visit them, as Joey was clearly losing his grip on reality, if he ever even had one.

He was lost, confused, and more alone than ever, the loneliness of being surrounded by people you do not dare tell your problems to.

So many names flooded the desk with the computer on it, the ink machine always hungry for more souls to chip away at.

Black, black ink, swallowing him up, drowning him.

He drowned himself in his work, creating more formulas on his computer to help him do more work in less time, like the insomnia code, the two times speed code, all little bits and pieces to create the toons faster.

He hated Alice Angel.

Not really.

Hatred is when one destests something, as an eye color or a sickness, hatred is a severe aversion to something, as to the sight of blood or the mentioning of higher beings, hatred is a passionate desire to see something utterly removed, like competition or step siblings.

He did not hate Alice Angel. He felt melancholic toward her, feeling saddened and hurt.

She did nothing wrong, afterall, she could do nothing aside from what she was made to do.

It hurt to draw her.

Such a lovely character, such flow, such grace, so beautiful. Everything Henry made was so beautiful, so wonderful, such a stunning creation.

Johan knew he was losing touch with reality.

He put on a bigger and better act.

Be Joey Drew.

Be the man that would be better than you in every possible way.

Be confident, be intelligent, be suave, be smart, be cunning, and smile!

Smile.

Keep grinning, even though your smile is the most disgusting thing to darken the earth, such a pitiful and stretched smile.

Pathetic. Useless, unnecessary piece of scrapable coding.

The abuse he hissed within his own mind kept him smiling.

At least someone could tell how much of a burden he was.

Even if it was just himself.

People noticed his change in attitude, but quickly learned not to mention it.

A quiet, “Really now?” seemed more dangerous than any threat.

Were there not more workers here before?

Were there?

No one remembered that there were more workers.

Joey did not erase them.

He did not.

He did not.

He did not.

Please….

He did not.

He stared at the computer and the list of fired workers, fired for incompetence and lack of productivity, and he was terrified that he would delete them.

He did not want to, and he forced himself back from the thought of ever doing it.

Never. He could not give in to the addiction.

Then he realized what happened.

He no longer needed the computer to erase someone, he found that out much to his horror and abhorrence. He had been watching a worker, after doing nothing for a week, getting drunk in the public room. Johan was about to go over and fire, him, wishing to delete him instead, but not wanting to fall to the temptation, when the man was gone. Erased.

Without the computer.

Johan ran to his room, hiding from himself, shaking with disgust and terror.

He vomited. Blood, ink, and numbers spilled from his insides.

What had he done to himself?

What was he?

He shakily grabbed a knife, preparing to dig into his skin to find out what sort of demon was hiding in the body of a human, but threw away the knife as soon as the blade reached his skin.

It embedded with a crack in his mirror.

He stared at his reflection, nonchalantly noting that the knife was directly on his throat, cutting his head from his body.

It made him giggle.

Oh, what fun!

Lose one’s head?!

Fun! Magical, airy, freeing!

His giggle turned into laughter, and the laughter erupted into howls, the howls into sobs.

He dropped his head between his knees as he cried.

He felt the buzz of the drug being slipped into his system, and he jolted up violently, stumbling to the computer, trying to stop himself. He collapsed in front of the glowing device, removing the narcotic from his body.

He grounded himself.

He tangled his hair in his hands, screaming, screaming louder than he ever had, louder than when his father and later his son were killed, putting all his pain and frustrations into releasing through his mouth, screaming to say that yes, he was here, yes, he was hurting, yes, he needed help, god, please, help him! Someone, anyone, for the love of anything good, help him!

Help!

Please… help…

H-help….

Hel-

A knock on his door.

He leapt to his feet.

Who the hell?

“Mista Drew?” Wallace, Wally Franks, asked, his voice muffled and uneasy. “Are ya alright?”

Joey stumbled to the door, dropping the facade, pulling it open and miserably collapsing onto the janitor.

“Oof!” Wally staggered under his height, not his weight, as the man hardly weighed a feather, and stood, stunned, as Joey shook on him. “Well, uh… alright? You okay? Something happen?”

“Wally, you’re such a good boy,” Joey sobbed, his mind registering the fact the man he was crying on was older than him by a year. But he felt so old… so so old… so tired…. “You’re always positive, you always make everyone around so happy, especially your boyfriends, and it’s so wonderful, you’re such a good person….”

“Ya not so bad either, Mista Drew,” Wally questioningly offered, awkwardly patting his boss’ back. Joey laughed a moment before breaking down into another wave of sobs.

“Oh, shit, what are the comfort words,” Wally muttered, scrambling in his brain to look for the right thing to say. “There there?”

Another strangled laugh escaped Johan.

Wally’s eyes wandered into Johan’s apartment, and he gasped.

“Your place is a mess!”

“S’not that bad,” Joey wheezed, gripping the darker man tightly. Wally shoved him carefully back into his home, settling Joey on the couch. Joey grabbed his wrist, looking at him with an almost intoxicated expression, breathing hard. “Please… please don’t leave me alone….”

Wally pulled his hand away, eyeing the cane on the floor. He set it beside the chicano, and got to tidying the room. He was startled at the lack of food in the fridge, he was uneasy at the amount of bottles lining the shelves, but worst of all were the sticky notes of just ones and zeros. The numbers clearly meant something to Drew, whose head was currently in his hands as he trembled with silent sobs.

The room was clean after an hour. Joey sat him down, and mumbled a, “Wait here.”

He came out of his room with two hundred dollars, giving them to Wally.

“Thank you,” he quietly told the janitor, and Wally’s chest constricted as he saw the absolute sincerity in Joey’s eyes. “For everything. You’re a great worker, and such a nice person. All my wishes for you are for the best.”

“Mista Drew, ya don’t need to gi-”

Joey cut him off with a wave of his hand.

“Don’t be silly, Wally,” he huffed with a light smile. He looked so tired. “Keep the money. I don’t have anything to spend it on, anyways.”

Wally reluctantly pocketed the bills.

He tipped his cap and walked out.

“I’m outta here,” he said, shrugging and smiling, “See ya tomorrow, Mista Drew.”

Johan came to wish he never did.

The next day started normal enough, with disgusting coffee (nothing he put in it seemed to make it taste any better, so he went to his computer with a huff and reset his energy from twenty five to one hundred percent), going down to his office, and reviewing the meetings he had planned for the day.

He met with the doctor, who frowned and informed him that he lost more weight and his polio was worsening. Joey had nothing to say in response, merely hanging his head in shame at such a pathetic body. The doctor smiled and tapped him, telling him to keep his chin up.

He said he would try.

He was informed of a mecha leak in the spider ride, followed by an ink spill in the same location, and how they would have to wait a day for the ink and oil to seperate to drain it.

He had another two meetings before the one he dreaded approached.

Jonathan Derekson.

Johnny the organist.

He tried animating to calm his nerves, tried drinking some tea, tried to breathe, but nervousness clouded all his actions. He was terrified. So he straightened his jacket, adjusted his pin, and sat down, stopping his pacing.

Johnny appeared in the doorway, leaning in it. Joey’s vision blurred, his memories meshing with the present.

“Hello, Mr. Drew,” Johnny smiled, looking down at the tall man seated and pale in his office chair. “My concerns are on the organ. So if you please, I’ll join you upstairs as you are bound to use the…” his eyes landed on Joey’s cane, and his smirk grew as Joey flushed, “elevator. I’ll take the stairs.”

“Alright.” Johan forced his voice to be clear and not meek. Not unassertive. He had to be strong, no matter how much he wanted to lash out and avoid this man. He made his way out the door, waiting for Johnny to leave first. “I’ll meet you there.”

He got up achingly, pushing himself up with his cane. So slowly, little steps, his eyes drifting shut with exhaustion. How did he run out of energy so quickly? Why was he so tired? So… very… tired….

“Joey, wake up,” a hand on his arm shook him out of his stupor. Grant was gazing at him with worry. Not concern, but worry. He was already on the elevator, when had that happened? “Joey, are you alright? You look… well, putting it frankly, really unhealthy. Are you sick or something?”

Grant reached up to feel the sides of his neck, checking for a fever. Nothing.

Johan looked at him blearily.

“I’m okay, just tired,” Joey sighed, and smiled (SMILE SMILE SMILE) at Grant. “I’ll see you in a few hours Mr. Cohen. As a quick go over, things are well, I assume?”

“Yes, Mr. Drew,” Grant smiled back and nodded. His smile was so much nicer, so much more real, so much purer and cleaner than Joey’s could ever be. “Far better than if anyone else ran this business. I’m honestly shocked by how much you alone make a week! Two animations for each one of the animators’, and running this whole place on top of it! It’s rather unbelievable.”

“Anything can happen with a little belief,” Joey remarked, forcing his smile wider. Just keep believing it will all be over soon. Grant nodded. Joey wanted to ask him for help, for comfort, for something, anything to ground him. Instead, he got off the elevator, and said, “See you soon.”

He drummed his knees, his useless knees, as he waited for Johnny in the organ room.

Being slammed to the wall, a hand on his che-

Stop.

Choking on something that absolutely should not be in his mo-

STOP.

Chuckles and grunts and wood in his hands, gripping his pants in silent ple-

S T O P.

His hands slammed on the organ’s keys, panting heavily as he leaned over it, his vision pulsing. Breathe. Breathe. It was over. It would not happen again.

It would not.

There was nothing to worry about.

Nothing. At. All.

He looked at the stark white keys against his black hands.

He was not a mexican of a proper, royal, spanish descent.

No.

He always was from the lower class, his ancestors being whatever slaves were left of Mayans, one of his predecessors was a wife to a conquistador, who fell in love with her as they established an encomienda. The wars and fights!

He hated them.

He set his fingers to the keys.

His father moved them to Night Vale when Johan was two, and he loved it. The town was so warm and inviting, even though quite frightening at first.

He loved Night Vale, and hated, absolutely detested, when he had to leave.

He was seventeen.

His son was killed in his arms not two months before.

He had to get out.

He had to.

Running away was so easy. He only got shot once!

The scar on his arm from it hardly bothered him anymore, most of the bullet fragments dissolved by the toxic ink flowing in his system.

It was picking himself up that was difficult.

Other people would not have such difficulty.

Something was so wrong with him.

So very wrong.

Wrong can mean so many wonderful things! Like something inside out, like a skin that did not fit, blistering and infectious. It can also define something avvering from the truth, a liar, a facade, a faker. Being improper, out of the norm, an outlier, queer, those are all wrong things. Wrong is when one is out of order, a mess, broken down, falling apart, lost. When your morals are turned on their head. When you no longer can control yourself. That is wrong.

Johan knew he was so wrong.

Such a blight.

A curse. A ruin. Broken. Queer. Wrong. Wrong wrong wro-

An off key note drew him back to the right reality, not the one in his mangled and twisted brain.

He swallowed, replacing his long, bony, macilent hands on the keys.

He trembled.

He needed help.

He needed someone, anyone, to help him.

He was terrified to ask.

He let out a sob.

“Let me introduce you to the voices in my head….”

He did not even realize he was singing.

He could not stop.

Tears splashed from his eyes.

He yelled the verses that just came to him, lines he was certain would be written in the future.

He sobbed, hoping someone would hear him as he played and sang.

“So won't you save me from myself right now,” he asked the universes, hoping one of them would have one being that could hear his cry, how wrong he knew he was, hoping something could fix him, repair his coding, make him feel better, not feel like he was in someone else’s spot. “'Cause I feel like someone else, somehow….”

His plea died down as the last key faded.

His shoulders shook, so lost, so conflicted, hurting and aching internally and externally, mentally and physically.

Arms wrapped over his shoulders.

“It’s alright, Mr. Drew,” Johnny hummed in his ear, his voice sending horror and pain shooting through his body. Please, never call him that again, that was not who he was. Please, leave him alone, there were only two people that he would rather not have around more than Johnny. Johnny slipped on the piano bench behind him, his legs on either side of Johan’s hips. His hand pressed onto Johan’s mouth. No no no not again, please…. Johan’s vision doubled over, Johnny was in front of him but he felt him behind him, and reality was phasing into memory and memory was smudging into reality, and he could not tell which was which. He suddenly felt like a wronged animal. He had to get away. He had to escape. He jolted in an attempt, but his legs gave out. Damn polio! Damn it, damn it, damn him! Johnny chuckled, flipping their positions, pressing Joey to the piano bench. Joey whimpered, unable to fight back or scream. “Come on, it’s not like you didn’t enjoy last time.”

Johan saw red, yellow error signs swarming everything.

“I DO NOT WANT THIS!” he screamed, his voice shaking the very core of the studio. Johnny looked shocked, then angered, but Joey was too far lost, to fed up, too fatigued and ill. He tried to escape again, but Johnny was so much stronger and held him down with an enraged ease, so all Johan could do was scream. “I DID NOT ENJOY WHAT YOU DID TO ME! YOU FORCED ME TO MY KNEES, YOU MADE ME GIVE YOU WHAT YOU WANTED, I DID NOT WANT IT! I DID NOT LIKE IT! GET THE FUCK AWAY FROM ME! GET OFF O-”

Johnny’s hand pushed back onto his mouth. He cried out against it, writhing and struggling.

“I’ll make you like it, this time,” Johnny snarled with a feral grin, his free hand undoing Johan’s belt, making him scream again, muffled once more. Johnny’s hand felt him up, smirking at Joey’s discomfort and clearly hated unwilling pleasure as he struggled beneath him, tears blazing out of his eyes. “You can let yourself enjoy it, or I’ll force you.”

Johan struggled against him, a banging barely audible on the door.

He tried to call for help, but Johnny hit him, grabbing him by his lapel and slamming him onto the piano bench repeatedly, knocking the wind out of him, making him gasp and writhe. Johnny covered his mouth again, hooking a hand into his pants and trying to pull them down.

Johan saw hate.

Joey forced Johnny’s hand off his mouth, punching him as hard as he could.

“Get….” he felt pain and anger and hate hate hate hate hate hate HATE welling up within him, and power burst out of every pore, “OFF!”

There was a flashing, bright light, a miniature atomic bomb, rattling the walls of every building in the city. Johan could feel the ink pulsing out of him, he could feel his code rearranging and snapping into place, he could feel hate and PAIN.

He knew it was his own pain.

It was all wrong.

He whited out.

When he came too, there was the taste of blood on his lips. It was not his blood.

He dizzily got up, his ears ringing.

He saw the feet dangling in his pulsing vision.

Oh no… oh no no no….

He looked up.

Johnny’s body dangled before him.

Johnny was pressed into the organ, nearly flattened to it, his hands splayed with his fingers hanging limply in the skin, the joints dislocated, the metal of the piping warping around each visceral limb, as though an explosion forced him into the essence of the organ. His skull was crushed, his eyes forced out of and swaying from their sockets, his jaw slack and unhinged, his tongue slack and dripping red blood and clear saliva, a dark taunting pink. His blood splayed everywhere, his blood all over Joey, his black suit stained maroon. His blood was dripping in his hair and staining on his glasses, on his once white pants, and Joey? He turned over and retched. There was nothing in his system but ink and numbers mixed with acid, and blood.

Blood, the one liquid he hated most.

He vomited again, tears dripping onto the floor, coupling with the sound of Johnny’s blood doing the same.

He could hear pounding on the door through the ringing in his ears.

“Joey! Open this door! Johnny! Open up!” Jack’s voice barked, but he sounded so far away, like he was underwater. “Damnit, someone find Wally! Or his keys, at least!”

“Help,” Johan choked out. Silence suddenly took over the bable outside. “Help me… help… oh help… please… oh god, what did I do… help….”

“Joey, open the door,” Jack demanded, but in a softer tone. A strangled noise escaped the artist. Jack huffed in exasperation. “I’m getting Sammy.”

Johan pushed himself up, leaning against the wall, forcing himself not to look at Johnny’s mangled corpse.

He inched his way to the door.

“Joey, open the door,” Sammy’s soothing voice asked. “It’s just me.”

Johan gripped the handle.

“Sammy?” he whimpered, his voice cracking and high. A low hum of acknowledgement followed. “Please don’t get mad.”

“I won’t.”

Johan shut his eyes as tight as he could, pulling open the door, his head lowered in shame.

“What did you do?” Sammy gently asked him, Joey standing directly in front of the scene, blocking it from view. The blood glistened on his suit, and Sammy, suddenly sensing the urgency and (unfortunately, he did not notice) the delicacy of the situation, looked over Johan. His eyes widened as he beheld the gore on his employer’s clothing, how disheveled the articles were on his body from the molestation, and his head snapped up to look him in the eye, seeing the tears and the distress he was in. “What did you do, Joey?”

“I… I didn’t want to,” Johan whispered, and stepped back, moving to allow Sammy to see. Agonizing pain, guilt, anger, and loss drowned him as he tried to explain. “He… he was… he wanted… I couldn’t stop him… he wouldn’t get off… I… I….”

“What the goddamn fuck,” Sammy breathed, feeling disgust well within him. A fear of the unnatural joined it, and he spun to face Johan, gesturing at Johnny’s limp form. “What did you do?! What the fuck?! You murdered him, but how the hell?! What did you do?!”

“I-I don’t know, I’m sorry!” Joey stuttered, hunching over and gripping his head as it threatened to split. “I… he was… I couldn’t let him do it again, Sammy, I! He… ARGH! I don’t! KNOW! Please, please don’t tell anyone what he was going to do….”

“Everyone knows, Joey,” he informed him calmly. Joey stared at him in horror. Sammy pointed at the ‘Recording’ sign. The bright yellow ‘ON’ was lit up, making Johan’s stomach turn. “Everyone heard what was happening.”

“Sammy, please, then help me cover this up,” he begged. Sammy shook his head. “Then keep people away while I deal with it!”

“Joey… you need some help.” Sammy firmly stated, taking his wrist. Joey yanked it away violently, his eyes wide and fearful. “Come on. I’m turning you in to professionals.”

“Sammy, no!” Joey gasped, trying not to choke on his tears. Sammy scowled and took his wrist again, more staunchly. Johan, yanked on it as the music director began pulling him out of the hall, attempting to force him to the infirmary. “Don’t you know what they would do to me!? Sammy, haven’t you heard of how awful those places are?!”

“You need to go.” Sammy insisted, turning to him with a blank expression. Johan’s heart shattered again as he took in his mask. “You’ve gone too far.”

“I won’t even make it to the institutions… Sammy, they’ll take me to court,” he whimpered, even as Sammy dragged him further, no longer planning on the infirmary, but heading straight to the police. Allison and Susie stared at the two men, Thomas joining the women, exchanging a look, then the three of them collectively making their way to the pair. “Then they’ll kill me. I’ve got a low intelligence, I’m mexican, and I’m gay, Sammy, I’ve murdered someone in self defense, but they’ll kill me….”

“Take it as a mercy, then.”

Johan snapped, feeling… feeling… feeling….

He saw the coding flash before his eyes.

Just numbers.

Move some from here to there.

Do it.

Do it, everything will be better.

Everything will be okay.

You have no choice, move the numbers, NOW.

Johan gasped as reality sank back in. His hand was on Sammy’s shoulder, and the musician….

Sammy dropped to his knees, his jaw hanging open, and his eyes wide and dull.

Suddenly, shrilly, he shrieked, his hands tugging on his hair.

“BETRAYED! ABANDONED!” he shouted, anger and hurt simmering out of his enraged and distraught voice. “LEFT TO SUFFER, LED TO SLAUGHTER!”

Johan stared at the man he turned insane. He did this. He backed up as Sammy continued his screams of loss and forsakenness.

This was how Johan was feeling.

Sammy was merely out putting the data.

A hand slammed Johan’s head against the wall.

Thomas glared at him when the sparks died down.

“What the hell did you do, Drew?!” he snapped, gesturing an arm at Sammy. “What is this black magic bullshit!?”

“Hk… hhh….” was all Johan managed to choke out, tears and blood clotting his throat. Thomas smacked him again, letting him slide down the wall, and stormed over to Allison, taking his best friend by her arm. Sadness filled Johan at the sight of Susie reaching to her beloved, everything sounding so far away as his head spun from it’s abuse. Thomas was tearing them apart… stop. Stop! “Tom… you’re hurting th’m… stop….”

Thomas rushed at him, anger blazing in his eyes.

The kick landed on Johan’s skull before he could even register he was near.

Blood and numbers splattered out of his lips.

“Don’t you fucking dare start,” Thomas hissed as he coughed and wheezed. “I’ll be back for Sammy and Wally.”

Johan only was aware of the stress levels in the room rising higher and higher, Susie and Allison gesturing toward him in distress, Thomas adamantly shaking his head, and he grasped Allison’s wrist again, pulling her away.

Johan saw the stress rise.

He was hurting them.

Tom was hurting them.

All they wanted was to be together.

“St’p,” he slurred again. Thomas did not listen, and Johan felt anger build up in him. He pushed himself up to stand against the wall. He could only hear Allison and Susie’s upset voices. “Stop!”

There was another flash of all the numbers. Without thinking, Johan pushed the glowing ones and zeros into the blinking slot, shoving back the menacing, dripping ones, the ones that reminded him all too much of a fallen angel.

Another bang.

Allison was no longer in Thomas’ grip, as he slammed back into the wall, shattering something.

She looked at her hands.

With her, at the same time, Susie looked at hers.

There were only two hands.

The amalgamated being shrieked, stumbling back over a chair, slumping into in a faint.

Johan stared.

“Heh… haha… hehehehehesssssssskkk….”

What the hell was that?

“Ha! Hahaha! Heh, hehehe-HK!”

Johan slapped a hand to his mouth.

He shook with silenced laughter.

Thomas peeled himself off the ground. A shattered halo hovered above his head, holes cut into his hands, nubs of horns on his head. A fallen angel.

He charged at Johan with a cry of anger.

Johan no longer was where he stood, standing by the fuse.

Thomas whipped around to face him, dashing toward him, Johan vanishing one moment before impact, Thomas’ eyes widening as he realized the grave mistake he had made, skidding in an attempt to stop himself from slamming down the steps. He crashed into the door at the bottom.

Johan gripped the rail to the projection booth, panting heavily, breathing harder when he realized he did not feel the air entering his system, in fact, he choked on it, doubling over and coughing on the air.

He choked on a foreign object around his neck, dragging him back and up the stairs.

He was pushed down to the floor of the projection booth, Jack’s angered visage entering his vision, and Johan blearily realized the man was using his hat to force the air out of him. One of his hands moved to pin Johan’s wrists above his head, the other going and gripping his hair as the younger man thrashed to escape.

“Enough, Mr. Drew.” Norman’s voice thudded against his head, his large hands landing firmly on his throat. “We’re putting you down.”

If Johan had access to his windpipe, he would have laughed.

Putting down.

Like an animal.

Johan kicked and writhed to get out of the two enraged older mens’ grasps, but he could not, their combined strength out weighing his futile and weakened physical state. When was the last time he ate something? Air. Focus on air. Blackness swirled over his vision, pulsing and inky.

More glowing numbers.

He resisted the urge to use them, fearing the result, knowing only more pain and anger will follow the action.

Do not. Give in.

Can not give in.

Need air.

No no no.

Do not….

Please, no….

A rending sound filled the air as his hands moved of their own accord, moving the object on his right and swapping it with the one outlined in red before him.

He gasped in air, the pressure gone.

“Oh my god! Norman!”

Johan coughed and looked up, his blood freezing in his veins.

The projectionist’s head was now the very thing he dedicated his life to, his body slumping onto Johan’s, blood spurting where the projector met his neck. Joey scrambled back onto Jack, knowing full well he was moving out of danger back into it, but he needed to get away from the corpse. A dripping caught their attention, blood slowly seeping down the wall of the booth. Johan and Jack slowly both turned to look up.

Norman’s head, with wide, empty eyes, a clenched jaw, and look of shock, sat where the projector had been. His blood drained from his decapitated head, ever so slowly.

Jack stared for a moment before letting out an uncharacteristic wordless scream, having lost his two closest friends, one to insanity and the other to whatever madness this was, grabbing Johan by his collar, lifting him and slamming him down over the rail to the orchestra below. Johan let out a strangled sob, his hands scrambling against Jack’s chest in an attempt to stop him. Johan found no opening for mercy, and so, he pulled them both over the banister, the momentum pushing them apart. Johan landed on the piano, Jack on the floor. Without thinking, the taller man stumbled up and away, Jack getting up with a shout of anger. A shadow appeared over his head. Everyone in the room looked up.

And watched the piano fall.

The sound it made almost was funny, the keys all hitting at once with a dull thud, and the sound of multiple bones being snapped and crushed discordant beneath the tones.

All the musicians in the room at once turned to face the giggling Johan.

Why was he giggling, he had not even used the drug that kept him numb, this should not be funny, nothing in this situation was funny!

All of them charged, knowing this, this thing needed to be removed as quickly and in any manner possible.

Johan felt… lost, alone, cold, comfortless, searching for something.

Thus the first wave of searchers were borne of ink and pain.

He ran out of the orchestra room, feeling nauseated and sickening.

Thomas and Sammy were arguing, the once blonde director now with ink black, dripping hair. Wally stood between his two lovers, trying to appease them, but the man turned angel was hearing none of it.

Johan watched as the wrench came crashing down on the young janitor’s arm.

He slipped away, covering his ears and trying to blot out the cries of pain and torturous emotion ripping throughout the three.

Poor Wally.

He always was a good boy.

The lost ones began appearing as he sprinted away from the music department, the other floors becoming unstable and corrupted, ink leaking from walls as he passed, walls and floors ruined.

A hand shot out from a doorway, stopping him by his mouth, dragging him into the toy department. A pale Irish face looked at him with disdain, Shawn’s entire department behind him.

“Fuck ‘im up!” Shawn roared, and Johan lost count of how many times he had been kicked, struck, smacked, slammed, punched, hit, and otherwise beaten. He was shocked none of his bones had broken. He was on the floor, his arm twisted murderously behind him, leaving him gasping and shaking.  A hissing Irish voice filled is ears. “Say it.”

“Say what?” he wheezed. His head was smacked to the floor.

“Say yer sorry, ye arse!”

“I’m sorry! I am! I don’t know what happened, I don’t know what is happening, I, I… I’m sorry….”

The man shook with sobs, every motion bringing more pain.

“I don’t believe ye.”

“Please, Shawn, I swear, I don’t know how to control this!”

“‘Nuff o’ it.” Shawn barked, making Johan cry out as he pushed his arm up higher.

Bang.

There no longer was a pressure on Johan’s back, and he scrambled away, crashing into a shelf, Bendy plushies collapsing over him. He shrieked and clammored away, so sick of smiles.

An entire room of lost ones, searchers, and bloated ones looked at and regarded him solemnly.

He backed out, running, and running, until his useless, lame, pathetic, weak legs sent him sprawling down to the ground.

He curled up and cried.

He wanted to cry, at least.

He wanted to feel something, anything.

Nothing.

He stared at his hands numbly.

He knew where he could find alcohol. Shawn had alcohol. But there was no way in hell that he would go back into that room.

Grant also always had some form of it in his desk.

Joey pushed himself up, slowly stumbling down more, shaky steps going down, down, down….

He paused by the accountant’s door, knocking in case he was within.

The bottle greeted him, smashing over his head.

Wrong shoes wrong shoes no no no no no no he was not gay please do not smash the bottle over his head again, please no, you were supposed to be a good person not a beast, stop st-

The insanity transferred to Grant.

Joey slammed shut the door as cackles and howls and garbled words slipped out.

“What… what would HE SAY?! WHAT WOULD HE SAY?!”

Joey vomited again.

His own words echoed back to him for the third time that day.

He crawled to the lift.

Lacie greeted him on the lower floors, she and all the workers of Bendy Land.

This time, Johan was not just surprised none of his bones were broken, he was shocked.

The pain was unbearable, he felt his limbs beaten and torn at, he felt his clothes rip and he felt his muscles burn, he felt pain and pain and pain and pain.

Lacie grabbed him by his hair, raising an arm to punch him.

“Wait,” he croaked. “Please….”

“No,” she growled, hir fist flying to his face, and energy burst from him moments before the hit landed, and the blast rattled everything, from the games to the rides. “What the fu-”

Lost ones surrounded him once more, and there was a hollow thud as Lacie’s body landed on the animatronic she had been working on, Bertrum and hir together.

Bertrum was the only being still standing, walking delicately through the crowd of inky monster turned beings.

Bertrum stared at him, shock and terror in his eyes, replaced with sadness and sorrow.

He extended a hand to the man he saw as his nephew.

Johan stumbled onto him, shaking and sobbing onto his shoulder.

“Can you tell me what happened?” Bertrum asked him. Johan shook his head. Bertrum sighed, taking him to another room. The filled spider ride loomed over them. “Johan… go to your machine, upstairs, and undo all this mess.”

He stared at him. No one should know abo-

“Yes, the computer, dammit!” Bertrum rubbed his forehead. “I know it must be hard, but you’ve flown too close to the sun, and it’s time to reset your wings and try again.”

“You don’t know what I’m going through!” Johan yelled, tears pouring down his face. “I killed everyone! I killed Jack and Johnny and Shawn and Norman, I made Grant and Sammy go insane, I don’t even know what I did to Susie and Allison, Wally is dying and Thomas is a toon, and I don’t know what to do, I miss Henry and I’m crazy! I killed Lacie, Bertrum, your fucking spouse, I fucking killed hir, don’t you understand, I don’t know what to do!”

“Calm dow-”

“Don’t you fucking dare tell me to calm down! You should!”

Both of them were suddenly by the open top of the spider ride. Bertrum’s terrified eyes met his as he plummeted down with a splash. Johan screamed, his arm reaching down and into the inky and oiled abyss.

He struggled, Bertrum’s arm grasping his.

The ink splashed onto Johan’s bloodstained clothing, both men struggling against the slippery substance. Bertrum was the closest thing to family had since Aramis had been killed, he had grounded and stabilized him, and now he was literally slipping out between his fingers. Johan could not let more pain in. He was alone and afraid, and could not be more alone than he was, he needed some support, and he loved Bertrum. Bertrum was good and kind and protective of him. And he was his Uncle Bertie.

He had to save him, together they could fix this, Bertrum could help him fix his mess.

“Hang on,” he gasped, pulling on the older man, both striving to get him out of the ink and oil. “I’ll get you out of there!”

The world flicked again, Johan no longer feeling solid.

Bertrum slipped out of his hands.

The last thing Johan saw was his face, choking on the ink, drowning in the oil.

The green glow of the computer kept him up that night, as he re wrote everything.

And again. And again. No pattern seemed to work. Nothing he did was good.

Failure. No wonder Henry left.

Disgusting freak.

Johan stared at the numbers, and merely rewrote one line of code.

Save.

He scribbled a note.

He went downstairs, ignoring the glowing pained eyes of the lost ones.

He limped into the organ room.

Johnny’s body was gone, his entire code replaced within the organ’s.

Johan sat and played a note.

A moan of pain welled from the instrument.

“We come full circle, don’t we,” Johan hollowly laughed, enunciating each word with a note. Another groan. “Johnny… I hate this. I don’t hate you, how could I, with what I had done to you? But you… you! You wanted to me to make you moan in pleasure, but what about the pain I would go through?! Why not moan in pain, like I have!? Nightmares and terror are all you gave me! I closed my eyes and saw you in my horrors, I could not sleep, I could not eat, I cannot and will not forgive you! I will not apologize! I can’t! I can’t! You stripped from me the last shred of humanity I had, and now you, you, take the lack of humanity on yourself! I… I hope… that you can forgive me. I’m not apologizing. But I hope you can.”

Johan returned upstairs to his computer.

He picked up the note, and hesitated, but searched for the file.

His heart pounded.

Undo everything, Bertrum?

No, he will one up that.

Delete himself.

The file finished loading.

He swallowed saliva he no longer needed, and pressed delete, and felt everything change.

He felt ones and zeros ebb off of him in waves, he felt his form break, he heard the whispers and the taunts louder than ever, he saw more shadowy shapes than before, and he felt…

Error.

Pain shot through his system and he scrambled through the code.

Where did it go wrong!?

All he wanted to do was sleep forever.

Error, duplicate code, unable to delete Joey Drew.

But… he did not try to… there was no….

There was no Joey Drew.

He deleted Joey Drew.

Error, corrupted coding, cannot make changes.

What is happening?

He searched for Joey Drew.

All his coding, at first. Then branching off. Strains of Johan’s coding appeared everywhere in all sorts of small interactions, anchoring him.

Joey Drew was not Johan Ramirez anymore.

But some parts of him, the glimmers of humanity, were, and so, since Johan was deleted, the coding refused to allow him to edit the world, but since some parts of him existed in the man the only existed from his fears, he remained.

Everything reset, going black, and Johan was alone, afraid, and nonexistent.

Joey Drew woke up in an upscale apartment in the heart of Brooklyn.

Johan Ramirez hated him, the deepest kind of self-loathing.

[docholligay]

Aino’s 8: Chapter 3--Rolling Start

Aino’s 8, as sponsored by the amazing @yamadara87! All of the chapters are here. This has 2,350 words! I hope you enjoy. YOu can find my patreon and my ko-fi here. 

Haruka Tenoh kept her world small, at this stage in her life, and mostly, she liked it.

She owned a small garage on the edge of the city where she mostly worked on imports and supercars, she employed a small crew of young guys (and a girl) that reminded her mostly of her, and most of whom also had felony charges to their name, and she lived in the tiny house out behind the shop. She had a soft, warm bed, the sports package on her cable, and a loving grey cat who had slight amounts of attitude regarding her choices in wet food.

It was a little life, but it was hers, and after the tumult of her youth, and the high rolling and grand downfall of her prison stint, she was done living any sort of wild life, and the most excitement she had was her weekly lunches with Mina. Any could live a wild life through Mina, she lived enough for at least three people.

But they had been friends since they were both hardscrabble kids living with sirens whirring by them that they seemed to hear more than the voices of their parents, and Mina had learned to cut hair to keep Haruka’s clipped, and Haruka had learned mechanics to fix Mina’s bike and her toys, and the two of them had cobbled together a family in the midst of nothing, and that, Haruka thought, was something to be proud of, even if she was on two of her three strikes in the “justice” system.

Charging a sixteen year old car thief who’d barely be able to eat otherwise as an adult isn’t justice, no matter the value of the cars she stole or how skilled she was,and no matter how she’d barked at the judge, her fear becoming anger in ways she still had to quiet, even 15 years later. But Haruka had neither the political pull nor the natural eloquence to express this, so she scowled at parole officers and hired kids out of prison, and this was her rebellion.

The light in the garage always seemed to change when Mina entered it, taking on a sparkle and a brightness that Haruka would have thought couldn’t be contained within the concrete walls, but somehow seemed to.

She smiled brightly in return, cleaning off her tools as the sun dipped below the horizon in the west.

“Mina!” She went to offer a hug, and then thought better of it, looking at Mina’s neat cotton shirt.

But Mina paid no mind to whatever oil stains might be the result, and drew Haruka into an embrace.

“What the hell’s going on with you, Ruka?” She slapped her on the back good-naturedly.

“Just closing up shop for the night. Didn’t expect you to come by. I have a frozen lasagna we could split no problem. I’ll just end up eating it for three days otherwise.”

Haruka’s eyes flicked up to the street, where a gleaming Maserati sat, tinted windows dark as the light dimmed.

She looked back at Mina. “You working for a new dealership?”

“Haruka my love,” Mina put her hand on Haruka’s shoulder, “you’re my best friend. My confidant. The one who’s been there for me my entire life, and I owe you something.”

Haruka looked at her. “Is the car for me?”

“Better.” Mina clasped her other shoulder and faced her. “Buddy, I have an idea.”

Haruka’s eyes widened in response to the bright glitter of Mina’s. She knew this look all too well, the same look Mina had since she was five years old and had stolen a pocketful of candy from the corner grocery. The same look that she had when the eight year old con had helped her get a dozen doughnuts from the store. The same look that had convinced her to start hot-wiring cars.

“I’m trying to go straight!” Haruka whirled around and marched across the garage, Mina at her heels.

Mina scoffed, in hot pursuit. “Good luck bud, I think we both know that’s not happening.”

“I HAVE BEEN–” She pointed a finger in Mina’s face, “Oh, oh, aha, very funny.” She picked up a rag and went back to the bench behind her, furiously scrubbing at an imagined blemish on a wrench.

Mina hopped up on the stool and wrapped an arm around Haruka’s shoulders. “Think of it, Haruka, one last heist, and you and I go off and live on the shores of Montenegro together! Eating shrimp by day, romancing women by night…”

“Where’s Montenegro?” She asked, half imagining that Mina had made it up.

“That’s on a need to know basis, I’ll tell you on the way. Buddy,” She looked at Haruka sorrowfully, “there is no one on earth that has the mechanical sense you do. There’s nothing you can’t fix, or break. Break in subtle ways! There’s no way I can do this without you, and the take is fucking VAST, trust me. Your share would be enough to keep you for decades.”

Mina seemed sincere, and Haruka was sure that she was, in her own way. Mina did care about her, Haruka had never doubted that for a moment, but Mina was a skilled liar and con, and she knew Haruka would never give her up, and she would never give up Haruka, but what she constantly forgot was that Haruka’s gifts lay in the physical world, and her tongue was more iron than silver.

Haruka shook her head and scowled. “I like NOT being in prison!”

Mina shrugged. “So we won’t get caught.”

“I ALWAYS get caught, ever since we were kids, you manage to slip away–”

“Well, not always.”

“and I end up in trouble. I hate prison, Mina!” She dramatically thumped her hand against her chest, “The beds are hard, there’s never any chicken nuggets, and they won’t let me wear boxer shorts. And I always get caught, always, every time.”

Mina stared at her a moment. “So what I’m hearing is we need to work on your cover story.”

“Mina.”

“As lovely as this has been, lingering about as you chat in this idyllic location,” there was a voice from the door, and Haruka turned to it as Mina rolled her eyes.

The light coming through the door of garage illuminated her like a halo, the edge of her pink dress fluttering slightly in the breeze. Her teal hair curled delicately about her shoulders, bright against the petal pink, her face pale as the moon in the night.

But what Haruka noticed the most were her eyes. The sea echoed in them, neither blue nor green nor aqua, but all of those colors at once, washing in and out like the tide. She blinked as she looked at Haruka, her eyelashes brushing against her cheeks and revealing the watercolor of her eyes again.

“Oh, I apologize, how rude of me.” She smiled at Haruka, the soft blush of her lips pinking Haruka’s cheeks. “We haven’t been introduced.”

“This is Haruka, we’re known each other since we were kids,” Mina gestured disinterestedly, “Haruka, this is Michiru Kaioh, heiress and part of my master plan.”

“A pleasure,” Michiru walked across the garage, the delicate tapping of her heels matching every beat of Haruka’s heart, “I am delighted to find that we’ll be working together.”

“Kaioh.” Haruka mouthed the word softly. “Like the TVs.”

Michiru gave a giggle that rang like the bright ringing of a crystal glass. “I suppose so, though I’d hardly call that among my own gifts.”

“So…” Haruka said, not taking her eyes from Michiru, “What do you need, Mina?”

Mina sighed. “If I’d fucking known this was all it took, I would have brought her in years ago.”

Michiru smiled her eel’s smile and touched Haruka’s arm gently. “I have heard that you have a particular capacity for machinery. We will most assuredly need it, if we’re to be successful.”

“Oh I’m,” she withdrew her arm, “I’m dirty, you don’t want to--”

“You gonna invite us to your house or what, Ruka?” Mina crossed her arms and looked up at Haruka expectantly.

Haruka looked at Mina, then at Michiru, and back at Mina, with her eyes wide, and then scowled. “No, I don’t want to invite you in my house! We can go to a cafe, there’s one just down the--”

“We all know it’ll be easier to talk in your, you know, private house,” She blew by Haruka, entirely unimpressed by her bluster, and opened the back door of the garage, “Shut this place up and come on.”

Haruka looked over at Michiru and let her scowl drop, just for a moment, to a look of pleading.

Michiru flipped her her hair, and Haruka was intoxicated by the scent of roses and jasmine that emanated off of her. Mina had always told her that she was a sucker for a pretty girl, whatever she needed, and as much as Haruka was loathe to admit it, it certainly seemed true now.

“If we are too much an imposition, we can certainly leave,” she tilted her head at Haruka just so, ‘I wouldn’t dream of putting you out.”

“It’s not that--I mean--it’s just”

“It’s just that she’s a bachelor and pretty much lives that way,” Mina was leaning against the doorframe, rolling her eyes, “a little more Friskies than Fancy Feast if you get my drift.”

“Mina, my house is fine! Just--” Haruka barked back, and then apologetically turned to Michiru. “Just give me a few minutes, I’ll be right back to let you in.”

Haruka bolted toward the small house, reminded of every time she had to run from the cops, blowing by Mina so quickly she almost ran her down. She burst through the door and gathered up the magazines and dishes on the coffee table, throwing the dishes into the dishwasher in a pile and shutting it quickly, the magazines in the pot cabinet. The kitchen was, gratefully, pretty clean, and for one Haruka was glad that she’d spent the whole last week lazily ordering Ubereats. She rushed back out into the living room and tried to fluff her few pillows and fold her thick afghan, tossing the clothes she’d taken off there into her bedroom. She stood back for a moment, and then turned on her wax warmer for ambiance.

Her couch was well-worn and didn’t match her chair, and she had never realized quite how inelegant the entire effect of her living room was, however nice the vinyl wood floors she’d laid in it were, or how nice she found the print of the old muscle cars above the couch.

A small grey cat came out of the bedroom, protesting loudly about the fact that one of Haruka’s plaid shirts had narrowly missed him from his napping spot on the bed.

“Oh my god, Mouse, you’re right! I forgot all about the bathroom.”

She headed into the bathroom, mind whirring, thinking as she hurriedly stashed all of her personal items. This was stupid. This whole thing was classically stupid in a way only Haruka Tenoh could be. She was about to enter into another one of Mina’s cons, for the look of a girl she didn’t even know and was an honest to god heiress who wouldn’t even look twice at a girl like Haruka. There was no reason to do this. Mina ran plenty of jobs without her, and Haruka enjoyed her life now, and this was so dumb.

She looked up at herself in the mirror, and quickly tore off the snap shirt with her name embroidered on the chest. She turned on the shower and took off her jeans.. How long had it been since she told them it would just be a minute? God, she smelled like oil and dirt. She threw herself into the shower, still a bit cold, and scrubbed her skin with her orange soap, hoping the grit would take off some of the stain of the day.

Mouse poked his head inside the curtain and meowed irritatedly.

“I’ll just be a minute, Mouse,” she tossed the shampoo into her hair, “I’ll feed you as soon as I’m done.”

“Heeeeey buddy!” There was a call from the living room, “We’ve been waiting twenty minutes, so--”

“OH MY GOD MINA!” Haruka howled, “I’ll just be a second, just--”

She quickly washed the shampoo out of her hair and turned off the water, drawing a towel around herself and dashing into her bedroom all in one solid motion. What would do? Nothing. It didn’t matter. She was being stupid and she was going to go back to prison for being stupid but she couldn’t stop being stupid. She put on a pair of dark jeans and tucked a plaid shirt into them, rolling up the sleeves in the once more stupid hope that Michiru might notice her nicely muscled forearms.

She brushed through her hair and wandered out into the living room in what she hoped was a casual way.

Mina was sitting in the chair, Mouse on her lap. “Do you ever chill? Like, for one day? Anyway, let’s talk plans.”

Haruka did not answer, just scowled, and then saw Mina had left her the spot next to Michiru on the couch. Michiru favored her with a smile.

“Your home has a lovely sort of earthy charm.” She leaned forward in a way that seemed slow but effortless, a feather drifting to the floor.

Haruka was an idiot. She was an idiot and a fool and this girl was going to take her back to all the things she’d tried so hard to leave behind. But somehow, it didn’t matter. If there was a chance to sail, Haruka’d happily drown.

“Can I, um, get you some wine?” Haruka said, forgetting that all she had was something in a box on the counter that she’d generally describe as ‘blackberry jelly, but alcohol.’

“Why, that would be absolutely lovely.”

She padded into the kitchen, carried by the siren’s song, and waited for the little ship she had built to be dashed on the waves.

[snarlingcoeurl]

Prospects, Part 2:

Theme: 

The Elezan servant lead Snarl through the finer reaches of Ishgard, beyond The Brume and through the Jeweled Crozier. The stairs up to the upper tiers of the city always seemed like they were a massive barrier to the Keeper. Perhaps not physically, but mentally speaking, it always struck her as yet another way for the nobility to separate themselves from any of their brethren that they considered to be ‘lesser’ than they. The scowl she wore on her face as various higher ups and their underlings passed them by was enough to deter them from offering a second glance. Paragon of diplomacy and charm, that’s her.

“Ah, here we are.” The servant noted. “House Vaususte.”

The Keeper tilted her head in curiosity at that. “Vaususte? Don’ recognize tha’ one, an’ I was servin’ in Ishgard durin’ th’ end a th’ Dragonsong War.”

“Yes, our Lord was not well known or spoken of during the time of the Archbishop. But, thanks to the structural changes to our society, many new houses have been able to become established in our grand Holy See, and our Lord was among them.”

Snarl furrowed her brow at that. The explanation didn’t make much sense to her. She thought the dissolving of the ‘old ways’ of running the city would have deterred new great houses from forming, not invited more to appear. That was probably one of several reasons why she never got into politics. Smashing things was a much easier route for her, and she had plenty of experience there already. Why change her career now, when the opportunities for wreaking havoc were so plentiful?

“Please, right this way.” The servant beckoned. He opened the door for the bruiser, who eagerly stepped inside to try and remove herself from the now heavy snowfall. Sure to form, the interior was warm, thankfully. A roaring fire in the house’s hearth gave a comforting glow to the entryway, when, upon a more careful glance, should have been anything but. It was stark, barely decorated, save for a few fine pieces of artwork or statues scattered here and there, as well as a rather welcoming looking couch near the fire. Odd. They must have just acquired the home, and begun decorating and furnishing it recently. This was nothing like the lavish entryways that she had seen in the other great houses.

Cascading black and white marble, cold and unwelcoming on its own, but complemented by the ever orange glow of the flames within the hearth, rolled like a still lake across the floor, reflecting light with a gentle distortion. The walls were of a similar stock, but entirely white. Was it marble, as well? Perhaps, it shined in a similar fashion, but didn’t share the same aquatic properties as the tile she walked upon. The comforting odor of burning wood, a lovely oak, rolled gently through the hall, one of the Keeper’s favored scents. It wafted into her nostrils, sending a relaxing chill through her spine. Despite the barren appearance of the entrance, the familiar scenery and scents brought her right back to her days of serving the great houses during the final days of the war. Familiarity washed over her, and her tension lessened, if only just so.

“My master will be with you momentarily. Please, make yourself at home.” The servant bowed at the waist, removing himself from the foyer with haste. The Keeper shrugged at his retreat, assuming that they had a busy schedule. They must have, seeing as they kept her waiting for three days. With a swift motion, her cloak was removed from her shoulders, a bit of now melted snow dripping from the heavy cloth while she hung it near the fire to dry. She decided to keep her great axe with her, this time. Made for a better first impression.

As silently as she could manage in her plated boots, she wandered the entry hall, taking in what little sights there were to see. The paintings were standard fare, from what she could tell, having seen similar ones in the other halls of the larger houses. The real attention grabbers were the statues. They were unlike anything she had ever seen, at least in Ishgard. They were beautiful. They were grotesque. They were… wrong. Figures captured in writhing agony, surrounded by what she could only assume to be some sort of representation of aether or magic, were on display in a few choice spots in the hall. She assumed them to be center pieces, or perhaps would be moved into more appropriate locations once more furnishings came for the hall. But examining them, looking them over, gave her an overwhelming sense of dread… and she had seen something similar before. As though in response to her memories, a soft, fire orange glow began to pulse gently from a worn, leather pouch on her hip, the spot where she kept her father’s soul crystal of the Warrior, one of her most valued possessions. It seemed to awaken with Snarl’s recognition of the statue, but…

“Magnificent craftsmanship, isn’t it?”

This time, the voice did not catch the Keeper off guard. Casually, she brought her head around, ears flicking in the direction the voice came from. The firelight at her hip quickly died away, her thoughts no longer focused on the confounding object that seemed to awaken the stone that rested there. Without feeling a need to seem too eager, Snarl let her eyes linger on the discomforting statue for a moment longer, before turning her full attention to the voice. “Eh, no’ m’ taste, bu’ wha’ever keeps yer ship sailin’.” She responded, half-heartedly, moving to meet with the source of the comment.

The bruiser was met with an all too familiar sight in Ishgard. The Elezen before her was immaculately dressed in the finest furs and robes that she was sure could not be bought with gil alone. Rich colors weaved intricately together in glistening silks that made up the bulk of the clothing, while the heavy, warm looking furs rolled down his shoulders like waterfalls. The nobleman was smiling pleasantly to her, eyes a clouded silver that gave Snarl the impression of age, though she was never an expert at discerning that from a glance alone. Wrinkles that could be from either experiencing several seasons or stress etched the noble’s face, giving him a grave, but calculating look, even when a smile was painted on his lips.

“Well, to each their own. It is a pleasure to finally meet you, Snarling Coeurl. Your reputation from the the twilight of the Dragonsong War precedes you. I am Anont Vaususte, one of our Lords most trusted advisors, financers and acquisitions experts.” The noble bowed, deeply, more so than she expected. It made her uncomfortable, but she didn’t let it show.

“Charmed, m’sure.” She said, dismissively. Her arms were folded over her chest, brow furrowed. She radiated with impatience. “Look, Annie, m’ sure yer a busy sort, seein’ as ya kept me waitin’ ‘round fer three whole days wit’out so much as a note.” The noble’s face twisted slightly in embarrassing displeasure. “But, ya sounded like ya needed th’ help from m’ crew, an’ if yer promises of pay aren’ jus’ hot air, then I kin spare th’ time.”

The noble nodded in agreement, though he didn’t seem too eager. Having worked for many of his ilk in the past, she could see past the façade, though, and could tell that he was holding himself back from a joyous reaction. “Ah, yes. It is most fortuitous that you were able to remain. And my sincerest apologies for the lengthy wait without notice. I assure you, if I were able to avoid such a thing, I would have done everything in my power to do so. But alas, duty demands my attention at a moments beckon. I do hope you will forgive the slight.” The noble bowed again, though not as deeply. Huh. He seemed sincere. That was shocking.

“Well, no skin off m’ back. I like yer city well enough.” The Keeper responded. She made a gesture to signify she wanted to move on, while walking a bit away to wander aimlessly in the great entryway. “So, yer lookin’ fer th’ help a me crew, an’ ya came ta me directly ta get it. Strange choice, ta me, seein’ as m’ a fairly new conscript. Don’ have much sway, ya know?”

The noble nodded in response to her words. “Yes, I am aware of your position in the Black Garden Company, Snarling Coeurl. However, your captain and her officers can be… difficult to reach, at times. I needed a point of contact that I could reach through networks of allies, hence the vagueness of the initial message. Not to mention, I know of your exquisite work from said allies, and my Lord was even fortunate to see you in action, personally. Hence, his insistence of reaching out to you, specifically.”

The Keeper tilted her head, curiously. “Yer boss knows a me, eh? Wha’s his name?”

A hesitant smile was offered from the Elezen. “I am afraid he wishes to remain anonymous, for the time being.” He gestured, elegantly. “But, I assure you, he is real, he is genuine, and he wishes to hire you and those you work for, and perhaps even build a long term relationship with the Black Garden.”

Snarl’s plate covered hand raised to rub at her face in thought. Experience told her that this noble was being as genuine as he could, but it was also clear that he was keeping some secrets from her, as well. But, that wasn’t her specialty in discerning. She might know the secrets were there, but without resorting to bludgeoning the noble with her axe, she wouldn’t be able to maneuver the conversation in such a way that would reveal those secrets to her. No, not her. But the crew might be able to find out.

“S’pose m’ interested an’ wan’ ta bring some info ta th’ crew. Wha’ kin ya tell me?”

The noble Elezen smiled, moving to gesture towards one of the unsettling statues in the hall. “Acquisitions, my friend. I seek to hire your team to acquire some… unique items for my Lord. While I cannot give you specific details until you and your crew agree to at least hear out the full scope of what we seek, I can tell you that what we are after will require a specialized team of experts to retrieve. They are not worth much in terms of gil, at least from looking at the surface of them, but trust me when I say that these objects will be worth more than their weight in the most valuable currency of all: influence.”

Snarl drummed her fingers on a piece of plate hiding beneath the heavy cloth of her long coat, making a satisfying “taptaptap” as she did so. “I don’ speak tha’ language a’ currency. I prefer th’ more tangible sort a’ reward.” She rubbed her fingers together, a universal sign that everyone from nobility to street urchins would recognize.

The nobleman smiled and bowed his head a bit, laughing. “Ahh, of course. You can be assured that you will be compensated greatly for the work that you perform for my Lord. Why, simply accepting the job would bring you a hefty sum of gil, no questions asked if you are unable to complete the task.”

The Keeper’s tail swayed back and forth, rhythmically. Now that was a cherry if she ever saw one. Moments of silence passed while she stared at nothing in particular, mind calculating, thinking of the possibilities such a prospect could bring to her and hers. Finally, she turned, nodding sharply to Vaususte.

“No promises, bu’ I’ll bring wha’ ya told me ta th’ crew. They get final say, after all.”

The Elezan clapped his hands together in joy at this. “Ahh, most wonderful! And please, take your time deciding. The objects we seek will not be moving, nor are under threat, so there is no rush in completing this task. Simply reach out to me through the same networks I used to contact you, and we shall set up a meeting to go into more details on the job.”

Snarl had already reached for her cloak, whipping it about to attach it onto her shoulders once more. She was eager to leave, and for more reason than a simply desire to be on her way out of Ishgard and to return to the ship. “Aye, sounds like a plan. I’ll speak ta th’ captain an’ get back ta ya whenever she makes a decision.” The Keeper moved for the door, the servant that retrieved her in the first place waiting to open the door to allow her exit.

“Snaring Coeurl,” Vaususte called, “this could be the beginning of one of the most bountiful relationships the Black Garden has ever been a part of. I suggest you make your crew aware of this fact.” He offered a sly, knowing smile, and another elegant bow. Ugh. She didn’t like how he worded that. All she gave was a nod in response, moving past the servant and the now open door. The cold struck her like the raking claw of a beast across her entire body, and, strangely enough, she welcomed this over remaining in that entry hall a moment longer.

With her cloak wrapped around her shoulders, she made her way to the aetheryte crystal in the plaza of the cities lower quarters, her armor clanking heavily against the stone streets of the Holy See of Ishgard. Her eyes were tilted down, focused, thoughts racing through her mind at the meeting. Memories rushed back. The soul crystal at her hip pulsed to life once more, the heatless firelight emanating through the worn leather of the pouch. Visions of familiar scenes danced behind the Keeper’s eyes, and thoughts raced rapidly through her mind. The statues. Her heart raced. She remembered where she had seen their sort before… and then she smirked, amused at the situation she had somehow gotten herself into, and the thought of the reaction from the others back on the ship.

She wondered how the crew would react to the prospect of working with Voidsent? 

[elizatellsthestory]

Homecoming

Fandom: Naruto

Pairing: KakaSaku

Rating: Gen

Prompt: Same Age Au

Summary: After the Third Shinobi War ends, Sakura vows to never see her friends suffer again and leaves to pursue an apprenticeship with Tsunade. Upon her return, she’s more than happy to show off everything she’s learned to her oldest friend.

Disclaimer: I do not own Naruto or any of characters. I am making no profit off of this and am only writing it for my entertainment.

A/N: No lie, the hardest part of writing this was deciding which characters get to benefit from me ignoring canon and which don’t. I went back and forth over who gets to live and who doesn’t forever. Well, that and the logistics of a Same Age AU are more difficult to get around than I expected. And fight scenes. Fight scenes are hard.

I’d also like to thank everyone for being so welcoming to me. Writing for a new ship is always nerve-wracking, and you guys have been lovely :)

Unbeta-ed.

[ao3] [fanfic]

Sakura sniffed and rubbed the tears from her eyes. This time, she’d managed to keep from crying long enough to get to her secret hideout instead of breaking down in front of the mean girls at the academy. They didn’t used to pick on her so much the year before, but now that her best friend had graduated, there was no one to stop them. The only thing that had kept them at bay before was their respect and admiration for the class prodigy. Things had been different back then. Really different.

Sakura’s sniffles began to quiet, but tears still streamed down her cheeks for a completely different reason as she thought back on the change that had overtaken her friend. She barely saw him now that he had not only graduated, but been promoted to chunin. He was always out on missions or training all the time. Not to mention, on the rare occasion that he was home, he avoided everyone. He had become so quiet and serious ever since Sakumo’s passing…

“You know, if you spent as much time applying your book knowledge to your training as you did crying, they wouldn’t have a reason to make fun of you.”

“K-Kakashi,” Sakura stared wide-eyed over at her friend who had seemed to appear out of nowhere. She quickly rubbed her tears from her eyes, feeling guilty for crying at all in front of him when he’d suffered far worse than she had.

“Ninja shouldn’t allow themselves to be so overcome with emotion,” the silver-haired chunin lectured as he settled beside her, bringing his knees up to his chest and settling his arms around them. “People only get hurt when that happens. Channel your feelings into something productive like training so you can be better than them. They won’t make fun of you if you’re leagues ahead of them.”

Sakura blinked, digesting everything he’d told her, then pouted and looked at the ground. “Easy for you to say.” Her fingers began absentmindedly pulling at the flowers in the field they sat in. “You were born leagues ahead of everyone else. I’m just-”

“Clever.” Sakura’s green eyes shot back to the boy beside her whose own charcoal gaze was fixed out in front of them. “You’re clever, Sakura. Use it to your advantage.”

A small smile began to grow on the six year old girl’s face. “You really think so?”

Kakashi’s eyes slid over to her, and even though she couldn’t see the lower half of his face, she knew he was giving her an exasperated look. “Well I wouldn’t say it if I didn’t mean it, would I?”

Sakura’s entire expression lit up, and all previous negative thoughts were banished from her mind at her friend’s encouragement. “Then I’ll do my best!” She clenched her small fists in determination and grinned at the boy only to be met with a flower—that was very clearly freshly picked from the wildflowers around them—in the face.

“Its…an apology.” Even with the mask in place, Sakura could see a light blush dust the silver haired boy’s skin. “For not being around as much,” he elaborated.

Gingerly, Sakura lifted the flower from Kakashi’s fingers and held it to her nose. It was a plain looking flower, but it was beautiful in color. It almost matched her hair perfectly. “Well, it isn’t a very good apology since I saw you pick it just now,” she teased him with a grin, “But I accept.”

“If you don’t like it, I’ll just take it back,” Kakashi huffed more gruffly than a six year old ought to be capable of.

“No, it’s mine now,” she giggled and held the little flower far away from him. Even if his ego was a little bruised, Kakashi couldn’t help but smile at the sight of his best friend happy again, especially when there were so few things to be happy about.

…

Sakura smiled to herself at the memory as she made her way to Konoha’s gates for the first time in three years. It had been so long ago when her drive to better herself began. Graduating from the academy and being lucky enough to have Uzumaki Kushina as her Jonin Sensei pushed her even further, but it was the war that banished all thoughts of childish worries like her hair color or forehead size from her mind. It was the war that forced her to grow up before her age had even reached the double digits.

Despite Kakashi’s warning that she was too emotional, it was never something Sakura had managed to outgrow. If anything, she clung to it as a reminder of her humanity. A reminder that she wasn’t just a tool or a nameless shinobi to be lost on the battlefield.

Every death was a pierce through the heart, but none hurt more than the death of Uchiha Obito. Over her training under Kushina and her friendship with Kakashi, she’d come to know Team Minato well. Though he’d started out obnoxious, the spirited Uchiha had wormed his way into being one of her closest friends along with the rest of the team, and as if Obito’s death wasn’t a blow enough, seeing Rin and Kakashi’s reactions made it hurt all the more.

It was that day that Sakura decided she couldn’t stand to watch any more of her loved ones suffer. From that day forward, she spent all her free time studying or in the hospital learning from the medic-nin there, and when the war ended, she appealed to the new Yondaime to set out on a solo mission.

Sakura still remembered the morning she left. The streets had been quiet when she’d left home. She hadn’t expected to see anyone on her way out, but when she reached the gates, Kakashi and Rin were there waiting for her even though she hadn’t told them when she’d be leaving.

“Kakashi? Rin? You guys didn’t have to see me off,” perplexed, Sakura came to a stop in front of her closest friends.

“We don’t know when you’ll be back. We wanted to wish you luck on your travels,” Rin’s smile shone as bright as the early morning sun. The brunette’s enduring optimism was something Sakura knew she would miss during her journey.

“You could still come with me you know. You have as much to gain from it as I do,” Sakura tried. As excited as she was, she had to admit, traveling alone in search of Lady Tsunade of the Legendary Sanin was a daunting task.

“Mmm,” Rin shook her head decisively, “My place is here.” Sakura didn’t miss the way Rin’s brown eyes flitted quickly to Kakashi then back. “I’ll have to wait for you to teach me your new tricks when you come back.”

“So you’re really leaving then?” Kakashi spoke in a way that got across exactly what he thought of her journey. After so many years of knowing him, Sakura prided herself on how well she could read him, and right now she could tell that despite knowing it was the best course of action, he didn’t want her to go.

“You’re the one that pushed me to be the best. Don’t tell me you’re going to try to stop me now,” she laughed lightly to hide the thick emotion that crept through her voice, because despite knowing it was the best course of action, a part of her didn’t want to leave either.

“No. Just…be careful.” Kakashi’s voice softened in the way it always did when she knew he was being especially sincere. He didn’t want to lose another friend anymore than she did. A lot could happen while she was on the road.

“I will. I’ll come back stronger than ever. ‘Kay?” She smiled reassuringly at him then pulled him into a tight hug before he had the chance to pull away. “This is something I have to do. Don’t do anything stupid while I’m gone.” She pulled back and turned to Rin before Kakashi could see the reluctance to leave in her eyes. She couldn’t give him the chance to change her mind. In a way, Obito’s death had brought the three of them closer. It made it all that much harder to leave the two of them behind.

“Take care of him for me, Rin.” The girls embraced tightly. “And you take care of yourself too.”

They parted and Sakura took a deep breath as she stared at the road just beyond the gates. “Well. I guess this is goodbye.”

…

And now, three years later, she was returning home. The gates came into view, and Sakura could feel a giddiness within her. An extra burst of speed, and in seconds, her feet were touching Konoha soil. She couldn’t hold back the enormous grin from her face as she wandered through the familiar streets.

“Eh? Sakura?” A voice pulls her attention from near one of the stands in the marketplace. It took her less than a second to identify the owner of the voice as Rin. Though she’d grown, she still looked almost exactly the same as she had the day Sakura left. The only thing that gave Sakura pause was the blonde little boy holding onto her friend’s hand.

“R-Rin?” Sakura could do nothing but point in shock at the little boy who couldn’t be more than two. There was no way he could be her kid. Rin was only sixteen, maybe seventeen just like Sakura. There was just no way.

“Huh?” Rin followed Sakura’s finger to the small boy beside her, “Oh! Right. You left before Kushina was pregnant.” She guided the young blonde over to the pink-haired kunoichi and bent down to the boy’s level. “Sakura, meet Naruto. Naruto, Sakura. Sakura was one of your mom’s genin students, Naruto.”

Sakura’s eyes softened as she looked at the boy. She’d already been gone when the Kyuubi had attacked Konoha, but she’d heard about the casualties. When she’d heard about Minato’s fate, she’d wept for Kushina. For a while, she’d thought about returning early, but Tsunade had talked her out of it. “It’s nice to meet you, Naruto,” Sakura squatted down and offered her hand to the boy with a smile. “Hopefully I’ll be seeing more of you around.”

“I’m watching him today while Kushina’s out on a mission,” Rin explained only to be interrupted by someone loudly calling her name.

“Rin! Riiiiiiin! Where’d you go?”

Sakura’s eyes widened at the familiar sounding voice. Her heart seized in her chest. “But…that’s not…that’s not possible,” she murmured to herself and stood just in time for the unruly, ebony-haired boy to come into view. The entire right half of his face was disfigured and scared while the left eye was covered by a bit of fabric that dropped down from his hitai-ate, but his identity was unmistakable. He even still wore that idiotic pair of orange goggles on top of his head.

“Obito!” Rin turned and waved him over. “Over here! Look who’s back!”

The next thing she knew, Sakura was being picked up and whirled around by someone she’d long thought to be dead.

“O-Obito? But you’re- How are you-?” Her feet touched the ground again, but she couldn’t stop staring at the man in front of her.

“Oh…I guess no one told you, huh?” He paused and scratched the back of his head sheepishly. “I’ve been back for a year now. It’s a long story th-oof,” He glanced over when Rin poked him in the side and looked meaningfully at Naruto who seemed to be held rapt by every word the older boy was saying. “Thaaaat we can fill you in on later because it is inappropriate for young ears, mmhmm,” he nodded sagely. “Yeah. That’s what I was going to say.” The two year old’s disappointment was palpable, and it took everything in Sakura not to melt at the cute pout on his face.

“Have either of you seen Kakashi around?” Sakura changed the subject, finally having shaken off her initial shock at seeing Obito alive. “I should probably let him know I’m back now that I’ve run into the two of you.”

Obito and Rin glanced at each other. Subconsciously, Rin’s hand went to rub her right shoulder as though it pained her. Just like that, the entire atmosphere changed.

“Guys…you’re scaring me…” Sakura’s smile dropped immediately, and a look of worry took it’s place.

“Oh no! It’s nothing like that!” Rin put her hands up quickly to calm Sakura. “It’s just…he might be…different…than when you last saw him. He’s taken,” she glanced at Naruto again, “Some things hard.”

“Yeah, and being in Anbu for the past three years hasn’t exactly helped his cheerful disposition,” Obito added. “If he’s not out on a mission, he’ll probably be at the cemetery.”

…

True to Obito’s word, when she found Kakashi, he was standing somberly in front of Minato Sensei’s gravestone, and he looked like he hadn’t moved from there in a while.

“I see you’ve finally outgrown me.” Sakura moved to stand next to him. Her eyes softened as she looked at the name engraved on the stone in front of her. “I’m sorry I wasn’t here,” she spoke again after a moment, “It seems I’ve missed a lot in my absence.”

“No, it’s better that you weren’t here. I know you. You wouldn’t have given up until you found a way to be there with him and Kushina Sensei. And then were would we be?”

“It wasn’t supposed to be like this. I wanted to learn so that we wouldn’t lose anyone else.” Sakura bent down and brushed a hand over the cold stone, trying not to let her voice waver.

“Death…is a part of the shinobi’s way of life.” Kakashi’s voice sounded hollow. “I should know.” He’d lost count of how many people he’d killed in cold blood as an Anbu alone. How many had it been since he’d become a shinobi? Death followed him more than anyone else he knew. His mother, his father. Even if Obito was alive now, Kakashi had thought him dead for two years, and he’d carried that burden. He’d almost been responsible for Rin’s death, and she still had the scar just above her heart to prove it. If Sakura hadn’t left the village when she did, there was a part of him that wondered if she’d have suffered by his hands too.

“It doesn’t have to be as prominent a part as it has been,” Sakura stood with a determined look in her eye. “I’ll see to that. I’ve talked to Lady Tsunade, and now that the war’s over, I’m going to resume her petition to have a medic-nin on every squad. That way we can minimize casualties as much as possible.”

“Having a medic on the team might not do anything,” Kakashi sighed tiredly. “Rin was on my team when Obito got hurt. It could just hinder mission efficiency. Medics aren’t allowed to fight on the front lines, and defending them would just be a distraction from the mission. They would slow the squad down. I know you know that. Lady Tsunade made the rules herself. It’s better to just put together the best team for the job and get in and out as quickly as possible.”

“In a war, that makes sense, but as long as the medical ninja are trained in combat as well as medical ninjutsu, there shouldn’t be a problem for individual missions. Kakashi,” Sakura’s eyes sparkled with sincerity and passion as she addressed him. He could tell she believed what she was saying 100%. “Fight me. Fight me and then afterwards, you can honestly tell me whether you think it’s possible or not. You’ll see.”

“Sakura, I’m not going to-”

“Fight me.”

Kakashi sighed. “I’m not going to get out of this, am I?” One look at Sakura proved she wouldn’t be dropping this any time soon. “Fine. But I’m not going easy on you. Meet me on the third training ground.”

In the blink of an eye, he was gone, and Sakura took a brief moment to smile triumphantly before body flickering away as well. She had to admit, she was excited by the prospect of going up against him. His skills had always seemed so far out of reach to her, but now she was sure that she could give him a challenge at the very least if not give him a run for his money.

The second she appeared on the training grounds, she was deflecting a barrage of kunai. Leave it to Kakashi to start the sparring session without any warning. He’d always been very serious when it came to his training.

By the time she’d either dodged or deflected all the kunai, Kakashi was nowhere to be seen. She knew he’d already be long gone from where the kunai had come from. Now, where is he?

Closing her eyes, she focused on trying to find his chakra signature only to catch a wisp of it coming from exactly where the kunai had. She snorted to herself. As if she’d fall for such an obvious trap. Even before she’d left Konoha, Kakashi had been able to control his chakra well enough to mask it to a point where it was nearly undetectable. The traces she was getting were way to strong for it not to be a trap.

“Sakura…” A shadow appeared from within the woods where the chakra signature was. Ever so slowly, Kakashi hobbled out, covered in blood. “H-help.”

“Now you’re just insulting me, Kakashi,” Sakura rolled her eyes and formed the release sign. As quickly as it had come, the genjutsu faded away. Immediately, Sakura turned on her heel. In the blink of an eye, her fist was coming down on Kakashi, who had used the distraction to sneak up behind her. The second her fist made contact, he disappeared in a poof of smoke, leaving behind a thoroughly shattered log.

“You’ve gotten stronger.” His voice seemed to come from all around her. The hair on the back of Sakura’s neck stood on end, and she couldn’t help but feel like he was playing with her.

“If you think I’ll be that easy to beat, you’ve got another thing coming,” she spoke to the air, trying to buy herself time to locate him. She just needed to land one solid hit on him to put him out of commission. She had to use the surprise of her new strength to her advantage while he still didn’t know the full scope of it. Failing that, if she could just do something to prevent him from forming signs, she’d stand a far better chance at actually beating him.

“Katon: Hōsenka no Jutsu!” Volleys of small fireballs hurtled towards Sakura, all of which she dodged with ease thanks to Tsunade’s relentless training. Before her feet even touched the ground, she’d thrown down a smoke bomb and disappeared into the forest under it’s cover. She needed to find a way to lure Kakashi closer. She was a close range fighter. If he stayed as far away as he was now, nothing would be achieved.

Kakashi landed on a tree branch at the edge of the woods as the smoke cleared. He’d admit that Sakura’s evasion skills had greatly improved, but that wasn’t enough to prove that she wouldn’t get herself killed by accompanying squads on dangerous missions.

The woods around him were completely silent. It was just as well. A shinobi who couldn’t conceal themselves properly could only achieve so much. His sharingan eye roved the area, searching for any sign of her chakra.

It was the sound of metal that drew his attention. Quickly, he whipped out his own kunai to deflect those coming straight for him. By the time they’d stopped coming, little white pieces of paper were fluttering the air and littering the ground around him. The thunk of a kunai landing near him pulled his focus, and his eyes widened at the sight of the explosion tag. It took him no time at all to put two and two together.

By the time the explosion from the hundreds of tiny tags rocked the forest, he was far above it. His eyes narrowed at the flash of pink in the trees above him. He’d always questioned the lack of stealth it afforded her. Backflipping, he landed on a branch not far away. There was no shadow, he realized. And his Sharingan hadn’t picked up any chakra signals from where the flash of pink had been. She was trying to distract him.

“Clones don’t work on me, Sakura. I can see right through them,” he called. His eyes shifted around him.

“See through this!” Kakashi’s eyes widened as Sakura boldly hurtled towards him from the front, fist raised. She’d gotten much faster than she had been the last time they’d worked together.

He raised an arm to block her punch. “That won’t do any-” His words where cut off. The punch connected, sending an incredible pain up his arm while his entire body was thrown backwards and through a tree from the force of the punch. What strength… He skidded to a stop on the ground, and Sakura was already there, poised to bring her heel down on his sternum. This time, he only barely managed to avoid her in time.

He jumped away, taking stock of his arm as he did. There was no doubt about it, she’d managed to break the bone, and he had the feeling she could have done much worse if she’d wanted to. Even now, he winced at his own movement, he was sure she’d managed to break some ribs when she’d sent him through that tree.

As soon as her foot came in contact with the earth, Sakura bounded away, leaving a crater in the ground. That had been her only chance to take him by surprise with her strength. Now that he knew, he’d plan accordingly. At least she’d eliminated the possibility of being attacked with ninjutsu for now.

“Why don’t we call a truce for now?” Sakura’s stance relaxed at the sound of Kakashi’s voice. “You’ve proved your point, and I don’t really want to fight with this many broken or bruised bones unless I have to.” She could practically hear the weary smile hidden under his mask.

Immediately, Sakura’s expression went from battle ready and serious to a pleased smile. “Told you,” she singsonged as she walked over to him, and Kakashi let his body sag against a tree where he’d sat down.

“I might have been…a little presumptuous.” It was hardly his fault. He’d always been taught that medic-nin weren’t fighters but support members.

“You’ve always been arrogant like that,” she teased him and settled next to him. Her hand lit up with green chakra and rested over his ribs. Slowly, the pain began to fade away. Regardless of the quip about his ego, Kakashi couldn’t help but stare at her with admiration as she began to speak again. “Their training may take a little longer, but I have no doubt that with the proper training and diligence, we can have a whole sect of medic-nin capable enough to hold their own during missions.”

Already, she had finished with his ribs and was moving onto his arm. Even if he generally avoided the hospital and medical attention from anyone other than Rin, he knew that most medic-nin weren’t so quick in healing. He’d always known Sakura had incredible chakra control, but this was truly on another level. “Sakura,” he drew her attention away from the details of how she’d go about proposing an educational system for medic-nin.

“Hmm?”

“You’ve come a long way.” Once again, Sakura’s face lit up into a smile, and it occurred to Kakashi, that he’d missed her. He’d missed how emotional she was and how he could practically read everything she was feeling through her expressive eyes. He’d missed having his best friend since childhood around. A selfish part of him wished she’d never left. “It’s good to have you back.”

“It’s good to be back. And I don’t plan on going anywhere anytime soon, so you’d better get used to me sticking around, ‘kay?” She finished healing his arm, and patted it, remembering the expression on his face when she’d found him standing at Minato’s grave.

Yes.

She planned on being around for him for a while to come.

[all-sortsa-stuff]

This life, part 5

Pairing: Reader x Eventually Loki

Work Count: 3262

Warning: mild language

 Part 1  part 2  part 3 part 4  

 Your conversation with Loki left your body shaking by the time you closed the doors to Sif’s chambers.  Giving yourself only a moment, you allowed a quick breath before you began to remove your armor and leathers.  The Queen had laid out a gown, the color of the sky, for you after washing up.  It was not what the typical victor wore but you were not typical in any form.  Once you had cleansed the filth away and redressed you felt almost ready to meet with the court once more.  In the past, the victor had not had time to breathe let alone meet with everyone who had wanted to wish them well after their win.  The thought was daunting but you refused to let your fear consume you. Sif met you as you made your way towards the feasting hall; a smile lit her features.

“Are you prepared for what is to come?  I believe the whole realm has come to celebrate this eve for you.”  Slipping your arm through hers you returned the grin.

“No, but I do not believe I have any choice.  I won the Last Battle.  Now it is my duty to celebrate it.  Just promise me I will have an ale in hand at all times.  Without it I do not believe I will last the hour.”  The pair of you laughed as you came upon the feasting hall. There were so many people crowded into the room it astounded you.  It was little time before everyone had turned towards you, allowing you passage through the crowd.  A loud voice boomed over those gathered freezing everyone from word or movement.

“Asgard, I give you, Lady [Y/N].  Your victor!  This eve we revel for her!”  Odin’s deep voice echoed throughout the hall.  The cheers that followed were nearly deafening.  However, you could not deny the thrill that they sent up your spine knowing that they were celebrating for you.  A mug of dark ale was thrust into your hand.  Thor had moved close with his own mug and a hopeful smile upon his face.

“I was told you had better have a mug in hand at all times” You drank long enough that you had to catch your breath before you answered.  He was trying to make amends but you knew he had difficulty verbalizing it aloud.

“By the Gods that is good.  Thank you, my friend.”  Thor dipped his head towards you.

“Do I truly remain your friend or is it meant as a pleasantry?”  You stepped close hugged him tightly.  It took him only a moment for him to return the effort.

“You are my friend and always have been.  Without you and your support, I would not be here.  Not just here as a victor but here in Asgard.  You have been one of my only family for these years.  While I wish we had not argued over your brother and what had to be done, I would not sever you from my life.  But I beg you never to ask me again.  It takes too much to see the memories that are not mine.”  He nodded slowly finishing his own mug.

“I promise you, [Y/N] I will never ask it again.”  With that vow, you let the anger towards him dissolve.  There was already so many dark feelings within you, you did not wish to harbor more.  The two of you spoke for a few moments longer before you were pulled away to speak with the Queen and King.  Odin, too, has apologized for his past failings and treatment of you.  The king admitting his mistakes nearly forced you to drop your drink.  

“I ask for your forgiveness.  You have shown me how very wrong I was, about many things.”  You were starting to believe you were in a dream realm, perhaps you died during the battle and were currently in Valhalla.  Not only had you won today but now the king stood before you asking you to forgive all of the awful things he had said and done over the years.

“My Lord… I…  I could do nothing else but forgive.  I thank you for the words.  I needed to hear them.”  Both he and Frigga smiled at you before he moved to embrace you.  It felt like when you were young and caused a lump to form in your throat.

“Thank you, child. Enjoy your celebration tonight. For with the dawn I expect an answer to my question.”  You bowed your head in respect as they parted, the question heavy on your mind.  It stayed there for the remainder of the evening as you drank and danced.  Your friends made the evening tolerable.  They kept you laughing and smiling when the troubling thoughts would rise.  

 Loki watched you from the shadows throughout the evening.  Not once did you sit and rest.  Everyone had wanted their time with you, the victor.  Whether they knew you or not.  As he watched you, he noted all of the changes that had taken place. The way you carried yourself was different, while you still walked as a lady, now there was far more confidence. Your hair was longer than before and now you let it hang down your back.  Before it was always tied back or up upon your head.  It was rare for someone to see you with it down.  He thought it added years to your face, no longer the girl but the beautiful woman.

While there were many differences what he noticed more now were the things that remained.  The way you could not turn from anyone who greeted you this night.  You would smile and speak to anyone, though he could see at this moment you were exhausted and using the false smile when you wished to be anywhere else.  The way you held the stein in both hands as though you would perish if you let go.  So many things he had memorized ages ago, that still made up who you are.  

“Your eyes could always find her in the masses before anyone else.”  Thor’s deep voice came from behind him.  Loki narrowed his gaze looking back to his brother.

“I know not what you are speaking of, brother.  I merely watching the crowd that would not welcome the Trickster back within their embrace.”  Thor smirked finishing off the drink in his hand, knowing his brother lied.

“Your heart has not changed, Loki.  It is her, and always will be her.  I never understood until… well I never understood until recently.”  Loki’s anger grew as he pushed past his brother.

“You think you know my heart?  There is no heart there according to many.  She is merely a girl who the misfortune of being promised to you once.” Clenching a fist for a moment, Thor let it relax as he turned back to his brother.

“[Y/N] is far more than a ‘girl’.  Never insult her again if you wish to continue to breathe.”  The comment surprised Loki as he smirked looking to Thor.

“Did I hit a nerve brother?  Could it be after the years, is it she who has captured your heart?  Oh how poetic.  The prince and the victor.  Think of the tales that will be told.”  His laugh was cold and lacked any amusement.

“I love [Y/N] as a sister, nothing more.  I never have. I refuse to let any insult her, especially you, who knows her as well as I do.  Do you think I enjoyed watching your pain as we grew, loving her?  Every time father and mother spoke of the betrothal, you would grow angry and run.  I was not blind, Loki.  As I am not now.”  Loki moved to speak, to deny every word, but Thor stopped him.  “Look me in the eye, and tell me I am wrong.  Look at her and deny your heart and I will never speak of it again.”  

Loki looked towards the hall, finding you amidst a large group, including Sif and the Warriors Three.  Fandral had taken your hand and kissed it, causing Loki’s blood to boil within his veins. He could not deny it; as much as he wished to, he had been lost to you as far as he could remember.  “It matters not.  I am the cause of so much of her pain and loss.  [Y/N] deserves everything pure and good.  I am neither.”

“Brother there is far more to you than you will ever admit.  In time you will see it, as will she.”  Leaving Loki confused, he walked back to the festivities.  His steps echoing down the hall.  Loki thought his brother had lost much of his sense in battle. He returned to torturing himself, watching you from afar.

  Your feet hurt and your head was pounding as you stumbled down the corridor towards one of the empty chambers to sleep.  Far too much ale and not having a moment to sit down were the causes.  It had taken well over an hour to pry yourself from the revelry, as it seemed no one wanted to let you leave.  It was nearly dawn and you had been awake too long.  A wrong step on sore feet and you started to fall. Even in your drunken state, you were prepared to connect with the flooring but a pair of strong arms caught you first.

“I doubt it would be fitting for the victor to wake in the morning with bruises from falling instead of the fight.”  In your shock, you allowed him to ease you to standing once more.  “Does ale also lessen your temper as it does your faculties?”  Loki smirked at you as he stepped back.

“Do you wish to see my temper again, Loki?  For I would be quite willing to share it once more.”  He laughed, this time sincerely.  

“No my Lady.  I still bear the marks of your temper.  Was merely questioning what else in you had changed.”  You picked up your skirts in a huff and stomped further down the corridor.  He was close behind to ensure you did not harm yourself.  “Your cheeks still flame when you have too much drink.  You could light the torches this eve, with them.”  With a quick turn, you came face to face with the man.  Loki nearly walked into you.

“Why are you following, Loki?  Do you wish to torture me further?”

“Torture you?! [Y/N] you have no notion of true torture.”  For the moment, his own temper reared its head.

“I have no notion? None?  I saw what was done to you.  I felt it all.  Heard every one of your screams.  Now, I hear them in the quiet of the night.  I hear them in my dreams…  I know torture.  The torture that you ensured and the torture knowing there was nothing in my power to stop it.”  In your drunken condition, you thought it was wise to leave him standing there after your dramatic admission.  However, your body paid little mind to what your intentions were.  Your feet only made it a few steps before you fell truly. There you lay face down on the soft red rug for several moments contemplating what you would do.  It was all too much and something broke.  You began to laugh.  Quietly at first but as the moments passed it grew louder and deeper. Your body shook with it as you rolled over to stare at the ceiling above you.  Loki looked down at you with a raised brow.

“Have you gone mad?” His question only fueled your laughter.

“Possibly…  This life…  Oh, this life has so much darkness.  Yet here I lay on the ground of the palace of Asgard, drunk and laughing.” He stared at you, unsure of what he should do.

“Do you wish to lay upon the ground or would you allow me to help you to stand?”

“Oh how upset your mother would be if she found me sleeping here at dawn.  Perhaps…  No, help me up.  I cannot do it on my own.  I believe your brother was too good in keeping my drink full.”  You held both your hands up for him to hold.  Loki grabbed them both lifting you quickly, which only caused you to fall into his arms.  With a sharp intake of breath at the contact, he steadied you before stepping back.

“You need get to your bed before you force every grain of control I have to take leave.” Noticing the frustration in his words, you looked up to him.

“What is that to mean?”  Shaking his head, he took your arm and all but dragged you towards your chambers.

“Nothing you need to think of, [Y/N].”  Without another word, he deposited you in the room, closing the door behind him as he left.  As soon as you saw the large bed, everything else in the realm was forgotten.  You removed the shoes and dress, leaving them in a pile on the floor.  As you climbed up, your body relaxed and you slept as though you had not in years.

The pain in your head woke you in the morning.  Though perhaps not morning.  The sun was on the wrong side of the windows to be morning.  The looks of it more like mid-afternoon.  By the Gods, your head hurt and your mouth tasted as death.  “Damn ale… never again.”

Crawling out of the bed, you had to bathe completely to feel any semblance of your former self.  There were clean garments as well, the Queen had prepared everything.  As you entered the feasting hall searching for food to settle your stomach, the previous day’s event ran through your mind.  Your win and the party, with the crowd of far too many people.  One of the servants of the palace sought you out, bowing deeply before you.

“My Lady, the King asks you join him and the Queen for a late meal.”  Canting your head, you sighed.

“Lead on then.” You followed him slowly to the separate hall where the King and Queen waited.  Thor walked in as you took a seat with Loki following closely behind. The older brother set a large stein in front of you with a smirk.

“Volstagg sent a gift.”  Odin and Frigga looked confused as you eyed the stein warily.  

“If that it ale… I will castrate that fat bastard with a dull blade.”  The whole of the room laughed loudly, even Loki, causing a great deal more pain in your head.  Thor took a seat beside you, slapping your shoulder as he did.  Loki sat closer to his mother.

“While that would be entertaining, he sent his remedy.  Drink that and you will be as you were before the ale.  I warn you, it burns like the fires of Hel as it goes down.”  It took not a moment for you to open the stein and swallow half the contents.  Your body shivering hard when you took a breath.  Much effort was needed to keep the contents in your belly.

“Valhalla, that is awful.”  Thor smiled once more.

“Yes, but it works.”  Odin interrupted then, not wanting to delay further.  

“[Y/N], Frigga has made me wait since dawn to ask your answer.  I was told you needed rest.  Now I grow an impatient man.  What have you decided?”  The air within the room suddenly grew very thick.  You licked your lips as you glanced about the room quickly.

“May I request one thing if I do agree my Lord?”  Odin laughed quietly looking to his wife then back to you.

“Already making demands?”  Shaking your head, you finished the rest of the stein.  It was awful but it helped the pain in your head and the sour feeling in your belly.

“Allfather, it is not a demand.  I merely ask that if I become Captain of the Defenders that I be allowed to continue fighting alongside of Thor.  When he is called to the other realms I would still wish to go, my Lord.”  Thor stopped shoving food into his mouth long enough to look at you in surprise.  Odin’s face was difficult to read.

“You are asking me to allow you as a Defender to continue defending the other realms when they need you?”  Your gaze did not waiver as you nodded to him.

“Yes, my Lord.” Frigga beside him beamed at you over her wine glass.  Odin laughed again this time he shook his head.

“I hardly know the woman who sits in front of me.  No longer are you the girl who would have just been the pretty Queen on the throne of Asgard.  You may continue your journeys with my son if you wish.  I would pick a Second that you trust in your absence.  Tomorrow you will meet the Defenders as their Captain.”  

“Thank you, my Lord.” You smiled down at your plate though there was no desire to eat it.  The “remedy” had settled your stomach but you were in no fashion, able to eat at this moment.  Thor nudged your shoulder with his, as a sign of his congratulations.  Loki had been watching you closely from his seat across the room, but he looked away now in the instant that you caught him doing so. It was still an odd thing seeing him here, with his family.  

“[Y/N] if you are finished I will escort you to your chambers.”  Frigga wiped her mouth as she finished her meal.  As you glanced over at her, she could see the confusion on your face.

“I am finished, my Lady but I am able to return to the chambers, myself.”  Both Odin and Frigga smiled knowingly at one another.

“No my dear.  I will show you your chambers as Captain.”

 She had slipped her arms through yours as she led you down the hallways.  As you stopped in front of a familiar door, you could feel your heart beating erratically in your chest.  It was the door to your family chambers.  The chambers where you were born and grew from infant to woman.  They were given to your father when he had earned his position just before your birth.  There were several rooms, a sitting area, a bathing room and a terrace looking over the palace courtyards.  Frigga opened the door letting the familiar scent hit you.  “No one has been here since you, my girl.  I would not allow it.  Your belongings will arrive in the morn.  Tomorrow starts a new day and life [Y/N].  Do not let it waste away.”  

She kissed your cheek before letting you have the time you needed, to let the old memories soak in.  The beating of your heart did not slow as you walked quietly through every bit of those chambers.  As much as they tried, the old memories would not bring you down this day.  Only the light was allowed into your heart. Everything else could wait or burn.

When Frigga left, she had shut the door to the chambers, allowing you your time.  As she left the chambers, she could sense her son close but chose to feign ignorance.  She had always known of his love for you.  Many times over the years, she tried to convince Odin to dissolve the arrangement so Loki could have the chance to show you.  Odin, of course refused, saying it would go against tradition and damage his friendship with your father.  Now that Loki had returned, perhaps you would truly be her daughter someday as she had always hoped.

 Part 6

@feelmyroarrrr  @bolontiku  @aquabrie   @malindacath @frenchfrostpudding @independentgirl  @lokislonelylady  @hollycornish @magpiemischief  @myclock  @xxxprettydeadgirlxxx  @mariadoghorses  @red-writer13 @magellan-88  @mirhem  @deepnachodelusion

[orenashii]

Surprise!

I Exist

Chapter V

His previous belief, that the mountain only appeared to touch the clouds, was wrong. It went beyond them. The great steed ran, not on solid ground but on air.

They were escalating, higher and higher. The air became thin, cold he had only experienced when he believed death imminent gripped his bones. They were moving faster now, too fast for him to comprehend. He tried to maintain his composure, tried to focus. But the sensation proved overwhelming.

He passed out.

He woke slowly, pigment seeping into his vision, the territory immediately familiar. A landscape that existed outside of his world. Swirling with color and the light of stars. He was in the presence of the gods.

"Greetings, Chosen," Vishnu welcomed him warmly.

Jack stood, his composure restored. He pressed his hands together and bowed, thanking them for summoning him. He straightened and looked between the three massive beings. A moment of silence passed between them. It made Jack immediately uneasy. He looked up when he heard a grunt from Odin.

"I see you're growing the beard back."

Jack touched his face instinctively. The slight stubble on his cheek reminded him that he had stopped shaving in the few weeks since he had left home. He had not considered it important.

"Yes?"

"Prophetic."

"Pardon?"

"Odin," Ra interrupted. "We did not bring our Chosen here to discuss facial hair."

"Right."

Another long stretch of silence passed.

"Odin."

"What?"

Ra let out an exasperated sigh. "Never mind."

The hawk-headed being used his height to tower over the samurai. He pointed down at Jack with a sneer.

"You have committed an act most blasphemous. You dare curse us?"

Jack was taken aback by this. A rush of shame flooded him.

"Once again, you have let your anger blind you from the truth. For what purpose are you here?"

"Great and powerful Ra," Jack said, bowing to his knees. "I meant no disrespect. I just want to understand."

"What is there to understand? You have fulfilled your destiny."

"Do not feign ignorance, Ra," Odin interrupted. "We know why you are here. It is that girl. She has disappeared."

Jack couldn't help but feel mildly offended at the term 'that girl'. "Yes. Her name was Ashi. And she was responsible for returning me to my time and destroying Aku. Without her, my quest would never have been completed."

"As it is written," Odin replied. Jack looked at him in confusion.

"Chosen One," Vishnu said. "We do sympathize with the loss of your love. But I am afraid nothing can be done. She cannot exist in your world."

"I understand the circumstances of her disappearance." Jack hesitated to speak further, his question, his reason for coming here, on the tip of his tongue. "But I wondered if beings as powerful as yourselves, could perhaps–"

"If we can retrieve her for you?" Ra said. "I don't believe you do understand, Chosen. She cannot exist in your world. The foolishness of the linear nature of time in your realm will not allow it."

Ra took a step back as if dismissing the samurai completely.

"Your journey here has been a waste. A pitiable cry to retrieve your lost love. And yet you berate us for selfishness."

Jack's fists balled at his side, irritation stirred in him, but he said nothing.

Vishnu offered a slight sneer to his fellow deity. He looked back onto the samurai with a compassionate look. "Chosen One. It is true. So long as the Great Evil exists within her soul, the mortal realm will not allow for her existence." Vishnu could see the pain radiating from The Chosen's features, lamenting that he would never reunite with his beloved.

"However, I hold wisdom that may offer you peace."

The samurai nodded slowly.

"Our universe is vast, infinite. But the mortal world is finite. The future you were sent to, the souls you encountered, saved and befriended, they still exist, in scattered moments throughout history. They may be different, taking on various forms, but they are intact. While her soul cannot exist as it is with you, it is infinite, recyclable. Once reborn, she could live dozens of lives, both happy and tragic."

"And now? Could she be alive now? Can you see her?"

Ra grunted. "Angling for reincarnation now, are we? How desperate you are to have her back."

"Of course I want her back!" Jack shouted bitterly, finally snapping. "I lived a nightmare for so long, I thought my suffering would never end. I thought I was going to die alone in that wretched future. Then I found her. She gave me peace I had never known."

Jack took a deep breath to steady himself. "But if she cannot return to me, then so be it. But she deserves better. Her life was brief yet so filled with sorrow. I just want to know that she is happy. I want her to live. Whether it is with me or not."

"As I said," Vishnu responded calmly. "The souls of mortals are infinite. She may exist elsewhere, living her days in peace."

"That is why I have come here. Please," Jack whispered, "bless her with a life of peace. That is my prayer."

"I will allow this," Odin boomed suddenly, having been silent for most of their conversation. Once again, Jack looked at him in confusion. His words, he found, did not make much sense.

Odin closed his eye, a glow encapsulating his form, making him stand out even brighter than before. The light radiated, vibrated, around him with a hum so deep Jack could feel it in the beating of his heart. The intensity increased, causing sweat to break out on the back of Jack's neck.

Gradually, the humming calmed, the light dimmed. Odin opened his eye. He nodded to himself for a long time before speaking again.

"I cannot find her."

"What?"

"Her soul. I cannot find it."

"But," Jack sputtered. "I do not understand. I thought her soul existed here. That she would be... reformed! As you said! Could she be back in the mortal realm? Please, I–"

"Calm yourself, Chosen," Ra said forcefully. "I am sure there is a reasonable explanation for all of this."

Vishnu tilted his head in thought. "Perhaps," he mumbled, "her soul is under protection of some sort."

"Protection?"

"It is possible. Her soul is a very complicated one."

"It is also possible that her soul is no more."

Jack looked to Ra in disbelief. "What do you mean?"

"Her spirit was tainted with the remnants of one of the greatest evils ever known. It would only be natural to assume that her soul had to be destroyed, so to eradicate the entirety of this evil from existence."

"But you said the soul is infinite! She could be reborn!"

"Are you always this willfully obtuse? A soul may be infinite, true, unless it is destroyed by a higher power. Who may have carried out this deed, we do not know, but it is the most likely scenario."

Jack's body felt weighted with dread, a panic that threatened to suffocate him. His legs shook, he struggled to keep his posture upright. His heart was in his throat. "Gods, please, is there anything I can do?"

Vishnu's head bowed, eyes closed. "I am sorry, Chosen One. We do not have the answers you seek."

Jack's eyes screwed shut, his jaw clenched. A tear, one that Jack had tried so hard to hold back, slipped from his eye. Ra huffed.

"Chosen One, I know this is not what you had hoped. I do sincerely wish for your peace."

"Forthcoming," Odin rumbled. Jack pressed his hands together once more in a bow, his anguish hidden by the calm composure of his stance.

"I do humbly thank you, deities. I am sorry if I have wasted your time."

"Indeed," Ra said and dismissed him.

The gods watched as their Chosen One faded from their presence. Vishnu uttered a sigh and met Ra's eyes with a glare.

"Must your words be so acrid?"

Ra waved his hand. "I do not apologize for what I said. He needed to understand."

"He was simply looking for his peace."

"He cursed us, Vishnu, or have you forgotten?"

"They were the thoughts of a troubled man. Spoken out of passion, a sullen heart. It carried no weight."

"Be that as it may, I will not stand to be labeled selfish then asked to grant a selfish wish."

"I have heard greedier wishes," Vishnu replied. "He has lived a selfless life. I had hoped we could do more for him. He did do us a great service."

Ra sighed. "I understand. And I can respect his pain. But he must live with the consequences of her actions. She made her choice and now she is gone. We cannot change what has been done."

"It is not done," Odin said, perking up.

"What do you mean?"

"Someone approaches."

"My lord?" a woman spoke, her voice small, young in her appearance. One of Ra's attendants. Her outlined eyes were slanted with anxiety.

"What is it?"

"You, ah," she stumbled over her words, "have a visitor."

"Please. A visitor. Like I'm some sort of common vagrant."

"Shit," Ra muttered.

"Shit, indeed," the visitor said vehemently. "You incomprehensible clod."

Author's Note

Three updates in one week? What joy!

I wanted to give you all a look into my thought/writing process for this story. Each time a new chapter is posted, it should mean that I have two more chapters nearly ready to go. The reason I do this, holding out so long, is because I want to make sure that anything I mention in a previous chapter is eventually addressed. I enjoy foreshadowing. And I'm really hoping for no loose ends in this story.

One more thing: I've seen a lot of SJ post-series finale fics that have the gods grant Jack's wish and return Ashi to him. Now, if this had been done canonically, I would have been THRILLED. And I do love, love, love seeing this is other fanfics, art, etc. But if there's one thing that I've learned in my sixteen year love affair with this series it is this: nothing ever comes to Jack easily. Everything must be fought for. And that is my main inspiration for this story. It's going to be a struggle. It's going to be a long journey. But in the end, it will all be worth it.

I hope you enjoy! Please leave a review to tell me if you love me or you hate me (well, maybe not hate).

Updates might be happening at a slower rate from here on, depending on how hectic things get in my personal/work life. But I am aiming for at least one update per week. Thank you all!

[jordyx1000]

Scorpion Mouth. Celebrating the Inner Self - Exist.

Whoa, How do you start a conversation with yourself. Something you haven't had in a long time. I firstly, get some tobacco and turn on Spotify. Hold on.

The Date: October 28th. 2017. I haven't touched this thing, since the last time I felt alone. Notice how I say feel? I am completely not alone, I have you. You are hearing my mind right now, through my fingers, transcribed to a monitor. Through your eyes, the light shines. Receptors balance the emotions, context. They bend your muscles, in accordance, you have a reciprocated attack. What happened to me this year. Well, for starters, I got honorably discharged from the navy. I Served 8 solid years. Loved, hated it...just like everything else I suppose. I reluctantly got home. I didn't want to go “home”. In my mind, my family needed it more then I did. I felt like I returned for them. With my selfishness aside, oh selfishness, what have you done. We will talk about you later. Noone knows the true meaning of starting over, until you literally start over in a new world. That is what it felt like. What is the first thing you do, when you return, try and adapt, survey the land...analyze the roads to which you will be traveling soon. Try and remember everything, tips and tricks. Reconnect with the people who said that they wish you were back home. Of course that novelty wears off, “the new guy” suddenly becomes the same guy, just years later. That is fine, that is expected, that is life. That was my life for years and years.  What do you do for work? Man, I basically just milked my funds, lived off the land. Traveled, reconnect, travel, reconnect. Months. Then reality sets in, you become apart of the machine and meld into the landscape. This isn't why I came here though, to talk about life. Or the normality of life. The things that everyone goes through. 

I came here for the end. The opposite of life. Death. The death, the rot, the muscle spasm-twitch, eyes roll back, decomposition. I came here to talk to you about what its like to watch something die. I wanna talk about CPR, breathing in, out, watching the lungs fill and shrink. Watching the skin start to fade in color. The tears, the constant overwhelming feeling of watching something you love, fade into the unknown. The future of life. but the death of it at the same time. Such a weird paradox to me, to think, something can die, and become unknown, within the actually living to die, and fade to the unknown.

I wandered a bit. In the darkness. To me at that point, it wasn't dark. Looking back, it was very dark. Something really weird happened to me. Randomly, it makes me so sick at how random it was. I guess I will start with the real reason I came here.

Sometime in May, I met the love of my life. I say that with a lot of weight, I knew from the very second I met her, I loved her. She moved, so beautifully. But with a slight anger, a slight badass blend. It wasn't like I was looking at a golden angel, wings spread. It was like I was watching a real, raw, human, skin and all. It didn't take long for me to realize, she has a lot of darkness in her. I liked that, in a sick way. I love the idea, of someone spilling their guts about how raw life can be. The true feelings. Not some tv show, not staged. Just raw. My life, was dark, but it wasn't that dark. My problems were normal problems. She had a baby, only a month old. I didn't like the idea at first, I probably expressed that in an ackward way. I actually was very wary about it. To the point, where I would contemplate texting her. Up until this point, it was a deal breaker. Something about her drew me in, I could write words all day to the feeling I felt, but I sincerely cant. I am not skilled enough to draw up human emotions like that. I decided very early on, that I would try and do everything I could, to build her spirits. Like a fucked up project. That I loved. So fucking much. Just to talk about things, life, real fucking life.  I knew about a week in, she had a drinking problem. The subject of anxiety was brought up, played off, you know. Noone wants to overload someone with so many different things like that. It is scary, I know I wouldn't. In my head, I knew she was taking pills and drinking. I just didn't want to think it was an issue. I just buried it. I should have left that first week though, that concert was horrible. Some of the worst times ive ever had. Completely lost control of my situation. I don't think I ever fully recovered from that. I just buried it

We would go on walks, and talk about life. One subject in particular was the subject of her daughter, the creation of her daughter, and the future. Where was her dad? I remember vividly thinking, she probably doesn't want him in her life, and he wants too. I couldn't imagine being a new dad, and not seeing my kid. This isn't the 70′s. You don't want to perceived as a douche bag via social media. That can ruin your social standing. with life. In my head I knew he wanted to be in the picture. I also remember her, telling me, he wants nothing to do with her. I said, “So what happens when he gets alittle bit older”. Of course, the natural defense, she says, “Noway, he is a fuck”. Probably alittle more summarized, but you get the jyst, I had a full adult conversation, unselfishly delving deeper into her mind about it. Ha, selfish. I remember you. I'm going to take a break for a second. Before I get into the meat, the heavy, darkness that ensues. 

Ok, I am back. the time 8:20 pm.

I don't edit. I don't reread. So I apologize completely. I feel like all that nonsense, takes away from what really matters. What is my perception. What is my vision of the world around me. I am not trying to be biased, or sway judgement, I promise to be 100% fair and just.

I get it, so far you probably feel like something was wrong with me for dealing with the little stuff, if I felt so weird about it. There was something wrong with me, and it wasn't her. So far from her. I wasn't using her darkness to feel better about myself. I wish I could, at not one point did I feel like I was capable of feeling good about myself. I dated a girl, for three years, a hard 3 years. Just two people, trying to figure out life. It ended weirdly, so in my mind, I knew there were things I needed to change.  I was depressed. So depressed. The reasons I came home, for being there for my family, turned quickly into realizing, I wasn't really needed here. I could have went anywhere, and everything would have been just fine. That set in so hard. To fully understand you weren't as needed as you thought you were going to be. But I am grown, for seconds in the week, it would flash flood my mind, and as quickly as it was there, it was gone. For split seconds, I would let myself revert back into that mode. I wasn't doing anything, just thinking, no friends to keep my mind off of the shit. I miss that aspect so badly. That got me through everything, someone saying something stupid to laugh at. Someone going through something difficult to make you realize its not so bad.

Wow, this song. “You stay above me forever, like you stay above me now”

Dear in the headlights. Midwestern Dirt. Fucking crazy I'm hearing this. Music helped me, it helped me and her. not once did we hate each other through the music. You cannot lose that. I realize that now. When you love something, you hold it tightly.  I wouldn't say I am a romantic person. I love seeing the girl I'm with happy. I do have this jealousy problem, where I get annoyed when someone else makes my girl happier then I do. I guess, I don't get upset that she is happy, I get upset with myself that I didn't blow that shit out the water and make her happier. Does that make me psychotic? is that normal? How do you google that to see. I never would want something bad to happen to anyone. But sometimes, I do wish things that have happened to me, that they have caused, would happen to them. I guess that's fucked up.

She wasn't a bad person, she isn't a bad person. She was going through a lot of things. I thought I was badass, I thought I was gonna be able to take care of all this shit. My dude hands. handling business. But you slowly realize, no matter how much you have helped people in your life, sometimes, you don't know all of the answers. The biggest problem I have in my life, is getting frustrated that I cannot fix things. I have heard so many times in my life “slow down” “take a breath”. I get frustrated. Panicked. Nervous. annoyed. That whole aspect stretched from making breakfast, to talking to the one you love. It fucked me up. in the end. You don't really grasp it. Until you write it down. When so many things pile up, before you can fix the first instance, it gets out of hand to me. melt down. I say things I don't mean out of frustration. anger. I wish it was something anger management could help with, but I have to much pride to think I cant fix something on my own. How do you even start? Ok break time. 8:40pm

841pm I was thinking again. The direction. The timeline. A few weeks of us hanging out, the news came. Ol’ Boy wants a bit of custody with his daughter. She was in tears. Devestated. I didn't console enough, I knew this day was going to come. No dude, in his right mind wants to not see something he created. I don't care who you are. I remember hearing again, how much of a piece of shit he was for this. I defended him, and remember vividly, getting scolded. taking his side. That conversation was brought up a number of times as an “arguemenet” I created. Sincerely trying to be rational, and reasonable. That isn't what you do to a girl, going through that I thought. She is right, she needs me to defend her, talk shit about him. I just couldn't do it. 8:45pm

851pm This is amazing. The feeling, of talking without worrying about what the fuck I say. 

I want to take it back to the best seconds of our connection. I remember standing in that room. Her baby, in her arms. I just held her for the first time, my girl loved it. I remember so clearly her eyes, they were filled with desire. We never did anything but hug before then, I was scared beyond belief. Never once in my life, have I been worried about a physical connection. She needed it, I needed it, the icing on the cake for us. The third arm to this perfect triangle. I hesitated. And failed. Stupid. I feel like we already did, I felt like we made the most beautiful love through our eyes. All the feeling that comes from it, was there, we both knew it. All but the physical sensation, that mentality never left. Months later, we still made love like that. Passionate. Through the eyes. It wasn't two people trying to be in a porno, it was two people so connected. I don't think I could top that, as sad as it is. That third arm. It was there, 33% of our relationship was perfect. flawless. I remember slowly going outside with her, laying down on that blanket. Commiting myself to a literal perfect existence. If there was a good version of selling your soul to the devil, that is what I felt. I completed a part of life that day. feeling the heaviest amount of passion, I have ever felt. 8:57pm

9:06pm Ok, Yah, that was amazing. Still think about that time everyday. That was the sole memory that kept me alive. Mentally. You couldn't top it. Something out of a movie. I felt smooth, sauve, but it was just us, together, full of passion. That doesn't happen to everyone. I am blessed I got to feel that. She was drinking those days. I was being unsupportive. I didn't understand the problem until recently. Right before mediation actually. When we talked. She was freaking out, didn't ask me how my day was, just completely went on this rant about how her therapist wouldn't talk to her. I didn't realize the significance, until that point. I am incredibly ashamed that I didn't. I knew it was a problem, but didn't grasp it. Sometimes I stay ignorant by choice. Complaining about everything you think is shit, doesn't do anything. Sometimes just keeping it locked away, works. it didn't for this. not at all. I didn't grow up in a home where therapy was “needed”, although looking back, it would have helped...and I probably wouldn't be writing about all this now. I failed her in that sense, not understanding enough. it isn't that I didn't want to, it is just the complete unknown. It doesn't register to me, as something that needs to be addressed, because I lived a whole life without hearing about it. I don't consider that being selfish, not once did I feel like I was better then her. Not once did I feel like I had no problems, even though I was told I thought I was flawless. Told I need to look in the mirror. I guess you could read these, and understand I looked in the mirror a lot. Not many dudes, almost 30, take the time on their Saturday night to write on tumble. not a lot of dudes are as intune to their minds and how things work like I am. I am by no means saying I am better then them, I'm just saying I have tried my hardest to understand. whether it is right or wrong. I have tried...so fucking hard. I don't blame her for her addiction, I asked if it was an addiction early on. I was told it wasn't. I couldn't play ignorant. Another instance where I wasn't making my girl happier then what her pills make her. That is really fucking sad to me. And when I cant fix something, I lose my cool. Ive known that forever. I'm not saying she is the cause, I am just saying, for the first time in my life, I'm talking with someone who amps me up to the point where I am hurting someones feelings. I would never physically hurt anyone. I would never tell someone they are good for nothing. I would never tell someone to kill themselves. I would, and did, tell someone they are weak. The saddest moment in my life. To judge someone, based on their own encounters. Fucked up. I regreted that conversation, from the beginning. I remember asking her to stop taking medicine, or don't talk to me. Why? Was that selfish? To want someone to get better? I am at a stand still with understanding that. 9:17

9:31pm I always why we never did anything creative together. I know we both wanted too. Collaborate. Do something amazing. Apart of me thought, she is just going through too much right now, the last thing she wants to do is stretch her already stretched mind. It is intimidating, knowing someone is going through so much. The balance, the middle ground. Of course, of fucking course, I do some fucked shit and say something I don't mean, and that careful tight rope that I delicately tried to balance, begins to rattle and shake. “Don't do that again, you are going to kill us.” I like to think, no one rememebers the good steps of the tight rope, only the sections where your life is in danger. Even though, your life stays constantly in danger. you don't say, “Well I almost died, but those first good steps were so good”. That isn't the human way. We automatically lash out at the chance. You didn't died, but you almost did. ontop of almost dying just by walking acrossed it in the first place. Those kind of thoughts, goon me up. 9:35pm

9:36.

Am I a monster? Jordon surrey, are you a fucking monster. Are you a menace. A psychotic, sociopath?

I keep writing the times. I save it, and then take a second to breath. turn to a different song. This is the most ive written in one session in years and years. I remember when my mom put a word processor in my room. I would write stories. “They gotta make a movie about this”. I wish I still had those. I couldn't imagine what they would say. Kids are lucky, or is that lucky? So have everything you have ever written saved? My ex girlfriend of 3 years came into the picture pretty quickly. Those messeges were saved. Every conversation we ever had. The girl I was with, she read them. What does that do to the dynamic? she has you figured out? Comparing you now, to the you then. without any sort of context but words you wrote. She judged me on those. That was a dark feeling to me. So vunerable, and yet so misunderstood. I don't want to talk about that anymore. It shouldn't have happened. I don't think its selfish to be upset with that, those are not conversations like this. This is pure, mental, public, words. Those were between two people, who were on an unimaginable plane of existence. You cant look at those, and compare. They mean nothing out of context. I speak my mind, me and her, we didn't have the passion me and this girl did. it wasn't the same, but it was what I knew. for years and years. it takes a minute to realize that isn't the girl you were talking to. You wont ever know who that girl was, and that is the saddest part. 942pm

946

I don't really know, if I am a monster. Or what we be happening right now if things were different. If I handled things differently. The main issues were still there. I think if the timeline didn't play out, I think she would still be drinking. Or maybe not, maybe she drank because of me. I hate bringing up the fact she drank, because who the fuck cares. She can drink? it is her body. it is her life. if she wants to do that, she can. If I didn't know her, I wouldn't give a fuck less if she drank. I hated it. I despised when she drank. It was so unattractive to me. It is like holding, the perfect red, shiny apple. Such a great shape. Smell. You want to bite it. But then you turn it around...and its rotten. You have to eat around it...but you cant get close...you don't want that shit even near to your mouth. You had to address that It was there, had to try and get rid of it. Digging it the fuck out. layer by layer, until you hit the core. I knew it was an issue. it was clear as day. Not as clear as my own issues, but it was something that needed to be addressed. I cant remember an argument not consisting of drinking. Such a waste of a good apple. Was that selfish of me? to want to get rid of the rot? Before I bite it, love it, consume it? I don't know.  I miss the good times so much. Half way through these months, I realized we were going to get married. Like come on!? I...Jordon surrey, wanted to marry someone. not just say it, not just express it...but need it. Desire it more then anything. What the fuck?!?!? Life is fucked. The death consumes. I have to take a break, before I talk about what is really wrong with me. What I did wrong. 9:45pm

The day comes. Everything is in full effect. The babies father is back in the picture. I'm at work. I get a call after saying that everything went good. he is coming back to the house, and that she knows I'm probably not gonna feel good about it. I don't. Who would. The most secure person, would be insecure about having the babies father in the picture. Especially remembering back to that first kiss. the first time we locked eyes and made mental love. the baby was right there. she was with us. My time was consumed with making sure my girls life wasn't flipped upside down. and instead of hers being flipped upside down, mine was. The father is given the fucking right, to see and be there for his daughter. there is no doubt about that. That is something that has to fucking happen. and to be even slightly upset for him given that chance is bullshit. He deserves it. It dick, created that child. Just as much as her vagina did. He deserves to see his baby girl. But yet, I still remain upset? I can sort through everything in my head, and avoid the anger being about him getting to be there for his daughter. That isn't my place, to take his place. I helped while he was away. I knew he was coming, and the baby needed a father. Yah, I didn't do enough for her, in the sense. I gave everyone space. Because I knew he was coming back. The only thing that sticks into my head, about the anger. Is the fact that, I know nothing about him, besides the negative shit ive heard. I know he was a drug head. Drunk. unsupportive, child. stupid. couldn't spell. didn't like good music. fake. And boom, he is here. I understand the biase. I understand she will talk shit about him. But I don't understand, why everyone gets to learn about him but me. The only one who fucking supported him seeing his fucking daughter. is that selfish? I don't fucking know. but it makes my eyes well up...just thinking about it. I wish I could shake his fucking hand. and tell him I had his fucking back since the start. jesus fucking Christ. I'm so sorry dude. ive met dudes, who didn't get to see there kids for months after they were born...crying. devastated. sad. I couldn't imagine. I got to take a break. 1007

1010

I want to start this by talking about my insecurities. I know her. I know her desire for a normal family. What would be the easiest way for that baby to be happy. If the bio mom and dad....hashed it out. got it together. and started fresh. I feel like a lot of the anger towards me, is coming from this fact. I was justifiably upset. I can be upset. I was allowed no contact with my girlfriend while she is with him. While he is learning to do the things I did. It is a strange society to think that is how shit works. I was starting to feel like this idea of me being a piece of shit, unsupportive person, was to take me out of the picture so she could start fresh with a guy. she stopped drinking. he stopped doing pills. wasn't that the problem? he probably doesn't even know she was in a relationship. It sounds to me, everyone is doing a lot better then they were a year ago. It also sounds to me, that I am abusive, controlling, inconsiderate, unsupportive, selfish. when I have done nothing but put myself into a position where I had to be for months and months. you couldn't function without those things, and I did up until the very day he came back. the very day she saw him for the first time in a year. This is just me talking through my mind. not once am I saying this is what actually is happening. I am clueless. I am just building a text wall based on the thoughts I have. nothing to sway my emotions any other way right now. just pure feeling. 1016

1020

I went to her house the day after he was there for the first time. Clear head. Just wanted to apologize for lashing out, telling her she brought darkness into my life. She did. but she also brought a lot of happiness that to me, weighed out the vibration on the tight rope. I spent about two hours, just playing with the baby. I wanted to take my girl out, do something, go somewhere to breath. get out of the house. we got around to it. and got our things together and left. When we started driving, of course, the father was brought up. she said she thinks it would help if I had a say in trying to decide the days. That had nothing to do with me, I appreciated the gesture, but I am quick to tell someone when I don't think I need that, if I don't need it. That is there plan, that is what parenting time is for. Nothing else. Hashing out the details of how their daughter is going to be taken care of. Learning how to take care of his daughter without the mom there. by himself. I just made the point, that I didn't understand why I couldn't meet him. Why I couldn't meet the dude who has been taking care of the baby that ive been a placeholder for. Yah that's a strong way to put it, I get it, I wouldn't have been a placeholder...I would have been her dad too. In the spur of things, I didn't put it out like that, she snapped, told me she was sick of dealing with two grown ass dudes acting like babies. I kept my mouth shut. She still is talking, god, she never stopped. I was driving back to her house, and she knew that. she knew talking about it still, was just going to make me realize she needs space. So I kept driving her home, pulled in, she was still talking. I sat there, calm. didn't say a word. just followed my breathing. She got out, I snapped for a second, and told her “have fun with a pill head”. Stupid. I went to my edge again, come on man. You had it going so well, just shut your mouth. If she would have been like, “you didn't say anything, I'm mad at you’ she wouldn't have said “you said something so I'm mad at you”. The tight rope was shaking, violently, the walk to that point didn't matter. The fact that I wanted to take her, and do something productive didn't matter. The fact that I didn't say what she wanted me to say, made me selfish. Was I selfish that day? I don't know. 1028

1029 Why does this all upset me. It doesn't really. It is ecpected, when human emotions are fucked with, anything can happen. This isn't a Hollywood movie, where couples jump in the rain after a good solid dinner. It is real life, real problems. I will be the first one two admit. My scorpion mouth fucked shit. Learning how to deal with someone is what it is all about. She couldn't deal with me, so she turned her head. I am realistic, if she has these thoughts about me, nothing I can say will change that. If she wants to think I am a burden, nothing will change that. I am a grown adult, despite what she wants to believe. It isn't hard to say that she could find someone else. Not me, not him, just someone else who fits her better, who is less of a stress to figure out. If it gets to the point where someone doesn't have enough to offer, then move on. It is 2017. People can come and go, easy if you let them. She was worth it to me, but it was impossible for me to stop the vibrating. The shaking near death. My balance wasn't perfect, but it was great. Given the worn rope I walked. I can deal with the hardest punches. I can forgive. I can let go. If I have without a reason of a doubt, that someone doesn't want me around them, I leave. I left a lot with her. A lot of times, it was because she kept drinking. Yah, she didn't say she didn't want me around, but I hated it so much, I felt like she was doing it on purpose to get rid of me. Lately, ive looked into her eyes, and it goes somewhere else. Something else is taking the time. Something else is consuming her. It used to be me. But I became selfish, or atleast I have always been. Have I? what if I never met her. what if we never met, would she still think I was selfish. Would the dude she would be with, be selfish? is everyone alittle bit selfish. of course. Did I intentionally destroy us because that's what I wanted. Did I selfishly kill us? because I needed it? I don't know. I think she thinks, I did it on purpose. with how much she tells me how selfish I am. Was I selfish when I held her baby? Was that for me? did I just want to hold a baby? was I selfish when I talked to her, about everything, when I gave my input. could I have just hung up, or walked away? Could I be selfish now, if I still need her? is that selfish? do I just fuck shit up, to try it again. out of selfishness. Or am I trying? am I being given shit, and working with what I have? is that selfish, so work with what you have?1038

Does the sound of my voice, hurt her so much. Is it worth it to cut someone out? It is if you are not benefiting. Do I not benefit her? Today, she decided I didn't. And that is ok. That is life. You cannot please everyone. They sometimes think you are not trying. and then end up writing a novel. This is by no means, everything. These are just the things that shake my rope. I will continue this tomorrow. The longer I write, the more I miss her. And that doesn't do me any good anymore. The more time that passes, with us like this, the more these things wont matter to her. the more I wont matter to her. And that is fine, if she is happy. then her baby is happy. and that is life. ill be back.

To comprehend In the middle of the night To break a mood Without tearing up my spine The lights dim On my glow How will I move When this sun sets How will I move When the lights go out Without, My glow I cant shut my mouth, When my mind moves, I cant sleep at night, Without your sprawling roots but that is selfish, I saw her grinding teeth on a rusting spoon She is red, she is ready You danced around with no bones You say it always You did it always. I know, You were in love You said it always, You said it always,

My glow.

1047