#i swear to god i forget that other colors exist outside of gold like i have assigned it to FOUR ocs. help

[jamessunderlandgf]

1, 5, 8, 18, 19 for Avalon?

a win for me in my mind palace— you asking abt her fr

1: are they associated with a certain color? what color do they wear the most?

gold— her armor is so polished and shiny it reflects it like an imitation of the sun itself. under that, she’s known to be in a lot of jewel tones and faded off-whites. once in a while some pastels.

5: how do they typically dress? does their wardrobe lean more towards practicality or aesthetics?

that armor doesn’t come off; it’s literally a second skin. she might as well sleep in it. very rarely will she be out in public in anything BUT armor/full plate during the game, but once everything has settled down and she’s not a paladin anymore rip she hangs it up and dresses down significantly.

8: do they have a nickname? who gave it to them? if it's not derived from their real name, what's the story behind it?

in my brain sometimes i call her tavalon cs of the “tav” aspect of the cc but that’s me being silly. her gods given name is avalon so you will refer to her as such 🫵🏻

18: their opinion on lying, stealing, and killing?

she is painfully lawful good—lying and stealing are a no-go; she is so deeply untrusting of everyone around her so if any of the party members are wont to do either (ast*rion, looking at you), she will greatly disapprove. she won’t stop them, but it will fuel her superiority/god complex to all the hells and back. cs she’s above untoward means of receiving goods and information.

killing only happens if it absolutely must but. she will, eventually—kill out of passion. much to her eventual guilt and turmoil and what have you.

19: are they quick to anger? what sets them off?

she’s extremely self-righteous and prides herself on her patience so any display of unnecessary violence really sets her off. she’s literally like “we could have handled this diplomatically” but she’s yelling in your face so her point doesn’t really get across :/ poor gal.

[staticscreenwriting]

Love like the movies // Bucky Barnes // 5

Five - Dirty Dancing

Masterlist

Summary: This is a story of boy meets girl. The boy, Bucky Barnes, finds himself thrown into a world that seems so different from everything he’s ever known. The girl, (Y/N) knows entirely too much about rom-coms and is quite particular about the way she eats her popcorn. Bucky meets (Y/N) a few months after returning to NYC. He knows almost immediately that becoming her friend is inevitable. This is a story of boy meets girl. This is a story about love. (Bucky Barnes x female!Reader // a few spoilers for TFATWS)

Bucky wakes up to music. It's playing from outside the room, echoing through the halls and filling the apartment with sound.

It reminds him of when he was a kid and his mom would make them all breakfast as the radio would softly play in the background. She'd always have a smile on her face and twirl around the kitchen and sometimes, when they were still little enough, she'd pick up him or one of his sisters and slowly sway along with them in her arms.

It's a hazy memory, he's barely able to grasp it, but it's there nonetheless and that makes all the difference.

Rays of sun flood the apartment, coloring it in hues of orange and gold. Bucky steps out of (Y/N)’s room and into the hallway from which he can see straight into the kitchen. (Y/N)’s standing by the stove, a frilly pink apron wrapped around her waist and spatula in hand. Her hips shake slightly to the beat of the song and her lips move along with the lyrics.

Bucky wonders if he’ll ever get that. This feeling of pure comfort in his own home. To find who he really is and allow himself to be that person, no inhibitions, no holding back. Just be himself and be confident in who that might be.

“ You can keep standing there like a creep or you can come over here and help me, grumpy”

At the sound of her voice, he jumps a little, too lost in could-bes and what-ifs to realize she’s long noticed him leaning against the doorway. Her hair is a mess and there’s still eyeliner and glitter from last night stuck to her skin. But Bucky thinks she’s never looked better. It’s an intimate moment, to watch her in all her imperfect ways, move around her own home, being the most comfortable and at ease she’s ever been. There’s something about the way she looks at him then, showered in golden sunlight, a bright smile on her face. Bucky knows what it is he feels, deep down inside of him, flickering up like a light in the dark. He knows what it is. It’s not a feeling you forget once you’ve felt it.

He’s not gonna say it though, not gonna admit it to himself or anyone. All that can come from it is misery and heartbreak and while his heart is of very little value to him, hers means everything. So he’ll ignore it, shove it to the deepest darkest corner of himself and try not to acknowledge it in hopes it’ll go away.

“ You’re cooking? “ he asks as he steps up next to her, eyebrows raised in uncertainty.

“I’m making pancakes, and don’t look at me like that!” (Y/N) replies, swatting him with a dish towel, “ I know my cookies weren’t the best and I am well aware that my coffee sucks. But if there’s one thing I can make, it’s pancakes. Trust me. “

He does trust her. It’s something that he only fully realizes at that moment. Such an insignificant little moment. He trusts her, which is terrifying but also liberating at the same time. Maybe his life is on the right path. Maybe things can get better. Step by tiny step.

“ Hey, I ate your cookies, didn’t I? “

She looks up at him, a small smile playing on her lips, eyes shining with — something he can’t quite place. Maybe, he thinks, maybe he doesn’t need to know what it means. It means something and that's all that counts in the grand scheme of things.

“Yeah, yeah you did.”

For a moment it’s just them and the music and the bliss of a morning spent with a friend.

“ Okay, hand me the batter please?” (Y/N) says and points towards a big blue bowl standing by on the counter to his right. As he hands it to her though, (Y/N) doesn’t immediately start pouring the batter, instead, she dips her finger into it and holds it out to Bucky.

“ Try it, tell me if it’s too sweet. “

He’s hesitant for a moment. You don’t just go around licking your friends’ fingers. Surely social cues haven’t changed that much. But when she moves her hand closer once again and adds a determined “taste it before it drips onto the floor”, he wraps his lips around her finger, tasting the sweet pancake batter. It’s not too sweet, not at all, it’s perfect. He can’t really voice that thought though, not when his mind is somewhere else entirely. Somewhere it really shouldn’t be.

At that moment Bucky feels something he hasn’t felt in forever — arousal.

“ Good? “ she questions him as she pours the batter into the pan, a sizzling sound filling the kitchen.

Buck nods, completely at a loss for words. This is entirely silly and inappropriate. You’re not supposed to feel those things for your friends. Wasn’t this exactly what they talked about in the Harry and Sally movie? Sex ruining friendships. He can’t and won’t let that happen. Not with (Y/N). Not when he’s just starting to trust her. He needs this friendship more than he cares to admit.

“Grumpy? “

“ Hmm? Oh uh — yeah it’s good. “

And it is good, too good to give up. Too good to jeopardize it for some fleeting sense of passion. Too good to ever let go.

It’s ridiculous of him to put any sensual notions to such a silly little gesture. These things can be friendly. Innocent. People probably do it all the time with no ulterior motives. Maybe he needs to go with the times, let go of antiquated morals. Yeah, surely that’s what he’s gotta do.

They’re sitting by the kitchen counter, (Y/N)’s plate licked clean while Bucky is struggling to finish his pile of pancakes.

“ Do you want the rest of mine? “

“ Did you not like them? “

“ No, I did! I ate an entire pile already. But I can see the way you’re lusting after them. Come on. Open up. “

He cuts off a piece, lathers it in the syrup pooling on his plate, and holds it out towards her. Nothing sexual about it, just two friends sharing food. Absolutely nothing sensual about the way her lips wrap around the fork, they’re still tinted red from last night. Absolutely no dirty thoughts as the syrup drips down her chin. Or when she uses her thumb to wipe it away then licks the sticky liquid off of her fingers. All innocent. All —

“ Have you ever seen 9 ½ weeks? “ she asks him, looking up at him through her thick lashes.

“ No. What’s it about? “

“ Um — “ she starts then laughs to herself as if she’s sharing a funny inside joke with herself “ nevermind. “

“ Noooo, you can’t just start something and then not give me an explanation” he declares as the two of them get up and put the dishes into the dishwasher.

“ You know, Grumpy. There are a few things you better figure out on your own, trust me.”

“ Now you’re just being mean. “

“ No, I’m not I — “ her eyes grow wide as the song changes again and a big bright smile overtakes her entire face. Messy hair, makeup smudged, a smile on her face. God, he wishes they could stay in this little bubble forever. Hurt doesn’t exist here. Only them. Only happy things.

“ I forgot Dirty Dancing.”

“ What? “

“ You don’t know Dirty Dancing. “

“ I know plenty of dancing, thank you very much.”

“ No, Bucky. It’s a movie. It’s one of the most famous romantic movies and I forgot about it. I made a list of all the movies I wanna watch with you but didn’t think of Dirty fucking dancing. Sorry for swearing.”

“ You made a list? “

“ Yes, Grumpy. I made a list because I take this very seriously and I intend to make you watch them all with me because — because it’s fun and I like spending time with you. “

People, Bucky thinks, often take the smallest things for granted. The smallest things that make the most impact. That you will remember forever and cherish with all your heart. Like this one. People also don’t tell each other enough how much their friendships actually mean to them. People should. It feels wonderful.

“ I like spending time with you too.”

She grants him another sunshine smile before grabbing his hands and dancing along to the song. It’s faster than their late-night sway on the balcony, way less coordinated and there’s more jumping on her part and more shaking of — pretty much every body part.

This is so her. Chaotic and a little messy but so unapologetic. So fun. So happy.

“ Because IIIIII've haaaaaad the time of myyyyyy lifeeeee. No I neeeeeever felt this way before. Yes I swear it's the truuuuuuuuth. And I ooooowe it all to youuuuuu.”

“ That’s a catchy song,” Bucky says as a smile finds a way onto his lips. Sometimes it feels nice to surround yourself with people who make you smile. It’s one of the little pleasures in life one should allow themself to indulge in.

Bucky wishes he could bottle up this moment and never let go of it. Keep it for himself forever. That’s the thing about losing your memories, it makes you realize how precious every moment is and it makes you want to hold on tightly to each and every one as they happen.

“Right? I can guarantee you’ll be humming this song all day.”

(Y/N) twirls herself under his arm, away from him, then back before her eyes fall onto his glove-covered hands.

“ You don’t have to wear them for me, you know that, right? “

Sometimes he doesn’t even remember he’S wearing them, it’s become such a regular thing to him now. They are a part of him like the arm itself. They’re a shield really. From looks and judgment. And maybe, if he’s being entirely true to himself, they’re also to keep his eyes from focusing too much on the shiny silver of his hand. Of the fact that he will never be whole again. That he will never be able to feel a loving touch there ever again.

“ I know. It’s not you I’m worried about. “

“ Is it you? “

Bucky scrunches his nose up in discomfort. Talking about feelings wasn’t really a thing back when he was younger, especially for men. Sure there had been late-night talks with Steve about god and the world. About their hopes and fears and about the future. But those were few and far between and really opening himself up was never one of Bucky’s strong points. Talking about your feelings makes you vulnerable and being vulnerable was the last thing Bucky was ever allowed to be back then.

But as he said before, maybe it’s time to give up on antiquated ways.

So he nods “ Yeah. It’s — I still have a complicated relationship with the arm. I know it’s part of me and I’m glad it was given to me but it’s a huge reminder of all that I’ve lost and of a version of me that I can never go back to. A man I can never be again.”

“ Bucky,” (Y/N) starts and takes his face in between her hands. It’s a touch so soft, he can’t remember ever being handled this gently. Like a baby bird. Like a piece of porcelain. Like a treasure too precious to break. “I will never be able to fully understand how you’re feeling and I know that some of those things you have to go through alone and do the work yourself. But let me tell you something. Whoever you used to be might be gone but there’s a long-ass future waiting and it lets you be whoever you want to be. Maybe it’s time to let go of the man you were and start being the man you are because that one’s pretty great. And your arm is as much a part of that greatness as your smile or your constant grumpy mood. It’s what makes you you and you are really cool, honestly. “

His heart beats faster and stops entirely all at the same time. When he was younger he used to relish in the compliments thrown his way. He gracefully accepted them all with a knowing smirk playing on his lips. Nowadays it’s hard to believe them. Hell, it was so hard to have faith in Steve’s words. To believe that he was really worth all the effort and trouble Steve and the others went through, for him of all people. It’s so hard believing you are worth something when all you can see are your wrongdoings and shortcomings.

He wants to believe her words though. If only for a moment. If only for right now, safe and sound in their little bubble as the sun filters through the windows and the tastes of syrup still lingers in his tongue.

A few days later...

“They’re screening Dirty Dancing at the cinema around the block from me! Starts at 8pm. Come meet me, I won’t take no for an answer! xx “

He reads the message and tries to remember the way he felt that morning a few days ago when they danced around her kitchen. When she told him he was worth something. When she made him believe he wasn’t the actual worst person walking this earth. A disgrace. A mistake. A killer.

But every time he tries to go back to the bubble, a different pair of eyes show up in his mind. Eyes filled with sadness, with unimaginable suffering, with grief. All of which he put there.

He ran into Yori last night on his way home. The old man looked more fail than usual, sadder, more tired. Bucky found out why a few minutes later when he asked Yori about the cake in his grocery bag. The one with the white and green frosting.

“ It would be my son’s birthday today. I know he’s not here anymore but he was crazy about these cakes ever since he was a kid. Felt like remembering him. Would you like to join me for a piece? “

Bucky made up some half-assed excuse why he couldn’t, rushed to his apartment, and had a full-on breakdown. The kind that you don’t realize is happening until you’re all the way in the center of the hurricane.

There are shards of glass on his floor from when he threw a bottle against the wall. It’s a shame when you can’t even drown your sorrows in alcohol. His cheeks, he’s sure, are stained with tears that he had kept inside for so long.

How could he ever spend another second with (Y/N) when this is the kind of person he is. Brainwashing or not. The blood of Yori’s son is on his hands. Yori’s pain is his doing. All this grief and this hurt. It’s his fault and his alone. And Yori is just one of so many.

(Y/N) deserves a friend that doesn’t have a body count. Someone who doesn’t know what it feels when someone loses their life at his hands. Someone who doesn’t go to sleep seeing the eyes of those he’s killed. Someone who isn’t him.

His phone rings and he expects it to be (Y/N). She’s one of those people that text you then immediately call you right after. She likes to talk. In-person or over the phone. He doesn’t know if he wants to answer. Doesn’t know what to say. Would it be easier to just tell her not to contact him again? To rip off the bandaid quickly and then deal with the pain afterward?

Before he can come up with an answer to any of those questions, his eyes register the name on the caller display.

“ What?” he grumbles and leans his head against the wall.

“ Well, aren't you a happy chappy today. “

“ Sam, now’s not a good time. “

Sam hesitates for a moment then his voice sounds out from the speakers again.

“ Hey, Bucky. Are you okay? “

For a second, Bucky thinks about saying yes. He wants to keep on pretending the way he did so many times before. Wants to deal with this all by himself and not have anyone else get caught in his mess.

But he can’t. He’s tearing at the seams. He’s barely holding himself together, cracking open more and more with each passing second. So he takes a deep breath and tells the truth.

“ No. No, I’m not. “

30 minutes. No actually 34 minutes. He’s 34 minutes late. In fact, he hasn’t even answered her god damn text. He’s read it. Hasn’t answered though. And while that’s not entirely unlike Bucky, it still annoys her. Especially since when she tried to call him, the line was busy. So surely he’s on his phone. Is it too much to ask for a little reply?

If he doesn’t want to come, that's no big deal, (Y/N) tells herself, but a quick text would be the bare minimum he could give her.

Pout on her face and mood soured, (Y/N) enters the cinema and slumps down onto one of the plush red velvet seats. Not even in the mood for popcorn anymore, thanks Bucky.

There are hardly any people in there with her. Probably because by now almost every person on this planet has seen Dirty Dancing before and the weather is actually quite nice out tonight so most would rather enjoy the last rays of sun before winter will fall upon them than be stuck in a dark stuffy cinema watching a decade-old movie.

Not her though.

And if Bucky thinks she’s gonna miss out on watching this classic masterpiece because he can’t be bothered to show up, well he’s gravely mistaken. And yeah, maybe she’s being a bit dramatic, there might be a perfectly valid explanation for his no-show. That doesn’t mean it doesn’t hurt.

What happens if he actually goes on to date Leah? He’ll have less time for her that’s for sure. Movie dates won’t be happening then. Maybe it’s good she’s getting used to this now before she grows too close to him and breaks her own heart in the process of mending his.

She hates herself a little for those thoughts. Bucky deserves to be happy and if that means their friendship will be put on the backburner, then she should be okay with that, right? That’s what friends do, they want you happy no matter what it means for themself.

The Ronettes’ Be My Baby starts echoing through the room as the lights dim and (Y/N) sinks deeper into her seat, embracing the dark. The screen lights up with a black and white montage of people dancing and a swirly pink font spells out the actors' names. (Y/N) can’t wait to get lost in this picture-perfect version of real-life where things might seem bad but turn out right in the end. They always turn our right for these people. If only real life was this easy.

She’s so ready to just forget about all her troubles for the next 90 minutes.

And then a figure steps in front of the screen, nothing but a silhouette. A black shadow in front of the moving pictures. A shape she immediately recognizes.

“ Come on, dude. What the hell!” some guy in front of her yells out to Bucky, immediately following the words with a fistful of popcorn being thrown his way.

He’s here. He’s here and he’s obviously looking for her. She can’t make out his face but he’s shielding his eyes with his hands and letting his gaze wander over the crowd.

There’s a flutter in her stomach, one she knows oh too well. One she wants to bundle up and stuff to the very back of her being. A flutter that shouldn’t be there. That’s not what this is. Butterflies and goosebumps. This is eating spaghetti on the floor, dancing in the kitchen, and crying tears of laughter in IKEA. That’s what it is and what it should be. Right? But that doesn’t mean they can’t be affectionate. Right? That doesn’t mean they have to be cold and stoic and distant.

Right?

As (Y/N) reaches up her arms and waves, Bucky hurries down the platform and lets himself plop down in the seat next to her.

“ I’m sorry I was — “

“ It’s okay. You’re here now. “

That’s what matters. Being there. Just being there.

“ You deserve to have a friend, Bucky.” Sam said “ and she deserves to make her own decisions. If she decides you’re worth it, who are you to question that choice?”

Sam is right. Of course, he is. Despite how much Bucky hates to admit it, Sam is one of the smartest people he knows. Not in the way Tony or Bruce or Shuri are. Smart in a way that lets you know he gets you, he understands the chaos inside you, empathizes with it. He’s got this sense of incredible emotional awareness and a calm that exudes from him. Bucky will obviously never let him know this but talking to Sam feels more soothing and helpful than talking to his therapist.

He still doesn’t feel like he deserves her friendship, her affection, and her care. But really it would be foolish to think it’s his right to dictate who she can and can't care about.

Sitting beside her now, in the dark, with a movie playing on the big screen, makes things a bit easier. His thoughts aren’t so loud anymore and his heart, though still heavy, feels a little bit lighter. It’s easy to get lost in a story that’s not his and forget about the rest.

He almost forgets about his emotional turmoil by the time the two main characters dance around on a log, when he feels something against his left hand. First, it’s but a whisper of a touch, then more deliberate and then he feels the glove being slid off of his fingers. He doesn’t dare look over at her, eyes focused straight ahead. He doesn’t pull away though. There’s never been a touch quite so gentle against the cold vibranium metal. He doesn’t pull away, instead, he locks his fingers with hers and softly closes his fist.

If there’s moments worth holding onto, this is surely one of them.

“ I’m glad you came.” (Y/N) murmurs as she places her head against his shoulder. The one made of vibranium. The one that’s a part of him like his smile and his eyes and — his grumpy personality.

“ Yeah, me too.”

As Johnny and Baby give their all during the end of the season dance, Bucky can’t help but let himself relish in this moment.

There are two things on his mind.

One is the idea that maybe this is what friendship can be. Showing affection through soft touches and loving words. Maybe he doesn’t have to assign any deeper meaning to it. No matter how much it makes his heart beat faster or how the flutters in his stomach won't seem to settle down.

The other thing is the fact that this song is so damn catchy and while he hates himself a little for it, his feet tap along to the rhythm and he catches himself mouthing along to the lyrics.

And damn if it ain’t fitting because he has never felt this way before either.

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[devinescribe]

[Pragma]

Chishiya Shuntarou

Warnings: swearing, manga spoilers, mentions of nooses and hanging, death, blood, abuse

As always I think that's all, but feel free to tell me if I missed any. This is part one of seven of the idea I had!

The word love encompasses so much. Love can be different in the ways people say and mean it, which is why the Greeks had seven words for love.

Eros, sexual or erotic love. Can be the love you share with a partner. Lust.

Philia, platonic love. The love you share with friends.

Storge, natural love. The love you share with your family.

Philautia, love of self.

Pragma, long standing love. The love of a married couple.

Agápe, unconditional or Devine love.

Ludus, childish or playful love/flirting.

As the cupid of Pragma, you dealt with many types of people. People who were nervous to propose, people having second thoughts, and people who had been married for years. Every problem was unique in its own way.

"(Y/N)! There's someone calling for you specifically!" Eros's voice called out. You smiled, smoothing out  your lilac dress, walking towards them. "You're always so graceful! Teach me!" Ludus's voice chirped. You patted her head saying, "Maybe later." Before turning your attention back to the person. It was a woman.  "Oh this is silly... I am but a fool to believe this will work, but anything for him... Lady of Pragma, I wish to speak with you," she said. There was a green apple on her desk. "Well, I'll be going. Bye bye!" You said, waving off to them. You spun twice, disappearing in a cloud of cherry blossoms. "Ah, I should have known that language. I'm guessing this woman is in Japan then," you muttered, feeling cold move over you.

"Hello, you've called for me?" You said, standing besides the woman. She jumped, but sighed. "He was... it was correct? You're real?" She questioned. You nodded with a smile. "As real as you. I'm (Y/N), the cupid of Pragma, long standing love. How may I assist you?" You introduced, bowing towards her. She returned the bow. "I... I fear my husband and I... our relationship may have affected our son. He's... I would like for you to help him not end up like his father and I did. Please," she explained. It hurt you that such a thing could happen. People fell out of love all the time, and not even the magic of a cupid could change that. "Of course. I just need a name. Oh, and if I may request that apple?" You said, pointing towards it. The lady laughed, handing it to you. "It is for you. And the name is Chishiya Shuntarou. Please, whatever it takes for him to not end up like us," she requested yet again. You nodded, before spinning yet again. Cherry blossoms filled again. 'So he lives on Japan as well? I think he will be interesting.'  What a travesty that their relationship affected their son. Love wasn't always easy, which is why so many people called on you and the other cupids.

When you opened your eyes, you were in what looked like a college dorm. A boy with blonde, almost white hair stood in front of you. No expression on his face, almost like you didn't just appear out of no where. "And that's the last time I go 2 days without sleep," he muttered, walking away from you. "Hello? It's quite rude to walk off like that. You must be Chishiya," you guessed floating after him. "How did you- nope, no, this is a figment of my imagination. The supernatural don't exist," he said, trying to walk off. You grabbed his shoulders, making him face you. "I'm real. Your mother sent me to help you. I'm (Y/N), the cupid of Pragma," you introduced. He stared back into your eyes. One of your hands was warm, the other icy. It felt to real to be a dream or a figment of his imagination.

"So, you follow me around everywhere basically?" He questioned a few hours later. "Yep. Until you fall in love with someone and they fall in love back in the way that would result in marriage. With my help," you explained. "And others can't see you?" He asked. You shook your head. "Only you can see and hear me," you answered. He nodded, before sighing. "And if I don't love someone or them love me back?" He asked. "I stay in your mortal life till you die," you responded. It was the life of a cupid, you supposed. "Well, you are going to be stuck here for a while. I don't like anybody. All the  humans I've met are the same. Idiotic, cheerful, and to happy to be in this life," he said. Ah, an apathetic one is he? You could change that.

The next few weeks you spent trying to point out people to him. He wouldn't take any interest in them, saying that they were to dumb or any other excuse. We're you bad at your job? No, he was just a picky person, you guessed. "There has to be a person that's peaked your interest these past few weeks. I've found over hundreds of people. Men, women, in between. One of them has had to catch your eye," you said, floating above his bed. "No, not at all," he responded. You heard fireworks outside, and floated over to his window, looking out. The colorful sparks lit up the sky, and you watched in awe. "Chishiya, is there a celebration of sorts today?" You questioned. He shook his head, muttering something about dumb people. Suddenly all the lights turned off. You looked around, but it was pitch black. "Chishiya? Where are you?" You questioned. "On my bed... must be a blacko- oh my god... you're glowing," he started.

"Aw, thanks. That's the nicest thing you've said to me,'' you giggled. "No like... actually glowing," he said, reaching out towards you, and touching your hair. He pulled a (strand/curl) softly, showing it to you. You looked down to see that your body was actually glowing. Then you looked at your hair. Your hair had strands that were glowing gold, contracting with your (H/C).

The rest of your body gave off a small amount of light. "Let's go see if anyone else knows what's going on. Come on my glow stick, " he said, leaving already. You laughed at the nickname, following besides him.

There was no one. Not a single soul in the city of Tokyo. "Chishiya... what's going on?" You questioned, floating over him, deciding to sit atop his shoulders. He walked around the empty streets. None of the lights were on, all the cars in the street had stopped, and there was dead silence. The only sound was the occasional plastic bags that moved across the pavement. "I don't know. If I knew, I would tell you," he said. You looked down at him, and lightly slapped the top of his head. He turned his head to look at you, glaring slightly. "Why... aren't you heavy?" He asked. You didn't weigh anything, despite your body being on his shoulders. Every body type has weight, that's just how humans work. But then again, you weren't human. "Well, I can appear how I want to. I appear how I used to look in my life before being a cupid. And as for why, I just make myself lighter by floating so you're not carrying me," you explained, softly petting his hair in apology for hitting him. He nodded, and began walking again.

Of course, that's how you ended up here, in a game of Black Jack to the death. One of the advertisement boards had lit up saying 'this way to the game arena'. Chishiya being curious, followed the signs. They led you two in the direction of a casino. There were 4 other people there when you entered.

"Chishiya, I-" you started, before he placed a finger on your lips. "Quiet," he stated quietly, seeing as he didn't want everyone else to think he was crazy. You immediately shut your mouth. "Good girl," he praised, petting your head. No one payed any mind to him, so you assumed no one heard him. You blushed at his words. Why did they sound sweet coming from him? You had always despised those words. Coming from Chishiya, they gave you butterflies. 'Nonononono! It's against the rules. Butterflies, go away!' You scolded yourself internally. You floated over the table, looking through things. There were guns under glass cases, poker chips, and decks of cards. Another thing you noticed were the nooses hanging from the ceiling. "But Chishiya, this is... less than adequate," you said, holding his face in your hands. You huffed when he didn't answer back, and decided to use your magic, talking through his mind.

''Chishiya what in the Hades do you think you're doing!''

"Oh, this is new. Lovely."

"Don't ignore my question you brat!"

"If anyone's the brat it's you. So, be quiet like a good girl would."

This time, the words didn't sound sweet. They sounded like how he had said them. It almost made you throw up.

"Stop calling me that."

"Why? You seemed to like it."

"Chishiya... please. It just... it reminds me of someone I would like to forget."

"Well, that's not my problem, is it?"

"Chishiya I-''

"Just be quiet. I'm trying to focus."

You frowned, and nodded. He had always been kind of mean to others, and maybe sarcastic with you, but he had never been that rude to you. It made you hurt, shocking you, as this had never happened in your course of being a cupid. Why did it hurt so much coming from him? Others had said the same thing, but it never bothered you. Why was it? Although, it had happened in your life before becoming a cupid. But you didn't want to remember. You don't want to. But, in the moment, your memories got the best of you.

"Just take it like a good girl," he mocked, hitting you once more. You winced in pain. "Pl-please just stop!" You pleaded, wiping away the blood, wincing at the burning sensation. He only snickered as you tried to stumble away. You reached the door, only for him to grab your braided hair, pulling you back. You let out a sharp cry as you feel to the dirt floor. Dust flew up, making you sneeze, and your eyes burn from the dust getting in them. There was dirt all over your skirt, mixing with the blood that dripped from your injuries.

"Good girls don't get hurt. All you have to do is be a good girl and you won't get hurt," he said, crouching down in front of you and grabbing your chin with his hand. The teasing tone in his voice obvious. He spoke down to you as if you were a child. You averted your eyes, looking away from the man in front of you. "Remember the vows. You promised to love, honor, and obey me. So do as your told like a good girl," he said, spitting on your face. He let you go, leaving the house, as you curled up, crying to yourself. You knew he would come back and act like everything was fine. Like he didn't treat you like trash on the street. You wished he had stayed the sweet boy you fell in love with. So, as you fell asleep through tears and wracking sobs, you imagined he still was. That you were madly in love with the same sweet boy who used to bring you flowers. The sweet boy who used to kiss you goodbye.

You heard Chishiya gasp, and looked over at him.

"Who the hell was that? Why the fuck- what- what happened?"

"What are you talking about?"

"You! You and that man! Is that... is that why you don't like it? The nickname, I mean."

"...Yes."

"I-... I'll stop then."

You had a feeling apologies weren't his thing, so left it at that. You couldn't believe Chishiya was able to see into your mind. You knew that you two were linked because of when you talked to him, but no one had ever been able to look into your mind as you had been able to look into theirs. There had only been one other person who had been able to do that.

All was well, until one person lost, getting pulled up by the noose around his neck. You flinched, grabbing your neck. "Oh my..." you whispered. You heard Chishiya snicker at your reaction. "Chishiya Shuntarou, that is no laughing matter!" You scolded. He shrugged, going back to the game. He was to apathetic for his own good. You guessed this is what his mother was talking about. He didn't experience the normal family love as others would. He didn't experience love at all, you guessed, and that left him to be an apathetic man who had no care for his life, or anyone else's. He put no value on anyone's life, including his own.

"Sociopathic oh so tragic~" you sang, putting up the laundry on the hooks. "It's not my fault that I play with magic~"you continued, the sheets and clothes swaying lightly in the wind. You felt a hand on your waist, and tensed up. "What's that about magic?" You heard him say. Your eyes widened as he put his head in the crook of your neck. The cocking of his gun was the other sound you heard. "D-darling, it's just a rhyme I h-heard the ch-children down the s-street sing. I-it's all in good fun and i-innocence," you stuttered, hoping he wouldn't do anything to drastic. "Magic would explain why the men in town were talking about you. Whore," he spat, his grip on you becoming tighter. You felt the tip of his gun press against your back. "Let me go," you ordered, your voice stern and high strung. "Let me go, or I'll scream. Let everyone know what you've been doing. It's not my fault I was the talk of the town today. Maybe if you hadn't bruised my skin, I wouldn't be. Just as I promised in my vows, you promised too. You get your hands off me, or I'll scream. I'll scream and we'll see who's the talk off the town," you threatened, breaking away from him. You pushed him down, and picked up your skirt, running back to the house. "You bitch!" He screamed. All you remember was the sound of the gunshot, the pain in your abdomen, and the shrill shreak that came from your mouth.

Then, light. A bright light. "Oh no... my dearest (Y/N)... he will suffer in the pits of the most wretched places," the voice said. It was soft, and regal. The voice only a queen would have. "You poor woman... cursed with such a man," another spoke. This one sounded more girlish. Still regal, but as if a child spoke. You looked up, seeing two of the most beautiful women you've ever seen. One having caramel skin, shoulder length black hair, and golden eyes like those of a hawk. She wore a red dress that had gold at the ends. It ended just above her ankles. On her hair lay a headpiece with black horns, a golden snake wrapping around a red circle. The ends of her hair held golden pieces. She wore a beautiful gold and blue necklace, and had blue bracelets on her wrists and upper arm, and anklets. The other woman had golden hair braided back, with tan skin and the most pure hazel eyes you'd ever seen. She wore a sheer white dress a beautiful embroidered belt on her waist. You gasped, backing away. "Do not be frightened. I am Hathor," the woman with the raven hair said. "And I am Aphrodite. We've seen your suffering, and together, we've taken the decision to make you a cupid. The cupid of the word Pragma, to be exact," the other said. You swallowed. "You don't have to accept. But we'd appreciate if you would," Hathor said. "W-what would.. me doing that... include? My duties?" You asked. "You would help people who wanted to propose, those who are engaged, and even those who are married. You help them solve the problems. Pragma is the Greek word for the love of a married couple. Long standing love," Aphrodite explained. ''So? Do you accept?"

"(Y/N). The game is over. Let's go."

Chishiya's voice broke you from your thoughts. You looked up, seeing the people hanging, and shuddered. "Are they..?" You questioned, motioning towards the hanging bodies. He nodded, walking through the casino. He held a card in his hands. A six of diamonds.

You floated besides him, your dress flowing behind you. You didn't speak, just floated besides him. Your face was devoid of any emotion he could detect. And it was frustrating to him, someone who prided himself on being able to read others, but others not be able to read him.

"(Y/N), talk. It's to quiet. Never thought I'd say that," he said. "What do you want me to talk about?" You asked. You two sat on a bench in a park. "Who that man was. Why he hurt you. If he's suffering now," Chishiya responded. "Well, you don't sugar coat... that was my husband. In my past life. He was a sweet man... before we got married. After that, he showed his true colors. An abusive pig.  I don't know why he hurt me. And I don't think I'll ever know. He is suffering. The gods of death are making sure of it," you responded. "Gods?" He questioned. "Yes. All the gods of every religion exist. No one's wrong, but also, no one's right," you said. "Ok... makes sense. Tell me about the cupids," he requested. You smiled. "There's seven of us. Each represents a different word the Greeks had for love. We all have a lucky item, a food that can be used to summon and appease us, and a special magic," you explained. "Alright, and what's your lucky item and your special magic?" He asked. "My lucky item are the earings I wear. A wedding gift from my mother. My special magic is reading minds and talking through them. It helps a lot, especially with the people I help," you said. He nodded, looking up at the sky.

"I've never seen the sky like this. Too many lights here in the city to look," he said. You nodded, agreeing with his statement. It was quite different from the normal sky you saw. "Hey... have you as a a cupid ever fallen in love with one of your human projects?" He asked. You could tell he was joking about the word projects, but still you tilted your head in confusion. "Why do you ask?" You questioned. "Just curious. Am I allowed to be curious?" He said, a smirk on his face. "Curiosity killed the cat," you responded, returning his smirk. "But satisfaction brought it back~," he sang, his smirk turning into a wide grin. Now you could see why his name meant 'Cheshire'. You shook your head, "You are something else Chishiya." "Well, have you?"

He sure was persistant to get an answer. But then again, he was a man. Most persist even after receiving an answer, which boiled you with anger. Eros had a way of dealing with them that always made you smile. You had a feeling he wouldn't stop asking until you answered, so instead of dealing with annoyance for the next... however long you would be trapped here, you decided to answer. You thought for a second. "No. I haven't. It's been said we'll die a devine death if we do," you said. "Has anyone actually tested it out?" He asked. You shook your head. He turned your head to face him. He got closer, making you keep eye contact. "Want to know something?" He asked. You let out a shaky breath nodding. "I did fall for someone," he said, eyes locked with yours. You backed up, hitting the handle of the bench, your legs strewn out under him, your lilac dress flowing off the park bench. "W-who? I can help," you asked nervously as he got closer. He leaned his head to whisper in your ear.

"It..."

"Is...

"... You."

You gasped, closing your eyes, pushing him off softly. You could feel the warmth rise to your cheeks, and shook your head. "You don't mean that. You're lying," you started, bringing your knees into your chest. "Oh, but I do. I see no reason to lie to you when you could just read my mind," he said. You could hear the smirk in his voice. "Ch-chishiya, I could die," you stated, your voice small. He softly lifted your face. You kept your eyes closed. "You said no one's ever tried it. How would you know?" He said. You opened your eyes slowly. "Would you like to test your mortality?" You retorted. "Yes. It seems like one way to feel satisfaction," he said. He fixed the strap of your dress, pulling it back onto your shoulder. "I hate that you don't care for your own life. You need to fall in love with a mortal person... I-... even if I did return your feelings and I couldn't die from loving you, I couldn't... we couldn't be together," you said, turning to face away from him. He sighed, grabbing your face in his hands, making you look at him once more. "Do you return the feelings? Or are you afraid to admit them? Is it that you're scared of getting hurt by someone you thought you could trust again? Is it the fear of death?" He questioned, although you could tell he was reading you like a kid's book, not really looking for an answer.

You looked down. "I-i don't know. And even if I couldn't die from it, you are still a mortal being. I live forever," you said. "There's only one way to find out if it's true. So, stop me if you really don't have feelings for me," he said, leaning in to you. Your breath got caught in your throat. He stopped, his forehead resting on yours. "Stop me if you don't want me to. I will. I'm not a monster, you know," he whispered. You took a shaky sigh.

When was the last time you had ever done anything for yourself? Not even in your past life had you been selfish. Never had you asked for more than you were given, never had you envied those who had more. You had never realized that throughout the years, you has become a bit sad at everyone else falling in love with your help, but you weren't allowed to. If the gods and goddess didn't want you to fall in love, then they should have made you to not feel it. None of the cupids had ever tested it. So, if the goddesses and gods of love could fall in love with mortals and do whatever they pleased, why couldn't you? It wasn't fair. For once, you were going to make a decision that benefited you. No more being afraid of unseen consequences.

You closed your eyes, nodding softly. "Go ahead," you whispered. In a second, his lips were pressed against yours. His hand caressed the side of your face, pulling you in closer. Your lips were so soft, and you tasted like apple. He thought to himself that he would become addicted to the taste. He pulled away, and watched as you touched your body. "I-im still here... I'm still here. Chishiya, I'm still here!" You repeated, throwing yourself on him. You hugged him tightly, and he pet your head softly. "See, nothing ha-" he started, before getting interrupted by someone clearing their throat.

You pulled away, seeing Aphrodite.

You kneeled down on the floor, ushering Chishiya to do the same. "In all my years... I never thought you'd be the one to test it," she said. You kept your eyes glued to the ground. "Lady Aphrodite, I-..." you started, thinking over your words. You took a big breath in. "I'm sorry, but... I won't apologize for falling in love. I think... for once I wanted to do something for myself. If you must punish anyone, punish me," you said. "(Y/N)-" Chishiya started. You shot him a look that said to stay quiet. He glared at you.

"I'm not staying quiet, damn woman."

"Don't start now. Not in her presence."

"You're not getting hurt because I forced my feelings onto you I c-"

"You didn't force your feelings on me. Let me deal with this."

"(Y/N), you're not getting punished. I don't know who told you ladies you weren't allowed to fall in love. I just thought it was something you seven had made a pact on. It seems more serious than what I first assumed," Aphrodite said. You looked up in shock. "I-. I can fall in love? But... Zues said-" you stuttered. "Zues? Did he really? I'll have a chat with him. But now, you have two options. 1, keep being a cupid, and have him join you in your immortal life. So, yes, your darling would become immortal. Or 2, become mortal again, and live the rest of your mortal lives together," She said. You looked over at Chishiya who smirked.

"What do you want to do?"

"I should be asking you that. It's your immortal life that would be lost. So you decide."

"Well... I like being a cupid. And I love you... I want you forever and ever..."

"Then there's your answer."

"But is it what you want? I don't want to make a decision based solely on my wants."

"(Y/N), I've already told you. I would care less whatever you pick. Both benefit me. Only one benefits you with giving you both things you want."

"I... I would like to stay a cupid, and have him indefinitely my lady," you said with a small smile. You liked the sound of having Chishiya by your side forever. She smiled brightly.  "I'm so happy you've found someone. It was me and Hathor's goal since we chose you. I can't fathom why Zues would tell you ladies you couldn't fall in love. But, all shall be fixed soon. The others are all out on their own missions now. I think they're all headed the same way you two did. So, let's see where they go," she informed. She touched her hands to Chishiya's head, and smiled. "So you do have pure intentions with her. Good. Now... I'm not sure why, but my magic isn't exactly working here. I could barely appear in here. So, I must wait till you're back in the normal world to help you become immortal. Be careful my dear (Y/N)... This world is dangerous. Protect him best you can, although he seems to be plenty clever. Maybe a bit to clever for his own good? And, Chishiya?" She said, looking towards him. He lifted his head, looking at her for the first time, shocked to see she looked like you. From your hair, to your eyes, to your height, to your body type. She smiled, "Don't hurt her." And with that, she disappeared in a cloud of rose gold dust that blew away in the breeze. He turned to you, a shocked expression on his face, "She- she looked like you. Exactly like you." You giggled, and put your hand on his shoulder. "The belt she was wearing? It was made by her husband. He enchanted the belt so she was able to look beautiful to anyone who looked at her. But, everyone's standard of beauty is different, so she looks different to everyone who gazes at her," you explained. He nodded slowly, before looking away. You were confused, before seeing his ears painted red. "Chishiya, are you blushing?" You teased, turning him to face you. You grabbed his face softly, making him look at you. He averted his eyes. "I don't think I've ever seen you bashful or shy," you teased again. "Shut up... it's- this is all new to me," he stuttered. "I'm glad you find me beautiful," you said, kissing his nose. He smirked.

"You missed," he said. You looked at him in confusion. "What do you mean I- mmph!" You started, before getting interrupted with his lips on yours.

Maybe breaking the 'rule' for your own feelings was the right choice. No, scratch that, it was the right choice. And you would forever be with a person who loved you.

Next will be Last Boss, then after that it's Niragi's. Just a small reminder, these will all talk about past trauma which will include thing such as abuse, rape, assault, murder and other things. You became a cupid due to the experiences, OK? Thank you so much for reading, have an amazing day/night!

Hathor is the Egyptian goddess of love, and I tried to describe her as well as I could from the reference I found!

[spield]

journey to i - kakasaku

Author’s Notes: This has been in my google docs for so long, I’ve forgotten all about it. I low-key panicked when I couldn’t find it my files hahaha. But here it is. Not much romance, but more of... hmm, you tell me what you think it is in your comments! ;) 

Disclaimer: As I’ve said before, sometimes I just write to get things out THEN edit it after. This is the case for this one. Will probably edit this soon though! 

In the end, when Sasuke asks, Sakura says no. 

She takes his lone hand, kisses his palm and whispers why she can’t. 

Sasuke doesn’t understand but he sees the longing in her green eyes, and ah, that he understands. So he pokes her forehead, just above her seal, and hopes they meet on the road and promises a cup of tea. 

She doesn’t linger to watch him leave. Instead, the moment he turns his back, she turns hers too. One feet in front of the other, she walks through the paths of her village, through the market and takes a few turns and goes inside the Hokage tower. 

In less than an hour, Sakura files her indefinite leave with a promise to assist, help and support members of the Shinobi Alliance on her way but with no promise when she’ll come back.

Kakashi is outside when she steps out, no signs of his hat and coat but with his trademark slouch present. He must’ve jumped through the window, Sakura thinks amusedly. Somehow, even through everything, under the fading light, he still looks untouchable. Perhaps, especially now. “You going somewhere?” 

“You just approved my papers.” Sakura smiles, waving the scroll in front of him. “You know where I’m going.” 

Kakashi’s dark eyes - eyes, how odd - are unreadable as he says, “No. No, I don’t.” 

There’s much left to say, but years of cowardice and hiding are not easy habits to break. So Sakura heads home, and is gone before the sunrise. 

At the end of it all, Sakura goes on a journey to retrace her own family’s history. Beyond Konoha, beyond the Land of Fire and beyond the world of the shinobi. 

Because before Sakura was the Fifth’s Apprentice, before she was The Scorpion Killer and way before she was the leftovers of an old genin team, Sakura was a Haruno. 

And all Haruno go back to the sea. 

She left Konoha with just one bag filled with colorful clothes that she never got to wear. Clothes that her mother and father gifted her year after year, holiday after holiday, even when she couldn’t wear them. Not in the village of leaves, not when they smell of the sea even if they’ve never touched it. 

So, Haruno Sakura goes home. 

This is what Sakura tells the Godaime, the Rokudaime and anyone who asks. 

(This is what she tells herself, however, in the end, it’s still heartbreak that leads her away from Konoha. When she meets Sasuke for tea, she hopes they could talk about how Konoha broke their hearts in the way it never did to Naruto.)

All questions are quelled by a calling, by the vast distance, beyond the greens of different trees and blues of different seas tug at her heartstrings, whispering, “Darling, our darling, let us hold you.” 

Sakura circumnavigates the world and through her journey, she meets a monk, a lover and a heathen.

Suna is not known for their religious beliefs. From what she’d gathered throughout her years of friendship with Kankuro, they were pretty lenient to whatever gods their shinobi choose to worship. 

“Maybe, you know, except for another Rabbit Goddess,” Kankuro backtracked, fingers uncoordinated and stiff from fighting, trying to balance a sake cup. It was the first time they’ve seen each other after the war, on the tails still of victory and defeat. High off it. “Yup, maybe not another Rabbit Goddess, maybe not Jashin either - everything else, fair game.”

“Faith is an interesting reprieve from the terrors of life.” Gaara said, righting his brother up with his sand. His teal eyes are fond and warm, and new. His gourd is nowhere to be seen and he looks so young for a man who led their army.  “We let people have their gods.” 

Suna is not known for their religious beliefs, or rather, they’re known for not being known for it but still, it’s where Sakura meets the monk. 

Suna welcomes her with open arms because the sands may be forever shifting, but it never forgets. It remembers her as that 15 year old prodigy who saved their Kazekage’s brother, that 19, 20 and 21 year old who performed miracles in the battlefield with eyes fierce and elbows deep in people’s guts. Suna loves her for what she represents - grit, dirt and kindness honed by the cruelty of the world. 

(Abandoned. That’s what Suna and Sakura had in common.)

Sometimes, Sakura wishes she could see what they see too. 

Now, she’s 23 years old. Two years after the war and she’s still so tired. 

In Suna, she’s given free reign of the hospital. Overseeing their developments in prosthesis, their puppet corps turned into experts of the field. She supposes Sasori would be rolling in his grave at the thought of how his notes revolutionized the entire field of artificial limbs - if he had a grave that is. 

(Sasori was a brilliant man. Mad, yes, but brilliant - and aren’t the brilliant ones always are?)

When Sakura lessens her healing and caseload citing more hands-on training for the Suna medics, Gaara doesn’t ask. She’s still brilliant with her lectures and demonstration and nobody dares to question the greatest healer of the nations. 

It is on the first day of her sixth month when she sees the monk. There’s some sort of blessing ceremony to be done to the new ward of the hospital. The Kazekage’s invited the religious leaders of Suna to bless the place. 

Several came, all with different garments and different rituals. One came with water from a blessed oasis, all barefooted and with hair reaching up to the backs of their knees. They spoke a language she’s never heard, words running over like water over rocks in a bubbling stream. Another came in traditional Suna garments, and sprinkled sand over the white tiles of the new ward - under the setting sun, it looked like fairy dust and gold. 

Many came and went, but one remained still at the outskirts of the crowd, quiet and familiar.

“It’s the first time he’s gone out in public since Chiyo-baa-sama’s death,” Kankuro shrugged when Sakura asked. “He’s kind of particular and all that.” 

It isn’t until the sun dips down the horizon that the monk steps forward. At this point there aren’t anyone left but Gaara and Sakura but nevertheless, they receive no acknowledgement from the stooping man. 

He’s quiet, as he bleeds his chakra to the floor and down every grain of sand in the ward. It always amazes Sakura how chakra lives in non-combatants - a proof that it exists beyond duty. And proof that it can, perhaps, one day exist only for beauty. 

“Do you think he takes confessions?” Sakura whispers. Gaara’s lips quirk upwards, knowing that she knows the difference between a priest and a monk and yet indulges her. “Perhaps. If he does, let me know.”  They’ve all got sins to unload, Sakura muses. And yet, despite being weighed down by all the choices she’s made and been forced to make, it’s not what spills from her mouth when she finds the monk a week after. 

Or rather, he finds her. Coughing, old and sitting on her table. 

There’s something about him, lungs barely holding on and yet still at peace, old age running lines on his face that had her saying, confessing - “I believe I am lost.” 

The monk pauses, eyes torn away from the window and gravitating towards her face. Sakura doesn’t expect a response, after all, he hasn’t said a word to anyone for years. But, he shakes his naked head and offers her a smile, “Nothing is ever really lost.”

That night, she receives a missive from Konoha, like she’s been receiving for the past eleven months but this time, there are two of them. One is a response to the report she wrote about the progress of her study in prosthetics and the other, the other smelling of home and written in a piece of old weathered paper. It almost makes her smile.  Mr. Ukki misses you. 

Sakura doesn’t stay long after that. She fears that if she stays so near to home, its voice will overpower her roots’, and the sea has been waiting for her since she was born. 

She bids Suna goodbye after a year of staying within its walls. She hugs Kankuro tightly, hold Temari’s hand and kisses Gaara’s cheek. 

The Kazekage blushes underneath his hat and Kankuro jibes, “Well, if this is what farewell feels like, then you should say goodbye more often.” 

For months, Sakura moves from town to town, village to village. Occasionally receiving scrolls from Konoha, asking her to lend assistance to a new ally or an old enemy.

It’s funny, how a great military power apologizes for its sins. Never acknowledging it, never calling it reparations, preferring the term “aid” when it only ever is leverage. 

How odd. 

How hypocritical. 

(Sometimes, Sakura wonders if Uchiha Itachi was truly a loyal ninja of Konoha or if he was yet just another blinded soldier searching for idealism in a corrupted system. Was he a victim, truly? A hero? A martyr? To what end? For whom?) 

In her bones, Sakura feels time slipping faster and faster, and despite these emerging thoughts, she wonders if spring has begun in Konoha. 

She claims her free tea from Sasuke at a small town on the border of Iwakagure and Takigakure, almost half a year after she left Suna - two years into her journey. 

“You need a haircut, Sasuke-kun.” Sakura greets and watches in satisfaction as the hobo-looking man looks up to her as she sits in front of him. His hair has grown longer, covering part of his face, finally succumbing to gravity and bidding the duck-butt style goodbye. 

“Sakura.”

There’s something in the way Sasuke speaks her name. When they were kids, it’s always with dismissal and when they went on, it’s with a tone of chained fondness. During the war, it’s with disdain turned acknowledgement. 

When they were in Konoha, Sakura could swear that she could hear pride in Sasuke’s voice, hidden behind the syllables of her name. 

Here, he calls her with surprise melting into relief. Perhaps, being alone has taken a toll to her wayward teammate. 

(Here’s the difference between the two: Sasuke is looking and running from something, Sakura knows where she’s going. Whether or not she’s running or looking too is irrelevant.) (Kind of.)

“Hey, Sasuke-kun.” Sakura smiles and waves a waitress down, “Fancy a cup of tea with me?” 

Sasuke nods, his lips tugging upward. His dark eyes linger on the spider silk strands of her hair against the orange setting sun.  Her hair’s grown longer, almost as long as when they were genin. 

For a short moment, he’s filled with dread, struggling to remember what young Sakura looked like. He’s starting to forget, perhaps, and it is both a blessing and a punishment. 

The shadows shift and stretch under the guidance of the setting sun, and they exchange stories of the road until the moon nudges the sun to rest. 

It’s funny how easy they fall into bed together, right after tea. 

Sakura’s childhood dreams featured more of a courtship, a promise and a marriage. Teenage Sakura’s fantasy featured more heated kisses, a fight and a leveling of a forest in rage turned lust. 

But this, this is so much better. 

Sasuke touches her with surprising gentleness and want, after they trip their way to his accommodations. There’s a softness in the firm kisses of his mouth, a tremble playing at the edge of his fingertips. It’s not a battle, or a dance but rather an introduction. A hello followed by oh... gods, yes, there -- 

Sasuke makes it good, despite only having one arm, it must be an Uchiha thing to be so good at everything, Sakura thinks as she lay beside her former team mate. 

In a different life, perhaps, she would’ve married Sasuke, she thinks as she watches his lashes flutter as he sleeps. Perhaps, she would’ve give him a child, a girl with his eyes and her hair. A pink-haired Uchiha. But this is not that lifetime. 

Instead, Sakura meets Sasuke again - or perhaps for the very first time - as a lover. Washed anew by his journey, Sakura gets to know her former teammate as a man who can reel out moans and gasps from her, who can, after they decided to travel together for a while, and will start a fire to keep her warm and will tease her about her love affair when he reads Kakashi’s letter over her shoulder.  “Was he the reason why you didn’t come with me?” Sasuke asks. They’re in the Land of Snow, farther from where Sakura really aims to go, but she’s got time to spare and Sasuke might actually be killed by the Raikage if he’s found shuffling around near their country without an escort.  Sakura glances at the words written on the wrinkled parchment (Naruto’s taking classes with Shikamaru. Lots of reading for him to do. He tried using Kage Bunshin to study and knocked himself out. Time is of the essence, he said, and I agree.) and pinches that flicker of hope budding in her chest. 

She shrugs at Sasuke’s question, “I think... I think I wouldn’t have gone with you even without him in the picture.”  Something sad flickers in Sasuke’s eyes before it’s gone, “And yet, here we are.”

“Here we are.” 

In the frigid cold of the snow, Sasuke moves against Sakura as an apology and a goodbye. It’s more than comrades sharing warmth but less than lovers making love. At the back of Sakura’s mind, she wonders if Kakashi knows - if he’s angry or if, like always, he understands.  (She misses him, even when they’ve never had each other like this. But the intimacy of sex is trumped by the intimacy in battle, in handling each other with precious care, scars and blood be damned. It is an intimacy borne of desperation, fostered by respect, watered with fondness -- and killed out of love. She misses him, but time is of the essence.) 

Sasuke and Sakura split up at the outskirts of the Land of Stone at the start of her third year of travelling. He went East, she went West and that was that. A few days in, Sakura enters Asakura.  Asakura is the city of heathens - prostitutions, gambling, and underground dealing. It’s the city of sin, which means, it’s also the land of base instincts and humanity stripped to its bare bones. 

It seems like a city just right up her shishou’s alley. Sakura only had to follow the sounds of bellowing, of bodies of men flying out of tavern, and murmurs about a (beautiful but) crazy bitch burning through her own money to find Tsunade. 

News of another jinchuuriki kage reaches her ears too, but she brushes it away.  It’s been three years since she last saw her shishou and in the dim lights of the tavern, she’s glad to see her as youthful as ever, and tries to erase the image of her wan, old, and dying. 

It is only after Tsunade wins that Sakura approaches with a bottle of sake on hand. 

Glancing down at the large money of pot she just won, Tsunade’s heart pounds hard looking at the girl she broke and trained and broke again until she remade herself - her daughter in all but name - and chokes, joking, “Are you dying?”

When her girl smiles, all calm and accepting, and raises a bottle of the most expensive sake Tsunade ever tasted, something inside the old Senju crumbles.

“Aren’t we all?”

“Oh Sakura, what have you done?”

Tsunade’s hands are shaking, the fading glow of her uselessness mocking her in the darkness of Sakura’s rented room. 

“Everything, shishou. I’ve done everything. I’ve read every book, prayed to every god--”

“God? What good is a god?”  

Initially, Tsunade refuses to let her go. Forces Sakura to stay put with the same glint in her eyes when she taught the kid how to dodge, but it seemed the Slug Princess taught her too well. 

Because after the barbs, sarcasm and nights of getting way too drunk off the pots of money Tsunade continues to win, Sakura says goodbye. 

And Tsunade, not as bitter as she would’ve been, lets her go, and curses the gods for not taking her instead - because hasn’t she witnessed to many deaths already? 

It’s at the fourth year of her journey does Sakura finally lays her eyes on the blue of seas at the border of the old Whirlpool lands. The calling is silent now that she’s come. 

She sheds her old life -  her headband, her gloves and her boots and brings out the vibrantly colored fabrics from her parents. It’s silk against her pinkened skin, and the sand is warm against her feet. 

It feels like a hug and a song of - “Darling, our darling, let us hold you.”

Kakashi writes to her and Sakura doesn’t answer with a letter of her own. 

Instead, she sends Kakashi eel that she herself smoked, a small vial of pink sand and a kiss on a card.

That night, she dances under the moonlight like a flickering moth around the pyre she built. 

The oceans sings for her and she is home. 

After that, there’s no more letters from Konoha. 

In the middle of the fourth year of her journey and the year mark of her semi-permanent residence by the seas at the border of the old Whirlpool lands, Ino visits her. Ino, with her platinum blond hair arrives, still beautiful even with sweat dripping off her.

It takes three days of sunbathing, flower weaving and rebuilding of an old friendship before Ino asks her to come home.

“Haven’t you been away for far too long?” Ino asks, quiet and grown. The days of high-pitch screams and name-calling seems so far away from this little shack by the sea, in this little life her best friend built for herself. 

They’ve spoken of their friends - Naruto’s marriage, Shikamaru’s courtship fo Temari, Ino’s love with Sai and they laughed like bells but Ino didn’t find an ounce of longing in her friend’s eyes, and she already knew she has lost. 

Sakura looks to the shore, there’s a storm coming and hums, “Perhaps.” 

The last letter she receives from Konoha is not a letter at all.

It’s a missive, an invitation - for the Rokudaime’s retirement and the Nanadaime’s ascension.

“God? What good is a god?” 

Who knows? For believers, gods are good for much but--

Because Sakura is not a reincarnation of a god, when she touched Kaguya with her fist glowing green and blue, Sakura touched something not human.

And it touched her back. 

A year into the peace, it rooted deep inside her bones, a poison of the gods against humans brave and stupid enough to lay hands on them. 

It doesn’t take long for Sakura to understand her predicament. She was rotting inside out. Her chakra is poisoning her organs, taking bits off her little by little and so she left Konoha. In leaving, she left what was blossoming between her and Kakashi too in hopes that perhaps she could spare him from this pain.  

But also, she left for this: the sea, the calling and the sand under her feet, and the presence drawing near. 

On the last day of her journey, five years after she left, with her life force draining and yet stretching still - holding on, waiting, the Rokudaime, Kakashi, the man of a thousand jutsu, her lover, her love - arrives on the shores of this little island west of Whirlpool. 

He is older, of course he is. But still, Sakura runs towards him and he, mask pulled down, feet bare and eyes warm - finally free-, takes the last step and meets her halfway. (There’s still much left to say, but they’ve had years of dealing with cowardice and hiding that they’re laughingly easy habits to break.) 

[cottoncandysoul]

@edgecfeden

breathe, just... breathe.

one.

every little girl fantasizes about their wedding day, embracing the fantasy of forever. she was twelve the first time she envisioned what her dress would look like. not white, never white, but a silky silver with an accentuated bodice and a flared skirt. as quickly as she dreamed up her forever, it was gone. a wisp of thought, tumultuous and fleeting because she had to help put food on the table. ‘get good grades, mija, because you’re going to support us one day and if you can’t use your brains, use what you have.’ 

two.

she’s fifteen when she loses her virginity, takes the hundred dollar bill and shoves it into her bra because she’s ashamed. it’s the first and last time she has sex for money. she’s better than this. her papa won’t allow her to drown, no matter quickly her mother pushes her toward the ledge. she’s a good girl, a smart girl. she earns captain of the cheer squad a month after her sixteenth birthday and as she walks her team through the choreography, she wonders if they’ll be proud of her. this imaginary person in her head, the fantasy she’d dreamed up years ago and still holds close to her heart. 

three. 

trembling hands smooth over the skirt of her dress as she stares at herself in the mirror . there’s a woman looking back at her she hardly recognizes - beautiful and regal in a way she never hoped she could be. her mama isn’t alive to see her today, but she hopes she’d be proud of her. papa smiles at her, his reflection next to her own. “you look beautiful, sweetheart. your bride won’t know what hit her.” he tells her, voice calm, acceptance clear. 

four.

her first kiss with a girl was stolen under the bleachers, between a shared blunt. it was sloppy, wet and not at all romantic, but she sees the moment clearly. realizes it as the day she realized she liked boys and girls. she spent so much time drowning in worry, her mother was gone before she had a chance to speak her truth and while papa had been upset at first, he eventually accepted her truth. he held her as she cried, upset she hadn’t been true to herself before then, hiding behind boys who meant nothing, who would rather put their hand up her skirt than have a real conversation with her. 

five. 

a vivacious redhead stole her breath first. she’ll always swear she fell first, between heated arguments and twisting fingers, inside heated pools and against alley walls. ruby red lips ensnared her and refused to let her go and though she’d initially hated her for it, wanted to take back everything they were to one another because she refused to keep their relationship a secret, she was trapped. caught in the spun web of a woman who seemed to have no interest in being tied down. harsh words from heated arguments were invisible scars upon her soul; painful, gut wrenching. impossible to forget. but she taunted and she pushed and she wondered how many there were, how much pleasure her devil had on her hands before allowing herself to fall. 

six. 

swallowing past the lump of apprehension in her throat (she’s not nervous about who she’s marrying, but about everything happening smoothly, wonderfully). “do you really think so, papa?” she whispers, chocolate hues wide, uncertainty filling them. she’s confident in her fiance’s feelings for her, but what if her devil grows tired of her? what if there’s a moment when she wishes for more, wishes not to be tied down. she’s unsure she’ll be willing to let her go, a leash forever tethered between them. would she grow to be resented? hated? no. it wouldn’t happen. she licks her lips and smiles, glossed lips full and painted her fiance’s favorite color. 

seven. 

when she sees them together, she envisions herself in white, this time. months have passed, years, and her heart cracked open long ego, allowing her to burrow down deep. to become a spot on her soul, a stalwart source. her sheets smell of her hair, her fingers of her body wash. she’s her family. everything screams at her, beacons of truth, telling her what’s real. telling her this is it, this is her soulmate. the other piece of who she never thought she’d be. a stolen kiss beneath the bleachers is a worn memory, but being bent over a chaise lounge for her fiance is fresh and new. a balm to her battered, insecure soul. 

eight.

asking her with her tongue inside of her probably hadn’t been the most normal way of things. she hadn’t been given an answer and months passed, the subject broached often, but never solidified. they dance around the notion. they fuck and they fight and they cuddle and live together. the flare of insecurity she once felt is fleeting and near non-existent because she’s content in their foundation with one another. a yin to her yang. a devil to her angel. 

nine. 

“i’m ready.” she nods, smoothing fingers once more over her hair - pulled tight into a french twist, a glittering jewel nestled with the ravens nest. they’d agreed to walk together - her papa walking them both. this is the start of their family, her devil is hers, now. family, soulmate. her heart belongs to her until the day fate has other plans. breathing in deep, she steps out of the room, arm hooked around her papa’s - similar facial features, though far weathered and more masculine. her breath catches when she looks across to the other open door, a vision in blushing gold. “god, you’re gorgeous.” she breathes, stunned to silence after, only able to watch as her vision floats toward her. confidence radiates from her, but there’s something else in those big beautiful eyes. tan skin wraps around porcelain, a brief tug and a stolen kiss between one breath and the next. “i’ve got you, baby. i won’t let you fall.” she whispers, words spoken so low, only for her. a small shuffle and her papa slips between them - one arm held out for each bride to take. as they walk outside, sand soft beneath their feet, the beach awash in a sea of sunset colors, she peers around her papa’s chest, winks at her crimson beauty. “together?” 

ten. 

together. for better or worse. ‘til death do us part. her head spins and her lips tingle. her soul is whole, a missing piece long since clicked into place. “i love you,” whispered words spoken against warm skin, the raven angel forever bound to the porcelain devil. mind, heart, body and soul. 

[writingdumpter]

Short Story #2 - How a Sunflower Lasted Forever (Fiction/Horror/Odd Romance)

BriAnne McDowell

October 15, 2017

Short Story #2

How A Sunflower Lasted Forever

      The day begun as early as it could this morning. I will ignore it all through out the school day as best I could. I have a big day afterwards, and that is all that I will care about for now. Nobody can miss out on one of Vanessa’s legendary parties, especially me if I wanted to catch the attention of that boy. I sit in my desk class after class after class everyday just to sit there and dream, hoping and wishing, dreaming for the best. To be in his life was a dream to die for; Oliver Carrey, how I wish to be yours and yours eternally.

      Oh hell, what is he looking at? I see that kid over there, staring at me everyday as often as his eyes will let him, or at least until the teacher finally decides to snaps on him. I swear to god, one day I am just going to have to iron his face out with my fists. I guess guys named Logan just can not get enough of me. Ugh! He is just like my ex boyfriend, Logan. God, I hate Logans!I would feel so much better if his ugly, beetle-brown eyes were not pinned to me. His mini dagger stares are interrupting my dreams!

      Anyway, the day does indeed just go on, Logan will not stop staring at me, and Oliver still has not come to my rescue yet, and that party was going to happen. After school I dare not even try to take the cheese-yellow school bus home. I am definitely too nervous to try to test my digestive system’s luck in tolerating a bus that smells exactly as how it looks today. In my room I feel miles-worth better. My peachy pink walls, my yellow, polka-dotted curtains reminded me of the fact I have only two weeks left before summer starts, and I get to walk across the stage at graduation and out of that wretched school forever; The curtains look just as happy as I feel! My pastel, rainbow bed next to the windows call my name in a sweet siren’s song,  and my fatigue comes charming out like a snake, but I remind myself that I can not miss this party no matter what, and I must go get ready to shine!

      I go through my clothes, what is something that I can wear that is fashionable, comfortable, yet flirty? I look and look and look until I come across the perfect, most absolutely perfect thing to wear, a  sun dress, and this is my favorite one! The reason this one is my favorite is because of how its entire design fits me so well, literally and figuratively. The petal-shaped, flowy look it has to it, reaching down to a few inches above my knees to make it just a little daring. It is covered in sunflowers, my favorite flower of all time! Their lemony petals and dark, round eyes decorated every silky smooth inch of me from bosom to thigh. I grab a white, pearl necklace, tight as a choker but still loose enough to breathe. I assemble a couple of silver and gold bangle-bracelets up both of my wrists for a little shine, a set of matching pearl, stud earrings to match my choker, and a bright pair of yellow, 4 inch, platform pumps. This outfit is a crowd-pleaser, now, I am sure of it. I rush to the bathroom, now running late, with a hair brush in my hand, and a set of two pink hair pins in my mouth. I brush through my hair lovingly, carefully, my platinum-like hair color reflects the light of the room off of it as I brush it down, back over my shoulders, and down to my mid back until its straight strands fall in to flawless formation behind me. I raise my hand to pluck candy-pink hair pins from my naturally pink lips and clip them into my hair, forming my bangs into a swoop over to my ear and let it fall from there naturally on its own, and I call it quits. This will do just fine! Oh, wait! No no, I can not forget my matching fragrances. I open the medicine cabinet and look through the choice, a plethora of perfumes live there, and of course one half-full bottle of Biotin vitamins lives there too among the multitude of glass bottles. I skim and skim and skim until I chose one, my favorite one for today, of course, since this is a day of favorites so far. I pick the small, barely-full, pink, glistening, glass bottle and puff it into the air to douse myself in its sweet, juicy and ripe, scent of strawberries. Now I am surely ready to go.

      On my way to Vanessa’s house, the summer breeze brushes past me as I walk down the lane. I am reminded of the beautiful late-spring sun as it kiss my skin with its softest possible rays it has to offer. I look and feel like the freshest perfection to walk to the Earth. the sun warmed my skin and my hair as me and my clickity-clicking pumps walk by house after house after house. My heart races as I can nearly taste the affection, the attention I have longed for. Maybe a flower might add to my attractiveness? Hey, it is worth giving a try! I slow to a stop in my tracks to check out somebody’s lawn full of fancy flora, and begin to browse through the lot. the peony will not do, the wild roses look a little lousy, the violets are vibrant but impossibly small, the daffodils sure are charming, but the daisies in the corner serenade in to my heart, pleading for me to pick them, spelling out my name for me in the wind for me to pick them instead of the rest, and so I did just that, and I could not have been happier with my choice. Hopefully, the owners of this house will not notice! I thread multiple daisies over and under and into each other, forming a chain of daisies for myself, and I raise it up high like a halo and place it down on top of my head like a crown and it fit like a charm, lying low over my forehead and smoothing down my hair like a beautiful circlet. I feel precious, all on my own, and–.. I am going to be late!

      I rush, my pumps can not click any freaking faster! As I fiddle with my phone, I lose my grip and I manage to drop it. I could feel air rush into my lungs and my face contort out of place in many folds of fear as my eyes could not stand but to watch in horror as my phone falls from my fingers. I nearly die and I nearly call out to hell but I resist the urge, and wait for the inevitable, but it did not come. I did not hear a crack or a shattering of glass, but it was still flat on its face and my heart still beats with shivers as I am still not certain if my phone is actually okay and I did not just lose hundreds of dollars. I bend over, hopeful that I do not have to add another thing to my stress list, and check on my phone. I carefully pick it up and flip it over, but I do not see my phone screen anymore just a card. A card I have never seen before: An Ace of Hearts. I remove the card and see my phone is just fine, and all I can do is thank heaven, and hell, that my addictive technology device has not lost its life just yet, and it still had a few more years to live. Now back to this card, I wonder how it existed, how it manages to look so real, how it got here, and how it even stuck to my phone screen and perfectly placed itself over the screen as if by magic. I am highly confused, and even more so when I look down to watch where I am to step next, and there is another, one that is more familiar: A ten of diamonds. I decide to pick it up, and as I look up by coincidence,  I notice another laying another few feet away from my path, down the sidewalk, another familiar card: A three of clubs. What in the world am I witnessing? Won, I give in to my curiosity and comply with the cards, going along picking them up as I go. Maybe these cards belong to a party-goer, seeing as Vanessa’s house is only a block away now and I can see the bright, baby-blue house from here. It is possible someone just dropped them in a hurry on their way, or some neighborhood kid forget them on their way and I might be able to return them later. Or these might be none other than Oliver’s cards, I could return them to him and win his attention for having been the one to save his cards and over all save the party! I follow and pick and pick and pick cards up out of the grass as they lead me into and through yards down the block, through beautiful garden along the way and I can not help but to think to myself, where in the world was whoever and what not going, anyway? This is one really crazy route for a person who holds regular, well, not too regular playing cards.

      The cards wind and detour me and lead me into someone’s backyard. I do not mind this backyard too much, except the cards have ended. I take a moment to stand up straight for once and look around. I smell hot dogs and burgers, a party favorite in my book, and this matched the back yard I have entered becuase to me it looks as if someone is in the middle of setting up for a backyard birthday party for an elementary school kid but nobody is outside at the moment. The bouncy castle and streamers really seal the deal on this one, and I feel awkward that I just stepped in on this.

      Just as I am going to turn to leave, I feel a touch. This touch is cold, freezing cold, and my entire right shoulder could feel each wrinkle of the bone-chilling grip of someone standing behind me, trying to get my attention. I turn around sharply, but not sharper than the breath that entered into my lungs as I do so. My vivid, robin’s-egg-blue eyes shoot up into the emerald-green eyes of Oliver himself, standing over me with a concerned look in his face. I am relieved but only in the slightest. We do not speak, I am too spooked and I need to calm down before I say anything, lest I make a fool of myself. I just give a sigh, bow my head and silently thank the heavens that it was not some psychopath who followed me back here, and offer up the cards, “I believe these are yours, Oliver?” I say with kind words. He never talks back, just looks down at the cards and take them up into his hands with a soft chuckle and an even softer smile. He seems to be relieved to have his cards back. So relieved, in fact, that he leans down to my height and hugs me tightly. this is definitely not something I was expecting from him, especially over a lost remaining of cards, but I embraced the moment with such might it could move boulders. I close my eyes, going only into silence as I feel his warmth blanket me over like a plush blanket, better than the ones on my bed back at home, until something strange begins to sink in. The same chill I felt when he grabbed my shoulder just a few seconds ago comes back, into my upper back under his hand where he held me. It is not figurative anymore, the cold begins to spread all around in a radial flow, chilling my spine. Something is really making me uncomfortable about this and my head begins to spin like a top. I push myself away from Oliver to look up at him, and before I can even try to ask him if there is something crawling ony my back, I watch him grow a grin from ear to ear, something I have always prayed to see right in front of me like now, but not like this, not as I am dizzy. I can not even talk, my mouth goes numb, and all I see within my vision aside from his smile is his hand that then comes into view, and in between his index and middle finger and his thumb rests the bright, red tranquilizer syringe. I have been tricked. The sky begins to pull down like a curtain shade, pulling Oliver down with it, my knees buckle beneath me, and the grass below me becomes my bed.

~

      Oh, my head. The spinning is too much for me to even comprehend. I can only describe this feeling as nauseating, like someone is spinning my head out of my neck as if unscrewing a screw. I feel like I am going to be sick. I can not feel my legs at all, or my arms for that matter. Straining and struggling to move them does not help much, but it does help some by getting my heart to beat blood into them, helping get some of the feeling to come back. I can feel my toes, and my fingertips but only a bit at a time, and I finally realize where I am. I can feel the carpet beneath my toes. I am in Vanessa’s house by the feel of it, but how did I get here? As the feeling begins to flood back into my limbs, I start to feel the horrible stinging, like many bees have gotten a hold of me. The rest of me begins to wake up, slowly and all of what I feel is definitely nowhere near pleasant. My body feels drained, and I feel warm all over but in a way that is not very comforting. The warmth comes to me in sickening little gusts to my hands, my feet, my face – I feel flushed out. As my eyes are beginning to open and expose themselves to the light of the house, my ears still ringing, I hear a slight, eerie humming that at first sounds very robotic and trippy but that is surely just my ears adjusting. It comes from the kitchen. I know this by the echoing that I have become familiar with. The humming is not what I expect either, for it is a guy’s humming and not a female, as I have expected Vanessa to be behind this because this is her house, after all, but no, it was certainly a male this time. Finally, my eyes begin to work properly. They dilate and adjust, giving me goosebumps, and the dizziness begins to fade away. I thank god for that, but that soon comes to a screeching, violent halt as what I now lay witness to is too much to even pray about.

      10 heads lay upon fine china plates on a table in front of me, and only a yard or two away. Their eyes, their cold, dead eyes were staring at me – dead into mine. I do not know how to even begin to fathom what is going on, nor do I care to know. I immediately want to leave and I want to leave now! I, I can not leave. I try but I fail, as looking down allows me to see the painful truth about my situation at hand. I observe that my wrists have large nails bound through them, right in between the two bones that connect at the base of my hand so that I can only pivot either up or down but not away. I try to kneel, causing new blood to gush out of my wrist wounds and over the scabbed blood that was already covering my hands and my once-beautiful wrist bangles, but my kneeling was not a success. I feel something tightening around my neck, scraping at my pearl necklace I feel a noose, that has been made to prevent me from falling while I was asleep it seems. How did I ever survive that? Now I can not kneel, I can not fall at least, but still I can not kneel. How am I going to get out of here unless I break my wrists just to get free? My ankles are free to move, but if I try to balance on one leg, one trip up and I am falling into the noose to hang myself, snap my neck, or break my hands off. What kind of person could have through of this sort of contraption? From moving around, my whole, sore body began to sting from head to toe again, but I was lucky to even be alive at this point. I feared screaming for help, because what is the man in the kitchen knows that I am awake? I can not think of escape plans if I am dead.

Before I could try to escape again from this heaven-turned-hell hole, this party that I was invited to, Oliver shows up, coming from the kitchen and demystifying my question as to who was just humming in the kitchen. He appears, holding up a pink piece of cake in one hand, a knife that was used to cut the slice out in the other. This can not be good, I think to myself. My eyes shift from him to the plates full of party guests, seeing that they are used, and notice that their necks are caked at the bottom full of soaked, bloody cake crumbs, scabbing in clumps around their severed necks. He came over, his light footsteps over the carpet not making a single sound, the humming still going and still too good to ever be true. He raises the knife to his thin-lipped mouth and began to clean it primaily, licking the backside of the stainless steel to catch crumbs onto his tongue in a single, slow, swipe, and even licked clean the blade which in turn cut his tongue until it bled. I find it terrifying that he did not flinch. He does not seem to have a sense of pain.

      It hit me, the man of my dreams was going to kill me! “I saved the best piece for last, Diamond. Savor it. I know I will,” his matured voice speaks to me through the dead silence of the livingroom, interrupting his humming. “I forgot to mention that I love the way you smell today, Diamond. Ironically, you smell just as delicious as your treat for attending the party,” and just as says that the scent of strawberries tickles my nose. It makes my stomach growl and I silently curse it for being so loud at the time like this. I refuse to be hungry and in this much pain at one time. Oliver brings over the cake and up to my face to get a good delightful waft of its warm, freshly made deliciousness, even better than the smell of my perfume, and I almost go to bite at one of the sweet strawberries on top but it is removed just as soon as I try to ends up just out of my reach. I gaze up into Oliver’s eyes and ask, “What, what are you trying to get me to do, Oliver? I do not understand why I am here now. What do you want from me?” My whole body trembles and shivers as I ask, but all he did respond with was licking the other side of the blade, cleaning that side of crumbs, too. Is he a cannibal or something? What does he have planned? “Just eat when you are ready, Dia, okay?” He says nothing else to me, and kneels down before me to set the plate with the piece of cake down on to the carpet at my feet, and back away. Is he expecting me to eat that off of the floor like a puppy dog? How am I supposed to get to it if I can not even sit, I wonder, but loosely do I wonder. I look around to see what could help me, but all I see if Oliver sitting at the head of the head table, the only one with a full body and staring at me as I try to think. I see Vanessa looked pretty today, by the look of her shimmering blue eyeshadow on her pale skin, her brown hair just as chocolate-colored as Oliver’s hair, but she had curls to kill for today, her diamond earrings shined right through them. I wish I could have been there to see her beauty so that if I live I can tell the tale of what I am seeing now, and stress how Oliver killed a beautiful young woman. My mind is too weak to ponder much more thought into this, I have not eaten for hours and I love the smell of strawberries. He knows just how to read me.

      I try for about 30 minutes and my stomach is beginning to hurt, but no matter what I do I just keep running into the same problem: The noose around my neck will not let me kneel. Oliver seems to be enjoying himself in his freedom, sitting on his phone, texting away at a casual rate like nothing is going on. Ocassiaonlly he would give me a glance but that was all. He says nothing to me this whole time I am struggling just to get a bite to eat, cringing at the look on my dead freinds’ faces as they watch me struggle. Maybe this is how they have died, hanging themselves to get a piece of cake. I can see that being the case for most of them, anyway. I try and try and try, but nothing seems to be working for me. I look up at the ceiling and see that this noose is on a hook that looks like a fishing hook. Why did I not look up before. I see the way to get free, now, all I have to do is shake the noose free from the hook and the rope will fall and I can sit down! I go for it. I shake and shake and shake my head, making the rope ripple and wiggle and it actually works. the burlap-like rope wriggles free from the ceiling and falls on top of my head but I do not care. I was free to kneel, and I did, but not without pain. I can feel the nails that have been nailed through my arm scraping at my bones from the inside, hitting the main Ulnar Nerve, the funny bone, but it was far from funny. My arms go numb as I go, inching my way to the ground until my knee touches down on to the carpet and soon the other follows right behind it until I have successfully sat down. I sigh in relief, catching Oliver’s attention. He looks into my crying eyes and smirks to himself, going back to his texting. He does not seem the least bit worried that I have made it into a sitting position. I do not care if he is or not, I need to eat. I pull myself forward and down until my face buries into the strawberry cake slice left for me. It is cold, but it is worth it. I eat and eat and eat until it is completely gone, licking every single last morsel of food and every crumb until there are no more.

     Oliver finally speaks, setting down his phone next to the head of one of the men who attended the party earlier, “Finally. See, that was not so bad now was it, Diamond? Let me go get the table cleared. I am starving!” His words are odd. What did that mean? I pay him not mind, maybe he is bringing more food, I hope to myself in silence as my tummy has been comfortably filled. I sit up, my wrists bleeding from the arteries deep inside, trickling blood all the way down to my armpits and on to my beautiful dress, my eyes wincing as I am no longer full of adrenaline from being happy to sit down. It hurts. I begin to cry, and hard. I re-realize that I am pinned to a wall, covered in blood, on my knees in my dead friend’s house, with the man of my dreams who just happens to be a complete sicko, and having just ate strawberry cake like a starved dog. On top of this I am beginning to think that I am really going to die! I can not help but panic and cry.

Oliver gets up, leaving his chair and his phone to head to the kitchen. I look up at his phone at the edge of the table, the very edge as if it is taunting me to knock it down to call for help. It is only a few feet away, and if I break my wrists just to get to it, I can always use my feet or my nose to tap in an emergency number. This is tempting enough to try, and I do. I begin to tug forward, silently, painfully, my wrists are not budging much but my skin around the nails is beginning to part. I want to scream so badly that I bite my lip until it starts to bleed just to keep myself quiet. I can feel the nails starting to bury into my arm bones as I begin to try to yank them off and get it over with, but my bones are too strong to break easily. I have to get to that phone! With my arms gushing blood faster than I can ever regenerate, and my hands going numb from the loss, I keep trying. Gradually I begin to fade out, everything starts to whirl into a blurry mess, my eyesight begins to digress into tunnel vision, but I can feel that this is not from the blood loss I am dealing. I have been drugged. The taste of blood and my own tears resonate on my tongue, along with a fumey, disgusting after-taste that a strawberry cake should not have. All I can hear is my own sobbing, my pleaful, whispering prayers that I might make it out of this alive sometime soon, and the ringing in my ears begins to pick up again and I fade out. All I see on my way out is another glimpse of Oliver as he is coming back with a wet dish towel, and the only thing I hear beyond the ringing it lulls  is my heart beat as it lulls me to sleep, my cheek resting on the plate.

~

      When I wake up it is the same all over again. The ringing is there deep from within my head and my ears, my heart is beating in my throat, I am weak beyond understanding, I can not see yet, and I can not feel a thing. It feels like the times I had to go for tonsil surgery and I was coming out of the anesthesia, except my mom is not here to hold my hand to help me wake up. Oh my god I miss my mom so much. She would have called the police for me by now, but she is most likely arriving home now, thinking that I am having the time of my life at an innocent teenage party.

      I play the waiting game until my eyes can finally see. I am in the dining room of Vanessa’s house, except I am looking at the ceiling. I try to move and strain just as I did before, trying to gain a sense of touch again, even if it is painful it is something other than nothing. I do begin to feel in my arms but still my legs are taking forever to regain their sense of feeling. I hear Oliver nearby and begin to panic as I hear knives scraping over and over and over. I hope I did not wake up right before he chops me into pieces! I lift my head and see to my despair that he is right at the end of the table, sitting there, scraping meat off of his knife and fork. So that is what all of that noise is about then, I think to myself. What did he just – Where are my legs? Oh, merciful God, my legs are completely gone! Oliver knows exactly what I am thinking before I can even fully understand and panic about it, and while taking the white bib from around his neck, splattered with my remain’s blood I presume, he wipes the corners of his mouth clean and stares directly at me, brushing his soil-brown hair out of his face and gazing up at me with those perfectly green eyes from over my blood-drenched skirt of my once-perfect dress and speaks directly to me, “Yes, Your legs are gone. You should be lucky you are still alive, sweet pea. You have such a lean taste to you, barely but a lick of fat was on your thighs, if that. You are the best, yet” He chuckles and intermittently burps, and after excusing himself he continues his statements, “I knew it would be best if I save the best for last!”

      How could my legs just be gone? I want to go home, I cry silently to myself. I thump my head back down onto the table and feel queasy. I thought I was feeling my legs being chilly but they were just plain old gone for good. I can not believe this, and I refuse to believe this is real. I must be going mad. I must be dreaming. I have to wake up. I try to move my arms so that I may use my hand to pinch myself awake, but they are bolted down to the table instead of a wall this time. How could I get out of this, I do not even have legs to act as a fulcrum to pull myself up anymore even if I do wish to break my wrists and bleed to death. At least I still had those, though. But still, my legs, how could this be a thing? I begin to care no more, and my lungs burst into a scream as loud as I my lungs can carry, and shock Oliver into dropping his fork. His hands pound the table enough to shake the fine china plate and knife, causing clinking noises, and he pushes himself up in a hurry. He nearly stumbles as he rushes over to slap his palms over my lips and shut me up. I wriggle and thrash against his hands to try to get free so to continue my screaming and call for help, but sadly even though I do scream I can hear that down the block, the house with the backyard full of party supplies in which I was kidnapped was now hosting a really loud party for the kids down the block, and nothing I am doing to save myself is working, and will not be working any time soon as long as there is still daylight. I give up screaming, and Oliver seems relieved. I can not make it out of this alive, I know this now.

      Time ticks away slowly, minute by minute, second by second. I am waiting for night fall before I try to scream again. I feel that my throat has been scraped dry from all the screaming I did do, and my tongue tasted bloody as a result. Oliver is nowhere to be seen, but he is heard on the phone in another room, talking to his mom most likely from what I hear at this angle. I try again to scream, maybe his mom can hear me from the other room, but it is to my misfortune that he has convinced her that he is in a really wild party and screaming was to be expected. Oh, my luck. I can not do this. I have to leave, whether I wish to or not, I have to. I have to. I lay there on my back and think. I can not kick the table in half, but I can possibly break it just to get down. I decide two broken wrists is better than no life at all, and the consequences will be dealt with later. Maybe I can get augmentations later or something, but for now I have to make it out to even get attention from a doctor.

My bandaged hips where my legs used to be is now burning like crazy. Infections most likely are setting in by now. I begin to rock myself, carefully trying not to move my arms too much, but my whole torso and hips go with me, rotating myself from being on one of my sides to the other I rock and then over to the other side I rock. The table rocks with me. I rock and rock and rock, the table beginning to pick up momentum with me, moving with my pattern over and over and over until it becomes unstable and comes crashing down to the floor with a loud bang. I go down with it. My wrists can not hold, and I scream loudly with a yelp as I could hear the bones shattering in my wrists and my wrist joints are pulled out of place and my tendons ripped right out of my skin, flailing around limply with my now detached hands. My eyes become full of tears that rush out just as fast as my blood from my arms and legs as their bandages unravel in the falling process. I have to move! With hands that are no longer my own but I can still feel somewhat, I use my weak elbows to crawl over the floor as an army man in boot camp, and scoot myself across the floor as best I can. I turn to look back and see the amount of blood I am losing onto the hardwood floor is drastically lethal, but my heart can not stop racing and I can not stop moving. I inch and inch and inch, moving forward and out of the dining room, into the livingroom where I see the front door. I do not know how I am going to get up there but I am going to get up there no matter what. I swear this on my life, I will find a way. I hear Oliver hang up the conversation and I think about hiding but it is no use. My blood is my trail. I have to keep going. I go and go and go but Oliver is not heard anywhere near me.

      I feel it this time. I am starting to have heart pain. I can not stay awake much longer but I do not have much longer before I am out of that door. I make it, only by luck it seems, and lay on the floor at the door. I manage to get myself up on one elbow and reach up with the other arm and reach for the knob to turn it. I can see the lock is unlocked, calling my name aloud, begging with me to reveal what has gone on in this house. I reach, my wide eyes looking up and crying in hope. I reach and I try to turn the knob but my hands are not working anymore. I do not have working thumbs! How am I going to turn this knob if I have no thumbs? I try to use my wrist to see if my skin is sticky or strong enough to turn the knob, but the blood just falls down my arm whichever way I tilt it, and coats that side, creating a slick, and my arm can no longer even catch on to the knob, and I scream in frustration. I lower my arm back down, useless, hopeless, and bang my head on the front door, hoping someone can hear me somewhere, but it is useless. I am fading out again, and down I go into the door mat, face first.

~

      I wake up naturally in the morning. The whole day has gone by and I can feel that. I must have slept for 18 hours and I am starving but I know I can not eat anything that Oliver gives me. Speaking of him, where even is he now? I do not hear much, but the slight, distant sound of water running. I am parched. I have not had water since I left school yesterday, I remember. How am I still alive? I can not feel anything at all this morning, but that is most likely due to the blood loss from yesterday. I do not feel any stinging in my arms at all at least, I wonder can I move them now? Is Oliver tired of playing games with me now and will me let me finally go home? As I begin to feel again, I first feel that I am on a bed, Vanessa’s soft bed, with my head on her pillow. Oliver must have been merciful to me for once this last 24 hours. I try to move my arms and I feel free but no weight, and I fear the worst. This is similar to the feeling I had when I realized my legs have been eaten. I turn my head to my side and first I see the heads surrounding me, again, pale and morbidly there. I am nearly scared out of my skin, but that is not all that I experience fear from. The weightlessness mystery solved itself as I came to realize, dizzily, that my arms are missing and just the shoulder nubs remain with me, covered in white bandages soaked in blood. I am so tired of this that I just come to accept it. I accept this and the fact that it is burning out of control. All I can do is move my head back where it was, and heave a sigh. I have nothing left to lose, nothing at all.

      I hear the water stop, and footsteps below me. The footsteps travel up the stairs that separated me from the outside world now. The foot steps leads to Oliver’s arrival, and the doorknob turns until he enters the room, empty-handed. All I can do is watch him, wearily, trembling in fear and exhaustion and blood loss. I am done, just done. I can not fight him any more and I am in no shape to make for the door he left open on purpose it seems. All I can do now is just tolerate and breathe until I am dead. Oliver sits down next to me in the chair on the other side of the nightstand that is next to my pillow and looks at me, all clean and proper. How could I have loved such a monster? This is not how it is supposed to end.

"Diamond, I know what you are thinking. You think I am just torturing you, but I am not, I can assure you. Let me let you in on a secret of mine, shall I?“ Oliver clears this throat to continue, "I love you. I loved all of you. I really did. You do not believe me but trust me when I say that I do. I love you the most. I did not want others to see how much I love you so I got them out of the way first. I am the only one who wants to see your beauty for longer. I took them down in not even minutes, but you. You, Diamond. You are a rarity. I am taking care of you.”

      "But you do not love me, O-Oliver, you are a monster! You are eating me alive! What kind of love is that?!“ I finally open up my mouth and yell to him, being careful not to move on to my open shoulder.

      "I was not finished, Diamond. Let me continue. I was going to say that this is best seen through my eyes. Why did you pick flowers today? Where did you get that perfume from, ambergris, a living thing’s post-living food, right? You killed flowers and wore them on your head because you love them. You are wearing the scent of strawberries, that have been formed through undigested creatures because you love them. You eat the living because you love them and you can not live without them. Think of this like this, as I love you so much that I must consume you and all of your friends because I wish to have you be a part of my world. If you had the time I would have told you to look up where DNA goes when it is eaten, but that’s for your next life time, Diamond. This is how I love, and I love hard. I saved the best for last,” He said to me, his face as calm as could be, everything from his eyelashes to his fingers he was not flinching or wincing one bit. How could he think this way? How could he look down at me, a severed body who is nothing but a torso now, and say that they love them?

      "Oliver, if you love me, let me go. Please. I beg you, please. I have family I love in a different way that requires me to go back to them tonight and tell them that I am okay! Please, Oliver, let me go. I will give you any and everything you want from me, and I mean that. I will kill my family with my teeth if you let me go, and you can eat them!“ I plea to him as best I can think of at this moment of desperation.

      "Diamond I do not love them like I love you. I am afraid that I must love you forever more. I will consume you until you become a part of my very being, my very DNA will hold you alive until I am dead. You will die with me. I can not let Logan have you, or your parents, because I love you more. I must keep you alive for as long as I live, Diamond, and this is the only way to do it.” He remarks back to me in his strange, screwed up sense of life.

      "Oliver you do not understand, this is now how that works!“ Is all I can say before I realize that I am actually hopeless now, and he will never really understand. He is too far in his head and in his own little world that I can not escape this If I had the strength to or now. He would find me and one day this would have been my fate, but it was destined to happen sooner or later. All I can say back to him is, "Fine. consume me. Get this over with. Love me. Love me forever. I asked for it. I can have my cake and eat it, I guess. But first, may I have water, please?”

      Shortly after I say this, he rises up from his seat again, and head to the door. Silently he whispers, in a slight undertone of happiness and loveliness, “Certainly.” and left from my sight. I hear his footsteps down the stairs and then downstairs. The sound of water hits my ears in serenade. I will be dead soon and there is no way around this. I just do not know how it is going to feel, and I am no longer in denial. I stay still in my best friend’s bed, and think to myself all the prayers I could have ever said to my heavens to wish my family luck in living their lives, praying nobody I ever knew runs into Oliver in such a way as I did, and praying that Oliver one days sees reality or is caught before he does much more damage to anyone else he “loves to death”.

      The water stops and here he comes again, up the stairs and into my sight. He has a gentle smile on his face, like a friendly executioner. His gentle foot steps stride over the violet carpet and over to the blue-silk bed I lay on, and leans down to wait for me to turn. I do turn on to my side, with no arms to grab the cup. He tucks a finger under my lips to prevent me from spilling, and I wearily, shakily, go to drink water. I sip and sip and sip until about half of the cup is gone to my stomach and he takes it away from me. It has a strange, sweet aftertaste to it. He does the favor of moving my hair from out of my eyes and lets me lay back down again and I whisper softly, “Thank you, Oliver.”

      "No, Diamond, Thank you. For you to let me love you like I do, Thank you.“ He said to me, and I come to realize what he was doing. He was saying goodbye. The strange aftertaste I have read about before, being euthanasia serum. Now is my time to leave, and my angel of death was giving me my last drink. I move towards the cup to ask for the rest of it, to get it all over with, to end this pain, and he notices and brings the cup back to my lips to finish it off until all of it is gone. I can feel the fatigue kick in, and I am relieved to be laying down in a comfortable bed as I am slipping away. My eyes are beginning to become heavy, and I begin to drift away. I see clouds begin to form around me as if I am being taken away by a hand in the sky made of clouds. As I begin to feel like I am floating, I whisper aloud for Oliver to hear me, "I love you, Oliver.” and as my eyes finally shut, and my heart begins to slow down beat by beat by beat, all I can hear is his distorting voice farther away, “I love you, too.”

~

      As I left, the veil from the other side of this realm lifted and whisked me away, my shell left behind. It remained there until the love of my life who loved me until I died then ate me away until evidence of my pain existed no longer. My DNA broke down and joined in with his, cell by cell, and wound into his living breathing body, in a sense reviving me on a minute scale. With him I remained until the end of his life, where he was taken to prison to stay. He loved me even if it meant he would have to go to the electric chair for doing so, and I loved him for showing me from the other side how hard love can be, and that it is possible to be loved to death.

[zaggitz]

My Top Ten Video Games of 2018

Well, here were are again, my friends. After the non stop roller coaster thrillride of VIDEO GAMES 2017, can 2018 live up to the hype??? I’m gonna go ahead and say no right off the bat, but while every single week wasn’t filled with a new incredible genre defining experience like last year, we still had some genuine certified bangers in the mix, many of which I think will remain important to me as the years go by. It should be noted this is the first year since 2014 where a Trails game hasn’t hit the market, so for the first time ever since I started writing these lists, a Trails game will not reign victorious at the end. Scandalous! Impossible!! Shit year tbh, but we’ll get by.

Outside of games this year is maybe the best year of my entire life?? I got out of a years long slump, started an actual genuine career path, and then somehow managed to fenegle falling in love into the whole mix. These lists have always come from some greater sense of yearning to reach out and communicating how I feel about things I love to anyone who will listen, but right now all I can think of is about how happy and lucky I am for my life to have taken the turns it did this year. 2019 is gonna have to try real hard to break my stride.

If you’d like to read my previous rambly lists, here they are:

2015

2016

2017

Anyway without further ado, here’s ten games that aren’t Trails of Cold Steel 3(WHEN??):

10. Thronebreaker: The Witcher Tales

This one is only at the bottom of the list because I didn’t have time to finish it. I loved getting to jump into the world of the witcher again. The world is dark and gritty and the choice are morally grey and the writing is impeccable and gwent is even more fun to play as a main mechanic than it was in the Witcher 3 as a minigame. I can’t wait to dive back into this one come the new year.

9. Radiant Historia: Perfect Chronology

One of the most well written and executed time-travel-based JRPGs I’ve ever played. It’s a story about trying to fix mistakes, about different perspectives trying to understand each other instead of fighting over differences.

It’s got an overall theme of realizing how important you can be to the world around you despite seeming insignificant that really resonated with me, an amazing cast of characters and it also just happens?? To be really fun to play??

8. The House in Fata Morgana: A Requiem for Innocence

That I didn’t play the first game the year it came out is a damn crime, this series of gothic tragedies has such special, meaningful and important themes of redemption and sacrifice and finding the people who will survive the world with you no matter what. It tackles mental illness, lgbt topics with an immense amount of respect and tells some of the most heart wrenchingly real and gutting stories, but it all culminates in the most viscerally satisfying way.

This sequel delves into one of the most unspoken parts of the original while also offering promising and hopeful glimpses into the future. It’s absolutely a must play if you in anyway liked the original.

7. Wandersong

Now here’s one that came absolutely out of nowhere. This game just oozes joy out of every pore. You play as a dandy bard who can only interact with the world via music trying to save it from being destroyed. Heavy themes of pacifism and the internal struggle of doing your best when you know for a fact your best won’t be good enough cover this thing like sprinkles on the most delicious and colorful donut.

Another thing I love is how every single chapter of this game plays differently, one will be a pirate adventure where you steer a ship with pirate shanties, the other will be a Majora's Mask still town sim, it goes on like this, and it never once gets boring. This game will make you smile the biggest smile from start to finish.

6. God of War

Remember Kratos?? He’s back, in open world action-RPG form. I sort of grew up with the original GoW trilogy and am of the opinion that they aged about as well as I did(which is fuckin not gracefully, teenager me was a fuckin mess). God of War is out of its edgy teenager phase now, and just barely squeaking out of its holier than thou college student phase into a game that actually has a few things to say, fun characters, an amazing world, and a paternal relationship that is kind of actually a joy to watch unfold despite everyone making fun of the game for it.

This game is like twice, maybe three times as long as the original trilogy which hilariously kind of makes those games feel like a prologue to this one. I suppose the real ironic thing is they kind of are?? They were shallow angry games with nothing to say but their existence created a character that, under the right light, under THIS light, could actually be extremely compelling and fun to watch grow alongside his boy. This series went from one I was glad to see gone to one I can’t wait to get more of.

5. Yakuza 6: The Song of Life/Yakuza Kiwami 2

It’s absolutely insane that Yakuza is popular now. I got into this series 10 years ago and at the time every single new yakuza release was a blessing and a curse; blessed because holy shit they actually put out a new Yakuza game and cursed because oh god it sold like shit and they probably won’t localize the next one why did they localize the zombie spin-off it almost killed the series nooooo don’t localize that give us the samurai games instead.

So anyway, this year I finally finished my journey playing through all 7 mainline Yakuza games. The journey of Kiryu Kazuma has come to an end and I have seen every step he’s taken. Yakuza 6 itself had kind of a really rough new engine that Kiwami 2 ended up refining, and from a gameplay perspective these games are basically the same, for the most part(Kiwami 2 is just better). Neither of these games come close to touching the masterful highs of Yakuza 0 but from a story perspective I think the respect and love this series has for its protagonist is unmatched, and while I was sad to see him go, I will never forget that big good crime boy and his whacky antics.

Ganbare, Kiryu-san...sayonara!!!!

4. The Messenger

This game fucking rules, I really don’t know how to do it justice, I played it on a whim and fell in love with it for the time it took me to beat it in a way that I haven’t done with a game in a long time. The gameplay is fluid and fun, the writing is charming and legit hilarious at times and the soundtrack, oh baby the soundtrack, if this wasn’t a year where Celeste came out this game would win every single award for OST of the year, I would fight anyone who disagreed.

The main gimmick of this game once you reach the halfway point is being able to shift between the 8 bit past and the 16 bit future, and every time you do the music will warp to fit those aesthetics and the game does this so freaking seamlessly, it’s amazing. The final level in particular meshed the music so well with the narrative that I was like fist pumping the whole way through the final sequence of the game.

It rules extremely hard, play it. Yes, you, you reading this right now, play this game so these people will make more for me. Please?

3. La-Mulana 2: The 0th Body, The 9th Spirit

Chalk this one up for game of 2018 I most can’t wait to replay and do a bunch of quick runs of. The original La Mulana is one of my favorite games of all time and this sequel delivers more of all the stuff I love while streamlining a lot of the more obscure and obtuse solutions. The music, the bosses, the world, all of the best things about the first game were all just as on point in this one.

The game evokes a sense of mystery you can only really achieve in a sequel to a game like the original La Mulana by constantly making you question the lore you already knew from the original. This all culminates in a sidequest that for a game as inscrutable as opaque as LM2, I still ended up getting really really emotionally invested in.

I don’t think there will ever be a La Mulana 3, and if that’s the case I’ll be able to leave this series happy, these two games complete each other in such a huge way, and will remain some of my favorites for years to come.

2. Celeste

I swear to god, this game was my Game of the Year for 9 whole months. I have never in my life played a game with this much precision perfect game design. This is maybe the tightest most consistent feeling platformer of all time. It’s like basically perfect on a gameplay level. That it meshes it’s gameplay with it’s themes so well is what truly makes it stand out and transforms it into not only a viscerally satisfying, tough but fair game, but an emotionally resonant masterpiece that will stick with me for years to come.

Celeste is a game about climbing a mountain. Celeste is a game about overcoming depression and anxiety and learning to cope and better yourself. These things are not interchangeable, the challenges you face as a player in this game all tie in perfectly to the main character, Madeline’s struggle to just fight through her self doubt and self loathing. It’s an extremely real tale, despite how fantastical the visuals are. It’s a game about fighting and screaming and clawing at that fucking Mountain to give you a way to have your heart again, and it’s absolutely wonderful.

The game is difficult, but every personal triumph accompanies one in game, and it lets you truly feel the feelings the game is trying to evoke alongside it. This is the kind of game that only comes once or twice a decade. I’d be extremely surprised to see anything hit this level any time soon.

1. Dragon Quest XI: Echoes of an Elusive Age

This is the gold standard for all JRPGs now as far as I'm concerned. There are series that go deeper, that go harder, that go all the way in with their music but no game out there exists that is so confidently just the classic all encompassing idea of a JRPG like this one. This game is pure comfort food, it knows exactly what it is and what it is is a fun heartwarming and charming classic JRPG “chosen one gets the cool sword and fights the dark lord” tale and damn it if it hasn’t been a while since we had just a good one of those.

Haha, just kidding.

A third of the way through, this game takes a dramatic shift and flips everything on its head in a way that hasn’t been really seen or executed this well since FF6. Suddenly the comfortable is taken away, the world is scary, bleak, and the themes you missed, that were simmering in the background since the start of the game start to boil over to the surface. The world is darker but the people in it are warmer, they hold themselves together until the day comes, and the game will find ways to make you cry you would never expect from a series this traditional. These themes all culminate in a super satisfying finale that, while not entirely happy, at least leaves the world in a better place than it was before, with it’s people that much closer.

Now what if I just didn’t write any of that and told you why I really love the game.

Credits roll, and the post game, that is to say, the final third of the game, begins. What if the shift never came, how would the world be different? How would these characters acrs resolved? Who would live? Who would die instead? What does this happening mean to the world? What does this new future hold?

In one simple moment, you answer all of those questions, and Dragon Quest XI becomes a prequel to Dragon Quest III (which was a prequel to DQ1 but that’s less important).

All of a sudden this entire series has lore, everything is connected in a way it had never been for 30 years, and it fits so seamlessly and perfectly that it could only have happened in a series like Dragon Quest, which has had the same writer across all 11 games. As a fan who had played all the available english games this was such an insane rewarding moment. I struggle to really compare it to anything else outside of maybe like…

Oh shit.

OH SHIT.

Outside of goddamn Trails.

Ya’ll know what that means right?

That’s right, Trails wins game of the year once again. STILL THE KING BABYYYYYYYYYYYYYYY

[btswishes]

The last of her kind.

BTS AU

Part1 / Part2 / Part3 /

A/N: Here we go with part 2.I am really sorry it took me so long to write it guys. I hope you like it and sorry for any mistakes made.It came out longer than expected. Requests are open as always and ships as well.

Word count:  4,472

Warnings: Blood and swearing from time to time.

  Your body was relaxed ,covered by the blankets over you, but it wasn’t going to be like that for long. Before the clock struck midnight, your eyes opened up, almost like you heard screams.Slowly you stood up and with your bare feet, walked towards the window. 

  Your hand gently grabbed the curtain and pulled it, revealing the darkness that was the night in this place. You were thinking about a lot of things, indeed to many for one to handle. 

  Normally you would go out and walk in the forest uninterrupted by anyone, but let’s not forget you weren’t at the same castle as before.It was night, everyone was sleeping, you were alone, the forest was peaceful . The world outside the castle walls was practically calling you.

  There was still something in you that wanted to keep you in this room. What if the king found out? What if something happened to you? You were indeed curious,but was it worth it? You were about to pull the curtains again and close off the world that was in front of your eyes, when you heard something...coming from the distance....

         Come...

  If this wasn’t a sign I don’t know what was. You placed your hand onto the window and gently opened it.Stepping on the sill, you jumped down, making no sound at all. The skin on your feet made contact with the grass and the white nightgown ,on your body ,swayed with the wind.

  You looked back at the castle to make sure no one saw you. The good thing about this place was that it was covered with a thick fog, something very useful when trying to go somewhere without being caught by anyone.

           C-o-m-e...

  As the voice called you again, you started walking towards the forest that was in front of you. There were wolfs, glowing eyes that were looking at you, uneasy sounds coming from every direction, darkness at every corner.But to you it was nothing, as your thirst for knowledge was bigger than fear.

  How long have you been walking?You asked yourself ,as you felt your body being swallowed by the trees. No matter what, you felt like something big was waiting for you...you had to know more, you just had to.

      Closer...

 The voice whispered, sending chills down your back.Soon you arrived at a cliff, which was covered in a very thick, milky white fog. You knew that if you walked closer, you were going to fall.

“If you are trying to kill me, think again.”you looked around to see if the voice was still here

      Go...

“Even very strong magical creatures can die, if they fall from here.I am not willing to go that far yet.”you turned around, getting ready to leave ,with disappointment in your heart.

      Zahassa don’t fall...

  You stopped walking, shocked from the name you just heard.

         Zahassa know...

“Who are you?”you turned around ,searching for the woman speaking.

            Come...and......see...

   At this point you weren’t afraid anymore, with full speed you ran towards the cliff and jumped off it. Once the fog cleared, you noticed how high in the air you actually were, frighteningly high.

 “I see.”you smirked ,after realizing the truth “This is a test to see if I am a real Zahassa.” still the question remains, how were you going to land?

  You could do it like you always did, but what if there were people around? If someone saw you that would be bad. The worst case scenario would be the count or even the king, now that, that would be really bad.

           If you hesitate...you...

“Die. I know how these things work. I have lived for quite some time, I am not that dumb.”

           We will see...

“Did you just laugh at me?”you sighed out in irritation “Fine then, have it your way.” the earth was closer than it had been so far. You closed your eyes and clenched your muscles. After releasing them, your body changed, landing safely and majestically.

“What are you going to say now?”you asked , full of yourself 

     That fur...

          That color...

   After the knowledge your clan possessed, each and everyone could transform into a tiger. You were from the most oldest family in the Zahassa clan, the Langarda household. What made you special wasn’t only the things your family knew, it was the form you had as animals. Pure white, thick fur, big and very sharp teeth and jet black patterns onto your bodies.Eyes that glowed in the color of gold and limitless powers.

  Light and dark, white and black opposites standing next to one another. Your strong body ,like a glorious statue of a god, was sitting on the hill.  

“Where are you?”you asked , what you thought to be a ghost “Did I scare you?” you laughed to yourself

   Don’t think so little of me...Langarda ...daughter...

“Are we that famous?”you looked towards the sound, yet there was no one there

   Indeed...you are...

“Why am I here?”you asked, walking around, the leaves crackling under your big paws

  You are the last...you must know...must...

  The voice started disappearing in the direction in front of you, so you decided to follow it. You must know?What did she want you to know? Well you were about to find out, more or less. The fog pulled away it’s white hands from a building, that was unveiling itself in front of you.

  It was old, hidden, falling apart, but unforgotten, filled with memories and many mysteries. The gigantic doors opened up in front of you and the trees pulled back their roots, making as much way as possible for you.

   They haven’t forgotten...who you...are

  She said again.Once you stepped foot in side, your body changed in it’s human form again. Looking around you started remembering things from long ago, very long ago.You heard children's laughter and right before your eyes, three little kids ran past you and you followed them to an open space in the castle like building.There were 2 boys and one girl.

  Walking closer you saw their faces.

“Give me back my bow!”yelled out the girl and reached towards one of the boys.

“Come and get it.”he stuck his tongue out at her and started running towards you, until he went through your body. As the little girl followed ,you were able to see her face...

   You were cute...

 The voice echoed again. Yes, these kids were walking through you, because these were your memories, of the past.Memories this house has kept for you. “I was.”you sighed and stepped in front of the second boy, which was still sitting on the grass.

“You were so shy back then Lyrius.”you reached out your hand to touch his hair, but it just went through “What was I expecting...” a sad laughter came out of your lips 

“Give it back!”you turned your head to look at your past self ,fighting with the other boy.

“Agis, you were never nice to me.”you walked over to them “Dad used to say that you were doing this because you liked me.” you looked up “Why did you bring me here?”

  To see...your past...

“I know my past!”you yelled out, the memories disappearing, leaving you in the almost ruins of something you once called home.

   You are the last of us...you need to know...

“I need to know what?!Say it already!”

    You need to know....what happened...

“Stop talking nonsense.There is no point in being here, I can’t dwell in the past forever.”you started walking towards the exit, angry

    But this isn’t the past...it is as alive as you...as existent as your heart beat...

“I am the last of our clan and it will always be like this.”you trembled, as your bare feet touched the cold stone stairs.

   Yes...the last one...awake...

  Your body stopped in the middle of a motion. “Awake...”you turned around “What do you mean awake?”now this was different 

   You need to know...we are here...we are all here

“Why, tell me!”you demanded 

     Here...because we are all ...a-

“IS THERE SOME HERE!”you heard someone yell out from somewhere near the house.

“Shit!”you must go, you had to. Who knew who that person was.

   You jumped off the stairs and ran towards the forest, trying to outrun the person, who might or might not be following you.Leaving the house behind you, you heard the voice for a last time, as it was fading fast.

   Come...to us...again...

  After what just happened ,you were definitely going back to that house. The question was how?You walked out of the fog once more and luckily still found your window open. Looking around to make sure you were alone, you jumped and closed it behind you.Before you were able to get in the bed, there was a knock on the door.

“Yes.”you said 

  The door opened up and a man with brown hair walked in, looking at you from head to toe.

“His Highness wishes to have breakfast with you my lady.”he bowed and was about to exit, when you stopped him

“Umm, isn’t the count here?”you were asking about the man who brought you here yesterday, he seemed nice.

“In this castle live 6 counts, you must be more specific when you ask about them.”

“Ah, I didn’t know.”you said 

“My name is count Jung Jungkook.”he bowed again “Count Hoseok is in another part of the castle.” he moved aside and a maid walked in, holding a dress in her hands “I will leave you now.”he closed the door behind himself

“Good morning my lady.”the girl bowed down and walked towards you, placing the clothing on the bed

“What is your name?”you asked her

“Pia, my lady.” she looked shy, but very cute and young. You could see the mint color of her hair peeking underneath her head rail, the coral colored eyes and watermelon lip tint.

“Pia, what are you doing here?”you asked her ,as she was placing the dress on your body

“I am afraid I don’t understand the question my lady.”she made sure everything looked good and proceeded with brushing your hair

“I mean, here in the forest. Away from the sea and ocean.”your words made her stop what she was doing. Looking into the mirror you could see her expression.

“I am just a maid my lady.”it was obvious that Pia wanted to hide something from you, but you already knew what it was

“Isn’t the land a bit uncomfortable for a mermaid?”you asked her

 The girl dropped the brush she was holding and stepped back,shocked from your words.

“My lady, how do you know?” she looked scared

“Your hair and eye color,they are of mermaid origin. Judging by your way of speaking, you are of nobility.Am I right Pia?”you stepped closer to her and pulled the head rail off. Exposing two fins, which she tried to hide with her hands.

 You picked up your bag and pulled out of it a cream, which you applied, with out her permission, on the fins.In seconds they disappeared and her breathing became more normal.

“M-my lady...”she stood up and you quickly tied up her hair and placed the rail back on

“I am very sorry for doing this to you with out asking first, but I wanted to see if this would work on you.”

 You flashed the girl a smile and her eyes started shining. She than helped you get ready, finishing your hair and everything.

“My lady you look beautiful.” she clapped her hands “His Highness has good taste in clothing.”

“You mean to tell me that...the king did?”you turned around to look at the girl

“Why yes of course. He is waiting for you.”

 Pia opened up the door for you and you made your way towards the dining hall of the castle. Once you entered the big room, you immediately felt two eye looking at you and only you. You bowed lifting your dress a bit.

“Good morning Your Highness.” you sat down, looking at him the same way he was at you

“Did you sleep well last night?”he asked you with his deep voice

“I did. Thank you for the dress, you shouldn’t have done this for me.”you said, trying to change the subject, because you didn’t actually sleep last night.

“I will do what ever I want to do.” he said and picked up his glass, taking a big sip

“Is there a problem?”you asked him, as his piercing gaze was locked on you, even as he was eating

“I am just surprised that you didn’t ask anything about this.”he placed the crystal glass back on the oak table, leaning back in his chair.

“Should I?”you weren’t hungry at all at this moment, mostly because the food you ate wasn’t of normal origin

“Most people do.”another short answer

“Well...”you leaned on the table and look directly at him “...I am not most people. I am too complicated to understand, even for the undead.” after sitting back normally you gave him a proper answer, even if the question wasn’t exactly asked in the normal way “Even if you were a demon, I wouldn’t care much. You see, as a healer I have seen many dead people and lots of blood, you are not the first and most definitely not the last. There will come more after you my king, mark my word.”

 Immediately after saying this ,you closed your mouth and looked in another direction, knowing that unconsciously you said too much about yourself.The king was about to say something, when the count known as Jungkook stepped in the hall, carrying news with himself.

“Your Highness, the duchess has come to see you.”

“Now?”asked king Namjoon

“Yes, she is waiting.”

 You stood up and started walking towards the door, when Namjoon flew to you, pushing your body against the wall. He looked in your eyes and leaned forward, until your lips were almost touching.

“Where do you think you are going?”he asked with a seductively deep voice

“To my room, I see you have a guest. I don’t want to cause you trouble.” you tried to escape him, but he didn’t let you

“You aren’t going...”leaning to your hear, he whispered the last word.”...anywhere.”

 He grabbed your hand and pulled you towards the room the duchess was waiting in. Once you stepped foot in there, the woman stood up and came closer to great you.You were shocked, she looked like a child, like you almost. Her hair was lemon blonde and her eyes in a deep sage color. It seemed that she liked to smile a lot.

“Your Highness, it has been a long time.”she bowed at him and then you, flashing a bright smile

 Next to her was a butler, he looked young, with jet black long hair, tide back and same color eyes. He quickly helped the girl sit back on the couch and passed her some kind of liquid to drink.

 You were looking at each other, sitting on the couch in front of her with the king. You wondered if you should say something, as the moment you saw her, you noticed something very important.

“Is something wrong madam?”asked the butler

 You looked up and sighed, starting to talk “I don’t think that black seed tea will help your problem.”

“H-how did you know?”the girl asked you shocked

  The same way you knew about Pia. Years of reading all kinds of books and random ‘adventures’ around the many different kingdoms that existed in this world. No matter if magical or not. You knew almost everything there was, except new found things, which you researched when you found even the smallest time gap.

“I have seen many sicknesses in my life time.”you nodded

“Yet, mine can’t be cured.”the girl looked down at her lap, with sadness filling her voice

“My duchess.”the boy placed his hand onto her shoulder

“I wouldn’t say that.”the girl almost instantly looked at you and so did the king

“Aren’t you a human doctor?How do you know of this?”asked the butler

“The cause is simple, as well as the cure.”you stood up and walked over to her “It is normal for your kind.”you knelt in front of the girl, taking her hands in yours “You aren’t aware of what you are and so don’t know what to do.”

“I don’t understand.” she became more confused with every second

“Her father is a magician of very high rank and so is my misters.”said the butler

“Her father may be, but she isn’t.”you looked at her “Do you perhaps have a harp shaped ,in a way, birthmark?”

“No she doe-”the girl jumped up and cut off the words of her attendant

“How did you know?!”

“I knew it.” you sat back down and so did she, now looking at you with bigger eyes “You were born near a special lake, deep in the forests of a distant land.”the girl nodded, her heart starting to beat faster and faster “That exact day was a festival ,held by a certain person. Before your first cry, you heard the music he played and so this happened.My duchess, you are no longer daughter of a magician...you are a nymph.”

“Does that mean, I don’t have a incurable sickness?”    

“There is no such a thing as an incurable sickness. In your case you have to go home and find a instrument which you can play with out lessons.By playing that music, your powers will be released and there will be no problems with your body.”

 The girl jumped up and grabbed your hands, thanking you a thousand times, before running out of the castle ,with her butler behind her.You sat back down on the couch.

“I guess, she couldn’t wait.”

“How did you know of this?”

 The kings voice, made you remember that he was indeed present in this room with you. The difference was that you two were now alone and you had to answer his question.

“I have seen many magical creatures and so I can differentiate them. For instance the maid named Pia, she is a mermaid of nobility.”you stared talking, when you felt a hand on your leg, slowly creeping to your waist “Y-your Highness...”you gasped in shock

“I gave you my name...call it!”he said with an even deeper voice than before

“N-namjoon, what are you doing.”he pushed you on the couch and hovered over you

“You are very special, aren’t you Y/N. You knew about Pia and the duchess.Yet when I ask you how, you tell a lie. How can I make you tell me?”he placed his lips on you shoulder, then started leaving a trail to your neck. “If you don’t hurry up and say it, I will reach your...”he was indeed close to your lips, closing your eyes something fell on the ground and he stood up to go and see, at that exact moment you ran out of the room, to your own.

 Closing the door ,you jumped on the bed and hid your face in the pillow.

“Is something wrong my lady?”Pia asked as she looked at you

“Pia, I need to ask you something.”you patted the bed and she sat down next to you

“Yes of course my lady. What is troubling your mind?”

“I have been a healer for a very long time and I know many sicknesses and their symptoms, but...I have been feeling strange and can’t seem to connect it to anything.Maybe you might know.”you said, your face still in the pillow

“Oh dear, if you don’t know my lady, why do you think I would?” 

  You lifted your head and placed it onto her lap. Pia gently untangled your hair, brushing it with her fingers, which kind of relaxed you a bit.

“I don’t know what is happening.”you sighed ,looking up at her “My heart is beating fast, but I don’t seem to have high blood pressure.My face gets all red, but I don’t have a fever.”

  As Pia was listening to you talk, she started slowly getting the symptoms that you were experiencing.

“My lady, does this happen only when his Highness is around?”she asked you

“Come to think of it, it does. Maybe the blood he drinks...no that can’t be.I have performed a lot of surgeries.” you were exited about finding a clue, but them sighed again after nothing came together as an answer.

“I think I know what is going on, my lady.”

  Upon hearing her words, you jumped up, sitting on the bed and looking straight at the girl’s face. She came closer and made sure to whisper. 

“My lady, I think...I think you have fallen in love with His Highness.”

“No that can’t be.”you pulled back a bit and leaned on the bed, turning around

“Your heart knows it my lady, you haven’t figured it out yet.”she said

  You jumped up again and looked at her “Then again...I don’t know the symptoms of love.” you grabbed your leather journal and started looking through. Pia placed her hand gently on the book and pulled it down, making your eyes shoot at her.

“My lady, love isn’t something you can cure.”she patted her chest “It is something special that is in your heart.”

  Pia proceeded with explaining to you ‘love’, as simply as she could, after noticing you didn’t know about it.Slowly but surely, you started believing her, everything started adding up perfectly.

“My lady, could it be...you haven’t experienced love before?” she gasped in shock

  You crossed your arms in front of your chest and looked at the window “Now that you have explained it to me. I can say I have felt this feeling, but it was a long time ago.”you sighed “A very long time ago indeed.”

“Will you tell His Highness, my lady?” Pia asked you directly and you jumped from the question, almost immediately 

“What! Of course I won’t.”you wiggled a bit on the bed, to find a comfortable position “To him I am just interesting, a new toy that will stay here until it breaks. Plus that he looks famous with women, I bet he already has someone he likes.”

“I can guarantee he does not, even if he has lived a long time.”Pia turned towards you “My lady, I think he brought you here because he was lonely, being alone all these years isn’t good.”

“I do know how that feels, but still I fill like a toy.”you sighed

“My lady, you are very special, I don’t know why, but I can feel something from you. Maybe something His Majesty has noticed as well.”

“Maybe...”your eyes shot back up, filled with concern

  You remembered him saying that he saw you from the forest. Which means, you didn’t notice him at all...could he...could he have seen you using your powers?No that sounded to absurd. If he did, he wouldn’t have been so shocked when you helped the duchess.  

“Oh, I almost forgot.”Pia stood up, fixing her dress a bit “I wanted to show you our herb garden.”

“You have a herd garden!”you were so exited, who knew what kind of plants grew in these parts of the land, where darkness ruled over the day and night.This information made you quickly forget about the problem at hand and rush out of the room.

  Pia opened the metal fence for you and you walked right in like you were home. In a way ,your real home had turned into something like a garden too.In here there were many plants, flowers that you never knew could have healing properties. You pulled out your sketchbook and started drawing the new plants in there, writing everything you knew about them next to the illustration . Pia noticed how into the plants you were, so she left you alone.

  Jumping from one flower bed to the other, you felt so free and happy. Nature was the element your clan ruled over, well not ruled over, maybe coexist with sounds better. In the end you spend almost the whole day in the garden.

“How can these plants get enough sunlight, if the sun doesn’t exist here?”you stood up and looked at the dark sky, that had only a bright moon to illuminate it

“When you want to survive, you find a way.”

  Upon hearing the deep voice behind you, you quickly turned around and were met with the king’s eyes, looking at you.

“Maybe they were able to collect enough light when the sun still shined here.”you bent down again and continued drawing, trying to ignore him 

“You are quite knowledgeable indeed Y/N.” his eyes turned towards the sky “A very long time ago the sun was able to reach these lands and cover them with warmth, but now only the darkness remains. 

“How long has Your Highness lived here?”you asked him

“I have been here for longer than you think.”he walked over to you and sat exactly next to your body, making you flinch from the sudden movement “These lands belonged to a very powerful and legendary clan named the Zahassa .”

 So he knows... you thought to yourself

“At that time I was very young, a child to be precise. I used to play with the children of that clan...but one day they suddenly vanished. Like smoke in the air. I haven’t seen or heard any of them since. I wonder if some of them are still alive.”he sighed 

“It sounds to me like you had someone you liked from there.”you said bluntly, without even thinking

“Well, I won’t say you are wrong.”your head snapped towards him shocked “I liked her a lot to be honest. I don’t know why I am even saying this to you.” he looked deep in thought “I think she was the only daughter of her family, I still remember the name L-”

  You suddenly stood up “I feel tired, so I will go to my room.”you bowed “I will excuse myself Your Highness.” and you ran to your bed chamber as fast as you could, jumping once more on your bed. Different scenarios started playing in your mind. He really knew your family...could you have met him in the past?Turning on your back, you started talking out loud.

“Do I know him?No that can’t be.”rolling on your side, you stared debating “Was he about to say Langarda?But there are other families that also start with an L. Like Lenda and Lethia...”you stood up and started hitting your head lightly “Uhhh, damn it Y/N. Why didn’t you stay and hear him say it!” you were rolling around like crazy, yet there was a possibility he was talking about your family...yet you didn’t believe it. 

  As you fell asleep, you weren’t aware of the person leaning on your door, on the other side. He had his back pressed on the oak, as he sighed and left...did he know who you were, or he just felt something for you...

[patrineptn]

Four-Leaf Clover 03 - A Chance Encounter

Find previous chapters here.

Thanks Rachel and Belinda for always helping me!

It was already afternoon when Sweeney woke up, Kagome didn't even stir as he got out of the bed. He walked to the window where his gift waited for him. The calico cat still waved as he ate the bread and drank the milk.

The offering was simple but filled him in a way no feast could. It reminded him why Grimnir was so adamant about bringing back the glory of the old Gods. His invisible pockets with a never ending supply of gold somehow felt heavier. A knock on the door startled him. A hotel attendant delivered a pack of clean clothes. He double checked and, yes, it had their clothes inside, freshly cleaned and ironed.

Had he slept so deeply that he didn't feel Kagome waking up and calling for room service? The only one who could answer for it was still deeply asleep, her nose buried in his pillow. He decided there wasn't a valid reason to disturb her rest, it wasn't as if he didn't appreciate the gesture, and left the room to smoke.

Outside there was a raven perched on the roof of the room he occupied. The bird turned, head cocked, suspiciously, to one side, and it stared at him with bright eyes.

"I can't even fuck without a stupid bird hovering over me," said Sweeney as he lit his joint.

"Fuck you," replied the raven.

Half an hour later, he entered the room again and found Kagome half dressed in front of a mirror, checking the red marks he left on her shoulder and neck. He couldn't help the smirk that made its way to his lips.

“You don't have to look so pleased with yourself, you know,” she said, looking at him through the mirror.

“They go perfectly with your skin tone, next time I'll make sure both sides match.” She threw a towel at him, feigning anger, but Sweeney didn't miss the faint color on her cheeks.

He wouldn't admit to anyone but himself that it was the closest thing to a relationship he ever had, at least since he was cursed into what he was. This just confirmed his theory that Kagome was deranged because no sane person would want to have anything to do with him, except for one-night stands. He wouldn't think too much about it, though. He lived on his luck, no matter how short it was at that moment, and fate would decide his destiny.

“Where now?” Kagome asked when they entered the car.

Sweeney had thought about it since he woke up and concluded, his best chance was going after Shadow Moon again. There were few places a dead person could go and chasing after the one who brought them back seemed the most logical option. He never died before, and wouldn't remember even if he did, but the undead couldn't be that much different from the average living human, always seeking the attention of those who would least want to see them.

“Chicago.”

“Just my luck,” she said between her teeth, then explained. “I'll drop you wherever you want and leave for a couple hours.”

“Have you finally come to your senses and decided to drop off before it's too late?”

“Is that what you want? To be left alone?”

“I'm not your fucking father, do whatever you want.” He wondered what he said to elicit such a bright smile from her but wasn't complaining either. “Where are you going?”

“My sponsor. He's in Chicago for the next month and demanded a meeting. If we were going to anywhere else I could use it as an excuse but, well, let's see what the old dog wants.”

“Sponsor? Is that what girls call sugar daddies these days?”

“Sugar- What?! No! It's really a sponsor! You didn't really think I live off a scholarship, did you? Who would even want to be MY sugar daddy? I'm too old for that.”

“Old? From your face, I'd say you are seventeen, eighteen at most, but I saw you drinking and I know Jack wouldn't sell alcohol to minors so you just turned twenty-one. I'm not a pedophile, love.”

“Twenty-five, twenty-six in fall.”

“In your ass you are twenty-five. No, wait, I've seen it. Not even there.”

“My face isn't showing it but I assure you it's extremely funny and I'm twisting my insides in delight. Let me ha-ha so you have a glimpse of what's going on my mind. Ha ha. What about you, Mad Sweeney?”

He remembered his time in Ireland, back when he was a king under another name, before he was cursed into this existence. His time wandering in the wilds of his homeland, after flying away from his imminent death. Then he was brought to England and finally America. How long ago was that? A couple centuries? More, less? He couldn't remember. “I lost the count.”

Kagome's eyes softened and she sent him an understanding smile. What she understood, he didn't know and didn't ask. She didn't press him for more and he was thankful for that.

The ride had been silent, the only sounds were the engine and Kagome humming a song he didn't recognise. She sent him a glance from time to time when she thought he wasn't looking. The calm atmosphere made his mind wander to places he usually avoided.

He knew Wednesday from a long time ago and that the old one-eyed man liked to take his time to get things done. He was probably enjoying some young, fair skinned flesh with hair so blond it looks white under the sun light, ample breasts would be a plus. No doubt giving little time for Shadow to digest the events of the past week. Now the fucker would have another ghost to haunt him if he wasn't fast enough. Not that Sweeney gave a fuck for Shadow Moon, he just wanted his coin back.

In the outskirts of Chicago, he saw Betty, Wednesday's beloved car, and told Kagome they arrived at their destination. It was almost ten.

“You sure?” She asked after looking at the name of the hotel. He nodded. “Well, hmm, oh yeah, here, take this.” She put a pale purple bauble in the palm of his right hand. “Until you have your lucky charm back, you can keep mine. It's an heirloom, please be careful." Kagome glanced from his eyes to his lips then back to his eyes, gulped, and said,  "And this is to keep you from forgetting about me.”

Catching him by surprise, Kagome grabbed the back of his head and connected their mouths. Her fingers ran through his hair, pulling it only hard enough so he would tilt his head to give her better access.

The surprise factor didn't stun him for long. Taking control over the kiss, Sweeney trapped her against the car. He grabbed a chunk of her hair and pulled it enough to earn a moan. The leprechaun slid his tongue into her mouth, the smaller woman surrendering to his desires. His other hand travelled from her waist to her back, going under her shirt and feeling the naked skin heating under his fingers.

They separated after a few minutes, the lack of oxygen in their lungs making it hard to keep up the lip lock. She still had her eyes closed and lips slightly parted, chest going up and down, heaving to recover some breath. She opened her eyes, the orbs a few shades darker and pupils dilated. She fixed her disarranged clothes and got into the car.

“If you leave without me, I'll hunt you down and kick your freckled ass.” Kagome didn't give him time to reply,  hitting the road and disappearing into the horizon in less than a minute. He mentally cursed her for turning him on and leaving right after.

Sweeney heard the slam of a door and saw Shadow Moon leaving a room. The man was visibly consternated, shaking and disoriented. His dark eyes were unfocused, his steps uncertain, and Sweeney knew Shadow must have met his not-so-dead wife. From the list of shit things Shadow could have done with his coin, offering it to the dead was almost on the top of the list, right after offering it to a God. Now both of them would have to deal with the magically reanimated corpse of Laura Moon.

Shadow walked back to the room carrying a pack of cigarettes. A raven watched the scene with him.

“What the fuck are you waiting for? Go tell your boss. I wasn’t beaten only to let a zombie whore to fuck up with everything.” The raven left its position. A few minutes later, shit hit the fan.

As soon as Wednesday got to take Shadow out of his room, a police car approached and cuffed them. The accusation: bank robbery. Their little play in Chicago the day before didn’t go as unnoticed as they planned. The leprechaun waited until the cops left before picking a piece of wood from the ground.

Sweeney easily broke the lock and barged into the room, catching Laura Moon by surprise.

“You are the wife, the dead wife.” Laura looked at him, confused. “Give me my fucking coin, dead bitch.”

He didn’t give her time to react, gripping her throat with his large hand and forcing her mouth open. Down her unconnected esophagus was his precious gold coin, shining like the morning sun. It was so close yet so distant. Less than a foot away, yet he couldn’t just grab it and leave the bitch to rot. His hesitation gave Laura time enough to retaliate. With a single finger, Laura flicked his chest and sent him flying against the opposite wall.

“You mean my fucking coin, Ginger Minge. My husband gave it to me.”

“‘Until death tears us apart.’ Doesn't it remind you of something? It wasn’t his to give! I gave him the wrong one, that coin was meant for Royalty, not that piss-ant bastard, that piece-of-shit that was your husband. That’s my fucking lucky coin and I want it back!”

He tried to punch her but she blocked the jab and sent his left hand to kiss the wall. The cracks he heard would be translated into a lot of pain soon.

“Just give me back my fucking coin. You'll never see me again. I swear to whatever God you believe.”

Laura stared at him with those smug dead eyes and a ghost of a smirk on her lips. “No.”

“Fuck you, cunt.”

Laura gripped the finger that was pointing to her, twisted it until she heard a crack, and threw him on the floor harshly, stepping on his already bruised hand.

“I’m gonna ask you some questions now and if I feel you are not being honest, I’ll kick you in the nuts and my foot won’t stop until it reaches your throat. I’m sure your little girlfriend won’t like that.”

“What do you know? Leave her the hell out of it.”

“See? We already have one thing in common. You want your girl, I want my man. It was quite a peep show out there. I would be turned on if, well, if I could feel anything at all.”

“Don’t bring her to this, dead bitch.”

“That’s so cute, all protective. Now, tell me, how do you know my husband?”

Under the sheer force of the pressure on his hand, he ended up spilling his guts about Wednesday telling him to pick a fight with Shadow.

“Who the hell is this Grimnir? What does he want with my husband?”

“He’s a god. Your man shouldn’t trust him.” Laura just stood looking at him, her face impossible to read. “Listen, just give my fucking coin back, yeah? See, I can give you a thousand others, just as good as the one you have.”

“If they were just as good you wouldn’t be so desperate for my coin. I don’t think any other would do the same as this one. Am I correct to assume you just cannot take it, right? Well, you are fucked. I’m not giving it to you. Ever.”

“Ever is a long time, sugar. I only need to wait. Your lifeless form is already rotting. Soon what you call your body will liquefy and all that will be left are your bones and hair. When your dead tissue cannot hold it together anymore, I’ll just harvest my coin from your leftovers. But, you know, patience was never virtue to me.”

He used his bigger figure to push her back until she fell in the bathtub. Sweeney knew drowning her was impossible but the hot water might help him by accelerating the natural process of decomposition. He held her underwater by the neck, mentally cursing Shadow, Wednesday and Laura in the process.

“Freeze! Hands up!” he heard. His fingers immediately loosened the grip.

“She’s not dead! See, not dead!” When Laura didn’t move and his hands were cuffed, he yelled. “Fuck you, dead wife! Fuck you!”

He didn’t know how much time passed between Kagome’s departure and his arrival at the police station. All he knew was that all the lights of the building were out and several shots were heard. He needed to get out of there as soon as possible. The cops that brought him left him in the car and never came back. He wouldn’t be the one to wait to see.

There was a knock on the window. The smiling face of Kagome looked at him.

“Can’t you go a couple hours without getting in trouble?”

“How did you find me here?”

“I have my ways.” A flash came from the building. Kagome tried to open the door. “It’s locked! Can you break the glass?”

Kagome stepped aside and he kicked the window several times until the frame cracked and fell. Getting out was much harder than getting in without the help of two cops and without using hands. Sweeney slithered a leg out of the window and used the other to support his weight and stand. When he had half of his body out of the car, his foot slipped and his crotch hit the frame.

“Fucking hell!” He sent a hard glare to Kagome, who was biting her lips on a failed attempt to hide her laughter.

“Need help?”

“Fuck no.”

With great difficulty, he clambered out of the car and they hurried to walk away. Neither talked until they were at a safe distance.

“Seems you had quite a lot of fun.”

“Shut up.”

“No luck with your coin, yeah?”

“That’s an understatement,” he scoffed. She seemed honestly disheartened by it, so he added, “I have a plan, but first I need to find the dead cunt again.”