#this has been something ive talked about in threads just lightly but also something ive been wanting to talk about and address w him

[65ths]

good morning! finnick needs control, he has rules for himself and how to behave so that nothing can get in the way of that, specifically drugs and alcohol. his first sip of alcohol was when he was 15, he hated the taste of it— it burned, and he couldn’t believe that this is what all the rage was about. he spit it all out, the room laughed. there’s sweeter alcohols that he eventually finds out about, and those he can easily drink, but he doesn’t enjoy drinking. it makes things easier, but he hates that it does. he tries not to, and he’s really good about it. his eyes eyes don’t linger on any alcohol that might be around him, but the thought still does cross his mind that it might be easier with a glass.

the only exception to no drinking is capitol work and clients. his job is to please, and things are handed to him left and right to take without any second thought. he’s gotten pretty decent at spitting stuff out subtly, holding it in his mouth until he gets a chance to do so. sometimes, tight lipped and not letting a drop go past, he’ll just let the drink stain his lips and nothing more so at least the taste is there.

the first time he took morphling he was 16, some client put it in his mouth and he thought why not. the night went by smoothly, less of a nightmare, but dizzy and when he woke up he realized he’d fallen asleep in bed— another rule he would eventually make for himself for staying in control. young, he thought he could have some control over the drug too. he’d take it a couple times, again with clients, but after one night with no memories he freaked out and then it just became another thing to spit out and hide. 

his control over himself is imperative, and those things get in the way and he can’t have that. rule 1: don’t drink, rule 2: don’t take morphling, rule 3: never fall asleep in someones bed.

[juniemunie]

SO, MY HIGH QUALITY HTTYD MOVIE ANALYSIS IS HERE

so as ive said before in old posts, i have been watching httyd over and over religiously for so long to the point ive memorized all the lines right

u see the quality of that movie on my old childhood laptop was not perfect. suitable for a simple viewing yes, but not analysis

i never thought about it until a couple of days ago, where i had the opportunity to... acquire... a really high quality version of the movie

took me nearly a whole day to get it to download but i got it and watched it last night

....and wow. it really felt like i got my glasses again and i noticed so many more things. and there were a lot of cool characterizations and animations i missed

if ur interested in listening to me ramble, feel free kdfsgjsl

Literally just a few seconds in and im surprised by how beautiful the night sky is (THERE WERE NEBULAE???) i knew toothless was there but it caught me off guard how pretty and numerous the stars were

SO FIRST SCENE THE RAID

being able to visibly see with such detail that i could see the hair strands of the vikings was wowie, and STOICK'S WRINKLESSS

BUT THE ONE I WANTED TO TALK ABOUT WAS WHEN HICCUP WAS SHOOTING DOWN TOOTHLESS

I DIDNT KNOW YOU WERE SUPPOSED TO SEE HIS SILHOUETTE BLOCKING OUT THE STARS HERE THATS SO DAMN COOL

the thing i noticed the most in this viewing is Stoick's microexpressions, he has A LOT that i missed simply because the quality wasn't high enough for me to spot them because typically hes not the focus of the camera

for example, here when Gobber and Stoick talk

he makes gestures (when he says his father told him to bang his head he lightly hits the pillar to emphasize it) as well as moves his hands almost very similarly to Hiccup and thats so endearing (Gobber seeing all the similarities but still has to mediate between the two of em HAHAAHAH)

HIS EYES....

His spots are super visible in this version too its such a treat to see everytime Toothless is there

also this composition! I just noticed how nicely placed the stairs are, it gives a natural divide between the two of them

this one here, he has a split second microexpression where he's thinking about what to say next, i think he realized he has to at least encourage him, not scold him

he's less confident as he walks out too, its blurry but he keeps shifting his eyes back to hiccup. if he isn't asserting authority on hiccup they're just both awkward around each other kjfdbglskk

my favorite thing about the dragons are their eyes, toothless' eyes does a wonderful job conveying his emotions even if its just to dilate when he's happy or narrow when he's assessing or feels in danger, its one of the traits i rlly loved watching in the first

look how he mimics the way humans are sitting ksdjfbglsdk

the series of exchanges these to have rlly is just them expressing civility that they think the other would approve of, (Hiccup spares him, Toothless spares him in return. Hiccup merely observes, he observes back. Hiccup drops his weapons, Toothless drops his guard. Hiccup gives him fish, Toothless having not much to offer, decides to share it with him.) It shows how Toothless is quite considerate and honorable.

and i like how in the first movie when he's aggressive he shows off his teeth and especially his gums more. i dont think i see his gums as prominently in the,,, sequels which is a shame because the light colors of his mouth contrasts super well with his dark scales

I CAN SEE HIS FACIAL MUSCLES MOVE HERE WOW. (its like he's really taking in the touch of hiccup's hand here, anticipating smth bad but nothing happening)

oh the way hiccup's face falls when stoick says "all those years of the worst viking berk has ever seen!

stoick isnt good with emotional talking, but this is the most open and we've seen him with hiccup so far

he's a hard ass, but the moment he finds that hiccup has done something great, he goes to him because he thinks he finally has a thread, something in common that they COULD BOND WITH

he literally goes "we finally have something to talk about" HE JUST WANTS A FATHER-SON BOND IM GONNA CRY

and you can see how toothless processes in a millisecond that astrid hurt hiccup

typically the "steed" falls head over heels for the male's love interest, which is why i rlly do like how toothless doesnt like astrid at all when he firsts meet him

HE RLLY DOESNT LIKE HER AT ALL HAHAHA

also take note how the first thing Hookfang does is to attempt to climb or get out, and when he cant, addresses the only one in the ring. im pretty sure he's intelligent enough to know the situation (ive been planning a fic of his perspective of the movie honestly)

OH THE WAY HES DRAGGED BACK TO HIS CAGE OH IM SO SORRY

this scene. i have no other words. it is vital to me that this split second expression existed. he rlly processed what he just said here to his own son

THIS MICROEXPRESSION I COMPLETELY MISSED

I never knew how uncertain his expression looked as he looked away from Hiccup, like he was hesitating, but then the anger comes back and his fists clench

AND OH MAN TOOTHLESS' EXPRESSION!!! I DID NOT MEAN TO CATCH THAT BUT IM SO GLAD I DID

and no thats not him noticing stoick, after the expression in the previous pic, he blinks, and THEN he notices stoick nearing and glaring at him, which he returns back

ITS LIKE TOOTHLESS IS HAVING HIS OWN INTERNAL THOUGHTS AT THAT MOMENT AND THATS SO?????

THEY TREAT TOOTHLESS LIKE A THINKING FEELING CHARACTER, AND ITS PERFECTION

final one, i love his expression here, he usually lifts his lips when he's angry, scared or ticked off but in this context its obvious he still doesn't like stoick, but he saved him and hiccup. so its only right to toothless that he returns the favor.

AND THATS ALL IVE GOT FOR NOW THANK YOU FOR LISTENING TO ME RAMBLE HAHAHA

[alcinadimitrescuwu]

This Woman's Work Part IX (Alcina x Female Reader Fanfic)

Part I Part II Part III Part IV Part V Part VI Part VII Part VIII

“You’re almost there, Maman. You’re doing great. Just a couple more steps.”

You take a deep breath in through your nose and blow it out through your mouth and push forward at your daughter’s coaxing, your arms gripping the railing that had been set up in your bedroom. The wound in your side is in agony but you take another step, biting the inside of your cheek hard to keep from crying out in pain.

It has been three weeks since that horrible night. You had already lost a lot of blood by the time Karl and Alcina arrived at Donna’s place. In an incredible stroke of luck, Donna had surgical thread in her sewing kit and at Salvatore’s instructions (he was having one of his good days) sewed up the place where Alcina’s claws had torn through. You were in and out of consciousness, but every time you opened your eyes Alcina was there by your side holding your hand.

Alcina is sitting nearby in her chair now, gently burping Ecaterina after her feeding. She looks up at you and you see concern in her golden eyes and another emotion that has been a mainstay for the past couple weeks: guilt.

Things had been...awkward between the two of you since that night. No matter how many times you assured her that all was well and you had forgiven her, she refused to forgive herself. You had only been intimate one time since that night and it ended quickly after Alcina had forgotten about the wound in your side as she cupped your hip and you couldn’t hold back the scream of pain that came out of your mouth. Alcina had immediately gotten out of the bed and as far away from you as she could, as if afraid touching you would cause any more damage.

She had sunk into the chair and began sobbing brokenly. You had wished to go to her, but your Bath chair was already on the other side of the room. You braced yourself against one of the bedposts as you said gently, “Darling, it was an accident. The pain’s already subsiding. Please come back to bed.”

Alcina covered her face with her hands, but you could see the tears rolling down her cheeks. “I can’t even make love to my wife without causing her pain. What kind of wife does that make me?” The raw self-hatred in her voice broke your heart.

From that point on whenever you had settled down for the night, Alcina kissed your forehead and turned out the light and that was the end of it. She kept to her own side of the bed and you greatly missed the feeling of her muscular arms about you with your shoulder tucked under her chin, her curls kissing your cheekbones.You had the sense that if you tried to move closer she would move away so you didn’t even try.

You try to take another step and suddenly the room spins around you and you fall forward. Daniela, however, quickly grabs your arm and puts her arm around your shoulder before you hit the ground.

“I think that should be enough for today, Maman,” Bela says soothingly.

You set your jaw. You only have three more steps to go before you clear the railing. “No, girls, I can keep going.” But your ragged breathing and forehead shining with sweat give you away. You push your tongue to the inside of your cheek and taste coppery blood from where you had bitten into it.

Cassandra rolls your Bath chair over to you. “Maman, you don’t need to push yourself so hard. You’re not gonna be of any use to Ecaterina if you run yourself ragged.”

You smile at Cassandra’s brutal honesty as she helps you into your Bath chair. “You’re right, dearest.”

Alcina stands up, having finished burping Ecaterina. She looks affectionately over at her daughters taking care of you and you see one of the first genuine smiles from her that you’ve seen in weeks. “You’ve been so good to Maman these past few weeks, dears. She and I really appreciate all the help you’ve given to us and Ecaterina.” She rests the hand not holding Ecaterina on the back of your chair and you take her hand in yours, kissing her knuckles. Surprisingly, she doesn’t pull away this time. “It’s time for us to put Ecaterina down for her nap and for me to change Maman’s bandages. If you’ll excuse us, loves.”

The girls nod in agreement and vanish into their bug shrouds. Alcina turns around and settles Ecaterina into her cradle. Ecaterina gurgles, her eyes mirroring the gold in Alcina’s. Alcina gives her a tender kiss on the forehead before turning to you. She motions for you to stand up and you obey as she kneels down to your level and helps you take off your day dress. Standing there in your slip with her hands on you reminds you of how long it has been since you have last felt her touch.

Alcina lifts up your slip ever so lightly and peels off the gauze bandage wrapped around your waist. Alcina sets her jaw as she uncovers the gashes she herself had inflicted on you. She takes off her gloves, dips the pad of her thumb in a jar of salve and applies it to your wounds. There is an unreadable expression on her face.

You try to give her an encouraging smile. “I talked to Sal the other day,” you posit. “He says that even though the wound is deep,if I don’t expose it to too much sunlight it won’t leave a scar!”

“Not a physical one at least,” Alcina mutters.

Ok. You’ve had enough. You turn her head to face you. “Darling, we’ve been over this,” you say, rubbing her cheekbone with the pad of your thumb. “Are you going to keep punishing yourself forever?”

Almost despite herself, Alcina leans into your touch and interlaces her large fingers with yours. “I can’t imagine how much physical pain you must be in, my love,” Alcina whispers. “And all by my hand.” Tears begin forming in Alcina’s aureate eyes. “I nearly killed you.”

“You didn’t though, Alcina!” You move over to her lap and she gently almost tentatively wraps her arms around you and holds you close. You lean your head against her chest and resist the urge to sigh. It’s been so long since you’ve been held by your wife. “I know you were under Miranda’s control but something held you back from killing me outright. I know it.”

“You don’t know what it’s like being under someone else’s control.” You can almost feel Alcina’s body shudder as she recalls that night. “It was like I was outside my body watching myself. I was screaming at myself to stop when I kissed that woman.” The memory of your wife kissing Mother Miranda so passionately pops into your mind briefly but you shut it out as she goes on. “And when I stabbed you, I-” Her voice cracks. “I was practically begging myself to stop but my body just moved on its own.”

“Don’t you see, then, darling?” you ask. “You weren’t yourself when you were under Mother Miranda’s control. The person that kissed Mother Miranda, the person that stabbed me, that wasn’t you, so please.” You cradle Alcina’s face in your hands and stare into those beautiful discs of gold. “Please stop blaming yourself for this. Mother Miranda is dead. I’m alive. Our daughter is safe and healthy. That’s what matters now.”

Alcina kisses your forehead lovingly. “When did you get so wise?” she asks, tucking a stray curl behind your ear. You can see that you’ve finally gotten through to her. Her body posture is more relaxed, her jaw is loose, and her shoulders aren’t so tight. She carefully places the new bandage over your wound and you feel a pleasant tingle as you feel her bare fingers brush briefly over your tender skin.

She moves to pull your slip over your new bandage but you take her wrist before she can withdraw it. You hold her gaze as you take the strap of your slip off your shoulder and your slip coils in a pool of silk around your ankles. She takes you in her arms and brushes her lips against yours briefly. When she pulls aways, you see the same desire in her eyes. “Are you quite sure, ingeras?” Alcina asks, brushing the back of her knuckles against your cheekbones.

“Yes” you rasp. “Take me to the bed.”

Alcina picks you up as you wrap your legs around her waist, taking care not to touch your sensitive wound and carries you over to the bed. She gently, almost reverently lays you down on the bed. She lowers herself down to kiss you again and you bury your fingers in her curls. Alcina deepens the kiss, her tongue coaxing your mouth open as you unfasten the pearl buttons on the back of her dress. “I’ll go slow for you, draga,” Alcina murmurs against your lips.

“Alright, let’s see how our little patient is doing today- JESUS CHRIST! What the FUCK?”

It seems like Heisenberg has decided to check up on you today.

With a frustrated growl Alcina moves quickly in front of you while holding her own dress up. “Yes, Heisenberg, that is in fact what we were setting out to do before you arrived.” Alcina shakes her head at him derisively. “You seem to have impeccably bad timing, as always.”

Heisenberg’s face is beet red again, you note with amusement. “Well, excuse me for trying to check in on my sister-in-law and my goddaughter! Speaking of which, really Alcina? Getting down and dirty with the kid in the room?”

Alcina’s cheeks are also sporting a lovely red color. “Ecaterina was asleep.” Amidst all the commotion, Ecaterina has already woken up and is crying. “Well, she was until you came in.”

The girls suddenly materialize into the room. “Mother!” Cassandra chirps. “I thought I heard Uncle Karl in here and- JESUS CHRIST! What the FUCK!”

Alcina covers her face with her hands. Bela takes the book that Daniela is holding and holds it so it’s covering the image of you and your wife on the bed. “Really Mother,” Bela tuts to herself.

Daniela doesn’t seem to mind. She turns to the two of you, unperturbed by the state of your undress and asks, “Can Uncle Karl stay for dinner, Mother, Maman? Please? It’s been so long since we’ve all had dinner together!”

You smile indulgently at her over Alcina’s shoulder. “Of course he can, darling,” you say.

“Fine,” Alcina mutters. "Now if you please, will all of you kindly get out of our room?”

The daughters vanish into the bug shrouds, chattering excitedly about what Cook is making for dinner. Heisenberg leaves too, chuckling softly to himself.

You turn to your blushing bride and give her a chaste kiss on the lips before you both get dressed and join your daughters for dinner.

Together. As a family.

[offtopicoverload]

Just in Case

Sometimes you have to spend all night outside someone’s door, or all morning sitting at their desk, just in case they need some pizza. Or you, they might also need you.

hey, whaddaya know, i actually wrote something lmao. ive literally wanted to fix this plotline since i read it like six months ago or something, so i thought i finally would instead of doing something more responsible. and fair warning, it’s been ages since i played tfs and i have a shit memory, so if their characters are off, here’s my excuse

T Rating (just college kids being a bit dumb, so no warnings or anything)

Kaitlyn x MC (Maya)

~2k (a true random little ficlet lol)

Maya knocks on the door lightly, the raps hesitant as she turns her voice as sweet as she can possibly manage, “Hey, Kait? Do you wanna talk? Do you need anything? Do you want a hug? Or I could order pizza?” she rambles, shifting nervously. Her hands clasp and unclasp before her, palms clammy as her stomach rolls in waves of anxiety, a slow-building hurricane.

And it’s not helped by the answer she receives from the blank wood before her, “I want to be left alone.” It’s harsh and upset and frustrated as it leaks through the cracks between the frame and the door.

“You sure?” She fights against every instinct to throw the door open, fingers twitching at the desire to turn the knob just below her palm.

“Yes,” that same severe, irritated voice answers once more, “Go away.”

She sighs, head drooping, “You know I can’t do that, Kait. So I’ll just, um…” she drops to the floor, turning so her back rests against the door, her head turned upwards as she speaks, “If you need anything, I’m right here. Offer for pizza still stands.”

Another heavy sigh slips past her lips as she receives no response from the other side of the door. She digs in her jacket pocket for her phone, pulling it out and tapping until she finds Zack’s contact.

Hey

heya Meya

Can we talk?

always

I think Kait’s mad at me

why do you think that

She slammed the door in my face and told me to go away

yeah, i’d say she’s mad

did you leave her alone

I stopped talking

and you also went away

No I’m outside her room

just give her space

What if she needs pizza?

she can get herself pizza My

I don’t want her to be alone

she wants to be alone tho

I need her to know I’m always here

she doesn’t need you right now

i think you should give her space

What if something happens again?

like what

Like her birthday

There’s a long pause with no response, not even grey bubbles bouncing in the corner.

you stopped talking

Yeah. Promise

how long are you gonna stay there

As long as she’s in her room

that’ll be all night

That’s okay. Her door’s pretty comfy

Maya

I have to be here if she needs pizza

Maya can almost hear the sigh that accompanies the next message,

fine

night My

Night Zack

Her head falls back against the door, a soft thump sounding with it as her eyes flutter shut. Her hands knit in her lap, phone resting between them. A few sounds echo through the suite as the other roommates go about their evenings, but it’s quiet in Kaitlyn’s room.

It’s quiet and peaceful, and the day’s events are starting to wear on Maya as she patiently awaits a call from Kaitlyn. She sits there, the silence behind her beginning to settle along her shoulders like a weighted blanket, starting to gently pull her from consciousness.

Maya’s body careens backwards and her head crashes into the hardwood beneath her, a groan echoing as her eyes blink open. Kaitlyn’s standing above her, hovering with a clenched jaw and furious glare as morning light plays off her skin, her hair, her eyes, her everything in a halo.

The door’s been jerked open, Maya falling with it until she’s flat on her back with a dull ache in the back of her skull. She attempts to blink away the haze that’s clouding her mind of any thoughts but the girl standing above her, and all too soon memories of yesterday flood her senses.

A blush burns her cheeks, heating her face warmer than the sun still alighting Kaitlyn in an ethereal glow, “Hi,” she offers meekly, a small wave momentarily drawing Kaitlyn’s gaze.

But a second later she’s stepping over the crumpled form of Maya without a single word or backwards glance, striding in the direction of the suite’s kitchen. And Maya watches her go, watches her disappear around the corner, watches the corridor turn empty and lifeless as she exhales what feels like the last of her tether to Earth.

---

“Hey Kaitlyn,” Zack greets through a mouthful of poptarts, as chipper as usual. He swallows thickly, “What’s up?”

“Nothing,” she grumbles, sidestepping him to pull the fridge door open, staring blankly into it and silently hoping something good will appear if she stares long enough.

Zack appears behind her, carefully nudging the fridge door closed, “You doing okay?”

She eyes him up suspiciously, “Yeah. Why?”

He responds with an awkward shrug, averting his gaze nervously, “You normally steal my poptart,” he mutters.

“Rookie mistake,” she grins, snatching the remaining half from his hand and taking a bite.

“So you’re okay?”

Kaitlyn stills, the poptart frozen away from her face, “Maya told you, didn’t she?”

“Well…” Zack glances away, shrugging under the weight of Kaitlyn’s judgemental gaze, “She told me you were mad at her, but not why.”

“My parents know,” she murmurs, eyes trained on the poptart held in her palm.

“That you’re gay?!”

Her eyes snap up to find a scandalized Zack staring back, “No, that my favorite color’s green. Yeah, that I’m gay!”

“That’s not good.”

“Nope,” she pops the ‘p’ before taking another bite.

“So why are you mad at Maya?”

“‘Cause it’s her fault.”

Zack’s eyes go wide, “Did she tell them?!”

Dark hair flies around Kaitlyn’s shoulders as she shakes her head, “No. No,” she corrects, “But they saw us kissing.”

“Oh, so it was an accident.”

“Yeah.”

“Then why are you mad at Maya?”

“‘Cause she started this whole thing by coming along, and then followed me outside, and then she wouldn’t leave me alone on the train or on the way home,” she huffs.

“She just wants to be there for you,” Zack reaches out, squeezing her shoulder in an attempt at some sort of comfort. 

And Kaitlyn just shrugs him off, “I don’t need her.”

“Yeah, you do.”

“No, I don’t,” she shoots him an unimpressed look, taking the last bite of the poptart and dusting her hands off.

“Kait, we all need her. Like, literally, I think this dorm would fall apart without her.”

“Well, I don’t need her.”

“What if she needs you?”

“She’s an adult.”

“She’s your girlfriend.”

“Who’s an adult.”

Zack just stares at her with his jaw clenched, looking more irritated than Kaitlyn’s ever seen him.  “What?” she explodes defensively, squirming under his gaze.

He sighs, digging out his phone from his pocket and tapping for a few seconds before presenting a text thread to her. She cautiously takes the device, scanning over the messages dated as last night. “I don’t know what was going on with the pizza thing,” he mutters under his breath.

“It’s - it doesn’t matter,” she sighs, just as her eyes land on one message in particular. She huffs, shoving Zack’s phone back into his hands as she storms out of the kitchen and down the hall, frustrated once more.

She pauses outside Maya’s door at the mouth of the hallway, just two down from her own, which has since been abandoned. She steps closer, pressing her ear to the door in search of some excuse to not disrupt. But it’s quiet on the other end, the only noises coming from the rest of the suite surrounding them.

Kaitlyn gently nudges the door open, the hinges creaking painfully loudly as Maya’s bedroom slowly comes into view, a familiar and welcoming sight. Dark eyes scan the room, taking in the closed curtains and the cluttered desk before landing on the bed, where a lump rests beneath the sheets.

Maya’s back is to the door as she lays curled in on herself, her profile rising a fraction with every delicate breath, with her braids splayed in a mess on her pillow. Light from the kitchen spills inside, yellow splashing in sharp lines along her comforter and along the wall, Kaitlyn’s shadow further obscuring the room.

She slips further inside, closing the door just as carefully as she opened it and takes a few cautious steps towards the bed. Maya doesn’t stir an inch, her breathing the only sound in the room as Kaitlyn crosses to the desk tucked against the wall.

She sinks into the chair before it, her leg bouncing anxiously as she simply watches the form across the room from her. Her fingers twitch and tap as she replays the past few months, from that first night, to the football games, to the sorority drama, to her birthday, and all the mess that came with it.

Though, maybe some good came with it too. Like movie nights and coffee dates and afternoons spent studying on the rooftop. Like wide smiles and unrestrained laughs and crinkled, bright eyes. Like eager kisses and tight hugs and lazy morning cuddles.

The form stirs, rolling onto her other side until a stray ray of sunlight is streaked across her cheek. Her eyes flutter open before she’s fumbling onto her elbows, “Kait?” she whispers, her voice heavy with sleep.

“Yeah,” Kaitlyn mumbles, her head dipping awkwardly.

“What are you doing?”

“Thought I’d stick around in case you needed anything.”

Maya softens, a gentle quiet filling the room before her hands find their way out from under the covers, grasping in Kaitlyn’s direction, “Come here,” she urges with a wave.

Kaitlyn obliges, standing and shuffling to the edge of the bed, where Maya takes her hand and tugs her onto the mattress. Kaitlyn slips beneath the comforter, her arms curling around Maya as she cuddles close, burying her face in Kaitlyn’s shoulder.

“Are you gonna be okay?” she whispers into Kaitlyn’s shirt, her breath hot where it seeps through the fabric to warm Kaitlyn’s skin.

Kaitlyn draws her closer, their legs tangling beneath the sheets as she tucks her chin over Maya’s head, absentmindedly twirling a braid around one finger, “Yeah, I think I just needed some time to think, you know? And my parents probably need space, so it’ll be awhile before I talk to them anyway.

“Maybe I can sort something out or write a letter, I don’t know. I don’t think I know what to say, but I’m working on it and trying to figure out how to move forward. I was up most of the night thinking about how I could fix things, or what I should do, and stressing about if I should even be bothered, and my mom ended up texting me and we spoke for a bit. It was nice that she wasn’t upset, but my dad’s another story.” She finally stops for air, looking down to find Maya’s eyes closed and her breathing back to that soft and gentle rhythm.

“Are you still awake?” she whispers, eyes tracing the way the few rays of sunlight slipping through the curtain dance along her skin, illuminate her features.

Maya hums in the back of her throat, “Mmhmm.”

A small grin quirks Kaitlyn’s lips, “So you know what I was talking about?”

“Mmhmm.”

“So you have no problem with me, say, tossing you out of bed?” Kaitlyn teases, her smile growing as Maya’s features stay peaceful and sleep-laden.

“Mmhmm.”

Kaitlyn chuckles softly, the exhale stirring a few strands of her hair as it lay on the pillow as she murmurs, “Sweet dreams. I’m here just in case,” and plants a small kiss on Maya’s forehead.

[groovybaybee]

Greener - IV

I, II, III

(4k)

cw: mentions of abuse (nothing too intense but better safe than sorry), alcohol consumption

I am in the ocean. The water is warm and comforting as it hugs up against me with each gentle wave. It is calm and peaceful and in turn I am calm. I am in the ocean and I am calm.

 You’re in your kitchen.

“Fuck off,” I whisper, eyes squeezed tightly shut as if they could shield me from the reality of the voice in my head.

 I am in the ocean.

 BUZZ

 I ignore it.

 I am in—

 BUZZ

 BUZZ

 With a deep exhale, I open my eyes and face the brutal reality that the unkind voice lingering in my brain had been right. I am in my kitchen. The bright smiling faces tacked to the walls seem to mock me as I desperately try to regulate the rise and fall of my chest. My lungs unaware that I am not in the middle of a hundred-metre sprint and can probably relax a little.

 Against my better judgment, I pick up the phone that had caused me to spiral in the first place. Quickly, I close Twitter, wishing I had never let myself fall down the thread of comments. I had known it would only cause me to panic but, almost masochistically, I did it anyway.

 Thought I was supposed to be the one organising collaborations with big artists?? Nice work kiddo. Response to the video is pretty good so I can look into booking some studio sessions…

 My focus falls away from my manager’s message. Of course, he saw this as a positive thing. It is a positive thing, really. Only a crazy person would find discomfort in their dream career being boosted along. This is the kind of thing I have always wanted. I want to make music. I want to have people see me and connect with me. But now that the opportunity is there all that I feel is fear.

 You always were ungrateful.

 For once, I do not try to argue with the bad part of my brain. I am ungrateful. How could someone get what they want and find reasons to still be the victim? I do not deserve any of this. How could I, in the sea of so many, be lucky enough to find traction in this industry? Yet all I want to do is run.

 It is not even as though all of the new feedback is negative. To a degree, it would be understandable to want to run away were that the case. No, people were actually incredibly supportive of Harry and I’s impromptu duet. Complimentary even. I should be jumping for joy, but instead I find myself clutching for the countertop beneath me to tether me to the Earth.

 Instinctively, I reach for my phone again, quickly dialling the first number I can think to.

 “Hello lovely lady,” Lucy answers brightly.

 “Luce,” I gasp, mouth remaining open but unable to find the words as my throat seems to tighten up.

 “What’s wrong?” she asks, suddenly serious and I can picture her sat bolt upright. When I can’t formulate a reply, she speaks for me, “Are you at home? I’ll come over.”

 “Yeah.” I manage to breathe out.

 Time seems to warp as I listen to the background noise of Lucy buckling herself into her car and taking the short trip to my house. Only when I hear her set of keys in the lock do I hang up the call, something about her presence comforting me even through the phone.

 “Let’s sit down, yeah?” Lucy says when she sees my face, undoubtedly wide-eyed as gravely breathes pass quickly between my lips.

 She places a hand on my back and eases me away from the counter until my body meets the soft embrace of the sofa.

 “Count to ten with me?”

 Her voice is gentle and reassuring as she watches me, no doubt assessing how severe my state is and which battleplan she needs to access in order to help me calm down.

 When I nod, she waits for me to utter a shaky and broken, “One,” before repeating it and moving from the sofa.

 “Two,” she encourages.

 She opens a window and moves back to the kitchen, returning with a glass of water as I reach “Four.”

 We count together until we reach ten. Not unlike the other times we have done this, she waits for a moment as she observes if I need to start again, or if I am suitably calm enough for her to move on to the next step in her care plan. Deciding on the latter, she passes me the glass of water.

 Gratefully, I take a slow sip.

 “Want to talk or want distracting?”

 “I feel…” I start quietly, uncertain as a sigh passes my lips, “I feel ungrateful and a bit overwhelmed.”

 Lucy just nods. No judgment in her gaze as she digests my words. They dissipate into the air of the living room, sinking into the furniture and slipping under the tape of the unopened moving box in the corner.

 “Is this about the video? Because if it is I’m so sorry for posting it, I just thought you two sounded so good and fit so great together and maybe you’d get a bit more recognition which you deserve completely and—”

 “Lu,” I sigh with a small smile as she rambles apologetically. I pull her into a hug which neither of us expect. “I love you so much. You always know what’s right and you go out and do it. I’m just a bit batshit at the minute and can’t accept the good in things.”

 “I love you.” Lucy mutters into my hair.

 We sit for a while, arms wrapped tightly around one another, swaying slightly. Neither of us want to be the first to move, simultaneously needing to provide comfort and bathe in it. A smile fixes itself on my lips, one Lucy has always been capable of coaxing from me, even during my worst nights. But that is exactly the reason the smile carves its way on to my cheeks; it’s us. It has always been Lucy and me and it will be Lucy and me until our arms can’t hug and our lungs can’t laugh.

 “I think,” I say softly, resentfully pulling away from our embrace, “it’s time to go through his stuff.”

 Lucy nods, eyes a little watery. She sniffles once and that is enough to settle her.

 “Shall I get wine?”

 I cannot help the small bubble of laughter that bursts between my lips, but I nod, nonetheless. We move to set about our own tasks; Lucy gets a bottle of Shiraz and pours two glasses as I pull the, ever so slightly dusty, cardboard box into the centre of the room and peel away the tape sealing it.

 I wait for her to return before opening the flaps, needing her next to me more than I could ever admit. Not that I would have to. She gives me a reassuring squeeze on the arm when she notices my sharp intake of air.

 No going back. I force myself to believe that and open the box.

 Peering into the box, it is less full than I remember, and that in itself pushes me along. On the top, lay a few t-shirts he did not come to collect. I place them in a pile on the living room floor, mentally noting it as one to donate. Beneath the shirts are a collection of photographs, some loose and some framed. Lucy stills beside me, nervously awaiting my tears. They would not come just yet. I remember placing the most upsetting things at the bottom. My heart clenches at the thought of seeing them again, but I push ahead.

 I flick through the photographs, placing the newly empty frames to the other side of the box. It is not nearly as saddening as I had expected. Being able to pass over a timeline of our relationship is almost cathartic, knowing that I do not have to wait weeks and months between these happy memories captured in film.

 “I loved that jacket.” Lucy says softly as we peer at a picture of my ex-boyfriend and I at the beach one night.

 “So did I,” I smile, fingers running lightly over the glossy image, a bright red faux leather jacket which matched my painted smile. “Will didn’t.”

 Lucy’s body slumps beside me and I feel the angry starting to stir inside of her. I put the stack of photos on the floor, deciding not to keep any, and peak back into the box. I can hardly help the laugh that rises from my chest when I see the next item. Not from joy, but from its sheer ridiculousness. My hands reach into the cardboard and pull from it a bathroom scale.

 “You know,” I start, sadness and amusement mingling in my chest, “he fixed these, so I was always ten pounds heavier.”

 Unable to see the dark humour that I do, Lucy’s eyebrows knit together furiously, teeth biting hard on the inside of her cheek to keep her from screaming obscenities.

 I place the scale down on the ground before reaching in to retrieve the last item in the box. The second my fingertips touch the tape, the smile erases from my face.

 Deep breath in.

 Lifting the final photograph from the box, my heart breaks yet again. The memories from that night flush my mind, my whole body quickly covering in goosebumps in an attempt at defence.

 Lucy is silent next to me, waiting for me to say something or react at all. I bring the image closer, throat drying a little more with each inch it nears. I gulp harshly, desperate for some of the moisture collecting at my eyes to travel to my mouth.

 I stare down at the picture of myself in my parents’ garden, mum and dad on either side of me, the three of us beaming uncontrollably. We were happy and excited, I was moving to Los Angeles in a few weeks, completely uncertain if I would be able to make my dream into my career.

 Turning the photograph over is what send tears falling.

 Our sweet Violet,

Words cannot describe how proud we are of you. You are so brave it makes us question if you were adopted without us knowing. You have always been your own person and that is what makes you so very special. It is also the reason that we know you will succeed no matter what you do. You are a wonder. Go forward and show the world.

So much love,

Your biggest fans xx

 The words are beautiful, so sweet and encouraging that reading them now makes me feel a fraud. Tracing my thumb over the lines of tape holding the fragments of the photo together, a gentle sob erupts from inside me. The torn object makes my heart ache enough to think it were trying to mirror it.

 “This was the day I left him,” I manage to force out between sniffs and sobs. “When he ripped this… I couldn’t do it anymore.”

 Reliving my breaking point is something I often find myself doing, experiencing the extreme high of my first ever headlining show, and subsequent extreme low when Will pointed out how unflattering the stage lights were. He took that night from me, stole its joy and tried to grind me back down to a level beneath him.

 I cry hard into Lucy’s shoulder, not caring right now that I was ruining her t-shirt. She does not seem to care either, instead just rubbing my back soothingly and letting me get out the emotions I have kept locked away for so long.

 It is only when I feel Lucy’s body shaking against mine that I pull myself away. My tears stop the second I see hers falling.

 “I’m so sorry.” She gets out, eyes bloodshot as deep but silent sobs wrack her body.

 “It’s okay.” I coo, hating seeing my best friend cry more than any object in that box.

 “It’s not. I’m supposed to protect you and I didn’t see what he was doing to you.” She is starting to hyperventilate as the tears fall faster and heavier now.

 “Hey,” I whisper, placing a hand either side of her head to get her to focus on me and really listen, “No one did, not even me.” My voice cracks slightly at the admission, but it is what we both need to hear in order to forgive ourselves even the smallest amount.

 Our breathing regulates, the tears start to dry, and I look back to the image with a fond memory.

 “Do you remember the day we left?”

 Lucy gives me a breathy and snotty but genuine laugh. “Yeah. Mum packed me about five boxes of chocolate fingers.”

 “And they wouldn’t let us go through security with them so we had to stand and eat as many as we could.”

 We share a laugh at the fond memory, glad to remember ourselves so sweet and naïve.

 I pick up an empty frame from the floor, slipping the taped-up photograph inside and set it on the coffee table.

 “I’m not letting him have any more of me.”

 She nods and we sit for a moment.

 “Thank you for always being next to me.” I say, a lump forming in my throat yet again, however this time, my heart swells instead of breaking.

 “You and me.” She says with a soft, slightly teary smile as she extends a pinky finger for me to connect with. Of course, I do.

 * * *

“He said he wants to talk when he’s back from New York.” Lucy tells me nervously as she stares down at her phone.

 “Could be a good thing.” I argue, reaching out my hand to lift my nearly empty wine glass from the coffee table. I bring it to my lips carefully, my laying position on the sofa not aiding my slightly messy actions.

 “I don’t know, he got funny the other day when I left his place.” Lucy mutters, gulping at her newly replenished glass.

 “Luce, I’m going to be completely honest with you.” I say, sitting upright and trying to avoid the urge to hiccup as I move. “I think he likes you, and I think you like him too… and I think that scares you a bit.”

 Lucy pauses, chewing on my words before responding with a sigh, “I think you’re right.”

 “When aren’t I?” I tease, earning an eye roll, “Seriously though, Joseph is great, and he would take care of you.”

 “That’s scary.” Lucy whispers to herself more than me, “What do I do if I’m not the one looking after people?”

 “You’ll always have to look after me.” I joke, squeezing her knee lightly.

 “That’s what I got Harry for.” She teases, unknowingly making my stomach squeeze just at the mention of him. “What?” she laughs, noticing my sudden silence.

 I tell her everything. Running her through every moment with Harry, from our first date excitement, to accidentally on purpose friend-zoning him, to breaking the surface on my past relationship. As I describe each of our encounters, I recognise the lightness in my chest when I speak his name. Each small interaction I recall seems to stoke the embers in my chest, burning hot and steadily as I catch her up.

 “I think you like him but you’re afraid.” Lucy repeats my own advice back to me with a smug smirk.

 “Wouldn’t you be?” I defend.

 “Oh definitely, but if you like him why are you waiting around. Be brave.” Her voice is so calm and matter of fact that her words seem nothing but logical, all my excuses flying out the window as I let her advice sink in.

 Except for one.

 “I don’t think he likes me like that, maybe he did at the start… but not anymore.”

 “You can’t know that unless you ask him.” She replies, again as if it’s the most blatant thing in the world. Which I suppose it is.

 Maybe I should be brave. I look to the newly framed photograph and find my answer. Maybe I will be.

 * * *

 Lucy made me text Harry that night before she left. He replied before I had finished locking the front door.

 Yesss are you free Friday? I potentially have an idea – Harry

 Before I know it, I find myself in the car park of The Forum in Inglewood, Harry’s hand slipped effortlessly into mine as he guides us through backdoor after backdoor.

 Adrenaline courses through me as we wind through corridors, hearing the support act through the overhead speakers. We had already missed part of the show and were desperately trying to make up for the time lost sat in traffic.

 Harry takes care of everything, shaking hands with everyone we interact with and thanking them graciously when they help us locate our seats. I watch him, slightly awe-struck, as we make our way to our little section by the balcony. The space is more private than general seating and I wonder what strings Harry had to pull to get such incredible last-minute tickets.

 “Comfortable?” Harry asks as we get settled.

 I nod, afraid that if my mouth were to open, I would let everything slip. Who could blame me though? The kindness and sincerity behind his eyes are enough to make anyone swoon.

 No time to dwell on the way his eyes glide across my face, the crowd roars, almost making me jump as they drag me from my daydream.

 Up on stage, Fleetwood Mac take their positions. A kick drum meets with the first few notes of The Chain, sending thousands of screaming fans into overdrive, ecstatic to see their idols in the flesh. Harry and I easily fall into that category, excitedly squeezing the other’s hand as the song builds.

 “Oh my God!” I scream, head thrown back momentarily, unable to contain my wonderment at whatever cosmic coincidence allowed this to by my life.

 It is loud. I feel the drums rattle in my chest, bass swirling in the pit in my stomach. My free hand grips the bar of the balcony, desperately trying to tether me to reality before I float away into whatever heavenly dream I have fallen into.

 The show goes on, each passing song appearing to be a fan favourite as the crowd only grows wilder and more liberated. I watch with glee as each and every person moves freely, dancing and singing excitedly as Second Hand News transitions into Say You Love Me.

 My gaze flits back to Harry for the hundredth time since the show began, admiring the joy radiating from him. It is infectious and feeds me until my rays begin to pour out of me as well.

 Harry is goodness. Any other day, I would have used this as a reason to drive a wedge between us. He brought happiness while I worried that I drained it from the world.

 But here, with him, I know the truth. I feel the good and the beauty in the world, and I know that I am a part of that. I do not drain him, we fill each other up.

 “Harry,” I desperately call over the music.

 Instantly, his eyes are on me, smile still present but quickly glancing over me to ensure my wellbeing.

 “I’m sorry I friend-zoned you!” is all I can think to say. Somehow, it seems to be enough. Harry lets out a beautifully easy laugh, dimples deep-set in his cheeks as he lets go of my hand in order to wrap both arms around me.

 “It’s okay.” He chuckles, quickly letting go of me and turning me towards the stage so as not to miss anything. His arms linger around me, hugging me slightly from behind, swaying us almost anxiously.

 “We don’t normally do requests, but this will have to be an exception.” Stevie says, her voice light as a playful smile finds its way on to her face. “This is Skies the Limit.”

 “I was going to choose Storms but didn’t want to see you sad.” Harry utters in my ear, confirming every complimentary thought I have of him.

 My jaw struggles to stay closed as I watch the band play my song. Harry did this for me. My favourite, non-depressive, song is playing in front of all of these people. For me. Because of him.

 His name tumbles from my lips, breathless and unbelieving that I am not existing in some kind of simulation.

 I turn to look at him, gobsmacked, when I find his tentative gaze. Never have I seen him so timid, as though I might think this gesture too much. I mean, it is. There is no way on Earth someone could deserve to feel so cherished. No one could possible earn this heart-swelling sensation. No one is worthy of this level of care. But here I am. I get to be with him and being with Harry is like every birthday rolled into one. He drives me wild and keeps me calm, often managing to do both simultaneously.

 For once, I do not care what anyone else thinks. All that matters is the man standing in front of me and the decision I need to make. Am I going to let this pass me by and shy away from potential happiness yet again? Or will I be brave and take a chance?

 Harry watches me cautiously as my brain tries to spiral and twist itself into knots of self-doubt. But every wonderful decision I have every made required an element of risk. What would my younger self think if she saw me fumble this chance? She was always so fearless, why can’t I be?

 “Remember at Lucy’s? You asked what I’d do if I wasn’t scared.” I say, palms starting to sweat as I feel the edge of the cliff approaching fast.

 Harry nods.

 “I didn’t tell you that if I weren’t so scared, I would let myself fall for you...”

 Our eyes search the other’s face; mine desperate for any sort of reaction, his cautiously awaiting a hint of insincerity.

 “Funny thing is I don’t think it will stop me.”

 And like that, the cliff is far behind me and I wait in limbo for any response.

 My heart wishes for Harry to scoop me up in his arms, bend me low and kiss me like a solider coming home from war. My mind worries that he will throw up over the side of the balcony from sheer disgust at the very notion. However, Harry provides neither anticipated response. Instead, a stifled smile spreads across his face.

 “I know,” he grins, “Lucy told me.”

 “For fuck’s sake!” I laugh incredulously, my head thrown back in despair and amusement. I should have guessed she would continue meddling. “I’m going to kill her.”

 “Do you think you could wait a while to do that?” Harry asks when I finally meet his eyes again, his hands slipping up my back, pulling our bodies ever so slightly closer together.

 “Why?” I sigh, half-joking.

 “So I can do this.”

 Each of Harry’s hands settle on either side of my head, a thumb instinctively grazing across the soft skin of my cheek. I have just enough time to register his touch before his lips come down to meet mine.

Our first kiss is fuelled with longing and ignited with hope. A new type of excitement spreads through my chest as his lips melt with mine, soft and sweet, as all fears and doubts seem to drown out with the roar of the arena. Some other time I will tell Harry about Will and how he affected me, and things will be okay, because with Harry things are okay. He makes them okay. And with heaving chests and his forehead pressed against mine, for the first time in a long time, I feel the potential for a free kind of love.

masterlist

[bouncyirwin]

Rainstorm || KakaSaku Month

Oof, would you look at this, I’m actually alive. So as you know of me, it’s either filthy smut or tooth-rotting fluff, there’s absolutely no in-between. Without further ado, here’s some fluffy KakaSaku.

Warning: un-beat’d, all mistakes are mine.

Week 1, Day 1:

The loud crack of thunder outside Sakura’s window made her startle, breaking her concentration away from the documents she’d been ‘working’ on (or that was what she deemed staring at them in hopes of forgetting bigger issues at hand to be). And with a loud, miserable sigh, she slumped back in her seat, defeated.

With the absence of their esteemed Rokudaime, lesser missions were being assigned to Konoha Ninja which meant fewer injuries for her to fix. Which inevitably meant no distractions-- after all being elbow deep in someone’s gut was much more engaging than making medical reports.

It’d been days of catching up on the pile of paperwork that had been sitting ignored at the edge of her desk for weeks on end. Sakura cracked her neck irritably, hearing a few satisfying snaps before she stood up to stretch her spine.

For days now (and she absolutely refused to think about how that coincided with Kakashi’s leave on his diplomatic mission), Sakura has had a horrible, sinking feeling in her stomach. Usually, she dealt with this by filling her entire schedule with surgeries, the more complex the better, and let it numb her brain.

A louder, fiercer ripple of lightning bellowed outside, rain harshly splattering across her windowpane and Sakura let out another sigh.

If she didn’t get moving soon she might be stuck here all night long, with the miserable ticking of a clock and a mountain of papers for company. Quickly, Sakura shuffled to get her coat and the bento which contained the leftovers of her dinner— and as if the skies sensed her rush to escape the storm, the howling winds outside roared angrily, causing the windows to rattle.

“Sheesh,” Sakura muttered, pausing to weigh the pros and cons of forgoing getting soaked (and possibly electrocuted) and just sleeping on the uncomfortable leather couch in her office. It wouldn’t be so bad, especially for someone who’d been sleeping in all kinds of uncomfortable places over the years.

The sound of a commotion outside her door would later decide for her as Konohamaru and Mirai Sarutobi showed up with a half passed out Hokage in their grasp.

Sakura’s heart did a strange tug and pull in her chest before sinking to settle somewhere in the pit of her stomach.

Kakashi’s face was extremely pale, his features twisted into a grimace and his lean fingers clutching onto a crimson-gushing wound in his side. He panted loudly, the sound wet and grating like the storm outside. He was also soaked to the bone like Mirai and Konohamaru by his sides.

Konohamaru raced to explain to her their situation. Disjointed words like understaffed, and a surprise trap briefly registered in her mind but she was too busy receiving him from Konohamaru’s grip and hauling him onto the medical bed at the corner of the room to really listen. Kakashi looked like he was about to go into hypovolemic shock any second.

Surprise trap? Enough to wound Kakashi this badly?

“I got him.” She said, her green glowing hands already fretting about, scanning him for any other injuries than the obvious one.

Konohamaru and Mirai retreated out of her office after a few tense moments of silence in which Sakura administered a saline IV and ripped Kakashi’s vest open with one decisive swipe of her index and middle finger, immediately getting to cleansing his wound.

“Sakura—“ he began to talk but she shushed him sharply, forcing him back against the wall as she examined his injury. It seemed like a lightning based attack had pierced through him. The flesh was raw and irritated, threatening infection, the surrounding area charred and blackened.

Upon closer inspection, Sakura startled back to stare at him with wide eyes. “Did you... is this Chidori?”

Kakashi’s breath was growing more ragged, his teeth shattering quietly behind his mask, his eyes screwed tightly shut. He didn’t seem to be capable of answering her yet.

Sakura rushed to the metal cabinet by the stretcher, grabbing a few rolls of gauze, cotton pads and a needle and thread. She dumped them on the tray next to Kakashi and grabbed the woollen blanket she kept for when she slept in her office and wrapped it around his shoulders.

She went through the standard procedure of cleaning and disinfecting bleeding wounds, healing all internal damage as she went and then after a shot of local anaesthetic got to stitching the surface wound. Stimulating his cells to heal anymore would tax his immune system and he didn’t need that right now.

“I was trying to block an attack aimed for Mirai.” He grunted as she poked at the edges of his injury. Sakura’s eyes snapped up to meet his half-lidded ones. “Didn’t expect-- bastard to have a teammate.” He let out a sharp breath through his nose as he shifted to take the weight off his left side and continued, “Hit me in the elbow-- ended up… stabbing myself-- fuck.”

He inhaled deeply every few words, and then finally grit out a pained cuss, reaching for his no-doubt throbbing side. Sakura slapped his hand away.

“Hey, don’t touch that yet.” She growled at him as she began dressing his wound. Internally she was fuming but her hands were steady as she worked, years of practice forcing them to be nothing short of perfect.

“What were you thinking? Going with just Konohamaru and Mirai? You’re smarter than this Kakashi!” Sakura gritted out angrily, unable to hold her tongue. He might be her Hokage but first and foremost he was her best friend and teammate. “I trust you to make the smart decisions, how could you do something so stupid?”

He gave a noncommittal grunt that set her blood boiling beneath the surface. She stewed in silence as she worked, and nearly startled again when the lights abruptly went out, leaving the room a mass of darkness amidst a storm.

The ceiling to floor windows barely let in any lights, the moon absent tonight, concealed by angry grey clouds and heavy raindrops.

She met Kakashi’s eyes in the darkness and huffed in frustration as she leaned even closer to him to wrap the bandage around his back, her hands fluttering blindly over taut, dripping skin. She ignored the way her heart fluttered at the feeling of his breath at her temple. “Unbelievable. Seems like we’ll be here all night.”

“I’m sorry.” He apologised with a pained hitch in his breath, the statement sounding much more intimate whispered into her ear. “It was supposed to be a quick meeting with the Mizukage. An in and out thing. And they’re our allies.”

Sakura sighed, slightly mellowed out at the feeling of him so close to her. “We’re team 7 what were you expecting?”

When she leaned back to try to gauge his expression, her breath caught quietly in her throat as she found their faces much closer than she’d anticipated, his breath ghosting lightly over her cheek.

Sakura’s body momentarily froze, her widened eyes locking with his sleepy ones.

“I don’t know.” He finally muttered, his hand coming up to sweep stray water droplets off her brow, the motion leaving a tingling trail across her forehead. He was still dripping all over. “I’m sorry.”

Feeling a strange lump forming in her throat at the softness of his voice, Sakura reached to caress his cheek in an apology of her own. “Get some rest.”

She helped him lie back on the stretcher and properly covered him with the blanket, matting his hair back and tugging his mask down as she wiped his face dry with a hand towel.

The ghost of a smile twitched his lips as she tapped it over his chin and over the lean muscles of his neck and then finally over each eye, dapping the water droplets away with deliberate gentleness. “You’re an impossible man, did I ever tell you?” She murmured when his breath evened and she thought he might be asleep.

“Couple times,” he responded after a beat of silence, the words coming out as a faint hum than solid syllables, and Sakura huffed quietly at the swarm of butterflies that flooded her stomach.

“Good night, Kakashi.” She responded with an embarrassed smile and turned to the couch to arrange her sleeping place for the night.

//

Sakura wasn’t sure what had woken her up exactly, she couldn’t have been asleep for more than a few hours. She’d been cold, curled up against the back of the couch trying to capture some warmth and then she was warm and cosy and almost half-way asleep again.

She opened her eyes to discover that the blanket she’d previously given Kakashi was draped over her form, tucked in at the sides and Kakashi himself was sat at the edge of her desk, a cup of something warm in his hand.

No wonder I didn’t wake up— Kakashi’s presence and touch had always been incredibly light, and with the how comfortable and safe she’d always felt around the familiar crackling of his chakra thumping just beneath his skin, she’d sensed no alarm, no intrusion for her ninja reflexes to kick in and wake her up.

The skies outside flashed a blinding blue, momentarily lighting up his profile and turning his hair into a bright white, like a beacon of light in the darkness and Sakura lost all the breath in her lungs.

He seemed to have found a shirt somewhere, a white cotton tee, perhaps a size or two too small for him for it stretched taut over the muscles of his back like a second skin. It looked too thin for the cool air in the room, and she shivered for him as she slowly sat up, her blanket pooling around her.

Perhaps he was too lost in thought because he didn’t so much as stir as she padded softly across the carpet covered floors and draped the blanket in her hold over his shoulders.

He startled slightly, his head snapping in her direction. Their eyes met in the dimness and Sakura smiled, “Hey.”

“Hey.” He responded, equally quietly, as she joined him at the edge of the desk, scooting back into a slightly more comfortable position.

“Is everything alright?” She ventured after a beat of silence, watching the way lightning splashed his form with shadows, painting patterns across his pale skin. She’d always associated him with lightning, it was his element, and as terrifying as it was when it chirped like a thousand birds and engulfed his hands with death, she thought it made him beautiful now when it engulfed him with a cocoon of light.

His eyes traced over the skies outside, dragging his gaze from the windows and over to her so that their eyes met again. She waited, wanting to look away from his intense depths of charcoal but finding herself unable to. He was at once as loud as a storm and as quiet as the night. “The last time I assigned a simple mission to a large group of people, they were ambushed and three of them died. First I thought, there’s safety in numbers, lesser chances of things going wrong. Instead, it got them noticed and tracked by a group of missing nins.”

Kakashi without his mask was a myriad of emotions but as she’d long since learned to read his eyes and she found herself almost drowning in the regret swimming there. She looked away first, her chest tight. Sakura knew the exact mission Kakashi spoke of, she’d treated the three other survivors. They were but recently promoted chunnin and she understood how this weighed on Kakashi.

“You couldn’t have known.” She told him, finally, and let silence overtake them.

She understood all too well the kind of emotional baggage that came with losing those in her care, losing patient much like losing soldiers. And it was because of that that she didn’t attempt to console him with false words. Kakashi needed to deal with those matters by himself, that sort of acceptance only born out of one’s self.

Instead, she said what’s been on her mind for hours. “I’m sorry about earlier.”

“No it was an idiotic move, you were within your right to be angry.” He responded rather blankly.

She soldiered through the protective wall that wanted her to keep her emotions and thoughts a secret and fought to keep her embarrassment at bay as she exposed to him more of her honest thoughts. “I had a feeling— the ones you get in your gut, the ones that you said save your life.”

For a moment words failed her, her shoulders tensing with both frustration and crippling awkwardness. Why couldn’t she just fucking say it?

“That I’d get hurt…?” He queried when she didn’t attempt to finish her thought track and instead stared unseeingly at her hands clenched tightly in her lap.

“Yes.” She confirmed after another heavy moment of silence, regaining use of her vocal chords and with it some of her courage. “I get… unreasonably anxious… when you’re away sometimes. And that always coincides with you ending up in this hospital’s care.”

Sakura wondered if her heartbeat sounded as loud to him as it did in her ears, if he, too, could acutely hear its anxious pulsing behind her sternum. She didn’t know what she expected his reaction to be to her confession when she glanced up at him out of the corner of the eye, but it certainly wasn’t the small smile playing at the corner of his mouth. He seemed unreasonably pleased, almost victorious or like how she’d expect someone to look flushed and silently triumphant out of battle.

Her eyebrows rose, her embarrassment easily overshadowed by curiosity as he turned to meet her eyes, his strangely alight with something secret. “A feeling? Are you saying… like we’re soulmates?”

Sakura’s jaw dropped, stunned with his reasoning before embarrassment replaced shock and she found herself, a twenty-five-year-old woman, stammering like a teenager. “N-no! What? I didn’t—!”

Kakashi let his head fall back and laughed heartily, and openly and she cursed the way the sound made warmth fill every cold crack in her soul. The sound was pleasant and amused but not cruelly so, “I’m just teasing you, Sakura.” He chuckled, and she wasn’t sure then which emotion was more overpowering, the need to throttle him or the almost all-compassing want to close the distance between them— perhaps both were of equal conviction.

The tug of war between those two emotions rendered her frozen like a gaping fish out of water, unable to recover or retaliate until his chuckles seized and he turned to watch her with a strange warm look in his eyes.

“You know I’ll always come back.” to you went unsaid but was somehow silently implied by the heaviness of his gaze on her and Sakura found her heart heavy in her chest, like it wanted to burst because it didn’t know how to deal with her emotions anymore.

As ninja, they’d been taught since day one how to suppress emotions, how to control them and how to filter them out so that it never impaired their judgement. And Sakura, for all her honesty and the way she wore her heart on her sleeve, she, too, had learned those lessons. She thought she’d mastered them– but now she felt like the dam of feelings she’d kept locked tight behind an iron wall was bound to suffocate her.

He looked away from her then, and she cursed whatever compelled her to lean forward and press a kiss to his cheek— probably a stupid impulse for Kakahi’s head chose to tilt her way in that instant and the corners of their mouth met in a small, brief kiss.

Sakura startled, froze, and then pulled away from him with a hitching breath, her heart in her throat. “I– um–” heat flooded her cheeks, and panic threatened to take over her but she couldn’t take her eyes off him and the pink burning at the tips of his ears.

He recovered first, his widened eyes closing into sheepish crescents, although a small blush clung to his cheeks. “Maa, Sakura-chan just because you’re a pretty young woman that could get away with it, it doesn’t mean you should take advantage of you poor, unsuspecting patients.”

Sakura stared at him for the second time that hour, floored, her panic thoroughly squashed to be replaced by disbelief. “Wha—?! But I— I didn’t mean to— I wasn’t—!”

Kakashi grinned, with that same flushed look of victory, like he was aware of the fact that she hadn’t meant to kiss him but was pleased with it either way. Sakura, on the other hand, was still resisting the impulse to reach and touch her lips where they kissed. Almost as if she could trap the butterfly like sensation he left fluttering there.

“Impossible man.” She grumbled as she grasped tightly at the edge of the table and looked ahead at the still raging storm, now trying to resist a smile.

She’d always felt this invisible, electric thing hanging between them, like they were opposing forces helplessly tugging at each other, the closer they got the harder the tug became. She thought she was the only one who’d felt it, but in this second, as she glanced at him out of the corner of her eye and watched the way his hand would inch closer to hers only to draw back, she thought he might feel it too.

So Sakura took in a quick, shallow breath, and before she could lose her courage, reached over and grasped his hand in her own. She didn’t dare look at him, no she wasn’t that brave, but this time she didn’t resist her smile when she felt his hand close firmly around hers, his calloused palm circling the soft skin at the back of her hand with deliberate gentleness.

Together, they watched the storm outside.

Note: I’m still going through writer’s block and this took an embarrassingly long time to be written. I hope you like it though.

[beautifulprompto]

Haircut (Carl Grimes X Reader)

this is something i wrote two years ago, but after this msf, i think we should share the carl grimes love, and since this is probably my fav carl grimes fic ive written, and its fluff, i thought id share it here !! its also set around season 5 !! i posted this to my dA here 

During the time you survived with Rick's group since you were taken in from Woodbury you noticed that absolutely no-one has had a hair cut for a long time. Rick furiously needed a shave, Maggie's hair was starting to cover her eyes, and Daryl's eyes could barely be seen anymore. What annoyed you the most was Carl's hair. Since you were both around the same age, you had grown close to him and taken care of his baby sister Judith with him. But his hair had started to grow out to brush lightly against his shoulders, and you could tell it was bothering him slightly. On hot days, he would sometimes sigh and push back strands of hair that stuck to his forehead. When it was cold and the wind was strong, it would blow into his face and he would fumble about, trying not to trip over. Everytime you brought up his hair in a conversation, he would subconsciously pull his hat further over his head, stating that it was 'fine' and 'he wears his hat every second so it wouldn't matter if her got it cut'. It still managed to bother you though. You wouldn't deny that his long hair made him look attractive, it still needed at least a trim.

It had been 2 days since you settled into Alexandria. Since the group was still a little unsure about this community, Rick had told everyone to share one house together, but now that he's slightly relaxed, he let everyone back to the house they were given with. Rick and Carl were given separate houses, and Carl instantly offered to share his house with you. You accepted, noticing the way Rick was muttering to Carol and how they both had slight smirks on their faces and were chuckling. "What do you bet?" Rick lowered his voice when talking to Carol. "I bet Carl is gonna be pre-occupied with other girls soon." Daryl muttered. Carol gasped and lightly hit his shoulder. Rick and Daryl laughed slightly; the first laugh in a while. Rolling your eyes, you walked into your new home with Carl, smiling. It was like a mansion. It had all the first class life that you lived only a few years ago: a front room, a kitchen, a bathroom (with running water) and two bedrooms. After talking about sleeping arrangements, and admiring the house from top to bottom, Carl said that he wanted to shower (to which you blushed at). You nodded, stating that you'll take care of Judith. Judith was seated in the front room, with some toys the community generously offered (once you made sure they were safe), and she was happily stacking some colorful building blocks. Feeding her some apple sauce (which again, was made sure it was deemed safe) and teaching her some basic colors with the blocks, you suddenly heard the sound of running water upstairs, and a glass door sliding open and shut. You blushed madly, trying to think of Walkers, Terminus, Eugene's mindless droning, anything to get your mind off of upstairs. Smiling, you tried to play with Judith so you could try to forget. A few minutes later you heard a knock at the door, and you opened it to reveal Rick, who had shaved off his beard. "You look like a baby!" You teased, and he smiled. "I barely recognize myself anymore." He said. "I barely recognize you too." You said with a small grin. He chuckled slightly. "Where's Carl?" Once again, you felt heat rise to your cheeks. "Um-he's in the shower." Rick nodded, but then smirked slightly. "Are you blushing right now?" You blushed more. "Noooo..." Rick laughed slightly, placing his hand lightly on your shoulder. "You know, you probably shouldn't walk into his room unannounced after he's had that shower." You pouted. "Rick!!" He laughed again. "Anyway, I was just stopping by to pick up Judith. She's doing okay?" You smiled, glad he changed the subject. "Yeah, she's in here. I already fed her, I reckon she just needs a walk." Rick smiled. "Thank you for taking care of her." "Anytime." He said goodbye, and walked out of the house, Judith in his arms. When you shut the door you realized the water had stopped. Blushing slightly over Rick's comment, you sat down in the front room, staring out the window. After a few minutes, you heard bare feet padding downstairs, and braced yourself mentally. "Hey. How long was I in there?" Carl asked you, shuffling in. He had put on some new clothes, and was drying his hair with a towel. Your breath caught in your throat; he looked cute. "I'd say at least half an hour." You said with a sheepish smile. He chuckled, sitting down next to you. "I'm not surprised. I feel amazing." He said, slinging the towel around his shoulders. He smiled at you, making you blush slightly. A glint of something silver caught your eyes, and you quickly glanced away from his face to see what it was. By the kitchen sink was a pair of scissors. "Aha!" You said triumphantly, striding over and snatching the pair of scissors up into your hands. "No excuses, we're cutting your hair now, mister." You said with a smirk. Carl ruffled his hair. "But my hair's fiiiine." "No its not. Grow it any longer and it could become a hazard." You grabbed a nearby chair and pulled it towards you. "Now sit. Otherwise I'll tell Rick how much more of a baby you've been than Judith." Carl huffed, and sulked over to the chair. "Calm down, stroppy, I'm not shaving off your hair. Luckily I was caught how to cut people's hair by my mother, she was a hairdresser." Carl nodded slightly. Gingerly, you ran your fingers through his hair. They were soft and light, as you imagined it. Lightly threading your fingers through his hair so as to make sure it was smooth enough to cut, you lightly grabbed onto some of his hair and cut it off so it reached slightly more above his shoulders. He flinched slightly. "Don't worry, it's just a trim. If you keep still it will be over before you know it." You said, silently cutting his hair. When finished, you dusted any hairs onto the towel he had wrapped around his shoulders and found a mirror. "What do you think?" You asked. Carl smiled at himself slightly. "Thank you." He said. You nodded, a sheepish grin on your face. He threaded his fingers through his hair and sighed. "It doesn't feel the same." "Well, it shouldn't but you'll get used to-" "Not the new haircut. It doesn't feel the same when I thread my fingers through my hair. It's nicer when...you do it." Your eyes widened slightly. A small blush crawled up to your cheeks. "Um...okay?" You squeaked. Carl chuckled, walking up to you and lightly grabbing your hands in his. He brought your hands up to his hair, and you couldn't help but ruffle it slightly. He smiled. "You hair is nice." You blurted out quietly. Tightly pressing your lips together, you stared at him, expecting him to question what you said, but he laughed and leaned into your touch. "Carl, your dad wants you-" Daryl walked unexpectedly into the house, and you quickly jumped back from him, staring at Daryl with wide eyes. He smirked. "Oh, sorry, I'm interrupting something. I'll tell Rick to give you some privacy." Daryl said, walking out and closing the door behind him. Both of you blushed. "That was..um..." You drifted off as Carl walked up to you again, grabbing your hands. His face was close to yours, and you suddenly felt as if you were in a dream. Smiling at him shyly, your hands went back to his hair, pulling him slightly closer. "I think I can have some time alone with you." Carl breathed, sending slight shiver down your spine. "Really now?" You said, glancing down at his lips and back up to his eyes. "Yeah, I do." He whispered, lightly placing his lips on yours. Isn't it strange what growing out your hair can do to your life?

[trexrambling]

Used to This - Part IV

Overview: You’ve lived with the Winchesters for years as a fellow hunter, and everyone has always stayed well in the friend zone. What happens when nightmares come haunting and Dean offers to help? Will things change, or is it all in your head?

Characters: Dean, Reader, a smidgen of Sam

Word Count: 1,638

Warnings: injury with lots of blood, mild language, some snark, some fluff, some questioning of coffee stipulations

A/N: There should only be one more part to go... But my brain sometimes scraps those plans. Thanks for all the love you guys have shown me for this :)

Beta’d by: @wheresthekillswitch - “I freaking love all of this fic but especially this part.” <-- you guys should guess which section she meant

Also beta’d by: @hannahindie - “the patented 'voice raises three octaves when a Winchester drops trou three feet away from you'.”

Read: (Part 1) (Part 2) (Part 3)

“Dean, let me carry her so you can-”

“I’ve got her, Sam.”

“Look, you should-”

“I said I’ve got her.”

“How is she?”

“Just keep driving.”

“She’s losing a lot of blood. Why aren’t we going to the hospital, Dean?”

“Because if she lives through this she’ll kill me for taking her there.”

“I care about her, too. She’s family. Don’t I get a say in this?”

“Sam, just drive.”

“Don’t you dare leave me. You hear me, Y/N? Don’t you dare. Sam would never let me hear the end of it. And you still owe me ten dollars from that bet in Wyoming. So… just keep breathing, okay? You’re still here. I’ve got you.”

I woke up screaming, my hands flying up to tear away the blinding pain and sharp jabs from the base of my skull. Strong hands grabbed my wrists, pulled them to my front and trapped them within a single hand’s grasp while the other pushed my hips down firmly to fight against my thrashing. Another set of hands were on the side of my neck, my left temple, efficiently keeping my head still. I felt trapped, felt the tears spill over as I tried to move away again.

“Y/N! It’s Dean. It’s just me and Sam. Hey, look at me.”

My eyes were swollen and heavy as I opened them, squinting in the too bright light and aimlessly flickering as they searched for something to focus on. I found a dark red stain on the fabric in front of me and stared at it until its edges lost their fuzziness. I was lying on my side, on a bed, and as more and more red spots came into focus I realized what they were. That’s my blood. That’s a lot of my blood.

My eyes traveled to my confined wrists, recognizing the silver ring and strong fingers holding me still. I felt the bed dip beside me, and flannel and green blocked out the bloodstains. Dean’s head came to rest on the mattress, his nose inches from mine. He kept a steady grip on my wrists as he drew my hands to his chest. His other hand continued to push my waist down, but as he felt me grow still his thumb gently rubbed soothing circles against the exposed skin on my upper hip.

“We’ve got to stitch you up so the bleeding will stop,” Dean stated matter of factly. His calm tone helped offset my panic.

I swallowed deeply, the pain in my cranium unrelenting in its attack on my nervous system. “How bad is it?” I croaked out.

Dean slowly let go of my wrists and reached up to brush some stray hair from my face. “Well, bad enough that you’ll need a new blanket for your bed. Unless you like abstract blood art.”

I sniffed. “I just bought this bedspread.”

Dean’s thumb moved to wipe the tears off my cheeks. “I know.” He looked past me. “Ready, Sam?”

“Yeah. You’ll have to hold her still. It’s deep.”

Sam’s hands slid off my neck and temple, and I felt a tug as he pulled the thread tight through my skin. My legs twitched, and I hissed in pain. My fingers found Dean’s flannel and clutched the fabric tightly.

“Just breathe, Y/N,” Dean said gently. His legs wrapped around mine, trapping them in place. His right hand stayed on my waist while his left came up and behind my head. His fingers rested just above the tip of my ear, and he cradled my head firmly against the crook of his arm so my cheek was resting on his bicep.

“You got her?” Sam asked. I could feel his breath on my neck as he got close to keep stitching.

“Yeah, I’ve got her,” Dean replied. He looked at me then. “I really hope you pass out.”

“Gee, thanks,” I wheezed out, “If I die, all my money goes to Sam, especially that ten dollars.”

Dean smiled at me, and for a second I only felt warmth.

And then the needle hit my raw skin.

I did my best to hold still, but the overwhelming pain sent spasms throughout my muscles. I felt Dean’s grip grow tighter and tighter, heard him talking to me without really understanding what he was saying. I tried to focus on his voice as my limbs trembled against my own will.

And then, true to Dean’s wishes, everything went black again.

Fire.

It started at the back of my head and pulsed pain throughout my skull, down my neck, fading out in a steady ache along my shoulders.

I groaned and brought a shaky hand up to gingerly trace the gauze I found securely taped to my head and upper neck. I felt the lumpy line where Sam had managed to piece my skin back together, as well as a lack of what should have been hair bumps. In fact, aside from my soon to be scar, it felt pretty smooth under the bandage.

“Oh hey, you’re awake,” Dean greeted me, leaning forward in the chair he’d placed beside the bed. He reached out to place two fingers along the underside of my jaw. I stiffened at the contact.

“Are you checking my pulse?”

“Yep.”

My eyes rolled and took in my surroundings in the process. “Is this your room?”

“Also yes,” Dean answered, pulling his hand away. “Your bed could have fed a vampire by the time Sam finished stitching you up.”

My fingers sought the bandage again, and I narrowed my eyes at him. “Did you… did you guys shave part of my hair off?”

Dean’s facial features froze in a lopsided smile. He leaned back slightly. “Um… yeah. Yes. That might have happened.”

“Dude, what the hell?!” I snapped, moving to sit up and immediately plopping back down at the wave of dizziness that swept through my system. I scrunched my eyes shut and moaned into the pillow, “Just because Sam won’t let you cut his hair doesn’t mean that mine is fair game.”

Dean chuckled softly. “We only shaved off what we needed to. It was either that or let you bleed out.”

“The latter, please and thank you.”

“I never took you for the beauty queen type, Y/N.”

“S’not that,” I growled at him, “everything just hurts. I feel like pudding with nerve endings.”

I opened my eyes to see Dean looking at me, concern narrowing his eyes. “Can I get you anything?” he asked. A small smirk turned up one corner of his mouth, “Maybe some coffee?”

“Oh, you’re funny.”

“I’m hilarious.”

I rolled my eyes again. “I really just want to sleep.”

Dean tapped his forehead. “Head injury, remember? Sam said to wake you up every hour, just to be safe.”

“Well that’s just great,” I groaned.

“Well, you could be dead, so there’s that.”

“You can take that insightful optimism and shove it straight up your-”

“Hey.”

Dean’s hand touched my shoulder, sending a different form of fire shooting through my arm. I looked at him closely for the first time. He was still in his hunting clothes, dark bloodstains coating his sleeves and dotting his jeans. His eyes were bloodshot, his hair askew from where he’d obviously been running his hands through it. He looked more tired than I’d seen him in months.

“Have you slept at all?” I whispered.

He smiled slightly. “Worried about me, Y/LN?”

I met his gaze. “Yes. You look like hell.”

Dean’s hand slid off my shoulder, traced a route down my arm, and stopped at my hand before lightly curling his fingers around mine. He stared at our hands as he gently rubbed the back of mine with his thumb, and I watched as his brain broke down all the thoughts he had stored in it.

He looked at me again. “For a second there I thought I was going to have to burn another friend’s body.”

I squeezed his fingers as best I could, not really sure what to say.

He was quiet for a moment before he continued. “So you heard the part about the ten dollars, huh?”

“It’s a vague memory.”

“Hear anything else?”

I smiled. “Besides threats to my life if I died, not really.” I saw relief flash across his face, and my curiosity was instantly piqued. “Why? What’d I miss?”

Dean squeezed my hand before sliding his fingers away. “Just Sam comparing hair lengths with you while we shaved it all off.”

I scowled. “If I could move without passing out I would punch you, Winchester.”

“Well, thank goodness for major head trauma then.” He stood and started to strip off his clothes, dropping his bloodstained flannel on the ground before quickly shimmying out of his jeans.

My eyes went wide. “Whatcha doing?” It came out as a squeak. I blamed the head injury for my vocal cord incompetency.

“I thought you wanted to sleep?”

“Well yeah, but-”

“And you’re in my bed.”

“I mean you moved me here so-”

“And someone has to wake you up every hour.”

“But Sam isn’t a doctor so how do we know-”

“Y/N.”

I snapped my mouth closed.

It’s just coffee, I told my brain.

Dean pulled back the covers on the empty side of the bed.

It’s just Dean.

I felt him crawl in beside me, his warmth already trickling to my side despite him keeping his distance.

It doesn’t mean anything.

The light clicked off, and I heard him sigh as he settled all the way into the bed.

It’s just-

An arm wrapped around my waist.

It doesn’t-

Dean’s lips ghosted along the edge of the bandage on my neck.

...mean…

His legs found mine.

...anything.

“Goodnight, Y/N. Talk to you in an hour.”

-Read Part 5-

My Forever Lovelies: @wheresthekillswitch @pinknerdpanda  @emilywritesaboutdean @ruprecht0420 @arryn-nyxx @jotink78 @hiimaprofessionalfangirl @super-not-naturall @aiaranradnay @percywinchester27 @hannahindie @rosie-winchester @nanie5 @feelmyroarrrr @mogaruke @escabell @mrswhozeewhatsis @katymacsupernatural @deanssweetheart23 @oneshoeshort  @claire-of-the-country @greeneyesinlaceandangelsgrace @keelzy2 @angelsandwinchesters @writingmisha @canadianjelly @findingfitnessforme @luulaachops @tas898 @221b-cfordwrites @bluecookiesandbooks @allonsy-yesiwlill @keepcalmandcarryondean @ravengirl94 @dancingring @hollygopossum @charliebradbury1104 @rda1989 @mrsbatesmotel53 @nikkilaf @hexparker @hennessy0274-blog @dixonpotato38 @mickey-m399 @autopistaaningunaparte @fandomismyspiritanimal @anticipate1003 @jarpadandjensenaremyheroes @leather-moccasin-hero @sylverminx @captainemwinchester @watermelonfruitsalad @4401Inc @darthdeziewok @amionthetumbler @smalltowndivaj

Used to This tags: @thing-you-do-with-that-thing @plaidstiel-wormstache @xninastoffels @superwholock1983 @earthtokace @shhhs3cret @night-thinker-23 @rachel68928 @ashleydivine @fanfreak07 @mariazintili @yer-a-wizerd-hrry @fallen-castiel @emmazach @spnfangirl1965 @sujuvixxo @missmischiefmanagement

Dean tag list: @akshi8278 @kathaswings @rockgoddean @carribear31 @daydreamingintheimpala @brindz30 @green-eyed-hunters

Tumblr is a twat waffle and won’t let me tag a LOT of you... Rawr... If it was me messing up your URL let me know and I’ll fix that shiz.

[terryblount]

Octopath Traveller – PC Review

I am one of those weirdos who loves to buy JRPG’s off the Android store rather than taking refuge in the haven of emulation. Many frown when I tell them this, and some check if I remembered to take my medication that morning. Fact is, the store has built up an excellent collection, and these days I can often be found curled up on the couch, working my way through the classics on my tablet.

Through sheer luck, I just finished Dragon Quest IV, and it was fresh off this experience that I fired up my review copy of Octopath Traveller. After making my way through close to fifty hours or so in Octopath’s unforgettable world, I kept noticing the striking similarities it shares with the fourth Dragon Quest game, but also with many JRPG’s of the mid-nineties in general.

Initially I thought the developers, Square Enix and Acquire, had intended to pay homage to their successes in the early scene. After playing Octopath Traveller for myself, however, I realise this game is something more. It has everything we loved about the early days, but with a few tweaks, refinements and innovations that turns the experience into a ‘love letter’ for the genre as many have said.

If this does not impress you then I am done trying!

This game is truly exceptional, and now that we finally have a chance to play it on our favourite platform, I feel like no collection will be complete without it. I finally get why Nintendo insisted on Octopath Traveller as a timed Switch release since I know people who bought their console just to play this game. This is a stellar and accessible JRPG, and you should go try it as soon as you can.

Octopus caliper

I wasn’t being cute when I mentioned there are some hilarious resemblances between DQ IV and Octopath Traveller; one could easily write a whole article just comparing the two. Basically, Octopath Traveller takes the character driven chapters from the opening sections of DQ IV, and inflates it to fill an entire game. As such, this is certainly a JRPG driven forwards by its protagonists rather than its narrative.

When the game opens, you are asked to pick your first-in-command, who from then on represents the hero/heroine in your party. I measure a game’s consistency by opting for unconventional characters, so I selected Primrose, the dancer and former noblewoman (and nearly an exact copy of DQ IV’s Meena, but that’s another story).  Turns out she is also an escort with the ability to ‘allure’ people… definitely a first for me.

Be that as it may, Octopath’s wholehearted committed towards developing its characters is clear from the start.  As the story of Primrose’s life began to unfold, it was a heart-braking tragedy of seeking her father’s murderer. She has to descend to the lowest, most sordid pits of society to gain clues about the killer. Dignity means nothing in her task, nor does the appalling abuse from her handler.

Each character’s story has this deep, evocative writing.

Okay who was cutting onions in here, dammit!? In any case, the player then takes over her story when she finally makes a break in her search, and I helped her to escape the crummy pleasure house. From there, you can set off to any of the nearby villages to encounter seven other heroes and heroines that match Primrose’s story of ambition and self-completion.

This is the modus operandi for Octopath from there on in as you will steadily take each of the eight protagonists through the story of reaching their main obsession. As you probably guessed by now, this little companionship eventually begin to recognize how their paths are intertwined. The gang of misfits soon figure out that they are being set on a course by higher powers in order bring about the resurrection of a powerful force, and the destruction of the world.

Better get going!

The side-missions are rather dull, though. They mostly involve talking to one NPC, and then going through a trial and error system of trying each character’s unique ability on another NPC. For instance, the thief can steal something off them, the merchant can buy something off them, or the warrior can duel them.

While it was strangely hilarious challenging a bent-over old woman to a sword duel, I feel like these little side tasks could have been cut altogether. The payoff for their completion was rarely worth the squeeze.

En guard, you old bat! Give me the recipe for that potato pie or I stick you!

It all comes together

When protagonists themselves have to carry the show, they had better be interesting. While I agree that the eight narrative threads are not the most unique – bordering on cliché even – they have all the heart and depth to match Primrose’s tale. Each character has been given a well-written and interesting story that the player will complete over four chapters for each.

This is how Therion’s story begins.

This had the pleasant upside of keeping things fresh narrative wise. RPG’s tend to make the player work to keep up with their narratives and lore which is nice when it works, but there is always the risk of shattering the player’s  immersion in the game’s central plot. By moving the story forwards one character at a time, Octopath finds a welcome alternative to this hazard. By the time the player has filled up the gang, they will know each character like an old friend.

Unfortunately, it is here where Octopath also makes its biggest mistake. Namely, characters feel almost completely isolated and at odds with one another. They never appear in each other’s cut scenes, and your party will be limited, in most cases, to four players at a time. Jason Schreier in his Kotaku review made the remark that the game might as well be called ‘Quadpath Traveller,’ and I feel inclined to agree.

I get that having eight people crowded together on screen might not have worked, but the interactions between the heroes themselves are far too sparse. The game gave absolutely no reason for why a thief, merchant, apothecary, exotic dancer and a hunter would want to work together.

You might wanna stay home in that case, Tressa. Also, you can see the resemblance to Torneko’s story in Dragon Quest IV.

Worst of all, the experience you get from completing quests and defeating enemies is not shared with idle party members. I can imagine many players will find themselves swinging around a broad sword with a level 50 fighter who has to babysit a level 18 merchant or apothecary towards the home stretch. At least this compels the player to circulate more often between party members, which prevents sinking into that grinding slump where the same attacks are used over and over again.

These are few of my favourite things

I do not own a Nintendo Switch, so up until now I had to get by with play-throughs on YouTube. I never realised how these videos utterly failed to translate the beauty on display in this game. Perhaps it is the fact that my modest PC can run it in 4K at buttery-smooth frame rates, but now that I actually have it playing out in front of me, I must say I have never experienced anything quite like this.

Damn this game is pretty!

Octopath really is a landmark game in terms of how modern tech can fuse 2D sprites with 3D visual effects. The characters and in-game assets are virtually indistinguishable from what was on our screens in the late nineties, however the shadows, depth of field and lighting effects are all in 3D. It makes that old, pixel art style come to life in a way that dropped my jaw, and when you add the vignette effect on the edges of the screen, the overall look is almost dreamlike.

Then there is the audio. Boys and girls read this carefully because I do not say this lightly: This is the best music I have ever experienced in a role-playing game. It ranges from enthralling, up-beat, folk style guitar jingles matching the lawless cliff side landscapes, to lonesome, harp-infused overtures in the mystical forests scenes. Then there are full, orchestral symphonies to heighten the more sharp and intense moments during battles and dramatic plot moments. It makes for a stunning, aural backdrop to your gameplay, and it is worth the price of admission alone.

I should point out that I found the cast far too chatty during battles, though. Perhaps this would have been more bearable if not for how often they said the same thing. I can only hear Olberic yell “My blade is UNBENDING!” so many times, and the same goes for that awkward giggle Therion makes every time it comes to his turn to fight. Just turn down the dialogue I guess, which is a shame in light of the solid voice acting.

The combat

There is no need for me to go into the specifics of how the combat mechanics work as it is bog-standard, turn-based battles. Players attack enemies with either a melee weapon or a selection of abilities, and then wait for the opposition to make a move. The developers have gone through considerable lengths to make the menus and sub-menus streamlined, which I found to be a nice touch.

Typical combat scenario. Notice the little blue shield indicating how many hits until the enemy breaks, and that the vulnerabilities of each character has been displayed underneath.

What is actually worth explaining are the three distinct layers Square Enix and Acquire have built into the combat encounters. One layer is the offensive or defensive moves you act out towards enemies, the second is the boost points.

In Dragon Ball Z style, you can boost offensive or defensive moves by ‘charging up’ a character very much like Goku. Every turn grants you a free boost point for a maximum of five, and you can augment your character’s abilities up to a maximum of three levels. Whereas a sword attack or a lightning strike attack might normally do 20 damage for instance, it might do 35 at a level two boost, or 45 at a level three boost.

Little small, sorry, but the yellow dots in the top right corner show boost point available to that character.

Then there is the ‘break’ system which is the game’s strategy to familiarise the player with enemy weaknesses. Each enemy appears on screen with a shield displaying a number. When the player attacks this enemy’s weaknesses directly, this number drops steadily to zero. This is when the enemy experiences a resistance ‘break,’ meaning that they are stunned for a whole round of turns.

All three layers add up to a really engaging combat experience that ensures skilled turned-based veterans can refine the protagonists into a death squad without the risk of newcomers being overwhelmed. I just wish that battles were somehow not random since they occur just a tad too frequently. I would be hard pressed to call Octopath grindy, but repetitive certainly springs to mind.

One of the classics

I never intended to make Octopath Traveller sound like the perfect game. It’s not, but I must say that I think its first reception back in July 2018 was overly harsh. ‘Squeenix’ and Acquire have done a great job with bringing the unforgiving and cryptic JRPG’s of the early nineties forward a few generations. Best of all, they have somehow kept the essence of these games alive in a palpable way.

Boss battle. Bet you cannot tell which one the boss is…

Octopath Traveller looks absolutely gorgeous, is a musical masterpiece and never tries to overcomplicate things. It is rare that the hard-core Final Fantasy and Persona fanboys can sit at the same table as the more casual players who only dabble in this genre from time to time. In this case, Octopath makes one heck of a conversation piece, and it only weighs in at 3.5GB!

Beautiful music

Unique visuals

Character development

Overall simplicity

Somewhat repetitive

No character exchanges

Lackluster side quests

Experience only affects active party

          Playtime: About 54 hours . Admittedly this was a bit of a rushed playthrough, and I would recommend investing in leveling up

Computer Specs: Windows 10 64-bit computer using Nvidia GTX 1070, i5 4690K CPU, 16GB RAM – Played using an Xbox One Controller

Octopath Traveller – PC Review published first on https://touchgen.tumblr.com/

[terryblount]

Octopath Traveller – PC Review

I am one of those weirdos who loves to buy JRPG’s off the Android store rather than taking refuge in the haven of emulation. Many frown when I tell them this, and some check if I remembered to take my medication that morning. Fact is, the store has built up an excellent collection, and these days I can often be found curled up on the couch, working my way through the classics on my tablet.

Through sheer luck, I just finished Dragon Quest IV, and it was fresh off this experience that I fired up my review copy of Octopath Traveller. After making my way through close to fifty hours or so in Octopath’s unforgettable world, I kept noticing the striking similarities it shares with the fourth Dragon Quest game, but also with many JRPG’s of the mid-nineties in general.

Initially I thought the developers, Square Enix and Acquire, had intended to pay homage to their successes in the early scene. After playing Octopath Traveller for myself, however, I realise this game is something more. It has everything we loved about the early days, but with a few tweaks, refinements and innovations that turns the experience into a ‘love letter’ for the genre as many have said.

If this does not impress you then I am done trying!

This game is truly exceptional, and now that we finally have a chance to play it on our favourite platform, I feel like no collection will be complete without it. I finally get why Nintendo insisted on Octopath Traveller as a timed Switch release since I know people who bought their console just to play this game. This is a stellar and accessible JRPG, and you should go try it as soon as you can.

Octopus caliper

I wasn’t being cute when I mentioned there are some hilarious resemblances between DQ IV and Octopath Traveller; one could easily write a whole article just comparing the two. Basically, Octopath Traveller takes the character driven chapters from the opening sections of DQ IV, and inflates it to fill an entire game. As such, this is certainly a JRPG driven forwards by its protagonists rather than its narrative.

When the game opens, you are asked to pick your first-in-command, who from then on represents the hero/heroine in your party. I measure a game’s consistency by opting for unconventional characters, so I selected Primrose, the dancer and former noblewoman (and nearly an exact copy of DQ IV’s Meena, but that’s another story).  Turns out she is also an escort with the ability to ‘allure’ people… definitely a first for me.

Be that as it may, Octopath’s wholehearted committed towards developing its characters is clear from the start.  As the story of Primrose’s life began to unfold, it was a heart-braking tragedy of seeking her father’s murderer. She has to descend to the lowest, most sordid pits of society to gain clues about the killer. Dignity means nothing in her task, nor does the appalling abuse from her handler.

Each character’s story has this deep, evocative writing.

Okay who was cutting onions in here, dammit!? In any case, the player then takes over her story when she finally makes a break in her search, and I helped her to escape the crummy pleasure house. From there, you can set off to any of the nearby villages to encounter seven other heroes and heroines that match Primrose’s story of ambition and self-completion.

This is the modus operandi for Octopath from there on in as you will steadily take each of the eight protagonists through the story of reaching their main obsession. As you probably guessed by now, this little companionship eventually begin to recognize how their paths are intertwined. The gang of misfits soon figure out that they are being set on a course by higher powers in order bring about the resurrection of a powerful force, and the destruction of the world.

Better get going!

The side-missions are rather dull, though. They mostly involve talking to one NPC, and then going through a trial and error system of trying each character’s unique ability on another NPC. For instance, the thief can steal something off them, the merchant can buy something off them, or the warrior can duel them.

While it was strangely hilarious challenging a bent-over old woman to a sword duel, I feel like these little side tasks could have been cut altogether. The payoff for their completion was rarely worth the squeeze.

En guard, you old bat! Give me the recipe for that potato pie or I stick you!

It all comes together

When protagonists themselves have to carry the show, they had better be interesting. While I agree that the eight narrative threads are not the most unique – bordering on cliché even – they have all the heart and depth to match Primrose’s tale. Each character has been given a well-written and interesting story that the player will complete over four chapters for each.

This is how Therion’s story begins.

This had the pleasant upside of keeping things fresh narrative wise. RPG’s tend to make the player work to keep up with their narratives and lore which is nice when it works, but there is always the risk of shattering the player’s  immersion in the game’s central plot. By moving the story forwards one character at a time, Octopath finds a welcome alternative to this hazard. By the time the player has filled up the gang, they will know each character like an old friend.

Unfortunately, it is here where Octopath also makes its biggest mistake. Namely, characters feel almost completely isolated and at odds with one another. They never appear in each other’s cut scenes, and your party will be limited, in most cases, to four players at a time. Jason Schreier in his Kotaku review made the remark that the game might as well be called ‘Quadpath Traveller,’ and I feel inclined to agree.

I get that having eight people crowded together on screen might not have worked, but the interactions between the heroes themselves are far too sparse. The game gave absolutely no reason for why a thief, merchant, apothecary, exotic dancer and a hunter would want to work together.

You might wanna stay home in that case, Tressa. Also, you can see the resemblance to Torneko’s story in Dragon Quest IV.

Worst of all, the experience you get from completing quests and defeating enemies is not shared with idle party members. I can imagine many players will find themselves swinging around a broad sword with a level 50 fighter who has to babysit a level 18 merchant or apothecary towards the home stretch. At least this compels the player to circulate more often between party members, which prevents sinking into that grinding slump where the same attacks are used over and over again.

These are few of my favourite things

I do not own a Nintendo Switch, so up until now I had to get by with play-throughs on YouTube. I never realised how these videos utterly failed to translate the beauty on display in this game. Perhaps it is the fact that my modest PC can run it in 4K at buttery-smooth frame rates, but now that I actually have it playing out in front of me, I must say I have never experienced anything quite like this.

Damn this game is pretty!

Octopath really is a landmark game in terms of how modern tech can fuse 2D sprites with 3D visual effects. The characters and in-game assets are virtually indistinguishable from what was on our screens in the late nineties, however the shadows, depth of field and lighting effects are all in 3D. It makes that old, pixel art style come to life in a way that dropped my jaw, and when you add the vignette effect on the edges of the screen, the overall look is almost dreamlike.

Then there is the audio. Boys and girls read this carefully because I do not say this lightly: This is the best music I have ever experienced in a role-playing game. It ranges from enthralling, up-beat, folk style guitar jingles matching the lawless cliff side landscapes, to lonesome, harp-infused overtures in the mystical forests scenes. Then there are full, orchestral symphonies to heighten the more sharp and intense moments during battles and dramatic plot moments. It makes for a stunning, aural backdrop to your gameplay, and it is worth the price of admission alone.

I should point out that I found the cast far too chatty during battles, though. Perhaps this would have been more bearable if not for how often they said the same thing. I can only hear Olberic yell “My blade is UNBENDING!” so many times, and the same goes for that awkward giggle Therion makes every time it comes to his turn to fight. Just turn down the dialogue I guess, which is a shame in light of the solid voice acting.

The combat

There is no need for me to go into the specifics of how the combat mechanics work as it is bog-standard, turn-based battles. Players attack enemies with either a melee weapon or a selection of abilities, and then wait for the opposition to make a move. The developers have gone through considerable lengths to make the menus and sub-menus streamlined, which I found to be a nice touch.

Typical combat scenario. Notice the little blue shield indicating how many hits until the enemy breaks, and that the vulnerabilities of each character has been displayed underneath.

What is actually worth explaining are the three distinct layers Square Enix and Acquire have built into the combat encounters. One layer is the offensive or defensive moves you act out towards enemies, the second is the boost points.

In Dragon Ball Z style, you can boost offensive or defensive moves by ‘charging up’ a character very much like Goku. Every turn grants you a free boost point for a maximum of five, and you can augment your character’s abilities up to a maximum of three levels. Whereas a sword attack or a lightning strike attack might normally do 20 damage for instance, it might do 35 at a level two boost, or 45 at a level three boost.

Little small, sorry, but the yellow dots in the top right corner show boost point available to that character.

Then there is the ‘break’ system which is the game’s strategy to familiarise the player with enemy weaknesses. Each enemy appears on screen with a shield displaying a number. When the player attacks this enemy’s weaknesses directly, this number drops steadily to zero. This is when the enemy experiences a resistance ‘break,’ meaning that they are stunned for a whole round of turns.

All three layers add up to a really engaging combat experience that ensures skilled turned-based veterans can refine the protagonists into a death squad without the risk of newcomers being overwhelmed. I just wish that battles were somehow not random since they occur just a tad too frequently. I would be hard pressed to call Octopath grindy, but repetitive certainly springs to mind.

One of the classics

I never intended to make Octopath Traveller sound like the perfect game. It’s not, but I must say that I think its first reception back in July 2018 was overly harsh. ‘Squeenix’ and Acquire have done a great job with bringing the unforgiving and cryptic JRPG’s of the early nineties forward a few generations. Best of all, they have somehow kept the essence of these games alive in a palpable way.

Boss battle. Bet you cannot tell which one the boss is…

Octopath Traveller looks absolutely gorgeous, is a musical masterpiece and never tries to overcomplicate things. It is rare that the hard-core Final Fantasy and Persona fanboys can sit at the same table as the more casual players who only dabble in this genre from time to time. In this case, Octopath makes one heck of a conversation piece, and it only weighs in at 3.5GB!

Beautiful music

Unique visuals

Character development

Overall simplicity

Somewhat repetitive

No character exchanges

Lackluster side quests

Experience only affects active party

          Playtime: About 54 hours . Admittedly this was a bit of a rushed playthrough, and I would recommend investing in leveling up

Computer Specs: Windows 10 64-bit computer using Nvidia GTX 1070, i5 4690K CPU, 16GB RAM – Played using an Xbox One Controller

Octopath Traveller – PC Review published first on https://touchgen.tumblr.com/