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dragonswithjetpacks · 3 years

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Dancing With Remorse

Faryn Mahariel had chosen a life not many would choose. But when his heart belongs to a raven haired witch, it's hard to go anywhere. That is what he believed. And that was what she wanted. But somehow, he was pulled away from her grasp. And there are nights when she desperately wishes to see him again. No matter how twisted the memory may become.

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The breeze rustled leaves above, shaking them into a spiraling motion below. Most of them were still green. But as the winds grew colder, it left the weakest to fall. The arms of the great being moved, shaking it's leaves and creating a dancing light across his face. But he was still. He could smell the waking wood, alive in the sun and wind. His lips transformed into a smile, the skin around his eyes folding as he squinted.

"Are you going nap like this all day?"

"The grass is so soft, vhenan," his voice purred. "Let us stay awhile longer."

Her golden eyes were a reminder of the sun. Fearful and ruthless with heat and passion, but warm and comforting in times of need. He touched her cheek, her pale skin smooth against his calloused finger tips. There was no magic in his blood, but she always fell victim to his spell. She lay back in the grass opposite of him, the top of her head inches away from his own. He reached up to touch the ends of her fingertips. A tease and a hint that she also knew well. She tangled her fingers into his, a sigh escaping her lips as she gave in.

"Alright..." she heaved the words accompanied by another exhale of her breath. "But Kieran will wonder what has hindered our return."

"Leave the boy be," Faryn half shrugged into his shoulder. "He's more than likely skipping stones in the old ruin."

The raven haired sorceress grinned. Her companion was correct. As she closed her eyes she could almost see him just over the mossy hills. Just as she had given a part of herself to him, he had remained connected. There was no immediate threat to him and there would be no reason for her cause alarm for nothing. Further more, if there was any danger to be had in the forest, the probability of one of them detecting it before arrival was very likely.

"Can you hear them?" Faryn asked, his voice above a whisper.

"I hear many things," Morrigan replied coyly.

"The trees," he corrected her. "Can you hear the trees? The way they sigh and moan in the wind. I think it's their favorite thing."

Morrigan listened for a moment, quieting the sound of her breathing just so she could shift her focus on the wood. They cracked their branches and their trunks groaned and as they swayed, they scraped against one another. Faryn was quite right. The trees were speaking, almost singing.

"What an interesting conversation," she bared a full toothed grin.

"Indeed. I feel a bit bad for eavesdropping."

Morrigan, not always fond of his tedious jokes, found herself chuckling. He squeezed her hand as he had always found such beauty in her laughter. Especially when it was of a lighter nature and not say the suffering of another.

The sound of her own laughter echoed before it faded into the emptiness around her. Every day for months on end, it was the only memory she wanted to see of him. Thirteen minutes... and seven seconds. The only time in her life she truly felt happy. And the last time she would have those feelings ever again. The tightening in her chest was followed by a stabbing pain as the regret began to form. It was the same as before.

If only you had realized what it was at that time...

Though... it did not matter. Saving him would never have been less difficult. The situation would not have uncomplicated itself. And she would have still been as she is now: alone.

"People like you and I... we're the only kind that know how this world really works," he had whispered into her hair. "There's no games. No gods that matter. There's just people like us. Surviving."

Her head filled with unwanted rage, bringing with it the anxiety of experiencing such an unfamiliar emotion. Lashing out was the only viable option to her in the heat of the moment, and she struck out to the glass bowl on the pillar. It shattered, sending shards feet away from her. The silver liquid that fill the bowl dropped heavily to the ground. It began to spread more like smoke than water over the shards and into the cracks of the stone. Morrigan buried her hands into her face, cursing her impulsive behavior. There was no putting it back together. She realized that as she knelt down. It was the last time she could see the memory. The last time she would hear his voice. The last time she would recall her own laughter. She touched the liquid, watching it attempt to ripple at the tip of her finger. There was a brief moment where she saw the outline of his face. But then... it was gone...

"I'm so sorry," she choked.

The apology was meant for more than anything she could say. The sorceress was always stubborn, always too practical to apologize for things that she meant. But what she truly was... was sorry for not cherishing the memories. Sorry for watching him die. Sorry for breaking the bowl. And sorry she relied on it so much for just a few minutes of replicated bliss. The soft sound of a child's footsteps brought her to her feet.

"Mother?" he peered around an ashen tree. "I heard something crash. Are you alright?"

"I'm fine, darling," she brushed her hands against her tunic. I just had an accident."

Kieran's youth brought no doubt to the intelligence he wielded. He knew very well his mother did not have accidents. If there was any mention of one, he gathered it was too far from his grasp to ask. His eyes scanned the bowl and it's liquid contents scattered around the ground. Nothing came to mind when he saw it. And curiosity was of no importance to him in that time. A nod was a simple enough reply and his mother accepted it, sending him away with a patient smile and a quiet thought of gratitude. She would never allow he prospect of her weakened state to be observed by her son. And as long her tears never fell, there would be no reason for him to believe there was ever such a thing.

Still, the sadness was overwhelming. The more she combat against it, the more fragile her walls became. Looking back down to the glass, her eyes began to sting. Her hand flicked in a swift flat motion, bringing the glass an inch above the ground. They hovered ominously, dropping silver liquid to the puddle below. The fluid movement from her other hand brought the liquid close to her, circling in a curious pattern at her feet. The glass then danced in the air, stacking atop one another for reasons she did not even know herself. She let them be and turned her attention to the silver circles.

One last time ... she thought to herself.

Again, the face was faint but she could see it. Sorrow and pain crawled from the back of her mind, hitting her with an ache she knew well. Remorse greeted her like an old friend, taking her hand gently at first. But then it squeezed, forcing something from the depths in the vaults of her mind. And it brought forward not a memory at all, but a fear. It was the broken... tainted face of the one she loved. The silver twisted and leapt, corrupting his face further until her soul cracked, sending her buckling forward as she bent in half. Her hands fell into the pool. And his wicked face smiled before vanishing. The thought crossed her mind, as it often did, that she was uncertain which was worse: trying to believe he was dead... or not knowing what happened to him at all...

#morrigan x warden #morrigan x mahariel #angsty morrigan #dragon age #dwjp writing tag #i made something sad you guys #beautifully sad #faryn writing tag

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fifi-uchiha · 5 years

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Born to Live (3/?)

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“Konoha-gakure declared war on Timea.” . .

Kakashi’s words echoed in everyone’s ears, seeming louder than he actually intended. To Sakura, it felt like a harsh kick in the gut she just couldn’t ignore. Without warning, her head started pounding like crazy, her breathing hitched and dizziness was clouding her mind. Her throat clenched and breathing suddenly was a challenge for the leader. Every single ninja was taken over by pure, raw shock because no one could’ve ever dreamed to expect something like this. Konoha wanted a war. They actually declared war.

Why? What did Timea do to them? There was no connection between Konoha and Timea, so why would they voluntarily want to declare war? They have never been enemies, so what the hell happened?! It didn’t make any sense!

“Could that be… a joke or something, Kakashi Sensei..?”, Naruto finally broke the heavy silence.

“No, Naruto. I know the signature and checked the scroll with my sharingan to the smallest detail. It is true. Konoha-gakure does want to fight us.” The bitter answer angered the blond jinchuuriki who clenched his teeth behind his closed mouth, trying to hide his nervousness. “But why? What do they want from us, we never did anything to them, dattebayo!” The jounin closed his eyes and knew that there wasn’t an answer in this world that would satisfy the fox ninja. “My theory is that they found out about Timea’s growing power. As it seems, we’re not only concurring them, Konoha probably sees us as some kind of threat or something.” “And just because of this ridiculous reason they want a death battle?!”, Tenten hissed upset whereas Kakashi just shrugged his shoulders. “That’s how it looks like to me.” “We have ten days.”, the kunoichi breathed. Sakura didn’t even want to think about it and swallowed the thick lump in her too tight throat, so many wild thoughts were hammering against her skull that she almost lost consciousness. The mere imagination of the upcoming fight made her insides clench painfully. Konoha-gakure was a corrupt, calculating, horrible and well experienced opponent. Not only had this land won every battle they ever faced, no, they also barely lost any ninja during those. It was like their entire army was a collection of the best of the best. Every fighter possessed deadly abilities and dangerous kekkei genkais… Now, Timea had to face this blood thirsty army. Timea was forced to fight their most brutal battle and Sakura could not lie here… She was scared. But scared or not, there was nothing they could do to change their critical situation and that’s why she took a deep breath and slammed the offending scroll against a near tree. “I won’t run.”, she declared with her strong, determined voice. “After everything we accomplished… After all those battles we survived, I’m not gonna give up and let Konoha-gakure take over my homeland. Shannaro, if there is one village beside Hermos who could compete with Konoha, it’s Timea.” The soldiers looked at the upset kunoichi who indeed was afraid, however, fear had never stopped her before and it would definitely not start today. Ino, Naruto, Tenten and Kakashi were proud of her and already knew that they wouldn’t turn their backs on the pinkette. “We are all ninjas from Timea-gakure and it is our responsibility to protect our home at any cost! I will not judge anyone who would leave but I made my decision. Uchiha Sasuke and his army can take over lands but we have the will of fire burning in our hearts! Is was us who rebuilt Timea from it’s grounds to a proud land and no matter what, I will protect my home!” Haruno Sakura represented the perfect picture of a great leader even though she hid the truth from her comrades. The army was silent and obviously needed a moment to think about the new situation that would probably change everything. It would be a gruesome, horrible battle. Konoha was incredibly experienced. The army contains only the strongest fighters and Uchiha Sasuke was known to be an absolute deadly shinobi. And Sakura would have to face this shinobi as the leader of Timea… . . . “I’m in!” Yamanaka Ino and Nohara Rin were the first ones to break the silence, smiling at the leader with the pink hair. “Me too!”, Tenten added which didn’t really surprise Sakura. “Hey, I’m totally in, datttebayo!” “Don’t forget about me.”, Kiba grinned and Kakashi looked more than pleased for more and more ninjas raised their hands to voice out their vows. “Count me in!” “I’ll fight with you guys!” “It’s about time we kick some boss ass!” “No way are we gonna lose to Konoha!” “We’re gonna make them feel sorry for challenging us!” A bright smile touched Sakura’s lips while she was watching all her comrades looking confident and determined. Yes, they would have to fight again. Yes, it would be hard for them. Yes, she wanted to cry. But it wouldn’t change anything about her situation and Sakura knew that there weren’t many options to consider. If they wanted Timea to keep it’s freedom and safety, there was no other way around. They literally had no choice. “Guys, we need to see our leader!”, one shinobi suddenly said. “Yeah, he’s right. Why doesn’t he show himself?” Naruto threw Sakura an alarmed look and saw the nervousness in her green eyes. Because yes, she knew what she actually had to do. The army needed to know the truth about the identity of their leader… “He will show up two days before the fight.”, she then promised. “Eight days. And then, we will fight together and win!” The ninjas nodded as everyone rose their fists to show how determined and serious they now were. “YES!” . . . “SASUKE!” Konoha’s most powerful hokage found himself in a dark world in the middle of an empty, fog filled battlefield. He didn’t know where he was nor did he understand how he got here and for some reason, he couldn’t find the will to care. “SASUKE, HELP ME!” It was the horrified voice of a woman that caught his attention and forced him to feel something he never had even begun to think about. The person calling him was definitely a female and didn’t only sound frightened, no, she seemed to be in absolute panic. She was definitely panicking, calling him in dark despair as if she was suffering from the most horrible torture which made him feel bitter, shocking sorrow inside his heart. He was afraid. Sasuke was worried about this woman. “SASUKEEEE!” Her last scream made his insides freeze and his heart clench. That’s when he started running. Sasuke started running and tried to look for her in this dark, unknown world. However, he wasn’t sure who he was trying to find, who he was so worried about that he actually felt physical pain at the mere thought of… being too late. After all, there were no women in his life that mattered enough to make him act like a crying fool, there were no women he actually… loved.

But still. He still felt his blood boil when he heard her piercing scream again. Sasuke was sure that he had never heard such a pain filled, tortured voice, that so much horror and suffering could be even voiced out like that. He always thought that even the most gruesome pain and suffering had certain limits- But he was so awfully wrong. He didn’t want this. Whoever she was, Sasuke did not want her to feel any kind of pain. This beautiful sounding voice shouldn’t scream so damaged and suffering, this stranger shouldn’t be hurt or tortured because… even thinking about it dulled Sasuke’s entire life. “Where are you?!”, he howled. “I’m coming for you, so tell me where you are!” It felt natural talking to her like, as if he actually knew her... “AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!” His eyes twitched in shock, his shaking hands were turned into fists and his jaw hardened as Sasuke ran faster, flashing like lightning to save her while feeling rage burning his blood. “DON’T YOU FUCKING TOUCH HER!”, the black haired hokage screamed who wanted to murder the bastard who dared hurting her. “Let her go or I swear to God, I will rip you to shreds!” His deep voice was burning from hatred and blood thirst, which too wasn’t common for the hokage, but he couldn’t help it and didn’t care either. Every pained scream felt like a kunai being rammed inside his pulsating heart and dammit, he wanted it to stop. He wanted to stop her suffering and save her! “SASUKE! PLEASE, I CAN’T TAKE IT ANYMORE!” She cried and for a second, Sasuke thought he was burning alive. Those unusual, intense feelings were squeezing him and after hearing that piercing, shrill scream, he knew it would be the last one. Sasuke’s body and soul felt her life ending just like that. And then, at this moment… He lost himself. “NOOOOOOOOOOO!” . .. … “No!” Sweat covered and breathless, Sasuke rose up and found himself in his own bedroom again. He felt dizzy, the word around seemed to be vibrating and it took awfully long for him to understand that this horrible scenario ended. For the first time, he was happy to be in his bedroom, really. It was a dream. A horrible, gruesome, too real nightmare. Those really started to get on Sasuke’s nerves..!. . . Sasuke’s day had been kind of boring for nothing special happened. Training, annoying paper work and making sure to prepare the army for the upcoming battle filled his day, but the difference was that the hokage couldn’t quite focus on anything. “You seem distracted, Sasuke-sama.” Neji’s voice brought him back from his depressing thoughts before Sasuke looked to the Hyuuga who -of course- saw right through the hokage. “It’s nothing, Neji.”, he simply brushed off and sighed quietly. “There is nothing do do here for you. You should go home and rest.” Neji nodded understandingly and left the black haired ninja who was really thankful to the gods that the Hyuuga was such an uncomplicated and loyal man. His thoughts drifted off again and Sasuke remembered that godforsaken dream. He really couldn’t understand. Why did he dream about a person he obviously had never seen in his life? Why did he feel such panic and why did it feel so real? Why did he even care if she was hurt or not? As far as he knew, there weren’t many people he would try to save that desperately and those were not women. No woman was that important to him. …. Those dreams had started annoying him approximately two years ago, right after his 21 birthday. At first, he was only able to see the silhouette of a woman who looked graceful and soft while the shadow ofher hair danced in the wind. The woman possessed no colors and seemed like a shadow that had burned itself in his brain. Soft nothings were whispered in his ear by a gentle, beautiful voice that felt so familiar and yet so strange because Sasuke was absolutely sure that he didn’t know a woman who was this close to him. However, those dreams didn’t want to stay nice and soft and turned into horrible nightmares months later. Her voice changed with despair and pain and she started crying and screaming which maddened the black haired hokage who never stopped looking and running for her. Sasuke tried to ignore those nightmares but this task was really far easier said than done because this girl… this woman felt so real. Not only would he never stop trying to save her, Sasuke even… missed her presence… And this is not how the hokage actually was. “Tche. Ridiculous.” Why was he even worrying about such childish dreams? He said it himself, didn’t he? Those nightmares were nothing but ridiculous dreams and Sasuke felt even more ridiculous for worrying about this non existent woman so much. Well, he probably just needed a little training session with Shisui to distract him. Hopefully, those dreams would stop bothering him one day. . . . ……………………………………..…………………………………. “SHANNARO!” A hard punch thundered in the middle of the warm, quiet woods. “Dammit! Dammit, dammit, dammit!” Sakura hated Konoha-gakure and this goddamn bastard Uchiha Sasuke from the deepest bottoms of her heart! Bastard, asshole, fucker, son of a bitch! What kind of person would declare war?! How fucked up in the head must he be to actually declare war for basically no goddamn reason whatsoever?! What the hell was wrong with that bastard?! Sakura was panting, feeling that familiar clench inside her throat while she punished the tree for Uchiha Sasuke’s decision. Breathing became harder, the air had trouble to reach her lungs which Sakura tried to control as calmly as she could… God, she was so angry… For so many years she worked hard and did everything to save her homeland from its own downfall, trying to build a new structure for all the villagers to have a normal life again- After all her efforts, this man showed up and destroyed everything with one, single message. Just to… to fucking prove he’s superior..?! “Oh Sakura, stop torturing the poor tree.” It were Ino and Naruto who finally found the pinkette. “Ino’s right. It didn’t do anything to you, dattebayo.” The blond shinobis knew how devastated their pink haired friend was and tried to cheer her up even if they knew their efforts would be useless. Sakura was good at holding the best speeches and boosting everyone’s confidence, but still, she failed at trying to fight back her own fears. There was no doubt that the Haruno was shaking of fear. “I HATE Konoha!”, she hissed hatefully. “And I HATE that Uchiha-bastard!” Her hand touched her head, fingers pulling at her own braid of desperation. “Get a grip, Sakura, you’re making a scene.”, Ino ordered. “You’re not being yourself.” “How am I supposed to get a grip, Ino? If Timea loses, we will either die or be enslaved!” Just thinking about his made her insides burn and Sakura felt the desire to choke that old bastard for being such an arrogant, blood thirsty son of a bitch! “And let’s not forget that this old asshole is an Uchiha! So not only is his army fucking insane, he too is an exceptional fighter with basically no weaknesses!” Sakura didn’t realize she was walking in circles while she got lost in her own thoughts, talking about her fears without thinking about Ino and Naruto. “Our army is nothing compared to them! Their fighters are perfect and I don’t want to even think about all those kekkei genkais. We are not half as experienced either! And now I even have to tell them the truth about me! What if they lose hope and leave the army? What if they start hating me? What if-” “Come on, no one’s gonna hate you, dattebayo. Especially not now-” “Even IF we can compete with their army...” Sakura continued talking without acknowledging her friend’s efforts to talk to her. “How am I supposed to fight their leader? How can I, a woman without nin- and gen-jutsu, compete with an Uchiha who possesses the sharingan?!” “Sakura, you are a chakra-blocker. You will be able to whop that bastards ass-” “I won’t be able to do shit if he uses his sharingan on me, shannaro!” Sure, Kakashi-sensei always made sure to train with her so she can get used to the sharingan’s powerful abilities, however, Sakura was afraid of the even more dangerous mangekyou sharingan. Because no matter how much she trained with Kakashi, the mangekyou sharingan scared her the most. There was no way Kakashi could prepare her for this because he once told her that the mangekyou is an individual power and every Uchiha possesses different abilities. So, how could she possibly fight someone with such great powers? Sakura wasn’t born with a kekkei genkai or any special powers at all, for God’s sake, that bastard would probably laugh at her for attempting to challenge him. “He’s going to win. That guy will kill me first and then-” “Okay, that’s IT!” A loud slap echoed through the woods and silenced the kunoichi immediately. Naruto’s eyes were widened when Ino looked at Sakura sharply who simply rose her hand and touched her reddened cheek, looking almost paralyzed by her blonde friend’s slap. “Get a fucking grip, Sakura! The whole army is ready to fight and didn’t lose hope at all! So stop mourning us all because we’re not dead yet, you hear me? Don’t you ever forget that this army is not weak!” Naruto felt a little lost, looking back and forth to assess the situation between the hotheaded kunoichis. “How can it be that you are able to cheer everyone up but fail to believe your own words? Believe in our army like you did a dozen times before and act like the leader you fucking are, Haruno Sakura!” Sakura’s jaw dropped and eyes widened after hearing those words. Yamanaka Ino was a woman full of self confidence and possessed high temper and belonged to those people who were able to reach others with bare words. She understood her friend of course, but showing sympathy wouldn’t help her, so being harsh was the only option for the blonde. “Ino’s right, you know.”, Naruto said, planting one hand on her shoulder. “You are our leader and everyone trusts you. You will be accepted and no one is gonna leave the army just because you’re a woman.”, he assured and looked like he really believed what he said. “We should just enjoy our life for a few days. Let’s just stop worrying for a while and use this time to recover from the last battle. We can do it, Sakura, like we always do.” The grin on his face was honest and comforting and Sakura felt hope shining inside her again after realizing that Ino and Naruto really believed they could win. So… She did, too. Sakura wanted to believe in her army and smiled for being depressed wouldn’t do any good and probably have more negative effects on her. “You’re right...”, she then said before she dried her tears with the back of her hand. “I believe in our army, shannaro.”

. . . In all her happiness, the group didn’t realize the purple-eyed observer whose eyes were fixated on the three ninjas. A wide, sinister smirk tucked at his lips after hearing the more than shocking information he gladly gained. Who would have thought that the mysterious leader was actually a woman..? “Well, that’s really interesting...” ……………………………………………………………………………………… “Come on, wildcat. Give it to me, dattebayo...” Ino rolled her blues eyes in bemused annoyance while training with Naruto and threw several kunais at the fox ninja who expertly dodged them. She blocked one of his punches, flipped back to gain some distance and threw three shuriken which Naruto -again- blocked with his kunai. Both ninjas trained for hours now, both of them didn’t really give it their all for this match was just a little distraction to them after having so much stress lately. “Baby, we both know you can do better than this.”, Naruto grinned smugly. “Call me that one more time and I will feed you with your intestines.” Naruto laughed a little troubled and wondered where the Yamanaka learned to use such amusing threats. The blonde was one hell of a hot challenge with a temper that was on the same level as Sakura’s which actually said a lot. Speaking of- Sakura had accompanied Kiba and Tenten who wanted to get something to eat while Kakashi Sensei and Rin Sensei were looking for more recruits that would join their army. So that’s why Ino and Naruto had decided to have a little match and of course, the jinchuuriki made sure to drive her crazy. Naruto admitted… that he had a thing for Ino. Her sharp tongue, her exceptional skills as a kunoichi combined with her caring nature she tried to hide to bad was appealing to him for Naruto found this interesting mixture absolutely amazing. Probably too much for is own good, really… “You let your guard open, Baby.” Before Naruto could even blink, he was tackled and found himself fall to the ground with a warm body above him. She pushed him to the ground and had this little, sexy smirk on her lips which somehow excited the shinobi who grinned at her confidence. “I win.” His heartbeat quickened when he felt her hips dangerously near his crotch and swallowed because -damn- she felt good. Dangerously good. Almost too good for his and her own good. But then, out of nowhere, the unthinkable happened. Naruto heard a quite noise and acted immediately by flipping her body around and pressing her to the ground to shield her from three kunais that were thrown in their direction. “What the hell..?!” The ninjas got up quickly and waited for more attacks while looking for the attackers, backs touching and bodies alarmed. Dozens of weapons were flying at their direction, obviously trying to kill them fast as Naruto and Ino blocked every single weapon with their kunais. They actually wanted to capture the strangers to investigate them, however, their enemies didn’t stop with their assaults so they didn’t really have a choice. “Okay, I don’t have time for this bullshit!” Ino reached out with both her arms and formed her strongest hand seal to use the kekkei genkai she mastered thanks to some intense training with the Yamanaka Clan. “I’ll cover you, Ino!”, Naruto assured whom she trusted without any concern. Ino closed her eyes to take a few minutes to concentrate and detect the chakra sources which really took a while for the blonde because whoever attacked them knew well to cover their chakra excellently. The veins around her eyes pulsated, her heart beat strongly against her chest as she breathed calmly, before she finally opened her glowing eyes. “Mind destruction!” Within five seconds Ino felt how she controlled four ninjas and Naruto blinked unsure about the way how Ino’s hands were violently shaking, as if she was carrying the world with them. “Holy fuck, they’re tough..!”, she grunted. “Come on, Naruto… URGH-… Finish them off now!” Nodding, Naruto obeyed to her command and didn’t need long to find the attackers and end their life quickly. It was really shocking to him that some robbers managed to get that close to their place. “Ino? Are you okay?”, the worried ninja asked and saw her nod, even though she was sweating from exhaustion. “Yeah, I’m okay.”, she panted, wiping the sweat from her forehead. “Those were some tough bastards. Really gotta hand it to them...” The Yamanaka actually gave it her all and wasted a lot of chakra which didn’t happen that often. She want to Naruto to inspect the dead bodies whereas the Yamanaka tilted her head in confusion. Those guys didn’t look like typical robbers to her for all of them wore headbands like every other ninja in this world. However, there was nothing carved into their headbands, making it impossible to find out which village had sent them. The piece of metal was just blank and it didn’t take long for Ino to know who those guys were. “Naruto, these bastards aren’t just average robbers...” “WHAT?” But this couldn’t be...- “Hey! Naruto, Ino!” The two blond shinobis turned around and saw Sakura, Tenten and Kiba who all looked riled up and exhausted. “Thank God, you’re okay!”, Kiba said relieved when he saw them, confusing the ninjas even more. Their clothes were dirty and torn, their chakra depleted and their faced more than troubled which only leaded to one conclusion… A fight. “Okay, what the fuck just happened?!”, Naruto demanded angrily, looking at the pink haired leader who was still upset and exhausted. “We were attacked...”, Tenten panted, still trying to calm down after the last incident. “And the attackers came from another village..!” . . . ::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::: Well hellooooo and thank you for reading the third chapter of my unfortunately not too spectacular fanfic. Sorry about that, but I need to build up the plot but I promise, even if my English isn’t perfect, you’re gonna love it! Also, as you can see, my version of Ino and co and their abilities are a little different :D I did that on purpose because… I dunno, it’s a fanfic and I like their new powers lol Guys, I’m so exhausted. I became a Zumba Instructor a few months ago and now, I give Zumba lessons 7 times every week! I’m so happy, but damn, my legs are still shaking :,D Well, I hope you liked this chapter and forgive me my typos hehe

with love Fifi-Uchiha <3

#sasusaku #naruino #born to live 3 #naruto

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thepartyresponsible · 6 years

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this fill is for @roguetelepath, who had the beautiful idea of Jason Todd/Harry Potter with “a post-war, done with everything Harry in Gotham.”

my general disregard for canon compliance is stepped up a bit here, because i’ve only read the first seven books and seen their movies. i know nothing about fantastic beasts.

...well, i know that i am a fantastic beast, but that’s probably not what the movie is about.

Talia would call it a Lazarus gift, the way Jason can sense magic these days. She’d call it that - a gift - because she’s never experienced it herself. When the dark-haired man passes behind him, Jason feels the magic on him, sharp and unpleasant, like fingernails and ice chips scraping across the back of his neck. It doesn’t feel much like a gift, but he’ll grant that it’s interesting.

The place is a dive bar, sure, but people usually don’t layer on high-level repulsion charms before they go out for a drink. Especially when they’re nowhere near the magic-friendly districts of the city.

Jason counts thirty seconds and then he stands up, takes his beer, and follows the man across the bar. The magic pushes against him, but charms that rely on redirection tend to lose most of their punch when you confront them head on. He feels it, though, the whole way over, chilled air settling across every inch of exposed skin.

“Hey,” he says, as he leans into the space next to him at the bar. Jason smiles, trying for friendly, self-aware enough to know that he’s probably missing the mark.

“Hello,” the man says, glancing at him. He has a British accent and some kind of spell on his face, concentrated in the center of his forehead. Jason can’t see behind it, but cosmetic magic always looks wrong in his eyes, vaguely blue-tinted and reflective.

Jason never did finish high school, but the dealers on his street taught him all about basic arithmetic.

An English accent, a concealed mark on his forehead, and magic, a lot of it, equals Harry fucking Potter, hiding out in a shitty Gotham bar.

Jason thinks about asking him if his press knows he’s here, but Potter’s watching him now, mouth bullied into a flat, miserable frown, pretty green eyes gone all dark and defensive. Jason spends most of his nights patrolling the city with a mask on his face; he knows what it’s like to try to cut your way out of an identity you don’t want anymore.

It’s a little like clawing your way out of a coffin.

“Buy you a drink?” Jason asks, instead.

Potter blinks at him. His eyes dart toward the bartender, who’s hanging back, reading Jason. “There some reason you would like to?” he asks, after a moment.

“Sure,” Jason says, with a shrug. There are a dozen reasons he would like to. He read the news, when it hit, a couple years back. He knows all about the clusterfuck that happened to the British Ministry. He knows about the horcruxes, and the bullshit Dark Lord. He knows about the dead kids. “I’ve got a thing,” he says, “for brunettes.”

“Really,” Potter repeats, like he doesn’t believe it. Like he’s exhausted by the very idea of pretending, again, to believe whatever lie someone’s selling him.

“Sure,” Jason says. It even has the benefit of being true. He looks over at the bartender, who finally starts making his approach, apparently reassured that he doesn’t need to stay out of the shrapnel zone anymore.

“Look,” Jason says, when Potter just keeps staring down at the empty bar napkin in front of him. “You’re here to drink. You really think it’s a good idea to do that alone?”

Potter’s eyes snap up to his, and there’s a moment where Jason can feel himself being assessed. He doesn’t mind. He’s been calculating how dangerous Potter is since he walked into the bar.

“Fine,” Potter says. “But I’m terrible company.”

“Oh, good,” Jason says, settling onto the nearest bar stool. “Me too.”

Later, after they’ve shared a few beers and some meandering conversation, after Harry quietly eased the repulsion charm until it disappeared entirely, they go outside to smoke behind the bar. Harry – who introduced himself as Neville Longbottom – goes through the whole process of fishing out his lighter and hunching inward, shielding his cigarette from the wind.

Jason snaps his fingers, summons a bright blue magical flame that dances briefly above his thumb, and lights his cigarette neatly, efficiently, waving the flame out of existence while Harry’s still holding his stupid lighter in the air.

“Thought so,” Harry says, after a beat of silence. “How’d you know about me?”

Jason rolls his eyes and snaps his fingers again, holds the flame under Harry’s cigarette until it finally lights. He closes his hand around the fire, and it disappears. “Yeah,” he says, “you’re really not that subtle.”

Harry sizes him up again. He’s been doing that all night. Jason wants to tell him that, someday, he’ll shake himself free from the habit of continuously updating the threat level of everyone around him, but Jason’s an asshole, not a liar. Shit like that never, ever goes away.

“This whole city,” Harry says, settling back against the wall, “is cursed. How do you stand it?”

Jason shrugs. “Grew up here,” he says. “Get sick if I leave for too long.”

Harry raises his eyebrows, thinks that over. “Do you really?”

Jason nods, although it’s not a sickness the way that word maybe implies. It’s more like an addiction. Leaving the city for too long leads to anxious, skittery, bone-deep aches that feel like withdrawals. There’s a reason people don’t leave Gotham, no matter how shitty the place is, no matter what they lose to it.

“Over there,” Jason says, “you British wizards, you’d probably call it Dark magic.”

“Call it Dark magic?” Harry shoots him a faintly incredulous look, lighting up his green eyes with skepticism. “It is Dark. This whole city’s Dark.”

“It’s all just magic,” Jason says. The difference is that this kind’s got a higher price and a sharper bite. And maybe Jason would care more about the former if he weren’t so dedicated to the latter.

Sometimes, he can feel the echoes of the spellwork he’s done settling into his joints, aging him early, rotting him from the inside out. But there are hundreds of people alive today that wouldn’t be, if he hadn’t done what he’d done. So what’s it matter, in the end? He’s living on borrowed time anyway.

Harry frowns at him. Jason figures that’s fair. Harry’s probably still a little sensitive to that whole bullshit light-and-dark divide. Bruce can get that way, too, if you let him corner you into a philosophical debate about it. But the reality is Bruce uses whatever magic he can, and dark and light are just words frightened people use to keep each other in line.

“It feels bad,” Harry says, finally, and gestures outward, toward the sprawling nightmare of the city.

And, yeah, Jason imagines it does. The city always seems to weigh heavy on new arrivals. “If it feels so bad,” Jason says, “why the hell are you here?”

He already knows. Of course he knows. He knows why every single one of them surfaces here, all the runaways, the fugitives, the deserters. He knows what Gotham can offer people, if they’re desperate enough to bargain.

“Can’t be traced here,” Harry says, finally, after he busies himself for a while with the nearly finished cigarette in his hand. “I’m on vacation.”

“Yeah,” Jason says, with a smile, as he flicks his cigarette into a nearly puddle. “Sure. The kind of vacation where you’re actively hiding from everyone who knows you. That kind of vacation.”

Harry’s eyes narrow. “I’m not hiding,” he says. He sounds like he means it. Maybe he hasn’t figured that part out for himself yet.

Jason grins at him, leans closer, settles his hand on the brick wall beside Harry’s head. “So, Neville Longbottom,” he says, enjoying the quickfire focus that ignites in Harry’s eyes at the mocking tone Jason uses when he calls him by a name they both know doesn’t belong to him. “You got a place to stay yet?”

Harry’s still for a second, and then he drops his cigarette to the ground, crushes it beneath his boot. He runs his fingers through his hair, and, in the wavering light of the nearby neon sign, Jason catches the glint of a line of scars down Harry’s hand: I must not tell lies.

England, he thinks, is just as hard on its boy heroes as Gotham. Maybe the whole world over, Robins and Harry Potters get eaten alive.

“I’m entertaining options,” Harry tells him. For a second, his eyes drop down Jason’s face, to his mouth, his throat, down all the way to his hips and then slowly back up. And then he looks away, squints up the alleyway. “But,” he says, “I’m a nightmare to share a room with.”

“Oh, really?” Jason thinks it’s sweet that Harry said share a room instead of share a bed. Especially since he just got finished eye-fucking him in the back alley behind one of Gotham’s least impressive bars.

“Yeah,” Harry says, eyes dropping, dark with guilt and maybe shame. “I’ve got-- dreams. Bad ones. Broke somebody’s nose once.”

For fuck’s sake. This is what happens, Jason thinks. This is what happens when you’re fourteen and someone you trust tells you that you can save the world.

Jason’s not sure of the details of what happened to Harry. They were, as usual, on the brink of the end of the world in Gotham, too. But he knows the look on Harry’s face, knows the weight of that directionless rage, the drag of all that that hollowed-out exhaustion. He knows what it’s like to play hero too young.

“This is Gotham,” Jason reminds him. “You don’t have to apologize for shit like that here. If we couldn’t handle a few nightmares, we’d all be sleeping alone.”

Harry’s eyebrows pull together. He sizes him up again, and Jason waits, lets that threat analysis buffer until Harry nods, once, slow and thoughtful. Cautious. “Well,” Harry says, “not sure I’ll be staying the night.”

Jason rolls his eyes. “Break my heart, English.”

Harry grins, then, bright and uncomplicated, sharing the joke. Jason sees, for a second, who he could have been, if he hadn’t been sent out to fight, if he hadn’t been asked to save the world before he had a chance to find his place in it.

It’s no use, second-guessing the sacrifice once it’s already been made. But Jason wishes like hell that all these old men would learn to fight and lose their own Goddamn battles.

Jason wonders if that’s the reason the two of them do what they do. He wonders if Harry’s an Auror and Jason’s a vigilante so they can put themselves in front of all those desperate, stupid kids, build a wall with their bodies that keeps all the starry-eyed, Bambi-faced preteens from looking at the you must be this tall to avert the apocalypse sign and figuring fuck it, close enough.

Or maybe this is what they do because it’s all they know how to do. Maybe, once you put a price on your life, hand it over in trade, you can’t ever get back to a place where you have any value at all.

“C’mon,” Jason says. He tips his head up the alleyway. “Let me show you the parts of Gotham that are slightly less shitty.”

Harry smiles, and it doesn’t have the wattage of that grin, but the grittiness of it – the worn-down edges, the glint of danger in his eyes – has a hook all its own. Jason always did have a soft spot for lost causes.

“You know,” Harry says, as they start up the alleyway. “My name isn’t actually Neville Longbottom.”

“Well, holy shit, English,” Jason says, feigning shock, clutching his non-existent pearls. “Does this mean you’re Hermione Granger?”

Harry laughs, sharp and surprised, and there are shadows in his eyes, scars on his skin, but there’s still life in him, still something bright and sweet and worth preserving.

As they walk up the alley, Jason feels the magic fade, like the softest brush of breath against his throat. When he looks over, Harry’s scar is clear on his face. It feels like a declaration, like some kind of trust.

“Oh, hey, Harry Potter,” Jason says, with a small, sideways smile, “welcome to Gotham.”

#writing #fic #fill

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literateape · 6 years

Text

Humpty Dumpty Fell Off the Wall and Now Lives As a Paraplegic

By Don Hall

Neutral. Uncommitted. Unbiased. Undecided.

What beige-like descriptors.

The people who embrace and justify the squatting shuffle of the fence-sitter are those who want to stay friends with both parties of a divorce with no regard for the reason behind it, they wait until the election is pretty much decided before casting their vote, they watch their friend make sexually and racially offensive slurs and turn a blind eye, they wait and choose to not make a choice when it matters.

"After patriots tore down the statue of King George III in New York City on July 9, 1776, they melted parts of it down and made bullets to use against the British.

It is impossible to know the exact number of American colonists who favored or opposed independence.

For years it was widely believed that one third favored the Revolution, one third opposed it, and one third were undecided. This stems from an estimate made by John Adams in his personal writings in 1815.

Historians have since concluded that Adams was referring to American attitudes toward the French Revolution, not ours. The current thought is that about 20 percent of the colonists were Loyalists — those whose remained loyal to England and King George. Another small group in terms of percentage were the dedicated patriots, for whom there was no alternative but independence.

Often overlooked are the fence-sitters who made up the largest group."

SOURCE

They are often overlooked because their contribution was zero. Nada. Nothing but making it more difficult for the nation-to-be to move forward (or backward.) Fence-sitting is understandable, though. Generally not of the neutral or even-handed sort, I have experienced my own bouts of indecision in the guise of diplomacy and I’m almost always regretful of those moments.

I regret my refusal to wholeheartedly endorse Al Gore when he ran for president. If more of us had rallied more aggressively in his favor rather than sitting on the sidelines explaining that he was wooden and uninspiring, we might not have had eight fucking years of Bush Jr. or the longest war in American history. Kinda makes one re-think all the criticism and indecision of Ms. Clinton, don't it?

I regret continuing to remain a close friend with a former band director who I knew was an adscititious gay-hater, ignoring his barbs and homoragic jokes until I found out he regularly donated to organizations that were designed specifically to curtail gay rights. Only then did I make the decision to severe ties with him. Too little, too late.

I watched Lydia Lucio brand a friend and mentor in her nascent storytelling days a racist and a sexist and go after him with a ferocity that seemed unnecessary and vindictive, and I sat on the fence. I refused to choose sides because I was a friend to both. Certainly a chunk of my motivation for casually straddling the wall between them was arrogance but whatever the rationale, a year later I paid for that non-choice as she viciously turned the same tactics on me, going a step further to enlist others to the cause.

When I see white people in a Starbucks or a Waffle House or on the street watching police use abusive physical force on black people instead of stepping in, I see fence-sitters. Refusing to choose out of fear of retribution or apathy (or white supremacy — don't wanna forget that…)

Each time a kid who commits suicide (and apparently they are doing this in record numbers since the advent of social media and the pocket sized super computer) because of online bullying, there were teachers and parents and other kids who watched the click-baity fun and said nothing, did nothing. Same with the white guy shooters. Fucking fence-sitters.

That voter, holding out his support, thinking that his one vote will shift the tide rather than the tide being a whole motherfucking bunch of votes and money and time? The rails of that fence are dead center up his bunghole. The appearance of a spine is really just the fence post propping him up.

Certainly, throwing one’s allegiance to a cause without thinking it through is stupid.

Think it through. Observe the behavior. Weigh the consequences.

Then make a fucking choice.

Social media makes fence-sitting easier. Understanding that being a Faceborg friend or a Twitter-follower is not at all the same as being an authentic friend or genuine follower makes it an uncomplicated non-choice to see shitty behavior from one “friend” to another and ignore the implications. Remain connected with both because, hey, it isn’t your fight, right?

I wrote a piece for the Ape back in January of 2017 entitled The Company You Keep Defines Who You Are:

"Certainly, we each are our own person. Certainly, we are not so influenced by the people around us as to be so blatantly a composite of them. But just as certain is the fact that those with whom we spend the most of our time shape who we become.

Women who spend a lot of time together often begin to menstruate on the same cycle. We pick up smoking, petty theft, language, dress, prejudice, ideology much in the same way. Creatures born to inhabit tribes, it is our natural instinct to adopt the patterns of the herd. It's one of the reasons that the Internet can so easily allow us to form mobs that fail to thoroughly read or reason before rendering a perceived enemy to reputable shreds."

I once had a longtime friend ask me why we didn’t hang out anymore. At first I didn’t really have an answer, and the old salt of “growing apart” came to mind. Later it hit me. She was still close friends with my ex-wife who, after sleeping with another friend, went on a semi-public campaign of reasons why we divorced that included a litany of how terrible I was but failed to mention her infidelity. My friend decided that her behavior was fine (it wasn’t, after all, about her and I probably deserved the cuckoldry) and rode that fence.

An insidious side effect of social media is that, while in the world of flesh and bone I can craftily avoid those weaselly fuckers whom I find noxious and hateful, with the many fence-sitters on that Friends list, I am constantly surprised by things that remind me of them. The ease of not choosing online, of remaining detached and out of the line of fire, creates webs of connectivity with people whom we no longer want to be connected.

(Christ. As I'm typing this, I see a notification from a good friend espousing a special comedy project illustrated by said ex-wife's husband who has gone out of his way to shitmouth me online! Good holy cocknabbing GAWD, I'm truly learning to detest social media!)

"With the ubiquity of online social network sites and the substantial amount of time being spent on them, important questions have arisen regarding the effect of online social interactions on well-being.

Results from some studies have suggested that social media use might increase the risk of mental health problems and might compromise well-being more generally. Use of social media may detract from face-to-face relationships, reduce investment in meaningful activities, increase sedentary behavior by encouraging more screen time, lead to Internet addiction, and erode self-esteem through unfavorable social comparisons."

SOURCE

I have made the argument that social media is just a tool and it is the user of that tool who decides how to use it. Given the growing tendency of accidentally stumbling upon the tantrum-throwing, polemic-spreading, bullying fuckfaces of the world and increasingly feeling the desire to get a baseball bat, wrap it in barbed wire, throw on my motorcycle jacket and "save" a few people, it's time to change the landscape some. I've spent too much time learning to manage my temper (in the Inside Out version of my brain, I have two emotions: Rage and Joy. They are identical twins and finish each other's sentences) to let the fence-sitters in my feed inadvertently open doorways to unreasoning hatred.

I no longer unfriend. The term has too many unintended meanings. I simply block you out. Understanding that a Faceborg friendship is not the same thing as an actual friendship, if you are my friend, I'll see you around. If you suddenly find that you can no longer see my online presence, that's what happened. Most people won't even notice which means I'm starting to do this right.

I can no longer sit on the fence when it comes to FB. I'd rather enjoy my day, use this tool to appreciate those around me and ignore those who can't make a choice.

Think it through. Observe the behavior. Weigh the consequences.

Then make a fucking choice.

#fence-sitters #culture of social media

0 notes

theliterateape · 6 years

Text

Humpty Dumpty Fell Off the Wall and Now Lives As a Paraplegic

By Don Hall

Neutral. Uncommitted. Unbiased. Undecided.

What beige-like descriptors.

"After patriots tore down the statue of King George III in New York City on July 9, 1776, they melted parts of it down and made bullets to use against the British.

It is impossible to know the exact number of American colonists who favored or opposed independence.

Often overlooked are the fence-sitters who made up the largest group."

SOURCE

Certainly, throwing one’s allegiance to a cause without thinking it through is stupid.

Think it through. Observe the behavior. Weigh the consequences.

Then make a fucking choice.

I wrote a piece for the Ape back in January of 2017 entitled The Company You Keep Defines Who You Are:

SOURCE

I can no longer sit on the fence when it comes to FB. I'd rather enjoy my day, use this tool to appreciate those around me and ignore those who can't make a choice.

Think it through. Observe the behavior. Weigh the consequences.

Then make a fucking choice.

#fence-sitters #culture of social media

0 notes