#and now all i gotta do is wait for my degree to be processed | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

Visit Blog

Explore Tumblr blogs with no restrictions, modern design and the best experience.

Fun Fact

28.6 is the average number of monthly visits per US mobile user.

#and now all i gotta do is wait for my degree to be processed

mydearlybeloathed · 7 months

Text

𝐀 𝐅𝐀𝐓𝐀𝐋 𝐇𝐀𝐁𝐈𝐓

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: growing worried about the degree of your nail biting habit, nico ignores the advice of his boyfriend and takes matters into his own hands.

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: nico di angelo x platonic!gn!reader

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭:: 1.7k

𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭: a curse word i think, nail biting

Agitated was the only word to express how Nico Di Angelo felt, watching as you picked at the hangnail currently torturing you. The two of you were sitting in a mythos lesson at Camp Halfblood, but neither of you were listening.

While you were focused on getting rid of this hangnail—biting off half your nail in the process—Nico gritted his teeth as he observed the horrible nervous habit of yours. Finally, he had enough, and swiped your wrist away from your face.

His glare was firmly planted on your face. “Stop. You could get an infection that way.” He retreated into his seat beside you, slouching over. “Plus, its gotta hurt like a devil.”

You shrugged in reply as you tucked your hands in your hoodie pocket to keep them away from your mouth. “Eh. It does. Can’t help it though.”

“I know,” your best friend said through a sigh, a tiny grin sipping across his pale face.

“Besides, I won’t actually get an infection from biting my nails, Nico.”

His brows rose just slightly. “How do you know?”

“Because,” you snapped back, messing with your nails in the confines of your pocket now, waiting for when Nico was gone to finish evening them out. “That’s stupid.”

He scoffed and looked away. “Go ask Will, and he’ll tell you it’s not.”

“He’s biased.”

“How?”

It only took one look, one raise of your brows, and the boy’s pale face was flushed as he shoved your shoulder. “Shut up.”

“I didn’t say anything,” you laugh, and the discussion was over. For now, at least. If anything, you’d only made Nico even more determined to prove you wrong.

He understood, of course. You really couldn’t help it. But he wanted to help you, at the very least, and if that meant scaring you into kicking the habit, so be it.

“Could you talk to them about it?” he asked—begged—Will. He was practically chasing his boyfriend around the infirmary, ranting about his deep rooted worry for their mutual friend.

Will was being patient, or, he was really trying to be, but with the previous day’s Capture the Flag game gone awry, and every bed in the infirmary holding a whining little shit camper, Nico was really testing him.

“Nico,” Will finally said, leading him into the supply room and away from the gossiping ears of those around. “I’ll talk to them, but I think you should too.”

“I have been–”

“I mean talk to them and listen too.” Will silenced Nico with a look, pursing his lips as he chose the right words. “Have another conversation about it, okay?”

Nico wanted to ask again, but anytime he brought it up, you just shut down and found an excuse to leave. Weeks went by, and Nico’s worry got the better of him. He decided to take matters into his own hands, much to the exhaustion of Will.

Coming out of the shadows, Nico entered into the throne room of Hades. The place was dim, torches alighting the walls just enough for him to make out the pillars and, most importantly, the three thorns at the end of the ling chamber.

Each throne was empty, but someone was there. He felt them, their presence, somewhere nearby. Scanning the area, Nico zeroed in on the archway leading out to the palace gardens, where all the beloved plants of the Queen were grown. Bingo.

Nico slinked outside, setting eyes on a pallidly beautiful woman tending to a patch of black roses. Her back was to him, but instantly, she rose from her knees and turned, her gaze burning into him with a malice.

Nico halted a few feet from her, hands stuffed in his hoodie pockets and his hair falling into his face. “Hey.”

Persephone looked down her nose at him. “Bastard son.” A subtle smile settled on her face. “About time you came home.”

He shrugged. “Haven’t had time, you know? Anyway, is Dad around?”

With a light scoff the Queen of the Underworld twirled her hand, sending black roots to wrap around Nico’s ankles. “No time for your stepmother? Typical. I give you and that nice Apollo boy gifts every birthday, and this is the thanks I get?”

Nico chuckled as he shook the roots off and said, “Sorry, I just have something really important I need from him.”

“Fine,” Persephone snapped. “Hades!”

A moment later Nico’s father stepped out of the shadows, frustration seeping off of him. He gritted out, “Yes, my love?”

Persephone pointed to Nico, who waved weakly when his father’s eyes found him. “Oh. Hello, boy. What do you need?”

Nico looked out of the garden, and in the distance he could see the Fields of Asphodel. “How many people have died from biting their nails?”

“Honestly,” said Hades as he and his son approached the fields, shades parting for them as they went. “To think I can just tell you off the top of my head is ridiculous. Do you have any idea how many have died?”

Nico gave him a look. “Are you going to tell me?”

“No, because it’s impossible,” snapped Hades. “You can have your look around. Surely someone fits your description.”

Nico raised his brows. “No way I’m doing this alone. You see how big this place is?”

Sighing, Hades gave his son a withered look, before bellowed, “Come forth those who have died of... What was it?”

“Nail biting.”

Hades paused, questioned his immortal life choices, and continued, “Those who have died of nail biting!”

To Nico’s surprise, around thirty shades stepped forward. Hades stuck around for the time being, having the shades stand in single file as Nico interviewed them one by one.

By the time Hades grew bored and his departure inspired the scattering of the shades, Nico had what he needed, and promptly dragged a ghost to the Overworld.

“Brooklynn,” he called for you, walking into the Big House where you’d been filing papers for Chiron--for a price, of course. This wasn’t free labour.

You smiled at him. “Sup.”

Nico was nervous about something, you noticed quickly, abandoning your work for a moment to see why he was fidgeting with the end of his jacket. “You okay?”

“Oh, yeah,” he assured. “I just had something to show you.”

As you stood there waiting, Nico called out for someone, but instead of entering through the door, they just materialized out of thin air. Startled, you simply looked from the shade to your best friend. “Who’s this?”

“Oh,” Nico blanked. “I never asked.”

“I–I’m Jim, Your Highness” said the terrified shade.

Nico nodded. “Right, this is Jim.”

Confused beyond all else, you screwed your brows together and just stared at him. “Nico, what is this?”

“An intervention,” he put simply, turning on the shade with shary eyes. “Jim, tell Y/N why you’re dead.”

“Nico!” you seethed.

The shade—Jim—shook his head hurriedly. “No, it’s no trouble, Your Highness. I–well, I–I died of a heart attack.”

Impatient, Nico waved him on. “Caused by…”

“Oh, uhm, it was septicemia.” At my puzzled look, Jim elaborated. “A blood infection.”

Nico still wasn’t satisfied, rolling his eyes and urging, “And how’d you get it, Jim?”

The gloomy shade glanced down at his hands, holding them up and saying, “Well, I had a nervous habit. Bit my nails down to the nub every day. I guess I caught something ‘cause of the constant open wounds.”

Now it all made sense. With your eyes locked on the shade, you became conscious that you were picking at a hangnail on your thumb as you stood there, peeling away skin and opening a fresh cut. “Oh.”

“See,” said Nico cheerfully, trying to clap Jim on the back, but his hand only passed through the shade. “Told you. You can die from biting your nails.”

The longer you said nothing, and the longer you stared into space, the more uncomfortable Nico got. He glanced over and locked eyes with Jim, who offered a shrug in reply. Nico sighed. “You’re dismissed.”

And the shade faded as quickly as he’d arrived, leaving only Nico and you. He rocked on his heels, watching you carefully. “Y/N?”

As his hand reache dout to poke you back to life, you swatted him away and did just that, but you weren’t as grateful as Nico had hoped you’d be. Instead, your eyes were narrowed and your fists were tight at your sides. “Nico, what the fuck?”

“I–” he stammered. “I thought this would help. Motivation to stop…”

“It didn’t,” you snapped, voice cracking. Nico’s breath hitched; your eyes were red and your chin shook. What had he done wrong?

“I… I don’t get it.”

You held up your hand, littered in Bluey bandaids fresh from Will’s kit. “I can’t stop, Nico. I’ve tried.”

Try harder, he thought, but didn’t say. “I–I’m sorry. I thought I was helping.”

“Helping would be leaving me alone,” you said slowly, swallowing thickly.

Now, Nico wasn’t great at this comfort thing, but he knew one thing for certain: leaving was mostly never the right call. Will had taught him that. Talk to them and listen too. “Y/N, I really am sorry.”

Your eyes didn’t meet his, shame crawling up your neck as you hid your hands in your hoodie pockets. “Yeah, I know. I know. Just… leave it, okay?”

“Okay…”

He didn’t bring it up again. He was always too scared of hurting you to do that. Instead, he listened, and watched for when your fingers were particularly more wounded than usual.

Nico made sure there was always a fun box of bandaids in your cabin, and he knew the Paw Patrol and Strawberry Shortcake ones were your favorite. You were never out of neosporin, and new shades of nail polish showed up on your nightstand every once in a while.

And though you never said anything about it, you were grateful, and you liked how he smiled when you painted your nails and got them to grow out a bit before it chipped away and the cycle restarted.

Occasionally, a joke about a man named Jim will come up, first by you of course, and Nico could only stand locking eyes with you for two seconds before he keeled over laughing. No one else understands, and neither of you care to explain.

#percy jackson #heroes of olympus #nico di angelo #nico di angelo x reader #x platonic!reader #nico di angelo x platonic!reader #gn reader #will solace #solangelo #percy jackson oneshot #percy jackson and the olympians #rick riordan #nico x reader #nico x platonic!reader #nico di angelo one shots #nico di angelo pjo

330 notes · View notes

anathemafiction · 5 days

Note

Hello! I've been a fan of you for some time now, and I've grown to be interested in writing an interactive novel myself! Problem is, I have no idea how to start. How did you get into writing interactive fiction and how is the process different than writing a regular novel? What do you like most about it? Thanks and have a great day!

Hello!! I got into Interactive Fiction when I first read Choice of the Dragon and Heroes Rise all those years back. From there, I read more and more games and, eventually, found the Cog forum full of WIPS— at the time, Tumblr IF culture didn't exist.

The big game changers, however, were Choice of Rebels and Zombie Exodus: Safe Heaven. When I read those games, I was blasted with the full potential of this medium. Like a great, blazing wind hitting me in the face, I understood we can create worlds, weave narratives, and write characters as layered as the ones we read about in a traditional book.

Plus, you get a say in what happens!

I can't say exactly how different it is to write traditional novels because I never wrote a full book. Before the Rose, I wrote a lot of short stories. But, IF is extremely different from traditional writing because, most of all, the protagonist doesn't belong to you. The characters, even, don't belong to you. It's a two-way street of creating a story with strangers you'll never meet.

So, you must consider, always, the reader. Whether in traditional writing, my advice is that you shouldn't. Write for yourself, yes, but in IF, you can't do it 100%. Writing is a dialogue between myself and this metaphorical, all-encompassing reader.

The best thing is that in collaborative writing you'll come up with phrases, situations, and even characters you never planned. Beka, the Goliath, and even, to some degree, Lance, are all characters that would have been tiny footnotes if not for this internal reader that demanded: "Wait, but I want to know more about this person."

It's a lot of work. Right now, I'm in a bit of a slog where I have to write different conversations and, even, different start of scenes based on previous choices. It has made me slow down my writing speed considerably. Is it fun to go over a scene two, three, sometimes even four times? No. It's tedious. IF writing will have a lot of times where you'll just have to do something even when you don't particularly enjoy it.

But, when you do get to the parts you enjoy? When the text comes alive and the protagonist goes from this vague, silhouette-like blob in your mind to a fully-formed, distinct person? When the MC turned into Romanus and a city I saw on the map into Tarragona, or a bard who is secretly a spy deepened into one of my favorite characters I've ever written? Those moments make all the tedious ones worth it.

You gotta love it, that's my advice. If you don't, you'll never finish the project. No matter how many likes, asks, and fanart you get.

#have a great day too!#the golden rose #personal

61 notes · View notes

qqueenofhades · 7 months

Note

Think what strikes me about something like "we can't vote because the system is rigged! Ban the electoral college!" is the big underlying implication of it.

That there is no multiple solutions or paths, only the one correct path and everything else is worthless.

And that's incredibly frustrating because there are two levels of problems with it:

is the utter dismissiveness of anything other than their specific solution, which ignores how any degree of positive change cannot occur with only just ONE idea, it's usually the result of many ideas that lead to change.

The fact that it feels like they're skipping every step in between the current situation to this end result, or actively fixating on themselves having the correct solution, but only by literally getting everything in between completely wrong in the process.

Like, the latter point in particular is like a complex math equation: Just because you got the right answer doesn't mean you can just ignore every difficult step in between, or just assume that all of the WRONG processes become validated retroactively because you stumbled into the correct answer. You'd literally get failed and be forced to redo the problem if you tried that shit in math.

I saw a poll the other day claiming that support for abolishing the Electoral College had now reached 65% of all Americans. Now, I take all polls, whether good or bad, with a grain of salt, but this does reflect a growing awareness that the EC is a horrible racist anti-democratic dinosaur only applied to the presidential election and only used for electing Republicans who don't win the nationwide popular vote, and that there's a genuine groundswell of support to abolish it. See the National Popular Vote Interstate Compact, which could possibly collect enough state-by-state ratifications to go into effect into 2028 (in the best-case scenario). So even all the bitching about how "the system is rigged" (which. WE KNOW! WE KNOW! There's not a single Democratic voter going to vote like WOW I LOVE THE ELECTORAL COLLEGE CAN'T WAIT FOR MY VOTE TO DEPEND ON HOW MUCH IT COUNTS THANKS TO THE ELECTORAL COLLEGE WHEE OLD DEAD WHITE GUYS!) blatantly ignores that a possible seismic change IS possibly in the offing, because people put in the work to make it happen!!! The fact that the EC might soon be superseded or disempowered is FUCKING MONUMENTALLY HUGE!!! It has existed literally since the beginning of America and arbitrated every single presidential election!!! And let me tell you, the people working to make that change and fundamentally reshape American democracy are absolutely not the Online Leftists, whose grasp of civic and political theory starts and ends at "wah the system is rigged I do not vote I am very smart!"

This also reminds me of the recent idiots in my notes complaining that Biden was a) not "genuine" in supporting the striking auto workers, that b) Don't You Know He Broke The Rail Strike (the follow-up where he gave the railworkers what they most wanted with that strike was conveniently never mentioned), or c) that he wasn't "doing it for the right reasons" (whatever the fuck that means). Which accurately reflects their belief that the way you do politics, or praxis, or anything at all, is just by having the Really Goodest Mostest Purest Intentions really hard, and that's it. Like. Aside from the fact that it's impossible to prove why Biden is privately motivated to do anything, we have a long track record demonstrating that he is a person of genuine Catholic faith who has been moving more and more to the left overall, and has been the most pro-union, pro-labor president in American history. So first of all, complaining that "he's not GENUINE!!!!" in supporting the strikers is impossible to prove, and contradicted by actual evidence. But the Online Leftists gotta feel More Gooder Than Him somehow, so.

Likewise: as I said in one of my previous posts about Hillary Clinton: I do not give a fuck if she was privately the most Neoliberal Corporate Centrist Shill Ever To Shill (and as I also said, none of those words means what the Online Leftists think they do). I do not care about the American monarch president's personal feelings, unless they reflect directly on the policy that they make and the real-world effects that it has. I don't care if Clinton killed puppies (or dreamed about killing puppies, which for the thoughtcrime police is equally bad), as long as she appointed 3 new liberal justices to SCOTUS and throughout the courts, instead of the hacks that Trump forced onto the bench and literally everything else he did. In the same vein, Biden could secretly be like "hahahaha fuck all workers BIG CORPORATIONS FOR LYFE but I gotta support the workers and get them their rights so they'll vote 4 meeee" (not that I actually think he is, but still) and hold onto your hankies, children: I DO NOT CARE! Because the tangible real-world effects of that policy that he is working hard on making results in a better economy for those workers and substantial redistribution of capital away from the oligarchs for the first time in a generation! Not to mention, I kind of like the idea that a president decides to make himself most appealing to workers instead of bosses! But for the Online Leftists, if this action isn't done with the Sufficiently Pure Motives, it is Wrong and Bad and Not Good Enough and Blah Blah Biden Sekrit Republican.

Anyway. Yes. That. The end.

#anonymous #ask #politics for ts

73 notes · View notes

divinegrey · 2 years

Text

h̲i̲d̲i̲n̲g̲ ̲i̲n̲ ̲t̲h̲e̲ ̲b̲e̲d̲r̲o̲o̲m̲ ̲/̲ ̲k̲i̲l̲l̲j̲o̲y̲ ̲x̲ ̲g̲n̲!̲r̲e̲a̲d̲e̲r̲

first killjoy prompt! sorry to my friend who waited ages for me to write this LOL SDJKHFSHJF

prompt: college au with killjoy 👀

words: 1200

warnings: mentions of alcohol

Oh, jesus.

You need to get out of this room. There are way too many people stuffed into the cramped living room of a sorority house, and you regret ever agreeing to come to this when you should probably be studying for an exam you have in a few days. Far too late to do that now; you’re a few too many drinks in to think about reviewing the biological processes of the amygdala.

What’s the amygdala again?

You stumble up the stairs, tripping on every other step.

The amygdala is the almond-shaped mass of gray matter inside the cerebral hemisphere, involved with experiencing emotions.

Maybe you don’t need to study for your exam after all.

Walking in the hallway, you press your hand on the doors. Each one you try, they’re all locked, and you’re not super interested in accidentally walking in on people having sex at a sorority party.

To your luck, though, the door at the end of the hallway is ajar and you don’t hear any suspicious sounds of fornication. Taking your chance, you step in and shut the door behind you. After twisting the lock, you let out an exhale. Finally, some peace and quiet away from the blasting music and beer pong.

“Uh, hi?”

“Oh, fuck me!” You nearly jump out of your skin, a shock of fear clearing your head of alcohol within a second. Your head snaps toward the window sill, finding a woman sitting in it, wearing a green beanie and a puffy yellow jacket. Hands on your knees, you hunch over and let out a breath of relief. “Fuck, man! You scared the shit out of me.”

“Sorry,” the woman says, turning away sheepishly. She flips a small device in her hands, focused on the moving parts and the shifting pieces. Given that this might be the only safe room in this house, you decide to make peace with your room partner, walking over and flopping down into a chair by the window. The woman glances at you, then back down.

“Hey, wait a minute. You’re… you’re Klara, right? I think we had General Chemistry chemistry together a few years ago, with Dr. Callas,” you say, straightening up in the chair. The recognition passes over the woman’s face, and she fixes her posture, head cocked to you.

“Yeah, you’re Y/N! You threw the paper airplane at her during the middle of a lecture and actually hit her,” Klara says, pointing at you with the mechanical toy between her fingers. “I can’t believe she didn’t expel you on sight. She’s on the college board of directors!”

“That’s because I was so good I didn’t get caught,” you reply, folding your arms over your chest. You sigh. “Damn, that was a while ago. Gen Chem is a cakewalk compared to advanced organic chemistry.”

“Doesn’t Dr. Callas also teach that class?” Klara tilts her head to the side, folding her legs in her lap.

“Oh my god, yes, but she’s not as bad as she was in Gen Chem, I swear,” you say, running your hand over your head. “She’s the last chemistry class I gotta take for my degree, thank god.”

Klara laughs, but doesn’t ask any further questions. Taking that as your cue to shut the fuck up, you lean back in your chair, pulling out your phone. Your friend Sunwoo is texting you, asking where you are.

Upstairs with this chick named Klara, she’s pretty cool. She was in Gen Chem with us in freshman year, you reply.

Her reply is immediate. shit, ur w killjoy! tell her i said hi c:

“My friend Sunwoo says hi with a smiling emoticon,” you say. Klara looks up.

“Is it the c with the colons?” Klara asks, and you nod. At that, Klara rolls her eyes. “Jett’s got everyone doing that one instead of the proper colon with parenthesis smiley face. It’s ridiculous.”

“Jett?” You tilt your head to the side.

“It’s a joke— our entire friend group have codenames. We gave them to each other in the event that we all suddenly had to save the Earth from apocalyptic doom,” Klara explains, twisting the toy around in her hands until something pops out, and then she resumes fidgeting around with it. “Sunwoo is Jett, our friend Jamie is Phoenix, our dorm RA is Skye, so on and so forth.”

“And you’re Killjoy?” You clarify.

She rubs the back of her neck. “Yeah, I got that nickname because I do stuff like this. Hide away in bedrooms at parties I get dragged to.”

Frowning, you reply, “That’s not a bad thing. It’s a smart choice, honestly. There’s enough dude-bro sweat down there to fill an olympic pool and it does not smell pretty.”

“That’s what I said! It’s so disgusting, I don’t know how Jett and Phoenix deal with it. You’d think they’d learn to stop taking me to these parties, but they still do,” Klara says, and you can’t help but smile at the way she talks so animatedly, gesturing with the small toy in her hand. You’d be worried about her teetering out of the open window, but she keeps going on and on about how Jett and Phoenix are menaces to society, corrupting their poor freshman friend Neon.

So you sit and listen to her, finding this to be the most refreshing thing about your night, sitting in this room with Klara. You catch up with her, talking about where you’ve both gone in the past years. Klara went into computer science and engineering, and you stayed the course of biology, hoping to eventually become someone important in the medical field.

(“Remind me later to hook you up with my friend Sage! She’s a doctor, she could totally help you out, she’s super sweet.” “How’d you meet her?” “Uh… Phoenix ate shit on asphalt once downtown and Sage happened to be nearby and patched him up. It’s a whole story.”)

You learn that there’s a lot more to the surface than there appears to be with Klara— she’s shy at first, with the way you walked into the room and she said hardly a thing, but now that you’ve spent time with her, talking about the wackiest things known to mankind, she’s so energetic that its infectious.

“Hey, this might be really forward, and you’re free to say no, but I know a ramen place that's still open. You wanna ditch the party and go?” You ask, watching the shock on Klara’s face happen in rapid phases. “It’s a ten minute walk from here, tops. I’ll even carry you the whole way.”

You swear you see a blush on her cheeks as she tilts her head down, clicking the buttons on the toy rapidly. You’re about to rescind your offer when Klara gets down from the window and grabs your hand, pulling you off the chair.

“You’re paying!” Klara says, but the words hardly register in your head when you look down at your conjoined hands.

So much for going to a party, you think to yourself, hand in hand with Klara, bumping into each other’s shoulders as you go down the stairs and exit the house.

~~~~~ A/N: KJ is very cute i love her lots

#killjoy x reader #valorant killjoy x reader #killjoy #killjoy valorant #killjoy imagines #valorant x reader #valorant fanfiction #valorant

107 notes · View notes

lemonandlime22 · 2 years

Text

Randomly generated incorrect quotes pt 32 obey me i did like like 20 so, ✨✨✨✨! (I refused to change any, ok except for one but thats only because luke was getting yelled at and the last one wasn't changed i swear!) ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Mephisto: I'm gonna get my pilot's license. I've already got a driver's license and a cosmetology license, that's two of the big five licenses. Luke: The big five licenses? Mephisto: Driver's license, cosmetology license, pilot's license, fishing license, and… license to kill! I can't wait to get that one.

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

Thirteen: I baked you a pie! Mephisto: Really?! What flavor? Thirteen: *pulls gun out of the pie* DEATH!

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

Solomon: *fast-forwards all the way through the movie* Mammon: You can't just skip to the happy ending! Solomon: I don't have time for their problems.

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

Levi: I'm trying to juggle family life and work life but I can't seem to find a balance. What do you suggest I do to keep everyone happy? Satan, deadpan: Quit your job, kill your family.

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

Mc: So, are they your friend or... Beel: They’re like Lucifer, but if Lucifer was ordered to be around you. Mc: Oh, so Raphael. Beel: Precisely!

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

Levi: I regret getting dragged into your heterosexual tomfoolery.

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

Barbatos, sniffling: Calm down, I’m probably not sick. It might just be allergies. Lucifer: Okay, tell me this: are you like, really tired? Barbatos: I have depression, what do you think?

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

Levi: Come on, Simon! How any times do I have to apologize? Simeon: Once! Levi: ...No.

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

Mc, spraying a melted cutting board with a tiny water gun: We gotta cool this bitch down. Cool it down. Solomon: I actually just put the cutting board in the oven... Beel, visibly confused: Okay, so they decided to put the cutting board in the oven? Mc, spraying Solomon: You FUCKING DUMBASS! Solomon: Dude, I forgot- Mc: OH MY FUCKING GOD! We're trying to make Chicken Alfredo right now, and you fucking MELT the cutting board in the oven at 400 DEGREES FAHRENHEIT!? Simeon: *Watching in complete confusion while trying to process this whole situation.*

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

Barbatos: *gets a text* Oh! It’s Belphe. Solomon, excitedly: Did they get me the stuff? Barbatos: Yeah, they say they got you the clown costume, the power drill, and 12 gallons of blood. Solomon: Wow! Where’d they find 12 gallons of fake blood? Barbatos: You wanted fake blood? Solomon: Barbatos: I’ll go call Belphe.

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

Belphe: Diavolo is a strings kid. We must sacrifice them to the band gods. Thirteen: Yes. Mammon: You're right. It'd be a good initiation for me. Diavolo: Wait, guys, what about the truce we signed- Thirteen: What truce? Belphe: *sigh* The truce that we must destroy all the choir kids and leave the strings alone. Mc: Wait, I'm a choir kid! Everyone else: *prepares for sacrifice*

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

Asmo: I typed "bitch" into my GPS and guess what? I'm in your driveway. Thirteen: Asmo: Vroom vroom, come out already.

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

Barbatos: How is spring not everyone’s favorite season? The trees are PINK, guys! Raphael: Allergies are also a problem, y'know. Barbatos: But pink. Mc: And it's hot. Barbatos: PINK!

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

Thirteen: What are you drinking? Diavolo: Vodka. Thirteen: Straight? Diavolo: No, gay. Why?

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

Lucifer: Welcome to Fucking Applebees, do you want apples or bees? Asmo: Bees? Lucifer: THEY HAVE SELECTED THE BEES! Asmo: Wait- *Barbatos approaches, shaking a jar of bees menacingly*

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

Belphe: Fellas, I gotta know for science. Is the opposite of red green or blue? Beel: Technically a mix of green and blue? Belphe: So blurple. Beel: That's implying you're mixing blue and purple. Belphe: Would you rather have fucking bleen? MOTHERFUCKING GRUE? Beel: You were confusing before but now I'm scared.

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

Mammon: You need to be more careful! Raphael, who was dragged into Mammon's issue: Careful? CAREFUL?! I'LL CAREFULLY WRAP MY HANDS AROUND YOUR THROAT-

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

Raphael: If you could guess, how many brain cells do you have? Beel: Dorito’s cool ranch. Raphael: Raphael: I'm just gonna assume zero for now. Beel: I love that song.

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

Diavolo: Did you bring Mammon? Mc, gesturing to Lucifer: No, but I brought the next best thing. Diavolo: Lucifer? The next best thing would be Thirteen. Lucifer: I would be offended, but Thirteen is freakishly strong.

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

Computer: Please enter a password. Beel: *types in Mc* Computer: Your password is too weak. Beel: How fucking DARE YOU-

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

129 notes · View notes

marengogo · 1 year

Text

UGH!-5: JUNGKOO-GATE

Memories That Cannot Be Erased - by Sim Hee Jin [The Glory, Pt.2 (Original Soundtrack from the Netflix Series)]

[Music is a very big part of my life and I’m MOSTLY INCAPABLE of writing without music, so I just thought I'd share what I am listening to while writing this]

–🐺–🐺–🐺–

I was going to just play the Sims, while watching youtubers reacting to “The Glory”, Anything BTS, or anything which my mind & soul might deem to be needed at the very present. Needed to feel something, what? I don’t quite know myself, maybe something that will help me finally carry on with my project? Maybe something that will make me feel happy for the time being, at this very moment? Or maybe just something that will make me feel like I can forget that there are so many thing I must remember, at least for one fucking day. Yeah, I was going to do all of that right at this very moment, and I still will, but now it will be after I’m done writing this.

So I am here writing this because I couldn’t stop myself from doing so, because, AND HEADS-UP THIS IS ABOUT TO GET VERY GRAPHIC ✌🏾, when one is pressing to go to the toilet, they should. Trying to hold it in, is very bad for your system as a whole, same goes for throwing up or sneezing, or anything else which obviously your body has decided that “yeah no, this can’t stay here, it's gotta to go. Now”. So release myself I will, but like everything else in life EVERYTHING AND ANYTHING there is a place for such activity. When it comes to excrement, the toilet is such a place. When it comes to sneezing, opening your mouth widely into someone else’s face is not the place. When it comes to my feelings, with regards to a specific topic, my blog is one such place.

In real life, I am the type of person that cracks jokes to no end, because it makes me happy knowing that I was the person who was able to make you laugh; I love it, I almost crave it. I am the type of person who would choose friendship over romance, in the sense that if we are going to have a crush on the same human, I will step back and that is a fault, nothing to brag about, at all, because I don’t like unprovoked conflicts when your life has been a constant fight, after fight, after fucking fight, you will quickly try to veer clear of any, if you can and also I grew to be very selfish about my romantic ideal, in my head, if you really liked me like that, I shouldn’t have to compete with someone else also another fault, to a certain degree, so I’ll just keep being me, wait, and see; if we are not meant to be, I’ll be just as fine on my own, I got used to it. I am the type who is also so patient and nonchalant that, if you don’t know me, you will straight away peg me as the person you can easily walk all over, if you do know me, you will be carefully looking for ways to intelligently tell me anything, and if you love me friend or lover you know you can just come at me and we will get at it, whatever “it” may be.

Out of the many things that I am not, forgetful is one. I will remember anything: trivial, important, bad, good, numbers, shapes of clouds, you name it; I will remember it AND WHAT A FUCKING NIGHTMARE THAT IS and let me tell you, a memory like that is usually the product of a well trained self-defense mechanism process, so also nothing to brag about. I am not a person who can sit and watch seemingly innocent people take an unwarranted beating, be it physical or emotional, because I was once there myself and I wished someone else stood up for me. I am not a saint, through life experience I morphed myself into something far from actually, so I will never truly judge you, unless you ask me to, and anything else will always just be a deliberate relying of my opinion, in my blog.

So what does any of this have to do with Jikook? Hmmm … yesterday’s live, heavily highlighted how people like me, or rather, people who are not like a certain demographic in this fandom, are often not given the benefit of the doubt. It’s all so fucking guilty until proven innocent. It reminded me just how jarringly white and black many seem to be when it comes to Jikook’s relationship in general and as the gray-citizen that I am, it is alway so criminally mind-blowing that I usually have no words and just leave it at that unless being otherwise prompted or if I see someone I care about being pestered.

Yesterday however, it specifically made me think about JK. I don’t think I’ve ever said this anywhere in my blog but I heavily relate to JK in his way of thinking, and perhaps also feeling soulwise I think I might be closer to Yoongi, but we are about to find out soon enough, which is probably why I like JM so much 😜😜😜. Because, people such as myself and JK tend to either joke or stay calm as their MO, we usually don’t speak about important things with people we don’t know/connect with, and when we do, it might look so out of nowhere, it will end up feeling “uncharacteristic” hence sounding weird, forced and scary 👻 at times.

Out of all that, there is one particular aspect I feel like JK and I have in common, which is the fact that you can't tell me what to do, at all. That is your quickest way to win a ticket at my “I think not, in fact, I will definitely find a way to NOT do what you just told me you want me to do” Show 🤡. The one very big difference I have with JK, however, is that his parents seem to have been the child's personal decisions supportive-type, whereas alas mine were not. So even though in my formative years I was a bit of a loose cannon and did everything I wanted, it was always just as long as it didn’t involve my parents. They had/have working on it, therapy, is a wonderful thing the strongest hold on me. But so … who has a hold on JK? Does anyone even have a hold on him?

Hobi has expressed how JK is “handsome, but doesn't listen”. Yoongi has expressed how “JK might be a genius but that doesn't mean he doesn't work hard at what he does”. JM has expressed how “JK is different behind the cameras, he is actually cute, but also has a sort of manliness to himself”. Namjoon has expressed how “even though every member of BTS is important, there is no replacement for Jungkook”. Tae has expressed that “JK is the type of person who has outstanding basic talent”. Jin has expressed, with his caring actions towards JK, how even though JK is formidable, he is still a young man in a big-big world.

Very stubborn. Impossibly talented. Regrettably young.

That is what I have gathered of JK, thus far. From what we’ve been allowed to experience through footage, from what the members have conveyed when talking about him and from JK’s “art/work” itself as fans. The one person who hasn’t had a problem in often pegging him as cute is JM. Namjoon has time and again pointed out how JK is a softie with the body of a rock, yes, but JM always attempts to point out the fact that JK in reality is just a big ball of softness, but he is then quickly “silenced” when instantly confronted with the fact that he is the “resident mochi” … we won’t get into that particular monicker today so he just ends up agreeing 😬. Why am I pointing this out? Do I think JM controls JK? … 😂😂😭😭 … Please 😑, if they are in a relationship, JM would be a lover not a ruler.

JM has a very big influence on some of the final decisions he makes, I honestly do believe that, but JK is first and foremost his own “unique” person, who however, for at least a good 10 years, had no other choice but to listen to a whole lot of other people. Control is a very big aspect of my life: I literally FEAR losing it. Reason why I am scared of trying sleeping pills, reason why I’m scared of falling asleep while on plane, reason why I don’t do drugs, but at the same time reason why UNFORTUNATELY I drink an unhealthy amount, ever since I figured out that I always remember everything i’ve done and I that I do get loose just enough not to lose myself. Basically, the second I feel like someone is trying to take “control away” from me and if I am in a position where I can I lash.

And by that I don’t mean that Imma scratch you obviously, just means that within 3 second of the happening I would have already formulated plan A-Z in order for me to either regain the control I lost, or find ways to soothe me and give me the apparent comfort I need to feel like I have regained some sort of control I am a master at self-soothing. At that very moment, what is paramount, is knowing that from that moment on, every single decision made involving me would be made by myself and myself only. Meaning that, at that very moment, if you saw me being undecided between broccoli and kale juice, and you kindly offered your opinion, without me asking, I would most certainly feel the sudden craving for a vanilla ice-cream cone instead.

As an introvert I’ve often found comfort within my room. Is where I’ve created most of my projects, where I’ve taught myself a whole language, where I was safe from bullying, where I could allow myself to dream, where I am 100% in control. When I’m in comfort zone, I tend to not think much about what I do, even if 85.13% of the times what I do will not make sense to anybody and has made people call me “crazy”, at that moment, it made sense to me, because i decided to it, so I would quite frankly, not give a fuck. Anyways, me and my room are the main reason for the struggle people I love have when I rather stay home than go for a day out. Once I am out, I’m the light of the party; just gotta get me there 😬.

As it just so happens, JK seems to have found one of his comfort zone in “talking” to ARMY. He maybe has an excuse to escape from whatever it is that he actually needs to be doing/thinking of, while at the same time he shows ARMY that he is alive: WIN-WIN. Reason why he drinks with us, he entertains us, does his laundry with us, eats with you, WEVERSE-living might be providing JK with a way for him to momentarily gain control while at the same time conceding it because he is fulfilling his role as idol, he is promoting things , etc without causing any causing much of any rifts in his comfort zone. So when people ask him not to drink, to go to bed, whatever it is, if it goes against what he was there for, do not for a second think he will do any of it; because in that very moment we are most likely just a part of his well constructed comfort zone.

So this should go without saying, but it is clearly NOT sticking with some people out there. When you are looking to get some reaction from Jikook as a couple, something that will give you the fix you need for the day, week, whatever, please kindly be reminded that not only their relationship isn’t confirmed, but it is also not a paid subscription show, so they don’t owe you shit. JK is not touching JM the way you want him to? JM is not with JK in the palaces you want him to? Jikook are not doing lives the times you want them to? It is all very sad and all but it also all very much sounds to me like you problem. Thus, please be reminded that there are MANY DIFFERENT TYPES of people on this sphere, and as it is hard enough to live a life as them, as me, as JK, as JM, as you, as anybody, a little bit of consideration, and “thinking before you speak” goes a bloody ass long way.

Happy Easter, stay safe 🫰🏾💜

Always respectfully yours,

Marengo.

#Marengo Goes UGH!#Netflix Isn't Free but more Satisfying #Jikook #JK is his own person - Like I am - Like you are

40 notes · View notes

fallen-in-dreams · 4 days

Text

CHAPTER ELEVEN on AO3.

Chapters on Tumblr: One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six. Seven. Eight. Nine. Ten.

Pairing: Gaara/Sakura.

Summary: Her descent into madness came after her friends were all dead and before she was sold off like livestock. To him. He knew a thing or two about madness. And there was peace to be found in the violence of that madness. Even if only for a time. Canon divergence AU.

Rated: Mature.

Chapter word count: 11,885.

Status: Ongoing.

Reminder: the tags/warnings are important.

Warnings: dark themes. Arranged marriage (not what you think). Eventual smut (level and degree of that warning being necessary is subjective). Death. Suicide talk. Self-harm. PTSD – expect some well-known symptoms and some not well-known ones. Please don’t read if you’re triggered by psychological &/or emotional-related trauma and effects.

Hiya. Hope you're all doing well. :) So, I'm back. And this story is almost done. But I won't be updating every week - it'll be more like 1 or 2 weeks. The reason:

Sometimes chapters just want to get longer and longer and we really have no choice in the matter.

Unlike the last time I wrote out a fic in draft form then posted each chapter a week apart as I edited them, this story is trying to drive me crazy. 4k chapters turned into 6-9k and now THIS chapter is 11k. My editing process is squeezing that number count for all it's worth and it became so much of a chore. I really needed that New Year's break. So yeah, I'm going to slow it down a LITTLE bit. So I don't let it annoy me too much.

And I hope each and every one of you will join me for the rest of the ride. I can't wait to see what you guys think about what's coming. Cheers. :)

Enjoy. ^_^

Tumblr version:

… Chapter Eleven: To Kiss or Not to Kiss. ...

.:.

Oh love, believe me, Nothing ever comes to us easy, The river's never run up to meet me, Gotta find your own way down

-- Oh Love, by Phildel

.:.

How am I supposed to face her now?

Gaara stopped trying to figure women out a long time ago.

His argument with Sakura Haruno that morning weighed heavily on him all day. Whenever Gaara found a quiet moment or his mind would wander, images of pure fury and betrayal hounded him. Her pretty face screwed up in indignation and misery. He couldn’t get over the fact that Sakura had truly thought he was wilfully keeping her from her friends. It was just for a few moments but the level of pain that vibrated through her body still scared him.

Hours later.

Like so much about her already does.

So, he stewed in self-doubt all day, moving on autopilot as he went from council meetings to the lonely hours stuck working through tedious mission reports and high-level security reviews. Councillor Tōjūrō wanted this. Councillor Sajō insisted on that. And Councillor Ebizō inquired about their mutual concerns, via the not-so-silent Anbu they both trusted.

Gaara was beyond relieved when the working day ended, and he was able to leave. Most days, he stayed until late, and other times he simply took his work home. It had not escaped his notice that he worked too much. But what else was there? All he had outside of work were his siblings, and they had their own lives to deal with. So, most of the time, he had no-one.

And now her.

“Sakura!” Temari’s voice interrupted his thoughts as she called up to their house guest. “Dinner’s ready!”

Gaara clasped his hands together to hide the trembling of his fingers when Sakura finally descended the internal staircase for dinner. He forced himself to blink heavily to keep his vision from zoning out. Nerves and anticipation like he’d never felt before plagued him. It took all his willpower to keep from groaning in frustration at the strange feelings.

He watched pensively as Sakura sat down delicately. Swallowing heavily.

Sakura Haruno.

Gaara couldn’t keep his eyes to himself.

“Date her, talk to her, and try to figure out how we can help her in the meantime.”

Ideas began to swirl in his mind. Possibilities.

As the culinary genius of the family, Kankuro had cooked another magnificent meal. He was still in the kitchen, putting on the final touches as Temari started talking about how her own day had been. Since her decision to stay in the village she’d taken over the management of the guards and patrols of the village. Gaara didn’t know if she was trying to improve it or just scare them into line. Regardless, she wasn’t going anywhere anytime soon, so he gave her free reign to do (almost) whatever she wanted to them.

Temari stood to help Kankuro lay the food on the table. Sakura was staring at a spot close to the internal staircase, her fingers drumming softly on the table.

“Go get that date organised.”

Planning outings was not his thing. He’d never asked anyone on a date before. Expectation hung in the air.

“Let’s eat!” Kankuro yelled.

Dinner had always been a stiff but amicable affair. Every night, they’d sit around the main dining table to partake in one of Kankuro’s chef-level delights, talk would be minimal because they’d be enjoying the food too much to ruin the moment. But inevitably, someone would say something pointedly, and a casual, intermittent conversation would take place. Before Temari’s return, conversation would be carried by Kankuro’s attempts to make Sakura feel welcomed, strained as they were. Gaara would interject when he felt it necessary, with the occasional input from Sakura when addressed directly.

Since Temari’s return, his sister had not just driven the conversation, but wrenched it sideways and taken complete control of the reins. He wondered if was solely because of Sakura’s presence or a familiarity due to her connections to Temari’s former lover. Which begged the question of how much the pinkette knew about his fate.

Gaara gave a deep sigh that did not go unnoticed by the room at large. It all came down to lovers and friends and family, in the end. They were what truly mattered. Sakura coughed lightly and he glanced at her. Conversation would normally pick up at this point, but the air was unusually tense. He blamed himself.

Gaara hadn’t meant to hurt her by keeping the knowledge of her former allies from her. It hadn’t been vindictive. He just did not know where they were. He had his theories, of course, but nothing solid enough to act on. And this bothered him more than he could admit.

They ate in silence for a few minutes. Or rather, Temari and Kankuro did, though they both paused a few times to glance at each other, like they were planning something. Temari had shifted to the edge of the seat, an eager look on her face. Sakura was pushing her food around on the plate, not eating. Like himself. Gaara had only taken a few bites before realising he wasn’t even hungry. And Kankuro was digging in, with gusto.

When Temari broke the silence, Gaara was grateful. For all of five seconds. Then he conjured a mental image of his hands strangling her.

“So…” She looked between Gaara and Sakura as she spoke. “It turns out one of the council members is a traitor, likely in cahoots with Danzo.”

Gaara glared at her. You did that on purpose.

She shrugged her shoulders with an air of indifference that he didn’t buy for a second. She’d been trying to convince him to let Sakura in on his ultimate plans for the Leaf Resistance, the future of Suna, and this Cold War. His sister wanted too much. He told her so. He’d been telling her so. But now, the decision was out of his hands. Sakura wasn’t going to let this opportunity pass. Kankuro put his cutlery down and leaned back, watching quietly. Amusement and curiosity danced in his eyes. Gaara could almost hear him thinking, well this should be interesting.

Sakura stopped playing with her food and looked up at Temari after side eyeing Gaara. He braced himself.

“How do you know there’s a traitor?”

“Through Lord Ebizō,” Temari said without hesitation. “Apparently, he’s been working with Gaara here.” She pointed her thumb at him as he scowled back at her. “They’ve found–”

“Temari.”

Kankuro made a soft sound the was halfway between a scoffed and snicker. Nobody paid him any mind.

Gaara glared at his sister. “She doesn’t need to know.”

She won’t be able to handle it, went unsaid.

He was aware of the insult to her person, but he couldn’t help himself. Kazekage or not, Sakura was under his care. She wasn’t one of his ninja. She was in no way his subordinate. Or professional equal. And as such, she was not to be privy to sensitive village information. He could not take responsibility for that. It was enough that he’d given Temari and Kankuro the highest security clearance legally possible for them simply because they were family. And the fact that they could handle it was beside the point.

This wasn’t a matter of trust. Sakura just wasn’t like them. Not anymore.

The pinkette scowled at him. “I’ll be the judge of that.”

Gaara sat up straighter. He matched her glare with one of his own. It was to be a battle of the wills, then.

.:.

Sakura did not pull her eyes from Gaara while Temari continued as though she hadn’t been interrupted.

“As you would know, communications between different Kage are always done in code or with a Kage-only sealing jutsu.”

Sakura nodded still staring at the Kazekage. She’d seen Tsunade pen letters to other Kage numerous times in both ways. Shizune had been a pro at transcribing the Hokage’s frustrated and eye-twitching candour to something more diplomatic. Sakura had never quite mastered that skill. Where Shizune excelled, Sakura fell behind. Where Sakura shined, Shizune’s skills were lacking. In that way, they’d complimented each other as Tsunade’s most trusted aides.

“Well,” Kankuro added, breaking his own silence. “Lord Ebizō came to Gaara with copies of transcribed missives that had deletion points in them.”

Sakura nodded again. A deletion point was exactly as it sounded. Information that was sent to Danzo must have been deleted at Suna’s end but not Konoha’s. It was off the record information. The only legitimate reason to delete parts of a message on the official, final copy, was for Kage level reasons. And this was clearly a deletion that Gaara had been unaware of.

What it even meant, she couldn’t say. But there was another problem.

“How…” she started softly, fighting to keep her staring match with the redhead. “How did he find it?”

It was a dangerous thing to do, but also difficult to detect. One might say damn near impossible, considering they shouldn’t have a reason for even looking for it. And whomever discovered the deletion point would have to be exceptionally skilled at Cryptanalysis. At the very least. Had it been Ebizō himself?

Temari answered her unasked question. “A new jounin found it. He wasn’t supposed to be there, apparently. Was just covering a shift for a friend. He’s listed primarily as a sensor ninja but apparently started his prior chunin career as a Cryptanalysis specialist.”

Sakura nodded again, finally understanding. “Lucky.”

“Yes. But unfortunately, he couldn’t tell who made the deletions.”

Of course. Sakura would be surprised if he had. So, this jounin had gone to Ebizō instead of the Kazekage? Maybe because it had been a Kage level security issue, he’d instead gone to the only person whose reputation was both impeccable as well as unquestionable.

“But how does that mean a council member did it?” Was she missing something?

It was Kankuro’s turn to answer. “Nobody in this room but Gaara could do it and we know he didn’t. The next line of suspects are the senior members of the council. Councillors Sajō, Ryūsa, and Tōjūrō are the senior advisors who legally have access to Kage level information. Officially, anyway.”

Because of course the Kazekage reserves the right to not inform them of anything if he doesn’t want to.

“How senior is Ebizō?”

“He leads the council.”

Sakura blinked heavily. So, it could’ve been Ebizō but wasn’t, because he brought it to Gaara’s attention. So, he was the only one they could trust. Almost as though this whole thing was a test that Gaara had set up to suss out the reliability of his subordinates. Except that he couldn’t have predicted this jounin’s inclusion. It would’ve been a piss poor test if nobody found it.

Sakura tapped her chin staring back into Gaara’s seafoam eyes with something akin to calmness. Almost like she was a real person having a legitimate conversation.

Well, look at me, acting like a normal, functioning person. What would my mirror image hallucination think about that?

“Councillors Sajō, Ryūsa, and Tōjūrō.”

She didn’t know anything about Ryūsa beyond some murmuring that he might lead the council one day. Tōjūrō was a complete mystery. But Sajō? Oh, Councillor Sajō she knew. That was a face she’d never forget, the arrogant, pompous, prick. She had fantasies about strangling him with his own intestines on a daily basis. If she could, she would.

Her eyes drifted as Sakura imagined, once again, the choking sounds of the older man as she throttled him. It took a few more seconds and a clearing of Gaara’s throat before she scowled, realising what had just happened. In her distraction, she’d accidentally broke eye contact with him. When she looked back at him, the Kazekage was looking smug.

Shit.

.:.

Gaara couldn’t contain his smirk as Sakura broke their staring contest. Something clunking around in her brain had distracted her.

Good.

“Councillors Sajō, Ryūsa, and Tōjūrō.” Sakura mumbled to herself once more, angling her body away from Gaara and his gaze. He kept watching, his face falling into a frown as she ignored him.

“It has to be Sajō,” she said.

“Why?” Temari asked.

Sakura pulled a face. “I’ve had the unfortunate displeasure of being hounded by him. He’s an arsehole.”

“His personality is not evidence,” Gaara intervened, and she glared at him before turning away again.

Sakura pursed her lips. “I know it’s him.”

“Okay.” His brother was driving Gaara crazy. Temari added to the frustration by echoing his words.

He couldn’t sit here and allow this anymore. “No,” he said.

Sakura clenched her fists, her eyes darting over to the corner of the room; she’d jumped slightly, but there was nothing there to startle her. Sometimes, Gaara wondered about that. Hallucinations.

“This isn’t up for discussion,” he said.

It was a wonder his sanity was still intact, dealing with her. She slammed her fists down on the table, dislodging silverware and making his siblings jump out of their skins, but not so hard as to damage the structural integrity of the furniture.

“You promised,” she said scathingly, glaring openly at him, and he was reminded of their argument that morning. “You said you would tell me–”

“I said that we’ll talk later,” he corrected her.

“About the Leaf Resistance!” She yelled and Temari and Kankuro’s heads whipped towards Gaara. He could feel their confusion and surprise but ignored them. “About what you’re doing! You said we should talk. We need to talk. So, let’s talk damn it!”

“This cipher talk isn’t about the Resistance,” he growled. “Nor is the traitor councillor.”

“Do you know that for sure?” She snapped. “Or are you just presuming? What if it’s all connected, Gaara? What if none of it is a coincidence?” She was on a roll now, taking a deep breath before charging into her new hypothesis with gusto. “Danzo doesn’t want a strong alliance with Suna, and we all know it. I’m not actually here to marry you! What if my mission is part of a larger plan? Sending a Root member with me when those tiny little fucking bastards are not actually trained in diplomacy? You have to admit that’s suspicious! So, what if his connection with this traitor has something to do with the Resistance? Or to undermine Suna because he already has a highly connected ally within your walls! What if it’s all connected? Did you ever stop to think about that?”

Gaara blinked heavily at her. Her deduction was quite the stretch. But crazier things had happened and he couldn’t think of a valid counter point, so he would be remiss to completely rule it out. He sighed. But this wasn’t the place to discuss this.

“I can help,” she said, her voice suddenly soft. He didn’t respond. “He won’t expect anything from me.”

“We don’t even know it’s him,” Gaara said. He was fighting with himself as much as her. He didn’t want to push her out of this, but it was political. And she wasn’t a Suna native. It wouldn’t be treason, but it would be dangerous. For both of them.

Maybe I’m overreacting.

He had no clue. Sakura’s face scrunched up as though she was in pain and her head dipped. She closed her eyes and he imagined she was struggling to calm herself. Was she having a panic attack? Gaara felt a similar spasm grasp his chest at the thought of having done this to her.

I can’t do anything right, with her.

She stood up abruptly, not looking at anyone. Her hands were balled into fists and Gaara’s stomach clenched painfully. Guilt. He felt the urge to say something, anything, to keep her from leaving this room angry. But nothing came to mind. He sat there, with his mouth slightly agape, unable to say the things she needed to hear.

Why?

There was a war in Gaara’s heart. The urge to protect her. The urge to respect her desire to participate. The urge to keep her far from the machinations of the evil of this world. He felt like he was being torn in too many different directions. But he knew that above all, he was being incredibly selfish.

With no regard for her uneaten dinner, Sakura stormed out.

He couldn’t release the groan that threatened to bubble up his throat. Gaara remembered he still had an audience and turned his head minutely to glance at them. Temari was frowning at him, her fingers tapping the table soundlessly. Kankuro was shaking his head, his lips twisted in barely controlled irritation. Gaara let that effervescent groan escape his mouth. He was an arsehole. He knew it. Because his siblings had never looked at him with so much disappointment before. Even when he let a demon out to play havoc on their village as a blood thirsty child.

.:.

When will I ever learn?

She was too emotional. Always had been. Weak. Pathetic. Emotional little girl. Expected too much of others. Presumed too much of herself. Stupid.

Sakura stormed up the internal staircase and slammed her bedroom door closed. She didn’t stop there, grabbing the cactus Matsuri and Yukata had given her (what else did she have?) and throwing it against the wall. Not the back of the door. No, not the chronicle of her timeline in Suna.

Soil spilled onto the floor, but the succulent remained firmly in the pot. The hardy bastard.

She let out a long-winded, slightly high-pitched groan. One minute Gaara was open and treating her like a human being and the next, looking down on her and breaking his promises. She felt so childish, but Sakura didn’t care. She wanted to rage and yell and pound some faces into the ground. She let her anger broil and seethe as she turned and threw herself at the bed. Head in the middle and feet dangling over the edge, she screamed into the blanket for all she was worth.

Which isn’t much, let’s be honest.

It was best to muffle her more violent urges. Noisy. Yes. The last thing she wanted was for someone to hear her screaming and to come running. If they would even. She scoffed. Sakura groaned, then rolled onto her back, grabbed the pillow, and attempted to suffocate herself. It wouldn’t be the first attempt since her arrival at Suna.

Who am I kidding?

She wasn’t trying to do anything to herself.

Sakura gripped the pillow harder, closed her eyes tightly and then screamed again. The muffled sound only made her ears pop. She sighed and sat up wearily. She needed to stop doing this to herself. After so long alone, Sakura had started to think she was a part of something. Maybe something special. Probably just something not toxic. Not dangerous. Kankuro was personable. Temari seemed genuinely happy to see her. But Gaara… fuck, she had to stop wanting more from him.

She shook herself and stood up as the mirage floated into the room, through that blasted window. Sakura’s heart raced and she shivered. Had the temperature dropped suddenly or was she just feeling the aftereffects of her panic attack? She watched as the mirage as it turned on the spot and seemed to only just notice her, glowering now.

“I hate you,” she said with conviction. I really do.

“You brought this on yourself,” it replied.

“Shut up.”

Its smile was cruel. Sakura closed her eyes and sat back down on the bed; hands fisted on her thighs.

“He doesn’t care about you.”

“Go away.”

“You’re useless to him.”

She wanted to cry. A choked sob escaped her before she could stop it. No. She was in control of this. Sakura threw her pillow at the mirage. And of course it sailed right through that smug, broken, and bloodied face. It was happy and angry at the same time. How could something that wasn’t even real hold any emotions at all?

“Are you even trying to escape this stupid hell hole?”

No, apparently Sakura had completely forgotten she wanted out of Suna. How long had it been? She paused in her internal debate to glance at the back of her bedroom door.

Twenty-five days so far.

“Ugh.”

Between wanting in on Gaara’s schemes and her ink creatures, Sakura still had no idea what she was doing. Her creations had scouted the village outskirts and even memorised the guard positions and patrol routes. There was no predictability to times, but the places were all the same. It was something to work with, at least. But it was getting her nowhere.

Twenty-five days and all she’d accomplished was making a fool of herself in front of everyone.

Gaara didn’t want her help. Her creatures had probably escaped this hell hole, leaving her behind. There was nothing to do. Nothing but sit in her room like a good girl and wait out whatever plan Gaara and his siblings had. Once the traitor had been identified and proven they could then tackle the political mess Danzo had Suna entrenched in. And Sakura would be free.

And this time I’ll run.

She’d kill the Root shadow and run. Sakura grasped at her chest, grinning despite the hole in her heart. She didn’t notice the single tear at first. It contained all her hopes for being human again. She wiped at it, not sure what to think of it. But she was spared that particular, repetitive self-flagellation at the abrupt sound of a hiss. She started, spinning around quickly. Her kunai was still in the hole in the windowsill. Conveniently between her and the source of the disturbance.

I really need a better hiding place.

Or multiple kunai dipped in poison. Yes, that would be better. More kunai, more targets. She smiled ruefully at that, her focus snapping to the window. She breathed a sigh of relief when there was no attack but rather the shadows of familiar shapes.

They’re finally back.

The ink creatures. The vulture-like bird and viper shaped snake. They slid into the room through the open window, moving in tandem. Between the two of them they had a death grip on something. Something distinctly snake-shaped and presumably dead. A wide grin spread over her face, and they halted their movements.

“Yes,” she hissed. She inched toward them as the ink bird hopped impatiently, releasing its own grip. When she touched the real snake softly, the ink snake twisted its body, tightening its hold on the carcass. The snake was indeed dead. She sighed, relieved. That would make this much easier. The chemical make-up of venom did not change after the snake died. So, theoretically, she should be able to extract the venom and use it, no problem.

Sakura vividly remembered a description of the milking process from a snake husbandry book during her genin days in Konoha.

Press down on the back of the snake’s head after it bites the container. The fangs will drip out venom for at least fifteen to twenty seconds.

Those instructions had been for a live snake. She cocked her head at the dead one as it was still being half-heartedly strangled by living ink, at her feet. Well, hopefully its deceased status wouldn’t make a difference other than ease of access. Hopefully.

Do I do this now?

Normally, she’d wait for the other occupants of the household to go to bed before doing something she didn’t want to be walked in on doing. Right now, standing, staring, and contemplating her sanity carried a high risk of interruption.

Sakura glanced up at the clock. She’d only been back in the room for almost two minutes. It felt far longer. She sighed, resigned, and shooed her hand at the ink creatures. Trying to corral cats would be easier. They just sat and stared at her. Or rather, the snake remained motionless except for the occasional tightening of its possessive grip and the bird cocked its head at her. Much like she’d done a moment ago. Not that it made a difference if they suddenly started towards the bathroom or something, to keep out of sight. And this whole thing would be far safer if she waited, anyway. She’d already been waiting two days for their return to begin, what was a few more hours?

Still feels like I’ve been pacing impatiently for far longer.

She sat on the edge of her bed and closed her eyes. Her emotions had settled. She felt so drained. But not exhausted. There was an old meditation technique that Lady Tsunade had taught her, and she was just scooting back further onto the bed to try it when Sakura paused, startled by the sudden rush of chakra.

Gaara’s chakra.

Gaara’s knock on her door.

“Is he here to apologise?” She’d forgotten about the mirage. Its singsong, mocking voice floated over to her. “I don’t think so.”

She inhaled deeply, unable to stop the sudden hiccupping sob that sounded from her mouth. All the anger and fear and feelings of resentment and abandonment that had just disappeared, all the tension in her body, suddenly returned with a vengeance. How could one person, so innately collected and calm, invoke such a raging storm inside her? She hated it. And right now, she hated him.

“Stop lying.”

Go away.

He wasn’t going away.

Fuck the mirage. She wanted Gaara to leave her alone. But she also wanted him to persist. To show her she was worth the effort. That he cared. Sakura wiped at her tears and attempted to make her face look presentable. Maybe he would give up. In that case the only person who would see her tears was herself.

He knocked again.

“Sakura?” That deep, soft voice. Gods.

What is he doing to me?

.:.

Moonlight filtered in through her window as Sakura stared at the door. The ink creatures twittered and hissed, respectively, nearby and she wasn’t ready for Gaara to see them.

“Think he’ll actually call you crazy this time?”

Maybe. The mirage grinned at her thought.

“Sakura?”

Right, he was still outside her room. She fought the urge to flee. It had been her default state since arriving in Suna and it was beyond exhausting.

And embarrassing.

She glanced at the snake and bird before slowly opening the door half a foot and holding tightly to the frame to keep him from pushing it open. If he had such a notion. Sakura forced herself to look him in the eye.

The shame. His face was full of it.

“Hi.”

He nodded but before Gaara could respond, Sakura moved forward, placing a trembling hand on his chest, keeping her eyes on his. Pale green irises widened but he didn’t complain. Feeling more confident, Sakura pushed him gently and closed the door behind herself. In the hallway. Alone. Together. Her other hand found its way to his chest and Sakura felt his heart beat a little faster under her fingertips.

“It’s a nice night,” she said, her voice low and strong. Maybe. She had no idea. It just had to be strong enough to project confidence. Conviction she missed about her past herself. She was trying, really. “Let’s go to the roof.”

His eyes searched hers wordlessly, clearly trying to figure out what her plan was. What she was thinking. Why she was thinking it. Maybe even if she was trying to trick him. He’d deserve it, after that display during dinner, but Sakura tried for her most saccharine smile.

Seemingly convinced, he slipped his right arm around her waist and pulled her gently toward him, flush against his body. Sand whipped up around them and she couldn’t stop the light gasp for the life of her. Steeling herself, Sakura gripped harder to him as they disappeared from the hallway outside her bedroom and her centre of gravity shifted and they reappeared on the roof of the Kazekage mansion.

The cold night air hit her first. She shivered but didn’t complain. She expected Gaara to pull away immediately but his hold on her remained firm. Almost like it was his apology. Or he was working up to one. Sakura waited. And glanced around, remembering that the Root shadow would be able to see them from the outside, on the roof, even if he couldn’t hear them.

She could imagine that freak’s reaction if he was watching right now. Sakura remembered, one of the few times the masked man hadn’t berated her on their three-day journey to Suna he’d gone over her expectations on this mission. He’d expected her to lull Gaara into a false sense of security. To take advantage of him. To play the part of a girl being sold off.

Use your assets, he’d said, leering at her. It’s not like you haven’t done this before.

Danzo had not ordered her to sleep with, let alone woo Gaara, specifically. But it was in every look he’d given her before sending her off. It was in between every line in the official papers for this mission. Of course, she’d ignored it. Sakura hadn’t planned to be here this long. But here she was, with Gaara’s arm around her, and all Sakura could think of was that, technically, this was supposed to be a seduction mission. She hadn’t foreseen viewing Gaara as a sexual being. It had snuck up on her, now painfully obvious. Sakura knew it before but a part of her had also denied it, but it was true. There was no going back now. She wanted him.

Desperately.

But she was done hoping he would start anything. Gaara wasn’t like that.

Sakura started as his left arm came around to embrace her. His chin resting on top of her head, and he let out a soft sigh. It made her body tremble in response, and she wondered what he was trying to do if not turn her on. This was out of character for him. As far as she could tell. She inhaled deeply. And he needed to stop smelling so good too.

Because it’s hot as fuck.

She wanted to dominate him. The feeling wasn’t new to her but the chance to be the one in control, was. All she’d ever done is exude a fake version of confidence. Sex was methodical. A tool. To her, at least. And here was Gaara, making her want something else. Something more.

But how am I supposed to get that?

She had no idea how to instigate this. Reluctantly, Sakura released her hold on Gaara and after a few moments of what seemed like internal contemplation, he uncoiled his arms, removing them from her hips gently. Always the gentleman. Never the paramour. She cleared her throat and took a step backwards.

He wouldn’t want me that way, anyway.

She needed to get this under control. This level of intensity wasn’t natural for her. It had to be a side effect of either the prazosin drug she was taking or her anxiety. Post Traumatic Distress Disorder. She wasn’t so stupid as to presume she’d survived the last few years with her sanity intact. And it would explain so much.

“I’m sorry.”

Sakura’s jaw dropped at Gaara’s words. He was sorry. She blinked stupidly at him.

“For everything,” he said.

She nodded slowly, licking her lips absentmindedly. Yes, he’d been an arse. She could accept this. She stared at him for a moment, contemplating how to go about the discussion she wanted to have with him. He kept eye contact, obviously content with waiting for her input. She tried to smile but her lips quivered.

Sakura sighed.

“Councillor Sajō. He came to a few of the wedding planning sessions,” she said, deciding on a change of topic. “He was abrupt but otherwise respectful to the other ladies. But he kept glancing at me.” She shuddered at the memory. “He didn’t like what he saw. And he hates me. I know it’s not a lot to go on,” she added. “I’m sorry I was so pushy and defensive about it.”

“It’s not your fault.”

Sakura didn’t think he had anything to base that on. Sometimes she thought he had a secret file that occasionally leaked information about her to him, in minute amounts; just enough for him to get glimpses into her psyche, but not enough for a deep dive. Enough for his pity to sting her. To burn. And enough for him to think her some kind of helpless victim.

She stood straighter, shoulders pushed back, and chin raised. Sakura had never been good at hiding her feelings, even after the Root commanded that had trained her in the early days of Danzo’s reign got tired of her lack of control. The man had very little patience for emotional outbursts. He could teach her all manner of underhanded jutsu and Root-based tactics but mental conditioning to suppress her emotions? She was never going to master that. Not to his satisfaction, anyway. There was no seal on her tongue. Danzo didn’t stick needles in her eyes and brainwash her. No, he just had his subordinates torture her. Poke her full of holes. Heal her. Fry her. Rinse and repeat. She was fun to play with, apparently. Even more so than some others because an unwilling servant could scream the loudest.

“The council has always been difficult,” Gaara interrupted her thoughts, running a hand through his hair distractedly. He looked past her, as though someone had appeared suddenly, and she had to refrain from turning to look. But there had to be nobody there because his demeanour didn’t change. “They do like to make up their own rules sometimes.”

“I can believe that. Especially after that councillor started having me followed.”

Sakura was adamant that Sajō had. The Root shadow never seemed bothered by it. He’d even laughed a few times when she’d stopped on her way back to the Kazekage’s mansion, sensing the darkening presence behind her. Escorted by Matsuri and Yukata, she was shielded by their presence. Their limited protection. But the moment she strayed again; Sakura knew all bets would be off.

And who knows what Sajō is actually willing to throw down?

Would he have her cornered and interrogated? Would he stoop to physically attacking her? Maybe an attack like that would-be-assassin? He was making sure she stayed in line. After their run-in at the council building, she showed herself to be a loose cannon. And if Sajō was in league with Danzo, then it was likely the Root shadow would help him.

She explained all of this to Gaara, leaving out how her contemplation on how far Sajō would go intrigued her. If the old man gave her a reason to fight back, she would. Gaara frowned, concern marring his features.

“It has to be him,” she said.

“It’s at least a place to start,” he agreed.

Sakura smiled widely at him, warmth spreading over her face. Was she blushing? But hope had burgeoned in her chest, and she didn’t care, either way. His eyes softened as he stared back at her, and she had to push down the sudden urge to throw her arms around him.

“I can help,” she said. It wasn’t meant as a reprimand, but Gaara’s face shifted into stony seriousness.

“I know,” he said, his voice low and ashamed. “I’m sorry I snapped at you. I shouldn’t have done that.”

She nodded. “You know… I can handle myself.”

“I know–”

“I just…”

Sakura glanced around the rooftop, remembering another night when he’d followed her up here and she’d killed a masked assassin. It felt like years had passed since then. Being here for the first time since then brought it all back. The blood on her hands. The rain gently trying, and failing, to wash it away. Her mind spasming in ecstasy at the opportunity to finally get to kill something. When she eventually turned back to Gaara she found him looking around in a similar manner, a faraway, contemplative expression on his face.

Does he think of that night often, too?

“We never talked about that night,” she said, and suddenly had his full attention again. “I killed a man–”

“Who was trying to kill you,” he interrupted, but she kept going, unimpeded.

“–right here. I tore into him. And I know you know I took pleasure in it.” She inhaled deeply, her breath shaky, and ignoring the way he looked pensive. “And I know you know… that I’m not…” She struggled to find the right way to explain how she’d lost the plot without sounding dramatic. But it wouldn’t come. Instead, she tried another angle. “Sometimes it comes in flashes. I’ll be okay one moment and then… I’ll just want to dig my kunai into something. Or even my bare hands. That ache. That desire.” She sighs. “I know you understand.”

Because you used to be out of control too went unsaid.

“And I see things…” She cut herself off quickly, not wanting to go further down that rabbit hole.

Gaara’s eyes had widened slightly at that admission, but he didn’t say anything. She was grateful for that.

Anyway…

“I’m not all there, I know. But I’m not so far gone that–”

“You’re not crazy, Sakura. You’re not worthless or useless or unworthy.” Gaara narrowed his eyes at her. His hands twitched, like he too was fighting the urge for them to embrace. She longed for that warmth again, shifting the weight between her feet nervously.

He stared at her intensely and she swallowed heavily in a vain attempt to stop the flow of tears. They stuck in the corner of her eyes in warning, and she tried so hard to keep them from falling, clenching her fists, digging her nails into her hands. Whatever she needed to do. Sakura nodded her head in agreement even as she refused to accept his sweet words.

But her gratitude towards this man was so strong that she couldn’t restrain the single sob from ripping out of her mouth. Now, she couldn’t stop the light tears now gathering along her eyelashes, threatening to obscure her vision. Sakura hugged herself as Gaara reached out to wipe the tears away. He was so tender and considerate. She felt like she was going to break from his kindness. It was good. But it was also torture.

Even after his outbursts and stubbornness to keep her in the dark, she couldn’t begrudge him forgiveness.

Sakura sniffed and leaned into his touch lightly, even as she was unable to bring herself to look at him. He cupped her cheek for a few moments, just holding his hand still against her before slowly wiping at her eyes again. When he removed his hand completely, it wasn’t done hastily or roughly. She didn’t feel rejected. She felt calmer. More in control.

“Sakura… I…”

What could he say? She didn’t know.

“Let’s go on that date.”

But apparently, he does.

She started, looking up at him in surprise. That came out of nowhere. But to be fair, it was something they’d already talked about. Once she got over the initial shock, Sakura found herself smiling her way through the mild panic at the thought of officially dating him.

“Now?”

He nodded.

“It’s a bit late.”

Gaara smiled wryly. “I don’t sleep much, and you don’t… have to go to the wedding planner tomorrow.”

That was true. It was officially her day off. She’d planned to spend it in the training grounds and also use some of that time to hone her ink crafting skills again. Sakura no longer felt the compulsion to escape Suna, though a deep seeded feeling of unease from merely being in Suna still ate at her. Everything she did now was just to pass the time, out of habit, or necessity. But this… yeah, she wanted to change things up a bit.

“O-okay.” She cleared her throat. “Yes. Let’s… uh,” she blushed, “go on that date.”

Gaara must have been thinking about this more than she realised. He rattled off a few ideas, all of which she could picture being interrupted and annoyed by the ever-present Root shadow in her wake. But several of the ideas sounded like they might just be in a no-go zone for her stalker.

Only one way to find out.

And it was a shame her mirage couldn’t be kept out of things as easily.

Sakura realised, as Gaara tentatively explained how this place and that place were in high security areas and had amazing views of the village, that of course the Shadow wasn’t allowed in all areas of Suna. She could’ve slapped herself for not thinking of it earlier. It was even likely he wasn’t allowed anywhere near Suna’s shinobi academy. All of this must have been covered back when they’d arrived and Baki had run down official rules to them both. She hadn’t been paying attention back then.

So many places I could’ve lost him in. Buried him, more like.

“Something casual,” Gaara was saying, bringing Sakura’s attention back to their impending date. Were they just going somewhere casual? Or was he talking about their relationship? Or maybe what they were going to wear? Well, there wasn’t anything casual about being engaged. It was still a farce, but it no longer felt trivial to her.

Okay, she could do this. She cleared her throat. “Yes, casual.”

Was that a smirk?

“We’ll need somewhere with food,” she added, ignoring the flush that his smirk had invoked along her body. They were both acutely aware neither of them had eaten their dinner. But Sakura didn’t want some homemade food for this. “Or money to buy some.”

“There are a number of acceptable vendors open this time of night.”

“Right.”

“I asked you out,” he said, his face tinging pink. “I will pay any and all fees.”

She wasn’t going to argue with that, since she was flat broke. It wasn’t like Danzo cared to pay her for any of her missions. She inwardly scoffed at the notion. The only things she owned were from before his takeover or what she’d managed to steal over the years. She would have to go through the clothes in the wardrobe in her bedroom. Again. At least there more options to choose from now, since both Matsuri and Yukata had made a point of restocking that threadbare closet.

“And I’ll change into something less... I mean more comfortable.” She spluttered. “I mean something casual.” She bit her lip in embarrassment. They were a pair of tomatoes. “Meet you back here in fifteen?”

Gaara nodded, his smile infectious as she returned it before turning on the spot and leaving him alone on the roof. She hadn’t even thought to ask him to use his sand, perhaps because she was still subconsciously remembering the ink creatures. They needed to be dealt with first, before she went anywhere.

Gaara will wait.

She knew he would.

.:.

The night was alive with the sounds and lights that made up the heart of Suna.

And the hounding footsteps of her eternal stalker. The closer they moved towards the lights and sounds, the further the Root retreated into the shadows. It faded into the background but refused to disappear completely. She would not turn her head to give it the attention it craved.

Instead, Sakura took in the sights and sounds, feeling like a proper tourist for the first time in her life. Gaara took her down a small path that led from the Kazekage mansion to the larger maze of interconnected paths to the thoroughfare of the village. From this narrow road, all other paths diverged. And his chosen path opened up into a lively and festival area.

There was no official looking celebration or staged performance, but the atmosphere had a similar ambience to them both. And the people were in merriment as though there really was a carnival going on. Sakura wondered if this was a new thing, because of the tensions of the Cold War and people just wanting to forget for a time, or if Suna had always occasionally held large-scaled revelries. Civilians behind the walls of any village, hidden and safer than most, couldn’t understand what it was really like out there, surely.

Enough of the doom and gloom.

The Root shadow followed as they moved deeper into the edge of the festivities, where the crowd was thinnest, keeping away from the louder groups. Far away. Some people turned to look at them; they recognised Gaara, despite his casual long styled jinbei, but Sakura’s casual shirt and trousers would not have screamed her identity more than her shocking pink hair. Even drab, it stood out. Fortunately, the crowd was sparse, having died down from the dinner rush, which meant the menu selections were limited but that suited them just fine.

Sakura tried not to notice how many people there really were. Nor the concerned look on Gaara’s face when he clearly noticed her anxiety. A few vendors sat on the outskirts of this rabble and Gaara steered them towards the first of the street food merchants, his hand on the small of her back. Sakura eyed the yakisoba but ultimately decided on yakitori. Gaara chose the same.

“I cannot take your money, Lord Kazekage,” the flustered merchant waved his hands frantically, when Gaara went to pay for it. “A treat for your lady friend. On the house.”

Sakura inhaled deeply, not wanting to speak for fear of setting off her anxiety. There were enough eyes on her. And the Shadow was ever present, even in the background. She took a deep breath and followed Gaara as he led her to an open dining area that was mostly empty. They sat on the tableless chairs and ate, just enjoying the distantly happy atmosphere and their silent company. It was oddly comfortable.

There was a tradition in Suna, or so Gaara had told her on the walk down the paths to this district. He’d learned about it from his brother. Like bar hopping in Konoha, this was called stall hopping – on dates or festival nights, going from one vendor to the next, buying a single, small portion of food, then moving onto the next vendor to repeat the process. It sounded interesting. Having finished their seasoned chicken, they now had their meat. Their animal protein.

The next stall had to be different. That was the tradition.

With Gaara’s arm pressed lightly and confidently against Sakura’s lower back, they continued to the next stall, which specialised in rice and seaweed as their main ingredients. Here, the vendor owner also refused Gaara’s money and ladled their plates with a serving of Onigiri and a shrimp tempura roll and ushered them to some seats nearby.

Sakura supposed it was good for business too, having the Kazekage seen at their stall.

“No, no, Lord Kazekage! I will not have it!” The third vendor followed the example of the previous ones, refusing Gaara’s money as well.

He was flushed at the intensity of their refusals and Sakura had to hide a smile behind her hand.

“Looks like they like you too much,” she whispered.

“Your lady friend will eat for free too.”

Gaara had clearly never actually done anything like this before. The novelty was something to behold. They both ordered a small bowl of miso soup, and this time chose to sit closer to the stall as they consumed their food. Sakura took the opportunity to study him as he delicately sipped at his miso, not bothering with the seaweed within the soup.

His sharp features made her feel nostalgia for the days when a pretty face would have her bumbling over her words or blushing just thinking about some boy’s eyes on her. She closed her eyes as images of Sasuke glaring at her popped into her mind. Her innocent, naïve days were over.

“They like you too,” Gaara whispered softly, and she looked over to see that he’d finished already. He wasn’t looking at her, but she took comfort from the gentle smile on his lips as he looked out over the scant crowd.

Her heart was hammering in her chest, but she tried to ignore it. She’d never been on a date before but had gossiped in her early years of puberty about all the different ways to go about it and how the boy in question would dote on her. However, none of them had involved stall hopping for a street vendor mixed with Kaiseki styled meals for an on the move dinner.

If only we could have done this without a stalker watching our every move.

She pointedly ignored the mostly invisible monster. When they were done, Sakura wanted the next stall to be a dessert one. Gaara pulled a face at the sweets before him, and Sakura laughed at the way he fake-coughed like it would get him out of helping her choose something.

Gaara turned his nose up at the dumplings and imagawayaki that Sakura had pointed out, making her giggle more like she was a real girl on a date this time. He really didn’t like sweets. There was no fried ice-cream, which she assumed he’d like better, but she convinced him to try some savory senbei. He didn’t flinch at the taste, and she grinned at him like she’d won a prize. His skin flushed a light pink, but he said nothing.

This merchant also refused his money and Sakura found herself comforting Gaara’s obvious unease by rubbing her hand along his lower back. The move surprised them both but except for a moment’s hesitation, she didn’t let it stop her from continuing. Until their food came and she focused on the task of consuming her dumplings without choking from embarrassment.

Their final vendor was a tea stand. This owner was just as impressed by the appearance of the Kazekage and finally, Gaara didn’t bother feeling too awkward about their insistence regarding payment. They took their green tea and decided to stroll out of the district, side by side, arms down, hands brushing against each other every now and then. And like naïve teenagers who’d never done anything romantic before, they wore identical looks of shyness and happiness. It was a great feeling. An unfamiliar feeling, for them both.

“I’m proud of you, Gaara.”

He blinked at her. “I should say the same.”

She smiled as they moved away, the food stalls gave way to a larger area. The food here came in restaurant size, but they bypassed it, keeping to the edge. But all good things do come to an end.

Because I’m a freak.

There was a commotion. Not a violent one by the sounds of it, but it seemed that some people were making a fuss in a crowd nearby. Yelling. Whooping. Drunken noises. Sounds that mimicked festivities that had gotten out of hand. The crowd was larger than Sakura was used to, and she hesitated on the threshold. She closed her eyes for a second to control her breathing, taking a small, unconscious step away from it. Her heart was racing again, her palms sweaty. Gaara stood silently and patiently beside her. He touched her arm softly when it was clear she wasn’t going anywhere.

“Are you okay?”

She couldn’t nod or speak, just trying to focus on her breathing. Her ears were ringing but it came and went quickly. Sakura grasped Gaara’s hand that had touched her, startling him. He took the hint and led her away from it. There were more commotions, but not as loud or out of control this time. The people were just having fun. Sakura didn’t know what had drawn their attention as she was not focusing on anything other than moving her feet and how warm Gaara’s hand felt against her skin.

And as they came to the edge of these newer sounds, she didn’t hesitate. “Let’s have a look.”

“Are you sure?”

He clearly was worried she wouldn’t be able to handle it, and he had reason to. She wasn’t exactly exuding confidence. But Sakura wanted to go down there and just check it out, at least. To find out what had drawn the attention of so many if not the usual things attributed to festivities, like games or fireworks. They didn’t have to stay for long. Just long enough to satisfy her curiosity.

Sakura reached out and entwined their hands before she could stop herself out of embarrassment. “I’ll squeeze your hand when I want to leave.”

He nodded, swallowing heavily and gently squeezing her hand in affirmation.

Okay, then.

Sakura took a deep breath. I can do this.

She’d already endured the inquisitive stares of the scattered people at the street stalls; this was just another step in the right direction. And if she could do all that under the eye of the Root, then she could do anything. It was just another challenge to overcome. And she so desperately wanted to overcome it.

They were recognised of course, and more than one set of eyes drifted to their entwined hands. Her skin felt clammy all of a sudden and a light squeeze from Gaara both set her heart aflutter and calmed her nerves. They only stayed for a few minutes. The lights were bright and the people, laughing and swaying, were loud and friendly. But she’d finally had enough.

Masks.

It was a mask gathering, themed not unlike the Matsuri festival back in Konoha. Not everyone was wearing a mask but there were small groups of impromptu dancers and some scattered musicians. They had the appearance of entertainers who had just come off some kind of travelling troupe but didn’t look out of place. Not like her. Sakura felt underdressed all of a sudden but pushed that anxiety down.

She gently squeezed Gaara’s hand, and he immediately steered them to a path that would lead away from the festivities. Like the interconnected paths she imagined it also led to the thoroughfare. But they didn’t get a chance to use it. There was a cry of something that sounded like frustration and excitement to her right and Sakura stiffened as a clearly very drunk civilian came stumbling as quickly as he could towards them. He made flailing motions with his arms, his face twisted in a grin and nonsensical words on his slurred and unintelligible tongue.

Ugly, rotten teeth. Polished and dangerous.

That peel of laughter wasn’t coming from the drunkard. It was seeping out of the shadows.

Sakura reeled, almost falling over. Gaara held her and she gripped his hand so hard she would’ve broken his sand armour if he’d bothered to wear it. The lights and sounds of the festivities brightened and blinded her. Hazy and screaming. She couldn’t breathe. She couldn’t ask Gaara for help. She couldn’t do a damn thing.

But true to his promise, Gaara was pulling her to him, flush against his chest. Sand whipped up around them, scaring off the drunkard. Sakura closed her eyes as the Kazekage teleported them away. When her feet hit the ground, she let her head fall forward onto Gaara’s chest. She felt the warmth of his hand on her back as he attempted to soothe her. Face pressed against his chest. Ascending numbers flashing through her mind’s eye. Breathing. Leaning into his embrace. Her body sagged. But she was calming down.

The Shadow is gone.

Sakura lost count of those ascending numbers, not knowing how long it really took for her to come back to herself. But she did. And Gaara moved with her as she pulled away, peering at her. Assessing her. Like he cared. She was learning to love those pale green eyes of his.

Fuck it. Why are you so good to me?

“Why…”

Gaara hushed her as she lost that train of thought. She looked around, realising she did not recognise the area he’d teleported them to. Sakura’s head swivelled around several times as she tried to take in the view. They were in what looked like a forest sanctuary. Or rather the kind of forest that Suna could provide with limited resources. The colour green was everywhere. Gardens. Stone pathways. And a dome nearby that screamed, “there’s a greenhouse inside me!”.

“Where are we?”

“The west gardens,” Gaara said. “This area is out of bounds. Only select individuals are allowed here, and only with my permission.”

More places the Shadow can’t reach.

She felt special. And she loved the place on sight. The foreboding pressure had released, and Sakura suddenly felt lighter than air. “Okay, give me a tour,” she said, not having to force her face to smile.

Gaara nodded, gently taking her hand once more. She soaked it all in as they walked along the path and he explained what she was seeing, in that simple but intelligent way of his. On paper, his words would sound clipped, but they came out so serene and husky that Sakura found herself hypnotised by them.

His voice.

She sighed. They found a bench and she let go of his hand before lowering herself onto it. She felt very nervous as Gaara sat beside her. Inches apart. She couldn’t decide which was worse: the way her libido occasionally went into overdrive around him or her current uncomfortable feeling like she was some virginal teenager who didn’t know how to behave in her own skin.

A shock of light and sound. Sakura whipped her head to the side in time to see an explosion of fireworks. She jumped to her feet quickly and scanned the horizon. Gaara stood and mimicked her pose.

“I forgot about that,” he said slowly, and she understood. This was a rare occurrence. Which meant she didn’t want to miss it.

Sakura took his hand and pulled him along as she raced towards it. Still in the gardens, they found the edge of the gardens that overlooked a significant portion of the village and she let herself fall backwards onto the grass. Gaara chuckled as he lay next to her. They had a great view of the fireworks erupting above the village.

They lay next to each other silently, just watching, leaning back on their elbows, and just enjoying the company. Eventually, the fireworks began to die down and, even though there was no hint of it on the horizon, Sakura was sure the sun wouldn’t be far away.

“Thank-you,” she said softly.

“You’re welcome.”

The stars twinkled. The blackness unable to mask their delight. She smiled at that observation. Sakura wanted to just lay here forever. Forget the Root shadow. Forget Danzo. Forget the council and Sajō and whomever it was that was colluding with the usurper Hokage. She just wanted to lie next to Gaara and forget the world. Or maybe she was more worried about getting too comfortable. The night was very, very late. She suppressed a yawn and had to physically stop herself from just flopping onto her back, in fear she’d fall asleep here and never wake up. Gaara, on the other hand, looked well rested. Or just not tired. Whichever.

She turned her gaze back to the stars. The blinking contrast between sparkles and darkness reminded her suddenly of her ink creatures. The light against the black ink sky. The way they seemed to fight each other for dominance. Yet nothing changed.

For almost a month, Sakura had been trying to find her way. Either a way out of the village or a way out of her own head. A path forward, made of the same stones as the ones in these gardens. And definitely not populated by the noisy nighttime carousers. But now, lying next to Gaara and wondering what this night would mean for their non-relationship, Sakura knew suddenly what to do. It was so very clear now.

She sat up straight and turned to face her fake fiancé turned real date, surprising him. He mirrored her movements, openly curious.

“Gaara,” she said. “I made ink creatures.”

Curiosity turned to confusion on his face. “Creatures?”

“Yes, chakra infused creatures made of ink.”

He quirked an eyebrow at her but remained silent.

“They’re hiding in my bathroom right now,” she added, knowing how weird that sounded.

“Why?”

“Why did I make them or why are they hiding?”

“Both.”

Sakura sighed. “I don’t think it’s a surprise that I didn’t choose to come here. Not under my own volition, anyway.” He nodded. “I… have wanted to leave the moment I arrived.” He didn’t look surprised. “The past few years all I could think of was getting away from Danzo. Especially the last six months, with him sending me on suicide runs.”

Gaara’s eyes widened. “He–”

“Let me get this out, please?”

He nodded again.

She cleared her throat. “I’m an idiot though. Every chance I got to get away, I squandered. Every moment in which I could slip away unseen, I freeze like my life depends on it. On my last mission I almost did leave. I saw the Konoha gate come up as I approached… it was so achingly familiar but alien at the same time. Everything about the Leaf is so… wrong, now. I wanted to get away from it. But I didn’t. Couldn’t bring myself to.” She sighed. “I guess I’m just as useless–”

“Stop.” Gaara scowled at her. “Don’t say that.”

Sakura hadn’t answered his question yet, but he suddenly didn’t seem to care. He rose to his knees and took her hands in his. They were warm and safe and not what she would’ve thought possible. Not for her.

“Sakura…” he trailed off for a moment. “it’s called self-sabotage. People do it to themselves, for years at a time even. It doesn’t make them useless. Or stupid. Or any other thing you’re thinking about yourself right now. None of that is true. I… spoke with a civilian therapist,” he said quickly, and she realised her surprise must’ve registered on her face.

A civilian therapist?

“I know what you’re talking about,” she said. “Its clinical term is Behavioural Dysregulation.”

It was a conscious (or unconscious) habit of doing things that were bad for oneself. It didn’t take a degree in clinical psychology to have heard of it, she supposed. Sakura had done quite a lot of reading on that subject, and similar, before everything went to shit. Lady Tsunade had wanted to begin incorporating mind healing into Konoha’s medical training facility.

Sakura gave a sad smile at that memory.

“Do you think…” Gaara cleared his throat. “You’d talk to one too? About… everything.”

Sakura pulled a face. “I don’t think a civilian would understand.”

The one Tsunade had proposed would’ve included both civilian and ninja therapists, though.

“Right.”

She watched Gaara closely as he released her hands and turned his head away. What he was looking at, she couldn’t tell. But his silence had an air of disappointment and contemplativeness to it.

Well, this sucks.

“I created them to scout out the village.”

He looked at her sharply.

At least he’s looking at me now.

“So, I could see the weakness in the guard patrols and escape.”

“Have you?”

She shook her head. There was no relief on his face, only contemplation. And… was he curious about them?

She decided to presume he was. “You want to see them?”

“I’m curious.”

Sakura flushed. “O-okay.”

They stood quickly and awkwardly. For a moment, neither of them moved, but then the warmth of his hand enveloped hers; his free arm snaking around her waist and holding her tightly. Gaara teleported them directly into her bedroom. Sakura trembled lightly as her feet hit the floor, but whether from nerves or the return of her libido she wasn’t sure. Her skin tingled, so maybe it was excitement. She pulled out of his grip quickly.

“Wait here,” she said and Gaara obeyed. She rushed into the bathroom and low and behold, the bird and snake were still holding onto the carcass.

Snake, she thought. I’ll call the ink snake ‘snake’ and the real, dead one ‘serpent’.

But the question that she needed to answer, and quickly before Gaara grew impatient, was whether or not to bring both. Sakura still wanted to keep secrets from him. She liked him. She trusted him. But she also didn’t trust her faith in him. Some things she just didn’t want to share.

But I told him I made creatures. As in, plural.

She sighed. She could always make more, anyway.

“Let go of the carcass,” she said softly, hoping Gaara didn’t have superhuman hearing. The ink bird released its hold while the snake curled its body for a moment, tightening the hold like a child refusing to behave. Then it was releasing it, dropping the carcass carelessly.

As she stood up, Sakura caught the reflection of herself in the bathroom mirror. It was very different to the underfed and ghastly image she’d seen the last time. She paused then smiled and turned away.

“Come on,” she told them, and the bird hopped along the floor after her. The snake seemed hesitant, and Sakura wondered if maybe she’d done something wrong.

She reached down to grab it, and it quickly wrapped its body around her arm gently as she left the bathroom. The bird twittered as it followed and then screeched at the sight of Gaara. He raised an eyebrow at it. Sakura had no idea it could do that. It didn’t have a syrinx, or any kind of noise making membranes, in its windpipe or otherwise. She wondered if it was just because of her. Sai had never mentioned anything about his creations having the ability to make noise, let alone having personalities.

I’m cracked so they are too.

It made no sense, but she supposed it didn’t matter.

It’s probably all just in my head.

Gaara watched them curiously. Sakura watched him nervously. He made no reaction to the noises the bird was making so she decided it was just all in her head. Even if he did twitch slightly when it went to peck him. Fake birds were not faster than a Kazekage. She decided to give him a rundown of her intentions with the creatures. He listened with rapt attention and Sakura found herself becoming more and more excited that someone was hearing this. Finally. She was rambling but it was kind of fun to have someone else to share this with.

“You used them to scout the village perimeter?” He asked when her rambling finally came to an end.

Sakura nodded, unable to stop the flush from heating up her neck. Was it okay that she’d done that? Probably not. But he didn’t seem put out. Maybe he was thinking about how it could help with that councillor? Or the entire council. Or maybe it was just her wishful thinking.

“What will you do with them now?”

So much for him thinking of this strategically.

“I want to help you.”

Gaara stood and walked over to her. He stopped inches in front of her. The movement could be confused with an attempt to intimidate her, but she knew he wouldn’t do that. Instead of trying to stare her down or talk her out of it, he reached out and tucked a stray lock of hair behind her ear. The small part of her that still responded to romantic and kind gestures was weak at the knees right now. Not the rest of her. Just the girlish side. She swallowed heavily, overwhelmed with gratitude.

“Okay,” he said finally.

“Okay?”

He smiled. “Okay.”

Sakura laughed. “Okay.”

The way he was looking at her… she desperately wanted to kiss him. Or for him to kiss her. But she knew he wouldn’t. Gaara would not presume such a forward action. He was poised. He was a gentleman. But gods did she want him to toss that aside and just fucking snog her. Maybe get in a few gropes and pelvis grinding.

Sakura forced herself to relax, realising she’d tensed up the more she contemplated the idea of Gaara pressing her against the wall. He didn’t look fazed by her weird demeanour. The snake tightened itself around her arm for a moment, but she ignored it. It wasn’t important. Trying to figure out whether or not to grab the Kazekage and pull his face down to meet her in a soul-searing kiss was important.

She cleared her throat.

“It’s late,” he said suddenly. “I should go.”

There was a flush on his face she’d overlooked in her internal musing. She was proud of herself for that. But her stomach clenched at the thought of letting him leave right now. She nodded though. It was very late. They were both going to be sleeping in a little longer in the morning.

All that does is make me wonder what he looks like first thing in the morning. Fuck.

What were the protocols here? Kiss him on the cheek? On the mouth? Make-out heavily then act like it was no big deal? Pepper him with kisses along his jawline, down to his neck and… fuck.

Focus.

Gods. Her libido again. She wanted to give into it so bad. But Gaara wasn’t moving, and she had to make a decision. She decided to just go with a peck on the cheek. It could be excused away much easier. Sakura stood higher to peck his cheek softly but couldn’t bring herself to pull away once her lips touched him. The warmth of his skin, the bright tinging of his ears; he was as excited as she was. That’s what she told herself. Why else would her lips against him make him blush?

Maybe I could…

She took a chance and turned her face towards his. They were closer than they’d ever been, now breathing in each other’s air. Sakura remained on her tiptoes. Gaara lowered his head slightly, but not far enough.

Do it. Do it. Do it. Do it. Do it.

When he licked his lips, she knew. Sakura tilted her chin up, angled her head to keep from knocking their noses together and pressed her lips to his softly. Their eyes closed at the same time. She parted her lips to envelop his then tugged on his bottom lip gently before pulling away completely. At the last moment, he’d opened his mouth slightly in a gasp.

No tongues were used in the making of this fucking perfect first kiss.

It was a chaste way to the end the night and despite her body wanting, no demanding more, she maintained their newfound distance, pressing a hand against his chest as they both recovered from it. Gaara had responded to her kiss, albeit in a small way. That was enough. She would continue this with him later, now that she knew he wanted her as much as she wanted him. It was late and she was suddenly very, very tired.

After a few moments, he hastily repeated his goodbyes in that cool but cute bumbling way she’d learned to love and left.

She smiled widely. For the first time for a long time, Sakura could say she was profoundly happy.

.:.

#GaaSaku #fanfiction #my fanfiction #A Beautiful Lie

4 notes · View notes

apocalypticavolition · 2 months

Text

Let's (re)Read The Great Hunt! Chapter 41: Disagreements

What can I say that I haven't said already? I'm rereading the whole Wheel of Time series at a rate that suggests I'll be finished just in time for the Third Age to actually happen. There's spoilers galore, for this book, that book, and all the other books. If you don't like it, don't keep reading.

We have a chapter with the ruby-hilted dagger now that we're finally closing in on our quarry and it's looming over everyone's decision making process.

“Can’t you do something about this?” Rand demanded of her. A small voice in the back of his head told him he could do it himself. All he need do was embrace saidin.

Jeez boy, did Moiraine manipulate the weather for your benefit? You know Elaida can, but you also know that even she can't do it to a large degree.

And yeah, Dragon Reborn or not, I think he'd burn himself out if he tried to fix the weather himself at this point.

And worst of all, the examples the Seanchan had made before leaving still chilled the people to their marrow. They had buried their dead, but they feared to clean away the large charred patch in the village square. None of them would say what had happened there, but Hurin had vomited as soon as they entered the village, and he would not go near the blackened ground.

"A peaceful land. A quiet people."

I know I keep harping on it, but I gotta be clear: the Seanchan are only a single step up from rule by the shadow. If Atuan's Mill is any indication, the "orderly society" of the Seanchan colonies is going to run into real problems due to so many people fleeing the villages that feed the cities.

“There are always men who see chances for their own advantage in the confusion of war. Fain is one like that. No doubt he thinks to steal the Horn again, from the Dark One this time, and use it for his own profit.”

Ingtar, being a former Darkfriend himself, is naturally the one who most understands Fain's psychology, though even he doesn't understand that in addition to everything else, the man is nuts. And also he's still a doubter.

He glanced at Rand and gave a ragged laugh. “That makes you Aes Sedai, the Light help us all.”

Say it louder, Mat. I'm not sure all the Shienarians heard you.

“Not him, my Lord, and not the Trollocs, neither. Whoever did that left a stench, though.” He pointed to the wreckage that had been houses. “It was killing, my Lord. There were people in there.”

The order the Seanchan create is built on mass trauma of the populace, which makes it particularly unstable. The damage they do is why I think that in the actual Fourth Age, the south and west won't stay "as one" for very long; even if Tuon brings about the sweeping reforms necessary for the Seanchan, she can't possibly reconquer anywhere that goes rogue while she's trying to bring her own continent to order - and she may not even be able to pull that off, even with Mat's help.

“He is here,” Verin said calmly, “and he went to Falme.” “And he’s still here,” Rand said. Waiting for me. Please, Light, he’s still waiting.

I wonder if Verin is just as uncertain on the inside as Rand is. She must know that Falme is important to the Shadow, but Fain has got to be clearly off-script compared to anything Ishamael might have told her at the social.

“That isn’t the way,” Hurin said softly. “Not ‘must.’ What happens, happens.” No one paid him any mind.

Hurin's only half-right. Surrendering to destiny as one might to saidar is one way to conquer it, but the saidin approach does work as well so long as you're actually handling your fate instead of what you want your fate to be. Rand took control of his destiny a few times by accepting what the signs were and bringing them about. Ingtar isn't doing that here though, he's rejecting them entirely.

They all stared at him, Mat and Perrin frowning, worried but considering; Verin as if she had just seen a new piece added to a puzzle. Loial looked astonished, and Hurin seemed confused. Ingtar was openly disbelieving.

And each and every one of these people (bar Verin, who is just here for love of the game and so only offers strategic advice, though it's still a bit "don't do that dumbass") immediately tries to dissuade Rand even though this is exactly one of those times I mean: he knows all of the signs and portents and wants to ride out to his fate instead of being dragged along by coincidence like he has been so often these past two books.

I am sure whatever choice you make will be the right one.

I suppose that from Verin's perspective, Rand being the Dragon Reborn must be something of a relief. Her work outing the Black Ajah is nearly done and now instead of being the Light's most valuable and least noticed player, she gets to pass the torch on to the dude who is known to have destiny on his side.

Rand leaned his hands on the mantel over the fireplace and stared into the flames. They made him think of Ba’alzamon’s eyes.

Jordan, it's not foreshadowing if it's only five paragraphs in advance.

“You honor me. And belittle yourself. I know you too well. I have faced you a thousand times. A thousand times a thousand. I know you to your miserable soul, Lews Therin Kinslayer.”

Ishamael gives it away here, saying that being called Father of Lies is an honor.

How many times have you died across the span of the Ages, fool, and how much has death availed you? The grave is cold and lonely, save for the worms. The grave is mine.

Okay Ish but... how many times have you died across the span of the Ages and how much has your grave availed you? Wyrms- sorry, worms- aren't the most pleasant creatures but they serve a useful purpose and to them the grave isn't lonely at all, it's a paradise where they can hang out with their friends.

It really is amazing just how blind to the good parts of the setting Ishamael is.

Ba’alzamon took half a step back, holding the banner clutched before him.

Quoting this bit of Ishy's reaction to Rand's attack for something two quotes from now.

Mat. The thought floated somewhere beyond the consuming flood. The dagger. The Horn. Fain. Emond’s Field. I can’t die yet.

And again, Rand grabs hold of his destiny and makes it work for him, pulling him free of saidin because if he doesn't break free everything else goes to shit.

“There is your banner, Kinslayer. Much good will it do you.

Again the hypocrisy! A page ago, when Rand was diving at Ba'alsy, the dude was clutching to the banner between them. It did him absolutely no good; for Rand it will be doing plenty of good.

“My name,” Rand forced between chattering teeth, “is Rand al’Thor.”

And here Rand gets to something subtly important about his nature and that of how the Wheel is cyclical but still linear: Yes, he's Lews Therin reborn, but death and rebirth is a transformation so extreme that he's not Lews Therin anymore. Even after all the deaths and rebirths awaiting for him over the next seven ages, he won't be Lews Therin in the next Second Age. He'll still be the Champion and he'll play the same part, but all the details will be different and could lead to a happier ending depending on what he does and how everyone else acts too.

Next time: Falme!

#let's read #wheel of time #wot #robert jordan #wheel of time spoilers #wot spoilers #rand al'thor #ingtar shinowa #hurin #uno nomesta #loial #verin mathwin #perrin aybara #mat cauthon #masema #ishamael

4 notes · View notes

waitmyturtles · 1 year

Text

Okay, I’ll try to be quick about this. I’ll do it in list form to set some ground rules and get my analysis going.

(I am arguably very frustrated overall about what I’m about to write, because of how excellent The Eighth Sense was, and watching this was just a bit of a downer, man.)

1) I will own that at this point, I might be the only The Promise apologist on this site. I might have led friends astray at this show. For that, I offer a 90-degree wai of apology. I gotta check the tag, but I wouldn’t be surprised.

(Senpai @respectthepetty...I’ll watch The Shipper as self-punishment.)

2) Yes, Phu DEFINITELY sucks. BUT, there’s a but that I’ll get to in a sec.

3) For the first time in this show, I am actually frustrated by the pace.

4) Party definitely rules, Mr. Sassy.

Alright, all that out of the way, get ready to hear why, once more, even I surprise myself by saying, I STILL like this show, but we’re on shakier ground. The Promise, episode 7, here we go:

We’ve now established two social rules by which Nan and Phu operate:

a) Phu is afraid of loss, 100%. He’s scarred by his father’s death, and doesn’t want to lose anymore people in his life, especially his best friend.

(HOW that equated to him RUNNING AWAY for 10 YEARS is STILL unclear to me, but I SUPPOSE that if Nan can STILL wait for an answer, then WE, as the audience, are expected to wait, TOO, which I THINK, dear director Khom Kongkiat/Uncle Tong, is ASKING a little MUCH of US, BUT ANYWAY)

b) Nan has said this shit in the past and present about how he wants FRIENDS, and separates that from LOVERS. And Phu is all up in his confusion about that.

I mean, I think I can get that those are legitimate reasons why Phu continues to hold back from revealing his truth to Nan.

But, fuckin’ GO PARTY. Party is like.... what the fuck, dude? Just come out and say it!

AND: Party put himself out there! He put himself out on the line! He revealed himself to Nan! Nan rejected him. But guess what? They’re still gonna be friends! PHU SAW ALL THAT!

Will Phu NOT be satisfied IF Nan rejects him? I mean, Phu will be sad, but... can’t they be like Party and Nan, and still be friends? NO?

On the one hand, I say: WHAT THE FUCK? Phu -- you are REALLY hyping this up! Why should everything be 100% with you?

On the other hand, I say: My socio-emotional read is that because Phu experienced the death of a loved one at an early age, things might HAVE to be 100% with him.

I just don’t know if Uncle Tong is weaving this complicated and emotional story as well as he could be at this point. I don’t know how efficient each episode is at selling the skincare. I absolutely loved the focus on the coffee farm and the process of the beans and everything. I love, love those slices of village life. It very much harkens to P’Khom’s actual role in Bad Buddy, and obviously goes to show how much he wants to profile these slices of Thai village life. I love those parts.

But at this point, as I said last week, we’ve waited too long. We need clarity. I get we have three episodes at an hour each, but the pace has now started to drag. I love what this show gives by way of a respect of the rural life these guys come from, but the imbalance is there among Devonte commercials/life in Chiang Mai/Granny and how she’s there to explain who Phu really is/Nan’s patience.

It’s not quite working anymore. I’m gonna stick out this show, because who knows if Uncle Tong can give us a huge and surprise ending, and there are only three episodes left, anyway.

But seriously, Nan is getting fuckin’ seriously played, and like, I think Phu is not as dumb as he’s being written. Maybe Phu’s read is that he thinks Nan is a lot stronger than Nan actually is. I don’t know. I just don’t know why Phu would play his homey like this for SO LONG. WHY DID PHU COME BACK, ONLY TO ATTEMPT TO RUN AWAY AGAIN.

Yes, you’re held back by your demons, but -- maybe it would have been best if Phu had just permanently stayed away.

Come on, Uncle Tong. PLEASE clean up this mess. I HAVE HOPE.

#the promise #the promise meta #nan x phu #phu x nan #i think i'm sticking with this show in part because the leads have EXCELLENT chemistry #i like both of them as actors very much #and i really love the chiang mai parts #very ATOTS of the show #but seriously #phu doesn't not realize what a fuckboi he is #it's ENOUGH #ENOUGH ALREADY #GIVE US SOME TRUTH UNCLE TONG #you were all about truth in BBS #just #COME ON ALREADY

11 notes · View notes

talon-the-hawk · 9 months

Text

Even MORE Incorrect D19 Quotes

Valeri : Whoa, Alexandru, what’s up with that angry face? Alexandru: Valentin won’t stop talking about how “Ancient Egyptians were furries”. Valentin: But they were! Just looks at all their gods- Alexandru: Oh my god, SHUT UP!

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

Alexandru: Do you guys ever have a civilized conversation that doesn't require insulting each other every time you get a chance? Valentin: No. Valeri : No. Alexandru: Didn't think so.

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

(During DARKWOODS)

Tim: I’m a reverse necromancer! Larissa: Isn’t that just- Jamie: No. Shut up. Shut the fuck up. You are literally so fucking unfunny that it hurts. It physically hurts my body knowing that people still think murder is funny. I cant believe im saying this but do you guys know how chronically online you all are, thinking that saying “oOh iM a rEVeRsE nECrOmANcER i LOvE tO kiLL pEOpLe” is genuinely funny and will get everyone in the room shitting themselves from laughter?? cause its not. It’s fucking not. In fact, its the unfunniest fucking joke ever. Not just any joke about killing people. This one specifically. Its so unfunny and stupid. Nobody is fucking laughing at that, Tim. It makes you look like a greasy emo kid who has never been outside once in their life and uses tumblr religiously. Like not even the funny side of tumblr. the fucking unfunny side filled with overused jokes about murder and illegal acts. Honestly, youre so unfunny, Tim. Fuck you.

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

Jamie: Do you think different paints have different tastes? Larissa: They do. Kate: ...Why did you say that with such certainty?

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

Jamie: I reserve the right to judge a movie based on when it was made, thank you very much. Kate: You consider anything made before 2000 old and bad. Jamie: And I reserve that right! After all.... Jamie: I bet you wouldn’t like the average movie made in 1879! Kate: There were no movies made in 1879. Jamie: *slams table* WRONG! There was ONE movie made in 1879! The first movie! A zoopraxioscope of a horse galloping! Matt: Oooh! Let’s go ask Valentin if he saw it in theatres!

(Yes, he did in fact see it in theatres-)

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

Kate: I didn’t know that air fryers are a real thing. Used to think that they were made up by the internet as a funny joke and that their purpose was to “fry air”. Larissa: WAIT, BUT IT FRIES THE AIR TO FRY THE FOOD?? Kate: I DIDN’T KNOW IT WAS A KITCHEN APPLIANCE, MY FIRST ASSUMPTION WAS SOMETHING AKIN TO AN AIR CONDITIONER! Matt: IT’S NOT LIKE AN AIR CONDITIONER???? Jamie: You guys clearly don’t own an air fryer.

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

Kate, spraying a melted cutting board with a tiny water gun: We gotta cool this bitch down. Cool it down. Jamie: I actually just put the cutting board in the oven... Larissa, visibly confused: Okay, so they decided to put the cutting board in the oven? Kate, spraying Jamie: You FUCKING DUMBASS! Jamie: Dude, I forgot- Kate: OH MY FUCKING GOD! We're trying to make Chicken Alfredo right now, and you fucking MELT the cutting board in the oven at 400 DEGREES FAHRENHEIT!? Valentin: *Watching in complete confusion while trying to process this whole situation.*

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

Valentin: We might have gotten into a bar room brawl back in the city. Dracula: Well, that was entirely predictable. Valentin: One of them punched a gang member. Dracula: Valeri? Valentin: Alexandru, actually. Dracula: Oh, that was going to be my second guess.

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

Kate: What’s the announcement, Matt? Matt: It’s a lecture. Jamie’s gonna tell us everything they know about sex. Larissa: It should be an enjoyable 60 seconds.

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

Valeri: I still don’t have a New Year’s resolution. Alexandru: You could lose a few. Dracula: You could be less lazy. Valentin: Don’t be such a bitch. Valeri: Okay DAMN, SHIT.

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

Jamie: THEY COME SEASONALLY! Jamie: THEY COME EVERY YEAR! Kate: What- Larissa, are they drunk again- Jamie: IT DOESN’T MATTER WHERE I GO! Jamie: WHAT DOES IT MEAN? Larissa: What does WHAT mean? Matt, who is the only one who knows what Valentin is talking about: I mean, when you found one in the bathroom- Kate: WHAT THE FUCK DID JAMIE FIND IN THE BATHROOM? Jamie: I’M TELLING YOU LIKE- LIKE IN THE SWIMMING POOL- Jamie: IN L.A. Jamie: EVERYWHERE I GO, THE DUCKS COME TO ME! Kate and Larissa : Oh, for fuCKS SAKE Jamie-

#Department 19 #Department 19 series #please read department 19

6 notes · View notes

howlofhades · 10 months

Text

Irais, Barks, Bear and Laz incorrect quotes

Lazarus, to someone that angered him: *Holds two middle fingers*

Irais: Can’t say I’m surprised…

Barks: Yeah, flip em off, Lazarus !

Bear, confused: *Holds one middle finger*

Irais and Barks, both very distressed: NOOOOOOOOOOOO!

Lazarus: I didn’t know that air fryers are a real thing. Used to think that they were made up by the holonet as a funny joke and that their purpose was to “fry air”.

Bear: WAIT, BUT IT FRIES THE AIR TO FRY THE FOOD??

Lazarus: I DIDN’T KNOW IT WAS A KITCHEN APPLIANCE, MY FIRST ASSUMPTION WAS SOMETHING AKIN TO AN AIR CONDITIONER!

Irais: IT’S NOT LIKE AN AIR CONDITIONER????

Barks: You guys clearly don’t own an air fryer.

*The gang is learning CPR on a test dummy*

Barks: So, assessing the situation. Are they breathing?

Lazarus: No, Barks. They are not breathing. And they have no arms or legs.

Barks: No, that’s not part of it—

Lazarus: Where are they? You know what? If we come across somebody with no arms or legs do we bother resuscitating them? I mean, what kind of quality of life do we have there?

Bear: I would want to live with no legs.

Lazarus: How about no arms? No arms or legs is basically how you exist right now, Bear. You don’t do anything.

Barks: Alright, well, lets get back to it. ‘Cause you’re losing him.

Lazarus: *pumps frantically*

Barks: Okay, too fast. Everyone, we need to pump at a pace of a 100 beats per minute.

Lazarus: Okay, that’s uh, hard to keep track. How many is that per hour?

Irais: How’s that gonna help you?

Lazarus: I will divide and then count to it.

Irais: Right.

Barks: Okay. Well, a good trick is to pump to the tune of ‘Staying Alive’ by the Bee Gees. Do you know that song?

Lazarus: Yes, yes I do. I love that song. *clears throat, begins to sing* First I was afraid, I was petrified.

Barks: How do Lazarus and Irais usually get out of these messes?

Bear: They don't. They just make a bigger mess that cancels the first one out.

Lazarus: We need a way to lure in new customers?

Barks: Maybe we could have some fun, interactive events!

Bear: Irais bath water.

Irais: ABSOLUTELY NOT!

*after the Squad's plan goes horribly wrong*

Irais: Now it seems we're back at square one-- finding Bear.

Lazarus: For the record, I already found them.

Barks: And you let them get away before we could have a meaningful conversation.

Lazarus: he stabbed me!

Irais: I'm surprised he waited this long, Lazarus. We've all had the urge.

Lazarus: I just watched Bear jump off of a spinning chair. Luckily, he wasn't hurt that badly. But the whole time, Irais was screaming for help, which caused Barks to run in to help Bear. Just note that all of this happened in the span of six minutes.

Irais, singing to the tune of I Kissed a Girl: I killed a guy, and I liked it-

Lazarus, whispering: Should we call the exorcist?

Barks, also singing: The taste of his cherry chapstick.

Bear, appalled: Call the exorcist.

Lazarus: Is stabbing someone immoral?

Barks: Not if they consent to it.

Irais: Depends on who your stabbing.

Bear: YES??!!?

Bear: You're smiling. What happened?

Barks: What? Can't I smile just because I feel like it?

Lazarus: Irais tripped and fell down the stairs today.

Barks: You know guys, sometimes I feel like Bear doesn't take me seriously enough.

Lazarus: "Sometimes"?

Irais: "Enough"?

Barks:

Irais: Change that to 'at all' and we'll talk.

Lazarus, spraying a melted cutting board with a tiny water gun: We gotta cool this bitch down. Cool it down.

Irais: I actually just put the cutting board in the oven...

Bear, visibly confused: Okay, so he decided to put the cutting board in the oven?

Lazarus, spraying Irais: You FUCKING DUMBASS!

Irais: Dude, I forgot-

Lazarus: OH MY FUCKING GOD! We're trying to make Chicken Alfredo right now, and you fucking MELT the cutting board in the oven at 400 DEGREES FAHRENHEIT!?

Barks: *Watching in complete confusion while trying to process this whole situation.*

Lazarus, Irais and; Bear: *screaming*

Barks: *runs into the room* What's wrong, Bear?!

Lazarus: Wait, why are you asking Bear that when Irais and I are also here?

Barks: Because Bear wouldn't scream unless it's an emergency. You two scream whenever you have the chance.

Lazarus: *falls down the stairs*

Bear: Are you okay?

Barks: Stop falling down the stairs!

Irais: How’d the ground taste?

Irais: What's worse than a heartbreak?

Barks: Waking up in the morning and your datapad wasn't charging.

Lazarus: Waking up in the morning.

Bear: Waking up.

Lazarus: We call that a traumatic experience.

Lazarus, turning to Bear: Not a "bruh moment".

Lazarus, turning to Barks: Not "sadge".

Lazarus, turning to Irais: And DEFINITELY not an "oof LMAO".

Lazarus: I haven't slept in seventy-three hours.

Irais: Eighty. Democratically elected leader of insomnia.

Barks: Bitch, it's been ninety for me. I'm going for an even one hundred.

Bear: You guys are fucking terrifying.

#blue posts #blue's ocs #blue's oc rambles #bear #barks #104th clone oc lazarus “laz”#lazarus #501st clone medic barks #clone medic barks #medic barks #commander irais #irais

3 notes · View notes

govred · 2 years

Text

Fugitives of Pantala...but it's incorrect quotes-

Blue: Your lover doesn't have the mental strength to caramelize onions. Swordtail: Your lover thinks it takes 5-10 minutes to caramelize onions. Sundew: Who's fucking caramelizing onions? Have you sociopaths forgotten that apples exist? Cricket: Do you think caramelizing onions is putting caramel on onions.

Cricket: We need to distract these guys. Sundew: Leave it to me. Sundew: Centaurs have six limbs and are therefore insects. Discuss. Swordtail & Blue: *immediately begin arguing*

Cricket, pointing to the wall: What color is this? Swordtail: Gray. Blue: Grey. Cricket, turning to Sundew: Now tell them what color you think it is. Sundew: Dark white.

Swordtail: Is stabbing someone immoral? Cricket: Not if they consent to it. Sundew: Depends on who your stabbing. Blue: YES??!!?

Blue: Shh, here comes Swordtail! Sundew: Quick, Cricket, start talking about boring nerd stuff! Cricket: You know, nerd culture is mainstream now, so when you use the word “nerd” derogatorily, it means you’re the one that’s out of the zeitgeist. Sundew: Yes, that’s perfect. Just like that.

*The gang when they drop food on the floor* Blue: Aw man. *Throws it away* Sundew: Five second rule! Swordtail: Foolish germs, thinking they can stop me!? *Eats it off the floor* Cricket: *Sobs on the floor*

Swordtail: If I punch myself and it hurts, am I weak or strong? Blue: Strong. Cricket: Weak. Sundew: An idiot, is what your are.

Swordtail, Blue & Cricket: *screaming* Sundew: *runs into the room* What's wrong, Cricket?! Swordtail: Wait, why are you asking Cricket that when Blue and I are also here? Sundew: Because Cricket wouldn't scream unless it's an emergency. You two scream whenever you have the chance.

Cricket, spraying a melted cutting board with a tiny water gun: We gotta cool this bitch down. Cool it down. Sundew: I actually just put the cutting board in the oven... Blue, visibly confused: Okay, so they decided to put the cutting board in the oven? Cricket, spraying Sundew: You FUCKING DUMBASS! Sundew: Dude, I forgot- Cricket: OH MY FUCKING GOD! We're trying to make Chicken Alfredo right now, and you fucking MELT the cutting board in the oven at 400 DEGREES FAHRENHEIT!? Swordtail: *Watching in complete confusion while trying to process this whole situation.*

Blue: I’m so happy two of my favorite people are getting along now. Sundew: Uh, Cricket and Swordtail are not getting along. Blue: They’re not trying to kill each other. Sundew: You may have a point.

Swordtail: I still don’t have a New Year’s resolution. Cricket: You could lose a few. Blue: You could be less lazy. Sundew: Don’t be such a bitch. Swordtail: Okay DAMN, SHIT.

Swordtail: How late were you up last night? Blue & Sundew, in tandem: Me? Swordtail: No, not you two. You stay up late all the time. Swordtail, to Cricket: You.

#sundew wof #cricket wof #blue wof #swordtail wof #wings of fire incorrect quotes #wings of fire

20 notes · View notes

pyropikmin500 · 1 year

Text

Time for some incorrect quotes!

Liz: What are you in the mood for?

King K. Rool: World domination.

Liz: That's a bit ambitious.

King K. Rool: You are my world.

Liz: Aww...

King K. Rool:

Liz:

King K. Rool:

Liz: OH.

Liz: My hands are cold.

King K. Rool: Here, let me hold them.

Liz: My lips are cold too.

King K. Rool: *covers Liz's mouth with their hand*

Liz: *Answers phone.* Hello?

King K. Rool: It's King K. Rool.

Liz: What did they do this time?

King K. Rool: No, it's me, Liz. It's actually me.

Liz: What did you do this time?

Liz: How the hell are you still alive?

King K. Rool: Honestly, I’m just as confused as you are.

King K. Rool: What's this?

Liz, hugging King K. Rool: Affection!

King K. Rool: Disgusting.

King K. Rool: ...Do it again.

Liz, throwing their head into King K. Rool's lap: Tell me I'm pretty!

King K. Rool, lovingly stroking their hair: You're pretty fucking annoying, that's what you are.

King K. Rool: Liz, you love me, right?

Liz: Normally I’d say yes without hesitation, but I feel like this is going somewhere I won’t like.

Liz, jumping out of King K. Rool's closet: BOO!

King K. Rool:

Liz:

King K. Rool:

Liz: *makes a sad face*

King K. Rool: Ahh! Oh my god! You scared me!

King K. Rool: Well, Liz and I finally did it!

The rest of the squad: *gasps, shocked expressions, etc.*

King K. Rool: That's right... We kissed!

Liz: If I say I love you, will you say it back?

King K. Rool: Yes.

Liz: I love you.

King K. Rool: It back.

*Later*

General Klump: Why is Liz crying face-down on the floor?

General Klump: King K. Rool won’t wake up, what do I do?

Liz: Did you try kicking them?

General Klump: Yes.

Liz: I’m out of ideas.

General Klump: I lost Liz.

King K. Rool: How did you LOSE Liz?!

General Klump: To be fair, they are very small.

General Klump: Hey, King K. Rool? Can I get some dating advice?

King K. Rool: Just because I'm with Liz doesn't mean I know how I did it.

General Klump: Liz, I know you love King K. Rool. I mean, we all do, they’re a very nice person and I respect them immensely.

General Klump: But I think they might be a fucking idiot.

General Klump, Krusha & Liz: *screaming*

King K. Rool: *runs into the room* What's wrong, Liz?!

General Klump: Wait, why are you asking Liz that when Krusha and I are also here?

King K. Rool: Because Liz wouldn't scream unless it's an emergency. You two scream whenever you have the chance.

Krusha & General Klump in the back of King K. Rool's car: MCDONALDS! MCDONALDS! MCDONALDS!

Liz: We have food at home.

King K. Rool: *pulls into the McDonald's drivethrough*

Krusha & General Klump: YAYYYYYY!

King K. Rool: *orders one black coffee and leaves*

Liz: This food is too hot... I cant eat it.

King K. Rool: You’re very hot, and I still eat you.

Everyone at the table: *silence*

General Klump: YOU GUYS ARE DISGUSTING!

Krusha: One dinner... I just want ONE DINNER!

Krusha: *about King K. Rool and Liz* They make a cute couple, huh?

General Klump: They certainly are standing next to each other.

*at an awards show*

Krusha: Can I carry you on my back like General Klump did?

Liz: I don't think King K. Rool would like that.

Krusha: *pouts*

*Later*

Krusha: *carrying Liz on their back*

King K. Rool: What the hell??

Liz: What was I supposed to do? Say no?

King K. Rool, spraying a melted cutting board with a tiny water gun: We gotta cool this bitch down. Cool it down.

Krusha: I actually just put the cutting board in the oven...

Liz, visibly confused: Okay, so they decided to put the cutting board in the oven?

King K. Rool, spraying Krusha: You FUCKING DUMBASS!

Krusha: Dude, I forgot-

King K. Rool: OH MY FUCKING GOD! We're trying to make Chicken Alfredo right now, and you fucking MELT the cutting board in the oven at 400 DEGREES FAHRENHEIT!?

General Klump: *Watching in complete confusion while trying to process this whole situation.*

King K. Rool: What’s up with Krusha? They’ve been laying on the floor for like….an hour now?

Liz: They're just a little overwhelmed.

King K. Rool: Why?

Liz: General Klump smiled at them.

Donkey Kong: Ah, yes. Here we have a beautiful couple...

Liz: I really care about your feelings!

King K. Rool: I really care about YOUR feelings!

Donkey Kong, turning their head: ...and then there's the disaster couple...

Krusha: YOU NEED TO PAY MORE ATTENTION TO ME INSTEAD OF BEING AT THE HOSPITAL!

General Klump: I WOULDN'T HAVE TO SPEND SO MUCH TIME AT THE HOSPITAL IF YOU STOPPED INSISTING ON FIGHTING EVERYONE WHO COMES WITHIN A FIVE FOOT RADIUS OF YOU!

General Klump: Guys, I’ve been meaning to tell you… Krusha and I are dating.

Krusha, Liz, Donkey Kong, and King K. Rool: *gasp*

General Klump: Krusha, why are you surprised?

#king k. rool #incorrect quotes #general klump #krusha #donkey kong #oc #donkey kong country

2 notes · View notes

actualaster · 1 year

Text

Hm, so, some thoughts on The Ending (still partially processing)

Obviously massive endgame spoilers below for Scarlet.

I kind of figured pretty quick that we were dealing with a non-legitimate entity rather than the professor, but I was thinking maybe they were recordings and the time machine thing was involved--using the time machine to know who would show up and make the recordings accordingly or something. (Yes that theory has holes, look I'm running on very little sleep over the last several days and I only beat the game about 7am after being awake... Fuck, like, 20 hours okay give me some slack on the lack of brain processing power lol)

Was wondering if maybe she'd sent herself to the past and was somehow able to observe or communicate to a degree with the time machine but unable to send her physical body back to the present or something, as well.

I was kind of, for a second there, like "...dude holy shit is that a corpse or something? that's too dark for pokemon right? wait, no, i mean they absolutely had pokemon getting sentenced to execution via being torn apart in one of the PMD games..." and was very much relieved to find out it was a robot XD

Not surprised to find out the professor was dead, but was interesting to find out how long she'd been dead and when she had died. Definitely feel real bad for Arven, though--like suddenly all the neglect he went through makes sense, but on top of that he gets confirmation that his mom is very much gone and that's just.

Somebody get that kid some therapy, he's gonna need years of it to process all that, I think.

Also very interesting how the AI did, in the end, deviate somewhat from the original Sada and her goals. I wonder if the original Sada would have changed her views had she survived? Is that why the AI eventually decided there wasn't any good logic in striving endlessly for that goal once it was made clear it was destructive...? Had the original Sada survived, would she have modified the defensive systems to account for such a view? Or would she have persisted in trying to force her dream to come true without adaptation?

Since she died and all, she obviously never had the chance to change her mind and the programming would obviously never have been properly updated to stop trying to force that dream through at all costs.

I was also definitely worried for a moment there the AI would self-destruct. It wouldn't be the first time a character has willingly done something that ensured their own end for the greater good in a Pokemon game after all. Gotta wonder, though, how well that damaged body of hers held up on the transit to the past--did she survive the transit? How long was she able to keep functioning? ...Does she still exist somewhere, waiting for somebody to unearth her--or her remains, at least?

Now there's an interesting line of thought--an excavation of fossils, and finding (the remains of) a robot modeled after a contemporary figure or something. Probably gonna be chasing that line of thought for a little bit, that's an interesting one to play with.

Anyway Arven should go home with the MC and get adopted by their mom so that they're siblings now, IMO. I have decided that is my headcanon and I'm sticking to it. If anything in the post-game contradicts this no it won't because I will reject it. :p

Overall, the game had a lot of flaws (most of them technical, to be honest), but it was a very fun game so far and I definitely plan to run through the post-game shortly. I enjoyed the various storylines quite a bit, honestly--and at least cautiously looking forwards to the (highly) probable upcoming DLC.

Hoping that they can take things that worked well both here and PLA and incorporate them together in future games. (Some of how PLA handled the box sorting system I preferred, for example). Also that they can be given enough time to figure out what to do to remove the horrendous lag and weird shit like "there are so many fucking pokemon Inside The Walls Of Everything" lmao. Technical issues and stuff mean the game should definitely have been delayed until mid- 2023 at the earliest (though I get several possible reasons why they didn't--but my getting them does not mean I agree with them.)

#trainer kage #pokemon sv spoilers #kage plays games

6 notes · View notes

holdmecloser-gandydancer · 1 year

Text

I posted 1,865 times in 2022

That's 126 more posts than 2021!

259 posts created (14%)

1,606 posts reblogged (86%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@/barry-j-blupjeans

@/phantasmagoric-acquaintance

@/holdmecloser-gandydancer

@/anistarrose

@/herbgerblin

I tagged 1,771 of my posts in 2022

Only 5% of my posts had no tags

#rip (reeses in pieces) - 214 posts

#not taz - 157 posts

#srb - 92 posts

#reese writes - 54 posts

#taz balance - 53 posts

#taz - 51 posts

#taz amnesty - 50 posts

#asks - 37 posts

#the adventure zone - 34 posts

#lup - 27 posts

Longest Tag: 139 characters

#[reese aren't you working on a long piece with hali in another window?] yeah and? sbtts has been simmering in our shared brains for a while

My Top Posts in 2022:

Barry takes his glasses off and presses the heels of his hands against his eyes. He’s been staring at his computer for far too long today. The computer in question sits on the couch next to him, screen obscenely bright in his dim living room.

He’d been ignoring the emails that infiltrated his inbox with growing frequency and urgency, all of them riddled with subject lines like “Payment Plans for Upcoming Semester,” and “Payment Due Soon,” and “Seriously, You Owe Us Tens of Thousands of Dollars and We Aim to Collect.” You know, normal stuff.

He’d always figured that actually doing the coursework would be the hardest part of grad school, not figuring out how to fund it without owing his soul and first-born child to the federal government. But the fact of the matter is that he’s reached a dead end; most of everything his mom left him was used to pay off his undergrad loans some years back. His university has mentioned scholarships and work study but he’s convinced the scholarships are a myth and also his university declined to mention that the work study they offer doesn’t actually pay him in money, rather they just pay for three course credits. Don’t get him wrong, that’s better than nothing but that doesn’t help pay his rent or buy textbooks.

Once again he mourns the fact that the only applied arcane theory program that accepted him just had to be a private university many states away.

He returns his glasses to his face and pulls his laptop closer to him. He’s about three modules into his ten-module long loan counseling. It’s basically an online program that explains in excruciating detail just how deeply the federal government has his future in their pocket. “Oh, hey Barry! If you Ever fall behind on your loans, we can garnish your wages that already probably won’t be able to pay for a studio apartment in Neverwinter and also you’ll be paying these back for anywhere from ten to twenty five years! You also cannot declare bankruptcy because you live in hell!! Only way to get off the hook for these is if your school shuts down before you get your degree or you die! Now sign on the dotted line after you hyperventilate a little when you look at just how much money you’re going to be responsible for!”

The whole process makes his stomach hurt; there’s no good reason education should be this much. He’s going to be saddled with loans worth more than any yearly salary he could hope to have and now he’s gotta pay them back or die.

Wait.

He rereads the loan forgiveness terms. “If your loan servicer receives acceptable documentation of your death, your federal student loans will be discharged,” he reads to himself. He's got it.

He lets loose a laugh that borders on maniacal and roots around for his phone. It rings once before someone picks up on the other end.

“Lup!” He whoops.

“Bear? What’s up? You sound extremely excitable right now.”

“Okay, remember when you wanted to get married for tax benefits?”

“I do! I also remember you turned me down because you didn’t want to our marriage to be for convenience.”

Barry laughs to himself. “Yeah, I still stand by that.”

“You sap,” she sighs fondly.

“Well, I think I found a way to scam the federal government through a loophole.”

“Gods I love when you talk dirty to me!”

“We can talk more when you come home but I can almost promise you neither of us are paying off our student loans.”

“Barry, I don’t have a clue what you’re talking about and I can’t wait to hear your devious plan. Love you!”

“Love you.” He clicks end on the call and looks around for his theoretical necromancy notes from a few semesters ago.

264 notes - Posted August 12, 2022

Lucretia pulled the door of her room shut and scrubbed tears from her face. Magnus just needed to sleep it off. He’d be fine. They’d all be fine, Lucretia kept telling herself like some kind of chant to a long-forgotten god. She just had to find the others.

She happened upon Merle and Davenport first. They were at the dining room table. Merle watched Davenport carefully as the captain shook like a soaking wet dog. Lucretia plastered a tight smile on her face though she was certain it would fool nobody. At least, it wouldn’t have ten minutes prior.

“Are you both okay?” she asked, glancing between them.

“Uh. I’m a little confused myself. Who’re you? And where exactly are we?” Merle squinted his eyes at her.

Her stomach twisted. Her plan was working, it seemed. And she hated every moment. “I’m…I’m a friend, of sorts. And we are on a vessel that will dock very soon. And then I’m gonna take you home. Soon. I promise.” She spoke slowly, chose her words carefully, and hoped that Merle’s bad memory would give her some breathing room.

“Davenport.”

Lucretia turned and looked at Davenport, a slight furrow in her brow. “Yes, you’re Davenport.”

He looked up at her and she saw a look in his eyes she would never forget. She saw panic and fear on his face like she’d never seen before, not even during their closest encounters with the Hunger. “I-I’m Davenport,” he repeated, voice shaking.

No. Gods no there was no way. She nodded and forced her smile to widen. “Right. Davenport, do you know where you are?”

“Davenport.”

She looked back to Merle. “Has he said anything besides his name in the past ten or so minutes?”

He shook his head. “Nope. Just Davenport.” He thought for a second, tilting his head consideringly. “Well, I guess he said my name right before he started saying his. Kinda weird ‘cuz I never told him my name. But that’s what we’re working with.”

She already wanted to bring out cups of ichor and abort the plan. How could she do this? Her plan might work but at what cost? “Okay. How’s your head feel?”

“Davenport.” His voice was tight and pained.

“Shitty, now that you mention it. Kinda feels like I got hit over the head with a club or something,” Merle said, frowning deeply.

She nodded. “Right. Do you want to go lie down? A nap might help. I have a room for each of you.”

Davenport looked at her blankly. His gaze was haunted and filled Lucretia with sickening regret.

“I could use a nap,” Merle agreed before standing.

“If you’ll both follow me,” she said primly.

She led them wordlessly down to their rooms, surreptitiously grabbing obvious red flags that were present within them. She grabbed Merle’s jacket, a handful of trinkets from the beach cycle, a memento from the First Church of Fungston, and shut his door without another word. Davenport’s room was easier; his jacket was folded on the edge of his bed and few personal affects that would remind him of the mission were clearly visible.

“I’m so sorry,” she whispered, almost more to herself than to him.

She left before she had to hear him say his own name again.

Barry and Taako were nowhere to be found inside the ship. Should have known that they’d be on the deck; they’d both been spending days on end pouring over maps of the realm, touching down to search for Lup, before coming back and feeling defeated.

What she found on the deck stopped her dead in her tracks. Taako’s wand was at his feet, he was staring into space, eyes welling with tears. He had a white-knuckle grip on the railing. Barry wasn’t there. Barry was nowhere on the ship.

She approached Taako carefully. “Taako?”

He snapped his head up and looked in her direction though his gaze seemed to pass right through her. “H-he told me to blast him. He said he was forgetting someone’s face and he told me to blast him. He was panicked and he was scared and I wanted to help him and I don’t know why. I don’t know why. I blasted him. I killed him. I-I just killed him and he smiledwhile I did it,” Taako babbled. He looked like he was about to snap the whole railing with his bare hands.

“Taako, it’s okay,” she said, reaching to put a hand on his shoulder.

He flinched away from her and glared. “Don’t fucking touch me! This isn’t okay! I-I killed a guy. I killed a guy and he probably had a fucking family or something at home.”

“Taako, please. I need you to breathe, okay?” Lucretia did her best to be firm and kind. It usually worked.

“How do you know my name? Who are you? A-and where are we? And who was that guy?” Taako snapped. He was putting on a big front but Lucretia knew what this was. He had on the same feral cat façade that he did when she first met him.

See the full post

286 notes - Posted March 7, 2022

Lup can feel her soul vibrating in her body. This isn’t an uncommon occurrence, just the nature of a lich contained. The sweat prickling her scalp though? That’s all nerves, the kind of physiological vulnerability Lup hates. See, everyone’s getting together later for the largest event of the season; the garden party the twins are throwing for their birthday. It’s going to be obnoxious and extravagant and unbecoming, surely. That’s not the source of her anxiety, though.

Lup’s called Taako over early to give him his gift. (If she’s being honest, it’s as much for her as it is for him but who really wants to argue semantics?) She’s reminded him about it no less than four hundred times in the past week. The timing on this is vital, she thinks.

She glances at the clock that hangs over the kitchen sink and bites at her thumbnail; he’s not even late yet, she’s getting worked up over nothing. She murmurs a quick message to Barry through her Stone of Far Speech before filling a kettle and putting it on the stove to boil. She’s pawing through the pantry for honey and tea, fingertips just able to nudge the honey down without a casualty when she hears a key turn in the lock.

“In here!” she calls, retrieving three teacups from a cabinet near the stove. She methodically drops a large dollop of honey in the bottom of each. She pushes them back from the edge of the counter and moves to lean against the island in the middle of the kitchen.

“Lup, the fact that you made me get up early on my birthday is a crime, frankly,” Taako bemoans as he enters the kitchen, sliding onto a stool as he does.

“Our birthday,” she corrects with a dramatic eye roll. She darts a glance back at the clock again.

“Why’re you being weird?” Taako squints at her. Lup turns to look back at Taako and tries to play it as cool as she can. She’s certain she’s reapproaching normalcy already.

“I’m not being weird,” Lup says, giving a weird little smile. Too plasticine, she realizes too late. She doesn’t do this whole nerves bullshit well. It’s annoying and gross.

“You’re being certifiably weird, Lu. But go ahead, try to pull a fast one over on your dear brother,” Taako laments, putting his chin in his hands. The kettle whistles before Lup’s able to tease him about being a drama queen. At once she gets to work, adding a small splash of hot water to the bottom of each teacup, swirling them around to loosen the honey. She then dumps a healthy amount of tea leaves in each cup and covers them with water. She grabs three small plates from the cupboard and covers them. When she turns around, Taako’s staring at her, his eyes narrowed.

“What?” she asks innocently.

“Why are you making three cups? I thought Barold was out doing errands?”

“He is.”

Taako crosses his arms. “Lup, what’s going on? I don’t dig cagey and I do believe I was promised a gift that couldn’t be given in front of everyone else,” he says expectantly.

Lup takes a breath to steady herself. “Taako, I found her.”

His face folds in on itself in confusion. He glances back over at the three teacups and suddenly his face is opening back up in understanding and disbelief. “Bullshit. There’s no way. I-I’ve asked Kravitz about that a thousand times. He said that you can’t just go dipping in the Astral Plane of other planarverses. He said that not even the Raven Queen could clear something like that. Said it wasn’t possible. That’s the whole reason he wasn’t chasing our asses until we touched down in Faerun,” Taako babbles, trying to ignore that defiant, stomach flipping hope bubbling up inside of him.

Lup beams and ignores the clenching in her throat. “Well, you’re not supposed to be able to. But Kravitz, Barry, RQ, and I have been looking for a workaround. Not just for this, apparently RQ and some of the other gods have been looking for a way to connect with their cross-planar counterparts. I guess to like, aid in the smooth running of each planar system? To be honest when she was talking about it I couldn’t really follow but the point is that I found her, Taako. I haven’t talked to her yet. Wouldn’t do that without you. But we did some tests to make sure it’d all be okay and they went perfect. It’s not like it’s a forever open door or anything, though. Strictly speaking, us lowly non-gods still won’t be able to do this but it’s kinda hard to argue with a few saviors of the universe.” Lup cringes for a minute. “I hate playing that card sometimes but I feel like this is worth it.” Her voice catches at the last moment and she clears her throat. She’s determined not to cry.

Taako’s determination to not cry was shattered roughly ten seconds into Lup’s explanation. “How long?” he asks, voice wobbly. He’s not stupid, play too rough with the boundaries of the world and things can get a little fucky. But he wants to make the most of this.

“Few hours? That’s why I had you come over so early. I wanted us to have plenty of time. Didn’t wanna bring her to the party later, that’s just too much. But if you’re okay with it, I do want Barry to drop in for just a minute. He really wants to meet her.”

Taako scoffs and tries to sweep his emotion under a bravado coated façade. “I mean you’re outta your gourd if you think I’m not getting Krav or Angus in here for like ten minutes. I just…I need to know if she heard the Song. I want her to see it was worth it.”

And there goes Lup’s resolve. She nods and smiles a tremulous smile, paying no mind to the tears welling. She removes the plates from the teacups and brings them over to the counter. A sweep of her hand and a scythe materializes out of thin air. She steadies herself against it for a moment as Taako rises to stand beside her. They exchange a glance before Taako gives an encouraging nod. Lup swings the blade effortlessly like she has countless times before. A familiar riiiiip sounds through the kitchen and Lup extends her hand through the tear that formed, waving the scythe away as she does.

Out of the rip walks an older, plump elf woman, a purple shawl wrapped around her shoulders. Soft lines mark her face that indicate a lifetime of joy. She’s a little shorter than the twins but not by much. Her dark waves are pinned up in a bun, her stark white streak still hanging down free like an accessory. She looks incredible. She looks the same as she did when they first met her. She’s smiling wider than the whole world, it seems.

Taako and Lup are doing their best not to openly sob but it’s hard. How can they not? A moment of hesitation passes before they both sweep her up in the tightest hug any of them have ever experienced. The twins each rest their heads on one of her shoulders.

They don’t speak for a moment as they all take in the incredulity, the impossibility of what happened.

“Hi, Tía,” Taako manages to get out between sniffles.

“We have a lot to catch you up on,” Lup says with a wet laugh.

“Believe me, darlings, I’ve heard so much.”

426 notes - Posted April 4, 2022

at least one of thb should have died in wonderland. the place has been designed to get the max suffering out of everyone but it was love that kept them all alive.

Merle (and to a lesser extent, Magnus) gave precious hp to Taako to keep him from biting it

Taako and Merle literally pulled Magnus's soul away from the Astral Plane

Lup devoured and destroyed Edward which destroyed Lydia in the process

and Barry kept them safe in every possible way he could

all huge acts of love in a place full of despair

674 notes - Posted March 24, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

I think being in such close contact with the Light for so many years did kinda do Something to the birds.

because Taako is not charismatic, that's canonical. but, even joke canonical, everyone adores him, desires him, wants to give him all their possessions. people cannot get enough of Taako, even after he dooms a town

Magnus, thanks to his rustic hospitality, is a likeable guy. but he was able to help lead the rebellion that gave him his folk hero status that gave him his rustic hospitality. people were willing to die by his side, this guy who was fairly new to their community

Lucretia managed to begin a whole secret organization and employ a large staff. These missions were deadly, dangerous, and promised the potential to have their very beings wiped from existence. yet people were willing to join the Bureau

these are the most striking instances of this but it's almost like a bit of that craveability brushed off on each of them through all their encounters with it

1,251 notes - Posted March 24, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

#tumblr2022 #year in review #my 2022 tumblr year in review #your tumblr year in review #false #rip (reeses in pieces)#long post #god is it a long post #not taz

5 notes · View notes

Last Seen Blogs