#demon finds angle acute

[chocolateteapotsvis]

Happy Halloween!

#halbarry #angle/demon AU #demon finds angle acute #angle asks demon to cosine his lease #candy corny: the sexiest of candies #Barry eats all the candy #Then runs to another country to restock #They'll be finding glitter in their apartment for the next decade #trying to figure out a sketchier style #my doodles

[charliemotha]

Hazbin Hotel headcanons sorted by character

Charlie:

favorite color is "rainbow" (real answer is red)

autism, ocd, npd, codependent personality disorder

tail sometimes manifests solely for stimming purposes

growls when very excited like a dog

very keen sense of smell

horns manifest when turned on (something something horny)

in case this gets disproven im listing it here: her legs are furred

manifested her wings once around vaggie near the beginning of her relationship and it upset her, never did it again

can walk up 45° angle walls (goat hooves lol)

Vaggie:

hair is actually feathers

depression, gad, ptsd, bpd (charlie is her fp obv)

retractable claws that are naturally black

teeth are all flat, fangs only come out when angry

the scars from her initial casting from heaven remained even after she regained her wings

when regaining her wings she also got feathers that cover her chest and upper back

died via suicide and was drafted into the exorcist army simply because adam found her attractive and was completely surprised when she was able to learn to fight easily and quickly

her gloves and socks are to cover up self harm scars

feet are like a moth's, like angel she is self conscious about them

wings do not disappear or retract, they simply fold under her hair

will misjudge distance/placement of things due to lack of depth perception. extremely embarrassed when it happens

its difficult for her to read things from a distance, charlie will often read things to her

her and angel dust are exes, has lingering feelings which is part of the cause of her hostility towards him

coos like a pigeon when relaxed/content

Angel Dust:

homoflexible

depression, adhd, hypersexual (ofc)

any pronouns user

says he's cis but genuinely doesn't care what he's called

qpps with cherri bomb

random nosebleeds due to drug overuse

charlie will call him anthony when she's mad at him like a parent using your full name

his venom causes an intense high and multiple demons have drugged him so they can uhm. well the scientific term for getting venom from a spider is milking but im not saying it

very fidgety and feels anxious if he's not moving at all times

Sir Pentious:

had an interdental lisp and was a snake oil salesman in life, hence his snakelike appearance

pansexual

autistim, npd

tail is more eel-like than snake-like

as an angel, his hood doubles as wings; in his full angel form he gets additional pairs of wings and more eyes along his tail

buries every egg boi he loses

venomous bite that causes delirium and sometimes temporary paralysis

sheds his skin and leaves the empty skins around the hotel, doesn't realize it until he hears charlie scream upon finding it

his hat is in fact sentient but is an extension of him and can change forms (as opposed to all the hats he's shown wearing being individual headpieces)

Alastor:

deer tail .

acearo in the sense that he does not get pleasure from sex but rather from tormenting/torturing others

hated his ears and antlers at first, similar to husk he's accepted them but still doesn't like them

if you touch either he will launch you into the sky

ONLY wears all red

qpps with rosie

vox is his ex, he's long moved on but vox hasn't

his hands have claw fingers those are NOT gloves Fuck You

has hooves but his legs are not digitgrade like charlie's

he can feel and hear through his microphone

Husk:

depression, alcoholic (duh), bpd, ptsd

either hated cats or had a pet cat when he was alive that he killed while drunk

either way his discomfort with his demon form is obvious

full demon form is quadruped

acute senses except for sight

pretty much always at least tipsy

tail usually drags on the floor

really wants to perform his magic tricks to the hotel patrons but is afraid of being mocked

Niffty:

died eitherfrom mixing chemicals in a closed room or climbing into the chimney to clean it and ended up getting stuck

was a maid in life, probably killed someone but was able to dispose of the body so well she never got caught

heteroflexible

still thinks angel dust is a woman cause he never corrects her

#hazbin hotel headcanon #i hope these sre comprehensible my insomnia mefs are kicking kn #angel dust #charlie morningstar #vsggie #sir pentious #alastor #husk #niffty #hazbin hotel

[thesolemnhour]

What about ♡: Accidentally falling asleep together for Agria and Woljif?

great minds think alike @gutterspeak! ❤️❤️

CW: The Mercy sidequest in Act IV, Latverk is a capital c Creep

Latverk was… an uncommon horror, even for the Abyss. Please, won’t you help those girls? He begged. Send them to me—I can help them.

Agria had opened her mouth to—she’s not really sure what she had meant to say, looking back. Placate him? Agree? But something had stopped her dead in her tracks. Something cold had opened up in the pit of her stomach, a sense of overpowering dread. And Agria hadn’t known that man from Aroden, could never have guessed what was wrong with him, but… she knew exactly what that feeling meant. Every young woman does, she imagines, but aasimar girls would do very well indeed never to ignore that gnawing unease. 

She can still picture her mother’s face the first time someone had asked for a lock of Agria’s hair.

It’s all in the past now. 

They can’t stay at the Nexus for long. There's only enough time for the briefest of reprieves. There’s just too much to do. She has to go back out into that gods-forsaken city; she knows she does. She just doesn’t know if she has the strength.

Agria lays on her back, staring at the cave ceiling and desperately imagining the way the stars looked back home. She traces the shapes of the familiar constellations with her eyes. She could still see some of them even in Alushinyyra, but they were alien, wrong, placed at strange angles and pointed in wrong directions. Picturing the Cosmic Caravan--her Cosmic Caravan, Aunt Dalla’s, not another mockery this place makes of something dear to her—makes her so homesick that her chest squeezes with the weight of it.

Lost in thought, she never notices one of her companions joining her.

When she turns her head languidly away from the ceiling, she finds one Woljif Jefto assessing her intently. The look is—concerned, and not in the way his looks once were. It doesn’t say, ‘Does my only ticket out of here really have what it takes to get the job done?’ She knows what that feeling looks like even more acutely than she knew Latverk’s hunger. His distress is not clinical; it looks ready to crawl up his throat and suffocate him.

He’s worried about her. They hold eye contact for long enough for her to realize he has no idea how to ask her if she is okay.

“Tell me—“ She begins, but the words catch before she can finish. For a moment, she doesn’t want to live in their horrifying present; she wants to think of a beautiful future. Flicking her eyes back to her imaginary stars, she continues, “Tell me about what you’ll do once we get out of here.”

If he is surprised by stubborn avoidance of the elephant in the room, he doesn’t show it.

“Fight more demons, looks like.” When Agria heaves a most beleaguered sigh, he continues, “I dunno! I’ve never had options before.”

She abandons the cave ceiling—her misbegotten imagination—to roll onto her stomach and face him directly. “Yes, but it could be exciting! You could do anything you ever wanted to do.”

“Eh… You know how it is,” he drawls. For tieflings, he means but doesn’t say. “You don’t wanna get too hung up something somebody could take away in a second.”

“Live in the dream with me, just for a minute.”

“Maybe I could… start that magic shop? Seems like we’ve already got a decent start on the merchandise.”

Agria nods enthusiastically, “There’s an open niche for jewelers now that Sunhammer is gone. You could Fyllemen out of business.”

“Wouldn’t that be a sight?” He asks with a laugh. “Then he’d be the one sneakin’ in to see my stuff.”

“I like it,” she says approvingly, “but we could think even bigger, too.”

“Bigger like what?”

“Well… What’s something you always wished Kenabres had but never did?”

Woljif is quiet for a moment, lost in thought. His eyes dart away from her, but she can see the look in them all the same. “What, like start a charity or something? You really think I could do that?”

“Yes,” she insists softly. “Isn’t that the point of all of this? To make things better?”

“Well, sure, chief, but not even you can fix all of Mendev’s woes.”

“No, not me,” she agrees, “but I think we could get a damn good head start on them.”

“Whatever you say,” he snorts, but his eyes are soft. “How about you?”

“Hm?”

“What are you gonna do once we get outta here?”

Agria hums in thought, picking at a nail thoughtfully. “I’ll finally work up the nerve to go to Ustalav—“

Woljif stops her with a feigned wretch, “Ustalav? Your grand dream if you get out of here is to go… to Ustalav?”

“I almost went once, but I was too afraid to go by myself. I keep hoping I’ll meet someone who can tell me how to move around there without--stepping on anyone’s toes.”

“Why?” He asks, bewildered.

“A lot of the Old Sarkorians fled there! I think that their descendants might have interesting things to say.”

“Ustalav. You might as well just stay here!”

“No,” says Agria, voice firm and optimistic. “It will be fun. I will enjoy it.”

Woljif scoffs, “After this? Someone oughta take you somewhere nice.”

“I invite you to it!” Agria chirps, thoroughly delighted by the opportunity to flirt shamelessly. 

He barks a laugh, as genuinely amused as he is nervous. He surprises her, though; he rises fearlessly to her challenge: “We should hit the beach! Folks say Augustana is nice in the spring.”

She gazes at him, arms tucked under her pillow, as he props himself up onto his side, both of them lost in the joy of the fantasy. The moment is impossibly soft for a cavern in the Midnight Isles.

“It’s a date,” she declares, offering her hand to shake on it. She is embarrassingly hesitant to let go. When she finally does, she returns it under the pillow where she squeezes it for a moment with her other hand. The relief of the moment fades away when she says somberly, “We have to go back there.”

“Of course,” he says in a placating tone that she recognizes as her own, one she has used on him one too many times. “We’ll get back out there in just a minute. But for now, we’re takin’ a break. Just give it a few minutes more, huh?”

“Okay,” Agria answers to find she can’t raise her voice above a whisper, as she lowers her head into her pillow. It couldn’t hurt to rest for just a minute, could it? She feels a curl wander haphazardly onto her forehead. She blows air at it for a moment, determined to clear it without needing to open her eyes, before she feels a fingertip tuck it gently behind her ear.

“Okay.” Woljif whispers back emphatically. She drifts away into a dreamless sleep only seconds after the word leaves his lips.

#ag tag #pwotr pals #commander x woljif #taylor writes #mind the warnings! nothing too bad esp if you already did the quest but take care of yourself!! #also apologies to the nation of ustalav which caught some unfair strays here #agria lebeda

[creepypastalover97]

Okay time for another creepypasta au headcannon

Today’s headcannon is going to be about eyeless jack

Anyway on with the headcannon

. Jack is 26 years old

. Jack is very tall, hovering at about 6’2. He’s also well built, with a highly muscular form. He’s nicely toned all over but is more muscular in his torso and arms than he is in his legs.

. For a long time after his transformation EJ was blind. He can’t see shit, mother fucker has no eyes! His sense of touch is the strongest sense he has. His hearing is acute to where he can hear a doorknob just faintly turn in the next room over. but his sense of touch is so good that he can feel your pulse with just his fingertips on your skin.

. He almost never takes off his mask though. Cuz he thinks he looks like a disgusting monster, mainly due to his (lack of) eyes. But lowkey everyone thinks he’s hot, even if you’re not that into guys, when you see him ur like ‘hot damn is that a man’. He has kinda low self esteem though, so he doesn’t seem to notice everyone staring at him, open mouthed, drooling

. His skin is a mid-tone ashy grey, with the slightest blue undertone to it. So when he blushes, the greyish hue of his skin changes to purplish.

. He has three tounges, and he can make the other 2 come out by command.

. His saliva is gray and acidic, it will leave stains and wear through something if left long enough

. That black goo that secretes from his eyes and drools out his mouth from time to time is a numbing agent. Just a drop of it making contact on skin is enough to suddenly feel a soft buzzing and your nerves turning off.

. the corners of his mouth extend farther down his face than a normal mouth, similar to the way a dog’s mouth does. his jaw can also unhinge to a 75-degree angle.

. Eyeless Jack has multiple rows of fangs, similar to a shark. He tries really hard not to bite his tongues , he really does.

. His nails are kind of like claws and whenever he’s impatient he starts clacking them on the nearest surface, no one is sure if he is threatening them or just bored. It does make you speed up whatever you were doing though, so it’s super effective!

. Speaking of efficiency, EJ loves efficacy. You know that one meme about the mom saying ‘oh yeah this is gonna be so fucking efficient’ and then her plan immediately backfires. Yeah, massive EJ energy.

. Big introvert, likes to spend time alone reading some medical book and taking notes. He has doctor handwriting so it’s impossible to read any of the notes he makes in the margins though.

. Jack can only eat humans or monster tainted beings, ‘human food’ isn’t edible to him

. He is absolutely medically talented! Before any incident of him becoming the evil demon he is, he had the greatest fascination with the human body. With a Major in Medicine and a Minor in Biology, he was skilled in dissection from the start and with any form of exterior from specimen. Ever since becoming a full time resident of the Mansion he’s become the on-site doctor for the other residents (he was a medical student after all). He doesn’t mind this 1 bit, he likes helping out Nurse Ann with medical stuff.

. Likes to stock up on food to make sure he doesn’t go hungry

. He carries a backpack to hold his food and tools to harvest

. If he had to be honest he’s not a big fan of harvesting. He wouldn’t do it if he didn’t need to consume organs in order to live. That’s why he likes to stock up as much as possible

. He finds some weird enjoyment in comparing and studying the kidneys and other organs he harvest

. The scalpel he uses is absolutely unnecessary but he’s a germaphope and dead people under your nails is NOT a nice feeling

. He refuses to learn brail, it’s admitting his blindness, admitting his weakness. Moving everything three inches to the left will screw this man up beyond belief

. EJ sleeps with towels over his eye sockets so that he doesn’t get black goo all over his sheets.

. He misses the feeling of having eyeballs in his sockets, so he owns a pair of glass eyes that he uses once in a while for nostalgia

. The reason he wears all black is because otherwise he has no ability to put an outfit together. Like this man has tried to wear yellow sweatpants.

. part of the unholy trinity which consists of him, ben, and jeff

. 25% DEMON CANNIBAL, 75% INNOCENT SWEET CINNAMON BUN. Like, this man is such a sweetheart. Jeff calls him “stuffed animal demon cannibal” because Jack is just that frikkin harmless.

. He likes to watch anime ( his favorite is cells at work)

. he is actually very good with kids too after he remembers that not all 8 year olds can do calculus and understand obscure medical or philosophical theories. Circe has found him sitting on the floor in the house of someone he broke into, trying to explain the Kreb's cycle to a terrified 5 year old

. The man goes through a heat once every 3-4 months and with no one to bone he basically goes off the grid and locks himself awaubtke a few days

. Jack makes cicada noises when he’s upset

. Hes more similar to a cat then anything else. His cat-like quality is purring, when super relaxed, he quietly purrs. If you want him to purr louder try playing with his hair, that always does the trick. When anyone brings it up he vehemently denies it. But we all know that he’s really just a big ol’ cuddly cat deep down inside.

. Unfortunately, he is not ticklish at all, whenever someone tries to tickle him he just sits there and stares at them for a minute before telling them to stop :(

. he listens to EVERYONES drama. he doesn’t care about it, but it’s good for blackmail, not that he uses blackmail

- we don’t talk about it

. he loves walking in the woods, it’s calming

until he gets scared by a deer or something and immediately goes home because fuck that the forest sucks

. EJ admires Liu , but usually can’t talk to him (He has the biggest crush on him. Bruh just ask him out already and get the rejection over with >:( )

. Jack’s got a very dry sense of humor, if at all. He tolerates sarcastic people but prefers things straight to the point. So long as you’re respectful he could care less.

“So do you want the good news or bad news first.”- ej

“ The good news!!”- toby

“ I get to name a disease after you.”- ej

. He plays silent hill

. He likes to sit in the kitchen when someone is cooking, he likes the smell even if he can’t eat it

. He has animal feet

Overall eyeless jack is its a guy who tries his best to live his life.

P.s. none of this is canon so don’t take seriously if you don’t want to, if you don’t like it, take it somewhere else

Ok, bye 👋🏻

P.s.s. Go check out Circe’s origin story on archive of our own. It’s called rabbits are not what they seem.

#creepypasta world building #creepypasta headcanon #eyeless jack #creepypasta

[whirling-fangs]

Generalities

An alternate universe where Inosuke was forcibly turned into a demon by Muzan

He now goes by the name of Kiba (  牙  ), and does not have any recollection of his life as a boar human.

He was only turned recently – a close former friend may have a chance to drag those memories out, if only they survive long enough to try and reach his former self...

Backstory

A fateful encouter. At the dead of night, Inosuke finally ran into it – a worthy opponent. A real, bona fide monster. If he killed this one, surely, he would be made a Hashira by the next sunrise!

He was overpowered. Blatantly. Struggle as he might, he had no chance of beating the final boss... but the demon took interest in him. Even though Inosuke declined the offer, claiming that he’d rather find strength on his own accord, Muzan did not listen.

Kiba survived the Demon Lord’s cursed blood. His mind was overwritten, his thirst for blood turning even more literal. A deep respect for Muzan was imprinted deep in his brain, along with a main goal: destroy the rainbow-eyed demon, and steal his spot amongst the Twelve Kizuki.

Abilities

Kiba relies mostly on raw violence, using his claws and fangs to tear limbs off. He has retained his insane flexibility, and can bend his limbs to any angle.

He wedged the broken pieces of his former swords into his forearms, so deep that they fused with his bones. That way, he gets to use the Slayers’ weapons against them, and he can more efficiently shred through demon flesh as well.

He is yet to fully develop his Blood Demon Art, though his extreme perception of disturbances in the air has evolved into a power akin to it. He can manipulate the air pressure acutely enough to keep an enemy pinned, crush their bones, or even blow their organs.

Current status

Kiba still claims to be the King of the Mountain. He has established his new kingdom on a mountain near Douma’s estate. Slayers are regularly sent out to hunt him. No squad has ever returned.

He oftens goes out on hunts outside his usual territory, seeking stronger opponents. He will not hesitate to engage in a fight, be it with a slayer or a fellow demon. Kiba can eat any type of meat, and will devour humans or demons alike, after he’s toyed with them for a while.

Tag

You can find the posts relating to this AU under the tag : “ the boar bares its fangs / demon!AU “

#the boar bares its fangs / demon!AU #verse list #[[HEHEHEHEHE he's here. i NEED to write him]]

[sagemcmae]

SessKag DDN January 2021 Theme: Space

Vast | Cold | Air | Black | Pull | Distant | Matter | Light | Radiant | Gravitate

Vast

The sea of grass sways in the summer breeze. Under the sun’s light, the blades change from green to gold. Sesshomaru watches the hypnotizing transition of the colors, his mind drifting far from his position.

Distraction plagues him often these days. His thoughts are an endless stream of questions. Like the strands of grass before him, his thoughts bounce back and forth, dancing along the line between reason and impulse. 

It is a narrow ledge. He has never been this close to falling over. 

Throughout his entire life, Sesshomaru has followed the path set before him. He has only deterred from his course once. The choice to restore Rin’s life was the will of Tenseiga, not his own. The blade chose her. He could blame his detour on the sword. When it comes to his current predicament, there is only one whom he can hold responsible.

Himself.

Sesshomaru tilts his head to the sky, contemplating what will become of him. If he allows himself to continue along this path of shameful musings, he will become a sentimental fool— weak and incompetent.

This he cannot allow.

He tells himself to ignore temptation, to avoid the one who has put all these ridiculous notions in his head. He guards his heart with the same ferocity as his ward.

“Sesshomaru!”

He turns.

She appears on the hillside with a warm smile and a wave.

Perhaps he has it wrong. Maybe he is already the fool.

But with her he feels invincible.

With Kagome, the possibilities are vast.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Cold

If Sesshomaru were to compare her to something, he would liken her to the sun. She is full of warmth. Her aura is bright and vibrant. Those in her life flock to her, a constant rotation of friends, family, and acquaintances.

The miko delights in the company she keeps. She showers them with praise, lavishes them with gifts, and embraces them tightly. He never has to guess what she is thinking. Her emotions are written on her face. Rarely, has he seen her guarded or closed off.

Though there are times when she is ashamed of her feelings— usually because of something his half-wit brother has said —the miko remains happy. She shares her smiles with everyone.

Even him.

By comparison, his mother is cold. She may love him— in her own way —but she does not express it through physical touch or words. His mother has always placed propriety over all else. Sesshomaru can only imagine how she would react if she saw the miko’s horrendous manners.

He smirks at the visual.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Air

The first time he encountered her alone was by that forsaken lake. What happened to her companions remains a mystery. All he knows is that he blames them for her plight. 

When he arrived at the water’s edge, the last thing he intended to do was enter. Then he saw her head crest the surface. Her arms flailed wildly and he went to her. 

Sometimes, he can still hear her frantic gasps for air. The sound haunts him even now. 

It is what makes him reach for her in the evening, seeking reassurance that she is safe. The way his fingers gently card through her hair is nothing like the desperate way she clung to him that day. Drenched and shivering, she had clamped onto him with more strength then he realized one so small could possess.

He had lent her mokomoko made and gone in search of wood to build a fire. Sesshomaru intended to warm her body and dry her clothes but when he had returned, she was gone.

The scent of his brother polluted the air— his only clue to what had happened to her.

And the only reason why he did not follow.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Black

The endless darkness terrifies her. Each and every time Kagome tries to enter the well, the memory of that day stops her. She stands there, frozen as the nightmare takes hold. Her crippling fear has already caused her to miss two exams and her little brother’s birthday. 

Kagome tells herself she won’t let one bad day ruin her. She flings herself over the side, dropping through the shaft with a scream. 

The portal opens. 

Kagome descends through the continuous void.

When her feet land in the dirt, she glances up, relieved to find herself not at the bottom of a deep lake but back at the shrine. 

But as she climbs out, Kagome finds herself remembering something else from that day.

The strong arms of the one who saved her.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Pull

His constant indecision is akin to the push and pull of the sea. It wears him down, slowly taking over his sense of purpose bit by bit until he can no longer see reason.

Sesshomaru bypasses all protocol. He does not announce his intentions. He does not request permission. He does not wait.

In battle, if one remains still for too long, they will be discarded. The same can be said for courting. Sesshomaru can not afford to be stagnant. If he wishes to have the miko, he needs to act.

Now.

He slips away from his vassal’s prying eyes, dodges a run-in with the half-breed, and manages to scare off the wolf prince.

His efforts are not in vain.

When he finds her, she is alone in the hot springs.

He makes his move.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Distant

It is strange how far from someone you can feel even when they are walking right beside you. The realization has bothered Kagome all day. With each step the group takes toward defeating Naraku, she feels herself drifting further away from Inuyasha.

At first, Kagome figures it is because of Kikyo. Inuyasha doesn’t seem bothered by the fact that his ex-girlfriend is a clay doll. To him, Kikyo is still the perfect priestess she was in life. He doesn’t acknowledge the fact she relies on her soul scavengers to keep her standing upright or her disregard for others. 

Kagome isn’t sure how to feel about that. Sango tells Kagome to hate Kikyo but all Kagome feels toward the other woman is pity— pity for the life that has been stolen from her and pity for her lost chance with Inuyasha. It is cruel, unfair.

Once Kagome recognizes that she feels sorry for them, it is easier to let go. Pity isn’t love. Maybe she can love Inuyasha as a friend or even as a brother but Kagome will never feel for him the way he feels for Kikyo— the way they feel for each other.

She sinks into the hot spring, wondering where that leaves her. In truth, she has been considering a life here in the Feudal Era. It is easier to manage than entrance exams and job hunting. Kagome would rather face off against a demon than a math test any day.

“I’m ridiculous,” she mutters to herself.

“I disagree,” a deep voice replies.

Kagome’s eyes go wide as Sesshomaru steps into the springs.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Matter

She does not scream for her companions to come to her aid, nor does she make a move for her bow. Sesshomaru takes this as a sign that he can stay. He settles into a rock across from the miko, keeping his gaze upon her.

Droplets crash into the pool, falling from her wet bangs and sending ripples across the water’s surface. Her cheeks are painted scarlet and her eyes look at everything but him.

“You are unusually quiet this evening,” he remarks.

Her throat bobs slightly. Sesshomaru watches her lips part as if she means to speak to him. Then, she shakes her head and closes her mouth as quickly as she opened it.

“If you are concerned about my brother, you needn’t worry. He is preoccupied with that abomination he calls a lover,” Sesshomaru tells her.

Still, she says nothing.

Her head is angled down. Under the veil of steam, he can barely make out the color of her eyes. He wishes to be closer but he doesn’t dare move for fear is scaring her off.

“Are you frightened of me?”

The miko shakes her head.

“Then what is the matter?”

“Seriously?” she scoffs. She raises her face, glaring at him. “You’re naked!”

He blinks. “I fail to see the issue.”

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Light

Kagome covers her face with her hand. “I— uh, I’m going to go,” she announces. She reaches around behind her, trying to locate her towel.

Full moon was last week which means there is barely enough light to see anything. Well, anything except for Sesshomaru’s extremely defined chest.

Don’t go there, girl, she warns herself.

Her fingers close around soft fabric. Sighing with relief, Kagome slips out of the hot springs, making sure to hold the towel up to maintain her modesty.

As if there’s any of that left, she thinks ruefully remembering all the times Inuyasha and Miroku have spied on her and Sango. Perverts!

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Radiant

Sesshomaru has never denied himself anything. What he wants he takes. He has the title, the strength, and the power to obtain what lever he desires.

Yet, when it comes to the miko, he restrains himself.

His eyes linger on the slender slopes of her shoulders, the gentle line of her spine, and supple curves of her breasts. She is radiant.

He does not stop her from leaving the spring. Nor does he call after her. She may not know how she affects him but he is acutely aware of how he affects her.

The air is thick with arousal. The taste of it hangs heavy on his tongue, a sampling of what is to come.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Gravitate

Kagome nearly trips over her own feet as she hurries away from the springs. The only thing she can hear is her pulse ringing in her ears. The noise drowns out everything else and makes her feel a bit light-headed.

She stumbles into the clearing, earning her a curious look from her friends.

“Is everything alright, Kagome?” Sango asks.

“Yeah, yeah, everything is fine,” she answers, waving her friend off. “Just going to grab my stuff and get dressed.”

“Do you need any help?” Miroku inquires.

A smack echoes through the forest, causing Kagome to laugh. You think he’d have learned by now, she thinks, shaking her head.

With her pajamas in hand, she finds a quiet spot several paces away from the group. The branches overhead have blocked out almost all of the light, making it difficult to see.

Kagome fumbles and curses as she attempts to stick her foot through the leg of her pajama bottoms. It snags on the seam. She loses her balance and falls to the ground.

Groaning, she rubs her backside. That will leave a bruise.

With a sigh, Kagome hastily dressed before anyone comes over to see what all the commotion is about.

Just as she finishes slipping her top overhead, a voice whispers in her ear. “If you require assistance, all you need to do is ask.”

Kagome gasps. “Sesshomaru!”

He takes her hand and places a chaste kiss upon it. “Until next time.”

Then, he is gone.

But Kagome knows he’ll be back.

She wears a smile to sleep that night, dreaming of dancing in the dark.

#sesskag drabbles #sesskag #sesskag discord drabble night #sesskag ddn #january #space #sesskag fanfiction #sessxkag #sesskag fandom

[maybe-your-left]

Hi, darling! Imagine that you're married/engaged to modern!kylo and you start to notice that he's more horny and more rough during sex... Conclusion: our nasty boy is possessed by a horny ghost👀 (Feel free to ignore this if it's not something you'd like!)

my GOD anon... i have never. EVER. though about Kylo being possessed by anything. EVER. in my life.

but since you’ve asked. 😈

——-

“Baby are you done in there? I need to finish my makeup,” you banged your fist on the door. You had spent all afternoon getting ready for your engagement party, dressing up to the nines. When suddenly Kylo ran in, pale and sweaty and screamed at you to move. Before you could even shuffle out he began throwing up, like his body was fighting for his life.

“Kylo,” you pressed your ear to the door, tapping lightly with your finger now. “Baby are you okay?”

Behind the door you heard a shuffle, sounds of sniffling and throat clearing evident. “Yeah,” his voice choked out.

“Is it okay if I come in?”

A heavy sigh, “Mhm.”

You slowly opened the door, peeking around to find him in your large bathroom. Kylo was leaning against the side of the tub, his tie loosened around his neck. Legs outstretched in front of him, and head leaned against the lip. His chest was rising and falling slowly, shallow breaths making their way through him. Kylo looked even paler than usual, skin sweaty and hair matted across his face. His eyes were shut as he tried to calm down.

“Kylo,” you whispered, moving towards him slowly. His eyes snapped open, anger blossoming from him. “Don’t come any closer.”

You nodded, moving towards your vanity. You shot a quick glance towards the toilet, there was no evidence of him vomiting. But the smell, it consumed the air.

Nothing you had smelled before, a foul stench that permeated your nostrils. Each breath you took allowed it to button deeper and deeper into your skin. It was almost like you were sitting in a room with a corpse, flesh rotting away after years of decomposition.

You cleared your throat, attempting to rid the odor from latching into your lungs. “Did you eat something? Or drink something weird?”

He said nothing, eyes not blinking as he stared at you. “Kylo you need to tell me if your sick, Im not going to deal with you faking being okay and then throwing up on me like you did on the boat at Niagara.”

A snort came from him, “I’m fine, love.” His voice sounded empty, with a slight scratch of something... strange. He rose to his feet, waltzing over to his sink like he didn’t just look dead 3 minutes ago. Kylo cracked his neck, sighing as the bones creaked in his muscular hands. He brought a cloth to his face, ridding the sweat from his brow before turning to you.

“You look ravishing my love.”

Your forehead scrunched up in confusing, was he really going to pretend he wasn’t just puking his guts out? You watched him with careful eyes, acutely aware on how he now hadn’t blinked in a full 7 minutes. His skin wasn’t blooming back to its former pale warmth. Staying a sickly green tint, you felt his eyes move over you. Taking in every curve and pucker of your skin. He took in a deep breath before brushing past you to the bedroom.

“I’ll be in the car.”

——-

During the party he just got weirder, he refused to eat anything. Declining every time someone offered him a drink, staying latched to your hip the entire time. Which was so unlike him, usually he attempted to stay away from the hordes of people. But no he stayed within 6 inches of you the whole time. His hand always placed against a part of you.

And the smell, you couldn’t get rid of it. It got worse the closer he came to you. Suffocating you with its presence. But no one seemed to notice it, even when you prompted the question of “what’s that smell?”

Not one person could, and Kylo certainly wasn’t any help. He just kept petting you, holding you, kissing any pet of your flesh that he could grab. Even biting you in front of others, while you were opening presents he decided it was the best time to latch his teeth into your left shoulder. Practically breaking the skin.

By the time you got home you were ready to have a serious talk with him. Maybe he was hurt and had a wound that was infected, or he just shit himself??

Kylo trailed you to the bedroom, hands already helping your fumble with your zipper. He hummed as your flesh became exposed to him, fingers skimming over your spine. “You smell, delicious my love.”

You scoffed, “Yeah? It doesn’t smell dead to you or anything?”

He cocked an eyebrow, “What do you mean.” His lips now traveling up your knuckles to your shoulder, palms squeezing your bare breasts. You keened at his touch, momentarily forgetting what you were talking about.

“Love, I need you to lay down.”

“Kylo we need to talk about what’s going on, you’re acting weird-,”

“Please,” he whispered, hands now caressing your cheeks. His soft lips brushing your own, the smell dissipating when his breath fanned over you. “Lie back and spread your pussy for me.”

You took a deep breath, nodding as you obeyed him. Sprawling across the black sheets, pulling down your panties slowly. Kylo watched your movements, unblinking of course, tearing off his own clothes.

You brought your fingers down to your core, trailing up and down your lips. Feelings as they began to grow wet with anticipation. Kylo was fisting his cock as you moved, watching as you began pulling apart your folds. Showing him your hot center, begging for him. Just as you were about to speak, the smell hit you again, causing you to retch. Choking on your spit as he moved closer, settling between your open legs.

You felt him lean over your figure, cock angling into your entrance. He spoke, but his voice was different. Darker, almost haggard from wear and tear, “You know,” he sighed, hands locking behind your knees and spreading you more. “I’ve spent so long watching the two of you fuck,” he thrust inside you, “Watching as he got to taste your little cunt every,” another thrust, “Single day.” He laughed, the smell now pulling you into a trance, “And I thought, what I wouldn’t give to feel that for myself.”

“What-t what’s wrong with you Kylo,” you squeaked, eyes wide as you were spread by him.

“Oh daring,” he began to laugh. A deep and menacing cackle, “Kylos not here anymore.”

——

WHOOPISE cliffhanger. also i made him possessed by a demon.

HAPPY HALLOWEEN 😈

#adam driver #kylo ren #clyde logan #charlie barber #adamdriver #flip zimmerman #phillip altman #toby grisoni #kylo trash #modern kylo ren #possession #demon #anon answered #anon ask #ask fridays

[afaimsarrowverse]

Arrowverse-Spin-Offs, we would like to see:

„Arrow“ and „Black Lightning“ are done, „Supergirl“ is in its last season and „The Flash“ and „Legends of Tomorrow“ will probably be over rather sooner than later. So it’s time to look at some potential Spin-Off-Ideas and the reasons why we won’t see any of those happening. But hey, I have been wrong before. The last time I did such a list, I wrote that Warner would never allow a „Superman“-Show to happen, because of them wanting him exclusive for the movies, even though at this point the Powers that Be were already working on getting „Superman & Lois“ on the way (because they have been working on that since around „Elseworlds), so maybe in two years one of those shows on this list will actually air at The CW:

Atoms: Since Ray has left „Legends“ I have been missing him, and since Crisis was the last we ever saw of Ryan Choi, yes, I still want „Atoms“, starring both Ray Palmer and Ryan Choi and their respectice wives, sciencing their way out of every problem and superheroing a little bit at the side. Yes, Fairy Godmother Nora would be a challenge to put into that concept, but if someone really wanted to find a way to integrate that storyline in the show, they could and if not, they could just do away with her powers off-screen. To bad Brandon Routh and Berlanti Productions did not part under the best terms and that the reason they got rid of him in the first place was that they couldn’t afford him any longer, so this one is not likely to ever happen. Also, I am not sure too many people are actually interested in a whole show about the Atom. Even if there a two of them.

Canaries: With „Green Arrow and the Canaries“ not picked up, they could return to this fan-favored concept: A solo show for Laurel and Dinah. Ditch the Future Crap or wrap it up in the Pilot, let them live in the present again and be a crime fighting double act. Or just set in the future, if you must, and let Dinah keep her club and just say good bye to the Queen-Kids. But since both actresses waited for a year to star in a show, that was not happening and said no to jobs because of that and the plotthreats of the „Green Arrow and the Canaries“ Backdoor-Pilot are still up in the air, it is very unlikely that we will get to see this one.

ThunderGrace: They should have aimed for that show instead of „Painkiller“, they might have had better chances to get picked up with it. Anyways, giving Anissa and her new wife Grace their own show, set in a different city of course, would go great with certain protions of the „Black Lightning“-Audience and might even attract new viewers. Having Jennifer and TC guest star regulary would also be great. Sadly this won’t happen of course, „Black Lightning“ already was very much Anissa’s story, giving her her own show would be like continuing „Black Lightning“ just without Jefferson, so it would basically be the same and therefore The CW would not go for it. Also, as long as „Batwoman“ is around, they would not do a second show with a lesbian Superhero Lead, who fights streetlevel, and since Season 2 also not one about a lesbian Superhero Lead, who is black on the top of that. So sadly, not happening.

Guardian and the Sentinel: „Supergirl“ is not getting a Spin-Off, but if we could choose, only Jessica Queller would go for the „Midvale“-One. Having Alex Danvers and Kelly Olsen als crime fighting partners in every sense on our screens would be great. Yes, the title might need some working on, but the concept would be great. They would probably operate outside of National City, there might even be a way to get the military angle in somehow. However as with „TunderGrace“, thanks to „Batwoman“ this one will never get made, because neither Alex nor Kelly have superpowers. Too bad.

Daughters of the Demon: I am very aware that I am the only one, who wants this Spin-Off. But I still want it. A show build around Thea Queen and the Al Ghul-Sisters (and Roy Harper of course) and their dealings with the League of Assassins in all forms and shapes. Katrina Law is of course not available right now, but the main reason we will never see a show around Thea, Nyssa, and Talia is that no one except me is really interested in it.

Dreamer (and Brainiac-5): This one has probably the best chance of ever happening from everything on this list, but given that it wasn‘t done anywhere outside this year’s Pride-Special, means that there probably are no actual plans for it. Anyways, a show about Dreamer with Brainy at her side, probably set in a new city rather than National City, would be great. Nia is still very new to the superhero-game, just finding her feet, and her romance with Brainy can go to many more places. But after the backlash in regards to „Batwoman“, The CW is probably hesitant to dare making a show about a transhero starring an actual transwoman. Nia might rather get moved to „Legends“ or „Superman & Lois“ or get to guest star on „The Flash“ next season than get her own show.

Next Gen: Mia Queen did not get her own show, when she was teamed up with the Canaries. However if you were to team her up with the Tonado-Twins and a Super-Spawn (not the Kent Twins though), she and Dig’s kids might just get another chance for their own show with William as their tech support. However the death of „Green Arrow and the Canaries“ makes that very unlikely, addionally we don’t know what will happen to Nora and Bart on „The Flash“ yet or where they will go with Kara or Clark for that matter in the future. And show set in the future would also cement that future, which would limit all the other shows somehow in storytelling terms, which might have been one of the reasons „Green Arrow and the Canaries“ was not picked up, so don’t hold you breath for that one.

Hall of Justice: Crisis established the League, but in a few months, only Sara, Barry and Clark will be left. But Nate is probably not the only one who applied for a seat. This one would of course have to take place between seasons or star everyone expect the heroes, who currently still have a show. I did name it „Hall of Justice“ on purpose, because there are many reasons, why this would never happen with the other name, but to be blunt, it would probably never happen under any name. However, this would be a good way to actually end the Arrowverse. To do a mini-series, where the League assembles after the last or most of the old shows are done. This could be one last Crossover with the potential of Follow Up- Features, if someone would ever want to make more of it.

An Anthology-Show:

 Originally „Legends of Tomorrow“ was supposed to be an Anthology-Show, and while the decision to make an acutal show instead was the right one back then, the Arrowverse has grown since then, and the idea to do an Anthology-Show to keep it alive is actually a No-Brainer. Instead of whole Seasons, it would be better to go for Two-Parters, Three-Parters, Four Parters and even One Offs though, in order to get more stuff done in the span of a season. The main reason this will not happen is money of course - without standing sets this one would be hard to pull off, but I think it is necessary at this point. And they could even do only two arcs per season or  only a hand full of episodes. This is where they could wrap up the open stortythreads from the failed Backdoor-Pilots – „Green Arrow and the Canaries“ and „Painkiller“ –and also where they could test out new Spin-Off Ideas, they could do my entire list here, plus more, like Slade and his sons, a story about the Hawk s, one about Kate Kane, or even Brandon Routh’s version of Superman etc. They could even go back and do in-between episodes about forgotten and dropped storylines, to which they never got around, like Roy’s death and resurrection or Rip’s founding of the Time Bureau. Additionally this is where they could do the Annual Crossover, they would not need to sacrifice episodes of the other shows, but instead air the Crossover as the Mid-Season Replacement in its own show, followed by some other storylines. But like I said, money is not on the side of this one.

 Bonus: Show that will air on HBOmax instead and therefore can’t happen for the Arrowverse:

John Diggle, Space Cop:

 This would be the Arrowverse Version of „Green Lantern“ and with a „Green Lantern“ Show heading to HBOmax it will of course never happen.

Hellblazer:

 Not too long ago this was my top-bet for a new Arrowverse-Spin-Off, given that Matt Ryan’s „Constantine“ left a lot of unresolved storylines behind, but now that a new version of „Constantine“ with a younger John Constantine as the Main Protagonist in it, is heading to HBOmax, Matt Ryan’s version of the character may even be scrapped from the Arrowverse for good in the soon future. Let’s hope there is room for both versions of the character, but a Spin-Off for the Arrowverse is very much not happening any more.

Booster Gold (and Blue Beetle):

 Wait, you might say, since when is Booster Gold getting his own series on HBOmax? Well, he was at least planned to get one. Alongside „Green Lantern“ another show was announced back then, remember?„Strange Adventures“  was supposed to feature Booster Gold. And while it has become kind of quite around this project, it was not officially scrapped. Given that it is very unlikely that we will ever get to see an Arrowverse-Version of Booster Gold instead, much less in his own show, and with „Blue Beetle“ getting his own show on HBOmax as well, Ted Kord will probably also never pop up in the Arrowverse, and Michael and Ted will never team up alonside the Legends. Too bad.

#Arrowverse #Potential Spin-Offs #Stuff we wanna see #Arrow #The Flash #Supergirl #Legends of Tomorrow #Black Lightning #Batwoman #Superman & Lois

[bloodmooncarnage]

4am post

SKT JHIN!!!!!! SKT JHIN!!!!! SKT JHIN!!!!!! SKT JHIN!!!!!

SKT JHIN!!!!!! SKT JHIN!!!!! SKT JHIN!!!!!! SKT JHIN!!!!!

SKT JHIN!!!!!! SKT JHIN!!!!! SKT JHIN!!!!!! SKT JHIN!!!!!

SKT JHIN!!!!!! SKT JHIN!!!!! SKT JHIN!!!!!! SKT JHIN!!!!!

This concludes 4am post

#out of bloodmoon #inb4 i write some shit where a demon finds his angle.... a very acute one #HAHAH PUNs but sesrsly i might

[lixiefe]

Dreaming Big

anime Lee Minho x reader

Type: Oneshot; and i don’t know really.

Words: 1.5k

You could never be what you wanted.

It’d been forever. From your childhood to what people called teenage years, through your puberty and to your disturbing adolescent years, you’ve screen-flashed many many possibilities of what you could be and what you wanted to be. But, they were all so momentary, as fugacious as your menstruation mood swings. So they were rarely constant for even a few months.

They said, dream big. But you’d been the pragmatist you were and come to a realistic conclusion that dreaming big, was only the pre-stage of adulthood disappointment. Dreaming big, as sugar-coatedly it was presented to the expectant children, it was an utter lie. Dreaming big, for others it could be achieving their resolute goals, or getting that one reverent medal, or discovering what could be the next futuristic wonder, or even as less as gaining hundreds of followers.

For you though, dreaming big, was as less as a grain of salt. Throughout your 13 year old phase, you’d wanted to be that one pococurante kid who got so much unwanted attention that it was unbearable for themselves. You wanted to be like the internet e-girls, tepid yet absolutely voguish. But this all changed to a completely different angle when you turned 15. Then, all you wanted to do was having a group of enthusiastic and whimsical friends who’d accompany you through your late-night drunk stage and appreciate your meme tastes, or even be a classified rantipole.

 And after that, at the approximate end of your juvenile years, you’d wanted to be that one lad who could actually open a packet of chips with a single try, or the friend who was downright energetic. It might be much contradictory to dreaming big, but that’s one quality that fascinated you as you sluggishly dragged your feet in the convenience store. Dropping your instant noodles on the counter with your stomach screaming at you for a filler.

The receptionist gave you a unique glare, looking at your droopy eyes and swollen lips as she again eyed your single purchase of cheap ramen. You only stared at her with indifference, your stomach shucking you as it produced a careless growl, making the woman in front of you get even more disgusted. Nonetheless, you could care shit ton less. You plodded along to your shared apartment, slumping on the living room couch as soon as you entered. With your flimsy strength and screaming stomach.

No, you still weren’t what you wanted to be. You weren’t that one robust, levelheaded and intelligent friend. You were the exact opposite of it. With average IQ, average looks, average everything, you weren’t really the most desirable human being either. And you totally weren’t desirable to people who’d seen you at your average. Because you, were the lackadaisical shenanigan, who struggled to maintain their sobriety. And no, you weren’t alcoholic, you just had a case of sleepy madness.

So it was a threat when you’d get drowsy. Or hungry.

And you were in that state for most times you could remember, ironically. So in a words demonstration, you were threatening.

You were with your two long-living besties. Boredom and food. Living with you in your natural habitat. Watching yet another episode of your favorite manga-turned- into -anime series and leisurely munching onto a stray piece of potato chips with the almost empty packet barely hanging off your left hand. There were no sound other than the aggressive voices from the tv and the lazy munching sounds that came from you.

Although you enjoyed these moments where you could do nothing and be internally satisfied with your rather pathetic situation. You have hoped, longer than intended, that someone would make your life a bit more interesting. It was the same routine every day, and it was hopelessly tedious.

And that again, was your another dreaming big.

Just as you were about to take another bite of your salty chips, the doorbell rang. But you continued eating. Because you were so sure that it was not your doorbell, because yours never blinged. And perhaps you didn’t even know how it actually sounded. In this modern curse of technological services, anyone would just text you to open the door. Or could innocently hack into your code and relax themselves a little too comfortably in the mess you called home.

The doorbell rang another time. And by then, you were getting annoyed by the fact that none of the lazy bums from your neighboring house were getting up and opening the godforsaken door. After a precise 30 seconds, the bell started to ring furiously, rattling against you eardrums with utmost determination. You didn’t know if you were supposed to be agitated by the fact that it was hurting your ears or that it was faster than your 1 bit wi-fi. But nonetheless, you took action to go out yourself and tell them to stop ringing the earsplitting bling bling bell.

Just as you opened the door, you saw a flat black fabric right in front of your face. And more than expectedly, it made you stumble back with an impromptu shriek and hit your ankle on the bottle of coke that you mindlessly had thrown and never decided to pick up. And progressively, enabling you with a definite smack on your hips as you fell. 

It was not like you’d fallen down with poise, your hair sashaying amongst the artificial air and hitting softly onto your skin as you dropped on your back with a graceful ‘ouch’. No, it was the opposite. In the middle of grasping for gravitational support, you had tried to regain your posture and idiotically twisted your ankle in the process. Then came the anticipated injure to your hips with a loud thud and demonic scream.

Preposterous.

Fun fact was, it was not only your scream that was menacing but also the high pitched squawk of the guy that stood before you.

So much for dreaming big.

“Oh my god! Are you okay?” The guy, or so you say, man came beside you only to see you pathetically holding onto your ankle, writhing in a pain that was acutely terminal and getting your face tangled with your own hair. It was only then when you lifted up your head and looked at him through your black knotted locks that you realized he looked insanely familiar. And good-looking.

But his stupid looks was the last of your concerns.

“Are you okay?” he asked again, this time helping you remove the hair from your face as he searched for your eyes. But the scenery wasn’t what you’d expected at all. You’d expect the handsome guy proficiently unraveling your hair with ‘sha la la la’ music playing in the background and you’d look into each-other’s eyes and find sparks flying in your veins.

Ha. Ha.

No.

For someone trying to be helpful, he wasn’t even doing a good job. Instead of a sensual music, all that played in your mind was ‘sad romance’ and all that sparked was ultimate irritation. And you could swear the nerves you’re feeling at the moment was stronger than any ‘romance’ you could feel. You scoffed and demanded him to back off with the most aggressive tone you could manage. You could feel his hands jump back and sitting back to his knee that he’s folded in the meantime.

You released your ankle, enduring the sharp pain that came from your leg and moved your hair out of your face. Then, you looked at him in the eye, noticing exactly how handsome he was. He was almost the depiction of the second lead of your favorite anime that you’d binge watched in four days. He had onyx eyes and lashes that even temperament girls like you would be jealous of. A total vampire-like pale skin and stupidly sharp nose along with a hydrated pair of lips. Key word, hydrated.

“What do you want?” you spat at him, genuinely annoyed and embarrassed by the fact that you, so pitifully and slowly fell down in front of him and even managed to injure both your ankle and hipbones.

“Oh, oh, me? I am a big BIG fan yours. You are the main character of my favorite tv series.” He spoke, entwining his hands in a loving manner, eyes twinkling and white-sheet face lighting with an uncanny attentiveness. He wore a signature smile on his face, one of a fangirl gushing over their idols on tv.

But it looked as fake as his act of being a helping hand.  And you were terrified.

“And – What?!?”

“You might not believe this but trust me you are my favorite character.”

And now, you’re trying your best to restrain the laugh that tickled your stomach like powder in the nose. You, who’d lived all their years in languorous ways, dodging their responsibilities and dreaming big only in your sleep, was an idol in his eyes. It made no sense to you nor your animated sub-conscious humor, and that, was frightening.

And after that, all his joking demeanor vanished into thin air. He came closer to you, with a serious look in his eyes as he spoke.

“I’m Lee Know. I know how it ends, and I am here to change it.”

You were so sure that you really were dreaming big.

#stray kids #skz #skz lee know #stray kids lee know #lee minho #lee know #skz lee minho #stray kids minho #stray kids fanfic #stray kids oneshot #skz oneshot #skz fanfic #stray kids scenarios #stray kids imagines #skz scenarios #skz imagines #stray kids reaction #skz reaction #i love stray kids #skzwritersclub #kpop #kpop oneshots #stray kids fluff #skz fluff #anime au

[shirtlesssammy]

15x13: Destiny’s Child

Welcome to our last new recap for a while (frowny face). We’ve got a couple requests that we’re going to work on in the next couple weeks, and then chip away at all the episodes we have yet to do while we not-so-patiently wait for more episodes. If you have requests, don’t hesitate to ask! 

Then:

Cas loves one (1) pizza man.

Now:

Late night study sesh in the bunker is interrupted when Sam and Dean hear a weird noise down the hall. They take off for the armory, only to find a Fiat and ---SAM AND DEAN?! (And while I guess it’s not, I’m just rolling with the idea that Savage Garden is blasting from that little clown car. I mean, really, what a perfect song and one I never thought would EVER pop up on this show --okay, or any show, it’s been like 20 years since I’ve heard that song, lol.)

The rift flickers and Alt!Sam and Dean disappear. 

They tell Cas about what happened. Billie pops up to tell them that Chuck is almost done destroying all the other worlds. They have to be ready --and by that, she means, it’s time for the next step in Jack’s training. He needs to find the Occultum. Sam helpfully translates that as “hidden.” It is hidden --lost for centuries. 

Once Billie takes off, Sam sets to learning more about the Occultum. There isn’t much. Dean ponders the futility of killing God. Doesn’t Jack need to kill Amara too? Cas gets a lead on the Occultum from Sergei. Dean and Cas flirt unnecessarily. Cas is so patient with all of Dean’s ideas, I can’t help but think that this is a common thing with these two.

Anyway, the Occultum was owned by the Jacobson family for a long time, until they used it as payment to heal their son. The healer was “attractive, and she healed the child by laying on hands which glowed.” I don’t know if there’s been an unattractive person in this universe, so good luck finding the healer! 

Lol, j/k, there’s only one angel healer that’s attractive out there! Sam and Dean find Anael and want her help with killing God. She thinks it’s wiser to stay on the side of the all-powerful being. When the brothers flash their angel blades (eerrr…), Anael confesses that the Occultum is really with Ruby. (I was one of the many rage viewers with this, but well, we’ve been rage watching these writers for so long, and we’ve had to handwave SO much over the years. What’s another plot point that we can easily headcanon at this point? Sigh.)

We get a flashback of Ruby and Anael negotiating the sale of the Occultum. Anael then tells them that the Occultum was never actually sold because they ganked Ruby before she could do anything with it. It’s now safely hidden in Hell. 

Jack, meanwhile, is busy getting back to life. 

Cas finds him in the kitchen eating EVERYTHING. Jack notes that coming back alive really makes you pay attention to what life is. “Hot, cold, sweet, spicy, funny, scary.” (Kind of like Sam when he was soulless, Jack is describing sensations, and not feelings, emotions, not really getting at what life really is.) They talk about Jack’s soul and what he felt when he had one.

Jack admits that he understands that he hurt Sam and Dean, and wonders if Dean will ever forgive him for what he did to Mary. “Dean, he feels things, more acutely than any human I’ve ever known. So, it’s possible he could work through this. One day, he may explode, and let it all out, and breathe deeply and move on.” 

Okayokayokayokay. Jack wants to know how long that’ll take and Cas admits that he doesn’t know, and I’M FEELING about how this ageless, ancient being is just WAITING for Dean to do this very thing. He has all the time in the world from his perspective. He knows Dean --really knows him, and it doesn’t matter how long for him because time doesn’t really matter for Cas (I mean, I think being close to humanity and all it probably means more than it used to but...I’m just rambling about my feelings right now. This is Boris --Natasha is far more coherent and eloquent with her thoughts, lol.)

The brothers make it back to the bunker, planning on heading to Hell. Cas leads them to a room where Alt!Sam and Dean are stuck between the worlds. Dean doesn’t care at this moment --he wants to get the Occultum. They tell Cas their plan and he thinks they’re crazy. They could be searching forever down there. (UH, they’re LITERALLY BFFs with the Queen of Hell.) 

Anyway, Dean and Sam head south while Cas babysits the spell. 

Cas still doesn’t like this plan and hatches a plan with Jack so he can talk with Ruby in the Empty. 

(I know, you just have to roll with Buckleming episodes, etc., but their insistence on making it beyond easy to jump from realm to realm is MADDENING.) 

We get a mention of Cas’s deal with the Empty, so that really is still a thing. Cas is “far from happy”, so we’re good!

His plan is for Jack to “draw out most of [his] lifeforce” and store it in a flask. What’s his “lifeforce”? His grace? Something more? Something else? How does he die without his grace? How is he just mostly dead but still able to go to the Empty? 

We’re also giving this exchange: “If I screw up?” “Well, then I’ll be lost forever.” WHOA. What kind of fucked up parenting are you writing, Buckleming? Good thing Jack doesn’t have a soul, because that’ll mess with a child forever.

Also, why can Jack use his powers now? 

Sam and Dean are ambushed in Hell. Anael wanted them dead apparently and made a deal with some demons (ONCE AGAIN, like Rowena would allow this to happen!?!??) They’re Sam and Dean Winchester though and easily dispatch the demons. 

Cas stalks through the Empty calling for Ruby. “Hello, Clarence,” a familiar voice says and Cas turns to find Meg reclining on a throne. He looks sweetly surprised to see her before his face falls as he realizes she’s the Shadow from the Empty. 

The Shadow may be allied with Billie, but they’re definitely not good buds with Cas. Nevertheless, “Go get her, pizza man,” Shadow!Meg says and a ball of flame swirls towards Cas and turns into Ruby. 

Cas asks about the Occultum, and Ruby asks after Sam. Cas refuses to answer and, since I’ve been stress re-reading some regency romances lately, I’m gonna go ahead and say he acts like an affronted chaperone. 

For Gratuitous Cas Science:

We see another flashback of Ruby and Sister Jo’s wild adventures, only this time Jo is the one who invited Ruby to talk to her. Jo tries to tempt Ruby into hiding from the apocalypse in the Occultum. It turns out it’s a place AND a thing. A whatever, if you will. Ruby cut a deal with Jo, hid the object, and then died her noble death. 

Ruby promises to help Cas as long as he can get her out of the Empty. You see, instead of lullabies and sweet dreams, or even quiet and no dreams, the Empty is nothing but endless reels of regrets playing over and over for every angel and demon trapped there. “Yeah, I know,” Cas says quietly and we all break a little bit thinking about how he swore it was nothingness instead of constant emotional torture. (That’s SO on brand.) Cas promises to try to free Ruby in exchange for her intel.

The Winchesters return to find Jack babysitting the spell alongside a MOSTLY DEAD Cas. Despite Jack’s (actually really terrible) explanation, Dean and Sam demand that Jack bring Cas back right away. Jack unscrews the flask.

Cas isn’t getting out of this so easily, though. The Shadow smirks and clenches Shadow!Meg’s fist, sending Cas to the ground in pain. The Shadow still is no fan of Cas, and is only willing to uphold deals with Billie, who promised to send the Shadow back to a lovely snooze if they cooperate. 

The Shadow ruminates on the fact that Billie has never mentioned Cas as being essential to her plan. This makes Cas expendable. 

Cas sputters to life suddenly, only to face Dean’s angry-worried greeting. “You’re an idiot, by the way!” Apparently still in pain or just suffering from almost-not-quite-dead-and-now-actually-quite-alive syndrome, Cas hauls himself up slowly and explains that he now has all the info they need to find the Occultum. “Am I still an idiot?” Listen, boys. Kiss and make up, mmkay?

They’re off to tackle the Occultum quest, but before they go they need to set out some decoys to throw Chuck off their scent if he tries to spy on the bunker. Dean suggests pulling AU Dean and Sam out of the void and setting them up as fake Sam and Dean. He flippantly suggests using Cas’s grace to power the rift this time and FOR THE LOVE OF PIZZA DEAN it’s called body autonomy. 

Cut to the Winchesters Set One and Set Two seated at the map table with beers all around. We learn:

Alt Winchesters are also hunters

Their dad is alive (but still SUPER controlling)

They don’t drink beer or watch porn

Private planes fly them all over the world to fight monsters

Their AU could be a middling CW pilot about wealthy monster hunters called “Hunter Corp”

I have a greater appreciation of our flannel-clad boys

Dean and Sam clumsily explain their ploy and their relationship with God and it’s not weird at all! 

Later, Team Free Will 2.0 heads to a small church. It’s guarded by a hellhound, which makes Dean SUPER happy and comfortable in his skin. They break into the church and look for clues about where the treasure is hiding. The clue is that the top of a cross points to the treasure. Moonlight streams conveniently through the window and at JUST the right angle to cast a cross of light on the floor. They pull out a little velvet bag from the floorboards.

Cas reads Enochian on the little golden snitch-style ball. “In order to be in the Occultum, the Occultum must be in you.” 

Back at the bunker, Alt!Dean and Sam enjoy their new rugged life. Sam watches kitten videos, and we continue to identify very strongly with him, indeed. Alt!Dean finds porn on Dean’s computer and I continue to ask WHY WHY we have to constantly cycle back to Busty Asian Beauties. Porn isn’t objectionable, but that SPECIFIC porn franchise should have died a swift death back in season two. (Boris: AMEN)

Jack swallows the Occultum, as one does. “Spit it out,” Dean demands. But Jack disappears into a flare of light. He wakes up in a garden. 

No, he wakes up in THE Garden. He’s greeted by a young girl who tells him that humans are prohibited. A snake confronts Jack. “Who are you really? Who are you meant to be?” Jack flashes through his good and bad memories and suffers an epiphany. 

He flutters back into the church like Tinkerbell in a ball of light before zapping back into reality. His reappearance burns away the two hellhounds. 

Back at the bunker, Dean sends the Alt Winchesters off to Brazil to enjoy the beach. He’s a little uncomfortable around them until he learns that the Alt Winchesters drove Baby. Then they get shoved out of the bunker just as fast as you please.

Once they’re gone, Cas tells Sam and Dean that Jack has returned changed. He leads them to Jack who hunches over the kitchen table. Jack is crying. He apologizes for killing Mary. He has his soul back!

“Please forgive me,” Jack whispers, and a symphonic line carries us into the black.

Overall Surprisingly Enjoyable Quotes:

The healthcare system sucks so I pick up the slack

Cas, you know what’s good about being dead?

I’m far from happy, so I should be fine

We had a good thing until he killed me

You’re gonna have to lose the man bun

Want to read more? Check out our Recap Archive! 

#spn recap #spn 15x13 #destiny's child #dean winchester #sam winchester #castiel #cas #jack kline #anael #ruby #the shadow #meg masters #supernatural season 15

[noblecne]

╚»★ :  INFORMATION ABOUT NEPHILIM’S

The main titles are: Nephil, Half-Breeds, True Abomination (By Angels & Demons) Species: Human-Angel-Hybrid, Human-Demon-Hybrid 

They aren’t akin to the Nephalem, which is of an offspring of both Angel and a Demon, but they can also be an Angel/Demon that possesses demonic/angelic powers.

Characteristics: Nephilim have glowing eyes like an angel, although their glow is somewhat dim and grayish in color as opposed to the bright white or bluish-white glow of regular angels. A Nephilim’s eye color is also related to the angel who sired them; Micheal's eyes are azure, his Nephilim child’s eyes are blue.

They (Nephilim’s) are stated to have been quite destructive with their powers, often causing them to be a forbidden by the oldest laws of Heaven. As a result, they are considered as unholy beings and abominations. A mother pregnant with  Nephilim can ignite a bible upon physical contact. A human mother will always be fatal to to give birth to one.

Theoretically, removing a Nephilim’s grace will turn them into a normal human, as removing the grace of an angel would turn them, effectively, human. While their grace is an angel’s source of power, a Nephilim has their parents Grace mixed with a human soul causing them to be superior to angels in terms of power. The Nephilim will eventually become more powerful than the angel that sired them.

Due to their human souls, Nephilim, at least when their Grace has been removed, can go to a human afterlife such as Heaven or Hell. In Heaven they are able to sense the true nature of the realm around them and can leave their own personal Heavens and travel to other Heavens that they choose.

Biology: Like their parent races, Nephilim are biological lifeforms not unlike many other creatures in the universe. However, their divine parentage does afford the Nephilim powers beyond anything a normal being is capable of, and the irony of carrying both holy and unholy energy within themselves is an intrinsic part of their existence.

Powers & Abilities: The power level of a Nephilim depends on how strong their angelic parent is. Nephilim lore states that by full power, they will be stronger than at least their angelic parent.

Astral Perception - A Nephilim can perceive the true form of angels, such as perceiving their halos.

Super Strength - Their angelic ancestry endows Nephilim with enhanced strength sufficient to overpower and even toss common angels around.

Longevity - Nephilim have a slower aging process and while they will die eventually, can live up to five hundred years, although most of them never make it far considering how often they’re hunted. Some can be ageless if they are born to a more powerful angel. 

Omnilingualism - They possess the ability to innately speak, write, understand and communicate any language they’ve never heard before, sign language, illegible words, and backwards speech and writing. They could even communicate with animals or read body language.

Superhuman Combat - They can even achieve natural proficiency with all kinds of weaponry and combatant styles without the need of special or long-term education.

Precognition - They have the supernatural ability to experience simple or prophetic visions of the future. At first, they are merely capable of experiencing vague dreams of the future while asleep. While in their waking state; they experience vivid premonitions, either through physical contact with a person. They also gain an acute intuitive insight; meaning their able to sense the immediate actions of people and things in their current location. They can also use this ability to fight and sense their opponents attacks and movements, making them deadly fighters.

Clairvoyance - Nephilim possess supernatural senses that allow them to percive things that humans cannot. They can see invisible beings, they can see demons in their true forms even while said demons are in a human disguise or possessing a vessel, and they can see through dimensional barriers.

Perspicuity - Psychic abilities cannot penetrate the Nephilim. Not even illusions, mind control, and the energy-draining abilities of supernatural beings work against the Nephilim.

Superhuman Speed + Superhuman Agility - Nephilim are said to be faster than any non-supernatural creature and can run at an extremely high speed. Nephilim’s agility, balance, and bodily coordination are all enhanced to levels that are equal to, or in most cases beyond, the natural physical limits of even a Olympic athlete. They can also easily preform any complicated sequence of gymnastics stunts such as flips, rolls, and springs at speeds and angles that would be highly difficult or impossible for a ordinary human.

Healing Factor - Are able to fully heal and recover from injuries such as gunshots, broken bones, burns, bite wounds, damaged or missing limbs, and torso impalement. The speed of regeneration is usually dependent on how severe their injury is. Standard cuts and wounds tend to heal very fast, while larger wounds can take a few minutes. Nephilim are immune to most poisons and drugs, and their accelerated metabolism allows them to stay near perfect shape with only light exercise. Their increased metabolism has the side-effect of dramatically increasing their appetite. This also makes it extremely difficult for them to become intoxicated from alcohol.

Flight - Nephilim have the potential to fly, they just have to learn how to. When a Nephilim learns how they can fly anywhere instantly. 

Sacred Blood - As beings of angelic descent, the blood that courses through their veins is blessed with the essence of the divine. Their blood is sacred, and is delectable and intoxicating to vampires, or other blood thirsty creatures. As such, any that would feed off the Nephilim or worse, commit the basest sin of Amaranth, find that they are punished for their transgression, as the blood burns through their vile, damned bodies. Nephilim can also use their blood to heal others by transfusing it with their own blood. It can also be used to restore a deceased human back to life. They also use their blood to mix it in weapons to use against supernatural beings; such as filling bullets with their blood. The angelic blood both adds to their beauty and caused the gentle golden glow that appears when they are in the best of moods.

Heavenly Elemental Manipulation - All Nephilim, no matter what type of angel their parent is, can manipulate holy elements. They can summon it within their hands or create constructs of that divine elements. This ability allows for Nephilim to use holy elements without the limitations and weaknesses of normal elemental manipulation and because of this power has healing and anti-demon properties.

Angelic Wrath - When a Nephilim is furious, their power becomes unstable. Since a major aspect of their strength comes from their rage, this could give them a advantage over deities. However, it’s a double edge sword that leaves the Nephilim blacked out once that power is far beyond their control.

Absolute Existence - A Nephilim is immune to the laws of the Natural Order except for only one existing Nephilim can exist at a time and they're infertile. The can exist out of creation and travel into another alternate universe without the laws or rules of the universe affecting their memory or powers and abilities, altering them to match their alternate counterparts like other individuals.

 Creation - A Nephilim holds the power to create, which is much more difficult then destroying. A Nephilim's power of creation is equal to that of a Primordial Entity.

Destruction - A Nephilim hold the power to destroy and by that definition it means to erase any object or being from existence. A full power, when the Nephilim erases something, it can erase that thing to the point of non one even remember it existed in the first place and the only beings who can remember are Primordial Entities, other Nephilims, and Arch-Nephilims. If a Nephilim carelessly uses this power, they can run the risk of erasing everything of creation. 

Omnifarious - A Nephilim has shape-shifting powers at such high degree that they can alter their appearance down into segments and take on the form of any individual in creation. 

Shape-Shifting - A Nephilim can later it's appearance into anyone without limit. A Nephilim can appear human but they are also capable of having a true visage like angels, but unlike an angel that can harm those who cannot handle their true visage, anyone can perceive a Nephilim's true form. 

Weaknesses

Mortality - Nephilim are still half-human, possess human-like souls, and still experience human weakness. They’re stronger than any other being, except angels, who can mostly overpower them with their might, unless the Nephilim is the offspring of a significant angel, such as an angel of the first sphere (Thrones, Cherubim and Seraphim).

Heaven’s Enmity - Angels and God regard the Nephilim as the worst kind of abomination, more detestable than even demons. An angel will always react negatively to a Nephilim, and will always interpret the Nephilim’s words and actions in the worst possible light. Only a direct order from the deity they serve will ever cause an angel to aid a Nephilim in any way. Nephilim can not benefit from healing or other miracles from angels.

Angelic Wrath - When a Nephilim is furious, their power becomes unstable. Since a major aspect of their strength comes from their rage, this could give them an advantage, or a disadvantage. Leaving the Nephilim blacked out once that power is far beyond their control.

Hunted - Nephilim are viewed as a disgrace and a complete mistake to every normal angel, making them a prime subject for hunting. There are entire choirs of angels dedicated to the extermination of Nephilim.

Magic - Nephilim are still mortal and are, as such, still vulnerable to the workings of magic in all its forms. Witches are able to give supernatural aneurysms that cause the blood vessels of Nephilim to explode, and extremely powerful Witches can even overpower them effortlessly. Black magic has an adverse effect on them, and they’re able to be trapped inside of an pentagram or magic circle which weakens their powers to a point where they’re no stronger than a normal human.

#angel like ; nephilim #long post #supernatural v. ) #(i probably should've made a google doc but uhhh ya know #(i used a bunch of nephilim lore shit to combine a bunch of things) #do not steal #do not remove credit

[beyondconfessor]

The Infernal Contract [12/16]

Rating: Explicit

Pairing: Lilith/Zelda Spellman

Summary: "And what does Faustus think of you?" she asked, snapping forward and grabbing Zelda's right wrist. "No, better yet, why don't you tell me what you think of him, of how high you must regard him to remove the very protection I provided."

N.B.: Also posted on AO3

Faustus delivered a modified version of his tenets, advising the school assembly with everything happening, a reversion to the traditional ways would be the only way to appease the Dark Lord.

It was a lie, but one Zelda wasn't above standing beside at this stage. There was little else she could do, and allowing some of his tenets to pass at least pacified Faustus for the moment, though they were like to stir complaints within the coven.

Witches were to pursue herbalism and other forms of healing magic before any extracurricular studies––warlocks, of course, could pursue whatever magic they desired. The other doctrines similarly followed, requesting witches to dress and act accordingly in the so-called image of Lilith, where warlocks should see their reflection in the Dark Lord.

Zelda's most considerable annoyance was that Faustus depiction of Lilith was of an otherwise helpless woman, capable of only the healing arts (as the Satanic Bible mentioned her magic explicitly only in service of Lucifer but failed to pick up the subtext between those moments). Intimately knowing the raw power that Lilith weld, especially with the higher forms of the Dark Arts, Zelda despised the comparison drawn of a woman who acutely mirrored the False God's Eve rather than that of a true Goddess capable of creating an exorcism that a witch could perform.

But Zelda knew when to bite her tongue. She had agreed to stand by and uphold the new doctrine fairly.

She may criticise it behind closed doors, maybe even lead her students to think about the Satanic Bible critically. Still, she would not openly defy the Anti-Pope. With everything going on, it would only create another problem, and she already had a few piling up.

As it was, those other problems were becoming the forefront thoughts in her mind, eclipsing that of the coven and the school. The prophecy was the most significant of her concerns, to the point she was now dreaming of reading the passage.

Zelda had gone over it a dozen times, each word to the context of each other. Prophecies were notoriously tricky. It was magic that stretched back to the early stages of most civilisations, and an imprecise one at that. Fortune-telling, tarot readings, prophecies, divination, even haruspicy were rarely used, given that their readings were often inaccurate and held a dozen vague meanings. It was why the tale of Oedipus was often a parable told to young witches who tried to peek into their future.

As it was, Mr Scratch had mentioned another prophecy in the Greendale Mines. It seemed a good idea to explore the prophecy from all angles, including one that used imagery instead of words, which was how Zelda ended up standing before the mines in the late hours of the evening, long after Faustus had retired to his room.

She stood before the mine shaft, listening as the wind howled through its tunnels. It had long been rumoured by mortals and witches alike that the mine shafts reached to the very gates of Hell. Standing here, Zelda could feel the magic crackle in the air, a magnetic draw pulling at her magic and knew why the witches had dug into the mines. It was almost like a siren song, singing out to her.

Lighting a cigarette, Zelda contemplated her strategy. She could try to summon the blasted prophecy, but it was likely that protective magic would envelop it. How the mortal children had found it, Zelda had no idea, but predictions had a way of hiding themselves until it was nearly too late to prevent it from occurring.

No, it seemed she would have to enter the mines—something she previously had no interest or plan in doing so before this evening.

"I wondered how long it would take you."

Zelda turned on her heel, looking to face Lilith. The woman stood on the outskirts of the trees, surrounded by shadows. It made the paleness of her face in the moonlight starker in contrast to her hair and clothes.

"What are you doing here?" Zelda asked, dropping her cigarette to the ground and snuffing it out before the woman had a chance to snatch it from her.

"The same thing you are, I imagine."

"I find it unlikely that we managed to cross paths here, of all places."

"Well, perhaps my arrival is not coincidental," Lilith admitted as she began walking towards her until they were side-by-side looking at the entrance to the mines. "You tripped my spell," she said and then pointed to a piece of silver string, and a bell that hung from a tree branch, likely set to summon Lilith should any person walk underneath. Though as Zelda squinted at the charm, she noticed that a single strand of hair had been tied to it, binding it to a specific person.

"Honestly," Zelda scoffed. "And just how did you know that I would come here?"

Lilith made a shrug, playing an attempt at innocence. "You mentioned another prophecy, so naturally I derived you'd eventually end up here."

"I certainly did not!"

"Oops. Then Sabrina must have mentioned it," Lilith said, her eyes flashing in mischievous amusement. Zelda looked away, glaring at the mines as she found herself regretting the fallen cigarette. She should have known that Sabrina would eventually make her way to her dearly favourite teacher and confess every secret.

Zelda would have done well to curse the memories of all the children, but it seemed that it was too late now. "Have you seen it?" she asked.

"I have. Would you like me to show you?"

Zelda wondered if there was any point. If Lilith had seen it, then there was little to be provided from herself viewing it. And yet, she knew it would haunt her if she refused. "I would."

"So be it," Lilith said before walking into the mines. She was enveloped by shadows, disappearing from all of Zelda's senses until a warm, golden light lit up the opening of the mines as she held up a lantern. Turning to face out of the mine-shaft, Lilith looked to Zelda and waited for her to follow.

"So be it," Zelda echoed. Exhaustion weighed on her shoulders as she slipped into the darkness of the mines.

There was a wet, damp smell to the tunnels and the only sound that filled the space was that of their heels clicking on the stone ground. Her shoes perhaps weren't the best footwear, but she had a steady-foot charm on all of her heels to prevent missteps (after all, a witch shouldn't stumble).

But the quiet was stifling. A considerable unease continued between them as Zelda wondered to their previous tryst and the way Lilith had looked at her when she held the book of prophecy.

Lilith had been furious, and then her eyes had looked to Zelda as if she'd discovered something quite fascinating. It weighed on Zelda's mind and sparked a strange yearning she couldn't allow herself to poke at (and yet did, like a child picking at a wound).

"Faustus has released a new set of tenets," she advised.

"Of course he has," Lilith responded. "And I take these tenets are to restrict the witches further from their ambitions to power?"

"Yes. With absolutely no consultation from the Dark Lord."

"Well, the Dark Lord is rather busy," Lilith said, there was a weariness to her voice as she said it, though there was a lazy attempted to mask it with irony.

"With Sabrina?" Zelda asked, but Lilith didn't respond.

No further words passed between them and Zelda wondered if the woman was deliberately trying to be dramatic with the silence, or if she genuinely had no biting comments to make.

Perhaps she was preparing them for some big reveal.

The tunnels twisted and sunk, and as they did, Zelda felt the pull of her magic, leading to her where she could only presume the Gates of Hell resided. Zelda's mother once spoke about how their grandmother had been digging through the hills with other local witches, seeking salvation in their Lord, until the Von Kunkle's had struck them down, causing the remaining coven to flee throughout the forest.

The mortals now owned the mines, but the magic sang out.

Lilith didn't lead her to where the magic pulled. Instead, she took a sharp turn down a shaft labelled marked with the number thirteen, and crept down a steady slope until they came to a crevice.

There she held up the lantern for Zelda to see.

"Here's your prophecy," Lilith said, with a nonchalant gesture. Zelda squinted in the dim light and looked over the artwork.

Wax candles stood scattered around the altar, their wicks snuffed, but Zelda knew they were not ordinary candles. With a snap of her fingers, the candles alit, casting warm light against the stonework (the flicker of power warming her as it did).

She looked over the artwork and felt her unease grow. From the immediate artwork, Zelda already knew it wasn't a happy prophecy.

She studied the iconography, glancing across the apparent symbolism. The picture of Sabrina was centred and definite with the crown of thorns, with little to doubt her likeness. The door represented Hell, the hanging tree representing Greendale, and as such the mortal realm. There were demons against either side, a corrupted version of cherubs, representing their guardianship of Sabrina and therefore her status as godhood (or at the very least Queen).

Zelda pulled back and crossed her arms. Likely the mosaic was not a separate prophecy, but a visual depiction of the footnote found by Mr Scratch. Which brought to question, why was the prediction a footnote?

"Someone wanted this hidden," she stated, glancing to Lilith.

"And someone wanted it found," Lilith responded. "I think we can both conclude as to who."

Zelda initial instinct was to raise suspicion against the woman herself, but it didn't marry up with her hesitation in the previous night. Lilith's fear and anger had been absolute before she attempted to conceal it with lust, and there was nothing to gain by her with Sabrina rising to the status of Queen.

Sabrina was to become something more significant, and this no less blindsided Lilith than any of them, it seemed.

Reaching out, she touched over the tiled pieces. There was a blue halo around Sabrina's head, the pigment created from crushed lapis lazuli.

"Mortals made this," Zelda said.

"What makes you think that?"

"A witch wouldn't have dyed and cut these tiles by hand," she touched over the jagged edges. There was frenzied energy to the creation as if it had compelled its artist to finish it. Drawing away, she pulled her hand back and dusted her fingers from the dirt that had accumulated over the stonework. It wasn't enchanted, but she could feel the compulsion coming from the prophecy. "And a witch would have made it much gaudier."

"I see," Lilith whispered, Zelda looked to her, catching the expression freezing as stared into the artwork, a frustration pressing in her brow before it smoothed to a neutral projection.

"What is it?" she asked.

Lilith turned and faced her, despite the composure, her eyes seemed alight with fury. "Why would a mortal depict a halo?"

"To represent holiness, her duality between mortal and..." Zelda trailed off, swallowing as she realised.

"And celestial," Lilith finished with a sharp, mirthless grin. "Perhaps the Dark Lord does not plan to marry her after all. Though I wouldn't put that past Him."

Zelda's heart sunk in her chest with the spoken revelation. Her niece, the girl she'd raised from a baby, was not her blood. "A Morningstar?" she whispered as if the Dark Lord might be in earshot (He might just be, she realised). "Surely not, she looked so much like Edward as a child."

"The Dark Lord has been known to possess men and enter their wives beds. Perhaps he obtained an offspring out of it this time."

Zelda shook her head, feeling her crossed arms tighten. Sabrina was a Spellman. She'd raised her from diapers to teens. Were she the Devil's daughter, there would have been some omen of it before her Dark Baptism, some great warning to Zelda.

Or perhaps she'd been blind to them all.

"What do we do?" Zelda asked, feeling the words slip out, a thousand smaller questions seemed to fill her mind, the fear of which beginning to grow massive and overwhelming in her head. Was she to tell Sabrina now? What did this mean for the Spellmans? Did she tell Ambrose and Hilda? Was the apocalypse to rise? Why hadn't Edward-

"What do you mean 'what do we do'? We follow the Dark Lord's plan," Lilith hissed. "If this is His will so be it."

Zelda shot her a look, watching the woman's facade splinter with her scrutiny. Lilith was as unsettled as she was. As fearful for what this meant for them both. "Is this what you want?"

Lilith hesitated, her eyes staring at the mosaic. "It doesn't matter what I want."

"Doesn't it?" Zelda asked. "Isn't this meant to be promised to you?"

"And what do you know of what was promised?" Lilith asked as she schooled her features, all doubts erasing from her face as if she was the very model of loyalty and devotion. "The Dark Lord grants us all that we deserve, and we are at His mercy for it. You'd be wise to heed to His will."

"Isn't Hell to be yours, since you left the Garden and found Him? Is that not what you were promised for servitude?" Zelda pushed and watched the carefully placed mask fracture further. Depths of desire sunk in Lilith's eyes, as if the very crown of Hell sat before her. "You know that this means He won't give it to you. He never planned to."

"And pray, tell how you could know of the Dark Lord's will? Of my relationship with Him?" Lilith inquired with a caustic tongue. "You're just some witch who's first marriage soured before she finished her vows."

Zelda flinched at the venom, and before she could think better of it, she was snarling back, "At least I got my crown, you'll only ever be a handmaiden to Him."

Lilith grinned at her, but there was no amusement in her eyes. Only a sharp coldness that reminded Zelda that she was not just speaking with any witch. "And what does Faustus think of you?" she asked, snapping forward and grabbing Zelda's right wrist. "No, better yet, why don't you tell me what you think of him, of how high you must regard him to remove the very protection I provided."

Zelda tried to tug her hand out of Lilith's grip, only to feel the grip tighten as she was pulled forward towards the woman, barely a breath away.

"It was stolen," Zelda hissed. "I wouldn't have––" but she stopped herself from admitting any further. She could feel her chest tightening, a fear that she said too much to the woman already.

A strange look passed over Lilith's face, a hunger as she touched over the bare finger. "Do you love him?"

"No, I don't love him."

"Do you wish he was me?"

Zelda pressed her lips shut, refusing to answer such a question (and admit the truth). But the answer must have been as apparent as the moon in a cloudless night because Lilith eyes filled with mirth and then laughter was rupturing from between the red lips. "Oh, I see."

"You certainly do not!" Zelda said, finally snapping her hand away before her heels caught against a loose stone and tripped her backwards. She hit the wall of the tunnel. Her head thudded against the rock, stunning her long enough for Lilith to press against her.

Hissing from the pain, Zelda pushed herself to stand taller and not allow the intimidation to affect her as she looked into the woman's eyes (appearing silver in the dim lighting) and felt her anger ease, waiting for the next moment. She wanted to slap her, push her away with the same overwhelming desire to kiss her and draw her close against herself.

Instead, she remained frozen in place.

"You desire me, Zelda Spellman. I think you might even care for me."

Zelda's body shivered at the way Lilith said her name, but the anger returned at the accurate presumptions placed forward. "You may think quite highly of yourself, but outside of our tryst, I barely think of you at all," she lied.

"Not at all?"

"Not the slightest," Zelda sneered, feeling the woman's hands slide over her waist and down her hips.

"Not even in the sleepless nights?" Lilith asked as she leant forward. "When you're biting your tongue to hold back your gasps, as you lie in the guest room of your own home?"

Zelda felt the lips graze close to hers, the hands gripping at her hips in anticipation. "Are you spying on me, Lilith?"

"No," Lilith said, "But you're adjurations have a way of finding me."  

"I have spoken of no such thing," Zelda hissed, and then the woman's lips had moved to her ear, and Lilith's body was pressing against her. She heard her draw a slow intake of breath, the fingers curling against the material of Zelda's clothes.

And then Lilith keened in her ear, as if on the very edge of arousal.

Zelda felt her body still; her eyes flutter shut as the moan had more of an effect on her than it should, causing a sudden heat to glow warm in her belly.

But the exhibition didn't cease there. Lilith's lips touched over cheek before she began to repeat verbatim the very abjurations Zelda had solely whispered to the shadows of her room, between her sheets.

A part of her had known that it might reach her ears. After all, their contract had begun with a wishfully spoken prayer. If she was honest with herself, perhaps she'd even hoped that they would.

And yet to hear them. Feel the words in the exhale of breath was an entirely different thing. Zelda felt herself swallow thickly, her own hands turning to fists at her side as she tried to prevent herself from grabbing at the woman.

Lilith's gasps were hot in her ear, the words broken-up by sharp pants and moans meant to imitate her own, but if Lilith intended to mock her, they had an adverse reaction.

As Zelda felt Lilith begin to hitch up her dress, she turned her head, having enough of the performance. She tilted forward and caught the woman's lips, enjoying how Lilith anticipated it, snagging her tongue between her teeth, before letting it go with a laugh.

There was a mania about it as if Lilith was unravelling before her, eager to distract and pretend that this was just another tryst as she slid Zelda's underwear down her thighs and kissed her again with feverish temperament. Zelda responded in kind because the world was going to end, but it hadn't yet, and this might be their last moment together before it all fell apart.

The truth was that Sabrina was to be snatched away, and they were to return to their respected men, loyal and obedient with these changes. They had lost everything they'd built and worked towards. More than that, a deeper part of Zelda reminded her that this would be the end of them both. Their relationship could not continue if the new world order occurred. Lilith was to be Lucifer's handmaiden, and Zelda was to be Faustus' wife. They would become ships in the night.

Zelda tugged at Lilith's dress, undoing the zipper and slipping it down the woman's body before she drew her close again.

Her skin was warm against her own. If she held her close enough, it felt like time would stretch. That there was no home to return to, no encroaching deadlines, no prophecies of Nephilim children.

There was only the here and now. Only Lilith.

And yet her heart felt like it was breaking.

It ached to know that everything that had seemed so close in grasp was now disappearing from her sights, that Faustus would rule with an iron fist, squeezing every witch of their free will as the Dark Lord turned a blind eye to mould Sabrina into his Queen.

The Spellman family would be burned, Leticia and Prudence would be used and discarded at will, and Judas would be shaped into the perfect son with no mind of his own.

Where was Lilith to go?

Lilith nipped at her throat, snapping her back into the moment. In the dimness of the mines, she could see the woman's glare, demanding her attention.

She kissed at the woman's shoulder, slipping her hand under the lace underwear and touching over Liliths slit as she was fucked in return. The sex was frenziedness, building in a desperate need to touch and be touched and forget everything else.

And with it, Zelda wondered if the Dark Lord touched Lilith with the intent to admire and worship, or if He just consumed until there was nothing of Lilith left but a hollow version of herself?

Was that her path too, with Faustus, to bend until she snapped?

Zelda felt her anger grow again, a fury building in her as Lilith's mouth kissed down her throat.

"It matters," Zelda told her. "It matters what you want."

Lilith paused, pulling away to look at her in the darkness. "Zelda-" she whispered, the name purring as a warning to remind her of just how close to Hell they were.

"It matters to me," she urged. "Lilith, please, whatever you think of this, of me and everything else. It matters. Whatever it is that you want, I swear it, I'll abide by your will, even if it's to strike––"

Lilith kissed her mouth, hard and bruising to silence her. If the Dark Lord heard her, understood what she was proposing, they would be eviscerated for their seditious remarks. Perhaps it had been foolish for her to say it, but she wanted (needed) Lilith to know that they were more than the roles they played.

Lilith's hand came to her throat, wrapping around it tight enough that Zelda could barely draw her breath as she felt the woman's mouth move away from hers.

Then, very quietly, Lilith whispered, "I don't want your obedience, Zelda. It would ruin you. Do you understand?"

The hand eased, and as Zelda drew in a breath, she asked, "And what of your ruination?"

Lilith smiled in the dark. "It happened long ago." Zelda went to argue, only for Lilith's fingers to touch against her lips. "Forget your words, and be mine for this moment. Then we can separate to our own lives."

Zelda swallowed, understanding the subtext. Despite how it ached in her chest, this was to be their last time together.

Lilith's hand slipped under her jaw and tilted her head as she pressed forward and kissed her again. It was sweet, gentle, and then it grew with a passion, not unlike that evening in the moonlight that seemed so long ago. A yearning build in her chest, and all Zelda wanted was Lilith.

Their moments together were ending, and Zelda wished she could translate the growing need inside of into words, but it was all she could to do to kiss and not drown in the woman's touch. As Lilith kissed her, Zelda followed, stroking over the woman's sex in an attempt to appease her. It wasn't obedience she offered but something else. Something sacrilegious.

It wasn't enough. Zelda pulled away and dropped to her knees, grabbing Lillith's hips and tugging her to her mouth as she tore the lace down her legs.

"Zelda," Lilith coaxed, fingers drawing through her hair. The way she said her name was like a sigh, summoning something from the recesses of Zelda's mind. She couldn't see her face in the darkness, but she could feel the woman's legs shake and ease underneath her hands. Feel her rock over her tongue, fingers curling into her hair.

And then, for the first time, Lilith stopped holding back her vocalisation. For the first time, her moans rose (slowly at first, and then loud and unrestrained), echoing through the tunnels of the mines as she repeated Zelda's name over and over.

Never had her name sounded so sweet on someone's tongue (and she'd heard it spoken by many lovers).

Zelda didn't know if it was a reward for what she said or a distraction from their seditions, but the way the woman's fingers curled in her hair, the way her body trembled unlike a performance and more like unbridled eagerness, felt primal. It made her magic spark and reach out, and made the night stretch for a little longer.

It felt...

Zelda felt the word hush quietly in her mind, feeling centuries of propriety and religious education warn her against the very idea of thinking it.

...but it felt sacred in the way the satanic magic didn't.

Holy.

And with her perdition in mind, she thought to herself that Lilith tasted divine.

#zelda spellman #lilith #zelith #madam spellman #caos fanfic #morgan writes #morgans fics

[rakuraiwielder]

to expel a bouquet

Beneath the clinical scent that cloaks her body, she always smells of wisteria.

Giyushino. Of a secret and words left unsaid.

A Kimetsu no Yaiba Fic / Major manga spoilers.

Also on A03

Foreword:

giyuu’s POV is hard to write since he’s sharper than people give him credit for but he’s emotionally stunted like a rock and his self awareness flip flops from zero to hero at least 20 times in 0.5 seconds its honestly ridiculous

that said i had a lot of fun juggling that and his 1 emotional brain cell personality lmao

“Have you been eating well?”

The question makes Shinobu pause, looks up from the bandages that littered their hands. She blinks once, twice, and Giyuu sees the focused haze in her eyes fade as her fingers retract slightly from the still raw skin of his thumb. Her wrist reaches up to rub at the bags below her eyes, and he feels something break the strange lull that had surrounded them both.

“Hm?” She blinks at him, present yet not there, eyes flickering in distracted beats as she gazes up with a look that held less of a smile and more of a quirked lip. Not for the first time he notices how sluggish she looks, shoulders slumped and drowsy under the humid heat that bathed the floors of the Butterfly Estate. It only adds to the curious weight he thought to voice; heavy behind months of grudging observation as she had wormed her way into parts of his life, implications he knew would make her retract if he did not thread carefully.

Shinobu was prideful, but even this he finds cannot deter from his own desires to pry.

He would ask, but already she was looking down again, rolling the gauze carefully over healing wounds and old scars. Shinobu hooks the white strip across the back of his palm, movements all precise and gentle, before turning to the table to look for the scissors. Giyuu can only watch, tongue tied and heavy from another of countless opportunities missed, noting the pale colour of her cheeks (did she think blush could fool anyone?) and how the softness of her sigh echoes the snipping of the blade. She moves back after, gathering the spare bandages she had placed in his hands, and he spies the barest hint of a similarly covered wrist as the sleeves of her uniform shifts. The sight of it jerks him back, wounds up something tight within him, and before he knows it the words were slipping from his mouth as easily as a sigh in the breeze.

“You smell like wisteria poison.”

The abrupt silence that envelops the room then hits different, and he feels -more than sees- her freeze, hands going still before pulling away completely to rest on her lap. Something flickers behind her eyes; sharp and unsettled, almost guarded, but then she was smiling at him before he could pull it apart. A stilted smile, he thinks, and almost regrets opening his mouth. Internally he curses himself for having a horrible sense of tact.

“Tomioka san,” she lifts her finger and pokes his cheek playfully, hard enough to make him wince. “Are. You. Saying. That. I’m. Neglecting. Myself?”

“You are always smelling like poison.”

“Not to be obvious,” she tilts her head in an annoyed fashion. “But I do work with them after all.”

Behind wooden lattices, Giyuu can hear the distant screams of the boar child overlapping with Tanjirou’s other friends. He can’t help but restrain another wince. It seems more often than not their supposed training dissolved into chaotic screaming matches. Alas, all distractions to the soft jabbing above his jaw. He was acutely aware he had stumbled upon something delicate, and he needed to take the time to formulate his responses right, lest he get a blade to his throat from riling the Insect Pillar up.

He had a habit of doing that, he thinks belatedly, though not through all fault of his own. Words don’t come to him right, and it was difficult to dance the fine line between talking and teasing that Shinobu lays out for him. Specially for him too, he thinks some more, and feels envy for all the times he sees her acting otherwise with the other demon slayers.

She would be an awful first conversational partner if she wasn’t his only conversational partner. (And no, Tanjirou doesn’t count.)

“I don’t mean that.” He says, softer than he would have liked, feels his misgivings rise as her smile wavers and her hand drop.

It had been barely discernible, but time and time again as they were forced into close proximity he had begun to notice; beneath the clinical scent that cloaks her body, she always smells of wisteria. He had paid it no mind at first, figured it was a by-product of the line of work she was in, but once he had realised it was hard to ignore. The scent blankets her like a layer of pollen, clings to her skin with a stubbornness that only grew more potent as the months pass.

Even now he can sense it; under the layers of disguised musk and fragrances, the lightness a tickling sensation at the back of his throat, whiffs of the purple flowers sweet on his tongue. It would suit her, were it not the reason he suspects led her to look the way she does now.

“You look tired.” Are you taking care of yourself?

For a moment she was still, eyes widening in bafflement, rendered speechless by knowledge he cannot quite grasp. He briefly ponders running his mouth again to explain before she starts to laugh, slowly at first before increasing in stride, shoulders shaking with mirth at a joke he wonders if he was the target of again. He wouldn’t know; she wasn’t looking at him anymore; eyes closed as she swallows peals of laughter. It throws him for a loop, even as she cups a hand over her mouth and turns to the side, trembling with an intensity that has him frowning.

His indignance only grows when he realises she wasn’t stopping anytime soon. Giyuu huffs, feels a churning weight behind the back of his ribs. It was not an ugly feeling, but the discomfort brought back memories of younger times -- of naive times, when he was unassuming and could afford to be childish. Even now he feels a pout tugging at the edges of his mouth, the back of his neck warming under the persistent giggling that smothers his ears.

How curious...

It irks him.

His hands hover unconsciously, makes to reach for her just as she opens her eyes, soft violet crinkling in amusement as she clears her throat in a bid to regain her composure. Her eyes flicker again, unaware of how he had jerked them back inches from the sleeves of her haori. Was it his imagination, or did she look relieved? Why-

There was an ache in him that desperately wants to know.

“What’s so funny?”

“Are you worried?” She snickers, smiles and waves away his prodding gaze with a lightness that makes his eyes narrow. “It’s fine, I have been eating properly. The girls wouldn’t leave me alone if I didn’t. Why just yesterday, Ao-”

She turns, and the scent of wisteria hits his nose again. Stronger. More potent. A sudden cloying reminder as the tightness within him snaps, and then he was reaching for her, cupping her chin and tilting her head up as he bridges the distance between them to follow the scent.

His thumbs press into her skin, traces the dark rings under her eyes as he shifts, mindful of the way the loose ends of his haori drag across the expanse of her own. The rustling sound barely makes a dent in his mind; a mere distraction, not when he could smell the faint odour of the flowers growing heady, headier than the soft breezes of wind he could taste from her clothes. Strange, it made no sense why the wisteria scent would congregate on her face. He was not familiar with the creation process of Shinobu’s poisons and antidotes, but he was fairly sure she’d wear adequate protection, do nothing to ensure harm to herself.

It would be foolish to think otherwise. He knows just how capable she is.

But yet…

“Tomioka-”

Giyu squints, gentle with his tentative grip over her jaw as he tries to trace the source, bandaged fingers brushing the corner of her lips with furrowed brows. Even her face was soft, mirroring the smoothness of her fingers every time they press onto an exposed patch of his skin; to dress a wound, check for a fever, brush or pat or poke him in an overly aggressive display he knows she does to establish the boundaries between them. For someone who made clear her dislike of him when they first met, she had engaged in much physical contact even before the tangled threads that bound them through necessity had started to change.

“-san-”

It was all superfluous musings. His mind was beginning to wander, and with a figurative shake of his head he pulls back slightly, angles his palm roundabout so that her chin rests between the spaces of his index and middle finger instead, careful not to brush the back of it against her throat. Perhaps it was a good thing that the gauze hid his calluses; the thought of her startling from his rough and cracked skin stirring up something unpleasant, but the notion leaves before he can wonder why. The scent eludes him still, no matter how hard he concentrates, even as he closes his eyes and leans in to breathe in the floral tones of it again.

“W-What..are you doing..?”

Always, it came back to her mouth. He doesn’t understand. His eyes flutter open, traces the shape of her lips as his fingers press gently against her cheek, tilts his head to follow the familiar scent. The wanting in him only grows when he cannot find the answer.

Why do you smell of it here?

“Kochou-”

Navy eyes glance up to see the woman before him flushed and livid. Shinobu had gone deathly still, and it is only now that he notices a stiffness present in the set of her jaw as she stares at him incredulously, deepening flush staining the softness of her cheeks.

“...You are turning red.”

“My, that’s a pretty rude thing to say to a woman.” Her voice trembles ever so slightly, but there was a dangerous glint in her eye, and confusion blinds him for just a moment before he finally takes stock of his hands, knees, clothes, the closeness of their bodies as he towered over her.

Giyuu colours, hands flying from her face as the realisation hits and he jerks back. His mind jumbles, blanks out into static as the weight of the gesture threatens to leave him free falling. A sudden compulsion; this breach of space, one he doesn’t quite know how to answer for. (And yet...) He swallows the sudden lump in his throat, feels the tips of his fingers tingle still from the warmth of her skin. The repressed panic must have shown on his face, because Shinobu’s eyes only grow darker.

“I overstepped, I’m sor-”

“You are an idiot, Tomioka san.” A hard tug against his sleeve leads him to glance back at the corner of his eye, seeing a hand gripping the checkered fabric. It only served to once again make him all too aware of the distance between; he had pulled back, but not far enough that he did not hover over her still, their proximity still close, too close for the two of them (colleagues? friends? mission partners? what were they supposed to be?) to be considered anything but compromising. His hand curls over the layers of butterfly winged cloth that pool off her lap. Another insistent tug on his haori. He does not pull away.

“Let go of me.” Shinobu narrows her eyes, sounds almost breathless as she glares harder with a sharpness he cannot feel. Her shoulders tense as her eyes flicker again, reflecting an anxiousness he can feel drumming in his own bones.

“But your mou-”

Her palms push hard against his chest, shoving him away before he could protest. It knocks the wind out of him; his instincts flare in resistance, but then her fingers were pinching his nose, and the sudden discomfort of it swallowed any retaliation he meant to do.

“Honestly, this is why no one likes you! You can have no concept of personal space.” She sounded more rattled than razor-sharp when he squints to stare cross-eyed through the blur expanse of her hand. He frowns back anyways, mouth twisting in awkward annoyance as her grip shows no sign of letting up. (If this was how she wanted it-) With a nasally grunt he grasps the wrist over his nose to prevent her from pulling away, takes an immature sort of pleasure at her widening disbelief. At least this bit of theirs was familiar.

“I do so. Also, people do like me.” His hold over her wrist tightens as she pinches him harder. (Really? Was she really telling him that?) “I’m not the one that goes around poking someone’s cheeks to get their attention.”

“Getting cheeky with me, are you?” Shinobu fumes, huffing through her nose as she glowers at his fingers and the thumb over her pulse -- as if glaring hard enough could burn a hole through the odd interlock of their hands.

Any moment now he expects a hard knock on the head, a violent gesture that would take her careening away toward the other side of the room and against sliding doors. One moment closer to reversing the distance between them.

He finds he does not care.

“Seems like you can take care of yourself just fine.” Her cheeks were flushed, and she would not look at him, no matter how he tried to angle his gaze. She catches him trying to do it all the same, and with another loud huff shoves a roll of spare bandages into his face. The pinching grip on his nose ends suddenly, and Giyuu finds himself swallowing the catch of his breath as air fills his lungs, cannot orientate in time before the Insect Pillar stacks more bottles onto his lap, pushing the remaining bandages and cotton and half empty medical kit to his side of the table.

She meant for it to be callous, but when she thrusts a bottle of salve into his other hand, curling his fingers around it securely with a firmness that betrays, he knew otherwise. The odd softness he feels subsides somewhat when she reaches up to tug roughly at the hand that still held hers, planting her knees on tatami flooring as she makes to stand. “I have a lot of things to do, so I’ll be taking my leave-”

“Wait.” His grip on her tightens, causes her to fumble as she wobbles on half-risen feet.

“Let go Tomioka san.” She pulls at his fingers again, her protest coming out a little too heated, makes him pause and reevaluate when she flinches in self regret.

“Not until you tell me.” Do you know? Your fingers are shaking.

“Tell you what?” She laughs, her eyes conflicted. “There’s nothing to explain.”

Her calves choose to buckle inward then, and Giyuu hears her yelp as she teeters off balance from her awkward posture. Unconsciously he loosens his hold on her wrist, scattering pill bottles and bandages on the floor as he makes to get up, reaches out to grab her waist steady before she can fall into a crumpled heap as her breath catches.

She startles at his touch, shoulders stiffening at their half-bent angle, body betraying her more as she curls into herself. Giyuu doesn’t want to think too much into it as he lowers her back to sit on the floor, can sense her distress as clearly as he buries his own while his hand turns clammy. It was disorienting. For a moment he fears she would struggle, but Shinobu bites her lip and says nothing, so he snatches his offending hand back before she can find a reason to.

A glance towards their other linked grip. Through their prior scramble their arms had come to rest on their laps, fingers linked between the empty space that separates their knees. He hesitates. Doesn’t let go.

Even now she won’t look at his way as the tension thickens within the room, threatening to choke them both. The realisation stings, just a little; an itchy prickling he spurns away in lieu of poised patience. It would do no good for such thoughts to get the better of him, even when the knowledge of being ignored leaves something to be desired.

It takes far too long for her to start fidgeting, giving into words as she swallows bitter resignation. In battles like these he always comes out victorious, the cursed stoniness of his face finally useful for something. An underhand method perhaps, but Shinobu never really played fair either.

“...It’s just residue wisteria powder.” A glance at him, hesitant and regarding as she says softly, stares at the tangle of medical supplies on his lap before reaching out to upright a fallen bottle. “A small breeze is enough to stir them into the air so they are hard to dust after. They stick to clothes easily; I supposed that was what you smelt. Careful,” the hint of a self-reflecting grimace as he makes to open his mouth, “they are still poisonous.”

His heart rate spikes. “Poisonous.”

“I wouldn’t be showing my face to anyone if I haven’t disinfected myself, Tomioka san.”

“Doesn’t seem like you to be so... careless.” It is a clumsy excuse, a half truth at best, and he doesn’t know whether to be exasperated that she knows that he knows this.

“Doesn’t seem like you to be so patronizing either.” Shinobu tugs at her arm experimentally, curls her fingers away. Her voice echoes, quieter than he’d expected. “Won’t you let go?”

Giyuu does not. Not yet.

He doesn’t like this; how at odds with her usual self she looks, gaunt and spent, the unsettling notion in his gut swirling the more he thinks about it. Too many things did not line up, and the scent of wisteria looms ever present, burns his lungs with their weight. They each have their own secrets to keep, the masks they wear a kindness to others from their grief, their suffering, themselves. Yet he knows he cannot brush this aside, even as he pulls back slowly, loosening his hand and releasing his grip.

“...Donburi.”

“Excuse me?” The backs of their fingers brush as they break; Shinobu is quick to draw back, cradling her arm over her chest as she finally meets his gaze, regards him with a look he cannot decipher.

“The owner of the corner diner in town came back. I haven’t been there for a while.” Giyuu inhales, clutches the spare folds of his haori in reflex and turns his head to the side; now the one avoiding her gaze. “You don’t have to get salmon daikon.”

Why is it, that I suddenly find it so difficult to meet you head on?

“...Idiot, have you been listening?”

He cannot see her expression like this, try as he might, cannot gauge if that was a positive response or not. Giyuu spies a look over the shadows of his bangs, catches her looking bewildered.

“You need a break.”

“And if I refuse?”

“...It’s my treat.”

Her mouth parts wordlessly, but he takes no pleasure in having the last word, bites his tongue as a million and one thoughts reflect through the deep pools of her eyes. He doesn’t chase this time; they were both frazzled enough as it is, can only hope the results would be the same.

“My, you can be such a handful…” Shinobu shakes her head, but her lips curl into the semblance of something wan, and the relief that runs through him was nothing short of palpable. “But I suppose a chance to stretch my legs outside would be nice.”

She must have caught onto his pleased expression, because her eyes narrow again, lips slanting further up into something more genuinely playful. All bark and no bite. He braces himself against it, feels the mood lift as they fall back into old habits.

“Tomioka san, you are kind of a brute, aren’t you? Touching a woman’s body like that.”

“I wasn’t trying to be.”

“You owe to be more straightforward. This is why people misunderstand.”

“You understand.” He tilts his head, finds it strange that she would say that. She alone knew his intentions, but that was all he needed. Wasn't it enough?

For some incomprehensible reason Shinobu colours, flushes red again as she diverts her gaze with a huff. But he thinks she looks better like this; less pale and more alive under the natural glow of her skin. Cosmetics could only go so far, and well, he liked it better if she could look healthy without it. Not that he could look for long; already she was picking on another unredeemable feature of his he knows was blatantly not true, the mocking smile on her face an open invitation for him to snark back.

Giyuu takes it gladly, ignores flashes of an odd regret on her face even as their petty squabble ends and they stand, packing the medical kit away and heading for the room’s doors, parting ways. He wonders why she would look at him like that, as though she could find something on his face if she searched hard enough, wonders when he can next bring their unfinished conversation up, if she would ever deemed it alright to tell him about the wisteria scent unfurling from the corner of her lips. He doesn’t want to think about the implications of it, wants to accept the truth from her mouth alone.

He only wishes he had pushed the matter further, wishes he had more time before the inevitable.

Above, the crow’s frantic squawks as their heavy footsteps stumble under the uneven terrain of the fortress breaks him from his reverie. Every utter of her name from its throaty caws sends unpleasant tingles down his bones. It shouldn’t be like this. It shouldn’t be like this.

His feet skid as they round the corner, and behind him he hears Tanjirou swallow a sob. The sound echoes deep in his chest, feels almost like pain. Giyuu grits his teeth, fuels that ache into the spring of his jump before it can take over. He cannot waver now, not after-

(A memory. Of a question swallowed within the flurries of gentle snow. Of pursed lips and a sad smile. Why was it, he realises now, that all the genuine smiles she had given him had been tinged with sadness?)

Fool, he thinks to himself, sees the visages of a butterfly leave him and feels something crack within his already broken heart. Unbidden, something wet slides down his cheek.

x

A/N

me: i want giyushino angst where they argue also me: i want them to squabble like children while doing it

i wished their days of eating at small nook-and-cranny diners and enjoying warm meals together after missions could have continued forever :,)

#giyushino #kochou shinobu #tomioka giyuu #kimetsu no yaiba #writing #Property of the Rakurai #if some of the prose comes off as suggestive or lacking propriety just know its 100% intentional #giyuu’s no filter brain be like that sometimes with his lack of self-awareness #shinobu's at her limit lol

[almostunadulteratedmiracle]

Good Omens Celebration, Week of Sharing

I have slithered into this fandom in an acute, unusual angle, rediscovering the book after finding some amazing fanfiction - a couple of stories that resonated with something in my heart or my situation in a way I can still barely grasp. The main thing that drew me in was a spin-off of a reverse AU. The story’s wonderful author, Sister-to-the-Queen, was very kind, and she encouraged every shaky first attempt I made at fanart and fanfic in here (and I’m still eternally grateful to her for that and so much more). So it started out with some wildly depressing, heavily angsty fanart of a fanfic of an AU... and it turned into every random thing my imagination could conjure. I dived into the darkness of Sunday nights every week, waiting for the update and immediately starting to draw something (Monday morning lessons be damned). I lived vicariously through meandering discussions in the comments, and I found a great friend in an unlikely way. 

I made up for the lack of experience in drawing by making strange, in-between things, combinations of art forms that I had learned about years ago and filed away as things I would never use. I wrote/drew what I like to think of as an “inverse picture poem”, filling up the page, creating the missing parts of a drawing from winding, rhythmic words:

(Above: The words that guide)

I delved into possibly convoluted symbolism, and looking back on it now, I can’t help but smile a little at the progress I made over the years (because yes, that first story I found still haunted me - it does to this day).

(Triumph)

Blatantly ignoring the fact that I knew exactly nothing about composing music, I kept returning to a keyboard like a bloody-minded comet, and I refused to stop until some of the (still only rarely sweet) feelings the stories left me with turned into music. Possibly not very good music, but music I still like to hear.

Then different, lighter stories came along, and they gave my inner angst-demanding Langolier a start: peppered with softness, silliness and sweetness, my usual brand of “stuck in a dark and serious land” tasted better, too. (You know, finally returning to the spirit of the book.) I made clay figurines - and I still slightly regret I never got to finish that project, but anyway, here’s a Crowley from back when I fell for his cool facade:

At the next story, BAM! I could suddenly ignore my ancient belief that I could not and would never be able to paint something I wouldn’t flinch at in a couple of years’ time. And oh, Somebody, I am so thankful for this fandom teaching me that. Still not a great painting, but it makes me feel so warm - look at these soft, beloved idiots:

(December Dilemmas)

And look, colours! An angel and a demon plotting, and a duck who swam into the picture but has much better things to do:

(Frosty autumn plans)

In the meantime, the fandom and the book taught me to appreciate Death, the character (and sent me tumbling into the Discworld-novels). And the online friends made, and the lessons learned also helped me deal with death in the real world - I’m one of those people who would quite possible be much more lost and clueless if not for Good Omens and everything it brought me.

(You know it now)

Putting even more fun in fandom (and getting me hooked on bad puns), these stories motivated me to attempt the impossible: animation! (Gasp!) And you know what else? Making an actual, fake-old-looking book of some of my favourite stories to send to their author (with tiny surprises included, like the letter one of the characters sent the other in-story):

Additionally, I have to love that Good Omens has been a constant in my life for a long while now. It’s brought all the necessary outlets I needed when I got into it, there is a high chance that it made me a more cheerful person, and there is an absolute certainty that it introduced me to wonderful people and stories. 

Lately, I haven’t really had the chance to continute my adventures in hand-made / traditional art, but thanks to not-a-space-alien, memes happened instead:

(Your Own Side meme collection 1 2 3)

And also, an attempt at a comic book format ensued. (Look at it at your own peril, it’s weirdly drawn, but it shows injuries that would be pretty gruesome IRL.) 

I might have lied a bit above (hey, if Aziraphale could lie to the Lord, I can fudge the timeline a bit for narrative purposes). One more hand-made thing did see the light of day:

(Inspired by ask-agnes-nutter’s brilliant answer to someone’s ask, also, the most motivational thing I think I’ve ever made.)

I promise I’m coming to the end of this ramble now, but it’s been a decade, and I owe so much to this book and the lovely people who love it just like I do. I’ve intermittently written a bit of fanfic, too, which is what I seem to be shifting towards nowadays - and I can’t wait to discover what else Good Omens will make me do. Dear fans and creators, thank you for being awesome!

#goc2020 #good omens celebration #happy birthday good omens #even if we messed up the dates

[dayseternal-blog]

A NaruHina Hanahaki AU

Summary: She knit a red scarf for him.  She never gave it to him.  Days turned into months, months turned into too late.

Naruto starts dating. Hinata decides to move on.

A sickness takes root in the heart.

Inspired by SasuSaku fanfic “Medicine” by @grimmjowkurosakidrake

Rating: Mature

Read Chapter 1 - Introduction: Smoke on her tongue.

Read Chapter 2 - He’s not a ghost.

Chapter 3: Weeds

Memories from that day replay over and over.  

Each time fills her with remorse.

She could have responded to Naruto in so many different ways.  “What are you doing?” “What’s wrong?” “Maybe another time.”  Or just, “We’re sorry for bothering you.”  

She didn’t have to get so upset.

Yet she can still justify herself.  She knows why she was so upset.  It just felt so unfair.

She was perfectly friendly to Rumi.  She could have been hostile.  She could have snubbed Rumi.

But why did Naruto do that?

She refuses to believe Susumu.  That would tear her apart.

Really, why did Naruto do that?

It’s not fair.

But he still didn’t deserve that from her.  Even though she doesn’t want to be just a friend, Naruto has always been a good friend to her.  He has always listened to her, always taken the time to encourage her, always been her inspiration.

Unable to take the guilt, she readies herself to talk to him.  She’ll apologize.  She’ll be a good friend.  She can be a great friend to him.

She knows she can get used to it.

She has to get used to it.

She needs to be okay with him.

It’s easy to find him.  He’s right at the bottom of his apartment, and based off of his gait, he doesn’t seem to be in a real rush.

She makes her way to him, eventually jumping down before him.  

He stops and stares at her.

It’s gut-wrenching to see him looking at her so warily.

She takes a few shallow breaths to gather herself together.  “...Naruto-kun,” she starts.  “Do you have a moment?”

He blinks.  Then nods slightly.

She steps a little closer, and she’s glad that he doesn’t angle away from her.

His expression is guarded, but his body language shows that he’s still open to hear what she has to say.

“...For the other night, I’m sorry.  I shouldn’t have talked to you that way.  You’re a good friend to me, and I know you must have had a reason.  Please accept my apology.”  She bows, hoping that he sees how sincere she is.

“Hinata,” he calls, and she doesn’t miss how there’s a force behind it, as if he’s remorseful, too.

She raises her head, hoping for an explanation, any explanation at all that would erase Susumu’s words.

But he’s not looking at her.  He’s looking somewhere over her, his gaze conflicted, his expression troubled.

“Naruto-kun?”

His gaze slowly settles back down on her.  “...Do you...really..like that guy?”

“Susumu-kun?” she clarifies, noting that Naruto really, for some reason, doesn’t like her boyfriend.

“Yeah.  Susumu,” he responds shortly.

The question and the answer she knows she has to say hurt so much more in front of him.  She’s never felt more acutely than now that...she’s lying.  But this, too, is a step in moving on, right?  “I like him,” she says quietly.  “He’s nice to me.”

Naruto returns to staring at her, directly into her eyes.  He can see right through her, she knows.  “...He’s nice to you?”  His voice is almost as small as a whisper.

“Yes.”  She can tell that he doesn’t believe her.  Perhaps Naruto was just being protective.  “He is.  He’s almost too nice.”

He looks away, his eyes turn down to the ground.  “...You really like him?” he repeats, and suddenly, he’s staring at her again, piercingly steady.

She feels it.  The way he’s watching her, solely focused on her with azure eyes that can pick her apart, turn every piece of her over and leave no place untouched.  Search the very truth of her heart…

And then she realizes it.

He could always see her love for him.  He just...never responded to it.

She turns her gaze down, not knowing what to say.  He knew?  He knew and just… Why.  A question for everything.  Why won’t he let her try to move on?

“But you want to be with him,” he states, voice low.

She sees that she doesn’t even have to answer, and he already knows what she means in her silence.  If Naruto knows her love for him, if he has always known, if he knew he could never return her feelings, then why does he sound unhappy?

“...I need to try, Naruto-kun,” she manages to reply, her throat closing up.  Were introducing her to his girlfriends, was it all just a nice way for him to reject her?  

He stays silent for a long while, and she can see his feet shifting, feel his eyes trained on the top of her head.

And then he’s not there anymore.

She looks up.

He’s gone.

She lets tears fill her eyes then, and she quickly returns home.

*

Throughout the week, she reflects on their conversation, feeling for once, a bit of closure.

Naruto has said it before to her.  That he can see her emotions in her eyes.  How could that not include her love for him?

He never addressed her feelings, and that’s probably because he didn’t know how to reject her.  She thought maybe he forgot or didn’t notice.

Things make a lot more sense to her now.

Why he always treated her differently.  Why he was always nicer to her compared to everyone else.  Why he seemed to always take the time to talk to her, compliment her, encourage her.

He just didn’t want to hurt her.

He didn’t mean to give her hope.

And with that mentality, he probably was just overprotective concerning Susumu.

Naruto really is kind.

She’s glad she apologized.

She’s glad he never rejected her outright.  How much more would it hurt to hear those words of rejection?

And she’s definitely glad she never forced her feelings on him, never gave him that scarf.

She takes the gift out of her lowest drawer and smoothes her hand over the stitches.  Each one a prayer from her heart.  Each one a fervent wish that he might accept her feelings.

To put something so heavy with the weight of her love in his hands, around his neck, when he never wanted it...that would just be a burden.

She clenches her fingers into the soft, red yarns.

She cries, not caring as her tears fall wet on the threads.

She promises herself that this is the last time.

The very last time she’ll cry over him.

When she puts it away in her closet, wrapped and sealed carefully in tissue in a box of mothballs, she thinks maybe...maybe she can finally move on.

*

For their date, Susumu suggested a spar.

She thinks he must have a knack for good timing.  She’s felt a numbness throughout since she put her childhood love away, and the kick of adrenaline in a friendly match may be exactly what she needs to make her feel alive again.  Facing off against a mid- to long-range fighter would present a much needed change of pace and challenge to take her mind off of other things.

They face off at the fourth training ground, one of her favorites for its fairly small lake closely surrounded by trees, perfect for chakra control exercises.  It was his suggestion as a fire-style user, to keep possibilities of burn injuries and general destruction as low as possible.  She accepted, considering it fair enough since she doesn’t have any water affinity.

“What are the guidelines?” he asks, again letting her make the final calls.  She knows it’s to be chivalrous. It irks her just a little.

“We have to stay on the water or in the trees.  It’s an automatic loss if you fall in the water or on the ground.”

“No weapons?” he suggests.

“No weapons,” she agrees.

They separate to place themselves on opposite sides of the lake.  A single step on the water signals the start.

She doesn’t waste any time trying to close the distance between them.  She runs, letting her agility catch him off-guard.

As she expected, he immediately jumps up into an overhanging tree and releases a blast of fire her way, forcing her to stop and guard herself with her Shugohakke.

The onslaught of fire eventually dissipates, clearing, revealing him standing on the tree, seemingly waiting for her to make the next move, even though he has the tactical advantage.

“You’re going easy on me,” she accuses him, though she also knows that he’s just trying to get a feel for her.

“So are you,” he says, tapping below his temple.

She smiles at that.  “Byakugan.  Mizuhari.”  She pulses chakra out of her, upsetting the water.  She molds her chakra around the drops, forming them into projections as sharp as senbon.

He clears the initial onslaught with fire, the steam blinding him for a second.

She sends more his way, forcing him to jump back onto the water, and she doesn’t let up.  

In a show of daring, he stops his fleeing to face her, hands flying through signs.  A giant dragon of flames twists into being, eating through the water senbon, and she knows now that he’s taking her a little more seriously.

She’s forced to somersault back, costing her some dearly earned meters, and she dissipates the dragon in her Shugohakke once more.  Embers fall to the lake, sending up trails of smoke before her.  She doesn’t wait for it to clear, instead running ahead to gain back the distance.

But he back handsprings away, maintaining his advantage.  “That technique of yours is bothersome,” he calls to her.

Her defensive technique of her design, impenetrable to all jutsu.  “Did you expect me to be in the water by now?” she retorts.

He smiles as an answer, forming hand seals.  Demon-shaped heads of blue fire appear around him, the very energy of the jutsu ominous.  

She knows now that he’s on the offensive.  That only now they’re really getting started.

He sends the demons flying toward her.

She aerials around the heads of fire, yet they follow her closely, and she knows he’s purposely keeping her away from him.  She knows that if this continues, she doesn’t stand a chance.  She needs to get within taijutsu radius before she runs out of stamina.  She lets the fire come close before spinning into a Kaiten to quickly dissipate them.  With remnant fire still swirling around her, she re-concentrates her chakra to form around sharp water vortexes, and sends them spearing toward Susumu.

He skips back, quickly spitting out balls of fire to halt the path of the water senbon, and she takes advantage of the distraction.

As he’s right about to try to re-establish their distance, she manages to blast him with focused chakra from her palm.

The force throws him across the lake, but he extends his hand to the water, slowing himself until he can properly push off and back tuck to standing.

She smiles, proud that she got first hit, but she knows he’s not moving as quickly as he should be.  His response times are slower than expected for a jounin.  Plus, he has yet to use his earth techniques.  He’s still going easy on me.  She quickly chases after him as he skips backward, spewing fire at her.  But she’s done with fighting him from afar.

She warps chakra around her fists into her signature lions, using them to shield her through the barrage of fire, and finally manages to close the distance.  She swipes a fist toward him, the edges of her jutsu barely flowing over his skin, but it’s enough to siphon chakra from his arm.

A short groan escapes his throat.  He presses his undamaged hand to the water, and suddenly, she’s hurtling up into the air upon a column of mud.

Before she can lose her balance, she jumps off the column.

Yet just as quickly, mud and rocks solidly knock her midair, sending her chest-first toward the water.  

She manages to catch herself one-handed, flipping right side up into a crouch.  Pain blooms up her arm and side from the force of the blow that likely left her with bruises and scratches.  She refocuses on him, but almost catches his hand signs too late.

Another dragon rises, this one made of mud and forest debris.  He directs the monstrosity high above her, it’s mouth and eyes focused down at her.  Then it falls, the full weight of it bearing directly on top of her.  Its tail snakes around her.

She spins into the Kaiten, but this time, she realizes it’s too much for her.  She can feel her grip on the water breaking, the mass of the dragon too much for her to balance while performing one of her clan’s most difficult techniques.  Her feet dip into the water, and she knows it’s her loss.  She allows herself to sink below into the lake, and the dragon, whatever is left of it, falls apart.

Globs of mud pelt through the surface.  She swims back up, getting a good breath of air.

Susumu is already there offering her his hand.

Gratefully, she takes it and lets him pull her back to the surface.

Together they head to the shore and lean against a shady tree.

She notices that he’s just as out of breath as she is.

“You aren’t hurt, are you?” he asks, looking her over.

“I’m fine.  What about you?”  She nods at his stomach, where her Hakke Kuushou hit him.

“It’ll be alright.”

After a minute of rest, she brings up what was bothering her for the whole match.  “You weren’t trying to seriously win until the very end.”

He chuckles and shakes his head.  “I’m sorry.  I didn’t want to hurt you.”

“You hardly touched me,” she mutters unhappily.  “...And you were letting me hit you.  I know you can move faster than that.”

His smile pulls down, a blush rises.

She furrows her brow at his strange expression.  “I don’t need that much chance.  Are you looking down on me?”

“Ah...no, no.”  He shakes his head and denies quietly, rather than vehemently.  It’s odd.

“What do you have to say for yourself then?” she asks in mock-seriousness and curiosity.  She doesn’t like how the match went, but in the end, she still lost, so she can’t really be mad at him for going easy on her at the start.

He raises a hand to his mouth, his fingers rubbing at the redness on one cheek.  His gaze averts as if thinking of a memory. “You were just really cool to watch.”

She blinks at him.

“I was a little distracted with watching you.”  He looks at her apologetically.  “It was unintentional.  Please forgive me.  In any future spars, I’ll try harder to focus.”

She can hear how sincere he is.  His compliment, for the first time, makes her blush in embarrassment.  Her eyes turn down.  “From watching me?” she asks quietly.

“Yeah.  Seeing you come out unharmed with flames falling around you, steam everywhere, was pretty..hot.”

Her jaw drops a little, and she gapes at him, embarrassment replaced by sudden discomposure.  “Susumu-kun!” she scolds.  She’s never been called “hot” in her life, and she doesn’t know how to feel about it.  The adjective feels almost intrusive, invasive, definitely not suitable for someone like her.  “Don’t say things like that!”  She hugs herself and frowns, tempering the heat at her neck.

He just grins widely at her.  A reaction she doesn’t like.

She covers her face, unable to handle seeing him looking at her, and sinks to the ground to kneeling.  “Don’t ever say that again,” she murmurs through her hands.

She can sense him drop to sitting beside her.  He sighs.  “I’m being serious, Hinata.  Fighting against the Byakugan is really something else...”  When she doesn’t respond, he continues, “If I hadn’t given you that Dosekiryuu at the end, I would’ve had to engage with you in hand-to-hand combat.  Even if I wasn’t running out of chakra, we both know how that would have turned out.”

She peeks at him from her hands with a question.  Is he implying that I would have won in taijutsu?

“I saw your late cousin’s Hakke Rokujuuyon Shou before.  There’s no evading it.”

She smiles slightly at the mention of Neji.  She can still vividly remember his graceful, deadly power.  She’s not sure if she’s caught up to him by now.  Neji will always be one of her role models.  “Well, you never know.  You still might have won.”

He shakes his head.

They sit there for longer, listening to the breeze blow through the leaves above them.  In each other’s quiet company, she can hear the birds chirping, the snap and whine of tree branches in the wind, the rustle of the undergrowth.

It’s so different from Naruto’s company...the easy conversation that could leap from random back-and-forth to Naruto’s endless, one-sided storytelling...and the easy laughter that surprised even herself...

She wants to move on.

Her heart still aches.  Terribly.

And she knows Susumu deserves better.  A good guy like him deserves someone better than her.

She turns her gaze toward him.

He’s staring at the grass, expression melancholy, and she can tell they both feel the change in the air between them.

“Susumu-kun?” she asks quietly.

He meets her gaze.  His shoulders and chest rise and fall in a long, silent breath.  “...What do you think, Hinata?  About us.”

She wants to move on.  But not like this.  Not by using Susumu when he’s serious about her and she’s not.  Not when she doesn’t feel any desire to touch him, to spend more time with him than her friends, to get to know him intimately.  She’s just not attracted to him in that way.

How can she tell him that?

She swallows her nerves.  She can’t be shy about this.  He deserves her best.  Even if it’s the end.  “I like you as a friend.”  Her voice is softer, heavier than she meant it.  Sadder than she ever thought she would sound.

His expression remains unchanged.  He nods slightly and averts his eyes.

She watches him, ready for any questions he might have.  She doesn’t want to explain anything she doesn’t have to.  She doesn’t want to rub her rejection in, not when he’s made his affection so clear to her.

He nods again, gaze on the ground.  He slowly rises to standing, and she gets up, too.  He faces her, and the despondency across his handsome features is hard to take in.

Hard to accept that she’s the cause of that.

Hard to realize that the end came so quickly.

“I enjoyed my time with you, Hinata.”

“I did, too.”  I’m sorry.  The words are on the tip of her tongue, but she holds it in.  “Susumu-kun…”  She looks up at him earnestly, hoping that he’ll be receptive to what she does want to say.  “Thank you for giving me a chance.”  I didn’t deserve you.  You deserve better.  I wish I fell for you.  I wish we could be happy together.  I hope you find someone perfect for you.  Thank you for being my first.

His mouth twitches into something close to a smile, but not quite, before settling down once more.  He takes her hands, rubbing his thumbs across her fingers, before letting her go.  “Take care, Hinata.”

“You, too, Susumu-kun,” she quietly replies, realizing that she’ll never feel his hands again.

He nods a bit, a shadow cast over his face.  “I’ll see you some other time.” He jumps into the trees and takes off back toward the village.

Her heart sits heavy in her chest.  Her eyes burn. Her extremities feel weak.  She doesn’t have the patience to sift through her feelings, so she lets them be.

Slowly she walks home.

*

She knows it was the right thing to do.

She knows, perhaps better than anyone, that being lead on, that thinking you have a chance, only to be disappointed, is more painful than anything.  It’s a good thing that she broke up with Susumu, and that he had the foresight to talk to her.

Because if not…

She probably would have just kept dating him.  Kept waiting for something to happen.  Kept convincing herself that she would fall in love with him eventually.

Maybe that’s what Naruto thought, too, at first.  That he might eventually feel something more for her, so he never rejected her.  And well, she never really gave him a chance to properly turn her down. She never confessed again.

She can’t blame him for that.

It’s not his fault that she held onto him for so long.

It’s amazing that he still treated her as a good friend.  Naruto really is so nice.

...Why can’t she stop thinking about him?  

Why does she still think about him so much?

*

She stares at herself in the mirror.

It’s been awhile since she felt this way.  Like she’s too dark.  Like her hair is too severe against her skin and eyes.

She’s always liked her hair color because she inherited it from her mother.

What if she grew out her bangs and gave herself a sharper image, like Hanabi’s?

She center-parts her bangs, then flips a section of hair over her head to give an impression of elongated bangs framing her face.  She frowns.  It still feels wrong for her to flaunt her forehead.  Even if sealing was banned three years ago.

What if she got a haircut?  Would that lighten her appearance?

She bends her hair up behind her head to get an idea, and turns her head this way and that.  It’s hard to tell.  She might just end up looking like her genin days, like a child.

But maybe it would make her look cuter, more cheerful, like Rumi.

She lets her hair fall straight and blinks at herself in disbelief.

What is she thinking?

Getting a haircut is like a classic sign of heartbreak.  Everyone would ask her if something happened.

No one knows yet that she and Susumu broke up.  Most everyone seems to know she’s trying to move on from Naruto.

She should talk to someone about everything that’s happened in the last week before she does something unexpected, like drastically change her hairstyle.

Before she can mortify herself any further, she forces herself to head to the hospital, to the one friend who understands her feelings better than anyone else.

*

Sakura told her she would be off-duty, but she looks anything but.

Deep in the archives with an assistant, scrolls and books sorted into piles for later perusal.  Sakura is obviously still in work-mode, green eyes scanning shelves and shelves for titles of interest.

“Is this a bad time?” Hinata calls out.

The medic-nin looks over.  “Ahhh, is it that late already?”  She bites her lip as she eyes their mess, seemingly reluctant to leave her current occupation.

“We can do this another time,” she suggests.

“No,” Sakura answers quickly, curtly.  “I didn’t forget about you, Hinata.  I’ve been looking forward to this all day.  I just lost track of the time.  This can wait.”  She dusts her hands off and turns to her assistant.  “Then, Tomoko-chan, I’ll be leaving now.  You should head home, too, since it’s getting late.  We can keep looking tomorrow.”

The assistant shakes her head.  “I want to do a little more research before I go home.  Good work today, Sakura-san.”

“You, too, Tomoko-chan.  I’ll see you tomorrow!”

“See you tomorrow!”

Sakura steps carefully around a pile of scrolls and joins her.

“Is it really okay?” Hinata asks.  “It looks like you’re working on something difficult.”

She huffs a sigh.  “I just need to find medical records on something.  It’s not difficult, just annoying.  We’ll find it eventually.”

Hinata nods, acquiescing to Sakura’s decisive attitude.  The two head over to a small izakaya, one of Sakura’s go-to places that she frequents with Tsunade on late nights.  It’s not a usual place for Hinata to patron, but she likes that it’s quieter than other bars and keeps to a more traditional atmosphere.

After typical small talk and orders are taken, Sakura restarts the conversation with the expected question.  “How is Susumu-san doing?”

Hinata pauses, gathering her feelings, her thoughts together, before deciding to go straight to the point.  “...We...broke up about a week ago.”

“Oh.”  Sakura stares at her, then her gaze shifts about, obviously trying to think of an appropriate response.  “...How do you feel?” she asks carefully.

It’s been several days since their spar.  Several days since she’s been newly single.  Several days, enough days, for her to start second-guessing her decision.  And she hates herself for it.  “It’s funny…” she starts quietly.  “I was the one who ended things, but I still feel sad.”  In the aftermath of their breakup, she’s been left with new feelings to confront.  On top of trying to move on, it all just feels even more overwhelming--an outcome she hadn’t been expecting.

She looks up from her contemplation to see Sakura attentively watching her.  

She continues, “I wasn’t in love with him, and...he told me he didn’t want us to keep going if I wasn’t serious.”

“Mhm...you weren’t feeling anything for him?”

She shakes her head.  “But I wanted to...Susumu-kun was very nice.  He was a really good person.  I don’t know...if I made the right choice.  I’m starting to wonder if I should have tried to give it more time.”

Sakura leans her elbow on the table, cheek resting in her hand.  “...Can I ask..?” she starts somewhat hesitantly.  “Is it...because of Naruto?”

The familiar, painful twist in her stomach, the wilting sensation throughout whenever his name runs to the forefront of her consciousness.  “It’s so hard, Sakura-chan.  I’m trying so hard to get over him,” she whispers.

The air grows still between them, filled with her confession.

Sakura’s eyes cast low, gaze unseeing on the floorboards.  “I can’t imagine, Hinata.  If...if Sasuke-kun were…” She frowns and sighs.  “I don’t know what he’s doing or who he spends his time with, but I wouldn’t be able to handle it if I saw him with…”

Hinata thought she was done crying.  She promised herself she wouldn’t cry anymore, but…  She swallows back the tears and forces the sting to retreat from her eyes.

“You’re being so strong, Hinata,” she murmurs.

“I..I don’t think so.  It’s...it’s lonely…”

Sakura frowns deeper.  She tsks, a sudden fire flashing across her eyes.  “He’s such an idiot.  He’s really, really such an idiot.”

Hinata shakes her head in disagreement.  “We both know that he isn’t.”

She just grimaces.  “Hinata, I really don’t think he even likes Rumi,” she says, voice only just above a whisper.

“Sakura-chan,” she warns.  The last thing she wants right now is pointless hope.

“I’m sorry...but I feel like I don’t have anyone to tell this to.  I worry about him, and I worry about his girlfriend.  Rumi-chan’s a nice girl, but she’s only 19, and she doesn’t know him like we do.”

“Over three months,” she murmurs.  “They’ve been dating for a long time.”

Sakura makes a sound similar to a snort.  “He doesn’t know what love means.”

“...I’m sure...Rumi-san is teaching him-”  She feels like the air is sucked out of her.

Sakura stares at her, the green of her eyes just as sharp and analytical as usual, despite the fact that she’s already nearly finished her cup of sake.  “I know you’re not much of a drinker, but Hinata, you’re drinking tonight.  It’s on me.”  Sakura calls over a waiter, ordering another bottle of umeshu.

She doesn’t argue with Sakura’s choice of comfort.  Maybe it is what she needs.  Maybe she just wants a moment for everything to tone down, her feelings to turn a muter shade, her memories and thoughts to blur and quiet for a second.

The sweet and sour plum alcohol races through her.  The very smell of it makes her cheeks flush.  One small cup, and she feels like a veil is settling over her mind.  The thrum of her heart picks up, sending a glowing energy to everything she sees.  “Thank you,” Hinata murmurs, and she feels like maybe she can smile now.

Sakura shakes her head, tucking a strand of pink hair behind her ear.  She takes another sip of her drink.  “About Susumu-san, I can’t tell you if you made the right decision or not.”  She looks at Hinata apologetically.  “If you really want to know what I think...maybe dating was just too soon.  Just...thinking about myself...I just don’t think I’d be able to date anyone seriously if they weren’t Sasuke-kun.  He motivated me, he changed me, he’s a part of who I am today, and I wouldn’t be able to let go of him easily even if I tried.”

Hinata takes a long sip of her drink, hoping the burn of the alcohol carries away her feelings--feelings that are painfully too close to Sakura’s words.  She puts her cup down, and takes a deep breath as the warmth spreads to her extremities.  “Maybe...maybe it was too soon… but I just don’t want to feel like this anymore…  It’s awful of me, I know it is, but when I was with Susumu-kun, I felt a little better...at least better than I do now.  I didn’t feel as lonely when I was with him.  He distracted me...from thinking about Naruto-kun.”  She doesn’t like how her insides still tighten at his name.  She doesn’t like how it makes her feel like she might never get over him.  “Susumu-kun made me feel like I have a chance with love.”

Sakura nods, expression sympathetic.  Her mouth straightens in a tight line.

Saying all of her thoughts aloud now, all of the thoughts that spiraled through her mind until they didn’t make sense, suddenly lead to a certain clarity.  “What if Susumu-kun was the one for me?”

The pinkette blinks and bites her lip.  “...But you said you weren’t attracted to him.”

She stares hard at her cup, picturing Susumu’s features.  “But I want to be, and if I want to be, then isn’t it possible that I would eventually?”

Sakura tilts her head, frowning, in thought.  She sighs.  “I guess I wouldn’t know...but, Hinata.”  She waits until they make eye contact to continue.  “Do you really want to love him?”

The question takes her aback, and it reminds her of Naruto’s probing questions a week ago.  She doesn’t know.  The alcohol certainly doesn’t help, but even if she wasn’t buzzed, she doesn’t think she would be able to differentiate among everything she wants.  Her reasoning, her fear, is all that she has.  “I might never meet anyone as nice as Susumu-kun ever again.”

Sakura shakes her head hard.  “That’s not true, Hinata, there are lots of good guys.”

Maybe there are.  But she’s not sociable like Ino, not clever like Sakura.  She doesn’t meet as many people as them, and she generally avoids situations that would force her to talk to strangers.  Just the effort to open herself up to Susumu was a lot for her.  “I just don’t think anyone would be as patient as him with me...he told me he would wait for me.”

Sakura gulps down a whole cup of umeshu.  She places it down and stares at Hinata.  “But you broke up with him already.”

It’s vain of her to think Susumu would still want her back.  But if she apologized, if she explained her feelings about him, that she appreciates so many things about him…

“What if Naruto and Rumi-chan break up.  What would you do?”

She feels an unpleasant pressure on her temples, a displeasing stress up the nerves of her legs, flaring into hot frustration.  “Why would you ask me that?” she asks, tone low to mask the snapping hurt in her. You know that Naruto-kun doesn’t like me that way.”  Unthinkingly, she pours herself another cup.  “I-I’m not his type, I’m not cute, or, or sexy, or especially bright.”  She takes a gulp of her umeshu, letting its fire burn away her dejection.  Forget.  She just wants to forget this, if just for tonight.

Sakura looks honestly regretful, and Hinata realizes that the alcohol is making both of them more loose with their thoughts.  “You know, Hinata,” she says almost quietly, the softer enunciation catching her curiosity.  “You know...I really thought he liked you.”

Hinata immediately shakes her head, remembering for a second everything he ever did or said that gave her hope.  She drinks a little more to erase those memories, if just for now.

“If that’s his type..cute, sexy, bright… I think that you are!  More than Rumi-chan, anyway.”

She looks up and gives Sakura a hard, disbelieving look.  “Please,” she mutters, shaking her head again.  “I...thought he seemed nicer to me, but...h-he just didn’t want to hurt me.”  Her heart shutters at the memory of their last meeting.  “I think he knew that I..that I loved him...but he didn’t know how to turn me down.  Or maybe he was trying to see if he could like me back.”

Sakura’s brow furrows.  “Oh…I guess...I don’t know, maybe I’ve never been that good at understanding him…”  She groans.  “But I just thought Naruto...I don’t know.  It’s been so long since we’ve properly hung out, and I’ve been so busy...I just-I really thought he…”

“I thought so, too..before..”  Hinata closes her eyes and finishes her second cup.  Burning, burning, burning away…  “...If you found out that Sasuke-san was seeing someone else, what would you do?”

Sakura gives a sudden, loud, humorless laugh.  “I wouldn’t be able to handle it,” she replies.  “I’d fight to have him back.  I know I’m aggressive, and...I wouldn’t be able to give up.”  Sakura places her hand to her forehead, then pushes her hair back.  “Oh damn...maybe I’d even fight Sasuke-kun.”  She takes a drink from her third cup.  “I don’t want to think about it…”

Hinata has always known that Sakura was very different from her.  From personalities to fighting styles, they’ve always been on opposite ends.  And now, with only alcoholic warmth keeping the tides of loneliness, jealousy, and admiration at bay, these differences fascinate her.

“He left me with a promise...I never even told Naruto this...but you know, Sasuke-kun and I...we can understand each other...just by looking at each other.  When we look at each other…”  Sakura locks eye contact with Hinata and gestures with her fingers between them.  “I feel like I understand him.  And he understands me.  He doesn’t have to say anything...he doesn’t have to touch me, and I just...I’ve just felt like, I know.  I know what he wants to say.  Or what he’s thinking.”  She takes another drink, finishing her cup.  She groans.  The alcohol seems to finally be really getting to her.  “I miss him so much.”

Hinata buries her face in her hands.  Sakura’s talking about herself, but it sounds so much like what she used to feel.  She used to feel exactly like that with Naruto.  She used to think they understood each other.  She used to think they had something special.  “How do you know you’re not just feeling that way one-sidedly?” she murmurs.

“Agh.  I guess I could never know for sure unless I asked him directly.”

She can feel her head swimming, her mind wandering, slowing as the alcohol overtakes her system.  “Sakura-chan...should I cut my hair?”

“What?!”

She fingers her hair thoughtfully, but very little thought is actually processing at this point.  She lifts up the strands.  “Short?  Do you think I’d look brighter that way?  Would it match me?”

“Why, Hinata?”

She shrugs.  “I guess I won’t.”

“...You can if you want to.”

Maybe it would make her feel less heavy.  Maybe it would be a physical way to take some weight off of her.

“You know what you should do?”

She glances back at Sakura and drops her hair.

“You should tell Naruto what you think.”

“Wha--.  No.” The temptation to take another cup of alcohol is there, and she holds the bottle, half-considering what another cup would do to her.

“You should tell him that he’d be better off with you.  Tell him that he should break up with Rumi-chan and-”

“No, Sakura-chan, no, I would never do that.”  She waves her hand to emphasize her words.

“Why not?  Fight for your man,” she states.  It’s obvious that Sakura would do that for Sasuke.

Hinata would fight...if Naruto was about to get killed by a terrorist group, but that’s far from what this is.  “...That’s just not me.  And Naruto-kun is not...not mine...” she reasons. Despite how tipsy she is right now, she’s glad she’s still holding onto some sense of self.

Sakura just laughs.  “There was a time...I thought Naruto acted like he was.”

“Acted like how?” she asks, not quite following.

“Acted like your man.”  Sakura turns and asks the waiter for another bottle.

Hinata shakes her head again in denial, scattering away memories of that time on Susumu’s birthday.  “I told you, he was just overprotective because he knew that I liked him.”  She decides to go for that third cup.  If she stops after this, she’ll still be okay in the morning.

“Ugh.  That’s so stupid.”

Hinata waits for Sakura to elaborate, but she doesn’t clarify if what’s stupid is her interpretation of Naruto’s actions, or Naruto’s actions themselves.  “What’s stupid?”

“Naruto is always stupid.”

Hinata smiles, even though she disagrees.  “I’m the one who’s stupid.”

“You’re not stupid,” she scoffs.  She pours herself a fourth cup and finishes it almost that quickly.

Hinata mirrors her, taking another sip of her drink.  “I am.  I misunderstood him.  I shouldn’t have chased after him for so long.”

Sakura tsks.  “You never chased after him.”

“I know I didn’t chase him, but...you know how they say love is blind?  I guess I wouldn’t say I was blind...but maybe more like tunnel vision…”  All she ever saw was Naruto.  She wonders vaguely if she’s grown too accustomed to that.  How long will it take her to unlearn?

“No.  No, no, no, you know that’s not true!  That’s..no.  What are you saying, Hinata?  Love isn’t blind!  Love is..love is all-seeing!  Love isn’t tunnel vision, either!  It’s...like Sasuke-kun’s hawk.”

She agrees.  

She never felt blind.  

Not once with Naruto.  

Everything felt vivid--every moment, every word, every touch, every shared glance.

“Being in love is like a hawk’s eye.  I can pick him out in a crowd.  I can see everything about him in great focus.  Every little detail is clear to me.”  Sakura pours herself a fifth cup.  “Right?”

Her eyes are wet.  Her cheeks are wet.  Her hand is wet.

“Hinata!”  Sakura panics, grabbing at napkins for her.  “Don’t cry, oh my gosh, don’t cry.  It’s okay,” she murmurs.

“See, I’m so stupid.”  She wipes tears from her cheeks.  “I didn’t want to cry again, and then.”  Her eyes are leaking like a broken faucet.  Maybe tonight will be the last time.

“Hinata…”  Sakura places a hand, across the table, on Hinata’s arm, rubbing her soothingly.

“Sakura-chan, what if...what if I never fall in love again?  What if I never love anyone like I loved Naruto-kun?”  Fear, a fear she never wanted to actually name, clenches her heart, and everything burns.  Unbidden, tears form and fall.  What if she never moves on?  What if she never finds anything to compare, anything to come close to the feelings she’s held for him for so long.

Sakura doesn’t answer, and Hinata can’t see her through the fog in her eyes.  She rubs her thumb into Hinata’s arm, the sensation calming her runaway emotions.

“I-I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to cry.”  She shutters through her apology and works to get herself back under control.

Sakura hums a disagreement.  “It’s okay to cry, Hinata…”

She shakes her head, wiping her face clean.  “I can’t keep crying.  I’ve cried so much.  I’m so tired of crying.”

Sakura gives a soft sigh.  “Let’s get out of here, okay?  It’s the alcohol.  Walking will make you feel better.”  She handles the tab and helps her up to standing.

The two make their way out of the izakaya.

She feels oddly numb now, the previous depression distant.  “Thank you for coming out with me tonight, Sakura-chan.”

“Of course, anytime, Hinata.  I’ll walk you home.”

They walk arm-in-arm.  It’s strangely touchier than she’s used to, but definitely comforting.  Appreciation fills her.  She’d never be able to tell anyone else her fears.  Anyone else would judge her, she’s sure that anyone else just wouldn’t get it.  She’s thankful for Sakura’s camaraderie.  She’s thankful that Sakura reached out to her first after the war because ever since, they’ve grown closer.  Tonight was just one among many other nights they’ve comforted or encouraged each other.

“-sn’t that her?...  Hah, I knew it, I told you, she’s a lesbian.”  A voice somewhere behind them, obnoxiously loud, cuts into her thoughts.  

It’s interesting to think the voice is talking about her.  She’s never been called gay before.  She never really considered it.  She looks around, and she notices that Sakura does, too.

Her eyes catch on Susumu, and then a friend beside him, who’s leering at herself and Sakura.

The alcohol in her system makes it so easy for her to just do nothing in reaction.  She stays put, staring at her ex, letting her thoughts slowly process that Susumu’s friend thinks she’s gay.  Gay because...

He stares right back at her.  He turns to his friend, then turns back to her.  His mouth opens, and words tumble out, louder than his usual.  “I’m sorry, he’s drunk and he gets annoying when he’s drunk and says things he doesn’t mean, he doesn’t know what he’s talking about, I mean, I mean it’s completely fine if you’re a lesbian, I won’t take it personally, that’s cool, too, I mean, damn it I’m drunk...”

She’s aware enough to have figured that out in the first sentence.  Susumu never usually talks that much in one breath, never usually swears, either.  She laughs a little despite herself.

He gives her a small smile, but it’s weighted, from alcohol or from something else, she’s not sure.

Sakura loosens her hold on her arm, and she belatedly realizes that Sakura had latched on tighter when they saw them.

“What’s wrong with my main man?  This guy’s a catch, don’t you know?” the friend shouts at her face.

She blinks in response.

Sakura’s grip tightens once more.  She shifts forward, her intent buzzing in the air, a warning.

It makes her adrenaline pick up.  She squeezes Sakura’s wrist to hopefully calm her down.  She had been feeling so pleasant just a second ago.

But the friend doesn’t take the hint.  “How could you resist this face?”  He gestures at Susumu’s head.

“Stop,” Susumu shakes him off in annoyance, tilting over slightly too far, perhaps embarrassed, definitely drunk.

The friend points at their tightly linked arms.  “See, Susumu, pretty girls are always lesbians!”

“Shut up already.”

Sakura stays alert at her side, and maybe it’s because of her, she feels safe enough to just observe his friend rant like a clown.  His argument nudges at her brain, sends a barely-there message that Susumu told his friend about their break-up.  That his friend is doing a poor attempt at comforting him, and that she’s the reason he needs comfort.

She notices Susumu’s eyes steady on hers, and she wonders at his gaze.

The friend holds up his fingers mid-rant.  “-She must be one ‘cause she never kissed you, she barely hugged you, she hardly touched you,-”

His eyes abruptly shift to his friend, face suddenly livid.  “What the hell man shut up!”

She startles at his outburst, having never heard him yell before, especially not with so many profanities, and Sakura steps back, grip tight.

“Let’s go,” Sakura states, pulling at her arm, turning them around.

But she can’t move.

Ah, I really hurt him.

She never reached out to him.  She never really tried.

She never wanted him close, always tried to avoid any affection beyond hand-holding, kept herself safe behind her propriety and accustomed timidity, ignored the barrier she put up every time, pretended she didn’t have a set of standards never meant for him to match, at the back of her mind, she always compared him to-

She never tried.

Never tried to try.

Never actually tried to move on.

She steps toward him, pulling her arm free from Sakura.

“Hinata-” she starts, but Hinata continues forward until he turns at her approach.

His eyes widen at seeing her.  “I’m sor-”

She grasps his shoulders, pulling him down as she tiptoes.  She raises her chin, squeezes her eyes shut and-

It’s over in less than a second.

She opens her eyes to hear him releasing a breath, heavy, as if he had been holding it.  His own eyes are wide, like he just woke up from a thunderclap.

She settles back on her heels, about to let him go when his hands grip her waist.

“Wait,” he breathes.

She pauses.

He leans down, and she immediately registers the difference.  His lips move against hers softly, as if to drink her in, almost encouraging.  

She remembers he has experience, and then faintly considers, This is a real kiss.

“Hinata!” Sakura gasps, just as his friend hollers an “Ooooohh yeaahhhh!!” that jars her back to where they are.

In public.

In front of their friends.

She breaks away from him, blinking, attention on the ground, trying to gather herself together again.

She suddenly feels sober.

He holds her hands.  “Hinata.”

She blinks hard at the sidewalk.  Her brain hovers between comprehending her first kiss and checking herself, realizing that, no, she is very drunk.

“Hinata,” he repeats, louder over his friend’s cheering and babbling.

She continues to stare at the sidewalk, but then she realizes she can’t do that forever.  She looks up at him tentatively.

The gentleness in his expression is completely at odds to his earlier tone, a centering, an anchor, for the tumbling inside her.  “...Do you want to try again with me?”

She can hear so much hope in his voice.

Hope.

She wants to hope, too.

She nods.

He squeezes her hands, a smile unfurling across his face.  

She watches him, mirroring his smile, knowing that, somehow, she’s now the cause of his unchecked happiness, too.

“Great, great, that’s really great,” he murmurs.

She sees how his smile stays, and thinks maybe it really is just a matter of time.  Given another ten years, she can learn to love someone else.  Maybe Susumu.  She just has to try.  She just has to reach out more.

Just has to act it until she feels it.  

Her heart may lag behind her actions, but eventually it would catch up, right?

He brings his hands up to his temples, pushes his hair back, looking up to smile over her head at his whooping friend.

Hinata steps away, toward Sakura.

Sakura’s watching her, jaw slightly dropped, eyes wide, brows furrowed.

She tilts her head, determining that Sakura looks disapproving.

Susumu’s hand grabs hers before she can walk any further away, turning her around.  He glides his hand up through her nape, threads his fingers down the length of her hair, an action that feels far more affectionate, way more intimate than anything he’d ever done to her before.

It’s nice and fuzzy feeling.  Like maybe that’s how Akamaru feels when petted.

“Damn beautiful.”  A murmur, a tone quieter, lower, thicker than usual.

She realizes he actually thinks she’s beautiful.  He really believes that about her.

“First thing tomorrow, I’ll call on you, okay?”  His voice is almost a whisper.

She opens her eyes, realizing that she closed them, and nods.

He lets out a heavy sigh, then something like a frustrated groan, his hand tightening around hers.  Then a chuckle.  “I’m so drunk.  I’m sorry.  I’ll talk to you in the morning.”

She nods again.

He releases her and steps toward his friend, who swings an arm around him.  He laughs in response, and she notes it’s very boyish.

Cute.

It seems like she still hasn’t lost her habit of adding up his good points.

She watches them walk away before turning and making her way to Sakura.  She tilts her head again in a question.

Sakura frowns, hesitating, gaze averting away to the ground, before finally asking, “Hinata, are you sure?”

“No.”  The answer comes out so immediate, so definite and simple, that it startles her.  Tears spring to her eyes faster than she can manage.

Vodka on his breath, in front of the darkened windows of a realty business, in front of Sakura, in front of that noisy stranger, under the yellow streetlights on a cloudy night.  Two faces closer than acceptable and hers had no heat behind it.  

Only passive observation.  

Only a shapeless, complacent sense of accomplishment that she did what she told herself to do.

She feels like she can’t breathe, like she was backstabbed, only it was self-inflicted, and she curls inward, hating the shriveled lump of weeds her core has become.  “I-I just want to feel better, Sakura-chan, I just want to stop feeling like this.”  She rubs hot tears from her eyes, and Sakura hugs her, murmuring words of comfort in her ear.

****

He came back at lunch, Sakura’s only availability for the day, and firmly sets the scroll down on her desk.  He looks at her as seriously as he can so that she knows how serious he is.  “Okay, something’s wrong with me, Sakura-chan.  I’m really sick.”

Sakura’s eyes flicker from the scroll to his face.  “You’ve never been sick a day in your life.  I’ve seen your records.”

“I know.”  He unrolls the scroll and unlocks it.  

Those things poof onto the paper.

They stare at them.

After a few, long, silent seconds, Sakura shifts her gaze back to Naruto.  “Why do you have flower petals?” she asks, annoyance edging at her voice.

“Is that what they are?!” he asks incredulously because he knows that’s what they look like, but he also knows he’s never had flowers in his diet.  “I don’t know if someone’s playing a practical joke on me because if someone is, I’d like to know their tricks.  This is fucked up, I’ve been barfing those things out for the past, I don’t know, a week I guess, and it’s getting worse!”

“Okay, slow down, you’ve been vomiting out...this...”  She gestures at the things.

“Yeah.”  He nods his head with a large frown.  “Kurama says he doesn’t know what’s going on either.”  

He asked him before coming.  Kurama simply told him his hosts always had excellent health, so he wouldn’t know.

Sakura takes a deep breath.  She reseals the scroll.  “I’ll have this examined.”  Grabbing her clipboard and a record sheet, she turns to him again and clears her throat.  “I need to know more.  Do you have any idea of what might be causing this?”

“No,” he says, panic slipping through his tone.  It’s apparent that Sakura doesn’t know what’s going on with him, either, and he doesn’t want to admit it, but it’s frightening.

“Are there certain times of the day when this happens?  After you eat or...when you wake up in the morning?...”

He pauses to think.  “Well...the first time...I was at home.  At night.  After dinner.”  He remembers Rumi was over.  “And then the second time was last night.  We were eating dinner at that popular sushi restaurant.  I had to vomit in the restaurant’s bathroom.  Then right after that...when I got home…”  He grimaces at the memory.  “Then later on last night, too. I barfed three times last night.”

Sakura nods, writing everything down.  “What did you eat before that first time?”

“Uhhhh...I think it was yakiniku.”

“...Okay.  You went out with Rumi?”

“Yeah.”

“And is she getting sick?”

“No, she’s fine.”

“How do you feel right now?”

“I feel...fine, I guess.”

“No fever, stomach aches, cold shivers?”

“It happens really suddenly, like there’s hardly any warning.”  He looks to his former teammate, hoping for any sign of realization in her expression.

She looks stern, like she’s thinking.  “So you can just be having a normal conversation, and then you’ll suddenly feel like vomiting?...  Were there any smells or possible triggers that you can remember?  Nothing out of the ordinary?”

“Not that I can think of…”

“Okay.  Is there anything else you can tell me?”

He reflects on his experiences last night.  There is one thing.  “It’s like...whatever those things are...are coming from my chest.  Not so much my stomach, like...I have a few seconds where I feel like I can’t breathe.  Especially the third time last night.  My chest really hurt.”

“Was it a sharp pain?  An aching pain?”

He hums in thought.  “I guess an aching pain.”

“I’m going to examine you.”  She stands up and walks around to him.

He unzips his coat to facilitate her examination.

Her hands glow green, and she hovers them above his mesh-clothed chest.  Her eyes have that focused-absent look, like she’s seeing something that he can’t.  “Your chakra...is congested in your chest.”  Her hands move closer to him.  Her head tilts in thought.  She moves her hands to hover over his stomach.  “...You seem perfectly fine here.”  Her hands move back up.

He stays perfectly still for her, waiting for her to explain more.

But she doesn’t.  She backs away and returns to her clipboard, noting down her unshared thoughts.

“What should I do?” he finally asks.

“You have a chakra illness, that much is clear.  I’m pulling you off missions until we can get this sorted out.”

“What?!”  He slams his hands on her desk in shock.  He needs missions.  He needs to keep proving himself to the village.  He needs to keep working to be the Hokage.  He can’t be sitting around twiddling his thumbs.

Sakura glares at him.  “We don’t know how severe this could be.  Your chakra seems to be twisting all around your respiratory tract.  Whether protectively or dangerously is the question.  Any exertion could potentially exacerbate the situation, and I don’t want you keeling over in the middle of a fight because you can’t breathe.”

“I’ve been fine!  I’ve been training all week, it’s just that other night and last night I felt sick, but I felt completely better right after!”

“No, Naruto.  We need to monitor you.  Be thankful I’m not ordering you to hospital bedrest.”  She looks at him pointedly, challenging him to go against her any further.

He huffs and sits down with a defeated plop.  “Is there anything I can do or take to get better?”

Sakura studies her notes thoughtfully.  “Monitor yourself.  Note down everything that you consume and do.  Do not train.  If your condition worsens, check in at the hospital immediately.”

He squints, frowns, opens his mouth to argue about not training, then shuts it.  “...What do you mean by...everything.  Like going to the bathroom, walking around my place?”

She rolls her eyes.  “The places you go to, the people you talk to!  Oh!  And no sex.  Do not engage in any sexual intercourse or anything that leads to orgasm until we figure out what we’re dealing with.”

He stiffens, awkwardness making him sputter.  “I don’t do anything like that.”

“Naruto,” Sakura starts, looking him dead in the eyes.  “There’s no need to act so immature.  I’m a medic.  As you should be aware, orgasm disrupts chakra control.  You don’t want to choke and die while doing it with your girlfriend.  That would be a humiliating way to go.”

“Rumi doesn’t-”

“With that said, what you can do is meditate.  Regulate your chakra as much and as often as possible.  Keep away from activities or people that agitate you, and just try to stay as calm as you can.”

He supposes meditation beats doing nothing, but she’s basically telling him to do nothing.  But he keeps himself from arguing that point.  The last thing he wants is being contained to the hospital.

*

That night, he relays everything Sakura told him to Rumi, minus the sex part.  That would just be too uncomfortable to discuss.

“It’s serious then,” she says worriedly.  “She even took you off of missions.”

“Yeah, but Sakura doesn’t even know what it is.  It might not be that bad.”

Rumi looks him over.  “You do seem okay.  But I guess it’s better to be safe than sorry.”

“Yeah.  I feel fine, though.”

“I hope it’s nothing serious.”

“Yeah.  But this sucks.  I can’t do anything.”

Rumi nods.

It gets quiet between them.

Usually when she comes over, they just fool around with each other.  He can’t do that anymore.  He realized it really would be humiliating if he died on her in any state of undress, and the past couple of times seemed to prove Sakura’s point.  Whenever they got close to being intimate, he vomited.  While he was doing it by himself, too…

It’s still quiet.  He doesn’t really like quiet.  What does he usually talk about?

“Naruto-kun?”

“Yeah?”

“Are you really feeling okay?”

“Yeah!  I feel fine!”

“That’s good.  Hopefully this illness will just pass.”

“Yeah.”

He feels awkward silence take over again.  He should ask her about her recent missions or something.

“Do you have any idea of what could be causing you to get sick?”

“No…”

Now he really doesn’t know what to say.  Whenever he asks her about her missions, her responses are usually the same anyway.  “It was fine.”  Or “nothing really happened.”  She’s not much of a storyteller.  She’s a wind-user, too, so there isn’t much that she knows that he’s not already familiar with.

“Naruto-kun…”

“Yeah?”

“You’re really feeling okay?”

“Mhm.  Yeah.”

She studies his face.  “Are you tired?”

He frowns.  He feels antsy actually.  “I’m not tired.  I did nothing all day.  Just ate at Ichiraku for dinner.”

“You always eat there!” she laughs.

“Well, Sakura told me to stay as calm as possible, and Ichiraku’s the most peaceful place on earth!”

She shakes her head.  “You’re obsessed with their ramen.  You’re going to get fat one day.”

“Rumi, I would gladly get fat for Ichiraku.”

She scrunches a face at him.  “Even after all of the different places we’ve eaten at, you still think Ichiraku is the best?”

“Of course!” he says seriously.  “You can show me any restaurant on earth, but none would ever compare.”

She sighs dramatically.  “I’ll never understand.”

What’s not to understand?  “They have the best consistency of noodles, the best broth, the best chashu.”

“Hmm I guess I’d have to compare with other ramen places.”

“The difference is obvious!”

“I like udon more, though.  Ichiraku doesn’t sell udon.”

“Udon?” he says in disbelief.  “Ramen is so much better!  In the end, it’s all about the broth!  That’s what you’re left with anyway once you’ve eaten all the noodles!”

“Yeaahhh, but, I just like chewier noodles.”

He openly stares at her.  He cannot believe this.

“And ramen doesn’t usually come with tempura.  Udon tastes good with tempura.”

Deep fried shrimp.  Expensive.  And he thought Ichiraku ramen was a splurge.  Also… “And you’re calling me fat?”

She laughs off his argument.  

“Ramen tastes better!  There’s more depth of flavor!”

“Okay, okay,” she says, but he knows she’s just saying that.

“I’m serious!”

“Mhm.  That’s fine.  That’s what you think.”

He frowns at her.  He took that discussion much more seriously that she did.  “You can’t just tell me udon is better than ramen and not expect me to debate that.  There is no udon on earth that’s better than Ichiraku’s ramen!”

“We just have different tastes, Naruto-kun!”

He understands that, but he also doesn’t.  It doesn’t seem okay.  She needs to understand that Ichiraku’s ramen is the best.  “Rumi.  Ichiraku’s ramen is better than udon.”

She rolls her eyes.  “You’re obsessed.”

“No, I’m just stating facts.”

“You can’t compare ramen and udon.  They’re two different types of food.  If you took the best ramen and the best udon, they’d both be the best!”

“You’re the one who said you like udon more than ramen!”

“Oh.  I said that, didn’t I… Well, now I’m saying that they’re both good, okay?”

He can’t believe she just went back on her original words so easily.  Girls really are confusing.  Even with getting older, he still doesn’t understand them.  Kanae was the same.  First saying they were dating, and then saying that they weren’t.  What’s up with that?  Why do they always change their minds?  Why don’t they say what they mean?  Like Sakura, saying that she didn’t like Sasuke anymore.

Good thing he could tell she was lying that time.

Rumi’s not straightforward either.  She holds things in, tells him he doesn’t “get it.”  Why doesn’t she just tell him?

He blinks at her.

“I’ll take you to a really good udon place I know of!” she continues, oblivious to his confusion.

“It won’t be as good as Ichiraku’s.”

She sighs heavily.  “I’m not saying that it will be, okay.  I just want you to try it!”

Why eat anywhere else if it won’t be as good?  But he decides not to share those thoughts.  Rumi likes eating out at a lot of different places.

And that’s fine.

It just makes him a little anxious.

He remembers which places shooed him away from the windows.  Even if he didn’t want to go in, they’d yell at him if he got a little too close for their comfort.  Yelled at him that he was bad for business. That he’d disturb the other customers.

He knows that none of those places would do that to him now.  He knows that.

That doesn’t mean he wants to patron those places now.

He thinks maybe he should tell her the real reason he hasn’t tried different places.

“Have you been here before?” she’ll always ask.

And he always tells her, “Nope.  Never tried this place before.”

And then she always looks at him with eyes wide, an expression of shock.  “I can’t believe you’ve never been here!  You have to try their tonkatsu!”  Or misoyaki salmon. Or nabe.  It’ll be the same when they go get udon later.  All these foods he’s had on very rare occasions with Team 7 when Kakashi was feeling generous and responsible.  

Some foods were simply too fancy and expensive for him to have tried on his own.  He had no one to tell him to eat it.

It’s just a facet of his past that he doesn’t know how to bring up with her.  She’s younger than him, so she’s even less aware of his past than his other friends.

The topic is also just too heavy to think about.  Or really talk casually about.

So he never tells her.

She doesn’t need to know.

He guesses it’s probably a good thing for him to try other places.  Maybe kind of a way to heal and accept his past and the villagers.

*

He’s so bored.

It’s only the second day of being on sick leave, and he can’t take the monotony.

He guesses he’ll just…

Walk around.

Or something.

He steps outside.  Entertains himself with kicking loose stones to the side of the walkway.  Everything’s so dusty with continuous construction and modernization around the village.  There’s always random rocks here and there.

Teuchi-jiisan told him that Ichiraku’s might turn into a full-service restaurant soon.  They have plans in the works.  They’d have to close, though.  

He’s happy for him and Ayame-neesan.  Less happy about not having his favorite ramen for a whole season, but he knows that they deserve all the recognition for their food.  If only Rumi understood the gloriousness of their ramen.

He senses her.

He looks up.

Everything from two nights ago floods back to him.  How she looked.  How she was with that guy.  How she talked to him with that cold tone.  How she looked at him..glared...  Like she...

He freezes, nerves racing up his limbs, tightness in his chest.  

She looks so worried.  “Naruto-kun?...”  Hesitation laces her voice.  “Do you have a moment?”

He realizes she wants to talk to him.  He nods, even though he has no idea what to expect from her.  The unknown of this situation sets him on edge, makes him feel frustrated and helpless in a way he’s not used to being around her.

“...For the other night, I’m sorry.”

A jolt rattles through him.  She’s apologizing?

“I shouldn’t have talked to you that way.  You’re a good friend to me, and I know you must have had a reason.  Please accept my apology.”  She bows deeply, her long hair sweeping over her shoulders toward the ground.

“Hinata…”  It’s like a medicine.  Her words a cooling numbness over his anxiety.  It breaks through his own confusion over the matter, it makes him clearly wonder...why.  

Why did any of that happen?

What would make her act that way toward him?

She’s never-

“Naruto-kun?”

He comes out of his thoughts and sees her looking at him.  Concern shadows her expression.  He's struck with an awful sensation that the girl he used to know isn't there.  A chill sinks through him.  She looks so worried.  So sad.

Why does she look so sad?

Is it because of that guy?  “...Do you...really..like that guy?”

She blinks at him.  “Susumu-kun?” she asks.  

He holds in a grimace.  “Yeah.  Susumu.”  

Her light gaze drops slightly, eyes averting.  “I like him,” she says, her voice almost as small as a whisper.  “He’s nice to me.”  She looks up again.

His brow furrows, his gut twisting.  She likes him?  Why?  He’s nice to her?  Really?  It doesn’t look like it.  She doesn’t look happy.  She shouldn’t be with that guy.  She’s not happy. “...He’s nice to you?”

“Yes,” she states, too immediately for his liking.  “He is.  He’s almost too nice.”

He looks down to hide the heaviness pulling at him.  That guy’s nice to her?  Nice to her how?... “...You really like him?” he asks.  He realizes he needs to know this.  He needs to know.

He watches her brows raise.  The shimmer in her gaze waver.  The tension in her eyes grow.

She looks away.

She keeps her face turned down.

She doesn’t answer him.

But he already knows.  She doesn’t really like that guy.

So if she doesn’t like him, then why.  Why?  Why is she-??

“But you want to be with him,” he says, coming to the horrible realization that it doesn’t matter that she doesn’t like him.  She’s choosing to be with him.  She’s choosing...  He feels his throat close up, his chest clench painfully.  

“...I need to try, Naruto-kun…” she murmurs.

He can’t breathe.  She’s trying to like that guy.  Why?  He’s not good enough for her!  What does he have?  

Images run through his head.  That guy taking off her sweater, holding her hand, looking at her.  Holding her?  Feeling her?  Kissing her?

Having her!!

She chose him!

He flees.  As fast as he possibly can around the building, out of her eyesight.  The pressure building at his throat, acid filling his mouth.

He retches.

He can’t breathe.

It’s stuck in his throat.

He chokes.  He’s doubled over, heaving, trying to force it out.

It comes loose.

He has his mouth open as wide as possible, he’s screaming to get it out.

It lands in the puddle of his spit and stomach acid.

He blinks through the tears and gasps for air.

He knows what it is.  He’s had a feeling since before.  But seeing it is different.

A white flower.

A lily.

Each petal sealed together.  An actual flower.  Not just petals.

It’s gotten worse.

He’s supposed to tell Sakura.

He goes home.  Shuts himself in.  He’ll tell her later.  

He doesn’t feel good.

*

“I don’t feel like it tonight.”  He’s trying to convince Rumi that he doesn’t want to go out.

“Is this about the udon versus ramen thing from last night?” she asks, hands on her hips, eyes squinting at him.

“No.”  He’s not in the mood for that discussion again either.  “Sorry,” he remembers to add.  “I just don’t feel like it.”

“Fine,” she sighs, in a way that sounds like she’s not fine with it at all.  “But when I come back from my mission, you’re coming with me!”

He nods half-heartedly.

She marches into his kitchen and opens his fridge.  “You went grocery shopping the other day, right?”  She scrutinizes his shelves.  “We can make...nikujaga.”

“Okay.”  Meat and potatoes.  A simple dish that even he can make.  Just toss everything in the pot and let it simmer.  But…

He watches her remove his pork from the fridge.  He bought that to make ramen.  He wants to tell her so, but he’s not in the mood for her nagging, either.  "You should eat something other than ramen!”  “You eat too much ramen!”  “You’re going to get fat one day!”  “You’re obsessed with ramen!”  Sometimes it’s funny.  But all he eats these days are other things, at least when he’s with her.  She never wants to just enjoy ramen with him.

“You can start the rice.”

He goes to his rarely-touched container and portions it out while she washes and skins the potatoes.  He’s careful to rinse the rice.  Not like the first time they cooked together.  And he just filled the pot with water and turned the cooker on.  And she freaked out on him.  

The Sandaime taught him to cook rice when he was really little, but he was really little.  So he just got used to doing things the simplest way.  No one was there to help his little hands control the pot and and all the water and all the tiny grains.

Anyway, he didn’t tell her that.

It just didn’t seem like something he could say when she was panicking about dirty rice and looking at him like he came from another world.

But it’s kind of nice to make more than one cup of rice.  To know he’s not cooking by himself.

After rinsing the rice a few times, he starts the cooker.

She smiles at him appreciatively, sweetly.

He grins.  “See, I’m a master now.”

“Yes, you are!” she agrees happily.

After they’re finished eating, they sit close together on his couch.  But unlike other nights, he’s not really in the mood for this, either.

She’s there, at the back of his mind, with that guy, and he doesn’t want to think about it.  It makes him feel sick.

“Naruto-kun, how did you feel today?”

He stiffens.  “I was okay.”  He lied.  He lied.  He never lies.  At least not to Rumi.

“That’s good.  You didn’t vomit again?”

“...No.”  ...He just doesn’t want her to worry, right?

“Maybe you’re getting better!”

He nods.  He’s getting worse.

She leans against him and sighs happily.

Usually, usually, he likes this.  He likes having her close.  He likes being with her.

He can’t help but wonder if she does this, with that guy.  A knot grows at the center of his chest.

“Naruto-kun?”

“Hm?”

“I love you.”

“I love you, too,” he replies, and he thinks, he’s getting the hang of this.

She turns her chin against his arm, looks up at him.  A shine in her hazel eyes.  “Why do you love me?”

He blinks at her.  Why?  It’s pretty simple.  He’s told her this before, too.  “You’re here with me.  You put up with me.”  Like putting up with his “obsession” with ramen and his inadequate rice skills.  “I love you because you love me.”

She sits up.  She looks away in thought, her brows furrowing.  “Okay…”  She pauses.  “But...why do you love me?”

Why do I love her?  Didn’t I…  He answered wrong somehow.  “What do you mean?”

“Like...anyone could love you.  Anyone could be here with you,” she answers quietly.

He shakes his head.  Rumi thinks so highly of him.  Maybe he really should tell her more about his past.  “That’s not true, not just anyone would be with me.  I told you about Kanae, right?  She broke up with me...she couldn’t deal with me…”

“Yeah, but…”  Her lips purse in thought.  “So many people love you, Naruto-kun.”

He scratches his neck.  He knows those people don’t actually know him.  “You can ask any of my friends,” he says softly.  Should he really tell her this?  “Especially when I was younger, nobody liked me.”

“Really?” she asks in quiet disbelief.  “But you have so many friends now.”

“Yeahh, well, when I was younger, even my own teammates, Sakura-chan and Sasuke, they hated me.”

“....Why?”

“I guess…”  He asked that same question when he was younger.  “Because everyone else hated me.  It was just what everyone did.”  He also knows he was an annoying little shit, but that was because he wanted attention that nobody was giving.

“...Everyone?” she asks.

“Well...maybe not everyone…”  He occasionally had Shikamaru and Choji as playmates, and Hinata was always-

He feels all the color drain out of him, run down through his feet, tears threaten his eyes.

“Because you have Kurama?  Nobody liked you?” Her questions feel far away.

She cared about him when no one else did and why is she trying to like-  The stones in his chest push up abruptly, and he bends over, unable to hold it back.

Tears spill as the contents of his body swell and bulk from his throat, burning his esophagus raw.

“Naruto-kun!!” she shrieks.

A large wet flower falls out of his mouth.

“Wha-” she gasps.  Rumi runs to the kitchen.  She comes back with paper towels.

He’s still bent over, unwilling to show her his undoubtedly unattractive face covered in ugly tears and spit.

“What is…”  She kneels, trying to mop up his mess.  “A flower?  Is that a lily?”  She passes him a towel.

He wipes his face and mouth.  Spits excess gunk into the napkin.  He doesn’t answer.  That’s what it is.  The head of a lily.

“What kind of sickness is this?” she gasps.  “Your chakra is doing this?  You need to tell Sakura-san!”

He was never particularly religious.  Even though he finally got to meet his parents, and their conversations hold a special place in his heart, he never felt the need to visit their graves.  He never felt a need to place flowers or food.  They were fine when he met them.  They weren’t suffering.  They were happy and proud of him, even though he never went to see them.

In the past, at the time of the year when everyone goes to the graves to pay their respects to their ancestors, he never knew where to go.  He never participated.

He never had anyone to thank for giving him life.

He never felt particularly thankful for having a life.

He also hated just being alone in a crowd.

No one to go with.

No one to talk to in front of the graves.

Now he knew where to go.  He knew who his parents were.  He still didn’t really want to go.  He got to thank them, didn’t he?  When he met them?  So he didn’t have any reason to do it again, right?

But there is one person he never got to thank for his life.

He hesitated outside of Yamanaka Flowers, just kind of stood there, watching people going in and out.

It’s not like Neji was his ancestor.  But he never got to thank him in words.

“Naruto-kun?”

He looked to see her coming over to him.  “Hi, Hinata.”

“Hello,” she greeted softly.  “Are you going to buy flowers for the festival?”

He nodded.  Just a second ago, he was so unsure.  But he thought now that maybe he really would.  “Yeah…”

“For your parents?” she guessed.

“Actually, I was thinking of getting flowers for Neji…”  He watched her to see her reaction.

She smiled, a small thing that brightened her whole face, brought a shine to her eyes.  “Me, too.”

“Yeah?”

She nodded.  “My family and I are going after lunch.  Would you like to...join us?”

“Oh no, I wouldn’t want to intrude.”

She looked up at him, her gaze searching his.  “Then...if you wouldn’t mind...could I join you?”

He’s always so surprised at how she seemed to know exactly what to say.  “I wouldn’t mind at all.”

She smiled again.  She looked truly happy.  “What time were you thinking of going?”

“I guess...now?  After I get flowers?”

“Okay,” she agreed.

She bought white lilies.  The same flowers she laid at the remembrance ceremony.  He bought white lilies, too.  He didn’t know what else to get.

They laid their flowers at his grave.  They prayed silently.  

It was unexpectedly quiet.  He was surprised.  With so many visitors, he expected a lot more noise.  Instead, it felt like they were in a bubble.  As if everything and everyone around them didn’t matter.  

All that mattered was this.  

This moment between them.  Between them and the grave.

“Neji-niisan...he brought me these flowers once.  When I was in the hospital,” she murmured.

He glanced at her, then back down at the flowers.  “That’s nice,” he responded, equally quiet.  As if anything louder than this would shatter a delicate peace, would disrupt the tranquil bubble surrounding them.  

“Yes.  It was really thoughtful of him.  He didn’t have to.”

He nodded.  There was a time when Neji would have never done something like that.  But he changed.

“I never got to return the gesture.  Neji-niisan was never in the hospital,” she whispered.

They sat that way for a long time.  Eyes lowered on his grave.

After about an hour, they got up.  Dusted their legs off.  They stood facing each other, hot summer wind blowing between them.  

Before this, he never knew what this part of the festival was like.  Now he knew.  “Hinata, thank you for coming with me.”

She shook her head.  She smiled at him gently.  “Thank you for letting me come with you.”  Her shoulders raised in shy discomfort, her fingers twisting together, her feet shifted in the grass.  She tucked her chin a bit, but she looked up at him through dark lashes.  “Next time, please let me join you again...that is, if you wouldn’t mind.”

Of course he didn’t mind.  He appreciated it more than words could ever say.

They visited Neji’s grave together again that year for the annual memorial.  It just felt right.  And other occasions after that.  This past summer, too.

They always brought white lilies.

*

A sign?  A foreboding message?  The flower he always takes to Neji’s grave, blooming out of him painfully.  

Even he’s not stupid enough to not realize that it’s hurting him, that it’s getting worse and likely will continue to get worse.  His chakra is out of wack, attacking his lungs.  He doesn’t have to meditate to feel the congestion and weight of his chakra in his chest.  Ever since the petals formed actual flowers, he doesn’t feel better after each throw-up.

He feels sick.

He feels anxious and helpless.

He feels like any wrong move could lead to another episode, like those flowers, those lilies, are just waiting to burst out of him.

Somewhere between last week and this week, he crossed a line of no-return.

And he fears.

He fears the cure is out of his control.

He sees her every time he remembers the lilies, and he feels a little worse.  The knot in his chest twitches or grows.  His breathing gets harder.  The bottom of his throat burns, irritated from acid.

He goes to see Sakura again.

“It’s getting worse?” she asks immediately when he steps through her office door.

“No…”  He lied.  Again.  “I just wanted to tell you that I think it really is white lilies.”  He doesn’t think it.  He knows it.

She sighs.  Heavily.  “I know.  I tested the substances yesterday.”

He nods.  Of course she already figured that out.

“You haven’t been vomiting any more up, have you?”

He shakes his head.  He doesn’t want to be confined to the hospital.  “Did you figure anything else out, yet?”

“I’ve been discussing your case with Shishou.  She said she thinks she’s heard of something like this before, but she’s not sure.  We have to go through the past medical records.  And it’s a lot.  I don’t know how long it will take for us to find anything, or if we’ll find anything at all, but when we do, you’ll be the first to know.”

“...So...what happens if you don’t find anything?”  He doesn’t get it.  What’s wrong with him?  Why don’t Sakura and Tsunade know?  They’re the top medic-nin in the world, and they don’t know what’s wrong?!

“In the case that this doesn’t go away on its own, we’ll have to conduct a thorough examination.  It may involve going through your memories to find a root cause.”  

“That’s…”  He stares at her in horror.  That’s incredibly invasive.  “Why?”

“That’s worst case scenario.  You see, Naruto, the thing is, chakra illnesses are not the same as sicknesses of the body.  Chakra is still being studied.  New discoveries are being made every day.  Each person’s chakra is unique.  A person’s chakra is influenced by the parents’, but also by the environmental factors they grow up in, as well as moods and feelings.  Chakra can be shared, it can be conditioned, it can be strengthened, as you know it can be mixed with nature energy, and its depletion can lead to death.  Who knows what else and more there is to be discovered!”

He nods, not sharing in her enthusiasm about chakra at all.  His own chakra is killing him.  Did she learn that from her books?  Apparently not.  He makes to leave.

“Wait!”

He stops.

“Before you go, I want to know if you’ve thought of anything else.  It’s your body, and it’s your chakra.  What connection do you have to white lilies?”

He stares at Sakura.  Her face flashes through his mind’s eye, and the knot in his chest pinches.  “I don’t know,” he mumbles out.  “I’m not much of a flower person,” he adds, for no reason other than to reject the pain.  He actually usually likes flowers.

Sakura deflates a bit.  “Okay.  Well, if you figure anything out, let me know right away.  Any bit of information helps.”

“Thanks, Sakura-chan.”  He leaves.  

*

He meditates for hours on end.  Just like when he was going through his Sage training five years ago.

He stores up nature energy and distracts himself with the hundreds of pulsating, twinkling lives around him.  He quiets his mind and lets himself seep into everything around him.

It makes him feel a little better.  Like Sakura suggested, it really helps to relieve the pressure.  It seems to help him regulate his chakra, and after a solid session of meditation, his chest doesn’t feel nearly as heavy.

Until one morning.

He senses her with someone else.  The two alone.  In the woods.  At a training ground.

Instinctively he knows exactly who it is.  He knows exactly what they’re doing.

He can sense Hinata’s chakra flaring to life, and he knows her chakra.  He’s been on the receiving end of her blows, and he can just imagine her fighting expressions, her form and strength, and-

Aggravation unlike anything seizes his muscles.

He cuts the connection, dissipates the nature energy as fast as possible, his chakra balance dangerously thrown off.

He stares at his wall, but instead he sees her.   He sees the dauntless lines of her Juuken, every powerful strike of her graceful hands, the astounding manifestation of her vibrant chakra on her fists, the stunning challenge she invokes, increasingly working brilliantly faster, and he-

He feels too large for his space, a man stuffed in a sealed barrel with no way out.  The smell of his vomit makes him only choke out another one.  This time he made it to his trashcan.

But what does it matter if he makes a mess.

He threw his papers all over the floor.  He broke his table.  He shattered a glass against the wall.

He doesn’t feel better.

He feels worse.

There’s no way back.  There’s no stopping it.

That guy loves her.  If he didn’t before, he does now because there’s nothing like it.  There’s nothing to compare after seeing her like that.

His eyes burn, and his face flames with frustration that has no outlet.  His hands clench and unclench, he squeezes blunt nails into his palms.

He stares at a fully bloomed lily, the stamens streak orange stains on the petals.

“Oh no,” she gasped.  Her finger wiped at brown splotches on the stone.

He frowned at the sight.

“The caretakers must leave the flowers out for too long,” she murmured as she took out a handkerchief from her pocket.

“Those marks are from the flowers?” he asked.

She nodded.  “The pollen falls off the flowers when the flowers get old.  They can leave a stain.”  She rubbed hard at the headstone.

He filled the grave’s bamboo cup with water.  She dipped her handkerchief in the water, then rubbed.  And rubbed.  And rubbed.

He tried to clean the stone, too.

After awhile, he thought maybe the stains wouldn’t come out.  “You know, maybe he likes some color.  It’s a reminder that you visit him.”

She smiled in spite of her dismay.  “A reminder for him that you visit, too.”

He nods.  “Yeah!  You know, the stains turned kind of orange now, and, y’know, I’m orange, the stains are orange, it’s definitely symbolic.”

She laughed, a sound that made it seem like the graveyard was actually the most peaceful and wonderful place on earth.  “I’ll come back later with proper cleaning supplies.  I’m sure Neji-niisan doesn’t like being orange.”

He laughed, too.

The memory leaves him with no warmth.

He squeezes his eyes shut, trying to prevent tears.

She chose that guy.  She chose that guy.  She chose that guy.

What about me?  What about us?  Why did she choose that guy?  How could she?

How could she just…

*

Rumi stares at his empty dining area.  “Where did your table go?”

“I threw it out,” he answers shortly.

Her confused gaze darts to him.  “Oh.  Are you thinking of getting a new one?”

He shrugs.  “Guess so.”

“Naruto-kun?”  She steps closer to him, her hand coming up to his arm.  “What’s wrong?”

He steps away from her unthinkingly.

Her hand is left in the air.  Her hand folds, and she brings it down to her side.  “What’s wrong?” she asks again.

He knows what’s wrong.  But he can’t tell her what’s wrong.  He can’t tell her that he spied on Hinata and her boyfriend, found out that they were sparring, broke his table and vomited out two more flowers consecutively while she was away.

“Are you feeling sick?”

“No.  I’m fine.”  It sounds like a lie even to his own ears.

“Naruto-kun, tell me what’s wrong!  We need to communicate.”

He turns and stares at her.  “We need to communicate?” he repeats.  “You never tell me what’s bothering you!  And when I do tell you what I think, you get mad at me!”

She blinks at him in shock at his sudden yell.  Her face twists into a frown.  “I don’t get mad at you!  What are you talking about?”

“You got mad at me when I talked about my friends that are girls!  You don’t like it when I talk about ramen!  You got mad when you saw how I cooked rice!”

“Wha-  I haven’t gotten mad about your friends in a long time!  It was just that once!  That was a long time ago!  And it wasn’t about that!  I was mad because you didn’t seem to care that I didn’t like you talking about them!”

He squints at her, confused.

“And I don’t get mad when you talk about ramen or how you cooked rice!”

“Really because it seemed that way to me!”  The more he’s thought about it, the more he thinks she overreacts.

“Noo, what?!  I wasn’t mad!  I don’t get mad!  I just thought that it was weird!”

He pauses to process that.  But he doesn’t like it any better.  “Well maybe I don’t like it that you think I’m weird!”

“What?  Wha-”  She stares at him with that look again, like he’s from another planet.  “Why didn’t you tell me back then!  You were thinking about that all this time?  That was like...so long ago!”

“Well I’m telling you now!  And don’t act like you don’t do the same thing!  You hold onto stupid stuff, too!”

She pauses, then gasps, obviously offended.  “...Is that what you think?  When I get upset, you think that it’s stupid?”

He throws his hands into the air.  “Well you never explain yourself, so yeah, I have no idea what you’re upset about, and I think it’s stupid!”

She glares at him.  Her eyes suddenly gloss, filled with tears.  “I come back from my mission to check on you, and this is what you’ve got to say to me?”

He glares back.  She doesn’t apologize for anything he was upset about, and now she cries?  What the hell?  She just does that to make him feel bad!

She turns abruptly and storms out of his apartment.

His door slams.

He stands there, his body seething with repressed frustration.

On instinct, he rushes to his toilet.

Nothing happens.

He’s so mad, but nothing.

He doesn’t feel at all like vomiting.

He leaves his bathroom, throws himself on his bed.

Shuts his eyes.

He knows he shouldn’t have yelled at Rumi like that, but he’s been on edge since two days ago.  He’s afraid to meditate.  He’s afraid to find out more.  He’s afraid that what’s happening…

Has to do with her.

He’s afraid that his fear is correct.

Because if it is…

He thinks it’ll be too painful, he might die.

Actually die.

His chakra is constricting his breathing.  His chest is heavy.  His eyes burn.

She chose him.  She chose him.

#naruhina #fanfic #angst #hanahaki #canon divergence #no the last #naruhina fanfiction