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#slowly reconciling husk with mind
aloeanemonabee27 · 1 year
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I'm craving for angst today, so I'm gonna make it everyone's problem by sharing this ASL idea modern set reincarnation au, so sit back and suffer with me cause I already cried three times thinking on this.
I don't have a beginning set but I already visualized the backstory and the middle, the backstory follows Sabo, he lost both Ace and Luffy because of Teach (fucker) so Sabo was preparing his revenge to bring justice to his brother's death, since Teach lived with the Newgate family at that time, guess who's gonna pay for the broken plates? Exactly. Sabo's motivation was basically torture and kill Teach and anyone involved to his heart content, but since day passes he slowly loose his sanity cause in his mind the faster he end this the faster he can reunite with his brothers. The Newgates/Whitbeard family didn't know the background of Teach and only saw the surface of a young man throwing away his life by killing a member of his family which ok you can't blame them, but as the story goes on the figure out Teach's intentions and Sabo's motivations until is to late. When the damage is done, Sabo's sanity was extremely broken and he was gonna end his story once and for all, because since he lost his brothers he has no reason on staying alive anymore, but fortunately (or unfortunately in Sabo's case) the Newgates/Whitebeards stopped him but Sabo was not happy about this. He got so angry, so sad so desperate that in the middle of struggling his emotions got at surface, he was crying, laughing... everything he's been bottling up for years reached the surface in a raw way, to the point Sabo himself started to plead to leave him alone, he wanted to leave, he wanted his brothers, he pleaded for his brothers. The Whitebeards stood their ground, however they felt extremely guilty about his situation even though they had nothing at fault, but seeing Sabo in such away it was impossible to not feel that way. In a way to make amends for the broken pieces, they put Sabo in a sanatorium in hope's he could get better and they took it upon themselves to visit Sabo and trying to be part of his healing process.
And here goes the middle which is kinda cliche but is an ASL story. Ace and Luffy where given the opportunity to help their brother, they were told what happend to Sabo and they decided to step in, they got offered a second life to help Sabo before he lost himself completely so without thinking twice they accept the second chance of life. What they didn't know is when they reincarnated again they did it in animal form, which where cats. The second life wasn't easy but anything to save his brother from himself, they accidentally got adopted by Thatch, for them the situation was an annoyance but at the same time an advantage. The first time they heard of someone visiting Sabo which was Marco, they followed him into the sanatorium into a certain point cause animals are not allowed. Every day they go to the sanatorium to get in but each time got them out, one day they managed to get in into the sanatorium's garden and they saw Sabo. It was heartbreaking to see Sabo, his mischievous, cunning, intelligent caring, full of life brother like this: trapped in his own mind, shut down, barley responding to anything, his eyes are hollow.. this was not Sabo. His brother was an empty husk now and it was barley reconcilable, no matter how much they tried, Sabo didn't bat an eye. Even so, Ace and Luffy didn't give up and they tried again and again each day until one day Sabo acknowledged their presence and they became his support without knowing these cats were his brothers. The staff see everyday two cats trying stubbornly to get attention from this specific patient, and they let it be at soon as they see the slow effect these cats has on Sabo.
It was a little longer than expected, I apologize for the bad grammar, writing is definitely not my fort but I tried. In any case, let me know what you think
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ordervessel · 1 year
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too lazy to make this a formal headcanon. and i'm hesitant to make this as something concrete to the blog, but it's what's on my mind when i write, so i want to be transparent.
as inferred from my previous headcanons and what i have scattered across various platforms:
radagon and marika were originally two halves of an original divine being, known as marika. in the war against the giants, marika was cursed and she excised that curse from her along with other parts of herself that she found as a weakness. this is me trying to reconcile the weird radagon lore that ties him to the giants, honestly.
but this is how radagon came into being. he has memories of the original being up to that point. he shares a connection with marika though in those early days of his nascence, he was more an unaware husk slowly beginning to gain thought and sentience.
he's sent off and generally left to his own devices and starts to become his own person. knowing that his existence is a lesser part of a god along with knowing that he's the discarded parts of a god, he struggles with that part of his identity and to define himself.
he fights in the liurnian wars. falls in love with rennala. experiences the happiest moments of his life in this brief period. to a nigh eternal being, the brief amount of time he spent with rennala should mean nothing, but it's these memories that he has that he holds in his heart through the miserable period that's fast approaching.
godfrey is hounded from the lands between, radagon is called back to the capitol. for his duty to the golden order is his weakness. he chooses to act in what he sees as for the greater good, sacrificing his happiness and making himself miserable.
he becomes second elden lord and after some indeterminable time is he merged with marika again. but as he's developed into his own being by this point, the reunion is flawed. they fight for control of a single body. he's a very, very miserable man at this point. the twins are his sole point of comfort, but even then he's crushed by the weight of forces beyond his control.
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eviecahir · 3 years
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The second page from the same booklet on Self Worth, this is what writing in your journal super early in the morning looks / feels like. 
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darlingsdevil · 4 years
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Of The Valley (Joel x Reader)
Chapter 6: MIA
Summary: Life in Jackson is never easy. Consoling angsty teenagers, wading through the mysterious waters of Joel’s romance language and with a child of your own on the way? Life is about to get a lot harder.
CHATPER WARNING: This chapter contains mentions of teenage drinking and smoking weed.
Tag list (comment to be added or removed) @sidepuff @joelsheartache @fangirl-inthe-us @cowboyfrazer @scarletpines @mikah-writes @sleepylunarwolf @mr-robot-x @shybookdragon @heughan @writer-jamie @nelliecraine
Of The Valley Masterlist
RDR2 Masterlist
•••
You fell asleep on the couch once you calmed down, you wanted to sleep for the night and worry tomorrow. Yet loud knocking on your door in the late hours of the night awoke you.
You jolted awake and looked out through the window from your spot on the couch, seeing a shadow of a person through the curtains.
Another loud knock.
“Alright! Fine! I’m coming!” You shouted, angrily throwing your blanket off of you. You unlocked the door and looked at the visitor.
“Dina?”
“Hey, Y/N. I’m really sorry for waking you up so late and probably Mark too, I know this is super out of the blue but, do you by any chance know where Ellie went?” She asked you. Dina wasn’t on your list of people you had avoided, she was constantly in the bar with Jesse. Dina was the life of the party, with her came laughter and excitement, she was easy to be around, which is why you never avoided her. There were no expectations from her, she was just a kid that was kind and didn’t push. You hadn’t seen her nearly as much as you used to, or anyone for that matter, but you never outright refused to be around her, or cross the street when you saw her walking your way.
You shifted in your spot, straightening yourself up. “No, is everything okay?”
“Yeah, it’s just that I don’t know where Ellie went, I looked around town and everything but she’s not here,” Dina said, worry slowly filling her eyes.
“I’m sorry, I don’t know where she went. Maybe ask Joel?”
“I just.. don’t want to worry Joel or put anymore strain on them,” Dina explained. “But I just figured since you went on patrol with them she could have mentioned it.”
“No, she didn’t mention it to me. Any chance she could have snuck out?” You rose a brow. Teenagers snuck out all the damn time, it was no secret, though rarely anyone mentioned it. It was an unspoken rule, teenagers even in the apocalypse were rebellious.
“It’s probably the most likely choice.. I’m just worried because it’s so late and she almost always tells me beforehand or invites me along too,” Dina rambled, her hands fidgeting at her side as she explained it to you.
“Have you told Maria, Ellie’s missing?”
“No, Maria would kill Ellie if she knew she snuck out.” That was true, considering when teens usually snuck out they smoked pot and drank alcohol, you didn’t want Maria searching for a dopey drunk Ellie.
“Yeah, I would tell her if Ellie doesn’t come back by sunrise,” You suggested. “Where’s Jesse by the way?”
“We got into an argument earlier, I just didn’t want to bother him, you know?”
You understood that well enough.
“I’m going to go out looking for her, I just wanted to make sure someone knew where I was going too, sorry for waking you, goodnight.” Dina was ready to leave, but you pulled her back. You could leave Jackson for an hour or two.. you had done it for a full night, besides you couldn’t let a teenager go out there by herself. You couldn’t let her wake up Joel or alert Maria either, both would make Ellie only angrier. You didn’t want to leave Jackson, much less two days in a row, but if you had done it before you could do it again. It wasn’t patrol either, you would probably find her within the next few hours. She couldn’t have gone far.
“Woah, woah, woah. You can’t go out there alone, especially not during the night, I’m going with you.”
“Are you sure?” Dina asked.
“Yeah I am, let me go get my coat first, I’ll be right back.” You fetched your coat from your room, grabbing the pistol hidden in your dresser, you never wanted to pick it up again, or even have to use it, but there was no way you would leave town without it. The last thing you wanted to do was use it on hunters or infected — no matter who you were shooting at, you didn’t want to be the one to pull that trigger. But if it came down to life or death, you would use it, even if every ounce of your body screamed in protest, you would disregard it, you had used your rifle yesterday, what was a pistol to that? You still had work in the morning and was putting yourself in harm's way while pregnant really the best idea? It didn’t matter.. you needed to make sure Ellie was safe. You returned to Dina, she was biting her nail gently, her brow furrowed.
Once you stepped outside you realized how cold it had gotten, you could see your breath as you exhaled.
You waved the gun in the air, showing it to her.
“Any chance you have your gun with you?”
“No, I went to her house first and then got caught up looking for her, I forgot to bring it with me,” Dina explained.
“Hold on. There’s another gun upstairs, I’ll get it,” You replied, turning around and walking over to the staircase that led up to his loft. Mark had a stash of guns in his room, as protective as he was of all of his belongings, you were certain he wouldn’t mind you letting Dina borrow one. It wasn’t like he would be needing them anytime soon anyways.
But you hadn’t stepped foot in his room since it happened.
You opened the door up to the staircase, your head feeling like it was going to explode. Your heartbeat so loud in your ears you were sure even Dina could hear it. Every step was a louder groan from the creaky steps that resonated in your ears, you walked as slowly as you could. It was dusty in the staircase, it had been a long time since it had been used.
When you finally reached the top step you were ready to turn back around, tell Dina that you couldn’t find it. But you needed to open that door and let the memories flood in. You were having a child, if that wasn’t a new beginning you weren’t sure what was.
You weren’t ready to confront it all head on. The first step in a long road to recovery, it wasn’t something would happen overnight. But you had to start somewhere, maybe you started yesterday when you began reconciling with Joel, or stepping foot out of Jackson again, picking up a gun and doing the job you were meant to do. Regardless of when you started, that door was meant to be open, and you were at the very least ready to see what was behind it.
Even if you were terrified, even if you wanted to turn back. That door had to be opened.
You gently turned the knob, stepping inside the room. You felt like an intruder, like you had stepped into a scene you weren’t supposed to be in.
It looked different than you remembered.. everything had a darker hint to it, like the room had completely lacked life in the way that some abandoned places did. There was no presence, no feeling of being watched, just a room devoid of life..
Yet it also looked the same, his bedsheets still ruffled from that night.. his band posters littering the walls, his dusty record player in the corner. His snake plant by the window that had long since died. His never ending piles of flannels too.
It was almost too much, seeing his things left frozen in time, knowing that Mark would never return to this room. You had neglected everything he had so meticulously created, whether it be the plant he miraculously kept alive for years, the records he claimed needed to be heard regardless of how obscure they were, you had forgotten about it all. And now there was not even an energy in the room, like the life of the room itself in there had died with him. Now there was not even a presence of him, just a hallowed husk of a room.
There was something out of place though. Mark’s dog tags sitting on the knob of the dresser. He never took them off. Why were they here now? You could have sworn he was buried with them..
Maria.
It had to be Maria. When had she snuck up here? They looked like they had been there for awhile, collecting dust and all. Was the photo he kept in his pocket here too? You looked around the room but could not find them, instead you found his gun in his bedside table, grabbing his dog tags and locking away the memories behind you.
You walked back downstairs to Dina, you handed her Mark’s gun.
“I hope I didn’t wake Mark,” She said sincerely, placing the gun in her waistband.
“You didn’t.” You shook your head, clutching the dog tags in your hand.
•••
You and Dina had to be smart, taking side streets and cutting through backyards to get to the West gate. Dina decided Ellie was most likely in three places, the lake, the ski resort or the art museum that had a rooftop exhibit overlooking the river. The lake was the closest and was your best bet, so you decided to go there.
It wasn’t uncommon for you to be out at night, especially considering you had work very early in the morning, but this was too early. You hoped no night owls were up to see you with Dina at such a late hour.
You led Dina to the small hole in the wall that you could both easily slip through, dodging the night guards and the spotlights, you hugged the wall as you made it far enough to where you could not be seen. Perhaps it was foolish to sneak out to look for Ellie.. but you didn’t want to risk her getting in trouble with Joel or Maria.
You were anxious being outside of Jackson.. like there was a threat looming around every corner, but you had to find Ellie no matter what. You were glad Dina came to you, even if you weren’t her first, or second choice for that matter.
It didn’t matter if you had work in the morning — or you were pregnant, you needed to find Ellie. That was all that was on your mind, finding her, and making sure she got back into town safely and under the radar.
Ellie could handle herself well enough, you were hoping she was fine and just lost track of time. But why hadn’t she told Dina earlier in the day? Did she just forget? Was she with Cat? You were cautious of Cat.. she seemed nice enough but seemed like somewhat of a bad influence, and Ellie’s relationship with Cat seemed to cause a riff between her and Dina. Of course though, it wasn’t your place to judge. Joel was clueless when it came to teenage romance.. or perhaps he wasn’t and just hadn’t put Ellie and girls together. You hadn’t ever asked Ellie about it, but you knew regardless and she never denied it. At least to your knowledge she hadn’t told Joel.. which was understandable, but you doubt Joel would care and would still love her regardless.
You and Dina managed to make it to the treelines, far from the gate. It was only then did you begin talking.
“I’m going to be so pissed if she’s just drunk,” Dina said bitterly, shaking her head. You held your gun more tightly as you ventured further out. The lake wasn’t far at all, a twenty minute walk at most.
“How often do you guys sneak out?” You asked, your voice a whisper. Dina walked close to you as you found the nature path that led to the lake. It had been so long since you walked that road.. at least three months.
“It depends. A lot though, more often in summer. Not usual for us to go out in fall though, same for spring. Winter we usually just go sledding. I’d say once a month or so,” Dina replied quietly.
You continued walking in silence before Dina spoke.
“Have you ever snuck out?”
“I have, just a few times. Even adults get ansty sometimes.”
“I guess that’s only somewhat shocking. The one person I could never imagine sneaking out is Joel, he seems too hardcore survivalist to any fun.”
“You would be surprised,” You chuckled lightly.
Dina whipped her head around to face you, her mouth agape in humorous shock.
“You’re telling me Joel Miller is a party animal?”
“He’s not.. that much of a partier,” You said, your voice very quiet.
“I can’t believe this. And Mark?”
“Yeah, Mark is the party.” Mark didn’t particularly like big parties.. he preferred smaller ones but he still knew how to let loose.. perhaps too loose sometimes.
Dina didn’t have much to say to that, other than that she could see that Mark liked to party. It was true, Mark liked dancing, music and hard liquor, he just didn’t particularly like large groups of people, as much of a social butterfly as he was.
You walked in silence for a few more minutes, your mind on high alert, glancing behind you frequently to make sure anything - or anyone was following you. You knew it was stupid to not tell anyone where you and Dina were going, or that you had snuck out, but you didn’t want to risk Ellie being caught. It was strange, you had completely abandoned her and Joel for months and now you couldn’t stand the thought of her getting in trouble at the expense of just doing something a normal teenager would do. Perhaps it was the weird new maternal instinct that magically kicked in.
It was uncommon for infected to be nearby town. In fact, it was very rare. There were constant patrols during the day within a three mile radius of town, infected were found and put down quickly. The guns were still another layer of protection, if Ellie was further from town there was a chance you would need them. You were still completely on edge, Dina was too. Being outside of Jackson was the last thing you wanted to do again, yet here you are, not even a day later.
You wondered why Ellie would leave without saying anything, especially to Dina. They were as thick as thieves, they really cared about each other, no wonder Dina was nervous. Ellie was upset when she came back with Joel the other day, maybe she just needed to clear her head. But sneaking out? That was uncalled for. There were quiet places in Jackson she could have gone to.
The top of the lake house came into view as you reached the peak of a hill. There was a small fire by the far side of the lake, next to the house. The lake house was not technically a house, and more like a mansion. It was a popular spot to sneak out to, considering it was one of the few places out of town that had electricity and wasn’t completely abandoned. Occasionally, Maria let people visit the lake every summer as a reward for their hard work.. though patrollers (once yourself included) liked to stop at the lake if they got back early.
“Think that’s her?” You pointed out towards the fire at the side of the lake. Dina nodded next to you. You were glad you didn’t have to walk fourty minutes to get to the art museum or ski resort, both being in opposite directions of one another. Unless.. that wasn’t Ellie. It could easily be hunters, but hunters liked to hide. They wouldn’t be out in the open though. The last time you came across a group of people it had gone worse than you could have ever imagined, you pushed that thought to the side.
The lake was mysterious looking, it’s dark waters glistening in the moonlight like it held many secrets. Three months ago, you stood here in the heat of summer, your shirt sticking to your back, waiting to jump into the water and pop open a can from a six pack, the sun beating down on the water making it shine brightly. But now it just looked cold and dark, yet not unwelcoming. Now the fall air was crisp, the leaves dark and crunch under your feet, your breath lingering in the air visibly.
You led Dina down the path to the dock, from there you would be able to get a better look at the people at the bonfire. It looked like a group, seven or so people. You stuck to the trees until the plants growing in the water were tall enough to shield you. You could hear loud laughter, whoever these people were, they weren’t particularly subtle. You figured it was most likely Ellie and a group of other rebellious teens.
“That them?” You said gruffly, peeking out from behind the plants, hearing the waves lap at the shore.
“Yeah, yeah, I think so,” Dina mumbled, staring at the group by the lake. You couldn’t make out faces, but they looked like teenagers.
“Recognize any of them?”
“I can’t see much. It looks like a party though.” There were cans littered around the fire, at least from what you could see.
“It’s probably them then, come on, let’s go,” You said motioning for her to get up with you. Dina pulled herself up next to you, following you on the path to their bonfire. If they were drunk, you doubt they would notice you until you were right on top of them. Stupid kids.
As you got closer you could hear bits and pieces of their conversation, they definitely sounded like teenagers.
“Why do you think Ellie didn’t tell you?” You whispered.
“I don’t know, she could be with Cat.”
You wrapped around the group by taking the path into the woods so you could ‘sneak’ up on them in case they weren't who you thought they were. If you were quiet enough, they wouldn’t notice you until you were right on top of them.
As you got closer, Dina recognized them. She began walking faster to the group, louder too. She went far ahead of you. They noticed immediately.
“What the fuck was that?” You heard one of them whisper-yell. They all began looking around. There was no Ellie or Cat in sight.
You had to lightly jog to catch up with her as Dina made it out in the open.
“Dina? What the hell are you doing out here?” One of them asked, they all stood up. You recognized them, you didn’t know their names, having only seen them in passing.
“Do you guys know where Ellie is?” She asked, her voice slightly harsh.
You caught up with her, walking out in the open to meet her. The group stiffened, they kicked their beer cans to the side and one even hid her joint behind her back, you could still see the smoke, and there was no doubt most of them were faded. The smell gave that away.
“Uh yeah. She’s in the lake house with Cat,” The one who had the not-so-hidden-blunt said. You squinted at the lake house and saw that there were lights on in one of the bedrooms.
Dina glared at the house and lightly scoffed.
“Thanks. Don’t get too drunk tonight, be back before sunrise too,” Dina said dismissively, already marching her way up to the lake. The group behind you relaxed, already getting back to their teenage binge.
You kept a careful eye on Dina, jealousy bubbling underneath her. She knew that she shouldn’t feel that way with Ellie, especially considering she was off and on with Jesse.. at least right now she was. It felt wrong to be in love with her best friend, yet she also liked Jesse too. She was always jealous of Cat.. Cat wasn’t good for Ellie, anyone with a pair of eyes could see that.
“Were those your friends?” You asked her as you made your way up to the lake house, glancing behind you at the bonfire.
“Cat’s,” She replied plainly.
You remained silent for the rest of the way as you made it into the house. You remembered the last time you were here.. the party, with Mark. You had put Mark’s dog tags on, you could feel them lightly jingle each time you took a step. His necklace left a feeling of comfort in you, even though you had banished the thought of him for months, now here you were wearing his dog tags like everything was fine. Maybe it was, or was on its way to be. The only thing on your mind tonight was returning Ellie safe and sound to Jackson, not having a baby, not rebuilding your relationship with people you had neglected, not coming to terms with Mark’s death, only Ellie.
The lake house was very open, every room seemingly sprawling with dark wood accents and a winding staircase that led up to the upper floor. People mostly stayed (and partied) on the first floor, but the upstairs wasn’t completely off limits.
Dina walked swiftly up the stairs, her brow furrowed in anger. You tried your best to keep up with her.
“Ellie?” She shouted, you followed her. As you made it to the top of the steps, you heard rustling in one of the rooms.
“Just, stay there!” Cat called out, Dina didn’t listen. She found the room they were in and barged in.
Both Ellie and Cat covered themselves up quickly, you rolled your eyes and turned away. They were blushing madly and Dina glared at the two.
“Really? What the hell is wrong with you? Sneaking out, not telling me where you were going?” Dina jabbed, placing her hands on her hips.
“Ellie’s not your responsibility, you don’t have to know where she is all the time,” Cat hurled back. Ellie shot her a look.
“She’s my best friend. I think I have a right to care about her and make sure she’s safe.”
“Will you two shut up please? Stop talking about me like I’m not here,” Ellie said angrily, pulling her shirt on. You stayed outside the room, leaning against the wall.
“Come on, get your stuff. We’re going back to town,” Dina said to Ellie.
“She’s not going anywhere,” Cat challenged.
“Oh yes she is. It’s late and Ellie’s very obviously drunk.” You couldn’t see inside the room, but you were sure there was alcohol in there.
You decided to split up the fight before it got any worse. As soon as you popped up behind Dina, Ellie immediately looked at you in confusion. You weren’t who she was expecting.
“We do have to leave, Ellie. It’s late. If Joel or Maria finds out that you snuck out, they won’t be happy,” You persuaded. Ellie looked very drunk, her face was pink and she didn’t look totally in the present. Cat was the same too, but a lot more angry.
Ellie looked over at Cat, sighing before she spoke. “It is late.. I’m sorry, I have to go back, Joel gets up in a few hours.”
Cat scoffed before rolling her eyes, “Fine. Just go. I’m staying.”
Ellie retrieved her things from the room, pulling on the rest of her clothes while you walked back into the hall.
“Is Cat always like this?” You asked Dina quietly, glancing over your shoulder to the room. You could hear them arguing.
“No.. I think she’s just angry, I interrupted her and Ellie. Cat and I have never really gotten along, but it’s never been like this,” Dina shook her head.
Ellie came out of the room, shame burning in her. You all began walking towards the staircase before Ellie began. The silence was thick and awkward.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t realize how late it got.”
“You could have told me where you were going, Ellie,” Dina replied softly, both averting each other's gaze.
“I know, I’m sorry.”
You didn’t interrupt them, you were just there as the chaperone. It wasn’t your place to judge either. Ellie needed a scolding.. but you weren’t the person to give her one at that time. You would need to repair your relationship with her first before you would be in any position to tell her off.
You were relieved that Ellie was safe and just lost track of time, you hoped she wouldn’t have too bad of a hangover in the morning. Considering how she stumbled occasionally and looked not so stable on her feet, you sure that she would atleast feel something in the morning.
You were damn tired, and you had work in the morning too. You just wanted to rest.
“Ellie!” Someone shouted angrily from below you, startling all of you.
“Holy shit. Maria?” Ellie cursed, her eyes widening. You looked over the railing to the lower floor.
Maria was there, and she was not happy.
•••
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Trapped
Only twenty minutes to sleep
But you dream of some epiphany
Just one single glimpse of relief
To make some sense of what you've seen
Taylor Swift, Epiphany
[CW: Death, Body Horror, Violence, PTSD Flashbacks, Blood] ---------------------------------
Aya needed rest, but alone in this too large bed it was hard to come by.   Despite his desires, life ticked on.  Work had to be tended to, children had to be fed and cared for, sleep had to be sought, family obligations met.  It was the eternal cycle of things and he knew it keenly, felt it in his aching bones and speeding heart while drifting in the twilight of denied sleep.
Arden and C’ajnee circled his thoughts, others as well - mother, sister, father, master, failed... the others were easier to dismiss, sending them back to the reel of his life that played on in the rolling fog that was ever present.  The Grey that shrouded and held the pain of a Warrior’s lifetime in check, mists that crept closer with each setting of the sun ever since fears were given form by Oah in the Shroud.  Joy and anticipation had held them back for sometime now, but with the finding of joy came fatigue that seeped into his bones and made it harder to avoid the dark whispers left in the void’s wake.     How was it that his own shades held less bite than the ones of others?  Was it that they were better known? Or was it the natural outcome of tangling two souls together so tightly that they could never be unbound? Or were the wounds so firmly entrenched in his psyche that the ache was an old friend, to be welcomed instead of reviled?   The creeping numbness promised answers, like it always did.  But, when was the last time he actually found anything there but his life shown ad nauseum?   The realization that he couldn’t remember brought a bright flare of anger that ended up with blankets being tossed to the side with a violence that belonged on the battlefield instead of directed to a hapless pile of cloth.  Something tore in his frantic bid to escape the strangling confines of the bed that was too empty, too cold, too hot, far too much to consider lying in any longer.   A pair of pants was roughly dragged on, the neat braid of his hair wound at the nape of his neck to get it out of the way.  Or at least he planned to do such until he his hand scrabbled over the dresser in search of something that wasn’t there.  No worn silk ribbon kept close to tie his hair back, that was cast off too, like so many things that reminded him of... No, not that road tonight.   Thoughts shied away from that still healing wound while Aya took a moment to check on the children that slept in the other room.  He doesn’t linger like was his usual wont, eyes scanned over the not quite darkness to ensure that they were asleep like they should be, eyes abruptly focused on the empty crib where C’nekhii normally slept.  Empty?  It took a minute for the panic to get pushed away.  The babe was with Tolemy, that’s why the bed was empty nothing more. Satisfied that all was well, he made his way up the stairs, retrieving a seashell from the cabinet drawer and leaving it out by the door.  Gone to the beach, Terbish and Zareen would know not to panic if she woke up, know to call him on the linkpearl that felt like a too tight leash around his neck as it was considered.  Fingers twitched upwards towards a horn, but no other gesture was made to remove it.  This was the life he chose, love held him to it when little else could in this particular moment.   Escaping into the night air was a relief, Aya’s steps quickened into a flat our sprint for the short distance from his yard to the beach.  Once on the sand he pushed himself further, long strides eating up the fulms at a rapid pace until there was no more sand to cross.  Vaulting onto the rocks he kept going, not caring about the risk to his bare feet as he leapt from stone to stone with the half moon hanging above the Ruby Sea lighting his way.  
Not that there were rocks under his feet anymore.  No, it was softer under his boots as he dodged from bamboo copse to bamboo copse, stalking the defector that was his prey in the sweltering summer heat.  The hyur had caused many to die giving out information to the Empire, death would be too kind for him.  It took little time to find the man that was his target, but instead of hot gush of blood across the ground as Aya sliced his throat out, there was only the feeling of air against his fingers, no resistance of a blade across flesh as the bamboo faded into the grasslands of the Steppes.  
Confused by the change, Aya stumbled to a halt and then fell to his knees, reaching up to the pendant he always wore.  Fingers wrapped around the opalescent gem, gripping it hard enough that it strained leather thong it hung from and the sharp edges of the rough hewn stone dug into the scars on his hand, threatening to break through the flawed skin.   >”Please.”<, he whispered in xaelic, eyes scrunching shut in hopes to block what shouldn’t be from his sight.  
The images stay fixed within Aya’s mind, marched forward with the force of a memory not yet reconciled, the gathering of friends and found family under the stars by an altar deep in the woods.  The trees didn’t stay though, fading away seemingly at his quiet plea for peace.  The springy forest floor turned hard and unyielding under his boots, the expanse of sky grew until it showed the outline of the mountains that towered above the plateau was the only thing that broke the horizon of stars.  
Ghosts of a people fallen rose up from where they laid upon the ground, some the shape of xaela, others the shape of void creatures drawn from cracks in the ground that burbled up tainted earth that carried the scent of the grave.  The light of Nhaama’s tears illuminated much of the area, except an amorphous blob that pulsed and grew in the center of Aya’s view.   Giant and fishlike, then not. Alluring as only Oah could be, but then not.  Shrinking and reforming with tentacles that stretched out to grab, then not.  It was all of that in one as yols screeched their pain towards the stars, tearing rents in the sky as their broken and twisted forms took wing from where their desiccated bodies laid.  The beasts skeletons, exposed to the air, crumbled into dust that formed great wings that carried what remained away from the battle field until nothing was left of the majestic birds but their keening cries and the ash that shrouded the stars from Aya’s sight.  
The xaela and creatures of the void settled into a macabre parody of the fight that stole the light from Dunrai leaving only fear behind. The same fight that exposed the hunger within the Beast that fought by their side, a Beast Aya could do nothing about.  Instead the Uyagir could only watch helplessly as tentacles snapped out from the growing mass to engulf Tolemy from head to toe moments after Dunrai fell to a wave of darkness that turned his eyes silver and unseeing.  Paralysis gripped Aya’s body, leaving him vulnerable to the whims of his mind’s eye as his scream of anguish cut through the quiet of the beach at night.  
The Grey flowed from where it was denied, cascading outwards from the humanoid form the darkness has taken.  It coated whatever it touched in hoarfrost covering rock and fallen body alike, the crystalline structures decorating Tolemy from the tips of his toes to the ends of his pointed horns in slivered slivers that turned the man stiff and unyielding within the writhing limbs that held him.  The inky appendages flexed and strained until frozen flesh gave way in a splintering of ice, an arm and a leg tumbling to the ground before the rest of the body was flung away to slide across the rock until it thumped into Aya’s shins.  
“Never alone.”, is whispered from rime touched lips, each word gasped out as razor sharp shards that embedded themselves into Aya’s frantically beating heart, “Find your peace.  I’m sorry.. my.. sorry... Sajanavaa.”, the last words spoken in the exhale of Tolemy’s final breath, the slush of half frozen blood oozing over Aya’s feet far too slowly for the heart to be beating any longer in the miqo’te’s unmoving chest.
“No, no... you promised. You promised.”, falls not from Aya’s mute lips, instead it’s echoed from the few mangled bodies that still battled within the blanket of ash of the fallen.  Each of the malformed corpses turned to face the Uyagir, chanting the litany that babbled incoherently within the frozen xaela’s mind.  
“You -he promised.” “We failed.” “Never alone.”  “Do not regret.” “Promised, forever alone.” “Friend.” “Gone.” “I’m sorry.”  “Never alone.” “Find your peace.”  “You -he promised.” “We failed.” “Never alone.” “Do not regret.” “Promised, forever alone.” “Friend.” “Gone.” “I’m sorry.” “Never alone.” “Find your peace.”  
The words grated unceasingly within Aya’s mind, each syllable repeated faster and faster while the broken remains crumbled into dust where they stood.  It wasn’t until the last withered husk joined the Grey that swirled over the rock of the plateau that the cacophony stopped, leaving a silence so brittle and still that a whisper could fracture it into bits.
It wasn’t a whisper that brought it to an end, but the heart wrenching sobs of a man who has seen too much horror to not break with the stillness that he shattered.  The fancies conjured by a mind that has endured more than it could finally fading in the presence of unrelenting grief.  Only then could the warm wind that carried the scent of distant grasslands respond to Aya’s earlier plea, voices long lost to history doing what they could to bring the man out of his pain and back to what was real once more.  
Trembling arms wrapped around himself, Aya tucking his chin into his chest as he rocked back and forth on his knees, desperate for any comfort he could find on the rocky Hingan shore. Tears flowed freely, dark and inky as the marks on his cheeks, plopping thickly on the rocks where it gathered in a viscous puddle of shadow upon the rocks.  It wasn’t until the tears dried up, leaving exhaustion interrupted by the occasional bitter sob that the voices from the scintillating stone were clear enough for Aya to hear.   One breath at a time the man came back to himself, guided by the ones that walked the path of Seers ages past, ones that understood what it was like to be lost within what was and what was not.
Eventually his breath turned steady and the shuddering of muscle diminished into something manageable allowing him to tip hazed eyes towards the clear night sky.  The blur of stars was blinked away, a last bit of darkness trailing down from his eyes unnoticed to join what already collected upon the rocks.  It was then that Aya was able to haul himself up onto his feet, unsteady steps taking him back up the beach towards safety, towards love, towards home.  
Viscous liquid quivered then flowed downwards towards the waters of the Ruby Sea, disappearing into the rising tide but not dispersing within the salty waters.  The coalesced horror of Aya’s pain floated restlessly within the churning waters until it sensed warmth greater than the sea.  “Prey”, whispered instincts that shouldn’t exist, the blob turning flat and extending outwards like a net of shadow that captured the shark whose fate was sealed as the taint seeped through the bulging eyes and sand-papery skin.  Teeth extended, fins grew spikes, and an unnatural hunger gripped the beast.  A hunger that would drive it to fishing villages in the days to come, terrorizing any who dared step within the waters it called home.   [C’tolemy belongs to @ala-mhinyan; Zareen belongs to @yzareenxiv]
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Lust’s Last Dance | Demon AU | The Green Woman
Torture. Absolute torture without a brand or limb to sear off his body. Thus the demon of sin suffers this very cheap affliction. It must be cheap if this is what renders him utterly useless. Unable to see causes more chaos than he could ever bring to those around him. With Greed’s swift rescue it left him imbued with angel power. He still feels it coursing through his frame. Even now it could be no more than imagination but the very truth is seen. Figuratively considering!
Envy that prick! Bastard took glee in removing his eyes, marking him with his taint. There was power to it that prevented even his brother from healing him. There is something foul. Yes, he feels that in the following days. 
Sensing the oddness in the air, smelling a curious focal point of demonic energy within his father’s study, Lust moved casually. His head donned a blue scarf. Wrapped around tightly to cover his eyes or rather his empty sockets! Fuck! He oddly has an urge to itch, rub his eyelids but that would be quite grotesque. 
Still he finds it in him to sniff out this strange source of Hell. Something was opened here. What was Elijah doing? He - wanted to speak to him. Really speak to him and not allow those words prior to his leaving to bestow hatred against the man. So in his one moment of letting his veneer slip, Lust sat behind Elijah’s desk, reached for a pen and held it to paper. He huffs. Shit. Never mind doing this the human way. He cast a spell. Lifting the pen and paper in the air, it scribbled what he verbally spoke to it. 
Dear Father, 
I am an ass. A literal idiot. I do not express myself the way I should. Perhaps it has a lot to do with being used by Lucifer. Opening up is not my strong suit but that is something we have in common. I am glad you summoned me when you did. I never would have been able to reconcile with Greed, Wrath or find a family in you. It is odd to admit. While you may not enjoy the title, I have christened you father for a reason just as Connor before me. I would not have found a heavenly mother in Jesse. You brought me into your life, accepted me when you had no cause to trust me. Thank you, Elijah. Thank you my father. And no! I am not going to discuss this face to face with you. Just take the written note. Besides, you know it would be awkward for both of us.
Love your devilishly handsome son Lust Caleb
He smirked. There! Even Aiden would find this humorous.... He frowned. Aiden. His angel warrior. The one he swore his life to. The one he asked to marry him. They still have yet to announce this fully to everyone. Perhaps once things settle down but he despises the idea that Aiden calls himself responsible. How dare he even presume it! No one has given him such emotion or love. No one ever could. He is happy. Never has he been this happy as it is not meant for demons. 
Connor has it with Eli. As much as Lust still does not trust him, believes him to be exactly as Corvus himself... His brother is still happy. If only he could shake the feeling. That something is wrong there. That something is wrong here in this room. 
Lust rises up the chair. Lifting a hand, swiping it through the air, his nostrils flair. The waft of hellfire. It is here. “Father? Did you open hell?” No. He couldn’t have. Why would he-?
“Come oh sin of Lust. I must have a word.”
The demon froze. Twisting around towards the voice, he swiped claws out. Trying to feel out where they are! Right here! They were right behind him! But he touches nothing but thin air! “Who are you?! Where-!? Arghghh!” 
Caleb’s voice fades with his painful groan. A rush of heat licks at his skin, charring as it were Hell’s lava itself. He drops. Down upon his knees he falls. Upon the dirt and no longer the comfort of the Kamski household but somewhere nearby. Yes, he recognizes the smell, how the gravel feels underneath the palms of his hands where he braced. It is on the property. Here is an imprint of power. This. This is the path Corvus once walked. 
He shudders, rearing up with a hiss as footsteps move close. A pair of hands quickly cup his face, fingers sliding in a soothing caress. Eerily the calm settles over the raging demon. Lust almost purrs content. 
“There there my passionate demon. All will be well.” Her voice is honey. How charming but alarming in his ears. 
Those words echo profoundly. Who or what is this? If only he could fucking see! 
“Who are you?” he questions, alert despite her calming approach. Something feels wrong. Just as wrong as Elijah’s office. It reeks of Corvus. 
“I am someone who no longer slumbers.” Explaining only a little, she keeps her identity close just as she did opening up the window of Hell. Kamski could never know the truth of her words. What he must have to enter and face Legion. “I am Jade. A propheseer if you must.” 
Prophecies. He snorts. “You are one of Hell,” the demon hisses, tugging his head back. He rises to his feet, face to face with her and he tilts his head. Unable to see the face before him it makes this difficult. He does not recognize her voice at all. Perhaps he would not know her face. That  is troubling. If she is of Hell then-? “From whence do you come? If you say your slumber has ended?”
“I am a harbinger Oh Lust,” Jade strokes his cheek. Flicking a bit of the fabric attached to his head, she pities his loss of sight. Envy used powerful demonic energy to render it un-healing. Woeful it is. “My will is to help Elijah. I have already told him what must be done. He must face Legion.” 
Legion?! “No. He cannot face Legion!” Is she attempting to cast a trap? “What did you tell him?!” 
“It is the only way,” she seethes through teeth. “I do not come with lies and traps, Lust.” 
Does she read minds too?! “What are you?” 
“The one who rides upon scarlet beasts.” Jade places a hand upon his chest. “And has given Elijah a task to complete. Legion must be destroyed. A much simpler task than facing Corvus himself. Do you remember that time during the war? Facing Cerberus? You should have died then, Lust.” 
Lust. Lust. LUST! “My name - IS CALEB.” 
Oh the angel name. She sees. She reads it well upon him, senses his angelic power making a resurgence. That is why this offering will aide the turning of the tide and lead the to the fulfilled Armageddon. “I mentioned an offering being made to face Legion. Elijah knows this.” Her hand thrusts into the demon’s chest. Clenching fingers around his heart, he cries out in pain, grabbing onto her arm but she twists, forcing him slowly back down onto his knees. The emerald flames dance in her eyes. Mimicking those of a dragon, glory as she absorbs Lust’s essence, feeding on him. ���It is you. You are the offering. A trade.”
“G-Greed....” Caleb’s voice fades with his brother, his twin as a last effort. No bond can call him forth as this parasite sucks everything out devouring him. 
“Corvus is alive,” she reveals what she will tell no one else. Revealing it to him? Well, dead men tell no tales. 
Corvus... no. NO! 
Lust drops. Weakly clinging onto her, his limbs become lax, energy sucking away. His infernal soul rips away from his body and leaves him a dead husk on the ground. No return to Hell does he make. There is nothing left to go back. He is entirely gone. 
Jade inhales, watching the glowing angel light dance upon her fingers. The last of the angel that was left inside of the demon melts into her. She turns it into poison, licking her lips after eating his soul. “Hail Corvus.” 
mentioned: @rk800isalive @creatorofclay @soulxism @lethalxarsenal @rxseguided @repliicantceo @detroitfortune @creation-is-chaos
other muse: @ajadedflame
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\Headcanon: The Original Dragon/
I was gonna write some headcanon about Kyurem and their memories, but I’ve gotten sucked into expanding the lore of the Original Dragon from my view, and sort of setting up for the headcnon that I originally had in the first place. So here, I’m gonna start off with this headcanon, focusing on the history of the Original Dragon. Next one will be about Kyurem’s memories and how the split affected them, as well as the fusion episode in BW2.
Since the beginning of creation, The Original Dragon was created not too long after the creation of Dialga, Palkia, and Giratina. It’s first role was to work with the Creation Trio to help create the universe, with it’s domain being Energy and possibly Matter. However, after Giratina’s rebellion and banishment, The Original Dragon was tasked with assisting the maintenance of the Universe, and guiding Arceus’ new creation, life, making sure that they lived in Harmony.
Over time, the original life that Arceus formed evolved and morphed into more forms, and new species of creatures with differing strengths and abilities came to be. However, there seemed to be a large split between two groups of these new species. The first stayed true to the original life form, developing strength through powers and abilities, living in harmony with nature. The other, however, slowly lost those semblances of powers, instead exchanging them with things like ingenuity, creativity, curiosity, charisma, and tool making. These beings had the capacity to empathize with, command, and befriend the first group, which the second dubbed “magical creatures” or later, “Pokemon.” It was this second group, known now as “humans,” that The Original Dragon became fascinated with.
Eventually, the dragon chose a kingdom located in the west to inhabit, growing fond of the people (and especially the rulers) in that region. Eventually, the legendary would witness the birth of two human princes within that kingdom that he grew extremely fond of. At the Kingdom’s height, the region flourished in culture, in harmony with pokemon. Yet what The Original Dragon found interesting was the intellectual pursuits within that society, spearheaded by the two princes. Fascinated by these unique ideas, the Dragon constantly conversed with them, learning both of their differing perspective.
The older of the two was fascinated by the past and present, studying everything that seemed to catch his eye. He studied history, looking at how people behaved in the past, in the hopes of learning how to prepare better for the future. He studied the sky, observing how the sun, moon, and stars moved about in the heavens, eventually naming various collections of stars (called constellations) after different pokemon, each with various domains and attributes. With that, he tried to determine if the positions of these celestial objects had any meaning to them, in the hopes of gaining insight for the present and future. He even studied natural phenomenon such as the wind, water, gravity, electricity, and fire, and the various powers that Pokemon were able to harness.  He focused on building contraptions, tinkering with machines, observing, and even working with pokemon to help with these contraptions. With this, he hoped to learn about the world around him, believing that in searching for truth he would find the path to improve the world.
The younger of the two brothers was a lot more focused on the abstract. Not interested in the past, he was interesting the world of the new, the unexplored, whatever moved towards the direction of progress that could help others. Ideas constantly flourished in his head, and he often pondered the nature of this world. His mind lent himself to explore the nature of geometry, the relationships between different shapes, the combination of numbers to form new ones, and other aspects of mathematics, only calling on the nature of reality if it helped prove and demonstrate an idea. He was always interested in philosophy and politics, though only took the ideas of previous thinkers as a jumping off point, exploring the abstract, the what if, the hypothetical. What is the ideal ruler in society? How should that ruler rule? Should there just be one ruler?  Should the people rule themselves? Should there be any rule at all? Should people and pokemon be separate, or live in harmony? These were the questions that plagued him, hoping to forge the perfect ideal that could embody the philosophy of his kingdom.
However, the two brothers rarely saw eye to eye, often debating their drastic viewpoints. Although the Original Dragon could not truly pick a side -- seeing value in both of their perspectives -- all seemed to be at peace as long as the king resided over the throne.
Unfortunately, this could not last, as humans were just mere mortals. Eventually the king passed away, his dying wish for his two sons to rule his kindom in harmony. For a time, the two did, not wanting for their father’s dying wish to be in vain. Yet there was always an undercurrent of discord between the two new rulers, one that could not last. Their ideologies and desires clashed too often, causing strife in the land. The populace soon divided into two sides, aligning with the two brothers. It seemed that everyone was aligning to one side....
Everyone except the Original Dragon.
Plagued with indecisiveness, the dragon sought refuge in a field to the north of what is now Nimbasa, home to a single, large tree. It was for a year that the dragon slumbered, hoping in the realm of dreams that it would try in vain to find a solution. Eventually, the two princes found themselves in a stalemate; unable to reconcile their differences, they went to the Original Dragon in the hopes of settling their dispute once and for all.
When the Dragon awoke, it was confronted by both rules, both of them asking advice on this unique problem of their. Unfortunately, the Dragon still could not decide, it’s mind and heart split over the two brothers and what their beliefs represented. Distraught and panicked, the Dragon decided that the only way for this matter to be settled would be through a battle. 
Truth vs Ideals.
With a loud roar, the Dragon flew up into the sky, summoning all of it’s power into itself. To split itself in two in order to create the embodiments of their brother’s ideologies. Unfortuantely, the dragon was not able to fully split itself in two, it’s will to live and see the brothers compromise began to take over, and three entities were born. The first one was sent flying towards what is now known as Twist Mountain, it’s impact so fierce that it seemed like a spiral drill dug into the mountain. The second was sent flying towards a dormant volcano, now known as Reversal Mountain, the impact shaking the mountain to it’s core and causing a massive eruption. The third was sent into the sky, although it seemed the brothers never noticed it. It was this third one, the husk, that crashed into the earth, causing what is now known as the Giant Chasm.
Not too long after, the two dragons, Reshiram and Zekrom, returned to the two princes’ domain, waging a battle above the kingdom’s sky. Lightning faced Fire in what nearly seemed a cataclysmic event. However, the two dragons were evenly matched, as they came both from the Original, and eventually the two had to call it a stalemate, after the two princes pleaded to them to stop fighting.
The rest is, well, history. The princes could never reconcile their differences, starting their own war, this time with Reshiram and Zekrom comfortably taking sides. The war nearly destroyed the region as well, if not for the Swords of Justice intervening. 
All the meanwhile, the Husk seemed to lie in wait, it’s memory of it’s former self slowly fading away.
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kenzieam · 6 years
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Good Morning, Baby (Bucky X Lev)
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Rating: M (smut, mild language)
Genre: Fluffy sweet and smut
@captstefanbrandt @iammarylastar @kiiiimberlyriiiicker1995 @notimetoblog @captain-ariel-barnes @jaamesbbarnes @lancefvcker @bitsandbobsandstuff @softlybarnes @lovelybbarnes @buckitybarnes @bucky-plums-barnes  @moonbeambucky @badassbaker @citylights221 @empress-of-boujee  @shynara51 @diinofayce @casestudy-mw  @jewels2876 @damnaged-princess @everythingisoverrated @allmyfanficfaves @melgoodwin @clarabella960 @curvybihufflepuff  @angryschnauzer @wowspideyholland @sergeantwhitewolf @smilexcaptainx @plaidcat4815 @shirukitsune
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Bucky and Lev learn whether they're having a boy or a girl......
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I wake up slowly, warm and comfortable and content.  
Since reconciling with Bucky almost five months ago and moving home, each day has been more of the same, pure peace and happiness.  
A familiar weight rests on my lower abdomen, which just a few days ago began to protrude and hint of the baby growing inside.  
I raise my head and can't help but smile sleepily. Every morning I wake to this, and I don't think I will ever tire of it. 
Bucky lays curled on his side against me, his lips touching my bare shoulder as I lay on my back. He's still asleep, face relaxed, long lashes dusting his cheeks. His breath is warm on my skin, each exhale gentle. His hand rests on my belly, protective and cherishing, covering the new bump. He's drawn to it like a moth to flame, it seems whenever I'm near him lately he is compelled to touch it, wrap his arms around me from behind and press gentle kisses to my throat as his large, powerful hands tenderly cradle my belly.
Not even Clint, who confessed to me one night when we were still in middle school that Nat was the only one for him and that he couldn't wait to start a family with her was this excited for his child. Of course, at the time Nat was pregnant I was still hiding in Seattle, and missed seeing Clint's reaction to a growing bump but I highly doubt anyone could match Bucky's innocent bliss.  
He shifts next to me, sighing sharply, starting to wake and his hand traces a slow circle on my belly before stopping, the thumb stroking back and forth.  
"Good morning," I murmur quietly, reaching down to curl my fingers into his hair, seeking the baby-soft strands at the nape of his neck. Bucky arches against me with a feline purr and his hand moves to grip my hip, pulling me closer to him as he sighs again before raising his head, fixing me with a sleepy smile.  
"Good morning, baby," he husks, voice sleep-scratchy and unbelievably sexy. He presses a lingering kiss to my belly, closing his eyes. "Good morning, peanut."
The technician at our first ultrasound pointed at the amorphous blob on the screen and gifted it with the moniker 'Peanut' and it's stuck ever since; Bucky even joking that 'Peanut Barnes' has a certain ring to it when it comes time to fill out the birth certificate and I'm still not sure if he's serious.  
"Sleep well?" He asks, turning his unbelievable blue eyes back to me, eyes I can only hope our little one inherits.  
"Mmmm-hmmm,” I snuggle back into my pillow and Bucky scoots higher, burrowing into my hair. His lips touch the sensitive skin behind my ear and he chuckles lowly when I shiver in response.  
“Good,” he sighs. “I love you, Levi.”
This might seem a little over the top to the casual observer, this sticky sweet sappiness, but it’s not. For five years Bucky and I, who’d previously rarely ever spent a day apart, were separated, both by emotions and geography, only brought together by my dying mother’s final actions; gifting me her house and asking me to move home again.  
I’d first run to Seattle to escape. What had started as a knock-down, drag-out fight with Bucky had turned into a break-up, then a break-down when, a week later, I’d found him drunk at a party, wedged between the thighs of another girl. I’d been a whirlwind of frenetic action that following week, transferring to Washington State and flying across the damn country, completely shutting out Bucky and any attempts to hear him out, to try and work out what had gone wrong.  
I’d wasted those five years.  
Sure, I’d poured my complete, almost maniacal attention into school, taking extra and summer courses and finishing my four-year degree in just over two and a half years, and getting head-hunted to the most prestigious firm in the city, but I’d been miserable, lacking my other half.    
Bucky and I had first connected in kindergarten, where the little boy who’d just moved in across the street that I hadn’t been allowed to go over and introduce myself to yet, (his parents are too busy unpacking, give them space Mom ordered) turned out to be a sweet little blue-eyed angel who offered me his blanket at nap-time. I’d suggested we share and we’d been joined at the hip ever since; the best of friends for years before either of us acted on our burgeoning feelings, sharing our first kiss while playing hooky in grade eight.  
Broken by Bucky’s betrayal, not considering his own pain until years later, when I learned the horrors I’d left him with when I’d ran away, I’d lingering on the west coast, forgoing family in favour of nurturing my pain, missing the birth of my niece, the party to celebrate the first big contract my friend Steve and Bucky had landed with their new construction company, the get-togethers and birthdays and daily intimacy that had been such a large part of my childhood.  
Forever marked by this, Bucky and I clung to each other, knowing how painful it was to be apart, not willing to ever go through that again, and, although we still fought; I was too stubborn for my own good, and Bucky was stubborn enough in return to not back down, we had resolved to never go to bed angry, never fall asleep without a kiss, never wake up without telling the other you loved them.  
I turn my head and press my lips to the tender skin on Bucky’s temple, inhale his intoxicating scent. “I love you, too.”
He nuzzles closer and his hand begins to gently rub circles on my belly again. After a moment he raises his head and rests his chin on my shoulder, nibbling gently along my jaw-line, grinning when I shiver.
“What time is the ultrasound?” He murmurs.
“Eleven, can you still make it?”
“Wouldn’t miss it for anything.”  
“You don’t need to stay at the site?”
“Nah, Steve’s got it today, I just need to stop by this morning for an hour or so.” He pauses, looking pensive. “Do you think we’ll be able to find out today?”
“Boy or girl? You want to know? No surprise?”
Bucky shakes his head. “I can’t wait, I’ve wanted this since the tenth grade.”
“Wanted what?” I tease, knowing full well what he means.  
“You and me, having a baby. Watching you grow, knowing it’s my child, our child inside you.” He drops his head into the crook of my neck and I feel him shudder faintly. “With..... her, there was no excitement, just my..... duty, my responsibility, knowing every single second that it wasn’t you.”
I don’t want to fall back down that rabbit hole today, and in fact I’d be happy if Bucky was able to completely let go of it, he’d suffered enough, for what I now knew was a drunken mistake, a cruel trick on her part to toy with her ex, not caring about how it would affect the man she chose as her victim. What should have been the joyous day of his son’s birth was instead forever tainted by the realization that he wasn’t the father, that he’d wasted and wanted so much.... for nothing.  
“Don’t,” I murmur softly, stroking the back of his head. “Don’t let any of that ruin today. It’s the past. It deserves to be forgotten.” I don’t say anything more, don’t voice the thoughts that claw as insidiously at my mind as they do Bucky’s; that we could have had so much, made up and started our life together forever, five years ago, without Alicia Howard’s involvement.  
How many children would we have by now? What year anniversary would we be celebrating? Would Bucky be stroking my new bump for the third, the fourth time? Bid his third or fourth little Peanut a good morning as our other children woke and ran giggling into the bedroom?  
He moves closer, murmuring my name, his voice a plea to assuage his freshened pain. His lips touch mine, and his anguished moan tears at my heart. An almost-whimper claws from his throat when I cup the back of his neck and return the kiss, pressing back and caressing his bottom lip with my tongue; he meets my advance, tongue tangling with mine as he gently rolls to lay partially on top of me. Pulling back he strokes my hair back from my forehead with soft fingers and gazes down at me with a look I’ll never tire of; unconditional love, endless devotion before dropping his head again, capturing my mouth with new fever.  
His touch is urgent as he nudges underneath my camisole, his skin hot as it brushes mine, sending shivers through me and his thumb strokes the soft skin on the underside of my breast as he cups it in his large, calloused palm.  
“Bucky-” I moan as he begins to nibble and mouth at my throat, pushing this thick thigh between mine and grinding his rapidly-hardening bulge against me. He groans at the friction, hips stuttering for a beat. His other hand drops down, tugging at my underwear and the hungry noise he makes when his fingertips glide through my folds nearly undoes me.  
Within moments he’s yanked away his boxer briefs and my underwear and is pushing inside me, groaning long and low in his chest, a shudder running through his entire body.
“Fuck... baby,” he already sounds wrecked, his voice shaking.  
I hook my leg around his hip to pull him deeper, relishing the delicious stretch, the unbelievable feeling of fullness, the whimper it draws from my man. His spine arches sharply, thrusting deep, bottoming out inside me and he captures my mouth as I cry out, swallowing my moans and rumbling in answer, his lips growing more demanding as his hips snap harder against me.
He’s starting to shake; raw sounds growling low in his chest and I know he’s close, and so am I, there’s something so profoundly visceral and erotic about this, feeling him so deep, knowing it’s me bringing him such blissful release and I’m already arching against him, crying out his name as I climax when his hand reaches between us, rubbing where our bodies join, and his touch throws me into a second, simultaneous orgasm as he joins me, groaning in release, body shuddering against mine.  
He almost sobs my name, burrowing his face into my throat, his body continuing to tremble and jolt with aftershocks as he pulses and throbs inside me before he collapses, panting. As he rolls off of me, withdrawing from my body I moan at the loss, want him hard and driving inside me again but the sound of his cell phone interrupts us.
He’s too wrecked to answer, but as the ringing ends he reaches for it and taps the screen.
“Steve.” He murmurs, then sets it aside, rolling onto his side to face me.  His hand is gentle as he strokes my cheek.
“I have to go,” he sounds resigned.  
“It’s okay.”
He leans forward and kisses my nose teasingly, grinning widely as I giggle before growing serious again, pressing his lips to mine in a mind-blowing kiss, a tangible reminder of how deeply he loves me.  
He pulls away with a sigh, rests his forehead to mine for a moment. “I’ll be back by ten, then I’ll shower and we’ll go.”
“And find out.” I grin back. I was ambivalent before, but Bucky’s enthusiasm has converted me, and I want to know the sex now too.  
“And find out.” He repeats, eyes blazing with innocent excitement; his smile a thousand-watt’s bright.
Then he’s rolling out of bed with a sigh, gifting me with a view of his incredible ass as he disappears into the bathroom. I’ve almost drowsed back to sleep when his gentle kiss wakes me again, his lips a whisper against my forehead.  
“Bye, babe.”
*****************************************************************************************************************************************************
“This gel might be a little cold,” the technician warns, squirting some of the hateful stuff onto my exposed belly.  
Bucky sits anxiously beside me, his hand holding mine, knee bouncing. I squeeze his hand reassuringly and he squeezes back, smiling.  
“You’d like to know the sex?” She asks.
Bucky nods, clearing his throat nervously. “Yeah.”
She smiles in return. A picture appears on the monitor and the technician begins to explain, pointing out different areas that honestly all look the same to me and, judging by Bucky’s frown, him too.  
“Everything is looking good so far,” the tech mutters, eyes still on the screen, fingers flying over the keyboard. She frowns. “Measurements are running quite small though-”
“Is that a problem? Is there something wrong?” Bucky’s deep voice holds a hint of fear.  
“Just let me...... Ooohhhh.” The technician turns to us with a bright smile and, seeing our confusion at not being able to interpret the same greyish blurs, gestures to the screen.  
“Congratulations.” Her finger traces along one curve and what I belatedly realize is a spine, the moves the wand along my belly and points to another. “You’re having twins.”
Bucky gasps beside me, a breathless exhale as his fingers tighten on mine and, for a long moment, I’m speechless. It was always a possibility, in the back of my mind, conceiving twins when I myself am a twin, but I’d been too excited to just be pregnant with Bucky’s baby to think much beyond that.  
And now there were two.
“They’re measuring small for a single baby, but perfectly on schedule for twins.” The technician continues.
“How... how did that not show before?” Bucky stutters, voicing my thoughts.  
“You’ve only had the first dating ultrasound?” She glances at my file. “At approximately four weeks? That’s why. It’s very difficult to detect twins before the thirteen to fourteen week mark. But I can certainly try and determine the sexes if you still want?”
Bucky glances at me, looking shell-shocked, but as I grin at him the beginnings of a wide smile form on his face and he nods at the tech.
“Okay,” she’s quiet for a moment. “Twin A is being a little shy, so I’ll try B.... and they’re not bashful!... B is a little girl.” She jolts slightly in surprised at Bucky’s joyous whoop and resumes her search as Bucky crushes his lips to mine in an exuberant kiss, laughing against my mouth, tears of happiness beginning to streak down his cheeks. Seeing his reaction only sweetens my own bliss and I’m crying too, reaching up to cup his cheek.  
The tech pauses, clears her throat to get our attention when we get stuck just gazing at each other. She smiles warmly and continues. “Twin A is co-operating now, and I can say with confidence that it’s a boy. So one of each.”
Bucky’s smile can’t get any wider and for a long moment, he just rests his forehead to mine and we cry. Dimly I register the technician wiping my belly clean then leaving to give us some privacy.
“Baby,” his voice is breaking even as he’s smiling. “Twins... I can’t... Thank you.”
It should be me thanking him, “Bucky, I-”
“Thank you,” he repeats fiercely, his tears wetting my skin. “For giving me another chance. I don’t deserve this, I don’t deserve you-”
“Yes, you do.” I murmur back. “We deserve this.” I pull Bucky down even closer to me and his arms tighten almost painfully; despite my words, he’s still trembling. After a long beat he seems to relax, accepting my words and when he lifts his head again, there’s nothing but pure joy and excitement radiating from his incredible blue eyes, eyes I hope both of our children inherit.  
His smile lights up my entire life.
*****************************************************************************************************************************************************
“So, you had the ultrasound today?” Steve asks, leaning back in an Adirondack chair, his girlfriend, Mia, in his lap, who, despite the newness of the relationship, just fits, with Steve and with all of us, and I know she’s the one.  
We’re seated in a similar way, Bucky leaning back in the chair and me between his legs, my back to his chest, legs draped over his massive thighs. His hand lazily but protectively cups my belly while the other holds a bottle of beer. I sip at a flavoured water and lean back into his strength, my head nuzzled into his throat, letting him have the moment.  
Clint, hearing the conversation, wanders over, a half-asleep Lou draped over his forearm. Sam is helping their daughter Zoë cut up her hamburger while Wanda stands with Nat, grinning down at her four month old son, Evan, held securely in Nat’s arms, but they both look over with interest when they hear Steve’s question.
Clint is throwing another barbecue in his backyard, but it’s private this time, family only. All the men clutch beer bottles in their hands, as do Mia and Wanda, but I sip at flavoured water and catch Nat doing the same; she and Clint haven’t said anything yet, but it looks like there’s another little Barton on the way.  
“Yeah,” Bucky replies easily, seemingly comfortable with everyone’s attention on him. I curl my fingers into the soft fabric of his t-shirt, against his rock-hard abs and grin covertly when he shivers, head-butting me softly in gentle reproof.  
“And?” Steve grins, taking another gulp of beer. “Boy or girl? You were going to find out right?”
“Should we tell them?” Bucky teases, asking me mock-seriously, as if we hadn’t already decided to.  
I pretend to think about it, chewing my bottom lip and hear Clint groan in frustration.  
“Which one?” He demands, unable to hold back a grin. “Do I have a niece or a nephew to spoil?”
I nod at Bucky and he presses a quick peck to my lips before turning his head again to answer. “A girl.”
The family explodes, startling Lou who begins to whimper, quieting quickly again however as Clint tucks her against his chest. He strides towards us, slamming Bucky’s fist and ruffling my hair with a laugh.
“Looks like you’re flying solo for a bit longer, Evan.” Wanda grins, chucking her babbling son under the chin.
“AND.....” I declare, drawing out the word and waiting for everyone to quiet back down. I feel Bucky tighten his arm around me in anticipation, hear his quiet chuckle.  
The family falls silent, eyeing me curiously, wondering if I’m about to announce something patently ridiculous, like I’ve been permanently altered by my time in Seattle and we’re going to name our daughter something unforgivably hipster, like Aspen, or Fountain, perhaps Nightingale.  
Everyone’s breath is being held and even Lou, now awake, peeks out from under her daddy’s chin to look at me.
I grin one last time at Bucky and he beams back, resting his cheek to mine as I crow triumphantly.
“AND.... a boy!”
There’s a half-second of stunned silence, but Steve’s deep voice breaks it. “You mean... twins?”
At Bucky’s nod, face nearly splitting with his proud papa grin, the family explodes again.
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Crossed Wires (Part 2/3)
(A/N:Hey, guys! This chapter took forever and a day for me to complete because the story I had planned out in my head just kept weaving and changing direction on me. My own characters are filthy traitors who don’t listen to me, but that’s okay because it means I’m doing something right.
Anyway, I wanted to thank everyone who left me such lovely comments on the first chapter - here’s a link in case you missed it! - and encouraged me to continue on with this story. Just one more part left, guys! With a hopefully shorter wait period in between next time lmao
If you enjoy it, please like, reblog, and comment! Hearing from you guys is always such a pleasure! Thank you so much for reading!
-Love, Katherine <3)
Summary: Charlie needs a vacation, or maybe at least one well-adjusted role model.
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For most kids like Charlie Bucket, people like Willy Wonka only come around once in a lifetime. Sometimes passing like a ship in the night, then disappearing for good. Sometimes crashing a jet-propelled elevator through the roof of your home, insulting your family, dragging you along with them to reconcile with their estranged father, then moving you and said family into their massive factory to live forever.
Most likely not the second one, though. Metaphor is not Charlie’s strong suit.
Regardless, it’s his uncanny luck that brings yet another ship to port in his once simple life. That ship contains one Dr. Margot Elizabeth Weber, his austere yet kindly teacher.
Where Wonka and Charlie excel in the theoretical and abstract, she often flounders, much more comfortable in the physical and concrete. After all, concrete is solid and unyielding, unbending once it has formed a pattern.
That is, until Charlie spotted the first break.
He was waiting by the door of his family’s little house in the Chocolate Room at eight fifty-nine that morning. Dr. Weber arrived at nine o'clock—not a minute earlier or later—and crisply knocked on the door three times. He opened it for her, and that was when he noticed the inconsistency. A tiny distortion, as though he were seeing the same pattern through the rippling water of the Everlasting Gobstopper pool.
She was dressed casually, something that he had never seen before. Her normally immaculate hair was pulled haphazardly into a messy ponytail and dark, heavy circles adorned her eyes.
“Dr. Weber?” he blurted out, voice laced with concern. More tactfully, he added, “Er, good morning!”
The young woman blinked slowly at him, eyelids clearly fighting to remain open. “Charlie, this is the four hundred seventy-eighth day that I have worked here. You should no longer be surprised to find me at your door.”
“…Right, sorry. How are you?” Unwilling to correct her on the source of his shock, he gathered up his supplies and joined her outside—in the Chocolate Room, that is. The emerald fields of swudge and the warmth from the heat lamps meant to mimic sunlight often make it easy to forget that they are, in fact, still indoors.
Dr. Weber seemingly pondered his question as they started for their usual spot—a secluded knoll near the base of the chocolate waterfall. “I am very well,” she finally said, spectacularly unconvincing.
From then on, the morning proceeded as usual. Dr. Weber’s zeal for mathematical equilibrium overshadowed her apparent exhaustion and moodiness. And Charlie became too preoccupied with remembering the steps of the quadratic formula to worry over her.
That had been a little over a week ago.
Charlie knows he is perceptive, has known it all his life. No matter how his parents and late grandparents tried to shield him from the full extent of their poverty before meeting Wonka, he was always acutely aware of their hardships. That is why he began shining shoes in his spare time, when his family likely thought he had been off playing with friends. Because he has always been able to tell these things.
Dr. Weber likely thinks that she does an adequate job of hiding how much she fancies Wonka. Luckily for her, Wonka is twice as ignorant as she is obvious. Nearly constantly, Charlie staves off his own secondhand embarrassment as Dr. Weber runs herself ragged tending to Wonka’s every beck and call, stands far closer than necessary, and openly stares at the chocolatier whenever his back is turned. Meanwhile, Wonka carries on with his day, blissfully unaware.
Yet, ever since that day Charlie saw the first crack, Dr. Weber’s pattern has been completely broken. She appears in the same room with him only when it is mandatory. When that happens, she keeps several yards between them and refuses to spare him a glance.
It doesn’t take Charlie long to put the puzzle pieces together.
“What did Mr. Wonka do to you?” he asks her point-blank one day after cornering her in the Coffee Cream Room.
She looks taken aback, having been absorbed in grading assignments and guzzling coffee (her third cup, if the two empty ones next to her are anything to go by). She peers up at him over the frames of her glasses. “Hm?”
“You’ve been awfully cross with him for a few days now,” he clarifies, moving to sit across from her cautiously. Appealing to Dr. Weber’s pathos is tricky business. He needs to apply just the right amount of pressure for her to feel comfortable speaking freely—too much or too little, and his window slams shut.
Dr. Weber focuses back on her work. Wearing a thin veil of nonchalance, she asserts, “I am not sure what you are referring to. I have no complaints against him whatsoever.”
“Then why have you been avoiding him recently?”
His teacher sighs in exasperation, and something in her eyes hardens. “Let him know that he needn’t worry. My productivity has not been affected.”
Charlie winces. He wonders what Wonka could have possibly said or done that would elicit such a strong reaction from someone as composed as Dr. Weber. “Oh, no, nothing like that!” He backpedals, thinking that he may be overplaying his hand here. “In fact, he only ever has good things to say about you! I was just…worried. That’s all.”
To his surprise, she sets down her pen. “I appreciate your concern, but I was sincere when I said I have no complaints.” She frowns, lips pursed with guilt. “You see, when I presented Mr. Wonka with blueprints for his new mixer last week, he made a comment.”
“He didn’t like it?” Charlie asks incredulously.
“No, it’s not that—he loved it. It’s what he said to me after that.” She seemingly braces herself before reciting, “’Eliza, you are as reliable and efficient as a machine’.”
The word “machine” drips with venom from her lips. If it weren’t for her clear contempt for the word, Charlie might be at a loss for the source of her rancor.
Grand and impressive as machines can be, especially here in the factory, they are nothing more than a means to an end. An empty husk for man to impart his will upon. An object to be discarded once they have fulfilled their purpose. Cold and unfeeling.
The way Dr. Weber must now believe Wonka views her.
Charlie can sympathize with her plight. Those couple weeks after he first met Wonka, after his family had been harshly refused access to the factory, he had felt utterly betrayed. The sparkling image of his childhood hero, tarnished in the blink of an eye. Of course, bygones are bygones, and the two of them now have a much more organic relationship. Charlie would go so far as to say Wonka is like a second father to him (as much as the least paternal person on earth can be, that is).
Charlie knows good and well that his mentor is no smooth talker. There is no doubt in his mind that the chocolatier is capable of insulting Dr. Weber, whether intentional or not.
Dr. Weber’s voice breaks him out of his reverie. “In any case,” she says evenly, “I have come to realize that I overreacted.”
“What do you mean?” Charlie tilts his head curiously.
“I am an employee here,” she explains. “I complete tasks…I perform functions…and I leave.” Straightening the papers in front of her, she gathers them into her tote bag. “But I became conceited. Clearly, I assigned myself undue importance—a mistake I shall not be repeating.”
Charlie gapes at her from across the table, disheartened by the sincerity in her words. “That…that’s not true! You are important here, Dr. Weber!” he insists. “And I know Mr. Wonka thinks so, too. Why don’t you see for yourself?”
That earns him a skeptical look. “What are you suggesting? That I broach the subject with him myself?”
“Yes, exactly!”
“Neither I or Mr. Wonka have time to spare over such nonsense.”
“You mean, your thoughts and feelings,” Charlie surmises.
“Yes, as I said, nonsense.” Slinging her bag over her shoulder and pounding back the rest of her coffee, she stands.
Charlie nods wryly, resisting the urge to roll his eyes at her. Looking at Wonka and Dr. Weber on any given day is like looking at his own parents through a carnival funhouse mirror, but this is plain ridiculous. “You can’t just let him walk all over you, Dr. Weber. He will, but only if you let him.” He stands as well, only half as gracefully, as his adolescent body continues to adjust to suddenly being nearly six feet tall. “If you’re uncomfortable, I’ll say something for you.”
Dr. Weber spins on her heel to face him, features hardened. “Charlie.” She says his name gently, yet firmly, the way his mother used to when he misbehaved as a little boy. “Again, I appreciate your concern for me, but that is hardly necessary. As your teacher, it would be unseemly to involve you in my personal matters in such a way.” She starts for the exit, discarding her empty cups on the way. “As it stands, I’ve already said too much.”
Charlie trails her into the hallway. Time for one last Hail Mary. “Technically speaking, we’re not in a lesson right now,” he rationalizes aloud. “And I don’t work for Mr. Wonka—well, not like you do, at least. So your record of conduct would be perfectly safe.” In fact, Wonka doesn’t even keep records of conduct. He doesn’t generally do much hiring and firing.
Dr. Weber looks him over warily, carefully considering. Charlie squirms nervously as he feels himself being dissected under a microscope. Finally, she tells him, “You make an excellent sales pitch…but I’m not worth the fuss. I’ll be taking my leave now; I have business at the university.” Without leaving room for further debate, she turns and strides down the hall, noticeably hastier than usual.
Releasing a breath he hadn’t realized he had been holding, Charlie lopes back inside. He needs a shot of espresso, stat. And he would rather not look too deeply into that compulsive need to help every simultaneously ingenious and emotionally stunted adult he comes across just yet.
Maybe Dr. Weber is right that he shouldn’t worry so much. After all, things have a mysterious way of ultimately working out around here.
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alright, this took forever because i kept getting sidetracked, but here it is. the universe ive slowly been building up. it took so long to write. its so ridiculously lengthy. i almost want to apologize to you if you read it oh my god 
the main story in this universe is project four, in which four people meet Death and tag along on its quest to convince a space wyrm not to eat the world. the death figure, kymoyef, evades capture for nearly 1000 years following the event that takes place in the four cities, observing people and steadily learning about the world as it stores energy for the big confrontation. as an energy being in the form of an object, kymoyef struggles with applying the concept of personhood to itself, but the four people who insert themselves into its business help it understand who it wants to be
kymoyef’s companions love to ask questions and tell stories, one of which is an old folk tale about morality that they know as the four cities. in it, a godlike character asks kymoyef to visit four corrupt cities and raze them to the ground should their corruption be confirmed, so that the seeds of new civilization can be sown in their place. kymoyef goes to the first three places and, finding vanity, enmity, and apathy, destroys them without question. but upon reaching the fourth city and encountering suffering and hopelessness, kymoyef begins to question whether any of these people truly deserved erasure. it refuses to complete its task and instead goes into hiding to plot against the godlike character. kymoyef reveals that this tale is (generally) true 
then i began fussing over details and ended up developing a plot within Sorrowstone, the city of suffering and hopelessness, where i show up close just how depressing it is through the perspective of a newcomer named rin. he joins the camp (which has no name historically since no one remembers it really existed) to escape his past and soon realizes that his stay would be permanent. the endless labor, the bleak and isolated environment, the meager food and supplies, the rampant depression of every other person in the camp - all of this combined prevented anyone from being of sound mind enough to leave. rin sees one death and promptly decides he has a duty to write down everything he observed, whether anyone would ever see it or not. that is the sorrowstone account 
ok. back to the top. one of the four protagonists, caforleh, absolutely loves hearing stories and using them as inspiration for his own grand tales. i really wanted to feel justified in brainstorming for a completely separate project that had nothing to do with project four, so i clapped my hands together and declared that caforleh occasionally works on a piece of fiction that is my project inheritance, in which generation after generation of a particular lineage of siblings are all cursed to the same fate. in their lives, only and always two children will be born, quite often twins, and one will die by the actions of the other at some point. the most recent siblings are separated at a very young age after the murder of their mother, but years later one dies all too suddenly and the adults involved are sent into a panic trying to hide it from the other sibling. magic shit happens and basically you have the dead ones consciousness in the body of their sibling, not realizing theyre dead yet technically alive again, and the living ones consciousness is bound to a piece of paper in a wizard’s pocket. and everyone’s trying to run away from a cult faction that wants their leader back, but surprise, the living sibling was their leader. its a convoluted mess 
in the background of this mess i found a nice little home for the magic pendant, a story that is literally just my 11th grade spanish project. a guy has a cool magic pendant. some magic dude steals it. the guy and his friend get a magic knife from a magic squirrel and kick magic dudes ass. so magical. i took that and pumped in extra details that made me happy, and now its officially enough of a story to be included 
once more to the top. within the world of project four, one of the regions is plagued by a deep rift that scarred the land when scientist daiah’s experiment went horribly wrong. it swallowed several cities and poisoned the people and land around it. the survivors call that area daiah’s shame and send excommunicated criminals there to die as punishment. what they have yet to discover is that the rift is truthfully a tear upon their plane of existence, acting as an opening into an adjacent plane where pure energy resides. the land and people lost in the experiment fell into this other plane perfectly intact, but being that the two planes were never meant to interact in this way, were shortly infected with unknowable ailments. people slowly lost their sanity, their agency, anything that made them who they were. they either became husks or sought violence to distract themselves from their own pain. and the only freedom was to be killed, for time affected nothing in this plane. no one could grow old. the sky never moved. plants absorbed strange air and gnarled into bloated bastardizations 
this is the reality that the protagonists of project dark souls ripoff fell into. wayrain had been traveling with a known criminal through daiah’s shame in the hopes of reaching a region beyond it, and his friend cadmor was secretly a member of law enforcement tasked with making sure the criminal died there. when this was revealed, the three fought and all of them stumbled into the rift to be spat out in the desolate climate of the lost region. i was heavily inspired by dark souls in creating all of this, so honestly just imagine the opening scene of whichever dark souls game and you’ve got the idea of it. wayrain and cadmor have to navigate this sickly area that theyve hardly even heard stories of while also dealing with dangerous people, feeling betrayed by one another, and creeping afflictions. much like rin and caforleh, wayrain takes to learning as much as he possibly can about the surroundings and compiling it all into journals. he travels ceaselessly and does his best to uncover every last mystery, from lost libraries to unmarked graves. cadmor battles his imitation morality as he eases into another role of leadership. the two will clash several times but ultimately reconcile before kymoyef shows up to assess the condition of the rift 
and project fire girl is kinda out of place because it feels entirely standalone, but its actually the origin of most of this stuff, so im hoping i can find a way to squeeze it in somehow. its about a person who wakes up in a fire with no knowledge of how she got there and wanders around aimlessly dealing with the destructive repercussions of her mysterious fire powers, which she can barely control. i know. its sort of like frozen but with fire. but hey spoiler alert: she’s actually a wizard scientist (you can tell i really like my wizards and scientists) that, alongside her cousin, did awful experiments on people in the name of magic science, imbuing them with different forms of magic just to see what happens. and she gave herself fire powers because why the hell not. but the internal flame was so painful that the trauma of it elicited amnesia. she regains these memories in time by meeting the people plagued by the consequences of her actions. not knowing shes the one that did this to them, they work together with her and carry out a plan to expose the other wizard scientist. in the final confrontation, she admits that she regrets what shes done even if the academic community learned a lot from it, and allows herself to be imprisoned 
yeah. like i said, project fire girl was the first narrative in this universe, which came from a dream where she was taken in by an old couple and their adopted daughter and awoke in a bed of bright petals, only to realize that she accidentally set the house on fire in her sleep, killing the whole family. the imagery was so vivid that it stuck with me. project four originated from one of my old minecraft worlds that i unfortunately deleted by mistake and then tried to rebuild. but i couldnt remember what the old build was called so i called it arenos, and that became the first region. once i decided that fire girl was gonna be set in some mountains and that those mountains bordered arenos, i was officially on my way to creating what is now this world. and then more detail happened and kymoyef happened and the concept of the four cities being parallels to the four regions in the world sounded neat but i got carried away and wanted to try to recreate the four cities in minecraft, and only did sorrowstone, so i started to think of what depressing shit went on in that place and wrote a little bit about it 
the dark souls ripoff is, of course, a blatant ripoff of dark souls, but its also a combination of A) another neat dream i had that was just two people traveling on horseback through cold morning fog and being ambushed - one was killed and the other crawled to a nearby basement and hid for an eternity, until the landscape had entirely changed hundreds of years later - and B) a totally separate dream where two people were traveling on horseback through cold evening fog, trying to reach some uncertain destination after having to leave their entire lives behind because they were magic. i was like “i’ve just added two more regions to my world. what if this region has a big rift in it - oh, what if this person hid through the rift incident that sent them to an alternate plane - no wait, what if these other characters were traveling through the rift area and fell in?” 
project inheritance was first called dark souls ripoff 2 because it deals with souls being portable and consumable and the two siblings have to deal with increasing insatiability for souls to keep themselves alive after having their consciousnesses ripped from their bodies. but this story was originally gonna be a text adventure game with like seven hundred endings (im exaggerating a little) testing your ability to forgive and manage your bloodlust. i know. its like a bootleg undertale. i cant have an original thought even if that thought happened two years before the popular thing happened 
thats about it i guess. thats the beginners guide to my utterly incomplete creative endeavors. i have some other ideas that would be neat to pursue but they dont belong in this particular universe as of right now. i might find a way to make them fit. i might not
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Addiction (14/?)
Hey guys, here’s the next chapter of Addiction! Thanks for all of the comments, reblogs and support etc. Major drama and angst ahead, as is always the case! Hope you guys enjoy. Oh and M rated for sexual scenes. Very M rated. “Aaah.” Maki did her best not to smile as Eli opened her mouth, her eyes closed. “You’re such a child sometimes.” She said playfully, nevertheless popping the piece of chocolate she’d been about to eat into Eli’s mouth. Eli smiled blissfully as she chewed without lifting her head from Maki’s lap. “I like chocolate.” She opened her eyes, squinting slightly against the sun’s rays. Apparently noticing, Maki moved her head into the way, creating a halo of light around herself.  “You look really pretty with the sun around you.” “You’re really pretty.” Maki countered softly, brushing her fingers against Eli’s cheek. She paused as Eli turned her head, kissing her palm. When blue eyes focused on her own, her lips twitched into a gentle smile. “Hey…” “Hey.” Eli whispered back. She leaned up briefly to press a sweet kiss to Maki’s lips before she lay back down. 
“Aren’t you uncomfortable?” Maki asked in concern. Eli had been lying on the floor like that for at least fifteen minutes already. Her neck had to be aching. 
“Nope.” Eli answered brightly. “I really like looking at you. So I’m staying where I am.” Maki chuckled under her breath and shook her head. “Fine.” She leaned her head back against the railing behind her and mindlessly ran her fingers through Eli’s hair, softly humming as she did so. Eli listened intently to Maki’s humming, realizing that she didn’t recognize what she was humming but it was nice. At least until she was cut off by the sound of the door to the roof being thrown open. “Oh. I...didn’t know anyone else was up here.” The sound of Nozomi’s voice had Eli sitting up quickly, looking in the direction of the door. “Nozomi…” Maki shrunk back, pressing herself further against the railing behind her. She was uncertain when she was talking to Nozomi alone but with Eli there it was almost impossible for her to think of what to say. “Eli, I-I need to go.” “It’s okay.” Eli whispered, getting to her feet. Her hand went briefly to the top of Maki’s head before she stepped forward. “If you want to stay up here we...we can leave if you want us to.” “No. No, it’s fine.” Nozomi averted her eyes, the familiar ache in her chest returning. “I just wanted to get away from all of the gossip. The roof is big enough for all three of us so I-I’ll just go over there.” “You don’t have to.” Eli said hopefully. “But I’d understand if you don’t want to speak to me right now. I just mean…” She sighed as Nozomi moved away a bit. She glanced back at Maki who slowly got to her feet, obviously preparing to leave. “Hey, it’s okay. Just calm down.” She reached out to Maki, pulling her to her side. “You don’t have to go anywhere.” “This isn’t a good idea.” Maki said anxiously. “What if Ni-” “She’s not here.” Eli interrupted hurriedly. “It’s just Nozomi. Nico isn’t here.” “She might be soon though! And she punched you so…” Maki trailed off helplessly, pressing her forehead to Eli’s shoulder. She’d been so comfortable a few moments ago and now she just felt like she wanted to run away. She took a deep breath, trying to calm herself before she pulled away. Nozomi glanced toward them, having been able to hear the conversation after walking away. She sighed to herself and rubbed the back of her neck. She’d come to the roof so she could think and not have to listen to the petty gossip about her, Eli, Maki and Nico but now she had to watch her ex with someone else. She pressed her forehead to the railings and inhaled deeply before she turned around and walked right up to the two of them. Maki let out a surprised sound of alarm and shrunk back slightly. Nozomi’s gaze lingered on Maki for a moment before she turned to Eli. Familiar blue eyes were staring at her curiously and Nozomi felt her heart clench in her chest at the realization that it had been weeks since they’d even looked at each other. “Your nose…” She reached out, her hand pausing near Eli’s face. When the blonde didn’t flinch away she carefully gripped her chin and turned her head to the side so she could examine it. It was only slightly bruised now. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean for Nicocchi to do that.” “It’s fine.” Eli said as Nozomi lowered her hand from her face. She glanced to Maki, finding her staring intently at the ground. “It was nothing. Besides, I had my doctor take care of me.” She squeezed Maki’s hand gently and looked back to Nozomi. “I’m okay. Really.” Maki felt her face turn red at the memory of that day in the student council office. Nozomi nodded slowly and glanced between the two of them. She wished she could speak to Eli in private, that she could tell her exactly how much she missed her but she couldn’t. Not when Maki was there. The redhead wasn’t looking at her, she noticed, remembering their discussion a few days ago. Maki had seemed desperate to reconcile but she hadn’t really been able to respond. “Elichi.” She finally said, looking back to the blonde. “Maybe we could talk later? This weekend maybe, if you’re not busy? I really want to...talk things through with you.” She couldn’t just leave it like this. “Please?” “Sure.” Eli answered hesitantly, feeling Maki flinch against her right after. “I can come to your apartment if you make sure Nico isn’t there.” Nozomi gave a small smile and nodded her head. “Alright. I can make sure she’s out.” Eli felt Maki start to pull away and gripped her arm to stop her. “We have to go. I’ll see you on Saturday, Nozomi.” She smiled fleetingly before she moved toward the door of the roof, pulling Maki with her. As soon as the door closed behind them she turned back to Maki. “Calm down.” “I’m calm.” Maki said through gritted teeth. “Don’t tell me to calm down.” “Maki, please.” Eli placed her hands on Maki’s shoulders, trying to soothe her. “It’s not what you think. I’m not going to do anything. You have to believe me.” She kissed Maki gently on the lips. “Look at me. Come on.” “You love her.” Maki looked back to Eli but her eyes were damp. “And she loves you. I don’t trust her, Eli. I know I have no right to say that after what we did but I know she’ll make a move. And you love her!” “I have to speak to her. I owe it to her and...she’s my best friend. Or she was my best friend.” Eli answered, at a loss. “I have to go. I promise I won’t do anything.” Maki shook her head. “Will you call me when you’ve spoken to her? If you don’t then I’ll know…” She couldn’t fathom how much it would hurt if she didn’t get that call. “Please just call.” “I will.” Eli kissed Maki again, letting herself linger this time and feeling Maki respond in kind. When they pulled away she smiled softly. “Let’s skip our next classes. I want to be with you awhile longer.” “Papa will be mad!” Maki said, wide eyed. “A-And you’re the student council president, you’re not supposed to.” “Not anymore.” Eli answered with a grin. “I’m just a normal student now. And it’s just one class. Come on.” She pulled Maki flush against her. “We can make out in the student council room. Honoka won’t mind. At least if she doesn’t know.” Maki laughed despite herself and nodded in response. “Just one class though, okay?” ---
Nico bit her lip, her gaze focused on the ceiling as Nozomi lightly kissed and nipped at her neck, each brush of her lips and teeth sending a shudder through her. She wasn’t sure how it escalated to this. She’d only come over to make the girl some dinner and do homework, just like they always did. They’d done that plenty of times before but they’d never felt the need to go further than the odd innocent kiss when the right situation had arisen, like when they’d passed in the kitchen or Nozomi had wandered over to check if she could do anything while Nico was making dinner. That seemed to have changed since their not so innocent kiss on the roof though. Nico was trying to keep in mind that the kissing didn’t mean anything, that Nozomi was just heartbroken over Eli and looking for comfort. She tried to tell herself that but in reality she couldn’t bring herself to really care about it. Their ties had long since been discarded, joining their math homework on the floor next to Nozomi’s bed. Somehow over the course of ten minutes or so Nozomi had managed to open Nico’s blazer and unbutton her shirt without her even noticing. She supposed she was mostly distracted by the lips on her neck as well as caught up in trying not to make any noise. Nico gasped softly as Nozomi’s hand slipped into the front of her bra. “I finally get to touch your chest without any clothes in the way.” Nozomi husked, lightly sucking at Nico’s neck as she touched her breast. “T-This doesn’t feel like a punishment.” Nico stuttered, arching wantonly into the light caress. “It’s not, it’s pleasure, Nicocchi.” Nozomi moved her lips to Nico’s ear. “If you want me to punish you I can do that later though.” Nico whimpered as Nozomi’s free hand slipped between them, lightly caressing her inner thigh. “N-Nozomi…” “Nicocchi.” Nozomi whispered, gently biting Nico’s ear. “What is it?” “N-Noth…” Nico trailed off with an embarrassingly loud moan as Nozomi lowered her head and licked her neck. “N-Nozomi!” “Hmm?” Nozomi smirked and brushed her fingers up and down the soft skin of Nico’s inner thigh. She sucked firmly on Nico’s neck, adding another mark to the ones she’d already made. “Mine…” “Yeah.” Nico gasped, her hand going to the back of Nozomi’s head. “Y-Yours. I don’t care who knows.” Nozomi smiled against Nico’s neck, touched by the sentiment. She needed somebody who genuinely cared about her. After everything Nico had done it didn’t seem like anyone cared as much as she did. Nico let out a soft moan as she arched helplessly into Nozomi, needy and desperate. “Nozomi.” She murmured pleadingly, her hands slipping under the back of Nozomi’s shirt. She felt lips descend down her chest, her bra being pushed away before Nozomi was sucking and licking and biting at her breasts. “Nozoooomi…” “Say it again.” Nozomi whispered, flicking her tongue against Nico’s nipple. “Moan my name.” “Nozomi.” Nico moaned obediently though she was sure she would have been anyway. “Nozomi!” She rolled her hips forward, trying to make contact with Nozomi’s hand but it was just out of reach. “How much do you want it?” Nozomi asked, her gaze flitting up briefly. “Tell me.” “I-I…” Nico squeezed her eyes shut, a bit annoyed that she was being dominated so easily. “Damn it, just...a lot, okay? I-I really want it.” Nozomi smirked. “Such a needy girl you are…” Nico frowned and shook her head. “I’m not needy!” “Oh?” Nozomi trailed her fingers further up Nico’s thigh, watching her closely for her reaction. “You don’t want it, do you? You need it.” She pressed the tips of her fingers gently against Nico’s core, clearly able to feel her arousal through the fabric of her panties. Nico grinded forward against Nozomi’s fingers, a moan unwittingly passing her lips. “Fuck…” “Tsk.” Nozomi tutted with a shake of her head. “No cursing, Nicocchi. Unless you want to be punished?” “T-This is unfair.” Nico protested meekly, unable to do anything. “I’m the only one with my clothes off.” A flicker of doubt crossed Nozomi’s face before she schooled her expression back to being playful. “Oh?” She teased. “Nicocchi is more perverted than I thought.” “Shut up, I’m not!” Nico huffed, her gaze raking over Nozomi. “Just...at least let me see some skin. Take your shirt off at least?” “Why do I have to do all of the work?” Nozomi tried to keep the teasing tone in her voice but even she knew she was dawdling. She’d never been especially self-conscious about her body but Eli breaking up with her and choosing Maki had made her doubt herself, physically and mentally. She knew it was stupid, at least on some level. She had the most impressive chest in Muse and everyone knew it. Even Eli had commented on it a few times when they’d been together. Still, the idea that Nico wouldn’t like what she saw lingered. “Fine. Let me help you then.” Nico sat up, using Nozomi’s distraction to her advantage. She quickly unbuttoned Nozomi’s shirt and splaying her hands over the girl’s chest, pushed up until she was pushing the shirt off completely. When she was done, she licked her lips, taking in the sight of the half clothed girl in front of her. “Wow…” “Hmm?” Nozomi asked, her voice higher than usual with nerves. “What?!” “You’re just impressive. And...hot.” Nico answered, forcing her gaze up to meet Nozomi’s. “Really?” Nozomi tucked her lower lip nervously between her teeth. Nico’s hand went to the back of Nozomi’s neck and she pulled her close, kissing her hard. “You’re so sexy, Nozomi. Seriously...e-even your voice sounds like pure sex.” She pushed Nozomi’s bra strap aside and leaned in, biting down on her shoulder. Nozomi gasped softly, her hand going to the back of Nico’s head to hold her close. Almost unconsciously she tugged Nico’s hair ties from her hair, allowing them to hang around her own wrist instead. She felt Nico push against her shoulders and fell back, allowing the other girl to crawl on top of her. “Nicocchi…” Nozomi murmured softly as she watched Nico’s hair fall around her shoulders. She looked wild with her hair loose and slightly messy. “I-I always tease you about your size b-but honestly you really are...beautiful, you know?” Nico felt her face flood with heat and ducked her head. “Geez, why do you have to say weird things like that?” She looked up, barely able to meet Nozomi’s eyes. “You are too. You don’t have to hide yourself from me.” She kissed Nozomi again and as slowly as she could, slid her hands around to gently unlatch her bra at the back. She felt the movement of Nozomi’s lips against her pause as the girl beneath her took a deep breath. “It’s okay.” Nico whispered softly against Nozomi’s lips. “It’s just me.” She carefully pushed the bra off completely before pulling away slightly. “Wow…” “You’re too kind, Nicocchi. And so cute…” Nozomi mused as she watched Nico tracing her fingers over her breast. “I like this side of you…” As Nico leaned down to nip, suck and kiss Nozomi’s breasts she briefly considered how messed up the whole situation was. She knew the only possible reason Nozomi was doing this with her was because she was using her to get over Eli, even if she wasn’t aware of that. Nozomi moaned at the sensation and arched her back, her fingers threading into Nico’s dark hair. “Nicocchi.” Nico realized with a smirk how quickly their situations had been reversed. She slid her hand under Nozom’s skirt and toyed with her thigh highs, her fingers going beneath them to massage soft skin. Nozomi squirmed beneath Nico, her breaths short and heavy. It suddenly felt too hot. Far too hot. “Is that good?” The roughness of Nico’s voice had Nozomi’s hips bucking slightly, a loud whimper passing her lips. “It’s too hot…” “You’re too hot.” Nico quipped, kissing Nozomi’s chest once more. She moved down, her own chest heaving as she teasingly licked Nozomi’s taut stomach. “If I see you doubt yourself again I’ll be pissed. You’re the most athletic girl in our year. And the hottest.” Nozomi shook her head quickly. “You’re the hottest.” She didn’t fail to hear Nico scoff. “To me you are. And…” She trailed off with a gasp as Nico kissed the area between her legs without warning. It was over both her skirt and panties but it sent pleasurable jolts through her. “Shit, Nicocchi…” Nico grinned. “Well look who’s swearing now, hmm?” “Just…” Nozomi trailed off, wanting to argue but unable to. She looked down, finding Nico pushing her skirt up. “W-Wait, Nicocchi!” She tugged Nico back up to her and kissed her deeply, her hand at the back of her neck. When she pulled away she smiled faintly, drawing Nico down to her. “Let’s just...stay like this for a while, okay?” Nico nodded and lay her cheek upon Nozomi’s chest, closing her eyes for a few moments. “M-Maybe we should just go back to doing homework…” “No, let’s stay like this.” Nozomi wrapped her arms tighter around Nico and held her close. --- Kotori hummed to herself as she walked up the stairs to her bedroom, carrying a bowl of strawberries in her hands. She was hoping that giving Honoka one of her favourite things to eat would help to ease the tension between the two of them. Since what she’d said on the roof they hadn’t really spoken. She pushed open the door, pausing when she noticed Honoka had moved. She had been sitting cross legged on the floor but now she was lying on her back with her head in Umi’s lap, a content look on her face. Umi was trailing her fingers gently through Honoka’s hair, the other girl’s hair tie around her wrist. Unlike Honoka she was still studying, holding her textbook in one hand. Kotori closed the door awkwardly and returned to where she’d been sitting without a word, placing the bowl of strawberries on the table. She looked the two of them over, biting her bottom lip. “Um...I brought us a snack.” Honoka didn’t move, nor did she acknowledge that Kotori had spoken. Kotori sighed, her shoulders slumping. She should have expected that Honoka would still be angry with her. “Uh…thanks.” Feeling bad, Umi set her book down and took a strawberry, nibbling thoughtfully on it. “I don’t like this. It’s too weird for the two of you to not be speaking to each other. You hardly ever fight.” Neither Kotori nor Honoka said anything and Umi heaved a sigh. “And you’re not going to tell me what happened?” “No! Absolutely not.” Honoka said sharply, pushing herself into a sitting position. “It’s fine, Umi-chan. It’s nothing.” She cast a warning look at Kotori before she lowered herself back into Umi’s lap. She kept her eyes open this time so she didn’t fail to see Umi look down with a stern look on her face. “What?” Kotori looked down at the table and bit the inside of her cheek, trying to force back the tears in her eyes. She knew she deserved it to some extent after the accusations she’d made but she was still worried about it, especially seeing their hands entwined tightly. Honoka closed her eyes again, choosing to focus on the gentle movement of Umi’s fingers through her hair. If she was honest she hated not speaking to Kotori but she couldn’t just ignore her after what she had said. Not knowing how upsetting it would be for Umi to hear something like that. She gritted her teeth and tightened her grip on Umi’s hand, trying not to let herself get worked up again. Umi felt the squeeze to her hand and gently rubbed the back of Honoka’s with her thumb, trying to soothe her. Whatever had happened between the two of them must have been bad for Honoka to have completely stopped speaking to Kotori. The two of them had always been close, so much so that she’d often felt jealous of that closeness. She leaned down to Honoka, lowering her voice to a whisper. “Do you want to go home?” She felt rather than saw Honoka nod her head. “Wait for me outside.” Honoka got up without an argument and left the room, grabbing her bag on the way. Kotori watched her go with a forlorn expression on her face. She heard Umi stand up behind her. All was silent for a moment until Umi spoke. “Kotori, what did you do?” Umi’s voice was hardly angry at all. In fact she mostly sounded concerned but it still had Kotori cringing. “I-I can’t. Honoka-chan says I can’t tell you.” Umi narrowed her eyes at her best friend. “Is it something you did to her? You don’t seem angry about it so it must be, right?” She felt slightly guilty at always assuming it was something Honoka had done. “What did you do to her?”
“I didn’t do ANYTHING!” Kotori’s voice rose in anger and she pushed herself to her feet. She began to pace in front of the door, her hands curled into fists. “I just...I said something really awful about her. Something that hurt her and now I can’t take it back. I can never take it back and the worst part is I don’t know if I want to because I still think…” She trailed off, finally coming to a stop. “Kotori, please tell me.” Umi’s voice was quiet but firm as she stepped forward. “I need to know what you said.” “I can’t.” “I need to! She’s my...she’s one of my best friend and if whatever you said is still hurting her I need to help her! I…” “You love her.” Kotori said bluntly. “O-Of course I do. And you.” Umi seemed to completely miss the point and Kotori dug her nails into the palms of her hands. “Is that what you said? Did you tell her you don’t love her or…?” “NO!” Kotori exclaimed quickly, horrified by the thought. “I do love her! You...you don’t think I love her?” “I didn’t say that.” Umi argued, shaking her head. “I-I just think you might have taken things a bit...too fast with uh…” She trailed off, biting her lip as Kotori frowned at her. “I’m not taking sides. I-I just want what’s best for both of you. If it’s not each other…” “Get out.” Kotori growled, her eyes stinging with tears. “You are taking sides. You know you are.” “I’m NOT!” Umi said loudly, frustration evident in her tone. “I told you, I just want what’s best for both of you. If you’re hurting her…” “Couples fight!” Kotori said angrily. “Not that you would know that!” “Of course...because I don’t have anyone, right?” Umi said angrily. “I know enough to know that couples fight but they also support each other. When was the last time she let you see her cry? How can she trust you with her feelings when all you do is trample on her feelings when she shares them with you?! I-I’m not saying this to be mean, Kotori. But Honoka needs you to try to understand her.” “I don’t understand her. I don’t understand how she can condone what Eli-chan and Maki-chan did to Nozomi-chan. Of course I don’t understand that!” Kotori snapped. “Nozomi-chan is meant to be her friend!” “She IS! Why can’t you understand that Honoka loves her friends more than anyone. That includes Eli and Maki, it doesn’t matter what they’ve done wrong!” “BUT SHE LOVES YOU THE MOST!” Kotori hadn’t meant to say it but it was as though the truth had forced itself free. She just couldn’t hold it back anymore. “Wha…?” Umi stared at Kotori through wide eyes “IT’S TRUE!” The shocked look on Umi’s face made Kotori feel a little bit silly for her suggestion but she pressed on. “She cares more about your feelings than mine!” Umi slowly shook her head. “That’s only because...I missed her. I missed both of you. After the two of you got together, I-I felt...like you’d left me behind. Especially her. She just wants me to feel better. I don’t know why you’re acting like this.” “She loves you. You might not be able to see it but I do. Everytime she looks at you…” Kotori bowed her head, weeping earnestly into her hands now. “I just want her to look at me like that.” Umi’s throat tightened at the sight of Kotori’s pain. “She does.” She forced out. “If you think she loves me more than she loves you, you’re wrong. I understand how you feel though. I thought...her being with you meant that she loved me less but it doesn’t. She just loves us differently.” Kotori looked up tearfully. “I don’t know if she loves me like that. We haven’t...done anything yet. We’ve kissed but Honoka-chan never wants to go further than that. I don’t know if she was trying not to hurt me when she said yes to my confession.” “That’s ridiculous.” Umi said bluntly. “Honoka would never have said yes if she wasn’t sure about how she felt. If she...wants to take it slowly you should talk to her about it. Definitely not me…” She pressed her hand against her reddening cheeks, trying to cool down. “You know how Honoka is. She’s oblivious to this kind of thing. It just means she’s not ready.” “Umi-chan, tell me the truth.” Kotori looked Umi straight in the eye, vaguely noticing that she was holding her shoulder. “You’ve kissed her, haven’t you?” Umi opened her mouth to protest but fell silent at the last second. “Yes.” She finally answered, looking down at the ground. “The weekend before you confessed to her. I really thought I might have feelings for her and I wanted to know what kissing her would feel like. I just needed to know what it was like a-and I ran away right after. I’m sorry.” She rubbed her burning shoulder with her hand, the corners of her eyes stinging with tears. “That’s...before we started dating.” Kotori said quietly. Somehow finally being told the truth made her feel better but worse in a different way. “I had to get over my feelings and I did.” Umi answered gruffly. “It’s not you. Honoka really is just dense when it comes to all that. Even more than me. One day you will be able to...make love to her. Even if it’s not anytime soon. She really does love you though. She’d never look twice at anyone else. If you’re accusing her of that, I’m not surprised she’s hurt. You need to fix this and you need to hurry up before you push her away completely.” Kotori was silent and it gave Umi an opportunity to excuse herself. “I better get going. She’s waiting for me.” She didn’t give Kotori time to respond before she left the room, taking the familiar route down the stairs and out the front door. She found Honoka sitting on the doorstep, scrolling through her phone. “Hey…” Honoka jumped to her feet at the sight of Umi though the smile that had lingered on her lips slipped away after a second. “She told you.” The tears in Umi’s eyes caused her chest to clench uncomfortably. “What did she d-” “Can we just go?” Umi asked, more than a little hurt by the accusations she’d been presented with. “I just want to go. Please.” “Okay.” Honoka said softly, stepping forward. She placed her hand supportively on Umi’s back. “Are you still sleeping over?” Umi bit down on her lower lip, trying to force her tears back and nodded. “Please. Can we go to my place?” “Okay.” Honoka said softly, guiding Umi forward with the hand on her back. “Let’s go.” ---- Nico had fallen asleep. Nozomi could tell from her soft, rhythmic breathing. She’d been like that for almost thirty minutes when Nozomi’s phone rang, startling her awake. “Sorry.” Nozomi whispered groggily, having almost nodded off herself at several point herself. She gently nudged Nico off of her and reached for her phone on the bedside table. “Hello?” “Nozomi-chan!” Kotori exclaimed into the phone, her tone anxious. “I-I’m sorry to call, I-I didn’t know who else I could go to. I can’t go to Honoka-chan or Umi-chan because we’re fighting and I’m not speaking to Eli-chan and Maki-chan and Hanayo-chan and Rin-chan are too young and Nico-chan isn’t answering her phone a…” “Okay, okay. Calm down.” Nozomi said quickly as she watched Nico sit up, rubbing her eyes. “What’s wrong? What happened?” “I think…”  Kotori seemed to take a large gulp of air. “I-I need to speak to you in person. Can I…?” “Of course you can.” Nozomi said though she was still confused. “But what’s going on? And why did you go through everyone else in Muse before you called me?” She was slightly hurt by that. She’d always set out to support everyone in Muse. “I-I just need to talk to you.” Kotori said quietly, her voice trembling. “Right. I’ll come to you. Where are you?” Nozomi asked, swinging her legs over the side of the bed. “Outside your apartment. I-I’m sorry. I really can’t think of anyone else. After Honoka-chan and Umi-chan you were the first person I thought of but…” “Nicocchi, get dressed!” Nozomi hissed, covering the phone with her hand. As Nico got off her, she took her hand away from the phone. “But what?” “I know this is going to hurt you. I don’t want it to be you I talk to but there’s nobody else.” Kotori whimpered softly when she finished and Nozomi glanced at Nico, finding she had borrowed one of her shirts. It was loose on her for obvious reasons but it looked good on her. “I’ll be there in a few minutes.” She hung up the phone without saying anything else and hurriedly tugged her bra back on before finding her school shirt again. She hastily tugged it back on, buttoning it as she went to answer the door. When she opened it she found Kotori standing there, tears in her eyes. “I’m sorry.” Kotori apologized again before Nozomi opened her arms to her and she rushed into then, sobbing softly into the third year’s shoulder. Behind them, Nico sighed. “I’ll go and make some tea.” Nozomi lingered in the doorway for a few minutes, gently rubbing Kotori’s back until the younger girl calmed down. Gently, she guided her into the living room where Nico was just setting down the tea she’d made. “What’s going on?” Kotori sat down at the table, Nozomi sitting opposite her while Nico sat at the far side to them. “I was wondering…” Kotori mumbled, glancing between the two of them. It was easier with the two of them. She didn’t have to speak to Nozomi directly. “Have you two ever had any problems with sex?” Nico promptly spat out her tea. “W-WHY ARE YOU ASKING ME?!” “S-Sorry.” Kotori said apologetically. “Um...Nozomi-chan?” Nozomi sighed and leaned back in her seat. “I was only ever with Elichi like that. I-I don’t think we’d be a good example…” “It’s not like I’ve ever done it anyway.” Nico piped up, having composed herself. “So I can’t answer.” Kotori nodded slowly. “Honoka-chan and I haven’t done it yet. And I don’t think she wants to do it with me.” “How do you know she doesn’t?” Nozomi asked, crossing her arms in front of her chest. She wasn’t sure she was in any kind of position to give relationship advice but she couldn’t deny that helping her friends again was appealing to her. “Well she keeps pushing me away whenever we get close to anything like that.” Kotori answered shiftily. “And now, I-I think she might break up with me.” Nozomi’s brow furrowed in concern. “Why do you think that?” “I accused her of being in love with Umi-chan…” Kotori’s whispered admission took bot Nozomi and Nico by surprise. “She says I’m being silly but I can see it. If you could see the way they look at each other…” Nozomi looked down at the table, unwittingly thinking about the looks she’d seen exchanged between them. “I could tell Honoka-chan liked Umi-chan before I confessed to her.” Kotori rambled on, not looking up to see their reactions. “And Umi-chan loves her too. A-And Umi-chan said they kissed before we got together. They said there’s nothing going on now but I can’t help but think...” She bit her lip, tears welling in her eyes again as she looked up at Nozomi. “I’m sorry, Nozomi-chan. I don’t want to hurt you but...” “It’s okay.” Nozomi interrupted, standing from her seat. She walked around the table to Kotori, laying her hand on her shoulder. “You can always talk to me. But Kotori…” She perches on the table and briefly bit her lip. “It might not be what you think. Good sex doesn’t always meant that the relationship is going well. I remember…” She paused for a moment, trying to push past the familiar stabbing feeling in her chest. She missed Eli so much it was hard to breathe sometimes. “I remember the sex with Elichi was good. It was really good…but it didn’t make a difference. So even if you’re not there yet with Honoka it might not be anything to worry about.” Kotori blinked up at her. “You really think so?” “Yeah. Just ask her again.” Nozomi said with a small smile. “Ask her for the truth but I’m sure it’s nothing to worry about.” “Thank you.” Kotori stood up and hugged Nozomi tightly, taking her a bit by surprise. “Thank you, Nozomi-chan.” Nozomi hummed in response and hugged Kotori back, sharing a look with Nico over her shoulder. TBC
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outsideangle · 7 years
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The Expat’s Dilemma: Reckoning With a Trump Presidency From Abroad
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Waking up in my foster home of Melbourne, Australia on Wednesday, November 9th, I felt a mix of hope and certainty that my country would come to its senses. Judy Woodruff and co. looked bright and cheerful on the PBS NewsHour live stream as the polls on the eastern seaboard closed 16 hours behind me and tallies began coming in, and with the previous week’s polls showing an almost assured victory for Hillary Clinton—some being so bold as to predict with 90% certainty or more—the crew had good reason to be. I was excited, bordering on proud: my country was about to elect its first female president and show the world that yes, actually, Americans do happen to do the right thing eventually. Eventually has turned out to be much further off than predicted.
It’s a curious feeling, being the only American in an office of internationals, watching as Florida falls, your birth state of Wisconsin flips, and your home state of Pennsylvania fumbles under the crushing weight of Appalachia, and all the while trying to plan a lesson for your evening class. I started receiving texts from friends everywhere—American and not—as the poll closings rolled west and our hope gave way to panic and fear and frustration. Some of my co-workers tried making jokes, and I nearly snapped at one of them, but channelled that anger into a Facebook post proclaiming that now was not the time for humour. My ex-girlfriend and I, both Americans living in Australia, traded messages of outrage and heartbreak—hers worse, as her parents had voted Trump—as we realized what was happening at home; she ended a Tinder date early that night so we could drink whiskey and beer and wallow in our powerlessness from across the Pacific. We shared an awkward kiss goodnight when I went home, born of uncertainty, but it fit with the new world we’d been hurled into. Uncertainty is a frustrating emotion, but after the election nothing was stronger than my sense of powerlessness. I’ve felt it subtly for years, but didn’t begin acknowledging it until the killing of Michael Brown and the events that followed: continued deaths at the hands of police who never faced consequences, one mass shooting after another, and watching the government slowly be taken over by ultra-conservative politicians who not only didn’t care about any of it, but also wanted to limit the rights of minorities by strengthening the institution that kept them repressed. I was living in South Korea as an elementary school English teacher through most of that, and in my rational mind I knew that being home and joining movements wouldn’t really change anything, but my geographic inability to take part in activism and grassroots participation exacerbated the feeling—even then, I sometimes wonder if, were I home, would I have partook at all, or was it looking in from the outside that made me long to engage. Watching your home burn from afar, stuck, awakens an entirely different set of emotions than having the flames around you. That was a different time, though, and nobody could’ve predicted Trump’s ascension to the Republican nomination—he’d only been a contender for two months when I returned to the United States in August of 2015. When I left again, this time for Australia, in February 2016, nobody could believe his hate-filled campaign was still running, and with such success. As I watched him clinch the nomination and somehow hold his own in polls with Hillary Clinton, I began thinking, “I should be there. I should be fighting this. I should help.” All I could do from abroad was send in an absentee ballot and sign petitions, and these felt like hollow actions. Hate is not passive; it is aggressive and threatening, and passive resistance will not stop it. I tried to be active and assert my power in Melbourne the Saturday after the election, where I joined a march through the city protesting Donald Trump. A few days prior, I had posted on the event page, “I’m an American living here, and I cannot WAIT to protest this demagogue my country has somehow chosen,” and was met with numerous critics telling me to “get over it” or “get out of Australia.” One sad soul with a lot of time on his hands (he commented at around 3 AM on a Friday night) went through my old profile pictures, found one of me dressed up in a sports bra as a female jogger for Halloween and posing with my female friend grabbing my boob, and overlaid the sentence, “I WONDER IF SHE’D FUCK ME WITH A STRAP ON AFTER THE TRUMP PROTEST.” The photo was deleted, but he posted it again the next day telling me I was a “seppo cuck,” and still people are saying “you lost, get over it.” Regarding the cry of “you lost,” I can understand the criticism of protesting, especially outside the United States. However, to call out protestors for that is to miss the point: we protest not because we lost the election, but because we will not tolerate the rhetoric that elevated Trump to office—we protest to show we will not let human rights go quietly into the night. Many people don’t have the luxury of “getting over it.”
The march turned out a few hundred people, mostly socialist student activists, and while it felt good to be in the streets, it was too soon after the election for anything to come of it. The sense of powerlessness quickly returned.
In other attempts at effectiveness, I’ve not stopped reading analysis and action plans, even going so far as to give myself a Christmas gift in the form of a subscription to The New Yorker. The day before the inauguration, David Remnick wrote how it’s our duty to preserve, protect and defend the Constitution from Trump and his cronies in the Cabinet, referring back to 1787 and that the Constitution’s ratification alone did not “guarantee [its] endurance and health,” and that it’s the “constant work of citizens, collectively and individually,” to maintain it. At The Washington Post, Linda Hirshman urges us to take cues from abolitionists of the 1850s when it comes to achieving a goal after a disastrous setback. These are great ideas, but once again leave little opportunity for expats to participate.
One piece of reading that did help temper my seething fury was “Indivisible: A Practical Guide for Resisting the Trump Agenda,” which pulled from the methodology the Tea Party used to gridlock the country. It presented some direction and concrete ways to affect change, and this essay wouldn’t exist if I hadn’t read that guide—I’m ecstatic to see all the local action groups it’s inspired. Still, though, all I can do is write or send emails, but I can’t be there in person to confront my Members of Congress or march in protests, and that pains me.
At least I’m not the only expat who feels this way; there are several million of us living outside the country, after all. I’ve asked other Americans living abroad how they wrestle with this sense of inefficacy, and nobody seems to have a perfect answer yet. Laura Hagy, who works in Haiti, and Kathleen Phelan, an Australian/American dual citizen, both agree that “having open and honest dialogue” with Trump supporters and people they disagree with is the cornerstone of resistance. I admire the optimism, but from my travel experience I have not once met an American Trump supporter, and face-to-face discussion would probably be the only way to sway opinions—our comments on Facebook posts and message boards are useless and, for me, an unrelenting wave of frustration at the hands of obvious trolls. Bob Kennedy, who lives in Korea, thinks the most effective method is to “lobby the DNC to never again play kingmaker for a candidate,” and I’m inclined to agree with him.
When people on my travels ask me how Trump won, I tell them he didn’t; I tell them that the Democrats lost. The DNC is a hollowed-out husk of a party that needs to be restructured and find its base again. Since Obama’s 2008 victory, the Democrats have lost more than a thousand statehouse seats, 12 governorships, nearly 70 House seats, 13 Senate seats, the presidency and the Supreme Court—that is failure on a colossal scale. If Democrats are going to be the party of resistance, then they need to get it together and demonstrate that they can be effective again.
Ms. Phelan’s final thoughts on best resistance are a little morbid, but no less accurate: “Just survive.” That’s almost all we can do from outside the country, though Ms. Hagy shares my feelings that “[being] far away doesn’t mean I have an excuse to be inactive,” and it’s something both of us are still grappling with. It’s the crux of the expat dilemma this election has posed: reconciling the love for travel and residing abroad, and the internal drive to fulfil one’s civic duty.
Every day since the election, that predicament has been kicking around in my head. My first idea was to start a non-profit organization where expats can donate money and, depending on the amount donated, have a “surrogate” represent them—that could be marching at a protest in their place, or perhaps reading a letter to their Congressperson on their behalf. I also toyed with returning immediately, joining the Democratic Party to try and shake it up from the bottom, and running for office in 2018. Ms. Hagy, for her part, is seriously considering a return to the US to take a more proactive approach. For myself, I decided to put my ideas on hold and move to Singapore for a few months to give the organizations in America some time to figure out a plan of attack, then move back and join the most effective, but still the waiting nags at me. Several weeks into Trump’s presidency and he’s taken a hard-line on immigrants as I’ve moved from one country I’m not a citizen of to another.
The beginning of his time in office has had me reconsidering, though. Since taking office he’s written horrific executive orders on immigration, the Dakota Access Pipeline, and—most frighteningly—restructured the National Security Council and given renowned white-supremacist Steve Bannon even more power. Then there’s the fiasco with Russia that forced Michael Flynn’s resignation, and it surely won’t be the last scandal this White House sees. We’d been preparing for the worst, and a shred of me hoped, “maybe it won’t be as bad as we’re expecting.” But here I am, and there they are.
The day after the inauguration, the Women’s March on Washington took place, and my parents and some of their friends went to DC to protest—my mother even knit a plethora of Pussy Hats—and my brother marched in Philadelphia; I could not be more proud to have a family that’s ready and willing to take a stand, especially when I’m not there to join. For my part, I participated in Melbourne’s solidarity march. I arrived expecting a few hundred people, much like the protest the Saturday after the election, and was astonished to discover more than 6,000 crowded around the steps of the State Library of Victoria, all despite a massacre down the block that claimed six lives the day before.
That crowd, and those all over the planet, showed me that I am not alone. It demonstrated that there are expats everywhere—and non-Americans—who are prepared to stand up to Trump and his vitriol. I wrote postcards to my Senators as well, as per the Women’s March action plan; I’m writing this essay, and intend to write more; I’ll keep sending messages to my representatives. All I can hope is that people do more than protest—that they get involved by donating time and money to organizations that need it and participate in our democracy.
So far the signs are positive, and it’s the most important thing friends and family can do for me back home: send the hope on. Me and other expats only ever see the news, and the news is rarely ever good; we need the good stories from home to keep us going—to let us know that change is in the works. I still don’t know what the best course for me to affect change is—maybe this blog will help, at least in a selfish sense—but perhaps I do have a unique power as an expat: in my travels, I can be an example, and show the world that Americans are many things, but that we are not our president. We will, eventually, get it right.
Photo: Joe Raedle / Getty (via The New Yorker)
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eviecahir · 4 years
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‘To Do Tomorrow Today’ Zine: First image is the sunrise over La Porchetta, from out my window across the road, Iconic scenes [’Landmarks to the muses that inspired the music’, comes to mind] and below that is a drawing about a morning routine I have that involves just rolling or ‘sponging’ on my blanket on the floor, stretching languidly and slowly to reconcile husk/bodi with mind - sounds woo-woo but it’s just a nice time. 
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nicoolios · 7 years
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Days Past
Here’s my gift to @laceandlyrium for the @holidayharbinger gift exchange. Hope you like it!
“How you proceed is up to you, Rosie. I say romance. Candles. Bubble baths. Dinner. Unless more intimate. Then alone time. Should inspect you first. Want to make sure you’re fine. Unless you prefer Chakwas-”
“Mordin, please. Not necessary. I don’t even know what we’re doing yet.” Her mind supplied the word date, causing a deep blush. It was her first time planning a private outing with Kaidan since the destruction of the Normandy SR-1 and she was nervous as all get out. They had done things together before since Huerta, but they had all been group activities. Alone was terrifying. “And if I remember correctly, all I asked for was life advice. Not detailed analysis of my sex life.”
“Ah, yes. Apologies. Carry on, then.”
Sighing heavily, Rosie left the med bay. Served her right for asking the overeager salarian about interpersonal relationships. Nothing was ever straightforward anymore. Not in her professional life, her social life, and now apparently her love life. Her trip to Mordin hadn’t been entirely useless, though. An idea began to take shape in her mind. She toyed with it as she prepared a cup of tea. As it brewed she became lost in thought, wondering how on Earth she was to reconcile her relationship with Kaidan. Instinctually Rosie felt the need to be in charge of the whole affair. It was in her nature to look out for others and solve their problems however she could. Ever since she could remember she always classified herself as the “mom friend.” As she grew older and joined the Alliance, therefore being introduced to the exotic new species the galaxy had to offer, only cemented the personality trait. Other races didn’t view it as strange, leading to some very awkward late night chats about boundaries.
But all her friends got wise of the situation and insisted she should step back. Let somebody else do the work for once. Let the man prove his respect, her worth to him. Eventually they wore her down. Relinquishing control wasn’t easy for someone born to be in command. Consequently she had nothing to do today. The Normandy was docked at the Citadel and most its occupants enjoying the change of scenery. Even Joker convinced EDI to attend a movie with him. All that was well and good. Rosie had no desire to leave before noon. The Normandy was home more than the Citadel would ever be. Her training prevented appreciation of sudden drastic change. A few days before Anderson gave her permission to use his local apartment, but doing so felt wrong. Like he was giving away his possessions in preparation for death. So long as he was alive Rosie refused to treat it as her own.
There was always Silverson Strip. Arcades and fighting arenas were nice when joined by friends. Otherwise alone it felt like work. The Citadel remained relatively untouched by the war. Why taint it with a war relic? Besides, Rosie liked the quiet. It wasn’t often total silence enveloped the mess hall. Even the warp core took a rest. Steam twirled up in gentle plumes from the mug. The tan liquid wobbled slightly in her shaking hands. Cerberus repaired old tendon damage brought upon by years of abuse, but machinery wore down. Computers failed. Sophisticated wiring didn’t hold up to days of use and no proper care or rest. Hands able to steady a gun couldn’t hold a mug properly. Quite sad.
A hand slapped her shoulder out of nowhere, resulting in spilled tea soaking her shirt. Rosie yelped in surprise and pain. The scalding liquid forced her frantic spin to the sink next to her. Hurriedly she blotted her chest. As the tea was absorbed by the towel she glanced up to see Tali standing eagerly before her. The young quarrian seemed way too excited about something. She bounced on her toes, her fingers deciding whether to intertwine or reach out to Rosie. She apparently decided a mix of the two was best. Rosie set the towel aside to give her friend her whole attention. “What’s got you all worked up?”
If Tali hadn’t been wearing a face mask her expression would’ve made it obvious. As it was, she still took Rosie’s hand excitedly. “I was wondering if you would allow me to assist you in your daytime preparations? Like you used to help me before we went to the Citadel?”
“You mean when you asked if we could play dress up because you were bored?” Her dipped head confirmed her answer. This is what she got for making friends with young, impressionable girls. Still, perhaps some good would come out of it. “Fine. Yes. But only because I have no idea what to do.”
“Oh, this will be such fun!” she squealed. “Come on while the day is still young.” She grabbed Rosie’s hand to lead her to her cabin.
What followed was a very long, very complex, very…interesting game of “Making Rosie Look Presentable.” Her hair was pulled in a million different directions. Numerous shades of makeup painted her face, combinations never thought possible attempted. Dress after dress was shoved over her head only to be tossed aside. As the couch slowly became swamped, so did the coffee table under piles of everything else: shoes, jewelry, and the like. The entire contents of her closet were turned inside out until Tali found the perfect match. Rosie’s hair was swept up in a messy braided crown. Her eyelids were dusted with green, her lips silver, and her nails a lighter mix of the two. Her dress draped low over her back, scooping her chest in a wave of sparkles. The whole thing was a deep grassy green, knee-length and skintight. On her neck was a simple charm, a Christmas gift from Ashley years ago. Last but not least, strappy silver heels clung to her feet.
All in all Rosie felt overly dolled up, like she was attending a wedding instead of wandering the Citadel. Was all this really necessary? Just to impress rich civilians who didn’t give a damn about what she was trying to do? Tali admired her handiwork for a split second. It was rather impressive, its unpracticality notwithstanding, given its source. Standing before the bathroom mirror, Rosie had to admit she looked good. She thanked Tali while leading her to the elevator. Now she had to go out. They made it as far as the galaxy map before the pinging of the personal computer drew her attention. Only a skeleton crew remained on the ship; those out and about more than likely had their omni tools on them. There was no need for the computer to be receiving messages. “Go on ahead,” she told her friend, urging her towards the airlock. Eyeing the flashing image, Rosie clicked the box.
Hey Rosie,
Sorry I had to tell you this through text. You were so busy I didn’t want to bother you with something unimportant. Meet me at Apollo’s at noon for lunch? Figured you could use a distraction and besides, they still have steak on the menu.
Meet you there. Kaidan
It wasn’t automatically stamped with his rank and job title, meaning he took the time to type it out personally. He knew she had nothing to do today, knew they needed some personal time to sort out whatever their relationship was. The man knew more than she ever would. How could she say no to the flood of memories returning at the sight of his name? From their post-mission chats on the SR-1 to the endless lonely nights hunting Collectors to the hell that was their trip to Mars. The clock on the edge of the screen read 11:30. Either she must leave now or feign ignorance.
Rosie bolted to the door. Running was so much harder in heels. Curse Tali for bypassing the comfortable boots. Wait a minute. Tali’s dress up request seemed awfully convenient after reading the message. It was almost like she knew Kaidan planned an outing. Highly suspicious. Regardless she rushed to the nearest cab station and summoned a ride. The trip was relatively short, thank the stars, and the driver accepted her credit chit with ease. Now running looked out of place. Toning it down to a brisk walk, Rosie passed oblivious citizens and hyper security alike. Then, standing at the base of the stairs leading to the restaurant, she saw him. Too late to back out now.
He sat at a table overlooking the lake, staring at the intricacy of the artificial sun illuminating the calm water. A menu and glass of beer already sat before him. He didn’t notice her at first, but when he did, he smiled warmly. He knew something she didn’t. He managed to surprise Commander Shepard.
Kaidan rushed to pull a seat for her. Rosie sat awkwardly, feeling too dressed up and noting each set of eyes lingering on them. Not every day two war heroes enjoyed a casual lunch date in public. “Why’d you ask over e-mail? And why did Tali know before me?”
Rubbing the back of his neck, Kaidan replied, “You were so busy with psych evals I wanted to give you some time. And I know you two spent a lot of time together on the first Normandy. It always ended with you in a good mood. I miss this side of you.”
She blushed. She knew Kaidan loved their time together before she was spaced, knew she loved her breaks from the job with Ashley, Tali, and Liara. “This side of me isn’t out there saving lives. The entire galaxy depends on me. Every minute I’m not out there fighting more innocent people die.”
“I don’t intend to keep you from that, Rosie. But we need to talk.”
“What’s there to talk about?” Horizon. Suicide mission. Staying faithful. Revival. House arrest with no visits. Mars. Cerberus. Saying I’m a husk. “You made your side pretty clear when you called me a terrorist and equated me to a damn abomination.”
The waiter saved an immediate response by collecting drink orders. The alcohol would be welcome. Kaidan pretended to peruse the menu while he thought of how to word his answer. “Rosie, you know I’m more than sorry about that. I should’ve known you’d never return to Cerberus.”
It was an apology she’d heard a thousand times before. But this time, with the setting and atmosphere and him actively trying to start anew, it felt more…believable. Like it was said enough ties to breech her hardened exterior. “What if I accept your apology? We can’t pretend none of this ever happened. You still said some nasty things, I still ignored you…”
Their drinks were set before them and food ordered. Kaidan’s promise of steak held true. A long discussion ensued, starting at square one and only moving forward. Their sandwiches disappeared followed by their drinks. Despite Rosie’s observation of death lurking everywhere, they even took a walk around the Presidium. By the end their heads were clear, their hearts full, and their sense of purpose renewed. Come late afternoon they found themselves enjoying the Silverson Strip. Laughing harder than she had in ages, Rosie admitted this was a great decision. She might even have a future with her old flame. Come nightfall, they even found themselves leaving the casino in favor of her cabin on the Normandy. The night was old, but they were young. And Rosie wouldn’t have it any other way.
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