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kiljoius · 1 year

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Trapped In My Mind

AO3 | FFN

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First Chapter

Chapter 2: Did Your Ego Slow?

Two days passed in relative silence and peace. Shino was a quiet companion every day. The Aburame provided her meals and showers, and were respectful of her privacy, as they always had been. Shino never pressed her for information, simply greeted her every day and engaged in idle chatter about bugs and flowers, nothing about the village and her excursions. She didn’t realize how much she missed these normal interactions. It was nice. She was even beginning to miss Kiba’s brass nature interrupting their peace with his loud voice, large movements, boyish laughter. When the day came for him to return, Shino and Hinata patiently waited at the front gates, sitting together in the grass.

“How have you two been?” Hinata finally asked, the first personal conversation she had initiated her entire time there. Shino perked an eyebrow at her, then looked away, clearly conflicted on how to answer, but not to just anyone. Shino was a master at indifference, but the way he looked away to her was so obvious.

“Well. Busy,” he answered simply. She nodded, deciding it was better to leave it at that.. Then they heard a bark, and Hinata found herself shooting to her feet. If she had more time to think on it, she'd even say she was...excited. Her heart lifted a bit at the thought of seeing Kiba. She hadn’t felt excited about anything in a very long time. Being back with Shino was making her nostalgic. She was trying to fight that feeling. She controlled her breathing as she activated her byakugan, scanning for him. His familiar chakra caught her eye, and she breathed a sigh of relief. “It’s him?”

“Yes, yes it's him," she whispered as Shino also got to his feet. Their voices carried through the forest to their ears for a few moments until they were within eyesight. She tilted her head when both Kiba and Akamaru froze in their tracks. They were still too far away for her to make them out very well, but she saw the glint of red from Kiba’s cheeks and certainly saw the large white mass next to him. Then, suddenly, the boy and dog pair bolted forward. Within seconds, she had them completely in view, a blur, and not a second later, she was being picked up and swung around.

“I knew I could smell you!”

The boy…?

His voice was different. Deep.

She let herself be carried, and couldn’t help but notice how much bigger his arms felt. And how high up she was. He grew while she was gone. She felt the softness of Akamaru’s fur against her leg as well, and she let a smile slip. When he finally put her down, she looked up at him properly. That trademark toothy grin, fangs and all. But everything else about him was different. His hair was longer, almost brushing his shoulders and a little tamer than it used to be. Shadow on his jaw. Her eyes trailed, his chest was bigger, arms bigger, everything was…bigger. It threw her for a loop, and she didn’t realize until then she was gaping at him.

“Oi, Hinata!” She shook her head as he snapped his fingers in her face, unaware that he had been talking. She returned her eyes to his face, which was now frowning and leaning very close to hers. “Where the hell have you been?!”

“Oh…” Hinata sighed, looking away. While Shino wouldn’t question her, of course Kiba would, relentlessly. She tried to let her hair curtain her face, suddenly missing her longer hair.

“Shino and I have been worried out of our minds that you were dead. You never responded to our messages!” Kiba grabbed her shoulders, forcing her to look at him. “I’ve been looking for you, you know that? We both have. When we have free time, we’re out there.”

“You have?” Hinata grimaced, looking from Kiba to Shino, who was looking away. They had wasted their time looking for her, she had done everything possible to ensure no one would find her, especially Hyūga. She felt guilty. She should have known, and maybe she did, and that was why she didn’t tell them. They would look for her, and persuade her to come back, and that was the last thing she wanted when she left. She returned her eyes to Kiba’s, and he looked increasingly frustrated.

“You took off without a word.” Kiba’s voice went lower, and she suddenly felt heat in her cheeks, a habit she thought she had kicked. “It’s fucked up, Hinata.”

“I-I’m sorry,” she choked out, her voice slightly wet. Kiba scrunched his nose up, sniffing out the tears emerging. He softened as they began to well at the bottoms of her eyes. She hadn’t cried in a while.

“Come here.” He didn’t ask, he demanded as he pulled her into a hug. She sighed against his jacket as he reached out his other arm for Shino, and they huddled as a trio. Both men enveloped her, and she hadn’t felt this sense of security in a very, very long time.

Shino and Hinata returned silently to the Aburame compound, Kiba having taken off momentarily to drop Akamaru off at his home and get changed. It gave Hinata time to think passed Kiba’s rowdy gestures. She knew he was going to pry it out of her, so she had to prepare herself.

She left to find her place in life. She left to find something more. She returned because her sister was getting married. Kakashi was the only one who had contact with her for the past two years. Nothing to get riled up over.

She sat at the dining table as Shino quietly prepared tea for Kiba’s arrival. Within moments, Kiba was bursting into the house, looking cleaner. He darted his eyes until they found his team, and he smiled, lazily kicking off his sandals before taking a seat next to Hinata. She forced a return smile. She would take it over being berated.

“You know you can’t keep secrets from me, right?” Kiba immediately launched in as he draped a long arm over the back of the sofa. She sighed, shaking her head. She couldn’t. “Out with it. Naruto proposed to Sakura, and you left.”

“Wh-no! That’s not the reason I left!” She immediately raised her hands in defense as Shino laid out cups of tea. Shino raised his eyebrows at the interaction, knowing full well this was Kiba’s time to shine.

“Bullshit,” he seethed, turning in his seat to face her directly. His glare made her shrink. “You can’t lie to me. You ran. And that was fine, you had to go through your process. But then you didn’t come back.”

“I…” She paused, staring down at their feet. She couldn’t respond. He was right, but she couldn’t stand to admit it out loud. It would make it too real.

“Why didn’t you come back? Why now?” Kiba pressed, leaning closer to her. Heat creeped over her cheeks once more as his strong features bore into her, and she suddenly felt exhausted. He placed his index finger and thumb on her chin and forced her to look at him. “We love you. You left us.”

Suddenly, everything went back.

With a blink, she found herself staring up at Kiba and Shino’s faces. She furrowed her eyebrows, pursed her lips. Kiba shook his head at her.

“Alright, I get it. Too forward.”

“Did I pass out?” Hinata whispered, slowly sitting up. Shino nodded.

“Same ol’ Hinata. But it was for me this time.” He chuckled, folding his arms as he turned away from her. She swallowed, willing herself to take deep breaths as she looked on him. She couldn’t help but notice how broad his shoulders were from the back. “Guess she likes what she sees, huh Shino?”

“Stop it!” Hinata breathed, shaking her head. Another chuckle as he fell back on the couch next to her, and Shino took the other side. She sucked in a deep breath as they leaned in to look at her. They always had a way of prying things out of her, especially when they tag teamed.

“You’re not leaving again.” Kiba finally broke the silence, his features dead serious. She looked up at him with wide eyes.

“That’s not-that’s not your decision to make, Kiba!” She spoke indignantly, turning her nose at him. His expression didn’t budge. She leaned in, eyebrows furrowing, trying to give off the air that he didn’t intimidate her. She had become so skilled at not letting others intimidate her over the years, she wasn’t going to let Kiba of all people break her. “No! I’m not staying! I-I can’t-“

“Why?” Shino pulled her attention to himself, and her eyes went wide, darting them his way.

“Shino-“

“I’ve been quiet the last two days, Hinata…” Shino sighed. “But Kiba’s right. You caused panic. Why? Because you left in the dead of night. All we had was Kakashi reassuring us you were out there, alive.” Hinata’s heart began thumping against her chest as they both questioned her.

“We can’t let you go, again, Hinata.” Kiba pulled her attention now. “It’s not healthy, what you’re doing.”

“You do not look well.” Shino added, causing her to look back.

“You’re thin.” Kiba dipped his eyes at her figure briefly. “Sickly. Whatever you’re up to, it’s not good for you, or the people who love you.”

She felt her hands begin to shake as she dropped her eyes into her lap, neck tired from whipping her gaze back and forth between her teammates. “You don’t know-“

“I do know,” Kiba retorted, closing the distance between them. His serious expression remained. “Stay and make things right, Hinata.”

“I can’t-I can’t do this.”

She leapt from the couch before they had a chance to realize what was happening. She bolted from the house, not bothering to grab her sandals or shut the door behind her, simply snatching her pack and running as hard as her heels could handle.

They would come after her, this she knew. So, she had to be quicker, and unpredictable. She made a sharp left into the old Uchiha district and hopped as high as she could, until she made it over the fencing around it. Then she made for the East. Maybe she could make it to the Mist and speak with her sister before they could catch her. She just knew she couldn’t stay.

Almost 50 kilometers out, she finally stopped running.

“Byakugan.”

She let out a sigh of relief at the lack of chakra signatures around her. Kiba and Shino had trailed her for almost 20 kilometers before their signatures began disappearing. So, she went 30 more. She could finally relax. She had been running and leaping, leaping and running for nearly three hours, and desperately needed a break. She fell to her knees on top of a thick tree branch and fumbled with her pack. Hands shaky, breathing unsteady, she managed to construct her sloppy tent.

She should have known. She should have known.

“There was no way he was going to let you leave like that…” Hinata whispered to the wind as she crawled into the mangled tent, sighing as she rested her head. She squeezed her eyes shut.

Waiting for Kiba was foolish. Going to see Shino was foolish. She had gotten the answers she sought; she should have left straight after her conversation with Konohamaru. Her pattern of weakness caught up with her, Shikamaru’s innocent request for her to go to see Shino breaking the walls she had built for the last two years. Her teammates meant the world to her, but she couldn’t stay in the Leaf. Kiba would never let her leave without a fight, she should have waited until night and snuck out. But she panicked and took off in the most dramatic way possible.

While Shino could be convinced to leave her and attempt to forget about her, Kiba could not. He made that much clear on many occasions. He was possessive of his friends, much like a pack leader. It was in his nature to be loyal, loyal to a fault. She loved him dearly, but he couldn’t begin to understand what she was going through. The constant ache in her heart, the dark thoughts. Milky eyes looking sadly on her as the life extinguishes behind them. Big blue orbs, scrunched into a smile at her. Pink hair falling over those blue orbs as he spins her around, laying kisses over her as she says “yes.”

Her nightmares, every night. She hadn’t had a restful night sleep in so long, she couldn’t even remember. It was certainly before the war. Sometimes she dreamt of Naruto and Sakura. Sometimes she dreamt of Hanabi. Sometimes she dreamt of an ugly old man her father would surely marry her off to. Sometimes she dreamt of Neji. Neji…another reason it was so painful to remain in the Leaf. Everything about the Hyūga compound brought memories of Neji. Everything outside of the Hyūga compound brought thoughts of Naruto. She felt trapped. When Naruto and Sakura began seeing each other, she gave a brave face and acted unaffected. It was okay, he deserved to be happy. Maybe it wouldn’t turn into anything serious. She still had a chance.

Then, while attending the after party to Ino and Sai’s wedding, while everyone was dancing and happy, she was dancing and happy, it happened. Naruto got down on one knee and the room fell silent as they watched him propose to Sakura.

“Sakura Haruno, I’ve loved you since I set eyes on you.” Sakura had rolled her eyes, an uncharacteristic blush on her cheeks as she looked down at her teammate. “I want to spend every moment together, forever. Marry me.”

As her mouth opened and the beginning of “yes” escaped her, Naruto already had her in his arms, spinning her and assaulting her with kisses. To anyone else, it was a beautiful moment. The Hero of the Leaf, finally winning his sweetheart over, displaying his love in a grand gesture. Everyone clapped, everyone hooted, everyone converged on them to congratulate them.

Except Hinata. And Kiba. Before Hinata could hit the floor, Kiba was already quietly whisking her away, and within seconds, they were in the forest, and Hinata was a mess of tears and sobs on the ground in front of him. She couldn’t remember how he looked, she just remembered him giving an exasperated sigh before getting to his knees to envelope her in his embrace. She barely remembered the rest of the night, she didn’t remember what he said to her, or what she said. She just remembered pain. Then meeting with Kakashi. Then placing a flower on Neji’s grave. Then gathering her things from her room and leaving the Hyūga compound, her father stopping her before she could reach the gates to threaten her. Then running, then numbness.

The smell of smoke woke her up.

No.

She ripped her blanket off her and tore open the flap of the tent to find Kiba casually roasting something over a flame. She darted her eyes around in a panic as he looked up at her, that charismatic smirk on his lips. “Morning, princess.” She pursed her lips at the nickname, planning her best method of escape. Before she could get too far in planning, he interrupted her. “I wouldn’t run if I was you. Anbu are all over this place. Naruto agreed it wasn’t the best idea to let you get too far again. You no longer have the Hokage’s permission.”

“What?!” She gasped, eyebrow cinching together. “I-I have explicit permission from Kakashi!”

“Kakashi isn’t Hokage anymore.” He spoke flatly, looking away from her. “And he’s on vacation. You’re not getting out of this. I convinced Naruto to let me bring you home.”

“Kiba, please.” Suddenly she felt weak. She crawled out of the tent towards him, eyes wide towards him as he looked down at her, a cool expression on his face. “Please don’t do this. Please let me go. I can’t go back.”

“Hinata…” He sighed, pressing his thumb and index finger to the bridge of his nose. She grabbed his forearm, tightening her grip around it.

“Please! I’m begging you! I can’t go back, it’s too painful.” Her voice was pleading. “I can’t be there. I don’t want to go back!”

“You’ve had two years, Hinata,” he snapped, eyebrows lowering angrily, causing her to recoil. “Don’t you think that’s enough to get over a stupid crush?”

The smack against his cheek rang through the forest, the position of his freshly hit cheek frozen. Suddenly, she gasped and threw her hands over her mouth, shocked by herself. She watched as his jaw flexed. She had never hit him in anger before. Suddenly, he snatched one of her wrists, pulling it from her mouth and clenched it to the point of pain, forcing her eyes up at his.

“That’s all you’re getting.” Kiba growled, eyes boring into her. She tugged at her wrist, her other hand attempting to pry it from him with a frightened look on her face.

“I-I’m sorry, Kiba-“

“Don’t,” he whispered, suddenly releasing her as his eyes refocused on the fire. “Just be quiet.”

Hinata fell on her bottom, staring at the red handprint on his marked cheek. She pulled her knees to her chest and rested her forehead against them, and proceeded to sob. She couldn’t escape this. She felt like she was losing her mind. And she probably was.

She was being a brat. Kiba was becoming increasingly frustrated with her slow pace, knowing full well she could go faster. She outran him by a long shot yesterday, and here she was, dragging her feet like a child being forced to go to school.

“Pick up the pace, Hina,” he grumbled, nudging at her elbow. She recoiled and refused to meet his eyes. “Hey!” He stopped, grabbing her shoulders. He shook her lightly until she finally looked up, anger in her eyes. “You can be pissy if you want, but I’m not making a day’s trip into three days because you’re pouting!”

“I’m not pouting...” she murmured, looking away from him. He shook her once more, but she refused to meet his gaze. Then he let go of her, glaring down at her.

Fine. If she was going to act like a child, he would treat her like one.

In one swift motion, he had her slung over his shoulder. Her gasp and yelp did not deter him as he began running forward.

“Put me down, Kiba! Now!” she protested, banging her fists on his back. He ignored her. “Kiba!”

“No use fighting,” he finally responded. “I’m not letting you go.”

“Put me down!” she repeated, still wailing on him. “This is completely uncalled for!”

When he felt her hands begin to move with intention, he scoffed once more. “I wouldn’t try any ninjutsu.”

“You’re horrible!” she continued, her hands falling. “Horrible. You hate me. That’s the only way I can explain it, you must despise me.” He ignored her once more, and after a few minutes of wasting her voice and energy, she finally quieted and slumped over. He frowned at the familiar feeling of her shaking against him began. She was crying again. He let out a frustrated sigh but continued on.

After a few hours, the gates of the Leaf glimmered in the distance. He stopped suddenly, and gently set her down on her feet. “I’ll let you walk in with dignity if you quit being a brat.”

“When did you become so cruel?” Hinata whispered, eyes on the ground. He rolled his eyes.

“Enough drama, Hina. I’m not being cruel, I’m being your friend, and doing what a best friend should do.” He bent downward to force her to look at him. She violently turned her head so he couldn’t catch her. He frowned, another frustrated sigh, and snatched her wrist, practically dragging her. “It’s no skin off my ass if you look like a fool being dragged in by me by the whole village.”

“FINE!” He skidded on his feet at her thundering, shooting her a look over his shoulder. She ripped her wrist away from him and began stomping towards the gate. He’d take it. He jogged after her, keeping pace next to her, looking down at her anxiously. She was so, so different.

No longer the lovely, quiet, kindhearted girl that used to be his teammate. She was cold, sullen, and aggressive. Like some sort of wounded animal. He was concerned of what the future held for her; he knew he had to keep her home.

Over the past two years, Kiba felt like he was slowly losing his mind looking for her and saw the same in Shino. They would spend countless nights together after a day of splitting up to cover ground. She was sneaky, they always knew that. But they didn’t know she would be able to cover her tracks that well. He supposed it made sense. As the tracking team, it would be logical that she would know how to hide herself from sensory types, especially her own team. Frankly, he was proud. But he cursed her for it.

After that night when Naruto had proposed to Sakura in front of everyone, he knew she would need some space. That’s why he didn’t try to find her right away. He figured she would need some time to clear her head, then come back, fresh and new, or at least ready to deal with it. But weeks turned into months, and he and Shino began to panic. They sought permission from Kakashi to go over the borders to try to find her, only to be told that she was granted explicit permission by him to travel. He warned it would not be easy to find her, and that he was in communication with her to ensure her safety.

Then he did the unthinkable. He went to Hiashi.

He pleaded the clan leader to put more effort into finding his daughter. But months had passed, and Hiashi appeared indifferent to her fleeing, if not a bit spiteful. He had told Kiba that he cared not for her return, and when she did return, she would not be welcomed back to the Hyūga. He almost launched at the elder at those words, but Shino was there to reign him in. He left feeling angrier than he had since the conclusion of the war.

The night Naruto proposed to Sakura, he immediately covered her ears and took her to the forest. As soon as Naruto got down on one knee, he planned their escape. He already knew how Hinata would react. He held her, for hours as she sobbed. He whispered comfort to her, as much as it pained him to see her in such a state of disarray. He stroked her hair, locked her in his arms, kissed the top of her head, and let her soak his robes in tears until she finally passed out from exhaustion.

It was a terrible night. He remembered carrying her to the spare bedroom in his house. He tucked her into bed, gave her a goodnight kiss on the forehead, and told her he loved her, even though she was asleep. The next morning, he got up bright and early to visit the bakery to pick up fresh cinnamon rolls to bring back to her, but she was already gone. He didn’t know that the night before would be the last time he would see her for two entire years.

Every day, he woke up thinking of her. He had begun to lose hope, and hesitantly accepted a mission that would take him from the village for three months. Of course, she would return while he was gone, he was just thankful it was towards the end and Shino managed to convince her to stick around for his sake. But now, he felt further from her than ever before.

They walked quietly next to each other until they reached the Hokage’s tower. They stood in silence in front of the doors to the advisor’s office. Finally, she looked up at Kiba one last time as a final plea, her face contorted with misery and pain. His lips downturned, but he slid his hand into hers, and briefly, she allowed him to squeeze. Then she yanked it back, features morphing into anger before she shoved her way in, Kiba following after. Shikamaru hopped up from his desk and immediately entered the Hokage’s office before returning for her. When Kiba tried to follow, she stopped shortly and glared up at him.

“That will be all, Kiba,” she spoke clearly, obviously catching the look of hurt flashing over his eyes before his features relaxed. He nodded and turned on his heel, letting her leave freely. When the door shut, he let his shoulders slump with a shaky breath.

What happened to her?

Dutifully, Kiba waited with Shikamaru while Hinata met with Naruto. With crossed arms, he drummed his fingers on his bicep, staring intently at the door.

“Glaring it down won’t make it open sooner,” Shikamaru chided, looking up from the paperwork he was sorting through. Kiba shot him a quick glare before returning his eyes to the door. “Might as well sit down. You just ran, what, 50 kilometers, then another 50?”

“I’m fine,” Kiba said, quickly, brushing him off. Shikamaru rolled his eyes as he looked back down at his paperwork.

“Any clue why she’s so intent on getting out of here?” he asked without raising his eyes. Kiba looked at him incredulously.

“Aren’t you supposed to be the genius Nara of our generation?” he spat back, lowering his eyebrows at him. Shikamaru let out a low chuckle.

“Just wondered what it was from your perspective.” He shrugged, looking back up with idle eyes.

“Naruto and Sakura of course,” he replied quickly, shaking his head. Shikamaru tilted his.

“Think that’s it?” he asked, innocently. Kiba glowered down at his old schoolmate, wondering what he was trying to force out of him. He paused to rake over his own thoughts.

“Well, I mean…I know it hurts her to think of Neji, I guess.” He looked up in thought. “Being at the Hyūga compound doesn’t help with that, I know. She’s also scared of her father, and what plans he might have for her. Plus, just the overall trauma of the war weighs down on all of us, I guess.”

Shikamaru smirked at Kiba’s thoughtfulness. Once a rambunctious, loud mouthed idiot with little regard for others was really a full grown, perceptive adult now. He nodded. “So, if you know all that, maybe you should be a little…I dunno, kinder to her? More understanding?” Kiba lowered his eyes at him, lips pressing into a thin line. “I saw you approach the gates, carrying her. You seemed pretty frustrated out there, big guy.”

Kiba stopped to consider his words. Indeed, he had been incredibly frustrated with her because she had hurt him. And then when he finally got her back, she proceeded to shove what felt like a knife through his heart once more. He wasn’t going to let her go so easily again. But in his fury, his haste to get her back, he hadn’t stopped to consider that it was really for selfish reasons he had gone after her. And his selfish reasons drove him to act in anger with her.

Damnit, now he was feeling guilty.

“Just a thought.” Shikamaru snapped him from his own thoughts as he stretched with a yawn. Kiba crinkled his nose as he caught the yawn, imitating him as he fell back into one of the seats provided.

Hinata had been through a tremendous amount, he knew. And he knew he couldn’t understand the extent of her pain. Through their years, he learned a considerable amount about her past. Her humiliating defeat by Hanabi, the physical and verbal abuse from both her father and Neji before Neji came around. Which of course only made his death all the more tragic. She had spent much of her childhood wishing for him to be her friend once more, her brother.

Finally, she had a spark of happiness in her life when Neji slowly warmed back up. Kiba saw how happy it made her to have him back, even the smallest kindnesses she would gush about. He never really liked the guy, in fact hated him for a good portion of their genin days for his treatment of her and nearly killing her during the chunnin exams. But he had to respect him for the powerhouse and tactician he was. And he couldn’t deny it made him happy to see her happy, so he begrudgingly accepted Neji as a ‘good person.’

When she finally felt she was getting to be on equal footing with him, and felt closer to him than ever, he was killed. In the heat of battle, not too many people saw it happen, and even the people who did had little time to mourn him, including Hinata. The effects didn’t really sink in until they returned home and laid all who fell to rest. Kiba and Shino, along with others who suffered the least losses, were assigned to retrieve bodies. It was one of the worst missions he had to endure in his life. It felt worse than the actual battling itself. It was Kiba who found Neji. Bodies had piled so high, they didn’t have the time or energy to retrieve him when they initially returned home.

It was a gruesome sight. His eye sockets were empty, the caged bird seal activated. But he made getting Neji back his number one priority. When he finally got him to the Hyūga compound and she laid eyes on him, she immediately fell to her knees. Her sobs still haunted him. Hiashi’s cold gaze chilled him as he carefully took the branch Hyūga from his arms. Immediately, he had fallen next to Hinata and held her. It was a position he was unfortunately becoming all too familiar with.

He just wanted to protect her. He wanted to hold her and shield her from the problems of the outside world. Put her in a bubble and never let anything wrong her again.

After a few months of mourning from the entire village, as well as rebuilding, regular missions picked up again. And Hinata began cheering up. She held a strong façade for everyone and resumed missions as team 8. Asuma and Kurenai’s baby was born, and they had a blissful moment as a team to dote on the newest Sarutobi. It really felt like things were getting back to normal. Hinata impressed Kiba beyond his imagination when she heard the news of Sakura and Naruto’s budding romance. She took it in stride, despite a small look of pain flashing over her face when they were mentioned. He really felt like he had his teammate back.

Then Ino and Sai’s wedding happened, and all of her progress came undone.

His initial understanding of her feelings turned to frustration when she didn’t return for some months. Now here he was, having to be told by Shikamaru of all people to consider her feelings.

Love made people stupid, that much was clear.

Hinata sat silently in the chair across from Naruto, hands clasped in her lap and staring blankly out the window to her right. Naruto sat at his desk, chin resting on his intertwined hands as he looked on her, debating the best way to start. He had hoped she would come in, ready to talk, ready to say anything, but she simply walked in, bowed, and took a seat, devoid of sound or emotion. The negative energy she was radiating was poisonous. He sighed and finally leaned back in his chair.

He started. “Hinata…I’m sorry it had to be like this.” He paused to see if she would respond, and when there was none, he continued. “I think two years is enough time to wander. Don’t you think you should come home—to the Leaf?” More silence. “Everyone misses you, and team 8 has been lacking-“

“Team 8 disbanded years ago.” Hinata finally spoke bitterly but did not look at him. He frowned at her forwardness.

“But you still function like your team 8—our investigative missions haven’t been the same without you. Your byakugan is the farthest reaching of any Hyūga—” Hinata scoffed at the compliment, Neji had the farthest reaching, “—well. Anyway. Everyone wants you to stay, Hinata. And I really think your sister could use your support right now.”

“What do you know of my sister?” Hinata whispered to her lap. Naruto sighed.

“I know she misses you. I know she talks about you all the time. I know she’s nervous about taking over your clan. I know she’s anxious about the marriage. I know she needs her big sister.”

“And how would you know that?”

“Konohamaru.”

Quiet overtook the room for a few tense minutes before Naruto stood up, rounding his desk to lean back on it.

“Did you find meaning out there?” Naruto finally asked. “Out there, outside the Land of Fire? Did you find what you were looking for?”

Hinata’s breath caught in her throat at the question. In barely a breath, she said, “no.”

“Then don’t you think what you’re looking for…is here?”

No.

No, no, no.

“I have to go.” Hinata stood up abruptly and slammed the door of his office open, trying to escape. Suddenly, she found herself paralyzed, only able to shift her eyes to her left to find Shikamaru with his hands clasped.

“Trying to escape again?” Kiba was to the right, arms folded disapprovingly. She swallowed the lump in her throat before relaxing, realizing she couldn’t escape Shikamaru’s shadow possession jutsu. It was something she had never experienced, and it was terrifying, to be honest. Complete lack of control. Shikamaru sighed as he turned towards Naruto’s form in the frame of the door, forcing her to face him as well. She lowered her eyes to avoid his sympathetic gaze.

“Look Hinata—” Naruto let out a tired sigh as he leaned against the doorframe to his office, “—just stay a few weeks, please? Until after the wedding, sort stuff out. If you still really want to leave…then I’ll grant it to you.”

Hinata jaw clenched. “So, you’re keeping me hostage?”

“You’re a citizen of the Leaf. There are rules, Hinata.” Shikamaru lowered his eyes at her.

“Sorry, Hinata. But I think it’s best you stay a while and cool off. Your sister will be back soon.” Naruto’s voice sounded so…mature and even. She frowned.

“What happened to not being able to argue with Hyūga?” she whispered, pain etched in her voice and tears threatening to fall, causing Naruto to wince. Kiba’s eyes shifted between the three uncomfortably before he stepped towards Hinata.

“Let her go, Shikamaru.” His voice was low. Shikamaru glanced at Naruto who nodded him along. As he released the jutsu, Hinata’s knees buckled, but Kiba was ready to snatch her up.

“I…I can’t go home…” she whispered against his jacket, barely audible. “I don’t have a home.”

“She can’t go back to the Hyūga compound.” Kiba frowned, looking up at Naruto who nodded solemnly.

“I can put her up somewhere…” Naruto offered, but Kiba shook his head.

“I’ll take her for now.” Naruto tilted his head, glancing between the two before nodding once more.

Suddenly, exhaustion took her as the men around her took control of her future. She was helpless. Like always. Black consumed her vision.

#kibahina #kiba inuzuka #hinata hyuga #naruto #naruto fanfiction #naruto fanfic #kibahina fanfic #kibahina fanfiction #kiba x hinata #kiba x hinata fanfic #inuzuka kiba #hyuga hinata #kibahina fic #hinata hyuuga #hyuuga hinata #my fic #Trapped In My Mind

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deathwishy · 3 years

Text

x MARVEL CROSSOVER x

Marinette knew that Tom Dupain wasn't her biological father. Nonetheless, she loved him and he loved her. He married her mother when she was two and have been inseparable ever since.

On the other side, her biological father was a prick.

He first came to visit her after she developed a ... rather interesting set of abilities. She was five when that happened. Her mother had somehow contacted him and, even though he doubted it, he came.

It is safe to say that he was beyond shocked when he saw that Marinette was his spitting image, not counting the blue eyes. She had a mischievous smile and sharp eyes, carrying herself like royalty, worthy of the title of the daughter of the god of mischief.

That day, Loki found out he had a demigoddess daughter.

While he was reluctant at first, the little girl grew on him. He visited at least twice a month, mainly to help her control her powers but also to let her know that he actually cared about her, to ensure that he wasn't with her like his father was with him. No other Asgardian knew about Marinette and he would like to keep it that way. There was no need for his brother of father to swoop in and ruin everything.

As the years passed their bond became unbreakable. Marinette still thought that Loki was a prick and an idiot at times but she wouldn't have it any other way. Life was boring anyway, why not sprinkle it with a little bit of mischief?

When she became Ladybug, he knew. He called out Tikki as soon as he stepped in her room and her parents were out of hearing range.

"Tikki, you can come out. You should know better by now."

Marinette was dumbfounded when the goddess came out from behind some books, with a pout and with her arms crossed.

"I knew it. Trixx did say that you came to Midgard and Marinette looks like a miniature female version of yourself."

"I'm actually surprised the guardian gave her the Ladybug miraculous. I would've guessed she would have been a better fox."

"She is a very good match for me too. Her soul is a creative one, but yes, she would be a perfect fox."

"Um... Can I get in the loop too?"

The two gods turned to her. Marinette had her arms crossed, tapping her foot on the floor. Loki gave her a sheepish smile.

"I am a God, Marigold, I do know the other gods too."

The day passed talking with the two deities about all sorts of things, Tikki especially scolding him for the New York disaster, Marinette joining her. It happened before she was born so even if he changed it was still a horrible thing

"Look, daddy issues are a pain to deal with. I was very angry."

"Dad, it's no excuse to be an asshole."

"I know." Loki rolled his eyes then grinned. "But what's this I'm hearing about from Tikki about a boy?"

Marinette flushed, glaring at the offender, now munching on a cookie, her eyes sparkling with laughter. She was shaking her head and vigorously gesturing with her hands.

"Nope. I'm not talking with you about this and, Odin forbid, if I see you around him I'll cut your macaron supply."

Loki only raised his hands in surrender, laughing heartedly. He wouldn't dare cross his daughter, so he swore, between tears of laughter, that he would keep his distance.

"But if he breaks your heart I'll throw him in Jotunheim."

...

A few years later, when Lila came around he knew. There was no mistaking the dimming of the fire in her soul. He could see that she didn't want to talk about it by the way she was dodging the subject so he had to take the matter in his own hands.

He shapeshifted into a horsefly and flew after her when she went to school. It took a lot of his power to hide from Marinette's sight but if was worth it. Now he knew why she started closing in on herself.

Loki could admire a good lie. After all he was the god of trickery, lies and deceit. But this girl spouting off the worst lies he ever heard. Not only were they ridiculous, they were also completely devoid of any drop of truth. That was the base of any good lie, and she was lacking it entirely. What confused him more what that some of her classmates believed her. Only a handful others didn't seem to believe her, one of which was a blond boy that looked at the leech, glued to his hand, with disgust. By his aura Loki assumed he was the holder of the Black Cat.

He confronted Marinette when she came back from school. Some of the lies were concerning, they were hurting his daughter and he couldn't let it fly. He assumed the harpy was set on Marinette because she wouldn't buy her lies. That was not surprising, she could see even though his best lies.

"I know, Marigold."

Marinette knew what he meant. She inhaled deeply and looked around.

"Can we go somewhere else, outside of Paris?"

The furrowed his brows, getting more concerned by the second. He couldn't read her in that moment. He could read most people like an open book, but that was his daughter. She knew how to hide things from him.

"Yes. Tell your parents, we don't want to concern them."

After she told her parents that she would go with Loki on a short trip, he opened a portal to a high rooftop over a city. She could feel the darkness of it, potent and corrupting. She figured that was why her father would bring her there, no one would notice them. As soon as the portal closed, she broke down. She hugged him, crying into his chest.

"I'm so tired, dad. The responsibility of Ladybug, Lila and her lies, half of my class turned against me, Hawkmoth just sending out akuma after akuma, it's just so much."

He let her cry, hugging her closely and patting her head. Even after all these years he didn't know how to properly comfort his daughter but it was something he actively was working for.

"But I assume you still don't want me to help?"

"The Avengers or The Justice League would notice if you do something. I managed to keep them away, for the time being, but I doubt they would hesitate coming if they heard that you came into a highschool, knives flying after a teenage girl or if you burnt down half of Paris searching for Hawkmoth."

She sighed, sitting on the edge of roof.

"I can handle it, I think. It's hard but I can manage it. I have Chat Noir and the others, we will succeed."

"You know that I will always be by your side if you need me, right?"

"Of course, dad." She hugged him once more, not letting go for some time.

When she calmed down, she asked him to get them to Paris.

"Dad, where was that? I've never felt a more malicious feeling to a place in my entire life."

"Gotham City. That place holds a centuries long curse."

Marinette nodded then hugged her father one more time before he left. She then went on her balcony, sketchbook and laptop in her hands. The afternoon sun was providing perfect lighting for sketching. She set aside the sketchbook for the moment, opening the laptop. She heard about Gotham from Alya when she was gushing about the vigilantes. She wasn't especially interested about them so she listened politely but forgot everything the next day.

Gotham was dubbed the Crime Capital, which was not surprising. The maliciousness surrounding the city was overwhelming, even if she was there for only a few minutes short of an hour. She could only imagine what that could do to the locals. A meeting with Fu after her patrol that night was mandatory.

Apparently he knew about the situation in Gotham. An old friend kept him updated. He confessed that he wanted to talk with her about it but decided to tell her when she was prepared. Fighting that kind of corruption would be hard and it would take years. They decided to put a pin in it and deal with it after they defeated Hawkmoth. Marinette did NOT need this on her plate now.

...

Things got a little complicated when Wonder Woman decided to drop by. It was night, just a few hours after an akuma attack. Ladybug had to patrol on her own, Chat Noir was held back in his civilian life. She caught Ladybug on the Eiffel Tower, just when she was finishing her round.

"Ladybug."

"Wonder Woman. I wasn't aware that you would be coming by."

"I apologize, but this is important. Your presence is required at a summit between The Avengers and The Justice League. Some discussions will be about the situation in Paris and as the city is in your jurisdiction, you are invited to attend."

Marinette felt like she didn't tell the whole truth but agreed, under the condition to bring Chat Noir too. They were a team.

Loki wanted to come along but Marinette shot the idea down quickly. The was a chance that Thor would notice and everything would go south very quickly. She didn't need an international incident on her hands. The others didn't trust Loki but they were civil with each other after the brothers made amends and he helped them a couple of times. Still, she didn't think they would appreciate Marinette bringing an unauthorized guest.

...

A few weeks later they were in a secret base in the Alps. After she got the coordinates of the location she used the horse miraculous to get there. They were fairly early, only a few members of both teams being present. Batman with his team, Thor, Wonder Woman, Black Widow, Winter Soldier and Green Arrow.

Batman was the first one to greet her, soon after she closed the portal.

"Tikki, Kaalki, divide."

The horse kwami landed in her hand, where a sugar cube was waiting for her. She then nestled on top of her head. She slid the glasses there too, for easy access, just in case.

"Ladybug, glad you could come." Batman greeted her cordially. She shook his outstretched hand.

"Of course. After all, I was said this was concerning us."

Before Batman could say anything, a man dressed in black, with a blue bird symbol on his chest jumped in front of her, grinning like a child.

"I can't believe it, you are a real magical girl!"

Ladybug took a step back, blinking, a little shocked by the grown man's reaction.

"Tt. Nightwing, be professional."

"Yeah Wingman, you're going to scare the little Pixie."

"Ignore them, they are idiots." Said one of them, coming beside her. She identified him as Red Robin, one of Batman's... Associates? It felt wrong to call him a sidekick. That would be Robin.

"Red Robin. The idiots there are Nightwing, Red Hood and Robin."

"Pleasure meeting you." She smiled to them warmly. Robin narrowed his eyes, looking at her head.

"What is that?" He asked, taking a step closer to take a better look. Kaalki flew in his face, indignated.

"I'm a goddess, you oaf." Robin took a step back, hands on his katana, shocked by the little goddesses reaction. She narrowed her eyes, suddenly tamer. "Are you famous?" Robin was sputtering, clearly not prepared for the change in her demeanor.

Red Hood burst out laughing.

"Fucking hell, his face. I've never been more grateful for the camera in my helmet."

"Kwami don't show up on camera, but his face definitely will." Chat Noir pointed out. He went beside Ladybug, up until then scanning the compound. "I'm Chat Noir, the fabulous purr-tner of Ladybug, at your service." He made a mock bow, grinning like the Cheshire Cat. Ladybug, Red Robin, Red Hood and Robin groaned.

"Not ANOTHER ONE!"

"Tt. I can't handle two of them. I'll inevitably going to break the no killing rule."

"Um, what's going on?" Ladybug turned to Red Robin, who was grimacing.

"Nightwing." He said, giving her a pitying look.

"Oh, come on, it can't be that claw-ful." Retorted Nightwing. Chat Noir lit up like a Christmas tree.

"My lady, see. I was sure I was feline a fellow paw-nner nearby."

"Kill me." Ladybug and Red Robin said at the same time. They looked at each other and laughed.

As more heroes were arriving, Ladybug introduced herself to each of them. She tensed a bit when Thor came beaming at her.

"Ah! I haven't seen the miraculous for centuries! I am not really that familiar with the Chinese Miracle Box but I did encounter a wielder of Trixx."

She smiled tightly listening to his encounter with Fylja. She knows from her father about her, a trickster just like him, who managed to seduce Thor and steal Mjolnir and hide it. Thor decided to omit that detail. He liked the young hero but something seemed oddly familiar about her.

When Aquaman came, he looked very uncomfortable with his proximity to Chat Noir. He was cordial but kept his distance after finishing introductions. Chat Noir did tell her once that Plagg said that he was the one who sank Atlantis. It was a real story, apparently.

Ladybug preferred the company of Red Robin. They had a lot of things in common, from mutual interests to similar experiences as heroes. He asked a lot of questions without being invasive or trying to find out things about her civilian life and actually seemed interested about her answers. She actually blushed when Nightwing called them cute. She could see with the corner of her eyes how Chat Noir was wiggling his eyebrows but swooped up the other boys when they started teasing them.

"Everyone is here. Only the official members of the Justice League and the Avengers are allowed, as well as Ladybug and Chat Noir. The rest will stay here." Wonder Woman announced, leaving the rest of the young heroes pouting and protesting.

Ladybug turned to Red Robin and gave him a wave.

"See you after."

"Definitely." He grinned, making her blush.

Chat Noir came beside her, smiling knowingly.

"At least you're not a stuttering mess this time."

"Shut up you alley cat, that was four years ago."

"So you do like him." He smiled even wider. Ladybug blushed furiously, punching him in the ribs. He only giggled.

"Nightwing and Red Hood owe me 50 dollars."

"You're unbelievable."

All the heroes were seated at a circular table, everyone having an assigned seat. Even Ladybug and Chat Noir, their symbols gleaming brand new on the backs of the black chairs.

"The summit begins. We are now gathered here to discuss the Paris situation." Superman began, opening a slide on the projector.

Ladybug narrowed her eyes. It became obvious that they called the summit just for this. They were trying to take control. She clenched her fists, but didn't say anything. She hoped this wasn't what it looked like. She put her hand on Chat Noir's shoulder when he looked like he wanted to say something. She squeezed twice. ' I got this.'

"Ladybug, Chat Noir, it's been four and a half years since Hawkmoth has been active and so far we haven't seen much progress. The akumas seem to become more powerful and aggressive and the damage to Paris greater each time. We think you might be over your heads."

"What we are trying to say," Batman stood up, glaring at Superman for his lack of tact, "is that the situation is becoming increasingly difficult and we feel the need to intervene. We know that you are young, let us help you."

"You are kids, we can tell. We thought that because of the nature of the miraculous you will be able to neutralize the threat in due time, seeing as it's the same type of magic." Added Captain America.

"We trusted that you could handle it, as you said, but some of us already have doubts." Iron Man said, crossing his arms.

"Your miraculous might not be enough this time. But that's ok. We want this to end as much as you do." Professor Banner added, looking at them like he was explaining to children why they couldn't cross the street when the traffic light was red.

Most of the heroes didn't notice the way the two young heroes narrowed their eyes, faces darkening, but some, mostly those who knew the power of the miraculous, did. Aquaman was uneasy, a sense of foreboding dawning over him, Wonder Woman looked like she didn't know what her peers were going to say. She stood still, but tense, like preparing for an attack. She knew they were somewhat right, but that wasn't the way to help them. Green Lantern was leaning in his seat like he wanted it to eat him. Thor looked around the table, damning every one of them present. They were going to get them killed. Black Widow was glaring at Banner, knowing what his words did to the Parisians by their increasing straining to say nothing and stay in place. Batman was following them carefully. Something about the two of them screamed danger.

Then Superman dropped the bomb.

"So, effective immediately, we take jurisdiction of the city of..."

He was cut off by a sudden boom reverberating through the room. All heroes jumped in a battle stance. When there was no threat in sight, they looked at Ladybug, who had made a dent in the table with her fist. Her eyes were entirely blue. But it was not her usual color, it was an icy blue, that could freeze the fires of hell. Thor held his breath. They looked exactly like frost giant eyes. And familiar ones.

"How. Dare. You."

She didn't yell but the heroes could feel the ice in their veins.

"For four years we've been tirelessly fighting an emotional prying bastard, while controlling our own to the point where it seems that we have none, handling our civilian lives at the same time, trying to minimize the destruction of Paris even though we new the cure with bring everything back to normal, tending to our citizens after they've been akumatized, ensuring they would get therapy and support, even stopping minor crimes around the city and you have the balls to say that we are in over our heads?! We may be but we are handling it way better than any of you do! You are not one to speak, Superman. Metropolis gets trashed every other week with you're messy fights, and there is no cure. You obviously have no regard of the destruction or the victims most of the time. The rest of you are mostly the same. But there is no one getting in your way saying that you're doing a horrible job and trying to replace you. And if there is, gods forbid, you just send them to prison or in a mental asylum. You have NO right to criticize our ways when yours are statistically worse!"

Both the Justice League and the Avengers were silent and wide eyed. Thor was the first to recover. Her eyes went back to normal after she finished but there was no mistake. The girl wasn't human.

"Who are you?" He pointed his hammer at Ladybug. She rolled her eyes.

"Put that down, you're not intimidating anyone."

"Those were frost giant eyes. Answer me or perish."

"Dad would not appreciate the perish part, you know."

The Avengers and the Leaguers were now exchanging confused looks. What were they supposed to do? What was that about? After exchanging glances, they remained silent, watching the exchange curiously.

"What are you talking about?" Thor retorted, now gripping Mjolnir tighter.

"I guess this is as a bad time as any but... Hello uncle."

It wasn't ideal but she couldn't have both the Justice League and the Avengers trying to arrest her. She took the yo-yo from her hip and slid it open. She scrolled through her contacts and tapped the one named 'The God of Bullshit'. After a few beeps, during which the heroes were recovering from their stupor, Loki's face appeared on the screen.

"Daughter dearest. What's the matter, are the others bothering you?" He said in a sarcastic sweet voice. She rolled her eyes then pointed the screen towards Thor.

"L'Oréal blond knows."

After a few seconds Loki starts laughing like a maniac.

"This is the best way they could've found out. This is PERFECT."

Thor walks in wide strides to an unimpressed Ladybug and takes the yo-yo from her hand.

"I have a niece and you didn't TELL ME!"

"Of course not. You pieces of shit are not worthy of the presence of my daughter. I don't know why she even agreed to come to the meeting. She is doing a wonderful job in Paris and does not need any interference. Beware, brother, if you upset her I'll come for your heads. I have to go now, see you soon, daughter."

Ladybug closed her yo-yo and looked around the room.

"I don't care what you decided. Paris is my city. You don't come barging just because you think you can do a better job. And yes, I'm the daughter of Loki but that doesn't mean that I have bad intentions. I'm a hero as much as you are. Now, have I made myself clear?"

"Yes, Ladybug." Wonder Woman was the first to respond. Even if she was a daughter of Loki, the young hero earned her respect. She stood her ground against them and made her point crystal clear.

The rest of the heroes agree, though some reluctantly.

"Now, I agreed to come here mainly because I wanted to say that I have a strong lead. Hawkmoth may soon fall."

After some other arguments with some of the reluctant heroes and a few protests that were quickly shot down by Ladybug and her supporters, the heroes dispersed. She and Chat Noir were between the last ones to leave, having a shushed conversation while the others left.

"We will discuss it back in Paris. But yes, it's true."

"So you're a half goddess?"

"Demigoddess, but yes."

"That is awesome."

When they entered the hall, they saw it was almost empty. She was disappointed that maybe Red Robin left until he was in front of her. He gripped her shoulders and looked in her eyes.

"I think I'm in love with you. That was the greatest hero smack down in history."

She was a blushing mess by the time the other boys and Batman came around. They were all snickering, even Batman and Robin.

"How did you..."

"Father turned his com on when he saw that you looked like you were ready to kill someone."

"B, you are not allowed to adopt her under any circumstances, do you understand me? We do not need another sister."

"Yeah Bats, don't ruin your only chance at grandkids."

Now Red Robin was blushing too.

"So... You don't care about the Loki thing?"

"We noticed that he toned down a few years ago. We didn't know why. Now it makes sense."

"Yeah, trust me, you're not the only one with a villainous parent 'round here." Red Rood pointed, putting his elbow on Robin's shoulder. The latter looked like he wanted to rip it off.

"And you are clearly taking your job seriously. Even father respects your efforts."

"I didn't intend to make you feel like you are not good enough. We wanted to help you, but it got out of hand. I apologize."

"Apology accepted. I understand where you're coming from, but trust me. This is coming to an end. Soon."

When the Bats were going to the zeta tubes and Ladybug was merging the horse miraculous with her own, Red Robin stayed behind. He handed her a phone.

"It's a non traceable phone. Of you ever want to talk, my number is programmed in there. I really enjoyed our conversation"

She took the phone, smiling brightly.

"I did too. Thank you."

She pulled him into a hug. He hugged her back, kissing her on the cheek then running to the zeta tubes. Her cheeks were as red as her suit. She touched the place where he kissed her, smiling like an idiot.

"Aww, I'm going to die of fluff. I ship it."

"Shut up." She grumbled but still smiling.

...

A few months later Hawkmoth’s reign of terror came to an end. It was messy and heartbreaking but they were finally free. Adrien was exonerated by both the Justice League and the Avengers when accusations started to appear in the media. Not wanting to live with the Graham de Vanily’s, Adrien was taken in by Selina Kyle a.k.a Catwoman. It was quite fitting.

They have revealed their identities during the battle when they had to recharge and barely found one place to detransform. When they had the Butterfly and Peacock miraculous secured and Gabriel and Nathalie in police custody, they swung to the Eiffel Tower and collapsed there on each other, crying their hearts out for the first time in five years. Loki got there at some point but he kept his distance, understanding that it was their time. That was how they were found by the Justice League and the Avengers. Huddled together on the railing, not talking, with Loki next to them, smiling serenely. Thor almost had a heart attack. When she noticed that Red Robin came too, she ran to him and kissed him like the world almost ended, which almost actually did.

Fu passed guardianship to Marinette not long after, deeming her ready.

After everything was solved in Paris and the trials of Gabriel, Nathalie and Lila, for her aiding Hawkmoth, were done, Marinette began her first mission as Guardian. Cleanse Gotham.

Soon, a new vigilante, with a black fox theme, swung through Gotham with the Bats and Tim Drake appeared in public with his new girlfriend, Marinette Dupain-Cheng.

When I first saw what the prompt for today was I had no idea what to write. I didn’t want to do the class trip to New York so I took my favorite character, Loki obviously, and brainstormed. This came out. I don’t know if this has been done before but I love biodad!Loki.

So this is approximately 4326 words (I added and edited things on here so I don't know for sure) which is a new record. I did enjoy writing this. Maybe I will do something biodad!Loki again in the future, it's fun to write.

And as a sidenote, Marinette can lift Mjolnir.

@timari-month-event

#maribat #timari #timari january #mlb x dc #biodad!loki

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cheri-translates · 3 years

Text

[CN] Season 2 Summary (Volume 5: Ch 14 - 17)

🍒 Warning: Detailed spoilers from S2 🍒

Along with the update on 3 June 2021, the CN server released a “Plot Review” which contains bullet-point summaries of S2 :>

Volume 4 Summary: here

When you open your eyes again, you find that you’ve returned to the passageway in the former research centre

Although you originally think that you've re-entered the time loop, you discover a number of oddities

Feeling puzzled, you give Lucien a call, only to hear that his voice sounds as though he had lost something but found it again

“Don’t be afraid. This time, I’ll remember them with you.”

While reassuring you, Lucien rushes over

After talking to Lucien, you understand that after you were shot in the park, you died on the spot. Lucien then felt dizzy. When he opened his eyes again, you were no longer in his arms

Lucien makes a conjecture regarding your death and how you regained consciousness: the duration of your survival will be half of your previous duration of survival. Each time you die, time will leap by the same amount

“How could I not be concerned about you?”

Lucien’s attempts to save you are both reassuring and a promise he says to you amid the chaos

Just like always, he doesn’t fail your expectations, and fulfils this vow

You continuously reduce your duration of survival, which means that the Evolver who is behind this has to change the rules of nature. This exertion causes his Evol to continuously disappear

As such, through Lucien’s calculations, he uses the gravity Evol, finds a chance where he can match the other Evolver, and pulls the both of you out of the distorted time

Your safety is ensured. Lucien heads to the NW research room. Because of his ambition, and more so for your safety, he begins wresting for the control of the experiment

The dust seems to settle. But when you wake up the next day, you find that there’s a neckband on your neck. The entire city is enveloped in a thick fog, and the signal has been cut

On your phone, there’s an invitation to the Hunter Game

In this game of “hide and seek”, the ones with “Joker” cards have to catch “Humans” in order to extend the duration of their survival. The “Humans” have to look for portable oxygen concentrators in order to ensure their own survival

You’re a “Joker”, and you work with the “Human” Lucien to search for a way to survive

In order to study the fog, the two of you head to the bioscience centre. A supply point appears nearby, and a disagreement ensues because you’re both considering the other person’s safety. Lucien’s agitated emotions are contrary to your expectations

“I don’t wish for you to take risks.”

After being in a daze for a moment, Lucien calms down. He suggests that the both of you should compromise, and take this “risk” together

You deliberately expose yourself to an enemy in order to ensure Lucien’s safety. On the other hand, Lucien creates a trap made of icicles. After confirming the enemy’s position, he attacks. The tacit understanding the both of you have in this collaboration results in successful returns

Lucien makes progress in his research. He tells you that the fog comprises of an unknown substance. Such a substance should have a direct link to the Hunter Game. Unfortunately, the organiser of the game, Joker, appears and takes Lucien away...

To source for more clues, you leave the bioscience centre. Through the actions of passers-by, you’re able to obtain another batch of supplies, and you follow behind them

The place they head to turns out to be near Shaw’s antique store. It comes as a shock when you realise that half of the antique store has been burnt down

Just as you worry about Shaw, you hear his voice

“Who let you commit crimes in front of me?”

Shaw isn’t just unscathed. He seems to be using his own methods to maintain the peace and help those around him

He suggests that in order to prove the connection between the Hunter Game and the Lighthouse, he might as well lure the mastermind out

Shaw surmises that the supply points are made available in sequence, and decides to open a supply box in advance. Distributing the portable oxygen concentrators would reduce conflict, in turn ruining the game

As expected, the youth who hangs out around Joker appears. Even though he brings along external help, Shaw manages to suppress him. Unfortunately, the severely wounded youth renders both of your portable oxygen concentrators ineffective, and flees in the chaos

Shaw’s duration of survival is close to zero, but he doesn’t seem affected by the poisonous gas at all

While you’re feeling puzzled, Loveland City experiences a power cut. This causes the ad-hoc rescue points in the city to plunge into chaos

You know that Joker is doing all of this to stir people into conflict

You and Shaw head to the power station to investigate, and realise that the power lines have been tampered with by an Evolver. To restore electricity, Shaw overuses his Evol, using all his willpower to illuminate the whole of Loveland City

Shaw exhausts his energy, and the time left of your survival is almost reaching an end

“Hey, come here...”

Shaw grabs you, leaning against your shoulder. No matter what excuses he uses, you know that he’s extending your time

Shaw vanishes

[Note] A translation of Kiro’s segment is available here by @keliosyfan! I’d highly recommend reading it before the summary~

After leaving the power station, you decide to seek help from a rescue point

Along the way, the KIROMap suddenly starts up, and you can hear Kiro’s voice from the microphone on your neckband

The both of you communicate through the neckband. It turns out that since ever the Hunter Game began, he has been trying to decode the game’s system

Following his instructions, you successfully evade danger, and meet him in an underground carpark in a shopping mall

But the person you meet is Helios

While exchanging information, Helios locks you in a utility room. You know clearly in your heart that he did this to protect you

Through the KIROMap, you are able to trace his current location, and realise that he’s behind the door, right next to you

You give him information on Joker and the youth, hoping that they can be of some assistance

On the other side of the door, Helios uses his hacker skills to seize control of the Hunter Game

Your phone suddenly notifies you that the Hunter Game has come to an end

“I announce that a new game has officially begun.”

Helios uses his own computer program to create a new “game”, overturning the “hunt and kill” rules of the Hunter Game

Right at this moment, Helios opens the door to the utility room, and tells you that Joker has barged in along with others

The both of you deal with this group of people. Helios sets a trap, causing the other party’s game system to be completely taken over by Helios’. With this, he manages to successfully crack the program for the neckbands

The other party is furious, attempting to use bombs to destroy Helios’ computer

While fleeing for your life, the bomb explodes. Helios does something strange - he covers your ears

He appears alarmed, as though extremely worried that your ears would get hurt because of this

Amid the chaos, you make a guess regarding the truth behind Kiro’s hospitalisation, how Helios appeared, and other things - his hearing is damaged

Joker’s men appear, and they request for Helios to hand over the game’s access

Helios sustains heavy injuries during the confrontation with Joker. Just as you think Joker has won, Helios suddenly turns to the youth with the Evol to transfer objects-

“I command you. Send everyone in Loveland City out of the city immediately.”

Helios was pretending to be injured in order to lower Joker’s guard, and to find a chance to command the youth to send everyone away

Helios restarts the negotiations with Joker - he will take Joker to the Lighthouse. In exchange, Joker has to bring you to a safe place, as well as disperse the fog

In order to reassure you, Helios promises that he’d contact you tomorrow

After being sent to the Meteorological Centre, you contact people from Black Swan and related experts to disperse the fog

At daybreak on the second day, he tells you to meet him on the bridge near the riverside

He gives you all the control of the game. From his tone, he seems to be heading to a dangerous place

This time, his command causes soft waves to surface in your heart

“I want you to remember everything about us.

After parting ways, he promises that he’d definitely return safely

[Note] A more detailed translation of Gavin’s chapter is available here!

After the fog disperses, the Hunter Game appears to be discontinued. However, you discover that there’s a small island called “Small Rock Reef” in which there’s still a lot of activity. People who have been caught by “Jokers” may have been sent away and trapped there

You head to the STF to report this information and to ask for assistance. While conversing with Tang Chao, you find out that Gavin volunteered to head to the Small Rock Reef on his own

At this moment, Gavin contacts the STF. From what he says, you’re given preliminary information of what’s happening underground in Small Rock Reef, and surmise that there may be leads related to the Lighthouse there. As such, you offer to go there too

Under Gavin’s “reorganisation”, order is maintained in the underground arena of Small Rock Reef. While distributing supplies and freeing evacuating people who have been trapped, Gavin brings you to a place which has a special apparatus. The both of you determine that this is the apparatus Joker uses to gather Evol energy in order to unseal the Lighthouse

You and Gavin decide to study it properly after the evacuation operation. However, people from NW barge in, and employ violent tactics during the rescue mission. After being corrected by Gavin, a temporary partnership with NW is formed to carry out the evacuation. At this moment, a warning comes from STF into your earpieces - Loveland City is once again in a crisis. The fog has reappeared, and the Hunter Game is continuing

While this is happening, the numbers on the apparatus continue to increase

“This game is far from over.”

In order to stop Joker, the both of you decide to take apart this apparatus to ruin his plan

But this act of taking apart the apparatus triggers a device which Joker prepared in advance. Poisonous gas surfaces in the underground passageway. The walls crack, causing seawater to flood in, threatening to drown everyone. At this critical juncture, Gavin uses his Evol to push everyone into an entrance where they can escape with their lives. You insist on staying behind to face the danger with him

Gavin uses this opportunity to destroy the apparatus, but the number on the device continues to increase. The two of you think that the gathering of Evol energy will only be under control if the Hunter Game is put to a complete end. As such, the both of you return to Loveland City

With the cooperation of the STF agents, Gavin borrows the power of wind to “retrieve” the thick fog which had enveloped the city. With this, the Hunter Game comes to a halt. He announces the end of the Hunter Game to the entire city

“Each of you here is a hero of this city.”

While Gavin recuperates in the hospital, you receive a call from a Black Swan researcher, and find out that an overuse of Evol could result in pathological changes. You recall what happened earlier, and the sheer amount of Evol Gavin expended. As such, you immediately head to the hospital to let him know about this, but receive a polite rejection over the phone

“Why don’t we talk about this after we’re both done with work?”

On the other side, Gavin avoids you, watching as his fingers turn transparent. His use of Evol doesn’t seem very stable, and an ominous black wind curls around his fingertips...

Even though the Hunter Game has come to an end, LFG’s acquisition of companies related to the “Small Syringes” continues to draw heated debate

Victor hasn’t contacted you, but Goldman passes on a message, telling you to give a report on a proposal in LFG

Victor’s office is empty, but tiny hints that differ from the usual enables you to find the message left behind by Victor for you

“Don’t make me wait for too long.”

Through making Victor’s documents public, you restore LFG’s reputation, and also toss aside the ungrounded information that Victor was taken away by the police, and exert pressure on NW which took Victor away

At the same time, according to the message, you head to Grandpa Chuck’s small wooden house

Victor is likely using such methods to ensure your safety. Unfortunately, NW manages to find you, and brings you away

Here, you see a handcuffed Victor

Now that you’re here, you’re able to give Victor a more comprehensive understanding of what’s happening in the outside world. Victor has also analysed that Joker, who was almost successful, would definitely take action soon

Right after he finishes speaking, there is an explosion in Prison Island

“Remember. Don’t make a fool of yourself.”

Victor starts negotiating with the commanding officer

In exchange for him crossing time and space to keep the Prison Island under control, Victor requests for NW to guarantee your safety, remove the handcuffs, turn off the surveillance cameras in the room, and ensure both of your freedom after the matter is resolved. You also mention that you’re able to read memories of the people involved in the explosion, and can obtain Joker’s location and objective

The commanding officer of NW agrees to this deal

Through reading their memories, you find that Joker was on the island to do up a detailed plan, and he seems to be searching for something. You also find that this is the island you weren’t able to access the previous time - Small Rock Reef

On the other side, Victor has begun to direct the other island

“I more or less understand the situation. Prepare to begin.”

While giving commands, Victor determines that a certain object on the island is still absorbing energy, and he immediately pauses time

Victor suggests using himself as bait to force Joker to appear. This way, NW could use this chance to arrest Joker. Victor will take the initiative, and all NW has to do is agree

Before the plan begins, Victor specially sends you away, and accepts a certain drug from NW which can heighten his Evol

The plan to arrest Joker is underway. Victor shares his actual thoughts with you

He senses that NW intends to collect the spoils of victory without lifting a finger. As such, he needs you to read Joker’s memories, and be one step quicker in finding the thing he’s searching for, and then destroy it

“We only have one chance. Got it?”

When Joker appears, Victor pauses time temporarily. You seize this chance to learn that what he’s searching for is that stone tablet which has the symbol “8″ engraved in it

You do everything you can to search for it. Despite looking like a mess from running and falling, you successfully destroy the stone tablet

The plan succeeds. However, before you and Victor can celebrate, NW goes back on its word, arresting the both of you

At another location, Gavin is wearing formal attire, and he has arrived at a small courtyard

“After I find out the truth, I’ll exchange them back with you.”

Facing an elderly person who doesn’t trust him, Gavin removes his gun and badge, giving them to the other party

He seems to have made up his mind about something

During the interval when NW is arresting Joker, the youth who hangs out with Joker escapes

He pushes open the door, and the person standing in front of him is Lucien

“Because I’m the same as all of you, and need “intelligent people”.

Volume 6 (Ch 18 - 21): here

More S2 content: here

#mlqc #mlqc cn #mlqc spoilers

48 notes · View notes

bubble-tea-bunny · 4 years

Text

in the wind

[mako x reader]

author’s note: i would like to thank fallin’ flower by svt for giving me inspo. this is totally different from the idea i had originally but i like this cuz it’s seasonally appropriate. just gonna tuck the other idea away for now and probably write it for bolin cuz it fits him more hehehe

word count: 5,068

Your side of the bed is empty when Mako wakes up this morning, but that comes as no surprise. Occasionally you’re up and out of the apartment before sunrise, the slightly sloppy arrangement of the blanket’s edge stuffed beneath your pillow lone evidence of having been there at all. Mako makes the bed properly now that he’s standing, and the finishing touch is the fluffy bunny toy he nearly steps on by accident. You must’ve knocked it off the bed and not noticed. With a small smile he picks it up and sets it between the pillows. He’d won that for you at the fair last year, the only prize he’d managed to get, and he’d complained with a huff about how the games are rigged and that’s why he was performing poorly but you just laughed and assured him you were perfectly happy with your bunny.

While he isn’t surprised to find you gone by the time he’s awake, especially because it’s been happening consistently all this week, what does surprise him is the harsh breeze that nips at his skin once he’s outside. He can’t help the scrunching of his nose and he considers turning around to grab his scarf, but decides against it. He had plans to show up to the department a little earlier today to catch up on paperwork. It would be fine. He’d be inside most of the day anyway.

Or, well, he expected to be. But he ends up being wrong. As luck would have it, Chief Beifong has him on the beat since the officer who would typically be patrolling the area is out sick. So he’s outside again, a sorry amount of progress made on the stack of folders on his desk, trying to fight back sniffles and hoping his nose isn’t as red as he thinks it is. A mother walks by with her son around whose neck she pulls a scarf, wrapped tight and tucked into place, a motion complimented by a light admonition to keep it on and not tug it off again, lest he get sick. And mostly to herself, as she straightens up, she speculates lowly where this sudden turn in the weather has come from. But Mako hears and lets out a light sigh, breath materializing in front of him, and wonders the same.

One consolation of being forced to deal with the brunt of the weather is that Mako’s patrol takes him through the park. Fewer people came here once summer began turning to fall, the cooler air less conducive to outdoor actives like picnics or simply laying out in the grass to enjoy the sun. Today the park is even emptier than usual with the chill in the air, and the icy gusts sweep through the trees which rustle loudly and let go of their leaves, too weak to hold on.

The grass is losing color and the leaves which have fallen are brown and crunch beneath his boots. What leaves are left on the trees are brilliant hues of red and yellow, the truest sign that autumn has arrived in Republic City. Though some may not favor the cooler weather, no one can deny the beauty of a shifting season. Mako certainly won’t try to, and besides, he can hardly feel the severity of the wind anymore, after being outside for some time. Or maybe his face is just numb now.

His patrol is quiet and uneventful, another day passing peacefully. The sun is disappearing behind the horizon, orange light almost blinding as it reflects off the windows of the skyscrapers. Chief Beifong passes by Mako’s desk on her way out and he pauses in his efforts to sort through the new files plopped down on his desk while he was away to listen as she informs him that the officer on sick leave should be back tomorrow. He nods. All right. Thanks, Chief.

She leaves with a curt nod and a sly aside that it’s a good thing too, because if Mako had to be out there again, his nose might fall off. Mako covers his nose with his hand, cheeks heating up. So it did turn red!

It’s dark by the time he’s packed up and left the department. He knows it isn’t late, but the shorter days make it feel that way, and serve to make him feel tired more quickly. However, his destination right now isn’t the apartment. Instead, halfway along the route there, he makes a turn down a different street, continuing until a familiar building comes into view.

Two women come out through the front doors and upon seeing him, smile and wave amicably. One of them says you’re inside, where you always are, and Mako grins back and says thank you. Sure enough, light is peaking through the crack beneath the third door on the left, and he turns the knob and pulls back, opening it and slipping through into the room.

You’re all alone in the dance room, and he knows you see him because of the mirrors covering three of the walls, from the ground up to the ceiling. But you never break your stride, humming to yourself and moving in time with the beat you have set. He stays close to the door, leaning against it in silence and watching you with adoration flittering in his eyes that he doesn’t try to hide.

He knew you were a dancer before the two of you even talked for the first time. He’s nothing if not observant, something of a necessity give his job, and he could easily pick up on the way you held yourself, a sense of ease and litheness to your person he doesn’t often see. His urge to confirm whether his guess is correct is what leads to that first conversation, and your smile when you tell him he’s right is so beautiful and he is transfixed.

Perhaps this aura you exude is practiced for the stage, but Mako is inclined to reason that it’s natural. And he is serving witness to evidence of such, as you dance your way through your routine before finally, you lower yourself gracefully to the floor, right in the center, and he can’t say for sure if it was intentional, the last pose of your dance, or if your muscles are no longer able to support you after practicing for as long as you have. Your nimble descent is punctuated with silence, your chest heaving in deep but controlled breaths and this scene is begging for a spotlight. You aren’t made for the stage; the stage is made for you.

When you meet his gaze through the mirror, he claps, and through your exhaustion you muster a shy smile. You’ve performed before many people but still feel flustered around him, and if he’s being honest, he’s flattered. He’d said as much to you in the past, fond of teasing and fonder still of the blush dusting your cheeks at having heard that.

You’re slow to stand which gives away that you are indeed sore, but you don’t complain about it. You never do. With an inquiry as to how his day has been, you put on your thick coat, ideal for fending off the cold, and scoop up your bag.

He waves a hand. Oh, you know. Same old, same old. And it’s true. It’s been quiet lately and while he certainly wouldn’t mind some exciting stakeouts or chases, he appreciates these quiet days as well. The point is that there’s not much worth talking about and he’d much rather hear about your day instead.

Same old, same old. You say his words back to him playfully and he chuckles, grasping your hand in his. Just practice, practice, and more practice. The company you’re with had decided to hold the upcoming performance outdoors in the park, rather than in the theater they typically were in. It was a chance to take advantage of the weather—it wasn’t so hot as to leave the dancers uncomfortable and weary, and the vibrant colors were a backdrop that could hardly be beat. A performance outside also meant a bigger audience, due to accessibility. Anyone would be welcome to stop and watch for however long they wished.

This performance is also why you leave the apartment during the early hours of morning. While you maintain a disciplined routine even when there are no performances to be preparing for, you’re even stricter with yourself when there are, since you need to ensure everything is perfect. Every small tilt of the head, every angle of an outstretched arm, every expression on your face. You’re the first one in the building and the last one out of it more often than not. He admires your work ethic.

The two of you walk outside and momentarily you let go of his hand to lock the doors. Once you’ve done that, you turn around and catch him sniffling and rubbing at his nose. You frown slightly.

“You forgot to bring a scarf.” It’s not a question.

Mako glances at you and scratches the back of his neck sheepishly. “Yeah, but it’s fine. Really.”

You’re not satisfied with that, but lucky for him, you come prepared. He holds his hand out for you to take but blinks in confusion when you proceed to ignore it and instead rifle through your bag. With a little noise of victory, you pull out your scarf: white, fluffy, and very warm.

Mako smiles, already feeling warmer from your thoughtfulness, but before he can take the scarf, you loop it around his neck for him. He crouches a little to make this easier, since you’re considerably shorter than he is, and you giggle as he does. His smile widens, and after you’re done, he stands straight and takes hold of your hand again. He brings it up to his mouth to lay a gentle kiss on the back of it.

“Thank you.”

You hum in a tone that means Of course. On the short trip home, Mako realizes there is something from his day he would like to share.

“I was out on patrol today and passed through the park,” he explains. “The trees were beautiful. I wished you’d been there to enjoy it with me.”

Your eyes sparkle with affection. “I wish I could’ve been there too. We’ll have to go when we find the time.”

When we find the time being the key phrase. You and Mako are busy with your separate obligations, and often don’t get to spend time together until the very end of the day. Mako meeting you at your dance company’s building and going home with you isn’t a common occurrence, only possible if he leaves work on time. And if he does, you usually tell him not to wait up for you and you’ll just see him when you get back to the apartment. At best, you have a couple of hours with each other, mostly spent in silence due to how tired you both are. But you make do with that. It’s better than nothing.

However, Mako doesn’t feel totally content with it. In fact, he feels rather guilty most days because his work prevents him from making it to your performances. You’ve never made known any disappointment or anger and take care to remind him that it’s okay, you aren’t bothered, but he knows deep down you’d like him to be there and your heart is just too kind to be upfront. It makes his own clench painfully with that growing guilt.

And so, upon the announcement of your company’s plan for the performance in the park, he promised you he would go. If it didn’t line up with his schedule, he would ask Chief Beifong to make changes to the shifts that would allow him to go and make up for it another day. You’d lit up when he told you this, and though you don’t explicitly say so, his promise motivates you to work even harder.

Mako sees it at the end of each day, whether when he meets you at the company building or when he sees you at home: late nights spent practicing, a sweat-laden brow, sore muscles, and a tired smile you gather the energy to grace him with whenever he turns your way and asks if there’s anything he can do to help you feel more comfortable. He’ll be sitting on the couch and wordlessly open his arms, already knowing what your answer would be, and you plop down next to him and cuddle close, body relaxing with a deep breath. Faintly you admit to him that he makes you feel like you could dance forever.

Me? he questions, partly just to tease and partly from curiosity. He wanted to know more about what you meant by that.

You hum, lowly and fatigued, and he thinks that’s all you’ll share in the ways of a response, and he wouldn’t mind because you need to rest, but after a few seconds you continue. Remember when you teased me about being flustered when I dance in front of you? It’s because I want to do my best to impress you. You’d dance forever if he asked.

When you admit this, he only hugs you tighter and kisses your head and thinks that you don’t have to do anything other than be who you are in order to impress him. He’d love you all the same.

Seeing your hard work behind the scenes only makes him more excited to see the finished product. He hasn’t seen the entire routine, not that you would let him. You stress to him that you want it to be a surprise. It’s simple for him to respect your wish and he waits patiently as the days pass, another X marked on the calendar. In a way, the long shifts at the department are a positive if only because time seems to move quicker while he’s there, so preoccupied with work as he is.

The current month is gone in the blink of an eye. Gingerly you take the calendar from where it hangs on the wall to flip to the next page and Mako sees it, near the top: a big circle, the words “the big day” scribbled inside, in capital letters and paired with three exclamation points.

If it were even possible, he sees even less of you in the final two weeks before the performance. Not only are you working on your own routine, you’d agreed to assist some of the other senior members of the company in reviewing choreography with the less experienced dancers. Originally it hadn’t been one of your obligations, but when the need for extra help arose, you were happy to volunteer. This certainly does nothing to aid your lack of sleep or weary body, but you somehow have the strength to endure it all, looking none the worse for wear and donning a big grin as you explain to Mako what task you’ve taken up.

Of course, the way you plop down into bed each night and fall asleep immediately gives it away, but Mako promises not to tell anyone.

On the day of the show—or, according to the calendar, THE BIG DAY!!!—he wonders as he gets ready for work if you’ll be able to find extra time to review your dance. You’d remarked last night that you hoped you’d be able to, but your new priority had been to help the other dancers run through their choreographies until they—and, well, you too to some extent, given the years of experience you have on them and the trained eye you’ve developed—feel satisfied.

But then you resolved that if you don’t get the chance, it’s okay, and maybe you’re saying it more to yourself than to Mako but he still made sure to remind you not to run yourself ragged. He knows you better than most and knows that you’d try to squeeze in even just a few minutes of last-minute practice if you saw a small opening in your schedule. The intense motivation is inspiring, truly, but it would be a shame if you were to crash on the day your work was to come to fruition.

Once he finishes his stern yet gentle reminder, he looks over at you, and while you nod, showing that you’ve listened and understood, he can detect your excitement for the next day flittering beneath the surface, coursing through your veins so forcefully he suspects you’re one second away from jumping around the room, like a wind-up toy. The corner of his lips lifts in an amused smile and he reaches to take your hand in his.

“Okay?” he asks.

And you know him better than most and know what he’s doing in this moment, softly taking hold of you and pulling you back down to the ground before you float too far away in your own flurried thoughts. The eagerness within you calms down, now a consistent and manageable simmer instead of the original intense exhilaration threatening to burst forth, settled by his touch.

You smile. “Okay.”

When the hour strikes to signify that Mako’s shift is over, he’s quick to clean up his desk and gather his belongings. Chief Beifong is still in her office, the door open, and he pokes his head through quickly to bid her goodbye but doesn’t linger to hear any response. But she doesn’t say anything anyway. She’s aware of what today is.

He doesn’t have time to return to the apartment to change, meaning he’ll have to remain in his uniform, but he doesn’t mind. What he does have adequate time for is a quick stop by the flower shop, and he gets to the park with several minutes to spare.

All the seats that have been put out are filled, but he’s fine with standing. He takes up his place towards the back, and observes the scene, the culmination of your company’s diligence and determination. There’s a stage with a staircase on either side, and the breeze rustles the trees which serve as the backdrop. While there are light rigs set up for when it got darker, for now they’re unnecessary, as the sunlight is soft from the arrival of golden hour.

The audio technicians are making final adjustments and Mako can see the first group of dancers waiting off to one side of the stage. He scans the rest of the area for you, expecting to find you among the others who are going up later, but he doesn’t spot you anywhere.

Worry festers in the pit of his stomach as he looks around the rest of the crowd, for perhaps you’ve found someone you know and have taken a few minutes to sit down and talk. His effort to find you is unsuccessful, and he’s hardly listening as the introduction to the show is made, a heartfelt thanks for being here and hopes that everyone enjoy what the dancers have worked so hard on. It’s when he hears the rustle of paper that he realizes he’s been squeezing the bouquet stems.

He stares down at his hand, has to manually instruct himself to stop clenching his fist, and one by one his fingers loosen, the wrapping paper crinkling, and he knows this is just to distract himself. The first group of dancers have taken their place on stage and now await the music. Where were you?

“We’re here!”

Mako hears your voice just before the song starts, and he turns to see you jogging lightly, one of the other dancers close behind you. Your steps are careful due to the costume you wear, and you hold some of the extra fabric in one hand to prevent it from blowing in the wind. You both slow to a stop before Xiaohui, your boss and creator of the dance company you’re with, and Mako can’t hear what it is you’re all discussing. But he just cares that you’re here, and as the last of his worry fades, he turns his attention to the stage.

You’d been standing close to Xiaohui to talk to her, but now that your conversation is over, you back up a few steps to a more reasonable distance and your movements in Mako’s peripherals prompt him to look back over at you. You’re not standing very far from him but don’t notice him, which he doesn’t mind. He’s content to watch you, in this short stretch of time before it’s your turn, and if you’re nervous, you do a good job at hiding it.

You start to check over your costume, smoothing out wrinkles you have may created from holding it bunched up while you ran. Then you touch your hair, wanting to be sure it hasn’t loosened from the elegant style you have it in. The other girl you’d arrived with (her name escapes Mako at the moment) sees what you’re doing and leans in to reassure you that you look perfect.

Well, at least, that’s what Mako assumes she says. Because you do look perfect, even in your relaxed state, not having yet taken up the air of the professional performer, that charm and fluidity with the practiced facial expressions to match, enough to mesmerize and captivate. For all your natural poise, when you’re off the stage, you’re goofy and playful and if one didn’t know better, they would hardly believe it was still you when you are on it.

It’s a talent not many have, and even if Mako is aware of your two sides, he’s not prepared when the moment comes, and you ascend the few steps up to the stage alone.

In the seconds of silence before the music plays, your eyes flicker over the audience, and he figures you might be trying to look for him, but you don’t keep at it for long before you look down again, and though he’s too far to see the details of your face, he knows you’re getting into the proper headspace. The melody begins to float from the speakers, and from the very first beat you’re moving, the sound seeming to carry you from one side to the other.

Your gaze is softer than the light from the setting sun and it steals Mako’s breath away. He’d never get used to it, to your presence on stage, lost in the music and the flow of your movements, a smoothness like water heading downstream. You make it all look so effortless, appearing lighter than air and he half expects you to be swept up by the breeze, just like the autumn leaves which surround you. You gain strength from the earth beneath your feet with every step, twist, and turn, and there’s a fire raging inside you which crashes against the walls of your heart, a stunning passion made evident with each agile gesture and dreamy sigh. You’re not a bender but you control the elements better than most.

The dress you wear reaches the floor and flutters freely in the wind now that it’s not being held down, and you appear to glide. And maybe the rest of the audience is thinking what Mako is thinking, that there’s no human on the stage, but something else, a creature from bedtime stories and whose home is the world one sees when glancing into the reflection of a lake on a still day. You’ve emerged from the most ideal parts of the soul, form and breath given to the good deep down in everyone.

Mako’s grip on the bouquet had been slack, his nerves having dissipated after seeing you come running earlier, but it tightens again though not from worry. It mirrors the tightening in the pit of his chest the longer he watches you and he really meant what he'd said before, that you don't have to do anything other than be yourself to impress him. The dance could be the exact same, the one difference being that someone else is up there on that stage, moving to this song in front of these trees and among the falling leaves, but it would never encompass the power you give it. The love he feels for you is profound and the art you live to share with the world only magnifies the reasons why.

As the music slows and fades to a close, and you lower yourself delicately to the ground, a fallen leaf in your own right, he sighs out a breath of admiration, mind hazy like he’s just woken up. You stand up as applause erupts and this time you spot him, your eyes meeting, and despite the space between you filled with an audience as captivated by you as he had been, it feels like you’re the only two people here.

You were scheduled towards the end of the show, so there isn’t long left before closing remarks are made, one more expression of gratitude shared, and then the crowd starts to disperse into a night that’s still young. You’re not able to meet Mako right away, doing what you can to help clean up and put away chairs, and he waits patiently to the side as you do. From where he stands, he can see Xiaohui approach you. Again, he can’t hear the conversation, but he has a suspicion of what it’s about when she motions for you to leave the chair you were about to pick up and points over your shoulder, in his direction.

You follow her finger, and upon spotting him, smile widely. He lifts a hand to give a short wave, and then you turn around, likely asking if Xiaohui is really fine with you leaving now, and she nods. So you begin to say your goodbyes to the other dancers, keeping it brief. And then you’re walking towards him, and he smiles as he presents the bouquet to you. The wrapping paper around the stems is crinkled from his hold but the stems themselves are fine and that's what matters.

“Thank you,” you say as you take the flowers, mindful of the fragile petals. Your voice is quiet, denoting your tiredness, and you’re no longer able to hide it, not that you want to. With the end of the big show, the climax after months of hard work, you can let the walls drop and entertain the idea of sleeping for a full night for once (and maybe a full day too).

“You were amazing.” The compliment’s lackluster and Mako’s not much of a poet but he hopes you understand the depth of his affection, able to be found by peeking between the lines at words not spoken.

A couple of seconds of silence pass as you stare up at him, your eyelashes kissing your cheeks with every blink (up close he can see the glitter dusted across them and across the bridge of your nose, and they glimmer under the light of the lamppost). Finally, when you smile, he knows you’ve understood, and you’re doing it again, what you do whenever he sees you dance: you blush and avert your eyes bashfully, shrinking beneath his fond gaze.

Mako chuckles warmly. While he would like to tease you because he enjoys seeing you get shy, his desire for food outweighs this and he’s sure you’re hungry too, so he takes your free hand in his to lead you out of the park.

“Where would you like eat?” he inquires. “My treat.”

Apparently you’ve been craving ramen, so he brings you to a nice ramen shop Bolin had mentioned stumbling upon randomly one day. It’s calm inside, the patrons talking in hushed voices. A few sit at the bar, drinks in hand and joking around with the chef. The two of you request a table so the host guides you past them, to a booth by the window. After you’ve looked over the menu and given your orders, Mako asks about what happened before the show.

It takes you a moment to figure out what he’s talking about, but once you do, you let out a small Oh! and you begin to explain. The other dancer you’d been with, Meilin, had a tear in her dress she didn’t notice until Xiaohui had pointed it out during rehearsal. You offered to help her patch it, but that involved a trip to a sewing store, still in your costumes, and that cut down on the time you actually had to do the stitching. Thankfully it had worked out just fine.

“Now I’m [Name] the dancer and, apparently, resident seamstress,” you state with a laugh.

Mako laughs too, and then as he settles down, remarks, “That was nice of you to do.”

You shrug like it’s no big deal and maybe to you it isn’t. Maybe there really is nothing for you to note in the way your love stretches and grows to reach anyone who needs it because for you, it’s just another day, and he feels so lucky to rest beneath the shade of something so magnificent.

Bolin was right: the ramen here is good. Neither of you talks for a while after the waiter brings the food, your appetites whetted from the aromas wafting from the bowls. As Mako eats, he finds his attention drifting to the sight past the windows, to the trees across the street lit by the tall street lamps. Soon, upon the arrival of winter, those trees would be bare. But for now the wind is blowing, and there are still leaves left to float to the ground. His heart feels like one of them, those falling leaves, and he can only hope its gentle descent is to someplace warmer.

He’s distracted, and the lack of clanking silverware from his side of the table prompts you to glance at him, Your head tilts curiously. You okay? you ask quietly. This successfully pulls him from his thoughts, and he turns to you. The light hanging above the table reflects off the glitter sitting pretty on your cheeks and his heart isn’t falling, it already has fallen, right into your welcoming embrace, a perfect shelter from the autumn chill.

The blank look previously on his face is replaced by a smile. Yeah, I’m okay. And how could he not be when he’s with you?

#mako x reader #mako imagine #legend of korra x reader #legend of korra imagine #lok x reader #lok imagine #mako #legend of korra #lok #bubble-tea-bunny

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gohyuck · 4 years

Note

prompt 4, lee jeno, streetracer au

prompt: “Everyone told me I’m crazy picking up a boy that drives a Camry.”

extra: streetracer au

note: suggestive (mild mentions of sex), jeno + cars which might be emotionally overwhelming for y’all because PHEW is it overwhelming for me omfg, this one’s a little long for a drabble but overall it isn’t super long (it’s like... 1.4k?)... i lowkey wanna write a racer jeno fic but idk lmk if that’s something the people want lmfao

july 5th, 2020.

it’s the first race of his you’ve ever seen.

you’ve memorized the course, a consequence of hours spent staring at the map until it’s been imprinted beneath your eyelids. the route ends where it starts, and the rest of the roads will be closed off - you’re sure renjun, one of the officiants, has bribed the city’s construction sector to ensure this - so no bystanders are hurt, but you don’t particularly care about unlucky pedestrians or drivers that could be potential collateral damage. still, it’s on the outskirts of the city, so there wasn’t as much risk as there could’ve been to start with.

it sounds bad when you think of it, but you can’t bring yourself to be repentant of what you worry about and what you don’t. after all, your focus is exactly where it should be:

jeno lee.

your boyfriend hasn’t been shy in letting you know about his pastimes: he’d told you about his penchant for speeding through the city in his toyota camry after the fifth date, had murmured it into the skin of your bare shoulder as his fingers skimmed your bare waist. it was the first night you’d stayed over, waking up to the sunrise, coffee, and round two. his apartment was - is - tiny compared to yours, a studio apartment just big enough to live in versus your penthouse suite uptown. still, from that night on, his place feels more like home than yours ever will.

you hadn’t really talked about how worried you are for him then, instead allowing him to give and take to and from you as he pleased. you still haven’t talked about how worried you are for him, although instead of being in his bed at 2 am you’re on the sidelines of one of his street races, 2 way radio in one hand and phone open to a police scanner app in the other.

it’s insane, you think to yourself, that you’re an active participant in a highly illegal race. if any of your friends - who all believe jeno to be a terrible influence, in his tattooed glory and always shrouded in cigarette smoke - could see you now, they might have simultaneous aneurysms. they’re all far too enveloped in the socialite life you’re trying desperately to shed.

none of that matters to you now, though - what matters is the cars you can see emerging from a turn far, far off in the distance. there’s only two - a bright red civic and a sleek black camry, the latter carrying your boyfriend and his best friend jaemin - and they’re neck and neck, tire to tire. it’s a short race, a quick couple of loops around the track that’s been laid out for the night. there’s prize money, yes, but it’s only a couple hundred bucks - if jeno wins, he’ll put his half towards paying his rent.

you watch with bated breath as the cars get closer and closer, your eyes trained on their front bumpers. renjun makes his way to the center of the starting line, his faith in the two drivers astounding you as he waits patiently for them to near him. mark jogs across to set up a slow motion camera on the other side, and, on your right, jisung sets one up as well. renjun stands still, gaze piercing the night as he stares straight ahead. before anyone can process the end of the race, both cars race past. your hair flies up from the wind generated by the cars’ speeds, and you hear the distinct sounds of two sets of brakes squealing as both cars finally, finally come to a rest.

you hold your breath as mark and jisung analyze their films. donghyuck pushes open the drivers’ door of the civic, with chenle walking out of the passengers’ side. jaemin leaves the camry first, and jeno follows, running his hands through his hair as he gets out. you’re too focused on mark and jisung to notice your boyfriend until his cologne engulfs you, just moments before he pulls you into his side by your waist.

“how was your first race?” he whispers, lips right by your ear as he leans towards you. you relax against his hold as you mumble a ‘good’, and he presses his lips to your hairline as the two of you wait. yes, winning the race is, at most, rent money and a mild sense of pride, but jeno’s arms are tense around you.

he loves cars, and he loves racing them for enjoyment, yes, but you know that he’d rather be racing them to win and only to win. his dreams are lofty, but if he can win another streetrace, who’s to say he can’t keep winning his way up until he’s good enough for the big leagues? he’s beaten every racer in the city except for donghyuck, and whoever wins this race will hold the unofficial title of truly being the best of the best.

tonight has been jeno’s toughest race to date. he wants to live off the adrenaline just a little longer... that, and rent is due next week.

after eons, mark raises his head.

“i’ve got jeno,” he calls out, and jeno’s arms pull even tighter around you as he awaits the final verdict.

“so do i.” jisung responds, only just loudly enough to be heard by everyone. without meaning to, you let out a laugh of pure, unadulterated joy, and jeno spins you around to hug you properly. you hear donghyuck and chenle congratulate him, feel jeno get handed $100 by renjun while the other $100 goes to jaemin. you’re basking in your pride, face against jeno’s jacket.

it’s the first victory of his that you witness, but it certainly isn’t the last.

♕ ♕ ♕

september 12th, 2024.

“you know,” you start, words coming out in a satiated sigh as you shift to lay on your side. the silk sheets of the hotel suite’s bed tangle between your legs as you begin to trace random patterns on jeno’s skin.

“hm?” your fiancé prompts, smiling down gently at you as you lay your hand flat on his chest.

“way back when, everyone - all of my ‘friends’ - told me that i was crazy for picking up a boy who rode around in a camry and, quote unquote, looked like trouble. i wonder if they’re watching you now.” you glance up to meet his gaze, and the corner of his eyes crinkle as he lets out a quiet chuckle.

“don’t know if i ever stopped looking like trouble, to be honest, even if i don’t drive my camry anymore. haven’t changed much in these past four years.” jeno’s voice is husky at this time of night, just a little gravelly and soft enough to where you strain a little to listen. he never fails to make your heart do somersaults, even after five years of knowing him.

“you literally just won the italian grand prix, and you say you haven’t changed much?” your tone is still soft, though not without an edge of incredulity. jeno traces a finger down your naked side, moving so he’s pillowing his head with his forearm, all just to see you properly.

“i’m still the same guy, just with money and a better job. my morals are the same, fundamentals are the same - my love for you, what defines me, it’s still the same. just because i’ve got a couple of pro racing trophies under my belt -”

“- eight -” you interrupt, brow furrowed at jeno short-selling himself. he sees this, raising his hand to tease against your scalp.

“- under my belt,” he continues. “it doesn’t mean anything truly important has changed.”

“... i guess.” you finally acquiesce, and jeno fondly tugs you close so that you’re lying on top of him. the new position has something stirring in his chest, and he brings his hand up to your face, cupping your jaw before pulling you gently towards him.

“wanna know what i’m putting my prize money towards?” he asks, words sounding harder than they should. you squirm slightly, still just a little fucked out from earlier, but jeno’s always had a way of making you want more.

“what?” you ask, shifting so you’re straddling him. he lets you plant your hands on his chest before he responds, the beginning of a smirk evident against his plush lips.

“our honeymoon,” he whispers, leaning up so his lips are brushing yours. “wanna put all that cash towards a room with enough surfaces for me to bend you over to last us a whole week.”

jeno closes the space between the two of you with a bruising kiss, and you find that he’s right - nothing really has changed in the past four years. he still fits you perfectly, body made for your own.

some things never change at all.

#raya4k #anonymous #jeno #nct dream #nct #jeno fluff #jeno angst #jeno smut #jeno x reader #jeno scenario #jeno scenarios #nct dream fluff #nct dream angst #nct dream smut #nct dream scenario #nct dream scenarios

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allsassnoclass · 3 years

Note

i hate that i didn't say hi in that last request. HI hazel what do you think about!! "MY MOM KNITTED YOU A JUMPER" for malum? that sounds like the malum i love!! love u <3

hello hello hello here you go!

Ficmas Day 4

Rating: General Audiences

Read on AO3

Christmas in London is very different from Christmas in Australia. For one thing, there’s snow on the ground. It’s not much, tramped over by boots and mixed with the dirt to create sludge along the streets, but it’s still present on the ground. For another thing, it’s cold. Australian temperatures can dip down in winter, but by December it’s warm again, summer sun heating skin from the moment you step outside. It’s strange to be at the end of December and have to put on a coat outside. It’s also a little colder than Australia ever gets, and Michael finds himself seeking out blankets inside the house and shoving beanies over his hair before he sets foot outside.

It’s also different because Liz is the only parent around. All of them had to barter extensively with their parents to convince them to even let them come to London, and once they realized they probably wouldn’t have Christmas together it prompted a new flurry of discussions about the exact timeline of the move. In the end, professional interest won out over familial traditions, and Michael isn’t upset about heading to London early, but he’s careful not to mention the ache of loneliness in his stomach when he calls home.

He’s not really lonely. He has Calum, Luke, and Ashton, and Liz ensures that they all eat actual meals and get enough sleep and always have someone to turn to when they need a motherly hug. They have a little fake tree with some lights and generic ornaments on it, and Liz has been snatching packages as soon as the post delivers them, shifty about the contents inside. Michael isn’t worried about gifts, because being in London is his Christmas present, and it’s kind of nice to get the full Northern-Hemisphere-Winter-Experience shown in all of the movies.

It would be worse if he didn’t have Calum. It would be worse if he didn’t have all of them, but Calum has always felt like home in a way that few other people ever will. He’s been Michael’s best friend through thick and through thin, and he’s the one who brought Luke into their life and who’s agreement to do the band kick-started their process. Michael can always count on him to cheer him up on bad days and share his happiness on good ones, and living in London is a lot like an extension of the sleepovers they’ve been having since before they hit double-digits. The biggest difference is that they’re in separate beds rather than piled sleeping bags on the floor.

On Christmas Eve, Michael wakes up late and spends a long time laying in his bed, debating whether he should bother getting up or let himself melt into his mattress. Luke and Liz had plans for the day that they had suggested dragging everyone else along for, but Luke’s bed is empty and Michael can’t hear other activity in the house, so they probably left already. Michael doesn’t mind. He’s been tramping around London a lot lately, and a day to recharge is fine with him.

When his stomach finally growls, he heaves himself out of bed, throwing back the covers and shivering at the change in air temperature. He needs socks. He needs long sleeves. It's winter in England, and that is not conducive to getting out of bed right now.

He manages to find socks that smell clean and a t-shirt that seems passable. Hunger pushes him towards the kitchen before an acceptable hoodie can be found, but he can always sneak into the other room and steal one of Calum's. Calum's hoodies tend to be some of the most comfortable, and he guards them carefully. He always lets Michael keep it on if he's caught wearing one, though, which is more than can be said for the other two.

Calum enters the kitchen once Michael's toast pops. Michael has an irrational fear that the toaster popping will startle him bad enough to bite the tip of his tongue off, so he's partially thankful that Calum makes his appearance then and distracts him, even if his presence startles him more than the toast ever could.

"I didn't know you were home," he says in answer to Calum's raised eyebrows.

"Liz took Luke and Ashton. They'll be gone all day."

"Doing what?"

Calum shrugs. "I think Liz is still getting presents for the family to send for New Years and wanted Luke to help. Ashton just likes being out of the house."

Ashton is probably trying to find gifts for his own family. Michael already sent some kitschy souvenirs for his parents, although they haven’t reached Australia yet. He'll get them something better later, when he actually figures out what they would appreciate.

"Toast?" he offers.

"I'm making noodles," Calum says.

"Can I have some?"

"Yeah, okay."

Michael hums and slumps against him. Everyone should have a Calum in their lives. He's a space heater and a chef and a great bassist rolled into one, and he's pretty low maintenance. Michael only has to give him undying love to get all of the perks.

They keep a comfortable silence while Calum cooks and Michael eats, enjoying existing together rather than filling the air with mindless chit chat. Michael takes a shower when he finishes his toast, and Calum has the noodles ready when he's done. After lunch, they migrate to the living room, taking advantage of the empty house to finally play Fifa uninterrupted. Calum wins more than Michael, but he's not mad about it however much he pretends to be. Calum is often humble to a fault, so Michael is happy to let him rub these victories in his face.

Calum goes to check the mail while Michael gets more snacks. He comes back with two packages, one that he distractedly puts on the couch and another that he looks at curiously. It's bigger than a shoe box, taped together securely over some colorful paper.

"What's that?" Michael asks.

"From my mum," Calum says. "Your mum sent Liz something."

"What? What is it?"

"I don't know," Calum says. "It's a crime to open someone else's mail."

"But it's from my mum."

"Maybe she and Liz gossip about you. If it's meant for you, you'll get it tomorrow."

Michael pouts. Calum is, unfortunately, very resistant to his pouting. He also takes the package and makes Michael put it in Liz's room before Michael can get too curious and start shaking it. He could still peak, but then he'd have to contend with Calum's disappointed face. That's not something anyone should have to face on Christmas Eve.

"Michael!" Calum calls from the living room. "Get out here!"

"Why?"

"Mum sent you something!"

Michael leaves the package on Liz's bed and tramps back to the living room. Calum grins and holds up a dark blue sweater with two white stripes stretching around it.

"My mum knit you a jumper!"

"For me?" he asks. Calum nods enthusiastically.

"Put it on," Calum says. "She wants a picture."

He holds out the jumper, letting Michael slip his hands in the arms and helping him pull it over his head. It's a little big, spacious and comfortable, and the yarn is soft. Michael doesn't know the difference between any of the stitches, but they're fun and feel fancy.

"She said she made it big so we can grow into them."

Calum pulls another jumper out, just like Michael's except in green. When he puts it on, Michael resists the urge to help fix his hair, unruly from the static.

"I can't believe your mum knit me a jumper," Michael says.

"She's going to do one for Luke and Ashton, too, but she wanted to get yours done quickly. She said you're an ice cube in our winters, so she was worried about how you were handling this one."

Michael feels a rush of affection for Joy Hood. The entire Hood family is his favorite family besides his own, even without considering the fact that Calum is his favorite person.

Calum snaps a selfie, tilting his phone so they both fit in frame. Michael presses close, faces centimeters away, and ensures that his grin is bright and happy, trying to push as much gratitude into one picture as possible. Calum doesn’t step away while he sends it and Michael once again leans against him.

“Tell her I love it,” he says, looping his arms around Calum’s waist. He slips his hands under the hem of Calum’s shirt and presses them against his stomach, making him squirm and swear.

“Get your icicle hands off me!” he laughs, but Michael has a grip now and doesn’t let him go until they’re tumbling onto the couch in a tangled, giggly mess.

“Still want to play another round?” Calum asks once he catches his breath. Michael considers it, but he can’t properly cuddle with Calum if he has to hold a game controller, so he shakes his head.

“Movie?” he suggests instead. Calum shrugs and grabs the remote, shutting down the game and switching the input so they can browse through Netflix. Michael stretches out and Calum fits himself against him, pulling a blanket from the back of the couch to cover their legs. It’ll probably get too warm about thirty minutes into whatever they decide to watch, but for now it’s perfect. Michael tucks himself lower into his sweater and pulls Calum closer to him, savoring every piece of warmth he can get.

#my writing #malum #5sos fanfic #ficmas 2020 #hey did you guys know that I love malum #because I do!#also apologies Taylor I got this out later than I wanted and you might be asleep? or getting ready to sleep?#if so hope you enjoy getting this gift in the morning #fun fact I looked up whether Australia says sweater or jumper #it seems like jumper might be it?

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sparrowwritings · 3 years

Text

Final Fantasy Writing Challenge Day Twenty-Four: Clocks

Day Twenty-Three -- Masterpost -- Day Twenty-Five

Two members of the Convocation of Fourteen sat at the same bench located outside of the governing hall. Each had similar strained expressions as they looked over the identical gaudy invitations in their hands. They also both had the fronts of their robes, their gloves, and their red masks caked in a tiny, shimmering substance.

"How much effort do you think Hythlodaeus put into making these?" Artemis-as-Azem asked. Since the other members of the Convocation had taken their leave, her act of pretending to be her twin had been relaxed for the moment. Insofar as looking actively annoyed was her way of doing so.

"Knowing him, the maximum amount to make this awful thing look the worst. If only to further embarrass us when we received it." Emet-Selch drawled. He shook the card and more shining fragments of that substance Hythlodaeus had created fell to the ground. He had been “inspired” by the incident that destroyed the Hall of Glass. Not too long later a concept known as "glitter" had been created. And used for occasional pranks by the Chief of the Bureau of the Architect against his friends. Much to their dismay, he had released the concept to the public, and so everyone in the Convocation already knew what glitter was when Azem and Emet-Selch had opened their cards and the substance had exploded all over them.

"Remind me again why we should bother replying?" She asked while looking over the deliberately juvenile handwriting. It was an invitation to join Hythlodaeus in attending a lecture headed by the leading expert in Time manipulation. That he had sent in lieu of asking in person because the answer would have been a firm no from both Artemis and Hades.

One would think that a glitter-bomb laden card would have confirmed the disinterest of both parties. That person would also assume that Azem and Emet-Selch were reasonable people with even more reasonable friends. They would be wrong.

"That he put so much effort into this means he's required to attend and desperate enough for company that he ensured we would at least address the card." Hades sighed and ran a hand down his mask. Some of the glitter dislodged itself and fluttered in the air around him. "At the very least we need to see him in person for the technique to get rid of this damnable stuff."

"And give him time to beg us to go." Artemis dusted at a sleeve in a vain attempt to dislodge more sparkles. "I never attended any classes involving time. Is Kronos really that dreadful?"

"From what I've heard, he's an unpleasant individual and delights in his unpleasantness."

"So there are two of you in the city."

Hades sniffed. "My unpleasantness is limited to the few people I bother to be around. His is a public spectacle."

She put a hand to her chest dramatically. "I'm touched you would grace us with the true extent of your personality."

"Your sarcasm is much appreciated." A quiet silence fell over the two of them. Eventually, he was the one that spoke again. "So you're going?"

"Ugh," Artemis slouched in her seat. "I'm going to have to. With Hythlodaeus miserable and Apollo trying to keep up his spirits, someone else has to be there to make sure he doesn’t take negative criticism so personally. I’ve heard that Kronos lectures are entertaining, at least.”

"You're attending the Time manipulation lecture?"

Both of the seated folk froze, only relaxing when they realized who the speaker was. Elidibus gave a kind smile, as if the two were speaking of normal things and hadn't accidentally revealed the secret of Azem. Besides, he already knew it.

Artemis recovered quickly enough to answer first. "Yes, actually."

"I suppose I might pop in…" Emet-Selch said lightly. "I've yet to see the latest developments in that field."

"May I join you and your friends, then?" Elidibus had his hands behind him, looking all the more like his actual age. "I've been curious about Kronos' lectures but I haven't had the opportunity to attend yet."

The two older Convocation members (well, one and one imposter member) gave each other a look. As one they shrugged. "Why not?" They answered simultaneously.

------

"So now that I've had to waste half my lecture on going over the basics, shall we proceed to the heart of why I'm standing here?" The body language and voice of Kronos didn't even try to disguise how utterly displeased he was with how things were proceeding. From the way that Hythlodaeus was sunk into his chair and covering his mask with his hands this was an expected, if undesired, result. Artemis could see why he needed the company. Being alone and dying of secondhand embarrassment in front of a hall full of promising students was far lessened when there were more people he knew that could share in it.

At least Elidibus still seemed interested in the topic, seated as he was to her right. Hythlodaeus was in the seat to her left, a veritable puddle of forlorn mumbling. Apollo patted their friend on the head from his spot on the Chief's other side. Emet-Selch had taken the seat to the Emissary's right, more than glad to not need to directly hear the quiet pleading for the torture to end. That was his excuse, anyway. Artemis suspected that he wanted to be certain that the young man wouldn't be bothered by any other attendee during the lecture.

Hades could be soft hearted like that, when he thought no one was paying attention.

Back onstage, Kronos received the answers (or lack thereof) that he must have been searching for, because he quickly snapped his fingers. A display consisting of a large line, followed by several generic people shapes and a timepiece appeared above him. He didn't bother looking before he spoke. “Now, seeing as most beings experience time in a linear fashion, and we’re now all aware of how it moves forward and splits,” A wave of his hand took the singular line and split one end into multiple ones. The people shapes floated until one sat at the end of each line and changed color according to which line they went to. One shape, white in color, stayed on the still-connected part of the line. “The obvious next question becomes: Is it possible to move backwards through time to change an outcome? I say yes.”

Artemis blinked, then leaned forward to see how he came to this conclusion. From the corner of her eye, she could see Apollo stopping his comforting gestures to curiously look towards the stage. Hythlodaeus had even perked up enough to be sitting properly in his chair.

“After all, time is a progression. One step begets another begets another. What many forget is that negative progression can also occur.” Kronos gestured to the audience. “Have any of you had to be diverted from the path you were taking because of construction? Don’t bother answering, of course you have. What happens when you must trace back your steps is negative progression. Your goal is just as far as it was when you had gotten started. The energy you had saved up to go forward is spent doubling back.” He gestured at the diagram. “Similarly, if you can figure out the energy it costs to move forward in time, all one needs is double that to go backwards. Multiply exponentially by the amount of time you need to travel and you will find yourself when you need to be.” Their seats were close enough that Artemis could see the proud smirk on his face. “Simple, really.”

“But can you actually change anything?” A voice called out from the audience. “All you’re proposing is the means to move backwards! Wouldn’t the changes you make affect your reasoning for going into the past in the first place?” Kronos glared in the direction it came from.

“I’m getting to that.” He snapped. Quite literally, as he snapped his fingers and the figures moved around again. The red colored one moved slowly from its split in the timeline back to where the white colored one was stationed. The timepiece turned backwards to reflect this. “Now as the fool suggested there lies the possibility that, should you obtain enough energy to move backwards in time, you can cause the future you were trying to prevent in the first place. Thus, your self in this future must needs travel to when you arrived and cause the events that lead to you traveling, ad infinitum. This is what’s known as a Closed Time Loop, and many have theorized that it is the only possible outcome for attempting to change the past.” The red figure, having made its way to the combined timeline, moved in the direction of its split, only to move backwards again. Again, the timepiece moved backwards or forwards depending on how the red figure was moving.

“There is some…” Kronos paused, then said the word as if it were a curse. “Merit...to that theory. There are certain events that one cannot rightly prevent on one’s own. The rise of a virulent disease, for example, could be warned about. However, the disease could still spread before any preventative measures can be taken and cause the damage you had gone to the past to prevent. Similarly, natural disasters are just as difficult to prevent from actually happening. How then, can one effectively change the future?”

Artemis looked to her right in time to see Elidibus on the edge of his seat. Even Emet-Selch seemed like he was actually paying attention and not just half sleeping through the lecture.

“Again, the solution is simple.” Kronos picked up the white figure from the timeline. “You must remove the person who will cause the most damage to the future you are trying to prevent.” A loud murmur went out through the hall that he ignored. “With that person away, the progression of events must change the outcome of the future. Thus your mission will be complete.”

“What do you mean by remove?” A student from two rows up called out.

The man rolled his head (and presumably his eyes) hard enough that Artemis was sure his mask was going to dislodge itself from his face. Not that it would have taken much, considering how it was perched on his large, sharp nose. “Not anything as base as killing the person. I mean actually remove the person from the situation entirely. Isolate them in a place where the event won’t be able to touch them while everyone more competent takes care of prevention and recovery.”

“But how--”

The timepiece onstage made a blaring sound, shutting up the student. Kronos looked pleased. “That’s all the time I have to explain these very simple concepts to all of you. I’m obliged to tell you that if you wish to learn more, my papers on the equations behind moving backwards in time and how one would be able to isolate the person who would cause the most damage in the future one is trying to prevent are readily available. I won’t be taking any questions.” With that, he quickly made his exit.

Artemis didn’t look at Hythlodaeus, instead turning her focus onto Elidibus. “So...what did you think?”

The young man was practically buzzing with energy. “His grasp of Time and the mechanics of how it works are astounding. I would like to attend more of Kronos’ lectures.”

She looked past him towards Emet-Selch. He looked like he just ate something sour. “So you didn’t think he was...rough?”

Elidibus nodded. “Oh he was certainly terse. An uncommon trait, of course, but refreshing to see one teach with such a method.” He looked up with an easy smile. “Although I will say I’m far more pleased to have been invited to see Kronos with two of my brothers than I am in seeing the man himself. Thank you for allowing me to join you both.”

The impact her heart made inside her chest was utterly unnecessary. Even if she’d wanted to, Artemis couldn’t have stopped the warm and gooey smile from spreading on her face. “Thank you for joining us.”

A throat clearing noise drew her attention back to Emet-Selch. The red of his mask made it harder to tell, but he definitely had the remains of a flush on his cheeks. She was going to tease him about it later. “I second the thanks. If you wish to try out other lectures, be sure to talk to us.”

The emissary nodded fast enough that his hood threatened to fall off. “For certain.” He then peaked around Artemis towards Hythlodaeus and Apollo. “I would also like you both to join us the next time, if neither of you mind. Perhaps the next lecture won’t be quite so humiliating for the Chief of the Bureau of the Architect.”

She turned her head in time to see Hythlodaeus, having gotten his second wind from Kronos finishing his lecture, melt back into his seat with a prolonged groan. “If I’m still in one piece after all of the complaints I’ll have to field, just say the word and I’ll be there.” His words were muffled between his hands, but they were clear enough to hear even among the exiting crowd.

“And I’m always fine with going where Azem goes.” Apollo smiled back at Elidibus with a slight flick of his hair extensions to remind those in the know that he was pretending to be Artemis.

“Then it’s settled.” The young man stood up with a slight bounce. “At a future date, the five of us shall see another lecture.”

“Perhaps we could attend something by Astraeaus?” Emet-Selch suggested. “Gossip says that some of his work had gotten stolen, and I’m keen to see if there’s any truth to it.”

“What does he create?”

That started a discussion that lasted until the group had left the Akademia grounds altogether.

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pxrxllel · 3 years

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inner child trauma (11/12/20)

Today was filled with epiphanies, and I’m a mix of excited, at peace, and anxious about all the answers they’re providing.

Yesterday I watched a webinar on self-love and self-sabotaging in the context of romantic relationships, and here were some of the key points:

Who did you crave love and approval from the most as a child?

Your relationship with your parents and your needs being met/unmet subconsciously create emotional patterns that you take into your adult relationships. Therefore, your relationships are a reflection of how your needs were met by your parents.

When you have a wounded inner child, you are fixated on ensuring the outcome that you expect. The energy you take into the relationship is based on fear and control.

You’re trying to protect your wounded Inner Child by controlling the outcome, to avoid being hurt again.

I’ve taken the attachment styles quiz and for the most part, I come out as being anxious. I know I definitely tend to take on the role of the mother/therapist/fixer upper in my relationships (which has usually ended up with me becoming avoidant after a while due to resentment), but I’ve also had some where I didn’t feel the need to and I became clingy instead. So maybe that’s me yoyo-ing between the two, which I think the webinar described as being disorganised.

I’m keenly aware that I have a rich history of needing external validation, because approval was never received from my parents. I was never emotionally applauded for anything I did - in fact, my parents nitpicked me to the point where I was made to feel innately wrong. It’s hard to not be angry about it, but it’s even worse to hold that against them because it won’t help me make progress. A large part of the validation was being called fat and ugly, which may be why I’ve been so reliant on compliments about my appearance all throughout my life, and even still since I’ve become objectively attractive. My father and some extended family always framed it as not being pretty enough to attract boys, which I’ve previously established as the key reason why I clung onto compliments and relationships and used sexual attention from men as a metric for self-worth. I’m just also starting to realise that perhaps it’s why I took sexual rejection from my previous relationship so personally - I was still unconvinced that he was attracted to me and the rejection only confirmed that I wasn’t desirable in that way (or that’s how my mind attributed it anyway).

I think I made that realisation about my dependence on external validation in 2018/19. Since then, I’ve actively worked to disempower that, and I’ve largely been successful. I hardly ever use my appearance or compliments as a success metric anymore. I don’t fish for compliments or check for likes half as much as I used to. And it’s sort of been a self-fulfilling prophecy; the less I cared, the more they came and I genuinely feel OK about myself. I believe people now when they say nice things about me.

The point about fear and control is really interesting to me because looking back, I definitely was trying to be the ‘perfect’ girlfriend and looked for verbal validation (in the form of compliments, how much it seemed like he was into me) that I was doing a good job. I used to be so sensitive to any changes in the temperature of the relationship, and would melt down easily and take it personally if his demeanour cooled down even in the slightest. When I felt him slipping, I would hastily try to overcompensate out of fear for losing him, which I now know is a recipe for backfire. It’s also interesting because I’ve realised that I’m modelling ‘perfect girlfriend’ after my mother. My mother is a voice of reason/wisdom, emotional support cushion, physical support cushion, service-oriented, problem solver, domestic goddess, and all around superstar. I don’t think there’s anything wrong with those things, and not necessarily wrong for me to aspire to those things, but maybe it’s wrong for me to uphold that as the be all and end all of girlfriend material and then get annoyed when it’s not everyone’s cup of tea.

Speaking of mirroring, it’s really interesting how accurate it is... a bit too much that it’s creepy. I never heeded it much before, and especially not when my therapist brought it up as something to flag, but I’ve come to the realisation that mine and Jarek’s relationship almost exactly mirrors my parents’ marriage. The long distance thing, and the fact that I feel like my parents aren’t each other’s soulmates. They care about each other a lot obviously, but I feel like my mom relies on my dad for practical reasons (kids and money - she’s much more comfortable playing the role of a mother than a wife) and my dad relies on her for emotional support and all the reasons listed above. Don’t get me wrong, they clearly enjoy each other’s company and get along, but I don’t think they have the X factor that I observe in other couples and what I think I look for. They don’t really have the natural, seamless, deep, almost magical affinity that I’ve been so lucky to experience a handful of times in my life. They don’t naturally understand each other. I think perhaps pragmatic marriages are more common or accepted in Asian cultures and worldviews, but for those of us that grew up in Western cultures, we see the romanticised version of these things and can’t help but want for more. It’s also interesting because I’ve always wondered what it would have been like if my parents weren’t in a long distance marriage/what it’ll be like when they retire and move in together. I always thought that maybe they would get sick of each other and argue more, but I can’t say for sure (plus, they’ve mellowed out a lot as they’ve aged).

This relates to me and Jarek because I feel like our dynamic is really similar. I care about him so deeply and the way that it manifests is that I treat him the same way my mom treats my dad. I’m definitely more of a mom/therapist to him than I’d like to be - I’m sick of taking on the role of the fixer, although I think it’s neat to help people become self-aware of certain things or issues affecting them, I don’t really want to be the one holding their hand through their journey. And I think maybe the reason why I’m so stubborn about this relationship is that he represents what my dad is to my mom: Material security, stability, a comfortable life, America, all the boxes ticked. Even if he doesn’t understand me, and even if he doesn’t absolutely light me on fire, I’ve been accepting of it because I see how it works with my parents. And with them I know it can work, if I stay committed to the path. And I’ll be rewarded with my needs for security and safety and permanence met, which were not present for me emotionally as child - see how I’ve looped back to the beginning of this piece? And that’s also why I guess I feel so stable in this relationship: I know it well, I know how it goes and how it can end up, and I’m not grasping at fear or control to try to maintain the outcome because I already know what the outcome is.

Jarek himself has a lot of childhood trauma too and his level of anxious attachment is far more severe than mine (I think I’m secure in some ways, too, esp ever since I actively worked on myself). His parents have a loveless marriage and he’s been emotionally neglected and felt unsafe in his family his whole life, so that’s something for him to work on and I honestly am not sure if we would be able to have a functional relationship if we were both still stuck in our ways.

I really truly think that because of this fixing issue I have, deep down I believe that until that’s cured, I can only be loved at arm’s length. Because if I get too close, I become too suffocating and overwhelming to be around because my fear kicks in and I start becoming controlling. So it would make sense then that the relationships I get tired of are the long distance ones and then everyone I do get (properly) close to in real life are the people I scare away with my intensity. This pattern makes total sense when taken into consideration with my childhood and how my parents are with each other.

I would like to ask my mom these questions:

Do you think you and dad understand each other?

Why do you love him?

How do you think your marriage would be different if you weren’t long distance?

Have you ever wanted more from the marriage?

I’m quite proud of myself for coming to these conclusions without therapy, and I have a strong gut feeling I’m not wrong with any of these as it makes complete logical sense. And while it’s so good to have some clarity, context, explanations, and answers about all this, it doesn’t necessarily inform my next steps (although it can provide a guide). Knowing about these subconscious patterns and my emotional makeup means I can check myself according to my personal goals, but it doesn’t provide a template for my decision-making. I think that’s something I need to chew on more, as to where to go from here. I still need to figure out what I really want and what’s best for me and will make me happy. It’s hard because I don’t have a healthy relationship to look at and view as a model, so I don’t know what it should be like apart from relying on my gut and perceptions.

However, I accept that although the answers may be not what I want and I may have to make some tough decisions, it’s ultimately the right thing to do for my own wellbeing and happiness, and that of everyone else as well.

#Talking To The Moon #wounded inner child #life #marriage #relationships

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noisernamewrites · 4 years

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LATIBULE - KIRISHIMA EIJIRO

latibule (n.) a hiding place; a place of safety and comfort

warnings: angst if you squint?

characters: Bakugou Katsuki, Kirishima Eijiro, Reader

pairing: Kirishima x Reader

word count: 3199

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Kirishima’s body felt heavier than it ever had before, even with his quirk activated. The way his costume hung on his body seemed like an ill-fit, like it wasn’t meant to be there, and the sag in his shoulders from the the activities and responsibilities of being a hero that day were evident on his exhausted body. The soot and ash covering him left him wanting of a nice hot shower, and he missed the way it felt to be clean.

Many people raced around him, either rushing to tend to the wounded or contacting the needed professionals for clean up, evidence, and whatever else was needed at a crime scene. The street was filled with a flurry of EMT’s and police officers scouring the surrounding blocks searching for the villain responsible for the destruction. Their hurry left the atmosphere buzzing with fear and adrenaline, and he could almost feel it thrumming against his skin.

The sun was setting across the horizon. The glow felt warm across his tired body, but the unpredictable breeze that blew left goosebumps across his grime covered skin. His shoulders shivered, and he crossed his arms in an attempt to both look strong but also protect himself from the cold. His hero costume was rad as hell but did little to protect from the chill of fall and the dirt that inevitably covered him from head to toe in disasters like this.

Kirishima felt useless. Sure, he had taken a couple hits, but they weren’t terrible. He was sure he’d be able to take care of them when he went home to you, but the EMT’s had told him to sit down in one of the ambulances and get treatment. He was trying to keep up the positive outlook, but he kept looking around and seeing the major destruction. He could hear the whimpers of the people that made it out with more than a couple scratches.

While a young EMT dabbed at the deep cuts along his side, Kirishima listened out for the sounds that echoed in the street. Each whimper reminded him that he hadn’t pushed himself enough, that he didn’t harden fast enough, that he hadn’t moved fast enough to make sure everyone made it out safe. His hands fell into his lap as he looked across the scene and felt deep pangs in his chest of frustration. He felt inadequate, useless, weak, and unmanly because he had just barely managed to let the villain slip. While he was able to save everyone, not without a few bumps and bruises, he felt as thought if he had done something differently he would’ve been able to catch the bastard.

“If you hadn’t insisted on heading into the building, we wouldn’t be able to treat them.” Kirishima flinched at the voice, while the EMT quietly murmured as they carefully stitched along Kirishima’s softened skin,” I mean the survivors,“ the EMT was young, but also very delicate and focused on his task, however his awkwardness seemed to increase tenfold. Kirishima glanced at the bracelet looped around the EMT’s wrist, and saw the name ‘Red Riot’ etched into it. A small voice cheered for joy at the aspect of meeting a fan, but it was largely clouded by the fog of failure that loomed across Kirishima’s mind.

In an attempt to hide the frustration in Kirishima’s mind, he broke into a big smile,” Thanks kid, I appreciate it. I like your bracelet!” The EMT sputtered at Kiri’s sudden broken silence, and whispered out a hasty thank you, before finishing the last of the bandages and scampering away. The kid was nice, Kirishima thought, He always enjoyed meeting fans, it gave a boost to his inspirations and hope that he might be like his role models.

His eyes fall on to the fresh bandages wrapping around his waist, before scanning the horizon. The sky was a deep golden red, and was accented by blues and purples that made Kirishima think. He always tried to be a bright red, filled with courage and enthusiasm in hopes of inspiring the public and maybe the next generation. A hero just like crimson riot.

Kirishima chuckled to himself at the thought. He wasn’t anywhere near being like Crimson riot. Not even close. But he was getting there! He hoped he was at least. He remembered how when you and him had moved in together for the first time the way you pulled out his red riot posters and proudly hung them in the small living room that was empty at the time.

Regardless of his blushing protests, you just laughed him off and told him you thought they were cool, and that his role model should have a designated spot on the wall. Kirishima didn’t dare move them from where you had put them, because you had been right. Crimson riot still sat up in his wall.

He loved the way your smile had immediately widened at the sight of his old teen decorations, and how your laugh echoed the room with excitement.

The blues and purples of the sky had began to expand with the escaping sun. Kirishima gazed at with a small tinge of sadness at the loss of the gorgeous red. Those blues were similar to the voice in his head that whispered regret and shame into his ear. The way they sent shivers up his spine never went unobserved by him.

Kirishima had tried to shove those bothersome reminders to the back of his head. It was rarer now than it was in high school, middle school even. He had gotten so good at ignoring them, telling them no, but today? Today wasn’t easy.

—————

He had gotten a call at an ungodly hour in the morning, when you had been laying at his side fast asleep. Your arms had been wrapped around his chest and your head buried into the curve his back. He remembered his groggy haze of a small whispered greeting before being shouted at on the other side of the phone by some law enforcement about a robbery at the grocery store that had the especially well made treats that you always begged him to grab on the way home each day.

His eyes shot open at the sound of another day where he took up the name Red Riot. After hanging up his body was filled with both adrenaline and some foreign feeling flurrying in his stomach. With a quick huff, he pushed it to the back of his mind and raced around in a hurried silence as not to wake you. The red and black hero costume resting in its specially made case was pulled on in a hurry, and his long red hair thrown into a tight and spiked pony tail that managed to defy gravity with its spikes.

Leaving the apartment that morning, the foreign feeling had pushed itself back through to the forefront of his thoughts. The air whipped around him as he sprinted around the corners of the empty streets in the morning twilight. The only sound he could hear was the distant police sirens and the rare sound of firetrucks. Within a seconds notice, he pushed his body to go faster, racing around the corners of the small neighborhood that just yesterday seemed to be empty and peaceful. The smell of smoke wafted and burned his nose as he grew closer.

Kirishima had grown used to the burning that flooded his muscles, especially after years of training and fighting as a hero. His body was toned and chiseled like that of a greek god. As he sprinted off towards his mission in the dawn’s early light he felt a small fire in his belly at the prospect of saving people, proving himself, and getting to come home to you, signing his praises and bringing home whatever sweets you craved that day.

When the small convenience store had finally come into view, so did the towers of black ash that flew into the sky and their original source. The red heat bloomed across the building with a totally unpredictable and vicious hunger.

However when Kirishima had gone flying round the corner, he was greeted by the sight of a flowering blaze surrounding the entire building, the blaring of sirens, and the almost muted cries of those struggling to survive within it. Without a second thought, he raced into the collapsing building, his body already hardened.

—————

“What the hells is wrong with your face?” A rough voice growled out beside Kirishima. He didn’t need to look up to see his best friend looking at him with that usual angry expression painted across his face. His arms were crossed and his own hero costume was grimy and covered in soot from the fire that had been barely extinguished.

When Bakugou had heard about the robbery, he was second to show up at the scene. Even if he would never openly admit it, he made sure to keep a close eye on the areas where he knew Class-1A had taken up shop and patrolled. His excuse for always managing to be there at just the right time were “Would the number 1 hero not know what’s going on his own damn neighborhood?” However everyone know it was his silent way of watching out for Class-1A after they had all graduated.

“Ah- hey Bakubro! Nothings wrong, any news wether I can help with the-” Kirishima tried to not let his voice crack. He tried so damn hard. The feelings from this morning of unease and fear had begun to bubble back up and drown out the fire he had after the villain had disappeared and the survivors were properly corralled to ensure they would get proper treatment. His own hands had begun to fidget with the sleeves of his costume.

Kirishima quickly cleared his throat,” -with the search?” He glanced his eyes up at Bakugou’s, and was quickly shocked at the exhausted look across it. His eyebrows were still pressed into their usually crease but his eyes were dark with thought, and his mouth pressed into a permanent frown that made him look much more intimidating than kirishima had ever taken him for. Usually Kirishima would laugh and make a joke about how if Bakugou kept frowning they was he did, it would stay like that forever. But right then, he just didn’t have the energy to say much of anything.

Bakugou quickly skimmed over Krisihimas appearance. Tired, ragged, and an underlying hidden emotion that Bakugou had grown used to identifying in his friend. His talents for observation never escaped him.

“Go home shitty hair,” he turned away and was about to walk towards the police officers that were shuffling around in the remains of the burned store. He stopped mid-step,’ You know, they’re waiting for you.” He glanced over his shoulder at the sturdy hero. He had known Kirishima long enough to recognize the way he would begin to fidget when he was worried.

“You did good.” He muttered just loud enough for the red-haired man to hear before heading back towards the police, now covered in soot themselves, and started barking at them to not “fuck up the evidence”. Kirishima tuned out his friends shouting as he glanced down at his fidgeting hands. He wanted to go home, to see you. But some rotten feeling in his chest had bloomed and darkened. It wasn’t fear, he was used to that, and used to being able to shove it down. This was different.

This was shame, and it ate at his stomach with a rotten vengeance.

—————

When Kirishima had finally made what seemed to be the longest trek of his life back to your shared apartment, he let the flurrying guilt consume him. The stairs towards the 4th floor where he knew you’d be waiting for his return seemed like a grand journey across mountains, and not just 13 steps at a time. His legs felt like they were filled with lead, and the ache across his chest had expanded and began to make his whole body sore. He was so tired and frustrated, mostly with himself and that idiot that had gotten away.

The stress of having a collapsing building all around him had faded significantly, and was replaced by a deeper insecurity. He did save the few who were left behind in the building, he had done his job as a hero, but that voice that was only a whisper an hour ago grown malignant and desperate, reminding him that if he had done more, been stronger, he could’ve done more. All while these thoughts had ran rampant across his mind, his feet carried him farther and farther up the stairs until he stopped before a familiar door.

Kirishima felt a small tremor shake his hands as he stood before what once seemed like his own home, was now a giant and imposing gateway. You were on the other side, and it wasn’t you that he was afraid of, it was your disappointment, your fear that he wasn’t good enough. When he was younger, and training to be a hero with his classmates, he remembered the way he shook with enthusiasm at his friends courage, and how he tried to emulate that same bravery, and yet now, that mask had left him.

Before he could think of an excuse to text you about how he had to stay late for clean up, especially to avoid your concerns, the door he was so afraid of swung open.

There you stood. You were wearing your usual home attire, comfortable sweatpants that had his hero name on them. He remembered you bringing them home one day and teasing him about how you were never going to take them off. The shirt that hung loosely off your shoulders was one of his, and it almost swallowed you whole. Your phone was grasped tightly in your hand.

As kirishima’s eyes finally met yours after what seemed to be a pause in time and rested there for a moment, he expected to see disappointment, or aversion, he only saw relief.

“I…I was going out to find you.“ you shifted from one foot to another, your hand resting on the doorknob,” You usually come home a little earlier and I wanted to make sure you were ok…“ your eyes stayed connect only for a moment more before the sound of something clattering against the floor was completely ignored for the way your arms wrapped around your chest, holding him impossibly tight to you.

A silence echoed after you had buried yourself against him, and as Kirishima buried his face into your neck, your eyes widened at the realization that today had not been a bad one, it had been terrible. You delicately moved one arm to rest around his neck and brought your other up and to his head, where you ran your fingertips through his fiery hair.

You both stood there quietly, until you slowly dislodged yourself from his death grip, and quietly lead him over to the small couch that was home to many movie nights in your small apartment. Already sitting on the coffee table was a med kit, that he assumed you had pulled out after he had ran out that morning. You knew he’d come back with a few bumps and scratches, but today seemed that his pride had taken the most hits out of anything.

You swabbed the small scratches that decorated his hands, and without warning, placed butterfly like kisses on the few bruises that had already began forming.

Kirishima eyes widened at your oblivious affection. You both were very loving towards one another, that was obvious, but sometimes the amount of compassion you seemed to hold in store for him was shocking to the red head. The voice of disappointment, that was shouting at him only moments ago, was silenced by the delicate touches and whispers of concern that were barely loud enough to echo in the room.

All at once, Kirishima was hit with the drastic measures he had experienced that day, and a heavy exhaustion set across his features at once.

You had already began putting away the bandaids and alcohol before looking over to see kirishima’s gaze was resting droopily across your own. His wordless request was met by your own answer as you stood up, pulling him with you to the small bedroom you shared. Your fingers enlaced with his own calloused ones, gripping at yours with an almost quiet desperation.

The night had already vanquished the sunsets colorful tones, and the room was dark, barely lit by the lights of the living room that was now abandoned by the two of you. As his exhausted body crashed into the soft pillows and blankets, you crawled in beside him, and pulled him close enough to were the two of your were chest to chest.

“Kiri?” Your voice, still quiet, but the concern in it sent a pang of regret through him. He didn’t know what you were going to ask, but he knew that he had hurt you. He had let you be concerned for him longer than he should have. His arms tightened around your waist. His eyes met yours, to only see flowing admiration coming fro them.

“Im proud of you.”

The small utterance of praise sent a shiver down Kirishima’s spine, and a small tear fell, only to be caught by the cloth of his shirt that hung from your body as his head buried itself into your neck. His arms wrapped around you again, just as before, and pulled you even closer.

Your name breathlessly fell from his lips. It wasn’t just your name, it was also the silence that came after as your arms held him tighter to your body, and his own lips met yours. It was the way a three word phrase passed between the two of you with no sound.

“You did enough Eijiro.” his own name seemed so natural coming from your lips. The way they took claim of the name made his heart warm. He couldn’t see the tears that fell from your own eyes, from the pain the two of you shared, but he could feel them fall onto his own skin. Each one warm and trailed down until they fell onto the white sheets of your shared bed.

The warmth that the two of you shared for those moments reminded him of what home felt like. Of its comforting embrace and whenever and however he did return to it, its welcoming gaze, the smell of a home cooked meal and the passionate care that came from those within it.

Your hand rested on his cheek as you pulled him away for only a moment, your eyes met again as they both seemed to swim with concern and tears. Kirishima had rarely seen you wear this expression, and he realized it was because you shared the same feelings. Of doubt, fear, and frustration. The words that fell from your lips weren’t just meant for him, but the both of you. A unifying reminder to each other.

”You are enough”

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azissuffering · 4 years

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Rocks and Water - Chapter 1: Finitude

Moonfam Origins Fic. Begins with Runaan and Lain in the Silvergrove.

Link to Ao3:

https://archiveofourown.org/works/24565177/chapters/59325352

The girl was pretty, he supposed, pretty enough that she caught his eye from a hundred yards and a breathless four miles into his training routine. She had a narrowish face and a wire-thin frame that did not match with the easy way she worked over the mass of vine and rock that blocked the forest path some three hundred feet behind him. He didn’t recognize her from his own troupe, but it was common enough for training exercises to overlap, even within the boundary of neighboring communities.

“Hurry up, Lain.”

Runaan rapped him on the shoulder as he passed, which Lain did not appreciate — he did not exactly have a gentle touch. Lain tore his gaze from the girl’s retreating back and hurried to catch up with his errant friend.

Runaan slowed and allowed him to fall in step beside him, and they ran in silence for a while, following the bare path carving through the foliage from decades of drilled training exercises. It was a balmy summer morning, the forest still recovering from the previous night’s rain, and the ground was dangerously slick from wet. The thick canopy would shield the world beneath until high noon, and even still it would be hours yet before the land was comfortably dry. Most would be holed away in their homes at this hour of the morning, and probably for much of the foreseeable day, but sleeping late was a luxury that the guild apprentices did not have. They were young, and thus the rigors not quite as demanding as their elders in their specialized occupations, but they were challenged, still.

Lain didn’t particularly mind the rain or the demands of his to-be profession, but he knew his friend had different feelings, and he finally saw fit to break the silence with a query after his health.

“How are you doing?” he asked between steps.

“It’s wet. It’s early. My ankle aches from when you stepped on it yesterday. How am I supposed to feel?”

Lain rolled his eyes. “Runaan. I meant your sister.”

Runaan scowled. “What about her?”

Their conversation was momentarily interrupted when, ahead, the ground split into a series of uneven gnolls, empty pockets of earth knotted into the ground as if hacked away with a great axe. It was messy, and obviously artificial, one of the many obstacles that the guild students were to be faced with on the daily.

“The guildmasters were unhappy this morning,” Runaan muttered, hopping gingerly from foot to foot to avoid slipping. Lain noticed with a pang that he was favoring his right leg. Still, guilty conscience or no, he had a moral duty as “friend” to ensure his partner’s wellbeing.

“Well, how is she?”

When there was no response, Lain glanced away from his footwork to find Runaan’s jaw set and lips pressed into a line.

“Ru —”

“I don’t see how that matters,” he snapped. “It’s not relevant.”

The ground smoothed over and began a slender slope downwards. In the distance, Lain could just barely make out the lively sounds of morning bustle, shops opening and those stubborn enough to brave the weather. They were nearing the end of the loop.

“Hey! Runaan!”

Lain scurried forward and caught hold of Runaan’s arm.

Runaan shrugged him aside, twitching, but he stopped all the same.

“Listen, you need to slow down for a second. I —” Lain cut off when he saw Runaan stiffen and sighed. His friend could really use a lesson on emotional vulnerability. He softened his tone and tried again, “I just want to help.”

“I understand that.” His words came out tight, but the fact that he responded at all was promising, from him. “I just don’t think it’s important.”

“Don’t think it’s —” Lain ran a hand through his hair and forced himself to lower his voice. “Runaan, your sister almost died. That’s a very big deal, especially when you choose to pursue the very path that put her there.”

A heavy pause.

“Look, can’t you at least try to explain? You haven’t talked to me the whole week. Actually, you’ve actively avoided me the whole week.”

“I haven’t —”

“Yes, you have, and you weren’t even trying to be discreet. I got stuck with green recruits four days in a row because you were absent on partnering rounds.”

“I needed to think.”

“Well, you’ve had your time, so let’s talk.”

Runaan looked away, shifted on his feet and glanced back at Lain. “She’s not getting better,” he muttered. “And she won’t talk to me.”

Lain waited.

“It’s not like she’s ever talked to me before.” Runaan huffed a laugh, harsh and scathing, then turned on his heel and began walking again.

Lain began to protest, but Runaan threw a hand over his shoulder and said, “I’m not evading, but the guildmasters will get suspicious if we’re late. We’ll speak while we walk.”

That was Runaan, thinking about his reputation even while he was hurting. Lain swallowed his sigh and followed.

Runaan began unprompted this time, which probably meant he was more worried than he let on. “When the blackspine hit her, it got her in the stomach, but she fell on her back. She was unconscious when her troupe brought her back, so they didn’t know how bad it was, but when she woke up, she couldn’t move her legs.” Runaan swallowed hard and turned his head to the sky as if checking the degree of the sun. Of course, he wasn’t. He was just stalling.

“Go on,” Lain prompted gently.

Runaan sighed heavily. “The healer said she broke something. He suspects the spinal cord, but it’s not like he’s going to cut her open and check. He doesn’t know if it’s a full break or a damage that will heal naturally, and he said it’s too early to be sure. We’ll only know if her recovery gets better with time.”

“And you worry she won’t,” Lain guessed.

“No — yes, obviously, but it’s more than that.” Runaan waved a hand through the air. “We’ve...talked about her injury and the possibility of no recovery. Neither of us are happy, obviously, but you know us. We’ve never lied about reality. It’s not our way. It’s the waiting I can’t stand. I wish these weeks would be gone so I could know how to accommodate her.”

“You know it doesn’t work like that.” Lain touched his shoulder. “Besides, moments like these are the best opportunities for growth. When else would you prompt yourself into juggling dual responsibilities? Family and work?”

“Never,” Runaan muttered. “Precisely because it means I can’t focus properly on either.”

“Runaan. You have to learn how to do both. Life’s the best teacher, if you’ll just let it guide you.”

Runaan did not respond, and Lain didn’t push him. They walked the last two miles in silence, then paused at the top of the hill that hid them from the view of the rest of the village.

Runaan turned to Lain and offered him a small smile.

“I appreciate your help, Lain,” he said, “even if you are a pushy ass about it.”

Lain smiled and pulled him into an unwarranted embrace. “That part just means I care. Now, let’s get back down there before Liam eats our breakfast.”

When they entered the mess hall, they were greeted by Laida’s unhappy timbre. Normally, nothing could stand between an elf just off training and their prospective meal, but as guildmaster and keeper of the twelve that made up their troupe, Laida had just enough authority to do so.

“You’re late,” she said, stepping before them in that imperious way of hers. Despite being a bare inch above five foot, she managed to convey the affluent air of the Dragon King himself.

“Guildmaster,” Runaan greeted with a respectful tilt of his horns, but his tone belied his apparent regard. “I have to disagree. We’re a full half hour before the deadline, and the hall isn’t even close to full, meaning that even the year-ups haven’t completed their run before us.”

Laida interrupted him with a knock between the horns. It was the sort of reprimand you’d give a child, not a seventeen year old assassin-to-be, and given to such a revered pupil, doubly humiliating.

“I meant in a personal regard, you twit,” she snapped. “That arrogance will get you flogged by a testier master, Runaan. Curb it now.”

Runaan looked at her, wincing, but the ire in his eyes did not leak into his tone. “Yes, Guildmaster.”

Laida nodded, then reassessed her stance. “Now, what I meant was that you’ve come in a full fourteen minutes after your usual time. I don’t know what the reason for that could be, given you aren’t lovers, so far as I know —”

Lain spluttered an affronted protest, but Laida plowed right on.

“Nor have either of you ever been severely impeded by the rain. I’m old enough to know when further prying is necessary, and this is not such a time, but I am giving you fair warning. I placed my repute and career in advocating for you all those years ago. You’re my most promising students, and I expect you both to make it as Knives by next winter’s end. Do not ruin this opportunity with frivolities, do you understand?”

Both Lain and Runaan nodded.

Mollified, Laida stepped aside and let them pass.

They did so cautiously, then hastened their step once they’d passed her. Laida had a glare like forge-heated steel. They slipped past the first-years along their way to their corner table, and Lain was uncomfortably aware of their bright eyes and hopeful expressions, knowing that such youthful optimism would soon be ripped from them and gutted beneath the guildmasters’ scrupulous attentions. Softness had no place in an assassin’s life until they were well and truly broken in, and at that point it was enforced merely to preserve one’s sanity.

They approached the table in the corner, and with the already seated ten, plus Lain and Runaan’s two, it was the least crowded but for the tenth-years who had lost three in the year-end cuts and were now down to a scant seven. The occupants were mostly quiet, focused on their meals, but they chipped into the main conversation every now and then so as not to be excluded.

Liam was, as usual, hollering about something or other, to Talis, who was not paying him attention other than the occasional nod. He cut off when he noticed them approaching, face breaking out into a broad grin.

He half rose in his chair with his wave. “Lain, Runaan! About time! I was debating with my friend here whether or not you’d been devoured by a blackspine, them being so prevalent this year — ow.”

The girl on his right had elbowed him sharply in the ribs and was now glaring at him with gray eyes gone furious.

“What?” Liam cried.

“Not funny,” she said mildly.

Lain shot a glance at Runaan just in time to notice him forcibly unclench his jaw. Sure not to let his worry show, he plastered on an easy smile and slung an arm over his shoulders.

“That’s alright, Talis,” he said, “I’m sure he wasn’t thinking of how it’d affect Runaan when he said it.”

“No, he just wasn’t thinking, as usual,” Talis said, but she returned to her fruit without saying more.

“I didn’t even do anything,” Liam muttered, and Lain did his best to ignore him.

Jara scooted over to offer him space, and Lain seated himself with a gracious smile, pulling Runaan along with him. Runaan settled with a grimace. He preferred to sit on the end of the bench, but they were lucky to receive a space at all. They were taught early to show no pity to comrades come late to breakfast; the guildmasters’ punishment. Luckily, their troupe was closer than most, and Laida enjoyed spiting the system enough to encourage their small rebellions.

“So,” Liam began, “can I ask why you two are so late, or will I get punished for that, too?”

Lain helped himself to a pair of bread loaves and what was left of the fruit and filled a second plate for Runaan. Runaan took it with that same confused gratitude he always expressed whenever someone offered him a kindness. Lain patted him on the head before turning to address Liam.

“No reason in particular,” he said. “We found a dry patch amidst the wet, and we got to talking.”

“Oooh.” Liam pounded a triumphant fist on the table. “I knew it. You hear that, Talis? They got to talking —”

“That’s not a euphemism,” Talis interrupted, but Liam wasn’t listening.

He pointed at Runaan. “I always knew you swung the other way, but Lain — that’s a surprise. Wasn’t he into that one girl from the Highgrove last year?”

Lain colored. “Hold on —”

“Oh, yeah,” Rhys piped up with a mouth full of ham. “The one with the pretty eyes. She clocked him in the jaw for staring.”

Liam cackled. “That’ll teach you!”

“Actually, not,” Runaan added. “I caught him staring at her ass just an hour ago.”

Lain spun around to look at him. “I thought you were running.”

“I still have eyes, Lain,” Runaan said hotly. “You’re not discreet with your affections.”

“Except with Runaan apparently — ” Liam began but cut off with a yelp when Talis saw fit to intercede again with the sharp end of her fist.

“Would you cut it out?” she snapped. “You’re not funny. Next time, I’ll break your arm instead of bruise it.”

“Oh, she’s mad now.” Rhys, who had been scooping butter into his mouth by the spoonful, paused to speak. “Better listen, Liam. You know she’s serious when she threatens violence.”

“I’m always serious,” Talis interjected, “I just don’t like idiots who can’t close their mouths long enough to let a thought interject once in a while.”

“STUDENTS.”

Farin’s exclamation, animated by his respectable reservoir of magic, jarred most conversation by its root. Youth or not, they were still military trained.

‘THE MEAL IS CONCLUDED. YOU MAY STEP OUTSIDE FOR PAIR DRILLS. YOU WILL BEGIN AS STUDENTS TO YOUR YEAR-UPS, FOLLOWED BY MONITORED INSTRUCTION WITH YOUR YEAR-DOWNS.” Farin nodded at the now-silent room. “DISMISSED.”

The room stood as a single unit, then began filling for the exit in uneven rows. Guildmasters called for troupes over the sound of marching feet and scattered conversation. Runaan trailed after Lain with a hand on his elbow. He wasn’t overly fond of crowds, and he preferred a tactile stimulus. Lain was glad to be of service.

“Over — fuck — over here, damn it!”

Laida’s flushed face popped through the crowd before disappearing again, an airborne fish dropped back into the waves. Lain tracked her by the disgruntled expressions pointed down, the unwitting leader to Runaan and the rest of his fellows.

“This way — shit, fuck, just follow me,” was Laida’s greeting, to which Lain did not give a response other than a passive nod.

When they’d squeezed out through the hundred bodies and come out into the grassy courtyard that served as the training yard, Laida drew in a breath and threw her hands to the heavens.

“Moon and fucking shadow! That gets worse with every passing year!” She took in one last suffering inhale before her posture shifted and her tone went crisp. “Right. To business. They’ve put me in charge of this team, so Silha’s brats are mine, now.”

Indeed, a slow stream of bodies came to stand beside those already gathered, tentative and guarded as Moonshadows were with those they didn’t know well. There were fifteen in total; Lain recognized a few faces, but most were strangers. Laida gave them a few minutes to gather themselves before she began again.

“As the numbers are uneven, we will have to amend the rules in order to comply with the requirements of a pair drill,” Laida said. “Now, be honest now, who is the best among the lot of you?”

There was a moment of uneasy silence, a murmur passed through the crowd. Two stepped forward confidently, one with mild prompting and a final unsure glance thrown over his shoulder, and the last was shoved out from behind her friend with barely concealed annoyance.

“Four of you,” Laida nodded. “That makes this easy, then. Each one of you will take three of my recruits; in succession, not all together. Don’t get excited.” Laida began to assign their troupe to each of the four leaders. When she reached Runaan and Lain, she said, “Runaan to Saia, Lain to Malik. I’m sorry to separate you, but I think it’s unfair to have you both on a single person, don’t you agree?”

Lain nodded sagely. “Of course, Guildmaster.”

Laida gave him a wan smile. “You just agree no matter what I say.” Before Lain could voice a word of protest, she leaned in and whispered, “Just between the three of us: wipe the floor with them, won’t you?”

Runaan smiled wolfishly. “Of course, Guildmaster.”

It was high noon when they switched from roles. Though the physical tax was not the same, Runaan found it far more exhausting playing teacher than student, restraining his abilities as opposed to stretching them. He knew how to speak plainly, which he thought more efficient than the flowered words of encouragement Lain offered, and his partner was an amiable enough student, but still. By the end of the day, he was drenched in sweat and his temper was sharp enough to cut himself on.

Still, he dragged himself to meet Lain at the edge of the training yard, as they always did at the end of the day. Thankfully, Lain didn’t seem to be in the mood for a chat, merely yelled, “See you, tomorrow!” and dashed off in that happy shadowpaw way of his.

Runaan shook his head on a smile and turned for home.

His home was on the southern edge of the grove, nestled between two firs and only a handful of steps from the ritual pool. It was a melancholy house, shadowed as it was and set beside a place of mourning, and as Runaan stepped closer, he felt the familiar gloom more apt than ever.

He stepped inside and shut the door with deliberate strength, for between his taciturn air and his sister’s even quieter nature, the sound of the door served just as well as a shouted hello. He pulled off his boots and left them stacked in tandem with a second, smaller pair before padding off for the kitchen.

It was a small house, but the threadbare furnishings made it seem overly large. Indeed, one would not fully know the effect a soft chair and a bit of upholstery had on the dreary emptiness of a room until one stepped into Runaan’s house. It was bare, void of color or personality save the staple necessities to survive, an oven, a cooling box with enchantments carved down the side, a smattering of cutlery amidst other, more poignant knives.

Runaan pulled a clean plate off the rack beside the sink, kneeled on the black chestnut of his floor and pulled the cooling box open. Inside was a half-eaten torte, a jug of milk, and a variety of fruits kept fresh by the enchantments. He stacked the plate with fruit and the bread left over from their pre-breakfast, then headed for the hallway.

He found Nia in much the same position as he’d left her, except when he’d left her she hadn’t had inkstains smudged across her nose and hands, nor had there been a mountain of crumpled papers littering the floor like the Silvergrove’s first snowfall.

Runaan paused in the doorway and raised an eyebrow. “What’s all this?” he asked.

“Boredom,” Nia said flatly. She hurled something at the wall beside his head, and he tracked its trajectory from her hand until the point it came to rest at the space between his feet. He reached down and picked it up off the floor, then held it up between two fingers for examination.

“A pen?” he said.

“Yes, it’s what people use to write,” she retorted dryly. “Hands are for more than knives, remember?”

Runaan’s lips thinned. He let the pen slip from his fingers and kicked the door shut behind him. He didn’t have any particular reason to do so — it was just the two of them — but he’d acquired the habit and had never seen reason to part with it. Besides, he felt more secure with four walls around him.

As he approached the bedside, Nia reached above her head and took hold of the bedframe with both hands. She heaved herself upright without outward effort, then arranged her legs beneath her as one might a stuffed doll. She scowled while she did it, then scowled some more when Runaan dropped the plate in her lap.

She prodded at the bread. “Leftovers?”

Runaan perched on the edge of the bed and settled his own frown across his lips. “That’s all we had. I haven’t been to the market since last week.”

Nia grunted and prodded at the bread before stuffing it into her mouth. “So, what’s new?” she mumbled.

“You could’ve asked before you started chewing,” Runaan said. “And nothing much. The guildmasters said something about a year skip for us, so that’s new.”

Nia choked on her mouthful and sat upright, pounding on her stomach. Runaan watched with mild interest.

“A year skip?” she managed after a moment. “Runaan, that’s not something they do for just anyone.”

“I am aware.”

“They didn’t even do that for me.” She stared at him. “You said ‘us.’ Who else are they considering?”

“Lain.”

She snorted. “Of course.”

Runaan raised an eyebrow. “You don’t seem surprised.”

“No. If anyone could stand up to you, it’s him. You were first at everything, but he was always right on your heels.”

“Barring you. You were always better at everything.”

“Well.” Nia shoved a chunk of sweetmelon into her mouth. “You won’t have to worry about that now.”

“About that.” Runaan tucked a leg beneath himself and set his gaze to the ground. “I’ve been meaning to talk with you —”

“No.”

He looked up. “Pardon?”

“I said no. We’ve talked about it so many times I can hear your words before you say them. ‘Nia, it’s worrying, the way you shut down. Nia, don’t be a pessimist; we don’t even know all the facts yet. Nia, you know Mum wouldn’t want you to be down on yourself over something you can’t fix.’ Gods, Runaan, you’re like one of those self-esteem novels Dad gave me when I was thirteen.”

Runaan, whose jaw had tightened with each word that escaped her mouth and now felt like a wound spring, straightened. “Well, I’ll take my leave, then,” he said tightly. He made to get off the bed, but Nia spoke up again.

“Wait.”

He paused without looking.

She sighed heavily. “Stay there, you dramatic ass. I’m bored as all hell, and you’re probably the only entertainment I’ll get for the rest of the week.”

Runaan hid a vicious smile and scooted backwards on his hands. He waited.

“Toff’s putting his foot down about my rest period,” she said after a moment. “He told me this morning: three weeks minimum.”

Runaan frowned. “That’s not what he said two days ago.”

“Yeah, I know, that’s why I specified.”

He hesitated, and Nia leaned forward to swat him. “Stop that. I’m not made of glass.”

His lips twitched. “No, you are very much not.” He sobered again. “I just wondered...if the healer had mentioned anything new about your recovery?

Nia shook her head. “The same as always. He can’t make any decisive statements until he sees how my body adapts to the injury.”

Runaan nodded. He twisted halfway to look her over again, and his tone lightened considerably. “How’s the pain? Have you been doing the exercises like he said?”

“The pain?” Her brow furrowed. “There is none. Didn’t I tell you this already?”

She had, in fact, multiple times, but it was hard to remember that someone as vivid as Nia was also the bearer of two non-functioning limbs. His mind couldn't seem to pair the childhood memories of a girl that leapt from the rooftop of the bakery onto his father’s waiting back with the whip-thin approximation lying in a sickbed. Perhaps that was a flaw innate to his own self.

“I suppose you have,” he murmured.

Nia yawned and set the empty plate aside. “Why don’t you read to me from that book you like. The flowery shit. ‘Shakefist,’ or whatever.”

“Shakespeare?”

“Yeah, that.” She leaned back against the headboard and shut her eyes. “It’s nice. You have a good voice for it.”

Runaan sat very still and repeated what she’d said in his mind. Nia didn’t say things like that. To anyone, ever. “Of course,” he heard himself say, but it was from a very far away place.

He leaned over and reached an arm under the bed. He returned with a thick tome in his hand.

“Which one would you like?” he asked, blowing dust from the cover.

“The Rape of Lucrece,” she said without hesitation.

Runaan flipped through the book and began to read.

Lain crept along the cobbled path that ran between his mother’s garden. He moved quick and quiet, carefully avoiding sticks and fallen debris that might alert the house’s occupants to his presence. At the door, he paused, listening.

It was quiet inside, save the low burr of his father’s voice, and dark save the flicker of candlelight and the luminescence offered by the fading sun. Satisfied, Lain reared back on his heels and drew the door open.

His father did not react at his appearance, but his mother started, jolting upright before sinking back into the plush of her seat. She gave him an absent smile before returning her attention to the table. Lain spared them a glance as he shucked his coat off. They were playing tak, as usual, a game of stones.

When his boots were lying in a heap by the door, coat slung across the open closet door, he stood there in the foyer for a moment. The stones made little thunks when they hit the wood of the gameboard.

“I’m back,” he offered, hoping he might rouse one or both of his idle parents to attention.

“So we heard,” his father said and moved one of his stones into an offensive position. “Draw or idle?”

“Idle,” his mother said, to which his father laughed.

“You know I take the win when you play defensive.”

His mother reached across the table and tapped a finger against his cheek. “Well, I’m about to remedy that, don’t you worry.”

“We’ll see.”

Lain watched them blankly, and a sudden anger rose within him. They hadn’t done anything specific to warrant it. Their mere existence peeved him. Always idle, always waiting for something to happen while the world spun circles around the pocketed bubble they’d built for themselves.

“Lain.”

He glanced up at his father’s voice, momentarily pulled from his thoughts.

“What are you doing standing there like that? Why don’t you come over and greet your mother like a proper son?”

His jaw clenched. “Yes, Father.”

He crossed the foyer stiffly and moved around to stand beside his mother. She held her hand out in traditional greeting, and he took it between his.

She looked up from her game and smiled at him, the brown of her eyes twinkling merrily. “And how was your day, son?” she asked him.

“I’m continuing with the guild.”

Her eyes went round as saucers, her mouth fallen open in shock. His father looked not much better. Lain savored it. That had gotten a rise out of them.

“ ‘Continue.’ ” His mother breathed the word from somewhere very far away.

“Lain,” his father rumbled, “what nonsense are you speaking?”

“It’s not nonsense, father. You know I never lie to you.”

His father’s eyes narrowed dangerously. For all his flaws, stupidity was not one of them. “Explain.”

“Laida vouched for me,” he said. “Runaan and I are to join the Highgrove at winter’s end.” He left out the part about them not being officially approved by the Council. Laida’s intuition was right nine times out of ten, and besides, he was enjoying his parents’ discomfort.

“No, no, that can't be right," his mother muttered. "You're good, but you were never that good. You're a farmer, like your father."

"Listen to your mother, Lain," his father said. "You had your fun, but you're almost grown now. It's time you started thinking about the future."

"Future? What future?" Lain spat. "Will I sit here whittling away the days in the garden? Or perhaps you'd like me to get married." He snorted. "You've probably already found someone. Is that what you want? To drag another elf into this stain of a family?"

His mother seemed taken aback at his vitriol, and his father rose from his chair, a storm on his brow. "That's enough!" he bellowed. "You don't come into this house yelling profanities and threats. I raised you better than that. Your mother deserves your respect, and I damn well think I should too."

Lain laughed scathingly. " 'Respect is earned,' you always say. Best toughen up, Father."

His father stared at him a moment before shoving back from the table and storming across the living room. He threw open the door and pointed out into the night. "Get out of here," he snapped, "and don't return until you can be civil."

Lain sneered in his face. "Yes, Father."

Runaan sat upright. He cocked his ears and listened. Night owls, crickets, a singular pesky lyrebird, frogs and newts, nothing out of the ordinary. Except lyrebirds were diurnal and it was well past dusk, and he didn't think he'd ever heard one sound a mating call two months after the season.

"Not again," he muttered and leaned over to pull the window open. As expected, the moonlight illuminated a lonely figure standing with hands still cupped over his mouth in the shade of his family's elm tree.

As he watched, the figure dropped his hands to his sides and offered a lopsided grin. "Thank the Moon," Lain said. "I was one call away from scaling your roof and climbing in through your attic."

He ordered Lain to sit at the kitchen table while he set about making tea. "What was it this time?"

Runaan kept his voice low, wont to wake Nia but also because it felt wrong to raise his voice in the sobered ambiance they'd gathered between the two of them.

Lain traced the whorls along the table's grain, gaze downcast and thoughtful. "I got cocky when I shouldn't have," he said

Runaan hummed and walked back to the table carrying two cups. He set one down in front of Lain. "That sounds more like me than you."

Lain wrapped his hands around the mug but didn't drink. "Perhaps you've rubbed off on me."

"Is that a good thing?"

"They just make me so angry," he explained. "My whole life, they've done the same thing. Farm crops, play tak, sleep, repeat. According to them, that's all they ever wanted or will want." He shook his head in disgust. "They have no ambition. I don't understand."

Runaan eyed him. He nodded at Lain's still-full mug. "Drink some of that, and we'll talk."

Lain looked down at the mug as if he’d forgotten it, then took an idle sip.

Runaan waited until he’d downed half of it before speaking again. “You’ve explained your upset to me. Really, you’ve explained it every time you’ve come here. Still — do you think perhaps you’ve grown complacent?”

Lain paused with his lips an inch from the porcelain rim of his cup. “What?”

Runaan pursed his lips. “Do you ever stop to think that you’re lucky for having them at all?”

“Oh.” Lain set his cup down. “Runaan. I’m so sorry. Of course, I come in here complaining about my parents when you have none at all and your only sister has just had a scare with death — careless. I’m sorry. Do you need me to leave or —”

Runaan held up a hand. “You’re much too quick to pick up the blame,” he commented. “I ask out of curiosity, not as a criticism. Do you?”

Lain fell back into his seat, brow furrowing in thought. “Not really? Parents are just something you take for granted, I guess. Most people have them, so you kind of just assume you should, too.” He paused. “I’m sorry if that’s hurtful.”

“No,” Runaan said. “I think I understand. It’s how I feel about Nia. She’s always been there. Why shouldn’t she be? It’s only recently that I’ve been thinking otherwise.”

“Yeah… How is she?”

Runaan looked heavenwards, fingers clacking against the side of his cup. “She’s fine, and she can probably hear us talking about her, so best not.”

“Right. Sorry.” Lain hesitated. “And...what about you?”

Runaan looked at him. “You asked me this morning.”

“Well you didn’t exactly answer.”

Runaan scoffed. “Yes, I did. How is ‘I’m stressed’ not an answer?”

Lain pointed at him with a triumphant smile. “Yes, good! You’re stressed. Tell me more.”

“Would you like a list of my everyday peeves?” he said dryly.

“Have you got one?”

“No.”

“You should try it. Writing is good for emotional expression.”

“Lain, sometimes I wonder how you got hooked into the Guild at all when your calling as a poet is so clearly laid out before you. You have that overripe-speak, pain-in-my-ass dichotomy down pat.”

Lain shrugged. “I’m good at hitting people, I guess.”

After, they placed their dirtied cups in the sink to be washed in the morning, and Runaan led Lain down the hall to the far room. He took a quick pit stop in the closet for a fresh pair of linens and a down pillow that he never used because the softness disagreed with him.

“You’re putting me on your couch again?” Lain asked

“Yes. As a rule, we don’t have guests. No guests, no bed.” Runaan finished tucking the covers between the cushions and retreated with a flourish. “All pretty for you.”

Lain shuffled over and sat atop it gingerly. “You know I appreciate you always doing this for me,” he said earnestly.

“So you’ve mentioned.”

“But really, Runaan.”

Runaan rolled his eyes and walked to the doorway. “Goodnight, Lain.”

“Runaan.”

Nia’s voice came through the crack in her door. He mourned his empty bed for a moment before firming his resolve and slipping inside.

Nia was sitting upright against the bedframe with her eyes turned towards the window. She seemed to like that position. He wondered if she missed being outside, the way she looked so intently. She rolled her head around to face him when the door opened.

“He’s alright,” she said.

Runaan leaned against the doorjamb. “He is.”

“Why’s he here in the first place?”

“You were listening.”

“I was, but you got quieter towards the end, so fill me in.”

Runaan said, “He didn’t explain himself very well. Something about being angry at his parents, the usual. Probably offended his father.”

Nia grunted. “What do you suppose it’s like, having two living parents, yet never being intelligent enough to appreciate them?”

“Don’t be cruel,” Runaan snapped. “We all have our struggles to deal with, and Lain deserves my kindness more than you do.”

She snorted. “Don’t pretend, Runaan. We both know you value duty too seriously to abandon your family bonds.”

Runaan clenched his jaw. “Yes.”

They were silent for a moment.

“But, actually,” Nia said, “he’s not hurt?”

“No, his parents aren’t like that.” Runaan shook his head. “Honestly, I remember them being fairly pleasant the few times I met them. I’m not sure why he’s on such poor terms with them.”

Nia half-lifted herself into the air, then eased onto her back. The bed creaked defiantly. “Different ideas on how to live,” she said. “Your Lain has plans. His parents, it seems, do not, or they do, just the wrong ones. Clashing temperaments. Just imagine what it would be like if I was nice.”

“Can you imagine?” Runaan asked dryly. “Surely we wouldn’t get along nearly so well as we do.”

“Nah, you would be confused out of your mind. You’re used to taking my beatings.”

Runaan’s lip twitched. He fumbled the doorknob and half-slipped outside. Nia was already rolling onto her side, back facing him.

“Goodnight, Runaan,” she muttered into her pillow. “And look after yourself, would you? Now that I’m not around to do it?”

He swallowed around a sudden lump in his throat and managed a hurried “Goodnight” before he shut the door behind him.

#moonfam origins #tdp fic #fanfic #first time posting a fic on here since the dark days #lain #runaan #mentions of tiadrin #no ethari yet

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codylabs · 4 years

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The Nomads: Part 3

Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4

And then, as the tribe crossed the last stretch of the perfect void before entering their new solar system, there came a time of inactivity.

Months passed, with nothing to interrupt their passing. Day blurred with night, rest followed sleep, fiction mixed with thought, food grew stale. Despite her earlier warning to Thilykto, lifespans both short and long were being thrown to the wind with abandon, and there was precious little any of them could do to spend them on anything, let alone spend them wisely. She longed sometimes to take Thilykto up on his offer of some great quest of vengeance, but even thoughts like those were getting hard to think.

These people could sleep for years, and they often did. Many of them were doing so now, and more were joining them. She could see it happen; one by one she would notice a man wandering aimlessly across the hull, when his movements would slow, as he made the fateful decision that he had nothing better to do. He would then check a few pipes and valves, pluck at some silk to ensure it would hold, then he would take a long, long look around at the stars, sometimes staring for hours, drinking all the distant flecks of light into his memory, so as to make his dreams pleasant. And then, with a brief farewell to his fellows that he phrased “See you on the day”, he would return to his own ship, curl up in a hammock of silk with the sun shining on his photosynthetic biopools, and none she had seen do so had ever moved again.

She understood what Keeleeticktick’s father had meant about 700 years seeming much too short. When it came down to it, an eon is an easy thing to waste.

Perhaps this was just the nomads’ way, their ordinary way, and the activity and life and laughter she’d been treated to so far was nothing but the lingering excitement of an alien’s arrival, the joyous echoes of a welcome break in monotony. Or perhaps her interruption hadn’t been welcome; perhaps they preferred the monotony, and the sleep, and were glad that life aboard the convoy was finally settling down to a flatline.

And she was left.

The one creature that felt naturally restless, the one person who had to move every night, the single one for whom such inactivity was a mental and medical detriment. She certainly didn’t like it, feeling herself growing fat and brittle and weak, counting rivets on her pod, remembering fondly of many things, longing in sleep to wake and in waking to sleep. She didn’t like it, but there wasn’t anything to do about it.

She counted the nights until she needed to clean her suit again, and then she took her time at it, and then was glad it was over and that she could go back to sleep.

Nothing happened.

Until one night, when one of the other nomads decided otherwise.

She awoke to the sound of a voice coming through her radio, a hushed and rhythmic vocalization just on the threshold of hearing, and it had already been talking for several hours by the time she awoke.

With a grunt of strain and exhaustion, she unstrapped herself from bed, pushed off a wall with one hand, and drifted over toward the pod’s window. She opened the shutters a peek to see who was talking.

It came from a man named Rickakticktacka, reclining in the crow’s nest of one of the nearer cargo ships, with a small book in his hands, and the eyes of many among the convoy turned to him.

“He the brave the bold, the bold who knew his purpose, his purpose so humble and so galant as to save the life of a friend, the purpose of the bold, he the bold, he led the chase…”

She had no context for the speech he was reading, and many of the words were unfamiliar to her, and the sentence and grammatical structure was completely dissimilar to the language she’d been learning so far. So despite her best attempts at listening, it all sounded like absolute gibberish.

“An underorbit, he thought, he prayed, though the spinning lines of the Galvito, the lines that many a man had met in crueler times, through the spinning and whirling and wolf-haunted lines of the Galvito he set his course, and prayed for his luck, would take him to where the witch would be…”

She turned up the volume in the radio, and listened harder. She’d taught herself one of their languages, hadn’t she? If only she could take this in bits and pieces, hear it more gradually, perhaps it might share some similarities, some common meanings between words.

“The witch he knew, he saw, saw before she slipped into the veil, saw before the haughty laugh she gave, saw that she was burning hard to prograde, her light a sick and greenish flame that pushed her ever higher…”

There was… Something about laughing? And… A burn, a thruster impulse? A greenish thruster? All being spoken in 3rd person…

As she sat and listened, it slowly became clear that he was telling a story. And as she listened a little longer, she came to understand the method of its telling.

It seems the natives had a second language besides the one she’d known, or at least another ‘mode’ for the language they had. This second mode was slower, denser, more methodical, more detailed, and more poetic. By the sound of it, sentences didn’t hop quickly from one topic to the next, they didn’t really get to the point, but as they ran on and on and lingered on nuance, they grew in depth of detail and feeling. They went back on themselves, they looped, they referenced backwards and forwards. This language lengthily elaborated the emotion behind single words, gave a snapshot into the thoughts of characters and even the thoughts of the speaker himself, to paint a story, and sing a story, instead of to tell it.

She couldn’t pretend to understand much of any of it, couldn’t honestly say that she caught more than every 4th word or so, but the words she did catch were pretty, and the language itself so rhythmic and sing-song, that she quickly gave up on trying to decipher the particulars, and let herself get lost in it, let it carry her away to someplace she didn’t recognize. She turned her radio volume up a little higher, wrapped her blanket around her, and closed her eyes.

The story seemed to be about… It was about a warrior. Or a prince, maybe? Somebody noble, yet stubborn and unthinking. He was in some kind of asteroid field, (probably the rings of a planet, since she kept hearing orbits being mentioned). Anyway, somebody the prince had loved had been taken from him, by some kind of monster. The monster was thrusting prograde, to push into a higher orbit, but the prince figured he might overtake it by building up speed in a lower orbit, and using… Using something down there to change his direction and sling back up. It was a trick he’d learned from his father.

The prince’s friends were chasing after him, but they knew they could never catch him or convince him to stop, so they kept pace close behind him, and tried to follow him through his maneuver so they could help him in his eventual fight.

And the prince was conflicted, because on the one hand, the monster was escaping with his loved one and the only way to catch it was this risky maneuver, but on the other hand, his friends would never let him go alone, and to take the risk himself would be to risk all of them as well… Meanwhile the monster was gaining distance, and one of his friends was slowly dying of some sickness even as he traveled alongside, and there was a voice in his head speaking to him and telling him to turn back.

The story took almost two hours to get where it was going, and when it got there, she didn’t really understand the climactic cliffhanger it reached. The monster was up close all of a sudden? And there was a flash of green light? A whole lot of words she didn’t understand, a brief musing on the folly of mortal men, and then the chapter ended.

She came away from the story as if from a deep sleep, and realized she’d enjoyed herself. She glanced out the window at Rickakticktacka, who was closing the book. “I need to take a rest.” He gestured to his antennae-nerves with a chuckle. “Haven’t read in quite a while. Exhausting.”

“You’re doing good!” Somebody else called over.

“Yeah, it’s a good story!” Another added.

“I’ve never heard this one before, it’s really cool!” Thilykto was down for anything.

“I enjoyed it.” She leaned closer to the window.

“Oh, you did, Missus Fikes?” He glanced in her direction. “Didn’t think you would understand it.”

“It’s the same language, really.” She shrugged. “Just… Just stretched out, I guess.”

“More like uncropped. That’s the full language, you know.” He chuckled. “Everybody used to speak like that, before they invented rockets, and guns, and emergencies, back before anybody was ever in a hurry… Nowadays, people just want to hear it and get it over with, so nothing’s ever said really properly unless it’s worth taking a long time to say. Like stories. And songs.”

“Quit going on about ‘the good old days’, Rickakticktacka.” Somebody chided. “That was before your grandpa was born.”

“Yeah, yeah, call me old fashioned, but ‘the good old days’ is where the best books come from.” He waved the book in his hand.

“I don’t mind.” She shrugged. “I mean. We’ve got all night.”

“That we do.” Rickakticktacka paused for a moment to rest his antenna, though he knew he would be reading more tonight, for he’d found a new fan.

“I’m sorry if you don’t understand the story, Missus Fikes.” Thilykto apologized to her. “It’s one of those crazy fiction stories, with adventure and magic and a witch, so you might not get it.”

“I don’t think I’ve ever heard any of you use those words.” She laughed. “What’s a witch, first off? That was the evil kidnapping monster, right?”

“Oh, yeah. Feshkilaki, the sorceress from the center of black moon. A witch is just a woman that uses magic. And magic is… Wait, what’s magic? Like, uhhh, shooting fire? Or putting a curse on somebody so something bad happens to them? That’s why her thrusters were green… Or, uh, or using spirits for power or-”

“Oh, magic!” She laughed. “Oh I get it, it’s a fantasy book! That’s great! Yeah, we had fantasy books on Earth too! Yeah, uh… my dad used to read me Lord of the Rings when I was a kid. Great adventures. Pretend places, pretend people, even… Like pretend types of people too. Elves and dwarves and orcs and ents…”

“Oh yeah!” Thilykto perked up. “Yeah, the main character in this book is a pretend type too, called an Elkakik.” (The word she’d been translating as prince was actually more similar to ‘elf’) “They’re like normal people, but older and more dignified, and they have a close connection with a wise double in the spirit world, so they can’t ever die or fall in love until they complete their purpose.”

“Interesting.”

“You’re both a couple brain-vented nerds.” Somebody teased. “Hey Rickakticktacka, let’s have a true story next.”

“But true stories are boring!” Thilykto waved a tentacle dismissively, then looked up to her pod for support. “Right Missus Fikes?”

“Well.” Her gaze wandered across the convoy, taking in all the other lazy, lethargic travelers, who had taken up myth and fiction to escape from their own lives. And it seemed to her in that moment that anything at all would make for a better story than reality. “Yeah.” She agreed. “Yeah, pretend stuff is pretty fun.”

“Alright then. So… On with this one?” Rickakticktacka opened the book again.

“Yeah.”

“Sure.”

“Let’s go.”

“Oh, alright.”

“I wanna see how it ends.”

And without any further hesitation, he launched into the next chapter.

Perhaps it was these distant, alien feelings of adventure she’d absorbed from the story, perhaps it was out of curiosity or sheer restlessness, but as he read, she turned away from the window, climbed into her suit, and left the pod for a short stroll around the convoy.

It was the first time she’d done so in almost a week, and perhaps only the third time she’d done so in the past month. Her body had decayed to the point where even pushing herself off of surfaces and slowly climbing across the silk nets had grown wearying, so she took every excuse to not; maybe she had a mind for the safety of her fragile bones, maybe she was just lazy, or maybe she was trying to hide herself from her own reality too.

She found Keeleeticktick where he always was, out on the hull of his ship. She turned down the volume on her helmet’s radio.

“Hey Keelee, I’ve been wondering, what’s a woman?”

“WHAT?” He glanced at her sharply. “What in the void do you mean by that?”

“I’ve heard people using the word here and there, but never in context, and by this point I’m almost afraid to ask.”

“Did you not have women on your planet?”

“I don’t KNOW! MAYBE! What’s it, some kind of monster? A species? Like what the heck?”

“Okay, okay, it’s… Oh dear… They’re not monsters, they’re sentient, they’re just people. Same exact species. It’s… It’s the other half of the species. The people who… You know. Make kids. Instead of working, they make the young ones and the silk.”

“Oh.” She realized what he meant. “Oh geez, yes. Yeah, we have women on Earth. I feel really silly now, like, that’s so obvious.”

“Ah. Heh. Yeah. Sorry about that. Probably heard it from Thilykto, huh? Kids his age tend to think about little else.”

“Yeah, it’s the same way with humans.” She shook her head. “In school, my brother… Oh, never mind… Yeah, all this time I figured you people didn’t have women. I thought you split, or budded or something. Didn’t know there was a difference between women and… What’s your word for the opposite of women?”

He told her the word for ‘man’, and it was one of the words she’d been translating as ‘people’. “Oh… Okay.”

“Yeah.” He nodded. “Strange topic to go asking about, I recognize.”

“Yeah.” Her eyes wandered across the convoy. “So which of you people are men, and which are women? I was peeking up your dresses for my first couple weeks before I gave up trying to guess.”

“Well, these are all men, of course.” He gestured inclusively. “I can’t think of when you would’ve ever seen our woman.”

“Wait, woman as in singular? There’s only one in the whole tribe?”

“Well, the whole tribe has a few. But yes, our convoy only has one. She lives in there.” He pointed to one particular ship, which carried nothing but a single enormous spherical cargo pod. “She might’ve come out once or twice since you arrived, but only briefly, and you’re a heavy sleeper.”

“Huh.” Her eyes strayed over the mysterious pod, wondering at what it must conceal. Besides for tanks and crates and enclosures for hammocks, none of the tribe’s other ships had any interiors to speak of, making this one unique. Perhaps there was something similar to a house or a human home within; perhaps all the hard, utilitarian engineering of the outside gave way to something more civilized on the inside, something fit for a lady. And as for the woman herself, her imagination went wild. Perhaps the nomad’s society was secretly built to some matriarchical structure like bees, with the few women leaders specialized for child-making or egg-laying and little else. She would be something regal, or beastly, or gravid, or beautiful. To think that this was the only other woman besides herself for thousands of miles around… And had been this entire time… “…Do you think I could meet her?” She had to ask.

“No!” He snapped before he had time to think.

“Woah, sorry, hey, I… Wait, why not?”

“You could hurt her, I don’t…! You…! It’s just…” He seemed to catch his own metaphorical tongue, and paused for a moment to think. “The thing is, Missus Fikes, that a tribe’s woman is a tribe’s woman… And though we have shared everything we have with you, and you know I trust you, we can’t-”

“Woah, cool it man, I was just curious! Wasn’t meaning to… To interfere with any traditions or with the family or anything, I just wanted to see what she looked like, yeah? I mean, I know I’m not a part of the tribe, but as an alien, and a friend, you have to understand how curious I am.”

“I understand… But curiosity can go too far. And you’re a very strong and rough man.”

“I’m a what?”

“Just…! Just don’t touch her, how about?”

“Well-WAIT OH HECK NO, I ain’t gonna touch her! Why would I touch her?”

His eyes narrowed. “Well… You know.”

Hers widened. “Geez man.”

His shifted away. “…Ah… Of course. Of course, yes. Why would you indeed?”

“Ten feet.” She indicated the distance between herself and him. “I won’t even get near her.”

“Hmm.” He nodded. “Very well then… I’ll mention it to the others. And I’ll put in a good word for you.”

She didn’t know what to say. Not even sort of. “Thanks… I guess.”

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

The two men behaved with all the pomp and solemn seriousness of soldiers as they showed her to her destination. She’d never before seen any of the nomads acting so militaristic, but she didn’t think it was out of distrust or ill will toward her; it seems they perceived the stakes as merely being that high. In any case, they both carried a holstered tool that could have been a weapon, and came to a stop on either side of a circular hatch on the woman’s cargo vessel. One of them unlocked it. “She’s inside, and is expecting you. Don’t linger too long.” He warned her. “And don’t get any funny ideas. We’ll be ready to respond to any undue activity, and so will she.”

“Got it.”

The other handed her a heavy pack overflowing with scrap silk. “To keep her from panic, tell her you’re only here to deliver this. Pass it to her gently, and don’t throw it or make a sudden movement. And keep your distance.”

“Umm… Got it?”

The hatch opened in front of her. There were curtains on the other side.

“Hey, wait a minute, am I in any danger here, or-“

The hatch closed behind her. All radio signals from the convoy outside were instantly cut off, and she was alone.

She drifted past the curtains, and stopped.

The cargo pod had no interior walls, no doors, no furnishings of comfort. She’d been expecting something like a home or even a nest, but instead her eyes met a wide empty space, lit by dim and orangish light; the warm, comfortable color of the nomad’s first homeworld. The pod’s only furnishing was a large padded cradle, which held one of the convoy’s fishing vessels in the center.

The vehicle held so gingerly on display was nearly identical in size and shape to the others she’d seen around. The hull was taller than it was wide, with 8 main rearward thrusters in 4 clusters, supplied by 8 fuel tanks. Engineering sections were in the middle and on top, cannons protruded from near the middle, a mining talon was folded against the bottom, and to either side were the wing-like protrusions which were used during fishing to anchor the silk lines.

But much unlike the tribe’s other fishing vessels, this one was constructed entirely out of flesh.

Its thrusters and fuel tanks were structured similarly to those on the men, membranous as the wings of bats, now deflated and wrinkled and empty. Countless unclear organs floated like clouds beneath transparent skin, and a cultivated garden of benign tumors grew across the surface. The cannons were unloaded, and curled against the front of the fuselage. The mining talon was a ring of barbed tentacles surrounding a cluster of enormous beaks. And instead of the wings, there were six boney anchors of the same purpose, each crested with hundreds upon hundreds of spinnerets.

Its sensory organs would be perceptive enough to pinpoint asteroids and radio-emitting objects across interplanetary distances. Its spinnerets could be able to ensnare and engulf targets in hundreds of miles of unbreakable fiber. And the beaks were strong enough to crush up asteroids or chew through a spacecraft’s hull. And with such capabilities apparent, she realized she recognized this thing.

“A leviathan…” She barely dared to breathe.

The word which she’d been translated to mean ‘monster’, and had been equating to the ancient sea serpents of Earth, had actually meant nothing of the sort. Its proper translation was something closer to ‘pirate’, ‘savage’, ‘rogue’, or ‘loner’. A tribeless, wandering female, who had either rebelled or escaped or had been raised among the wicked. Sad and lonely souls, lawless and fiercely hungry.

So as little as she knew of such matters, and as similar as it looked to the beast which had widowed her, she realized that this was not a leviathan.

Above the cannons, in front of the brain, a fleshy fold eased open, and a pair of eyestalks slowly extended, their enormous lenses coming to bear. The largest of the eyes were the size of the mirror of the hubble telescope, but were entirely blind and clouded over. So it was only a score or so of smaller eyes which perceived the visitor, and focused in on her with a silent, unknowable expression.

“Uh! I! I-I-I came to bring you this!” In a moment she remembered the pack of silk, and pushed it lightly through the air toward the creature. “I. I-I just. J-just wanted to see you. I… I don’t mean to scare you.”

One of the barbed feeding tentacles raised in a slow arc to intercept the pack, and the hooks on the end were dexterous enough to untie the knot. One of the beaks reached inside and began to eat the silk.

For digestion.

For recycling.

To reuse the old protein and the nanofiber and secrete it back out again…

Her eyes wandered upwards, past the end of the boney anchors and the spinnerets, and she saw a great number of winches on the perimeter of the cargo pod, each one reeling slowly inward, drawing silken threads out of the creature. Storing it for use in industry, so the nomads could weave it into cables, nets, paper, and clothes.

And she conceived that the creature was constrained here; tied helplessly to the cradle by thin nets. It was never fed enough ice to fill its tanks and fire off its engines. Never permitted to hunt its own food or make use of its great size and strength. Never even allowed enough distance to make use of its great telescopic eyes, so that they became blind. It merely sat here, stagnant in its pod, its monstrous reef of biopools soaking up artificial sunlight and artificial planetshine, while machines continuously milked it of its silk.

But it wasn’t a farm animal.

Was it? It was a person.

It was a woman.

She opened her mouth to speak. A question formed on her lips, a horrified, disturbed, outraged question, but it didn’t escape, didn’t quite form itself into coherent words, couldn’t trim itself down to a single thought. The woman watched her passively, with its fewish working eyes, and waited for her to speak.

“…What’s your name?” She finally managed to ask, her voice a whisper. One of the first phrases she’d learned of the native’s language, now the only words she could think to say.

The massive emitter nerves along the woman’s flanks throbbed with gradual power, causing a weighty buzzing in the radio, and then the words that came forth were deep, and slow, and uncomfortably loud inside the shielded cargo pod. “My name.” The voice slowly and gently thundered. “Is Kinthalikal. And you, I know well, are Missus Fikes.”

“I…” She turned down the volume of her helmet; the voice was just too loud. “I am.”

“I’ve heard much about you, Missus Fikes…” The woman said. “An alien of many powers and many disabilities. Ever restless, yet often resting. Unnaturally strong, yet never seen outside your armor. Some say you’re here to spy us out for your own people, or to kill us while we sleep, or to do other savage things. Many speak poorly of you behind your back, but those who know you speak well of you.”

She nodded. “Hmm.” Was the only noise the came forth.

“But don’t worry about that in here.” The woman told her. “These walls are made for privacy… But as for me, I see beyond the suit. And behind the glass I see brown eyes, in a brown face; they belong to a gentle creature, from a gentle world. Is that you?”

“…It is.”

There was silence for a moment longer, while they stared at each other.

“You seem confused.” Kinthalikal observed.

“I am.”

“What do you see before you?”

“I don’t know what I see.” She blinked. “A woman? But I don’t know what that means all of a sudden.”

“Did the women on your world not resemble this?”

“Back on my world, the women looked the same as the men!” She burst. “They were the same kinds of people…! I don’t know what you are! What happened to you to make you so huge…? What…? Why do they have you here? Are you a criminal? An animal? What are those computers plugged into your eyeballs? What’s a leviathan?!? Like… GEEZ GIRL, are you okay? Are you in pain? What happened to you? How long have you been in here?”

“I am not an aberration!” Kinthalikal thundered.

“Then what are you??”

“I’m normal! I’m… I’m beautiful… And if you don’t like it, then you can just leave it.”

“Huh…? No, no, I didn’t mean it like that! I… I-I just…” While she stuttered over herself, Kinthalikal’s silk anchors pulled in close, and her mining talon curled up beneath her. Her eyestalks retracted halfway in what could have been shame. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean it like that! I didn’t mean to let all that out, I was just confused, I’m sorry.” She folded her gloves across her helmet over her mouth to try to take back the words. “You are normal, you…! Oh, I don’t know what beautiful is to the men, but I think you’re beautiful, and…! Ooooh, they told me not to touch you, but I just want to give you a hug, I’m so sorry.”

Something seemed to click in Kinthalikal’s mind, and she glanced at the visitor in sudden realization. “Missus Fikes… Are you a woman?”

“I… I am.” She admitted.

“…Ah.” The creature considered that for several long seconds, and it’s posture adjusted slowly into something more careful. “…I think I’m beginning to understand.”

“I… I don’t know if it’s a good idea to go spreading that around?” She shrugged. “I don’t know what they’d say…? And I do a man’s work, and I think they think I’m a man…”

“They do… I won’t tell.”

“Thanks.”

“…I understand your confusion, Missus Fikes: I see you know nothing of our people.”

“…No… I guess I don’t.”

“I’ve never had to explain before, so give me a moment.”

“Of course.”

The giantess sat perfectly still for many long minutes, thinking old thoughts of memories of stories and stories of memories, organizing them into a single narrative she could share. And when she spoke again, her voice carried some of the sing-song tone of the old story-language, though she kept her words as simple as she could.

“A woman is not an expansion.” She said. “She is not an aberration, not a stretching or a growth of the design of the species. And neither is she an alternative to the design. Rather, what you see before you is the species as she is, and as she was. This is the species as herself, developed, unmitigated, uncropped. The others that you’ve seen, the men, for the greatest length of history they were nothing. They were nothing but an occasional symbiote, a gross organ, a downtrodden and peripheral side-effect of the reproductive process, and the life of history was lived by women. Even nowadays you can see hints of the old order, reflected and over-simplified within their machines and their ships.”

“The fishing vessels are designed exactly like you.” She observed.

“Which is hardly a coincidence.” Kinthalikal agreed. “They are designed for the same purpose, to improve and replace. In old times women hunted and fished the rings of their world using the same methods and tactics. They drifted place to place at their leisure and whim, they wove nets to catch the great things, they carved homes in holes in icy rocks and filled their bellies with snow. And the fuel they got from splitting that ice they used in little calculated gusts of thrust, for slow and cautious journeys. They formed great tribes. They built mighty cities. They fought long wars.

“And the men. Men are born the size of infant children, and their bodies never grow.” She pointed one tentacle toward a long organ beneath her skin, one of her wombs, containing a fetus the full size of a nomad man. “In the old way, boys clung to their mothers and helped her with her work until they were mature enough to be men, and then she forced them into her cannons and fired them off, to find wives in other tribes. They would wander and fend for themselves for years until they found women who would accept them.

“But life is rare in the void, and resources scarce. So once they formed a union, formed a family, nature did a thing which I gather it doesn’t do for humans. To prevent wasting fuel on two separate sets of thrusters, the male would bite into the female, and the two would become one body. His beak would secrete an acid to dissolve the junction, their blood systems would link, and most of his organs would atrophy away. A family was a single creature.”

“That’s crazy.” She blinked. “So… The man just… Just dies?”

“No. He keeps his mind, and his limbs, and his soul, and his beak and throat metamorphosize into a long tether, so that he remains himself, only tied to her. He is a limb well-suited for removing parasites, trimming tumors, assisting in navigation, and in the use of tools. He is an ideal helper, driven always to improve efficiency and comfort and health. We females were too often content to drift passively, but men are ambitious and driven and hungry, it is they who push us toward accomplishment and purpose and toward our own betterment… And at some point in history, it was a man who invented the first artificial rocket motor.”

“Oh.”

“He invented it to ease his wife’s labor, to relieve strain on her old and failing hearts, to let her carry cargo and perform her work even in her old age, so that they would not perish in poverty. And she gave the design to her daughters, whose sons brought it to their wives, and a revolution of industry followed. And slowly, ever so slowly, as women became ever less ambitious and men became ever more relevant and inventive, things changed. Everything a woman could do, a man could then do with the right equipment. And since his mind was bent toward the efficient benefit of his woman, he would invariably choose the equipment, for equipment uses less fuel, entails less danger, works quickest, works longest. Eventually, birth control and genetic methods allowed them to limit female births, and thus to surround every woman in a caring, industrious tribe of men that would accomplish her every need, to make sure she would never need to hurt or fear again… Eventually, a woman’s only task was to produce silk and children… And now here we are, at the furthest end of history, and I am what you see before you.”

She nodded slowly, her mind heavy and her heart beating hard. Her eyes wandered across the woman nervously. “And… So… So you must have a man then? A mate, attached somewhere to your body? Where is he? Is he listening?”

“Men don’t do that anymore.” Kinthalikal pointed to a globular patch of thick skin above her wombs. It was covered in triangular scars the size and shape of a male’s beak, and each scar was surrounded by old, healed acid burns. “They get better genetic diversity from a single female by alternating mates, so that’s what they do… And at some point, they lost either the ability or the willingness to put aside their individuality long enough to enter into marriage. So whenever they try to attach themselves… They never end up sticking.”

“That looks like it really hurts…!” She winced.

“They give painkillers. I’m never even fully conscious.”

“WHAT? But that’s almost even worse! It…! BUT…!” She glanced around once more for any nearby men, even reached past the curtain to pull the latch on the door, and make sure it was securely sealed. Pulling on the latch hurt her weakened arm, and she cradled her elbow as she spun back around. “But how could you let this happen??” She demanded. Throughout the entire history lesson, she’d been waiting for this woman to make some complaint about the situation, voice her desire for freedom from her intense oppression. She’s been waiting for the woman’s tears, for a lament to the death of tradition and dignity, for a hatred for the men who wronged her, for a hope for an end to this wicked new order. Her own voice raised to a feverish pitch over the crime. “Don’t you see that all the men are using you as a whore?” She didn’t know the translation for the word, and hoped the meaning would come across in her tone alone. It did. “Don’t you see that they’re using you as a farm animal?” A drop of spit struck the inside of her visor. “They treat you like another of their machines! And not even a machine as dignified as the fishing vessels, not even as a thing close to your own talents, your own worth, but as a factory! A recycling dump! If females really are the center of the family, the heart and the face of the species, then the men are disgracing themselves as well as you! They broke you! They enslaved you! They hid you! They abused you! They who were supposed to serve you! To love you! T-they… K-Keeleeticktick has a son? He was a part of this?!? One of those scars is his? He seemed like a nice guy! How could this…! Why aren’t you mad? How can I help?!?” Her attitude was bullish and hasty and hot with anger, a passion born from a desire to make things better than they were. It was a very mannish attitude to have. “What can I do?!?”

Kinthalikal flinched beneath the visitor’s verbal onslaught, cowered backward in her restraints, found her eyestalks retracted, looking down through her transparent skin at her own insides, and seeing her status in life a little bit like how her visitor saw it, and it was not flattering. In her visitor’s words she could hear the untold story of a world where man and woman followed the same orbit, where people had the freedom to be free and marriage was willing… But more than that, she heard the story of a world of peace and plenty, where people had so little worry of predators and enemies and rival factions that they had no concern for efficiency, where deep and dark matters could take it for granted, where people concerned themselves with equality and happiness more than survival. Earth was a place where people did not even need to be nomads.

“Men aren’t evil.” She said.

Her visitor’s frown remained unbroken.

“Keeleeticktick is a good man. And a kind man… This I know from his reputation. And as for the rest, some are known as good, some as bad, but what do I know? For all I can tell, they’re all kind, at least to me.”

“Yeah, well they don’t seem kind to me.”

“How do they seem to you?”

“They—” Her words caught on her tongue, for really, with few exceptions, for her entire stay, they had treated her with nothing but kindness. “They’re lazy.” She claimed, as if grasping at straws. “And kind of gross…? And the way they treat you… I guess… I guess I just don’t understand you people at all.”

“Hmm.”

“…How do they seem to you?” She asked.

“I don’t envy them.” Kinthalikal told her. “They are creatures of action, but their fathers gave them an unforgiving and lazy portion in life, and they only know how to give their sons the same. All their days and nights they spend idly milling about, until there appears the slightest opportunity to exert themselves, to justify themselves, to prove themselves; when it comes, they will latch onto it. You have seen how quickly and proudly they spring into action when there is a survivor to save from disaster, or a monster to hunt, or an asteroid to capture. They long for trouble, and for purpose. Unfortunately for them, this means their purposes are so seldom their own, and they are prone to being sent on ridiculous quests… So it was in the olden days, when their mothers launched them off to find women to cling to. So it is now, when they undertake agonizing journeys of lifetimes to escape from cruel empires, and spheres of armor must conceal the objects of their worship…”

“Worship?” She scoffed. “They don’t ‘worship’ you.”

“Don’t they?” She rapped a tentacle against the wall of the pod. “Have you seen how jealously they guard me? They hid my loud voice from predators and scanners, they made me immune to bullets. And now look at the gentle colors, listen to the life support, can you feel the comfort? These things are made with loving care. You haven’t heard the sweet things they say when they visit me, haven’t heard the stories they tell, can’t see the worlds they gave me to explore in virtual reality behind my blind eyes. It really does equate to worship, the way they treat me. Worship, or queenship, or the guarding of a precious treasure. How long did it take them to even mention me? Their reverence is just that thorough. So who has it better in this arrangement? Certainly not they. So who is subjugated? …Maybe we both are, but not by each other, not entirely unequally, and certainly not by intention… So what if I’m trapped in here? In the end, I am safe here. And I am at peace. And that is more than could be said of most other places in the universe, and most other times in history.”

“But… But how could you consent to something as… As perverted and… And degrading and restricted and… And… You were supposed to be free! Freer than any creature had ever been! And… And you let this happen to you? Just let it? How could you consent to something as unnatural as this?”

“’Consent’…? You don’t need to consent to something for it to be the way that it is… And to imagine that I’m the one telling you that! From what I hear of your nature, Missus Fikes, you’ve consented to far worse than I. Was it your choice to float the void for the rest of your days? Or did somebody put you to it?”

She had to think about that for a minute. “We set out with the best of intentions.” She finally answered. “Something just… Happened along the way.”

“Same as the man who invented the rocket motor had the best of intentions.” She agreed. “As did the woman who first began organizing ships into convoys. As did the men who built the ion engines. As did my mother. As do these men… Something just happened along the way.”

It made sense.

“But… But it’s so… So messed up though.”

“Perhaps it is.”

“…I need time to think about this.” She stuttered. “This is a lot to take in.”

“I suppose it is… Come back to visit, then.” Kinthalikal requested. “…I think I would enjoy stories of your world.” And then she sat back in her restraints and returned to her original resting position, utterly unchanged from how she was a month previous, save for some strange and alien thoughts to fill her head.

Her visitor groped almost blindly along the wall and past the curtains, but before she turned the hatch to step back outside, she looked back over her shoulder. “…Kinthalikal…?”

“Yes?”

“The men… The men see me as an equal. Or something close to an equal. They see me as one of them… Is there anything you would have me say to them?”

Kinthalikal thought about it for a minute. “…No.” She finally answered. “No, nothing passes the mind.”

“…Don’t consent to more than you have to.” Her visitor told her. “Maybe some of it you have to… But never more than that… Please. For your sake.”

“I could say the same to you.”

“Hmm.”

She twisted the hatch open, and pushed out through, back into the emptiness of space. The glare of the sun and the harshness of the black hurt her eyes after her time indoors. The freedom of the expanse was all around her, it pressed down on her, it opened before her, and as she made her way back home, she spoke not a word to the idle men she passed.

Finally she arrived back at her pod, which was tied as it always was to the side of one of the cargo ships. And tonight she looked at it as a man would look at it, with an eye for efficiency.

She saw clearly for the first time that the pod was small and hard and crudely engineered; an ugly, battered pill of a spacecraft, which appeared dense and abrupt next to the gracefully diffuse constructions of the natives. Its walls were thick enough to survive reentry or an ocean landing, its colors gaudy and brightly striped, its life support overbuilt and robust enough to recycle the wastes of more than 20 human souls, and it had seats and supplies for the same number.

She didn’t need this ungainly, massive prison of a pod.

She needed something else.

And so she crawled inside, unpacked her tools, and began a chore which would take her weeks.

“Missus Fikes, what are you doing?”

“Working. Got some things I’ve been meaning to do.”

“Can I help?”

“…No… No, this is something I need to do on my own.”

“Okay.”

“I might need you later though. Don’t go far.”

“Cool.”

It started with unbolted 19 of the seats, and most of the wall paneling, bringing them outside the airlock, and tying them all up to keep from floating away. Then she opened the inspection and repair manual, and began picking her way through the mechanisms within the walls, determining the purpose of each, assessing which were crucial and which were superfluous, answering mechanical and electrical questions she’d never before asked. This step of the process would not have been possible without Keeleeticktick’s help.

After several nights of research and work, they found a way to disconnect 2 of the pod’s 6 booster engines, one of the algae nutrient vats, and most of the air handling systems. She reset the computer to recognize their absence.

Eventually, her pod was nothing but a bare, naked metal cylinder, with a window at the front and complicated mechanisms on the back; only barely airtight. Wall insulation was the last thing she removed, and it was bitterly cold in her pod the last night she slept in there. Then, early the next morning, she began the longest, most treacherous spacewalk of her life.

She took an angle grinder, and she cut the pod in half. The two cylinders, front and back, drifted apart.

Then she cut the window off the front half, and welded it back on to the severed end of the back half, resulting in both a leftover half-length of hull, and a complete pod which was twice as ugly, but half as large. Generous application of resin patches around the joint made it airtight once again, and she cycled the airlock to make sure it still worked. It did.

Then, after reinstalling the insulation and life support, she took the seats and extra engines and all the nonessential parts she’d removed, tied them all together into a single bundle, crammed that bundle into the scrap half of the pod, and let the whole mass of junk out on the end of a tether. The other end of the tether she tied to the roof of the new pod, and then there were two masses, joined by a line. She fired up the engines, and they began to rotate each other.

Her feet touched the ground, and she had artificial gravity. But this time it wasn’t gravity that relied on Thilykto piloting a dingy on the other end, or on a loaned mass from elsewhere in the convoy. This time nobody else could lay claim to any part of it, it was made entirely of her own possessions, and she would never again have to spin it down. It was hers alone, and for good. A floor felt good beneath her feet.

She smiled.

The natives cheered.

“You did it, Missus Fikes!”

“You made your own ‘down’!”

“And you didn’t need our help!”

“We knew you could do it!”

It was only 5% Earth gravity inside, but she was still having trouble walking. She struggled over to her toolbox, retrieved a marker, and began to write an exercise regime on the wall. So many sit-ups, so many pushups, so many chin-ups, so long jogging in place, such-and-such stretches. The numbers she wrote down were large, audacious and ambitious, and she set a date for when she would spin up the gravity to 10%, and then 20%. And once she reached that, maybe she would make longer-range plans for 50%, even 100%.

And finally, at the conclusion of all her work, while the males were still cheering her resolve, she gazed out the window, across the convoy, and her eyes landed on Kinthalikal’s cargo pod.

“Here I consent.” She said.

#The Nomads #missus fikes #spaceborne lifeform #alien #alien girls #scifi #writing #short story

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arlocedwards · 4 years

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ᴛʜᴇ "ᴘʀɪᴠᴀᴛᴇ" ᴄᴀʙᴀɴᴀ | @ ᴛʜᴇ ᴡᴀᴛᴇʀᴘᴀʀᴋ

( @ftshanley )

shanley was laid out on a lounge chair she pulled from the tent, she wanted to properly tan and finally chill out from all the activities she had been doing that day. she sat there, rubbing sunscreen lotion on her legs, when she hears noise coming from behind her, "perfect! can you get my back?" she asks, still not turning to see who she was speaking to

arlo was simply stopping in to drop his things off before running off to find...luca maybe? it was time he wished him a happy birthday, wasn't it? but at the sound of shanley's voice coming from one of the chairs, he found himself freezing in place. he swallowed thickly, his eyes roaming over her frame as he hesitantly took a couple steps in her direction. god, she looked beautiful. he missed her - it had been too long since he'd gotten the opportunity to be next to her - to touch her and it was driving him insane. it'd been exactly a week ( no, he wasn't counting ) for somebody who had such an intimate knowledge on her body, to see her there and know that in some way he wasn't supposed to, was a form of torture. "y-yeah," he coughed, "if... you want me to?" maybe he shouldn't have spoken?

her eyes widen when she hears his voice, she doesn't need to turn to know its him. and she could tell her question threw him for a loop. after the prom, she wasn't quite sure where the two stood. her head turns to look at him, lips pressed together as her eyes met his face, she was glad to be able to actually look at him; not have to guess what he was doing in a barely lit room. she gives him a shrug, "sure." she replies, handing him the sunscreen, "unless you want me to burn?"

he reaches out, taking the sunscreen from her hand perhaps a bit too eagerly, before claiming the spot behind her on the chair she was already sat in. there's so much he wants to say in response to that remark alone, but he's simply tongue tied, and each time he goes to open his mouth, his words seem to be lost. he pops the cap off of the bottle, and squirts a bit of the lotion into one of his hands, "burn?" he finally manages out, "id never want that for you." he drops it into his lap before warming the lotion between his hands, not wanting to potentially upset her, before pressing his palms against her bare back, somewhat massaging her skin as he lathers her up - in the name of sun safety, of course. "are - are you having fun? um - like, not right now, but overall? your day? is your day fun?"

she turns just as he takes the bottle from her, scooting herself forward ( only a tiny bit, she still wanted to be close to him ). she listened as the bottle cap opened and his hands rubbed together, assuming he wasn't going to speak to her since it had gone silent the moment after she spoke. when his hands touch her back, her eyes shut, she can't help but think about other times his hands were on her like this, sort of? her thoughts quickly interrupted by question, "what makes you think i'm not having fun right now?" she asks, a smile tugging at the corners of her mouth as she looked out at wave pool, "but yeah, i guess, i am...um, are you?"

he pauses, mouth opening and yet again, no words forming. he's somewhat in disbelief as she turns the question around on him, and yet he's grateful for it. grateful that she didn't rise from her seat the moment that she knew it was him and have some other fortunate bastard run their hands over her. " i - ," he begins, his hands move down her back and across the small little knot of fabric that held her bikini top in place - his thumb pressing against it gently before continuing down her back. he really shouldn't. "i guess? i haven't really seen anybody aside from you and ali, so i feel bad that i'm already considering leaving," he admits, deciding against informing her of the family he'd spent a majority of his day with.

it was twisted how she enjoyed how he was struggling to speak. it made her less nervous to be around him. her head tilted as she waited for him to finally let his sentence out. feeling his fingers linger against her back, maybe it was in her head, but either way she hoping he was enjoying this just as much as she was. she was technically done, but she didn't want to say so because then that would mean he'd have to stop touching her and that was the last thing she wanted. her brows raise, "you're already considering leaving?" she asks, "when did you arrive?"

he decides to delay his answer, despite him knowing exactly when he'd arrived at the park. he makes a humming noise, reaching back for the bottle of sunscreen. "i missed a spot," he mumbles, knowing very well that he hadn't, but what was going to come of this interaction when he was finished? would she simply leave? off to better and brighter things that awaited her? he didn't want to think of it, despite it now being all that came to him. "couple of hours ago," he finally answers, and his hands are returning to her body, moving much slower now as he relishes every second of their encounter. "maybe you can help me with mine?" he offers, referring to the sunscreen, despite him already reapplying prior to him entering the cabana - bless joyce's heart.

she took a deep breath in and exhaled slowly as his hands traveled down her back, she hated ( loved ) how amazing they felt on her. she nods, "and what did you do with ali?" she asks, questions seem to be the only thing she let out, anything to keep the conversation off of her. she bites down on her lip, of course she wanted to rub lotion all over him. but she couldn't sound to eager. "maybe." she responds, leaning back against him, tilting her head up to look at him, "or maybe not."

his initial instinct in response to her pressing her back to his chest is to worm his arms around her and hold her tight to his chest, but as his hands seem to fidget as a means to do so, he has to remind himsef he can't. his head tilts slightly in an attempt to get a better look at her, "so you want me to burn?" he prompts, and despite the fact that he'd told himself he shouldn't - couldn't, his hands find their way to move around her, one hand resting on her thigh as the other settles at her waist.

her eyes automatically stuck on his lips, distracted by the thought of his lips on hers again and how amazing they would feel right now, before shifting to his eyes, her brows furrow at his question, "of course i don't. but i'm too comfortable now to move." she whined, closing her eyes while making her body go limp, an excuse to lean onto him further, "see. i can't move." she teased, opening her eyes again.

he's beaming now, down at her little charade, enjoying any and every excuse she's making to be within reach. "maybe by this sudden limpness, you're actually saving my skin? hm?" he proposes, brows raising slightly, "maybe if i just keep you here, you can protect me from all the sun rays," he grins down at her, the sense of nervousness he'd felt prior simply washing away. "but i think i need to thank my knight in shining armor...properly...and then maybe i'll have to get you checked out by some fancy doctor - we can't have any sudden limpness now, can we?"

"hmmm," she hummed, giving him a smile as he continued to speak, "i'll gladly protect you from all the sun rays." her body finally relaxing now that the awkwardness between them had vanished. it was beginning to feel like them again. even if they aren't the 'them' she wanted yet. "maybe we can talk about that fancy doctor later, if i'm being honest, i'm more interested in how you are going to thank your knight in shining armor."

he smirks in response to her words, "i had a feeling that might catch your attention - so one track minded, hm?" his tone is playful as he teases her, his hand on her waist raising to tilt her chin up slightly as he closes the gap in between them and presses his lips against hers, but there is no sense of gentleness in the way that he kisses her. it's desperate, urgent and long as he's not willing to be the one to pull away first. his hand on her thigh moves, guiding her body to turn into him - desperate for more contact.

she rolls her eyes playfully as he teased her, although, its not like he was lying. when his hand lifts her chin, she knew exactly what was to come and had no intention in stopping it. her eyes shutting as she kissed him back fervently, her body following his hand's guidance and began turning into him, slowly turning completely towards him and pressing her body against his, her hand cupping his face to ensure the kiss never breaks, as her lips pressing harder against his, she wanted him bad but she knew she had to behave considering their surroundings.

as she turns into his body, he feels as if they are melting together. or perhaps it's a fantasy he's projecting? a return to normalcy for them. his hands settle on her body, one resting rather dangerously low on her back, and the other cupping her cheek. "i miss you," he breathes hotly into her mouth, these words now seeming to be a filler for something else he'd intended to say long ago, but they still rang true. "i need you," he breathes, as he begins pressing kisses across her jaw, "right now." he's desperate, and undeserving, but he can't help himself. he's begging for her.

she knew he missed her, for once, his actions spoke louder than words. she could tell by the way his hands held onto her body and by the way he kissed her. like he was savoring the moment as if it were going to be the last. and she was enjoying every second of it because she had missed him too and held onto him or kissed him with the same emotion. she groans as his lips moved along her jaw, her eyes shot open at his words, "right now?" she asks, breathless, "in front of the wave pool?" she teased, her lips capturing his, pressing a quick peck before biting onto his bottom lip, she wanted to make him suffer a bit. he had put her through all this trouble, she couldn't give in to him so quickly.

he moans in response to the sensation of her teeth digging into his bottom lip, unable to muffle any reactions that coursed through him as a result of what she was doing to him. "there are blinds or some sort of curtains on this thing, aren't there?" he mumbles, pouting up at her as his hand on her back slightly raises to gently tug at the string of her bikini top - not enough to completely undo the knot, but enough to hint at what was on his mind.

she smirked at his moans, pressing another kiss on his lips, "i'm not sure. maybe. maybe not." she shrugs, barely bothering to look at the tent and actually check if it had anything to cover them. "you're not sure about having an audience?" she teased, as she began to press light kisses down his neck.

he quickly tilts his head back after feeling her lips against his skin, giving her more access to his neck. "on second thought," he grins, his eyes moving to rake over her features, "maybe i do? but i don't want to traumatize anyone - especially the kids," he laughs - shaking his head at the thought. "if it's any of the others though, all bets are off...they'd be fortunate to watch us go at it."

shanley continued to press her lips against his neck, moving up to his jaw and biting down gently. the kids she thought, how did she forget she was at place where kids were running around. she laughs at his comment, "they would be so fortunate to watch us. i guess we'd have to wait then." she sighs, nuzzling her face into his neck. "assuming you'd still want me later."

he stiffens slightly at her words, moving to cup her face with both hands as he ensures they are making eye contact before speaking his next words, "i always want you, shanley. i've never stopped and i don't think i'll ever stop wanting you - in any form i can get."

his words take her by surprise, she wasn't sure how to respond but they comforted her. "okay." she responds, nodding her head, "but i have to ask something then."

he nods, unsure of what's coming but he doesn't allow himself to taint the momnet with any semblance of negative thoughts. not when they were seeming to communicate somewhat effectively now after all this time.

she opens her mouth quickly closes it, not quite sure how to get the question out. "uh," she stammered, "what does this mean...for us?"

"it depends..." he begins, clearing his throat. he knew he'd have to tell her, and if they had any hope of rekindling their relationship it would have to come out now versus later. "in the aftermath...of us.. i - i acted out in a lot of ways that i thought would help me cope? ways that i thought - would help me feel better than how i felt...." he pauses, unable to meet her gaze as both shame and guilt wash over him. "i need you to be honest with me...if these are too much, i - i need you to tell me now.... i stole harrison's bag of coke from his drawer and...god, if ali didn't find me on the bathroom floor...i - i don't know what would've happened." he admits, unable to stop pouring out truths, for what felt like the first time in a long time. "i got some bits from jupiter and i just - i don't know what i was thinking...honestly..." he pauses once more, knowing his next words will be the most difficult to admit. "and when it came down to everybody asking me...probing i - i couldn't take it...and i kissed brooke as a means to shut her up...not once but twice, but it didn't go farther than that - i just wanted you.." more than anything, he regretted that kiss with brooke. he wished if it had been with anyone aside from shanley, it had been with ali. at least then, there wouldn't be so much self-hatred in his admission now. "I'm so fucking sorry."

he begins to speak and she already knows its going to be bad. she sits up, suddenly uncomfortable with the whole situation. she suddenly remembered her conversation with harrison in the kitchen, although, she's sure he had no idea that all of this had happened, he was right in that she should hear everything from the person himself. she's speechless everything drug-related making her upset, but then he brings up a kiss and the person he shared that kiss with, "you kissed her...twice?" she asked, her eyes avoiding his. she wants to brush it off, it probably meant nothing but the thought of him kissing another person, even worse that--that was her ex made her blood boil, "you wanted me so you kiss my ex? am i listening correctly?"

"i know - i know how awful and fucking idiotic it was and it didn't mean anyting to me and i need you to know that," he quickly begins, reaching out for her - for anything she's willing to give him now, if anything at all. "i needed to tell you, because it's one of the worst things i've done and i want you to know that i don't deserve you and i know it, but i - i want to show you that i'm worthy of a second chance." he pauses, for a long time, lips pressing together before he speaks again, "i was so fucking scared in our relationship - thinking that i was going to ruin things between us and i did....and i - i was so scared because i know that you're it for me -- you're the one and you always have been...since middle school i've known...and yet i went off trying to prove to myself that i wasn't capable of being loved the way that i craved to love you...but now - i can't imagine my life without you and i need you to know everything now..not later on when it'll hurt more."

she gives him her hand, she was still upset, almost wishing he never said anything about what he did to begin with but she had to respect him for telling her, he could have lied and acted as though nothing during their time apart and not waiting till they were deep into their second go. she listened on as he continued, eyes softened at his words, it was so weird to her how she could be so mad at him but he happens to say the things she needed to hear in order for her to suddenly feel okay about it. "i'm glad you're okay. i hope this means you're done experimenting, or will at least do the lighter stuff or whatever. i'm upset that you kissed someone. the thought grosses me the fuck out and i literally want slap you for it. or go kiss someone else just so you can feel what i'm feeling." she looks at him, "but i forgive you. and i'm just glad it didn't take you another thousand years to find your way back to me."

to hear her words of forgivenes was all he needed, although the feelings of guilt and shame still lingered - they were less impactful on his thoughts as he gazed up at her. "if you want to slap me, please - do it, or kiss someone else," he pauses, ( maybe he'd be into it? ) - he wasn't sure, "you can do that too - i just, i want you so badly, and i want to do everything i can to have us...be us agian...honestly i don't think i would've lasted another thousand years without you," he smiles slightly, giving her hands a light squeeze.

"you know i can't slap you or kiss someone else." she rolled her eyes, if he was someone else, she would have gladly done it both, "i don't want to be without you anymore." she crawls towards him, taking her place back onto him like before, "can we finally put this all behind us and be us?" she looks up at him, her lips pursed for a kiss before lifting her hand, "wait, maybe." she taps the palm of her hand against his cheek 'hard,' a bad attempt at a slap, "there, that's the closest we'll get to a slap. now can we go back?"

"i don't want to be without you either," he admits, his arms spreading for her to rejoin him in their previous position. he moves to nod, finally they can put this behind them and have a chance at happiness - it's all he wants with her. but as she speaks again, he pauses too, somewhat grinning as she taps her palm against his face, as a means of being dramatic, he tosses his head to the side playfully in response, raising his hand to cup his own cheek where she rather gently tapped him previously. "I'm already there."

she laughs at his theatrics, rolling her eyes playfully. “wow, well welcome back to us. you have been missed. let me tell you about all the things you missed out on while you were away.” she teased, reaching for his hand and taking it in hers, “honestly the only ground breaking news was that I found a hammock and lived on it for a day because I got thirsty and brought no water.”

"I wish I hadn't been away," He began, giving her hand a gentle squeeze, "I would've packed provisions and moved into the hammock with you. A nice lil spot for two, don't you think? Especially with the way we like be on top of each other."

“we can still do it. im the only person that knows where it is. when shit gets too crazy in the villa, we could easily run off and live happily ever after.” she smiled, running her fingertips up and down his arm, “it’s a perfect spot for two who love to smother each other.”

"Happily ever after, eh? I like the sound of that," He admits, grinning up at her. And he did, he meant every word he said previously of knowing she was the one for him. A future with her didn't very far fetched now, and he wasn't going to pretend otherwise. He raised his hands to cup her cheeks, their faces only an inch or two apart as he spoke again, "Smother me," He hummed before pressing his lips against hers for a slow and passionate kiss - one that he hoped conveyed just how much he'd missed her during these weeks apart from one another.

#sharlo #ft.shanley #HBD LUCA your gift is sharlo aagjnfdkgadf

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imagineclaireandjamie · 6 years

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Asking for an update to As Yet Unread. Pretty Please With Sugar on Top!

I do love sugar - here ya go, lovely: Mod MBD:

Drumming her fingers nervously against her cast, Claire watched out of the familiar hospital window as she waited for Dr Gowan to come back. Jamie had been spending as much time as he could at home with her, but he’d been unable to get the day off from their current project so Jenny and Suzette had brought her along for her final assessment. All being well, she’d get her cast off and be enrolled onto a small physiotherapy course for rehabilitation on her wounded leg.

But first, Ned needed to x-ray her to ensure enough healing had taken place during her time in plaster.

“How do you feel, Claire?” Susie asked, balancing wee Fergus on her hip as Jenny cooed at him over her shoulder. Having left her own bairns at home for this visit, Claire could tell Jenny was missing the closeness of her own children as she kept Fergus amused.

“I’m alright, I just want this to stay off.” She said shaking her bandaged leg in the air as much as she was able.

“Then it’s good news!” Ned interjected, waving her scans in the air as he re-entered the room. “I feel like we may have been here before,” he said, winking as he placed the x-ray on the wall and illuminated the photograph of Claire’s leg. “But I dinna mind when it’s positive. The cast can stay off,” he continued, pointing at the breaks and ruptures - or the jagged lines where they had begun to heal with the assistance of a few pins. “As ye can see, there are visible cracks where the major breaks have healed and I’m verra pleased to tell you that the pins have taken well and are holding the bone together as they should.”

“Now it’s off for good, will I be able to walk without the crutches?” Claire asked, the hint of a smile pulling at the corners of her mouth as she turned to face Ned head on.

“It depends really,” he said, answering honestly, “you’ve still been using the muscle, even though ye werena putting all of yer weight on the leg but if -when ye first walk- it’s obvious that yer struggling then you might need to keep them until the physio gives ye the all clear.”

“Is there a percentage chance? How likely is it that I’ll be able to walk properly?”

“Ach,” Ned said, scratching his head thoughtfully, “everyone is different, lass. There isna a statistic for it but I’d say, yer young, you have good bones and since ye werena that active before - this shouldn’t have affected your muscle mass too much. That being said, we dinna need to guess, aye? We might as well clean he up, Claire, and find out for ourselves.”

Politely, Ned led Suzette and Jenny out before making Claire comfortable.

It wasn’t long before the thin bandage that had been used to keep her scars clean had come off, leaving the pale white of Claire’s previously shattered leg exposed to the fresh air. Holding her hands around the top of her thigh as the surgeons took once last look at the external injuries, she kept herself still as the urge to stand pulsed through her. Once she’d been washed down, the specks of dust and grime wiped from her healing flesh, the two nurses stood either side of her, supporting her arms as she slid around on the bed and placed both of her feet on the floor without hindrance now.

“Do you want to try on yer own, lass?” Glenna asked, turning to Claire as she held her hand gently.

“I want-” she started, wiggling her toes against the cheap lino that lined the floor.

She wanted Jamie. His calm presence always soothing her frayed nerves. He had wanted to be with her, but she’d promised that she didn’t really need him there. Her relaxed aura had confidently convinced Jamie that he could leave Claire in the capable hands of his sister and his aunt-in-law. Now, however, fatigue had set in - the anxious energy she’d been able to utilise had now all but vanished leaving her agitated and apprehensive…and utterly alone.

“I can do it by myself, I’ll be fine.” Claire said, breaking the silence, sounding way more confident than she felt.

She was far from fine but determined not to let her own daft pride be her downfall, Claire put her hands flat on the bed beneath her and pushed herself upwards.

It was the sound of the creaking door that brought her head up as she watched Jamie poke his head through the gap. “Claire!” He exclaimed, his cheeks red as he tried to breathe normally though it was obvious that he’d rushed to get here. “Can I come in?”

“Yes.” She answered before anyone else could take her choice away. “Yes please, Jamie.”

“Are ye sure you want me here?”

“Yes, really sure. I should have said earlier,” she confessed, her fingers drumming against the plastic of the assessment room bed, “when you asked. But I felt daft.”

“You dinna have to worry, Claire,” Jamie replied as he came to her side, “I was foolish no’ to be here from the beginning, so I came as fast as I could.”

“How did you know?” Claire asked, leaning against Jamie as he wrapped one arm around her waist to help support her as she stood.

“That ye needed me? I wasna sure, I mean, you are’na that good at hiding yer emotions. Ye tend to get this stubborn look on yer face and I ken then yer no’ really alright with it - but yer determined to overcome it, no matter what. Part of me couldna leave Murtagh to finish wi’ the university job and rush over to Pollock house to talk wi’ the managers there about the new job but then he clouted me and I kent that being here was more important than anything else, aye?”

“Thank you,” she replied softly as she leaned her head against Jamie’s shoulder. She was stood fully now, most of her weight balanced between her two legs as she gripped the loops on Jamie’s belt tightly. “I didn’t mean to push you away, truly.” The image of their first trip out, their journey over to the Kelpies, came to her as she bent her knee carefully, testing the waters and ensuring that she felt ready to take her first step forwards.

It had been a good idea and had paved the way for a few more road trips. Although Claire still needed a lot of help getting around, Jamie hadn’t wanted her couped up in the house where she was prone to nightmares and anxiety. Their Falkland trip had given her a new found sense of freedom and allowed her to see potential in the outside world. The more they went out, the easier Claire slept and the more independent she became until she had been comfortable enough to venture out alone one or two times.

“I didn’t want you to think I was too needy.” She said, her foot sliding forwards slightly as she began to let go of him - unafraid now that he was by her side.

One one particular trip out, on a day when she’d managed to navigate her crutches, Jamie’s stiff front door and the slow lift, Claire had been waiting for Susie to meet her in a nearby coffee shop. They were fortunate in that most of the places close to the apartment were rather empty during the day and Claire had felt secure enough to walk to them by herself.

Suzette, however, had been running late and Claire had been left by herself, surrounded by strangers, for long enough to overhear a couple of students giving one another relationship advice. Ever since, she had been wary. The words ‘clingy’ and ‘desperate’ occasionally sprung to mind and she didn’t want Jamie to tire of her as the guys had with the lassies in the cafe around the corner. But she hadn’t voiced these worries to anyone.

Furrowing his brow, Jamie shook his head before leaning over to kiss her forehead softly. “Ye’ve been to hell and back, Claire. I dinna think anything of the sort. You need support and I’m here for ye no matter when and where that may be, do ye ken?”

“Yes,” she said, taking one strong step forwards.

“Good.” He replied proudly. “Because ye dinna get rid of me that easily, lass. I’m afraid to say,” he continued, waiting until she’d turned back to look at him, “yer stuck wi’ me.”

#;Mod MBD #As Yet Unread #jamie x claire

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7beaviolet · 6 years

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God I hope this is not a stupid question but I love you and your dog and I've been wanting to get my own dog for almost 20 years now but some ppl are like it's the biggest responsibility ever your life has to change etc and some say it's chill? Like I'm 24 and live alone and have lots of free time and I know I would take care of my dog like my child and I know it's for life. I just wanted to know your experience, do you find it really hard and challenging?

Not a stupid question! I’ve always had dogs, my mom would keep strays she would happen upon and we usually had a pack of them running around. I was basically a lil Mowgli as a child and chose to spend most my time outside with our gang of mongrels. I even thought I too was a dog and convinced my parents to let me sleep outside in a tent when I was four. My current dog Putin was a stray I found limping outside my last home. His nails were very long and he was skinny and defensive. I tried to find if he had an owner and no one claimed him and he became my baby. All my dogs have either been strays, from the pound, or given to us by owners who cannot take care of them. Some had be abused by previous owners and other had health issues which require special help. I’ve had mutts, an Afghan hound..you name the breed I’ve probably had it. My dog Putin the chihuahua is probably the most high maintenance dog I’ve ever had but we are so bonded that I love it. He is like a little baby and wants to constantly be held and follows me around like a baby duckling. Chihuahuas are known for having a favorite person they imprint on. He follows my lead and is receptive to who I feel is safe. We have an unsppoken otherworldly attachment. He is scared of water so I get into the bath or shower and hold him so he feel secure. He has separation anxiety and can’t be left alone, so I either take him with me when I leave for short trips a lot or have my brother or someone close to me, that Putin trusts take care of him when I have to go out of town. He is very expressive and emotional. He can sense when I am upset and gets excited when I am excited. He is so special, sometimes I feel like he is a little pokemon. We jokingly say he is a gremlin too sometimes. He has helped my life so much and I often wonder what I even did before I had him. Putin provides me with so much bliss and euphoria. He is truly my little angel. He is majorly protective of me and if I am sleeping and someone walks into my room he goes into attack mode haha. Almost everyone who meets him thinks he is very special and unique. He is the bravest and most clever dog I’ve ever had. He brings me endless laugher and comfort, I wish everyone had a dog like him.

Here are my personal rules for having a dog:

-Adopt from a shelter or take in a stray (Fostering a dog for a bit is a good way to get used to having a dog if you’ve not got much experience and can lead to adoption but isn’t initially a permanent responsibility and can ease the transition and give you time to decide if it’s right for you)

-NEVER hit, abuse or neglect your dog. Do not deny your dog any essential need and only ever show your dog nurturing and kind behavior. Don’t put your dog into a shock collar or spiked training collar and please do not get your dogs ears or tail clipped for cosmetic reasons. Having a dogs nails trimmed is good though and should be done so they don’t get ingrown nails which can affect their gait and potentially cause serious pain.

-Take your dog outside often but also do not leave your dog chained up outside alone all the time either. Have adventures with your pup and treat him/her as if it is just a regular part of the family. Basically don’t ever do anything to a dog you wouldn’t do to a helpless little child.

-Every dog is different just like people are. They have their own personalities, likes and dislikes. You can only learn this by tending to and connecting with your dog.

-Make sure you get your dog properly vaccinated and groomed if needed. Find a regular vet who can help if theres any health issues. An annual or even bi-annual full physical is important. Vet insurance is a good idea because emergencies happen and paying a smaller monthly fee is better than being hit with a huge vet bill all at once if something bad happens.

-NEVER ever ever ever ever abandon a dog! If you ever are faced with not being capable of taking care of your pet don’t under any circumstance leave it or drop it somewhere random. Please don’t take it to the pound either, that is probably one of the most gut wrenchingly tragic things to do to a pet which trusted you, loved you and relied on you. If worst comes to worst and you have to get rid of a dog, take it to a NO KILL shelter where it will not be faced with being put down...or find an adoptive home. Do you research though on the new possible owners and be certain that they are loving and will not hurt or mistreat them.

-Understand that nothing a dog does is done because it is “bad.” If a dog bites it is because it is frightened. If a dog soils the carpet or has an accident inside, it is because it either hasn’t been properly taught to be potty trained or wasn’t taken outside (which is the owners fault.) Dogs are incapable of being vindictive, mean, or rude. Dogs only do what their instincts are telling them to do and it’s natural for them, getting mad at a dog is a silly thing. If you dog is having behavioral issues it may be a good idea to take them to a training class. Many pet stores offer them, although I’ve never taken any of my dogs to training I hear they are often successful. Dogs look to their owners as part of their pack and put their entire trust into you and it’s your duty to ensure they feel secure, safe, and loved.

-Be devoted. Having a dog in your life means they are your priority and their well being is fully in your hands. They need you and you can’t avoid your new job of taking care of them.

-Research the different breeds of dogs. Each is known for different characteristics, temperaments, and needs. They all require different things and should be encouraged to flourish in the situations they were made for. For instance if you live in an apartment, a smaller dog is ideal because to them an apartment is pretty big, but they also need lots of time to go outside and explore. If you live in a cold place, choose a dog that was built for enduring cold weather, and if you live somewhere that gets hot it’s best to choose one that has short hair and won’t overheat. If you’re super active get a dog that can go on hikes with you or likes getting dirty and play. If you’re more of a homebody get a little lap dog that will want to cuddle you and cozy up while you lounge around.

-Always keep your dog on a leash when you go for walks, because they might run away and get hit by a car, get lost, get into a fight with another dog, or bite someone. Don’t let your dog go out where it is unattended ever. Small dogs can get picked up by large birds sometimes even!

-Provide lots of water in multiple rooms (in case it ever accidentally gets stuck in a room without water, its a good idea to have a few bowls around your home.) Feed them everyday as required, give them lots of toys and play with them as much as possible.

-Every single night I give Putin a massage. I pet him all the time but he loves to be massaged. It’s calms him down and relaxes him to have him back, shoulders, legs, and head rubbed. He sleeps curled up with me every night and we are bonded because he knows I won’t even hurt him or abandon him.

-Talk to your dog and sing it songs and include them into anything you do that they can also take part in.

Having a dog is such a special relationship. Although we cannot speak to our dogs, they are so empathetic and intuitive. They remember if they’ve been hurt and are so pure. It is a responsibility but the work it takes to have a dog is rewarded 50 fold when you feel the love and joy they can give to you. I would rather hangout with dogs over most humans. It seems like you’ve put thought into this and showing your concerns tells me you’d be a caring, attentive, and appreciative owner. There are days when it’s 8am and I am deep in sleep and Putin will start barking at my head because he is hungry or needs to go potty, and even though I feel groggy and wish I could stay asleep I know he relies on me and I absolutely owe it to him to help him with his needs. Imagine you couldn’t feed yourself or use the bathroom without assistance? Never get upset at your dog, even if it eats your favorite shoes. When stuff like that happens just learn that maybe you should keep your shoes away from the dog. If a dog annoys you or upsets you just go take a break and breathe and calm down, never lash out at the dog. Learn constructive healthy ways of handling unsavory behavior. Give your dog your whole heart and treat it exceptionally. It all depends on you going into it with a calm, patient, and sweet approach. People that complain about their dogs just need to identify with the dogs perspective and get into it’s head to see it from their view. Dogs are too good for us truly. All pets of any species are wonderful and beautiful.

Please keep me in the loop about this! I would love to help you find a good match and tell you about different breeds and ways of going about this search. Then if you do end up adopting a dog I’d love to see pictures. I love talking about animals and want all of them to have amazing lives. Thanks for coming to me for advice it means a lot because animals are my favorite topic xx

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