#aic fanfiction

[aishnico]

#𝙇𝘼𝙔𝙉𝙀 𝙎𝙏𝘼𝙇𝙀𝙔: 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦, 𝘩𝘢𝘵𝘦, 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦

» summary: you heard that your ex-boyfriend got out of rehab

»word count: 2.9k

»warnings: angst with a happy end 🤗, NO DISRESPECTS towards demri or anyone else <3, grammar issues

»a/n: i'm officially declaring that from now on, i’m also writing for my favourite 🐐 <33

april, 2002

"layne is coming out of the hospital."

that was what jerry told you before you dropped the handset from your hands. your breath hitched sharply.

"hello, [name]? are you there?"

you didn't pay attention to him at the moment. you fell on your knees, put your hand on your heart. a wrenching pain and a sweet sensation of relief are wrapping around your heart. he was clean now, but could get on drugs again, you hoped he wouldn't. he could continue on his music career with joy and passion. can be happy with his beloved ones, enjoying life again... but without you. he didn't need you in his life. not anymore.

it was painful. witnessing the changes in his behaviors and his physical features. how hard you tried to send him to rehab. how many times have you tried? you don't remember. but you remember how finally you managed to send him.

it was before christmas. the first and probably the last one you spent with him. you were arguing again because of his addiction. the shameful thing was that the guys were there too. listening to you two without saying anything.

not only he was in pain, so were you. but he wasn't understanding how he affected you too. he finally snapped at you before leaving your shared apartment.

"if demri was still here, we would smoke on the couch continuously, cuddle, and make love to each other! she wouldn't instead cry and beg me like a little bitch..."

oh demri, sweet little demri... you were a fool honestly, for thinking he could love someone again after her. clearly, his heart died with her. and you couldn't revive it no matter how many times you tried.

"i wanted to ask you if you would like to see him. we plan to make a surprise to him at your old shared house."

you wanted to punch jerry in the face for asking you this. how could he ask you this? didn't he know how was your relationship with layne? was he trying to make you sad for nothing? or was he hoping you would make up with layne again?

after a couple of seconds, he apologized to you for disturbing you and hung up the phone. you got up from the floor and poured yourself a glass of water. you told yourself not to cry, that he meant nothing to you anymore like you didn't to him. but you couldn't stop your eyes from filling up.

work was waiting for you, so you grabbed your bag and left the house before petting your cat and calling her sadie. sadie... of course you felt bad for calling her by that name. if jerry wouldn't call me i wouldn't call her by his cat's name, you thought to yourself.

it was almost 5.30 PM. you were going home longer than usual. perhaps your mind was still lost, or just because you were tired.

usually, you wouldn't feel bad or tired after work. because your gloomy but lovely boyfriend would wait for you and thinking about him at and after work would delete all your negative feelings. you don't remember when was the last time you were coming home happily. it was sure before christmas, before you two split.

fuck you, jerry... you murmured to yourself. now i keep thinking about him even though i don't want to...

while you were talking inside your head, you bumped into someone tall unexpectedly. life is sure to have surprises. it was no one else but your mutual tall, drummer friend, sean.

"[name], glad to see you again! how have you been?" he asked with a cheerful tone.

you sighed and lifted your face to look up to him. "same, sean. i was fine until today, honestly."

"why? did something bad happen?!" he asked worriedly. you shook your head. you knew you had to face the guys one day, eventually that day has come. "wanna chat?" he asked you while showing an empty bench. you bit your lip then nodded.

you two remained silent for a couple of minutes. he eventually broke it. "it was a long time since i've seen you last time." he stated.

"like five months ago."

"isn't it long for you?" he asked.

"well, i have a steady and tiresome job so i don't have time to think about it all." you kinda lied and he knew it.

"the guys, jerry and mike, are missing you too. you're avoiding their calls too, don't you?"

you didn't answer. god... how you wished you pretended like you were busy while walking on the road (it's not like he can't recognize you because of your height anyway). however, as you told yourself, you had to confront.

"i... want to take everything out of my life that reminds me of him. i managed for these past months. but jerry called me this morning, and gave me the news that were enough to shake me all. i'm happy for him, i really am. there's nothing better than regaining your health back. also in the morning, i called my cat sadie on accident. sadie, his cat's name..."

this time, he didn't answer. you sat there in silence for minutes.

"[name], you have to face him."

"... why? to upset and make me cry again? like a little bitch i am?!" you buried your face between your hands. fuck, you were whimpering. although you were good friends with sean, you didn't want him to see you like this.

did you have just painful memories with him? of course not. you two weren't the most lovey-dovey couple full of physical touch, etc. but it was okay. starting a new love after his long-term girlfriend died was not easy for him, but trying his best for you was already enough for you.

you met for the first time when you were on a record shop and he was just sitting there. you couldn't recognize him at first, you thought he was the owner of the shop. so you asked him to play the lioness vinyl by songs: ohia. you were slow dancing to yourself and he was just watching you, amazed. you noticed his gaze on you and reached your hand to him to dance with you. he hesitated, but gave it a shot when you sincerely smiled at him.

"don't you care what people will think about you?” his voice was raspy. like either he couldn't wake up still or either he was on edge of death.

"no, why? i don't know them, they don't know me. i don't see an issue."

after your little dance, you asked him to play some classic rock records to check its conditions. when you had to leave, you somehow gained confidence to ask him out. he was stunned, but after thinking about a couple of seconds, he muttered an 'okay'.

it was unusual to him. going out to concerts, parks, record shops, and bars again with a new person. sometimes you two would just stay in the house, baking cookies before lying on the couch watching some film from the early 90's and watching the stars before sleeping.

he felt lucky, a new person was trying to drag him out of his miserable life. his friends and his mother, nancy, were happy and grateful to you. you made him happier and even a little bit healthier for a short time. you tried to send him to rehab countless times, he would be there for a few days or weeks. sometimes you considered yourself lucky when he managed to stay there an over a month.

your relationship with him, was a fairy tale. unless he would do drugs when you weren't around. he would become an aggressive, cold bitch who thought he was still around '95. it would turn from a fairy tale, to a psychological novel with an awful ending.

but even after your split, it didn't stop you from loving him. i really have no self-respect... you thought.

"that's not true. believe me or not, when guys and i would visit him he would always ask about you. about your well-being, about your work, about your life... he would worry about you, he regrets everything bad he has done to you."

you couldn't hold yourself and let a hysterical laugh. people who were passing by were looking at you strangely. you calmed yourself and looked at him.

"do you know, how many times i tried to send him there? how i was imagining a nice life with him but couldn't make it real unless he got treated? he wasn't listening to me except a couple of times. did this really have to happen for him go to there? did i deserve this, hm, sean?"

he let out a sigh. "of course not, [name]. but i highly believe his feelings changed. i highly believe he's a better person now. you don't have to forgive him, but it would be great if you listen to what he wants to say." he grabbed your small hand compared to his and gently caressed it. "trust me, that's what is fair."

you didn't say anything in return, just laid your head against his chest. you would be lying if you said you didn't miss sean's presence. not only his, but also jerry's, also mike's... also layne's...

"you're right. the time has come for us." you smiled and got up from the bench. "are you guys gathering at jerry's?"

he shook his head. "no, we thought it would be at layne's. so, your old place." he pressed his lips. "that sounds great, i bet he would be shocked seeing a surprise at his house."

he stood next to you. "yeah, i was just heading there. the guys are already there. we decorated a few things and nancy said she's gonna bake a few things. you can join her, you know?" he smiled.

"i was just gonna say that! i can't imagine seeing her reaction when she sees me." you laughed.

"you know what she calls you still?"

"hm? what is it?"

he lowered his head at the level of your ears. "my daughter-in-law-" he then chuckled because your ears got red.

"mike tells her not to call you like that but she just doesn't listen. she highly believes you'll be together again."

you slightly jumped and bumped his shoulder playfully. "i don't know what are you talking about.”

“i also can't imagine your reaction when you see mike." he smirked.

you stopped walking. "what happened to him? don't tell me he cut his gorgeous long, curly hair!"

"i actually meant starr."

"... wait what?! oh my god he's coming too?! that's amazing! can't wait to meet him for the first time. hey, you walk too fast, wait for me!" you then started running towards him.

"well, we're all like brothers, you know. even after all these things, they kept their special bond. it would be unfair not to tell him the news."

"yeah, glad jerry told me too."

the day has come. jerry knew you were still nervous. instead of telling you assuring things, he said he was going there only with you. minutes passed, you gave up on yourself and got in the car with him. jerry opened a cassette of one of bob dylan's albums to make you relax. it did help eventually.

after about twenty minutes later, he stopped at the parking place. he unbelted his belt then looked at you. "aren't you coming?"

"i'll come after you. now go." you smiled and he then got out of the car and started to walk in front of the hospital.

you saw a tall, blonde, gorgeous man with big blue eyes standing before the building. he seemed lost in his thoughts, swaying forward and back in his place. he was looking healthy and joyful compared to a few months ago. the warm wind was kinda messing with his short, wavy hair. he closed his eyes and opened wide again when another blonde man hugged him tightly like he never wanted to let him go again. your heart melted at the sight. best friends reunited again...

after couple of minutes later, jerry turned his back and looked at you. he gave you a smile as a sign. you took a deep breath and got out of the car, walking with steady steps towards them. layne's expression changed from cheerful to stunned. jerry coughed and started to walk to his car. "i'm waiting for you in the car, guys. don't stand too long, though. there are people who are still waiting for us."

you two stood there without saying anything. you looked at his healthy eyes, and face. oh how much they were shining more now... oh how was his smile making your heart melt more...

"[name], i..."

"it's been a long time. isn't it, layne?" your voice was weak, but at the same time joyful.

his eyes got filled. "yeah, yeah it's been a really long time. it's been a long time without you."

you gave him a broken smile. "layne, you look so happy right now. you look so lively. i'm- i'm glad to see you like this again." your eyes got filled too.

"everything thanks to you. i would never think i would retrieve these days again. i would never think i would see jer, see you. i also was sure you wouldn't want to see me again."

you sniffed. "yeah, that was what i've been telling myself since that day. but i guess i was just convincing myself like that."

"you hate me, don't you?" his voice was like a whisper.

"i hate you, layne," you started, "i hate you for making wonderful memories with me then throwing all of these to nowhere, i hate you for not keeping your endless promises, i hate you for telling me hurtful things, i hate you for comparing demri to me. i hate you for being with me even though you still think about her." your voice sounded harsher and harsher.

"that's not true," his voice now was broken. "not anymore. i don't want to live continuing thinking about her. i don't want to be stuck at memories with her instead cherishing what i have. i didn't understand this at first, never thought about it. i understood it when i lost you. i understood when i hadn't seen your face since then. you're too good and precious to me, [name]. i don't deserve you. but still, i love you."

sean was right. his thoughts indeed have changed. you wanted to open your mouth but he continued on his words.

"i'm sorry for hurting you in any way. i'm sorry for making you drown in my hole with me. you clearly didn't deserve all of this. it was so hard, so damn hard to quit... even making the decision was hard for me. i threw all of your help and lost to my demons. i'm so damn sorry for making you cry after me. i don't deserve your single teardrop." he couldn't hold himself longer and started to cry. his cry made you also cry. you opened your mouth but he didn't let you again.

"at first, i went to this rehab without any expectations but thank god something clicked inside me. i've realized everything i've done to you. my thoughts about life, about drugs, about demri changed but my love for you didn't. i've finally found a reason to stay alive, it has always been you. i... i love you so much, [name]. i'm not waiting for any acceptance but please believe my words."

before he could say anything more, you grabbed the collar of his shirt and pulled him close to you. you wrapped your arms around his neck and his head fell on your shoulder. breathing in your essence again.

"i missed you. i missed your presence, your smell, your soft touches..." you two stayed there for a couple of seconds and then he pulled off from you.

before he opened his mouth, you pressed your lips against his, putting your hands on his cheeks. he wasn't expecting this but then immediately welcomed the warmth of your mouth, kissing and sucking on your upper lip. his salty tears were dropping down to your lips but you didn't care. his lips got soft compared to a few months ago and him kissing you like this made you tingle more than ever.

you got interrupted when you two heard the loud sound of a horn twice. you pulled off and looked at who it was. of course it was jerry looking at you with a dull face.

"you two have enough time to make out from now on but we have to go now!" he shouted to you with a half-angry voice and you just smirked. he reached for your hand hesitantly. you gave him a gentle smile then intertwined your hands.

"i love you too, layne. i've never stopped from inside. but we're gonna talk about this later, okay?"

he kissed your forehead in response and you two sat next to each other in the car. returning your shared house, only to make wonderful and longing memories to remember in the remote future.

[stevenssticks]

hiii p ok imagine mike / layne & reader.... like a 3some ok.. so like sucking off layne while mike is fucking u from behind and ur just like their fucktoy ok...

these two……. together… what a dream urgghhh

having mikes hands gripping your hips real tight while he’s fucking you hard. letting out these really low groans and grunts, praising you, telling you how good you look like this. you’re too busy with layne in your mouth to respond, sucking hard with your hands on laynes hips to ground him and yourself.

laynes got his head leaned back against the headboard, mouth open and whining while one of his hands is placed in your hair, lightly pushing you up and down. mike would lean over you, pressing his chest to your back. pressing his weight onto one hand, he covers laynes hand that’s still gripping your hand with his, and pushes you hard down on layne, making you choke and struggle against him.

layne cums at the sight of you choking on him, the feeling of your throat constricting around him, and watching mike fuck you mercilessly. spilling down your throat with a loud, drawn out cry.

mike wraps an arm around your middle, letting you pull off layne when he’s done spilling into your throat. his fingers skate down to your clit as layne gains the words to keep praising you while mike loses his composure. his thrusts become sloppy as well as his circles on your clit, and the two of you cum at the same time as mike pulls you upright and spills into your cunt while you gush on him, out of breath and out of your head.

[electrasev5nwrites]

Ninja Daily: AIC 39

It was very quiet inside the shrine. She sat down at a long table in a stiff silence. The younger priest left through a door to the left and came back with a bleak-smelling tea balanced on a humble tray. She took a cup and wondered if shrines were on the list of things she was meant to be funding.

"You seem to have a particular connection to death," the senior priest said. There were stress lines pressed into his forehead that didn't ease up when he looked at her. "Seeing and interacting with the dead… You can do this?"

Aiko took a sip of her bitter tea and nodded. "Yes," she said. "A while after I began summoning the god of death."

The old man flinched. "Pardon?"

She repeated herself.

The priest closed his eyes. He seemed to be chewing that concept over. "Why would you summon the God of Death?" His voice was faint.

Aiko thought about it. "It's cool," she said honestly. "And it was a very effective psychological tool against Orochimaru."

"It's ...cool," he repeated, lost.

"I also use it to revive people who I killed by accident," Aiko added guiltily. She squirmed on her cushion. "A lot of people in Kirigakure, actually."

He made a sound of comprehension, as if something he'd heard years ago was finally resolved. "You are the Mizukage," he said. He looked at her again, cataloguing her face and clothes. "I see." He said that, but his brow furrowed even further in confusion. "How do you summon a God?"

She grimaced. "I…" Aiko tilted her head to the side, trying to find a way to describe it that didn't sound insane. "I use my eyes. I have a set of eyes which let me do a lot of things, actually. I can use every chakra type that I know about and some really weird things that don't truly make sense, like summoning unaffiliated animals."

"And also a literal God?" His question came out bemused. "Why that God- as opposed to any other God, I mean. Did you worship the God of Death?"

She thought about it. "I kill a lot of people," Aiko said fairly. "Could that be connected?"

The elderly priest looked up through the open door to the garden behind her. "No," he said. "I do not think so." He tapped his fingers against his tea cup. "It seems that you have somehow affiliated yourself with a God."

"Like you?" Aiko asked. She gestured at the shrine around them. "You worship Izanami no Mikoto, right?"

He eyed her sideways. "This is a shrine to Amaterasu. There are no shrines for Izanami no Mikoto in operation these days."

Aiko felt herself frowning. "Isn't she the god who made everything?" she ventured. "My religious education was spotty, but I thought that was her."

"Izanami no Mikoto and Izanagi no Mikoto created the world and most of the beings in it," the junior priest agreed. "Izanagi no Mikoto sleeps, but he is worshipped. However, Izanami no Mikoto passed into the land of the dead in the early days of the world."

Aiko made a sound of polite comprehension.

'That seems like a raw deal. She's dead but not in the way we think of it, right? She's still a God.'

"I have to conduct diplomatic business inside of a shrine." Aiko laid her cards out on the table. "I am...concerned about complications stemming from my… association with the God of Death and my lack of general knowledge about religion."

"I don't think that you should have particular trouble." The younger priest was the one who answered yet again, while the old man looked out into the garden. "It is ..extremely unusual that you might have such a connection to a God. However, there are no wicked Gods. They are merely different."

"So no one has any kind of grudge against the God of Death?"

The priest opened his mouth and then closed it.

"We are not spokespeople for the Gods," the head priest said, dryly amused. "No one hears the voice of the Gods and transcribes their interpersonal grievances."

Aiko blinked. She eyed the two men uncertainly. "I hear his voice…" She trailed off.

They were looking at her incredulously.

"He doesn't like Orochimaru," she added helplessly. She shrugged and then frowned as she remembered. "He didn't like Orochimaru, rather," Aiko corrected herself. "He's dead now. Anyway, I think that Death doesn't like anyone who cheats Death… I wonder if he has feelings about Hidan," she mused.

"I think that we ought to start from the beginning," the priest said. He gestured to his subordinate. "While I take care of our duties, please speak with the Mizukage about the Gods and the earth."

…

Aiko left the shrine feeling unsettled. There wasn't any known precedent for what was going on with her. Chewing over the upcoming meeting had mostly led her to more questions.

Thankfully, however, some of the questions had been productive.

She breezed into her office and sent off an officer worker for information about their contacts in foreign countries. Kirigakure had nothing like Konoha's sophisticated spy network, but they were not totally hopeless. When she had the information in hand she chewed it over for a few hours and then wrote up 3 missions. She passed them off to the assignment desk, so that the next qualified personnel to show up for missions would get shuttled off to ask questions.

If Konoha wasn't talking out of their ass, they would have had to have already consulted with at least two other foreign nations. Otherwise, they would have no standing to threaten that there could be serious diplomatic repercussions for annexing Wave. Aiko put her feet up on her desk and stared at the ceiling, considering different angles. Who would the Sandaime go to? She didn't know him the way she knew Tsunade.

'He could even make it into an opportunity to improve his international standing,' Aiko realized. She twisted her lips into a scowl. 'I annex one little country and suddenly I am the villain.'

'I think that Kirigakure has long been considered the villain,' Sanbi pointed out. 'No one likes us.'

She paused for a moment, touched that Sanbi considered them in the same category.

'I misspoke,' he deadpanned. 'The important concept is that it is easy to dislike you.' He paused for a beat. 'Of course, I mean Kirigakure.'

She pouted, but accepted his point. They were an easy scapegoat.

'I am not a goat,' Sanbi snapped.

"It's just a saying." She sighed heavily and rolled her eyes.

Suna was the obvious answer. Konoha would turn to their longest ally for support in this. Kiri also had a decent hand in relations with Sunagakure for the time, given that she had custody of Gaara, but they would be wary about the possibility that she was a warmonger.

She considered it for a while. Would the Hokage have turned to the smaller villages for this?

She decided that yes, probably, he had. Konoha had solid relationships with a fair few of the less powerful countries, and it would have legitimized his claims of international consensus. She noted it and tabled it for later thought. Any one of the minor countries wasn't a huge issue. As a group it could become a problem, but some kind of holistic solution could address multiple problems in one stroke.

That left Iwa and Lightning. Would either of have possibly agreed to cooperate with Konoha to censure her?

She twisted her lips, not liking the conclusion she came to. She didn't have to worry about Iwa. Iwa hated Konoha far more than they cared about Kiri, and they were too far away to do more than laugh about chaos on the eastern side of the continent. Lightning, on the other hand, was fairly close.

Lightning wasn't as insular as Iwa. Lightning had always been involved in the affairs of other countries.

Aiko sighed and put her chin on her palm.

Lightning was probably willing to sign a notice advising Kiri to cease expansionist policies or face military consequences. They probably wouldn't initiate it on their own— sabotage would be much more their speed— but they would probably lend their weight to Konoha's protests.

The obvious solution, of course, was to get Lightning so pissed off at Konoha that any cooperation would go straight out the window. Aiko frowned at her window, turning over the possibilities. Konoha wouldn't do anything to endanger a deal they wanted to propose, so she'd have to frame them. Frame... impersonate?

She chewed it over along with a pastry and coffee. She knew Konoha and she knew their codes, she knew their paperwork specifications and communication habits. She could falsify incriminating documents. It would be convincing. It would require her to think up terrible things for Konoha to supposedly be doing, things that would leave a paper trail... and then she'd need a way for them to fall into Lightning's hands that wouldn't look obviously contrived.

It was a tall order.

And then she had an idea.

"Oh," Aiko marveled, "that would be bad."

Sanbi stirred, a silent question.

"I could just impersonate Konoha ninja," Aiko said. She leaned back in her chair. "I know a lot of them and their habits well, and I know distinctive Konoha techniques and jutsu. If I wander around where Konoha shouldn't be, start a distinctive fight, and escape, I can let Lightning come up with their own guesses as to what Konoha was doing."

Sanbi let out a laugh. "That is terrible," he said approvingly. "Who could you impersonate convincingly?"

She hummed, considering it. "It's only worth considering jounin, I think," she mused. "People who would be recognized. Kakashi for sure. Sen Tsurara is going to look exactly like his signature murder technique, as like as I siphon up the water afterward. Kurenai... I can do genjutsu on that level and I know her habits. Genma... he's a basic bitch and I'm mad at him, so I've gotta frame him for something... oh, Yamato." She giggled. "The world doesn't know about him, but if they see Mokuton, everyone will look at Konoha."

"That is a fairly conclusive list," Sanbi said. "However, it would constitute two teams at best. If you wish to spread havoc, perhaps more fake missions would be preferable. How about the turtle man?"

Aiko opened her mouth and then closed it. "No," she demurred. "I'm not going to mess with Gai. But.." she thought about her creepy, creepy eyes. "I have a perfectly good Sharingan. I could make it look like there's an extant Uchiha running around. And..." she trailed off and leaned back in her seat.

The Byakugan and Sharingan were supposedly related. Her Rinnegan allowed her to use any type of chakra, so they were clearly flexible... Given that her Rinnegan came with a Sharingan, was there a chance of using a Byakugan or something similar to imitate a genetic Hyuuga?

"Do I get a vote?" Sanbi asked, interested. "There's someone in Konoha that I hate."

She blinked, distracted. "You do?" She shrugged. "Yeah, sure. Who is it?"

"The frog man," Sanbi hissed.

"Frog... Toads?" Aiko checked. "Do you mean Jiraiya?"

The answer was a blank silence.

"The man with messy white hair who dances when he introduces himself?" She corrected.

"Yes, that's the one," Sanbi confirmed. "He has an extremely displeasing aura and crass mannerisms. We should punish him."

"You know what, that's fair," Aiko agreed. "He's my godfather."

"He is my enemy for life," Sanbi said. "And I will live forever, so good luck to the frog man."

"...did something specific prompt this?" Aiko asked.

"I find the way he giggles extremely distasteful," Sanbi said darkly. "He is a rude little man who puts his dirty feet on furniture. He must be made to face consequences."

...she had forgotten about that.

"Okay," Aiko hummed. She thought about how to do it. The toads were the most distinctive and damning identifier for Jiraiya. Sealing was fairly distinctive as well, but harder to have a reason to show off. "I don't have access to his summons contract, but I have his speeches and some of the dances memorized. I can just go be a loud idiot in front of a beautiful woman and it'll get back to Lightning somehow."

"He is a national disgrace," Sanbi murmured.

"No, he's an international disgrace," Aiko corrected. "He makes us all look bad, in one way or another."

...she had a sudden recollection. "I left him with Tsunade before I went off to fight Orochimaru last week," Aiko remembered. "They probably think I'm dead, huh?"

"All the more reason he will not understand it is you who has imitated his shameful mannerisms." Sanbi let out a pleased hiss, curling his tails in.

That wasn't what she meant, but it was probably true to some extent.

"I should go check on that." She made a mental note. Given that she had kind of exploded information all over Tsunade, she was pretty optimistic that there was a non-zero chance the princess was going to storm home and throw Danzo off a tower.

With that decided, she sent off a note requisitioning any authentic weaponry and armor confiscated from fire country in the last few years. When it was laid out on her desk, she picked through it for the bits that were authentic and fit at least one of her characters. There weren't any senbon in the pile, but Genma wasn't likely to let one of those drop for an enemy to find anyway. She could use any generic one, she decided.

Because she hated his stupid ass, Aiko decided to impersonate him first. She split off into a clone, which she disguised as Kurenai. She made her true body into an imitation of the assassin, and pushed past her cringe to hold a needle in her teeth.

"Interesting," said her secretary, who was still standing there. "Are you going out on errands?"

"Yes," Aiko agreed. "You can expect me back in a couple of hours. I'm going to go ruin someone's life."

Nishikawa grimaced just a bit. " Have a safe trip." He bowed.

"It will be safe for me," Aiko said absentmindedly, as she was immortal so far as she could tell. There was no response from Nishikawa because she was already on the outskirts of a border town in Frost Country. She shivered and threw up a genjutsu hood. It didn't help her with the cold, but it made it look like she was trying. The Kurenai clone to her left did the same, tucking pale hands inside a fluffy white coat.

'Can't stay here long, it's awful,' she thought. 'If I ever annex this country, I am going to light it on fire.' Aiko resisted the urge to let her shoulders hunch up, because it definitely didn't look like Genma's body language. She and her clone walked into town as if they belonged. They went to a hotel and got a room on a reasonable budget. They went to a ludicrously expensive bar where Aiko proceeded to rack up the kind of bill that would turn heads, paid, and then walked out leaving most of the food on the table.

That did the trick. She felt two notable chakra signatures approaching before a voice called out to her.

"Excuse me."

She turned to see not two but three people in the grey and purple of Shimogakure. When her eyebrows went up, it was a legitimate surprise at that show of competency. "Saa," she stalled, using her tongue to move the stupid senbon to the side of her mouth. She caught one of the shinobi follow the motion with his dark, suspicious eyes.

The one addressing her gave no reaction. "Sorry to trouble you," He said pleasantly. "Can I see your visa, please?" A passing civilian looked over with wide eyes and seemed to consider stopping to watch the interaction. A stern look from one of the Shimogakure patrol team had him moving on with the rest of the midday foot traffic.

She cocked her head to the side and deliberately did not make eye contact with her Kurenai clone. "Visa?" She repeated, as if she was unfamiliar with the concept.

"Yes, your papers and the designation given when you entered the border," he said.

She let her eyes slide shut in a smile. "Of course, of course." And then she flicked on the Rinnegan and thought about a flowering tree. In her mind's eye, she coaxed it gently out of the ground. Dark brown vines delicately wound up around three sets of legs and grew to the size of modest branches that hugged all the way up to her victims' chests. Someone gasped.

Aiko made a shhh sound, and had the branches blossom. The fragrance of ume blossoms spilled into the air with a soporific effect.

She opened her eyes just a little and stepped back, admiring her work.

Kurenai would have been proud of this illusion. Two of the three shinobi were limp, hanging up only because they believed that the trees were supporting them. The last was blinking furiously as he tried to stay awake. Aiko propped a hand up under her chin and waited a moment until the last chuunin was overwhelmed. His eyes slid shut and his head hung peacefully. It looked a bit like he had fallen asleep standing up.

They were in a little private oasis on the busy road. Pedestrians gave her a wide berth without knowing that they were doing it or that there was anything to avoid.

She lazily reached out to touch her Kurenai clone and brought them both to the opposite end of the country.

Frost Country was small enough that it was entirely plausible that jounin could cross it in a matter of hours. So she dismissed the clone, threw on a genuinely good henge, had dinner, and then put back on Genma's face to make an appearance in a bank teller line. She had picked the building at random, and it turned out to be far above the real Genma's budget. She took a deep breath of mercifully warm and fresh-tasting air while she waited in line. Her footsteps made a pleasing sound against the marble flooring by the door and then disappeared into luxurious, thick carpeting that she kind of wanted for her office. The counter was immaculate green marble. A black pen was attached to a white fitting on the counter via a silver chain. She pursed her lips. She wanted that too, just for the hell of it.

"You want to open an account?" The middle aged woman confirmed, checking a box. She had a black uniform and a green scarf neatly tied around her neck.

While the teller was looking down, Aiko took the chance to swiftly break the chain connecting the pen to the counter. "No, no," she demurred, "I want to ask about the process for opening an account."

The teller paused. "It is quite simple," she offered. "It usually takes about 15 minutes."

"What paperwork do I need?" She asked, not glancing up at the security camera. Casually, she put the bank pen into her back pocket, dangling chain and all.

"You're eligible if you have an address within the country. You'll need to show proof of residence. As for ID, either a copy of your family register or a government issued form will work." The teller recited it with a practiced cadence and a friendly smile.

Aiko smiled back, and then remembered that she was probably being a bit friendly for Genma. "Thank you for the information. I don't have my ID on me at the moment, so another time."

"Have a nice day, thank you for your patronage." The teller quietly scribbled something out on her notepad and gave a polite little bow goodbye. Aiko heard the sound of paper tearing as she turned and left the bank. She slipped into an alley as soon as she could leave the main road.

'I wonder if they'll bill Konoha for the pen. It looks expensive.' She rubbed her icy fingers at the back of her neck, frowning at the grey sky. 'Is this enough? An intrusion has definitely been reported by now. If they are competent, they'll have found me here. But if they're not, I'll have wasted my time. Should I put in another appearance? Stand on a tower and wave my arms a bit?'

It would be better to be thorough. But after a few hours in character, Aiko couldn't really ignore the fact that she was not doing a stellar impersonation of Genma. Her body language probably came off noticeably odd in a big man's body. The longer she imitated him, the more likely it was that discrepancies would pile up.

She shifted into Kurenai, opting for a red dress that looked more civilian 'date night' and less weird than the jounin's habitual bandage dress. She left the alley onto a street that was well-lit with very expensive-looking neon and ran a hand casually through her long, soft hair. This body was a lot more fun to wear.

For a moment, she thought that she had already been found. She caught people looking at her in her peripheral multiple times when she walked down the block.

'Oh, wait,' she realized. 'Kurenai is just really hot. This is so disappointing. Why don't they know that I'm a dangerous criminal interloper?' She glowered at the next person who looked at her too long. The middle aged man smiled back.

'Fuck, I don't have all night for this. What to do... Steal something? Break and enter? Get too close to somebody politically important?'

"Miss," a man's voice called out as she passed a bar. A few other men broke out in "ooohs". "Hey, miss, over here."

Aiko turned to face the speaker, lifting an eyebrow.

A group of young men were smoking against a wall. The one who had called out to her had a cocky expression and the optimistic start of what would hopefully become a beard one day.

She flattened her expression and tone to be utterly unfriendly. "What do you want?"

Mr. Whiskers showed he had very little sense of self preservation by kicking off the wall and taking a few steps toward her. "Come have a drink?" His peers made a truly obnoxious chorus of sound in either encouragement or mockery.

Aiko eyed the cigarette in his left hand and the beer can in his right hand. That was just sloppy behavior.

'Why get so close to a stranger when your hands are full?' she wondered. Instead of answering him, she reached out and took his wallet out of his pants pocket and immediately began walking away. Blithely, she flipped it open and removed all the cash. She heard a yelp behind her and a momentary scuffle as he probably tried to get someone to take his beer can. She shut the wallet and tucked the cash into her bra. "Hey, bitch! Hey!" He was closer now.

Aiko tossed the wallet to the side in a nice clean arc that even a drunk man couldn't miss. She heard him go after it.

"That'll get reported," she said to herself. She made a sharp turn into a side street and then scaled the wall. Someone caught the motion and looked up, but she was already halfway across the building by that point. She dropped down onto another street and walked into a building. It turned out to be a restaurant. No one was at the host stand to say anything when she walked directly into the restroom, shut the door, and used hiraishin to go back to her office.

After a few seconds, there was a knock on her door. Aiko looked up from where she was re-homing her new and expensive pen in a prideful place at the exact center of her desk. "Yes?" she called.

Nishikawa's voice answered. "Did you have a good trip, Mizukage-sama?"

"I robbed a teenager," she yelled back. She dug the money out of her bra and counted it for the first time. "He had… Wow, this is more than I expected. Come here, I've replenished the office coffee fund."

[lovergirlanna]

Can’t reveal too much but this is what I’m working on guys I’m so sorry for being inactive 😭 still working on the cruelty&guilty my professor riddle x f!professor reader promise that will be out soon enough x

[mancanosempreventicentesimi]

Capitolo 61 - Camicie, domande e Fonzie con i baffi

Nel capitolo precedente: Jerry va al suo appuntamento al buio e conosce Heather. Sorprendentemente anche lei rivela di non aver voglia di conoscere ragazzi al momento e, rendendosi conto di essere molto simili e nella stessa medesima situazione, convince Jerry a fingere che loro due si frequentino in modo da farsi lasciare in pace dai loro rispettivi amici. Durante un gioco di domande e risposte tra Stone e Grace, i due discutono sul fatto che lei non lo abbia ancora fatto dormire con lei nel suo letto a causa delle sue insicurezze. Alla fine Stone riesce a tranquillizzarla e a convincerla a fare questo passo con lui. Eddie e Angie riescono finalmente a passare una serata insieme, a base di pizza e film horror. Eddie prova ancora a farla ragionare sul film di Cameron Crowe e le rivela che per lui quella è una serata speciale: è passato un mese esatto dal loro primo bacio. Angie si sente in colpa perché non aveva minimamente pensato alla ricorrenza, non essendo abituata a questo tipo di cose nelle sue relazioni passate.

***

He fills me up, he gives me love

More love than I've ever seen

He's all I got, he's all I got in this world

But he's all the man that I need

A un osservatore esterno random questa scena potrebbe sembrare surreale, lo ammetto. Se la mia vita fosse una serie tv e l'episodio di oggi iniziasse con questa scena di stamattina, a me, da spettatrice, scatterebbero mille campanelli d'allarme che vanno da "E' una realtà alternativa frutto di un viaggio nel tempo andato male" a "Come minimo sta per succedere una catastrofe". Perché io che preparo i pancake il mercoledì mattina, ancora in vestaglia nonostante abbia pure lezione tra poco più di un'ora, ballando sulla top 100 alla radio e canticchiando (distruggendo) Whitney Houston non è una cosa che si vede tutti i giorni. Il volume in realtà l'ho alzato per Eddie perché sospetto che l'uomo che io-non-dormo-mai-vivo-di-notte-a-san-diego-facevo-surf-alle-prime-luci-dell'alba non abbia alcuna intenzione di schiodarsi dal letto. Stamattina ho aperto gli occhi prima della mia sveglia killer e ho pensato bene di disattivarla per lasciarlo riposare, ho fatto la doccia più veloce e silenziosa della storia e ora sono qui. Visto che siamo sempre di corsa e ci vediamo a spizzichi e bocconi, mi sembrava una cosa carina preparare una bella colazione per viziarlo un po' e poter passare qualche minuto in più assieme, seduti a un tavolo, parlando e scherzando, anziché dirci come al solito ciao ciao e scappare ognuno per la sua strada. E in questo ci metto anche Meg perché, con la fine della scuola che si avvicina, la storia dei tatuaggi e tutti i lavori paralleli che sta acchiappando per arrotondare, persino fare una chiacchierata con la mia coinquilina sta diventando complesso. Pensavo che il profumo della colazione e del caffè sarebbero bastati a dare a Ed un buongiorno più dolce di quello della mia odiata sveglia, ma mi sbagliavo. Verso un'altra mestolata di impasto nella padella e sorrido quando sento il rumore dell'acqua della doccia, pensando che il mio canto melodioso abbia fatto il suo dovere, ma mi ricredo subito quando sento la voce di Meg che inizia a intonare il coro di Freedom 90. Beh, se non ce l'ho fatta io, ci penserà lei a buttarlo giù dal letto assieme a George Michael.

Prendo il piatto con tutti i pancake e lo metto al centro del tavolo, dove c'è già la bottiglia di sciroppo al cioccolato. Siccome non voglio passare per quella che mangia solo schifezze, decido di recuperare anche un po' di yogurt e frutta, che sui pancake ci sta sempre bene. Mi dirigo verso il frigorifero ballando, non prima di aver urlato Everybody dance now! assieme alla radio, infilo la testa in frigo sculettando e quando chiudo lo sportello per poco non mi viene un infarto e non proietto yogurt e frutti di bosco sul soffitto.

"EDDIE!"

"Ehi" mi fai lui appoggiato allo stipite della porta, assonnato e sorridente.

"CHE CAZZO" mollo tutto sul tavolo al sicuro e riprendo colore.

"Buongiorno anche a te, micetta"

"Micetta un cazzo, appari così dal nulla, mi hai fatto prendere un colpo"

"Perdonami, non volevo spaventarti. E' che beh... eri tutta concentrata nel ballo, non potevo interromperti" spiega con quella faccia da adorabile stronzetto che... niente, ho lezione tra un'ora, non posso pensare a queste cose.

"Da quanto eri lì?"

"Da un po'" è ancora sulla porta della cucina. In boxer e camicia. Ripeto, Angie, NON PUOI PENSARE A QUESTE COSE.

"Potevi trovare una maniera alternativa e più soft di annunciare la tua presenza, no?" torno ai fornelli spenti e fingo di spegnerli, poi mi sposto al lavandino e fingo di armeggiare con qualcos'altro finché non mi sento le sue mani sulle spalle.

"E perdermi questo show? Non sono mica scemo" mi bacia una guancia e poi si appoggia col mento sulla mia spalla destra.

"Lo show ideale per un risveglio traumatico. Attento che ti scotti, è ancora calda" lo avviso quando vedo che allunga le mani sulla padella, forse per metterla a lavare.

"Tanto sono già cotto" mette tutto nel lavandino e poi mi abbraccia da dietro appoggiandosi di nuovo a me.

"Eheheh che?"

"Hai idea di quanto eri sexy?" sussurra allungando queste cazzo di mani.

"Sono sexy in cucina? Ai fornelli? In uno dei ruoli stereotipati in cui il maschilismo più becero imprigiona le donne?" mi volto verso di lui nel tentativo di togliermelo di dosso, ma con scarsi risultati.

"In realtà intendevo ballando in vestaglia, ma onestamente questo è pure meglio, cazzo" scarsissimi visto che ora mi ha artigliato il culo e la sua bocca si sta avvicinando pericolosamente al mio punto debole sul collo.

"Ah quindi... anni di lotte per l'emancipazione della donna ridotte a un feticcio? Femminismo che ha senso di esistere solo per la gratificazione sessuale di te, uomo etero?"

"Piantala o mi tocca scoparti qui e adesso" si allontana dal mio collo giusto il tempo di farmi presente questa cosa all'orecchio, per poi tornare al suo lavoro.

"Eheh tanto non puoi" lo spingo via in maniera forse troppo impulsiva, mi volto di nuovo e inizio a riempire il lavello con acqua per poi prendere il detersivo per i piatti.

"Perché?" e però pure tu Eddie, se continui così non mi aiuti.

"Perché... perché c'è Meg di là..." e ancora con queste mani sui fianchi " E poi dobbiamo mangiare e devo andare a lezione"

"Allora, aspetta," Eddie chiude il rubinetto, mi prende la mano e, spingendomi a una sorta di piroetta, mi obbliga a girarmi ancora verso di lui "punto uno"

"Ahah hai pure i punti già pronti di prima mattina?"

"Sono nato pronto. Punto uno: Meg è di là, non è qui" prima allunga lo sguardo verso la porta, poi lo indirizza di nuovo verso di me e mi fa l'occhiolino.

"Però può arrivare da un momento all'altro" ribatto, ma non sono altrettanto veloce nel contrastare le sue mani, che iniziano a sbottonarmi la vestaglia.

"Basta stare attenti quando sentiamo Mariah Carey che si avvicina" scherza ironizzando sulla canzone che sta cantando adesso.

"E se siamo troppo distratti?" richiudo un bottone, lui me ne sbottona due.

"Punto due:" continua lui infischiandosene delle mie obiezioni "possiamo mangiare dopo"

"Ma dopo che?" si limita ad alzare lo sguardo per sorridermi, senza rispondermi.

"Punto tre: ti do io uno strappo in università così fai prima" e via altri due bottoni.

"Ma-" provo a ribellarmi, in maniera non molto convinta, e lui mi zittisce baciandomi, dolcemente, ma con una certa fermezza, e ora la mia vestaglia è completamente aperta.

"Dai, andiamo di là cinque minuti"

"Non saranno mai cinque minuti, Eddie"

"Scommettiamo?" la vestaglia è a terra e le mani sono sotto la mia maglia del pigiama e minacciano di far volare anche quella, almeno finché un dettaglio non cattura, in ritardo, la mia attenzione.

"Eddie, da-... ehm, scusa, ma cos'hai addosso?"

"Sono troppo vestito, vero? Adesso rimedio subito!" ammicca con le sopracciglia come uno scemo, fa per levarsi la camicia, ma lo blocco.

"No, intendo dire, non vedi cosa ti sei messo addosso? Non ti sei accorto?" inizio a ridere e solo adesso inizia ad avere un piccolo cedimento e a mollare la presa. Ne approfitto per ricompormi e recuperare la vestaglia da terra.

"Cos'è? Me la sono messa alla rovescia?" si guarda la camicia senza capire, e poi guarda me, imbronciato, quando mi rimetto la vestaglia.

"No, è dritta, ma è la mia, non vedi?" svelo accarezzandogli il petto con la scusa (anch'io però!) di indicare i taschini sulla parte anteriore della mia camicia a quadri, molto simile alla sua "La tua non ha questi"

"Oh cazzo, si vede che nel rincoglionimento del risveglio ho preso la tua anziché la mia, si assomigliano"

"Come hai fatto a non accorgertene? Non vedi che è da donna? I bottoni sono al contrario" gliene chiudo due e nel farlo constato quanto gli stia comoda la mia camicia. Molto, troppo comoda. Ci balla dentro. E' ovvio che non se ne sia accorto, se fossi una taglia 40 non ci sarebbe entrato neanche un suo braccio in questa cazzo di camicia. Invece no, non ci ha fatto caso, perché la sua ragazza è un peso massimo, doveva capirlo per il motivo opposto e cioè che ci sta dentro due volte.

"Ah! Ecco perché non riuscivo a chiuderla, cazzo! Mi sentivo scemo, per un attimo ho pensato di essere fatto o di avere un aneurisma o qualcosa del genere ahahahah"

"Tu non stai bene" scuoto la testa e prendo i piatti da sistemare sul tavolo, dandogli le spalle per evitare che veda la mia faccia, rabbuiata a causa dei pensieri di prima. Perché il mio cervello deve sempre rovinare i momenti migliori?

"Va beh, comunque è comoda e sa di te, penso la terrò. Posso?" mi giro incredula e quando lo guardo prende i lembi della camicia e se li chiude stretti sul petto, mimando un abbraccio, poi appoggia il naso al tessuto della manica e si finge inebriato dal mio profumo, emettendo un plateale sospiro soddisfatto.

"Da quale cazzo di commedia romantica sei uscito, me lo spieghi?" lo guardo perplessa e dentro di me lo ringrazio per avermi fatto dimenticare in un secondo i miei pensieri negativi del cazzo.

"Io non sono romantico e non faccio ridere" replica serissimo.

"E comunque il cliché dovrebbe essere al contrario: in qualsiasi romanzo rosa che si rispetti è la tipa che si alza al mattino e si mette la camicia o le magliette di lui, che ovviamente se ne compiace"

"E da quando in qua rispetti i cliché di genere? E' sempre e solo l'occhio maschile a dover essere compiaciuto?" si appoggia all'indietro al ripiano della cucina e così facendo i lembi della camicia si allargano di nuovo.

"Piantala o mi tocca... uhm... saltarti addosso qui e adesso" semicito la sua battuta di prima.

"Disse lei, dandomi un ottimo motivo per non piantarla" Eddie si riavvicina con fare minaccioso (sì, va beh...), ma stavolta gli va male e penso di non aver mai amato e odiato allo stesso tempo Mariah Carey così tanto come adesso.

"Somedaaay Hey Heeeey! Oh ciao ragazzi, buongiorno" Meg fa il suo ingresso in cucina e non so se non si accorge di me e Eddie perché la sua attenzione è tutta sul tavolo imbandito o se fa semplicemente finta.

"Ciao"

"Buongiorno Meg" io e Eddie ci allontaniamo come due calamite messe l'una davanti all'altra, Eddie si gira a cercare di allacciare i restanti bottoni della camicia, seppur al contrario, mentre io mi dedico alla distribuzione dei pancake nei piatti.

"Ho interrotto qualcosa?" mi correggo, se n'è accorta e non fa nemmeno finta di no, mentre spreme il cioccolato sui suoi pancake.

"Sì, un dibattito sul femminismo" Eddie mi dà un bacio volante sulla guancia e si siede a tavola.

"Non ce la fate a flirtare come le coppie normali, eh?" Meg mi strizza l'occhio mentre mi siedo anch'io, rassegnata ai suoi commenti.

"Non siamo normali presi singolarmente, figurati come coppia" osserva Eddie e non ha tutti i torti. Anche lui va sullo sciroppo di cioccolato, quindi l'unica a dare un po' di soddisfazione allo yogurt sarò io, ovviamente.

"Comunque quand'è che gli chiedi di trasferirsi qui?" Meg prima guarda me e poi, stavolta, l'occhiolino è per Eddie.

"Che??"

"Così prepari la colazione figa tutte le mattine"

"Se vuoi i pancake basta chiederli, non serve tirare in mezzo Eddie" borbotto mentre lui e Meg se la ridono sotto i baffi a spese mie.

"Hai chiamato Crowe?" Meg mi rifila un'altra stoccata quando è a metà del suo piatto ed è chiaro che stamattina sono il suo bersaglio preferito.

"No, non l'ho chiamato"

"E quando lo chiami?"

"Beh, non lo so, io-"

"Se vuoi ci penso io," Eddie mi salva in tutti i sensi, intervenendo nella conversazione e versandomi un altro po' di caffè nella tazza mezza vuota "glielo dico io quando lo vedo"

"Gli dici che Angie accetta?!" Meg rimane con la forchetta a mezz'aria davanti alla bocca aperta e sta per avere un'amara sorpresa.

"Veramente, no. Cioè, avevo capito di no, o forse sbaglio?" Eddie guarda alternativamente la mia coinquilina e me.

"No, non sbagli, come ti avevo già detto, ho deciso di rifiutare" lo rassicuro e mi preparo all'inferno.

"E PERCHE' CAZZO?" Meg fa cadere la forchetta nel piatto e mi guarda con rimprovero.

"Perché già lo sai, non è roba per me"

"E tu non le dici niente?" Eddie, che evidentemente ha apprezzato i miei sforzi culinari perché ha già spazzolato tutto, temporeggia qualche secondo con il tovagliolo sulla bocca prima di parlare.

"Ehm? Io? Perché? Che dovrei dire?"

"Come che devi dire?! Convincila, no?" Meg guarda entrambi come se fossimo degli idioti.

"Beh, ne abbiamo parlato. Personalmente penso sia un'ottima occasione, ma se Angie non se la sente, non se la sente. Non voglio metterle pressione o cose del genere" Eddie si alza, sistema il piatto nel lavello assieme alla tazza, dopo aver finito il suo caffè.

"Io invece ce la metto eccome la pressione, a parte che senza una spintarella esterna non faresti mai un cazzo di niente, non saresti nemmeno qui! E poi penso tu stia facendo una grossa cazzata a dire di no! E dovresti dirglielo anche tu, se ci tieni a lei" la mia amica scalpita sulla sedia, non si aspettava di trovarsi in minoranza.

"Ci tengo e proprio perché ci tengo voglio che sia libera di scegliere cosa fare. Se facesse il film solo per farci contenti, sarebbe inutile. Almeno io la penso così." Eddie espone la sua tesi per poi avvicinarsi di nuovo a me e darmi un altro bacio, rapido, sulle labbra "Vado a fare la doccia e vestirmi. Con i vestiti giusti, stavolta"

Lo guardo sognante mentre esce dalla cucina e si allontana, finché non incrocio lo sguardo interrogativo di Meg di fronte a me.

"Eheh è perché ha sbagliato camicia, si è messo la mia al posto della sua, perché al buio gli sembravano uguali eheh"

"Non è questa la spiegazione che cerco"

"In che senso?"

"Cosa gli hai detto?"

"A chi?"

"A Eddie? Per renderlo improvvisamente così attento a non urtare la tua sensibilità, cosa gli hai detto?" incrocia le braccia e mi guarda con sfida.

"Cosa ti fa credere che io gli abbia detto qualcosa?"

"Ti conosco. E, anche se un po' meno, conosco anche lui"

"Non può essere che semplicemente pensi quello che ha detto?"

"No. Non lo pensava quando ti ha obbligato a giocare a basket con la band, suonare la batteria alla festa di Cameron, salire sullo Space Needle, limonare davanti a un locale intero per due ore, non vedo perché dovrebbe aver cambiato idea adesso, a meno che tu non sia intervenuta in qualche maniera" Meg conta aggressivamente le mie imprese sulle dita.

"Non hai intenzione di finire i tuoi pancake?"

"No, non ti darò la minima soddisfazione culinaria finché non parli" e lo sa che la cosa mi da molto fastidio, sta usando le maniere forti.

"Ma non ho niente da dire"

"Che gli hai detto?"

"Niente"

"Che gli hai detto davvero?"

"Ahahah NIENTE!"

"Gli hai promesso dei favori sessuali?"

"E' il mio ragazzo, ha già i miei favori, non c'è bisogno che io glieli prometta"

"Favori un po' più trasgressivi dei soliti?"

"No!"

"E allora parla oppure questi pancake finiscono nel cestino" Meg prende il piatto, si alza e si piazza davanti alla pattumiera.

"Non ne avresti il coraggio"

"Scommettiamo?" mantenendo il contatto visivo con me, allunga il piede sul pedale lentamente, dopodiché con uno scatto fa aprire il coperchio.

"Va beh, non è che gli abbia detto una cosa specifica..."

"HA! Qualcosa gli hai detto, allora?" il coperchio si richiude, ma lei non si sposta.

"Gli ho parlato del fatto che non sarei a mio agio nel ruolo di attrice"

"Mmmm"

"E che avrei avuto troppe battute"

"E poi?"

"Che la presenza di Tim Burton mi avrebbe messa in difficoltà"

"Ok"

"E che sarei stata ipercritica e non avrei mai più voluto vedere quel film se io ci fossi stata dentro.. Anzi, che magari per il trauma non mi sarei più avvicinata a un set"

"Solo questo?" il piedino di Meg punta ancora sul pedale della pattumiera.

"Solo? Praticamente gli ho detto che avrebbe potuto mettere a rischio la mia intera carriera"

"Ok. E poi, che altro gli hai detto?" Meg non molla e ormai lo sento che sto per capitolare, non ho altra scelta.

"E beh, potrei aver aggiunto dei dettagli di trama..."

"ECCO. Parlami di questi dettagli" Meg ha capito di avermi finalmente in pugno e torna a sedersi a tavola, appoggiando il piatto davanti a sé.

"Potrei avergli detto che, scorrendo rapidamente il copione, avevo intravisto qualcosa che non mi andava di fare"

"Che cazzo ti sei inventata, Angie?" la mia amica scuote la testa e impugna di nuovo la forchetta.

"Non ho inventato niente! Gli ho solo detto che a un certo punto mi è sembrato di vedere una scena con..."

"Con...?"

"Con un bacio"

"UN BACIO?!"

"Un bacio, molto lungo"

"AHAHAHAHAH SEI PROPRIO UNA STRONZA!" Meg non si trattiene e ride tenendosi la pancia.

"Guarda che è vero! Il bacio c'è! Ce ne sono diversi! Solo, ehm, non esattamente nella mia scena"

"CHE BASTARDA!"

"E da quando ho accennato questa cosa a Eddie, è diventato improvvisamente molto comprensivo delle mie insicurezze"

"MA VA?! Chissà come mai?" Meg si ributta sui pancake, non prima di averci messo un altro po' di cioccolato.

"Non gli dirai niente, vero?"

"Guarda, sarei tentata perché per me sei fuori a rifiutare una parte nel film e tirerei in mezzo chiunque per convincerti, ma..."

"Ma?"

"Ma ammiro troppo la tua perfidia in questa cosa per farti sgamare"

"Io non sono perfida!"

"No, sei solo una piccola manipolatrice in erba che usa astutamente una debolezza altrui per il suo tornaconto... La mia Angie sta crescendo! Potrei quasi mettermi a piangere" Meg finge commozione e si asciuga delle finte lacrime con tovagliolo.

"Ahaha non ho manipolato Eddie"

"Hai usato la sua gelosia per fargli fare quello che volevi tu, come me lo chiami?"

"Ho solo fatto un discorso andando a toccare alcune corde..."

"Le corde giuste!" Meg si alza e mette il piatto nel lavandino assieme al resto.

"Non capisco se stai cercando di far leva sulla mia coscienza per portarmi a dire la verità a Eddie e accettare la parte o se apprezzi davvero la mia piccola manovra disonesta"

"Mmm un po' tutt'e due!" Meg esce dalla cucina e recupera giacca e borsa, io la raggiungo sulla porta "Comunque, alla fine, anche se manipolato, ha ragione Eddie: sei tu a decidere. E' che a me sarebbe piaciuto potermela tirare un po' in giro e dire Ehi, la mia amica è in quel film!"

"Metà della gente che conosci sarà in quel film. Comunque, quando sarò un'autrice di successo potrai dire Ehi, quello l'ha scritto la mia amica!"

"Non vedo l'ora! Va beh, ci vediamo stasera da Roxy"

"Ok, ciao"

"Mi hai seguita per salutarmi o per accertarmi che non vada da Eddie a spifferare tutto?"

"Ahahahahah per salutarti! Non lo faresti mai. Almeno, non adesso che è sotto la doccia"

"Mah, se volessi potrei anche, tanto quella gelosa nella coppia non sei tu" mi fa l'occhiolino ed apre la porta.

"Ciao Meg"

"E poi l'ho già visto in mutande, ormai" fa per allontanarsi, ma torna indietro.

"CIAO" le chiudo la porta in faccia per scherzo e lei la tiene aperta con un piede.

"E per me i ragazzi delle amiche sono tutti donne"

"VAI CHE E' TARDI, A STASERA!"

Il tarlo che Meg ha provato a mettermi in testa sul mio tiro mancino nei confronti di Eddie non fa neanche in tempo a insinuarsi nei miei pensieri quando il telefono inizia a squillare.

"Pronto"

"..." dall'altra parte, nulla.

"Pronto?" ripeto ed effettivamente mi sembra di sentire dei rumori attraverso il ricevitore. Più che linea disturbata, mi dà l'idea di qualcuno in attesa in silenzio con la cornetta in mano.

"C'è qualcuno o no?" nel momento in cui percepisco chiaramente un respiro mi raggelo. Mi guardo attorno per capire dove sia Eddie, perché non sento più il rumore dell'acqua, ma non lo vedo in giro. Vado a sbirciare in camera mia e non c'è, quindi probabilmente ha finito la doccia, ma è ancora in bagno.

"Sei tu?"

"..." ancora niente.

"Hai bisogno? Ti servono soldi?" chiedo a bassa voce, ma senza avere alcuna risposta, se non una brusca chiusura della telefonata.

Espiro profondamente, come se avessi trattenuto il fiato da un po', e forse è stato proprio così. Mollo il telefono sul tavolo, prendo il mio piatto e lo metto nel lavandino assieme a tutto il resto. Butto un occhio all'orologio. No, adesso non faccio in tempo, li laverò oggi pomeriggio. Un nuovo squillo del telefono mi fa sobbalzare, lo guardo per un po' senza fare niente, ma poi mi decido a rispondere, se non altro per evitare che Eddie si insospettisca ed esca a vedere che succede e perché nessuno risponde al telefono.

"PRONTO?!"

"Ehi, buongiorno anche a te! Cos'è, ci siamo svegliate con la luna storta stamattina?" la risposta dall'altra parte, stavolta, mi mette di tutt'altro umore.

"Ciao mamma! No, tutto ok"

"Insomma, sembrava volessi sbranare chiunque fosse dall'altro capo del telefono..."

"No è che... c'è qualcuno che si diverte a fare scherzi telefonici stamattina. Chiamano e non parlano, senza neanche un po' di fantasia, almeno si inventassero qualcosa"

"Della serie, se dovete rompere le scatole, almeno usate la creatività"

"Esatto"

"Va beh, come stai? Scusa se ti chiamo presto, ma almeno sono sicura di trovarti"

"No problem, hai fatto bene. Anzi, diciamo che mi hai trovata per un pelo perché tra poco devo andare a lezione" vado in camera mia a prendere i vestiti da mettermi, in attesa che Eddie esca dal bagno.

"Ecco, appunto. Finirà che dovrò prendere un appuntamento per parlare al telefono con te"

"Tranquilla, ho ancora tempo, possiamo avere la nostra appagante conversazione madre-figlia"

"Allora appaga la mia curiosità? Come stai? Come sono andate le vacanze?"

"Bene, ho lavorato un sacco!"

"Peccato si chiamino vacanze..."

"Va beh, mi sono anche riposata e ho fatto un sacco di cose che avevo in sospeso da una vita! Ho sbrinato il frigo, ho pulito i lampadari, ho lavato tutti i tappeti..." torno in corridoio mentre ripercorro tutte le tappe delle grandi pulizie di casa Pacifico-McDonald.

"Che strano concetto di riposo"

"Uff, sono uscita con Meg e gli altri, non sono stata in casa tutto il giorno"

"Non avevo dubbi. E come sta Eddie?"

"Eddie sta-" mi ha quasi presa in contropiede "Perché mi chiedi di Eddie? E soprattutto, come fai a conoscerlo?" già, come fai a conoscere il tizio che è appena uscito dal bagno coperto solo da un corto asciugamano legato non benissimo in vita che potrebbe cadere da un momento all'altro e che mi ha fatto l'occhiolino prima di infilarsi in camera mia.

"Oh me ne ha parlato tuo padre!"

"Te ne ha parlato?" infilarsi in camera senza chiudere la porta. L'asciugamano prende il volo e... NO, ANGIE, NON HAI TEMPO E SEI AL TELEFONO CON TUA MADRE.

"Sì, cioè, mi ha detto che hai un amico che si chiama Eddie e che l'ha conosciuto"

"E' successo mesi fa, perché mi chiedi dei miei amici adesso?" e perché proprio di Eddie, sarebbe la vera domanda. Ma non voglio calcare troppo la mano e insospettirla.

"No, è che sto guardando le foto che aveva fatto tuo padre quando è venuto a trovarti..."

"Ah, le famose foto che io non ho ancora visto" mi chiudo a chiave in bagno e metto in vivavoce, così posso lavarmi i denti nel frattempo.

"Eh perché le ha sviluppate solo adesso! Perdonalo, è stato presissimo col lavoro, l'ho visto anch'io a malapena"

"Lo so, lo so, è che mi aveva detto che me le avrebbe spedite"

"Infatti, sta andando giusto stamattina a spedirtele. Che poi sarebbe il motivo per cui ti ho chiamato, per dirti proprio questo"

"Oh perfetto! Ringrazialo"

"E...niente, siccome ho proprio davanti una foto di te con Eddie, mi è venuto in mente. Così"

"Così a caso"

"Certo. Comunque, come sta?" benissimo, ha passato la notte con me e adesso è nudo in camera mia.

"Bene! Da quello che so, almeno. Insomma, la band sta registrando l'album, non li vedo spesso come prima" brava, plurale, Angie, vai di plurale.

"Ma prima mi hai detto che sei uscita con gli altri durante le vacanze di primavera"

"Sì, certo, ma adesso è un po' che non li vedo. Comunque sono contenti, Stone mi ha detto che tutto sta procedendo bene" usare Stone come diversivo per distogliere l'attenzione da Eddie sarà stata una mossa azzeccata?

"Ah! Allora Stone l'hai visto più di Eddie!" no, non è azzeccata per un cazzo.

"Li ho visti alla stessa maniera, mamma, non farti strane idee, pensavo di essere stata abbastanza chiara a Natale" sbuffo e inizio a levarmi vestaglia e pigiama.

"Chiarissima! Va beh, sappi che le foto sono molto belle, adesso ti passo papà che ti deve dire una cosa"

"Ok?" mio padre? Che mi deve dire? Non vorrà chiedermi anche lui di Eddie, così, a caso.

"Ciao Angie, chiama tu la prossima volta, così non ti disturbo, va bene?"

"Non ti sarai offesa perché mi sto preparando mentre ti parlo?" mi vesto velocemente, l'unica cosa che non ho preso sono gli stivali, ma posso metterli dopo.

"No, ma chiama! Va beh, ti passo tuo padre"

"Ciao"

"Ehi Angie!"

"Ciao papà"

"Oggi ti mando tutte le foto di quando sono venuto da te, scusami, ma è stato un casino. E' da una settimana che vivo in camera oscura praticamente"

"Non ti preoccupare. Come sono venute?" metto il pigiama nella cesta del bucato, mi butto la vestaglia sulla spalla e, col telefono ancora in vivavoce in mano, esco dal bagno

"Ah benissimo! Sia quelle dei concerti sia quelle della festa in spiaggia, c'è un bel pacchetto pronto per essere spedito"

"Ecco adesso esci dalla camera oscura e stai un po' con mamma" quando entro in camera non perdo tempo, appoggio la vestaglia sulla sedia e corro a tappare la bocca a Eddie prima che possa emettere qualsiasi suono.

"Tranquilla!"

"Volevi dirmi qualcos'altro? La mamma mi aveva già detto tutto delle foto" quando sono sicura che abbia capito e mi fa un cenno con la testa, mollo la presa sulla bocca di Eddie e vado a sedermi sul letto per mettermi gli stivali, dandogli le spalle.

"Sì, volevo chiederti: conosci i Nirvana?"

"Sì, sono una band di queste parti, li ho anche visti due volte in concerto"

"Non come band, li conosci di persona?"

"Ehm beh, non proprio"

"In che senso? Li conosci o no?"

"Li conosco di vista! Più che altro il batterista..." ma cazzo, come mi escono?? Mi giro di scatto e vedo Eddie che si è bloccato con la mano sulla cerniera dei pantaloni e mi guarda male "e il bassista ci ho scambiato due parole, il cantante so chi è ma finisce lì"

"Perché loro ti conoscono"

"Che? E tu che ne sai?" perché sento che non sta per dirmi niente di buono? E perché cazzo ho tenuto il vivavoce? Ormai non posso toglierlo o sembrerebbe che voglio nascondere le cose a Eddie.

"Hanno suonato qui a Boise qualche giorno fa"

"Davvero?"

"Al The Zoo" quelli del management devono aver pensato si trattasse del vero zoo e volevano spedirci Kurt, sicuramente è così.

"E tu ci sei andato? Ma non eri pieno di lavoro?" dopo attimi eterni io riprendo ad allacciarmi gli stivali ed Eddie si chiude finalmente la patta.

"Sai come si dice, Troppo lavoro e niente divertimento..."

"Seh, e poi finisci a rincorrere la tua famiglia con un accetta"

"Appunto. Comunque gran concerto, energia pura! Ho fatto poche foto purtroppo. Il giorno dopo mi sono comprato il disco. Ne hanno fatte anche alcune nuove dall'album che deve ancora uscire"

"E cosa c'entro io in tutto questo?" se ha offerto da bere pure a Dave, giuro che urlo. Che cazzo è? Mio padre ha una specie di radar per i miei ex adesso? E ne deve parlare proprio ora con Eddie in ascolto?

"Oh perché a un certo punto sul palco il cantante ha detto una cosa sul fatto che era la prima volta che suonavano in Idaho e che finora non conoscevano nessuno di queste parti, tranne una ragazza che è proprio della nostra città. E ha detto che dovrà trovare un altro soprannome alla sua amica, ma è stato un discorso veloce e piuttosto criptico, tra un pezzo e l'altro. Tu ne sai niente?"

"Mmm non ne ho la più pallida idea onestamente" Eddie mi guarda e scoppia a ridere, io gli faccio segno di tacere e lui si copre la faccia con le mani.

"Ma sei tu l'amica, no?"

"Non credo proprio," io amica di quello lì?? Piuttosto mi cavo gli occhi a mani nude "chissà di chi parlava, ci sarà altra gente di Boise che si è trasferita a Seattle, non sono così speciale, sai?"

"Per quello ti ho chiesto se li conoscevi..."

"Sì, ma solo di vista e mica sanno di dove sono, non sanno nemmeno come mi chiamo eheh" Eddie si scopre la faccia e fa un verso come per dire Sì, come no!

"Oh va beh, allora è solo una coincidenza"

"Certo che sì"

"Ok, ora ti lascio. Vado alla posta e poi in redazione"

"D'accordo. Ciao e buon lavoro"

"E salutami Meg"

"Va bene"

"E Eddie" Eddie mi guarda ed esplode in un sorriso a cento denti, mentre fa ciao con la manina in direzione del telefono.

"Va- perché Eddie?"

"Così, mi è venuto in mente"

"Fammi indovinare: è la prima foto che ti è capitata davanti, vero?" bene, ora Eddie penserà che a casa mia ci sia un altarino con una sua foto, fiori e candele davanti a cui i miei genitori pregano tutte le mattine.

"Eheh in effetti sì, salutamelo quando lo vedi, è un bravo ragazzo"

"Sarà fatto. Ciao papà"

"Ciao Ray" risponde Eddie non appena ho messo giù.

"Se ti facevi sentire ti uccidevo!"

"La solita esagerata..." vestito di tutto punto, viene a sedersi di fianco a me sul letto.

"Ha! Non ci provare, è tardi e dobbiamo volare all'università"

"Non so di cosa stai parlando, volevo solo prendere questo" tutto strafottente, allunga le mani sotto il letto e tira fuori il suo zaino.

"Certo"

"Sono un bravo ragazzo io"

"Va beh, se il bravo ragazzo è pronto, è ora di andare"

"Ok, andiamo"

*********************************************************************************************************

"Come si dice Posso avere il tuo numero in svizzero?"

"Non esiste lo svizzero, Mike" la ragazza dello staff ha aperto appena la porta dei camerini, giusto il tempo per dirci Soundcheck in zehn Minuten, e quel coglione si è già innamorato.

"Come non esiste? E allora che cazzo di lingua parlano in questo paese?"

"Dove siamo adesso, cioè Zurigo, tedesco" mi limito al concetto chiave, abbiamo un soundcheck da fare e non ho voglia di spiegare al mio bassista il multilinguismo elvetico.

"Ok, come si dice in tedesco?"

"Chiediglielo in inglese, vedrai che ti capiscono lo stesso" Layne si alza e fa cenno a Starr, l'unico seduto, di fare altrettanto e seguirlo.

"Tutto il mondo parla inglese" sentenzia Sean il saggio.

"Dovresti averlo imparato, dopo la figura di merda dell'altra sera a Düsseldorf" Layne apre la porta del camerino ed esce, seguito a ruota da noi, ricordando il simpatico teatrino dell'altro ieri nel quale abbiamo quasi rischiato la vita per colpa di Mike. Un tipico lunedì sera degli Alice in Chains, insomma.

"ANCORA? Sentite, ho fatto un cazzo di commento in un cazzo di bar pieno di gente, pensavo mi aveste sentito a malapena voi, figuriamoci quei tizi!" Mike non ha tutti i torti, in quel bar karaoke c'era un casino assurdo. Non so come cazzo ci siamo finiti, penso che semplicemente fosse la fonte di alcol più vicina sulla strada tra il locale del concerto e il posto dove dormivamo. Eravamo tutti belli pieni quando un tipo in giacca di pelle e occhiali da sole, dopo aver distrutto The show must go on, ci è passato di fianco proprio mentre Mike ne coglieva un'inaspettata somiglianza.

"L'abbiamo pensato tutti che non somigliava per un cazzo a Freddie Mercury, ma ce lo siamo tenuto per noi, anziché urlarlo ai quattro venti!"

"Ma era troppo lui, cazzo! Era Fonzie coi baffi! Che poi, volendo dire, che cazzo ho detto di male? Mica gli ho dato del coglione"

"A dire il vero le parole esatte sono state Quel coglione, più che Freddie Mercury, sembra Fonzie con i baffi ah ah ah"

"Va beh, lui ha sentito solo la seconda parte"

"E meno male, se no lui e i suoi amici ci avrebbero preso a calci fin dentro all'albergo, anziché fermarsi fuori"

Arriviamo sul palco e attacchiamo con le prove senza perderci in altre chiacchiere. Siamo qui per suonare quattro canzoni davanti a un paio di migliaia di persone a cui non frega un cazzo di noi e che non vedono l'ora che ci leviamo dalle palle per potersi godere il concerto dei Megadeth, di cui siamo il gruppo spalla. Ma per noi è vita cazzo, suonare è suonare, basta che ci mettano su un palco e lo facciamo con chiunque e davanti a qualsiasi pubblico. Voglio dire, abbiamo aperto per tutti, dai fottuti Poison a Iggy Pop solo nel giro di un anno. In questo io e Andy eravamo davvero sulla stessa lunghezza d'onda, mi ricordo le nottate passate a fantasticare sui nostri futuri concerti immaginari negli stadi e nei templi del rock. "Madison Square Garden? Ci vado pure con i cazzo di Warrant pur di suonarci!" mi sembra ancora di sentirlo. Quanto cazzo mi manca? Beh, almeno i Megadeth mi piacciono anche se magari io non piaccio né a loro né ai loro fan. Siamo alla quarta data di questo tour europeo e ancora non abbiamo neanche scambiato una parola. Diciamo che non li abbiamo quasi nemmeno visti. E la gente? Beh, se è sono freddini va anche bene, quando va male ci tirano la merda sul palco. Se ci fosse Angie ci suggerirebbe di montare una rete protettiva come nei Blues Brothers... Ecco, meno male che il soundcheck è finito perché mi sta salendo la malinconia e ho bisogno di una birra, cazzo. Usciamo e senza parlare andiamo tutti nella stessa direzione, dritti verso il bar più vicino, sperando non sia karaoke pure questo. Quando vedo una cabina telefonica sull'altro lato della strada però, non posso fare a meno di attivarmi e fare una piccola deviazione.

"Devo... ehm devo fare una telefonata, ci vediamo dopo"

"Non puoi chiamare dalla stanza, scusa?"

"Oh no, Mike, perché il signorino non vuole farsi sentire, mi sembra ovvio!" Sean è già pronto sui blocchi di partenza della presa per il culo del sottoscritto.

"Ma chi devi chiamare? La stessa tipa di ieri?"

"Di ieri e dell'altro ieri..." continua il batterista.

"Ma i fatti vostri, mai?"

"E chi è questa tizia? Non ce lo dici?"

"Layne la conosce, è un'amica di Dem" Kinney è super informato sui fatti, come immaginavo Layne si è trattenuto, ma non fino in fondo e ha lasciato trapelare il minimo. Bene.

"Io coltivo la nobile arte del farsi i cazzi propri, quindi non so un bel niente"

"Bravo Layne!" dò una pacca sulla spalla al mio compare e faccio per allontanarmi di nuovo.

"Bravo un cazzo, noi siamo preoccupati per te!"

"Parla per te, io sono tranquillissimo e voglio solo andare a bere" e anche questo era prevedibile da parte di Sean. Ormai potrei scrivere io le parti di tutti nei nostri dialoghi, li conosco come le mie tasche.

"Non dargli retta, tu sei nostro fratello! Ne sei appena uscito per miracolo, dal disastro con Angie intendo, e adesso vai a rinfognarti in un'ennesima storia seria con un'altra??"

"Chi ti ha detto che è una storia seria?"

"Se vale tre chiamate intercontinentali, per me è seria"

"Ma sì, è una che ha appena conosciuto, è fresca e se la vuole tenere buona, no?"

"Vedo che sapete già tutto quindi non ho altro da aggiungere, ci vediamo dopo" mi allontano tra i versi e i fischi dei miei compari e li vedo procedere trascinandosi verso il bar dall'interno della cabina.

Prendo l'agendina dalla tasca interna della giacca e ovviamente la apro alla prima pagina, alla lettera A. Lo so che dovrei continuare a sfogliare, ma non ce la faccio, è come se mi bloccassi, come se andassi in corto circuito per qualche secondo. Infilo penso l'equivalente del nostro ingaggio di stasera in monete nel telefono e compongo il numero sbagliato di proposito. Che ore saranno adesso? Tipo le 9, le 10 del mattino, magari non è nemmeno a casa.

"Pronto" e invece c'è, cazzo.

"Pronto?" ripete e a quel punto realizzo che non ho parlato, perché in realtà mi sembrava di averle risposto e averle detto che sono io e che sono in una pausa tra soundcheck e concerto e che l'ho chiamata perché, tanto per cambiare, stavo pensando a lei.

"C'è qualcuno o no?" mi sembra di sentirmi mentre le racconto di Fonzie coi baffi, della più che necessaria rete sul palco, di Mike che ieri sera stava per abbordare una che gli ha detto che era al terzo anno di Gymnasium, pensando volesse dire che era una patita della palestra, prima che lo salvassi spiegandogli che era una cazzo di liceale.

"Sei tu?" vado in panico perché mi sono fatto sgamare come un coglione. Dopotutto, chi altri potrebbe chiamarla per poi fare scena muta? Oltretutto dall'estero... Sono proprio uno stronzo.

"Hai bisogno? Ti servono soldi?" a quel punto è come se mi risvegliassi da una specie di ipnosi del cazzo e attacco il telefono di botto. Soldi? Perché Angie dovrebbe pensare che la chiamo per soldi? La riposta è semplice: non mi ha sgamato per niente e pensava fossi qualcun altro. Ma chi? Chi potrebbe chiamarla al mattino chiedendole del denaro? In che razza di casino si è cacciata? Quando esco dalla cabina telefonica mi viene in mente che mi sono dimenticato di chiamare Heather come avevamo concordato, ma dopotutto che importa? I ragazzi pensano che io l'abbia fatto, alla fine è il gesto che conta. Raggiungo la band al bancone del bar con la testa piena di domande.

Le domande mi girano in testa fino al concerto e anche dopo. Alla fine lo show non va per niente male, a parte qualche monetina indolore, il pubblico ha reagito anche bene. Si vede che gli svizzeri sono più educati! E sono stato smentito due volte stasera perché, appena scesi dal palco, siamo stati subito intercettati da David Elleffson e Marty Friedman dei Megadeth che si sono complimentati con noi, confessando che non avevano idea di chi cazzo fossimo prima di sentirci e che secondo loro spacchiamo i culi, anche se il nostro nome non gli suona granché bene. Abbiamo passato la serata tutti insieme a tazzare, fumare e sparare stronzate, loro soprattutto perché a un certo punto Marty ha detto che ci vogliono proporre come band di apertura per il mega tour che faranno con Slayer e Anthrax una volta tornati a casa e secondo me era la droga a parlare. Non che non ce lo meriteremmo, anzi! Boh, io resto a guardare e vediamo che succede, sarebbe una figata, ma non voglio farmi i film per niente, preferisco vivermela giorno per giorno. Ma chi ti chiama per chiederti soldi di prima mattina? Magari è solo un'amica in difficoltà che Angie sta aiutando perché lei deve sempre aiutare tutti? O forse no...

[dzthenerd490]

My Life as a Teenage Robot

SCP#: AIC

Code Name: Jenny Wakeman, The Teenage Super Android

Object Class: Thaumiel/ Archon

Special Containment Procedures: SCP-AIC is not in Foundation custody and to even attempt to contain her would make her and various others, enemies of the Foundation. As such it is better to maintain a somewhat friendly relationship with SCP-AIC and her allies. What has helped is that SCP-AIC has been declared an enemy of Groups of Interest: Anderson Robotics, Sarkic Cults, and various other enemies of the SCP Foundation. As such it is the duty of MTF units and other Foundation staff to assist SCP-AIC in defeating any enemies she comes across.

Description: SCP-AIC is a sentient android that takes on the basic form as well as the personality of a teenage girl who calls herself Jenny. Though her creator refers to her as XJ-9 and declares her a defender of humanity, SCP-AIC also wants this but to live as a normal teenager as well. This unfortunately often leads to her dealing with conflict that interferes with her original purpose of defending the innocent and defeating hostels. 

SCP-AIC seems to be made with an extremely basic design of basic metal plating with nuts and bolts. Though this also applies for a majority of her weapons she does contain an anomalous technology underneath her metal plating that allows her to store vast amounts of the weapons and tools stored within her body. These weapons and tools form the most basic such as hammers, drills, laser guns, and shields, to more complex such as tv screens, electro cannons, forging devices, and an energy conversion core. SCP-AIC also possesses smart technology circuitry that allows her to regenerate from any form of damage such as being torn apart or being badly burned. 

This means that SCP-AIC can adapt to any scenario and recover from any disaster though this is not to say she is indestructible. SCP-AIC needs power and daily maintenance to keep herself functioning at 100%. If she refuses to use her weapons or combat knowledge often, she will become weak and sloppy. If she refuses to recharge herself, she will be unable to use her weapons properly and be excessively sluggish. If she is torn apart too much, she will be unable to repair herself until repairs are given to her. 

Thankfully it’s possible for SCP-AIC to receive new upgrades and augmentations to make her stronger and overcome certain weaknesses. Though if such processes are not taken care of with precision, then it can lead to more flaws and side effects than anticipated. The best way to avoid this is to never remove SCP-AIC's "belly button screw". This single device though resembling a simple screw is actually the most advanced component as it acts as an artificial GOC COMPACT chip allowing SCP-AIC to both receive power, function properly, and never fall apart. Still, she is not indestructible which is why it is the duty of any Foundation agent or any member of the ACPA to assist her if need be.

SCP-AIC was discovered in 2003 when a meteor was heading straight for Nx-AA: Eureka, Southern Oregon, USA. SCP-AIC managed to find and destroy the meteorite before it impacted, quickly catching the attention of the SCP Foundation. Naturally the Foundation was furious as, yet another anomaly created in Nexus Point-AA nearly exposed itself to the world by flying recklessly in space to allow civilian satellites to see it. Thankfully Mobile Task Force Dionysus-1 “Fake News” managed to downplay the damage by making it seem like a missile strike form the US military destroyed the meteor for testing purposes. Still originally the Global Occult Coalition was to have SCP-AIC dismantled as punishment. 

However, due to SCP-AIC being sentient it ended up leading to a majority of the 108 GOC council as well as the Ethics Committee to stand against this decision. This ended up with a debate among representatives of the ACPA that nearly tore the whole alliance apart. Thankfully it was resolved peacefully with SCP-AIC recognized as an independent ally and a legal resident of Nexus Point-AA. It was also declared that to stand against SCP-AIC was to stand against the Global Occult Coalition and the rest of the ACPA by extension. She has even been recognized as one of the essential anomalous defenders of humanity as a result. It is for this reason SCP-AIC is labeled as Dual Object Class Thaumiel, Archon. 

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SCP: Horror Movie Files Hub

[jarofalicesgrunge]

Love, Hate, Love - Live at the Moore ♡

[rottingspunk]

Masterlist

So some of these links go to my main blog @ozzysbloodbat bc I moved a bunch of stuff over here to help separate a lot of stuff I do so this blog is strictly grunge focused so I moved all my gunrge fics/edits to this one.

Long story short my asks are open request for any person on this list

ᴷᵘʳᵗ ᶜᵒᵇᵃⁱⁿ

ᶠᵃⁿᶠⁱᶜˢ

ᴴᵉʳᵉ ᶜᵒᵐᵉˢ ʸᵒᵘʳ ᴹᵃⁿ

ᴱᵈⁱᵗˢ

ᴮˡᵒⁿᵈⁱᵉ ⁻ ᶜᵘʳʳᵉⁿᵗ ᴶᵒʸˢ

ᴶᵉʳʳʸ ᶜᵃⁿᵗʳᵉˡˡ

ᶠᵃⁿᶠⁱᶜˢ

ᴸᵃʸⁿᵉ ˢᵗᵃˡᵉʸ

ᴰᵒ ʸᵒᵘ ᴴᵉᵃʳ ᵀʰᵃᵗ

ᶠᵃⁿᶠⁱᶜˢ

[grungeandrockoneshots]

Hello! I love the way you write and do your texts. I have a suggestion if you accept, about Jerry Cantrell: Jerry was dating a girl who was the lead singer of a female band. once Jerry went on tour with AIC and spent 3 months without seeing her, missing her. until one day he comes back and makes a surprise to her when she leaves the stage and after that they will have their moments together. I know you can write it very well ❤

You were standing in front of ten thousand screaming anddancing people while all the lights were enlighting your figure. Every eachpair of eyes was glued to you and your bandmates as they didn’t want to miss asingle second of your show. Your band has been on tour for nearly three monthsnow and the only thing that still kept you going was the fans. This tour leg hasbeen exhausting not only physically but psychically, too. Your boyfriend Jerry,whom you first met at a festival in New Orleans two years ago after theperformance of his band called Alice In Chains, was currently touring as well,but somewhere at the other end of the world. Every song lyrics reminded you ofhim and all you wish was this could be already over. However, you were a stronggirl and knew that if you can make it through the few days which left till theend of the tour, your reward will be huge and well deserved.

„Thank you for coming tonight, you were one of the loudestcrowds we’ve ever had! Thank you, good night!“ you said goodbye to the sea ofpeople who were still demanding more songs. You and your bandmates went downthe stage where you pulled each other into a group hug.

„That was insane, girls! I’m so proud of you!“ your bassistwas full of joy.

„Me too, we totally blew the roof off! Good job,“ youagreed. Meanwhile, some friends from the crew walked up to you and startedpraising your show. They talked to you longer than they usually did and atfirst it didn’t seem weird to you at all, but when you stepped on the ground ofyour dressing room and saw like twenty people crowding there, you recognizedthere was something wrong.

„Y/N, we have two news for you, good and bad. Which one doyou want to hear first?“ one of your friend asked almost tragically. Yourstomach gripped tightly as you had no idea what to expect.

„I-I don’t know…the bad one? What happened guys?“ you urged.

„The bad one first? Okay. You remember how we all plannedexploring some club tonight?“

„Yes?“

„Well, I’m afraid you can’t go with us,“ your friend saidvery seriously. You confusedly looked at everyone standing around, trying tofigure out what you’ve done so bad that they don’t want you to come with them.

„Why not?“

„Why not? Well, that’s basically the good news,“ she smiled,grabbed your shoulders and turned you around. And there he was. Your jawliterally dropped as you saw your beloved boyfriend with a beautiful bouquet ofroses in his hands.

„Surprise!“ everyone exclaimed at once. You immediatelyjumped into Jerry‘s arms and he held you tight for a while. You thought it wasjust some beautiful dream, because you still couldn’t believe he’s actuallyhere embracing you after three months.

„Jerry,“ you breathed out with the biggest smile on yourlips, „what the hell are you doing here?“

„I couldn‘t handle being without you anymore and we got somedays off, so…“ he handed you the flowers, while others started leaving the roomone by one, because they knew you wanted to be alone now. „Hey, thanks foreverything, guys,“ he thanked them before they all disappeared behind the door.When you were sure it was only you two, you locked the door and put the roseson the table. Jerry pulled you closer right away and meanwhile he was lovinglylooking in your eyes, he said: „I missed you so, so much, Y/N. It feels likeyears since the last time we saw each other. God, how long I’ve been waitingfor this.“ He connected your lips together in a long and passionate kiss.

„I missed you even more, Jerry,“ you whispered when youpulled away.

„No, that’s not possible,“ he smiled and pulled you intoanother kiss. Honestly, reunions after months of not seeing each other havealways had a special magic. You were both pretty lovesick. And your body stillfull of adrenalin was asking only for one thing. You pushed Jerry down on aleather sofa you had in your dressing room and sat on his lap. You didn’t breakaway from his mouth for a second, because you didn’t want to lose a singlemoment spent with him. He wrapped his arms around you tightly and youimmediately started unbottoning his black shirt. When you managed to expose hischest, you slid your mouth down there and made sure you kissed every centimeterof his skin. Meanwhile Jerry undid your bra and took it off together with yourtshirt. When his lips landed on your neck, you groaned softly and tangled yourhands in his long hair. As soon as you felt the bulge in Jerry’s jeans, youslowly started tracing a line at the hem of his jeans and then you unbottonedit as well. He amusedly looked at you.

„What?“ you asked.

„Nothing, I just like this side of you,“ he smirked andcaught your lips in his again and you slightly bit his bottom lip. It wasenough for him to lay you on your back on the sofa and to take off the rest ofyour clothes. While he was pulling down his jeans as well, you lustfullywatched his body with a strong need to feel him already. As soon as he nestledabove you, you took his manhood in your hand, went up and down a couple timesand then guided him into you. He started moving his hips while he was sucking theskin on your neck. Your were tugging his hair more and more as he intensifiedthe tempo. Your bodies moved as one and the closeness was something you reallyneeded after so long of not seing each other. You felt pure love and fullsatisfaction. Soon Jerry found your lips again and started thrusting evenfaster, that’s when you first started feeling your coming orgasm. It didn’t takelong until you were writhing under him with loud moans of delight coming out ofyour mouth. He came few moments after you and you couldn’t stop smiling then. Hemade you the happiest girl in the world. The fact that he used his days off to bewith you meant absolutely everything to you.

„I won’t let you go,“ you said later when you were laying onhim as he was stroking your back. „You’ll never see your band again,“ you jokedand kissed his chest.

„I have a better idea. The next time we’re going on tour,your band is going with us. What do you think?“

„M-hm, I think that could work,“ you contentedly closed youreyes and then fell asleep in Jerry’s arms.

-

Hello, thank you♥ hope you liked this at least a little xx

[mechanicalinertia]

STMPD Recommends Bubblegum Crisis Fanfiction (Sort Of): Terror From The Deep! Ancient Fansites! Pre-Millennial Relics!

Tumblr wiped my first draft of this post, but let's give it another go all the same. Basically, I've spent many a late night hunting Bubblegum Crisis fan 'pages' (back when a website was called a webpage, boy wasn't that a time) via various links, links to other links, links to sites that can only be accessed via the Wayback Machine, ancient internet archaeologist shit. It's... fascinating work, to say the least. There's a lot of good, a lot of bad, and overall a lot of content that I feel that fans wouldn't dream of producing nowadays. RPG fansites, for example, chronicling various mecha a play session threw together via Mekton and whatnot. Or just straight-up review and explanation sites. Or sites dedicated to holding an author's fanfiction independent of Usenet or wherever.

Are any of these useful resources for a Crisis superfan? Probably not. Are they as engrossing as a good fanfic? Again, probably not, unless you're weird like me. Either way, let's get right into it.

Andy Skuse's Raven's Garage: Probably the biggest fansite still being hosted, on an individual server no less. Old, too, it got its start in 1995. Let that sink in.

Raven's Garage is a massive site, grown over the years by virtue of archiving other people's lost 'infosites', Bert Van Bilet's fanfiction, download links to Duke Nukem 3D reskins, and Craig Wigida's Fanfiction Guide... and one of Skuse's own pieces of fanfiction (it's not very good, we'll leave it for later). It's massive, not all of it is totally functional (but that's all the bits Skuse lost to time, not his fault), and it's just... essential, I guess? Yeah. Essential sounds right.

The Bubblegum Crisis Center: While this site does exist fully on the web, it's worth noting that it's primarily focused on the AIC-solo outings of Crisis (2040, ADP: To Protect And Serve, Parasite Dolls) instead of, you know, the good stuff. (Parasite Dolls always lacked a certain something for me... creativity? It's not badly written the way 2040 is, but it feels like too much of a retread of old ideas.) So we're just going to ignore it for now.

Bubblegum Crisis Links Page: A nice little Geocities (how many of these sites have a black background? Geez) dedicated to linking to other people's stuff. It's pretty big, but it ultimately pales in comparison to...

A Bunch Of Links With No Name: I'm not actually sure where I found this page, but what I do know is that it's very useful to track down small or otherwise insignificant dead pages which might be marginally amusing. You know, the kind of pages marked as 'shrines' to a given fictional character (this was before the term 'waifu' got into discourse courtesy of Azumanga Daioh). There's some weird shit in here, much of it of dubious quality, but it's funny? You can sort of giggle at how stupid people were on the internet even back before social media got just about everyone online for good. Like, and this is just an example...

The Disgruntled Fan's BGC Page: There's a few pages like this out there, where basically one guy has a beef with Priss for existing and just extrapolates that anyone who likes her is stupid. Fanfics like this, too. I've long held that if you don't like Priss, then you may not really like Crisis as much as you think you do, for she is its emotional core for better and for worse. But noooo, somehow her being part of the story makes her a screentime hog who prevents the story from reaching its true potential. Whatever that means.

(Is BGC's story not high art? Sure, but does it neeeeeeed to be? Moreover, was that Priss's fault or just the fault of creators who wanted to make something fun that didn't try to be more than it was? I'd argue the latter.)

Still, though, the writer here doesn't like No Armor Against Fate, apparently because Priss slept with a cokehead in the original version (not Neo, I don't think), and because he felt that Hagen shoved lesbian tendencies on every girl in the series. Which, hey, knowing Hagen he's probably not wrong! Still doesn't excuse the snobbiness that feels incredibly cringey in retrospect. Oh, and speaking of which:

JChao's Bubblegum Crisis Review Site: This is comedy gold. Cringe comedy, mind you, but comedy nonetheless. This is another one of those guys who wanted BGC to be 'deeper', which sounds all well and good (okay, he likes Sylia more than Priss and wishes the former got more screen time) until you click on his ADP Files review:

"This series may easily be what BGC should have been."

Grammar problems aside... yeah. This guy thinks that High Impact Sexual Violence The Anime was somehow a masterpiece of deep insight into the human condition, which should tell you everything about how seriously to take his opinions. No, really. It's funny. Laugh.

Sylia: Da Bomb: This is probably the only 'shrine' page I'll put in here, because I think it's... interesting? Y'all know I'm a serious Sylia / Celia simp, so I was interested to see what this was about when I found it on a links page. The argument the guy is laying down is essentially that Sylia is a) probably a Boomer, b) she's the coolest Knight Saber, and c) she's a stone-cold bitch who cares mostly about the mission and keeping the Sabers together, not about them individually, and we ought to love her for it. Which... yeah? Kind of? Maybe? The point is this guy makes some half-decent points (and ribs on Rei Ayanami fans) that maybe you might even halfway agree with. So if you want a decent shrine, check this out.

Bubblegum Marriage Prospects: Priss and Sylia: Even before the term waifu was popularized... there was simpage. Deep simpage. These two pages are but one part of a massive compendium of nerds writing about whether or not x or y anime girl would be good to marry and have kids with I am not making this up. And they come off very differently.

Priss? She's sexy, fast, wild, furious, dangerous, you could make good money off her rockstar career ("If you can manage a pop star, you can probably reap an enormous amount of cash"), just don't bring her home to mom and get ready to do most of the housework. Sounds great.

Sylia? Relatively attractive, but cold-blooded, solely dedicated to The Mission, and the sex? Get this:

"At first glance one would expect her to be vanilla to the core; but positions of power, abnormal childhoods, high levels of stress, and outward emotional repression are often associated with sexual... eccentricities. Do not be overly surprised to find yourself bound hand and foot, gagged, and/or suspended from the ceiling at some point during your honeymoon."

See what I'm saying? This is funny, how much thought people put into this shit like twenty years ago. And what's even funnier is that I can form opinions about this that disagree with these two writers, I have put enough thought into this. What is wrong with me? A lot.

Christian Conkle's Bubblegum Conundrum: Now we get into RPG-based fansites, which as a rule are a little less chatty and have more nice, calming spreadsheets outlining large mecha used to kill people. How pleasant.

Anyway, this site focuses around a campaign set in the Cascadia Metropolitan Axis, (Portland-Seattle-Vancouver - take that, Shadowrun!), one where the PC's and other characters actually get marker-drawn art of their fine selves and their hardsuits, plus other gear... so that's a high bar to clear right off the bat, having actual art of everyone and their toys. One gets the sense that Conkle understands the tone of BGC, too, cyberpunk that's just a little superheroically melodramatic, focusing on macro plots instead of micro plans. So it's all great fun to read.

Also worth looking at is Conkle's great big 'Garage' section, which contains tables used to rapidly construct various big bad mecha in the RTAL system... give or take some house rules. Good house rules, but house rules nonetheless.

Christian Conkle's Dragon Knights 2050: It's a later campaign Conkle did, this time constructed as an Eva ripoff, where humanity uses giant mecha piloted by kids to fight the orbital Boomer Kingdom. I never looked into it much, because hey, it's an Eva ripoff, it's really BGC. I include it out of amusement more than anything else.

Robert Farquhar's Bubblegum Crisis Web Archive: It was discovering this page, one of the many recommended by RTAL via BGC EX - that one expansion I gushed about a few posts back - that inspired me to write this whole post. And if that doesn't mean something to you... yeah.

See, even if Farquhar (whatta name that is) was focused more on an ADP-style campaign with upgraded Masamune Shirow-lookin' battlesuits, the thing about this site is that it contains the work of several other player teams uploading their hardsuits and Boomers and powersuits and characters and even a few Cyberpunk 2020 conversions for all the world to see. So there's a lot of cool concepts, and even some MS-Paint-lookin' art of some of said concepts. For that alone, I love it deeply.

Actually, there's one particular piece of art which I think was made by a guy who designed a separate hardsuit concept that I really liked. I tried finding the guy's site, but it's gone, too. Another unsolved mystery.

Kain The Seeker's Bubblegum Crush: Another site featured in BGC EX, focusing on a campaign set in Cyberpunk 2020's Night City, but alas, it's woefully incomplete. The only part of the campaign site, really, is some background and some stuff about the characters, and that's it.

Luckily, we have a rough idea of why this site is unfinished thanks to Farquhar: apparently the hard drive of 'Kain' (I do so hate people using that name for edgy fictional characters) crashed, the site was lost, and then it was resurrected, with all the Boomers and whatnot that we see fragments of on the Web Archive. Alas, that site proper is lost to time.

Maybe that's for the best, though. Some of those Boomer designs are literally 'lol your waitress Boomer now has a laser gun concealed in her, prepare to die player characters', a cheap-o CP2020 trick if there ever was one. I don't want to know what the rest was like.

Bubblegum Crossfire: Sabers and Angels: A simple little site focusing on an LA-based group, featured in BGC Ex. There's not a whole lot to recommend it, the art's small portraits and not very good ones at that, the story's a little less exciting than Conundrum... but it's there.

Bubblegum Crossroads: Chicago 2033: No art, but it's a complete RPG site with some cool worldbuilding and a cool concept for interchangeable 'battlegloves' allowing some modularity for combatants.

That's it, so far. Go forth, my children! Explore the Dead Net!

[steampagan]

Adventures in Independent Contracting

We finished the last two jobs ahead of schedule so we're billing for a paid day off tomorrow before the next one starts. In other words: I will be getting paid to write the next chapter of Mending. Sometimes, life is good

[stevenssticks]

Aight, Mike Starr giving you a puppy for Christmas. DO IT.

IM JEWISH I DONT CELEBRATE CHRISTMAS.

but i’ll write it just for u…. okay…..

bullet point style for this one:

he would have this grin on his face while you’re opening presents, all little things you asked for that you’re happy about, but nothing that huge on your list

you had just lost your dog abt a year and a half ago, and you are finally ready for a new puppy. ofc mike jumps on that when he hears you talking abt it.

so he would like run into another room blabbering abt how he’s got one last present and then WHAM. puppy SPRINTING into the room.

you would be so happy you start crying :( and mike would be like “awhhh cmere” and give you a warm big hug with the dog still licking your face as you laugh through your tears

[electrasev5nwrites]

Ninja Daily: AIC 38

"Konoha is whining again," Mei said. She dropped a letter on Aiko's desk. "Something about 'please stop making positive diplomatic connections with Wave, it makes us feel sad and like we might not be your best friends."

"Did they really say that," Aiko said absently. She initialed a section she had just finished reading, deep into a report regarding the upcoming budget proposal. "That sounds just like them. Except I think there should be something to prompt our action in there."

"Yes." Mei took a moment to think. "I believe they said that if we play nicely with Wave, it will make them so upset that they will have to do absolutely nothing about it, because they have so little international influence and everyone thinks they're pompous. That also makes them sad, by the way."

Aiko hummed and picked up the letter. It was still sealed in the envelope. She glanced up at Mei.

"I know them very well," Mei said smoothly. She flicked her long hair back. "I can sense it." She nodded at the envelope, urging her to go ahead and open it now and prove Mei right.

With a repressed snort, Aiko broke the seal and pulled out the missive. It was fairly brief and uncomplicated. Konoha was expressing their concern, as representative of the other 4 Great Nations, about Kirigakure's apparent expansionist plans.

"On behalf of the other 4 Great Nations, they say," Aiko said absently.

Mei gave a disdainful little laugh.

"Yes, I'm sure they spent long hours in intimate conference with Lightning and Stone," Aiko mused. She kicked back in her chair a bit and read on. "They don't mention their enduring sadness here."

"It's subtext." Mei's sneer came across in her tone.

"Do you find this at all insulting?" Sanbi asked. "As a former Konoha shinobi yourself, this is not the flattering international image one would hope to convey."

'Nah, it's par for the course. Sandaime did bluster and have a surprising reputation for softness, so far as shinobi go. We definitely stagnated during his second term and lost international relevance. Tsunade rehabilitated our image a bit.'

"I'm invited to an idyllic retreat," Aiko said. She put the letter down. "We're going to have a chat about our feelings, leader to leader, and see if we can express mutual concerns and come to agreement." Her tone was bland.

"Better you than me," Mei said, despite that very clearly being a lie.

"Definitely," Aiko said. She gave her employee a skeptical look. "God only knows you'd show up looking like that and undermine our reputation."

Mei, who was wearing a perfectly pressed uniform and a full face of makeup, narrowed her eyes. Her waterfall of riotous hair seemed to puff out slightly, like a serpent's hood foreshadowing danger. She looked powerful, competent, and dangerous.

Aiko pretended not to notice this thoroughly reasonable outrage. She was experimenting today with a yukata, loosely closed with a jeweled pin. It was gaping open artfully to show one shoulder and a tight purple top. She tapped at the missive thoughtfully with an index finger. "I suppose I should go. The host is some priest, though. I don't know the etiquette for being hosted at a temple. I assume it's different than staying with nobility."

"As our resident expert in everything, I have every confidence you will succeed," Mei said in a silky tone that meant 'I hope you choke.' "If you have a moment, I meant to ask about the escorts we are sending to Wave to bring our honored noble guests."

Aiko glanced up expectantly.

"We have adequate shinobi guards," Mei allowed. "However, I think we need at least one figure of significant political importance, to improve the optics. Someone who is a noble in their own right, to act as welcome and guide. We don't want to look like hired thugs forcibly removing disfavored nobility to aid a coup."

"That's a bad look, yes," Aiko agreed. She sighed. "Hozuki-san is going to welcome them to their accommodations, isn't she?" Aiko said idly. She frowned. "I see your point, however. I don't really have time to address it personally. Make a recommendation, explain why, I'll approve."

Mei swept into a bow. "By your leave," she said, and glided out.

Aiko sighed. She put the letter aside for now, since it didn't require immediate action, and went back to the paperwork that had been priorized. Once the budget was on track and she'd ordered an audit of those suspicious fuckers down in accounting (oh! The tables turn!), she deposited the completed stack on Nishikawa's desk. He was nowhere to be seen. The woman sitting in his desk looked up briefly to make eye contact, nodded, and went back to her project. At first glance, it did not look work-related.

...Aiko leaned over to look more closely. "Rats?" She gave the temp an uncertain look. "Why are you making rats?"

The other woman didn't look up again. "It's the year of the rat." Her tone strongly implied the conversation was over. She was drawing shut a bunched bit of fabric that, judging by the squadron of completed rats overseeing, would become a little rat butt and get a string tail later.

She felt her brow furrow. But she didn't have any specific objections to rat arts and crafts. And presumably they were all adults here and whoever this person was had finished their work, so… "Carry on, then. I'll need the blue-marked folders-"

"To Amae-san when pickup comes, and the green go with the general outflow?"

Reassured all was well, Aiko nodded. "Thank you, I'm out for lunch now."

"Bring me back a coffee, please. Two cream and three sugars."

Aiko stopped at the door and squinted back. The temp didn't seem to be joking. Aiko didn't have a frame of reference for whatever this interaction was. She furrowed her eyebrows again. "Okay," she said. And she promptly resolved to not spend any time thinking about whatever was going on, because it was clearly not her business and she trusted her office's staffing decisions.

She went out for lunch at a tonkatsu place, asked them to make breakfast for her instead, and felt a little bit guilty about it. She avoided looking directly at the sign proclaiming that breakfast ended at 11. It was past 1 by the time she got her toast, eggs, and salad. The coffee and fruit came a few moments later.

While eating the ill-gotten gains of her reign, Aiko mulled over the invitation to meet with Konoha. She didn't care that much what they thought, and she severely doubted that they would be willing to object strongly enough to force her to let go of Wave.

She was doing a good thing, and she didn't intend to back down on it. That stubborn determination made her give serious thought to telling them that she was too busy and just weathering their disapproval. Tazuna's little island had a budding local defence force of locals that her chuunin were giving basic training to. The island was beginning to bustle with tourism over their bridge, drawn to stay at the appropriated mansion Gato had abandoned, eat the exceptionally fresh seafood, and buy the pearls that local women were beginning to dive for again. As for the more cental area of Wave- they were doing well, too. The Daimyo had been prodded into paying attention to his country, the worst of the leeches were being pulled away from influence, and Aiko expected better things were going to come.

She was relatively certain that Konoha was not willing to use enough muscle to forcibly extract her from influence in Wave. That would mean a protracted cross-continental military campaign.

Of course, there was the small but significant risk that Konoha was not totally exaggerating the extent of international concern. Aiko had made a very informed risk assessment that there was no appetite for international cooperation on that scale any time soon. But if she was wrong and Kiri was enough to bring Lightning and Konoha together despite their differences, it would be best to know that as soon as possible.

Fuck. She stared sourly into her empty cup. She was going to have to go hang out with the Sandaime and a bunch of other old men at a shrine.

"Then go," Sanbi offered lazily. His tails lashed as he stretched, like a sleepy cat. "Why is this so difficult?"

'I don't want to make any faux pas.' Aiko sighed and tried to catch someone's eye to ask for a refill. 'My religious education was lacking. There is always the chance that I unintentionally do something mortifying and we end up having to do penance, or pilgrimage, or issue apologies. I just don't want the international conversation about us to include that we're heathens.'

"Are you?"

She had to think about that one. 'Less than other people?' She finally got someone to take away her coffee cup. 'I used to be pretty certain that it was all bullshit. But now I know at least one of the gods is real, out there, and dislikes me on a personal level.'

"..." Sanbi paused a very long time in his answer. He stood up, turned in a circle, and then sat again. When he finally spoke, it was in a carefully diplomatic tone. "It seems possible that a faux pas in a religious context could have more serious impacts for you than bad publicity."

Aiko grimaced.

She was really tempted to say that it couldn't get any worse. She was an unpaid intern of the thoroughly unsympathetic god of death, who was either going to keep her undead as a servant in the living world or drag her to the land of the death whenever he remembered about her.

The thing was, she had a sinking feeling that it could, actually, get quite a bit worse than that. She didn't know how, but something about the tension on the back of her neck felt like a warning and validation that she still had a lot to lose, even if she didn't know what it was.

'Field trip it is,' Aiko decided. 'I'll have someone set up an interview with a religious teacher. A priest or priestess, I suppose. I have a month to read up before I need to go talk with Konoha. I can fit that in my schedule.'

She stopped at a cafe on her way back to the office and ordered two coffees to go, one for her and one for the stranger at Nishikawa's desk. The caffeine powered her through the rest of the work day.

At the earliest time that she could, she slipped away from her work and to the closest shrine from her office. She had no idea when it would be busy, but it was deserted at the moment. There was something reassuring about that. She didn't want to have a lot of people around while she tried to figure out how to not be blasphemous and damned.

There were two priests at the gate to the shrine. One was a fatherly-looking man, whose laugh lines implied he was nearing 50. He paused, broom in hand at the top of the stone stairs, and watched her approach. The other one was absolutely ancient-looking. He was so thin that she could see his wrist bones clearly when he raised his hands and gestured for her to shoo.

Affronted, Aiko frowned. "What's this about?" she asked.

The younger man answered. "Welcome, Mizukage-sama," he said. He bowed humbly. He did not seem to notice that his companion was making a face at her. "How can I help you today?"

She looked at the elderly priest again. "I've been invited to conference with the Hokage at a shrine and I want to talk with the head priest about any etiquette or background information that I should know."

"I understand." He bowed again. "I'll retrieve the senior priest." And then he went away, leaving her with the rude old man.

He frowned at her.

She frowned at him. "What?" Aiko asked again.

The younger priest turned around to give her an inquisitive look.

Aiko gave him a smile and gestured for him to go on. "Not you, sorry."

His untrimmed brows pressed together in what looked like confusion, but he nodded and continued on his way.

She waited until he was out of hearing range to try again. This time, she was calmer and carefully respectful, despite the old man's rudeness. "Good afternoon," Aiko said, because she had manners and she was hoping this could be smoothed out. "I'm Uzumaki Aiko, and you are…?"

He gave her a disdainful look. Then he very pointedly looked down at the ground.

Aiko felt a spark of irritation and then she realized there was nothing on the ground. As in, he wasn't casting a shadow. She felt her lips go open in an "oh" of recognition. Her mind stalled for a minute. It wasn't… It wasn't the first time that she had seen a ghost, but the others had been much less solid-looking. This man looked alive, aside from the fact that he looked like he should have died of natural causes 20 years ago.

"Never mind, then," Aiko said. She blinked quickly. "You're the first non-shinobi ghost I've seen."

He gave her a curious look, mouth twisting to the side. But he didn't open it and attempt to speak.

"I wonder if it's because you are a priest," Aiko mused. She couldn't help but glance around the shrine, as if she might see other ghosts. "It could be more common for people who are connected to the spiritual to stay. Do you know?" She addressed the last bit to him directly.

He folded his arms into his sleeves, looked into the distance, and began drifting away.

"Rude," Aiko said under her breath.

The ghost swiveled around to give her an affronted look. He pulled one arm out of a sleeve to gesture at her, up and down, as if there was something visibly wrong with her.

"I'm not doing anything," she denied. Aiko was sorely tempted to roll her eyes. "I came here to learn, so that I don't make death any angrier or make any other enemies."

His eyes narrowed at her. The breeze picked up, and it brought a heavy, sickly stench. She had never actually smelled rotting meat, but Aiko instinctively knew that was what it was. She brought a hand up to cover her nose and sneezed.

It only took an instant to realize that had been a faux pas. The ghost was suddenly furious. His mouth opened for the first time, showing a blackened stump of a tongue and releasing grave breath. He spat something foul and incomprehensible at her and wheeled away. There was something wrong with him, on a level that unsettled her. Before he had seemed like a badly-tempered old man. He had disliked her on sight, but he hadn't seemed wicked or inhuman at all. Now, there was something actively malevolent in the air. There was something else that was making her uncomfortable, but it took a moment to pin down what it was. She saw it, when she looked at the ground beneath him.

He was more solid. He was casting a shadow.

That was concerning. She didn't know much about death, but she knew it was far too active and she didn't want to live in a world where the intangible could become tangible and kick her ass.

She had to know if he was truly solid.

As the ghost turned his back on her, she bent down to pick up a bit of gravel and lob it at him. If he was solid, it should have bounced off of his heel. If he was stil a regular harmless ghost, it should have gone through him.

It did exactly neither of those things. There was a surprisingly loud bang, and then gravel went flying. She put her arm up to protect her face, but she could still see that there was a circle of bare earth where the ghost had been standing.

But the ghost himself was gone.

"...Huh," Aiko said. She put her hand down. "That was interesting."

And she had learned at least one possibly useful fact: it made dead people very, very angry if you acknowledged that they were off-putting. That meant gritting her teeth through graveyard rot. It was gross, but she could do it now that she knew it would offend.

Someone cleared their throat. When she turned to face the sound, she saw yet another priest. The fatherly-looking man was hanging back behind him, so she expected this was the senior priest. She gave him a polite bow. And then she froze in her tracks as she saw that the ghost was manifesting slowly by his fellows. His face looked strained and thoroughly moody- but totally human again. He didn't seem.. Well, was demonic the right word for the ugliness that had twisted his eyes before?

"Mizukage-sama," the living priest said firmly. "I think that you need to leave now."

...What, like the problem had been her? She bristled, just a bit. But she looked at the bare earth, the pebbles embedded in a nearby tree, and backed down. It did look like she had been bizarre for no reason. "Goodnight," Aiko said resentfully. She made eye contact with the smug-looking ghost. "This isn't over," she told him.

"Go home," said the priest.

Aiko gave him a bow. "I wasn't talking to you, just to the dead man over there. I'll return to have our conversation tomorrow. I apologize for the trouble."

The ghost sneered at her and glided away.

"Wait!" The priest called out. "A dead man?"

She pursed her lips at him. "Yes," Aiko acknowledged. Her gaze darted over to the man in question. "A priest. He looks to be... senior in age. Green eyes, a wooden bracelet, a spot on his left cheek."

The living priest raised a hand to his own face, indicating the spot where the mole was. Aiko nodded in answer.

"I see," he said slowly. Then he nodded. "I suppose that you angered him?"

She had to nod. "Not sure why, but yes. He seemed to dislike me as soon as I walked in."

"Well, yes," the senior priest said frankly. The dead man gave him a satisfied look of approval. "This temple is dedicated to Izanami, lady of the land of the dead, and she has no love for the death god or his servants."

Aiko bit her lip. "I... I want to say I'm not his servant," she said, not sure if that was dangerous or not. "I did not deliberately choose the nature of our association."

There was a long silence, as the two elderly priests looked her up and down. The younger man was looking humbly at his own feet. The dead man's face twisted first. He seemed to huff a great sigh and then gestured at her to follow him.

"I think that you should come inside after all," the head of the shrine said. "Please follow me."

[dykeden]

Tagged!

Thanks to @musicalmientus for tagging me!

Rules: tag 20 blogs you want to get to know better

Nickname: Dokobo, D’corbs, Momomoch, other variations of dokobo (long story short someone asked how to spell my name and my friend helen replied with “D-o-k-o-b-o” and here we are)

Zodiac sign: Taurus

Height: 5'5 (technically 5′4 and something but shhh its 5′5)

Last thing I googled: be more chill fanfiction (its not even a common tag on ao3 wtf)

Favourite music artists: Musicals obviously, Taylor Swift, Demi Lovato, Sloan (10 points if you can guess what fanfiction got me into them), Disney, Ed Sheeran, Panic! At the Disco, honestly probs others too I have a very wide and weird music taste

Last Movie I watched: The Last Five Years

What I am wearing right now: Neon Green AICE T shirt, black sweatpants, and mismatching socks (I had 2 AICE exams today its been Rough)

Why did I choose my URL: Falsettos and also I am Very Gay

Do I have any other blogs: Nope

What did my last relationship teach me: No matter how much you think you know someone they can still turn into a manipulative asshole

Religious or spiritual: Lmao no I went to Catholic school from Kindergarten to 8th grade and that just made me atheist

Favorite color: Any neon or pastel but if I had to choose one then blue

Average hours of sleep: ok it ranges from like 4 to like 12 sooo ??

Lucky number:13 because everyone hates it

I am tagging: @knight-of-the-woeful-countenance @michael-makes-an-entrance @galaticpanda @postitnote8 and anyone else who wants to do it!!

[electrasev5nwrites]

Ninja Daily: AIC 36

She used hiraishin to return to her office in Kirigakure. She sat the rug down and unrolled it enough that Orochimaru's pale face could be seen. Then she pulsed her chakra and cleared her throat. "Security," Aiko called. Her voice was still a bit off, but much closer to her usual pitch. Her throat was quickly healing. "If you don't mind, can someone come in here?"

The black operative who answered her call was clearly about 70% certain that he was walking into a trap, but he obediently entered the office. She could tell that he was looking at the body on the floor.

"I would like someone from T&I," Aiko said. "Asai-san. And a medic." She cast a dispassionate glance at Orochimaru. "He seems quite dead, but you never know. It's good to check." She set the stolen knife on her desk.

The operative hesitated. "Mizukage-sama," they said. "It is protocol-"

"Not to leave me alone with a prospective threat, I know," Aiko agreed. She used her bare toes to push Orochimaru's face over. "I think it's fine. Go."

While she was alone, she tossed the sheets to the floor near a wall. That was all the time she had before a chuunin hurried in. Their vest marked them as a tower guard- ah, they must have been alerted by one of the proximity alarms.

"Good evening," she said.

"Good evening," the man parroted back. He couldn't meet her eye. He, too, was looking at the body on the floor. "I- how can I help you, Mizukage-sama?"

Aiko hummed. "I could use a set of clothes from my house," she said. "Body sheets, I don't have time for a shower but I don't feel clean. Oh, coffee and something light to eat would be good. And is there a 24-hour coin laundry nearby?" She jerked her head at Orochimaru's silk sheets. "I don't trust those, but I love them."

The chuunin bowed. "I'll have a wet washcloth sent up from downstairs, then take the fabric to a laundromat on my way to retrieve clothes, wipes, and food from your home."

"Acceptable,"' Aiko said. "Thank you."

He was barely out the door when two more black ops agents flashed in. They seemed to want to stand menacingly at either side of the door waiting for orders, so she let them at it and sat down at her desk.

Orochimaru remained still and dead, as he had been doing for the last ten minutes or so. It was the most agreeable she'd ever seen him. She hoped that he would continue the good work.

A different chuunin came in and offered her a plastic box with two warm, wet towels. She edged a little conspicuously away from Orochimaru. Aiko dismissed the woman and then tried to wipe off the smell of antiseptics and death. It didn't really work, but it took the edge off.

For lack of anything else to do, she began to look through the notes waiting from Nishikawa-san. He had listed the paperwork awaiting her attention. A pile that just needed to be signed off on could be immediately addressed, so she searched those out in the orange folder the note described and went to work with a pen and her seal of office. Pay bump, approved. New regulations for hallway width in clinics to accommodate stretchers, approved. Planning permit for an outpost on Wave, approved. Adjustment to the tax code-

"Mizukage-sama." The first Black Operative was back, with Asai-san and an elderly woman who Aiko did not recognize. "Asai-san, and the medic recommended by the current Head of Affairs on-shift at the hospital, Okuno-sensei."

"Thank you," Aiko said. She glanced down and stamped once more. "Okuno-sensei, please confirm that Orochimaru-san is sufficiently dead. Asai-san, oversee and verify."

They were professionals who didn't need her peering over their shoulders, so she went back to her paperwork.

"Deceased," Okuno-sensei reported after a time. She stood up to her full height, a towering 148cm. Aiko realized that, for once, she was not the shortest adult in the room. "Cause of death was a stopped heart. Traces of poison in system."

"Poison? That wasn't me," Aiko said idly. "I wonder how often people try to kill him."

"It's possible that it was his poison, given the subject," Okuno-sensei allowed. "Is there anything in specific you would like me to look for?"

She thought about it. Orochimaru had wanted to look at her, and look where that had gotten him. He hadn't killed her quite dead enough, and then she'd gotten up and killed him. But he had gotten all sorts of bodily enhancements that would be quite interesting to her intelligence departments. Waste not, want not. "I think that I would like him beheaded," she said. "The body can be examined in a secure location. I'll keep the head."

Maybe on her wall.

"Yes, Mizukage-sama," Okuno-sensei said. "Would you like me to do that here, or in my lab?"

Aiko winced. "I don't want anything on my rug," she said. "It's nice, isn't it?"

Okuno-sensei paused. "Yes," she agreed. "Very soft."

"Thank you," Aiko said, even though she'd prompted the compliment. "I stole it from Orochimaru. I don't think he needs it anymore, and I hate to waste."

"Ah."

She couldn't see what Okuno-sensei thought of that, because Aiko was in the process of approving shipping contract renegotiations.

"Perhaps you should have it steam-cleaned," Okuno-sensei suggested. Her tone was very mild.

"I think that would be a good idea as well," Asai-san spoke up for the first time.

Aiko nodded indulgently. "Fair enough. Although he kept a much cleaner house than I would have expected," she allowed. She remembered the long, empty hallways and antiseptic smell. "Aside from all the venom, it was nearly a hospital."

"The venom is an important exception to the cleanliness," Okuno-sensei said. "Shall I take the body away by myself?"

"No, no." Aiko finished the paper she was on and stood. "It would be a little irresponsible to let him out of my sight. Where in the hospital would you like to work?"

"The west ward, on the third floor," came the prompt response. Asai-san watched with a rather ambiguous expression as Aiko came around her desk and began lifting Orochimaru's feet. One of her security guards rushed to lift his arms, and then another gently inserted himself to take Orochimaru's feet out of Aiko's grip. She let him do it and stood to the side. She placed one hand on Orochimaru's stomach, deliberately feeling to extend her connection to the two people holding him. "Okuno-sensei, Asai-san," she said. "If you don't mind, please touch my arm." She held out her left hand. When they did, she took the whole party to the hospital.

Okuno-sensei blinked at the third floor reception desk. The nurse behind it stood so fast that her curls bounced.

Her aim was a little off. "My mistake," Aiko said. "This is the central area, isn't it?"

"Yes, but it's quite fine," Okuno-sensei said calmly. "We can walk from here. Nakata-san, would you let the Head doctor know that I am back in the hospital and will be using operation room 2?"

The nurse nodded. Her eyes were very wide as she watched the odd procession take off towards the west wing of the hospital. Daylight was beginning to pour through the windows as they set the body on a table and the doctor quite clinically separated the head from the body with a chakra scalpel. It made a mess. Aiko was glad that the mess was not on her rug, especially since Orochimaru's blood sizzled when it made contact with oxygen.

"Hm." Okuno-sensei observed this from a safe distance. She leaned forward, but did not touch the blood. "Perhaps… May I put the head into a plastic bag for you, Mizukage-sama? And may I assume that the body is to be released into Asai-san's custody?"

"That's probably a good idea," Aiko agreed. "Thank you. And yes, I'd like that examined, Asai-san. Carefully." When she had her prize in hand, she returned to her office. The chuunin was nervously waiting with a small bag in his left hand and two larger ones in his right. He watched as she put Orochimaru's head on a shelf between some books. "Karin-san chose the clothing," he said. "She informed me that I should make you an omelet in your kitchen and enclose a salad. I hope that is acceptable." He held out the small bag.

"Thank you," Aiko said. "That's fine." She accepted the bag of food and peered inside to see sesame seed salad dressing cheerily perched on top of two plastic containers. There was also a bottle of milk, a box of juice, and an apple. "Clothes, please." The man stiffly handed her the bags- one only held her black ankle boots. "The sanitary sheets?"

"On your desk." He bowed. "By your leave, Mizukage-sama."

"A coffee, please," Aiko said as he left. She was already stripping off Orochimaru's shirt and reaching for the body wipes. She wiped off the lingering sensation of fear and antiseptic and pulled on the clothes that Karin had picked out. Apparently, Karin thought that Aiko might need the confidence boost from an expensive set of glittery underwear today. She had paired it with slim-fitting grey pants and a low-cut blue shirt. There was a plastic baggie with coverup, mascara, and a bold red lipstick.

Karin, Aiko thought, was a very clever little girl. The last thing in the bag was her dark blue jacket with her title embroidered on the back. It was a perfectly acceptable outfit for meeting with someone fairly important, as well as comfortable and practical.

She sat down at her desk and ate. Orochimaru glared dolefully at the doorway and slowly leaked venom into the bag. The chuunin returned with a cup of coffee in shaking hands. "What's the time?" she asked.

He checked his watch. "5:42."

Aiko nodded slowly. "Thank you. That will be all. Oh, take these out to Nishikawa-san's desk on your way out." He accepted the papers that she gave him and closed her office door behind him.

Because she was not an absolute lunatic who was willing to bother someone at this hour for a meeting, Aiko worked quietly and got ahead on the day's work. The sun fully rose, so she shut off the office light to conserve electricity. Staff began trickling in. The office hummed with soft movement- the flutter of paper as they took turns stamping the attendance book, the trickle of coffee percolating, the sound of windows being opened to let in the cool morning air.

Nishikawa knocked at her door and came inside just enough to make eye contact. "Good morning," he greeted. He held up several envelopes that probably held the paperwork she'd already finished and had put on his desk. "Is there anything else that I should send with the morning mail?"

"Yes, here." She gestured to the appropriate pile on her desk. It included two complete folders. "Thank you. I don't have any meeting scheduled for the morning, do it?"

"You do not," he politely confirmed as he crossed the room to retrieve the paperwork. "Should I write anything down?"

Aiko nodded and leaned back. "Yes, I'm going to go on an errand," she said. "Please put on my schedule that I'll be in a meeting with the Hokage from about 9am."

Nishikawa glanced at the clock, which said 8am. "Does the Hokage know?" he asked. The question was only a little cheeky- he wanted to know if he had missed some communications.

"He does not know," Aiko confirmed. "It's a surprise meeting. I hope that I'm not interrupting anything important." She did not bother to sound particularly sincere. The Hokage would make time for a visit from the Mizukage, especially when the Mizukage chose to ask for a meeting by waiting in line at the first-floor reception area of Hokage tower.

After a break for tea and a snack, that was exactly what she did. She was pleased but not terribly surprised that the waiting line in the lobby was very quiet. She nodded a 'good morning' to anyone who made eye contact, but most people were looking at the plastic bag idling and twisting near her thigh. It was secured by a handle of thick pink yarn around her wrist. A purple logo against Orochimaru's ear declared that the bag had come from a cake shop.

...It was hard to find a bag large enough for a human head on short notice.

It didn't take long for someone to come to fetch her. Raidou cleared his throat.

She nodded at him. Didn't think about near-murders in other timelines. Death was such a funny and impermanent thing. No consequences, no relief. She took a moment to tap Orochimaru's head, looking for a reaction. Nothing.

"Good morning, Mizukage-sama." His tone was perfectly even and polite. "Actually, you don't need to wait in line. Please follow me."

"Are you certain?" Aiko asked. "I'm nearly to the front of the line. I don't want to be rude."

"It's fine," he confirmed. He led her up the stairs.

Sarutobi was waiting in his office for her. So were his advisors, Nara Shikaku, and Danzou. Everyone murmured a polite good morning. Nara-san held out a chair for her and gestured that she could put her bag on the side table. She did so delicately.

The third Hokage was staring at it. Conscientiously, Aiko reached out again and readjusted the bag so that the face was pointing towards the Hokage. He did not wince, but he might have wanted to.

"I thought that you might like to know that this issue has been resolved," Aiko said. She kept her tone quite mild. "I'm sorry that I did not schedule a meeting in advance, but I am glad to see that such an august body could meet on short notice."

"Of course," Homura said weakly. "It was no trouble."

Nara bowed as well. The Hokage did not make a move to speak, so he asked, "What can we do for you, Mizukage-sama?"

Aiko crossed her ankles and tilted her head. "Well, I believe that Konoha and the Fire Daimyo jointly offered a bounty for Orochimaru-san," she said. "That can be sent to Kirigakure's general account through the post office bank. You have the routing numbers, I believe. And if you would get out a map, I can mark the locations of Orochimaru-san's former bases, so that you can investigate them. As they are mostly in Fire Nation, I wouldn't presume to step on any toes."

It would take time for any Konoha shinobi to reach even the closest base. She'd go there on her way home and clear out anything particularly valuable. But it was polite to tell them about their holes in security.

"Of course," Danzo said stiffly.

Since she was already in Konoha-

"Oh, and I'd like to speak with Namikaze-san on my students' behalves. I believe that he was the point of contact when they were questioned after Orochimaru-san's chuunin-exams aggression." She flipped her braid back over her shoulder.

"…Is this about that apology letter?" Sanbi asked her.

Yes. How would she know the letter was sufficiently sincere if she didn't see him write it?

Slowly, the Sandaime looked past her to make eye contact with his advisors. She was polite enough not to turn her head to watch whatever they were silently communicating. "Fine," the Sandaime said. "Would someone fetch Namikaze-sama, please?"

Ah. Sama. Perhaps she ought to have been a little politer. She contemplated that as an ANBU fucked off to whatever office they'd stashed the zombie in.

"No, I don't think it's necessary," Sanbi said. "His manners are not particularly nice, and he is no friend of ours."

'I should be better, though. I'm representing something bigger than myself.'

"About the head," Sandaime-sama began warily.

"Do you want it?" Aiko asked. She blinked and uncrossed her legs under the table. "I- Hmm. I suppose I thought that I would keep it, but it's more than reasonable that you'd want to make sure it's authentic." She frowned, a little disquieted by her own impulse to keep it as a trophy. It was just gonna get hella yucky, fast. Maybe she was getting a little weird. "You can have it," she decided. She tapped her fingers on the table. "Be careful, though. I wouldn't touch that without gloves. Did you know he was venomous? Like, sizzling on contact with oxygen, I guess that's an acidic property, really... Was that a new thing? Ah, I suppose you wouldn't tell me either way."

Everyone leaned back from the table. It was slight, but it definitely happened.

Probably had happened since Orochimaru had left Konoha, then.

"Thank you." The Sandaime defintely sounded strained. "As you say..." He coughed. "The bounty, yes. We will of course make good on our promises. I will send a delegate to the Daimyo as well. And we ought to make a public announcement."

"Announce what?" Namikaze's voice was annoyingly cheerful.

She turned and caught the instant he saw the head on the table, and then her a moment later. He brightened. It was, she thought, truly obnoxious.

"False," Sanbi hissed.

"I did not," Sanbi said. He sounded affronted. "I do not hiss. What are- what are you referring to?"

Aiko frowned. 'You just said-'

"I did not say anything."

...She tried really, really hard not to contemplate what a second voice in her head might indicate. A mental break seemed like the best option.

This is fine. Everything is fine. It's just great.

"Mizukage-sama," her estranged, deceased, and annoying father said. He dipped his head toward her. "As expected."

"As expected?" The Sandaime said sharply.

Namikaze blinked and focused on the living. "We haven't talked," he pre-emptively denied. "I just meant that it was inevitable that she would kill Orochimaru."

Homura's eyes slid to the head. "Inevitable," he repeated.

Her muscles were very tense. She was not thinking about waking up in a room full of corpses and a relentless march toward a fight she really hadn't felt prepared for. She was- she was-

"More importantly," she said. Her voice came out a bit sharper than she intended. "Namikaze-san, has anyone updated you on international law regarding the treatment of non-hostiles?"

He blinked.

"Your behavior toward my students was inappropriate," she said. And ah, she was feeling more like herself. She leaned into the feeling and an aggressive tone. "Solo interrogation of a genin by a Kage is so far beyond the bounds of acceptable treatment of, I will stress, an ally only asked to remain in custody in order to provide information about his actions against aggressors."

He seemed pretty lost.

Aiko bared her teeth and gestured at the nook where an ANBU would be hiding. "Get nice stationary," she commanded. "I promised Yuusaku-kun that he would be receiving an apology."

Namikaze ran a hand through his hair. "Okay," he said.

She got the feeling that he might not be aware he was talking aloud.

"I can roll with this punch." He blinked and straightened a little bit. His tone changed. "I can write a letter. No, I was not aware of changes in international law, and I suppose that I had also not really considered that this peacetime environment might call for a different approach." He tilted his head. "I was also not primed to consider that this is, in fact, a peacetime environment, given my arrival."

She made a face. "That's fair," Aiko admitted. "Put that in your letter, that's mitigating."

"He's not entirely approaching normal, but competent," Sanbi commented.

Yeah, she kinda respected that for some reason.

Namikaze looked at the super-secret ANBU hiding nook. "Get the paper," he said, as if baffled that no one had leapt to follow her orders.

Danzou cleared his throat.

Aiko glanced at him and then immediately back to the more important people in the room, which really wasn't saying much.

"What, exactly, should I be considering as I draft this?" Namikaze asked. He leaned against the wall. "I can see that a genin would have been intimidated, is that the largest issue to address?" He frowned. "Power harassment?" he said, trying the thought out. "Is that what that was? I suppose it would be over-"

Danzou tapped his cane on the floor.

"whelming, given the different in rank and that, oh, a foreign military leader is..." Namikaze frowned. He glanced at her. "Probably feeling guilty or inadequate for failing to live up to what he thinks you or Kirigakure would expect?''

"That's exactly it," Aiko said. She was relieved that someone was getting it. "And getting- an entirely warranted- promotion to chuunin after probably exacerbated the situation-"

"Because he was feeling doubt that he deserved it, and like he is a fraud as well as a failure," Namikaze nodded.

"There is a similarity in your thought processes." Sanbi seemed a little warmer.

'I don't see it.'

"Another time, perhaps." The Sandaime was standing with his hands folded. "Please excuse me, Mizukage-sama. It seems that I have correspondence and other work to attend to. Unless you have further need of consultation, that is?"

She thought about it for a second. "I'm fine," Aiko said. She stood to bow. "Thank you for your time and this very timely meeting. I'll get that information about Orochimaru's bases to you by fax. I have a couple of errands to do first, but it should be relatively soon." She made eye contract. "I suppose it'll get to you around the time you send that transfer."

"I suppose it will," The Sandaime said, the ghost of amusement in his tone at her unsubtle ploy. "Namikaze-sama, perhaps your work would best be completed in your office?"

Ah. That was a dismissal.

'Can't very well linger in the Hokage's office if he's going to do errands.'

And so the group dissipated, without the Konoha contingent saying much of value at all. Granted, they'd been surprised by the meeting so they hadn't come in with a strategy. They'd probably expected the meeting to go very differently.

Aiko followed her father to the corner office where he had apparently been banished. He bustled to his desk and set down the nice letterhead he had been writing on.

She stuck her hands in her pockets and scrutinized the office. It certainly didn't show a lot of signs of inhabitance.

"How long do you have?" Minato asked.

"For you to write?" Aiko pursed her lips. "I'd hope you'd finish that within the hour."

"I meant before the Death God drags you back," Minato said absently. "He doesn't care for bending of the rules of life and death. Perversion and theft and all that. But that's good information, too." He pulled the cap off of his pen with his teeth and leaned forward to concentrate on the document.

.

.

.

He glanced up at her and let the pen cap fall to his desk. "Unless he has something else for you to do, I can't see why you'd linger for long. Once he's done sorting out what chaos Orochimaru left, he'll remember you." Then he shrugged. "But what do I know. I assume that the reason I'm still around is that you are. So I have a personal interest in this topic. But it's somewhat academic, since I'm not expecting to go back to where I have been."

There was something about the detached way he said that that made her flinch.

Aiko opened her mouth to say, "I'm not dead," but she couldn't put the lie out into the air. So she just stared at him, feeling far closer to her father than she had ever expected to. Despair kept a tight knot around her heart. "I'm not ready to be dead," she said instead.

"Accept it or fight it," Minato said. He blinked, and his blue eyes were the clearest she'd ever seen. "If you don't do something drastically different, your denials won't save you. Fighting it is probably futile, but if you're not ready to die with dignity..."

She wasn't ready. She didn't answer. She waited in silence until he finished the letter. She went back to Kirigakure and then back to work, because she didn't know what else to do.

"That's great news, I'll get Yuusaku in here for that after lunch." Nishikawa tapped his clipboard.

Aiko nodded and tried to manage a smile. It was a victory. She was happy for her student. Everything was going well.

"I think the biggest priority for the day, obviously, is the press release about your defeat of Orochimaru. We want to control that narrative and ensure that it gets out as soon as possible."

"Stress the cooperation with Konoha, I don't want anyone to accuse me of being places where I wasn't meant to be," Aiko directed. "But also the roles that our people played- leave it ambiguous about whether or not I was alone when I fought him, we won't actually lie. But our people reacted quickly and confirmed the kill. This is a big PR win for Kirigakure, I don't want it misread as just my actions. Kirigakure being responsible for eliminating one of the biggest missing nin in the world could go a long way towards mitigating our reputation for being easy on crime and making clear that we are going in a new direction."

Nishikawa's lips quirked as he furiously took notes. "I'll have a statement written up. We want to announce this internally- maybe over the loudspeaker system, that's worth a public celebration of some sort. Can we do something to make it a big event?"

"We can make tomorrow a paid public holiday…?" Aiko said, feeling uncertain. "Or make today a half-day, we should focus on today since it was today. But that only benefits government workers. How do we make up for that with the service industry and other types of workers?"

"Have people come here for some reason," Nishikawa suggested. He frowned. "Let's workshop this. We need someone fun."

"Alright, please schedule me a meeting with someone who is fun," Aiko agreed, grateful. She was starting to feel a bit better about this. "Maybe a couple of people. We need something fast. But it's also got to be workable, and not going to break the bank. Get someone in here right after my 10 o'clock meeting, if possible."

"Find...someone...fun…," Nishikawa wrote, forehead crinkled. "Before I do that- there is one more thing." He hesitated.

"Am I not going to like this thing?" Aiko asked.

"Aside from sending out the news, I think we also need to make sure you meet in person with the Fire Daimyo as soon as possible, since he needs to pay us a lot of money."

"Ohhh," Aiko said. She blinked. "I can do that."

"Do you have time to meet with the Fire Daimyo on Thursday?" Nishikawa looked pained, flipping between two pages of the master schedule book. "I think we need to block off the entire day for that, really… You'll have to enter at the closest border the conventional way and be escorted to the palace, they won't appreciate you-" he shot a glance at her. "Arriving at the gate directly," he finished diplomatically.

Aiko bit her lip and leaned back, thinking through what she had to do. "I need some morning time for fundraising work, but… I think that if we meet at the border at 8:30, I can be received at the palace and go through all the niceties. I think we will have to stay the night, it would be rude to rush out the same night. I'll need to step out in the evening but we can say I'm taking a long bath, and have our sentries ensure privacy."

"And that errand would be…?"

"Checking in with the pencil queen," Aiko said. She was trying to remember the woman's name. She needed to check that before the meeting, clearly. "I'm going to need her support to make sure our name stays golden currency in Wave, so I need to keep our appointments." She grimaced. "It'll be tight. I can probably give her 20 minutes. She's a business woman, she'll understand if I give her enough notice."

"Alright. And as for the team for this venture. We can spare…" Nishikawa pulled a pale yellow binder out from the shelf and flipped it open. He flipped pages, expression a little pained. "We need to be appropriate," he murmured.

"Not our strong suit." Aiko surreptitiously took off her socks underneath her desk.

He ignored her. "We want to bring enough big names that we look like we are a powerful force, but no one controversial… We don't want to look aggressive…"

"Oh no, we don't want them to think we are mean and scary," Aiko said mildly. She flexed her feet, thinking of all the people she had kicked to death across the span of her career.

"Or maybe we should just impress, as we are in near-enemy territory and it would not be at all surprising if this was a trap. Plenty of people would like to get rid of you."

"Hey," Aiko said. She frowned. "What did I do?"

He looked at her. He sighed. He looked back down at the binder. "Terumi-san, certainly," he said.

"Oh. I already know she wants me dead." Aiko waved that away. "Do you know about someone else?"

Nishikawa frowned. "What? No- no, I meant that she should attend this meeting. Is there- is there a problem with Terumi-san?" The pitch of his voice rose a bit at the end.

"It's fine."

He looked at her dubiously. "Wanting one's leader dead is traditionally considered somewhat problematic by administration. At the very least, perhaps she ought to be demoted out of leadership."

Aiko shrugged, disinterested. She'd used to feel a slight sense of relief at the possibility that Mei might kill her and let her rest. But now that she knew she was a creepy fucking monster and could not lay down and die if she wanted to, the issue was even less pressing. "Let's bring Utakata," she said. "He likes me."

Nishikawa outright laughed. He immediately straightened his face when she gave him a sharp look. He cleared his throat. "I believe that bringing a known jinchuuriki to a foreign Daimyo's residence would be provocative," he demurred.

"I see." Aiko bit her lip and thought about that. "Alright. I'll bring Utakata andGaara. It'll be a big show of strength, including our relationship with Suna, and it will make us such unpleasant houseguests that we definitely won't have to stay a second night."

"Your reasoning and manners are as impeccable as ever, Mizukage-sama," Nishikawa said dryly. He closed his books with a soft sound. "I'll ensure that they are assigned no missions in the interim, to prevent any possibility of them becoming unavailable."

"Lovely." She tucked her feet underneath her body, so that she was resting in seize on her chair. "Anything else I can work on while you requisition fun?"

"Fairly standard mission requests," Nishikawa said. He cleared his throat. "But I thought you might want to look at this personally." He avoided eye contact as he handed her a scroll.

Her eyebrows went up, but she accepted it and broke the seal. She read it silently, and then put it down on her desk. She rested her elbows on her desk and folded her hands. She looked at the space where the wall met the ceiling and contemplated her life choices.

There was a long, awkward silence.

"It's a very-well compensated mission," Nishikawa said mildly.

"It sure is," Aiko agreed. She stared into space over his head, wondering why her life was this way. It was definitely her fault, but still, she wanted to complain to someone.

What was the use of having a godly master if he wasn't even a good excuse for the bullshit that happened?

"It would be very odd not to accept it. And if we did reject it, not only would the client wonder why, but they would go to another nation." He paused pointedly. "With the information that we had rejected the mission."

"I would never reject a valuable mission that does not conflict with our morals." She knew she was making an ANBU level blank face. "Very well. Of course we will accept and assign appropriate personnel."

"And do our best to find the woman who is running a very profitable international drug running operation."

"Definitely a bad person," Aiko said, thinking of the money that went directly and ironically into paying for drugs for the hospitals, bought from Iron. "We will apprehend her. Such criminal actions are not to be tolerated anywhere in the Elemental Nations"

"Our jounin can handle nearly anything," Nishikawa said, face and voice perfectly blank. He was definitely laughing at her, on the inside.

She wondered if this would conflict with her Thursday morning plans to deliver a drug shipment. Well. That was entirely up to her, wasn't it?

…In the long term, she would make a lot more money by continuing the operation. In the short term, this payment would be nice. And it also didn't set well to accept a mission, knowing full-well that she wouldn't allow it to be successful. If nothing else, it was unfair to her staff. Failed missions went on records, after all. And it would be embarrassing to lose face with the client.

Aiko sighed, deeply resentful, and resigned herself to retiring that particular fundraising effort. It would just create a vacuum in the market anyway, but whatever. She'd let whoever she assigned run around for a while looking productive while she did one last profitable hurrah and then… have them report that they were successful and killed the criminal. Something like that.

…Who could she assign to this mission who would not ask too many questions? Did she want someone too dim to realize that she was at least connected to the crime, or find someone who she hoped would have a good sense of humor?

"You have a lot more stupid employees than funny employees," Sanbi pointed out.

She wanted to defend them, but… Kiri was not really known for cultivating easy-going personalities.

"Bring me our finest moron," Aiko declared. She spun her chair around. "I need someone with absolutely no deductive reasoning skill whatsoever."

Nishikawa looked like he was in actual pain.

"A real dum-dum," Aiko added., because she was enjoying his facial expressions today. "Like, someone with high enough rank for this mission, because I only want to put one person on it. But just dumb as a box of rocks. I don't want to hear any whispers of this person having made inferences before. Not a whiff of higher reasoning to be sniffed in their vicinity."

"I'm looking forward to seeing who your subordinate puts forward," Sanbi admitted. She cherished the childlike glee in his tone. She didn't get to hear that often.

"I will see what I can do to subtly locate our highest ranked…. person who fits your criteria, in the next day or two." Nishikawa stood, holding his binders and scrolls against his chest. He managed his poker face again. "If that is all, Mizukage-sama…?"

"Yes, it's fine." She stretched her arms and settled her legs back underneath her desk. "I have 20 minutes until my next meeting, right?"

"That's correct. By your leave, Mizukage-sama." He bowed his way out of her office.

Her 10:00 o'clock meeting was a total bummer. But at least she got them in and out without too many tears.

At 11:00, her door creaked open.

Aiko perked up. It was fun time.

Mei entered, looking supremely uncomfortable. She did not seem surprised at all by the way that Aiko's face fell. "I don't know anything about fun," Mei denied. She let the door shut behind her and then immediately crossed her arms. "I understand luxury, but that isn't quite the same."

'There is something seriously wrong in this country.'

"Have you ever… had… fun?" Aiko tried.

Mei looked a little ill.

She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. "We are two intelligent women," Aiko said, trying to pump herself up. "We can think of something financially sound and celebratory in less than an hour."

"If we are focusing on what is financially sound, we can brainstorm with things that are inexpensive or free," Mei suggested, sounding a little more certain. "Things that are free include things that can be acquired in nature, or through jutsu use."

"Or things we can get from a dollar store, or steal," Aiko added.

"There's nothing we could get some a dollar store in large enough quantities for a national celebration, I think," Mei said. "And we don't have much time for theft."

"...Experiences can be free," Aiko said slowly, thinking that over. "The occasion is that Orochimaru is dead. Maybe we can let people see that. Is that kinda ghoulish?"

"No, no," Mei dismissed. Her eyes were sparkling. "We'll lay the body out and let people come in."

"They can take photos with it!" Aiko said, thrilled. "Memorabilia!"

Mei outright laughed. "People would pay for that," she said. She paused. "…Would you be willing to pose in those photos?"

"Yes," Aiko said empathically. "The only problem is that we need a head. His head is in Konoha."

"Ah…" Mei frowned. "We can print a high quality photo and pin it to a squash."

She took a moment to picture that. "It's perfect," she hissed. "Let's make scarecrows, actually. I'll go back and steal more of his clothes to make it authentic. We can let the kids throw things at him. At the end of the day, we can burn the best scarecrow in celebration."

"Let's make a whole festival out of it," Mei suggested. "Games- we don't need a lot of materials. Eggs and spoons, water balloons, rope for 3-legged races…"

"Oh! And since it's Orochimaru, let's do some Orochimaru-themed things! Ah… We can have arts and crafts. Mixed medium, the person who brings in the best snake is the winner. We can do a jutsu competition, and I'll teach the winner something that I stole from his library."

Mei eyed her sideways. "This plan involves a lot of thefts."

"Yes, it is very economical," Aiko agreed. "Also, it's not really stealing if you already killed the owner." She started scribbling out a plan on her open notebook. "I'd say- loudspeaker at 12:00 that there's going to be an announcement, ask people to gather where they can hear me speak. That'll be at 12:30. I'll tell them that all work is cancelled for the rest of the day in order to celebrate." She frowned, thinking about the optimal order to get the party-planning done in. "While that's going on, I want the - Oh! My park is going to pay off!" She grinned, triumphant. "There are so many benches! Anyway. I want the photobooth area to be announced, but not set up until a little later- maybe 3:00. I'll open the park up at 2:00. I'll ask people to bring chairs or picnic blankets to come enjoy a day off in the park, and make tomorrow a half-day so that everyone can sleep in."

"Alright," Mei said, standing up. "We have planned some fun. I'll go find eggs."

"And I'll go steal. Meeting adjourned."

[electrasev5nwrites]

New Project: My Old Work

My partner and I decided that for fun and some consistency, we're going to start posting Aiko every day here- starting at the beginning. Every day at 10pm JST, a post will go up- from Vapors, to Clarity, AIC (misplace your cities), and finally to the current chapter, Warring and Peace (WAP).

Ninja Daily begins tomorrow, and should be up date within 6 months. Hope you enjoy!

Vapors: 102 chapters

Clarity: 24 chapters

AIC: 39 chapters

WAP: currently 20 chapters, ongoing

Edit: This has prompted a question I should have anticipated from people who didn't know about WAP and the end of AIC.

if you can't wait, everything is posted already. AO3 has the content until midway through AIC. All of AIC and WAP are on the only account I've been regularly posting on, Patreon.