#can’t shake the abandonment issues that have been planted into him since day one and

[elkdiaries]

in season 5 i would like to see mike crying by himself while not kids anymore plays in the background please and thanks duffers

[yespleasetommyshelby]

Should've just asked - Part 2 - Oscar Diaz

One week, seven days, 168 hours, 10080 minutes, 604800 seconds, since he fucked everything up with y/n. Threw it all away because his own insecurities got the better off him, all because he didn't just ask.

He hadn't seen sad eyes since that day either, leaving him alone to stew in his own bubble of self pity. He hadn't left his home since that day, instead opting to send Cesar to the store when something was needed or delegating his Santo's jobs to other members. The bags that y/n and Sad eyes had left behind in the mall sitting against the wall opposite him, mocking him with their bright colours and smiling logos, he'd looked through them as soon as he'd gotten home, each one filled with balloons, banners, anything you would need to through a birthday, even a badge that read 'birthday king' in big bold letters.

Today was his birthday, his 26th, a day where he should've been out in the yard celebrating with one of his famous Santo's parties with the love of his life by his side but instead he was sat in an empty house, bar his younger brother, wallowing in a pit of self pity.

"You still sulking?" Cesar asked as he watched his brother stare at the blank space by his feet, interrupting his pity party.

"Fuck off." He muttered, reaching for the half smoked joint that had been abandoned in the ashtray an hour ago.

"It's been a week Oscar, you can't sit around moping all the time, yeah you fucked up, I get it, but sitting here isn't helping anything." Cesar sighed, this past week he'd seen a side of his older brother that he couldn't remember seeing before, sad and bitchy Spooky was not a pretty sight.

"You don't get shit." Oscar sighed as he lit his joint, breathing in the smoke before exhaling slowly. "I fucked up the best thing to ever happen to me, to us, I lost mi amor Cesar." He mumbled, his eyes filling with tears that he rapidly tried to blink back.

"I know, I know I've never had anything like what you and y/n have, how about we go to the mall? I need some new trainers for school." Cesar asked, watching Oscars face carefully.

"Can't you take your little groupie with you?" Oscar muttered, stubbing out his joint in the ashtray before leaning back and covering his eyes with his arm.

"Please Oscar, it'll help get your mind of shit." Cesar tried again, desperate to get Oscar out of the house and the hole he was currently wallowing in.

"Fine." He sighed, pulling himself up and heading towards the door, missing Cesar pull out his phone and send a quick text.

He's out.

-------

Just down the street y/n grinned as her phone dinged, the text she'd been waiting for finally coming through.

"Hey Sad eyes!" She called into the spare room where he had been staying for the last week, opting to stay and comfort the upset girl rather than spending nights in his own bed.

"What's up?" He asked as he opened the door, rubbing the sleep from his eyes.

"Were you seriously sleeping at 2 in the afternoon?" She asked with an amused smile. "Anyway, Cesar's managed to get Oscar out the house so I'm heading over there now, you coming?" She asked with a smile, excited yet nervous at the thought of seeing Oscar again.

"Yeah, yeah, I'm coming, just give me two minutes." The man grumbled before going back into the room.

Yes, y/n was still pissed about how Oscar had acted a week ago, calling her out for being a cheat in the middle of the mall after doing nothing more than planning his birthday. But at the same time the last week had been hell, she'd received multiple texts and missed calls from Oscar, all apologising for that day, for making a fool out of all three of them. No matter how badly he had embarrassed her that day he was still the only thing in her heart, the love of her life and she was determined not to throw it all away, they had fixed every other problem that had arose in their relationship and they was going to fix this too. Which is why her and Sad eyes were currently on their way to the Diaz household, ready to throw him the most surprising surprise party there ever was.

"Alright, you start to put the food out and I'll get started with the decorations." Y/n smiled as she went over to the bags sat against the wall, the same ones that her and Sad eyes had gotten at the mall. "I'm surprised he didn't throw this out." She mused, digging through the bags to find the balloons.

"I've told you, the guys borderline obsessed with you." Sad eyes laughed from the kitchen.

An hour later and everything was set up, banners covered the walls, balloons floated through the house and yard alike while the food and drinks tables looked immaculate, thanks to Ruby's help.

Everything was in full swing, music blasting, drinks in people's hands as she received yet another text that she was waiting for.

2 minutes out.

"Alright! Everyone be quiet, he's just coming!" Y/n yelled, the music being cut and the loud laughter turning to hushed murmurs as her nerves grew knowing Oscar was just about to walk through the doors.

The loud slamming of the front door caught everyone's attention as they stood anxiously waiting for the Santos leader, the faint 'what the fuck is this?' Making her chuckle only being able to imagine how confused Oscar must have looked right then.

"Surprise!" Everyone cheered as Oscar and Cesar appeared at the back door, Cesar sporting a grin as Oscars wide eyes roamed the crowd before landing on y/n.

"You did this?" He asked quietly, not yet making a move as his mind tried to decide whether this was real, if she really was stood right in front of him.

"Well." She smiled bashfully. "I had some help." She shrugged as Sad Eyes came from round the corner with two coronas in his hands.

"Happy birthday Spooky." He smiled, holding a bottle out for Oscar to take, smiling and clinking their bottles together once Oscar took one.

"Aye, listen man, I'm, uh, I'm sorry about hitting you, the other day." Oscar sighed, feeling weird having to apologise for punching someone who was basically his brother.

"No worries Spook." Sad eyes chuckled patting his brother on the shoulder. "Now go get your girl." He smirked, nodding towards y/n who was stood a few feet away talking to Cesar and Jamal.

"Hey, uh, can we talk?" Oscar asked walking up to her and rubbing the back of his neck from the nerves.

"Yeah, sure." She smiled, feeling her heart beating through her chest as she looked up into his eyes.

They were both stood staring at each other before Cesar clearing his throat pulled them out of whatever trance they were in.

"Hey Jamal how about we go find Ruby?" Cesar asked, raising his eyebrows at Jamal who just didn't seem to get the hint.

"What? Why? We see him all the time." The young boy shrugged, oblivious to the scowls he was receiving from the Diaz brothers and the amused look from y/n.

"Beat it." Oscar deadpanned, smirking as Jamal quickly turned and walked away leaving Cesar to follow with a chuckle.

"Was there any need for that?" Y/n giggled as she turned back to Oscar, looking up at him with an amused glint in her eye.

"Kid doesn't know when to take a hint." Oscar shrugged, not seeing the issue in how he spoke to Jamal in the slightest.

"Yeah well, he is Jamal." Y/n shrugged with a laugh. "Anyway, what was it you wanted to say?" She asked remembering why the Santo had come to her in the first place.

"I uh, I just wanted to say I'm sorry, ya know, for blowing up on you the other day, I know how stupid I was being and I called you out for bullshit you didn't even do." Oscar sighed, his hand that wasn't holding his beer clenching and unclenching at his side as he tried to find the right words. "Just uh, just the thought that you were out with some other cabrón made me see red, I didn't even think to ask, I just wanted to punch whoever it was in the face." He spoke quietly, y/n only just hearing him over the music that had started up again.

"Oscar, you're right, it was stupid." She snorted making Oscars heart drop his eyes going straight to the floor, it was too late. "But." She started, making his eyes flick back up to her immediately. "But I love you Oscar Diaz, I love you so fucking much that this last week has been killing me. I don't know what to do when I'm not with you Oscar, and I don't ever want to have to do that again." She sighed, a lone tear a sliding down her cheek which he quickly reached up to wipe away.

"I love you too mi amor, I know I get jealous and over protective but that's only because I don't want any one taking you away from me, not now, not ever." He mumbled shaking his head slightly before putting his bottle down on the nearest table.

"I know, baby, I know." Y/n smiled, reaching up taking his face in her hands, thumbs rubbing along his jawline gently. "You know if the roles were reversed I would've done much more to any hyna I thought was coming for you." She giggled, already having thrown hands with one before.

"Trust me, I remember, that shit was hot." Oscar chuckled, wrapping his arms around her waist as hers slid from his face to going around his neck, opting to rub the bottom of his neck rather than jaw line.

"Now what?" Y/n asked, her eyes flickering between his.

"What do you want?" Oscar asked quietly, not wanting to push her into anything that she didn't want.

"What do I want? I want you Oscar Diaz, I want you everyday for the rest of my life, jealousy and temper included." She laughed as he rolled his eyes sarcastically.

"Good." Oscar smirked down at her. "Because I ain't never letting you go." He whispered, pulling her towards him, leaning down and planting his lips on hers for the first time in a week.

"I love you Oscar." She mumbled happily, resting her head on his chest as his arms wrapped around her back.

"I love you too mi amor." He smiled, placing a kiss on her forehead and squeezing her tight.

"Also, watching you punch sad eyes in the face really turned me on." She mumbled with a laugh as she felt Oscar tense slightly.

"Is that right?" He chuckled, looking down at her. "Well it's been a week, we best take care of that." He laughed before pulling away and lifting her over his shoulder before heading into the house landing a swift smack to her backside.

"Woo! Spookys gunna get some!" Was heard as he carried her through to the bedroom, both of them laughing as he threw her onto the bed.

"You're so perfect mi Reina." Oscar whispered leaning over her as he stroked a few stray hairs out of her face.

"If anyone's perfect here it's you." Y/n smiled letting her eyes wonder his beautiful features. "Just promise me something." She mumbled after placing a quick peck to his lips.

"Anything." He answered immediately, ready to give anything and everything to make her happy.

"Next time, just ask." She giggled as he rolled his eyes.

"Putá." He mumbled as he leaned down for a slow kiss.

"But you love me anyway." She whispered.

"Always mi amor."

One week without seeing each other.

Seven days without so much as a smile.

168 hours without a kiss.

10080 minutes without an 'I love you'.

604800 seconds without each other.

One surprise party to fix it all.

[boonki]

Kiss prompts: no. 48? 🥰🥰

48. kisses with trembling lips from these prompts! 

HI FRIEND HOPE YOURE READY TO BE SAD

this takes place right after the deception/rako hardeen arc, right after obi-wan gets his real face back. because what the FUCK was that whole arc. anyways, hope you’re having a wonderful day! thank you for the ask ❤️❤️ here you go love: 

______

Anakin can hardly feel the sharp edges of the chair beneath him, his anguish and rage drowning out his senses as he waits for Obi-wan to return to their quarters. 

Nothing has changed, of course. Anakin hadn’t had the heart to move his stained and loved mug, his inherited and half-dead plants, his discarded robes, and treasured books, rare and precious, much like their owner. He felt a pang of solidarity for them: he, too, was one of Obi-wan’s forgotten things, abandoned in death. 

When Obi-wan opens that door, it’ll be like he never left. 

Except that’s not quite true: how can Anakin even begin to explain what havoc Obi-wan’s wreaked on his heart? 

The kitchen is sterile, devoid of Anakin’s habitual mess, and poorly lit. He doesn’t want to face Obi-wan in the light; he’d rather be able to hide his grief in the shoulder of his dear friend, the shadow, who has seen so many of Anakin’s hot, quivering tears. Only the emergency lights that backlight the sink have been left on, solely because Anakin can’t turn them off without tripping the alarms. The place glows a bleak, navy blue, like the rain that falls from a weeping sky. 

Their door creeps open, hesitant. The face that follows is so familiar Anakin can’t help the minuscule gasp that rips out of his throat. 

“Anakin?” Obi-wan asks, genuinely surprised. Guilt laces through every feature, tugging on upturned eyebrows, pleading eyes, and pressed lips, pulling his entire body taunt. 

“What, did you think I’d be asleep?” Anakin scoffs, malevolent. 

Obi-wan doesn’t respond, but the downturn of his mouth tells him the truth: he did think Anakin would be sleeping. 

“How could you do that to me?” Anakin whispers, each word violent, a dagger that Anakin wants to tear into Obi-wan with. He’s holding onto his rage like it’s the only thing keeping him together, and in a way, it is. If he lets go, all the grief and yearning will come pouring through and empty him out completely.

Obi-wan closes the door and treads lightly over to Anakin, pulling out a chair and taking a nervous seat next to him, knees close enough to touch. His face is cast in shades of blue from the emergency lights, full of sorrow. 

“It was wrong of me. Please forgive me.” 

Anakin takes in his apology, but there’s so much anger left, a sickness he needs to spew before he can heal. 

“Obi-wan, I”—he whimpers, emotion clogging his throat—“I held your dead body. I grieved for you. I watched them bury you.” His nose stings with unshed tears, vision going blurry. “And for what? So you could...could use me in some plan? I mean, how did you think I would feel? Huh?”

Obi-wan looks anywhere but his face, studying the fine grain of their standard issue tabletop. 

Anakin has been sitting still up until this point, hands in his lap, but now he turns to Obi-wan, shifting in his seat so that their knees are interlaced. He leans into the man’s space, and with each inch closer, the sharp tendrils of fury melt into the all-encompassing ache of heartbreak and suffering. Of longing. Of regret. Of a keen and simple yearning for more.

Or, blending them all together, the messy and complicated condition of unrequited love. 

He’s waited too long to tell Obi-wan, and has learned the hard way that the regret of unspoken feelings is a ravenous beast, waiting to devour the hopeless.

“And I never got to tell you that I loved you.” He corrects himself: “That I love you.” With shaking hands, he ghosts his palms over Obi-wan’s cheeks, cupping his face. “Do you know how much that haunted me?” 

Obi-wan’s eyes are blown wide, and he’s holding perfectly still, his lips parted in disbelief. When he doesn’t respond, Anakin takes the opportunity to skim his fingers over Obi-wan’s forehead, into his hairline, over the curves of his ears, into the soft skin of his lips. He runs his palms down Obi-wan’s shoulders, his athletic and sturdy arms, and into the calloused skin of his hands, where he holds tight. Obi-wan’s fingers fold around his: their lifeline. 

“I can’t believe you’re alive.” He says to Obi-wan’s hands, to himself. 

He hears Obi-wan swallow and breathe in through his nose. 

“I thought you wouldn’t…” Obi-wan trails off, his voice tight with emotion. “I thought you didn’t…” 

“What? Care?” Anakin looks up at Obi-wan with leaking eyes. “Are you kidding me?” 

Obi-wan feebly shakes his head, and breathes out his response. “Notice.” 

Anakin just stares at him, looking from one eye to the other as Obi-wan formulates the rest of his thought. The cool air swims like a pool of blue between them, the somber lighting paling Obi-wan’s skin out. 

“I didn’t think you’d notice I was gone.” 

The entirety of Anakin’s face crumbles at the thought. But before he can answer, Obi-wan continues: 

“I didn’t think I was important to you anymore. You’re not my padawan—you don’t need an old man like me anymore.” His voice cracks, and for the first time since Anakin was a child, he sees water pool in the corners of Obi-wan’s eyes, glistening, staining the murky whites a painful red. A droplet escapes onto his lower lashes, and traces over the curve of his cheek. 

Anakin is heartbroken, indignant, and devastated all at once. He abandons his chair in favor of straddling Obi-wan’s thighs, bringing his hands up to Obi-wan’s face again. With trembling lips and tears, he peppers soft kisses to the lines of Obi-wan’s features: the salty, tear-stained crinkle of his eyes, the worried creases in his forehead, the edges of his wobbling lips.

“Of course I need you,” he keens. “I’ve always needed you.” He rests his forehead against Obi-wan’s, closing his eyes. “I’ll need you as long as I live.” 

Obi-wan takes a few breaths, his exhales hot on Anakin’s lips. “Oh,” he says, softly. 

Anakin closes the distance and kisses him deeply, the feeling of Obi-wan’s pliant lips a salve to Anakin’s hurts. It’s barely a start to what Anakin wants to do with him, but he pulls back and instead gathers Obi-wan up in his arms, cradling the back of his head in one hand, shuffling his hips forwards so that he’s completely enveloping Obi-wan’s torso in his own. They melt together, Obi-wan threading his arms around Anakin’s waist and squishing his face into the hard space of Anakin’s shoulder. 

“I love you, Obi-wan. Never do that to me again.” He mumbles into Obi-wan’s hair, feeling like he might crack under the weight of his own heart, his own love. It’s so much, and he’s had to carry it alone for so long. 

“I love you too, dear one. And I’m so sorry.” Obi-wan confesses.

And in each other’s arms, Anakin sees the path forward; he’s been lost in the desert, stumbling around for a future, ready to hit the hard sand and crumble to dust, but now he sees Obi-wan on the horizon, and he’s running, slipping, bounding towards the man as if he held life in his hands. The terrain might be rocky, forsaken, depleted, but together, they’ll make it out okay. 

Because Obi-wan is still alive, folded neatly into Anakin’s arms, resting against and inside of his beating heart, forever, where he’s always belonged and always will remain.

[littlemoondarlingarts]

Unfortunately it happened

A short story about two of my ocs that I've been writing for a while, please read the trigger warnings carefully before proceeding to the story.

Genre: magical realism with hints of psychological horror.

Word count: 4293 words.

Tw: Abuse, domestic abuse, past abuse, ptsd, hallucinations, claustrophobic scenes, blood, glass shards, mild sexual scene, possible sexual assault, disrespecting the boundaries of an autistic child, abandonment issues.

If there are any more possible trigger warnings that I didn't write, please let me know.

Drip.

Drip.

Drip.

Drip.

Drip.

The thick warm blood irregularly dripped onto the rotting floor as Theodore tried to wrestle out the large glass shard that was lodged deep in his skull. He knew that pulling it out would only cause him to bleed more, but he had no other choice, his body just wouldn't heal around it. It's not like he could even go to a hospital. They ask questions there. Too many questions. He hissed in pain, fingers slipping over the smooth, wet surface, making the job ten times harder than what it already was.

Fear and pain overwhelmed his senses to the point where he couldn't even hear the squeaks of the wooden planks that normally annoyed him to no end. He only noticed that someone was in the small room with him when a pair of tiny pale feet stopped right infront of him.

"Stay back baby, there's glass on the floor." He let his hand fall down, the stubborn shard finally dislodged from his forehead, "Go back to your room, I'm okay." The obvious lie slipped through his blooded lips like smooth butter, if there was something Theodore excelled exceptionally at, it was lying with confidence so great that you would believe him over your very own eyes.

"Why don't you stop him?" Fran asked meekly, shoulders tense and lips pouty, his fingers fidgeting with the hem of his favourite shirt violently enough to tear the delicate embroidery his dad had spend countless hours on.

Theodore lifted his head, his tired eyes taking in the heart wrenching sight of the boy he grew to call his son. Fran's whole body was trembling, his small fingers red and bruised from unconsciously fighting with the thread, his nose was swollen, the skin around his eyes was puffy. It was clear as day that the little boy had been crying for a while now.... probably since the fight started.

"Franny," Theo started softly, "I'm alright now. It's over, okay? Just go to your room, I'll follow you in a bit. Promise."

But the little vampire didn't budge, his cold feet planted firmly on the floor, lips forming a thin line accompanied by a deep frown barely hidden by loose white curls. Theodore sighed, he wanted so badly to hold his son's hands and carry him back to his room like he did every night before, but he was scared if he'd moved even an inch more he'd tear his shirt even further, revealing more bruises and cuts, subsequently traumatizing the boy more. So he stayed put.

"Why don't you stop him?" Fran repeated.

"Baby you know I-"

"WHY DON'T YOU STOP HIM?!"

The abrupt outburst took Theodore by surprise, making him flinch back on the bed. His wide blue eyes were chaotic as they searched the smaller one's face for any ounce of sympathy. It was silly, really, to be looking for such emotions in a clearly overwhelmed and traumatized kid, but Theo couldn't help himself, couldn't help the fear that was eating away at him, one angry word at a time.

"I know you can, Teddy. You used to stand up to daddy! And he was a VAMPIRE!" Fran said with a bit of pride in his voice, "You know what? I think we should go back to living with him! Maybe Elliot is waiting for us there! And the-"

"Elliot left. He isn't waiting for us anywhere, he doesn't want us anymore." Theodore shrunk back to himself when he noticed the amount of venom in his voice, "Besides Franny, you know I'll never let him hurt you. I'll never let anyone hurt you." He tried giving the most reassuring smile he could muster with the dull ache in his bruised cheeks.

Fran was silent for a long, dreadful second before hot tears raced down his face, "You can't even protect yourself..."

That sentence was like a punch to the gut. He never thought about the consequences that their constant fighting had on his son. He thought, no, he made himself believe that as long as Fran was in no immediate physical danger, everything was okay. It almost frightened him just how much he was willing to ignore and sweep under the rug just to let himself feel like a good father.

"I don't feel safe here... I'm scared." Fran sniffled, "I'm scared that one day I'll wake up and-and find you dead!" It was getting harder for the little vampire to speak as the tears kept flowing, "Or.. or  that you would... would just leave me here like Elliot did... or.. or yo-" violent sobs wrecked his body, forbidding him from finishing his sentence.

Theodore was lost. He promised Rouge and Elliot.. fuck those two, he promised himself that he would give Fran the best life possible, and yet here he is... shaking and wailing helplessly... He needed to do something, and he needed to do it fast. But what? What could he do?

What would dad have done? Dad wouldn't let himself be in this fucking situation. But if he was ... what would he have done?? Theodore's hands were now shaking uncontrollably as he tried to think of an answer. He would've pulled me close. Held me tight in his arms and told me that he'll keep me safe no matter what. That everything will be okay. Yes. Yes... that's what he would've done.

And so he reached forward, taking the now bloodied tiny hands in his and pulling Fran into his arms, holding the sobbing boy as tight as he could.

But the truth is. What his father would've done is vastly different that what Theodore should've done. Because in that moment of pure loss and desperation, he forgot one crucial detail... Fran can't handle being touched. Especially not being hugged.

Fran yanked himself backwards with powers unnatural to him, his body was sent flying until he hit the floor with a loud thud that almost made Theodore's heart stop, but to the boy, anything was better then being held like that.

"Franny... I'm so sorry... I forgo-" Before he could finish his sentence, the vampire was on his feet and running out the room. His loud footsteps quickly fading into nothingness before the deafening slam of a door shook the old house to it's core.

Theodore let himself fall back on the bed, sending small dust particles flying all over him and irritating his allergies. He quickly placed a hand over his nose to stop himself from inhaling any of that dust, he can't afford having his brains ooze out his wounds if he sneezed.

His eyes closed before he could decide otherwise. It's okay... it will be okay.. he'd probably gone to bed now, I should do that too. Tomorrow will be different, it will be better, I'll make some scrambled eggs and bacon.. wait no, Fran is a vegetarian you idiot, he doesn't eat that shit!... fuck. I can make uh... grilled cheese sandwiches.. yeah he'll surely like that....

But deep down Theodore knew that he isn't a kid that can go to bed when he is tired or in pain anymore, he is an adult now, with a kid of his own and all the responsibilities that come with it..

The obnoxious sound of the sports channel blaring from the living room and the rhythmic pouring of rain on the window along with phantom barking of a distant dog were like a hammer smashing into Theodore's head over and over again. Every little sound was cranked up to a hundred, even his own heartbeating was agonizing.

He forced his body to sit back up, becoming face to face with the long mirror nailed to the wall which seemed to be closing in on him. Theodore instinctively pushed himself backwards until his back hit the cold wall as the room began fold in on itself until the mirror was nearly touching his feet. He wrapped his arms around his body in an attempt to ground himself as his claustrophobia kicked in and his breathing quickened to a painful degree.

He forced his eyes shut, trying to focus on anything but the walls that were now touching every inch of him. And his thoughts drifted back to the only place they could... Is it possible Franny is scared like this now? He feels unsafe.. he said that himself.. I can't just leave him alone in his room until the next sunset... that's not what dad would've done.. that's..that's what mom did... leave me alone and ignore me when I needed her most then pretend nothing happened the next day... that's what I was going to do...

The thought made his eyes shoot open only to be faced with her image in the mirror, blue eyes staring down at him with familiar disappointment. His blood boiled. He is becoming her! Repeating the cycle of neglectful abuse and torment until noone survives. In a moment of blind rage he balled his fist and swiftly moved to shatter the mirror and all the pain it was causing, but he found himself slammed to the floor, bloody knuckles causing a dent in it... it seems as tho the wall was still as far away as it always had been.

He stayed there for a moment, tears pouring down unapologetically as he tried to compose himself. He soon found enough willpower to stand up, but before he could take a step forward, sharp pain shot up straight to his head, forcing him to grab onto the nearest wall for balance.

Once the pain dulled down enough for him to be able to open his eyes, he looked down at the apparent source, only to see that his right ankle had doubled in size, blue and swollen as if there was a tennis ball underneath the skin. He rested the back of his head on the window, feeling the cold droplets of rain leaking through and falling on his cheeks.

He sighed, he would heal, he always did. But it would take time, and unlike Silas, this fucker never cared for him after beating him up. Theodore chuckled to himself, never in a million years did he think he would use Silas as a positive example for anything, goes to show just how low his life had sunk.

Nevertheless, he needs to persist, not for himself but for the little vampire that depended on him.

He thought about taking a quick shower to wash off all the blood, but something told him not to, to just check on Fran as soon as possible, and Theodore's gut feeling had never failed him before, so he always followed it, even if he knew that his son was safe in his bed, wrapped in a fluffy blanket that Theo had spent all his money on. He smiled, remembering how Franny's eyes twinkled when he first saw the bee pattern on it. Oh how he wishes he would see him this happy every second of every day.

Still smiling, he managed to take off the ripped shirt without aggravating his injuries too much. He held the black tee in his hands, staring at the bright neon pink "Angel♡" written on it in a metal font with the white signature of the singer along the neck.

He got this shirt 2 years back when he went to the live performance, Angel wasn't even the main performer back then, they were merely the opening act. Given how small they were, they didn't have a signing booth, it was actually pure luck that Theodore managed to meet them outside while they were waiting for a taxi.

And he thought that Rouge was tall! Angel was at least eight feet, to the point where he felt like a little cat after cranking his neck up so high just to be able to see their face, and what a truly terrifying face it was! Almost nightmarish with their black bug eyes and their long pointy teeth! But they were nice, maybe a bit blunt and lacking a social filter, but after being with Fran for a while, Theodore got used to unwanted comments... wait.. Fran... now THAT is what he was here to do!

He immediately put his favourite shirt down on a nearby wooden chair, promising to fix the rip the moment he can carry something as delicate as a needle without his hands shaking and dropping it, he threw on an oversized sweater that used to belong to Elliot, a pair of ghost patterned pyjama pants and made his way to the corridor.

Theodore was still grabbing onto the walls as he limbed his way to the door covered in stickers, it was slightly ajar which was strange considering that Fran had slammed it, but with how rusted the hinges are, anything is possible. He slowly pushed the door open, peering into the dark room, noticing how the moonlight softly illuminated the blanket-covered lump on the bed.

He should be happy? Maybe relieved? But instead, all he could feel is the bile rising to his throat, and he just couldn't tell why, perhaps he was just anxious about the impending talk. Yes. It must be that.

Theodore slowly stepped toward the small bed, feeling the mattress sink under his weight as he sat on it. "Hey Franny..." no answer, "It's me Teddy," again, nothing. He sighed, rubbing his hand over his aching neck, "listen I came here to apologise, and I... are you asleep??" He pulled down the blanket only to see that it was only a group of plushies in the vague shape of a kid.

Adrenaline shot through his body making him forget all about his pain and injuries as he quickly opened the closet, looked under the bed, tore the covers from the bed. Yet.... Fran is nowhere to be seen.

"FRAN!" Theodore yelled at the top of his lungs, "FRAAAANN!" He stood aimlessly in the little room filled with the missing boy's trinkets and drawings, his breath so fast he could hear it as he impatiently waited for an answer, "Baby where are you?!"

He could feel the little plushies staring at him, knowing where his baby is but not telling him, they don't want Fran to go back to being with such a horrible father. Theodore grabbed his son's favourite one, a large fluffy bee he had won for him during a passing carnival. He forcefully held it, his fingers smearing the blood all over the bright yellow as he shook it back and forth in the air.

"Where is he goddamn it! Where is he?" He screamed over and over again at the defenseless bee.

To anyone passing by, this seems like complete and utter madness, a father interrogating a stuffed animal instead of searching the whole house for his missing son? But to Theodore in the moment, it made sense. These plushies were the closest to the little vampire, they know his secrets and feelings more than Theo ever apparently did. So it must be obvious that they would be the ones knowing where his precious baby would be.

"I know you know! So just tell me!" His voice broke as a pained sob took over him, making him hold onto the door handle as his knees seemed to buckle under him. "I'll make it better... I swear.."

"He went out you crazy bitch!" The familiar gruff voice came from the living room, it was naturally loud enough to drown out everything else, even the news channel. Or perhaps that was just Theodore's mind only focusing on what matters to him, whichever case it was, he heard it loud and clear.

"What?" He whispered, soft and almost silent; like a deer caught in headlights, he couldn't move a single muscle in his body. He was painfully aware of this, too; the fact that he is just. Sitting. There. Like a useless piece of shit. His brain screamed at him to 'MOVE IT YOU FUCKER! MOVE!' But his body was almost paralyzed, unable to do anything, not even blink.

It may have taken mere seconds to get up and be in the living room, but it felt like years. Years of him being useless and worthless.

He ran down the short corridor.

He ran.

And ran.

And ran.

And with every step, the corridor seemed to stretch further and further, the end feeling more like a mirage as countless doors strung on the walls. Screams were erupting from behind them, defeaning and terrifying. A minute of thinking would've made him recognize the voice as Fran's, and this was one of the many instances where he regretted ever doing that. Theodore shut his eyes, covering his ears with his hands and just ran forward like a fish in the deep dark ocean where the sun can't reach.

"What do you mean?" His voice was erratic when he finally made it to the living room, gripping the worn down sofa that his "boyfriend" was sitting calmly on, as if a kid isn't out in the dark and rain all on his own.

"He's just breathing some air after all that shit you caused!" The man turned to look at him, "You think I didn't hear all that? Well news flash baby, I have ears."

His absolute nonchalance about the whole thing was irritating Theodore to no end, and Theodore wore his emotions on his sleeves. His eyes darkened dangerously as he almost felt himself growl, but he had to control himself as that would definitely get him another beer bottle to the head.

The man chuckled softly, putting his large hand on top of Theodore's much tinier one, "You're too worried about him, Francis is-"

"Fran." He corrected in a low, deep voice.

"Whatever, same thing. Point is, he is a little man now! If he wants to go out and calm his nerves after you wrecked them, then let him!" He smiled, trying to pull the shorter man towards him, but he didn't budge. "Listen baby, you need to give him some time to work out his emotions, stop getting in his business you little helicopter!"

The man pulled again, this time successfully getting the half dissociated Theodore around the sofa and onto his lap. When he said it like that.... it almost made sense. Fran isn't eight and he really was hurt by all that Theo had done tonight and most nights before that, he does need some time to process all that. Or maybe that was just his way of feeling less guilty, believing that this is just a natural reaction rather than face the fact that his son's terrible immune system won't handle the cold and rain.

"That's right baby," the man held Theodore close, and like a moth to flame he leaned into it, craving any sort of affection and sympathy, "calm down now," his rough hands gently petted Theo's curls which were now matted with a mixture of blood, bear and sweat, "it's all okay," He moved his hand down, moving over Theodore's back in slow and rhythmic circles. "Daddy's here," testing his luck, the man moved his hand further down and gripped Theodore's buttocks firmly.

This sent reality crushing down on the poor man, this isn't okay. Nothing about a frail and sickly eleven year old kid being alone outside in the raining night in a place surrounded with dangerous wildlife is okay. No matter how hard he wants to shake the guilt off. How hard he wants to lean into this rare moment of gentleness. He can't. Not when his son is all alone. Not in a million years.

Theodore placed his hands on his boyfriend's large chest and pushed himself off his lap, getting to his feet as quickly as he can without losing his balance and running to the door as if he is a prisoner that just found the keys.

"Well fuck you too slut! I never wanted your trashy ass anyway! Go get eaten by wolves! You and your annoying ass kid!"

But Theodore had already made it outside and started the long process of running around aimlessly and yelling Fran's name at the top of his lungs. After thoroughly running through the front yard, he took a deep freezing breath and made his way into the surrounding woods where the fading moonlight didn't reach.

He quickly lit up the lighter, the rain putting out the flame before he could do anything, so he bent down, wrapping his body around it like a deer would to her fawn, and tried lighting it up again. The small flame persisted long enough for it to turn blue and be transferred onto Theodore's palm.

He extended the demonic flame infront of his face, making his eyes twinkle with otherworldly lights, he was hoping that animals would find it's strange color intimidating rather than inviting, and that Fran would recognize it as his and find him. Clearly too much faith in a silly little flame, even if it is magical in nature.

Theodore's feet got sliced and bruised by the rocks and thorns on the ground, but nevertheless he persisted, his dark fingers gripping the ancient trunks for dear life, not caring about the skin being scratched and peeled off if them.

He opened his mouth to yell for his boy, "Fraaan.." he coughed, hoping that his voice would come back, "Fra.... fuck me." His voice was gone, almost completely after the endless screaming and yelling he did this night, both while searching for Fran and the big fuckin fight that had happened before.

With no voice to speak of, Theodore felt... weak. He couldn't yell for Fran and the hope that the boy would see the flame on his own and follow it is... statistically very low. He was defeated. He failed himself, his father, Fran... everyone that can be failed.

He made his way out of the forest, he had already searched the surrounding area on foot. He had the small tiny twinkle of hope that Fran had made his way back home alone, that he really was just breathing some air. That he is now safe and cuddled underneath the blanket. Safe. And sound.

Theodore stood infront of the closed door. Body shaking from the cold rain and pain, he stood there for a while, just letting the tears silently fall down, not daring to go inside and face the truth.

"Teddy?" A small familiar voice echoed in his head, making him smile a little. He had been first given that nickname by his mom, but now that Franny used to call him that, it no longer feels... humiliating. It feels warm and comfortable, it feels like a purpose and having someone that depends on you and trusts you.

"Teddy!" The small voice came again, this time angrier, like a tiny kitten's hiss.

Is it possible that this.. isn't in Theodore's head? That Fran was actually yelling for him?

He tore his eyes away from the door and looked around, and sure enough, he easily spotted the head of white fluffy hair struggling to get out of under his boyfriend's car.

Theodore rushed to help his son get out without being scratched or injured, he held the boy's tiny hands and pulled slowly, stopping to fluff down his shirt to make the sliding easier. Once his bottom was out, his short legs were an easy task.

"Thank gawd! I thought I was gonna be stuck under there forever! Or that that bastard was gonna drive tomorrow and I'll become tomato paste!" The little boy was flailing his arms around as he spoke, finally settling for a dramatic break as while saying "tomato paste!"

He tried keeping himself composed, he really did, slowly stroked his son's curls, but quickly enough Theodore crumbled. Exhaustion, pain and all that worry that he was barely holding, finally broke him. He hid his face behind his hands as he cried uncontrollably. His drenched shoulders shaking with each painful sob.

"Teddy?" Fran asked worriedly, his soft voice kept quiet as if Theodore was a rabbit that he didn't want to scare off. "Why are you crying?"

It might seem like a stupid question given the circumstances, and if it was anyone else, Theodore would've given them the deathglare. But he knew that Franny genuinely couldn't understand the consequences of actions, wether they were his own or others. So he simply sniffled and smiled as bright as he could, resuming to fluff up his baby's hair.

Fran's face scrunched up as if he had tasted a lemon, his soft features all grouping in the middle of his face. But he didn't mind this, not really, he just found it fun to do this face because he doesn't get to often. And Theodore knows this, they spoke about this before... before this..  him.

"I wanna sleeeeeeeeeeep." Fran whined while pouting, earning him an honest chuckle from his dad.

Theodore opened his arms as his son jumped up, landing perfectly on his waiting shoulder. Fran swung his feet, accidentally hitting his father's chest a few times, not too many times tho as he was doing his absolute best to avoid it. But that swinging was making it harder for Theo to safely stand up, but he made do and made his way back indoors carrying his son like a sack of potatoes, which is the only way Franny likes to be held.

Deep in his mind, Theodore knew that this won't be the end of this abusive relationship, he was too dependent, too afraid of being abandoned and left alone to leave. But the cracks were only becoming more and more prominent, and hell was knocking on their door.

[tokimihyachi]

Sky

BC Christmas One Shots (#1)

Pairing: William Vangeance X Reader

Warnings: None

To say that I was tired was an understatement. Our squad, the Golden Dawn, has been receiving much work since Christmas is near which I don’t understand. Don’t these burglars have any plans this holiday other than stealing and giving us extra work?

“Y/N!” turning the heel of my shoes, to the voice that called me as our eyes met.

Mimosa came running towards me with a smile planted on her face. “Klaus-san, Yuno and I were talking about going on a little shopping trup before we get back to the base. And we were wondering if you’d like to come with us?” she asked, her voice a little too hopeful that I would tag along.

I smiled and nodded at the young Vermillion and she dragged me back to the group happily. 

~  ~  ~  ~  ~  ~  ~  ~  ~  ~  ~

When Mimosa said that we had to go shopping, of course I knew they would buy presents for others, but even I never expected the amount of things in front of my very  eyes.

As my eyes squinted at the sight, I looked over at the black-haired boy who looks as if he was smirking, “Uhm, Yuno?” I called out as he looked at me questioningly.

“Why did you buy everything in the toy shop?” he blinks at least four times before smiling softly, the kind of smile the three of us did not fathom to have existed in his vocabulary, “I’m sending them back home. Let’s go.” After realizing that he was smiling, he dismisses this and walks ahead of us with the pile being tied to a rope following him.

“Did he just smile?” Mimosa asked no one in particular. “Oh my God, he just smiled!” she cheered.

“Yuno come back here!!!” Klaus yelled and ran after Yuno and the two kept demanding to see the boy smile again like complete idiots. 

Painting my own face with a grin, I started walking towards their direction before hearing a few boxes move to my right down an alleyway. Once my eyes landed on the stack of the said item, they moved again. Not another thief hiding incredulously in garbage.

Mimosa looked back, “Y/N-chan? Are you alright?” she asked. “Uhhh, you guys go ahead. I have something I need to take care of!” I yelled back as they nodded and left.

I begrudgingly went near it, and prepared my grimoire, but when the culprit went out, I was surprised to see a ginger cat with blue eyes purring softly as it laid down its make-believe-house out of the carton.

Though I was not a fan of cats, seeing this one abandones at this time of the year, out in the cold with no one to help him or her somewhat made feel sorry for it. 

So, in the end, I fixed his little house made out of the scrap materials present in the area, as well as bought it food and even a scarf that served as its warm comforter while placing a blanket above its abode for extra warmth.

“I’ll be back, little one.” I whispered and left.

~  ~  ~  ~  ~  ~  ~  ~  ~  ~  ~

Ever since that fateful encounter with the cat, I constantly came back to check-up on her. After reading a few books about cats, which I had to look for in a local library since books about them in our own base went missing, I found out that the cat is a girl and so, I named it Cielo. Well, the captain did.

“Captain Vangeance!” I yelled before he exited the room where the meeting was held earlier. “Yes?” he asked as I gulped down.

Well, it’s now or never I guess… “Do you happen to know any language besides our own?” he looked confused for a moment before answering, “As a matter of fact, I do. Why do you ask?” sighing as I did not embarass myself I placed a hand on my chin and snapped my finger after remembering what I wanted to ask,

“Can you give me different translations of the word ‘Sky’?”

“Sky?”

“Yes, Captain. Sky.”

“I can, but why so?”

“I-I,… can’t say it.”

“…”

“Shall I write it down on paper for you?”

“Yes please! Thank you, Captain Vangeance!” I sang happily as he amiably smiled at me before turning around and signalling me to follow him his office.

And so this little girl is named Cielol Latin for sky as her eyes reminded me of the ever radiant horizons during the summer.

I thanked the vendor near the alleyway where I always bought Cielo’s food. Due to the amount of missions I had, I was only given the chance to visit her early in the morning. 

Prancing my way towards Cielo’s place, an unfamiliar scent welcomed me. When I took a closer look, I found the little kitten with a pair of mittens on her hands and a nicely knitted outfit just the right size for her with a bowl of milk beside it.

Huh? I don’t remember giving her any of this…

Despite the coldness of tyhe ground, I sat on the floor and patted Cielo before taking out her food to which she purrs at me with a look that if one were to know her, she would be saying: Thank you.

20 minutes came by and after venting all my frustrations to her, I stood up and bid her goodbye. The sweater she wore looked nice.

~  ~  ~  ~  ~  ~  ~  ~  ~  ~  ~

Quietly eating breakfast to myself, Mimosa, Klaus, and Yuno were talking to themselves about, my nose picked up a familiar scent. Chamomile…

Cielo has been smelling like Chamomile for the past few days so my eyes immediately wandered around as my nose tried to pinpoint the exact location of the smell. 

Could it be David? Maybe. I heard from the others that he had a well-groomed cat at hime.

Letoile? Oh, I think she’s allergic to them.

Alecd— No. Definitely not. His attention and eyes are all for the Captain after all…

“Y/N!” shaking my head, I looked at Klaus who seemed frustrated and gave him a peace sign. 

“Hmp. I was asking whether you had plans on Saturday night. The Golden Dawn is having their annual Christmas Party. Oh,… I forgot about that. “Ofcourse! I’ll just probably be a few minutes late.” seeing that I was awkward about it, Klaus thankfully pressed on the issue any more.

Still, whose scent does that belong to?

~  ~  ~  ~  ~  ~  ~  ~  ~  ~  ~

On the night of our Christmas Party, I went to Cielo’s place first as I failed to give her, her treats in the morning since Mimosa asked help in decorating the Tree in the base.

Today’s food was special since it was Christmas Eve. Cielo respectfully listened to all my rants about Vice- Captain Langris’ snoring— he ignored the claim several times when I brought it up— so this was the least I could do.

Unfortunately, Cielo wasn’t in the box or anywhere else for that matter. I panicked and ran to different places and she was nowhere to be found. Crestfallen, I decided to at least place the trinkets on her house to honor her loving memory only to find a silhouette present there while my kitten was backing to the corner.

I opened my grimoire and only a split second before attacking the person, a feather was seen in the light. Wait, feathers!? “Y/N? What are you doing here?” Captain Vangeance asked me, walking towards my place where I could view his outfit. Cute.

Shaking my head I answered him, “Giving Cielo these.” I began, showing him the bag of things, “How about you, Sir?” he looked at me, the bag, then back to the ginger cat, who was happily cheering for a reason I cannot understand, before chuckling to himself.

“Uhh, Captain Vangeance?”

“Pardon me. I was simply delighted that I was correct.” he replied, eyes locking with my own.

“H-Huh?” the slow minded woman that I am couldn’t comprehend what he just uttered.

“You see, I’ve always wondered why on Clover Kingdom must you always sneak out an hour early before breakfast. I tried following you to see of your whereabouts but I lost you on your third turn. Then I found her.” he told me, pointing at Cielo.

“You know she’s a girl too?” I asked. The Captain seemed amused with my first question at him after finding out about who the other person taking care of Cielo is before he hummed in reply.

“The books about cats going missing in the library, the scent of Chamomile during breakfast back in the base, the pretty outfit, and of course, you! The animal lover! That was all you?” He nodded at me before I scratched my head.

I’m such an idiot.

“Oh, but I have to ask, Sir.” he looked at me, awaiting my question.

“Why were you following me?” Did he… just blush!? Though it was barely visible because of his mask, you can see a little of it just slightly above his nose!!! 

The Captain coughs before answering, “Well, I’ve been trying to find the right time to confess something to you, but we’ve been far too busy the past few weeks.” he said. Oh my God. Oh my God. Oh my God.

“And that is?” I asked, biting my inner lip and preventing myself from squealing.

“Would you… like to be my p-partner this Winter Ball?” he asked, looking away to conceal his embarassment.

“L-Like a da-date?” I stuttered.

“You can reject the idea of it being a date if you’re uncomfortable. And If you wish to decline then you have all the reasons—”

“Are you kidding me? I’d love to go on a date with you! Plus it’s a ball! That’d make it hella romantic.” I cheered, not realizing the words I’ve spilled.

A shiver went up my spine due to the coldness of the weather as the Captain placed his cloak around me, “We should get going. The party is about to start.” I nodded at him before taking his hand and gently squeezing it.

“Thank you, Captain Vangeance.” I said, making him stop in his tracks, looking over at me then to our hands clasped together before he brought my hands closer to his lips and kissing the back of my palm gently, caressing it with much caution afterwards.

“William. Just William.” smiling in reply, the two of us looked back at Cielo, who was happy just as much as were that her parents finally met, while looking up the sky as dozens of snowflakes continued to fall, inviting people to spend their days inside their homes and enjoy the festive evening with their family and loved ones.

[luci-in-trenchcoats]

Forget Me Not (Part 2)

Summary: One day Dean seems to remember the reader which gives her hope about maybe getting him back home. But something isn’t sitting right with the reader when she looks into his medication...

Part 1

Pairing: AU!Dean x reader

Word Count: 2,900ish

Warnings: mentions of past abuse, mentions of death

______

“Hi Dean,” you said, taking a seat across from him at lunch. He glanced at you, staring at your visitors badge.

“Hey, Y/N,” he said. You froze in place, Dean going back to shoveling some ravioli in his mouth. 

“You know my name?” you asked.

“I remember my girlfriend’s name,” he said with a smile. “Although I suppose we aren’t dating anymore.”

“Dean, what-“

“I sort of unsnapped this morning. I was watching freaking Lassie with the goldfish guy and the chick with that wears the pink bucket on her head and I was just like what the fuck am I doing in here? Sammy didn’t want this for me. I got issues but shit, you come see me every single day and...I remember those conversations now. I’m tired of being scared and I want to be attached to people. Being alone sucks,” he said.

“Let’s talk to the doctor after lunch and see if we can work on getting you out of here.”

“So he’s an involuntary patient now is what you’re saying,” you said, crossing your arms in the doctor’s office.

“He had a mental snap. That’s not something to be taken lightly,” he said.

“I have been coming here every single day for months. I was stuck here for two months if you remember, Dr. Devon. I know what crazy is. Dean is not crazy. He was scared and now he’s decided he’s not going to be so what’s the problem with taking him home?” you said.

“Sane people don’t have mental snaps,” he said. 

“Can I take him out for an hour or two at least?” you asked.

“No. It’s too much for him and I don’t want him to have a reliance on you,” he said.

“Reliance? Sorry I’m not like all these other poor people’s families and don’t come visit them. I’m quite literally the only person he’s got left and I’m not leaving him behind.”

“Are you sure you don’t have an unhealthy obsession with-“

“I’m in love with him. You should try it sometime. Might fill that pit in your chest,” you shot back, slamming the door on the way out.

“Hi,” said Dean the next day. You forced a smile on your face, Dean shaking his head. “Don’t pretend to be happy just for me.”

“They won’t let you leave on account of what happened,” you said.

“I figured. I may have snuck back and took a look at my chart.”

“Always the troublemaker,” you said, rubbing your hand through his hair.

“Apparently I’m nuts. I do have a favor to ask though,” he said.

“Sure.”

“Sam’s birthday was last week. Can you get some flowers or something and put them by wherever he wound up?”

“Yeah,” you said. “I can do that. You got your days all settled again?”

“Yeah,” he said quietly. “Y/N...I don’t think they’re ever going to be letting me out of this place. I don’t want you to be stuck to me. You don’t...you don’t have to stay.”

“Wow. That might just be the craziest thing you have ever said to me,” you said, Dean rolling his eyes. “Uh uh. Sorry but you’re stuck with me.”

“But why? I’m like the world’s worst boyfriend,” he said.

“I had the world’s worst boyfriend. The abusive one I killed, remember? You got scared Dean. Sam was...he didn’t look like Sam after he died and you had to see that from what they said and were trapped in that car with him for close to an hour. That was your worst nightmare and you were forced to live through it. I’m so sorry you had to see that baby and that you lost Sam that night. I am. But you’re allowed to get scared over it.”

“I didn’t get scared, Y/N. I had a mental breakdown,” he said.

“Well I had one too when I shot that asshole that used to hurt me,” you said. “I’m not abandoning you Dean. You saved me from this place and I’m gonna save you from it too.”

“Pill time Mr. Winchester,” said a nurse, setting down two paper cups in front of Dean.

“We’re having a conversation,” you said.

“Just forget it. I don’t want to get in trouble with nurse Rachet,” said Dean, tossing them back.

“Funny. I’ve never heard that one before,” she said, rolling her eyes as she walked away.

“Do you even know what those pills are for?” you asked.

“They make me sleepy and zone out I suppose,” said Dean, scratching his head. “They always gave them to me here.”

“Even when you were voluntary?” you asked. He nodded, licking his lips.

“Always makes me thirsty,” he said.

“They didn’t give me anything when I came here and I was definitely involuntary,” you said.

“Maybe they always knew I was nuts,” he said.

“Did Sam know they gave you pills?” you asked.

“No...what are you thinking while I’m still coherent enough for this conversation,” he said.

“I don’t know...I...honestly I always thought it was strange how you reacted after the accident. I mean, you did so well after you left and moved in with Sam. I know you were scared at first but a week later you were perfectly okay,” you said.

“What are you saying?” he asked.

“What meds are they giving you?” you asked. 

“Uh, I’m not gonna be able to pronounce it,” he said. 

“Take my phone and go snap a picture of your file,” you said, handing it over under the table. “I’m gonna get the nurse to leave the station.”

“How?” he said.

“By acting like a dumbass,” you said, knocking Dean’s cup off the table. You stood up and stood in the liquid, making a show of slipping and falling to the ground. You shut your eyes, some feet moving around and you played dumb, peeling open your eyes to catch Dean pop out of the nurses station. “Sorry. I’m a klutz.”

You gave Dean a hug goodbye after you got to your feet, your phone getting slid back in your pocket.

“Be safe in here, Dean,” you said.

“Be safe out there,” he said quietly. 

“Do me a favor and throw up that medicine if you get the chance,” you said.

“No complaints from me.”

“Those motherfuckers,” you said that night, running your hands over your face as you looked at your computer. The medicine Dean was on was great for people with severe mental problems like psychosis or those that couldn’t differentiate reality from fantasy or hallucinations. When given to a perfectly normal person though, it fucked them up pretty good.

Dean hit every single one of the side effects. Memory loss, mood changes, depression, anxiety, exaggerated fears. In small doses like he’d gotten during his first stay, it probably fed into his anxiety which turned into fear which probably kept him there. In a larger dose though, it would have caused him to forget about you, the accident, Sam.

“Why are they drugging you, baby,” you said to yourself, tucking your knees into your chest. “Why would they want to keep you there…”

You sighed and pursed your lips, trying to think of why Dean went in the first place. He’d always said it’d been voluntary but maybe he’d been drugged before hand and…

“That’s crazy,” you groaned. You stood and went back to your kitchen, pouring yourself a glass of water. There was a knock on your back slider door and you jumped. Grabbing a knife you looked over at it, your hand immediately dropping it. Quickly you went over and opened it, shutting it after a moment while your glass of water was gulped down.

By Sam fucking Winchester.

“Thanks,” breathed Sam, filling it up again before he slid down the cabinets and started to drink.

“Are you a zombie,” you said, looking him up and down. He stared at you and rolled his eyes. “You don’t look like a zombie.”

“I’m not dead, Y/N. I never was,” said Sam, closing his eyes. “I got fucking kidnapped.”

“What?”

“I’m a lawyer. I apparently won a case I shouldn’t have and now my life is a living hell,” said Sam, crawling over to your fridge. He opened it up and looked around, stealing a sandwich from the shelf.

“Are you okay?” you asked.

“Oh, I’ve had a hell of a time the past few months,” he said. “Listen, about Dean-”

“He’s being drugged to make him a bit on edge or occasionally crazy. Yeah, figured that one out today,” you said. Sam nodded and took a bite of his food.

“The car accident wasn’t an accident. Someone hit us and they shoved a big ass needle in his arm and then I think when he woke up, he got fed a story that he believed because of whatever they gave him. We, and by we I mean you, need to get him out of there,” said Sam.

“He’s involuntary. I’ve tried,” you said.

“Is it that bastard Devon? I’m pretty sure he works for these people,” said Sam.

“Okay but why would someone drug Dean before they kidnapped you?” you asked.

“Dean has never been the most emotionally healthy person. I won’t pretend that but he’s never been nuts a day in his life. He went out with this guy’s daughter. The next day, he admits himself to that hospital. She drugged him. She drugged him and got him in there where Devon could keep feeding him meds. Then you encouraged him to leave and he did. He couldn’t force Dean to stay since he wasn’t any danger. It was all part of a long con I found out. This way, once they kidnapped me again, Dean would go back in and I was told very clearly that they can get in but he can’t get out.”

“They were holding him captive without anyone besides Devon even realizing,” you said, putting your hands on your head. “Shit Sam.”

“I know. The drugs probably help keep up the illusion. But Dean’s starting to get used to the meds which is why they finally let me out,” he said. “Now that I am properly incentivized, I’ll do what they say.”

“What exactly are you going to do? This guy’s already in jail, isn’t he?”

“I’m going to take the fall and say I planted evidence and I did it. I didn’t die, I ran to protect myself. If I don’t, Dean gets a big dose tomorrow morning, one that will either kill him or...turn him to mush. I don’t know but it is my fault he is trapped in there and it’s my fault he’s felt like shit for so long and he didn’t deserve any of it. I need your help, Y/N. Please.”

“It’s not your fault Sam and you’re not going to do what they said. We’re going to get Dean out and get these guys,” you said.

“Y/N, there’s no way. I just...I need you to look after Dean for me after I’m gone. Please,” he said.

“Do it yourself. We’re getting him out. Tonight.”

“How? It’s-”

“Sam. You seem to have forgotten that the last guy that hurt me, I killed him. Whoever these people are, they hurt me and my boys. I am sure you’re a whole lotta jacked up and hiding it right now which is fine but we’ll deal with it later. These people got a weak spot. You just aren’t seeing it.”

“What’s that?”

“He has a daughter, Sam.”

“Hello, Helena,” you said with a smile a few hours later. She narrowed her eyes at you from where Sam held her back in the middle of her bedroom. 

“Do you have any idea who my father-”

“Crime boss. Yes, we know who your father is,” you said. “Yes, I’m sure he’s going to kill us and blah blah. I am more interested in knowing if you care about what you’ve done on behalf of your father.”

“What wouldn’t a daughter do for her father?” she smirked.

“Don’t make it creepy. I’m talking about Dean Winchester. You drugged him last year, got him to admit himself to the institute down the road,” you said.

“So?”

“Well, your family has been feeding him drugs that aren’t too friendly with those not suffering from certain conditions. I was simply wondering if you’d like to experience what Dean’s been dealing with,” you said. You reached into your jacket pocket and pulled out a small case, unzipping it to reveal a capped syringe.

“You’re nuts,” she said, squirming against Sam.

“No, but you’re about to be,” you said, taking off the top. “Which arm? I’ll let you pick.”

“I didn’t drug him!”

“Yeah you did,” you said, flicking the syringe.

“Okay, I did at the bar but dad just said the guy owed money. He didn’t say…” she said, staring at you. “That’s saline, isn’t it.”

“Yes, it is,” you said, putting it back in the case. “I did not figure you for an asshole Helena and the torturing type. But that’s what your father did. He hurt my boyfriend. He hurt my friend right there behind you. They weren’t bad people. My friend did his job as a lawyer and that is all.”

Sam released her and she shrugged him off, taking a deep breath.

“I’m not asking you to turn on your father or your family,” you said, her gaze wandering over to yours. “I’m not even going to threaten you. I just want you to tell me how to get your dad to back off.”

“If he’s a lawyer I’m guessing you put away one of dad’s guys,” she said, looking at Sam. “That must make you Mr. Winchester. You put away Burt, dad’s second in command.”

“Yes, I did. He killed a young woman,” said Sam.

“I know. She was my friend. Who do you think the anonymous tip came from,” she said. 

“Then help us, Helena,” you said. “Help your friend. Don’t let him get out.”

“...What do you need me to do.”

Two Days Later

“Hey, Dean,” you said, popping into his hospital room to find him fast asleep in his bed, his detox bag going through him still. Sam was in the other bed, a few injuries wrapped up as he took a nap. 

“Y/N,” said Dr. Martin, waving you out to the hall. 

“The boys doing better today? I wanted to see if I could bring them lunch by,” you said.

“Sam’s injuries are healing. Dean’s system is nearly flushed of any traces of the drugs. Physically, they’re both doing well. Mentally, I’m going to recommend some individual and family therapy for everyone,” he said.

“Probably not a bad idea,” you said, smiling as you glanced in the room. “How are they really?”

“Sam is experiencing what we’d expect him to. Dean, I don’t suspect there will be any long lasting effects but the next week is going to be rough for him, the both of them,” he said. “I would just be gentle with them both for now and encourage them to talk but don’t push.”

“Thank you,” you said. You ducked into their room and took a seat in a chair, kicking up your feet with a sigh. “You’ll be alright boys.”

“I’m home,” you said a few days later, carrying a mountain of groceries under your arms. “Boys!”

You heard nothing and carried the bags into the kitchen, smirking when you looked out the back window and saw them each laying on one of your patio chairs.

“How are you two doing?” you asked, ruffling Dean’s head. 

“Enjoying freedom,” said Sam, stretching out in his seat. “I’ll grab the rest of the groceries. You’ve been going like crazy the past few days, Y/N.”

“Thanks, Sam. I picked up some stuff for burgers later, figured maybe we could grill,” you said. “I got ground turkey for you.”

“Sounds great,” said Sam. He popped inside and you ran your fingers through Dean’s hair.

“Feeling more with it today?” you asked.

“Yeah. More of those gaps are filling in. Thanks for getting me out of there,” he said.

“You never needed to be there,” you said. He reached up and grabbed your hand, smiling as he looked up at you. 

“Please don’t ever do anything like that again though. You could have wound up hurt or worse,” he said.

“I can hold my own,” you said. “I love you, De.”

“I love you,” he said, reaching up and pulling your face down to his. “Thanks for not giving up on me, sweetheart.”

“Never, Dean.”

______

[powerwordsleep]

Sasuke Retsuden (Unofficial English Translation)

I’ve decided to do my own take on translating Sasuke Retsuden. It’s a long novel and difficult, so this will be a slow work in progress. As such I will be posting chapter by chapter updates here until the whole novel is finished and I can compile it in one document. 

DISCLAIMER: This is not an official translation and was not made for profit or distribution. This translation was fan-made and done for purely enjoyment and translation practice purposes. I do not own the rights to NARUTO or any of the related materials. 

Authors: Kishimoto Masashi and Esaka Jun Binding: Takahashi Kenji (Tera Engine) Editing Cooperation: Soeda Yohei (Tsubame Productions) Publishing Office: Shueisha Co. 101-8050 Tokyo, Chiyoda, Hitotsubashi 2-5-10 Printing Office: Kyodo Printing Co. Ltd. ©2019 M. Kishimoto/J. Esaka

PLEASE DO NOT REPOST THIS ANYWHERE ELSE. THIS IS MY WORK, THANK YOU VERY MUCH.

Character Introduction

Uchiha Sasuke: The master of the kekkei-genkai, the Sharingan. Member of Team 7 and husband of Sakura. 

Uchiha Sakura: Master of medical ninjutsu. Member of Team 7 and wife of Sasuke. 

Zansur: Director of the Astronomy Research Institute. Has apparently accepted an important mission from the minister of the country Redaku. 

Menō: A giant lizard prison guard who monitors the Astronomy Research Institute.

Jiji: A prisoner who shares a room with Sasuke and is doing manual labor for the Astronomy Research Institute.

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2

Prologue

He can’t sleep. The man pressed his thin body to the chilly sheets. Inside the room his breath is white, and no matter how much he wraps the comforter that doesn’t fully cover him around his body, the shaking and shivering of his chest can’t be stopped.

He’s sleeping in sweat and dirt stained thin bedding. Soon it will be a half-moon. Every time he sleeps the bruises all over his body increase, so he never can feel rested. If he could sleep a little in an area with no draft, it would be enough. 

With feelings of bitterness the man opened his heavy eyelids and strained his eyes, surveying the dark room. Six adults sleep huddled in a small corner of the six-mat tatami room. In this place it’s natural for a newcomer such as himself to be allotted the coldest part of the room, with no room for objections or arguments. He shifted on the hard floor and let out a pained moan. 

“Damn it. Why is this happening to me…” 

Before the half-moon, the man had been in a prison in the capital of Redaku. Even though there had been no freedom, minimum standards of living had been guaranteed, and it was safer and more comfortable than here. He had even thought about going back to commit another suitable crime when his sentence finished. However, one day it was suddenly decided that he was to be transferred. He was only told that he would be engaged in public works in the cold regions. Because it was physically demanding labor, only young and healthy prisoners would be allowed to do it. He was brought to an astronomy observation facility made of stone, built on the peak of a desolate mountain range. 

The Tartar Astronomy Research Institute. 

It is said to be a research institute with an ancient and honorable origin derived from Janmarū Tartar—an astronomist of folklore legend who lived at the same time as the Rokudō Sennin. But he didn’t care about that. The issue was that this place was below freezing even in early springtime. And no matter how he thought about it, with the provided food, clothes, room and having to dig up cold dirt from morning to night without rest, it was an environment where livestock were treated better. 

“Why… is this happening to me?” 

He clenched his trembling teeth and squeezed the edge of the futon. Day after day of work, the skin of his palm peeled off and his nails became soiled with dirt. 

His crime was robbery and murder. Three years ago, on a winter’s day he had been having trouble finding something to eat. He broke into a house that caught his eye and stole everything of value. He left the young husband, wife, and two children bound in ropes and ran. Two days passed without anyone noticing them and they all froze to death. Since that’s how the four of them were killed he doesn’t count it as murder. He had no intention to kill; it was an accident. Generally, when he had no food to eat he stole from other houses. Was that not a case of legitimate self-defense? 

Why did I have to encounter those eyes?

Frustration swam like water in his chest. He was at his limit. The man decided while staring at the grooves in the ceiling—when dawn breaks, he’ll break out of prison. 

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

The prisoners’ lives are managed by the sound of a gong. 

When the muffled clang signaling waking time reverberates throughout, the prisoners rise from bed like zombies and begin their day. They are always on time, because if they oversleep the patrolling guards offer no mercy when they catch them and force them to eat their batons. He wiped away the sleep from his eyes, and exited the room while yawning and scratching his rash covered arms.

Meals are served twice a day. The menu consisted only of messily stir-fried vegetables and wheat, and pork that looked suspicious to eat. The man lined up in the queue stretching out of the cafeteria and took a deep breath to quell his tumultuous feelings. Contrary to the heaviness and drowsiness lingering on his body, his nerves were clear and excited. Even as a man who walks in steps on his foot and another behind him spits phlegm out close to his ear, he doesn’t care. 

Today he'll leave here. He’s going to break out of prison. 

After securing his breakfast, the man looked around the room full of prisoners. If he’s going to escape, there’s someone he wants to invite. The shabby room was only a cafeteria in name, with rattling tables and chairs made from cut logs lined up. The man with the eyes was sitting in his usual seat by the window. 

Inmate number 487. Sasuke.

What is rare is his appearance rather than his name. Pure black hair and eyes. His face is finely chiseled and thin. The beauty of his nose stands out nicely on his profile, his features lined up perfectly on his face. No matter the angle, he looks like a painting come to life. If you looked at him up close you’d start to question whether you’re even of the same species. 

The fact that while he was born with such an appearance he was silent, unfriendly, and always cold and blunt like a cat, attracted attention from his surroundings. Despite that, because he was so strong that no one could raise a hand against him, he was a nuisance. On the day Sasuke arrived, a group of longtime prisoners immediately went to mess with the curious newcomer, and in a second their joints were severed and they were groveling on the ground. Looking down on the men crying in pain, the warning that came from Sasuke’s mouth was simple. 

“Don’t get in my way.”

For most of the prisoners Sasuke was someone hard to get close to. It was the same for this man too, of course, but it was strange to think that when he escaped today he would be able to speak his mind like normal. 

The man seated himself in front of Sasuke and opened his mouth.

“U-um,” Although his voice had been strong and burning with a fighting spirit when he imagined this, in reality it came out trembling and weak as he spoke.

“U-uh, you’re also… a-a shinobi, yeah?”

Sasuke moved his gaze from outside the window to the man facing him. 

“What do you want?”

“I-I’m also a shinobi. I’m from the Land of Wind. I never graduated from the academy and was abandoned by my parents… and I eventually ended up in this country. I can still control my chakra. Watch!” 

Using chakra, he attached the tip of a chopstick to his finger and shook it around for him to see. When he looked determinedly back at Sasuke, he had already lost interest and his black eyes had returned to gazing out the window. 

He’s ignoring me?

Sticking out his tongue, the man glared at Sasuke. 

If he got imprisoned in such a backwater country then he’s probably not that great of a shinobi either.

Sasuke was staring intently out the window while using his chopsticks in beautiful form, dexterously eating bamboo shoots and strawberries that had been arranged together in triangles on a crushed iron plate. He was an unfriendly man, but unknowingly to him his behavior was revealing his growing kindness, little by little. Among the human trash that made up the prisoners, Sasuke was clearly different. 

He waited for Sasuke to finish his meal and then broached the subject. “W-will you join me?” He was nervous and stammered out his words. 

“What do you mean?”

“Escape. I-I’m going to run away from here. Y-you can also use chakra, right? Um, w-we can climb the wall and run away.” 

The Astronomy Research Institute was surrounded on all four sides by a wall made of stone about ten meters high. Looking at it from below it seemed tall, but with chakra it was climbable. 

“I’ve a-already had enough. Y-you have too, right?”

Sasuke stared at the man, expressionless. 

“What do you know about me?”

“I know that you are not a normal person, at least.” Finally, he was able to speak until the end without stuttering. 

How on earth a man like Sasuke ended up in a place like this he could not figure out. Still, he didn’t think he was satisfied with the dull day-to-day manual labor of this place. 

“Let’s run away together. After this everyone will be going to their morning work shift, yeah? We can use that as cover and cross over the wall.” 

“Forget it. Outside the wall it’s nothing but wasteland. The closest village is two days on foot from here. You’ll end up dying.”

“But you can gather tons of wild plants and nuts, which is way better than what we can eat here. Also, look, there’s this mist out today. Now is the only time we could sneak past Menō’s eyes—”

“Don’t say I didn’t warn you,” Sasuke said shortly and with a glance out the window, he gathered his empty plate and stood up. Prisoners who were standing around talking in the narrow passage panicked as they saw Sasuke approaching and rushed to the sides to give him room. 

“Don’t you want to get out of here?!” 

The man ran up and latched onto his arm, but Sasuke easily freed it from his grip.

“Sorry, but I came here because I wanted to.” 

“... What?” 

Here? He wanted to come here?

The man was left taken aback as Sasuke exited the cafeteria. He waited until he could no longer see Sasuke’s form and then kicked the leg of a table in anger. 

Idiot. Whatever. He can rot in this shithole place forever. I’m going to be free. 

The man gathered his plate full of a messy breakfast and stomped out into the hallway. He cast a backwards glance at the prisoners scattered about sitting and chatting, then continued on outside to look upon the wall on the prison grounds. There was still time before the morning shift started. The chances of patrols coming out here should be low. No one guards the fence. Unlike actual prisons, the patrols here basically only work security. They’re not concerned about people who can’t even climb a ten-meter wall. 

That’s too bad. I can climb it. 

The man placed his hand upon the smooth stone wall. Recalling the lessons from his past, he gathered chakra and concentrated it in his palm. There was a sensation of it sticking precisely to the stone surface. The man started crawling up the wall like a frog.

In the distance he could hear a commotion from the other prisoners. It had only been a few minutes since he started climbing. There should be few people outside at this time. The head guard and the other patrols should be having breakfast in the main building. 

It’s fine. You can do it. Climb up before you’re found. Menō will appear at some point. 

His body was lighter than he imagined. He’d already climbed about halfway but wasn’t tired. He could keep climbing for another hour. 

There was the sound of gravel and sand being stepped on. The man looked over his shoulder and met yellow eyes. A chill went down his spine.

He’d been found. It was Menō. 

This is bad, this is bad, this is bad—I have to escape quickly!

In his panic the man lost control of his chakra. The hand touching the wall slipped off and his body floated in midair. 

I’m falling, he thought. Then a burning pain erupted in his torso, his blood pressure dropping suddenly. As he lost consciousness, he met the unmistakable eyes of Menō, sinking his teeth deep into his chest.

[monchikyun]

IX. roadside loneliness

Gavin is totally screwed, there’s no way around it. Who gave his greedy heart the permission to speak anyway. Why didn’t he put a lock on his running mouth before he decided to perform some kind of bonding ritual with the person who is ruining his life in the best way one ever could. He tries to justify it to himself, puts blame on the perfect moment that had made him lose his guard. Things always get out of hand whenever one of them crosses the flimsy boundary they have so carefully set up. His feelings just can’t help going outside their cage whenever their source starts mirroring them and plant dangerous ideas to his head while they’re at it. They entice him with the possibility that Connor could love him too. That he isn’t just tolerating his advances for the sake of their relationship, that he hasn’t done all this because he’s afraid Gavin would leave him alone if he said no.

If only he wasn’t such a coward and finally asked. “Hey Connor, do you maybe have feelings for me?” Yeah, that’s never ever going to happen. He’d rather spend the rest of his life in solitude than do something this embarrassing. And it’s not that he fears rejection, but the moment his little bubble of hope gets burst, there is no telling how his twisted mind will react. He fears that he would hurt Connor by returning to his old, callous self. It’s not easy to admit, but the android has played the main role in his path to redemption. Without him, he would still be a racist asshole ready to go after those who have done him no harm. He owes Connor more than he could ever pay back, so why does he put their hard-earned connection at risk all the time. Why does he think he can go on like this, aching for someone who requires stability, solid ground under his feet, not the bottomless abyss Gavin has become throughout the years no one was there to make sure he doesn’t fall the wrong way. If only… if he had met Connor before he went bad, then things would have had the chance to work out. Though the android hasn’t even been created back then, so at least he doesn’t have to beat himself over for not finding him sooner.  

If only they didn’t spend the night together, leaning onto each other like they needed one another to survive the night. Gavin did, and Connor looked like the company served to calm his mind down. It was a bit selfish of him, but he doesn’t remember ever enjoying a sexless sleepover this much. No one-night stand could ever compare to holding the hand of the person he loves all through the night. He has no idea how happy romantic relationships work, for he has no experience in that area, but if they are anything like this, he has been missing out quite a lot. Maybe what they already have is enough, since every time he’s with Connor, he feels like his life his complete. The occasional intimacy is just the cherry on top.

So he makes himself believe that as long as he gets to be a part of Connor’s life, he’ll be fine.

“What are you smiling at?” Connor has switched from watching the world speed by behind the passenger window to observing his ugly mug. Gavin hasn’t even realised that he let his thoughts escape the confines of his mind, not that he usually does. It surprises him that his face displays contentment when it’s all rain inside.

“You’d like to know, wouldn’t you,” he chuckles, readying himself for what he’ll have to deal with at his destination.  

                                                      ❄️ ❄️ ❄️

They have been driving for three hours already and Connor has no clue about where exactly they’re heading. All he has been told that Gavin wants to visit his family because no one should be alone around Christmas time. He’s tempted to search through his personal files to find out more about the people they’re about to visit, but he’s sworn he wouldn’t and he doesn’t want to betray his friend’s trust like that. Asking hasn’t worked either. Ever since the night they shared together their communication has become more of a chore than it normally is. It’s like Gavin isn’t even here half the time, like he has departed somewhere far away without bothering to say goodbye. Maybe registering him as his owner has really been a mistake. Connor has only managed to put an unwanted burden on him without giving him the option to refuse. Gavin is weak when it comes to dealing with his broken android partner, that much Connor knows, so it wasn’t fair misusing the man’s feelings for his personal benefit like that. Perhaps when they have another peaceful moment together, then he’ll explain himself. Gavin deserves that much.

He passes time watching the detective concentrate on the snowy road beyond the windshield. The lights emanating from oncoming cars get reflected in his eyes, creating a mesmerising image which makes Connor completely entranced. Gavin isn’t perhaps a conventional beauty, but for him, there is no one more captivating. Just the mere sight of him makes his thirium pump beat faster, and he keeps wondering why his mind doesn’t allow him to speak the three defining words. Would it really be so awful if he let him know just how much he means to him? Probably. Gavin might get scared and shut him out completely. Maybe sometimes it’s better to be safe than sorry rather than do or die.

The night sky has yet again started spilling out a fresh batch of snowflakes, causing Gavin to slow down. He does seem to be upset by that since he mumbles something impolite under his breath.

“Are we expected at a certain hour?”  The android hopes he’ll be welcome at all, considering who he is.  

The question causes Gavin’s stress levels to spike and before Connor can react, the car pulls over by the side of the road. 

“No… actually, can you,” he takes a deep breath while his entire body is shaking… “can you please get out of the car, I… I need to do this alone.”

Something stabs Connor in the chest, yet he does his best to remain collected. 

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah… I’m sorry. I’ll pick you up when… when I’m done.”

He can hear the pain in Gavin’s voice and understands that sometimes there is nothing he can do. 

“Okay. I’ll wait for you.”

And just like that, Connor is being covered by the falling snow, ambling aimlessly alongside the road. He’s lucky that there’s a pavement, for he doesn’t want to repeat his little high-way chase ever again. Back then it was he who left someone behind, though the circumstances were very different. He really shouldn’t think about that time, lest it makes him paralysed with guilt here in the middle of nowhere, with no chance of rescue. The only person who has the ability to soothe him is busy handling his own issues right now, and good for him too. 

He can’t say it doesn’t hurt, that he wouldn’t rather be in the car with him trying to help with whatever he could. But Gavin doesn’t let him, and that is one of the most painful things the man could have done to him. Connor isn’t afraid nor is he cold, he isn’t even angry at Gavin for throwing him out of the vehicle. He just feels rejected, lonely. Wondering why he came here in the first place. Sure, it was all Gavin’s idea, and Connor trusted that he would be of use. Yet in the end, it has all been a waste. He’s been but a dead-weight meant only to burden.

It’s okay. Gavin hasn’t abandoned him, he just needs a moment for himself. So Connor will be here, patiently waiting till he returns. It could take an eternity and he still wouldn’t give up on him, despite the ache and all that comes with it. 

A snowflake lands on his forehead, just like it did on the first day of December. But this time, it doesn’t melt. It stays there, keeping him company like it can sense the forlornness growing inside of him.

“I’m not going to cry this time,” he mutters to himself.

A promise he will soon break.

@a-convin-new-year

[fascinatedhelix]

Some updates to the HK/NSR crossover AU, since the original was made pre-release (the following does contain spoilers!):

Ghost

Ran away from the Trankil Adoption Agency due to finding most humans too restrictive on their freedom; they’re accustomed to being able to come and go as they please, and the agency doesn’t really approve of trankil running around unattended. BBJ are more relaxed about it, leading to the little one being along the lines of a latchkey trankil.

Mayday and Zuke earn their trust by buying them food and helping them clean up in the restaurant’s bathroom, rather than just grabbing them and dragging them back to the agency. Aunty, for one, adores them, due to their sweet little face and how eagerly they eat her cooking.

Has pulled a knife on Kliff, multiple times, because he’s creepy as hell and sets off all their alarms, much to the exasperation of Zuke and Mayday. He tries bribing them with toys and snacks up until his betrayal, after which he almost gets stabbed again before BBJ drag Ghost with them to stop the fans.

Zuke doesn’t let them draw their blade in the sewer or on the streets, normally, but he doesn’t necessarily ban them from sharps entirely. He can tell they know how to use them, though he opts to let them use a kitchen knife instead of the haphazard scrap of metal they’ve been swinging around on the streets.

Zam has attempted to conduct interviews with Ghost before, but finds himself mostly just perplexed at their answers. "Okay, I’m looking at what appear to be, uh, hieroglyphics of some kind. I can see something that kind of looks like a rhinoceros beetle head... They’re shaking their head ‘no.’” The little section where he interviews them is nicknamed Ghost Tour.

Comet

They were sleeping in DJ Subatomic Supernova’s apartment at the time of the battle, since he didn’t think he’d need their help. They’re too small to be asked for a whole lot, anyway; he mostly has them around to keep himself company and have someone to talk to (or at, as the case may be).

Their sound energy absorbing powers would probably be enough to deactivate some of NSR’s robots; it comes in handy when the rogue robots are getting in the way of reinstating their guardian as charter.

Their favorite stuffed animal is a toy dolphin that DJSS calls Delphinus, though Comet calls them Splashy when they learn how to write.

As they grow older, their horns begin pointing backward and eventually curling into a similar shape to ram’s horns.

DJSS secretly relishes in the opportunity to have a legacy in the form of taking care of Comet, though he doesn’t know that they are probably more likely to carry his name farther into the future than any drones he sends up to space.

Bunny

They live with Remi, the artist and leader of the Sayu team. He treats them much like a little sibling, in the nice way, and gets them to watch some of the more family-friendly anime he watches; they’re particularly fond of Sailor Moon and Dragon Ball Z, even if they keep dismantling the figures he gets them. They’re much gentler with the plushies, though.

It takes a few weeks of watching Dodo and Sofa work on machinery to get them learning how to build stuff as well as break it. They make it an entire thing when they grow older, working on machinery.

They eventually grow cheek spines, not unlike some depictions of the adult Ghost, and otherwise heavily resemble Hornet as an adult. Much taller than her, though.

Sayu’s kind of reluctant to attack Ghost because they resemble Bunny so much; “You’re too cute to fight!” Zuke doesn’t like the idea of Ghost acting like a trankil shield in fights, but it does help throw off her aim.

Thorn

Yinu’s mom specifically chose the former Broken Vessel because they were the only trankil that expressed any interest in Yinu’s infodumping about classical music. They even responded to questions with head shaking or nodding.

They come to Yinu’s side after her piano breaks, letting go of their fight with Ghost quickly enough; they don’t fault their sibling for doing what they thought was right, even if they don’t understand it, but they believed Yinu needed their support more.

They’re taking violin lessons, as it’s a touch easier to adjust to playing with four fingers on that then on piano. They get pretty good at it as an adult, though in the modern day their playing is a touch mediocre.

After their performance at Yinu’s concert, fighting in her defense with a stolen machete, Yinu’s mom at first grounds Thorn for stealing and playing with sharps, but concedes to put them in a fencing program to “get it out of their system.” They turn out a lot more competent than the instructors were expecting, and intimidate the crap out of their peers. When they’re older they take up a proper swordfighting class.

Yinu does wind up joining them in learning fencing, after her mother gets a recommendation to get her to get more exercise to avoid literally rooting herself to her piano (not an unusual issue for plant folks; they have to move pretty regularly or else they get stuck in one spot and have to be cut out). Her mom worries that she takes to it a touch too eagerly, perhaps because of her relative helplessness.

Thorn acts fairly stoic and polite most of the time, but they can be quite the handful when something piques their interest. They get banned from at least one Renaissance fair due to playing with the swords or poking the roasting pig. Yinu starts covering for them after they start bribing her with extra sweets.

Scotty

Neon J initially treated them like a trainee when he got them, but it quickly slipped into adopted child territory when he realized just how young they were. He did want kids back when he was human, so he took very quickly to the role of adoptive father.

Scotty is very good at learning language and patterns, so they wind up learning English writing pretty quickly for one of their kind. Because of this, Neon J becomes one of the few privy to the nature of the vessels, though he is uncharacteristically quiet about it.

1010 adores Scotty, occasionally posting about them on social media, making them a bit of a fandom darling, though the band does have to put out PSAs about not getting a trankil irresponsibly.

Scotty’s favorite food is cheese tarts and cheese danishes, which they tend to be awarded for good behavior.

Scotty is a very active child; they dance, they run around the mansion, they swim in the pool (and just about any fountain they run across, much to Neon J’s embarrassment), and they can’t be brought within 100 feet of a dog park without trying to pet every animal in the vicinity.

They try their best to comfort their adoptive dad when he’s suffering from phantom pains or flashbacks, though they don’t know the techniques very well. Their usual method is gently patting his hand or leaning against him (among vessels they’d be leaning against each other in large groups, leading to one big cuddle pile; they can’t do it here by themselves, but they’ll sure as hell try).

Much to Neon J’s embarrassment, they become quite the potty mouth (er, hands) when they get older. He’s a sailor, he slips up every now and then!

Riley

The former Greenpath Vessel is rather happy to leave behind the harsh life they lived back in Hallownest, though they find the most success in recounting their old life through art.

Eve tends to be a very dramatic teacher, but quite gentle with her little friend. She couldn’t have asked for a more enthusiastic student, though.

Eve’s quite protective of the little thing; she’s not quite as heartbroken about Zuke’s abandonment due to the company of her apprentice/adopted child, but the thought of them being taken away tends to scare her quite a bit. As such, she tends to spoil them rotten, though they’re still quite sweet.

Riley has a degree of PTSD from their experience in Hallownest; they’re very sensitive to sounds and movement in their peripheral, and have bitten and scratched people on more than one occasion for getting in their bubble without proper warning or consent. Eve’s pretty good about avoiding their blindspot and having her footsteps make noise they can track.

Eve’s among the first to learn about the Lord of Shades and the dream realm due to her teaching her magic painting to Riley. With her help, they created the Dark Mirror, which allows people to enter a sort of waking simulation of the dream realm, though it tends to seriously disorient people not accustomed to messing with reality (musicians tend to do fine, but normal folks? Not so much). It becomes a very useful communication tool when discussing Hallownest and how it functioned.

Sterling

The former Hollow Knight views themselves as deeply indebted to Tatiana, though also viewing her as a friend. She gave them a name, a new purpose, and an opportunity to live again without the constraints of their failed duty; of course they’re going to feel kind of guilty about it.

Only the NSR artists and a few select NSR personnel have seen them in person, and the first thing people tend to notice is their sheer size. Tatiana worries how much renovations will have to be done to accommodate the rest of their kin once they grow up, if they wind up matching their eldest sibling.

They tend to have a reasonably positive relationship with the artists, due to their kindness towards the vessels and generally respectful attitude towards the behemoth of a trankil.  DJSS tends to rant about space in their general direction as his idea of small talk, and they tolerate it. He also not so subtly squees when he sees Comet interacting with their elder sibling. Sayu’s team thinks they’re anime hero levels of cool, sword and all, and Bunny tends to agree, trying to challenge them to fight. Yinu’s mom tends to scrutinize them as reference for Thorn’s later growth, though Yinu herself and Thorn tend to climb the adult trankil like a tree for fun. Neon J respects them deeply as a knight and technical prince, though Scotty’s pretty content to try and get them to play when they visit. Eve appreciates their good manners and willingness to listen, and Riley rather likes showing them their drawings.

Tatiana tends to treat Sterling as something of a confidante, due to their quiet nature and strong sense of loyalty. She worries they idolize her a touch too much to be healthy, but knowing what she does about their past, she’s not sure if a human therapist would help.

The wings grew in a couple weeks before the Rock Revolution; evidently they hadn’t developed quite enough to develop them before they had been sealed, leading to serious back troubles during their fight before their rebirth. It was a pretty chaotic affair helping them through their last molt, considering the other trankil who’ve been molting had a lot less to shed.

Tatiana tends to scold Sterling for digging through her old rock cassettes, though she comes to regret it after the whole debacle with BBJ.

Sterling’s way more ruthless than Tatiana asks for or is fully aware of; they tend to take threats to their new life, siblings, and new companions very, very seriously, and god help the poor soul who convinces them to act. Kliff doesn’t last long after the Rock Revolution, because of this, not that anyone notices.

Misc

The vessels were united under the leadership of Ghost to create the Lord of Shades, and upon killing and absorbing the Radiance, they’ve essentially become the collective gods of the Dream Realm as well as the Void and probably Death too. The level of focus and cooperation needed to fully activate these powers is incredibly high, especially after the vessels begin developing individual personalities, so there won’t be any casual appearances of the Shade Lord any time soon.

Vessels don’t need to eat to grow for the first five or six years of their life, as they have a lot of soul energy stored in their bodies from birth to facilitate growth in the Abyss (their “yolk”), but once that’s expended they won’t grow any more until they gain a stable food source and a safe environment to molt, hence why Ghost spent such a long time being so small, despite being the same age as Sterling. While not eating won’t kill them, humans don’t know that.

The average height for an adult vessel is 8 feet, from the bottom of their feet to base of their horns, whereas a newly hatched vessel (like Comet) is about the size of a tennis ball curled up.

People who aren’t accustomed to the otherworldly presence of the trankil tend to freak out when they’re nearby; the sheer emptiness of their eyes, the expressionless faces, the inhuman size and proportions all give anybody not used to it the heebie-jeebies. Of course, Vinyl City locals stopped caring pretty shortly after they first got the trankil.

[fizzingwizard]

I’m having trouble deciding how to place my crappy screen shots this week because ep 9 gave me the Taichi spam episode of my dreams xD

So, I guess feast your eyes on my favorite boy...

... I mean, you can’t have too much of that determined face, can ya? Haha. And he does it so well.

Well, I was prepared for a episode that was just a cool battle, but we actually did get more than just that. Or, I guess I should say, there was more layered over the battle so it didn’t feel like fighting for the sake of fighting. We still got character development. I love it.

My only criticism for this week is that, consequently, we got very little of the other characters. BUT, what we did get of them was not nothing either, so I’m gonna squee over that as well.

I mentioned some time ago, but also, THE MUSIC IN THIS SHOW, it’s really good. Very epic, very adventure. It kicks the tone up up UP.

More below!

We pick up where we left off last ep, with Taichi “translating” the digicode. Still no indication of whether the others are so linguistically blessed as well. But Taichi, for reasons unknown, can’t translate the entire passage. He basically learns enough to understand that the holy Digimon is trapped by the “dark” and in trouble, and they have to go find it, but after that he says he can’t read any more.

Sora: I told you to pay more attention at school.

Taichi: What school are you thinking of, spy school?!?

It will be interesting to find out why that is and it points to someone pulling the strings behind the curtain. Someone who’s made the kids their champion. Are they a benevolent being? The kids don’t doubt it so far. An old cabbage like me can’t help but look sidelong...

Jou panics over how they’re going to find the holy digimon without knowing where it is, to which Mimi responds that they do know.

Jou: Mimi-kun, you know where it is?

Mimi: Somewhere on this continent.

Jou: T_T Mimiiiiiiii-kunnnn

Taichi of course is raring to go, map or no map.

I mean I did warn you I only capped Taichi this ep...

They are interrupted by Ogremon, who we saw previously talking with Devimon, but when he arrives his motivation does not seem concerned with his master’s plans. He goes straight for Taichi, reflecting on their previous encounter, when Greymon broke Ogremon’s horn.

So here’s what I loved. Ogremon’s working for Devimon, of his free will or not we don’t really know, but regardless, Ogremon is still Ogremon, and like in old Adventure, he stakes a lot in his pride. Last time it was focused solely on fighting Leomon. This time, the kids initially think he goes after Greymon for revenge, but as their fight heats up the other kids notice that something seems different about this fight. Mimi even says “It looks like they’re having fun.”

Like, it’s not just a battle. It’s already done some foundational work for Ogremon becoming their ally in the future. And it’s begun with Taichi this time. Ogremon’s special relationship was Mimi in 99, as well as Jou, and there’s plenty of time for that to turn out in 20 as well, but I think it’s super interesting that they’ve begun it with Taichi.

It’s like a samurai film. (Mimi - again - even says “It’s like a movie.” She got a lot of good lines this ep lol) The two strong, brave rivals who respect each other’s strength and value each other’s pride. And it’s a trope we see in... basically every shonen anime ever made. And it’s really fitting for Taichi.

Yamato has very few lines in this episode. Like I said before, this is very much Taichi’s ep, and the others are mainly just watching, which is a bit of a bummer but also rather hopeful for the show as a whole because even though they’re watching, we learn things about them. The other characters make quips and comments while watching the fight. Yamato is noticeably silent, but every time something significant happens, we get a close up of his face. He gets more closeups and of longer duration than the others. It’s clearly meant to tell us Yamato’s taking this all in and watching so closely. Maybe he’s watching in case he needs to jump in, or maybe he’s simply learning all he can for the future. Whatever the reason, this is definitely an important character trait for Yamato.

All of a sudden a bunch of other Digimon launch an attack, and the kids can’t get out of the way in time. Taichi makes this face:

Similar to the expression he had last week when they were grossly outnumbered and about to lose, if Yamato hadn’t saved their butts. I think this expression’s going to become a Thing as well. It’s the face he makes when he wants to panic, but won’t let himself.

This week Yamato can’t save them because he also needs saving! So who’s our mysterious ally?

That’s right it’s KOOOOOSHIROOOOOO!!!!!! *air horn sounds*

The sheer joy (and relief!) in Taichi’s voice when he sees Koushirou almost makes up for his not being around much in several eps. I’m still a bit disappointed that his return didn’t involve that much fanfare, but getting to save everyone from being blown up is nothing to sneeze at.

Tentomon is hilarious and, like Sakamoto Chika said in yesterday’s Digifes, an “even weirder” old guy than ever xD

The others immediately run over to say hi or introduce themselves to Koushirou and Jou’s quick to inform him that he, Jou, is the leader.

Mimi: Uh really? Since when?

The very manly battle continues to rage.

Yeah I don’t really got much to say, it’s a battle, they’re having fun, becoming rivals, it’s male bonding through physical competition and mutual respect...

I wonder if Ogremon’s got an inferiority complex because Greymon’s got three big horns and Ogremon only has one and a half x’D

The manly battle is rudely interrupted by a FREAKING MISSILE.

Look, doesn’t this land right on them? ISN’T IT LITERALLY RIGHT OVER THEIR HEADS!?!?! Why aren’t they burnt to a crisp! I know it’s a kids show but come on!

The missile was launched by MetalTyrannomon, who is as scary as he is brainless.

The Pokemon fan in me was immediately like “fire!! Palmon get out of here you’re a plant type! Eh Gomamon you’ll be fine”

The kids immediately know something’s changed. The battle of male bonding is over. War is here. The missile was probably a good indicator of that.

Devimon isn’t what one would call subtle.

Ogremon quickly calls it like it is: “So I’ve been abandoned, eh.” Devimon’s gonna kill the kids and he doesn’t care about Ogremon’s pride. He doesn’t care about it so much...

... that he doesn’t mind MetalTyrannomon STOMPING on Ogremon and CRUSHING him into the ground

Taichi’s like WTH!?!?! we were doing some male bonding!! that shit’s sacred!!!

Ogremon: M’fine... jus’ another day for ol’ Ogremon... ghhhhh.... mommy...

So Taichi has a pretty strong reaction to watching Ogremon get literally stomped on. Not that I blame him, but it’s not like they know Ogremon well or anything. Taichi just feels through their battle that Ogremon, well, he doesn’t deserve this anyway. I guess. He has been trying to kill them for a while though. But Taichi’s got his own samurai side and he can’t let injustice stand.

He’s so worked up, the animators were afraid showing us his whole face could cause distress.

His strong sense of justice fuels his courage!

Which in turn gives Greymon an epic power boost like Yamato’s feelings of friendship did for him last episode!

Aaaaand... it’s not very effective!

Because MetalTyrannomon is a level higher, even with a power boost Greymon can’t do more than dent him.

One thing that stands out is, the Digimon don’t seem to have the same issue with needing to fuel up between battles as in 99 Adventure. We’ve seen them pleading for food a couple times yeah, but when they’re fighting they don’t seem to reach their limit quite as fast. This episode, Tentomon didn’t join in the fight because he’s exhausted from flying as Kabuterimon for such a long time before even saving the kids. Agumon doesn’t run out of juice until he tries to take on MetalTyrannomon. But it took both of them quite some time to get to that point and we don’t see anyone stop to fuel up again between scenes.

The contrast with the Ogremon battle makes the MetalTyrannomon one that much scarier. This is the third time in two episodes that Taichi’s on the brink of panic. The third time he’d have lost the game, if someone didn’t come to the rescue.

And this time that rescue comes from a surprising (not surprising?) corner.

Ogremon stands back up... and has uhhh apparently lost his eyeball??? x’D I know he got crushed but like, did his eyeball pop out of his socket and roll away? Like "on top of spaghetti all covered with cheese” style???

Anyway, Ogremon must be kind of sick of losing body parts, because it’s pretty obvious at this point that he’s going to Die by sacrificing himself. Par for the course for Ogremon. He can’t admit to caring, but if he can rationalize it as “I’m getting revenge!” or something he will jump right in. And, given the rate this show’s being going, I guess it’s no surprise we’d see a borderline touching death this early on.

Ogremon also directs Taichi to where the holy Digimon is, making him seem not very like Devimon’s ally at all. Apparently the holy Digimon is “straight ahead.” Some actual directions might be nice but uh.

Taichi however is not too on board with this dying-for-you junk. You can see how conflicted he is. (Well, not in a screenshot, but he’s like shaking.)

Yamato continues to looking on silentl, quivering with rage as much as Taichi, just from the back. I will not be surprised at all if this Greymon-Ogremon battle is something of a prelude for conflicts between Taichi and Yamato in the future.

Ogremon gathers his remaining strength and attacks MetalTyrannomon with everything he’s got, and does indeed seem to disintegrate in the style of dying Digimon. However, that doesn’t mean this will be the last time we see him. I think he’ll come back maybe even more brainwashed on Devimon’s side, perhaps fused again, or maybe not - but I do think we’ll see him again sooner rather than later.

Then all the kids are blinded and Sora groans that she knew she forgot something at the store, freaking sunglasses.

A really fun episode! Was not really expecting much from an episode that was focused on a battle, but it does not fall into the boring trap of just doing cool stuff for the sake of doing it. Though it’s disappointing Yamato was so quiet, it has a sense of a pot slowly heating to a boil. It’s a pregnant pause. And Jou and Mimi were their hilarious selves, how I missed them. Sora and Koushirou had the least to do, but at least Koushirou got to save the day.

Next week it looks like MetalTyrannomon was not defeated by Ogremon, who may have been passionate but was still a level below, so we get to fight some more...

There are no showers in the digital world.

Koushirou gets to show off his Usefulness with this Useful map, which will clearly cause a lot of frowns since it shows that they can only go left or right, even though Ogremon told them to go “straight ahead.” Hmm. What will they do? I’m kind of expecting Taichi to insist on going straight anyway. I hope we don’t split up again already.

Also next week marks the return of the MISSILE NIPPLES!!!

I hadn’t expected another evolution this early on but I mean we did already get a jogress.... so I suppose it’s no surprise. Also MISSILE NIPPLES!!!

[guiltfilledsheath]

A Quest’s End and a Journey’s Beginning

   Yasuo’s passage of time has been very estranged for a long time now, though from the time he arrived at this place to this very point in time, he’s gathered it’s been a few weeks. There have been multiple attempts to ‘rid himself of his guilt’ and none of them were successful, and from that time, he fell into a deep state of sorrow. Insults towards himself were being generated so often and so swiftly that every waking moment was one of grief until he just became jaded to his own thoughts. There was no booze left in his gourd to numb any of his pain either, in fact, he’d been sober for the entirety of his time spent in this place.

   Thoughts of those he cared for, both the living and the dead, were the things that replayed often within his mind. From conversations to confessions, their battles both grand and small, and even the quiet moments, all of it flashed within his mind. It confused him why it would be such a constant reminder when he had already given up on having this place be his tomb. Was it just his mind being cruel to him yet again? Was it just a sick joke that his guilt demanded be replayed over and over since he was being a coward and running from his own commitment yet again? He didn’t know the answer, even as he spent another day staring off into the distance and watching as the sun was beginning to set.

   “This... this was suppose to be my grave... I was supposed to... but I can’t. Maybe it’s just that I am a just a frighten child who runs away from his problems, right down to my very core, and even a coward’s death evades me. Maybe it’s the ghosts of those who were slain by my blade that refuse to let me atone with my life. Maybe... I don’t know what the truth is... and maybe I have no right to know.” Yasuo would pause his musing before letting out a small sigh. “...Since there is no one here... maybe now is a good time to just let out this frustration in my chest and perhaps... I’ll finally find the answer I seek.”

   The ronin would slowly begin to shift and stand, using his sheathed weapon to assist in this effort. Once on his feet, he would plant the blade into the ground and take a few steps back to stare at it, treating it like it was another human being. “...I’m... I’m angry... I’m angry at myself for making the mistake of leaving for a battlefield, and discovering that not only was there no glory to be gained... but that I couldn’t save anyone... and worse yet... I let my master be slain. I’m angry at myself for not attempting to explain my side of the story... for not just admitting that I left him alone and that the real killer was still out there. I’m angry that I... that I...” His fists were balled up and shaking while he could feel a few tears beginning to form. “That I didn’t try harder to convince Yone... Out of everyone else... he was the only one who could’ve helped me... but I was scared of the pain, scared of being hurt so badly that I reacted out of panic and worry rather than kept a cool head and tried to figure out a way to make it work. I should’ve said something... anything... I shouldn’t have called out to him by name but rather by what he was to me... my brother... my big brother... blood be damned! He cared for me and I... and I... oh Gods why did I do it?!” He’d shout, dropping to his knees before his weapon, his forehead resting against the sheath while tears streamed down his cheeks.

   “Yone... Big Brother Yone... you always wanted the best for me... you never treated me any different even when my father turned out to be no better than your own. You never once let me feel like an outsider in our home... Why... Why didn’t I try harder to convince you? Was I truly so weak that what anger I held for you guided my actions during a moment where I sought a way out? Was I truly so blind that I didn’t even consider recruiting you to my side, even after everything we’ve been through and all you’ve done for me?! Why was I so STUPID?!” He’d hit his forehead against his weapon as he’d continue his sobbing. “All I ever wanted was for you to recognize me for my talent... was for us to go back to how we used to be... just two brothers trying to make life easier for our mother.” There was a long silence after he finished his moment and slowly he’d lift his head up to the sky, take a deep breath, and wipe the tears from his face before returning back to his feet. “*Sniff*... No... No this I not where I’m suppose to perish... And... And I... I’m scared... I’m scared but I... I know what I must do. Yun... Yun was right in the first place. I... I need to go back and see her while I still can. From there... from there I have to tell her everything and admit to my sins. If I truly seek forgiveness and to redeem myself... I need to start there. Mother... I... I pray you’re still around...” With that, he’d pull his weapon out of the ground and rush away from the location.

  It would take even longer for Yasuo to go from his current location all the way back home to Ionia, where he didn’t receive any welcome, which was far better than he’d expected. Of course, he didn’t care about how others saw him right now, even with how disheveled he’d appeared, he had but one goal in his mind, find his mom. This task was... actually easier than he expected since she hadn’t moved from her spot in all the time he and his brother had been gone. However, as he walked up to the door to his own home, he’d pause and look at his hand which was shaking. Thoughts of running away or leaving a note entered his mind and there were a few moments when he turned his back to the door before turning again to face it. His breathing was shaky, he could feel his body screaming at him to flee, but he’d take a moment to try and calm himself down. Then... he knocked on the door. ‘Just a moment!’ was a familiar voice that called out from another room before the sound of someone rising up and moving towards the door came from behind the wooden frame. ‘Yes how can I-’ There was a pause as a middle-aged woman opened the door and nearly fell backwards when she saw who it was that came to her door. 

“...Hi mom.” The woman’s eyes widened for a moment before her expression grew stern and she folded her arms over her chest. ‘I only had one son... and you killed him.’ Yasuo froze as those words left his mother’s lips and he could feel agony unlike what he felt before, though... he had managed to muster up a smile, trying to mask his hurt before scratching the back of his head. “Ha... ha ha ha... that... that’s true! Ha... ha ha! S... Sorry there ma’am I-” Yasuo was cut off when his mother sent her fist right into the top of his head and forced the swordsman to his knees while he clutched the area that was struck. ‘DO YOU THINK SO LITTLE OF ME THAT I’D ABANDON MY ONLY CHILD LEFT?!’ She shouted, catching the attention of a few onlookers. The ronin looked up at her as tears began to form. ‘...I’ve had a lot of time to think Yasuo, I’ve had a lot of hurt to work through. My sons... my boys had to fight each other and... I had no idea if I should be angry or ashamed that it came to that.... My only family left since your grandparents passed... and I was forced to outlive one of my children and guess if I’d outlive the other.’ Tears began to form in her eyes now while she struggled to keep her stern expression, however, she’d wipe them away before they fell. ‘Yasuo... you abandoned me and you killed your brother. I was ready to disown you as my son... I was ready to greet you as a stranger... but as days turned to weeks, weeks months, and months years... I thought about everything that has happened to me. How both men who entered my life left the moment I was giving birth to their children... how my children, who I swore would resent each other, ignored the issue of blood and treated each other like true family. How cruel life was to force brother against brother with no way for their fight to end with both of them standing... Yasuo... I’ve had time to think... and I’ve had time to figure out what I want to say to you.’ She’d slowly begin to crouch down and bring her hands to his face to make him look her in the eyes. ‘You’re still my son. I understand... I understand the corner you felt you were backed into. I understand the grief you must’ve felt over killing Yone. But Yasuo... my child... I forgive you.’ Yasuo’s face slowly began to twist into a sorrowful mess as the tears flowed free and rapidly from eyes, his mother’s expression softening now as she gently stroked his cheek with one thumb. “M...Mom!” He’d shout before scrambling to close the gap between them and embrace her smaller form while she let out a little gasp in surprise before pausing for a moment. She’d then reach as best she could to hold her child.

   “I’m sorry!” He’d weep, shaking while he held her. “I’m so sorry! I-I should’ve listened! I-I should’ve come home! I should’ve tried to convince him!” He just started to weep now while his mother did her best to provide him with comfort. ‘Yasuo... There’s no changing the past... but you can change what happens now. Come... wipe those tears and let’s talk more inside. I’m sure you have much to tell me...’

  With that the two of them went inside, and Yasuo would talk for a long time, confessing everything. His mother would frown throughout it all, occasionally gasping and covering her mouth for certain parts, namely what the point of his quest was. There was a lot of scolding from his mother in regards to a number of things he’d done, however, she did soften her expression and managed to smile as he walks over to him. ‘Yasuo. For the first time, without your brother behind you, you’ve finally decided to stand and confront the consequences of your actions. So for you... as your mother... allow me to tell you what you must do in order to make it up to, not only myself, but, everyone else you’ve wronged.’ The swordsman flinched, though he’d grip his seat and let out a small breath. “Alright...” His mother looked at him for a brief moment. ‘Just so you know... this may not redeem you or ease any of your guilt. You may have to carry that with you till you reach the end of your life. Do you think you can handle that?’ Yasuo could feel himself wanting to leave, but he opted to bounce his leg and tighten his grip while he takes a deep breath. “I-I... I don’t know... but... I’ll try.” ‘...Alright. First... you must go visit the graves of those you’ve slain, make an offering to their spirits, and ask for forgiveness, especially the one of Yone. Second, you must visit the families of the fallen and beg for their forgiveness as well... and you must be fine with them rejecting your apology. After that... it’s up to you what you should do to atone. As your mother, I can only offer you this as advice. In truth... you need to find a way to forgive yourself for what you’ve done before the true answers you seek for redemption make themselves known. While you’re in the area, you’re free to use this place as one where you can rest between your acts, You’re also free to stay here as long as you need, provided you’re willing to work for your supper and lodging, but I will be reminding you of what needs to be done. ...Should you choose to leave again, I just ask that you promise me to either come back someday and write to me until you do. It doesn’t have to be often... but just enough to let this old woman know that she doesn’t have to prepare another grave... alright?’ She’d smile at him. Yasuo had yet to look at her, doing his best to take in everything, and once he had, he’d take a deep breath and then look at her and smile a bit. “Old women don’t punch nearly as hard as you do mom,” He’d jest while slowly standing up. “I promise... Tomorrow... I’ll... get right to... work...” He’d managed to get out before collapsing, much to his mother’s surprise as she did her best to catch him. 

  Upon holding him, she discovered just how exhausted her son was, and she’d let out a small sigh before shaking her head. ‘...You can rest for now dear... Tomorrow is the second best time to start making good on your promise... for now just rest.’

//This is now the cannon of this blog. My Yasuo will now be wandering, searching for a way to redeem himself for his past. He’ll also be seeking to better himself. Any interactions will be post-grave visits (unless you want to interact with him during those visits). 

This does not affect any AUs. 

[risingfire17-the-weeb-trash]

MysMe reacts to MC having an eating disorder- Part 7: Saeran

The final post in my series of Mysme crew reacting to MC having an eating disorder. This one gave me a good chance to look at what happens when both parties bring past trauma into a relationship. I’ve seen it fail plenty of times but I won’t say it can’t work as long as both parties get professional help, both on their own and together. Anyways, this series has truly helped me. I was in a place where I could see relapse becoming a possibility. I had to work hard and get help to prevent that from happening. When a user on Reddit suggested I do this, I was initially afraid, thinking it might push me further over the edge, but it actually played a huge role in bringing me back. A lot of times I worked on these while making myself eat. I’m definitely at a more manageable place now, and still working hard. All the chatroom reminders to eat help too! I hope these can help someone reading them as much as they have helped me to write!

Also, mild Ray route spoilers!

                                               ~~~

·         He notices every change that happens around him. So he notices when you start eating less and less. He notices how in the beginning you used to talk about losing weight (which he thought was stupidly unnecessary but he didn’t say anything) and over time you stopped talking about it but kept barely eating like you didn’t want him to know. And he certainly noticed when you started to look the way he did when his mother had starved him. (Cue internal freakout)

·         He has a need to understand the world around him so it can’t sneak up on him. So he does his research and discovers you likely have an eating disorder. While looking up prognosis and treatment, he reads about untreated cases that end in…death. Boy’s abandonment issues: TRIGGERED!

·         He finds you outside in the garden you two planted, watering flowers. He runs to you and picks you up in a crushing hug that knocks the watering can from your hands. You can tell he’s hyperventilating by the way he’s shaking. You ground him by stroking his hair and bringing his face to yours so he can see your eyes. You reassure him that he’s safe and that you’re here. You convince him to match your breathing. When his breathing calms a bit, he tells you he’s terrified of losing you. You reassure him that you’re not going anywhere.

·         He grabs your shoulders. “You’re not eating! I know you aren’t! You can die! I looked it up! And if you die, I…I don’t know what I’ll do!” His head collapses on your chest and he cries more.

·         You freeze. This was not supposed to be how any of this went. You were supposed to be the strong one. That’s what he needed you to be. So why was this happening? You hate yourself even more. How can you do this to him when he needs you to be strong for him? Then you realize….

·         “I…can’t be strong for you anymore.” The tears come quietly, but there’s so many of them you can’t see as you finally give up. You’ve been the strong one for him, for all of RFA, for everyone, for so long, you can’t do it anymore. You’re too tired.

·         He grips your shoulders even more tightly “Then don’t be strong! You don’t need to, damn it! Be weak sometimes! Let me take care of you sometimes! But fucking stay with me!!! Don’t you dare fucking die on me!!!”

·         You haven’t seen this forceful side of him in a long time, since the Mint Eye days. And then he was not in his right mind. But looking at him, you can see the difference. It’s no longer a force hell-bent on destruction and dominance; it’s a force determined to protect you from anything, even yourself. But that was always there. Wasn’t that why you had fallen for him in the first place?

·         You feel weak and dizzy as you’re hit with the realization that you’ve been playing with your life, the life that keeps you here with him. And you don’t want to leave him. You don’t want to be without him. You collapse into his arms and beg him hysterically for answers. “What’s wrong with me? How do I stop this? What do I do?”

·         He carries you to the garden swing and sits down with you, pulling you into his lap. He strokes your hair from your face and wipes at your tears. “I don’t know the answers to your questions, but I know how to get them.” You look at him confused. He kisses your forehead and pulls you into him. “For now, get some rest. I’ve already found a doctor who treats this stuff. We’re going there when you’ve rested.”

·         You realize that while you have been lost in this, he has been finding you a way out. You feel so safe in his arms, like you can set down all your burdens and drop the strong act for once. You drift off to the sound of his gentle humming, the feel of his fingers stroking your hair, and the soft beating of his heart against you

·         You start treatment, and he goes back into treatment to cope with his triggered abandonment issues. Part of it is couples counseling, where you learn to discuss and work through your traumas together. As you approach the counselor’s office, you laugh wryly, saying the two of you really are a mess. He takes your hand and gives you a soft, kind smile. “We’re cleaning up our mess. Together.” You like the sound of that. Your heart soars with hope.

[nikkigrand]

There’s no easy way to say this, but I’m abandoning all of my works. Everything.

This post is going to be long, honest, triggering and deeply personal. So for those who don’t want to read through all of my bullshit, the gist is that I’m not emotionally or mentally capable of writing anymore.

TW ARE IN PLACE.

If you’ve followed me for a while, then you know that my boyfriend was killed in Afghanistan last year. Since then, my life has been a breathless decline into self destruction. I didn’t know—I still don’t know—how to recover from happily waiting for his return to painfully knowing he never will. I swear that some days I feel like he’s still out there and some day he’ll come home and this will all be just a bad dream. I want to wake up to a reality where he steps off that plane and into my arms, where I don’t keep a crumpled old t shirt that smells more of me than him under my pillow, where the shock of hearing certain songs doesn’t make me throw up. A reality where I don’t have to sit in front of his ashes every time I visit his mother and look at his singed necklace around her neck.

I wanted nothing more than to wake up. Just wake the fuck up and feel alive again because for so long I had felt this choking pain and grief and misery and then nothing.

Everything became an escape, something to fill that void in me. I tried all the healthy things. I ate, I worked out, I ran. I talked to people about how I felt and reached out, but nothing helped. I volunteered, i planted trees and flowers, I channeled my grief into kindness. I tried to take all this pain and turn it into something beautiful, and still I felt nothing. I was falling falling falling into this black pit and was reaching for anything to keep me from hitting the bottom.

So I started chasing highs. The standard shit at first. I drank so much alcohol that I’d wake up in bushes with my friends, limbs tangled in ways that left me sore and stinging for days because who the hell passes out in a Rose bush?

At first, drinking was fucking hell, because no matter how much I drank I’d always end up with my head cradled in the palms of my hands, fingers digging into my scalp as I screamed and wailed and asked why why why why when he was so close to coming home and why was life so goddamn mean??? I’d be in bar bathrooms, just curled in the corner and sobbing like a dramatic princess until my friends carried me out. This happened about a dozen times before it just stopped, because I figured I wasn’t drinking enough if I could remember everything.

So I drank more and more and more and then I realized that it wasn’t making me feel better, it wasn’t doing anything for me.

So I started smoking. Just weed, you know. Nothing too crazy at the time. But all that did was make me hyper-fixate on all of my failures and short comings. It made me hate myself so viscerally, so deeply that I wondered if this is who I truly am at my core. A mean bitch who drinks, smokes, parties. A maneater who fucks these poor kind hearted men to fill that hole her dead man left inside her and still finds herself cold and numb after because it’s not enough. It’s never enough.

I’m sure you know where this is going. But I hated myself. I’m a beautiful girl, I’m not blind, and yet I found myself to be so fucking ugly. So fucking ugly and grey and all I wanted—all I needed—was something to breathe life into me the way life itself did before.

I just wanted to feel happy and normal. Only for a little while. That need was so encompassing it would grip my insides and I’d cry from how much I wanted it, how much I had convinced myself I needed it. It was all I fucking wanted.

So the bumps came. And then the lines. And then whole baggies to myself. And it felt amazing, it was wonderful. The world was alive, things were different. I had more energy, more life in me than I had in months. Then the other type of lines came and it made me feel like I was floating away. There was no pain, no misery, no death hanging over my shoulder to remind me that the strength of your love can’t make people stay.

But soon, that too wasn’t enough. Like every other thing, I felt there was something better, something that could make me feel more. So here is where I tell you about all the pills I popped, all the different colored presses and how each one pulled me out of that hole I was falling into and deposited me above the ground —much higher than I could have ever dreamed of—and filled my grey world with beautiful gorgeous colors.

Then I can tell you about all the tabs I let dissolve on my tongue, or fully swallowed out of impatience, all of the lines of ketamine I combined with ecstasy and acid in one night. The things I saw, the way I felt—it took me far from this dismal life and was addicting. I was chasing something every weekend until it became every other day, chasing some feeling I still can’t name, and I knew that it was ruining me.

My grief and my drugs were killing me, and I knew it. With every cotton mouth, every clenched jaw, every pounding headache, I fucking knew and didn’t care. I’d look at my friends faces and I knew, I knew they loved me and would be devastated if they knew what I was doing, and I still didn’t care. What was life if it felt this empty?

My grades dropped, i turned down a contracting job I wanted for years, I spent all my money on psychedelics and stimulants, and it had gotten to a point where I’d pop a pill while sitting at home just because I didn’t want to be sober and didn’t want to think about how fucked up my life was becoming.

Then one day I was at a concert, high in the clouds with a joint settled comfortably between my lips and frizzy hair piled messily atop my head, when I saw a girl get carried out the venue by medics. She was probably a few years younger than I am, and i remember looking at her face impassively as they pushed through the crowd with her body thrown over this bear of a man’s shoulder as if in slow motion. She was pale and foaming at the mouth, with her arms dangling limply down his back, and she looked dead—she was dead. I knew in that same way you know that the sky is blue when the sun is up, I just knew.

And in that moment—those few seconds it took me to acknowledge that she had most likely overdosed and died—this intense yearning shot through me, so strong that I felt it in the crooks of my fucking elbows, like I wanted to embrace whatever the fuck it was that I desired to live inside me, and this voice cried out, “I wish that were me.”

And you know what, I didn’t even know I had spoken until the guy next to me shoved me in the shoulder and said, “no you don’t.”

And that terrified me. I remember dropping the joint, fumbling it in my shaking fingers, burning myself on the lit end, before handing it off to that same random guy and running off to get some air.

I’m not stupid and I’m not blind. I know I’m depressed, I know I’ve got issues, but I had never said something so suicidal out loud up until that point. I’ve never vocally wished for death and even as I sat there, as I looked out at the people outside the venue huddled together doing whip it’s and killing brain cells, I still wanted to be that poor dead girl on that man’s shoulders.

That was it for me. I remember calling an Uber home on the spot and taking everything I had and flushing it. Im not going to sit here and lie to you and tell you that it was easy. I had convinced myself that I needed these things to make me happy, and i don’t know if I can ever see life the same way after them. The feelings you get off these things are otherworldly, it’s so damn good, but they come at a price. You dont feel the same way you did before you took them, and you never will. You’ll never be who you were before that high, but you can almost convince yourself that it’s worth it. So it was pretty damn hard to take my neon presses, my rocks. my capsules, my bud and my tabs, and flush them down the toilet.

Almost immediately after I did it, I cried. Mostly because i had flushed hundreds of dollars down the fucking toilet, but also because I had become that girl in those cheesy college movies. You know the one, the one where the party girl gets addicted to drugs and goes on a bender and her whole life is just one big goddamn tragedy that won’t end. I hate those fucking movies and I, for the life of me, could not believe I was that girl.

I had been military, straight laced with a good head on my shoulders and a hard worker. I was smart, respected, the girl everyone wanted to bring home to mom. And now I was a hot mess crying in my bathroom because I had just flushed my addiction down the shitter.

Now I’m just home, trying to gather the pieces of myself in a way that doesn’t cause long term damage when I’ve yet to hit my 27th birthday.

I still go out with my friends. They know nothing about what I’ve done because I’ve always gone out and done things alone. This is the first time I’ve ever spilled my guts.

So where does FanFiction come into play in all this. Well, it’s simple, really, if you’ve gotten to this point and picked out all the mistakes in grammar. My brain is so fucked up that I can barely write a passable 3 page essay. I can’t remember words, much less how to string them together to form something beautiful in the way I used to. Trust me, it kills me and I’ve agonized over it for hours. I once tried to take this amazing idea I had and put it to paper but it would just not flow. Nothing made sense. Where before writing was effortless and focused, now my brain could barely concentrate on forming a sentence that didn’t sound like gibberish.

My attention span is so short that I literally have to isolate myself with no internet and my textbooks to get work done. It’s so bad that I have anxiety and panic attacks about the fact that I feel like a whole dumbass with one brain cell, where before I was proud of my intelligence and could hold decent conversation.

I’m still pretty, as if that fucking matters, but now I’ve got a stutter and can’t hold eye contact because my paranoia makes me think they’re judging me. And let me tell you, I’m so fucking pissed about that because I know it’s just my fried brain thinking these things, and there’s no one to blame but myself.

And I still feel empty and numb. How can I write about love and human emotions when I don’t feel anything? How can I write about looking at someone and loving them when the memory of love faded like my lover’s ashes in the wind? I just can’t.

I know love as it whispers against my skin with each interaction between me, friends, even other men, and yet I look at them and feel absolutely nothing.

So Yeah, I can’t write my stories if I can’t get my brain or my heart to work.

I’m really sorry to all my loyal readers. I really am. I wish I had been stronger. Thank you for all of your support throughout the years.

Don’t do drugs.

[dirtyfilthy]

The Betrayal Of Chelsea Manning By The Coward Adrian Lamo

I have only participated in “cancel culture” once that I can remember. Once, over the broad course of my life, and that was when Adrian Lamo sold Chelsea Manning out to the authorities. Motherfucker has the  sheer gall to call himself a hacker, and then rats someone out — not because of his principles, but from a constant desire for pure narcissistic supply -- and all this from a position of trust no less… 

I was real angry, and I wanted to put the boot in, any way I could. There was a special circle of hell reserved for people like Adrian Lamo… and as it would turn out, he was already in it. 

Amongst petty vendettas like stuffing his wikipedia page with all the well referenced dirt I could dig up, along the way, and kind of by-the-by, I ended up doing a lot of research on the guy, and then, well, the picture of Lamo that emerged… 

Jesus. 

He’s been a hardcore benzo addict since his twenties. If you know what to look for you can tell in some of his interviews, slurring his words and looking very spacey.  He never really had a real job, never broke into the industry he was aways on the fringes of. It’s kinda crazy, if you search for “homeless hacker Adrian Lamo” you can still see what the mass media thought of him before he turned in Chelsea. 

He’d kind of weaselled his way into popular consciousness by being a shameless self-promoter, and then managing to get caught in that spectacular “rebellious teenage hacker” vs. “huge faceless corporation” way that tends to capture people’s imagination. 

There were whole articles about him in Wired. Multiple in fact. Here’s one of earliest from 2004 (unfortunately now behind a paywall), “New York Times vs The Homeless Hacker”. The first few lines can still give you the gist, however

A self-styled security expert and serial self-promoter, Adrian Lamo made headlines as a grayhat hacker. Then the Gray Lady came down on his head. Not long ago Adrian Lamo was exploring an abandoned gypsum processing plant in West Philadelphia with two friends, when a police cruiser drove slowly by. Lamo’s friends were high on methamphetamines…

https://www.wired.com/2004/04/hacker-5/

Even during this phase of his life, a lot of people in the scene didn’t like him. At least, there were people complaining on hacker boards about him stealing exploits and then burning them for the publicity.  In the end he got off with probation and home detention, and that was the end of blatantly hacking into shit. Any more and he would certainly end up in prison. Attitudes were changing, the authorities had stopped seeing hacking as just high-spirited teenage hijinks. and the increasingly severe penalties could land you some serious time. 

After this, he just sorted floated around. He never got job in the industry like the rest of us, and I suspect he may have been  basically unemployable for one reason or another. The next time he popped up in my news feed was in 2010 with a strange article from ex-hacker turned journalist and friend of Lamo’s,, Kevin Poulsen — “Ex-Hacker Adrian Lamo Institutionalized, Diagnosed with Asperger’s” 

The first paragraph or so reads:

Last month Adrian Lamo, a man once hunted by the FBI, did something contrary to his nature. He says he picked up a payphone outside a Northern California supermarket and called the cops.

Someone, Lamo says, had grabbed his backpack containing the prescription anti-depressants he'd been on since 2004, the year he pleaded guilty to hacking The New York Times. He wanted his medication back. But when the police arrived at the Safeway parking lot it was Lamo, not the missing backpack, that interested them. Something about his halting, monotone speech, perhaps slowed by his medication, got the officers' attention

— (https://www.wired.com/2010/05/lamo/)

The article claimed Lamo had been arrested for acting strangely and then institutionalised, basically claiming the police had arrested him because he was autistic. At the time, I didn’t really give this a second thought, “oh well, ho-hum”. As itt turned out, this was a case of the most spectacular kind of “spin” I think I’ve ever seen; the only place the article actually intersected with general consensual reality was in stating Lamo had been arrested and placed on psychiatric hold.

The real story, which is entirely far more pathetic, was that Lamo’s family had become worried about his benzo use (“prescription anti-depressants”) and had cut him off. He totally lost the plot at this point and stormed out of house. Concerned about his mental state, and with fears for his physical safety, it was actually  his own family that called the police to try and find him. 

When confronted about this fairly massive discrepancy, Lamo claimed he hadn’t exactly “lied” as such, and had simply withheld some facts due to personal privacy concerns. 

It was at this point I finally began to see the whole tattered trajectory of Lamo’s entire life — trace the greasy path of his rainbow with my fingertips, and watch as the once bright twine became  increasing gray and frayed as each thread began to curve back towards it’s inevitable impact with the earth, when, at which point, everything important would begin to totally unravel around him.

At his core, Adrian Lamo was a narcissist, and so Adrian Lamo absolutely believed in the Adrian Lamo narrative, as only a narcissist can. Near of beginning of his tale, this was easy to do. He was a wandering Daoist sage, a renegade techno-monk character in a Neal Stephenson cyberpunk novella, and anytime he wanted to see his own reflection he could simply look in any of the major newspapers.  

After his arrest and release, the rest of the world moved on. His peers all settled down to well-paid industry gigs, and you couldn’t just pop the New York Times through an open proxy any longer — well, at least: not most of time, anyway. His own sword, never the exactly the sharpest in the first place, was beginning to show some signs of a serious structural rust. 

Without the constant assurance of people telling his own story back at him, what was he exactly? What did the mirror portray to him now?  An unemployed, semi-homeless drug addict, a hacker who couldn’t hack his way out of wet paper back with pick axe, the tired punch line to any number of bad jokes...   

Of course, the many similarities to my own life were not exactly lost on me. I was basically a case of being a few near misses and unlucky hits away from sitting in his exact position. I had made the transition to an industry career successfully, but I was still a drug addict with mental heath issues.  I had gone through my own narcissistic stage when I was younger, but thankfully grew out of it, the old moons no longer pulled on my tides the way they used to. 

The essential Lamo pattern had began to emerge. Still chasing the same bright stars that had long since sunk beneath the horizon line of the ocean; Lamo would begin to feel irrelevant —  Lamo would get then his name in the media in some fashion. A momentary peace was then achieved, then came a brief period of post-orgasmic. cosmic serenity. 

But of course, the wheel of karma will not stop spinning for anyone, and so, soon enough and all-to-quickly, the entire process of personal renewal, would have to, you know…..  begin anew.

A few other case studies were observed. An unreleased, permanently unfinished documentary featuring Lamo was mysteriously leaked on the internet. Of course, Lamo himself had leaked it. And there was always appearing on various morning television shows, Good Morning America, Fox News & the like.

But then the mother of all opportunities just dropped into his lap.

Chelsea Manning needed someone to talk to. 

Chelsea knew Lamo was Bi, so he was at least in the LGBT community. Adrian was a hacker too. He’d fought against the system in his day, he was certainly someone who would “get it”, she was very sure of this.  And when she did reach out, he was indeed very sympathetic. Honestly, it seemed like he really cared. Just a genuine human being, reaching out across the vast emotional void to provide a sense of empathy to someone who really, really needed it right now.. 

He was very sympathetic when Chelsea told him all about her struggles with gender identity, and he was very sympathetic when she said she was leaking gigabytes of information to Wikileaks…. But behind his sunglasses, Lamo eyes had already morphed into a marquee LED matrix endlessly scrolling his own name. Think of the news coverage!

This was big. This was very big.

It would, in fact, turn out to be fucking huge. Of course, within in the hacker scene, and to a certain extent, even outside it, everyone just fucking loathed him now.  Eventually even the news moved on, nobody wanted any more interviews, and in the end, when everything has already been all said and done: you are ultimately left with only yourself….

… a pathetic drug addict.  Of course, I have to keep telling myself that one point of intersection does not an entire venn diagram or an actual equality make. But I can’t shake the feeling that, perhaps, maybe we weren’t really all that different.  Maybe my own betrayals have had the simple luck of being a lot less public. 

Perhaps my own sins were just as ugly, but far less ambitious. 

Adrian Lamo died alone, from a drug overdose, in a private unit in an aged care facility in Wichita, Kansas.  He was 37 years old. An autopsy showed his kidneys were already failing. 

I guess Sartre got it wrong. Hell isn’t other people, it’s being left totally alone, with nothing else around but the tedious company of your own terrible self, and of course, the fucker won’t stop talking...

So obviously there was nothing more I could do to hurt Adrian Lamo, nothing that Adrian Lamo hadn’t done already. He had long since locked himself away in a prison cell of his own making. I do wonder if maybe one too many silent 3am’s hadn’t come crawling around the clock face when he was there & awake to witness it, lying in bed & staring at the ceiling and trying not to think about things.

Like I’m doing.

Shit, I hope don’t go out that way. 

[beetlebitchywitch]

Dissonant Notes, Part 3

Guys, I was messaging @scribblepigeon, and if you know anything about Pidge, it’s that they are FANTASTIC to bounce ideas off of and I literally cannot restrain myself from writing Part 3, despite the fact that I LITERALLY just posted Part 2. I’m a college student who can’t sleep because of caffeine, sue me. 

WARNING: LIL SMUTTY. This will have some smut towards the end, but nothign major!

Part 1 Part 2

It’d been 3 months since that first night with Dewey, and you couldn’t imagine being any happier. Your relationship has been a major source of light in your life, and your students have noticed- you’re happier in class because you get to see Dewey every day, sharing hidden kisses in abandoned corridors, holding hands during lunch, and, on occasion, letting Dewey serenade you in the music room, his performances always as outlandish as he is and never failing to make you laugh. You could not be more grateful for Dewey and how much fun and love he’s brought into your life.

You could, however, stand to show him a little more.

And so, you got to work. You spent late night after late night practicing, praying, and debating selling your soul to the Devil in order to be ready for him. You wanted him to know how much you appreciated him, and you couldn’t see any better way to do it. 

Your weekly Friday Date Night arrived sooner than you thought it would, and with it, all the nerves that had been building were about to boil over. Fuck, you couldn’t do this, you were just gonna fuck it up and Dewey would laugh at you and-

No. You stopped yourself before you prattled on, taking a deep, steadying breath. Even if you’re awful, Dewey won’t mind. You were awful before, and he’s still here. This is for Dewey- focus on him. 

When the tell-tale knock rang through your apartment, your nerves had been sufficiently calmed, though seeing his smiling face made butterflies swarm in your stomach. Without a word, Dewey swept into your apartment and took you in his arms, dipping you and planting a long, slow kiss on your lips. 

“Woah there, Casanova,” you chuckled as he brought you back onto your feet. “What was that all about?”

“You just looked exceptionally gorgeous today,” he answered with a shrug.

“You said that yesterday.”

“Your point?” 

You snorted, taking him by the hand to drag him to the couch, resting your legs over his lap. 

“How was the rest of your day, babe?” you asked, hoping a bit of small talk would distract you from your growing nervousness. 

“Oh it was alright, the kids and I were working on a new song and Katie was having some issues with her part, not to mention Zack broke a string on his accoustic aaaaaand I’m rambling,” he laughed, shaking his head. “How about you, what’ve you been up to on your day off?” 

“Well...funny you should mention that,” you said shyly, leaning down to pick up the guitar Dewey bought you for you birthday from under the couch. In case you ever need an emergency guitar! he’d said, not at all explaining what need anyone would have for an “emergency guitar”. Still, you appreciated the gift all the same, especially now. “I’ve been working on something. Care to hear it?”

Looking at you curiously, Dewey nodded, moving to a cross-legged position so he could face you. You took a deep breath, sending him a small smile before you began to play. 

You’d come a long way from the first time you’d ever even touched a guitar. That whining, dissonant noise has been replaced with a fairly pleasant chord progression. You stumbled, of course, as you always do, a few chords coming out wonky, but you simply focused on getting your fingers where they were supposed to be. This was for Dewey- you could do this. 

You wouldn’t dare look at Dewey lest you mess up your finger placement, so you didn’t get to see the look on his face as you began to sing.

Your love is my turning page...only the sweetest words remain...

Every kiss is a cursive line...every touch is a redefining phrase...

You heard a sharp intake of breath, but didn’t let it distract you from your song. Your voice was soft, a bit breathy if you were being honest, but not at all unpleasant. By the end of the song, your throat hurt a bit, and your fingers were sore from strumming, but your feelings for Dewey swelled in your heart and kept you going to the very end. You ended your song with one final strum, your final chord coming out just a bit wrong, causing you to curse under your breath. Your face was burning red and you couldn’t even look at him- you’d messed up so many times and you couldn’t even get that last chord right, and you were so embarrassed that you’d done it all in front of your rock star boyfriend. 

“Dammit, I’m sorry Dew. That chord really doesn’t like me, I’ve tried so hard but I just can’t get the finger placement righ-mmph!” Your spiel was interrupted by Dewey’s insistent kiss, his hands pushing your guitar off to the side before wrapping around your waist and pulling you close. His lips were firm and warm against yours, as were his hands at your hips, and you felt yourself melt into his arms as you returned his kiss. He pulled away with a pop, his eyes sparkling as he looked at you in wonder. “Dew what was tha-?”

“That was so hot, oh my God,” he groaned, leaning in for another hard kiss. “You worked so hard and you sounded so gorgeous Jesus Christ I fucking love you.”

You giggled as he pressed tiny kisses all over your face, pulling you all the way into his lap as he lavished you with affection. 

“Dewey, I literally fucked up so many times. My stupid hands could barely get the chords right!” you said between laughs, your self-conscious tone still managing to shine through. Dewey groaned and grabbed your hands, pressing even more kisses to your sore fingertips.

“Don’t you dare insult these magical little babies,” he insisted, rubbing your palms with his thumbs. “So fucking beautiful, Y/N, you have no idea-”

He leaned back in for another kiss, this time intent on taking his time. He slowly slid his hands up your back, holding you close as he laved his tongue over your lower lip. You groaned against him, running your hands down his chest to fist them in his sweater. The air around you two was suddenly much warmer, and Dewey was so firm against you, and you were suddenly very aware of a bulge growing harder in his pants and pressing against your ass. You chuckled against his lips, pulling away to shoot him a salacious grin.

“Are those drumsticks in your pocket or are you just happy to see me?” you drawled. He laughed darkly against your lips, using his firm grip on your hips to drag your forward, bucking up against you with a groan. 

“You tell me,” he retorted, shooting you a knowing look. “Y/N...Jesus Christ, I want you so bad...” 

“Well then...show me.”

And oh, the callback to that first night together was enough to pull a growl from deep in Dewey’s chest as he picked you up and pressed you into the couch cushions, hovering over you with that goddamn smirk pulling at his lips that told you just what kind of night you were in for. 

“That, sweetheart, is music to my ears.”

I think that’s it guys! Thank you so much for being interested in this little story, I hope that it was all you guys hoped it would be!

[hazelandglasz]

I saw this prompt: “you’re a celebrity who just broke up and i tweeted you a selfie with the caption “date me” as a joke but you thought i was serious?” au and I freaked out a little. Could you pleaaase write it as Klaine?

Yeaaah

On  AO3

“I can’t believe it!”

Tina looks up from her phone--very important game of Empire and Puzzles, okay?--to see her best friend in a state of distress.

“What’s going on?”

Blaine clenches his phone. “Kurt and Adam broke up!”

Tina nods and returns her attention to the game. “Told you they wouldn’t last.”

“How can you say that?”

Tina shrugs. “They weren’t meant to be, Busy-Bee. Too much of the same in some aspects, too different in others, they were just not compatible.”

Blaine sits back in the chair, dropping his head to the back of it. “But they were so cute.”

“That they were.”

“Poor Kurt.”

“I don’t see you being too heartbroken over Adam.”

Blaine glares at Tina from his slouched position. “I appreciate his talent, but I only knew him because of Kurt, and you know it.”

“Such a fanboy from the start.”

“The man is our age, Tina, and already a star!”

“Blah, blah, blah, I know the spiel, Blaine. He’s our age, and from Ohio too, can you believe it,” she deadpans.

“And he overcame bullying--”

“Making it the cause he supports the most, I am a Kurtsie too, in case you forgot it!”

“Sorry, Tina,” Blaine apologizes, reaching for her hand to squeeze it. “It’s just--he’s such a role model for me, I hate to see him sad and alone.”

Tina abandons her game to scroll through social media, and true to Blaine’s words, photos of Kurt since the announcement does not paint the picture of a man happy to go back to his bachelor days.

She coos at her screen before looking up, an idea popping up in her brain. “Why don’t you offer to date him?”

“Beg your pardon?”

“Come on, Blaine, listen to me okay?” Tina sits on the edge of her seat to make her point in Blaine’s face. “You said it yourself, you’re around the same age, so no creepiness. You’re both gay and from Ohio--”

“Yeah, because that’s enough to build a relationship upon.”

“--and you both love musicals and silver movies, and fashion, though you have different tastes--”

“--and wallets.”

“--yes, okay, you don’t have the same bank accounts, but that means he could dote on you, take care of you.”

“I do not want a Sugar Daddy, Tina.”

“Not a daddy, he’s just one year older than you. Just sugar, baby.”

Blaine shakes his head, as if to clear his mind. “That’s absolutely ridiculous.”

“What do you have to lose?” Tina asks. “Send him a selfie, offering to get a break-up coffee, and you’ll see what happens. Worst comes to worst, your tweet will just disappear in the hundreds he gets every day.”

“You know what,” Blaine says, standing and putting his jacket back on, “I’m neither sober enough nor classy enough to do that.”

“Two easily solvable issues, my dear Anderson.”

---

“Can you belie--Adam, stop laughing, would you?”

Kurt tries to pretend he’s mad at his ex-fake boyfriend, still a friend, though that is debatable too.

“All right, it was fun talking to you, you jerk, have a bad day.”

“No, come on--come on, Kurt, look, I’m not laughing. I take it, ha, very seriously.”

“Hmhm.”

“No, honest. Can I believe, what, exactly?”

Kurt glares at his phone. “Humph. Can you believe the fans reactions to our breakup?”

Adam chuckles. “They are quite the passionate bunch, we always knew that.”

“Never to this level!”

“We never gave them a reason to unleash their inner beast, either.”

“It’s like we broke up with them!”

Adam sighs. “That’s how they feel. Give it a week, mate, they will find something else to fixate on.”

“Between the moping, the threats and the jokes, my timeline is a mess!”

“Mine too. It might be a good time to have a social media diet.”

Kurt drops himself on his couch and drags a soft blanket over himself. “Because you think disappearing from the social landscape will do any of us any good?”

“I don’t know, and that way, I won’t have to find out!”

For a hot second, Adam’s idea sounds like the best one.

And then Kurt’s phone vibrates with another notification.

“Don’t they ever sleep?” he mutters, putting Adam on speaker so he can look at his screen at the same time. 

“The beauty of having fans all over the world, Kurt,” Adam replies, “multiple time zones.”

“I suppose--oh.”

Kurt forgets what he was about to say, because the tweet has finished loading on his screen.

And it’s two words, followed by a picture.

“Date me.”

And the picture is quite … compelling.

“My, my,” Adam laughs outright. “Someone is quite forward.”

Kurt remembers how to swallow. “And handsome.”

“And handsome.”

Kurt remains silent, studying the picture more in detail. The young man is, as previously stated, quite handsome, with an undeniable silver screen quality to him. The untied bow tie around his neck and the slight flush to his cheeks may indicate that this @BDAnderson got tipsy before taking the picture and possibly sending the tweet.

Just a little bit of liquid courage before sending an audacious tweet to someone he looks up to, maybe.

Something deep in Kurt’s chest preens at the idea of having such a … lovely fan.

“Kurt.”

“Hm?”

“I know that hum, Kurt, and I don’t think that it is a good idea.”

“Hm?”

“I don’t think it’s a good idea for you to agree to go on a date with a stranger, but I have to admit …”

“Yeah?”

“There is something endearing about this proposal, and it would make for a fantastic publicity.”

Kurt laughs humorlessly. “And if I were to date someone, a someone who took the first step so publicly, you would be able to go public with Sebastian, hm?”

“Possibly.”

“And you are the one trying to tell my not to date a fan, hm?”

Kurt doesn’t need to see Adam to know that he’s blushing madly. They both remember how Sebastian came into their lives on the set of their second movie together as a on-screen couple.

And the very reason why Kurt and Adam started pretending to be real-life boyfriends too, to protect Sebastian from the public light.

Adam clears his throat. “You should do a background check before accepting, though. Let Kitty run it, she will be done by morning.”

Kurt stares at the picture and nods, even though no one can see him. “Sounds like a plan.”

“And, Kurt?”

“Hm?”

“Wear the beige pants.”

Kurt can only laugh before hanging up.

---

“Tina.”

“Hgnf.”

“Tina!”

“Whaaaaa.”

“Tina, look at my phone and tell me I’m hallucinating.”

“Go back to sleep, Blaine, the Sun is not up yet.”

“Tina, please.”

Tina humphs one more time before raising her head from Blaine’s couch to glare at his screen. Thank God he turned the brightness down.

She grumbles as she reads down his feed before gasping. “Blaine!” she shrieks.

“Right?”

“Blaine, oh my God.”

“Oh my God.”

“Blaine! He said--”

“He said “Would love to”!”

“Kurt Hummel agreed to go on a date.”

“With me.”

“With you.”

“So I didn’t dream that.”

“Nope.”

They exchange a look over Blaine’s phone. “Holy shit.”

Tina pushes Blaine’s blanket and jumps out of the couch, Blaine’s phone still in her hand. “Okay, we need to plan.”

“Tina.”

“Are your red pants clean? Even clean-ish?”

“Tina.”

“Second of all, the date itself. Maybe offer to go to a public place, to reassure him you’re not a serial killer.”

“Tina, he is following me now.”

Tina checks the phone and squeals. “He iiiis! So you can send him a private message to make your arrangements!”

“Tina …”

Tina finally pauses in her excitement to properly look at him. “Blaine, breathe,” she says softly when she realizes how pale he suddenly seems. “It’s going to be fine. Imagine what a story to tell to your children and grandchildren.”

“Don’t.”

“Okay, imagine what a story to tell in your autobiography.”

“Better.”

Tina goes to stand in front of Blaine and puts her hands on his shoulders. “It’s just a date. He’s just a man, and you’re just a man too, and you two will just get a cup of coffee or something, all right?”

“All right.”

“Let’s do this.”

---

Blaine arrives at the coffee place he suggested for their … holy crap, it is a date, isn’t it, for their date, then, he can do it without fainting, ten minutes early.

But as he walks down the stairs to the little alcove in the coffeeshop (he didn’t pick this place randomly), someone taps on his shoulder.

“Excuse me?”

Blaine turns immediately and is unable to stop his jaw from dropping just a little bit.

It is Kurt Hummel, in the flesh (and what a gloriously jean encased flesh it is).

“Hi,” Kurt says, and if Blaine is not mistaken, he sounds a little … breathless.

Because he ran to get there or because he’s just as nervous as Blaine is yet to be determined.

“Hi.” Out of pure engrained manners, Blaine holds up his hand. “I’m Blaine.”

Kurt chuckles as he shakes his hand. “Kurt. Glad to know you don’t have a doppelganger in the city.”

Blaine beams at Kurt, still shaking his hand before realizing that they have been standing there for far, far too long for it to be considered normal.

Then again, Kurt is also still shaking his hand, isn’t he.

“Should we sit?” Kurt asks, and Blaine nods, forcing himself to keep his wits.

“Follow me, if you please,” he says, holding up his hand. “I know that there is a spot where we wouldn’t be disturbed.”

---

From a corner in the coffee shop, behind a large plant, Tina hides, observing how the date goes.

She’s just looking out for her bro, okay.

But when she spots a blond head she has admired several times in the movies, she gasps.

Is Adam coming to get Kurt back? Is he going to fight off Blaine for Kurt’s heart?

Ah, no, Adam apparently had the same idea as she did, sitting in a corner of the café--discrete enough not to be spotted, clear enough to spot everything.

She can’t help herself and picks up her cookie plate and goes to sit with Adam.

“What the--”

“Hi. I’m Blaine BFF.”

“Ah.”

“Here to make sure everything goes well for your ex?”

“Sorta.”

“Cool. Me too. Want a piece of cookie.”

Adam glances at the plate. “I really should not,” he whispers as he picks a piece.

“How do you think they’re doing?”

They both turn to look at their friends who seem to be in their very own world, in their remote little table. They talk, talk, smile, and beam at each other whenever the other looks away, which doesn’t happen often.

“I think we’re witnessing the beginning of an epic love story.”

Tina nods and looks down at the plate where her cookie has mysteriously been reduced to one lone bit.

“Trade you the last piece of cookie for the best man’s speech rights.”

Adam starts protesting before nodding, shaking Tina’s hand. “If that means I get groomsmaid’s speech rights.”

“Deal.”