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wing-ed-thing · 4 years

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Fraternizing and Spineless (Kabuto x Reader, Part IV)

Synopsis: Kabuto has a fixation and you sometimes apologize to inanimate objects. Ever since one fateful day, you’ve been drawn to each other from opposite sides of the battlefield.

Word Count: 3,429

Warnings/Tags: @tiktoktheclockisticking Bullying, Language, ANGST CITY, Alcohol, Side Iruka x Reader, Fem!Reader

Part I Part II Part III Part IV Part V Part VI Finale

Notes: I’m fully expecting to get messages in my inbox that range drastically in forcefulness. Perhaps a “how dare you” or two.

You stood outside of Shushu-ya, almost as if you expected to be told to come in. A silly notion. With a heavy sigh, you clenched the warped gift in your hands, starting to regret the shoes you wore among other things. But you know you couldn’t back out now. You couldn’t miss Iruka’s birthday. Your reluctant hand grasped the door and before you could chicken out, you heaved it open.

The group was easy to spot, even in Shushu-ya’s dim lighting. Everyone gathered around the bar. A few people sat in a large, open booth. The crowd made you nervous, but you couldn’t help but feel a semblance of relief. You weren’t the first one there. Iruka spotted you immediately and waved you over. You took a sharp inhale before forcing yourself across the restaurant with a smile. You were, at the very least, glad to see him.

Iruka got up from his spot at the end of the extensive, circular seating and greeted you warmly. Knowing him, he sat at the end just to see people come in the door. He extended his arms to you in a hug. You happily embraced him. It had been quite some time since you got to spend any quality time with your friend. You handed him his present.

“As usual, you’re always so thoughtful.” Iruka pursed his lips, a sentimental expression coming upon him. Even still, the corners of his lips turned upward into that classic Iruka grin. “You didn’t have to.”

“It’s your birthday, Iruka. Of course I’m going to get you something nice.”

Iruka motioned for you to sit down and carefully placed your gift in the pile he had accumulated. You took a seat among two ninjas who you only knew by name. Iruka sat down next to who you were fairly sure you recognized as Kakashi of the Sharingan. The mask made it difficult to tell. You took your place next to Might Guy, the Leaf’s Green, Taijutsu Beast. You looked over to Iruka and wondered how he made such powerful friends. You supposed it was hard to not be acquainted with any famous shinobi in Konoha. Perhaps that’s what happened when you weren’t afraid to talk to people. You spied a few more of your colleagues around the bar, including your teammates from the last mission you took. They didn’t seem particularly pleased about your presence, but no one was going to impulsively make a fuss in front of Iruka.

You kept your head down and that’s where it stayed. The conversation went, for the most part, without you. You ordered a water quietly. You weren’t the type to drink, especially when you were as on edge as you were in this particular setting. The waiter set down your glass, making a sort of a sour face. You stared at the clear liquid, supposing that not many ordered water from a bar.

“That’s all you’re going to get?” You looked up into Kakashi’s intense eye. “You know you’re not on the clock, right?” He chuckled and you nervously laughed with him.

“Don’t listen to him.” Iruka rolled his eyes before taking a sip of his own drink. His kind gaze found yours. “You can do whatever you want, just know that the tab is already taken care of.” He looked past you and waved towards the bar. The bartender waved back.

“No, no. I completely understand!” Guy wrapped an arm around you, holding you a bit too close for the volume of his voice. You immediately let go of your drink. Your eyes went wide as he shook you with every word. “You gotta watch out for that hangover! Very smart! I commend you!” Kakashi tsked, tilting his head towards Iruka.

“Such a bad host, letting her sit next to Guy like that.” Iruka laughed sheepishly.

“Sorry,” He scratched at the back of his neck. “I guess the seat was open for a reason.” Guy pouted at the discourse across the table, arm still wrapped around your shoulder.

“Nonsense! Tease me all you like but I just know that… uh…” He turned to you with an outstretched hand and as much embarrassment as Might Guy was capable of. “What was your name again?” You took his much larger hand in yours and spoke your name, realizing that you hadn’t prior. He immediately shouted your name as if to commit it to memory, shaking you even harder than before. His shout got the attention of the rest of the booth and you suddenly your self consciousness skyrocketed. “—and we’re going to be best friends by the time the night is over! What do you think? You down for a party?” And suddenly you were expected to respond. You glanced around nervously.

“Um, yeah. Sure thing… I just think it’s really nice how everyone’s together.” Despite your response, you still felt like a bug under a magnifying glass. Sweat began to bead on your brow and your palms. You crossed your legs. “I feel like everyone’s always on missions so it’s nice to be among friends. And um, I can drink to that.” You glanced around the table once more, to Guy, to Kakashi, and then Iruka. Iruka’s eyes fluttered shut.

“I couldn’t say it better myself.” You raised your water weakly.

“Happy Birthday, Iruka.” Iruka raised his glass of sake and a roar went around the booth and extended to the bar. Someone hastily ordered a round of shots for the whole group. They came quickly, likely due to whatever likely large tip Iruka gave to the bartender.

One slid across the hard surface over to you. You gripped it between your fingers. The alcohol went down your throat with a steady burn. You let out a gasp with a bat of your eyes. The aftertaste of the ethanol burned your nasal cavity. Kakashi let out a deep laugh. Guy patted you hard on the back causing you to cough. Iruka smiled, ordering another round. You took another shot. People filtered in the door. And as the night went on, the three of you took to greeting Iruka’s guests along with him. The party crew quickly overtook the bar. A dull roar overtook Shushu-ya.

More words spilled from your mouth than you thought ever would in one sitting. Your three colleagues listened to you intently, jovially, and exchanged stories of their own. A small crowd gathered around your booth, members flitting from the bar and back. And for once in your life, people actually listened to you. You told your stories animatedly, waving your hands in emphasis. You took in the smiles around you, tales of missions and edgy impressions flying from your lips. Distracted, you hardly noticed the looks exchanged by your old teammates as they leaned against the low back of the booth.

“And I said, ‘You don’t need a rag, you need a towel’!” All those gathered around you burst out in hysterics. You felt the low rumble of Guy next to you. Iruka couldn’t pick his head up from the table. Kakashi yanked him up by his collar, revealing Iruka’s red, cackling expression. Kakashi snorted, dropping the cloth under his hand to cover his own face as he mocked his longtime friend. Joyful tears were still welled in your eyes when a slender hand clamped onto your shoulder.

You looked behind you only to become face to face with the kunoichi from your team. Her ever prevalent scowl remained plastered to her lips but they swiftly upturned into a sickly sweet smile.

“Hey, why don’t you tell everyone about our last mission? Or should I say, your last mission.” Your eyes widened and a chill coursed down your spine, remembering her unforgiving grasp on your hair following your meeting with the Hokage. You clenched your fists underneath the table, balling up the fabric of your clothing. What did she want from you? She crinkled her nose at you smugly. “Shy all of the sudden? That’s okay, I can tell it.” You heard Kakashi clap his hands together. You jumped.

“I’m always down for a good mission story,” He admitted eagerly. You shook your head vigorously.

“No, this one’s not very interest—” Another hard slap on your shoulder. Her nails dug into your shoulder.

“You don’t give yourself enough credit. I think they’ll all find this very interesting.” The kunoichi settled into her spot behind you, shifting her weight as she leaned forward. With a finger, she pointed out your two other team members. “See we were assigned with this one to find a scroll in a territory suspected of being owned by Orochimaru. ‘Cause she’s a wonder at blending in, right? That’s what we were told. And of course you know how these things go. Of course we find someone. Some bitch of Orochimaru—”

And as she described it, you could remember the scene vividly. Your teammates were reckless in their fighting and overall poor choices for a stealth mission. Flashy jutsu corrupted the frame of the underground system. The walls began to crack and shake. Your enemy had been caught off guard and outnumbered. Seeming to be already injured, there was only so much he could do to fight back. That was how you met Kabuto Yakushi.

“And so she doesn’t even warn us that the tunnel is, like, about to collapse. Some freak earthquake or something. So the enemy is knocked out cold and we’re running and running to try to find a way out and—”

You dove towards him. You didn’t know what drew you towards him in the first place but that’s what you did. As your team left without you, you tried your best to save the young ninja who had to only be as old as you. You tried to drag him but either you were too frail or he was too heavy. Your second option. Your hands ignited in healing jutsu, flickering on and off. You were by no means a healer, but your only thought in your panic was to get him awake. And as the maze of tunnels imploded around you, your world went black.

“So we don’t see her for days. You know, we think she’s dead. So in the meantime, we check out the other places on our list. Nada. We’re about to completely give up and then, wouldn’t you know, this one shows up having spent almost a week in enemy territory holding the exact thing we were looking for. Zero scratches and she apparently ‘doesn’t remember’ anything about it. Don’t you think that’s funny?” The kunoichi motions to your other teammates.

“I remember it being very funny,” One huffs, arms crossed. The small surrounding crown had gone silent. You dared to look across the table. Kakashi sat with his arms on the table, wordless. Iruka pursed his lips, equally expressionless. He cleared his throat. An awkward overtone laced the atmosphere.

“Well I think that’s enough of that—”

“Well, I wasn’t done. Almost there, though, I promise.” The kunoichi held up her hand. “‘Cause wouldn’t you know it? When we got back to the village, we found out that the scroll was a fake.”

“Well,” You squeaked, “Later we did find out that it was authentic after all—”

“But that was later,” She snapped. She ruffled your hair roughly, giving your head a slight push as she finally took her hands off of you. “Still doesn’t explain where you got it from.” She leaned in towards your ear. “Traitor.”

“Okay that’s enough.” Iruka stood from his seat. He extended his arm towards the door. “You three have clearly had too much to drink. I think it’s time for you to go home.” The kunoichi scoffed.

“We haven’t had too much of anything,” She snorted with a roll of her eyes and opened her mouth to say more. Guy turned with the most serious expression you had seen from him all night.

“He’s giving you an out. I suggest you take it.” He told her and apparently, that’s all it took for them to leave.

Iruka apologized for your team’s behavior but said nothing more about it for the rest of your time present. Most of the partygoers stuck to the bar now. Everything was off and you knew it would be as long as you were there. Your friends could hardly look you in the eye properly. You remained for a little while longer, starting to feel dreadfully sober. And when you thought you wouldn’t draw too much attention, you announced that you were leaving.

“Let me walk you out.” Guilt rattled around in your chest. It was Iruka’s birthday and you ruined it, just like you thought you would. And yet, he still offered to walk you out.

You allowed it, suddenly finding yourself standing outside of Shushu-ya, Iruka by your side. Even as the door closed behind you, you could hear the sound of Konoha’s nightlife. You waited for Iruka to speak, but the weight on your shoulders became unbearable.

“I’m not leaving because of you, you know. I had a good time. I really did, so go back in there and know that, okay?” You tried to read his face. He looked conflicted and the pounding of your heart only increased.

“I just want you to know that you have a friend. Eh, friends. No matter what.” You blinked at him a few times. You didn’t like how he said that last part.

“No matter what?” You let out a nervous laugh for the umpteenth time that night. Your eyes wandered erratically. “What do you mean by that?” You were expecting some reassurance, but none came. Your mind filled in the blanks. You took a step back. He took a step forward. “No matter if I sold out the Leaf? Is that what you’re telling me?”

“I-I didn’t say that.” He stammered. Suddenly frantic. “Don’t put words in my mouth.”

“Well, you’re not denying it.” You gripped onto your strap bag. Another step back. Another step forward.

“I don’t think you sold out the Leaf. Not on purpose.” The tail end of that sentence stung. You began to tremble. Another person who thought that you were a traitor. “Listen, I had a student once. He’s out of the Academy now but he was in your shoes once.” You couldn’t look at him. You focused on your shoes, the shoes you’ve regretted wearing. “I know how guys like that are. I know how manipulative they can be, how they can convince you into doing something that you know you don’t want to do.” Your head snapped up.

“I didn’t do anything wrong. I wasn’t convinced to do anything wrong by anyone.”

“I know how kind you are. I know that you had a good heart. No one’s going to blame you if someone took advantage of that. I don’t care what happened. We’ve known each other forever. I’ll always be here for you.” Iruka gently placed his hands on your shoulders and his forehead against yours. You became cognisant of how violently you quaked. You didn’t even register his confession. The sharp burning between your eyes threatened to spill over into tears.

“Iruka, please stop. Just tell me that you believe me.” You gripped onto his forearm, wanting to feel a semblance of comfort. “I’m not a traitor.”

“I do believe you.” Unconvincing. You looked into his eyes, salty droplets now silently streaming down your cheeks.

“I didn’t do anything wrong.” Iruka nodded against you without a word. A beat. You gulped. “And Kabuto didn’t either.”

He pulled away, trying to fight a frown from crossing his face. You could see it. The realization morphing his features. Iruka tried his best not to show any of his mixed emotions, but he was always one to wear his heart on his sleeve. The corners of his mouth twitched.

“Who? The bingo book ninja?” He shoved a hand in his pocket. He always did that when he was nervous. “No, I’m sure he didn’t. D-didn't do anything wrong.” Once again, unconvincing.

“I’m sorry, I don’t feel well. Please, uh, I’ll talk to you tomorrow.” You didn’t look back. You ran home.

***

When you got to your apartment, you dropped to the floor. You scrambled for a kunai to pry open the floorboard. Throwing the plank aside, you plucked out the scroll. Unraveling it, you bit your finger, smearing your blood across the summoning symbol.

You were already starting to scurry off when Kabuto appeared. You walked right through the white cloud of smoke. He felt troubled, but that wasn’t something you picked up on. Kabuto immediately pulled out a scalpel in defense, ready for an emergency fight. You didn’t even tell him to lower his weapon. You didn’t blink twice. You stormed straight to your wardrobe, yanking out a large travel bag.

“What’s going on? I thought you were going out tonight.” Kabuto asked, but you ignored him, stuffing belongings inside the bag. You skittered frantically around the room, pulling sentimental belongings from your drawers and off your shelves. Kabuto looked on helplessly as you muttered to yourself. He could hardly catch you with how erratically you darted around your small living space. With enough calculation, he caught you, grabbing you by your wrists. You struggled against him. “Hey, hey, hey slow down. Tell me what happened.”

You looked up at him, rivulets still flowing from your eyes.

“Please, Kabuto,” You begged. “Let’s run away together.”

His immediate response was to let go of you, stumbling a bit backwards.

“What?” His mouth went dry.

“I—” You couldn’t even get your thoughts straight. You just spoke, everything spilling out of you. —“Please take me away from here.” Ever-suave, Kabuto found himself panicked.

“I can’t.”

“Why not?”

“I’ve killed a lot of people for one thing—” You met his eyes, but in your haze you missed all that they told. You saw complete and utter rejection.

“Aren’t you the one who always tells me that you’re not my enemy? You’re all I have.” Betrayal. If Kabuto could name the expression that washed over your face that would be it. You wiped the wetness from your skin with your sleeve. “Please, you know I would be quiet. You could have any of my books. I don’t even care about shoes on my bed. I don’t even need a bed just please let’s go right now!”

And for all of his big talk, Kabuto was at a loss. He wanted to. More than anything he wanted to scoop you off of your feet then and there, but he couldn’t. It wasn’t an option. He couldn’t bring you to Orochimaru. You were supposed to be here in the Leaf. You belonged here in the Leaf. This was where you could be happiest, not on the run with him. He’s caused enough damage to your life.

“I can’t.” That was all he managed to make out without his voice cracking. And as he looked into your large, wet eyes, his heart shattered.

“You can’t or you won’t?”

“I-I can’t. I—” He kicked himself. —“You’ll be happier here.”

“I’ll be happier with you,” You pleaded. You balled up your hands in the front of his shirt. “Please, I love you.” Kabuto diverted his eyes from yours, clenching them shut.

“No, you don’t.” He placed his hands over yours, gingerly trying to remove you from him but you stood firm. “You’re drunk. I’m sure that if you go to bed you’ll feel better in the morning.”

“I’m not drunk!” You argued, getting even more desperate than you already were. “You told me to gather up some nerve so here it is! I love you! Please let’s go, just you and me. We can start over—” And with a few quick hand signs, you fell asleep.

Kabuto’s hand hovered over your forehead. He could see your fear, feel it too. He caught you as you began to collapse and brought you over to the bed. Knowing your recovery speed, the jutsu wouldn’t last for long. Perhaps it would last a half hour, maybe less. Anyone else and he would have expected them to be out for the rest of the night. He covered you with your blanket and sat at the edge of the bed, ready to recast his spell when you began to come to for the rest of the night. He knew that if you kept talking, he would have done exactly what you asked. Kabuto buried his head in his hands and uncharacteristically, for the first time in years, began to sob.

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tobiosmilktea · 4 years

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can i get some GOOD headcanons on kageyama, kuroo, oikawa, and terushima drunkingly confessing time there best friend? similar to how tsukki did it in the number neighbors au 🥰🥰🥰

drunk confessions w/ kageyama, kuroo, oikawa, and terushima

— k. tobio

OK HEAR ME OUT

kags is the type to be hella emotional when he’s drunk, like full on sobbing or just being moody for no reason

it’s definitely not that bad at first, i would think he could handle his alcohol pretty well but once he get a couple shots in THAT’S when moody kags come in

with you being the designated sober for the group, you had to not drink ofc

out of everyone else in the group he’s one of the more difficult ones

near the end of the might where you had to take everyone home, you literally had to force a sobbing kageyama into the uber

“wHY THE FUCK DO YOU HAVE TO BE SO DAMN CUTE FOR?”

homie would be choking in between sobs as you literally apologize to the driver

ngl it’s kinda hilarious

drunk kags = simp kags

“y/n ur so pwetty 🥺👉🏻👈🏻”

like DEADASS HES AN ENTIRELY NEW PERSON

but if he isn’t showering you with compliments, he would be crying into your shoulder about how stressed he has been bc of volleyball

“coach said my sets are getting weird 😔😔”

and then you would sit there awkwardly laughing as you tried your best comforting him

you would run your hands through his hair and he’s literally about to self combust from the contact

by the time your uber arrives to his apartment, trying to pull him out of the car is harder than pushing him into it

his six foot one ass really be making it harder than it should be

once you do finally get him out of the car, he’s completely slumped over you and you try your best to lead him back to his place

his muscular arms strategically placed around and over your shoulders as his feet basically drag on the ground

“y/n~ where are we going?”

“back to your apartment, tobio.”

this is the part where he groans and immediately starts resisting

the thing is it doesnt last long considering he’s completely fucking drained, if anything the moment you past by the threshold into his apartment he was already halfway unconscious

your muscles strained guiding him to his bedroom to which your literally just plop him onto his bed

you sigh to yourself as you felt immediate relief on your body

after a beat or two passed to regain some strength and energy, you tug on kag’s body again to make him properly lay on the bed rather than being at the cusp of falling off

“you’re so fucking heavy, tobio.” you pull his bedsheets over him, “also don’t get out of bed or else i’ll kick you.”

honestly he looked so cute as he was in the process of passing out

“y/n?” he called out before you could leave his side

“hm?”

it was then his right hand would find yours and pull it close to him, mumbling: “you treat me so well, y/n... no wonder why i’ve been in love with you since high school.”

perhaps you ended up not leaving his side that night

— k. tetsurou

homie won’t leave you alone while you guys are out drinking

HES VERY PROTECTIVE

he literally refuses to leave your side as both of you were drinking

i would say kuroo has a pretty strong alcohol tolerance but ngl yours is stronger fr

this obviously led to kuroo getting completely shitfaced at a much quicker pace than you and when he’s drunk, it’s obvious

like REALLY obvious

he’s most definitely a giggly drunk

he probably laughs at every little thing with that obnoxious hyena laugh you love to hear so much

if there was ever a moment you two did split up, you would immediately know where he was the moment his loud ass laughs literally thundered throughout the entire bar

“excuse me, have you seen my friend? he’s tall, has black hair that look’s like a chicken’s—”

*CUE LOUDASS HYENA LAUGH FROM ACROSS THE BAR*

“oop- nevermind”

you were literally on your way to fetch him as it was getting super late and the both of you needed to go home when you saw him stumbling farther away from you

“kuroo! where the hell are you going?” you would shout over the loud conversating crowds and music

he ultimately didn’t hear you as he continued walking towards the bar

you grumbled as your eyes stay locked on his large figure to which he starts climbing a bar stool

“oh my fucking god—kuroo!!”

this dude literally CLIMBS ONTO THE BAR

“LADIES AND GENTLEMEN!!” he yells over the large crowd, everyone’s attention is on him and you were immediately struck with second-hand embarrassment

“MAY I HAVE YOU ATTENTION PLEASE! I JUST WANTED TO SAY THAT I AM LITERALY HEAD OVER HEELS FOR MY FRIEND Y/N!!”

when i tell you were wanted to drop dead then and there

your eyes widened in shock, your mouth parted, and you stood there completely paralyzed as kuroo points you out in the crowd

everyone surounding you turn towards your figure and your cheeks immediately flushed a bright red and your heart suddenly beating a thousand beats per minute

“IVE LIKED YOU FOR AGES.” kuroo continues, “AND I JUST WANTED TO KNOW IF YOU FELT THE SAME”

silence filled the club like a wet blanket as you nervously chuckle

this was so awkward like it’s not even funny

“well?” a random guy from across the bar shouted

you purse your lips, “if i say yes, would you get off the bar and take me out on a real date?”

the biggest smile melted upon kuroo’s lips as he laughs

he jumps off the bar and practically cuts through the crowd just to pull you into the tightest hug you’ve ever received

“god, you’re so drunk.”

“it was my only way of getting myself to finally say it.”

— o. tooru

if you think this boy has attitude when he’s sober just wait until he’s drunk

like literally he’s so mfing sassy and for what reason ??

i dont even think this boy drinks that much let alone has a high tolerance of alcohol

oikawa’s a lightweight (i said what i said 😤)

literally if he downs anything more than three shots, he’s a literal goner

not to mention HES ABSOLUTELY WILD

drunk oikawa — the wild, sassy one

i’d say he’s pretty loud, but def not as loud or confident enough like kuroo to stand on a mfing bar and confess his love

nah, if anything, oikawa’s more rowdy when it’s a party at someone else’s house

he knows to keep himself in check if he’s drinking in public (like he knows from experience and almost got arrested one time for public indecency but it izz what it izz)

so he practically learned to control himself, but if it’s a house party ??

GIRL, YOU GOT A WHOLE STORM COMIN

knowing that it’s at a friend’s house, especially if it’s your house, he’s letting himself get completely loose

he knows you’ll take care of him anyway

throughout the night he’s literally messing around with friends, maybe a game of beer pong would usually get him drunk

put once the party’s over, he would usually be the last one to leave as he was left on your couch passed out

you didn’t even notice he was there until he started snoring

you couldn’t help but laugh at his adorable unconscious state, it was almost as if you wanted to leave him be, but you knew he had to get back home

so you stroll towards his slumped figure on the couch and kneeled on the ground

his cheek was pressed up again one of the cushions and he was dribbling a bit of saliva but you ultimately chose to ignore it

“oikawa,” you muttered as you rubbed his shoulder and shook it

he wouldn’t really respond for the first few times, but after repeating his name after a while, he would start to stir

he would groan and could barely open his eyes

half-lidded, a smile forms on his lips at the mere sight of you

“hey there gorgeous.” he slurrs through his teeth as he continued to stir

“c’mon, get up you gotta get up and go home. i called an uber for you.”

you tried helping him get up, but he just plops down again

“why can’t i stay wit you?”

“cause you don’t live here.”

“i would if we were together.”

your brows furrow in confusion, “what do you mean?”

“i always wanted to live with someone i really liked... and that’s you.” his words were almost incoherent how slurred they were through his drunkened state

“you like me?” you asked just to reassure what he mumbled was truly what you heard

he nods as you brush his tangled jungle of hair out of his face

there was a deep onset of crimson blush that appeared on your cheeks as he did so, your heart beat quickening it’s speed as you sighed in contrnt

“you act like i didn’t know this whole time. you’re quite obvious about your feelings, oikawa.”

— t. yuuji

you and terushima were club regulars

each weekend you were out with him club and bar hopping just for the fun of it

but lately, the more often you do things the more desensitized and bored you get of the same activities over and over again

you and terushima sat in both of your car ready to drive to downtown where all the clubs were when you both lazily sighed

“i’m not really in the mood for loud music and socializing.” you would confess, ready to perhaps hear terushima’s jests of you being a party pooper

but instead he sighs and agrees to your surprise as he’s typically the one dragging you to these places anyway

“same,” he mutters. “i think i’d just hangout with you tonight.”

there was a slight tone in his voice as he peaked at you that you couldnt exactly pinpoint as if you were waiting for the catch

“i still wanna drink though.” he added, there it was

“good call”

from then on you stopped by a convinient store where you and terushima buy the cheapest six pack of canned beer

in the end alcohol was alcohol and you both didnt care about the quality

this was the only case in which you had a lower tolerance than terushima as he could literally handle the strongest of liquors and still act sober

it’s kinda scary as sometimes you can never tell whether or not he’s actually drunk

but as he is a sober drunk, the only way you can tell that he’s absolutely blasted is that he becomes brutally honest with you

that brutal honesty sometimes comes with a childish offhanded joke that you would roll your eyes to

not to mention he sometimes becomes a bit of a perv too

“your ass looks better in the dress you wore last weekend” was one example

and because you both wanted some quiet for once on a late saturday night, you drove all the way to the park where it was quiet enough for you two to relax

terushima had held your hand to help you walk up the steep hill to the top of the park in which oversees a great view of tokyo

with it’s pretty city lights shining upon you two, you and terushima settle yourselves on a bench and crack open your beers

you and him cheers as you two silently sipped at the alcohol

by the time both of you were in your third can of beer, it was obvious terushima was completely wasted

“not gonna lie,” oh here it comes, “your driving sucks.”

you couldn’t help but laugh at his honesty

a laugh that he likes so much, it sounded like heaven to his ears and he wanted to make you laugh again and again

“i mean, you’re the one whose making me drive you everywhere all the time.”

he scoffs, humming in response as his half-lidded eyes flickered towards you, admiring how the moonlight reflected upon your face as you breathed in the sky

“you’re so beautiful,” he practically whispers.

“hmm?” you turn towars him with you eyes coated in honey

god he was in deep

“i like you.”

it honestly shocked you at first as your eyes widened into saucers

it was straight and brutally honest confession

just how you like it

#haikyuu!!#haikyuu #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu scenarios #haikyuu headcanons #kageyama x reader #kageyama headcanons #kageyama tobio #kuroo tetsurō #kuroo x reader #kuroo headcanons #oikawa tooru #oikawa x reader #oikawa headcanons #terushima yuuji #terushima x reader #terushima headcanons

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delphiniumblooms · 3 years

Text

fic writer review

thanks @daisy-appreciation-week for tagging!!

1. How many works do you have on Ao3?

28 :D

2. What’s your total Ao3 word count?

44507 and much more in my fanfic google drive - WIPs or never-posted fics

3. How many fandoms have you written for?

i wrote a lot in fantastic beasts (18 out of my 28 works are fb) and potc, and have done a hamilton oneshot

4. Top 5 fics by kudos?

these are all fb because they’re older lol

You’re All I Need - honestly I don’t like this one that much, no idea why it blew up. a slightly angsty newtina fic written for a secret santa fic exchange in 2018 for a newtina discord server.

Special Treatment - a newtina crackfic, where theseus scamander teases tina about showing up to work late with a hickey. one of my best attempts at comedy!

nativitas - a short fic about theseus scamander meeting his baby brother newt for the first time, first in my scamander brothers series

Taken By Surprise - newtina fic written based on the rayllum kiss scene from the dragon prince

discidium - the second instalment in the scamander brothers series. newt sees theseus off at platform 9 3/4. he doesn’t want his brother to leave him.

5. Do you respond to comments? Why/why not?

yes i do!! i thank everyone for leaving comments cause i don’t get that many and they do wonders for my writer’s ego. please don’t be shy to leave comments, i am very friendly and will be eternally grateful for compliments on my fic!!!

6. A fic you’ve written with the angstiest ending?

as a general rule i don’t write angst cause i treat fic like escapism and so need happy endings. the angsty ends i have are usually in line with canon. duty-bound covers the end of potc3, where will and elizabeth are separated, so that’s pretty angsty. a little fall of rain covers queenie leaving jacob in the crimes of grindelwald.

7. Do you write crossovers?

ive written only one and am not likely to write another LOL

annexus is a fantastic beasts-bbc sherlock crossover. i was thinking about how similar queenie and sherlock are, and how sherlock’s deduction powers have about the same effect as queenie’s legilimency, so boom, this fic was born. also they have the same birthday! i posted the fic on that day last year

8. Ever received hate on a fic?

never, thankfully. i’ve never become well-known enough or written sufficiently controversial stuff in order to get hate

9, Do you write smut?

nah. i write sex but i shy away from the details. i like to say i like subtlety but really i am just a coward. maybe when i become a more experienced writer and grow some balls then i will write proper smut

10. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

not to my knowledge

11. Ever had a fic translated?

no but that would be really cool!!

12. Have you ever co-written a fic?

i think i’ve tried to multiple times but it never really got anywhere

13. All time fav ship?

oh no,,, uhh it’s gotta be either willabeth, newtina or sylki. can’t pick one, all three have had such deep impacts on me

14. WIP you want to finish but don’t think you ever will?

this 7k+ monster of a newtina fic that i started in like 2019 and still haven’t finished. kinda cringe at the thought of it, because it was just me projecting really bad. premise was tina has a really really bad period and newt takes care of her

15. Writing strengths?

i think i do emotional impact very well. i know how to use rhetoric devices and things like internal monologue and third person deep pov and i can string words together in a way that create absolute bangers of lines

16. Writing weaknesses?

i am really bad at plot/exposition LMAOO and am also like a really inconsistent writer. i have horrible perfectionism issues and so i don’t write often, only when i’m inspired, though i am making an effort to write more. also sometimes i think i’m too obsessed with certain ideas or certain ways of wording things such that i force them in even though it might not necessarily make sense to

17. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in a fic?

i’ve never done it before! i don’t dare to do it in languages i don’t know, and so far chinese (my second language) hasn’t really been useful to write dialogue in. that might change though because i’m getting into more works with chinese rep, like agents of shield!

18. First fandom you wrote for?

fantastic beasts

19. What’s your fav fic you’ve written so far?

my most recent one, (wolf’s) teeth! it’s a sylki songfic based on teeth by 5sos and honestly i feel like it’s my magnum opus. i love these two so much and the song fit them and the plot so well!! i banged it out during a really busy school week in like 3 days, i’m so proud of myself for doing it

https://archiveofourown.org/users/delphiniumblooms here’s my ao3 page!!

tagging @swinging-stars-from-satellites and anyone else who wants to do it!

#fanfiction #fanfic #fanfic author #fantastic beasts and where to find them #potc #pirates of the caribbean #sylki #newtina #willabeth

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sachigram · 4 years

Text

Catharsis

((click here to read on ao3!))

The first thing Izaya notices when he wakes up is that the room is too damn bright. He always remembers to close his curtains, as his hours are all over the place, and blackout curtains are essential for any sleep he might salvage.

The second thing he notices is that he's definitely not in his bed, and he can't remember why he wouldn't be.

“Izaya-kun, easy. You hit your head.”

Well, that explains a few things. Izaya turns to look at Shinra, squinting up at him.

“'S too bright...” he murmurs, and Shinra frowns.

“You say that every time, but the curtains are closed. You want me to get you a sleep mask?”

“Every time?” Izaya asks, closing his eyes and ignoring Shinra's stupid question. He tries to remember what he was doing before, but it's all a blur. “What day is it?”

“It's Tuesday. You've been here for two days, and you have a concussion. I've been monitoring you, so you're fine, but your memory might be hazy for a while.”

Izaya hums, used to injuries by this point. It's not the first time he's woken in an unfamiliar bed, and it won't be the last. He licks his lips and notices how dry they are.

“Can I have some water?”

“Yeah, and you're probably starving too, huh? You've barely eaten.” Shinra gives Izaya a firm look as he says this, and Izaya blinks up at him, confused. Shinra's face returns to its normal dopey grin quickly. “I'll be right back.”

Izaya is asleep again before Shinra returns.

The next time Izaya wakes, it's to raised voices.

“You keep saying he's fine, but he's not fine! He can't even focus his eyes for a goddamn minute!” Shizuo. Is that Shizuo? Why would Shizuo be at Izaya's bedside, worried for him?

“He has a head injury. Besides, his body is likely catching up on sleep and fluids. He's not in very good shape,” Shinra says, and Izaya feels there's an IV in his arm. He keeps his face smooth, impassive. It won't do him any good to open his eyes to Shizuo's looming presence.

“Bullshit, the flea does constant cardio. He's gotta be in great shape by now,” Shizuo says, and Izaya hears Shinra sigh.

“Just go home, Shizuo-kun. I told you I'd call you when he's awake and lucid. It won't be good for him to wake up to you here. He'll be scared and might run for it, which will make him worse.”

“I'm not gonna do anything to him! I'm just making sure he's alive!”

“I know that, but he won't. And he's confused enough without you adding to it.”

Shizuo makes a grumbling noise, and then there are footsteps leading down the hall before the distinct sound of a door opening and closing.

“Before you ask,” Shinra says, and Izaya knows it's addressed to him, “Shizuo-kun is worried sick about you, and it's only confirming my suspicions that he's smitten with you.”

“Ha,” Izaya mutters, and when he opens his eyes again, he finds it's not as bright as last time. “Why was he here?”

“He's the one that brought you here. He said he was chasing you and you collapsed off a building.”

“Oh, whatever. He probably slammed my head into a wall and then felt guilty about it.”

“It's possible,” Shinra agrees, “but your blood sugar was extremely low at the time, so it added credibility to his story.” Shinra settles into the chair by the bed, and Izaya glares at the ceiling, knowing what's next. “You're going to kill yourself if you don't start taking care of yourself.”

“I'm busy. I was working and then he started chasing me. It was his fault.”

“You always say it's his fault.”

“Well, it always is!” Izaya sits up and glowers at Shinra. “I keep odd hours, you know that. I don't mean to forget to take care of things, it just happens.”

“That excuse was good the first few times, but I'm really starting to think you do it on purpose.”

“What are you, a concerned mother? Either way, you get my business and my money, so it hardly matters.” Izaya looks down at the IV. “Can I take this out? I need to use the bathroom.”

Shinra gives him a long look before reaching down and taking the IV out himself. Izaya tentatively puts his feet on the ground and stands, feeling wobbly as he does so. Wordlessly, Shinra moves closer and offers his shoulder, and Izaya holds on gratefully and allows Shinra to help him down the hallway.

“I'm going to make something to eat,” Shinra says, his voice muffled through the bathroom door.

Izaya doesn't respond. He sits on the toilet, too weak to keep standing, and when he washes his hands afterwards he has to lean on the sink. His reflection is horrible to look at. He's paler than normal, eyes dark underneath, lips dry and chapped. His cheekbones look too sharp. His hair is going everywhere.

Izaya grumbles and reaches into his pocket for his lip balm, but he isn't surprised to find it missing. Shinra always empties the pockets of his patients for safety reasons.

When Izaya opens the door, he's relieved to see Shinra isn't there waiting on him, but it's short lived, as Celty is quickly approaching him, her body language open and relaxed in his presence, which is odd for her. Shinra must have told her to be nice.

“Need a hand?” Celty asks, lifting the PDA. Izaya considers doing something petty, like swatting her away or slapping her PDA to the floor, but he dismisses the idea quickly. He does need help, and being a brat because he's not feeling well won't be beneficial to him.

“Thanks,” he says instead, leaning against her as she helps him to the table and eases him into a chair. She hovers over him, on edge again, and Izaya peers up at her and waits to see what it is she wants from him.

“You gave everyone a good scare.”

“No one's ever cared before when Shizu-chan injured me. Not that I blame anyone. It happens too often to panic every time.” Izaya puts his elbow on the table and rests his chin against his hand.

“Shizuo didn't do anything. He brought you here. He's been worried for you.” Celty fidgets again, and then her fingers are moving rapidly across the screen. “Listen... I think this would be a good time to try and bury the hatchet with Shizuo. Think of it like an extended olive branch. If not for him, you could have died. Isn't that as good a reason as any to make peace?”

Izaya stares at her.

“Well?” she prompts.

“And have you told him about this grand idea of yours?” Izaya asks.

“Yes. He said you're not likely to change, and I agree. But I also think it's worth a shot.”

“If he thinks so badly of me, he should have left me there.” Izaya doesn't bother reading her response, just buries his head in his arms. “I didn't ask for his help. If he hadn't been chasing me, I wouldn't have had to run for my life, and I wouldn't have needed saving. I don't want to talk about him anymore.”

Izaya hears the sound of her stomping her feet, and then heavy footsteps as she marches towards the kitchen. Shinra makes a startled noise, and then he's speaking in a hushed tone Izaya doesn't bother to listen to. He knows what it's about, anyway.

He drifts off again, and the next time he lifts his head, it's to find a bowl in front of him.

“Just some soup,” Shinra says, sitting across from him. Celty sits next to Shinra, her arms folded over her chest, her neck billowing smoke.

“I'm tired,” Izaya mumbles, rubbing his eyes. He barely looks at the soup, but it smells decent enough.

“You need to eat,” Shinra says. “You're going to be tired a while, even more so if you don't give your body energy.”

Sighing, Izaya brings his spoon to his lips. Some kind of potato soup. It's good, and Izaya wonders which of them made this, but he doesn't bother asking.

“Can I go home tonight?” Izaya asks after a few moments. Shinra gives him a patient look.

“That's up to you. Do you think you can take care of yourself?”

“Well, I'm moving around, not passing out, and I'm holding a conversation with you. I'd say that qualifies,” Izaya muses. He lifts the bowl to his lips and drinks the broth, finding it soothing in his throat.

“Let me rephrase,” Shinra says, and his eyes narrow. “Are you going to bother caring for yourself, or should I expect you back here soon?”

Izaya bristles, sets the bowl back on the table. He smooths his features and forces his voice into a neutral tone.

“Even if I intended to walk into traffic, it's not your place to keep me from doing so.”

“Oh, you'd be surprised. Especially with Celty here! She could knock you out for another few days if she had to.”

“Shinra, we've been over this before. I'm not hurting myself. I'm just busy. Stop being such a nag, alright? It's not as if you care anyway.” Izaya sips some water, watches Shinra over the table. “Besides, if Shizu-chan keeps inviting himself over, I'd rather not be here next time he comes back.”

“Eventually, this feud of yours is going to have to end. You could resolve it peacefully, or wait for one of you to kill the other. I think the first option is the best one,” Shinra says.

Izaya stands, wobbles, and has to sit back down immediately. Shinra is still smiling at him.

“Maybe just stay one more night. We can see how you feel tomorrow.”

“I can call a cab. I could even call someone to help me to the car.”

“How? I have your phone.” Shinra tilts his head to the side. “You need to take this seriously. I think one more night, at least.”

“Fine, but at least give me my phone. If I've been here a few days, I need to contact some people.”

***

He waits until about an hour after Shinra and Celty go to bed. He stands and hangs onto the wall, maneuvering himself as quietly as he can. He finds his keys, knives, wallet, and lip balm in a small bowl on Shinra's counter, and he puts them in his coat pocket alongside his phone, where he has been texting back and forth with Namie and a few clients for the past few hours.

He's already arranged for a ride home, and it takes him a while to exit the building, but he manages to do so without falling down. To his surprise, Shiki's car is the one waiting for him, and he composes himself before opening the back door and getting in beside Shiki.

“Izaya. You look rough. Sure you should be leaving?” Shiki asks.

“Of course. Shinra is a busy man. I'm sure someone else needs that spare bed more than I do,” Izaya says. He meets Shiki's gaze and grins. “I'm feeling much better.”

“Maybe you should take a few more days, just in case,” Shiki says.

“The last thing I need is more downtime. Forgive me, Shiki-san, but I'd really like to get back to work and put this behind me.”

Shiki waits a few moments, eyeing Izaya scrupulously. “Fine then. If you're sure.” He signals the driver, and they're off.

***

When Izaya runs into Shizuo again, it's an accident.

Izaya has buried himself in work once more, as he's accustomed to. He has less time to think about anything else when he's busy.

He's leaning against a wall, head buried in his phone when he feels someone looking at him. His eyes meet Shizuo's, who is wearing his sunglasses, but is clearly watching him. Izaya frowns, weighs his options, and decides to just run for it without saying a word to Shizuo.

“Izaya!” Shizuo shouts after him, but Izaya doesn't stop, just runs and runs until his chest aches and he's gasping for breath. He finally finds a small cafe to duck into, and he makes his way to a table in the back, flopping into it and ordering some tea when the waiter comes by.

He busies himself by sipping the tea and continuing to use his phone. He lifts his head at some point and notices it's raining outside. Surely Shizuo has given up the chase by now? He decides to wait just a little longer to be sure, and to give the rain a chance to let up, but of course it only starts coming down harder. Sighing to himself, he pays his bill and puts his hood on, stepping outside into the downpour.

It's a gloomy day, but warm enough. Izaya is at least thankful he isn't cold and wet, as he can't afford to get sick any time soon. He has so much to do, has taken on so many things at once, and it's still not enough to really quiet his mind or exhaust him enough to where he can sleep at night. He's been ignoring Shinra's advice, and Shinra himself, as the doctor has been harassing Izaya ever since he left in the middle of the night. Sometimes Celty will text him as well, but Izaya hasn't responded to her more personal questions and has kept their correspondence strictly professional.

He walks quickly, weaving through the people around him. He needs to get home and sort through the files he's had Namie organize for him and then he needs to give Shiki a call to discuss progress. Maybe at some point he can get some sleep, but undoubtedly Shiki will have another request, and while Izaya knows it can all wait, he also knows eventually he'll run out of steam and he'd like to finish some things up before then.

He's so caught up in his own thoughts that he doesn't notice someone approaching him, but he does jerk away just before Shizuo's hand can close around his wrist. Izaya whirls around, a knife drawn, and he glares up at Shizuo, who is glowering right back at him.

“Why did you run?” Shizuo asks, and Izaya actually laughs in his face.

“Is that a trick question? Do you think I want you to snap me in half?” Izaya asks, and Shizuo's scowl deepens.

“I wasn't going to do anything, and I still won't. Not unless you do something first,” Shizuo says, his eyes on Izaya's knife. He's still wearing the sunglasses, which is ridiculous since it's raining, but Izaya has also seen Shizuo wear them at night, as if they could hide who he is despite the fact he's wearing the same outfit as always.

“I'm busy,” Izaya says. “If you're bothering me for some sort of thank you, you can fuck off. I didn't ask for your help.”

“I wasn't— Hey, fuck you! You didn't deserve being helped at all, flea! I could've left you there to die on your own. That's what you'd have done if our situations were reversed, right?”

“Yes,” Izaya says, smirking as he gazes up into Shizuo's shades, seeing his own reflection in them. “I'd have done more than that. If you fell before me, I'd slit your throat while you were down. I wouldn't hesitate.” Izaya backs away, but keeps facing Shizuo, knows better than to turn from him while Shizuo is focused on him and this close. “You should've let me die.”

Shizuo's teeth are bared, his hands clenched into fists. He takes a few steps forward when Izaya backs away a little more, pursuing Izaya as he always does.

“Yeah? You wouldn't hesitate, huh? Well I'm better than you, and I wasn't gonna attack you while you were down. Celty's been saying some bullshit about using this to try and make things right with you, but I knew you wouldn't change, and I was right. You'll never change.”

“You're right,” Izaya says, and he does turn away then, knowing he's going to have to either attack or run for it once more. He isn't in the shape to be doing either, but he'd rather try to escape than keep facing Shizuo head-on. “Don't flatter yourself, anyway. You didn't save my life. I'd have woken up and called Shinra myself without you.”

“You wouldn't have. There was blood all over. You'd have died if I didn't carry you.”

“I didn't ask for your help!” Izaya snaps, looking back at Shizuo, who is watching him with a strange expression on his face. “If you hadn't been chasing me, I wouldn't have passed out.”

“Why the fuck did you pass out anyway, I-za-ya?” Shizuo asks. Everyone around them is giving them a wide berth, either knowing who they are, or just not wanting to get involved in their shouting match.

“I was tired. I was tired, and I knew you wouldn't stop, so I couldn't stop. I'm not thanking you because it was your fault!”

“Fuck that! You're lucky it was me that was after you and not the same shady ass people as you! And I never asked you to thank me!” Shizuo shouts, and Izaya feels his head pounding in response because this entire exchange is so stupid, and Shizuo's response struck a nerve with him.

“I would've been fine without you. Now let me go.”

Shizuo is watching him carefully, studying his face and his posture. Izaya bristles under it, feeling exposed somehow. Shizuo is an idiot half the time, but sometimes he's so sharp it takes Izaya by surprise, and Izaya isn't in the mood for surprises right now.

“Something's wrong with you,” Shizuo says. “Well. Something more than the usual bat-shit crazy stuff that's wrong with you.”

“I'm busy. Unlike you, I have to do more than punch people for a living.”

“Yeah, you just ruin lives. So what is it? Did you kill someone or something?”

Izaya feels a frigid cold wash over him. His hand feels numb where it grips the knife, and something in Shizuo's expression changes. Unthinkingly, Izaya turns and runs for it, clumsily running into a few people before landing in the path of an oncoming car.

Shizuo's hand snatches him backwards by the hood, and Izaya finds his back held against Shizuo's chest, Shizuo's arms going around him reflexively. The car passes, honking at them, and plenty of eyes are on them now.

“Fuck. You're losing it, flea.”

“Let go of me,” Izaya says, but he doesn't try very hard to pull away. Shizuo's arms drop all the same.

“Shinra said you were exhausted and obviously not caring for yourself. Said it was a constant problem of yours, since he doesn't know how to shut up. All I asked was if you were alive,” Shizuo says, and Izaya is still close to him, though not touching him anymore.

“Shinra is a nosy asshole,” Izaya says.

“He is,” Shizuo agrees.

“So you don't want me to thank you. Why are you following me around then if not to beat my face in or yank gratitude out of me?”

“Well, I kind of saved your life and all,” Shizuo says, and Izaya turns to face him wearily. “So now it kind of feels like my responsibility to make sure you stay alive.”

“I don't need your help. I can take care of myself.”

“Can you?” Shizuo asks, and doesn't wait for a response. He walks forward, bumping Izaya's shoulder with his as he passes. “Let me walk you home. I'd like to sleep tonight, and I won't if I think you're off in a ditch somewhere.”

“Why do you care?” Izaya mutters, following anyway. He does need to get home, and he can hardly control what Shizuo does.

“I guess because you don't.” Izaya watches Shizuo's back curiously, entranced by him. He never can tell what Shizuo is going to do next. He hates and admires that about Shizuo.

“I'm not trying to off myself, Shizu-chan, regardless of what Shinra has said.”

“Maybe not actively. It's still dangerous, you know? Not caring about yourself one way or the other. It just makes things worse later on.”

“Right. I guess you're an expert on being reckless,” Izaya says.

“It's not like you have the market cornered.”

They make decent time. Not many people are walking around anymore since the rain isn't getting any lighter, and they're both soaked to the bone by the time they're in front of Izaya's building. Izaya looks over at Shizuo, sighs, and edges past him.

“Do you want some tea?” he asks, and he doesn't have to look back to know Shizuo is following him.

Namie is still sorting through things when they walk through the door of Izaya's apartment. She gives them both a wilting look, her eyes lingering on Shizuo, and then she gives Izaya an accusing stare.

“You're late,” she says.

“I was waiting for the rain to stop. Didn't want to get wet,” Izaya says, and Shizuo snorts.

“Yeah, you did a great job staying dry,” Namie says. “If you get sick, I'm not going to take care of you.”

“You will if I complain enough to you. You'll be here anyway,” Izaya points out. “You can go now. Try not to curse anyone on your way home.” She rolls her eyes at him and gathers her things quickly, pulling an umbrella from her purse and giving Izaya a pointed look as she does so.

When she's gone, Shizuo turns to him.

“Who was that?”

“My secretary. She has a way about her, doesn't she? Charming woman.” Izaya goes to the bathroom and gets two towels, tosses one to Shizuo when he emerges. “I'm going to get some dry clothes.”

Shizuo doesn't respond, and Izaya knows it's because the beast is feeling just as weird about all this as he is. The two of them know each other pretty well, but have never actually spoken before without fighting either physically or verbally. Izaya is surprised they managed to get through high school together, but Izaya also rarely went to class.

He tugs on some more comfortable clothes before returning to the living room, where Shizuo is still standing, his head looking around like he's trying to take in all the sights of Izaya's apartment.

“I bet I could find you something to wear,” Izaya says, and Shizuo turns to him. “I have some sweatpants that are too big for me.”

“No, it's fine. I should be going anyway. No point in putting on dry clothes when it's still pouring rain,” Shizuo says.

“You don't want some tea?”

Shizuo pauses, and then he shakes his head.

“No, I need to go. I just wanted to make sure you got home okay.”

Izaya snorts and pads into the kitchen to make tea for himself. He hears the door open and close, and then he leans on the counter wearily, exhaling a breath he didn't realize he was holding. He doesn't blame Shizuo for not staying— Izaya wouldn't have either, if their situations were reversed. He doesn't know why he offered in the first place.

***

The next time he sees Shizuo is outside Shinra's building.

Izaya is shuffling by, on his way to Shiki for a briefing on his newest assignment. Shiki offered to come to him, but Izaya refused, citing he needed to get out of his apartment for a while. He's been holed up for days, working diligently on different things. He hasn't been to any of his chat-rooms for a while. Some of them have been messaging him privately, asking if he's okay, but Izaya doesn't bother responding.

It's a nice evening. The sun is dipping below the tops of the buildings, illuminating everything in an orange haze as the skies darken with nightfall. Izaya always enjoys seeing the neon lights of the city shine and outline everyone bustling around in their colors. He glances up at Shinra's building and is grateful he has an excuse for not stopping by. Shinra has still been messaging him and leaving voicemails. He's been threatening to come by, but Izaya isn't concerned about it. He's used to Shinra barging in on him by this point.

He pauses when he sees Shizuo step outside. Shizuo is dressed in casual clothes, and Izaya remembers it's the weekend. It's hard to keep the days in order since he's been so caught up with work. Shizuo stretches, reaches in his pocket and pulls out his cigarettes. He pauses when he sees Izaya.

Izaya considers running for it, but then he would just look guilty. He's really just passing by, and he doesn't think he has the energy to run right now. Shizuo is fast, faster than Izaya gives him credit for. Izaya doesn't think he has it in him to be faster.

Shizuo lights his cigarette and walks towards Izaya, his hands going into the pockets of his slacks.

“Flea,” he says in greeting.

“Shizu-chan,” Izaya returns.

“What are you doing in Ikebukuro?”

Izaya snorts at the question. Usually, Shizuo would be yelling that at him and throwing something by this point. As it is, Shizuo doesn't look mad or even irritated. He looks like he's genuinely asking.

“I've got somewhere to be and I thought it was a nice night for a walk. How about you? Were you seeing Shinra for an injury?” Shizuo doesn't look like he's hurt or sick, but it's also hard to tell with him. Shizuo walked off gunshot wounds once.

“Huh? Oh, no. I was having dinner with them. A lot of people are up there, actually.” Shizuo stiffens after he says this, like he thinks maybe it was cruel to tell Izaya Shinra is having a party and didn't extend an invitation.

“Leaving the party early, Shizu-chan? Maybe you should go back up to your adoring fans.” Izaya turns to leave, ready to get away from this conversation, but of course Shizuo follows him.

“You could go up. Shinra's been babbling about you nonstop, saying you aren't talking to anyone. He'd be glad to see you.”

“He wouldn't. And anyway, I told you already that I'm busy.”

Izaya gets more and more annoyed as Shizuo walks beside him. Shizuo's apartment is the other direction, and Izaya bristles when he thinks that Shizuo might be walking with him out of pity.

“I don't need a babysitter,” Izaya snaps at last, whirling on Shizuo, who blinks at him.

“I'm not babysitting you.”

“Then what do you want?”

Shizuo takes a drag of the cigarette and looks down at Izaya with a scrutinizing expression, like he either doesn't know what to say or how to say it. Izaya withholds a comment about how that's probably commonplace for an imbecile like Shizuo.

“You don't look good,” Shizuo says at last.

“Fantastic. I look bad so you're following me. Do you realize how ridiculous that sounds?” Izaya asks, and Shizuo grunts, narrows his eyes.

“You look sick,” Shizuo amends. “You look like you're about to fall over.”

“Well, I'm not. So get away from me and leave me alone.”

Izaya walks faster, his hands curling into fists. It's unusual for Shizuo to get under his skin like this, and Izaya knows he can chalk it up to a lack of food and sleep. His head is pounding, and he just wants to get this stupid meeting out of the way and go home and sleep an entire day if he can. To his chagrin, Shizuo is still behind him. When a hand closes around Izaya's hood, Izaya turns quickly, knife in hand. Shizuo lets go immediately.

“What's wrong with you?” Shizuo spits, and finally he looks angry.

“Lots of things, just like you always thought. I'm the worst person you've ever met and I'm going off to ruin some lives and kill some people.” Izaya backs away, still holding the knife threateningly.

“Izaya—“ Shizuo starts, stepping forward. Izaya throws the knife at Shizuo's foot, stabbing through his shoe and between his toes. Shizuo scoffs and then swipes at Izaya, who already has another knife in hand. “Would you fuckin' quit it? I'm trying to talk to you!”

“Go back to your stupid fucking party, Shizuo,” Izaya says, and when he turns and runs for it, Shizuo doesn't follow him.

***

Afterwards, Izaya packs some things and goes to one of his other apartments. He doesn't want to be barged in on, and he definitely doesn't want to see Shizuo again any time soon. He stays a little over a week, messaging Namie and Shiki and no one else. He avoids his personal phone like the plague, and after about two days and a message from Shizuo of all people, he turns it off, not bothering to read any of the messages.

By the time he's back in Shinjuku, he's feeling worse somehow. Going away usually refreshes him, but he just feels like he's been running from everything, and feeling like the coward he is never fills him with anything but disgust.

He unpacks his things and starts some coffee before he finally turns on his personal phone. Messages flood through one after the other, but it's not like a lot of people are sending him things. It's almost all Shinra, who is sending one word messages at a time to flood and annoy Izaya with notifications. Mairu sent him a message saying they want to see him, which translates to they need money for something. Shizuo sent only one message.

Can I see you?

Izaya stares at it for a few moments before he tosses his phone on the desk, ignoring all the messages. He takes his coffee to the couch and curls up, turning on the TV and accomplishing absolutely nothing.

***

Another week goes by. Finally, Shinra fulfills his threat and barges into the apartment while Izaya is showering.

“Izaya-kun!” Shinra calls. “Ah, are you showering?”

“If you come up here, I'm stabbing you,” Izaya says. Shinra laughs.

“Trust me, I don't want to see you! I'll be down here when you get out.”

Izaya considers locking himself in his room until Shinra leaves, but eventually he gets out of the shower and dresses himself. He towels through his hair and tromps down the stairs, glaring when he sees Shinra sitting at the table.

“I brought Russia Sushi. Simon says he hasn't seen you in a while.”

Izaya's stomach growls. It has been too long.

“I'm sure he's been reveling in the quiet,” Izaya says.

“It's unsettling, actually. Everyone thinks you're plotting something. Well, some people are just saying you died.”

“The city is full of wishful thinkers.” Izaya grabs two bottles of tea from the fridge and pours them over ice before settling at the table with Shinra. “Thanks for the food.”

“You look terrible.”

“Can we start this conversation later? Mealtimes are supposed to be enjoyable.”

Shinra makes a noise of disapproval, but doesn't push it. They eat in silence for a while, but of course Shinra breaks it.

“Have you spoken to Shizuo-kun?”

“Why would I want to speak to that invalid?” Izaya asks.

“It wouldn't kill you to be civil to him. He's got a good heart, and you freaked him out when you fell off that building.”

“He does not have a heart,” Izaya says instead of, I tried being civil to him once, and he hated me on sight. “Don't grace him with basic human anatomy. He's like a jellyfish.”

“Izaya-kun,” Shinra says exasperatedly, “he's trying to bury the hatchet with you. He's tired of fighting. Isn't that good news?”

Izaya doesn't say anything, but his chest clenches. So that's how it is, huh? Shizuo is done with him, done with their feud. If they pass each other, Shizuo will ignore him, go on like Izaya truly is nothing more than piece of trash in the street.

“Izaya-kun?” Shinra asks, and Izaya realizes he's been quiet too long.

“Yes, that's great news. I can finally go on about my business with no interference. Let him know I'm on board with his peace plan and we never have to see each other ever again.”

“Don't be glib,” Shinra says. “You could try being his friend.”

“I don't do well with friends.”

“Lucky for you, Shizuo-kun is way more stubborn than I am. He won't let you withdraw too much. I see now that I waited too long before coming here. You dug yourself into a pit.”

“I don't know what you mean.”

“Izaya,” Shinra says, dropping the niceties. “You can't punish yourself forever for what happened to that kid. It wasn't your fault.”

Izaya chews his ootoro, but suddenly it tastes horrible. He pushes the rest of it away from himself and drinks his tea instead.

“Who told you?” he asks.

“Does it matter? I wish I'd heard it from you.”

“Whoever told you neglected to mention it was my fault.”

“You can't control what people do with the information you give them. He paid you, right?” Shinra asks.

“No, he was in debt. I gave him what he wanted for free. He was eager, but he was an idiot. I didn't think he'd do what he did. I underestimated him.”

“Still,” Shinra continues. “I give medical care to all sorts of terrible people. If I save someone's life, and that person goes out to kill someone later, does that make it my fault?”

“It's different. You're a doctor. You're not supposed to discriminate against anyone, no matter what they do,” Izaya says. “I can control who I do and don't give information to.”

“As refreshing as it is to see your conscience for once, I think you're twisting this into more than it is. You send people into danger all the time. What makes this one so different?”

“He actually died, for one,” Izaya says instead of, “I don't know.”

“I've killed people before, too. I was trying to help, but I've made medical mistakes that cost people their lives. You can't shut yourself down every time something doesn't go your way.”

Izaya doesn't respond because Shinra doesn't get it. He doesn't expect anyone will, and there's more he's unwilling to say. When Shinra realizes he isn't going to get anything else out of Izaya, he sighs and begins prattling on about Celty, and Izaya manages to eat the rest of his sushi.

When Shinra leaves, he pulls Izaya into a tight hug, and Izaya leans into him, closing his eyes.

“Come over soon. We'll have dinner. We can invite other people, too,” Shinra says. Izaya laughs, shaking his head.

“What is it with you and dinner parties?”

“It's what friends do. Now that you and Shizuo-kun aren't fighting, I can invite you both. Also, hey, try to stay on Shiki-san's good side, okay? I hear he had someone who works with him killed recently, and you're always causing trouble.”

When Izaya is alone, he goes to his computer and starts working, shutting everything else out. He tries not to think of who was killed on Shiki's orders, has a pretty good idea already who it was.

***

When he sees Shizuo again, it's Shizuo who spots him first.

Izaya forces himself outside on another walk. Shiki has flat-out refused to give Izaya anything else to do, stating Izaya needs a break, and Izaya has decided not to work on anything else until his head's clear.

He makes his way to the Sunshine 60 building, sneaking past security as he usually does to reach the roof. It's his favorite view and it's quiet, no one else around. He goes to the edge and looks down, thinks of how it would feel to jump, how weightless he'd feel before reaching the ground.

He turns when he hears the door to the roof open behind him. It's Shizuo. Of course it is.

“Why are you up there?” Shizuo asks, freezing. Izaya blinks, not getting it, but then he realizes he is standing on the ledge of the building. He must have climbed up.

“Best view,” Izaya says, shrugging. He hops down and sits with his back facing the edge, enjoying the way Shizuo seems unsettled on his behalf. “Did you come up here to push me?”

“What? No! What kind of shitty joke is that?” Shizuo snaps, moving towards Izaya.

“You could. You could push me and tell everyone I jumped. With the way the rumors are circulating, they'd believe you.”

“Did you come up here to jump?” Shizuo asks, and he looks so concerned that Izaya laughs until his sides hurt and there are tears in his eyes.

Shizuo settles next to him, their arms almost touching, and he lights a cigarette. Izaya turns so he can look back over the city, and they're both quiet for so long that Izaya is almost able to forget Shizuo is there.

“Where have you been lately?” Shizuo asks.

“Around. Home, mostly.”

“I texted you,” Shizuo says, and Izaya can't help but laugh again at the absurdity of it all.

“Shizu-chan, what the hell do you want from me? You wanted me out of your city and then I actually complied and you had the gall to miss me? You're a walking contradiction, but I guess I knew that already from your name and personality.”

“Fuck off. Shinra said—“ he stops himself, and Izaya glares over at him.

“What did Shinra say?”

“He said you're depressed.”

“Well, you know he's an idiot. And didn't anyone teach you it's wrong to gossip?”

“Izaya—“

“I'm not depressed,” Izaya says, louder than he means to. He scoffs and moves away from the ledge they're leaning on, keeping his back to Shizuo.

Shizuo doesn't say, “Of course you're not depressed. I've met you, and you don't have a conscience or feelings.” He doesn't say, “What are you, some kind of wuss?” He doesn't storm after Izaya to punch him. Shizuo stays where he is, says nothing. And when Izaya finally looks back at him, he thinks Shizuo looks a little sad.

This entire thing couldn't get more fucking ridiculous.

“You wanna come to my place?” Shizuo asks, and Izaya decides he stands corrected.

“Why would I want to do that?”

“What else have you got to do? You're already in the city. You might as well.”

“That's the definition of going into the lion's den. Or maybe the belly of the beast is more fitting.”

Shizuo glares at him. “How about you don't be an asshole, and I won't hurt you?”

“I don't always try to be an asshole,” Izaya says, but when Shizuo shoulders past him, Izaya finds himself turning and following Shizuo anyway, too curious for his own good.

They stop at a convenience store for cigarettes and alcohol. Izaya shells out the money for a nicer bottle of sake, ignoring Shizuo's protests. If Shizuo snaps his neck tonight, Izaya wants to be drinking the nicer stuff before he dies. Besides, it might culture Shizuo a bit. Their banter remains light as they make their way to Shizuo's building, passing by plenty of incredulous people who clearly recognize them.

Shizuo's apartment is as charming as it is small. It's clean, and somehow it doesn't reek of smoke. Izaya wonders if Shizuo usually smokes out the window.

Izaya settles on the couch while Shizuo goes to get them cups. He decides he'll have one drink to placate the monster, and then he'll leave. It'll be short and simple.

An hour later, they're completely sloshed, laughing about stupid things like they're actually friends. Izaya's never seen Shizuo like this, completely at ease, especially in his presence. Izaya can't remember the last time he felt so relaxed.

“You ever done this before? Drank with...uh. Someone till you really overdid it?” Shizuo asks, and Izaya giggles when he realizes Shizuo stopped himself from saying 'friend' in case it offended Izaya. It helps distract from the painful memory of the last time he drank too much and someone else was there.

“I got Shinra drunk in high school,” Izaya says instead of the most recent time. He wants to keep this light.

“Oh, fuck. I bet he was obnoxious.”

“He was. He locked himself in my bathroom and cried in the tub. After a while I kind of forgot he was there, and then Mairu yelled at me to get him out so she could shower.”

Shizuo laughs, and they fall back into a companionable silence.

“Why'd you invite me over, Shizu-chan?” Izaya asks.

“Why'd you come?” Shizuo counters defensively.

“Relax, I'm only curious. You sent me a message and asked to see me. Did you want something?”

Shizuo huffs, tries to refill his cup, but the bottle is empty. He gets up from the couch and grabs a beer from his fridge.

“I don't want to fight with you anymore,” Shizuo says at last, and Izaya snorts.

“Yeah, Shinra said as much.”

“God, he's a fucking blabbermouth,” Shizuo grumbles, and Izaya laughs so hard he falls over into the vacant space Shizuo left. It's warm.

“I just...” Shizuo trails off, and when Izaya looks up at him, he finds Shizuo hovering awkwardly over the couch. Izaya quickly sits up so Shizuo can reclaim his spot. “You almost died in front of me. It made me think about how stupid the whole thing is. What if I actually kill you one day and have to tell your sisters?”

“They'd be ecstatic,” Izaya says as Shizuo flops back down. “Mairu might send you flowers.”

“Fuck that. They care about you, even if they don't say so. I thought a long time about it, and the truth is, I don't wanna kill anyone. So then I realized I can't keep fighting with you, or else one day, I really might kill you for real.” Shizuo sips at his beer and looks over at Izaya. “I don't want that.”

“I always assumed one day we'd either kill each other, or you'd outgrow me,” Izaya says, and his tone is so bitter that it startles him. He forces a smile when Shizuo keeps looking at him. “I guess that's why I'm not surprised.”

“We can't just fight forever. You could try being less of a dick, and then, I don't know. We could be friends. Or at least not antagonize each other all the time.”

“I don't know if you've noticed, Shizu-chan, but I'm not exactly good at having friends.”

Shizuo laughs. “Yeah, me neither. It'll be great.”

“Whatever. You have all kinds of friends. Lots of people care about you. It's almost sickening,” Izaya huffs. Shizuo doesn't look angry, though. He looks pensive.

“It's all surface stuff. I can't let go for even a minute, or I'll hurt someone. It's just kind of exhausting engaging with people.”

“Well,” Izaya says, very out of his element here, “you'll never find yourself a housewife with that attitude.”

“No shit,” Shizuo says, and they both laugh again. “What about you?”

“Me?”

“No housewife prospects?”

“Ah, afraid not. As surprising as it may be to you, I'm not likable to many people.” Izaya expects Shizuo to laugh, but he doesn't. Shizuo frowns like he doesn't get it.

“Yeah, but you're... You know.” Shizuo waves his hand.

“Huh?” Izaya asks.

“You look— You know. Like you do.”

It takes Izaya a second to realize Shizuo is complementing him. Then a wicked grin splits his face. Shizuo glares in response.

“Are you saying you find me attractive?” Izaya asks.

“Besides your shitty as fuck attitude, yeah, sure,” Shizuo says. “Don't act like you don't know how you look. It's obnoxious.”

“How do you think I look?” Izaya asks as innocently as he can. Shizuo clearly isn't buying it.

“Fuck off,” he spits, taking another gulp of beer. Izaya reaches over, puts his hand over Shizuo's on the can and takes it from him. He takes a sip of the beer, finding it disgusting, but he keeps his expression level and licks his lips before holding the can out for Shizuo to take. Shizuo just keeps staring at him.

“Shizu-chan,” Izaya purrs, ready to tease him more, but then Shizuo's mouth is sealing over his. He gasps into it, opening his lips for Shizuo's tongue. It's sloppy and wet, but Izaya can't even think of how gross it is. He's hot under Shizuo's touch, and when Shizuo yanks him into his lap, Izaya accidentally drops the beer in the floor. Neither of them really notice in their haste to get to each other.

Izaya winds up with his pants and underwear shoved clumsily down his thighs, his face buried against Shizuo's neck as Shizuo wraps his hand around them both, pumping them together until Izaya is coming first, panting hard against Shizuo's skin. Shizuo joins him a moment later, shuddering underneath Izaya, his hand stilling when Izaya starts trembling in overstimulation.

Izaya expects Shizuo to throw him out or...something. He's waiting for some sort of freak-out, but instead Shizuo lifts him up and carries him to bed, undresses them both entirely, and presses down against him until they're both coming again, Izaya's moans muffled in Shizuo's mouth because Shizuo won't stop kissing him.

In the morning, Izaya wakes to a pounding headache and feels like he's going to vomit. Shizuo is spooned behind him, strong arms wrapped around Izaya's waist. Izaya carefully untangles himself and watches with interest as Shizuo immediately cuddles into the pillow Izaya was using in his absence. Izaya dresses quickly and cleans the spilled beer before slipping out of the apartment. He makes it halfway home before he ducks behind a building to throw up.

***

He doesn't see or hear from Shizuo for a while.

He wonders if Shizuo is just mortified that it happened, or if he's mad Izaya ran off. Either way, Izaya thinks it was a mistake on both their parts, just two lonely people falling together because they fit in the moment. He decides to put it behind him.

When someone knocks at his door, he grumbles, expecting an unannounced client, or perhaps Shiki, who has been uncharacteristically nice to him lately, but when he opens the door, Shizuo is standing there, his mouth a hard line.

“Shizu—“ Izaya's cut off as Shizuo pulls him into a kiss, lifts him up and kicks the door closed behind them as Izaya melts against him.

“Fucking flea, stop running from me,” Shizuo growls, and he carries Izaya up the stairs to the bed, making good use of the lube Izaya keeps in his bedside table.

They spend the day in bed, alternating between fucking and dozing off. Izaya sleeps with his head against Shizuo's chest, wakes every now and then feeling like he should get up and do something, but he always ends up curling more into Shizuo, who snatches him closer as if daring him to try and get free.

It's dark outside when they finally get out of bed. Izaya takes Shizuo to a great ramen place down the street. They don't talk much, just focus on the delicious food, and when they're done, Izaya expects Shizuo to turn and head back to his own place, but he doesn't.

“You don't have any clothes at my place,” Izaya says, amused.

“What about those sweatpants you said would fit me?” Shizuo counters, looking defiant, and Izaya laughs until Shizuo kisses him to shut him up.

***

Izaya resumes working, and he meets with Shiki to go over a new assignment. It's a simple job, merely gathering information from various people about one target. Shiki scrutinizes him while they speak.

“You look better. Did you go to that onsen I suggested?” Shiki asks.

“No, but I'll definitely get around to it,” Izaya says.

“Well, whatever you did, I'm glad you're more focused.”

“Shiki-san...” Izaya pauses before continuing. “May I ask you something?”

“Sure.” Shiki leans back in his seat, takes a swig of bourbon. Izaya has opted not to drink, and likely never will again at one of these meetings.

“I know you know I'm responsible for what happened with Akane-chan,” Izaya says, and Shiki's gaze sharpens. “You knew the whole time, and you didn't kill me.”

“You serve a purpose,” Shiki says. “When you're not being a shady brat, you're useful to us. And Kine is fond of you. If I had you killed, he'd likely bitch at me about it.”

Izaya grins, thinking of Kine.

“Was that what you wanted to ask? Why I didn't have you killed?”

“Ah, no. I learned recently one of your colleagues was killed. Yasuhiro-san. We both worked with him before.”

“Did you have a point?” Shiki asks, raising his eyebrow.

“Did you have him killed because of what he did to me? Did you know?” Izaya asks. Shiki sighs, drains his glass, and sets it on the table.

“Izaya, your life would get a lot easier if you learned to be loyal to me. You can confide in me, and if not me, Kine.”

Izaya decides it's as good an answer as he's going to get from Shiki. He stands, bows, and turns to leave.

“By the way, stop fucking around with kids,” Shiki says, and Izaya stiffens. “What happened to that teenager wasn't directly your fault, but you've meddled with plenty others in the past. If you keep at it, I really will kill you, Kine be damned.” When Izaya turns back to him, Shiki is grinning.

***

Shizuo seems to have a thing for Izaya's couch. He's always lounging on it when the opportunity presents itself, and Izaya isn't surprised to find him there when he returns home.

“Shinra called,” Shizuo says, lifting his head to look at Izaya as he enters. “He said he's glad we're in the 'throes of hot passion', but that we have to see him soon.”

“Shinra doesn't have the right to boss either us or our passions around.” Izaya goes to the couch and flops on top of Shizuo, who grunts at him and wraps him up.

“You look like you had a bad day,” Shizuo says. Izaya nuzzles at his throat.

“It wasn't bad. I found out someone who wronged me was killed. I'm a little...put off that I didn't get to watch him suffer, but I'll survive.”

Shizuo stiffens underneath him. “Yeah? What did he do to you? Set you up or something?”

Izaya sighs softly, is grateful Shizuo can't see his face.

“Do you remember when you found me in the rain and asked if I killed someone?”

“Yeah,” Shizuo says, rubbing his hands down Izaya's back.

“I did. Well— I didn't kill him directly. It wasn't on purpose. But he died all the same.”

“What happened?” Shizuo asks, and Izaya is immensely relieved Shizuo didn't throw him across the room and actually wants to hear him out.

“He was this kid who wanted to make some assholes pay. Loan sharks, you know. They were going to run his family's business into the ground, so I gave him some information on the owner of the company, some unsavory things he'd like to keep secret, and that gave the kid leverage. Only, he didn't do it the way I said. He went to the guy's house and pulled a gun on him like some hotshot, and then the guy killed him.”

“Shit,” Shizuo says. “Yeah, that doesn't sound like it was your fault. You didn't give him the gun, right?”

“No,” Izaya says.

“Well then, it was his own damn fault. That was probably his plan all along, whether he went to you first or not. Kids like that are always going to find a way.”

“Yeah,” Izaya says, closing his eyes. He breathes in Shizuo's scent, can't believe Shizuo is actually comforting him about this.

“So is that the guy who was killed? The owner or whatever? You wanted to see him suffer?”

“Oh, no. He's alive. I'm going to use my own resources to blackmail him and make him wish he'd never been born. I'm talking about...someone else. A man I've been in meeting rooms with many times, and never thought much of.

“I got pretty drunk at a meeting with the Awakusu. It was in bad form, but I wasn't happy about that kid, you know? I'll be the first to admit I've had a hand in a lot of the goings on in this city, teenagers included, but those kids are different. They're all desperate to find a way to stand out and be something extraordinary, and like you said, they'll find a way whether I help or not. But this kid, he was an idiot. I gave him something foolproof to use, and somehow he fucked it up. He was never going to live anything other than an incredibly boring life, and he's dead now. Apparently my sisters knew him pretty well. At least, they went to his funeral, but they could have done that just to get out of school.”

“Sounds like something they'd do,” Shizuo says. He hugs Izaya to him, and Izaya feels bolstered enough to keep going.

“Anyway, I got drunk and Shiki-san was pretty annoyed at me. He ordered one of his men to drive me home, but the guy didn't drive me home. He took me to his place, and—“

Shizuo is squeezing him tightly now. Izaya gasps for air, and Shizuo releases him, goes back to petting his back.

“Fuck, I'm sorry— That bastard.”

“For a while, I wasn't even sure it happened. And then I thought I deserved it. I learned Shiki-san killed him not long after it happened. I don't know how he found out, but if I had to guess, it'd be that Yasuhiro-san was bragging about it. He was an idiot.”

“I'm sorry. God, that's so fucked up. And then you came home to drink with me, and I just grabbed you like that. You must've been scared,” Shizuo says.

“Of course I wasn't scared. I've been wanting you to grab me for a long time.”

“Still.”

“Why did you grab me, anyway?”

“I told you, I did a lot of thinking when you busted your head open in front of me. And then, I don't know. You were so sad and you were all by yourself, but you were making yourself be alone. I didn't like it.”

“I should know better than to ask you for a legible explanation,” Izaya jabs, and Shizuo grumbles at him and kisses his hair.

***

Izaya wakes up the next morning to an empty bed.

He rolls over onto his back and stretches out, wondering to himself if Shizuo left for the day already. He can't help the wave of anxiety that hits him. He unloaded a lot of things on Shizuo before. He doesn't guess he would be able to blame Shizuo for running off.

He sighs and forces the worry away, gets out of bed and dresses. No matter what, he still has work to do, and he refuses to wallow about any of this any more than he already has.

As he makes his way downstairs, he blinks in surprise when he finds Shizuo in the kitchen, wearing Izaya's favorite frilly apron. It was a gag gift from his sisters, but Izaya truly likes it and the material it's made of, likes to wear it when he actually bothers cooking.

“You need to go grocery shopping,” Shizuo informs him. “You barely have anything here, but I made you an omelet.”

“I thought you left already,” Izaya says.

“It's Saturday,” Shizuo says, and Izaya frowns, reminds himself to keep better track of the days of the week.

He makes his way to Shizuo, tuning out Shizuo's nagging. Shizuo shuts up when Izaya hugs him from behind, holds on tightly in wordless thanks. Izaya doesn't know exactly what he's thanking Shizuo for, but decides it's probably a bit of everything. Shizuo doesn't ask for an elaboration.

“I'll make dinner,” Izaya murmurs between Shizuo's shoulder-blades.

“Then we'll definitely have to go grocery shopping,” Shizuo says. “You should make breakfast tomorrow, too.”

Izaya smiles, hugs him tighter, never once asks when they decided Shizuo was staying so long.

“You've got a deal.”

#shizaya #Izaya Orihara #Shizuo Heiwajima #unhealthy coping mechanisms #depression #tw: implied/referenced rape

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amai-mochi1 · 4 years

Text

PSA none of this is cannon in the MSA and NSR. Universe!

Also if you don't know what danganronpa is its a game about high school students trapped in a school or place and forced to partake in a killing game. There's 3 games and 3-4 animes so go check em

This series will be in either Zukes point of view or Vivis point of view as they are both protagonists

🎶Prolouge🎶

The start of it all

ow...what happened?...my head hurts and I cant see anything? Am I even awake?" I thought to myself as all I could see currently was a black void, after a few minutes I could hear someone else, at first I couldn't tell who It was but then I realized it was Lewis. "Hey! Hon get up!" I heard Lewis yell out, I heard another voice and I realized it was Arthur "is she alright?..." he asked and I heard Lewis respond to him "she's alright..vivi you need to wake up!.." Vivi...is that my name? Wait yes it is! I'm Vivi the ultimate Paranormal investigator...but where am i?.." I opened my eyes and was greeted to lewis crouched down by me while Arthur was standing nearby "see i told you she was alright!" Lewis said as he looked over to Arthur. Arthur nodded and smiled seeing that I was alright. Lewis helped me up and held my hand "come on we got to go to the main hall with the others.." the main hall? Others? What was going on? Where even were we??. "Others?...wait whats going on and where are we.?" I said as I followed Lewis with arthur following behind me "yeah there's other people here, some we know and others...I have no idea who they are..as for where we are and whats going on no clue.." Lewis said as we got to the main hall. He was right though there was some people here i knew, Chloe and Duet were here, there both coworkers at my job, I also see Arthur's uncle Lance and Mystery! As soon as I saw Mystery I ran over to him and hugged him, he seemed really happy to see me and stayed in my arms, I then noticed there was a strange...woman?..thing standing near us looking at mystery with a glare. Woman is kinda what she looked like but she was green and had what looked to be a bonsi on her head. I then noticed the others here, some looked kinda bazar and others looked fairly normal. Lewis smiled and waved to them as arthur went over to lance, "were back everyone.." Lance said as another male walked over "is this everyone?" They asked Lewis and he nodded in response, arthur looked at everyone kinda nervous "soo..should we introduce ourselves or are we just going to sit here in silence?.."

I put mystery down and stood up "thats a great idea arthur! I'll go first..hello I'm vivi the ultimate Paranormal investigator! And this is my dog mystery" Lewis smiled and went next "hello. Im Lewis pepper and im the ultimate cook..." he looked over at Arthur and Arthur nodded "h-hey.. im arthur the ultimate mechanic and this..is my uncle.." Lance nodded and stood next to Arthur crossing his arms "im Lance the ultimate uncle.." the guy who was talking to lewis before walked over and a girl followed "hello every im zuke the ultimate drummer and this is ma-" she pushed him slightly "Zuke i can introduce myself thank you!..ehem hello! I'm Mayday the ultimate guitarist!!" Someone strange walked forward abit and cleared there voice "Im DJ subtonic supernova! DJ SS for short considering that's a mouthfull..." a pink mermaid perked in after him "Im sayu the ultimate mermaid!! Its so nice to meet you all!!" A noticed a little girl tug on DJ SS pants and he groaned holding her up as she smiled "hello there everyone im Yinu the ultimate pianist.." Duet and Chloe waved and both introduced themselves "hey guys..im duet im the ultimate bookshop owner and this is chloe.." Chloe waved and spoke after duet "im the ultimate cosplayer.." a tall lady crossing her arms huffed "ill go next...im Eve the ultimate artist..." another lady walked forward and was about to introduce herself when Mayday interrupted "And this kul fyra the ultimate rocks!!-" the lady pushed Mayday away and sighed "I dont go by that name or ultimate anymore!- ehem...hello I'm tatianna quartz...the Ultimate CEO..also please don't call me kul fyra.." Mayday seemed kinda upset and walked over to zuke and stood next to him crossing her arms.

Tatiana sighed and crossed her arms "now with that taken care of does anyone have a clue as to what's going on around here?...and possibly a way out of here?" Chloe nodded and pointed to a door "theres a way out of this building but there's a huge dome covering the whole place...and there's areas out there that are blocked by fencing." Duet nodded to what Chloe said and Tatiana sighed "that's not getting us very far and is a grave predicament but thank you for the info...uhm chloe.."

After Tatiana finished talking a weird voice chirped in "That is a predicament indeed!!" I looked around and saw a weird bear dog thing standing up, it looked kinda like mystery. Mystery was growling at him and it shooed him away "go away.!.." I picked mystery up and looked at it "um...who and what..are you?" I said looking at it. It looked up at me and smiled "how rude of me not to introduce myself i am MonoMyst! Nice to meetcha! I'm the principal of this fine school!"

Zuke looked at MonoMyst confused "principal...? School im already confused.." MonoMyst smiled and jumped onto a stool "then let me illuminate for you! You lucky 15 people have been chosen for a special program! This school and the world given to outside is where you'll live for the rest of your lives!. I looked at MonoMyst confused "rest of our lives? What do you mean??" Everyone else looked at him and started talking to him and each other confused as MonoMyst Clapped "well there's food and supplys here as well as entertainment, and as most of you have probably already seen no exits!" Lance visibly got angry and pointed at him "Who do you think you are?! You can just force us to leave here!" MonoMyst slapped his hand away and Arthur had to pull him back "well ive already said im MonoMyst and you don't have to live here, you can actually leave if you finish a simple task, and that simple task is to kill someone!" Everyone went silent and stared at MonoMyst before sayu spoke up "kill someone?.." MonoMyst looked down then pulled out a microphone "can you guys not hear me very well? Yes I said you have to kill someone.. You are in MusicRoads life of killing program after all! If you want out of this place all you gotta do is off one of your fellow participants..and if someone doesn't die in the next 48 hours ill present a motive! But until then look around and get an idea of the place where you'll be spending the rest of your lives!!" He jumped back and ran off out of the room. A killing game?.. this is crazy..were stuck in a place with no exits and no way out...What are we going to do?

🎶End of Prolouge🎶

Holy cow ive never written this much but I hope you all enjoy this! Its alittle wonky and nothing like a book as this is my first time doing this so yeah!

Feel free to use the chart to put what you think who is who id love to see also if you get really into this know I have school and that It might take a while to add more parts.

#mysteryskulls #MysteryMusicRoadsRonpa #nsr djss #no straight roads #msa au

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tylerwritez · 3 years

Text

Tuesday, june 22 2021

I've noticed I'm getting "the shiverys" or "the twitchy" a lot today. Like every time I FEEL something I take a moment to violently tic.... every time I think about certain things I tic.... good things, bad things, things from an hour ago and things from years ago. Tic, tic, tic.

Also, I have... some stuff to explain. Its really no big deal, but you know me: I'll freak out about it anyway. Basically I dissed my friend (rightfully so) around the time that we had just met cos they did something that threw me off.

He saw it in my phone... NOW. it's not RELEVANT anymore and I've since redacted that criticism...and now I gotta explain it to him anwyays. Oh well. I'm good at this stuff. I can get myself outta any situation. I dont even know why I'm talking like this tho... it's not a "Situation" it's just smthn I gotta explain rq.

Oh, today's song recommendation is Spirit Crusher by Death. I'm a huge Death fan...

Also! I gotta study... for my replacement exam. How stressful. Its about photosynthesis, but like, it's not simple. We went DEEP inside those fucking leaves.

One sec, lemme hook up my IV tube

Not an ACTUAL IV tube... just my headphones. But since I'm so #emo, it might as well be a fucking IV tube with the way that I cant live without it.

Its 3:08 and I'm walking home now. I was upset last night but me and Star have made up now lol... it was thAt easy. I'm so defective, making shit hard when it doesnt need to be.

It's so hot out damn. Idk. I had school today, so I had Bio class... I ACTUALLY PAID ATTENTION for once. I had lunch with Star and her friend group, and I honestly kinda feel like they're MY friends now too, even just a little bit.

Actually, I used to rant about feeling lonely like all the time but now I have so many friends it's crazy they all keep inviting me places and it's like people WANT ME AROUND... idk. It makes me happy.

Today I gotta ask if tommroow after school I can go to Bee's house to watch Supernatural (famous homoerotic ghost show)

I should also add songs to Erin's spotify playlist for our picnic saturday which I still need permission to go to.

I gotta ask for Wednesday after school to watch Insidious with Jay which is apparently really good

Also hes the friend that I gotta explain stuff to... the DrAmA... the ThEaTrE....

Update my dad said yes to hanging out with Bee but first I'm gonna miss school to fix my broken brackets on my braces

Also turns out the house I THOUGHT we were moving into has substantial damage from shifting so... we aRENT moving there.

In case you didn't know, shifting is when like the house that's been built literally SHIFTS like it moves around.

Anwyays Jay just texted me... I'm gonna change into shorts since it's hot, set up my study area,.... and respond to him.

The time is 3:22 p.m.

Wish me. Luck.

Luck is plentiful! As it so often is in my risky, risky life.

I play my cards right. It's a learnt skill.

But also there wasnt much to explain since it passed already and was tiny anywyas.

XD so I've made up with the whole goddamn world by now.

Its 6:31, we saw 1 house. Only one. Its kinda hot out but I'm gonna bike now since we just had supper. I finally finished my homework... I just have to finish one mixed media piece as my final project for art!

Friday is my replacement. On photosynthesis and cell resp. We know this. But what I didn't mention, or I dont THINK I did, is that if I finish my art project before then I have the second block FREE!!! Me, Star, and her friend

A are planning to leave for second block and maybe get mint chocolate chip ice cream!

Also I might eat her out XD

Anyways idk. I hope I can bike tonight to call Jay.

I keep accidentally using people's real names here then having to correct it... I dont know how much i care about MY identity being discovered... but to have my friends doxxed would suck.

Man I feel bad abt saying fuck star last night cos we made up....

Wait we r looking at another house? Idk I'm in the car still waiting to go home

Oh wait no now we r goin home

Its 6:39... I hope I still have time.

I went biking, called Jay. Went home. Idk, friendly conversation... we talked more tonight and I also talked to my other friend A. Jay is... I LOVE HIM?? SO MUCH??? I feel so happy. Talking to him thinking about him seeing his STUPID FUCKING FACE JESUS. his eyes alone... I could stare at his face all day probably. I want to kiss him... hOLD HIS HAND... omg... huG HIM!!! Eofjwpxjwie he's so sweet like I can't even... and I'm proabably not good enough for him like. Wtf. Hes easily a 10. And I dont rate things outta 10. How tf do I end up with HIM? Doing stuff, as friends. Like wHAT. I guess I got lucky XD. He says he loves my personality and I'm hot XD ofc I dont see it myself. But like. JESUS CHRIST he could proabably easily pull whOever. XD me?

Whatever though. As long as we r together and stuff. I LOVE HIM A LOT. he said he loved me. Every time he says that it makes me so overly happy.

Maybe I'm just sappy and stuff.... whatever. I think it would be nice to be hugged by him.

Yeah I'm cheesy.

I'm sorta tired now so maybe I'm not writing the best.

I just keep thinkinf about love. Love is a muscle of evil suggestion. But how evil can it really be? I am just a human being and that is all. Everything else is applied. I am just a human being with soemthing in my heart that pulls me all over the place. Love is this strange thing because I'm fucked up and to be able to love without that fucked up part of me, without the damage... is this complicated, hard thing to do and I can NEVER tell if I'm doing it right but I know I'm DOING IT. I know I FEEL LOVE. And soemtimes it's such an intense thing like when you go to surf on a wave at the beach with ur belly but u hit it wrong and it's so big and overwhelming it washes over you and PULLS you down to the bottom and smushes your face into the sand and YOU CANT BREATHE jesus Christ it's like that.

Or maybe I just want to experience love as it should be felt.

Obviously all of my problems surrounding this Damage could be easily fixed if I went to therapy but. there are reasons I can't.

I LOVE a lot. Too much for my own good. Enough to hurt me, get me into trouble, etc etc but also... enough to liberate me. I LOVE. I love Jay. So much. LIKE. MY BRAIN ORBITS AROUND HIM CONSTANTLY THINKING OF HIM AND PRAISING HIM AND MWUAH HE IS SO LOVELY I BOW BEFORE HIM...

I think as much as I love, a lot of the times I tend to focus even more on BEING loved.

If I am told I am loved, and shOwN I am loved... it is one of the most powerful things. Especially since I was literally emotionally neglected in childhood... yeah. I feel like I'm always trying to fill that hole.

Not EVERY feeling I have is for that reaosn but sometimes, if you tell me you love me, show me you love me, hug me,... I'll like start crying,,, that's the childhood emotional neglect kicking in. If you call me #smol and #cute and say I look young and fragile which happens more often than you'd think XD, I know I'm not supposed to like that shit, so I act like I dont....but I do. Which is PROBABLY ALSO THE CEN 🤪 like whatever lol

Anwyays I'm fucked up

You see how quickly things become complicated in my mind?

Convoluted? Is that the word?

Whatever. I OVERCOMPLICATE THINGS COS I OVERTHINK THEM BECAUSE I'm LITERALLY MENTALLY ILL IN SO MANY DIFFERENT WAYS. I'm not joking. I obviously have unresolved undiagnosed "issues"

I do Suspect things, though.

I can make a list

Maybe I shouldn't.

Maybe I will.

I shouldnt.

Whatever.

I used to hate when people brought up my self harm. I would actually panic. I still self harm but now? Now I'm fine with anyone talking about it as long as it's not an adult who can get me into trouble/force me into therapy over it. Because really? I kinda like having it mentioned. It's kinda validating and it's like hey... people can see that I'm sick.

I dont do it so people talk to me about it though. Dont get me wrong. If I did, I'd go vertically on the arms, not for suicide but so it healed and people would ask XD.

My scars are actually VERY hidden... cos I never intended for ANYONE to see. But for those who DO see them,,,, it's nice soemtimes to have people express concern.

I dont wanna be PITIED or anything, but idk I just think to myself "wow, they're CONCERNED... about ME... they arent angry or mean... they didnt yell at me or threaten me... they respect my autonomy and privacy...

And they CARE ABOUT ME..." and it makes me cry.

That's also the CEN.

I dont know. I just like when people express genuine concern. Even if they see and then just ask if I'm okay. That's all it takes cos then I go wow.

Its validating and irs lovely because finally people care... FINALLY PEOPLE CARE. FINALLY I GET SOME EMPATHY OR SYMPATHY AND NO ANGER.

Even just having them brought up tells me its noticeable enough

My brain does this thing where it thinks nothing bad that's ever happened to me was Bad Enough for me to be upset about.

And I dont know... its nice sometimes to be told shit like "omg that looks so bad" or to see that people who do see my cuts are somewhat shocked or revolted... it's nice because I go... "hey, it was bad enough for them..."

Or to have people comment on them with concern. Just ANYTHINT WHERE PEOPLE NOTICE IT AND ARENT ASSHOLES ABOUT IT IS VALIDATING.

Because I'm not used to that...

Because CEN

I'm. The worst perosn on the fucking planet.

I should kill myself.

I suddenly actually feel so self hating I do want to kill myself... oh god.

I ruin everything. Everything. Everything. Everything. What have I done. Like. Why. Oh god.

I'm just remembering when Star said my kindness seemed like an act. And how I've been called out for seeming fake like 2 other times.

DO I SEEM FAKE???? I DONT EVER PUT ON ACTS OF KINDESS.... CONCIOUSLY? but the very idea that I could be perceived that way...

Should I like not try to be nice or some shit?

Jesus christ she hurts my feelings even now when it was a long time ago.

But I cant blame her. I can't blame anyone for how i feel except my parents because they left me with fucking. Heart nerve damage or some shit.

I'm tired and now I'm sad too. Goodnight guys.

#JudeJournals

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diyunho · 5 years

Text

The Joker x Reader - “What Death Tastes Like” Part 3

Scarecrow’s daughter might be only 22, yet the terminal lung cancer she was diagnosed with six months ago didn’t discriminate against her age; the young woman didn’t show worrisome symptoms until it was too late. Y/N always had a fascination for the much older King of Gotham and despite the consequences, maybe it’s finally time to do something about it.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 4 Part 5

You’re done sampling the food that J brought over, quite annoyed he lied about the crepes; it was probably the only reason why you opened the door for him. Or maybe it was a different motive that you don’t like to think of because… what’s the point anyway?

“Crane said he added a new ingredient to your capsules,” The Joker brings it up. “I have no idea how he was able to get Cromyxillium since it’s just in experimental phase; I suppose he has awesome connections,” your guest chews one last bite of cashew salad.

“I know, he texted me but I didn’t answer back… I’m mad at him… I’m mad at everything these days,“ you admit and The King of Gotham piles up the empty styrofoam boxes, calculating how much money Scarecrow spent on a product that might be able to improve your condition.

Y/N watches him absent minded, too preoccupied with her problems to realize The King of Gotham is attentive to her words.

“I used to help my dad develop my remedy, still nothing works and he entirely immersed himself in this ridiculous task of saving me from terminal cancer. He ignored Evelyn for weeks until she left: she understood what he was doing up to a certain level; when it became an obsession…” and you sigh, aggravated by your father’s stubbornness. “I told him he has to patch up their relationship; I don’t him to be all alone after I’m gone…” you sulk and J grabs the containers, dumping them in the trashcan near the table.

“Yeah, Crane will probably be very lonely without you…” and J stops his innuendo when he comprehends how it sounds. “On a positive note,” The Clown Prince of Crime stretches, “I’m actually here to ensure you’re ok taking the capsules containing the new ingredient. Your father asked me to and I am notorious for being this…this selfless person ready to offer my services,” J over exaggerates his ability to sympathize with your situation. “He also warned me not to try anything funny. I don’t understand why I’m not allowed to share any of my funny jokes; doesn’t make any sense,” the distorted interpretation of your parent’s threat almost prompts Y/N’s smile.

“You probably pushed for this visit, taking advantage of the fact that me and my dad had a fight, hm?” you bluntly describe the truth and J can’t defend his absurd statements because your cell phone starts ringing; you glare at the screen, debating if you should answer or not.

“Is that him?” The Joker inquires and you nod a yes while deciding to accept Scarecrow’s call.

“Hello…” you sneak out on the patio as J figures he should walk to his car in order to retrieve the duffel bag fixed in advance for his sleepover.

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

Your conversation lasted for about 20 minutes thus The Joker jumped in the shower lacking any type of permission from Y/N; perhaps it could be the reason for your abrupt intrusion in the cozy bathroom.

“Can I take a shower with you?” he hears your question and for once J is uncertain of his reply, yet he is not the kind of person to show reluctance no matter the context.

“It’s your place, isn’t it?” he grumbles and distinguishes your silhouette beyond the steamy glass panels quickly stripping your clothes.

The Joker continues to scrub his skin, undisturbed by your request: he simply doesn’t care if you join him or not.

“I’m using your stuff,” J announces and your arms suddenly hug him from behind.

“You can use whatever you want,” your lips kiss the dragon tattoo on his back a couple of times and he doesn’t even turn around to peek.

“I gotta wash my hair,” he mutters and you brush your lips against his shoulder, sweetly offering:

“I can wash it for you.”

“I got it!” Y/N’s demand is cut off immediately; you’re so humiliated by his lack of interest you curse the dumb choice of being so straightforward: it’s not the first time he shows zero attraction towards his daughter’s best friend.

Your arms release the embrace and The Joker reprises his important chore while hearing you fumbling with toiletry items: you are finishing off your routine at an increased speed, willing to exit out of there as soon as possible.

A few minutes of silence, then The Clown Prince of Crime finally pronounces an insolent remark:

“I hope you saw a naked man before, Y/N! I don’t wanna be accused of traumatizing you. If it really makes you feel better, you can wash my hair.”

No smarty pants attitude rendered upon him and J gazes where you stood only to notice you’re gone: after quietly tiptoeing out of the shower, Y/N took her medications and prepared for the night ahead; she plans for J to sleep in the second bedroom at the small cabin, thus she will spend the night on the couch in the living room, watching TV until she’ll doze off.

“Miss Crane,” The Joker emerges from the bathroom in a t-shirt and shorts. “Are we cuddling on that couch or do we have further arrangements?”

“Spare bedroom,” you grouchily mumble, getting comfortable under the blanket.

“I thought we’re cuddling buddies,” he pretends to be offended at your affirmation mostly since pushing the limit is encoded in his wretched DNA.

“We’re not cuddling buddies!”

“My bad,” he grins. “I guess I was misled by your actions at the mansion.”

He has such a nerve bringing that up!

“I’m not the type of person to force myself on women,” The Joker innocently informs, “but can I watch TV with you? I’ll camp on the floor by the sofa which is my way to hint I need a bunch of soft blankets to pile up so I won’t break my back. I mean, it’s not very nice of you to deny me access on the couch; must I remind you I granted you free passage in my bed when you asked for it?”

“Are you for reals?!” an increasingly fuming Y/N shrieks slowly rolls out of her relaxing nest. “You were horrible to me and then tried to make it better just because you worried I’d tell Emma or my father! Well, rest assured: I’m not a snitch! You truly don’t have to extend your good will to such lengths on my account! It’s not necessary, ok?! You don’t have to drive here to bring my capsules, you don’t have to bring me food. You don’t have to do anything!!”

“Watch your tone!” J growls, displeased with your feisty attitude. “Do I have to remind you who barged into my privacy to take a peek at me naked?”

Your eyes are big at his derogatory insinuation: he’s playing stupid regarding the incident.

“I barged into your privacy?!” you shout, aggravated. “How can…”

“Umm…” The Joker interrupts, “…your nose is bleeding.”

You didn’t even detect the blood trickling down your skin and you touch it, confused. The King of Gotham watches you a few hesitant steps before you unexpectedly collapse to the ground. “Hey!” his voice echoes in and out. “Hey what’s wrong?... … Can you hear me?”

There’s this high pitch taking over your mind and you can barely discern bits and pieces of a conversation J is carrying with your father. You’re not even aware you’re in a moving vehicle, that’s how much you lost grip on reality.

“What’s in for me if I bring her over, huh?”

“I compensated you!! Two Nightmare ampoules, a small fortune on the black market! Get off your fucking high horse and bring me my daughter, would you?!” an exasperated parent admonishes.

“Maybe I will stop the car and let nature follow its course,” The Joker fights back Scarecrow’s affront, yet your dad has plenty on his plate .

“If you do such a thing and she dies, I’ll hold you responsible and trust me when I say you don’t want me to hold you responsible!!!” the serious ultimatum prompts your chauffeur to take a sharp turn on Highway 68. “Am I on speaker?” Jonathan checks without given his apparent opponent a chance to rationalize his behavior.

“Yes!” J snarls, pissed at the stupid rescue mission entrusted to him.

“Y/N, hang in there! I’ll get stuff ready by the time you arrive, alright?” Scarecrow encourages his daughter, afraid of the severe consequences of the experimental drug she ingested.

“Mmmm,” you moan in your daze, not being able to respond.

“Keep her alert; we can’t have her sink into a coma! I have to formulate an IV mixture to flush the Cromyxillium out of her system!”

“She’s completely out!” The Joker states although there’s nobody at the other end of the line anymore. “Who’s we anyway?!” he huffs and elects to give it a go regardless. “Y/N, how many kids we would have had if we were married?... … … … … I think the precise answer is at least 4, am I correct?” J blabbers on since you don’t engage in the conversation. “Great…I’ll be held liable for your demise,” he bites his lower lip, vexed things didn’t shine too bright for him; in fact, no matter how hard The Clown tries the blame it on somebody else, he dug his own hole on this one.

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

You’re not sure how long you’ve been in the darkness, but the sharp poke in your arm makes you groan in pain.

“I’m sorry honey,” your father whispers. “We have to keep the IV for an hour, then I can take the needle out.”

“D-daddy…” you find the strength to stammer. “Am I… am I dying…?”

“No… No… I won’t let you die…” Scarecrow kisses your forehead, upset you don’t seem fine at all. “It’s my fault, I didn’t think you’ll have a reaction to Cromyxillium, not the way I bound the particles with the rest of the molecules.”

“You didn’t test it?” The Joker intervenes into a dialogue he should steer clear off.

“No, I didn’t have time to test it!” Jonathan hatefully stares at the man he wishes to strangle on the spot. “I don’t have time for anything!! Do you understand? My daughter is dying!! I’m not even that kind of doctor yet she’s breathing nevertheless due to my capability of manipulating compounds! Y/N would be 6 feet under with traditional chemotherapy, which proves I am doing a few things right!!! If Emma was sick, I’m certain you wouldn’t run your mouth like you do now!”

J wiggles in his chair, definitely about to erupt at Crane’s justified tirade.

“I’m so cold…” you utter, the ruckus adding to your general discomfort.

“That’s normal, it means the intravenous remedy is working; I’ll bring more covers,” Jonathan strolls out of the room only to gasp upon his return: J is snuggling with you, totally oblivious to your parent’s stupefied question: “What the hell are you doing??!!”

“I got off my high horse and I’m keeping her warm,” J stresses the importance of his random deed. “It’s not cheap thought! I demand…”

“You demand nothing!” Scarecrow covers you with more layers, irritated The King of Gotham has the audacity to milk out benefits in these circumstances; the latest wants to protest Jonathan’s vehement denial while not being conceded the prospect of such luxury:

“Dad…” you reach out your left hand and he sits by you, keeping the shaky fingers on his face. “Did… did you call Evelyn?” you barely blink, exhausted from the intensive treatment.

“I will…”

“You have to; I don’t want you to end up alone… She loves you… You could have more children with her… or at least one more…”

Jonathan Crane inhales, flustered his daughter is worried about him when she should worry about herself.

“I could have more kids, but don’t you know you’re irreplaceable?” he kisses your wrist and pretends to brush off the agony building up in his heart. “Don’t cry honey,” he wipes your tears, then casually shoves The Joker’s arm since is wrapped around your waist. “Your help is no longer required,” Scarecrow hints and his advice falls on deaf ears: J has important news that might switch the balance in his favor.

“I also called Emma on my way here to report about Y/N’s ordeal; she’s cutting her trip to New York short and I received strict orders to make myself useful until her arrival. Now, unless you want to deal with another pain in the ass besides your offspring, I suggest you tolerate my presence!”

Jonathan curls up in a ball on the vacant side of your bed, relieved to see you’re napping. "I didn’t feel the urge to punch someone in ages!” he sneers.

“Likewise!” The Joker barks too from behind your shoulder. “How come she passed out again?” he switches the subject and Jonathan explains without any trace of enthusiasm.

“I included a serum that promotes nice dreams in her IV bag: she’ll be in a deep sleep and envision things she likes.”

“Oh, that’s awesome. I’m sure I’ll pop up in there then,” the excited Clown Prince of Crime emphasizes to your father’s disapproval.

“I said things she likes!”

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

10:12am

“Hello Miss Crane,” you are greeted as you narrowly open your eyes; it takes a minute to recollect from the dizziness and confusion of last night’s episode.

“Where’s my dad?” you lick your dry lips, noticing J by the windows.

“At the lab; he’s consulting with some doctors or whatnot and left me in charge,” he effortlessly forges half a truth with half a lie.

“Where’s my phone? I want to talk to him.”

“I think I left it at the cabin, I was in a hurry to get you here.”

“You drove me?...” you skeptically interrogate.

“Yeah, you don’t remember?”

“No…” you stretch while touching the band aid placed where the needle used to be. “Where’s Emma?”

“On her way back to Gotham; she called several times and tried talking to you but you were out.”

“Was I?...”

“U-hum,” J shakes his head. “I reckon she promised she’ll assist with your birthday party next week and she’s terrified you’ll kick the bucket in the meantime. She didn’t precisely articulate these sentences, but I‘m her dad: I can read in between the lines,” the proud Joker blurs out, loving the shocked look you display. “Am I invited to the celebration?”

You signal a no and he’s not discouraged by your vehement denial.

“Can I bring Mara?”

“Absolutely not!!!”

“Oh, so I’m actually invited but not her?”

He takes advantage of the speechless Y/N, setting up the stage for his own benefit:

“I can work with that,” he glares at you, gratified. “However, I can’t show at a party without a date; it’s not dignifying for a man of my social status. This leaves us with only one solution.”

“NO!” you protest because you can estimate his proposal.

“Cool, then we have a deal Miss Crane: you got yourself a date!”

“I already have a date!”

“Who?” The Joker smirks.

“Sam is my date for my birthday.”

“Sam as in Bane’s son?”

“Yes,” you squirm under the blankets, uneasy at the concept of having J as partner for the upcoming bash.

“Pfft,” he huffs. “That’s a huuuge load of baloney,” your own words from last night are used by the obnoxious green haired menace. “I’ll pick you up Wednesday at 3pm, ok?”

“The party is here at my house!”

“Ok, then you pick me up at 3pm.”

“I’m not picking you up!” you scoff at his nonsense.

“Damn, you’re hard to negotiate with,” The Joker scratches his chin. “Fine, I’ll bring myself here.”

You contemptuously stare at him, appalled he keeps on insisting when you declined his plan. On top of everything, the whole universe is getting the confirmation today that Jonathan Crane’s genius is frankly skipping a generation since you enunciate:

“Don’t be late!”

Also read: MASTERLIST

You can also follow me ON Ao3 and Wattpad under the same blog name: DiYunho.

#the joker x reader #the joker fanfiction #the joker imagine #the joker jared leto #the joker suicide squad #the joker #jokerleto #joker #joker fanfiction #joker imagines #joker jared leto #joker suicide squad #joker x reader #dcu #mister j #Mistah J #dc #Jonathan Crane #jonathan crane x reader

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thewnchstrs · 5 years

Text

Hold On

Pairing: DeanXreader

Summary: the life of a hunter becomes too much for Y/N to handle.

Disclaimers: really sad, suicide, arguing, death, mentions of severe depression, forced vomiting, overdose, angst

Word Count: 2.4K

M A S T E R L I S T

Based on the song ‘Hold On’ by Chord Overstreet

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The first thing I noticed when I pulled open the motel door was the silence, my hand freezing on the doorknob as my eyes scanned the room for Y/N.

I remembered calling her name, slowly shutting the door behind me when I called for her again. I let the duffel bag on my shoulder drop to the floor, my eyes scanning the room one last time when they landed on the bathroom door, a soft, glowing light pouring from under it.

In three long strides I was in front of it, banging on it with a closed fist, “Y/N, open the door!” When she didn’t respond, I took a few steps back, bringing my foot up and rearing it toward the lock, the door successfully swinging open.

I nearly dropped to my knees when I saw her, curled up in the corner of the room between the bathtub and the toilet, her arms cradling herself, an empty bottle of pain medication on the floor.

“Y/N!” I shouted, dropping in front of her, holding her head in my hands, slapping her cheeks, “Hey! Hey! C’mon, Y/N!”

When she didn’t respond, I racked my brain for anything, anything I could think of when only one thing came to mind. I pulled her close, leaning her over the bathtub as I supported her at the chest, inserting two of my fingers deep into the back of her throat. Within seconds, Y/N began to gag, a quiet whimper escaping her lips as she vomited into the tub, but not nearly enough for it all to have gotten out of her system.

“Atta girl,” I said as I scooped her up, racing out of the motel and to the car. I threw the passenger door open, setting her gently inside. I ran to the driver’s side, speeding out of the parking lot and down the highway, Baby’s tires squealing. I kept a hand on her as she leaned against the window.

“C’mon, baby, you’ve gotta stay with me,” I pleaded, my eyes flying from the road over to her where a soft noise seemed to come. I nearly slammed on the breaks as I turned to her.

“I’m s-sorry,” she whispered, her eyes still closed.

I pushed down on the pedal harder, the speedometer reaching just past seventy miles an hour. “Don’t say that, it’s going to be okay, you’ll be just fine.”

I shook her again, trying everything I could to keep her awake. “Hey, do you remember the first time we met?”

There was a beat of silence before she spoke, “I remember.”

“How you busted into that warehouse and saved me and Sam’s asses from those vampires?” I asked, looking over to her again, my heart pounding even faster than before as she grew more and more pale. “That’s when I fell in love with you, Y/N. I’m serious, I’d never believed in love at first sight, when I saw you- I knew I couldn’t live my life without you.”

“I…I love you, Dean,” she mumbled, just barely loud enough for me to hear it. I felt her weight grow heavier against my hand that was glued to her shoulder.

I gripped the wheel tighter, “Please don’t leave me, Y/N. Please…we’re almost there, stay with me!”

This time, she didn’t respond. I tried my hardest not to let my mind wander to that dark place, not to ask myself whether it was too late. I kept driving until I saw the large red sign on the side of the road. The car making tire tracks on the road as I swerved to the emergency entrance. I threw the door open, running to the other side where Y/N’s head laid limp against her chest. I pulled the door open, “It’s alright, baby, they’re gonna make you better. It’s gonna be alright.”

I ran into the hospital, her body so limp it made me sick to my stomach. I yelled for help, pleading as two nurses lead me into a room with a bed. I laid her gently on it, watching as they inserted an IV into her arm, talking loudly to each other. A doctor raced past me into the room, closing the curtain between me and Y/N.

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I paced the length of the waiting room, ignoring the endless calls I was getting from Sam. I could hardly think straight, let alone explain what’d happened. Thoughts raced through my head, what I could’ve done better, how if maybe I’d gotten there sooner this wouldn’t have happened.

The voice of Y/N’s doctor filtered through the otherwise empty waiting room. I nearly ran to him. “Is she okay?”

The doctor sighed, trying to lead me to a chair to sit down but I pushed his hand away, watching him with wide eyes. “We did everything we could.”

“What…what’s that supposed to mean?” I asked in confusion. If they did everything they could, that meant she should be fine, right? She should be alive, right?

“The drugs Y/N took, she took so many that even after our procedure we couldn’t get them all out of her system. We’ve done everything we can, all we can do now is make her comfortable.”

I stepped back slightly, recoiling at his words, “So, that’s it? You’re just gonna let her…” I couldn’t even finish my sentence, not wanting to believe it. Anger began to bubble inside me. “She’s not gonna die. Not today, so you better turn around and go back in there until you’re one hundred percent certain she’s gonna walk out of here. Alive.”

The doctor looked slightly frightened, “We’ve worked for hours, we’ve gotten to a point where things are only getting worse.”

“Where is she?”

“Mr. Winchester-“

“Let me see her!” I roared, making the man step back slightly as he quickly led me through the swinging doors and up the two floors to her room where I stopped outside of her door, my hand on the doorknob. I closed my eyes, looking down at my hand that I had to keep from shaking as I pushed it open.

I tried not to focus on the machines around her, the only thing that was keeping her alive and anchored to her bed. I didn’t watch the way her chest unsteadily rose and fell, I didn’t pay any attention to the way she looked so small against that large bed.

I watched her, not daring to make a move toward her as if being near her made it final. I wasn’t going to let her die- I promised her that nothing bad would ever happen to her, not as long as I was around.

I found myself always telling people that. That nothing bad would ever happen to them as long as I was there, yet, time and time again I found myself sitting on the other side of death while everyone I loved seemed to cross that line much sooner than they had to.

I turned away from her, holding a hand over my mouth. There are only so many times a bad thing can happen before you start to wonder whether the bad thing started with you. This wasn’t supposed to happen, she was never supposed to go out like this.

“You told me you were getting better,” I said to her as if she could hear me. “You said you’d tell me if it got worse.” I turned back toward her now, really looking at her for the first time and it made my entire body feel like it was being held in a vice. “Now you’re gone and I…now I have to bury you?”

I clenched my jaw as I walked closer, anger and hatred toward the girl I’d loved for so many years filling me. I’d never felt this way toward her, never in a million years, no matter what she did or what she said could ever make me feel the way I felt toward her now. She said she was getting better. She told me, she promised me.

I gripped the end of the bed, my head hanging low between my shoulders as tears rolled down my nose and onto her blanket. “You said you would let me help carry some of the load,” my voice was softer now as my eyes trailed up to her. “That’s what I’m supposed to do, right? I can’t take away what was happening in you, Y/N but I could carry you. I would’ve carried you the whole damn way.”

I watched, willing her body to do something, anything. To pop up in that bed, trying and succeeding to scare the hell out of me. But she still laid motionless, her face pointed up toward the ceiling as if her body was watching her soul as it went away.

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I drove back to the bunker in silence, the clear bag of Y/N’s belongings sitting next to me. She didn’t have much on her. Twelve dollars in cash, the small switchblade she always kept in her back pocket, the gold bracelet I’d gotten her for her birthday.

I knew how bad she’d been hurting. She told me months ago what it was doing to her, and we got through it. We pushed and pushed and eventually we’d made it out the other side, or so I thought. I knew that nobody went through this life unscathed and I made her promise to me that if she ever felt that way again, she’d come straight to me. She promised, and I believed her.

Before I’d even realized it, I had pulled up to the bunker, sitting motionless in the car. I pulled the keys from the engine, looking at the clear bag next to me. The last pieces of her.

I threw the car door open, leaving the bag in the passenger seat.

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It took Sam exactly three days after we’d given her a hunter’s funeral when he came around asking questions. I’d found solace in the garage, tinkering with Baby the things that didn’t need tinkering with, breaking old parts in the other cars around the garage just to have an excuse to fix something.

I heard Sam before he said anything, his loud footsteps coming up from behind me as I worked under the hood of one of the long-forgotten cars in the Bunker. “You wanna talk about it?”

“Nope.” I said, not turning to him. I heard him sigh, his feet shifting on the ground before he spoke again.

Sam cleared his throat, “Alright, let me rephrase that. When are you gonna talk about it?”

I pulled a wrench from the toolbox next to me before retreating under the hood, “I’m not.”

“Dean-”

“No, Sam,” I said, throwing him a look just over my shoulder as I went back to the car. “I…I can’t.”

“You have to, Dean. You can’t just bury this crap!” Sam began to raise his voice. I started tightening a bolt in the car tighter. “It’s gonna come out sooner or later and it’s not gonna be pretty when it does!”

I slammed the wrench down onto the workbench next to me, turning to Sam who’d jumped in surprise. “What do you want me to do, huh? You want me to cry? Want me to lay my head on your shoulder and tell you about my feelings?”

“I just want you to do something. Cry, get angry, do what you need to. But not this,” he said, gesturing around me. “Not…burying yourself in this garage. You can’t do it, it’ll kill you.”

I shook my head, “Yeah, we’ll see about that.”

“Do you think this is what Y/N would’ve wanted?” Sam asked, calmer now. I picked up the wrench again, turning it in my hands.

“You think she was thinking about what I wanted when she killed herself, Sam!?” I nearly yelled. “You think, even for a second she thought about all the crap you and I would have to clean up after she was gone!? She wasn’t thinking, Sam. Not about you, not about me, not about anything! She wasn’t thinking about anybody other than herself.” My words surprised even me as I turned away from Sam, silence hanging in the air between us.

“How could you say that?”

“Yeah, well, it’s the truth.”

“Y/N was hurting, Dean. She was in pain. All the crap she’s been through- hell, who could blame her? And, I’m not saying what she did was right, but I know for a fact she loved you. She didn’t want to put whatever weight she was carrying on your shoulders.”

“Why? Why not let me help?”

“Because all you do is give to the point where there’s not enough let of you to carry yourself. She always told you that, remember? She always told you that giving what you didn’t have was what was going to get you killed one day. I think…I think from now on you need to take care of yourself, first-”

“Don’t make this about me.”

Sam sighed but nodded nonetheless, “I know you’re hurting. I know you miss her, I do too. But she wouldn’t want this for you.”

Sam turned, leaving me in the garage alone, my hand tightening on the wrench as I threw it across the room where it collided with a metal shelf, eliciting a loud clang throughout the room. I let Sam’s words hang in the air: you need to take care of yourself first. A thought so foreign to me it took me forever to process it. My whole life, I never looked after myself first, never even thought it.

“I’m sorry,” I said, wishing with everything I had that Y/N could hear me. “I’m sorry.”

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imagining-sio · 5 years

Text

Escapism IV

Rising Tides

“You’re a vet?” I asked as I took off my helmet. We had just arrived in his driveway from the trip back to the auto-shop, which I was beginning to suspect was merely a ploy to get me to interact with him more.

“Yeah, 107th, where I met Wilson.” He hooked the bottom of his helmet on the handlebar of the Matt black cafe racer.

“And Steve?” I asked again.

“Nah, that pain in ass has stuck with me since we were kids,” he chuckled run his hand through his hair.

“What position were you?” I inquired whilst we strolled down to my inhabitance. His grip tighten on the small box, and he moved his other hand into his pocket.

“I was a scout sniper,” I watched as his chiseled jaw clenched tightly.

“You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to, you know?” I told him, setting my hand upon his arm. He stopped as I walked up to the bronco, propping up the hood again. I looked back at him, and he had an odd expression on his face. He looked as if he was contemplating on actually telling me. He stood unmoving, unflinching, yet his expression travel as if it were a million miles a minute. And just like that, the walls went up; and the charming smile came back.

“Yeah, but I don’t wanna dampen your sunny mood.” He nudged me.

“Yes, because I have such a bright disposition around you.” I deadpanned, eyebrows raised. I crossed my arms over my chest, rubbing my arms.

As I did, a weight fell upon my shoulders. I peered over to find Barnes had placed his jacket on me. It would seem it wasn’t up for a debate let alone a conversation as he went right to work, as if it was completely normal.

“Uh, Bucky?” I asked.

“You looked cold, so hang on to it while I get this in.” He took on a serious more mature tone. He was headfirst into the engine, his tattooed limb about halfway down in the machine. He was in his work mode, and I knew that he wasn’t coming out of it until he was done.

Doesn’t mean I couldn’t have fun with it.

“So Barnes? Who was she?”

“Rumlow’s ex-girlfriend.” He answered, pulling the malfunctioning device out.

“Are you telling me all this fighting between you two has been over a girl?” I scoffed, pulling the jacket on through the sleeves.

“Ha! He wished, then it would make me look like the asshole of the community,” he laughed, unscrewing the wires where it was connected; “They broke up six months ago and she’s been trying to get back at him by flirting with me. Though she keeps saying that he’s had some new interest in someone new in town. Care to guess who that is?” He looked straight me, clearly aware of the game I was playing. I paled, making a disgusted face.

“If he has interest in me, I’m afraid it’s not your concern,” I gave him an expectant expression. I watched with satisfaction as he clenched his jaw and continued working.

“Well, if he tries anything; lemme know.”

“And what qualifies and ‘trying’.”

“You know, anything that makes you uncomfortable.”

“What if you make me uncomfortable.” I smiled as I asked. To which my neighbor promptly shot up, banging his head upon the underside of the hood. I started cackling so hard I doubled over.

“That’s not funny.” He rubbed the top of his head.

“You’re right; it hilarious!” I held my stomach with one arm, pointing at him and laughing even more.

“You’ve been spending too much time with Wilson,” he grumbled, turning back to the project at hand. i had to force myself to stifle the copius amount of giggling from my lips, opting to merely hold my hand in front of my mouth.

“You haven’t been spending enough time with Wilson,” I raised a brow. he glared at me, before his expression changed again. It softened as he held my gaze.

“You’re smiling.” he stated blankly.

“Yeah, I can do that Barnes,” I chuckled, a slight tin of pink oainting my cheeks.

“It nice.” he responded; “I haven’t really been able to see it until now.”

“T-thank you.”

“The jacket makes you look lke a scrawny kid,” he gestured to all of me. Finally completing the operation, he slammed the hood shut.

“Gee thanks,” I deadpanned, though the smile upon my face had a different view.

“No really its cute,” he chuckled, ducking nhis head down and shaking his head. We both started laughing together, trying to get each other to stop before bursting into giggles as soon as we looked at each other.

My phone going off broke us out of the endless cycle. I dug the rectangle out of my pocket, seeing the contact on my screen, paling at the name.

“One second, I gotta take this.” I said solemly, clearing my throat as I walked to the end of my own driveway. I took a deep breath before my thumb hit the green button on the right side.

“Hello,” I said into the device.

“Hey, this is Detective Danvers, not sure if you remember me but I gave you my number before you left town.” The voice explained.

“No I do, I didn’t expect to hear from you so soon.”

“It’s been almost a whole year,” she stated; “We’ve made progress. We have enough to indite him on charges.”

“Why do I hear a ‘but’ at the end of that sentence,” I sighed, looking down at my feet.

“You will have to testify for us if we want to go ahead on the charges.” she sighed as well, I could hear the faint sound of bustling noise in the background of the audio.

“Look I’m not here for a direct answer right now, we havent brought the case to the DA yet. but I just wanted to let you know before we offically come across the country to ask you. I want to give you time to think about it, you can call me when you made your decision anytime, I know how hard it is for you.”

“Thank you detective.” I said; “I appreciate it.”

“So hows life in the middle of nowhere.” she asked. I snorted through my nose, a fond smile appearing on my lips.

“Not terrible.”

“That’s great! OH- I gotta jet kid, take care,” she ended the call before I could say a word. I placed the phone back in my pocket. I inhaled a deep breath, the weight I commonly felt somehow appeared back upon my shoulders. I could never escape it, I honestly don’t know why I would bother to try sometimes.

“Who was it?” my neighbor strode into my peripheral vision.

“No one important,” I started shrugging the jacket off, folding it over my arm.

“Lemme buy you lunch,” he stated, declining my extended offering of his jacket.

“Wait, I should be paying you for what you just did,” I protested.

“How many times do we have to go over this, it’s on the house,” He laughed, returning to his driveway.

“I’m buying then!” I yelled across the street.

“Like hell you are!” he shouted from his garage, although I could not see him.

“Really? Got a problem with a woman paying for you?” I tried inciting him, only to have the hum of the motorcycle echoing through the street. I watched as Steve, Thor, and Clint pulled up on their respective motorcycles. Steve barely kicked the stand out before he hopped off and ran toward the garage where Bucky was pullign out the bike.

I trotted across the street, my cocern amplifying with each step.

“What’s wrong?” I asked the large bearded man.

“WHAT!” Bucky shouted from the garage.

“There’s a problem at the Witch’s Covent,” Clint said simply, a tight expression on his face.

“What happened?” I pressed them, but they didn’t have time to answer as my neighbor was storming out of the garage with his motorcycle in tow.

“What’s going on!” I asked, my tone sounde slightly frantic. Steve approached his bike, starpping his helmet on.

“No time to explain,” was all the blonde said as he sat on his bike, making me back away a few steps. I locked eyes with my neighbor as he revved the engine of his vehicle. I could only back into his driveway as they all drove out of sight in mere seconds. The cold breeze a stark reminder of the loneliness that becme oh so present. The only thing I had to cling to was his leather jacket.

In the coming days, they became more and more solemn in nature. No one came into work to order coffee. I was too busy to try and see what was going on at the shop. Enda and Thomas only said that something had happened at the Witch’s Covent. No one was saying anything, it was getting aggravating at this point.

It was either I had to accept I would’nt find out or I had to start finding out for myself.

I stared out the window, gazing at the sunset of my backyard, the lake was still as the sun glistened over its surface. Everything was still, secure, stable. I couldn’t take it anymore.

I missed my neighbor. I missed him greatly.

I chuckled at the thought of how he would respond to me admitting it. He’d probably make it his ringtone, constantly replaying it over and over at my expence. To my own dismay, I wouldn;t be objected if he did. Annoyed maybe, but in a sentimental way.

I couldnt take it anymore, I had to find out if he was ok. I grabbed his jacket, to which I had been wearing a lot more often than one should; especially when they accidentally stole the item that doesn’t belong to them. I snatched my keys off of the counter, making sure I had a few twenties in cash before I hopped into the newly revived Oliver.

The turning of his engine had never sounded better. It was refreshing to not have to worry about his health since Bucky had fixed his temporary illness. I backed out of the driveway, shifting the gear to drive down the road.

It wasn’t hard to find the place, Edna was right in that I drove by it coming home from work. The place looked like every biker bar would, given the fact that a line of motorcycles were placed out in the parking lot alongside the byway. I pulled into the dirt lot, careful to give enough room from the line of motorcycles. The last thing I wanted to do as anger anyone of the owners, even if I knew them or not. There were some cars strewn in the lot, but not many.

I took the jacket off, setting it in the passenger seat before I hopped out of the driver’s side. I adjusted the grey sweatshirt over my ripped black pants. I strode toward the entrave with a purpose, the dirt chrunching beneath my bright red sneakers. the wooden board creaked as I ascended the steps, the distorted music growing louder. I could easily recognise the sound of glasses slamming to a wooden surface. The rattle of balls breaking over a felt surface. The melodic sounds of laughter and light. A classic dive bar full of locals who had gone there for years.

Upon entering, it only confirmed my suspicions. They were all there, everyone from the auto-shop, wether they were seated at the one large booth in the corner, or playing pool, even throwing darts. They hadn’t noticed me by the looks of it, though the woman behind the bar had looked up from the mug she was cleaning.

“Welcome to the Witch’s Covent, I don’t think I’ve seen you before,” her accent was eastern European from the soudns of it; although not as thick as most. I’ve heard Natasha talking to her mother over the phone and that woman’s words are indecipherable even when she is speaking english.

“I new around here; even though its been quite a while since I’ve been here.” I shrugged.

“So you’re the one I’ve been hearing so much about.” she lit up like a light bulb. Her long brown hair bouncing slightly at the movement.

“Whose been talking about me?” I could chuckle awkwardly in response.

“Oh please, the whole town has been a buzz. Ever since you stood up to Rumlow, no one has been able to get enough.”

“Are you sure it’s not from those idiots,” I gestured to Sam and Scott trying to play pool while giggling like drunken school kids.

“Actually it’s you neighbor who won’t shut up about you.” She slid out glass, preparing to pour a dark liquid in its contents.

“I’ll have whiskey if you don’t mind,” I said before a drop cold pour out. She tilted her head back, eyeing me with a smile.

“I see why he likes you,” she said with a sly smile as she went to grab a bottle of whiskey.

“Wait, he likes me?” I snorted.

“Given from what his friends tell me; yes he does. I heard he let you ride with him last week.” she poured the desired drink. I gratefully took in in my hands, tracing my thumb over the rim.

“I did, though he didn’t really give me much choice.” I nodded my head to the side; “When we got there Steve looked paler than a ghost.”

“That’s because Bucky never lets anyone on his bike.” she said, returning to her taks of cleaning the glasses. My head shot up, eyes wide.

“Really, cause he doesn’t have a car.”

“No he does. He never uses it though.” she chided.

“It’s not in his garage.”

“No, he keeps it in his backyard. One of his continous projects.”

“You know him?”

“Everyone here pretty much grew up together. We’ve all known each ohter since we were kids. The only acceptions are Sam, Scott, and Thor. Sam was in Bucky’s squad. Scott moved here to be closer to his daughter, and Thor? Well, no one really knows with him.” She shrugged.

“I hope you don’t mind me asking, but did anything happen last week?”

“Its a roadside bar, you will have to be more specific,” Wanda gave me a mischevious look.

“Look, after Bucky fixed my truck; Steve and the others pulled up. All I got out of them was that there was a problem over here.” I gaged her reaction, watching as she stopped cleaning the glass in her hand.

“There was a fight,” she shrugged, “One of Brock’s buddies sticking his nose where it doesn’t belong.” she set the glass back with its companions.

“Is that all you’re going to tell me,” I sighed, knowing she was still hiding quite a bit.

“It’s best if they tell you yourself,” she smiled, going back to some other customers who sat at the bar. I recognized one of them from when Brock tried to intimidate me back at the coffee shop. I gave him a hard glare before sipping on my whiskey.

“Well, well, if it isn’t the mysterious new girl,” Speak of the devil. Mr. Local pulled up a stool on the other side of me, effectively blocking me from moving away from his croney.

“Rumlow,” I heard Wanda ground her teeth, “You know the rules. This is neutral territory.” she said sternly.

“I know, Salem, calm down. I’m here to have some fun.” he slung his arm over the back of my stool, causing to move awkwardly in order to avoid it.

“That remains to be seen,” she poured a low grade beer for the man and slammed it down on the counter infront of him.

“How’s your brother? Do you still use a oiuja board to talk to him?” He arched a brow as he brought the mug up to his lips. I exchanging glances between the two, watching as Wanda’s nostrils flared up before she walked away, muttering something in her native tongue under her breathe.

I could only hunch my shoulders, keeping a firm grip on my glass of whiskey, carefully eying either man beside me.

“So, not so defiant out in public are you. What’s on your mind sweetheart,” Rumlow asked, his voicemaking my skin crawl.

“Wether or not I should punch you into next week.” I sipped my whiskey, my gaze burning into the shelves of alcohol before me.

I heard the door open, well, slam was more like it. The light casting my shadow over the numerous bottles. I looked over my shoulder, finding my neighbor heaving for air as his hand was upon the door.

“So, you got the message I take it,” Rumlow swivled around in his chair, a smug expression on his features. I looked over my shoulder again, utterly terrified at the murderous glare my neighbor sent him.

“You got some fucking nerve Brock. If you wanted your ass kicked you sure got one,” Barnes began marching toward him. The burly man on my left, the croney, stood up ubruptly, his chair falling to the floor with a loud thud. As a couter, everyone from the shop stood up, their chairs schreeching loudly.

“Ah, ah- this is neutral territory, Barnes.” Rumlow scolded the man mockingly. The arm across the back of my stool suddenly pulled hard. Yanking me around to face my neighbor.

“Wouldn’t wanna ruin the neighborhood now would we?” Rumlow asked. I could only stare wide eyed at my neighbor as his nostrils flared.

“She has no part in this Rumlow, leave her alone.” Steve said from behind his friend.

“Oh, really? Last I checked Rogers, your hand ain’t up his ass so stop speaking for him.”

I watched as the two men glared at each other. The tension was like gasoline, itching for a match. Any reason to fight was a good reason, no matter how stupid it was in concept. I was not about to be that cause.

I smacked Rumlow’s hand off my shoulder, standing up from my chair. I paid Wanda for the drink, even though she said it was on the house.

“You won’t mind if I do something stupid would you?” I whispered to her.

“Please do,” She smiled, as if she already knew what I was about to do. I smiled, with my hand still on the glass. I looked to the side, seeing that Rumlow was still glaring at Barnes.

“Hey Rumlow,” I called him, making the man turn around. I threw the whiskey directly at his face, watching in satisfaction as fell out of his chair in pain.

“You fucking bitch!” He writhed on the floor, flailing as he tried to get the alcohol out of his eyes.

“I’ve had enough of this,” I muttered, brushing past my neighbor, delibrately ignoring the look he was giving me. I walked out the door, grumbling as I went toward my vehicle.

“Hey, Y/N! Wait up!” I heard my neighbor call after me.

“Oh, so now you wanna talk to me!” I said, not bothering to turn around as I continued toward Oliver.

“Hey, hey, hey,” His footsteps grew louder and I felt his hand grasp my arm. I yanked myself out of my grip, finally turning to face him.

Why the hell did this man have to be so good looking.

“What!” I said, the anger boiling throuhgh my veins.

“What do you want, Bucky! One minute you are being all nice and neighborly, and the next you don’t even give me the time of day. I don’t care how you and Rumlow started fighting, I really don’t. But don’t drag me into your bullshit!” I ferociously poked my finger into his chest to annunciate my point.

I was snapped out of my reverie when his iron clad grip encomassed my wrist. The dull pain from loss of circulation was growing, sure to leave a bruise tomorrow morning. His expression was turning dark, and he had yet to say a word.

“Barnes, let me go.” I said, desperately trying to keep all of the memories from flooding through my head.

“No,” he said; “You need to listen to me.”

“Let. Me. Go.” I tried to pry out of his grip, but to no avail. He trudged through the heavy wind back toward the bar. I dug my heels into the earth, creating evident drag marks in the gravel lot.

“Bucky,” my tone turned desperate as he slung me around him. My back hitting the wall of the building that was cast in shadow.

“No! You listen to me.” His palms slammed on either side of my head; “Brock is dangerous, I don’t like his interest in you, and you need to stay away from him. I know you don’t like being told what to do, but for once in your stubborn life; just do this one thing.”

“What happened last week.” It was more of a statement than a question.

“He was here when I got there; bragging about how he had you wrapped around his finger. He was very explicit on what he wanted to do to you.” he ducked his head down, the light showcasing the faint yellow and greens of his bruised chin.

“I don’t care, you were with me the whole day practically. Why the hell were you marching off to war with him that day.”

“He was rubbing salt on an open wound.”

“Bucky,” my hands cupped his chin, guiding his line of sight back to me; “You don’t have to talk about it.”

His bright blue eyes locked with my own. They glistening in the fading sunlight. He released a sigh through his nostrils, his gaze still turned downwards to his feet.

“Well aren’t you two sweet.” Sam’s voice made both of us jolt. Bucky clamored away from me, his chest heaving.

“We tossed Rumlow out, by the way. Not sure if you saw it while you were lost in each other.” He crossed his arms over his chest.

“Any reason why you wanted to tell us?” Bucky grumbled, hands upon his hips. Sam shrugged in response.

“Not at all, just nice to get the jump on you for a change.”

“You’re a dick.”

“So are you.”

“I’m gonna head home,” I decided to make my exit. I walked toward Oliver, pulling out Bucky’s jacket. Even a few feet away I could still here the two bickering.

“Shut up Samuel!”

“You first James!”

Thankfully, my footsteps caused the two to cease as I walked toward them. As soon as Wilson saw what I had in my hand, he smirked at Bucky.

“I hadn’t had the chance to give this back to you.” I handed the leather item to Barnes, who only gazed at me earnestly.

“T-thanks,” was all he could muster.

“I’ll see you round,” I hugged Sam goodbye. I turned back to my neighbor, giving him a small peck on his bruise. I pulled back to find him wide eyed and turning red as a tomato.

I smiled as I walked backwards, “See you around, neighbor.” I waved, getting into my vehicle.

#Bucky Barnes #bucky barnes x reader #biker!bucky #biker!au #james buchanan barnes #oof #sio #marvel imagines #I'm seeing endgame friday OOF #marvel x reader #whee #I'm alive #escapism IV

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strawberryspeachy · 5 years

Text

So when i watched death note in high school it made me curious about real japanese police work. I read about it alot and came to the conclusion that their justice system isnt too great.

Im currently upset that a coworker who i took as a friend - not only disliked me all along - but went as far as to lie about me to get me in trouble. That no one cared to hear my side. That i was fired on the spot. That people turned their back on me immediately. That no one cares.

Well. 17 year old me would have said. But of course. In Japan your guilty until proven innocent. That japanese put on a show but dont truely like most people. That they band together and will go out of their way to avoid any kind of conflict. That they care more about a pretty appearance than solving anything. 17 year old me that only heard and read about Japan knew these things. 17 year old me imagined this cool different country that works because theyre proud of this... performance way that they live. And i was amused by it. All i knew was america and european history. I was so hungry for something different. I was so interested in different people.

Then I went to Japan. I got here and it was too similar to manga. How silly, i thought, those a comics - i didnt actually expect the country to be like those comics. And ive never really been able to place what that made me feel but id grown past this bemusement of different “alien like” people. Theyre just people who live in another country i thought. I dont like america and our norms. I know nothing but america but i dont agree with any of our steriotypes. You cant describe me the way most would try to describe a typical american. So why would people from any other country be different. Im sure theres people like the sterotype - but certainly more not at all like that.

And i got here and i watched the smiles on service workers slowly fade when they thought no one was watching. I watched children put trash where it didnt belong thinking no one was watching. I was girls laugh loudly and run around and yell at their boyfriends. I watched drunk college kids hollar and reak havoc in the city. Not robot people, not obedient children, not, quiet and demure girls listening to the men, not studious students worried about their reputation. Just people. The same people i saw back home.

And so i thought. Its the same. Different history. Varrying values. Same old people - judgmental and watching everyone ready to scold them if they deem it necessary.

But that guilty until prooven innocent thing. The fact that the old way of caring about your reputation is still a solid work practice.

These things. Make me feel like... i guess.... to my dissapointment. Maybe america really is more free...

I dont want that to be true. The us is so full of itself. Just like healthcare. I want universal health care to be a good thing and at very least in japan its not really. Its better. Its more affordable. Maybe their problem is just how much they hate drugs and thats what stops real care.

But. Ive always been a cautious person - i just dont want to get in trouble. But ive never thought id be in a situation i couldnt talk my way out of - because i dont do anything super bad. Maybe sometimes ive pressed the limits - but never outside of... like i drank underage. I tried to get into bars i wasnt old enough for. Ive dodged paying for the train fare. Dumb things. Things that the worse that would happen is i gotta pay it somehow or id get scolded. Drinking under age is against us law but its almost never taken too seriously.

But its occurred to me. Yeah. In japan it is guilty until prooven innocent. I really could have gotten in legal trouble for baseless allegations.

And japan is as racist and people say. Theyre friendly and try to talk to you in english and say nice things. And it doesnt seem like racism to a person from the states. Out racist look at you with digust. They wont touch you. They wont talk to you. They dont want to know about you

But here... it takes the form of a racist parent who grew up in the 50s and knows that theyre not supposed to be racist but still is.

Theyre welcoming and friendly to your face but talk shit behind your back. They ask a bunch of questions like (in america “where are you really from”) they refuse to accept you might actually belong. They constantly want to assert how different you are so instesd of telling you that your different - they ask questions or explain what theyre doing. And if you say ‘yes we also do this’ they react with disbeleif - what? No! You couldnt possibly get this - this is our thing and you are not us! And they constantly ask if you miss your home. Assume that you’re uncomfortable because they are. Also also. Instred of not wanting to touch you here - theyre much more willing to push you out of the way

Theres many mixed race kids here now though. I assume theyll have to do the same thing that happened in America. I havent met any mixed race adults but ive met plenty of white dads.... all trying super hard to assimilate to the point that they walk around talking like robots. Swearing that everything japan is great and they dont miss their home cointries at all. Pretty similar to the immigrants of america from when my mom was a kid.

So i still think at least for japan. Theyre way more similar to the west than they think they are. But these restricting regulations that they live by... really does make the country seem not as free as id ignorantly beleived it was.

It surprised me because their rules are so much like the way my great grandmother talked about stuff. And while were supposed to care... we just dont in the states. Respect your employer? Sure we say we do to their face but talk shit with coworkers. Worry about your reputation? Eh think im a bitch i dont give a fuck whatcha gonna do about it? Nothing thats right. Dont like another person? No one cares. Like that person or dont - it doesnt change anyone elses relationship with them. Make a mistake? Well if your boss fires you - everyone already probably thinks their an asshole cause generally mistakes are just met with some form of dickwaving belittlement. Pretty sure most of us get mad everytime we hear a story about someone getting fired because they posted a picture of them in a bikiki or having fun - most of this generation agrees thats dumb and has to change.

I feel more like an american now than ever. Americans are reluctant to change im told. Yes. I suppose we are. We might not know the rest of the worlds history but we kinda know our own. And as much as ive alwags agreed with the sentiment that cultures are different and thats just the way they want to be.... we used to be these ways but decided it was restrictive and controlling and mentally abusive and fought it...

Ive been reading more about the work culture in japan to figure out how he fuck this went so wrong. Apparently when young japanese people enter the work force, they cant even have friends as distractions outside of work because their boss will move them away from home.

Ive already read that japanese think suffering is good and seniority and witness first hand their preoccupation of appearing busy over actually being productive. Its just this constant performance.

Perhaps i did stress him out to the point of physical pain. I remember having a massive meltdown where i shook and it felt like my brain was melting after i tried so hard to be a good nice person. I did whag people apparently like. I changed myself to just agree with people and be positive and assume the best in everyone. Then my “friend” told me that i was a bad friend because i asked them if they would people drive their friends home so i could to sleep at 4am. And the two things just didnt click. I didnt go to sleep that night. I sat at my desk shaking for the next 5 hours and having flashbacks.

Im talkative. I talk as much as i do here in real life. And i have alot of questions. I talked to him a lot. Made him look not busy. I know he liked talking to me. I know he did. Thats why i got confortable talking more. He was always surprised when i asked him questions about himself but once he started answering he kept talking. Yeah. Its nice to have someone ask you what your thoughts are on topics. What your experiences have been. Did you like those things or not. I know japan it a group think culture - i guess they get there by really draining out ANY idea of individualality. He told me hed never been asked what he likes about himself. In the us were asked that constantly from elementary school “what do you like about yourself. What do you like about your friend. What makes you different?”

It kinda baffles me... questions and thoughts like these are so common in anime.... and obviously anime is popular in japan. Obviously obviously. Im confused how theyre watching these programs often with such deep meanings.... and not taking anything away from them. In the states our tv programs are always being restricted and stuff because they might give us “bad ideas” but they aren’t restricted here and yet... it seems no one takes anything from them

When i visited japan in 2013 i saw a teenage girl in huge heels lose her balance and stomp on a middle aged womans foot. That woman had already been standing like her feet were in pain and she made a face of being in so much pain. The girl rudely didn’t apologize and the older woman said nothing. She smiled through her pain...

And i also complained to my coworker. Not full on complaining. The small ones you make at work when youre not sure of the extent you can go to. At first he held off like the other teachers. But. Then. He started complaining back. It got to me not needing to be the one say an annoyance first. Like i asked how his meeting was. Other people i worked with might leave it ah it was a bit slow but necessary. And he started that way. But instead he started responding to me a succession of statements the slowly crept more toward his real feelings. ‘It was good... we didnt do much... or anything, i just sat and listened and took notes. we dont learn anything, it takes up a lot of time but we have to go. I dont like those meetings. I dont know their pupose... but were told to go so we must’

Whatever. Im just gonna keep rambling and complaining about this cause it sucks and is awful. Contracted woth my company i wasnt allowed to publically critisize japan. I imagine thats why you dont often find many things on the internet complaining. You will literally be unemployable if your name is attached to critisisms of this country.

Where as everyone can come to the states and tell us to our faces how much we suck and how much cooler their countries are. And generally the younger general is just kinda like - ‘you right’ people write articles all the time shit talking the states and we just go ‘ya we deserve that’ we do. Im not saying dont do that... but like... maybe just maybe. Were doing the good thing where were like

Haha call us fat! We are fat. We love us some mcdonalds. Hm.... why though. Actually we need to fix that. Why are people eating so unhealthy? What is the underlying cause of this problem? Lets try to work on that - and then we fight amoungst ourselves.

I like that... i like thay thing we do

In the states you might not want to become a ‘whistleblower’ and in some industrys you might get black listed for something dumb. But at least we talk about it and agree its a problem. In japan no one wants to even admit they have problems.

Know what else i told him. I talked about how were overworked in the states. That our work culture has gotten too similar to japans and we hate it. No one working 80 hour weeks thinks that they should have to do that. Of course i didnt go about it that way. I told him that my friends back home work 80 hour weeks and its unhealthy. That i cant work that much and refuse to. He i imagine counted how many hours he works and laughed and i said - oh haha yea i guess you also work that much. And he looked so much like he wanted to cry about it in the same way my friends back home. But said its natural in japan and that hes gotten used to it. But he definitely didnt mean it as he said it. I told him my friends say that as well. That i think theyre workaholics and i personally cant do it. That when work calls them they always pick up the phone even when they dont want to. But i dont do that. When my job called me as a server id ignore it and call them back later when it was too late for me to be asked to come in and ask them what they wanted.

Maybe to him my stories felt like when i read about students in europe being allowed to not go to school without reprucussions. It made HAVING to go to school evem more annoying. Why cant we choose to take breaks? I heard that place doesnt have homework - meanwhile im given at least 6 hours work a night! Not everyone has to do this? Other places learn things for fun?? They dont have to keep up with standardized exams that dont account for different teachers and school districts?? A 50% in that country isnt a failing grade???

Those were already shitty things but to read about them not bein universal did make having to endure it more upsetting.

Doesnt change that im stoll upset with him for not saying anything to me. Doesnt change that im mad that he made stuff up.

Really me rambling on about this doesnt change my presepective on any of it. Im just bitching

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umbraastaff · 6 years

Text

@merle-casts-zone-of-truth

(well, this got out of hand! i was intending to write this concept as a much shorter, not-shipping fic, but then i decided to use this prompt as an excuse to actually write it, so here we are i guess!!! --oh, and using the last name Hadar comes from the ideas ive seen on your blog, ofc. hey i love that a lot and i had to give it a shoutout!)

Overgrowth [a sort of companion fic to Harvest, though you don’t need to read one to read the other]

★ ★ ★

On Tesseralia, they say they’ll give over the Light when John makes peace with the enemy.

The Light of Creation is right at their fingertips for the 30th cycle. All it’ll take is a conversation with the omniverse’s most enormous, threatening force.

“If there’s anyone in any plane who can do it, it’s you,” Lucretia says.

John smiles wryly. “Yes. If there’s anyone.”

“If you can’t make peace, get information,” Davenport advises. “But don’t sell yourself short. You’re good at this.”

“I’m good at this,” John repeats.

★

The first sign of the Overgrowth’s approach is widening cracks in sidewalks and rocks. Vines creeping up mailboxes. Farms yielding crops a little faster, fruits a little bigger. The sun feeling a little brighter.

★

John fixes his tie, closes his eyes, and wills himself into a deathly vulnerable space. He opens his eyes to a bizarre scene. It’s a beach, because he’s standing in the sand by the ocean, with waves that creep up close to his feet, then slide away just in time to leave them dry. Across from the ocean, though, there’s a dense forest, and stray trees permeate the rest of the environment: standing in the sand, and even in the ocean, swaying with the waves. They aren’t even trees you usually find near beaches.

The whole place looks like a collision. It’s as if a forest and a beach decided they both wanted to be here for this meeting, and they both followed through, with no coordination. There are two suns in the violet sky, too, as if to drive home the idea that it’s two places mashed together.

And John is standing across from someone else, in the sand, in the point of contact between these two climates. He’s a dwarf in a bright-colored shirt with a tropical print. He looks like a regular guy. Like a dad, even.

The dwarf squints at John, blinks a few times. “Huh,” he says, in a voice that’s too gruff, too earthy, too real to belong to someone at the center of a universe-consuming mass of plants.

“Hello, sir,” John says, forcing the bewilderment to keep out of his voice. “I am John Hadar. May I ask your name?”

“Highchurch. Uh, Merle. Highchurch.”

“Highchurch Merle?” John says, extending a hand. “A pleasure.”

“Other way around,” Merle chuckles, shaking it. “The pleasure’s mine! This is real weird, though. How’d you pull this off?”

“It’s something called Parley. A technique for peacemaking, which is what I hope to achieve with you. It ensures that the guest-- that’s you-- is perfectly safe. I invited you, so I can’t harm you,” John explains. He omits the bit where Merle can kill him, but he’s sure the dwarf will pick up on it. Then he adds, hopefully, “Question for a question?”

“You already asked my name,” Merle says, but after a beat where John’s trying to come up with a response, he grins. “Kidding! Let’s sit down. Then you can ask whatever you want.” He gestures past John, and so the human turns around to see a picnic table. He’s absolutely sure that wasn’t there a minute ago.

They sit down. John speaks again. “So, this place… I don’t recognize it, myself, but I’m wondering if it holds any significance to you.”

“Never seen anythin’ like it,” Merle says earnestly. “But I figure it’s, y’know, a metaphorical space. I’m from the beach, myself, always loved it. And the trees… I like ‘em plenty, too, but that’s gotta be more to do with my whole situation… and Pan. I’m a cleric, you know. Well, was a cleric.”

“Huh. Do you mind if I ask--”

Merle shakes his head, interrupting. “I get another question, pal!”

“Ah, yes,” John says, very worried that he’s going to have to give away (or come up with a lie about) important information.

“Do you like chess?”

John raises his eyebrows. “Oh, er, yes. I do. Very much.”

Merle smiles. “You seemed like the type.” He knocks on the table, and a square platform of wood rises from it, with a checkered pattern appearing as it does. Then, a boardful of chess pieces appears in their rightful places: John’s set is made of wood, and Merle’s pieces are all made of tiny, woven vines. “So, what was your question?”

“Oh, right. I was wondering, since you were a cleric before, how did you go from that occupation to… this?”

“Funny you should ask it that way,” Merle says, “Since I probably wouldn't be here if I wasn’t a cleric in the first place.” He taps the table gently in thought. “People from my church, they… they found out something big, and they asked me to explain it. I asked Pan about it. And this whole shebang sprung from that event.”

“I… see.” John nods slowly, taking that in. He’s grateful for the chessboard: a perfect distraction to pad the conversation and keep his big questions from seeming too frequent. “I’m afraid I don’t know which of these sets counts as white or black, so I’m not sure whether to make a move or wait for you.”

“Oh! Who cares. You go ahead!”

They play for a few turns in silence. Merle is very slow, but he’s very good, and they’re about equally matched in skill. Finally, the dwarf says, “You mind if we get rid o’ the whole back-n-forth thing and just have a normal conversation?” With a cautious nod from John, he continues. “What really brings you here? I can’t imagine trying to talk things out with the plant plane was your first solution, if I’m causing so much trouble for you.”

“Ha,” John lets out a hint of a laugh at that. “No, it wasn’t. I only recently learned this technique. We just figured that it couldn’t hurt to try talking, right?”

Merle looks him in the eyes, looks through his eyes. It’s uncomfortable. John likes to be in control of what people see in him, and Merle looks like he’s reading an open book. “It’s more specific than that.”

John blinks. “Yes. Well, there’s also the issue where we won’t get the Light of Creation here unless I make peace with you,” he says, and only after it comes out does he realize how much he’s said, too directly. It was so compelling, in that moment looking at Merle’s eyes, to be honest. Goosebumps prick the back of his neck.

“The Light, huh?” Merle moves his bishop. Whaddya need that for?”

John hesitates. “We’re scientists. Er, my party. We want to study it.” Each of the last few words has to be forced up his throat, burning his tongue just slightly as they come out.

Merle meets his eyes again, looking disappointed this time. Like a parent of a kid who stole candy instead of, John reminds himself, an enormous eldritch forest that suffocates whole planar systems. “You don’t have to tell me,” Merle says, “But please don’t lie. Not in such a lovely place.”

So not even half-truths work. And it’s not as if John can risk trying a charm spell on a man with so much power. He’s just going to have to play the game: be honest, and try to get more information than he gives. “My apologies,” he says. “I hope you can forgive my caution.”

Merle nods. “You want the Light to get it away from me, right?” When John’s only response is a startled stare, the dwarf continues. “That’s good. I hope you use it for something better than we do.”

John blinks, but as he’s trying to find the right question about that, he feels a pressure on his legs. He looks down to see vines creeping up from the ground, locking his feet to the earth. “Uh, what’s--”

“Oh, shoot,” Merle exclaims, looking under the table from his side. “I think our time’s up. Is it possible for you to come back later? A while later. I don’t want you to be endangered here.”

“Ah, yes,” John says quickly. “Nice meeting you, Merle.”

“Yeah, yeah, nice chat, get outta here!” the cleric responds, voice lacking any real annoyance.

John closes his eyes.

★

The Overgrowth’s second sign is the death of small plants on the forest floor as the shadows of the canopy overtakes them. It’s the sidewalks crackling, home gardens climbing up the walls and through the windows. It’s people getting ill from non-native plants releasing toxins they don’t have the immune systems for.

★

Smoke hardens back into John’s form, and he looks up from his place on the floor. Everyone is still here: the crew, and Oriana. She looks down at him, question apparent on her face.

Back in his element, John pastes a bright, relieved smile onto his face. “The Overgrowth won’t be bothering us anymore.”

The crew stands in stunned silence, and then they break into cheers, with varying levels or sincerity. Oriana takes a bit longer to convince, but John says everything he needs to, gets ahold of the Light, and returns to the Starblaster with his crew.

Davenport speaks as soon as the door shuts behind them. “Well done getting the Light. What actually happened?”

“I played chess with the Overgrowth. His name is Merle,” John says flatly. Six pairs of eyes stare at him.

“You played chess with plant hell?” Taako clarifies. “For real?”

“So there was a specific person at the center of it all?” Lucretia asks, already writing.

“Yes. And he used to be a cleric of Pan. I think… it seemed like godly power was involved in the Overgrowth’s creation. I’m going to ask more later.”

“What? Why not just stay there and get the rest of the info back then?” Magnus asks.

“The plants there started acting up, and he asked me to leave. I was worried I’d die if I didn’t, and then we’d have no chance to get this world’s Light.”

Davenport nods. “Good call. Give it as much time as you think it needs, then get back in there.”

Lup finally speaks. “He didn’t kill you. Like, he actively tried to not kill you. That’s nuts.”

“Yeah,” John says.

★

In the Overgrowth’s later stages, plants start to animate. Roots wrap around the foundations of buildings and crush them. Vines overrun the streets and valleys. Touching any of them gets you dragged underground, locked in a dirt tomb until the world ends.

★

Since it’s only a month to the end of the year, and the heightened activity of the Overgrowth might distract Merle in later conversations, John decides to Parley at the next reset. He finds himself in the same place, with waves a little calmer than he remembers. This time, the picnic table is already in front of him, and their half-finished chess game is waiting. And on the other side of the table…

“Merle,” he says.

“John! Nice to see ya. Thanks for waiting.”

“Of course,” John says. “May I ask what cut our last meeting short?”

Merle takes a moment to think. “Hard to explain. When I’m not here, with you, I don’t have a body, or even individuality. I’m just part of the mass. And I’m sort of a reassuring force, because of my role in all this. So when I’m not there, they get… antsy? Like a bunch of kids,” he adds with a laugh.

John smiles. He can’t quite get behind the humor of calling the Overgrowth “kids,” but Merle’s shameless enjoyment of his own joke is sort of endearing.

“I gotta question,” Merle says, sitting down at the table. John joins him. “Whose turn is it in the chess game?”

“Yours, I believe. Was that your question?” John jokes.

“Ha! Nice try,” Merle retorts, using a pawn to take one of John’s diagonally. “I just moved between planar systems. Does this parley thing work across different systems, or do you have a method of transport? I know for sure you’re not hitching a ride with me.”

John considers how to answer that. On the one hand, Merle would probably let him decline to answer. But on the other, that could mean Merle refusing John’s questions later. And John has to be honest if he does answer, so… best to just keep it vague. “My friends and I, er, that crew of scientists,” he says, “We found a way to pass between dimensions just before you do. Using your portal, but not your plane.”

“Huh. That explains how you’ve done it without the Light in hand.”

John hesitates. “One more thing. During our first meeting, you mentioned that the Overgrowth-- er, that is, your whole plant plane, here--”

“Overgrowth?” Merle laughs. “Kinda on-the-nose! Better than mine, though.”

“Yes, well,” John continues, “You said it all started with someone asking you about… something. What was it?”

Merle’s expression falls, but before John can find out why, he realizes that his hand, resting on the table, has nettles starting to grow over and around it, with spikes that are precariously close. “Time to go, then, I suppose.”

★

It’s a few more sessions before John tries the question again.

“I just keep wondering,” John explains, “because what you've done is so… incomprehensible, so unique. I can't imagine what you were asked that made you create it.”

Merle closes his eyes. “When I was a cleric, back home, some members of my church found the Light of Creation. Young people, you know? The sort to ask big questions. Problem is, the Light had answers.” He takes a minute to make a chess move before continuing.

“They were scared of what they saw, so they showed it to me, looking for answers. And I- I saw--” Merle takes a shaky breath, and John realizes his eyes are glistening. “I saw everything. It wasn't just the concept of eternity, it was every single moment of it. And everything we do is so small, John. It was all so antithetical to everything I'd ever believed. I… I don't…”

John puts a hand on top of Merle’s, on the table. Merle looks up at him, some of the distress relaxing into gratitude. “John,” he says seriously, “With all your space travels and whatnot, don’t you ever lose sight of the little things. Don't zoom out so far into the big picture that you forget what's important.”

John’s lips quirk upwards. “Don’t worry. I’m a bard. I know every note is important.”

“A bard, huh?” Merle leans back, (not far enough to separate their hands), and he takes on a jokingly offended look. “You been holdin’ out on me? What do I gotta do to hear you play?”

“Sing, actually,” John says. Usually he’s not a fan of impromptu requests, but he finds he doesn't mind this one too much. “I mean, I do most of my magic with motivational speaking. But I sing sometimes, too.”

And then he does. He sings an old Dwarvish song that he learned on a previous world, something with a softer melody than most of their music is known for. He doesn't actually know any Dwarvish outside of the lyrics he's memorized, but he knows what it's about: A stone that falls and rolls down a mountain, who talks to all the animals and plants it passes. And at the end, when it's sitting still at the base, thinking it is alone, it learns it has befriended the mountain itself.

Merle is crying by the end of it, letting out any tears he was suppressing. “That was beautiful,” he says. “Thank you, John.”

★

The Overgrowth never appears in the sky. It climbs out from the core of the plane, a parasite, suffocating the world in shadow and cold as a cocoon covers it. And once the planar system is engulfed, it expands to its true size. The crew only ever sees it for a few moments-- an enormous mass of plants, with vines reaching out to them, before time freezes and resets.

★

“I’ve seen dozens of civilizations use the Light to pursue knowledge,” John says. “How did your use of it create the Overgrowth?”

“It wasn't in pursuit of knowledge,” Merle says. “It was… I led the church in a prayer. And because I had the Light, the whole world joined in as I called to Pan.” he sighs. “But I think that the vastness of eternity-- of real eternity-- was too big for gods, too.

“So Pan gave us his power. Or we ripped it out of him, I don't know. I don't think the light amplified his magic so much as… made its own version. Because, this--” he gestures to the forest-- “this isn't my Pan.

“Anyway, yeah. The Overgrowth began with that. We were all so afraid of being alone, being small andshort-lived in an uncaring universe. Of being nothing. But if we joined everyone together, if we became our own universe, we could be… something.”

★

“What brings you joy, John? Do you enjoy singing?” Merle asks, after another song.

“Yes. I like to... inspire people. And I like the way words and notes can be woven into any shape.” When Merle waits, John adds, “And… I love my crew, and…” They meet eyes.

“That’s good. Don't ever stop loving things, John, don't ever let yourself stop.”

“What do you enjoy, Merle?”

“I love your singing. I love our meetings. I love these waves,” Merle says, gesturing out towards the sea. “I wish I could remember any of that when I’m not here. Then, maybe… maybe I could stop all this. Stop… hurting everyone. Hurting you.”

★

In the ninety-second cycle, against the advice of the rest of the crew, John calls Merle for a final meeting. They've spoken in every cycle up till now-- multiple times in some of them, when Merle could manage it.

On the beach and in the ocean, there are more trees than there used to be. It's been a gradual increase over the decades, but it still feels like far too many, too fast. Above them, the night sky sparkles with stars.

“This may be our last meeting,” John says immediately. If he sits on the information, Merle will know something’s wrong.

Merle senses the weight of that statement, and so he doesn't endanger John by asking why. Instead, he says, “What, your friends finally figured out you're having an affair with the enemy instead of grilling me?”

John goes red for a moment before he relaxes and laughs. “You, personally, aren't my enemy, Merle.”

“Just look at you, hopelessly brainwashed!”

They laugh. John has mentioned before how he’s sure the crew thinks he's being Charmed, what with how happy he always leaves parley sessions, and with less new information each time. But he still fights against the Overgrowth just as hard as the rest of them, so they keep trusting him.

Merle speaks again as their laughter dies down. “I was wondering when this’d happen. You got any plans for our last day?”

Without really thinking, John starts to sing. He sings about the stars reflecting on the waves, about impossible wishes breaking the backs of meteors, about how far apart each star in a constellation is. He lets magic creep into the music, making the stars twinkle with different colors and having their reflections swirl in the ocean.

Merle faces away from John for most of it, staring out at the sea. “I loved that,” he says quietly at the end. “Where is it from?”

“I… I made it up just now. I thought you'd notice, what with all the stumbling and off-key notes.”

“It was perfect,” Merle whispers. They stare at the sky for a while, and then he breaks the silence again. “And you know I'm tone deaf, right?”

John laughs. “Oh, that's right! I forgot. Guess that part doesn't matter, then.”

“Yeah,” says Merle, and before they can fall into another silence, he adds, “Hey, you wanna know about these constellations? I think I still remember a few of them.”

“That would be lovely,” John says.

★

Seventeen years later, John drinks the ichor of a second voidfish, and he is overwhelmed by a sea of memories. In the emotional mayhem, he almost tries to parley. The thought is interrupted by the deafening crack of the moon base being torn through. The crew sees an enormous tree trunk grow straight up through a dome and then through the ceiling. There is a horrible, lurching tilt as the base's ability to stay airborne goes out, and it remains in place by the tree’s strength alone.

★

Not an hour later, John vanishes from a barely-functional elevator and finds himself in an almost-familiar space. His shoes are on sand, but he's surrounded by a fairly thick forest. He can see the ocean water to his side, glinting off the spots of sunlight between leaves. The picnic table is broken in half, with a tree dividing it.

And he sees Merle. “Holy shit, that worked,” the dwarf says. He's on his knees, surrounded by foliage. His right arm looks like it's made of wood, and his left eye has a flower obscuring it. John can't tell if it’s growing over the eye or instead of it. He doesn't want to know.

“Oh gods, Merle,” John says in a panic. “Fuck, it's been-- what's going on?”

“It’s this very original idea I had,” Merle grins, considerably less worried than John is. “I call it Parley!”

“What happened to your arm? Your eye? Merle--”

“Don’t worry about it. And what about you? Your complexion? You look awful,” he laughs.

“I had my good skin stolen by elves who played… electronic dance music.”

“The hell’s that? Can you sing it? Will you--” his tone drops to something a little more serious. “Will you sing for me? One last time?”

“I- I can't,” John says. “They took my singing, my… my sense of pitch. I can't sing.”

Merle looks at him for a long moment, and John expects something sympathetic, pitying. He doesn't want that at all. But before he can say that, Merle says, “You’re tellin’ me your pitch is stopping you from singin’ for Merle “tone-deaf” Hitower Highchurch, in a private parley area?” The trees around them seem to shift and creak. “What happened these last couple decades? The John I remember wasn't shy like that.”

“No, it's-- I appreciate that, Merle, but it's not that simple. I can't feel the changes between notes at all, and it throws me off my rhythm every time. I can't hold a tune.”

“John, if you won't sing, I will,” Merle decides. “And you're gonna hate it.”

“I doubt that,” John challenges.

And so Merle starts singing a loud, obnoxious shanty, wheezing every time it requires his voice to go higher. John realizes a few bars in that he recognizes it. It was broadcasted by one of the voidfish at Legato Conservatory.

As Merle predicted, John hates it, in an amused sort of way. He decides to try joining in, and he finds it's easier to keep up with the rhythm when he's being guided by Merle's (albeit terrible) singing. They yell the song to the sea, lacking any semblance of harmony or tune.

“See,” Merle says, “You still got it!”

John laughs. “I just didn't have any other way to drown you out, that's all.”

“You coulda killed me,” Merle says, tone far too flat. John stops laughing. The trees seem to lurch inwards around them, making John feel mildly claustrophobic. “This is parley.”

“What? No, Merle, what?? I'm not-- I won't kill you. I can't. Don't say that.”

“It might solve your problem.” As he says it, John feels vines creeping up his feet, tighter than usual. He tries to kick them off.

“And it might not! Jesus, Merle! We're gonna find a way, okay?”

Merle sighs. “Thought you might be like that. C’mere.” When John leans away from his inviting gesture, Merle adds, “I won't trick you into killing me. I'm not a jackass.”

John hesitates another moment before stepping forward, shaking the plants from his legs. He sits down in front of Merle-- with him cross-legged and the dwarf up on his knees, they're nearly eye-level.

Merle puts his non-wood hand on John’s upper arm. Roots are starting to twist over both of their legs. “John,” he whispers, “Do you wanna know the worst lie I've ever been told?”

John leans in. “Yes…?”

“It’s that love and moments and songs aren't worth anything because they'll be gone someday. And I've been living that lie for ninety-nine percent of my last few centuries alive. Except when I’m with you.” The trees are getting wider, taller. They’re starting to actually close in. The wind whistling through the branches sounds like a scream. “So I wanted to tell ya thanks for that, and I also wanted a minute here to cast-- Zone of Truth!”

The last words are a shouted spell, cast from his wooden hand, which has its fingers on the ground. The earth glows all around them, and then suddenly everything ignites. The arm, the trees, the vines. John expects the fire on his legs to burn him, but it just feels pleasantly warm.

As he's squinting at the blaze, John feels Merle squeeze his arm a little tighter and cough. He looks down to see vines constructing Merle's chest, aflame but too thick to be burned through yet.

“Oh gods, Merle, are you okay? I can-- Maybe I can heal--”

“Hey, hey, hey,” Merle wheezes gently. He moves his hand up to John’s head, running it through his hair. Then he presses their foreheads together, and they stay like that for a moment. “Destroy these bastards for me.”

And then John wakes up on the side of a dirt road.

★

At the end of the battle, John sees Merle once more. He’s sitting on the shore of the beach, looking like his normal self again. And there aren’t any trees in the sand or water-- only some vegetation scattered further away, where it would be on a normal beach. Far across the water, two suns are setting, one just slightly above the other.

Merle looks up and smiles at John, then pats the ground beside him. “Will you sit with me?”

John does, his mind swirling with questions and wishes and apologies-- something, anything to say to Merle before he’s gone. What does he say? Why can’t he get any words out?

“We don’t have to talk.” There’s an almost amused smile in Merle’s voice, like he knows what John’s thinking. “Let’s just watch this together.” He puts his hand on John’s, and they look out over the water.

When the first sun sets, and the other is three-quarters down, John feels the weight on his hand vanish, and when he looks over, Merle is gone.

Alone, he watches the other sun vanish, and then he is returned.

★ ★ ★

#the adventure zone #merle highchurch #john taz #merle casts zone of truth #oh god oh GOD im so absurdly nervous abt posting this #its like the vaguest romance ever but guess what? ive never written romance ever in my life. literally ever. HHHHGHGH #my writing #merle #john #balance #mine #the hunger by any other name

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ltsaint-a · 4 years

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IMPORTANT

i. this is a roleplay blog for SHAUNDI of SAINTS ROW. she very much follows canon but is also very headcanon based as well.

ii. any mention of shaundi from saints row 2 or even just past shaundi in saints row 4 will be tagged with FUN SHAUNDI.

iii. the only trigger that will come up on this blog is in reference to her drug habits back in saints row 2. if there is mention, it will be tagged accordingly: DRUG MENTION /

BASICS

i. this is basically going to cover the basics. keep in mind, i do have a job and i will be going back to school soon for my bachelor’s degree. with that being said, i don’t spend all of my time on this blog or on tumblr as it is. my time is divided up to where i see it fits best.

ii. i really, REALLY, really, try and stay out of drama. it does nobody any good and honestly it ruins the whole writing experience for me. i’ve been on tumblr long enough to see the rise and fall of roleplaying and i don’t wish to see my writing career on this website come to a screeching halt. keep it away from me and we’ll be alright.

iii. do not send me hate. do not send the people i write with hate. just don’t do it.

iv. i queue all of my replies and i usually have one reply post a day in order to keep up with everything. i work during the week and don’t have a lot of time to write during the week so queuing my replies allow me to keep everything under control and help me not to become too overwhelmed.

v. I USE SMALL FOR MY FORMATTING, AND DOUBLE SPACED. if that’s not your style, then i would suggest possibly not following me. this is how i like to write my replies and asks, i like the way it looks and small font has always helped me to write more than i normally would. i’ve been using small font since my gaiaonline days and that’s not going to change anytime soon.

FOLLOWING & UNFOLLOWING

i. this is a MUTUALS ONLY blog. now, you’re probably sitting there like “but eris, what does that mean?” and i’m here to tell you. if you follow me and i choose to follow you back, that means we are mutuals. it means you have every right to respond to my open starters & to like my starter calls.

ii. I DO NOT FOLLOW MINORS, NOR DO I WISH ANY TO FOLLOW ME. sorry, but i gotta look out for myself. while my blog doesn’t feature smut and i normally don’t write any, there is the occasional nsfw on my blog. along with that, i do post stuff that is 18+ in general due to the nature of the muses i tend to write. i wanna keep you all protected so i would ask that you don’t follow me.

iii. as for who i choose to follow, it’s all based on whether i find that our characters will write well together. if i don’t see any way for me to have my characters interact with your character, then sadly, i won’t give you a follow back. i’m pretty chill though when it comes to following and pretty much follow everyone back.

v. now for the dreaded rule about unfollowing. what will bring me to unfollow you? this is something i’m still very lenient on because i’m big on the whole “it’s your blog, do what you want” but if i see you posting a lot of drama and like really excessive ooc, i will sadly unfollow your blog. i like to keep my dash clean so i can easily navigate it.

vi. let’s talk about softblocking. if i wish to break mutuals with you, i am going to softblock you because i only feel that it’s right. i don’t want people to get confused because i know a lot of people sometimes don’t check their followers to see who is still mutuals with them. along with that, i will utilize softblocking if you start to post stuff i don’t agree.. it’s better that way, i promise.

INTERACTION

i. once again, MUTUALS ONLY. only people that i follow back will i interact with. meaning only those people are allowed to like my starter calls, only they can reblog open starters, etc. if you’re a non - mutual and you try, you will be ignored and if this happens multiple times, i will soft block you.

ii. I LIKE TO START OFF SMALL WITH MY STARTERS AND THEN EVENTUALLY BUILD UP AS WE PROGRESS THE THREAD ALONG so don’t be alarmed if i start off with just a paragraph in our starter. unless i’m already comfortable writing with you and i know how we vibe, we’re going to start off slow because i want to get a feel for how our characters mesh and how we, as partners, will write together. you’ll end up noticing an increase in content as we continue to write because now i know what i’m working with.

iii. asks are always the biggest thing. Basically, non - mutuals can send asks but only if they are sentence starters / sentence memes, any sorta “tell me how i’m doing” memes or the like. I WON’T ANSWER UNSOLICITED RP ASKS FROM NON - MUTUALS. they’ll get ignored or deleted. this is more for my sanity and the fact that in the past, i’ve had non - mutuals hound me about stuff like this and i’d rather just not let that anxiety overwhelms me again. if you are a non - mutual and send me sentence memes and the like, please know it won’t go further than the answered ask.

SHIPPING

i. i ship based on chemistry for the most part and i am up for shipping with multiple characters. please do not try and force your character upon mine. that’s grounds for immediate removal from my blog and it’s like really uncomfortable as it is.

ii. as for shipping, everything will be set in it’s own little universe. meaning no ships shall overlap unless you’re totally cool with that. i love to incorporate my character’s past and their relationships wherever i can but if it makes you comfortable to have no mention of prior relationships in any of my character’s lives, we can separate them.

MISCELLANEOUS

i. all of the icons that are featured on this blog were made by me. meaning i took the time out of my day to sit in photoshop and edit them. same for any graphics & photosets i decide to post to this blog. i spent the time making said items so i don’t take too kindly to theft.

ii. please try and have fun while writing with me. i don’t care if you take a million years, i don’t care if you take two seconds. all i care about is that you enjoy what we’re writing.

iii. you are always allowed to message me via IM and discord is available to those i have begun to feel comfortable with. i’m pretty easy going so don’t be shy.

iv. seriously though, have fun.

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snowwolf1118 · 7 years

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Humans Are Weird: Women’s Edition Part X

Wow! We’re at Part X already! I can hardly believe I have committed myself to this point (which isn’t very far to be honest). Also, I honestly have no idea how long this series will be, but I can assure you it will last for far longer than you’d expect.

Also, my apologies for not posting an update sooner. I started writing Part X weeks ago, but then I realized it was too far ahead, so I decided to save it for a different time. Then I started writing another Part X, but again, it somehow needed to be saved for future posting. And now we have this post! The beginning took me a couple of tries to start, but then it started coming naturally. After that, it was the ending of this post that gave me trouble. I rewrote it about five or six times. Something kept feeling wrong about the endings. However, I am satisfied, or as satisfied as I can be and I hope you all are, too.

Now, let’s return to the story. It involves some POV hopping, as usual, and a good dash of humor. At least my type of humor! :)

Part I >> Part II >> Part III >> Part IV >> Part V >> Part VI >> Part VII >> Part VIII >> Part IX < > Part XI

“LET ME OUTTA HERE, YOU PIECES OF SHIT!” Straining her muscles against her restraints, Jay’va lurched toward the goons as they passed by her cell on their usual guard route, but again, she stopped short. The pirates had her bound to her cell wall, like a caged beast, but it was for their own safety after all.

When she had first awoken in the med-bay, she had caused an incident. When they transferred her to her cell, she caused another one. A few of the goons had to be hospitalized and, as a result, the others kept a tentative distance from her, even when they delivered her daily meals. At first, it was amusing, but it soon lost its luster after the fourth day.

Now it was the fifteenth day of her captivity and she was pissing mad. The accumulation of being treated like a wild beast and having no social or physical contact was driving her mad and making her mad. Cyborg always said cabin fever caused madness in humans left in isolation, but he never mentioned how it could incite anger, too. Her anger.

I wish he was here with me right now, she thought, he always knows what to do. Always. Sighing, Jay’va tried not to let her anger mix with her sorrow. She tried not to let it get the best of her. She knew if her crew saw her like this, they’d lose faith in her. Gotta stay strong. Stay strong. As she chanted the words in her head, she heard the faint footsteps of the goons patrolling the prison halls.

Shoving her emotions aside, she forced herself to calm down. She needed to calm down. Calm down, Jay-Jay, calm down. Remember your yoga. Cy wouldn’t want you pissing like this. Though she knew that was the truth, it was difficult to follow through with her breathing exercises because just seeing the goons again pissed her off.

Bucking like a wild mookeige, Jay’va screeched at the goons just as they reached her cell. She chuckled as they gave a little start. You would think these idiots would remember me by now, she smugly thought, but they never do―

“Well, I see isolation has done nothing to damper your spirit, Col. Heth Jay’va,” the new voice startled her.

Completely taken aback, she couldn’t even think of a witty, madness-drive comeback. She could only stare at the lifeform before her and feel shame wash over her. It was difficult to explain, but the deference she felt shook her to the core. It was unsettling. Maybe this was what humans mean when they pray to their gods and God? This absolute feeling of submission toward someone greater than them.

It was terrifying.

“I see you’re speechless. Good,” said the lifeform as they lowered the quantum-particle barrier separating them, “it makes things easier. I am Captain Zeelot of the Frek’jon, the magnificent ship you and your crewmates are captive on.” Jay’va remained silent, too overcome by her emotions to respond, her mind too muddled. The lifeform, Captain Zeelot, made a strange noise. Maybe it was a sound for displeasure? She didn’t want that, but she couldn’t make her jaws move.

Whatever it meant, it didn’t matter because Zeelot was approaching her with one heavy step at a time. The fear wafted off her like smoke from a fire. “Heth,” Zeelot murmured her name and cupped her cheek with one of their hands. It was so warm; it had been so long since anyone had touched her, she leaned into their embrace. “Hmm...that’s better. Golok, Rue’oth, release her,” they ordered the two goons.

“But Captain―” “She’ll kill us― ” exclaimed the goons.

“Silence,” Zeelot cut them off, “don’t make me repeat myself.”

The goons wore wary expressions, but she hardly noticed anything. Warmth. Touch. It had been too long...

Watching as Jay’va fell to her knees once released from her restraints, Zeelot marveled at the effectiveness of the pheromone concoction Krellion had created for them. Regardless of Krellion’s mental state, he still managed to create some of the most potent pheromones to subdue ferocious H’hish like Jay’va.

It was wonderous how, just moments ago, she was foaming at the mouth, ready to kill the guards, but now she was as docile as a reika-booj. Clucking, they knelt before her and began massaging her cheek. “Isn’t that better, Heth?” they cooed.

Jay’va nodded. “...feels good...” She was completely at their mercy. It was entertaining how easily the pheromones had taken over such a vicious H’hish.

“I’m glad, Heth, because I want to keep you and your crewmates comfortable, but I’m having a rather difficult time with that. Would you help me?”

They watched as Jay’va dumbly stared at them, so lost in the pheromones. They debated strangling until she whispered, “I want...I want to help. Let me help...” With great satisfaction, Zeelot knew with this, they had won.

Rising, they motioned for Golok and Rue’oth to handle the rest before giving Jay’va with a few parting words. “Answer all their questions truthfully for me, Heth. The more truthful you are, the sooner your crewmates will find comfort like you have.”

“Yes...” Jay’va mumbled.

Turning to Golok and Rue’oth as the lifted her, Zeelot assured them of their safety. “This batch of pheromones won’t wear off anytime soon, and since this is her first time experiencing kulgo pheromones, it will take even longer for it to dissipate from her system.” And with that, they were gone, leaving the rest of the work for the two of them to handle.

Entering their quarters, Zeelot found Murakami tinkering with an old service-bot. She’s taking to her duties well, they thought as they took a seat beside her, but she still refuses give up any personal information on her crew. Cheeky. “How do you like life on the ship? they questioned her.

Murakami didn’t spare them a glance. “Can’t say. It’s only been three days, but I suppose I can say I hate it and wish you all would die.” Yes, she was a cheeky human.

“I wish you wouldn’t say that,” the chided as they absentmindedly flicked a bolt off the table, “the others may take it the wrong way.”

“And what way would that be? I’d ab-so-lute-ly would love to know,” she sneered.

“Your sarcasm is not lost to me,” Zeelot murmured as they carefully raked their fingers through her short hair. They didn’t fail to notice Murakami’s muscles tense at their touch, or how she quickly forced them to relax. She refused to show her fear, but everyone feared them. “Murakami,” they leaned and whispered in her ear, “you can betray every single filthy piece of molongo on this ship, but if you betray me...if you truly ignite my anger, I will insure your life will never end. Understand?” they rasped before leaning back into their seat.

“I understand,” she finally said, her voice trembling.

“Good,” they said, taking the servant-bot from her and tearing it apart, “because this is your only warning. Don’t dare betray me again. Now get out.”

Murakami found herself dumbly standing in the hallway outside of Zeelot’s quarters, questioning herself about their abilities. How did they know what I was going to doing with that robot? How? It terrified her, this uncertainty. She had not even had the chance to reprogram the bot, but they knew what she wanted to do. Alright, stop panicking, Murakami. Don’t let them get to you. Clear your mind. Surely a reasonable explanation exists. Maybe a different slave tried the same thing as me. Maybe that’s why the bot was out of commission? Yes, that is right, she thought, breathing in a deep sigh of relief. That was the answer. One of Zeelot’s previous slaves must have tried to escape that way. It only made sense―

“What are you doing standing in the hallway?”

Giving a small yelp, she spun around to find Mel standing beside her. “Don’t do that. You nearly gave me a heart attack,” she exclaimed.

“Father cleared you of any cardiac conditions,” he said, waving for her to follow him, “so it is highly improbable that you almost experienced a cardiac episode.”

“It’s a figure of speech, kiddo. It means you startled or frightened me,” she deadpanned, following him.

Mel blankly stared at her, clearly not believing her. “Then why wouldn’t you say that I startled you?”

“You’re kidding me, right?” she asked, dumbfounded. “Are you actually suspecting I’m lying? Don’t answer that; it’s a rhetorical question. Let me educate you real quick about figure of speech.” She held up her hand and halted whatever nonsense he was about to spout. “Figure of speech exists everywhere in the universe and probably every alternate reality in existence―except in any reality where on this ship exists―and it’s words or phrases used in the non-literal sense for rhetorical purposes or vivid effects―”

“―Like your questions from just now?”

“Yes, just like my questions. Understand now?”

“Yes, I do. I have never had a proper conversation with another human before.”

“Really, I couldn’t tell.”

“...”

“Sarcasm. It’s irony used to mock or convey contempt.”

“...Then I suggest not using it in Father’s presence. Or showing emotion,” Mel said.

Murakami cocked a brow at him. “Is that why you’re such a killjoy? ‘Cause your crazy dad doesn’t like emotions? Don’t answer that. Anyways, where are we heading?” As she asked, she glanced around, not recognizing the darken hallways.

Mel shot what she would consider a smug look. “The prison cells for the cargo.”

“People aren’t cargo, Mel.” She nearly spat the word.

Mel briefly glanced at her. “Anyone can be cargo, Murakami. It doesn’t matter how unique or intelligent you think they are. If someone wants something and is willing to pay whatever the price for it, then the Frek’jon will provide it.

“In any case, I didn’t bring you here to discuss the ethics of slavery. I’m under orders to get information from you regarding your crew. Minute details such as personality traits, likes and dislikes, special talents; information not available from their personnel files.” As he spoke, Mel placed his hand on the wall, which somehow prompted the hallway to lighten up and reveal cell after cell filled with lifeforms of species she had never met, before continuing to walk down the hallway.

Wrinkling her brows, Murakami had followed Mel up until he mentioned the personnel files. That isn’t right, she thought as she tried to rationalize his words. The EMP wave destroyed all the digital files from the ship’s systems, so how would it be possible? She didn’t believe for a second Mel was lying to her. Though she had only met him a few days prior, she could already tell he wasn’t the type to lie about something like this, which again begged the question: How?

“Don’t lag behind,” Mel barked, dragging her from her thoughts. He was already at the end of the hallway.

Fucking shit. What a brat, she cursed as she took her sweet fucking time joining him. “Didn’t Krellion teach you manners when speaking to your elders?” she inquired once she caught up to him.

“Elders? No, he didn’t, but not like it matters. Most lifeforms don’t live long enough to be considered an ‘elder’. Anyways, like I said before, I need information on your crew, and you will give it to me.”

The way he spoke commanding her got on her nerves. “And why do you think I’ll tell you? Now that I know you’re trying to get information out of me, I’m a hundred percent unlikely to give it to you.”

Mel remained stoic, ignoring her words, as he placed his hand on the wall again and revealed a holding cell with a familiar figure curled up inside.

Her lips suddenly chapped, Murakami barely whispered the figure’s name.

“Fatima...”

145 notes · View notes