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medeafive · 3 years

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Blood and Stone - 26

Masterpost

(For trigger warnings, please see the AO3 chapter end notes!)

She sleeps most of the time and when she doesn't, she eats raw amounts of increasingly bloody meat. Or maybe she can just tell better, keener sense of smell, the damp wood, smoking fire, the lifeless meat, the pines- She only gets up to pee, once a day at best, everything out of whack, draining somewhere , and it's not clear how long this can go, where she can keep getting the energy for this, how close she is to-

Bobbi monitors her closely. The baby starts kicking so hard Natasha gets stretch marks across her whole belly, not towards the edges but right over her belly button, and the next time the skin starts tearing, drops of blood squeezed out, delicious fresh blood, her own- This can't go on. She's afraid every waking hour that the baby will break through. It's visceral and inevitable, the final worsening of the symptoms of a fatal disease. Her body is not built for this. She's merely the instrument, the host, dispensable. The ruined carcass her monster baby will crawl out of into a world full of vampires, full of death, full of despair. And then it will either have horrible things done to it or do horrible things itself.

She hears them talk about her, too weak to respond. Maria is not one to mince words. "Why would you fuck a vampire, though? I mean, seriously."

"Yeah, no, I know. But I think she really… likes him."

"Well, that's stupid."

"I met him, though. And… I don't know, I don't fully trust him but- I don't think he's aware."

"He's a vampire . One of the monsters you hunt. Don't tell me he's not aware ."

"Biology, I guess. It's weird. But I think she'll see that sooner rather than later."

"Oh, let's hope so. It's sick."

"That's obvious. Let's just get her through it, and then we'll deal with that."

She can barely think. She wakes and everything is white. Voices. Noises. Is she- She's still lying down, just not on the couch. It's awfully bright, electric. She'd say she's dead if she did still believe in heaven and hell and an afterlife that doesn't involve fangs.

"Why don't you just cut it out?"

The other voice is closer. "Might, actually. Do you have, for stitches- yeah, thanks."

"Seriously. It'll kill her."

"She wanted to keep it."

"You know it's a vampire spawn."

"I promised her."

"Who cares. Save her the pain."

This is far beyond. "What?" she tries to croak out.

"Natasha," Bobbi's voice says. "It has teeth."

She can barely stay conscious. Her body has ossified, painfully, she can't even keep track of it. One long hard piece. She'll snap and break, be broken. Dry like leaves.

"The blood loss could seriously tip her over."

"Isn't that what you have the miracle cure for?"

"It might not be fast enough."

"Well, give it to her now then."

"Get the suitcase. Just in case."

Thumping steps.

"Natasha? Can you hear me?"

She tries but her bone cocoon cannot be moved. "Your blood pressure took a dive. I think there's damage to your kidney..."

She can barely breathe. The words hardly reach her. Her cocoon is thick and heavy, completely enveloping her, slowly crushing her within. It's quiet and stifling, background thumping, her rattling breath louder than anything.

“...make it…”

“...moving…”

“...too much!”

“...sedate…”

“...not going to risk…”

“...that…”

“...happening…”

The birth itself goes remarkably easily, as she is later told.

She wakes an eternity later, and everything is still awfully bright.

The walls are white, the ceiling is white, her bed is white. There are white machines all around. She’s on a drip, as she’s been forever now, her arm riddled with fresh scars like one of a drug addict. Maria is leaning against a white cupboard, arms crossed, face closed off.

Natasha sits up easily. “What-”

“Cesarean section,” Maria replies. “Barbara gave you a lot of the crazy juice. It’s already healed.”

Natasha blinks, then pulls up the gown. There’s a scar from left to right, horizontally, on her abdomen, crossed with a smaller vertical scar at the center, ending below her belly button. Her belly is not where it was before she got pregnant but it’s already receded, and she panics like something’s missing, like she forgot something, a bag or- “Barbara said if you can get up, you should get up,” Maria adds. “She’s upstairs.”

They’re in the basement, the cellar. The cellar is a lab, that’s why everything is white. Sterile. “Did I bleed?” Natasha asks.

“Not until Barbara cut you open,” Maria replies simply. “It was in the middle of the day. We had it all patched up until sundown.”

She swings her legs off the bed, feeling so much lighter. Moving is easy to a degree she hardly remembers. The air doesn’t even feel cold. The stretch to her belly is gone, leaving some flabbiness and a lot of freedom of movement. “So it’s all good?”

“Well,” Maria remarks, removing the needle. “Almost.”

Natasha blinks. She’s forgetting something. “The-”

“It’s alive,” Maria says, handing her a glass of water. “Well, I’m not sure that’s the right word.”

She drinks slowly, so used to being careful with the swallowing because coughing is so exhausting. But she's still alive. Despite the- everything. Despite all of this shit. "Can I see it?"

"If you really want." Maria shakes her head.

She must think Natasha's crazy, with the vampire, the baby, the- sick. Did they say that? It feels so visceral. Like it makes her less than human, all this shit, the- She suddenly doesn't want it anymore, any part of it. She's tired, tired of everything, where she ended up. She wants them not to look at her with disgust anymore. She wants it to end.

She finishes the glass, head empty. Maria always studies her like she's crazy and dumb and cannot be trusted. Then Natasha gets up mechanically, the first time in forever she doesn't need help. She feels stronger and empty at the same time. Was it really worth it? Becoming this shell of a human just to survive? Give up her humanity to be strong enough to take on the monsters? What kind of a fool would think birthing a monster would bring her back any part of herself that's already long dead and buried?

Doesn't matter now. There's a door on one wall, of course also white. She opens it herself, gripping the handle. The next room is dark and only has the creaky wooden staircase. She holds her hands out to grip the grained wood. Maria follows her slowly, quietly. The staircase has a steep climb yet it doesn't exhaust her at all. She pushes the hatch open.

Upstairs is lit by candles, wooden shutters closed. Bobbi is standing by the cupboards, turning when the hatch opens, bundle of blankets in her arms. "Oh. You're up."

Natasha doesn't really know what to say to that, inching closer. There's a plate with strips of meat on the counter, strong smell. Bobbi rocks the bundle gently. "Everything alright? Your belly looked good already, half-healed."

"Yes," Natasha replies, coming to a stop. "It's healed."

Pale skin peaks out of the bundle. Bobbi nods, grabbing a strip of meat and feeding it to- A wave of sickness comes over Natasha.

God. Why did she do this?

The- the thing swallows the meat quickly, she can hear it chew and slurp. She suddenly doesn't want anything to do with this anymore. She wants to turn around and run away, go back to fighting monsters, not- not creating them, go back to being herself , whoever that is, fight and kill-

Bobbi wipes her fingers on the blanket and turns slightly so Natasha can see the blank face, the fat smeared around its mouth, the teeth, almost fangs, the empty dark eyes- Clint was right, James was right, they were all right, how could she ever believe to bring something good into the world when she's becoming every day more like the monsters infesting it, when she's so obviously beyond repair or redemption, a broken shell of a human that just pretends to feel, to believe, to dream - "Do you want to hold it?"

She's staring at the blank child-like face of the abomination like into a mirror, the unmistakable proof of what she has turned into. She has blurred all the lines, lost everything she claimed to hold dear, drenched her ledger in red. There's no way back. The world is holding a mirror to her face, a mirror of her own flesh and blood, and for once, she cannot look away.

Bobbi steps closer, pressing the blanketed abomination into her arms, checking that she has a solid hold on it. "There. It's a girl."

It's a monster, unmistakable from the upper canines, the pale marbled skin, the dark soulless eyes. It doesn't even feel warm through the blanket. She stares at it, swallowing, and the thing stares back blankly. It dawns on her this thing will never be a child, it will never want anything from her, no affection, no care, no nurturing, all it wants is to eat . How could she have been so wrong?

"It's quite heavy for an early birth," Bobbi remarks. "But that's not really surprising."

It's indeed heavy, plenty of dead weight. She has no doubt this thing would have kicked through her stomach if necessary. No concern for anything but its own survival. She swallows again, staring at the dark void behind those eyes. "Can I- give it back?"

"Sure." Bobbi has plucked it from her arms before she can reconsider. "You should still take it slow. The vampire blood seems to have worked well but we don't want to risk it."

The hatch is closed soundly. Maria doesn't seem particularly excited about any of this, shuffling over and dropping on the bench. The thing on Bobbi's arm opens its mouth, gaping hole, sharp teeth that seem a little too big for its mouth. Bobbi snorts softly, dropping another slice of meat down its throat. And just like that, Natasha's out of this whole thing. This is not her baby. This is not something she can take care of. She can't fix this. She's never going to have a relationship with this thing because this thing is never going to have a relationship with her. This is not her baby .

"It's very hungry," Bobbi remarks, feeding it more. "I wonder how it will grow."

It doesn't matter. It's not a baby. It's something to recoil from, the blatant sign of her failure as a human. Maybe, if she pushes it away far enough, that counts for something, that makes her more human again. Turn off this path. It'll be a dreary march but maybe she'll get somewhere, because there is no staying here. She sees that now.

She lays down on the couch, her couch, and falls asleep with her heart thumping.

The thing eats, sleeps and stares into the void. It hasn't made a sound once. It breathes, though. Bobbi takes care of it good-naturedly because Natasha absolutely can't but it seems more professional than out of joy of having it. It's really not a joy. It is eerie, the dead baby, the soulless baby, the parasite. It may be out of her body but she's got the feeling it would suck the life out of her if it could. She can tell Maria hates it as well, though she never says it, but then again she never says much.

Bobbi says she has postpartum depression, without the usual fatigue, but she can't understand the crushing moral weight of having brought this into the world. For God's sake, she fucked a vampire . Even if it was James. It sickens her. What's so wrong with her that she couldn't see how wrong this all was? How could her moral compass break like this? Maybe it was Alexei, maybe that's what ruined her, maybe- she knows she's still not over it, even if she pretends to be, chopping the head off of the man she used to love, and now she loves a vampire whom she could never ever hurt- Fuck. She went wrong at so many intersections. Alexei, the careless way she acted in Saint Petersburg, coming here, giving up so much on herself that she's willing to inject vampire blood, growing so used to it it doesn't even disgust her anymore. No wonder she fucked a vampire. She's become everything she murdered Alexei for, and so much worse. Thinking about it drowns her in shame. She can't hide from the world anymore. She could barely hide what she'd done to Alexei and now, this thing , it'll never ever go away.

She follows Maria outside to chop wood because she can't stand being around the thing. Maria, of course, doesn't remark on it, calmly but forcefully driving the ax into the wood. Natasha looks for something to say to assure Maria she's not all gone, that she's still human, that she shouldn't get her head chopped off like Alexei. "I wish I had never had it."

Maria huffs, then splits the next block. She doesn't seem convinced. Natasha will have to do more than that if she ever wants to have some worth as a human again. "I don't want anything to do with vampires ever again. With those monsters."

"Good," Maria remarks briefly, letting her ax rain down.

Natasha looks for even more words, something of a frenzy. "I want them all dead. All of them."

Maria nods, angling the next block and handing her the ax. Natasha takes a deep breath and slams it down with all her might, blowing right through the wood and at least an inch into the chopping block. Maria whistles through her teeth, nodding with approval, placing the next piece of wood on the chopping block and collecting the stray parts of the previous one. "You got strength."

"It's the vampire blood," Natasha replies, taking another deep breath before driving the ax through the wood. It feels good. Finally doing something. "It makes me stronger."

Maria nods slowly. "Use it."

She doesn't cry. This is not something to cry about. This is bare knuckles, quiet resolve, clarity. Not the agreeable kind but still one you cannot ignore. She sits around, staring at the thing, trying to find the faintest hint of humanity in it but coming up short. It's a monster and she never should have had it.

Maria went out into the forest to hunt. Bobbi is downstairs in the lab, testing how the skin of the monster reacts to UV light. The thing itself is lying on the couch table, all bundled up, breathing stupidly through the monster fangs. Natasha stares at it venomously.

She can't live with this thing. It goes against everything. Beyond good and evil, this thing is just - it shouldn't exist. There are limits even to what this wretched world can take and this is beyond them. All of this is on her, so she needs to be the one to fix it.

She takes a pillow. The thing stares at her with its empty eyes. It's not even scared. Maybe it knows. Monsters don't feel things, other than bloodlust. It has the fangs and a tiny resemblance of the claws as well but the dead eyes are the worst. There's nothing behind those eyes. She made this soulless abomination, her own flesh and blood, she brought this upon the world, she needs to deal with it.

She presses the pillow onto the thing's face.

It doesn't struggle, doesn't move, but it never does, only ever to open its mouth and demand more bloody meat. There's barely any resistance. She honestly hopes it fucking dies. There's no place in the world for this thing, they're all better off without it, it doesn't deserve to breathe air like a human when it's nothing more than a parasite and a monster. She presses the pillow down harder. The thing doesn't even react. She feels bile rising up her throat, the ugly truth making her gag, tears streaming down her face. She never wanted this. Any of this. She wanted something human , something real , something that makes her better, not this monster, this abomination, this disgrace. She never wanted the world to see how fucked up she is, fucked up enough to sleep with a vampire, to take vampire blood, to have the monster baby and believe it's going to be anything else than exactly that, a monster with fangs and claws and dead eyes and an insatiable hunger, it's dead already, dead to her, and maybe then she can wake up from this nightmare and go back to- to a world without vampires, an ugly and painful world but one with hope nonetheless, not this soulsucking dark pit, this endless tunnel, this sinful void-

Something rips her back, fingers digging into the pillow but futilely, and Bobbi pushes her back onto the couch and throws the pillow onto the ground, checking up on the thing- its face is red and it's breathing hard but it doesn't appear perturbed. "Shhh. It's okay."

Natasha feels even more tears stream down her face. Fuck. Did she really think, did she really convince herself that this would fix anything? That she could make any part of this undone? Bobbi takes the thing and sits down next to her. "It's okay. It's okay, Nat."

No, it's not. She just tried to murder her own- this is even lower, even darker. This is how bad, how inhuman she is, how low she has sunk. The thing stares at her without any anger, any curiosity, any accusation, just a blank slate. It's not evil. It's just… there. "No, it's not okay."

Bobbi strokes the top of its head. "It's fine, really. Nothing happened. You're both going to be okay."

She's not going to be okay, and this is not fine. If Bobbi hadn't showed up, she really would have- This is exactly how fucked up she is, how self-hating, how ready to do anything that promises the faintest reprieve. She would have smothered her own child with a pillow because- because what, it's not what she hoped for? As if that's on her child and not on her, she pushed this thing into this world, how can she blame it for anything, really, try to push her own flesh and blood away because she can't face what she's become, can't own up to it, can't accept it. This thing is her and wanting to hurt it for that, annihilate it for that, that's just pathetic and stupid and hypocritical.

"It's okay," Bobbi assures her. "It's going to be okay."

#boy this is a heavy one #blood and stone #buckynat #vampire au #natasha romanoff #black widow #my writing #fanfic

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mononyann · 4 years

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a while back people requested that i share some of my headcanons for certain bnha characters, so here's some of the characters that i did

Shota Aizawa

- he absolutely has at LEAST 3 cats, he spoils the heck out of them too. that's why he's always eating those gel packs... he spends too much on his cats.

- he really does love his class. and we all know honey??? u haven't expelled any of them. ur soft for them ok.

- he likes to sleep with his cats bc he gets lonely at night... he will not admit it, but he likes having someone/something there :)

- he has reuccuring nightmares about the usj attack and how he could have failed to save his students

- has a very low alcohol tolerance and often ends up getting dragged back to his apartment by mic or midnight when they go out whilst he rambles and whines the entire time

- he hates crying and tries his best to keep his emotions held in, he's only cried in front of a select few people

- he tries not to let others opinions on him rule his life and tends to block it out if someone hates him

- he doesn't know it, but he is the entirety of class 1-a's dad.

- he really likes tea, and dislikes sweets

- as you would expect, he takes his coffee black

Hanta Sero

- he really likes kpop! he stans multiple groups and really wants to attend a concert

- though he seems really chill on the outside, he's actually quite sensitive and has some self confidence issues

- he loves being around people and finds that he gets his energy from being around those he loves

- definitely into e-boy fashion, and he is open about it

- pierced his own ears at 3 am and called kaminari crying about how he screwed it up

- he actually likes to draw a lot in his free time, it's very relaxing. he puts on some nice low-fi music and draws for hours

- he hasn't had many crushes in his life and doesn't find romance to be a big issue currently, but he's open to anything

- accidentally taped his hamster to the ceiling in 2nd grade, he didn't mean to and cried for hours (the hamster was ok)

Nemuri Kayama

- she is a BRO, she likes to crack a cold one open with the boys on the weekends

- she is bisexual and thinks everyone is beautiful in their own unique ways

- most likely talks shit about her coworkers to her classes

- she thinks children are adorable and loves them, often scaring them with her enthusiasm

- very touchy, she loves hugs and will probably not pass up a chance to use you as an armrest if she has the chance

- she secretly worries about aizawa a lot and is scared that he lets the past effect him too much

- did you guys know she has a cat?!

- i like to think she and mic are like... EPIC bros, she loves to paint his nails and do his hair while gossiping with him (aizawa would NEVER let her do this to him lmao)

- she isn't a mom, but finds the idea of having her own children very nice, for now having a cat will suffice

- she enjoys trying to make all might flustered, she thinks his reactions to things are always very cute and funny (it's all in good fun!)

- she's the mom friend! though she may seem very sexual, which she undoubtedly is, she is also very caring and has a very nuturing motherly personality, she's a lot more than just fanservice !!!!!

Todoroki Shoto

- completely oblivious when it comes to love... he doesn't even understand his own crushes

- "of course you can borrow my credit card uraraka" *pulls out endeavors card which he sneakily took*

- would be the person to tell a child that their pet guinea pig didn't go to heaven and be confused when they start sobbing... like "what... don't be honest?"

- allows his friends to huddle up to his warm side when they are cold

- is confused when people show him copious amounts of love and affection

- he would beat up anyone if they tried to do ANYTHING bad to midoriya

- he wants more friends. he really is enjoying meeting new people and having some new friends at ua!

- he gives really good hugs, he doesn't try to hug you too tight, but he doesn't half ass it either, very nice and warm

- he hates his scar. like. a lot. he wants to cover it up so bad but it just doesn't work. he's afraid it'll make other people scared of him.

Shinsou Hitoshi

- loves patd! and fall out boy, a brendon urie STAN

- loves to kiss his kitties on the forehead but dreads human interaction

- he loves to squish his cats' toebeans... he takes pictures of them and posts them to his secret cat social media acc

- he is gay but doesn't know how to feel about it and/or come out, he's really nervous and doesn't trust people to accept him

- he doesn't smile often but when he does it's the cutest thing ever

- he secretly really likes deku and kaminari and is hesitant about accepting their friendship, but appreciates the gestures a lot

- he suffers with social anxiety and doesn't really know how to make friends very well??? like, in middle school people were total dickbags to him so he kinda just closed himself off and decided he was gonna like... not make friends, but now that there's nice people around him he just kind of- doesn't know how

- this is actually canon! but he feels guilty about having to manipulate people when he uses his quirk, during the 4th school briefs book he feels guilty when he overhears midoriya and ojiro talking about him using his quirk during the sports festival, and he's like "i wish ojiro would say something rude about me to show he's angry so i wouldn't have to feel so guilty about this" since ojiro showed no ill feelings towards him

Izuku Midoriya

- "hold on I'll go get a blanket!" *opens closet* *thousands of all might figurines tumble out*

- watches cat vine compilations until 2 am, than freaks out when he realizes it is 2 am

- very good with children!

- used to be very self conscious about his freckles bc of bakugou insulting them; hid them with concealer for a while until someone told him they were beautiful

- loves his momma so muchhh he would do anything for her, he likes to surprise her with small favors to see her happy

- does not understand the concept of letting people handle their own problems

- stays after to class to offer his teachers help

- he has a lot of self doubts and is still struggling to this day to come to terms with the fact that he is worthy of having one for all

- he wants to learn how to cook for his mom and friends

Kyoka Jirou

- she is a lesbian!!!!! she has a crush on momo but is completely convinced that it's unrequited

- struggled with judgmental kids in middle school because of her sexual identity and style

- gets very easily flustered by anyone complimenting her

- that one person sitting at the back of the bus with their earbuds blasting full volume

- was a GOD at guitar hero

- acts like she's fed up with kaminari's (which she can be sometimes), but truly he's one of the people she can trust the most. she secretly appreciates the way he hypes up her talents and how he really helps her through the day sometimes!

- she loves heroes so much... when she was a little girl and didn't know what to do she'd ask herself "what would my favorite heroes do!?"

- she also secretly buys hero merch but hides it in fear of her being seen as sappy

Amajiki Tamaki

- would have trouble standing up for himself but if he sees ANYONE messing with mirio he WILL throw hands

- likes to watch bob ross videos when hes feeling anxious

- he once went to a butterfly museum with his parents and cried out of joy when one landed on his nose

- leaves food out for strays in his neighborhood, ends up attracting an entire hoard of animals.

- he can paint very nicely, he began to paint after he discovered bob ross

- mirio then saw his paintings and showed the entire class to tamaki's dismay, but everyone absolutely LOVED them!!!

- every day he becomes more and more capable and sure of himself, he is still very anxious, but he's learning to open up and embrace his talents <3

- he really loves to listen to music and any time he's not around others he'll probably have earbuds in, gently swaying back and forth to whatever he has on

- nejire loves to try out new hairstyles on him, and strangely enough, tamaki lets her, he loves it when people play with his hair

Shirakumo Oboro

- shares one collective braincell with mic

- that one person that brings EVERYONE valentine treats on valentines day at school

- most likely plays ding dong ditch

- *draws stick figure* "ah yes. just like van goh" (he cannot draw)

- hates to see his friends (and even random strangers upset) and will go out of his way to do dumb things to make them smile

- probably played soccer

- he's a massive flirt and likes to believe he will become a stereotypical anime protagonist with a massive harem

- he really wants to see aizawa come out of his shell more and tries his best to encourage him to see the best in everything

- he has most likely worn a schoolgirl uniform to class once

- he's very affectionate and loves to hug his friends (even if they don't want hugs), it's his way of showing he likes people

Hizashi Yamada

- he lives off of caffeine. he is a teacher, pro hero, and radio show host, im honestly not sure how he does it

- gives out stickers when students get the correct answer in class and has class parties when they are well behaved for the semester

- just like everyone else, he has his own turmoil as well, he likes to stay busy because it prevents him from having a lot of time to dwell on the past

- he gives really good hugs, and loves to feel the touch of others, it's very comforting to him

- was probably pretty troublesome when he was very young while he learned to get control of his quirk

- overall a really happy and excitable guy, he loves being the center of attention and if he can make people happy by being what he is, that's awesome!

- he shows his appreciation for people in odd ways, but he always means good, even if his wild antics can be a bit stressful lol

- he likes to sing a lot and does it a bunch when he's alone, he can also play a lot of instruments

- he can be very serious if needed, he does often put on a persona when he's present mic

- when he's hizashi (out of hero persona) he's even more of a dork than usual, very goofy, awkward and pouty. a manchild.

OK so I reached my image limit, if u guys wanna see the rest I might post some more later PLUS feel free to request some in my asks, I don't really know how all that stuff works bc I'm kinda new to Tumblr but ILL FIGURE IT OUT

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nev3rfound · 5 years

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before everything - p.4 : b.b

brief summary: this is about who you and bucky were before the war. before bucky became the winter soldier. back when he was still that boy from brooklyn with all the charm.

word count: 2k requested: nope, I had this idea a while ago and felt like the angst/fluff warnings: mentions of ptsd, war, torture (all briefly mentioned and not in great depth)

* masterlist of sorts *

commissions

part one / part two / part three / part four

thank you for reading my mini series. it was just a quick idea I felt like sharing :)

You’d never anticipated moving on would be so painful, resulting in your body becoming an empty shell, a shadow of who you once were. Sometimes you tried to ease the pain, let the night pass with a stranger, but it never feels the same, nothing ever will.

Opportunities passed you by, chances of moving away rose and fell as quickly as they were offered. You were stuck in Brooklyn, afraid of moving on too soon.

“Y/n!” Your Mother calls up the stairs and the sound of hurried footsteps sounds from outside of your room.

You apply the last of your red lipstick, reminding yourself to buy another tube once you get paid. Fluffing your hair up, you take one last look at your reflection. This is moving on, this is how it’s supposed to look. You keep muttering the same thing under your breath, hoping maybe you might believe it soon.

Sitting across from your date, you vaguely listened to his stories of childhood. But all you could see is a group of kids sat in a booth just behind him. They were all so young, so naive. A boy wrapped his arm around a girl and she leant closer into him. “You okay?”

Zoning back in, Daniel raises an eyebrow in concern.

You nod, clearing your throat before listening some more to his stories, even if your heart isn’t set in this, it’s a few hours away from everything.

As Daniel walks you home, he slips his hand into yours. You look down at his touch, not feeling what your eyes are seeing. He catches your gaze and removes his hand quickly, apologising under his breath.

“Why’re you sorry?” You question to him as you stand outside of your house, seeing the light still on upstairs, the sign your Mother is still up waiting ‘til you get home before turning it off.

Daniel lets out a small sigh. “You’re not ready, Y/n.” He states to you. “And I get that. I didn’t know Bucky, but I’ve been told he was a great man.”

Avoiding his gaze, your head rocks forward. “He was.” You manage to sniff. “I’m sorry Daniel, I had a lovely evening with you.” You tell him truthfully, even if you weren’t there for most of it.

He smiles before giving you a hug as you walk up the steps, your lipstick still on your lips and not his as you shut the door behind you.

“Another one, Y/n?” Your Mother asks softly as she stands at the top of the stairs, watching as you take your hair out, letting it fall down as you shake it.

“Not tonight, Ma.” You mutter to her as you walk towards her up the stairs. “I’m tired of trying tonight.”

Closing your bedroom door behind you, you see his shirt neatly laid out. You smile at the sight, glancing back at the wooden door knowing your Mother did this. Stepping closer, you lie down alongside his shirt before closing your eyes, picturing him still in that diner with you and Steve.

Sitting at your desk, you continue to type away. The war was getting worse, you could see the dread in the faces surrounding you as you all typed up various articles. Your bosses visits became infrequent after she reported regiment 107 missing. Most of the ladies left to grieve, but you came back.

Betty moved desks when you came back, more seats became vacant and replacements were few and far between. She’d taken residence on the desk beside yours. Every now and then she’d ask how you were, but you mostly worked in silence.

Outside you heard a series of commotion arising. “What’s goin’ on?” One of the women asks another as they rise from their seats, crowding around the window.

You look over to Betty who shrugs her shoulders but nonetheless stops working to ask another girl. “What you seeing out there, Megan?” Betty questions and Megan turns around, her green eyes shining with joy.

“They’re back.” She whispers, tears flooding her eyes as you stare blankly.

The sudden rush of heels begin to head straight toward the door, and you rise to your feet as Betty stands with you. “What’d they mean?” You mutter as you stand in front of the window.

Your eyes look around, seeing a blur of green, grey, red and brown all following behind red, white and blue. “Oh my god.” You whisper, running out of the office and straight into the streets.

Pushing through the crowds you watch like a fan, seeing Steve standing tall in the flesh, a shadow of the boy you knew before. And then you see him, standing right by his side with that cheeky smirk on his face.

“BUCKY!” You yell and he stops in his tracks, a few men hitting his back before carrying on through the crowds.

His bright blue eyes scan through, hoping he wasn’t still hallucinating, that he actually heard your voice, your sweet voice he’s done nothing but dream of. Every night as he was kept hostage, he would shiver and cling to his top. Despite the holes that laced the fabric, he thought of you holding onto him in the dead of night. He would picture your gentle smile in the moonlight, your angelic laugh you hated.

Then he sees you. You’re still as beautiful as the night he left you. You look older, the pain of the war has hit you as much as it has anyone else. But the look you’re giving him tells him nothings changed. “Y/n.” He mutters, running toward you.

Despite the pain, the increasing burning through his body he runs. Bucky fights back his cry of agony as he lifts you up, spinning you around in his arms. He knows you’ll be upset he got dirt on your dress, but at this moment nothing else matters.

You stand still, your hands resting on his face. “I, I thought you were lost.” You mumble, trying to be gentle of the bruising and cuts that line his soft face. Focusing on his eyes, you can see somethings changed, something he’s not ready to admit just yet.

“I was doll,” He whispers. “but Steve he, he saved us all.” Bucky turns to smile at Steve who watches like a proud parent. His best friends finally reunited. All he heard were the delirious calls of your name during Bucky’s nightmares on the journey back. Bucky craved you like a drug, not wanting to withdraw.

Standing up straight, Bucky took a hold of your hand as you walked alongside him still in disbelief. “Pinch me, Buck.” You laugh lightly. “I’m pretty sure I’m dreamin’.”

Bucky smiles down at you, the smile of a broken soldier. “Trust me doll,” He pauses as he leans down, kissing your lips softly. “you’re not.”

It had been a week of being by his side, day in day out. The effects of him being back were becoming too comfortable as you listened to Steve mutter about one last mission.

What Steve hadn’t witnessed was the torment that remained in Bucky. In the dead of night, Bucky would lie awake in his bed feeling the flames from the base. He could still see his best friend on the other side of the building, no way of making it out alive. He thought that was it, he was dead. He saw a man rip his skin from his face, revealing a red-faced ugly fuck and never live to tell you.

He would get out of the house, shrug on his old jacket that felt like a stranger’s and walked to yours. He’d pick small pebbles and wait for the sign of life to emerge from your window. You would invite him in, hold him close as he silently cried in your arms, too afraid of saying everything in case the truth was too much for you to handle.

Tonight was another one of those nights.

Bucky had woken up in cold sweats, seeing men running on the battlefield with no fear. They circled them before firing. He watched men he knew fall whilst he survived. The hallucinations, the sharp tools and twisted laughs.

Standing outside of your house, guilt began to eat at him. You walked down the stairs, glancing up to ensure no one heard you as you shut the door behind you, reaching Bucky.

“Hey,” You whisper to him as he tries to stand still, but his hands continue to shake. “how about we go for a walk. I know a good spot.” You ease him into the idea, taking his hand in yours as you silently lead the way.

Since Bucky came back, you never forced him to talk. It was something he had to do in his own time once he felt comfortable enough to speak about the plague in his mind.

“It was the men on the field this time.” Bucky speaks up, providing details piece by piece. “They tried to break me apart. I don’t remember if they did.” A small laugh escapes his lips as you hold back a sob in yours. “And Steve, he, he saved me from something I don’t even understand.” Bucky continues to explain as you reach the old park from the school you went to growing up. “Now Steve is this hero and I’ve lost myself.”

Sitting down, you refused to let your hand leave his as you pulled him closer toward the railings. “Bucky,” You whisper softly. “you’re still here, you’re still in there okay.” You reassure him as his eyes cloud over, his mind still reliving events you cannot fathom. “And I’m not letting you go, Steve won’t let that happen.” You chuckle lightly, forcing the tears back as you want to be strong for him, you have to be.

Bucky nods as he leans closer into you. “One more mission.” Bucky tells you as his eyes lock on yours. He can already see the heartache of the realisation he’s going. You knew it was coming, but you didn’t expect it to be so soon. “Then I’m yours, yours forever, doll.” Bucky places his hand on your cheek as you lean into his touch.

He wishes he could capture this moment and hold it like the images of torture that line his mind. All he wants is to see you in the mornings when he opens his eyes and your smile before he falls asleep at night. But that is to come, he tells himself. Just one more mission and he can have it all with you.

“I don’t think I’ll be able to let you go, Barnes.” You laugh with him, smiling under the moonlight as he pulls you up into him.

Burying your head into his neck, you sigh lightly. The sensation sends goosebumps all down his spine, an effect no woman has ever had besides you.”I don’t want you too, Y/n.” Bucky admits, pulling away momentarily to look at you in this moment.

“And why’s that?” You ask, raising an eyebrow to him.

His face softens from a slight smirk, the one you grew up resenting. Bucky can feel everything as your hand rests on his arm, the dull pain that is still coursing through his body. He knows this mission might be his last, but for all the wrong reasons.

Bucky closes his eyes and takes a deep breath, shutting everything out as he focuses solely on you. “Cause I think I’d fall if you let go.”

Keeping your focus on him, the Bucky before you wasn’t the boy who left. He wasn’t the same before the war. You never witnessed Bucky putting his heart out on a string, dangling it in the hope someone would take care of it like this. Before everything, you never thought Bucky could be capable of love, but here he is.

You lean closer, kissing him gently. As you pull away, you whisper the encouragement he always desires. “As long as I’m around, Buck, I won’t let you fall.”

The two of you lie on the ground, limbs tangled under the moonlight as you recount old memories. You avoid living in the now for a little while longer, focusing on before everything, when life was less painful but a lot less beautiful.

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maximumninjavoid · 3 years

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The third chapter of the new unnamed fic

And the worst part? I had it mostly done and then Writer Plus hiccuped and it was gone......so then I had to re-do it. So, what,, now I’m my own beta? I guess cause I couldn’t pay anyone to read this shit.....and I’ve added characters that are thinly veiled copies modeled after actual humans I know and or actual humans I hope to know. And and all errors are my own.

I drove home from work with the top down and the heat on. I know. I do it a lot. The sun was still out, it was pretty and there's not much space you have to heat in The Teeny Car. Maybe THAT was the one dumb ass thing I could do with my windfall. I could have her spiffed up and give her that V8 transplant i'd been dreaming about. Silly, isn't it? When most girls were mad about horses, I was mad about horsepower. There's the proof I was that unicorn. I could drive the he'll out of a manual transmission, parallel park, cook AND suck dick. Quite the catch, I know. I took my bra off, priorities you know, puttered around the house until I couldn't put it off any more, and then I checked. I thought I may have been mistaken. I checked again. It was still 2020, so, I checked again, and then I screamed. Two hundred and twenty seven million dollars. Well. That, as they say, changes everything. I sat down in the middle of the front room. I wasn't entirely certain my legs would hold me up. Remember all those plans? I sure couldn't. I realize some of you won't understand but I felt like a pinball machine that hit TILT. "God, grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change, the courage to change the things that I can, and the wisdom to know the difference". I grabbed a pen and a notebook and started taking notes. People I wanted to take care of, people who could eat a bag of dicks and explode. What I was going to do until they figured out this Covid shit, because I couldn't travel, could I? I needed a lawyer. Fast. And I needed investing advice. And I wanted to do things that mattered. Maybe try and undo some of the things that cheeto shitgibbon did. I had some dinner and thought about all the wild things I could do. I could go to Barrett Jackson, with a car carrier, and buy a bunch of resto mods. I could buy the house next door and move in my own personal mechanic, and build a ten car garage; with a lift and a turn table.... Like the bat cave. I could go take one of those evasive driving courses. I could hire a bodyguard. That one almost made me aspirate. Don't laugh that hard while you're eating. I don't recommend it. As I crawled into bed under the weighted blanket I thought, it would be nice to be able to share this with someone. But I'd never know if it was me, or the money they were interested in, would I? As I drifted off I wondered if it really mattered..... Coffee installed I went to work, smiling. I had a huge secret, and still had to go to work, keep getting paid. Good thing I love my work. In between clients I tried to draft my I need a leave of absence request, without actually coming out with the precise reason. I couldn't really cite a family emergency, but I did just find my biological family......Oh. I had to add them to the list. I threw myself into work, coming home at the end of each day devoid of brain cells and *good tired". In my down time I interviewed lawyers, paying each of them so I had attorney client privilege for all things discussed in each interview. I had always joked if I won the lottery, I would still go to work, I would just have a bad attitude. Work the weekend? Nah, I don't think so. But I worked for a different company.....There were people that were going to be wicked pissed when this came to light, but, I couldn't control that. I kept looking for the right lawyer. I will never forget the day I met her. It was warmer than it should have been given the time of year, and we had agreed to meet outside, because Covid. I had a coffee and was waiting, and I swear, it was like a scene out of a film, except there wasn't any soundtrack. She came walking up the street, no, strutting, like she owned the street. Over the knee boots, with heels, a camel colored cashmere coat, hands in her pockets and her hair... It flowed around her, behind her as she moved; and a red so vibrant, not a color found in nature, but it suited her, set off her eyes. Eyes that sparkled, intelligent and with more than a hint of mischief. I had a feeling she might be the perfect co conspirator. Her gloved handshake was warm and firm, she sat down, and I explained my predicament. Within minutes Valentina Rudenko has already proposed solutions to problems I didn't realize I already had. We drafted a contract on a file folder I had in my bag, had it witnessed by a passer by, and for a healthy percentage of the profits, I had my consigliere. Valentina was going to make certain that there were profits. I handed her a clone of my cell, and a satellite phone. "If that sat phone rings, it's me. If my sat phone rings, its you. Once the funds are claimed it shouldn't take long for all hell to break loose, and you know the plan." She smiled, and it lit up her face. " Here's to the beginning of a beautiful friendship! ". I laughed." Casablanca? Really?" As I walked to my car I had to admit I was maybe a little in love with her. The television coverage was everything I expected, and Ms. Rudenko was flawless. Legs ALL the way up to her neck, dressed in black leather and what I was pretty sure were Loubutains, not that she needed the height; she must have been six foot three, stating that she was acting on behalf of her client, that she was in fact bound by attorney client privilege, and that the Lottery regulations allowed for a winners agent or representative to claim their prize in lieu of the winner. She read the prepared statement, and it was skillfully delivered. "My name is Valentina Rudenko and my client has chosen to not share this life changing event with the rest of the world. It is their position that this is a sentinel event and as such, privacy is paramount to their ability to process this transition. I have distributed my contact information, in media kits and any and all questions, requests for information, funding, donations, appearances, media inquiries, product endorsements will be handled through my office. Anyone who attempts to circumvent this process will be moved to the back of the line, and placed on the shit list. You do not want to be on my shit list. Prior to my admission to the bar, I served my country in the United States Marine Corps, where I swore an oath to protect and defend this country against all enemies, and be advised that NO ONE HAS EVER RELIEVED ME OF THAT OATH. Thank you. " Flash bulbs went off, reporters shouted questions, and there I sat, in front of my television, cheering. She was flawless! The trusts had been established, shell corporations built, layers of insulation constructed, and I had settled all of my debts. Everyone who had ever helped me out was about to get a windfall. And everything on my credit report was paid, even back to the Paleozoic era. Well, at least the bronze age.

#Where am I even going with this #Yes I PROMISE Henry Cavill WILL show up #There WILL be smut #I have no idea when #YOU ALREADY knew it takes me forever to set stuff up #how do you spell the name of those red bottom shoes #the tags are almost as long as the story #now I see the fun in the tags #this is hysterical

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imthepunchlord · 5 years

Text

LfM Ch 3

Ao3

It was slow going learning about her other classmates. Majority of them have yet to really reach out to talk with her, and her them. She could list off a few, and was able to recognize them.

She knew Mireille, who seemed nice the few times Marinette has talked to her, though the girl was always quick to sink back into her shell, and her circle of friends that kept with her. Of those friends, the only name she knew was Weyham Greenwood, easily the loudest and the only one to eagerly approach her and offer an introduction. His boyfriend, she wasn’t sure if he counted in the group, but she has seen him there a few times.

There was the dead eyed redhead girl that sat in the back and seemed to stare at nothing and yet, everything (she unnerved Marinette); it even seemed like that, sometimes, she wasn't there, making Marinette wonder if she was a part of this class.

There was a quiet kid who sat in the back, wearing a red hoodie.

Any others often came and went, unable to handle Mendeleiev and her strict schedule.

And then, there was Jean Duparc, or, a natural disaster, as Aurore called him.

Debatively, Mendeleiev’s least favorite student, often making quite a name for himself. He certainly gave Marinette quite the impression on their first meeting.

Mendeleiev was gone for a meeting, trusting her class to do their work. Aurore and Marinette just came back from the library, any books they needed clasped securely in their hands. They just sat down, Marinette opening her bag to grab a pen, when cards exploded out of her bag, nearly scaring her enough to fall out of her seat.

There was an immediate laugh full the room, followed by Aurore’s ire.

“JEAN DUPARC!”

Marinette looked over, seeing a boy with soft, slightly wavy brown hair curled up in himself, grinning like a cat that got into the cream. “Sorry, sorry,” he said between his chuckles, “it was just too perfect…” He trailed off as Aurore stood, a burning fire in her eyes, parasol ready.

“Sorry!” he hurried out, leaping out of his seat to run, and with a growl, Aurore stalked after him, ready to kill.

Behind them, Marinette just stayed in her seat, trying to calm her frantic heart.

In minutes, Aurore plopped back in her seat, looking irritated. Glancing back, she saw Jean drop into his, rubbing his head with a wince. Shooting him a glare, Aurore nudged Marinette over, starting to angrily gathering up the cards. She told Marinette, “He’s not getting them back.”

Marinette glanced back at Jean, catching his honey eyes, seeing a smile offered her way and a sheepish wave. Mendeleiev came back before she could respond and all snapped to attention, less they brought on her ire.

Marinette was walking down the hall alone, when Jean was suddenly at her side, making her jump. The Cheshire smile he had just grew, honey eyes gleaming in amusement. “Is this going to be a thing?” she wondered, waving her hand around wildly. “You surprising me?”

“Sorry,” he offered, “I’m just really full of surprises.” To elaborate, with a twirl of his hand, a flower appeared, offered to it.

Marinette stared at it, not accepting it immediately. She glanced at Jean, asking, “It's not going to shoot water in my face… is it?”

“No,” Jean reassured, pushing the flower into her hand. “Aurore broke it. And my second one. If I don’t have it, I don’t walk around school with a wet shirt. As saddening as it is, it's worth not having.”

“Thank goodness,” Marinette said, twirling the fake flower, eyes brightening with intrigue as she eyed it.

Jean cleared his throat. “Anyway, I wanted to apologize. That trick was a little bigger than I had anticipated. And I bet I lost that deck of cards to Aurore.”

“You did.”

“So, I am sorry. It wasn’t my intention to scare you like that. It was just meant for, well, a laugh.”

“It’s ok,” Marinette reassured. “No harm done. Can I keep the flower?”

“Sure.”

She slid the flower into her back, eager to design a hat to attach it to. Then she held out her hand, grinning. “Marinette Dupain-Cheng.”

“Jean Duparc,” he returned, eagerly taking her hand. “Or, according to Aurore, a true tempest in a teacup. Which I’m sure is also meant to be a jab cause I’m short. But I take the term with pride. Aurore has deemed me a tempest.” He set his hands on his hips, looking proud.

“...I think that means more of you irritating her, than actually describing you.”

“Shhh,” Jean shushed. “Just let me enjoy it.”

Marinette chuckled. “Do you know that you’re a real wild card, Jean?”

“Yes, and I am proud of it.”

It appears to be becoming a theme that Marinette is the last to learn of akumas. She was home doing her homework, listening to Jagged Stone when it was cut short with an unnerving hiss. Both Marinette and Tikki looked up just in time to see the screen change, seeing what had to be Alya as an akuma grinning at the camera.

“Hello, Paris. I’m your host on this lovely evening, Lady Wifi.”

The camera zoomed out, showing what was clearly Chloe dressed up as Ladybug. “I’m here to present to you the true identity of the Ladybug.”

“What?” Marinette mumbled.

The mask was peeled away, Lady Wifi declaring proudly, “Chloe Bourgeois!”

Marinette stared.

Tikki stared. Then glanced at Marinette, concerned when she wasn’t jumping up to go face the akuma. “Marinette?” Tikki asked.

“What the hell?”

Tikki blinked.

“Chloe? She thinks Chloe Bourgeois is Ladybug?!”

“Marinette, there’s more important things than—”

Marinette rounded on Tikki, continuing, “How can she think Chloe is Ladybug?! This girl is crazy, Tikki, crazy!”

“And she’s got someone captive right now, and is endangering her cause Hawk Moth will think that she really is Ladybug,” Tikki pointed out, trying to get her holder going.

Marinette got it, standing up and heading for her balcony. “Come on, we can’t let Paris think Chloe is Ladybug. That’s just… too insane. I still don’t know how to process that!”

Tikki sighed behind her, following her holder onto the balcony.

Marinette could not escape last night.

Aurore was having a hoot. “Can you believe that girl thought the Chloe Bourgeois, the most spoiled and entitled brat in Paris, was Ladybug?” Aurore laughed. “That girl’s head is full of fog. She can’t tell true heroes apart from awful people.”

“Don’t remind me,” Marinette mumbled, slouching on the table, pouting. “That was just… crazy. Cause, really? Chloe? Of all people, its Chloe she thinks is Ladybug. All because she saw her in a costume.”

Aurore leaned in close. “From what I heard, it was because she caught Chloe secretly cosplaying as Ladybug.”

Marinette rolled her eyes. As exaggerating as this was, it gave her some comfort that Alya was crazy impulsive, and was never going to figure out she was Ladybug.

“You know, she didn’t even pull off the Ladybug look well,” Jean said, pulling up a chair and joining their table, grinning at the glare Aurore shot him. “She was blonde and still had a ponytail, Ladybug clearly has black hair and pigtails.”

Marinette stiffened when Jean’s eyes flickered to her.

Luckily, Aurore cut in, growling. “Why are you here?”

“Because I cannot bare to Duparc to my seat yet.”

Marinette snorted while Aurore fumed. She watched the banter between them, laughing as it got more wild, with Jean treading on dangerous waters. This really was turning out to be one of the better school years.

“Ladybug! Ladybug!”

Ladybug stiffened, looking over to see Alya forcing her way through the crowd, heading for her. Ladybug quickly turned, trying to get out of the crowd and escape. Alya pursued, determined.

“Ladybug!” she called out again. “If you’re not Chloe Bourgeois, who are you?”

“That’s classified,” she called back, turning for a split second to shoot her a look before trying to continue her way.

“Most American heroes are fine sharing their identities!”

“I’m French, not American.”

Breaking through the crowd, Ladybug sped away, not relaxing till she was safely on a roof. Chat dropped down behind her, noting aloud, “You really don’t like that Alya girl.”

“She’s crazy,” Ladybug said. “She wants to find out our identities, which we covered last night why that’s important.” She gave Chat a pointed look, watching him purse his lips in response. “And she thought I could be Chloe Bourgeois.”

She made a face, insulted at the idea.

Chat tilted his head. “What’s wrong with thinking Chloe Bourgeois as a hero?”

“She’s mean, spoiled, entitled, and hurts people’s feelings for fun. I don’t want to be associated with that. And it's crazy to think that girl thinks ok to put that up on her blog as a possible identity of Ladybug. Its crazy she wants to find and reveal our identities when there’s a villain out there who wants to find them too.”

Chat hummed absently in agreement, thinking over what Ladybug said. With a grin, he asked, “So, I take it you know Chloe well?”

Ladybug stiffened for a moment, then shot Chat a look.

“Just wondering,” he waved off. “Luckily that Alya girl won't ever know.”

“Luckily,” Ladybug agreed.

#leave for mendeleiev #different class au #miraculous ladybug

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365daysofsasuhina · 5 years

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[ 365 Days of SasuHina || Day Two Hundred Eighty-Eight: Sifting Through Sand ] [ Uchiha Sasuke, Hyūga Hinata, Hyūga Hiashi ] [ SasuHina ] [ Verse: Best Years of Your Life ] [ AO3 Link ]

“So...any ideas of what you wanna do before Summer break ends?”

Lying in the shade of a tree in her backyard, Hinata stares up into the leaves. A gentle breeze sways them to and fro, speckles of sunlight filtering through and dancing over the pair of them. There’s only a handful of weeks before the Summer between high school and college is over, and they officially enter the next phase of their lives. By some grace, they’re only going to be about two hours apart. More than doable for a continued relationship, in her humble opinion.

Taking time to think over Sasuke’s question, she heaves a long, thoughtful sigh. She’s been taking this Summer slowly, doing her best to make it last. But they have a bit of time left for one last hoorah. Maybe a trip, or...a day for some event…?

“...what about you?” she asks to stall for time, earning a chuckle.

“I asked you first.”

“I’m thinking.”

A few seconds of contemplative silence pass. “...I’d like to go to the coast for a few days.”

That gets her to glance over to him, brows lifting a bit. “...oh?”

“Yeah. Just to hang out, have a change of scenery...maybe act like a tourist for a bit,” he explains, unable to help a hint of a grin. “Leave stuff here behind and sort of...recharge the batteries before we head out, huh?”

A slight weight sinks in HInata’s gut at the notion. While many of her classmates are excited for college...she’s a little scared. Striking out (mostly) on her own, in a place she doesn’t know, surrounded by thousands of strangers...her introverted nature makes the prospect seem extremely daunting. The only person also going to her school that she knows is her cousin’s girlfriend, Tenten...but she’s a year older. Ino is attending a cosmetology school in the same city, and Sakura is diving right into nursing at a school along said coast.

“...I think...that sounds like fun,” she eventually replies, nodding.

“You wanna go?”

“Mhm! Like you said, it...it would be a nice change of pace. And the weather should be nice, right?”

“I’ll have to check the weather app. When do you wanna go?”

“Um...I don’t care.” It’s not like she has any other plans, really.

“...how about Thursday? We’ll drive in, have Friday and the weekend...and come back Monday.”

“I guess I need to c-check with my dad first, but…” Well, Hiashi’s already begrudgingly accepted the fact that his daughter is dating...and she is an adult. Surely he’ll let her go...right?

“Okay, cool. I better double check, too. I’ll let you know once I’ve got an answer.”

“Yeah, me too. But for now, I’m...very comfy,” Hinata admits with a giggle.

As if to agree, Sasuke rolls over and drapes an arm over her waist, chin over her head as she laughs a bit more. “...are you comfy?”

“Mm, very.”

“...good.”

After a day of relaxing together, the pair go their separate ways. Sasuke heads home, and Hinata heads inside. Her father has yet to return from work for the day, and her sister is at a Summer camp. It’s been rather nice having the house all to herself. Or...well, more often than not, to herself and to Sasuke. Hiashi hasn’t asked, and she hasn’t told...but part of her suspects he assumes as much. Hinata’s a smart girl, though - she’s drawn her boundaries well. And Sasuke respects them.

So she hopes their good behavior thus far will work in her favor when she asks.

Putting together a dinner for the pair of them, she greets her father when he gets home around five-thirty. “How was...h-how was your day?”

“Adequate,” he sighs, dropping off his things by the door. “Seems you’ve been busy in the kitchen.”

“Mhm! When was, um...Hanabi getting home again?”

“Next Monday, I believe. I have to go pick her up.”

“I see.” Setting the table and subtly watching to gauge her father’s mood, she then lightly notes, “It’s hard to believe Summer’s almost o-over already…”

“Excited for school?”

“Um...sort of. Pretty nervous…”

“I’m sure you’ll be fine. Everyone is nervous to some degree,” Hiashi offers as he takes his seat.

“I guess so…” Poking at her food a bit, there’s a pause before she offers, “I, um...I was thinking about maybe taking a quick trip to the...to the coast this weekend.”

“...oh?”

“Just, you know...one last little thing to do before school starts.”

Hiashi takes a bite of his dinner, chewing and thinking that over. “...I’m assuming you won’t be going by yourself.”

“Well...no. It was actually...Sasuke’s idea.”

...the chewing stops.

Hinata fidgets under the table.

”...I see. And how long would this trip be for?”

“He thought we could...leave Thursday to have a day to drive, and...come back Monday.”

“...four nights, then.” Hiashi leans back in his chair, sighing thoughtfully. “...and what would your hotel arrangement be?”

“W-well, we...didn’t get that far. We needed to ask, first.”

He nods slowly. “...if...you promise me you will have a two bed room, and keep your behavior appropriate...then I see no reason why you cannot go. To my knowledge, you have handled this...relationship responsibly. I trust you.”

For some reason...those three words bring a tightness to her chest. She can’t remember ever hearing him...say that before. “...thank you, Father. I...I will be on my best behavior. I promise.”

“I expect you will be. Be sure to check in every so often so I know you’re safe. And remind Sasuke it’s not just your actions I’ll be expecting to be kept in check.”

“Y...yes.”

Once dinner is over and the kitchen tidied, Hinata rushes to her room to text him the good news.

Yeah? Mine said I can go too. Guess it’s a go?

It’s a go!

Come Wednesday night, Hinata is packed, having gone through her inventory no less than three times to ensure she’s not forgetting anything. She supposes if anything is missing, she can always pick up a spare if it’s not too expensive. When morning rolls around and Sasuke swings by to pick her up, she pauses in the foyer as Hiashi calls her name.

“...do be careful, and text me when you get there.”

“I-I will. See you when we get back, Father.” She accepts a hug, finding it to be a little less...tense than usual. Waving, she then puts her bag in the back seat and hops into the front with Sasuke.

“Ready?”

“Yeah…!” A giddy excitement finds her, unable to stop a smile.

The drive takes a smidge over five hours, the pair making it to their hotel just a bit after midday. Checking in, they find their room, two beds as requested. Hinata sets her bag along the foot of one, Sasuke checking their view as she sends Hiashi an arrival text.

“Think we should head to the beach?”

“Can we eat first? I’m starving…!”

“I think there’s a place to eat along the sand - might be kinda spendy, but...we’re here to have fun, right?”

“Right!”

The cafe in question is a bit busy, but they get in after a half hour wait. The entire place is pretty much outdoor, and the floor is simply open to the sand beneath them. Sitting at a tall table atop stools, they order their food and watch the waves roll.

“I dunno about you...but I feel relaxed already,” Sasuke offers between bites.

“Yeah, me too...it’s so nice. Now I wish I’d applied for schooling over here!”

“We’ll just have to come back next Summer, or maybe over Spring break, huh?”

“Sure!”

After lunch, they walk around a few shops nearby the hotel, letting their meal settle. Hinata buys a few little trinkets, mostly souvenirs for Hanabi and her father. Sasuke indulges in one for Itachi, too. It’s then they return to their room, changing into swimsuits and heading out to the beach.

A bit self-conscious, Hinata at first stays sat on her towel, a bit huddled up. But Sasuke slowly urges her back up, the pair taking a leisurely walk along the beach.

“Hey, let’s look for some shells.”

“Think we can find some…?”

“Maybe.”

They move to a less trafficked part of the sand, sifting through it and looking for tidbits. They actually rummage up a decent sized pile, Hinata oohing at each find.

“Look at this one! It’s so tiny…”

“Y’know that a lot of sand is actually tiny little shells?”

“Really?!”

“Mhm. We’ll have to take some home…I’ve still got that little telescope. Maybe we can see some.”

As the day wanes, the pair take up their treasures and head back toward the hotel, a bit too tired to swim. Hinata sorts through the shells again, dividing them up so they can each have some to take home come Monday.

“Can I have this one?”

“You take whatever you want. I’m good with whatever.”

“...but -?”

“All I care about is having a few to remember today by. Doesn’t matter.”

Hinata goes a light shade of pink, sheepishly setting the shell on her pile.

They go to a fast food joint for dinner to save a little money, watching the sun set from their table. Then back to the hotel, lounging and browsing on their phones.

“Well...not bad for a partial day. Think we should turn in early so we can head out in the morning, get some touristing done?”

Hinata giggles. “Sure.” She slips into the bathroom to change into her pajamas: bunny-print shorts and a tank top. Sasuke dons only a pair of silky pajama pants, making her blush again.

“...you saw me shirtless earlier. And several times before now.”

“I-I know that! I just...I thought…”

Sasuke just snorts, making his way into bed. Hinata sets the alarm, and then turns out the light.

“...goodnight, Sasuke.”

“Night, Hinata.”

.oOo.

Well, this one's a random stand-alone oneshot for once, lol - just some modern fluff, really. Also I'm sorry I've been so behind as of late - life is kicking me in the pants and my mojo has been rather low. Add in some health trouble and I've just not been able to keep up ^^; Hoping I can play catch-up once October is over. We'll see. But one way or another, I WILL finish this challenge. Just...please bear with me while life is in a bit of a lurch <3 Anywho, not...too much to say otherwise? It kinda speaks for itself I guess lol - but for now III need some sleep :'D Thanks for reading~

#sasuhina #uchiha sasuke #hyūga hinata #hyūga hiashi #best years of your life [ au ]#365daysofsasuhina

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sanjuno · 5 years

Note

SI prompt: Sailor Moon?

(2/32 SI Promptfest)

One of the things that Security always mentions when you start a new job and they hand over your accessbadge is that you need to completely close the doors behind you after passingthrough. A small piece of very important,very good advice that is sadly ignored more often than not once people settleinto their positions. Unfortunately, I failed to realize my coworker’s hubrisuntil the first shots were fired.

‘Oh shit.’ Thethought formed independent of the gibbering panic and pain as the horrificallyloud set of gunshots tore me out of my chair and flung me to the ground. ‘This is a brand new suit.’

I finished bleeding out about three minutes later.

/…/

Standing naked in the void, skin glowing like a star, myshocked mind could only offer up yet another inane thought. “Telling my motherthat I wanted my ashes turned into a diamond and mounted on a sword for my heirto wield as they avenge my death because I only intended to die when I waskilled was supposed to be a joke not aprophecy!”

“Too bad. Find comfort in the fact that your last wishes will be carriedout as you intended.” The human-shaped figure stepping out of theaether was a familiar stranger, their expression both sympathetic and uncaring.

“… Honored Janus.” Was I supposed to bow? Offer a handshake?How exactly were the dead supposed to greet a Roman God of duality and change?“I gotta say you’re not who I wasexpecting to run into roundabout now.”

“Who better than I to meet with one who so accepted the necessity ofchange, of growth and balance? Yours may not have been a grand story, but itwas a true one, and in the telling of it you have encouraged many changes.”The god of beginnings and endings grinned at me with one side of his face andfrowned with the other. No wonder the sculptors always put two faces on hisstatues. I would not want to be thecarver responsible for recreating that expression. Complicated was a bit of anunderstatement. “I find this useful for my purpose. Enjoy your new beginning, child ofthe Eclipse, Warrior of Dawn and Dusk.”

“… Eh?” I was the mostconfused. Was there supposed to be an explanation somewhere in there? “Wait,what the heeeee-olyshitwhatthefuck!”

Glitter. Glitter everywhere.Mixed with glowing bubbles and fireworks and no, really, what the fuck?

/…/

So.

Reincarnation was a thing. That actually happened to people.To me, specifically, in this case. If anyone was wondering.

It took awhile for my memories to come back, after I wasreborn. Which was actually a good thing because I needed those first few yearsto absorb a new first language. The confusion generated when I was six and myEnglish resurfaced was only funny in retrospect. At the time it was justfrustrating and slightly embarrassing.

Although once the initial assimilation was over with it wasnice to be able to code switch between English and Japanese. Almost like aconsolation prize for my new lease on life. Whee.

Oh, also I was a boy now. My eyes were still grayish-blue,my hair was still a dark ashy blond, but I was also Japanese and male. It wasan interesting mix of old and newfeatures coming together to make ‘me’.

… Probably Janus’ fault, now that I think of it. Good thingI never put any stock in gender or sex. Yay for the unexpected benefits ofbeing Ace-spectrum!

Nah, the gender reassignment was nothing. What reallybothered me was that I was the youngersibling. It was odd and wrong and upset the universal balance of what Iknew to be true. I could handle the educational pressure of being a ‘childgenius’. I could handle the overbearing social reinforcement of gender roles. Icould even handle the loss of everything I had once known and everyone I onceloved. (Granted, I did this by compartmentalizing and being slightlyemotionally stunted, but what works, works.)

I could not handle someone trying to ‘big sister’ me.

Thankfully, my new sister was… a flake. A ditz. A completeand total dunce. I loved her dearly and I would tear out the tongues of anyonewho spoke badly of her, but she had almost no academic intelligence at all.

I had expected it, really. After all, just because I wasreborn was never going to change such a fundamental part of her character. Heremotional and interpersonal intelligence was still off the charts, and hercharisma was frankly ludicrous. I still had a hard time accepting anyone who had proof positive of theirown ignorance not taking steps tocorrect it.

It was not like I wanted perfect grades from her. I justwanted enough effort put in to achieve competence.There was a difference between ‘I cannotdo this’ and ‘I will not do this’.Saying no once you have proved that you cando something is fine, but saying no without even trying sticks in my craw something fierce.

Knowing that a failed test paper plays a big part in Fate’sfuture machinations for my sister was also upsetting. Would pushing my sisterto study ruin the future? Would she still meet the people she needed to, stillmake the connections that allowed her to survive and win, even after all mymeddling?

I had no way of knowing. I could only trust that her Destinywould come for her. No matter what I did, or how many random first encounters Ineeded to contrive to bring it about.

“Shingo! Are you ready to go yet?” A voice I had beenfamiliar with long before my reincarnation called for me before my sister pokedher head into my room. “Come on,Shingo! I didn’t melt my brain studying all month just for you to flake out! I earned this shopping trip and youpromised to come with me!”

“Ehh, don’t pull out your hairbuns, Usagi.” Grabbing mysatchel off the back of my desk chair, I grinned at the future Queen of theWorld and winked. “Being this perfect takes work, you know?”

“Shingooo.” The eleven-year-old girl who was going to savethe world rolled her eyes at me and pouted. “Why are you like this?”

“Because not being me would be boring.” I stuck my nose up in the air with as much pomp as I wascapable of in a seven-year-old body. “Now let’s go! If we play this right Mamawill finally cave and get us the bedazzling gun so we can ‘enhance ourcreativity and encourage mental flexibility’.”

“Okay!” Usagi giggled, happily taking my offered hand andswinging our joined arms as we headed down the stairs. “Do you think we canconvince Mama to let me get my ears pierced too?”

“Eh, maybe.” I thought about the refractive properties ofcrystals and energy resonance as I glanced at my sister. The Imperium SilverCrystal, the Shintennou’s stones, Hearts Crystals, Star Seeds… crystals weregame changers in this world. Powerful ones. Tagging Usagi with a set that mostenemies would overlook… yeah. That was a good idea. Good job, self, excellentplan. I nodded. “I want my ears pierced too. We have an undeniable right tofreedom of self expression so long as we do so in a safe and healthy manner.”

Usagi stared blankly at me for a moment, nose scrunched upabove pursed lips. “You know I don’t understand you when you talk like that.”

“As long as you know what the words mean you’ll figure outhow they go together eventually, Bun-bun.” Cheerfully unrepentant, I hauled mysister down the last stair. “Onwards! To victory and glory everlasting!”

/…/

Ignoring the dull throb in my earlobes, I admired the hoopsI had chosen. Simple, elegant, unlikely to fall out unnoticed, and large enoughto hold three gemstone beads. For myself I had convinced my mother to buy blacktourmaline, lepidolite, and lapis lazuli. For Usagi I had picked outlabradorite, selenite, and rose quartz. Not expensive stones, but powerful onesfor the way their energies intersected and channeled power. Especially once Iwas done priming them as foci.

Abalone shell bowls with small, upwards facing mirrors atthe bottom. A little water in the bowls, add some salt, and then four undyedcandles in a circle, burning on the windowsill under the full moon. I watchedthe moonlight slowly gather in the stones, the smoke from the candles pulleddown into the water. Within moments of moonrise, each bead started to glitterand shine more brightly than nature intended.

Satisfied that it was working, I turned back to the blade inmy hand. It had appeared on my bed soon after my memories finished returning.It was ferociously sharp, and lighter in my hand than anything that size andmade of metal should be. The hilt was too big for my seven-year-old self to wieldeffectively, but the sword was perfectly proportioned for my old adult height. Carvedinto the blade was ancient Latin that named the sword VERITAS.

“Beware the truth, for it is a double-edged sword, whichcuts both ways.” I smiled, wiping the blade down to remove the excess oil. Itwas a magical blade, and probably did not need sharpening, but… better safethan brainwashed. “I do love a good pun.”

The milky diamond in the hilt flashed in the light, glowinglike a lantern in my dim bedroom. It was hard to look at the sword sometimes,especially since I knew what it meant. I was magic, the sword was magic, mysister was the fucking Queen of magicfor the entire damn solar system. It was still hard to look at my funeral stone,knowing that the diamond was formedfrom my ashes, and not feel cheated.

Violent deaths always leave something unfinished. I wondersometimes, now that I have experienced that incompleteness for myself, how muchof this resentment the Senshi felt after they knew of their past lives… and ofthe way the Moon Kingdom fell. At least, when the time came, I would be able tohelp Usagi deal with Serenity’s unfinished business.

“Sing, o muse! Of love everlasting!” I saluted the moonsolemnly before I fed the blade and sheathed it, shrinking it down to a pen andtucking it away. “Sing, o muse! As the old tale is told anew!”

Nothing and nobody would be allowed to stand in my way. Mysister was going to get her happy ending this time, and any assholes who triedto interfere with that were getting a death-sword to the face.

#Sanjuno's ficwork #sailor moon fanfic #the sharp knife of a short life #Tsukino Usagi #Tsukino Shingo #si promptfest #si oc #Sanjuno may or may not be a witch #if men find out we can shape shift they'll tell the church #SI!Shingo has attachment issues #pick your battles #pick... pick fewer battles than that #put a few battles back #Shingo no - Shingo YES

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goingnoname-blog · 5 years

Text

EGO

Just never knew if it was Ego or lack of Self-confidence. Turns out the two can easily be confused.

I have been told a million times by so many people that I tend to remain silent. Silent when in a social gathering, silent when in a phone call, silent when I was bullied for two straight years in school, silent when in the family there were arguments and I could have saved my parents a lot of pain only if I spoke, silent when I’m around my closest friends even. And the funny thing is that the same “people” then one day would come and say that we should never ever trust a person who doesn’t talk much. That this person will do anything to hurt you. That this person is silent only because he/she is planning something evil. I cannot say that that never hurt. I really hoped that because of the pain of getting judged for not speaking, either I would get used to it or maybe eventually it would teach me a lesson and I would overcome my Ego / Lack of self-confidence, but that too does not seem to be happening.

It’s not that I do not want to be social. I really do. But whenever I am in any conversation, there is no input to it from my side. I would be with my school friends or my hostel mates or even with the ones who I consider the closest, having a conversation, and the only thing I would do is nod and smile. Even if I have something to say, I would be scared to put forward my ideas. What if they do not agree, what if whatever I am about to tell is actually stupid and most importantly, what if because of me trying to be part of that conversation, say something the others do not like, and I end up killing the whole discussion itself? And so, I keep quiet.

Not just speaking. From the numerous judgments people pass I came to realize that I can never show my excitement or any kind of feeling to anything. In my mind, I may be really excited, but apparently, I do not show it out. Instead what I show people is how uninterested I am with what new has happened with their lives, how indifferent I am to the problems they are facing, how unexcited I am by their success stories and the list goes on. When the first person complained to me about this behavior I have, I thought he must be joking. But eventually, I started to see the picture as a third person. All the exciting things happening in my girlfriend’s life, whenever she shares it with me, I do not jump in joy as much as her friends might do. All the problems she faces, whenever she shares it with me, I do not show my concern for her as good as her friends do. All the jokes my friends tell, I do not laugh as hard as their other friends do. All the work problem my cousin shares, I do not respond to them as good as my younger brother does. But that is so not what is actually happening. I am excited at my girlfriend’s success, and I am unhappy when she is unhappy, I do like my friends’ jokes and do laugh at them as hard as I can, I am concerned for my cousin and her problems just as concerned as my younger brother is. But for the world, maybe I was never enough.

There were times when I too was approached by people trying to share their grief and issues and sometimes I really connected to what they had to say. I connected to them so well that I just wanted to tell them, “I know exactly how you feel. I have been feeling the same way for years” and hug them because that is what I would have wanted if ever I could share. But I never said that. What if what I was thinking was actually stupid? What if they don’t believe me when I tell them that I feel the same way and I have the same issues? What if when I speak, I would end up killing the whole conversation? So instead I would say the lamest things one would say. Things like, “That is how life works. It is not that bad. It will be over soon. Forget it” and try to make jokes. I was a total jerk. If the person in front of me have taken the pain to come to me to share, which is something that I have been failing to do for like forever, why could not I make a little more effort and say what I really wanted to say? No doubt, those people, my closest friends, my oldest friends and the one girl I loved the most have now found comfort in someplace else. I am just the one person in my group who knows but all the stupid things about one another. But the things which matter the most to someone, I lost the right to be the one to hear about them.

I knew this misinterpreted picture of me will get me in trouble someday and it has. I no longer know what is going one with the guy’s life recently whom once I called my best friend. I am no longer the go-to person for my girlfriend whenever she has something to share or is upset.

Maybe I could never show it to anyone but that hurts. That hurts a lot. Knowing that I am slowly being drifted away with everyone’s life with only me to blame for that, has started to kill me. Until just a few months earlier, I was able to handle myself and the pain of knowing all these. Maybe not in a healthy manner. It was just me, a pack of cigarettes and endless sleepless nights just dreaming to be a part of people’s lives again. I started to spend more time at my workplace because coming back to an empty room in a city where I did not know anyone and knowing the fact that I cannot talk to anyone as I have already scared all of them away by my disinterest, knowing that they all are now busy with the new comfort they have finally found, is hard. I know why people might think that I do not need anyone to share my stories with, why I am okay not needing to talk to anyone even though I am alone because that is exactly what I showed them. But it is not who I am. I too need people around me, comforting me, sharing stories about them to me. I have my family’s support like no one else has. I am the luckiest guy in that sense. But there are only a few things you can share with your mother or your father. Right? For everything else, you need a friend.

I am not as strong as people think I am. I too want someone near me. I want someone who can break my shell and be the one with whom I can open up without the fear of getting judged. I want to be a part of people’s life again.

I want to see that day when someone asks me how I am, and I can answer them with the truth. I want to answer them that I am lonely. I want to say to them that I am hurting. Not just “I am fine” and smile.

#emotions

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ruler-of-scientists · 5 years

Text

Project SHELL

Deire was getting increasingly tired.

Not only was the backlog of work something she had to work through on top of all the daily work she already had, her attempts to extract more info on the blueprints she had discovered were turning up little progress. It was difficult juggling her daily tasks alongside her personal investigation- she could usually handle her personal tasks and investigations at the same time, but Veryn’s tasks as Homeworld Leader were on a whole different level of activity. It was no wonder she saw so little of Veryn outside of meetings, arranged or otherwise, and during worktime.

The fact that she was the one selected to succeed him in his area of work had never been daunting, but she was only now beginning to have a true appreciation of the job’s difficulty. The responsibility of an entire planet- no, an entire race- was on her shoulders and though she would not crack under pressure, she was beginning to face herself with the possibility of dropping the investigation and just continuing to do her job in her mentor’s absence.

But she refused to see this as an option. Veryn had hidden some projects from her before, but he had always revealed them to her shortly after they had proven viable. This was different. These blueprints were dated to at least a century ago, indicating the project had been ongoing for just over a hundred years- and all without her knowledge. It bothered her. It didn’t anger or displease her, but it bothered her that Veryn, her mentor and role model, the one she looked to for guidance and tutelage who trusted her with a lot more than he usually trusted anyone else....

It bothered her that he of all people was keeping a secret this great. She had stumbled upon it by mere accident during that conversation with Silver, it was unlikely Veryn had intended to keep the blueprints themselves hidden, but she knew as well as Veryn himself did that the blueprints were just the tip of the iceberg....

There had to be project notes. Lab reports, Experiment testing results. Images, videos, something, anything beyond blueprints which developed from each other, but that was all she could find. They were hidden, well hidden, and it was because Veryn not only didn’t want her to know. He didn’t want anyone to know. And that was why she knew it was important. Veryn was known for his secrets, but this was excessive even for him. A mechanical life-form designed to use PSI without risk or constraint was possible but still difficult without organic components to generate the natural willpower needed to utilise Psionics in the first place, and even a mechanical frame, no matter how resilient compared to an organic one, had its limits with the amount of PSI that it could channel.

This is why they’d never went beyond the ‘Final’ class in Starmen, because that class was the very furthest the Starman design could be pushed in terms of physical resilience and mental ability to channel- if they dared push further, there was no Starman frame with current technology levels that could withstand that level of power without rupturing, not to mention the disastrous damage that would be done to the organic mind utilising such power...

All these thoughts going through her head, and eventually she found herself laying her forhead in a palm with her eyes closed, beginning to drift off. She blinked a few times, then shook herself off and sat up in Veryn’s chair, casting a brief glance to the cityscape outside. A large ship could be seen hovering over the surface, transporting various materials transported from other colonies down to the metal planet while also admitting other supplies to take to those colonies. She had sanctioned an order for those materials some time ago, only to have to redo the order when Auri had pointed out to her that she had made a mistake in the document authorising the transportation of certain materials that were meant to be distributed to another facility instead of the Homeworld itself.

She had made the correction in time but such an error, while hardly disastrous, was unacceptable to a perfectionist like herself. Mistakes...she couldn’t afford to make mistakes but she recognised that she was reaching a level of overwork that made her far more susceptible to making the very mistakes she so despised.

Auri, stood to the side and observing her, chose this moment to speak up. “Ma’am...you are thoroughly exhausted. I must insist that you rest.” “I cannot,” Deire sighed in no small amount of tiredness, attempting to rub her eyes of the desire to close over; “I will use the Instant Revitalizer in short order, then continue.” “The Instant Revitalizer can only compensate for so much so many times,” Auri countered with a disapproving whirr, moving closer a step as if to make a stronger point. “You need real rest. Your working capabilities are declining and you -beep- are in no shape to continue operating your duties as de-facto leader of this society while Veryn is absent. It is against my -vrr- directives to attempt to enforce your need to sleep like when you were a child, but I would be enforcing this need right now if I were unbound.”

“Do not suggest such treasonous behaviour,” Deire hissed now, in audible irritation, irritation that she immediately took back, both because she knew it was unproper of an Arkan to display such emotion no matter the circumstances and because Auri only had her best interests at heart.

Try as she might, she could never seperate from the little girl inside her who had seen Auri as her guardian in the past during times of great turmoil for her. She would never acknowledge it openly, but it did influence her current act of sighing again, then sitting more upright in her chair and looking to her bodyguard. “My apologies. I merely...cannot understand why or where Veryn would hide all traces of this project, especially from me. I must understand.” “Perhaps it is not your place to,” Auri suggested, earning a squint from his ward. He continued, somewhat hastily but without any trace of uneasiness, “I mean -whirr- to say that perhaps this matter is something Veryn wants to keep secret from you specifically.” “...I cannot believe that,” Deire stated, and it was not one of faltering disbelief- it was a flat out denial of the notion that Veryn would ever want to keep something secret from her on purpose. And if it was the case, it only made her want to discover what the secret was even more. She frowned, then turned back to the console before her. She rubbed her temple, then shook her head. “...perhaps you are right on the front of me needing rest, however...I must not drive myself into a pointless rut achieving nothing when I have actual things to do with my abilities hindered by this exhaustion.” She almost yawned, but closed her eyes and let air out through her nose instead before nodding. “...very well. I will rest, then...Auri, take me to my ship.” “-click- Excellent, ma’am,” the Starman Deluxe replied readily, phasing over to Deire in preparation. “By the way, ma’am...you have a request from a collegue of yours in the Dome to meet tommorow. Will I organise it into your schedule?” Deire paused as she stood, her tail twitching at the tip a little; she looked at Auri, then back at the monitor...before looking back at him again, and nodding. “Yes. Very well. Allot whatever time is needed.” Another pause, then she gingerly reached out and took the Starman’s pointed hand. “Thank you.” “I will rearrange your schedule around it...and you are welcome,” Auri acknowledged, before flashing out of existence with her, the two reappearing in Deire’s personal ship far above in the planet’s skies. Meanwhile on the screen inside the office, before it automatically shut down, was a blueprint of a mechanical life-form that vaguely resembled Cercil, like before.

Except this time it was headed with the title: “Project: SHELL.”

#deire #auri #comdis #complete dissonance #situation: deire #text post #fanfic #drabble #put this under a read more because there's a lot to read #plot post

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soobadnoonecanstopher · 6 years

Text

The Price of Privilege - Part 7 (A Kyungsoo Series)

Genre: Angst / Romance / Arranged Marriage / Royalty AU

Characters: Kyungsoo X You

Description: The time has come to marry the man your family has selected to take your hand. As royalty these important matters are arranged for you, but when you meet your soon to be husband, he is nothing like you expected.

The Price of Privilege [M]: - part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4, part 5, part 6, part 7, part 8 , part 9 , part 10 , part 11, part 12 , part 13 , part 14, part 15

His hands were fisted into white balls at his thighs as the agitation pulsed through his chest. The woman beside him, wearing her fancy jewels and that god-forsaken ball gown that she had been on and on about for weeks clicked her tongue with a dismissive shake of her head.

“Oh don’t start. You knew it was out of the question. We have a charity function and then a press conference. You will attend with a smile on your face and I don't want to hear any more nonsense about sports games with these friends of yours.”

“But Mom, you said--” He knew it was useless, but he couldn't help it. He rarely ever asked for anything and now that he finally had some friends, now that he had finally been invited to something with them instead of spending every single day alone like he had grown so used to, he’d admittedly gotten a bit of a taste for it. And this game was the first thing that she had invited him to herself. He could still feel the warmth of her hand where she grabbed his pinky and intertwined it around her own and the way her face lit up when he gave in and promised he would come. And now, he had been stupid enough to get his hopes up that he might actually be able to make it.

She smoothed her perfectly manicured hands over the skirt of her dress with her lips pursed and eyebrows level on her face. Not even the tension he saw flashes of in the irises of her brown eyes would wrinkle her skin. She had too much composure within her being for that. “--you said you would think about it. Even Baekhyun is going and--and Sara is going. Mom, I promised Sara--”

He heard the scoff from her mouth.

“Baekhyun--” the name left her lips with a scowl behind it, “has been afforded certain liberties by being born of that woman. He is not in line for the throne, nor is he the son of a queen. You know the crown princes have to live up to a certain standard, Kyungsoo. Minseok and Junmyeon already know these things because they are older and more mature. It’s time for you to grow up and accept your fate. You could be king someday.--

--Where is the driver? What is the holdup?” She peered out the tinted window, her focus pulled to the two men in black suits who discussed something at the door of the garage. Kyungsoo didn't even pay attention to their faces anymore. They were employees. They were the help. They were always faceless and voiceless masses that did as they were told, bowed at the neck, bowed at the waist, bowed on their knees, bowed on the floor. All he ever saw of them were various views of the top of their heads or their backs.

Until Sara, the first one who dared to look up. Dared to look into his face as he walked through the kitchens. The first set of eyes to meet him as a peer, then as a friend. The first person to openly laugh at him when he failed so monumentally at cracking his very first egg into a pan at the stovetop of the servant's kitchen. He’d never been laughed at before and the sound felt shocking at first. He remembered the embarrassment as half of the slippery slimy egg-white splattered down the edge of the pan and the yolk followed, slipping out entirely with a pop it hit the cooktop with a mess of bright yellow and broken shell pieces.

“Remind me who this Sara is again--” It was unusual for his mother to actually pay enough attention to remember faces and names of the insignificant and Kyungsoo snapped his jaw shut like a steel trap, opting for silence now as the crushing disappointment surged up hot inside of him in waves. He wouldn't be able to go. Sara would sit with Baekhyun and they would laugh and cheer for the winning team together as they ate snacks and made inside jokes that they would reference together like some sinful secret that they shared. They would lament on poor Kyungsoo who was never allowed to join them for any of the fun and snigger together when he walked by, unaware and out of the loop. He would be too shy to ask to be let in on the jokes. He would pretend like it didn't bother him one bit...that close together laughter they shared outside of him.

“Oh, is she the cook’s granddaughter? The older one with the speech impediment? She’s a bit odd.”

Kyungsoo didn't know what a speech impediment was and the judgment on her voice raised his defenses. Sara didn't have a damn thing wrong with her. Sara was his friend. She was quiet just like he was. She was genuine and she didn't even care about things like ‘crown prince’ or ‘bastard’. Words that followed him and his brothers like some sort of curse on their heels. Words that segregated them from each other. Allowed to be close, but not too close. Allowed to trust up to a point, but never to cross that point. Because of things like birthrights and betrayals; treasons and royal secrets.

He heard it in her chest with her inhale. It felt like a royal judgment as if she lifted her gavel with the inhale of breath she took and his stubborn eyes turned to his mother seconds before she spoke.

“You need to stay away from that girl, Kyungsoo. She isn’t fit for a prince to associate with. How many times have I told you not to trust people so easily?”

“She’s my friend.” The fear flashed up hot in the back of his throat with what he was sure she was saying. What she always said when he spoke to her about friends and trust.

“People like us don't have friends, Kyungsoo. You have no idea how this world works. She might seem like a friend, but you cannot trust anyone here. I don't know how many times I need to tell you this for you to understand.”

It was happening again. He could feel it slipping through his fingers. Yet another thing in his life that would be taken from him with absolute disregard for what he wanted and the thought of losing something else, of something else being taken from him made the air inside this car feel too stuffy. As if no matter how many deep breaths he took his lungs refused to take the air inside them.

“She’s my f-friend,” his voice was thready to his own ears and he swallowed again and again, trying to keep himself together when all he wanted to do was fight this.

“She is nothing to you, Do Kyungsoo. Don’t you dare make me repeat myself.” Her voice had an aura all of its own and he watched as she lifted a finger in his direction, striking outward with her mighty gavel in his direction. Daring him to disobey. Daring him to even think about it.

The look in his eyes was hard enough to pierce through her own for a split second, despite his complete silence as he sat in the seat beside her. Despite the thick, deafening silence that surrounded him like a fog and transformed him from a well dressed, well-put-together young prince into nothing more than a petulant child holding his breath to get his way.

“When you are older, you will understand why I do these things. I need to protect you from them. I do this to protect you from them Kyungsoo. Because I love you and because I am all you have in here.”

Her reasons meant nothing. All he saw was the sparkle of the jewels around her neck and all he heard was the heavy ax slamming down into his chest. The absolute word of the queen. Words that were as good as gospel and could rip and rage through his world with such grand sweeping laws, promising well intentions, promising future understanding but delivering only pain. Only loneliness, sadness, and isolation.

“Promise me that you will remove her from your life. Or I will be forced to remove her myself.”

He wouldn't cry. He promised himself years ago that he was done with that. Crying did nothing. Begging did even less. The force with which he squeezed his hands together made his bones ache with the efforts and he closed his eyes in defeat.

When the queen removed someone from the palace it usually involved the entire family. Their lives would be upturned. Families would be ripped apart and homes would be broken. He’d seen it happen before with his brothers. When Crown Prince Minseok had taken a stand because of something as trivial as love, the resulting tsunami that flooded through the palace took countless names and swept them away. Kyungsoo remembered the broken look on his brother’s face when the news of her death reached him. Her death by her own hand, or so they told him. Minseok had been 15 at the time and that was the last time he ever used such a stupid word like ‘love’. It was also the last time he felt like a real person. He was no longer Kyungsoo’s older brother Minseok. He was Crown Prince Minseok. He was untouchable. Walls and barriers both physical and emotional built so well, nothing real could ever seep through to touch him ever again.

“What is taking so long?” She was irritated now and she reached for the handle of the car door with purpose, pulling it back with force as she pushed the door open to step outside. The men in the suits huddled with heads together and Kyungsoo watched her retreating back as his emotions flooded through his mind again. Filling him with anger. Desperate anger that flowed through his veins like a busted hydrant. His breathing felt too quick for his lungs to keep up with and he could feel the pounding of his own heart within his chest as he looked around at his surroundings.

The door she vacated still open, the slick slippery leather seats around him. Expensive and extraordinary. The space between the driver’s and passenger’s seats and the illuminated dash lights that looked just like the fancy racing games he played all by himself up in his carefully warded off prison tower. His hands were trembling when he wiped at his brow and he looked out through the open door at the men in suits who had quickly dipped heads, dipped their faces and bent their backs with profuse apologies for the holdup. He would not hear their excuses. They were too far away, but he could see her back, held up high. Chin up in the air and a look of annoyance on her beautiful face.

Kyungsoo’s skin felt warm. He felt alive all of a sudden as the urge to leap flashed through his consideration. He could… he felt just desperate enough to…

The car was on; keys in the ignition with the parking brake engaged and the center shifter in park.

When he leaped, he did it faster than he’d moved before. If he thought about it, he might lose the nerve. He was small and fast and the men in the suits were turning and walking close now. Returning to the car. He couldn't afford to miss the chance and when he leaped, he landed in the driver’s seat, feeling smaller than he had ever felt in his whole life. The pedals and the wheel were father away from him than he anticipated and no amount of straining or reaching could make this feel like driving his racing games up in his room.

A sound shouted out when he pulled the brake up and released the lever. All at once, the men ran, rushing up to the car and the shocked wide eyes of his mother’s face felt sweet on his tongue. It made him laugh, the way she broke her calm careful exterior and moved fast toward him.

‘A queen never runs.’ He said to himself in his best impression of the queen’s flippant voice. Yet she was running now, her big dress flipping and flowing with each step she took and the roar the engine made when he pressed on the gas flooded out his ears, taking each frightful shout from the men and each rough pounding of angry fists on the glass of the driver’s side window and mixing it with the steady roar of that powerful engine. Only the car did not move forward. Looking down he realized he had yet to put center shifter into drive. He had never actually driven a real car before.

Seconds...it took mere seconds for the queen to reach the door. She had somehow managed to reach through the opened back door to unlock the driver's side door beside him and he wondered at her speed. Only for a moment though, because when he felt the warmth of her hands on his chest, on his arms, trying desperately to stop what was happening, he managed to shift into drive and this time when he pushed on the gas the car did move.

The car did move.

And his eyes were closed. The raging inside his own chest burned with each breath and he felt dizzy. His anger, his all-consuming anger had faded with the sickening sounds he heard. With the wetness, he felt against his shoulder and the steady hum of that car engine that roared to life below his feet and all around him.

The car did move, but for only a moment. But it was enough for the woman, for his mother, the queen and the woman who had spent her entire existence finding any and every way to love and protect him, it was enough time for his mother to try and stop it. To try and stop him and to try and stop the car.

The car did not stop. Not with his efforts to turn the wheel, or with his foot angrily stomping on the brakes as she cried out beside him and a new sensation took over his existence. Something different than anger, this was more. This was all-consuming and debilitating. It was fear. It came with the sounds he heard, and with the warm wetness, he felt when that car finally stopped moving forward.

He...He had…

The steel light post, identical to the numerous ones that lined the driveway was what finally stopped it. When his eyes opened, the engine still roared below him and yet the sounds were different. There was a gasping beside him and when he reached his fingers up to touch her face he expected her to scold him. Caught him trying to make off with the car. Caught him trying to make it to his little soccer game with his friends. She’d caught him being bad again, surely the lectures and punishments would be many.

Yet he touched his mother’s face because there was something different there. Her pretty jewels had snapped and lay hanging over her throat. Her beautiful ball gown, torn and stained and ...red now and the light in her eyes, the anger and the admonishing he should have found was gone. Replaced with something else…

He had...He had… The trembling sobs within his own chest took his oxygen from him and the view of her face blurred in the tears that filled his eyes.

“M-Mom,” He whispered to her face and his fingertips ran along her cheek. “Mom?” the word was fractured against his own ears. His voice too high pitched, too frantic for any sense to be made and yet he said it again and again. Louder this time. Sometimes she didn't listen. Sometimes she was too occupied, mind too full of worry for her to hear him the first time. And when a hand reached in through the passenger side to turn off the engine, he didn’t see the faceless person who owned the arm.

Kyungsoo didn't see anything but her face that suddenly looked too still. Too silent and too peaceful and she couldn't hear anything from him anymore.

Faceless men in suits. Those same arms that turned off the engine called to him, pulled at him, urged him to turn and come into their arms but who were they? Who were they to order him around when the queen was here to make those calls? Yet he was pulled at, his cries and pleas ignored as big arms wrapped around his waist and grabbed him, messing up the careful suit his mother had dressed him in.

“Mom!” he screamed at the top of his lungs now as his desperation reached new levels. It was choking him now, or maybe the tight arm around his chest was the one cutting off his words. “Mommy!!” he cried but she didn't move. She didn't listen or hear his words and he felt the stinging in his eyes with his tears as he was pulled away.

“Your Highness.” A worried and hushed voice called to him and he felt hands on his chest that shook him. “Your Highness, wake up.” the voice said again. It was no use, his begging went unheard and he grabbed at the doorframe of the car to try and get back inside.

“Take the prince away at once.” A voice commanded. Louder and harsher than the others that spoke in frantic cries around him.

“Your Highness, please wake up.” the voice begged again, closer now. Clearer than it had been before and he fought against the tears that spilled over his cheeks, running down his face into his temples as he kicked tangled legs against the too hot, too sticky bed sheets. “Prince Kyungsoo, wake up, you’re dreaming. It’s just a dream.” A voice. A calm and quiet voice that sounded just familiar enough to grab along of his attention, his flighty mind that wanted to dive deeper into the horror that haunted him again and again.

“Sara?” Kyungsoo called out into the darkness of his room and the hands that shook his chest stilled for a moment.

“It’s Ara, Your Highness.” She whispered and Kyungsoo’s mind sharpened to her voice. Different. It was different than her sister’s had been, although in the darkness, with the comforting way she spoke to him, sometimes he made the mistake.

“Of course, Ara. I know you aren’t her.” The dream was fading, though it’s effects always lasted for hours within his chest. The memories always felt too vivid after the dreams. Always too bright to douse with liquor or sex. It was hard to drown away the guilt right after the dreams had come.

“You stayed and she left. Of course, you aren’t Sara.” The name of his friend, who he could no longer call a friend, tasted bitter on his tongue and he reached for the glass of water that Ara had placed on the nightstand to wash away the taste.

Sara and the look in her eyes when the rumors spread. After the funeral, when the nation had been told the lie that the queen’s death had been an accident, yet the hushed whispers that followed the prince around like a plague had been enough for their friendship to falter.

He had always been just weird enough, she said once. It’s probably true. I bet he did it and then hid in his room like he always does, he overheard, her voice like knives stabbing straight into his heart.

Because she had been right.

He was a murderer.

“It was covered up. As soon as it happened, the queen’s death was covered up.” May gripped both of your hands tightly within her own as she spoke in a whisper and your mouth felt too dry as you leaned in, desperate for every detail she could give you.

“The king remarried the following week and adopted their once illegitimate sons. Officially made Jongin and Sehun heirs to the throne. As if his wife had not just died in a horrific accident the week before, crushed between a light post and a moving car. And why was it moving? They made no efforts to explain. Something about faulty brakes, they said. That was the official story. But the guard, the old man I talked to said that the whole deal had always felt fishy to him.

Plus the queen, the late queen, not Queen Hong, she had come to him two weeks before, asking for his help. Asking for something to protect herself with and he believes that a video exists.” May swallowed hard as her voice strained. She sounded as if she had been silent for too long. Unable to speak of the horrors she now knew of, the things she had been desperate to warn you off. “He said there is a video of the queen’s murder and that the boy has it. He said the boy has it. And it was definitely no accident. It was murder.”

“If...If he can be this heartless. His own mother, Your Highness...you must know that you are unsafe. He will stop at nothing. Who will be next? His brothers? Only two stand in his way to the throne. Minseok and Junmyeon. Once Junmyeon marries into another country he will be removed as a contender of this royal house. Did you know that? Did you know that Junmyeon will abdicate when he marries?”

The information flew from May’s lips like water from a flowing faucet. Things you had never considered. Things you never knew about and you wondered exactly how much of this information she had obtained had been from Prince Sehun. Prince Sehun who was fifth in line to become King. Prince Sehun whose bed she shared and whose child she carried in her own belly.

Prince Sehun whose interests she surely acted on now.

“May, why didn’t you tell me you were seeing Prince Sehun? Why did you keep it from me? Why did you lie to me about that?” You couldn't help it. Your life thus far had been filled with as much deception as luxury. If there was one thing your father had instilled in you time and time again, it was to question everything. Coincidence did not exist. Not in this life.

If May escaped this imprisonment with her life intact and if that child was born, wouldn't she benefit too? Especially if you left, didn’t marry Prince Kyungsoo and broke the promised union between the two countries. He would be cast out, yet again and forced to marry outside of the country, just as Junmyeon had been set up for. Kyungsoo would abdicate and Sehun would be moved up the line, biding his time until Minseok or Jongin didn’t fulfill some requirement of the king and lose their chance.

You could see it all too clearly. The carrot that was dangled just out of May’s reach. Whether or not she spoke with any ill intent, the fact remained that May’s lies to you had seeded your heart with just enough doubt to make you pause. There was a rift now, in the blind affection you held for your best friend.

“Your Highness, I-- I’m sorry. I knew it was forbidden.” May spoke again, though the grip she held your hands with had loosened some. “If you knew--”

“Did you think I would turn you in?” Your question came out louder than you intended. Your own hurt and anger suddenly clear in your voice. “Do you really trust me so little, May?”

“I thought the less you knew, the better.” Her own voice had grown in steadiness as she looked into your eyes, “Why do you think I’m in here and you are out there Your Highness? Because you didn't know anything about it.”

“Once I was caught, and pulled in for questioning,” the word hung on her lips and she looked ahead of herself into the exam room. Her eyes glazed over once and you watched the ghosts of something on her face that you felt deep inside your chest. “I had to...I had to prove that you didn't know anything. I had to prove, just how badly I had deceived you, to keep you safe.”

“But that won't work anymore if you don't get out of that house. I can’t do anything for you anymore, please just believe me.”

“I’m going to find it.” You suddenly spoke up. A fierce determination bubbling up within you that you had never felt before and May closed her mouth and looked into your eyes for a moment. A moment more and she was shaking her head back and forth quickly.

“No, absolutely not,” she commanded but it sounded more like a plea.

“I will find the video. He trusts me. He has no reason not to trust me, I know I can find it. I can get into his room.” The words coming from your own mouth sounded as if they had been spoken by another person and May’s eyes were wide and frantic as she looked into your face.

“It’s too dangerous, you have to get out. If--If he knows you even know about the queen’s death...They cleared out everyone who was there. They made every single member of staff, every single person who was working that day, they made them disappear. They all vanished. Some dead, some just---missing. Your Highness. You can’t.” She was desperate now, trying to fight against that look of pure determination she saw in your eyes. You felt it in your soul too. You had to. It was the best way to help her.

You knew you had to find the truth in order to have any leg at all to stand on here. Or you would lose your best friend as well as any hope you had for a life worth living.

Inside your chest, you could feel it still. That small grain of doubt that had planted itself and grown roots, fueled by May’s lies. Maybe, just maybe...she had been wrong.

Kyungsoo’s eyes and his small touches and the genuine good you knew you felt inside of him. It was just enough to spark a bit. It was just a tiny flame, and it burned deep inside, slow and steady.

A sound at the door pulled your focus suddenly and you lifted the facemask backup to cover your face.

Through the door, moving at a quick speed rushed Prince Baekhyun, still dressed as Nurse Baekhee, but clearly flustered and adjusting the uniform he wore. He tugged at the skirt, pulling it down and wiped at his mouth with the back of his hand.

“Uhh… we have to go, like, now.” The urgency in his voice doubled with the firm hand he placed on your wrist made you gasp when he pulled you hard and your feet stumbled to keep up.

“May...don’t worry okay,” you tried your best to keep your own voice calm. Yet when you looked back at her you were met with a blank expression on her face.

“Just get out.” She whispered again and you could see the fractured hope vanish from her eyes moments before she closed them and lifted a trembling hand to cover her face as she broke down.

“Baek--Nurse Baekhee, what happened?” You whispered harshly at the back of the prince who pulled you, very quickly down the maze of corridors in an opposite direction from which you had entered.

“Change of plans,” He said with a quick glance behind you and your wrist ached from the hold he had on you. “Sehun texted me, while I was...uh w-with Dante.”

“Anyway...uhh we have to be somewhere else fast. You and I need alibis like...yesterday.”

You felt like your head was spinning and he lead you into a room lined with lockers on one end and bathrooms on the other side. He was quick to lock the door behind him and you watched in awe as he swept the room, checking all doors for any signs of life.

Satisfied, he headed to the lockers, trying each one and met with locked door after locked door until at least, at the end the locker swung open in his hand and he dove inside quickly. His hands were on his clothing and you saw skin. A lot of skin, the man was naked in a flash with barely enough time for you to cover your eyes when he pulled the skirt down to his ankles and quickly rid himself of what sounded like tape, pulled with a gasp and a rip.

“Fuck me, that---ow” he panted into the open locked in front of him and you kept your hands over your eyes tightly. You felt something hit your head, fabric of some type and you looked down at your feet to find a set of clothing. A shirt and some flowy skirt that didn't quite look like something you wanted to wear out in public.

“Put that on,” he said in a low forceful voice and you looked up carefully, wincing at the thought that he might not yet be covered. “Now.” He demanded with wide eyes and you pulled your uniform up over your head as quickly as you could move. At least you had underwear on. It wasn’t like a man such as Baekhyun hadn’t seen a woman in her underwear before right? You were certain it wouldn't phase him one bit.

He was too busy grabbing your ID tag and the uniform from around your feet to make any comments and he shoved the tags into the pocket of the baggy jeans he wore, and tossed the uniforms deep into the trash bins in the corner, carefully burying them and the wig he wore, below the other refuse that had already been inside.

His phone was out and to his ear as he spoke low and fast into the handset and you followed quickly to where he exited the locker room. As he walked, he reached a hand out for the hand sanitizer foam that lined the walls and began wiping away the layers of makeup he wore on his face with a paper towel he had grabbed from the locker room. His skin looked red and angry from the assault but gone were the garish red lips and the deeply stained pink of his cheeks. Gone was the bright, overdone eyeshadow and he pulled the false eyelashes off his lids, tossing the whole made-up mess of Baekhee into a trash can at the door that led to the parking lot.

He bolted through the parking lot to his car and you struggled to keep up. It was already started and running by the time you reached the passenger side door and his tires squealed as he quickly reversed out of his spot and drove through the lot, far away from the medical center where you both had just left May behind.

“Baekhyun, what happened back there.” He was driving very fast and his eyes stayed trained on his rear view mirror as if he half expected someone to be following him.

After a few moments where you wondered if he would actually ever answer your question at all he let out a long sigh that deflated his chest and echoed around the quiet confines of the car.

The light he approached changed to red and you could feel the car decelerate as he finally eased up off the gas pedal and applied the brake. All at once, as if his deep sigh had signaled the end of danger you could feel your pulse returning to a more normal pace and when he pulled the car to a full stop he gasped in a quick breath, lifted a hand to the steering wheel and erupted into a fit of loud frustrated growls as he hit the steering wheel of his car quickly and noisily with his open palm. You visibly flinched at the outburst and leaned far away from him, against the cool window of the passenger seat.

“Goddammit!” He shouted into the space in front of him as if he was speaking directly the windshield of the car and you zipped your lips closed and pulled your hands up over your chest like some sort of useless little shield.

“God-fucking-dammit! Dante!” Baekhyun shouted again once before turning his head toward you and you lifted your hands move, over your neck. You weren't sure why your neck felt so vulnerable in this situation, but his hands were moving fast and you were pretty sure a fist to the neck wouldn't feel particularly good.

“He knew! He knew I was a guy and he said he didn’t care. He said he liked me for me. What the fuck does that mean?” His eyes were wide on you and you shook your own head a minuscule amount, “What am I supposed to do now? Why the fuck is he so perfect? Ugh...” Baekhyun furrowed his brows and scowled, baring his teeth in disgust.

“I hate him. How fucking dare he treat me this way?” He reached and you curled away from him on instinct. If he noticed, he didn't let on as he reached in front of your knees to open the glovebox in front of you. He pulled out a small glass bottle with clear liquid inside and you eyed him as he held the bottle in front of you for a moment, shaking it when you didn’t instantly move to grab it. You took the hint easily enough and held the cold bottle within your waiting hands.

“Drink that,” Baekhyun said in a flat voice and you raised an eyebrow and looked back into his expectant face, not even trying to hide the enormous doubts you had about whatever plans he was now hatching.

“You can’t be sober for this.” He tapped a thin fingertip at the bottom of the glass bottle and you looked at the label that boasted some brand of fine vodka you had never heard of.

“For what..Baekhyun what are you planning?” He sighed again, this time deep and frustrated as he grabbed the bottle from your hands and quickly unscrewed the top, thrusting the bottle once again into your hands.

“Our alibi, Princess. You have to be drunk enough for Kyungsoo to come and pick you up and It should be my fault that you are there. Everyone knows I’m the troublemaker. Of course, I would get my brother’s fiance drunk in some seedy bar and try and make a move on her. She was just so upset about May...I thought a little healthy drunken debauchery would help take her mind off things...I can’t help it that she flashed me when she was changing her clothes and has an amazing set of tits under that sweet, innocent goddamned cotton bra she was wearing with the matching panties in white no less and--”

You lifted the bottle to your lips if only to stop the fucking talking and you winced as the alcohol burned going down. Thankfully he did stop talking once he saw you drinking the liquor and you had to stop halfway through to take a breath and recover from the acrid taste.

The bottle was promptly plucked from your fingers and you watched with curious eyes as he lifted it to his own lips for a long drink.

“That’s enough for you. It’s 80 proof and you look like a lightweight...fucking white cotton panties. My God, I feel like I should go to confession. I can’t believe he gets to fuck you.”

“Baekhyun!” You shouted and he choked down his laughter with a mouthful of vodka, thoroughly amused by your scandalized reaction. You wanted to smack him, but something was bothering you about the last twenty or so minutes you’d been with him. You’d been so focused on leaving, so focused on getting away from the medical center undetected that you never even once stopped to ask why he had been in such a hurry to leave.

“Wait a minute, Baekhyun, the reason we left in such a hurry….was because Dante said he likes you for you?” Something wasn't adding up with his story and you could feel the warmth spreading through your veins as you tried to piece together the events of late.

“That’s it? He likes you so you ran away? Baekhyun that’s not...something to run away from….and what did Sehun text you about?” You were certain there was more to this story and you were frankly growing tired of everyone around you censoring the truth to keep you safe.

“Really, what the fuck is going on?” You needed some answers and you hated the way the warmth in your belly was surging through you, making your thinking just a little bit less sharp now. He quickly downed the rest of the vodka and tossed the empty bottle into the backseat of his car as he pulled the vehicle swiftly into a parking lot and parked it there.

“Get out of the car princess. You’re drunk remember.” He was pulling you again and you resisted a little, annoyed at his lack of answers and by just how little sense this whole thing made and yet, something inside you made you want to trust Baekhyun. Something that went against every fiber of your being and every caution you had been taught to take made you move your feet where he pulled you, made you want to trust this man who really had nothing at all to gain by helping you.

At the door of the bar stood a man. He was bald and wore a tight-fitting black shirt that showcased some of the biggest muscles you had ever seen in real life and you watched his eyes as he eyed the pair of you walking up to the door.

“Baekhyun,” the man said in a deep voice and you wanted to turn back to the car. This big man was scary and eyeing you like some sort of rodent being dragged in from the street.

“Tiny,” Baekhyun said with a soft flirty note in his voice that made you look at his face twice. Tiny? Was this man named Tiny?

Baekhyun reached a hand up and touched the bicep of the man with his long spindly fingers and you saw it, the eye roll; the tiny crack in his tough facade as the edges of his lips turned up.

“Is that a new shirt? Looks great on you.” Tiny looked down at the black shirt he wore and was the man actually blushing? You couldn't quite tell with how dark it looked here.

“What? This old thing? I just found it in my closet.” The shy smile on Tiny’s face made Baekhyun’s smile widen even further. It was nearly blinding really. This man had such an incredible amount of power in something as simple as a smile, it was a wonder anyone was ever able to resist him at all.

“Hey Tiny, remember that time your sister was locked up and I pulled a few strings, made some phone calls, helped her out?” Baekhyun had taken a step closer to the man now and was reaching into his pocket for the wallet he must have gotten from the car. There was no way these giant baggy pants from the locker were originally his, although the man was definitely filled with enough surprises to write several novels about.

“Hey Baekhyun, Sir, you know I don't want no trouble.” All at once the smile on Tiny’s face was gone. His shoulders sat up higher and he leaned away from Baekhyun’s encroaching face in a way that displayed genuine fear.

“No no no, no trouble, honey. Just one little, itty-bitty, white lie. Won’t hurt anybody at all.” he cooed at the man and you could see the wad of rolled up bills Baekhyun shoved deep into the man’s front pocket. Even you could see it was a lot of money and you weren't even used to dealing with much cash. Tiny was quick to cave under the temptation. Baekhyun knew exactly what he was doing here and the man sighed as he gave in completely.

“What do you need me to say?” He looked broken when he finally gave in and you felt just a little bit of guilt below the layers of drunk that was really starting to catch up with you.

“Nothing at all,” Baekhyun said. Tiny looked back and forth between your face and Baekhyun’s face in confusion. “Unless someone asks. Then you just say that I brought this incredibly soft and innocent princess with me here, where I proceeded to get her very drunk and teach her the true ways of the world. We’ve been here for hours. Look at how drunk she is. God, but doesn’t she look clean?”

Both faces turned to look at you and Tiny did a once-over with his eyes as Baekhyun slowly licked his lips and made you feel as if somehow this outfit that you wore might just be completely invisible.

“With all due respect, she looks too clean to be with you, Baekhyun Sir.” Their voices sounded farther away, garbled even as you struggled to stand still on your own two legs. You didn't have to stand still for too long though because you found yourself being steered deeper inside that seedy bar, down a long hallway with red carpeting and past curtain covered private rooms, some with strange loud sounds coming out of them. As soon as you were seated in one of the rooms you found yourself looking down at the table in front of you with a question on your lips.

“Baek, did we drink these?” There were bottles and bottles on the table; cigarette butts in the ashtrays and you shook your head, having no memory of consuming any drinks in this room despite how fuzzy your brain was feeling.

“You’ve been drinking since we arrived, Princess, don't you remember?” He giggled and you felt lost in that smile. He was tricking you. You knew this and you laughed along with him as you grabbed a fresh beer and struggled with the top. He leaned forward, too close to you really, and you felt his hand brush yours when he took the beer, twisted off the cap for you and gave it back to you.

If you were supposed to be drunk, you might as well be drunk. You shrugged and downed the beer as quickly as you could, not even half aware of the worried glances Baekhyun made down at his phone. Who was he texting? What was so important on that phone when the music in the room was nice and you had no one to dance with.

“Baekhyun,” you rose on shaky legs. Something about alcohol always made you want to dance and yet there he sat stubbornly attached to the table, nowhere near joining you to the song you now jumped and swayed to.

Finally, after what felt like ages of calling and begging he stood and made his way clear of the table. He was moving closer to you and good lord was this man handsome. Why did all of the princes have to be so good looking? Why couldn't there just be one ugly one in the group, and why did you have to behave yourself all of the time? None of them ever did. That was certain.

You wrapped your arms around Baekhyun’s neck and he slowly placed a warm palm over your waist.

Only instead of dancing, he seemed to be counting. Only it was happening backwards. Why was he counting down?

“Byun Baekhyun!” There was a shout behind you and a look of triumph on Baekhyun’s face that quickly changed into concern...or chagrin. Could this man even feel shame? That couldn't be right.

“What the fuck do you think you are doing with my fiancé?” The voice was significant and familiar and you spun with the widest smile on your lips because he was here. It was him! The man you hated to love. The man you were promised to and the man you had willingly given yourself to.

“Kyungsoo!” You shouted as genuine excitement overtook you and you leaped. Mostly you fell, but there was a strong man who wrapped two arms around your waist and caught you before you could do any damage.

“My prince,” you said well into the smile, playing your role well and actually meaning it as you did it. You had enough sense to understand that you should just give in to the drunkenness you felt taking over your body.

Kyungsoo’s face was serious. So serious and so grim and he looked into your face very closely and for what felt like much too long. Did he know that you were deceiving him? Did he know all of the things you knew about him? Did he know what thoughts had been flowing through your mind as you looked into his big brown eyes? The longer you looked at him and the longer he seemed to be analyzing your face the more desperate you felt.

The kiss was just that. It was desperate. You pressed your lips against his and you let your mind run wild with it. You let your body take over and you felt him stiffen his hold around you for a moment before his lips, too surprised by the sudden move to know what to do, went still and slack. Until you finally felt him give in. It took too long honestly, and you were worried at first but when he grunted into your mouth, tilted his head into you and allowed your tongue to brush against his own, you knew he could taste the alcohol on your breath enough to buy the charade.

“God, you’re so drunk. What happened?” He broke the kiss first, pulling your face gently away from his own with his two hands on either cheek and you smiled at the question and genuine concern you could hear in his voice.

“I was sad,” you said with your smile still wide and overpowering and he pulled his bottom lip in between his teeth as his eyes roamed over your face. “I asked Baekhyun to help me forget for a while.” You reached for him again, finding his lips easier to reach this time with him so close to you and he returned your kiss deeply, probably thinking that giving in to you was much easier than resisting at this point.

This time when he pulled away you felt your balance shifted as he turned to your side, wrapping an arm under your arm and around your waist, high enough to brush against the side of your breast. The stance felt possessive. You felt your skin burning beneath his hands and you wondered if that was just the alcohol, or if you had really fallen so far down that you couldn't remember your goals here.

“He didn't try anything, did he?” Kyungsoo whispered into your ear, his voice low enough to tell you that he spoke only to you. A secret question for your ears only, separate from his brother who stood a few feet away and watched the two of you with a disinterested look on his face. From your position, you could see how Baekhyun merely glanced down at his watch every now and then as if he was merely waiting something out instead of having just been caught with his brother’s fiance in a compromising situation.

“No,” you shook your head, your own voice much louder than Kyungsoo’s whisper had been, “he’s not nearly as charming as he thinks he is.”

That brought a scoff out of the man who genuinely believed himself to be the human manifestation of charm itself and Kyungsoo lifted his eyes to look at his brother’s face. There was an exchange there. Something unspoken that definitely wiped the humorous expression from Baekhyun’s face.

You didn't have a chance to examine the exchange further because a phone was ringing and Kyungsoo’s attention was suddenly drawn away from you and from Baekhyun as he spoke into the cell phone held to his ear. The conversation was short on his end. You could hear a male voice on the other end and it seemed to be a rather serious topic of discussion as Kyungsoo immediately stiffened beside you and Baekhyun dropped both of his hands and linked them behind his back as he watched Kyungsoo’s face with a remarkably sober focus in his eyes.

“I understand. I’ll be there as soon as I can.” Kyungsoo hung up the call and replaced the phone in his pocket and your curiosity burned the longer he looked across the small room at his brother without saying a single word.

Baekhyun’s lips parted as his tongue licked the corners of his mouth and he closed his mouth again, not saying a single word, nor asking what that phone call had been about and Kyungsoo watched his face in agonizing silence.

“Baekhyun have you spoken to Sehun today?” Kyungsoo finally spoke and his question felt pointed enough to make you quickly look at Baekhyun with a trace of worry in your eyes. Baekhyun blinked slowly and dropped his lips into a subtle pout. There was a slow shake of his head and Kyungsoo turned to look at your face moments before you were able to recover and rid yourself of any traces of worry that might have shown up on your face.

“Kyungsoo, what happened?” Your curiosity worked well because it was genuine. You were absolutely burning at this point as you grew more and more desperate to find out just what that phone call had been about.

Kyungsoo steadied his jaw and bit down on his lip, swallowing once before he inhaled a deep breath to speak.

“May Kim has disappeared.”

The Price of Privilege [M]: - part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4, part 5, part 6, part 7, part 8 , part 9 , part 10 , part 11, part 12 , part 13 , part 14, part 15

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pinkgirl94 · 6 years

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SOKOKU -Underworld’s Nightmare- Prologue

This is my first BSD fanfic & still writing right now. Please give me your impressions, opinions or whatever about my writing. I’ll be glad to read them. Enjoy reading!

Sokoku

In Japanese, it means Double Black. For what I know, it is a duo formed for annihilating people with no self-pity, filled with black hearts.

Black is a symbol of evil, blindness, mystery, death, sins and other meanings I can find especially in literature.

In Bungo Stray Dogs, black and white are the color representatives that stand out to me throughout the story. Yokohama, a port city in Kanagawa prefecture, where the story is set.

During the day, when the sun rises above and lights the world, people come out of their house and start their own tasks like a colony of ants come out of their nest and do their duty.

Students attend to their school and study, company men and women went to their office to report their duties, shops, cafes and other places open for business, and vehicles drive on the road.

The city is just like a normal one, like any other places in my view but behind it there is a dark side when the sun goes down and a gloomy but aesthetic full moon shows up. At night, many criminals crawl out from the shadow to pursue their sins of crimes.

There are some groups which have a few special ability users like the Port Mafia. Those group of ability users are the kind of people to control and terminate the people who will get in their way. They are dangerous people but not all of them are that kind.

Because of these crime activities, the government already made a department, known as Special Ability Department, that specializes in monitoring the ability users in the whole nation, even foreign ability users who will come to visit. The department also has ability users for handling the cases regarding that matter.

Other than a government department, there are also a few other organizations which also have ability users to use their ability for good especially solving crimes that normal detectives and the police cannot do such as Armed Detective Agency.

In Yokohama, the government, along with military police, handle the cases at day. At night, the criminal organizations take over the city.

The city is always in the midst of war between special ability organizations. In order to reach the balance and peace of the city, a certain person named Natsume Soseki made his plan by, as a start, created a duo. A strong but dangerous duo.

Fukuzawa and Mori

At first, both of them never knew nor met each other before. Fukuzawa Yukichi used to work at the government as a bodyguard. He was a lone wolf who never wanted to work with anyone until he met a young boy named Edogawa Ranpo.

Mori Ogai was an underground doctor who, had his own clinic, worked in the slum where poor and street rats stay. He always bring a doll-like little girl named Elise to his office and spoils her all the time and always by her side.

How did they met?

Twelve years before an establishment of Armed Detective Agency, Natsume gave Fukuzawa a request for protecting Mori. No clear answer why he gave that kind of request but, in order to establish his agency, he accepted it and met him at his clinic for the first time.

They seemed to be never clicked each other. For example, Mori acted indifferent toward Fukuzawa about his fighting skills will become dull and Fukuzawa felt annoying on that. But once in a blue moon, when they faced their enemies, the two of them finished them off like a tornado destroy everything in a flash.

At one night, Mori captured by the foreign criminal gang from South America. The gang captured him because he was an information broker so they will require his knowledge of Port Mafia’s armory location by torturing him. Fukuzawa then came to their hideout and save Mori.

It was impossible for a man get through tight security filled with armed men but, for Fukuzawa, he killed them all easily. After that, it was Mori’s turn to kill other men in the same room as him.

Fukuzawa uses his katana to kill the enemies and Mori hiding his bloodlust to trick them until he took out his scalpel to either slice or throw at their throat. Both of them are the unstoppable that even the top assassins cannot lift his finger to stop them.

This is how the first generation of Double Black, Fukuzawa and Mori, formed by Natsume. As a writer, I will write the continue tale of them in the first chapter, about finding the true purpose of their fighting alongside together before they become the leaders of their respective organizations.

Dazai and Chuuya

They were the second generation of Double Black under Mori’s care but worked for Port Mafia. These two were not much different when in comes to fight together but, in terms of strategy and fighting style, they were much crueler than Fukuzawa and Mori.

One is a man in mummy-like bandage around his body who showed his inner demon himself and the other is a great fighter with his incredible gravity control ability. All people of the underworld knew them as the worst enemies they have ever encountered.

At the age of fourteen, Dazai picked up by Mori as a patient for attempting suicide. He always a type of person who continuously attempts his suicides but failed many times, always got himself hurt whether by those attempts or by accidents. Mori then brought Dazai along as a witness for his assassination plan.

To kill Port Mafia's predecessor.

Mori told Dazai a cover story and so that he became a new boss of his organization as his own. He kept him safe and alive in order to avoid the suspicious of the predecessor's assassination. To gain the whole organization's trust toward him.

One year passed.

Ever since Mori became a boss, rumors about him assassinated the predecessor spread around the Port Mafia. He even heard a rumor about the predecessor, who supposedly dead and properly buried, was alive and caused ruckus in their turf. If anyone learn about his assassination plan, then his position as a boss will be lost.

So Mori leave the investigation of predecessor to Dazai and, during his investigation, that is how he met a young boy as the same age as him, Nakahara Chuya, previously knew as King of the Sheep.

Chuuya is a natural fighter who only uses his legs to brutally kick his opponents like how he kicked Dazai when they first met. He never use his hands to fight until now. He also possess a special ability to manipulate gravity around him and his enemies will be crushed suffocating by touching him even the slightest hit.

When Chuya captured by Dazai, thanked to his ability-nullification ability, and Hirotsu, another ability user and the person who tag along for the investigation, Mori decided to let Dazai and Chuuya to investigate together.

Both Dazai and Chuuya disagreed together at first but Mori explained that things will work well by working together, with Dazai’s nullification and Chuuya’s fighting skills and ability, so they ended up investigate together. All that time, they always arguing and fighting each other like the small brats fighting over the small problems.

Throughout their investigation, they confirmed that the predecessor was not actually alive but it was a being called Arahabaki, known as a god of calamity, that can shape-shifting its body controlled by another ability user. Chuuya revealed himself that Arahabaki they saw was not a real one but actually himself because of his past.

Chuuya’s past is not a happy memory not because he was abused or tortured by someone nor started a harsh life like any characters you have seen in other stories who met their unfortunate fate. He was an empty shell, mere human body.

Eight, years ago, Chuuya was born as a vessel to Arahabaki and sealed away by the Japanese military. One day, two men, Arthur Rimbaud and Paul Verlaine, infiltrated the military base to take Arahabaki’s power but failed because Arahabaki was fully freed.

Arahabaki now merged with Chuuya and made his own personality and will but they lost their memories before the age of seven. Chuuya only recalled someone reached out to his hand and freed him from the seal.

Dazai and Chuuya found who controlled Arahabaki. It was Rando, a Port Mafia executive and his real name is Arthur Rimbaud, with his ability called “Illumination” that conjure hyperspace subregion. He joined Port Mafia in order to find Chuuya and kill him but failed to do so because Dazai and Chuuya defeated him in the end.

On Rando’s final breath, he gave Chuuya his final wish which is to keep living as a human being. Chuuya accepted his wish and still keeping onto him after that.

One month later.

Dazai finally became a mafioso and executive and made his own squadron. Chuuya also became a mafioso and even received Rando’s hat from Mori as a custom way of officially joining by giving a piece of clothing.

For the sake of continuing the event of their tale, I am going to write a chapter about an event when they fight against an enemy organization and made a debut as Sokoku which you never seen or read in the original work.

Atsushi and Akutagawa

Atsushi is an orphan and main protagonist of the series. At first, he had a low self-esteem, always considered himself useless by the people from his former orphanage especially the headmaster himself. After Dazai pick him up from the riverside while he was in a state of starvation, he recommended him to join the Armed Detective Agency and his life changed after meeting new people and slowly gain his self-worth.

Akutagawa is one of the antagonists and a member of the Port Mafia. He calls himself as Port Mafia’s dog and the agency members refer him as the most troublesome and dangerous ability user to be captured. Like Atsushi, he is an orphan along with his younger sister, Gin. They were raised in the slums of the city with other orphans. After the orphans were shot dead by a group of criminals and only him and her sister survived, Dazai picked them up, giving him a reason to live, to become stronger and get a praise from his teacher.

Their first meeting started with a bounty. The Port Mafia received an info from the Guild, a North America special ability organization, about a weretiger that needed to be captured with a big reward and that weretiger is Atsushi. They attempted to capture him a few times but Atsushi still be saved and protected by the detective agency.

In the last resort, Akutagawa successfully captured Atsushi and ready to deliver but Kyoka, a former assassin who became a detective agency member, tried to save him. Seeing her self-sacrifice for him in Atsushi’s eyes made him to save her and fight Akutagawa. That is when he finally begin gaining his self-confidence.

Both Atsushi and Akutagawa are always fighting in both physical and oral for their different resolve. Atsushi, who sacrifices himself to gain his right to live, and Akutagawa, who seeks an approve from a certain person, are likely same to gain something but different in terms of characteristics and morals.

During their final fight against Francis Fitzgerald, the Guild’s boss, they always arguing over their resolve like the stray dogs barking each other for finding out who is right and who is wrong and Francis saw them that way.

Which is why Dazai forced them to work together to defeat the boss and test his theory if their power have the potential to become a stronger duo than the previous Double Black pairs and he is right all along. Francis defeat with their combined abilities.

With Atsushi’s white tiger ability and Akutagawa’s black beast Rashomon, both of them are an unstoppable pair and that is the start of the new generation of Double Black, Shin Sokoku. Their tale of their fight is yet to end as I will write which they will face a new antagonist after the three-way war.

These three pairs are ferocious groups. Each character have different ideals and believe but their bond of fighting alongside is much stronger than we thought. When their tale is about to unfold, what are their string of fate lead to? Please enjoy reading them.

#fukuzawa yukichi #mori ougai #dazai osamu #nakahara chuuya #nakajima atsushi #akutagawa ryunosuke #soukoku generations #soukoku #shin soukoku #my fanfic #bsd fanfic #bungou stray dogs

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life-of-khanoor · 3 years

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July 6, 2021

I never ended up posting my April draft because I had more to say and think about but I just forgot about it because during such a traumatic moment in my life I decided the smart thing to do would be to add more stress to my life even though I never even dealt with the first stress.

It all came crumbling down. All of it.

Moral of the story: Take care of your mental health because if your mental health isn’t in order then no matter how much time and energy you pour into everything else - it won’t matter. You need to be okay internally for your external to be okay.

I don’t know where to start. But I’m going to be more consistent with these journal entries, because I have decided to start therapy. I started therapy that was offered at my school in November of last year, but the therapist was only available every 3 weeks and she agreed my problems needed more consistent time to be dealt with. So in December I stopped any form of therapy. In late March to early April, all the truth came out. All the ugly, hideous truth about my past came out to my significant other at the time. I told him that the person he was feeling so insecure about for the 1st year of our relationship, was not my best friend but actually my ex-boyfriend and someone I had been hooking up with while we were together. This ugly truth only came out after his truth came out which was that he also was indulging in some form of cheating not physical, but through the exchange of pictures. Honestly, I wasn't expecting it at all. Which made me realize, he’s actually a really good liar. This made me start thinking about how I could trust him as he goes into dental school with so many females around him. It was driving me insane. Still does from time to time but I just remember that whatever happens, well, God willed it.

Anyways, instead of dealing with the issue, I had a more pressuring matter at hand. The MCAT. The bane of my existence came knocking on my door when I could least handle it. But I had to go in head first because if I didn’t take it now, I would not be able to apply to medical school this cycle, and if that didn’t happen I would be wasting another year of my life and I would be a bigger pile of uselessness. My family already thought of me as useless and wasting their money and if I didn’t take the MCAT, apply to medical school, and get in - I would be proving them right. Well, from May to the end of June I began my grind, I was putting in 8-10 hours a day of studying. I was trying by absolute darn hardest to get it all but 2 weeks before my MCAT, the anxiety hit me in the face. I was waking up every morning with anxiety attacks, the day before my MCAT I woke up and had a panic attack and was crying and was not okay. I honestly still don't think I am. I started therapy but I’ve only gone to 1 session and I unloaded so much past grief and trauma like it’s all so much that’s happened. And I’m trying to get back into it but honestly I’m not ready like clearly I’m not I feel so manic. Through this depressive period in my life (which is still happening but to a lesser extent now that I know I’m holding onto something I need to let go of), I can say for a fact that my “boyfriend” has not in ��been supportive. If anything, he's made it worse. But thankfully, I met this amazing girl who’s been so supportive even though she has her own issues. I really feel like God send her to me. So if you’re reading this god, thanks for that.

The MCAT didn’t happen. Day before my MCAT I realized I couldn’t do it, I wasn’t ready - not in terms of my prep and not at all in terms of my mental health. That night the boyfriend that I cheated on, who decided to stay with me because of the “goodness” in his heart, unloaded all his hatred, resentment, and angst toward me. This mixed with my own feelings of failure and uncertainty ended it for me. I could not handle it. I could not do it, I could not. I had all this hate for myself pent up. I tried killing myself. This wasn’t the first time I tried or thought about killing myself in the past month and a half. I wanted to end my life, I can’t handle it anymore. It all hurts so much I feel so lost all the time. I feel so empty. Like the shell of a person. I feel alone. And this person man, this guy just isn’t worth it. You know you spend 2 years of your life with someone, they become so ingrained in you, so intertwined with you and you think this is meant to be because you can’t see it working any other way right? But it’s nothing but pain anymore. It’s just a constant reminder of everything bad. Even if now I’m not that person anymore like it’s not possible to live it down. And he thinks it’s possible. God I fucking feel so suffocated with him. I feel locked up. The whole time he stayed with me during my MCAT prep, he made it feel like he was doing me such a huge favor, and indeed he really was but it was because he wanted to be there, I didn’t ask him to be there for me. I was ready to leave, that was the only option that even seemed in any way viable. It’s not like I do better with him around, if anything this whole relationship has been my lowest productivity. But he insisted on staying, and I regret letting him. For fucks sake I cheated on you not once, not twice but probably 5 times, what makes you think we’re meant for each other. We’re not. We had something good. But I ruined it. We keep trying to hold onto our past relationship, what WAS good. But what’s good right now? What? Is there any good right now? You might think it because I’m pasting this smile onto my face because you’re starting dental school and moving to NYC and I don’t want to be a Negative Nancy. But nothing is good. God fucking nothing. I don’t even ENJOY talking to you anymore. I get anxious because I think you’ll judge me for this or that. I’m walking on eggshells with you. I talk to you and I feel the weight on my shoulders getting heavier and my heart feeling weaker. Just because YOU think you’re there for me, doesn’t mean you’re what I need. I can’t even talk to you honestly. I can’t talk to you and feel like I can’t be 100% myself. I feel so scared to even say things anymore so I don’t say them. God you’re not my boyfriend, I don’t even think I’d consider you a friend. There’s no love here. There was. But there isn’t anymore. I listen to our songs and feel nothing. I look at our pictures and I feel sad. There’s nothing between us anymore. You're just hurting me more and more and more. And now I’m here every other day contemplating suicide, like what do you want from me damnit what do you want? It feels like you just wanna suck me dry until there's nothing left. Something with such a bad bad history, could never be something good. Not now anyways. Not after such a fresh deep wound. I need to heal and he does too. We're not together because we love each other lol, we’re together because we’re comfortable here. It’s familiar. But he's about to start the rest of his career in a different city and I need to start the rest of my life without my past weighing me down. So it’s over.

Ending this relationship is probably going to be the best thing I’ve done for myself in a really really really long time. I can already feel the weight being lifted off my shoulders. Maybe all the praying in the middle of the night, waking up with panic attacks, imagining myself dead, maybe this is what it all came down to. Maybe I needed to rid myself of this before I could move onto greater things. God really is the greatest of planners.

I feel so light after getting all this off my chest. I genuinely cannot go another day with this in my life anymore. I think that all this time, all this mental hurt and anguish has been an inner fight with myself. The struggle because I was ready to grow but I wasn’t willing to let go.

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minahraven · 7 years

Text

Current Post Statuses (in order of receipt) - Nov 9, 2017

All requests I’ve received are listed below, along with the statuses (whether they’re done and ready to post, in progress, or haven’t been started yet). If you don’t see your request here, please don’t hesitate to re-send it, as it means it hasn’t been received, and I don’t want anyone to feel as if I’m ignoring their request at all. As you’ll be able to see, I’m currently working on getting scenario requests up to date, since I’ve been posting almost solely ships recently, so I hope noone minds that.

Thank you so much to everyone who’s requested so far! I love doing all these requests, and though I may not be as fast at posting as other blogs, that doesn’t mean I don’t enjoy it. Far from it. This has become a truly enjoyable hobby, and I’m loving every moment ^_^

Anonymous said:

Amber x girl reader smut where she admits all of her kinks to you and you have kinky sex (dirty talk, spanking...) – in progress

alicemad-hatter said:

Can I request a Bom scenario where after the group disbanded she came home upset and y/n (preferably female) cheered her up with food and loving sex – in progress

Anonymous said:

could u do an amber smut were she misses a date but makes it up to you? ;) ur previous amber smut was AMAZING! – in progress

anotherworld-fan said:

Hiiiiii!!! Can I request a ship? I'm 5'9 (I know massive) I'm quite shy and introverted but with my friends I turn into a crazy/shouting/rambling mess that cannot be stopped. I'm a hopeless romantic and I love reading, cooking, dancing and all artsy things. My favourite season is winter because I love wrapping myself up with warm blankets and having a hot tea while reading. I'm really caring, especially with people close to me and I always put other people's happiness first😊 thank you xx – Done (to be posted)

Anonymous said:

Hi :) can you please ship me with BTS? I am an ENFJ, outgoing, independent and social. Most would say I’m energetic, smart and bubbly. I like reading, writing, making art, learning/experiencing new things and cooking. I also tend to be a the mother type in a group and want to make sure everyone is happy. If I am out in public and hear a song I know, I will find myself singing and dancing (sometimes badly) along to it, much to the embarrassment of those around me 😆 Thanks for you hard work~💛💛 – Done (to be posted)

Anonymous said:

hello!!! i was wondering if i could have a written ship with bts? :D if so:id consider myself funny and caring; a lot of my friends call me mom (b/c i always cook, clean up after them and have snacks ready hehe) and tend to look to me for advice. I’m a great listener and i love to hear other people talk for hours (same thing w me i love talking a lot) i love singing and I’m v grounded and my opinion on things usually stay unchanged. (i also love affection and holding hands) Thank you so much💝✨ - To do

Anonymous said:

Hi! May I request a BTS ship please! I’m 5 ft 6, down to earth type, sensitive, soft-spoken, shy but very outgoing once I get to know someone. Also kind, cheerful, sweet & calm, I tend to be a dreamer, love listening to Kpop, reading, traveling & writing poetry. I also can sing/dance a bit!! my style is cusual/chic/comfy. A bit clumsy, laid-back & insecure alot. I tend to never give up on any task, love going on adventures. I really love helping others & really really enjoy skinship! Thank you🙏 - To do

Anonymous said:

Hi, Can I request for a written ship with BTS please? Thank you!! I’m 170cm, a Scorpio, Ravenclaw. I’m energetic/fun-loving, friendly, a listener/caring and easy-going, but also overly sensitive. I love food and eat a lot, and I’m a pretty lazy homebody whose ideal day is to sleep in, play video games and watch drama/anime or read. In a relationship I like spending a lot of time with my partner cuddling, talking a lot from shallow, derpy things to deep debates, or exploring new places with them. - To do

Anonymous said:

Hi~ Can I have a Red Velvet ship pls? I’m very introverted & come across as cold at first. But people say I’m super sweet once they get to know me. I’m very 4D & love bad jokes/puns. I’m a homebody, but love going out on adventures when in the mood. I love animals, traveling, late night drives, stargazing, reading, art, & watching movies. I play guitar & want to be a songwriter. I'm very into social issues & psychology. I have anxiety/depression & am moody at times. Very into skinship. Tysm! - To do

Anonymous said:

can you do a scenario where jungkook and you broke up but he’s desperately trying to win you back and you ring for an elevator trying to leave he gets in with you and it gets smutty ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°) snd then you guys get back together after that ,, thank youuu! – In progress

Anonymous said:

Holaa! Can i request a Jimin scenario where his lover (not GF or wife) his LOVER is unexpectedly pregnant and they don't know what to do cause of his career and the scandal that might cause him to have a baby with a girl that's not actually his partner? pls - To do

Anonymous said:

Hii, can I have a bts ship please!! I'm pretty quiet and nervous around people idk but once I get to know them I can't stop talking and to some people it's a bit irritating haha. I randomly get sad a lot and it's a little hard to handle at times. I'm pretty clingy tbh and I lovelovelove cuddling. Bad jokes are my favorite things in the world. Physically, I'm korean and I have longish black hair. I have really annoying acne and dimples but I hate my smile lol. And ye that's it. Thank you!! - To do

unniesao said:

Written ship with BTS.I'm 5'3 with really pale skin, I have green/blue eyes and red hair (natural)! I'm from Ireland.i love sports,makeup,fashion,art and skincare. I love Dancing and singing! But in kpop groups I like the rappers! I have lots of natural aegyo. I'm really quiet and I don't trust people easily. I worry a lot and am drawn to people who have a motherly side to them, a caring type.I love giving but not receiving skinship! I speak lots of languages and want to learn more! Thank you! - To do

channynipa said:

Hi❤️ Can I have a self ship w/Yoongi,pls? I'm ENFJ,the eldest of 4,making me reliable & a good leader. I'm supportive,caring,affectionate,trustworthy,kind,strong both physically & mentally. I get competitive & fearless sometimes. I'm a good listener so as a good adviser. I'm not the type to open my worries to others fast & likely to say it's fine. In fact, I just need someone who will face me and tell me to be honest w/them. I have so much love to share w/everyone, esp. my fam & people I care. I'm good w/children,they make me super happy!😍 My friends say I'm persuasive,good w/words,funny,very friendly & warm. I LIKE flowers,animals,coffee & LOVE cuddling,skinship and watching movie(horror movies are my fav). I enjoy theme park & advanturous things. I really like listening to music & going for a walk at night. I don't really like changes,hate heat & worst w/directions. I'm always there for my siblings. Smile's always on my face & I hope everyone can smile,too. TYSM & take your time.❤️ - To do

unflame said:

bts ship pls? i’m canadian/korean with neck length peach hair and 170cm tall. people are scared of me at first as i have a bad rbf, but i like to joke around and laugh a lot. i’m very skin ship-y and love to cuddle. i’m more of a homebody but i do enjoy hanging out with friends for karaoke, drinking, and movies. i’ve been told i’m mature but also really impatient and sometimes tease others a little too much. i also tend to be flirty w/o knowing which can be a problem rip me - To do

chana-ninja said:

Hi~. Can I get a selfship with Jungkookie(BTS) please?? I’m honest and always keep my word. Others usually say that I'm polite, feminine, caring, reliable and fun to tease. I can be a dork, unconscious humming song, clueless sometimes, and clumsy... very often. I love sweets (let’s say all kind of food) flowers and ANIMALS. I'm adventurous and love traveling. I prefer walking to driving. I like drawing and enjoy listening to music. I'm also a fan of Horror movies. Thank you❤️ - To do

littlewriterme said:

Hi! Could I get a bts written ship?I'm 5'3" with light brown skin and black curly hair. No one knows what color my eyes are but I see green and sometimes grey! I'm smiley and positive and say what I mean. I love singing and dancing as well as writing music. I want to produce music or be a singer in the future. I'm also self conscious so exercise and grew to love it. I like hikes, coffee, and rainy days! A day in is nice too but I also love traveling! I'm easily annoyed but also caring! Thanks!❤️ - To do

zoohope said:

Excuse me, can I get a ship with shinee minho please ? I'm an anime, video games nerd, that listening to a lot of music. I like to sing, dance, draw and rap. I also like to read but I have a reading problem sorry for spelling errors. I'm the youngest child of 5. I'm 13. I'm very shy but if you get me out my shell I'm very loud and out going. I get scared easily when I watch horrors but I love horrors. My friend call me innocent cause I don't get dirty jokes. I love cats but dogs like me too. - To do

thegirlthatlikesasianboys said:

Hello! 💖 Can I have a BTS and GOT7 ship? My name is Jahné. 5'3, chubby, a Scorpio, ISTJ, I'm known to be shy among friends and family, sometimes very mature for my age (16), I love reading and watching stuff about conspiracies (aliens, abnormalities etc). Introvert, very perverted, I love anything that involves Art especially photography and design, I'm also such a nerd!! (Anime/games you know how it goes) I'm a little clumsy, and I also like to write fanfictions Thank you so much!!!!! 😍💖 - To do

sorry-ionlydrinkmilk said:

Hello :) Could I pretty please get a self-ship with Jimin BTS? I'm actually kind, friendly, down to earth and also clumsy. I well have the mind of 19+ lol I cannot live without talking and really love taking care of others. Good adviser. Yet, there is a time I need someone to hear me pour out about anything and give me courage. My goal is to have a big family. Love running, dancing and advanturous things even though I'd rather choose to lay down all day lol Thank you so much for your effort. - To do

thebreathbeforethekiss said:

Hi, May I please get a self ship with Tae Tae? I'm an ambivert. I study/work hard too, which is good, but I sometimes become too distracted by it and forget to sleep and eat. I tend to take care of others before myself. I'm a perfectionist but not to an extreme. I believe that life is easier when you share your positivity to others. If someone I like asks me for a favor, I'd do it without a second thought. All in for skinship. My hobbies; relaxing, daydreaming, listening to music. Thank you <3 - To do

before-i--fall-in-love said:

Hey there!! I was wondering if I could get a self-ship with BTS Jin please? I'm very cuddly, loving, motherly in nature. Really nice a friendly to everyone including strangers, good with kids (and animals!!), polite around adults. I absolutely love being around animals and people. I tend to be very empathetic and I love to encourage people through their hard times because I have been through hard times. I love that I can let go easily like moving on happily with understanding. People tend to describe me as sweet and charming with a very quick witted sharp tongue lol. In my spare time, I dance and work-out, as well as watching movie (horror and romantic comedy movies) and cooking. I love cuddling and skinship in general. I am also really family oriented. I spend a lot of time with my family. I especially really love children. I really want to get married :D and be a mom someday. If I can’t be a mom, I want to be a mother to a bunch of puppies. Thank you very much 💗 - To do

chanitnim said:

Hi! Can I have a selfship with Namjoon please? I'm very carefree, open and happy in general. I'm the type to say ok to anything with no regrets. I tend to be easy to read and be able to get over lost/sadness faster than others. Friends say I'm bubbly, funny, approachable and reliable. I'm very forgetful and pretty lazy. Observing people, arts, languages CHOCOLATE and a long nice walk are LOVE❤️ Just no bugs! I get scare easily but horror movies are my fav! Thank you! - To do

the-dreamer-doer

Hi! I hope I'm sending this right? Let me know otherwise 💕 I was thinking a requesting a self ship with bts Suga? I’m 155 cm tall, have long straight dark hair and brown eyes. I’m usually dressed pretty casually in something like black skinny jeans and knitted shirts. I’m openminded, polite ,creative,softspoken,kind,friendly,introverted,calm & quiet(I can be pretty quiet even when I’m close to someone, but I also have days when I’m very talktaktive). At first I can seem cold/awkward because I’m shy/quiet/in my own world. I’ve been told that I seem like someone who has a responsible, calm, sweet and gentle personality. I’m pretty independent and value authenticity and dislike burdening people with my problems. I always try to be friendly but sometimes get slightly anxious in some social situations as I find it difficult to make conversation with new people (I try to hide that, though).Also, I’m kind of easily distracted and don’t always notice things in my surroundings. I like to paint (actually just art in general, like photography, etc),play piano (I’ve mostly played classical, though),travel,read,be w/friends,sleep,watch movies,listen to music & dance. I’m a major homebody but I do like going outside on adventures and I love travelling. I’m a huge procrastinator but I’m also pretty ambitious and perfectionistic so I’m often feeling like I’m not working hard enough whilst like… procrastinating, haha. I dislike inconsiderate and judgmental people who cannot/don’t care to put themselves in other people’s shoes. I really like skinship and cuddling but only when I’m close to someone. Thank you! - To do

#ask statuses #request statuses #To do list #update

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anavoliselenu · 7 years

Text

Claim me chapter 6

She follows me into my bedroom and perches at my desk in front of my laptop. It’s open, and the screensaver is a slideshow of pictures of Justin that I took in Santa Barbara. Justin with so much light and humor in his eyes that I can’t ever look at those photos without smiling. Between that screensaver and the exquisite, original Monet painting Justin gave me that now hangs between my desk and my dresser, I cannot enter this room without feeling cherished. It’s a nice feeling, and one that I am not used to. In college, my apartment was simply a place to live. With my mother, my room was the place I wanted to escape. But here, there is Jamie and my newfound freedom. There is excitement. There is potential.

Most of all, there is Justin.

This room is proof that I really have moved on, and that where I am going is where I want to be.

At my desk, Jamie is typing away. “Raine,” she finally says.

I’m standing by my closet, debating between a blue skirt and a gray one, and it takes me a moment to realize she’s not talking about precipitation.

“Bryan Raine,” she says, when I turn to face her, as if that will make me understand. Since my face apparently continues to register complete cluelessness, she shakes her head in mock exasperation, and taps the laptop screen. “My guy is Bryan Raine.”

Despite my rush, I’m curious enough to forgo my wardrobe analysis to see what she’s doing, and when I reach my desk, I see that she’s pulled up a series of images. They’re all of the same man. Gorgeous, mostly shirtless, with a well-fucked quality and the kind of eyes and facial structure and that dirty blond hair a camera loves. Most of the images, in fact, are from advertisements. Cars, men’s cologne. Jeans. I have to confess that the man could definitely sell a pair of jeans.

“That’s him,” Jamie says proudly.

“That’s the guy you were out with last night?”

“Yup.” She grins mischievously. “Though we stayed in most of the time. Pretty hot, huh?”

“He’s incredible,” I say as I move to my dresser and rummage for panties and a bra. For a moment, I hesitate. In the game I’ve been playing with Justin, I’ve had to follow his rules. And for the last two weeks, I’ve worn neither bra nor panties. It was odd at first, but undeniably sexy, especially when I was with him, knowing that at any moment he could slip a hand under my skirt. That he could touch me, tease me, even fingerfuck me.

There’s something desperately erotic about being naked beneath your clothes, and even when Justin wasn’t around, my body was keyed up, and I was aware of every brush of material over my rear and every whisper of a breeze that stroked my sex.

But this isn’t a game, it’s the first day of a new job and the Elizabeth Fairchild Rules for Living are too ingrained in my life. I might have spent my entire life trying to escape from my mother, but she has still soaked in through the cracks. And in my mother’s world, the thrill of sexual freedom doesn’t override the necessity of panties at work.

I slip on my underwear, sigh, and return to the closet to continue debating my outfit.

I glance at Jamie to see if she has an opinion, but she’s still gazing dreamily at the screen. “Don’t get drool on my keyboard,” I chide. “So how did you meet him?”

“He’s my co-star,” she says, referring to the commercial she’s about to start shooting. “He mostly models, but he’s also done a few television guest appearances and he was even one of the bad guys in the last James Bond movie.”

“He was?” I’d actually seen that movie, and I don’t remember him.

“Well, he stood around with a gun and looked hot,” she amends. “But he was on the bad guy team.”

“But you guys haven’t started to shoot yet,” I say, because I’m still confused. “So why did you go out with him? Which one?” I add, holding up the two skirts I’m considering.

“The blue. And he called me. He said that since the commercial’s basically a love story in thirty seconds, we ought to go out and suss out our chemistry.”

“I take it the chemistry is good?”

“Sizzling,” Jamie agrees, and although I’m still not thrilled about the ease with which Jamie bounces from bed to bed, I can’t deny that this morning my roommate looks good. Sparkly, fizzy good, and I figure that the new job and the new guy have a lot to do with that. I feel a surge of protectiveness mixed with relief and tinged with a tiny bit of worry. Jamie’s never confided in me about it, but I’m pretty sure that before I moved in she often chose her men based not on attraction but on their willingness to help her make the mortgage. If a real relationship develops between Jamie and Bryan Raine, no one will be happier than me. But if he ends up breaking her heart, I have a feeling that my strong, self-sufficient roommate will shatter.

I glance at her and see that she’s frowning. I swallow, afraid that my fears show on my face. “What is it?”

“You’re really wearing a skirt? I thought you tech folks were all about the jeans and T-shirts with math equations.”

I scowl, because I happen to own several T-shirts with truly funny math jokes. “First day on the job, and I’m not doing the tech side, remember. I’m management. I want to look professional.”

I’ve zipped up the blue skirt, and now I slide my feet into my favorite pair of pumps, then slip on a white silk shell that I top with a darling jacket I found at one of the studio resale shops that Jamie took me to during our Selena-just-arrived-in-LA shopping spree. It has a classical cut with a muted pattern in gray and blue. The clerk told us that it was worn by one of the characters on some television show I never watched, but that Jamie assured me was great fun.

“I want to hear more about this guy,” I tell her as I move back into the bathroom to fly through my makeup routine. “But I have to get going.” She follows me and leans against the door as I finish up by carefully lining my eyes and brushing mascara on my lashes. When I’m done, I do a little spin in the tiny area between the tub and the sink. “Do I look okay?”

“When don’t you?” she asks. “And if anyone asks, Lauren Graham wore that jacket on Gilmore Girls. Trust me, it’s cool.”

I nod, taking her word for it.

“Want to meet after work? I’ll tell you about Raine and you can tell me all about your nights away from home, too. I want to hear everything.”

“Sounds good,” I say, not bothering to tell her that where Justin is concerned, there is no way that I’m going to be revealing “everything.” “Du-par’s?” I ask.

“Are you shitting me? I want a drink. Meet me at Firefly,” she says, referring to a local bar on Ventura Boulevard that we went to my first night in town.

“I’ll text you as I’m leaving work,” I say, then pull her into a hug. “I’m really glad about this guy. I can’t wait to hear more.”

“I can’t wait to see more,” she says with a wicked grin. “Trust me, I could look at that man all day.”

I leave Jamie sighing and probably replaying last night’s coital gymnastics in her mind, then hurry down the back stairs to the parking area. As I pull out, I see the limo in my rearview mirror. I keep an eye on it until I turn, but it doesn’t move from the spot, and as I turn onto Ventura Boulevard, I can’t help but smile. After all, it’s not every day I manage to outmaneuver Justin Stark.

Despite the fact that my ancient Honda has very little spunk and has lately taken to stalling out at stoplights, I manage to get from Studio City to the Innovative Resources office in Burbank in less than fifteen minutes, completely stall-free. I consider this a stellar beginning to the day. I park next to a red Mini Cooper that I eye jealously, then lock my car and head toward the ugly four-story stucco building that houses the Innovative offices along with a few subtenants.

My phone beeps and I pause in the middle of the parking lot to pull it out of my purse, then smile when I see it’s from Justin.

Thinking of you. Be good on your first day. Get along with the other kids. But don’t share your candy.

I laugh and tap out a reply. I only share my candy w/ u.

His reply makes me smile. Very glad to hear it.

I answer quickly. Heading into building now. Wish me luck.

His response is just as quick. Luck, though you don’t need it. Meeting reconvening, must go. Tonight, baby. Until then, imagine me, touching you.

I always do, I reply, then sigh happily as I slide my phone back into my purse, but not before noticing the time. It’s only 9:45, which means that I have fifteen minutes before I’m supposed to report for work.

My phone rings, and I pull it out. Justin again. “I’m imagining,” I say, keeping my tone sultry.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” He doesn’t sound sultry at all. In fact, he sounds downright pissed. I grimace. Apparently, he’s just spoken to Edward.

“Going to work,” I say.

“I’m supposed to be in a meeting right now.”

“So why aren’t you?”

“Dammit, Selena—”

“No,” I snap. “I’m the only one who gets to say that. Dammit, Justin, I am perfectly capable of driving myself. And if you want to hire out Edward then ask me. It’s easy. You walk up to me and say, ‘Selena, darling, light of my life, can I have my driver take you to work?’ ”

There is a pause, and I hope that he is laughing. “And you would have said yes?”

“No,” I admit. “But that’s the way you should have handled it. It’s my job, Justin. I want to drive myself. I will drive myself.”

“I don’t want you around the paparazzi without someone there with you.”

Oh. I feel a little bit better. I don’t agree with what he did, but at least there was a reason for doing it. “Nobody’s here,” I say.

“But there could have been.”

“And I would have dealt with it,” I say, probably too sharply. I count to five. “You can’t be with me every second of every day. No matter how much I wish you could. I’m going to see them when I’m alone. It’s going to happen, and we both just have to deal with it.”

I hear him exhale. “I don’t like it.”

“Me, neither.”

“Dammit, Selena.”

I don’t answer. I don’t know what to say.

Finally Justin speaks. “I’m going to my meeting,” he says, but what he means is, I’m worried about you.

“I’m fine,” I say. “And, Justin?”

“Yes?”

“Thank you. Right emotion. Crappy execution.”

That gets a laugh out of him. “We’ll have to agree to disagree on that,” he says. “It is not an argument I can have from Palm Springs.”

I frown. Apparently it is an argument he can have in Los Angeles. Great.

He really does have to go to his meeting, so he ends the call, and I’m left scowling at my phone and the knowledge that I’m going to have to deal with not only the paparazzi, but with Justin trying to babysit me through my day.

I shove the problem out of my head and hurry into the building. I no longer have time to grab a coffee, but that’s okay because I don’t want to risk spilling it on my white blouse. As my mother’s voice in my head reminds me, there are better ways to make a first impression than coffee stains on your outfit.

The reception area is on the fourth floor, and I punch the elevator call button and wait impatiently for the elevator to arrive.

The doors finally slide open and I shift to one side to let the passengers get off. I’m about to step into the car when I hear a throaty, familiar voice behind me.

“Well, look at you, Texas. All dressed up with someplace to go.”

I turn and find myself facing Evelyn Dodge, a brassy broad if ever there was one, and one of my favorite people in the world. She’s wearing flowing black pants and gold sandals that look like something imported from Morocco. The pants are mostly obscured by a blustery multi-patterned shirt that, as far as I can tell, was created by stitching together dozens of Hermes scarves. She looks a bit like a gypsy with very expensive taste.

“I knew today was your first day,” she says, “but I didn’t think I’d get lucky enough to see you.”

I realize that I’m still staring at her in complete surprise—and blocking the entrance to the elevator. I step to the side so that the small group that has gathered can get on, and force myself to speak despite the grin that is plastered across my face.

“What on earth are you doing here?” I ask. Evelyn lives in Malibu, not far from Justin’s new house, and she’s not the type to make the trek to the Valley unless the apocalypse is upon us.

“Same thing you are, Texas.”

I lift a brow in amusement. “You’re going into the tech industry? Designing an iPhone app to feature Blaine’s work?”

She taps her nose and points at me. “Not a bad idea, actually, and I just may have to wrangle some advice out of you about that later. But no. I’m here to see Bruce.”

“Why?” The question is out of my mouth before I realize how completely rude it sounds.

Evelyn, however, isn’t the kind to take offense. “I need one of his keys,” she says, then barks out a throaty laugh. “But don’t worry. It’s not for a tryst. Blaine’s more than I can handle in that department—and now he’s decided he wants to touch up some of the paintings for Saturday’s showing, but apparently they’re in the gallery’s off-site storage facility.”

Now I really am confused. “Can’t Giselle let you in?” Giselle is Bruce’s wife and the owner of a few Southern California art galleries. Saturday’s cocktail party will not only feature the portrait of me—though only a handful of guests will actually know that I am the model on the wall—but also a number of Blaine’s other paintings.

“If she hadn’t hauled her ass to Palm Springs, sure. But she called me from the road. Apparently she’s on her way to get a few pieces from her gallery there, and her assistant doesn’t have the spare key to the unit. Why the hell Giselle gave it to Bruce instead of her assistant, I don’t know. Sometimes, that woman baffles me.”

“Justin’s in Palm Springs, too. He went there this morning.”

“Too bad Giselle didn’t know. She could have dumped the job of bringing the paintings back on him. Would have saved me a trip.” Evelyn shakes her head. “Frankly, I would have much rather gone to Palm Springs than Burbank, and I’m sure she knows it, but I think she and Brucey boy are having another tiff.”

“Why are they fighting?”

“With those two? Who the hell knows.” She brushes the conversation away, as if it is old news, but to me the topic of Giselle is one of unpleasant but undeniable interest. I’d been jealous of the woman for about five minutes when I’d first met Justin at Evelyn’s party because it had seemed to me that she was the girl on Justin’s arm. Once I’d learned that she was married, however, the jealousy had been shoved into a dark corner where it belonged. I wouldn’t say that the jealousy has returned, but my hope that Bruce and Giselle quickly regain a state of marital bliss is definitely more selfish than altruistic.

“And what about you?” Evelyn continues. “I keep hoping you and that camera of yours will take me up on my offer so that I can ply you with drink and wrangle some gossip, but I guess you don’t need me now that you’ve got Justin’s view at your disposal.”

“It is one hell of a view,” I admit. “But I’d still love to come over sometime.”

“Anytime. Bring your camera if you want,” she says. “Or just come for the liquor and the gossip. Both flow free at my house. Advice, too, if you need it. But from what I’m hearing, you’re doing just fine.”

“Blaine’s been telling stories on me.” I can’t help my grin. The skinny young artist and the large brassy woman don’t seem like a couple at first glance. And while Evelyn will say she only keeps Blaine around to warm her bed, I have a feeling there’s a lot more to it than that.

“Hell, yes. What’s the point of sending that boy out in the world if he doesn’t bring me back the dirt?”

“And?”

“You’re boringly dirt-free,” she says. “From what I hear, you’re swimming in bliss.”

I laugh. “I’ll go with that.”

“Good. Glad I’m not the only one getting hot sex regularly.”

My cheeks burn, and I have to press my lips together not to burst out laughing.

“But it’s more than that, I take it? From what Blaine says, it sounds like you’ve tamed the savage beast.” I don’t reply, but her words please me so much that I’m pretty sure I must be glowing. “So there’s no new dramas on the horizon?”

“No,” I say warily, because this is neither the time nor the place to tell her about Carl’s threats. From her tone, though, I can’t help but fear that she already knows. “Why? Is there something I should know?”

She waves an airy hand through the air. “Not a thing.”

I narrow my eyes at her. Evelyn may have been a good liar back in her agenting days, but she has lost the knack.

She eyes me, then snorts with laughter. “Aw, hell, Texas. I meant what I said. There’s nothing you need to worry about. Not now, anyway.”

Several groups of people have gotten on and off the elevator during our conversation, and now the car once again opens in front of us.

“Time to go to work, right?” Evelyn says.

“You are not getting off that easy,” I retort, following her on. I have every intention of interrogating her, but there’s no time during the short ride up, and when the doors open, there’s no privacy. The receptionist, a girl my age who I remember is named Cindy, immediately stands.

“Wow, it’s so cool to have you here,” she says to me, then blushes. “I mean, you’re going to fit in great. We can do lunch if you want.”

“Thanks,” I say, with a sidelong glance toward Evelyn, who only looks amused. “I think I’m having lunch with Bruce today.”

“Oh, right. Mr. Tolley’s ready for you. Just a sec, and I’ll walk you back.” She turns to Evelyn before I have the chance to tell her I’m supposed to meet first with the lady from Human Resources. “May I help you?”

“Evelyn Dodge,” Evelyn says. “I called Bruce about picking up—”

“Oh, sure thing, Ms. Dodge.” She comes around the desk and hands Evelyn an envelope that presumably contains a key.

Evelyn slides it into her humongous purse and points a finger at me. “We’ll see each other tomorrow, Texas.”

“Yeah,” I say meaningfully. Evelyn is one of the few people who knows the identity of the woman in Blaine’s portrait. “You’ll certainly be seeing plenty of me tomorrow.”

Evelyn guffaws and then steps back onto the elevator. I follow Cindy down the plain gray halls to Bruce’s office, Evelyn’s laughter still ringing in my ears.

We don’t even make it to the office before Bruce emerges. When we met during the interview, he’d been the picture of corporate calm. Now he looks undeniably harried. “Selena, great to see you.” He holds out his hand for me to shake. It’s firm and no-nonsense, and I think that bodes well for Bruce as a boss.

Cindy returns to reception and Bruce starts down the hallway, easing farther into the bowels of the company. He’s moving fast, and I hurry to keep up. If the fight with his wife is weighing on him, I don’t see it. He looks like a man with a work problem, not a marital one.

“If this is a bad time,” I begin. “I mean, I’m pretty sure Human Resources is expecting me.”

“I talked with Trish. She’ll take care of your paperwork this afternoon. Right now, I’ve got something I’d like you to handle.” He comes to a stop outside an office, its closed door covered with taped-on cartoons and various band logos. “I hope you don’t mind getting thrown to the wolves.”

I eye the door curiously. The truth is that I have no idea what he’s talking about, but what I do know is that the proper response to such a question from your new boss is “Not at all. What’s going on?”

“Calendaring screw up and I’m double-booked. I need you and Tanner to head downtown to meet with the IT team at Suncoast Bank. They’re interested in the 128-bit encryption algorithm we’ve been beta testing. You’ll be stepping in to head up marketing on the product anyway, but I had hoped to give you a little time in-house to get your feet wet. Sorry to bring all this down on your first day.”

“Not a problem,” I say. My voice is calm, but inside I’m doing cartwheels. Bruce told me about Innovative’s cutting-edge encryption software during my interview, and I know that it is shaping up to be the company’s gold-standard product. I hadn’t expected to actually land such a choice assignment right off the bat, but since I have, I fully intend to use this meeting as a chance to prove to my boss that I can do this job, and do it well.

“It shouldn’t be too hard a sell,” Bruce adds. “The product is exactly what they need, but we’re going to want to put our own team on-site to make sure their IT group gets trained properly and that we have eyes on and a fast response to every bug and every glitch.”

“Of course.”

“That’s why I’m sending Tanner in, too,” he adds, tapping lightly on the cartoon-covered door. “He worked on the development of the project and, frankly, I think it would be good for him to work six months in-house with a client.”

“Why?”

Bruce frowns. “If you don’t mind mixing business with pleasure, we can go into that when I see you tomorrow. Right now, I’ll just say that when I was talking about the wolves, I didn’t mean the client.”

“Sure,” I say, realizing with a mental head-thwap that of course he’s going to be at the party. The first hour will be intimate—just our friends who know that it’s me up there on Justin’s wall—but then Justin is opening the third floor to a whole slew of Blaine’s clients.

A voice filters out from behind the still-closed door. “I said ‘come in,’ already.”

Bruce pushes the door open, and a blond man with a surfer’s tan and the air of a salesman looks up at us. His desk is buried under an array of papers, and probably twice as many sheets are splayed out across the floor. He looks up at us and smiles widely. I know I should wait until I have more to go on, but I instinctively do not like this man.

“Bruce!” he says, his voice full of friendly bluster. “Just got off the phone with Phil. He’s sending up the information on the Continental Mortgage proposal. I’ll make sure he stays on top of it.”

“Sounds good,” Bruce says, but I have the feeling he’s only half-listening. “Tanner, this is Selena.”

Tanner’s smile grows even wider and for an odd second I feel as though I’m looking at a mirror of myself. That’s not a real smile any more than my practiced pageant smile. Or any more than the Social Selena smile I paste on right now.

“We’ve all heard a lot about you,” Tanner says. “Everyone’s been eager to meet the flavor of the month.” He half-laughs as his eyes dart to Bruce. “So welcome aboard and all that.”

I meet Tanner’s eyes and deliberately let my smile grow wider. “I’ll try to live up to expectations.” I shift just enough so that I’m looking at both men, then I pull out all the stops, dazzling them with my “what I really want is world peace” pageant-perfect smile.

“I’m sure you will,” Bruce says. “We’re thrilled you’ve joined the team.” The sincerity in his tone is unmistakable, and I can tell by the look on Tanner’s face that he realizes it, too.

“We really should get going,” Tanner says, then grabs a messy sheaf of papers off his desk and shoves them into a leather messenger bag.

“Here.” Bruce hands me a notebook with Suncoast embossed on the cover. “You can bone up on the specs during the drive.”

He tells us that he needs to go prep for his own meeting, promises me we’ll do our first-day lunch on Monday, then wishes us luck. Before I know it I’m standing in front of the elevator with Tanner beside me. And, yes, I’m a little nervous. Sure, I can do this job. I understand encryption algorithms and I’m more than capable of presenting a good company face to a client. It’s not my skill that’s bothering me. It’s the fact that I’m standing next to a man who, for some inexplicable reason, seems to despise me.

Bruce may not have noticed, but I’m certain I didn’t misread Tanner. Suddenly I feel a little sick to my stomach. And that queasiness turns into downright nausea when we step onto the elevator and he leans against the far wall, his eyes on me and his lip curled up as if he’s just seen something gross in the road.

I look away, intending to ignore it, but I stop, because suddenly I’m thinking of Justin. To say that he’s the most successful businessman I know would be an understatement. So what would Justin do when faced with a recalcitrant, disrespectful colleague? Would he turn away and pretend to ignore it?

For that matter, if Selena Fairchild met up with some backbiting bitch under social circumstances, would she ignore it?

She would not.

I may be well-practiced in not showing my true face to most of the world, but even Social Selena wouldn’t stand for this kind of shit. Neither would Justin Stark.

And neither will Business Selena.

I press the emergency stop button, then take a step closer to Tanner. I’m not enjoying the proximity, but I deliberately put myself in his personal space. The sneer fades, and he actually looks a little uncomfortable.

“Do you have a problem?” I ask, ignoring the bell that’s now ringing at annoyingly regular intervals.

His lips thin, and he pales a bit under the tan. For a second I think that this is it. I’ve made my point and won the alpha dog title.

Then he opens his mouth, and I see his color return. “Yeah,” he says. “You’re my problem.”

I force myself to stay where I’m standing. At least now it’s out in the open. “Me? You mean working together?”

“Working together? Together? Is that what you call it?”

“At the moment, no,” I admit. “I don’t think this is working at all.”

“We’re not working together,” he says, making air quotes with his fingers. “You’re my fucking boss now.”

“Yeah,” I say. “I am. And I suggest you think before you talk to me like that.” Seriously, what the hell is this guy’s problem?

“This was supposed to be my job. I worked this encryption package since day one. I know it inside and out. And I’ve proven to Bruce over and over again that I can head up a team. Then what happens? Some privileged little bitch decides she wants to work for pin money, and suddenly I’m booted back downstairs.”

“Pin money?” I repeat. “What century are you living in?”

“What’s the matter? Get bored with spending your boyfriend’s money? Thought you’d come here and shake things up? Do you know how many calls Cindy’s had to field? Dozens of calls from reporters who just want to know if you really work here. It’s a fucking waste of her time.”

The tempo of my pulse kicks up and I feel beads of sweat rise in my cleavage. How the hell would the press know that I work here? And why won’t they back the hell off? Even with Justin Stark in my life, I am just not that interesting.

On the upside, Tanner’s enigmatic “flavor of the month” comment makes more sense.

“And you know what really chaps my ass?” he asks, then continues without waiting for an answer. “The fact that you’re here just because the boss wants to make his wife happy.”

Now my head really is spinning. I haven’t got a clue what Giselle has to do with this, but at this point, I’m done playing games.

I reach over and start the elevator up again, then turn back to him once it lurches into motion. “This job requires a certain amount of finesse. An ability to communicate with clients and the public. And most of all a talent for smiling at people that you’d much rather spit on.” I flash my brightest Social Selena smile at him. “Tanner,” I say. “I don’t think this position is for you.”

We reach the lobby, and the doors open. I step out, leaving him to follow. I am the one in charge here, and he can damn well deal with it. I may not have a handle on everything he’s just said, but I know enough to know that if I don’t take control now, he’ll do whatever he can to snatch it from me.

As we head through the lobby toward the exit, I see a poised-looking Asian woman sitting at a table outside the cafeteria. She’s reading what looks to be a stock report, and in the brief instant when she flips a page, her eyes lift and catch mine. I’ve never seen her before, but something in her poised, confident manner inspires me. This is my job, and I got it on merit, not because of Justin, and certainly not because of Giselle. I’m in charge here, and I’m damn well going to prove it.

I march to the exit and burst through the doors—and half a second later, my bright, shiny bubble of self-assurance pops as six paparazzi with flashing cameras and rising voices rush toward us from where they were apparently lying in wait in the parking lot.

Before I can even think about reacting, I am verbally bombarded.

“Is it true that Stark is looking to take over Innovative Resources?”

“Selena, what exactly is your role at IR?”

I fight to keep my composure. To keep my Business Selena face plastered on. I hate this, but I’m not going to let them have the satisfaction of knowing it.

“Are you reporting back to Stark’s company?”

“What do you say to the allegations of corporate espionage?”

At that, I have to force myself not to clench my hands. Not because I want the pain, but because I want to smash my fist into the face of whichever one of these assholes has dared to suggest that Justin would send me in as a corporate spy.

“Is this a ploy to up your value to reality-show producers?”

“Tell us about the real Selena—is it true your sister committed suicide?”

I stumble backward, my composure knocked out of me by the force of those words.

No. No, no, no.

This time I do clench my fists. I want the pain. I need it to collect myself. To give me strength.

I need it because I have to find the will to put the mask back on. To face these people. And then to get the hell out of here.

Slowly, I square my shoulders. And though it takes every ounce of strength within me, I look at each one of them in turn. Then I flash my million-watt smile. “No comment,” I say, before I turn casually around to find Tanner.

He’s still in the building doorway, and my eyes locate him just in time to see his smug expression fade. “Hurry up, Tanner,” I say as I push my way past the paparazzi. “We need to get to a meeting.”

“Oh, my God! I can’t believe you got paired to work with such a twit!” Jamie says. We’re sitting at the polished wooden bar in Firefly Studio City drinking dirty martinis. She eats the final olive out of hers, then points the little plastic sword at me. “It’s like you’re living a sitcom. No, a movie,” she amends. “One of those screwball comedies where the spunky heroine is paired with the completely incompetent idiot and wackiness ensues.”

“Except he’s vengeful, not incompetent. And doesn’t the heroine in those movies always end up with the idiot?”

“Not necessarily,” Jamie says, leaning back and looking smug. “Not so long as there’s another love interest in the B-story.” She swipes her hand through the air. “A Day with Tanner. I can practically see the trailer.”

I grimace. “Well, you can star in it. Personally, I’d rather have another leading man.”

“You do,” Jamie says. “And as much as it pains me not to talk about either of our fuckalicious men, I want to hear the rest of this story first. How did the camera-vultures know you were there? Did Tanner tell them? Have you told Justin about the corporate espionage comment? Was he totally livid?”

“I’m going to tell him when I see him,” I say. “And yeah, he’ll be livid.” I bite back a grimace. This wouldn’t have been prevented by Edward driving me to work, but I have a feeling that simple fact isn’t going to matter when Justin hears what happened and goes ballistic.

y> <T3A

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outofnecessity · 7 years

Text

A Circle of Temporaries

“Are you going to remember The Breaking? Once the ‘memic takes, I mean.” Graole questions the one Transient he still trusts.

“You know you’re the only one still doing this?” Vike watches Graole’s eyes closely. He thinks the glass obstructs his worry. It doesn’t. Is he worried about the whole process or is he worried specifically about me?

“Yes I know none of my counterparts use it anymore. And they continue to wonder why higher profile personas come only to me.”

“You’re talking about Rixen. Have I ever done one of his tasks?” He asks knowing the answer already.

“Not that you remember.” Graole says with a chuckle.

He sighs, “Let’s get this done.”

“You know it’s not your first time.”

“In my case, knowing and remembering are two separate things.”

Graole’s silent. He doesn’t want to talk about this. He wants it to be over. He can’t put his finger on whether he feels bad or just hates the whole thing.

“You’re going to send me what I need to know during the…” Vike can’t find words that fit the shape of his ideas.

“Yes, don’t you worry about a thing. Your buddy Graole has got a handle on everything. This is a big undertaking. I’ve closed up shop for this.” He twists a knob on the wall. Then presses his hand against the glass window that separates him and Vike as the sprinklers above unleash the soft blue colored Reopolymemic. The blue takes on a yellow tinge as the light hits it. He thinks about how most everything in this city is about separation. It sickens him. And yet he is a part of it. Part of this peace that Key Rixen has crafted. He thinks about last year’s Cariteon rains and how Rixen insisted he stockpile the crystals. Most would be surprised by how deep he’s in Rixen’s pocket.

He watches the liquid harden and encase his friend. “I really hope this is the last time because I don’t think your brain can handle more of this torture. Your new task is beneficial for all. You will tell them all of The Breaking. But especially the one that is known only as The Moth. He will protect you. He will show the way out of this place. I know it’s what you’ve been looking for. You want out, don’t you?”

Vike nods just as the ‘memic reaches and covers his head.

“When you hatch from the ‘memic cocoon you will go to the church. You know the one and you will tell them of your dreams. Your dreams of The Breaking. Only the dreams you’ve had of the Breaking.”

He can feel Graole’s words. They pounce and throb on the ‘memic shell around him. He thinks, I should have just agreed to the needle. He can feel things in his mind blur around him. It’s a cyclone of lost ideas and feelings. Ideas and notions rise and then slip from his attention, like sand sprinkling through his fingers. He can recall a quiet life, a picture perfect life. Is this mine? Before he can consider his own question another image passes by. A baby. He had a baby girl. She’s gone. Graole is there, like he is now, helping Vike forget. This has all happened before. The ‘memic cocoon might as well be his default attire.

He listens as Graole hammers the task’s main details, again and again. Soon it will be all he has in his memory. These memories he’s floating through are long gone and soon they will be gone again. He wishes he could see her again. The smile he helped make was shattered. He doesn’t remember how but the sound is there, in his head. And now he’s falling. It’s dark yet he knows what’s next.

The hatching.

“Once again, the Dreamfilter’s church is your destination. From there they will bring you to the Rift.” Graole looks through the ‘memic shell into his friend’s eyes. “Oh wow, that was quicker than normal. Your name is Vike and you are a transient.” Vike cocks his head and the shell shakes. “A transient is a person who is hired for special activities, we call them tasks. Do you remember that you have a task now?”

The transient tries to nod but motion is limited inside the cocoon.

“Good enough, buddy. Now the Dreamfilter, no one really knows much about them except that you stay away. But for this task you’re going to approach them. Directly. A lot of this knowledge will flow back through you once you’re out of the...” Graole grunts and clears his throats. “But it is good to have a refresher. You’ll know them as soon as you see them because of the gas masks they wear. It’s been said that Dreamers put off a certain air that can be infectious. That’s why whenever one of the Custodians of the Dreamfilter find one they toss the poor bastard off into the Rift.

“Vike, listen carefully.” The yellow tinge of the ‘memic shell has faded. Graole knows they are out of time. “That’s it. I’ve decided. I hate this ‘memic shit. I’m tired and what you’re about to do is the most important thing I’ve ever heard of. It’s been a pleasure helping you.”

The shell loosens around his limbs. Instinctively he rattles the shell by moving each extremity separately. Then he shakes his entire body. The shell rumbles. He can feel it shaking, the feeling registers as sound in his mind but he knows he can’t actually hear it. Finally, his head bursts from the cocoon.

“Graole! What is the Rift?”

“All things surround the Rift. The Custodian will bring you there. You’ll remember more as you get closer to the church. Just remember to speak of the Breaking. It’s important. Absolutely necessary.”

“Why?”

“Because that’s the task, you are to act as if you have dreams so you can be judged and condemned to the Rift.”

“Haven’t I always had dreams?” The familiar sensation of falling overcomes him. That dream is the only constant I know besides Graole. What a life I lead—I put my trust in falling.

“That’s for you to answer. As far as I know you don’t meet any of the requirements of a Dreamer.” There’s a cagey element to Graole’s words like he is trying to let Vike in on something but keep another out.

“What are the requirements?”

“Dreamers come in many different forms, some only experience dreams while they sleep. Others have waking visions, premonitions. And others like myself have ambitions or goals. Fundamentally, all dreams are projecting energy. Whether the brain projects back onto you or if you project onto the world around you or if the world projects unto you. Dreams in any form enhance the basic human experience and Rixen can’t have that.”

“Why not?”

“You’ll have to ask him. Now go. We won’t see each other again Vike.”

The remainder of the shell falls to the floor. He nods to Graole as he stumbles out through the door. Slowly letting his legs return to life.

Graole stares at the pile of expired ‘memic shards. “This is just a waste.”

Key Rixen steps from the dark corner behind Graole. His stance is imposing but his voice always seems to soothe. “Yes and no. We both know there hasn’t been an exposed Dreamer in a long time. That can only mean one thing.”

“The Moth is changing his play.”

“Indeed. I think the star-ship will fly again soon.”

Graole looks up at the sky, through the hole where the roof should be. “What’s going to happen this time? All of the tall structures are gone, the City is a disaster area. A crumbled pile of servitude. Do you really think it can take another failed flight?”

“That is the question your star transient is going to learn for us.”

The walk to the Dreamfilter’s church proves to be quick. The sight of it is startling. The church steeple which surely stood proudly on top of the structure now stands upside down in front of the entrance. One of the Custodians stands motionless inside the steeple, growling at any and all that pass by. Vike walks around it to the entrance, which is nothing more than a gaping hole where a wall used to be. The only real telltale sign of the structure being a church is the overturned pews that have been laid upon one another to build an eerie kind of cage. Anything of value or significance was stolen during the chaos that followed the first and final failure of the Dreamers. It’s part of what set the Separation in motion.

Approaching any Custodian is rare, especially for a transient. They are the dividing force, Rixen’s own votaries—judges that bring and cast Dreamers off into the Rift. There aren’t any features that provide any sort of identity to the Custodians, except in how they carry their weapon. The cross emblem rests in a hip holster. It is a staff-like weapon, meant to look unassuming at first. But with a quick flick of a hidden switch, it can extend to a staff and be used to harm Dreamers from a safe distance. The last time a Dreamer was sentenced, Vike recalls one of the Custodians using the elongated form of the emblem like a sword in the stories of old. Ah Graole was right, some things are coming back to me.

He enters the cage of disheveled pews, laid upon each other like logs. He sits anxiously in the lower set chair that faces where the Custodians congregate. He watches them exchange glances until one makes its way to the cage.

The Custodian’s entrance into the cage is quiet, the robes it wears mask most of its humanity. It seems taller than the others but not by much. However that could just be that this is the closest Vike has ever been to one. At a certain point, exact measurements don’t mean anything anymore. Anywhere near seven feet is a lot of feet for any person to extend to.

Any shimmer of life is guarded and filtered by the gas mask upon the Custodian’s face. The sound of inhalation is mesmerizing, he feels his head bob as the haunting figure sits in the chair opposite him. Only the filter, you must only look at the filter of its gas mask. Keep your head Vike. This confession has to hit every point. Exactly. Graole’s instructions continue to pound on his mind, albeit fractured.

"I do not recognize you. Do you have a place nearby?" He cannot tell from the Custodian’s voice but he assumes the Custodian is a man.

"Yes but I've been away for some time." He shifts uncomfortably in the battered wobbly wooden chair. How much is too much?

The savage leans in closer. "Do I frighten you?" The filter of its gas mask is just barely touching Vike's face.

"Yes."

"Why is that?" It backs up. Its robes barely move. They are fixed in place but not tight to the body of the Custodian. There's a significant curiosity to its movements and tone. It penetrates his ears, ignoring the muffling aspect of the gas mask.

"Because I've been falling." He’s surprised but also impressed by the words that flow out of him. Sorry Graole, I’m doing this my own way. I need to try to learn about this dream of mine. This is my chance. "I go to sleep and while I'm asleep it happens to me.” He swallows. “I'm falling... or floating? I don't know. Everything is black. It's gone. It's just all gone." He watches the Custodian's body shift with every word. Its hand on the emblem at its side. The clasp comes undone. "I am left with a feeling." He finishes with a small sigh of relief.

"What feeling is that?" The Custodian's eager tone shines through the filter.

"Was it ever really there to start?" Vike slouches in his chair. He feels like his confidence is being siphoned through the filter.

"I do not understand."

"I've been around the whole of the City. Multiple times.”

"360?" The Custodian gasps. "I figured you were a transient. Then—”

The question hits as a condemnation. He stands, interrupting the savage. The chair topples over. "I am a Dreamer." He shouts and scans the blown-out church. He's suddenly really aware of the other eight Custodians. Their eyes are locked onto him. Running is not an option.

"I wish you hadn't..." The Custodian shakes its head and lunges. With its hand around Vike's throat it whispers, "It didn't have to be this way."

The Custodian drags him out into the street, past the kids tossing a ball, past the girl wishing the boy she likes would notice her, past all of the starving, dirty, awful people that he knows all too well. The ones he's served. The ones he's abused. The ones he's deceived. The ones he is absolutely bored of. This is it. I’m on my way out of here. Soon my eyes will be free of this rotten place.

The rest of the group are hanging back. He can feel them slinking, following not too far behind. As if they are letting the savage I confessed to bask in the glory of the latest revealed Dreamer.

The City swells. This is the loudest it’s been in years. There hasn’t been an exposed Dreamer in a long time. No one can remember how long it’s been exactly. The Custodians exist as a death squad but only in a sense. The stories are passed down through generations so the reputation remains. The City is a circle around the Rift and the Dreamfilter are the fence that separates the two sides. The words and the stories revolve and spiral within the circular shape of the City. And the transients spin around the City, only against the grain. Their 360s are journeys meant to disrupt or maintain grasp on the City. They are a group of rebels rebelling not only against the City but themselves as well. And now, the City is once again spinning on all accounts. Vike has restarted it like the blinking of an eye.

The Custodian tosses him against the rim of the Rift. He can almost feel the answers bubbling up from the dark hole. Shouldn't there be fear? There's no certainty that I'll survive the fall. I am supposed to fall, right?

"Tell us why." The Dreamfilter encircle him. One by one the nine of them lower their heads to meet Vike’s eyes. "Why have you hid so long? Why expose yourself now?"

The one who took his confession speaks up, "He spoke of falling." It stands and turns the knob on the side of its gas mask to increase the radius of its words. "He said he was falling. Afraid of falling. But he couldn't be sure if he was falling or if the world around him was falling. He asked me what it meant."

The crowd laughs. Some yell out: Down the hole! They are hungry, desperate for the show. The eager crowd feels like a tornado surrounding him. What they don't know is that he is eager too.

Suddenly, a stranger rushes through the Dreamfilter and locks eyes with the Dreamer. His eyes are a bright blue unlike any Vike's ever seen before. Unlike anyone he's ever encountered before. The stranger’s eyes match the vibrancy of a clear blue sky. How can that be? Nothing this beautiful should be here. But if this is possible what else is? Shut up Vike there are things that need doing and saying. Before any words can be exchanged the Dreamfilter are on the stranger. Two of them hold him as the Custodian that the stranger kneed in the back gathers himself. Vike hears its fingers catch the clasp of the cross emblem’s holster. The Custodian raises the emblem and it extends into a long staff. In a lightning quick motion it presses the tip against the stranger's right cheek.

They are gonna kill him if I don't do something. He clears his throat. "I wanted...I want answers. A simple curiosity and yet you claim and would have us believe you are holy men. But what kind of holy men are above sharing knowledge? You want us to believe your words and your ideas, but how can we when they are secrets you keep muffled behind your masks?" He shouts. The Custodians don't turn away from the stranger. "It's almost like you don't know anything at all."

The nine Custodians of the Dreamfilter swiftly turn and face the Dreamer. One of them replies. "You think speaking to us in this way will curb our will?" It motions to the one still holding its emblem at the ready. It resumes the beating. "Dreamer, you are inconsequential."

A gasp rises from the crowd. Vike watches as every head is lowered in a single wave of motion. Key Rixen has appeared. He can’t be sure of his means of transport or which direction the City’s ruler came from. All he knows is Rixen is now center stage. His confidence as ruler is unmatched, unwavering unlike his hair line which seems to recede with every word he pushes out across the faceless and faithless.

"What is this? You are not supposed to celebrate and relish the Rifting." Key Rixen's voice booms. The bowed heads don't notice his vanity. The constant flipping of his cape-like cloak combined with his ever present need to moisten his eyebrows with saliva. Though he doesn’t stop at the end of his eyebrows. He encircles his eye sockets. Vike can’t be sure but it does seem like he does it more frequently than breathing.

He watches as the Custodians all tremble as Key Rixen looks them up and down. Do they overlook everything about him except the position? Aren’t they all doing that with me? The word, the title is spoken and everything else is forgotten.

"Many apologies. We admit our curiosity got the better of us. Shall we retire?"

"No you will end this. And you,” The Key addresses the Custodian who beat the stranger directly. "Your punishment will be swift. You know where.” The Custodian nods and walks away trying to hide the spasms rocking through its body. The rest do their best to not watch their fellow comrade parade off to an unknown sentencing cast down by Rixen’s right hand men. The Key steps toward the remaining and is interrupted by Vike jumping up on the rim of the Rift.

"This is going to end. All of this." He spreads his arms out in front of him, "Among the falling I have also dreamt that The Breaking is upon us." He steps back with his left foot, taking the weight onto the ball of his right foot. He winks at Rixen before letting go of the ledge. Backwards, he falls into the Rift. Into the darkness.

Commotion erupts throughout the crowd. The blue eyed stranger struggles to free himself from the grasp of his captors but they remain vigilant even through the calamity. He watches as Key Rixen steps up on the edge of the Rift.

"Everyone listen to me! You cannot take the word of one lowly Dreamer. He has lived among us and lied to our faces for years. Do not fall with him.

"Tell me do you want for anything? Are any of you troubled by inner turmoil? The cause of turmoil is Dreaming. I’ve handled that epidemic for all of us. This Dreamer who spoke of The Breaking lived with and trusted in a terrible dream his entire life. And he was a transient. People, hear my words. These men and women who call themselves transients are mere con artists, their only driving force is disruption. They are only able to fool us because I’ve provided a life without war. There can’t be armor without a weakness and for that I’m sorry. We’ve come as close to perfection as we can. Tell me, are there any here that remember war?" He scans the crowd. The faceless sea of people shake their heads as one.

"Yes, you should be proud of the conformity. Though I’ve no doubt you’d prefer I’d use the word harmony instead. They said that was your specialty." The stranger groans. “And now I understand how you’ve managed to stay under the radar this long. Your peace is built on hollowing out humanity.”

Rixen whips his head around. "So it finally happened. I had thought they'd given up. I take you’re not here to join me?”

*****

“Kinda disappointing, I think.” Vike says to no one as he attempts to brush the mud off his clothes. He turns in search of light but there is none. He itches his nose and scoffs, “ahhh that’s not mud.” The city's plumbing must run through here. He thinks. It makes sense. Dreamers are waste, according to the Separation.

Searching for a glimmer of light, he spins in a quiet circle careful not to dizzy himself. He thinks of the other 360 he just completed. "Isn't life strange? One minute I'm travelling around the entirety of the City and the next I'm diving into the only unknown that's left. The Rift Caves," He mutters. "So far it's dark and shitty." His quiet laughter echoes throughout the caves.

A soft shred of light catches his eye. His legs feel as if they are moving but it doesn't seem like the light is getting any closer. Until it's right there, suddenly within arm’s reach. There is a break in the cave wall, an opening and he can hear the sound of rushing water. The light is an overwhelming change from the darkness. His eyes adjust slowly and he finds the water to be clear, refreshing.

He hears two soft gasps. A couple of young children stand before him, shocked by his sudden appearance.

"Hello… I mean hi there.” He pauses, too many things are running through his head.” Um… hey, my name is Vike." He says unsure of every word that slips off his tongue.

The girl asks, "Did you... fall? No one has done that in a long long time." The boy nudges her, telling her to be quiet.

He watches the children exchange a nod that they both consider to be subtle. "Yes I did. And I know no one's come down in a very long time."

Brushing aside her companion, the girl takes a step forward. "How come you're so old, Mister Vike? Did you just have your first Dream?"

"No I've...” Vike considers the words Graole said about dreaming. Did he know about my dreams? How could he? “I've had the same one for a long time. Do you really think I’m old?"

She shakes her head. "I don't understand Mister Vike. Did you—” The boy stuffs his elbow into the girl's side. "Glarm would you quit it! He's all right. I just know it."

"Don't tell him my name!" The boy shouts.

"GLARM GLARM GLARM! MISTER VIKE THIS IS GLARM, HE'S MY BEST FRIEND. HIS NAME IS GLARM GLARM GLAAAAAAAARRRMMMMMMMMM!" The girl screams in almost a sing-song manner.

Vike laughs. "So what are you two doing out here?"

"Sometimes cool stuff is dropped from up top. Lately not so much. But I did get this blanket yesterday. Say… Mister Vike, could you tell us about the sky? Everyone that came from up there always says it's the thing they miss most. I want to see it more than anything."

"Hmm, I think… yes I think I could show you." He says eager to make the girl smile. He isn’t sure why but he feels an urge to comfort this girl. He tries to focus on that and not where the blanket has been.

The girl jumps up and down. "YES MISTER VIKE! PLEASEEEEE!" She stops and tilts her head, “Wait. But how?"

A smile creases Vike’s stern face. "Okay okay. I'll need something sharp and that blanket." A look of concern washes over the young girls face. "I'm gonna make it so you can take the night sky with you, wherever you go. Just as long as there is some light nearby. Okay?"

"I don't know. We should get back."

"I promise I won't hurt either of you. And I can do it as we walk." Vike watches as the two children discuss it. He sees the boy produce a rusted pocket knife from his pants pocket. Vike witnesses a look of distrust in the boy’s eyes as he struggles to open the blade. These kids aren’t like the kids back in the City. It’s strange how different life can be mere steps from what one person’s used to.

"I trust you Mister Vike. I don't know that I should but I do." She nods to her young friend and he passes the knife.

Vike follows the kids as they trudge through the sparkling water. He is almost too captivated by the clarity of it to focus on the responsibility in hand.

"Now this can't be exact because the stars... well I can't replicate them exactly. I believe they are beyond what humans are capable of." He punctures tiny holes randomly and carefully in the blanket.

"But aren't we capable of more than just humans? We are Dreamers, right Mister Vike?"

"I don't know. I've never really met a Dreamer." He ducks his head behind the blanket, afraid of what she might say next.

"You haven't met yourself, Mister Vike?" The young girl asks as she smiles at Glarm. They snicker. The girl throws his head back when she gives in to the laughter. Her long ratty hair brushes against the boy’s face. But he doesn’t seem to mind.

"This may be difficult for you to understand but life up there is clearly different than what you’re used to. You both are so far removed from that world...you can't know of the solitude and the emptiness of life. I’ve never had what you two clearly have." He inhales. "I've been searching for it my entire life. I almost had it once but..."

"But what? Oh was there bad stuff?" The girl puts her hand on his arm. "I'm sorry bad stuff happened to you. It's okay now."

"How can you know that?" He asks expecting an answer only a child could conjure up.

"Because you're home now Mister Vike." She reaches her arm outward.

The narrow cave tunnel opens up into a large antechamber. He’s awestruck by the way the stone walls shoot up in curving motions of smoothness.

The sound of rushing water has quietly transformed into an uneasy clatter of busy people. There are women brushing mud on old slabs of fabric like the painters of old. There are men preparing dinner for eager children as they bounce and dance around. There is laughter. Not soft snickering, but actual laughter from a variety of voices. His hands begin to tremble. I've found it. I've found where the happiness hides.

"Where have you two been?!" A woman yells. She notices Vike a second later. "Amnee, tell me you didn't just take his word for it?"

"No, of course not. Geez do you think I haven't listened to you at all?" The girl replies.

"Well, you are coming up on that age."

Vike looks to the young girl, "Amnee? That's a curious name."

"And what kind of name is Vike?"

"Fair." He turns to the woman. "I need to speak to—"

Amnee interrupts, "Mommy look what Vike made us. It's like the night sky if you hold it up to the light. Come on, Glarm make yourself useful."

"That's very sweet. Vike, is it? Do you have children?"

"No." There's more on the tip of his tongue but he holds back. He can feel the pain rise up from his stomach. The pain of a lie.

She watches his eyes carefully. She knows he's hiding something but she can't get a read on him. Amnee takes his hand. The woman looks on, puzzled by the bond they've forged so quickly.

"Mister Vike, don't you worry. You're safe now. This is where you belong," Amnee pauses. "I just know it!"

He smiles, “Thank you Amnee but,” He shakes his head. "I'm not so sure."

Suddenly, Amnee's mother shoos her away. "Tell me what you meant with that. Right now."

"I need to speak to him."

"To whom? New arrivals don't get to bark orders. There are rules and the first rule is you must share the dream that brought you here."

"That's what I'm trying to do."

"I can't just bring you to him. We have rules for a reason."

"And there are always exceptions to rules. I am not supposed to share this dream, share the news with anyone except The Moth. So either you bring me to him or everyone here, and I mean everyone,” He looks over at Amnee and Glarm, "will die."

She slaps him. "How dare you. You can't just come in here and pretend like you know something and threaten my child. Threaten all of us."

"The Moth. Now."

The commotion has attracted a crowd. Everyone is watching and listening. Once again Vike is center stage. The woman shakes her head before motioning him to follow her.

Through the crowd, into the encampment, he's soaking in all the looks. The memory of being dragged through the streets by the Custodian floods his vision. His mind is filled with images of the same. It's all proof to him. People are people. Is there any hope for something different? Something better? Suddenly the memory of those blue eyes flashes in Vike’s mind.

"He's in there. Whatever you have to say you better do it quick. His patience is short these days."

He nods knowing her appetite for words has dried up.

"Just push through the curtain." She says in a slow growl. Her anger soaks every word.

"I'm trying to help everyone here. You’ll see."

"No Vike, I see it already. You are here for you." She walks away, leaving him to ponder the curtained entrance to another cave.

*****

"I know I told you! No disturbances! We're too close, you know that." A tired, frantic voice blasts from across the closed off cave.

Vike is certain he didn’t make a sound as he passed through the curtain. There’s something odd about this part of the Rift Caves. Though it could just be him. Without seeing him, I can sense something odd about him.

"That's the point of the Breaking—disruption."

"What...what did you say?" The man stands and faces Vike. "Who are you?"

He is struck by the Moth’s resemblance to Graole. This man is taller, but not by much, and carries himself in a shrouded, reserved demeanor. Graole is the opposite of that. Moths can be majestic, as well as haunting but Vike’s first impression is something else. He’s not frightened of the man before him but of his cluttered, chaotic attitude.

"The Breaking. It's time." Vike forces his face into a smile.

"Leave now. I can tell you didn't dream that so go away. I can't be bothered to entertain this joke."

"Should I have lit myself on fire first?"

"I don't know who you are or why you insist on this and I'm not sure I care." The Moth turns back to the papers strewn on the table.

Vike slams his hands down in front of the man. "You're supposed to be important. I was told you know things. I was told to say these things to you. It was said that it would garner a reaction and I could get what I want."

"Ah yes, of course. You're a transient. I should have guessed. Now tell me, have you ever had a real dream or are you just that good?"

Vike's ego inflates and he smiles. "How do you mean, that good?"

"If you're standing here that means the people out there, my people, put you through a test. The young girl, Amnee, and probably her companion, Garth."

"I believe his name is Glarm."

"Ah right, okay." He says as he looks into Vike's eyes. "So are you gonna tell me your dream or am I gonna have to pull it out of you?"

"You're not at all what I expected."

"Graole must have been who hired you. He's always painting in big broad strokes that aren't at all representative of the source." He smiles. "And now you're wondering how I know so much about your world when I live down here. Tell me why you agreed to this task. Tell me what they dangled in front of you, tell me why a con man would dive into the Rift and leave behind his entire world."

“My entire world? You’ve shown your hand. I can tell you really don’t know as much as you claim to. And nothing was dangled in front of me, I was granted the chance to leave. Can’t you see the boredom flowing from my eyes? Maybe this dream that has plagued me for as long as I can remember is a fractured mirror image of my own existence. Falling, I’m falling through the motions. Graole said, repeatedly, that the man who goes by The Moth has the means to journey to other worlds. That’s why I’m here.”

“Falling, huh? You fell through the Rift to get here but I’m sure the dream doesn’t feel fulfilled at this time.” He posits and Vike nods. “I know many things but you are strange to me. You are the variable here. But I’m certain if Graole set you on this task then Rixen is the one who ordered it. Am I correct in assuming you don’t remember much beyond this task?”

Vike finds it difficult to determine which questions are rhetorical and which aren’t. He stumbles over the silence between them and confirms The Moth’s thoughts, “Yes the task was all that was firmly delivered while I was in the cocoon.”

“Cocoon?! He finally figured it out? I remember when we first began Rixen had these big ideas about weather, about the Cariteon rains. If you were encased in it then that proves he ordered this task to send a transient to me. That also means he runs the risk of The Blue.”

*****

The crowd at The Rift remains quiet as they watch Key Rixen’s confidence siphoned by a man that is held by the Dreamfilter. It takes three of them to hold him while the others have their hands on unclasped holsters at their hips. Ready and waiting for Rixen to give the order.

The blue eyed stranger smiles at the thought of joining Rixen. "No I am here for the other thing."

"Does it have to be here?” He looks out at the crowd as he waves the Custodians off the stranger.

The stranger nods.

Rixen inhales sharply as he removes his cloak. It flutters to the ground. "The Key's Chamber, after you... please go there before you leave. All of this can't be for nothing. Don't be the one to throw all of this away. They won't be convinced but you... I think you're like me."

The stranger takes the nearest Custodian's emblem. “Kneel.” Rixen lifts his head toward the blue sky. The stranger extends the cross emblem into its staff formation and forces it through the kneeling ruler’s throat.

Startled by the feeling of their eyes, the stranger lowers his head to look out at the crowd as they all bow their heads and whisper "Key. Key. Key."

One of the Custodians takes The Key’s cloak and drapes it across the stranger. "Sir, what is your name?"

"Albastrün.” He reconsiders, “Key Albastrün.” He adjusts the cape so it sits properly on his shoulders.

"What would you have us do?"

"Drop that," He points to Rixen's corpse, "into the hole and show me to the Chamber." He looks out across the sea of people surrounding him. He mutters to himself, “Yes we are indeed alike.”

*****

“The Blue? What is that? I am not following any of this. When you started this? So... you weren’t born here? How could Graole get you so wrong if he’s operating under Rixen?”

“Despite what you may think or know from personal experience, he doesn’t know everything. Not even close. Even if you put all of his counterparts together you still wouldn’t get close to the level of information Rixen or I have separately. It’s not possible to gaze upon both sides of a coin simultaneously and see the whole picture. Up top everyone is a puppet of Rixen’s precious “peace.” You’ve begun to notice, even if you aren’t conscious of it, that this room is different. Something is off about the ground and the walls.”

Once again Vike finds himself turning in a circle. “Yes I see it there’s a certain... unexplainable nature to it.”

“There’s nothing natural about it. I am for all intents and purposes, Rixen’s opposite and this is not a passageway or a tunnel to a new world. This is my star-ship. And it has but one destination.”

“Wait a minute. You’re saying this is the star-ship? The one from back before the Separation? The one they say was built by Dreamers to explore what may or may not lie beyond the sky?”

“The one and the same.”

“But it didn’t work before. It barely took off.”

“That’s not true. It did take off, just not in the way it was meant to.”

“Right it only destroyed the height of the City. It evened everything.” Vike confirms. “I often wonder how the City must have looked in all its glory. I’d love to see the skyscrapers restored.”

“If you think anything is even here you truly are blind.”

“You never did answer my question about The Blue. Or any of my questions, really.”

“Not everything can be answered, transient. Some things must be experienced first-hand.”

“When I was at the Rift, just before I fell, there was a man there. A stranger with disparate blue eyes. And I can’t help but wonder if that’s what you mean by The Blue.”

“This is what I was afraid of. I could feel things happening even before you arrived. It’s why I was rushing to finish the repairs of the star-ship.”

“I don’t understand. Do you know that person? Should I have let the Dreamfilter kill him?”

The Moth puts his attention back to the papers and the equations. Avoiding every syllable of Vike’s questions.

“You can’t expect a person to just watch someone be killed in front of them. Can you?”

“You’re not a person Vike! You’re a transient.” The Moth flips the table.

Another condemnation sends Vike’s emotions toward the sky. He grabs The Moth by the throat and is surprised to find how nicely it fits in his hand. “Listen here, you sad excuse for a man. I am more of a person than you are. I’m not the one hiding in his own little pretend cave waiting for something to happen. All those people out there hold you up on a pedestal and for what? Because you demand it? Because you’re all they have? Fuck you and your lousy Separation. You’re a coward. This thing should have been fixed long ago.”

“You think I haven’t tried? Do you really think I’ve just been sitting on my hands? This ship was flawed from the start, it shouldn’t have left the ground. It wasn’t ready and it’s still not. If you want to help then put me down so we can talk about what can be done. Or just kill me and doom everyone.”

“What do you mean doom everyone?” He lowers The Moth to the ground as flashes of Amnee and Glarm and countless other nameless faces speed through his mind.

“This man you saw, he’s here for a specific reason. We didn’t know how it would appear but we knew it would come. Turns out you’re weren’t so wrong, The Breaking is upon us. If we don’t use this star-ship before he strikes then it’s all over. Did he look you in the eye? Did you look him in the eye?”

“Of course but what does that have to do with the end of us? Is he gonna destroy the City?” He says as those blue eyes return to the front of his mind. He wishes for a second that they weren’t so easy to recall.

“Vike you have to tell me right now, do you believe the star-ship will work?”

“I think if you fix it then yes it will work.” The better question would be can I get on it now?

“Well I suppose that’s partially my fault but yeah good enough. Now go, I need to finish this alone. It sits solely on my shoulders. You should rest.” He reaches for Vike’s hand.

“I’ll be right outside.” He says as he shakes The Moth’s hand, despite every fiber of him not wanting to. I’m agreeing to something here like I agreed to something with those blue eyes. But how? Did Graole know where this task would really go?

*****

Vike is greeted by Amnee outside the secret star-ship. She's wearing the blanket around her, smiling like it keeps her face on.

"Hey Mister Vike! What's it like in there? Is it scary? Um... Mister Vike? Are you okay?"

He pats her head, "I'm worried."

"He scared you, huh? What happened? Mom said you wouldn't ever come out of there. But I knew you would." She flashes her big smile.

Suddenly a memory pierces through his mind. He can see her. His daughter. She was born early in the morning and he didn’t sleep in anticipation of her arrival. He can feel her in his arms. He trembles. She’s gone. Graole comes into focus with a needle. “Vike I promise you this little thing will end your suffering. And your new life can begin.” He can feel a hand on his arm, soft small hands, pulling him back to life.

“Mister Vike? Are you okay?” The young girl jumps when he opens his eyes. “Mister Vike it’s me, Amnee. You remember me right?”

“I had a daughter. I can… almost remember her now. Thank you, Amnee.”

“What? Me? What did I do?”

“You’ve reminded me of her. She was gone from my mind for a long time. The Moth was right. Things are changing.”

“I’m glad I could help Mister Vike but I’m still worried about you.”

“It’s just Vike, okay?”

“I’m sorry Mis— Just Vike, I didn’t mean to get your name wrong.” She hangs her head toward the ground.

“No, that’s not it Amnee. It’s just Mister is too formal. I’m not Mister to anyone.”

“What about your daughter? Are you Mister to her?”

“No, she would have called me Dad.”

“Just Vike, did something… happen to her?”

“Yes, it did but I can’t…”

“Something happened to your memories of her?”

“It is part of my occupation, every time I complete a task my memory is wiped to protect everyone involved.”

“Oh, so your job broke your brain. I get it. But Just Vike… are you, are you a bad guy?”

He considers the question for a brief moment. “I won’t be bad toward you. I promise.”

“Good! I promise I won’t be bad to you either. Are you gonna be here tomorrow for my birthday Just Vike? I’d really like it and don’t worry I can count the blanket sky as my present. I know you’re busy.”

“Tomorrow is going to be tricky but I will do everything I can. I might have to leave. I’m waiting on The Moth.”

“I know. Mom said you could come if I asked if you were a bad guy. Your answer will please her so...” She trails off in response to her mother calling for her.

“You’re good at asking clever questions.”

“Thanks! I’d hope so since it is my job.” She says with a wink. “Gotta run Just Vike you should try to sleep. See ya tomorrow!”

“I hope so Amnee. If I don’t…”

“NOPE! Tell me tomorrow, we will see each other. I just know it.” She runs off down the beaten path that divides and drive through a quiet city of tents. She disappears behind her mother into their tattered tent.

He whispers, “Night little one.” He considers going back in to see The Moth but the thought fades as he sits on the ragged bench and closes his eyes.

*****

The sound of his daughter crying echoes throughout the darkness that surrounds him. He can see her standing in the distance. She’s standing! She never learned to crawl. He wants to call out to her but her name only teases the tip of his tongue.

She reaches her hand out toward him. The perspective changes. She’s falling. He wants to jump after her but his legs won’t move. He doesn’t know how to move them. I don’t think I can ever save her. Did I? Is she dead because of me?

Suddenly Graole’s voice comes into earshot, “...gone. Really I am but I think I have a way to help you through this buddy. It will only hurt for a second.” He disappears in a flash.

Amnee shouts but Vike can’t make the words out. He can hear her running. She’s in trouble. “No, Vike don’t!” She screaming it over and over. He reaches his hand out but it’s too late. She’s gone. They are all gone.

Two sets of quick footfalls wake him. He stands up from the bench outside of the Moth's. The two men are startled by Vike's presence.

"Oh we didn't..." The first man says.

"He doesn't matter, just knock already Minish." The taller man barks.

"How many times have I told you two about disrupting me?" The two men are trembling. The Moth looks to Vike, "Why didn't you stop them?"

"I was sleeping." The words float off his tongue and hang in the air as he sits, trying to remember what exactly he was just dreaming about.

The Moth groans. "Okay what is it Min?"

"We found... we found Rixen. He's dead." Minish mutters.

The taller man continues. "We were out scavenging for fallers." He looks at Vike, who has just stood up again. "Items that have fallen through the Rift." He turns back to the Moth, "Someone tossed his body down. His head was pretty much detached. Something was forced through his throat. All. The. Way. Through."

"Was it a circular hole?" Vike asks the tall man.

"Yes it was. Surprisingly so, actually."

He turns to the Moth. "We need to talk. Now."

The two men disappear into the town and Vike follows The Moth back into the hidden star-ship. He notices the change in the room from his last visit. The elaborate architecture of the ship has been exposed. The dirt has given way to shooting patterns of lines and shapes. It’s beautifully overwhelming. Borderline shocking.

"As you can see, I have been busy. But I need your help now that Rixen is dead. Everything is about to change and I don't know how much."

“I think it has already started.”

"What are you talking about?"

“After I left here something happened while I was talking to Amnee. She was waiting for me outside. I remembered something.”

“You’re saying the effects of your cocoon treatment are fading? That can’t be good.”

“It wasn’t always a cocoon. Sometimes the Reopolymemic was injected right here.” He lifts his arm and points to his elbow. “Wait, what the hell? There were track marks here.”

“This is worse than I first thought. Things are changing at an incredible rate. I didn’t think it would happen like this. Rixen must have turned our new friend. So there’s still hope. We have to go now.”

“Turned him? What does that mean?”

“It means he plays for another team. He’s not from here. And now he’s switched sides. I don’t think I can say it any clearer.”

“How much can he change?”

“He can change everything. Now there has to be balance or this place won't exist. It can’t." The Moth pauses and watches Vike try to process the idea. "I know you know what I'm talking about. You've felt it. You felt it when you left this room earlier. You know we have to get this machine running so we can get the hell out of here."

"But what happens to everyone else?" He asks, knowing The Moth will mishear the question.

"Everyone here is coming with us."

"That's not what I meant and you know it."

"You can't be serious. They don't care about you. They aren't even—” The Moth stops himself before he completes the thought.

"They aren't what? Aren't worthy? Am I?"

"If you don't come with us then you'll never know about your dreams." The Moth says in an effort to redirect the conversation. “You know like the one you just had. I can help you understand it.”

"Maybe I'm not supposed to know. Maybe I'm supposed to stay here and protect the people that would love to watch me die. Being hated makes it an easy decision. And really, try and tell me you want me to come with you.”

"Try and tell me it’s not because of her and the hole that you think she fills. She’s not yours, you know."

“Don’t act like you know everything going on in my head. We both know that you don’t.” He takes the Moth by the shoulder. "You can finish this machine, right? What about the surface? Can you get me back up there?”

“You can’t be serious. You’re playing right into the same cycle. Come with us. With her.”

“For once just answer my questions.”

“Yes I can fix this but I don’t know if it will be soon enough. I suppose you could buy us time by heading up. But I don’t like it. I don’t know what this stranger wants. He killed Rixen. Do you know how many people have tried that? Rixen must have surrendered. Do you understand what that means?”

“You didn’t want me here. Why the change of heart?”

“Nothing I can say will sway you. I see that now so let’s just get on with this.” The Moth yields.

“First, you must promise me you’ll keep her safe.”

"Okay, okay, I promise I'll keep her safe. Even if it means we all perish." The Moth rolls his eyes.

There’s no sign of an exit or anyway out but the way he came in. He knows there must be a way to return to the surface. "Now how do I get back up to the City?"

The Moth sighs. "I'll show you."

The Moth leads him through a series of tunnels, the inner workings of the star-ship. Are these tunnels or the intestines of some dead beast? More importantly, will she forgive me for not saying goodbye?

"Vike! Come on, we have to hurry."

"Yeah yeah, everything is about time with you. What's waiting for you on the other side of this?"

"Freedom. You could have it too. I'd make sure of it." The Moth shakes his head. "Right, I remember. You are immovable. I will give her your best, if you'd like."

"Yes, thank you." He nods, knowing it will only crush her.

"Okay here we are." The Moth points to a wavering light. It dances before their eyes like it is aware of them. "All you have to do is push down on the ball of light there."

The ball is fixed to a stand in the middle of a small room. There are no doors ahead. This is it. This must be the back end of the star-ship. Or maybe it’s outside of the ship? He steps toward the light stand.

"I push it and then what?" Vike asks, expecting an elaborate test of spirit and perseverance.

"A door will open and you will walk through it."

He rotates his field of vision toward his escort. "Oh, you're not staying."

"You'll reach the surface just as we are departing. Just remember, she'll be watching you." The Moth exits the room with a wink.

“You said I would probably need to buy you time but this is what powers the ship. Isn’t it?” For a split second, he is worried when The Moth doesn’t answer. “I guess a wink is how Dreamers say goodbye.” It makes sense that he’d leave me with one more question to ponder. If this is what powers the ship then it was all a trick, wasn’t it? He didn’t give up trying to sway me, he already had swayed me.

He feels a sense of strength flowing from the light before him. The Moth may have left but his words continue to prod and press on Vike's mind. Am I really going to be what turns this thing on? The question echoes through his head like a ball being bounced around a group of children.

"Well here goes nothing." He slowly lays his palm upon the ball of light. It dims beneath a loud clanking, motorized sound. The whole star-ship vibrates. He looks down at his feet, a fence rises from a grooved circle surrounding where he stands. He's shot upward, within the cage, to the surface.

The rushing sound of the upward motion, and a soft shade of panic, ceases. There’s a faint sound of a man speaking coming from a nearby corner. The cage and the man's voice drops. The circle around Vike vanishes into the smooth stone floor. He looks up to see a fractured ceiling. I sure hope that doesn’t fall anytime soon.

Behind him, there’s the sound of a door opening and a familiar face looks him up and down.

"Hey look who it is! Come to congratulate me?" The blue eyed stranger asks. Rixen’s cloak shutters along the stranger’s back.

"I didn't save your life so you could run around my City murdering people, murdering its leaders." Vike shouts resisting the urge to tackle the murderer.

"It balances out, don't you see? If they had killed me or if I killed Rixen, the end is the same."

"Is it balance or just a child's response? They were gonna kill me so I killed them." He says in a condescending tone. "Wait, the end? The end of what exactly?"

The blue eyed man shakes his head. "Hm... That’s the wrong word. Let's use beginning instead. This is the beginning of us." With a smile he holds his hand out. "Key Albastrün. Thank you for saving my life."

"Us? What are you talking about? You want me to rule with you?" He motions the hand away.

"Would it help if I promised to not kill anyone else? Tell you what, if you follow me—right outside that door—I'll show you what this really is."

"How about you show me what was in that room? And who you were talking to."

"Ah but I can't." Albastrün smiles. "You'd have to kill me to get in there. Trust me, I will tell you what I learned from it. But we have to do it outside or else we'll miss it."

"How do you know about the star-ship?"

"I know because knowing is part of being Key."

Vike sighs. They walk through a small alcove in silence. Through the alcove they find the dimming sun. Clouds have moved across the sky, taking over the vibrant blue.

"Looks like a storm."

"It's that time of the year again. I just hope the Cariteon rains don't last as long as last year. We need it but months of endless rains makes things dull and difficult." He notices a dimming in Albastrün's eyes. They aren't as blue.

"Ah yes the Cariteon crystals. I don't know if we'll need as much as last year. Rixen's dead." Albastrün looks Vike up and down, “Speaking of dull, why aren't you on that ship?"

The ground begins to shake and they can hear screams coming from the area around the Rift. Their eyes lock onto the humble yet extraordinary ship exploding from beneath the City.

He watches it silently, replaying the events of the past day and the faces of new friends flash before his eyes. Amnee's smile flutters through his mind. She's not going anywhere. The thought surprises him.

"Because I do not believe it will go anywhere." He shakes his head and sighs. He's pleased he was able to get the words out but ashamed at the lack of faith. I'll never escape, I am a transient. Through and through. This is all there is.

A series of shocked gasps ring out from the City. Vike can almost make out someone yelling, but the words aren't as meaningful as his own thoughts.

"Vike..."

"I know, I know. It's a horrible—"

"No. Look! It's gone."

"What!? But how is that—"

"We did that. Or more accurately, you did." Albastrün whispers.

"What are you talking about? How did I make—No. It can't be gone."

"Nice try but you can't change it now. The ship and all of those people are gone. Like they never existed."

"I don't understand. It doesn't make any sense." His hands begin to shake. Did I kill them?

"We chose each other, Vike. Do you think Rixen and The Moth were accidental leaders? No they were placed together."

"Were you...placed here?"

"Ah now you're getting it! I was sent here."

"From where, for what? The Moth said you played for another team, what did he mean?"

"You know what the difference between us is Vike?"

He shakes his head.

"There is none. We both had the chance to leave but we chose to stay. Deep down we both know what this place can be. And together we can change it into whatever we want."

“A coin has to have two sides.” The transient mutters under his breath as he looks out across the City. The crowd at the Rift has already gone back to their routines, with their heads hanging low. For a moment, they all looked up and considered something else. Something greater.

"What about dreams?" Vike asks.

"Everybody has dreams, it is part of being human. Don't you think so?"

"Yes Albastrün, I know it to be true." He watches a few people lift their heads back up to the sky. It worked. Those are the first of a new era here. I'm sorry I let you down. Through your irises you saw something I could never see myself. This City is an eye—your eye—ever present, ever open only now it truly can see. Because of you, I’m also beginning to see. Goodnight Amnee.

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