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notesinthearchives-blog · 5 years

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[This entry was redacted from the Book of the War and history at large for reasons of Homeworld security. The copy below has been kept for analysis. See addendum for further notes from our own investigations of the topic]

Homeland Relay [Lesser Species (?): Group/Technology]: The story of the homeland relay should have been a relatively dull and simple thing from the so called "galactic empire" era of human history. At its most basic, each individual homeland relay was a small, mostly automated space station with a crew of 3-5 people.

Messages and news from Earth would be encoded as light, before being shot through a primitive sub-spatial dimension that would allow the message to move at even greater speed whilst avoiding the worst of the dust and radiation and other things that could distort the light. The message would be intercepted by another homeland relay, which would check the data for distortions, before re-encoding it into light again and shooting it on to the next homeland relay, on and on until its inevitable destination.

The homeland relays should have been just another symptom of the centrality of Earth in human thought at the time: as all roads once led to Rome, so all the homeland relays led out from and back to Earth, with even various rival empires and break away factions being fundamentally linked back to their homeland. By all rights, the homeland relays should have become redundant after Earth was destroyed.

As we now know, they didn't. Something kept sending messages to the relays.

Here information becomes scarse, until recently our main sources of information on the homeland relays and their inhabitants were the devastation they would leave behind: fake distress beacons luring in help that would never leave the space station; colony ships passing too close would find their hibernating passengers drained dry of blood and their corridors infested with strange carnivorous bats; nearby planets finding themselves visited by strange ships in the dead of the night, powerless to stop their townsfolk being herded into the ships and never seen again.

Strangely, the inhabitants of the homeland relays weren't the only thing that was changed after contact with this new signal: the local structure of space-time itself appears to have been affected. Visitors to the space around the homeland relays reported that light appeared to shine dimmer; whilst entropy seemed to take on increasingly aesthetic qualities; even death itself was a more negotiable concept for the lesser species.

We have more information from when the inhabitants took a more evangelistic approach: making the shift from space travelling apex predators to being the leaders of militarised religious sects. But even here direct information from them was cryptic, vague and usually overladen with mysticism; and close examination generally suggested that their rhetoric and explanations of their nature were usually crafted to facilitate an infiltration and high jacking of the local institutions and power structures.

A few general themes can be discerned from their sermons: claims that the Earth that was destroyed being a fake Earth, a course not meant to be taken, but there is hope as the armies of the real Earth were coming: a prince or a knight or a messiah carrying the blood of a dragon leading the charge. Drawing from this, the general consensus among later post humans is that the whole affair was a particularly bloody overreaction to Earth being destroyed- a sort of apocalyptic theology or inverted apocalyptic theology for a post apocalypse culture. Select War historians are less sure [data corrupted, unretrievable]

We can learn more from their impact: after converting the leaders at a local and planetary level they'd set up strangely hedonistically inclined theocratic states. These appear to have meant to be temporary: less meant to be a pillar of society and more as a way of preparing society for holy (or perhaps unholy) war. Both internal warfare against dissidents and cannibalistic crusades against nearby cultures were the norm, yet neither of these were the ultimate target: instead being a way of priming the population for what was to come.

Though it is not difficult to guess who this future war was meant to target, we do not have to worry: the homeland relay, the so called "homeland cults" that grew from them and their theocracies were largely exterminated by the House Military's second wave before they were ready for such a war. Doubtless a few relics remain, the Anticonvent culture, for example, was largely ignored by the House Military due to a combination of their isolation and comparative absence of bloodlust and war mongering instinct, but the days when these could have had an impact on the War at large are gone.

Addendum 1 [addendum uses common codewords- "Hand", shortened to "Ha", for the leader of field operations in this theatre of War; "Mind" being the collective statements of his superiors and shortened to Mi"]

Ha-- Circumstantial evidence suggest that earlier conclusions may have been optimistic- we know damage to space-time in affected areas was diluted and contained but never mended. Permission to reexamine second wave's data in conjunction with modern surveillance Y/N?

Mi---- Y- permission granted. [see addendum 2]

Addendum 2.1 [Timeline corruption- destroyed by interference earlier in timeline. We have preserved addendum from this timeline- see 3.1 for start of current timeline]

Ha-- It appears that there were more survivors from the homeland relays than previously thought. The cult known as The Lesser Brides has been confirmed as having survived- they appear to have altered the sub-spatial dimension the homeland relay used to send messages, essentially dragging at the very least the space station itself and a population of unknown size into it. An extended stake out found that they were leaving the dimension to collect resources and recruits.

Ha---- Further information will require the infiltration of the sub-spatial dimension itself. Permission to launch infiltration Y/N?

Mi-------- Y- permission granted [see addendum 2.2]

Ha---- The discovery of The Lesser Brides leaves open the possibility that other homeland relay groups may have survived. In particular, their use of sub-spatial dimensions may have been replicated by others, and may suggest that they have the support of some time active power. Permission to launch wider scale investigation with House Military heavy support Y/N?

Mi-------- Y- permission granted [see addendum 2.3]

Addendum 2.2 Ha-- Infiltration successful- our agent is in the Lesser Brides' sub-spatial dimension and is sending reports to us. Posing as a local posthuman, he was initiated into a cult we had confirmed the Lesser Brides had been using as a recruitment tool.

Ha---- Initial description from agent follows, full log sent via [data corrupted- unretrievable]

"Imagine walking inside a tube large enough to fit a cathedral in: that you can see so high and goes on for so long that no matter where you look you get vertigo. Imagine now that gravity is subjective: that where ever you place your feet is down for all intrinsic purposes and, if you know how, you can fall upwards or sideways. Now imagine if this tube was filled to the brim with architecture built to take advantage of this. Domed temples floating in mid air- their insides painted in a colour you'd swear was midnight black were it not for the fact that it glittered. Impossibly tall towers- the bells at their top causing vibrations that cause chimes throughout the rest of the tower to sing for hours in perfect harmony. Canals great and small, whose ink black water flows smoothly even at right angles or double backing on itself- which after defying gravity in a thousand different ways proceeds to link back to its source in a sprawling möbius loop."

"There are people who have lived there entire lives here. The canals are dotted with boat houses and little Venices; every tower and temple is maintained and guarded by its own unholy order that grows most of their new members in vats; whilst the many parentless hybrid children are nursed and raised in crèches by what I believe to be the people closest to original Lesser Brides aesthetically speaking. The children are fed the Bride's milk as babies, are gently corrected as they consider rebellion, and diligently cared back to health as they fall sick. For abominations against history and nature, the Brides make for excellent parents."

Ha------ this log has come to my attention, and makes me concerned that our agent may be at risk of being compromised. Permission to extract him Y/N? Extract from log below:

"We visited a planet under the Brides' influence. No, that's an oversimplification. The planet we visited had a forty hour day, with the average night in the areas with some population (excluding the poles for instance) generally varying from 15 to 26 hours depending on the season and distance from the equator. The governing bodies of the planet lay claim to different hours of the day. The governing bodies that control the hours where there is sunlight year round are fairly conservative Arcadian or proto-Arcadian post human cultures. The hours near midnight are governed by the law of the Lesser Brides. When one government goes to sleep, another one wakes up."

"In between these hours the patterns of law and authority wane and wax from one to the other, changing based on what they can plausibly enforce and what one will let the other get away with. In these not quite either hours, a network of hybrid subcultures flourish: party goers and cultists; musicians and gangs; the night shift staff and the strange customers that they service..."

"... It was a dispute over one of these not quite either hours that drew us from the subspace dimension. Matron Tremaine was arriving as a diplomat, I was part of her retinue. I didn't see what negotiations went on, but her opposite number left looking fairly pleased with himself, apparently having wrangled substantial concessions out of her. Matron Tremaine was also satisfied with the concessions, giving me the impression that her opposite number didn't quite grasp the power of who they were negotiating with..."

"As Matron Tremaine later said to us, 'It pays to maintain good relations with our neighbours. Afterall, we are always recruiting.' I could have sworn the Matron gave a pointed look in my direction, and for a moment I was worried that my cover was blown. I relaxed when I realised that surely they'd have done something already if they knew..."

Ha-------- Belay that request. After a worrying but understandable period of silence from our agent, we have received her latest and almost certainly last entry and are now certain that she was compromised before regenerating into a form that was antithetical to Homeworld's interests. The entry was generated by our agent's emergency protocols that act to inform us in the event of our agent's corruption by hostile powers. Extract below:

"I was on my knees for the ceremony. My Husband was absent in the flesh but nevertheless there in spirit as He was for us all. Two of my fellow brides lifted up the veil of my wedding dress as Matron Tremaine brought the goblet- holding it up to my mouth. The Blood of the Dragon slid smoothly down my throat, painting my lips a deep, dark red as it passed down."

"As the matron took the goblet away, the younger brides took my wrists and sunk their fangs into it. My internal weaponry wanted to activate, as if by reflex, but I restrained it as the brides drank deeply. My throat, of course, was Matron Tremaine's to take. Moving to her knees to access it, spilling rose petal stains down my dress and hers, I was rendered utterly powerless in her grasp..."

"I was faint when the deed was finally done, my white dress having turned a liquid red. My ceremony was not yet over: it finished with my chest impaled upon Matron Tremaine's spear. My protocols of regeneration kicked in, now guided by the Blood of the Dragon in my belly. I awoke from the fires of my rebirth with a form made to my Husbands desires, and with hungers the likes of which I had never experienced... Hungers my fellow brides were only to happy to teach me how best to sate..."

"Now? My past life seems like a dream, like something that happened to someone else. Did I really live in a world of dull colours and duller senses before the Blood of the Dragon made me see colours so vibrant?"

"Did I really half live a half life in service to my House before my Husband taught me to live- really live, really feel alive- in a body of beautiful dead flesh?"

"Was I really that pathetic?"

"And then there's you, my former masters. Its just like you to install a back door in my biodata, too late for me to stop now of course even with the Blood of the Dragon now cutting my links to the Homeworld. So I suppose I'm stuck with an audience for now. Very well. I can live with that."

"Afterall, I don't think anyone has told you just how pathetic you are."

"I was pathetic once, but I had the possibility to become something better. You can't even achieve that."

"And I now know, that you are nothing."

"You are nothing compared to the Prince who carries the Blood of the Dragon, yet alone the Mother of Monsters who empowered Him."

"He is coming for you."

"You will know fear."

"You will know death."

"You will know the [data corrupted- unretrievable]

Addendum 2.3 [data corrupted- unretrievable]

Addendum 3.1

Ha-- Initial fears have been proven beyond doubt. We now have yet another front in the War. Status update attached below:

Probably using information obtained from our compromised agent, homeland cult known as Night's Children launched a surprise attack earlier in history- apparently having partially detached their sub-spatial dimension from history itself- to make war on the local House sympathising societies. The homeland cults Knights of the Dead Suns, Haemomancer Covens, and Night's Black Agents swiftly replicated this tactic.

Just as our forces mobilised to exterminate these forces, the homeland cults took action later in history: across the spatial territories of homeland cults long since exterminated that had been recolonised by various (mostly human or human derived) species, great machines activated and started butchering the colonists on an industrial scale. After the population was sacrificed in these Moloch Engines, the blood spilt seemingly resurrected the dead homeland cults and their theocracies, which started making war on House sympathising societies later in history.

As it stands, our forces have driven back the homeland cults positioned earlier in history and contained the theocracies later in history, current tactics are relying on waging a war of attrition with the understanding that we can afford the losses and they can't. Previous attempts to recapture their territory or wage a more retroactive war against the cults and activated Moloch Engines were bogged down fighting time active partisan cells. We are currently mobilising a task force for locating a destroying any other Moloch Engines before they activate.

The Lesser Brides and a number of other homeland cults have retreated into their sub-spatial dimension completely, our forces currently have them under siege. In light of our agent being compromised, we suspect that the Lesser Brides may soon have access to some Homeworld cultural-genetic weaponry, but nothing the Faction hasn't already traded in and nothing that should be a problem as long as the Lesser Brides remain contained.

The Anticonvent remain unhostile, but we continue monitoring them both for changes in behaviour and information on the source of their transmissions [data corrupted- unretrievable].

Ha---- we are containing the homeland cults, and projections show that in the long run we are winning or at least can maintain this stance indefinitely. However, Homeworld has essentially infinite resources, of which we are using a comparatively pitiful amount to fight these enemies. Even when we reach a point where we can launch retroactive warfare without interference, the homeland cults hiding within their sub-spatial dimensions will remain a security risk, and judging by past and current experience there is a good chance that those forces that we defeat will just stubbornly refuse to stay dead.

Ha----Request: can I have use of heavier firepower to deal with them Y/N? Currently, most of the forces I am using are either allied cultures in the region or conscripted auxilia forces. Whilst functional at containing the threat, they are utterly inadequate for eliminating it. I would like to emphasise that the homeland relay cults are affecting the local structure of space time: we have no idea what kind of damage they are doing but what is certain is that the longer we dither the more difficult it will be to repair.

Mi-------- N- request not granted. Homeworld's resources may be infinite but our attention isn't. Our situation is one of distractions: if we take the time and effort to deal with enemies like the ones you are fighting the real enemies will start advancing on a thousand more important, more delicate fronts. The homeland cults, if they are still around when we win the War, will be relatively easy to mop up afterwards. This is a minor front after all, even if we look at who is sending the signals [data corrupted- unretrievable].

Link to archive of our own version: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17042054/chapters/42320339

#faction paradox #faction paradox fan fiction #fanfiction #sorry this later than I said it would be Nate

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deliciouslyfilthytm · 3 years

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・ℬ * { moved from flagged blog // fairytale au with @savagecuhnt }

It had been at least a decade since they had received random, uninvited visitors. Until she had arrived, silence engulfed the mansion, blanketing Blaine in a blissful nap. The only noise to be heard was that of his servant, Don E., climbing the rafters and dusting the chandeliers as he hummed to the song in his head (probably Brittany). He was off in his own little world. Just as he leaned over to finish up the center of the front chandelier, the noise from the nearby front door caused him to lose his footing. The whole thing came crashing down, impaling Don in the process as he fell on it.

Eyes already glowing a bright crimson, Blaine made his way to the scene. Don couldn’t speak, but he pointed toward the door where the noise had come from. With dramatic effect, Blaine opened the front door wide to greet their guest, full on zombie mode still in effect. “Look what you did,” he said as he grabbed her arm to pull her inside and slam the door. “This is my only minion and now… Now he’s going to be out of commission for weeks.” Blaine growled in annoyance, having been not only woken up, but his chandelier and servant damaged as well. “And do you know how expensive that is?” he nodded toward the pile of glass and metal now on the floor. Hands at her shoulders pressed her back up against the wall as expression went from a scowl to a somewhat calm smirk. “How will you be paying for this, cash, card or your brain, little lady?” Blaine knew she probably didn’t have enough money, but he wanted to see her reaction.

the sound of crashing glass caught the witch off guard, causing her to jump back. now curious, she leans her ear against the door. she could hear voices and soon the sound of approaching footsteps. “what in the--” before she can even finish the sentence she finds herself being pulled inside from the cold. ice blue hues are wide with confusion as she stares down at the horrific mess that she had caused. she didn’t have time to respond as, who she assumed was the owner of the home was now holding her against a wall. “you’re so lucky--” she bit her tongue and sighed, “Look dude, or--” a curious brow is raised, “or whatever you are. I didn’t mean to do all this--”inked digits gesture to the mess behind him, “I merely just knocked on your door. I got into a car accident and I’m just looking for some help or a phone. I’m not paying for shi-- wait did you just say brain?” a smirk of her own plays at the corner of her bloodied lips. “you’re fuckin’ with me right?”

…And it definitely wasn’t the reaction Blaine was expecting. Brows knitted and eyes returned to a calm blue hue as he stood up straight to casually cross his arms. She wasn’t scared of him or the still living and lucid impaled Don on the floor? Interesting. “No, no. I mean, it’s pretty bland on its own, but all it takes is the right blend of herbs and spices to liven it up. Hot sauce is a quick fix. I’d let you try it, but I hear it’s not good for humans.”

“Blaine…” Don managed to squeeze out before motioning to himself, hoping to get some help.

“Oh, yeah, I’m Blaine, he’s Don E., and you have managed to find our little cursed mansion out in the woods.” Finally he went over to pull Don off the chandelier and lie him down on the floor. “Finish bleeding here since you already ruined this carpet,” he said before turning attention back to her. “He’ll recover, but it’ll take awhile. Until then, I ask that you remain to take his place. Once he’s better, you can choose a car from the garage to keep and be on your way.” Even though he was asking, she would soon get to see the cursed part of the mansion come to life as chairs danced from the kitchen to the front door to make a barrier. Shortly after, all the bars on the windows would slide down into place, one after another. “Do we have a deal, babe?”

“you’d let me try my own brain?” curious eyebrows knitted even tighter as she continued to stare at the other, “Or someone else’s brain? wait is this like a weird zombie cannibal thing--” by the sound of the weaker voice calling from behind, her icy gaze peeks around, coming across the impaled figure. “I-I’m sorry Don E.--” eyes return to Blaine, wide eyed with questions, “What in the Disney fuckery are you talking about, mister? cursed mansion?”

she follows behind him watching as he tends to Don E. arms crossed over her chest, “Look here, Blaine. I don’t have time for all this--” she’s cut off by the fairytale magic of dancing chairs blocking her way out, followed by the not so magical barred windows. “I finally died. is that what this is. I fuckin’ died in a god damn car crash. a fuckin’ car took me out. of all things! and this is hell. I’m trapped in some fuckin’ morbid fairy tale!” inked digits run through her damp raven locks as she lets out a bit of manic laughter. “oh god, I’m f u c k e d.”

ignoring the men in the room she books it towards the chair barrier, hands outreached in front of her while she attempts to use her telekinetic abilities to move the chairs. to no avail, her abilities prove useless against the cursed objects. “Oh what the fuck.” she mutters to herself, continuing to erratically throw the chairs with her mind. after exhausting herself she returns to face the master of the mansion, “ for one, I’m Rosalyn. Rose if you’d prefer. Not your babe. Second, how long am I stuck here for, exactly?”

Blaine’s expression went through several changes the more she spoke. As he watched her attempt to do… whatever she was attempting to do, the idea hit him that perhaps she might have been more than just a normal human. Which meant, she would be way more useful to him than first thought. Not to mention, she was a spitfire full of energy. Oh the feats she could accomplish. Excellent. “I don’t eat the rest of the human, no,” he had to make sure to clarify, not that that fact helped make it less gross. “Other than the human brains we have to eat to keep from transforming into movie type zombies, I enjoy the same meats as normal humans do such as steak and chicken.”

With that out of the way, and how she had seemed to have simmered down for the moment, he continued, “Rose, step over here and take a look. You can see straight through Don’s torso. Just that hole is going to take at least a week.” Don blinked a few times and gave a weak wave. “The healing around it to get everything back to working order how it was, will probably be another week. So yeah, I’m predicting a sleepover of a couple weeks. We can do each other’s hair and paint each other’s toenails. It’ll be so fun,” he teased with delightful sarcasm.

Now for finding out if his guess was correct. “Will you be needing a broom to sweep this glass, or do you have other means to clean up this mess?” Brows raised in interest as he waited to see if she really did have abilities or if the show a moment ago was just a very weird tantrum.

it was a relief to hear the master of the home did in fact eat other food rather than just brains. meaning much needed food would be somewhere in her future. hopefully sooner rather than later at how weak she was feeling from the healing of her internal injuries. “So you eat brains to keep from going all dawn of the dead? hm. that’s interesting--” she took a mental note, hoping she wouldn’t have to see either one of the men lose control enough to attack.

inked arms crossed over her chest as she continued to listen to Blaine, offering Don a small wave in return to his. She had felt bad she had been the cause of damage, but was glad to hear he’d be healing. “regenerative abilities. that’s not too bad--” a pout had met her lips as ‘a couple weeks’ was spoken aloud. “a couple of weeks?” she repeats, “If I feed ya a bunch of brains, will that make ya heal faster? cause I’ll go find you some, won’t be a problem. Shit, I could even get them delivered. All’s I gotta do is hop up on tinder, get a few boys, send them the address and bing bang boom dinner’s served!” though the idea sounded grand in her head, she was sure there was some catch that would make that impossible for her to do.

“Not too sure about hair and nails, but if you have liquor--”she offers a devilish grin, “That’ll make these next couple of weeks way more enjoyable.” arms uncross as she takes in the whole mess, a sigh falling from her lips at the realization that she’d actually have to ‘help’ around the mansion. “fuck me--” she mutters to herself. “I don’t know. depends if that’s a cursed object like those d e m o n chairs, not too sure what I can and can’t do here. Never really had my abilities suppressed like this. might need that broom, I’ll figure it out though.”

Blaine listened to her plan, crossing his arms and giving Don E. looks as he did. “That scheme… While feeding him more won’t make him heal faster, luring dumbasses here under the guise of being beautiful women… that’s genius.” Brows raised and he shook his head in disbelief that they hadn’t thought of it before. “The only problem might be, nowadays, with shows like Catfish, people are being cautious.”

“I am not dressing up as a woman again, Blaine,” Don interrupted with a huff.

Blaine simply raised his hand to signal Don to zip it before giving an innocent laugh. “Yeah, we tried something similar before. They didn’t take the bait and he doesn’t like to talk about it.” He sighed and gave a roll of his eyes where Don couldn’t see. “But yup, that could be something fun to do while you’re here. We can even get them to bring us pizza and stuff. We could make a game out of it.” Yeah, Blaine had a feeling he was going to get along with his new houseguest just fine.

“As for liquor, I have a whole minibar in the basement along with a mini theatre, snack bar, pool table, and jacuzzi. It might look like an old creepy mansion on the outside, but the basement is totally modernized.” Otherwise, Blaine would have probably gone insane with boredom by now if it wasn’t for his basement. A quick inspection of the broom told it was not cursed as he turned it to reveal a sticker. “It’s from Lowe’s, see? Only the actual house and the stuff that came with it is cursed. So only the older furniture… But you know what, we can worry about this later. It’s not like we’re going to have visitors any time soon, right? So, to the basement for a drink…?” Arm was held out to her in a gentlemanly gesture.

“Catfish? Do I look like a catfish, handsome?” she does a small spin, flaunting what she was working with. “Keep in mind, I was in a car accident and walked about 4 miles in the freezin’ rain.” she looks to Don, raising a curious eyebrow before returning the same questionable look to Blaine, “I bet you’d both look gorgeous in dresses and glitter--”she shakes her head with a small laugh. laughter ends with a small sigh, “Well not what I was expecting to do for the next couple of weeks, but--” she shrugs, “I guess being locked in a cursed mansion won’t be too bad.”

knowing there was a whole lower layer designed for entertainment definitely brightened the deal, there being liquor was the icing on the cake. “Not too bad of a predicament with all the luxuries, huh?” inked digits came to rest upon Blaine’s offered arm, “I will gladly accept that drink offer, my good sir. Maybe you can fill me in on all this curse bullshit too. Question though, you said everything that came with the house was cursed. Like objects were once people type of curse? cause I don’t want to be using the bathroom on ol’ Lou and sleeping on Susan, if you get my drift.” hopefully that wasn’t the case.

At her spin, Blaine gave a nod of approval and a playful whistle. With her help, they could probably catch a ton of morons from the app. Definitely something to keep in mind. But this reminded him, she needed a change of clothes or something. “No, no, please no glitter. The last thing I want to do is sparkle... but yeah, I promise you, this won’t be bad at all.”

A hushed laugh was given at her question and he lowered his voice as if the house was listening. “No, no, the toilets and beds are new. I wasn’t going to use that old stuff. If they were people, well they’re out there somewhere in a landfill.” Evidently, Blaine wasn’t worried about breaking the curse anytime soon. “I’ll tell you everything I know about this place,” he said as he lead her to the basement, a host-like demeanor in his step. Finally someone to entertain! “First, we should get you out of those wet clothes... and maybe into a nice hot jacuzzi to get you warmed up? I have some t-shirts you’re welcome to while those wash.”

On the floor, Don E. rolled his eyes as they left the room in silence. With a sigh, he leaned over to grab a pillow and blanket from a nearby chair and wrapped himself up to take a nap as the healing to his injury was already zapping his energy.

“You’re bad.” She playfully hits him as she continues to follow his lead, eyes wandering around at objects she assumed were alive. She had hoped none could hear what Blaine had just shared with her. She didn’t want to upset the furniture now did she? “Jacuzzi sounds amazing! I’m assuming you don’t have a spare bikini lying around here, do ya?” A small shrug, “it’s fine. I’m not shy.” She offers her host a warm smile, “I will be taking you up on a shirt for after though. Wouldn’t want your entire home to have to see me naked. Poor things.”

The home was beautiful to say the least. better than anything she ever had the opportunity to stay in. The host wasn’t bad to look at either. Charming. The zombie thing was a new one for her though. She found herself curious to learn more, even more curious to see him in all his monstrous glory. She did love a dangerous man. “So what do you do here with all your free time? Just hang out?” Inked digits continue to hold onto his arm, “doesn’t it get rather lonely for you guys?”

At the bikini question, Blaine shook his head. There hadn’t been a woman in the house in a very long time. And the reason for that was a very sad one -- the darkest, cruelest part of the curse. Brows jumped in interest at the word naked... and normally, if he wasn’t currently cursed, he would have explained that no, he was sure the furniture couldn’t see. They could only sense their surroundings, from his tests. So, instead, he simply teased, “Poor things? Pfft. We could charge them admission.”

As they made their way down the stairs, Blaine prayed he had straightened up down there, because he honestly couldn’t remember. “We um, we learn how to make stuff and hang out, yeah.” He shrugged, knowing that didn’t sound very exciting at all, but he wasn’t sure just how much more he should reveal to her at the moment. “We built and put together all this down here by watching tutorials online.” Once they were in the basement, he went to turning on all the extra lights at the bar and started the bubbling going on in the jacuzzi as he thought of how to answer her last question. “Lonely is an understatement, but you know, I’m used to it. The curse was my fault, so I have to deal with it.” From his closet, a few shirts were pulled out for her approval. Blaine had a feeling she’d look amazing in any of them though.

another playful hit to Blaine’s arm before an agreeing nod. “We could charge admission.” she hummed for a moment, “but what could they possible pay with? they don’t have pockets.” she mockingly laughs at the pour trapped souls, definitely not earning the respect and adoration Bell did in the original tale. She was certain she would not be getting a lavish musical performance for dinner.

“make stuff?” she questions curiously as she enters the basement. It was more than what she expected. a modernized hang out area that you wouldn’t expect to be there when you explored the upper levels of the home. “See this is what I’m talking about. this is exciting!” she had released her grip on her host’s arm, allowing herself freedom to explore better. inked digits ran along the edge of the jacuzzi, dipping in to test the waters before she decided to strip of her wet clothes. “See, I would learn to make some sort of drug and mass produce it from home and sell from here. You’re in the middle of nowhere. in a cursed home. throw that shit up on the black market and bring in some money while you’re trapped–” her wet jacket and shirt are tossed to the floor, revealing a black lace bra and heavily inked skin. it doesn’t take her long before she’s out of her jeans and panties and submerging her shivering, nude body into the warmth and comfort of the jacuzzi.

“I’m gonna make you watch breaking bad. Cause that’s what you need to do. and then–” she leans over the edge of the jacuzzi, a devilish smile on her lips as she gazes at Blaine “they pay for the drugs and you eat their brains. Sounds like a good deal to me. and tweakers got energy. it wouldn’t be boring chasing them around figuring out new and exciting ways to end their lives.” she offers a shrug before pushing herself off the wall and into a comfortable spot against a jet.

As she spoke... and stripped down to nothing as promised, Blaine dipped behind the Asian inspired privacy panels to change. No, he wasn’t exactly shy, but they’d just met a few minutes ago and he was far too sober for streaking at the moment. Face went through a few different expressions as she spoke, eventually ending with a chuckle of amusement as he stepped into view in his black swim trunks. “You’re full of ideas. I like that. Don has some weed growing out in the green house, but that’s it on the drug front.” Though he didn’t stare, gaze never shied away from her as he went to rolling over the drink cart to the jacuzzi.

When she revealed the rest of her plan, that was when Blaine really gave a laugh as he stepped into the hot tub. “Wait, wait, you’re saying let them get hyped up on the drugs first, then chase them around? Like, playing with our food? And then add in a homicidal version of Home Alone on top of that?” There was a pause as he attempted to get the air out of his shorts in the most dignified way possible as he lowered into the bubbles and took a seat beside her. “We could record it and become famous on the internet, making people believe it’s fake, I guess. Which reminds me, the house can do a little trick where it disappears if it thinks we’re in danger...” It wasn’t until he turned to her that he realized just how close the seats really were. “Oh, um, what would you like to drink, babe?”

#welcome back~#this was faster than moving over each post individually #and i have your reply in my drafts #savagecuhnt #・ℬ * { au }

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theclaravoyant · 6 years

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She... plays softball. Plays for the other team, as it were.

a Skimmons Coffee Shop AU, ft. happily platonic FitzSimmons, and ever-helpful gayngel & captain shipper Bobbi Morse

taking a leaf from the wonderful @the-nerdy-stjarna’s book to re-release an old fic with a new banner for @aosadvent2017 prompt “food”. I love Coffee Shop AUs, I have one for every occasion, but this one seemed especially fitting as I wrote the fic itself for last year’s @skimmonssecretsanta.

Rated G/T. ~3600wd. the original fic post is here, you can read it on AO3 here, or below. Enjoy!

Swinging my way, Baby?

It was a Tuesday afternoon, when it had first happened.

A Tuesday, around 3:30 in the afternoon. When recounting later, she was unable to consistently say what month, let alone what date, because it had begun just like every other Tuesday, and had continued much the same, save for a moment of lightning in the middle.

Jemma Simmons, aspiring PhD, was meeting up with Fitz for Chem study, just like every other Tuesday afternoon. She wasn’t running late, because she never did, but surprisingly, Fitz was already there, and talking to another girl. A girl whose face Jemma had memorised from across the classroom, but had never seen up close like this before. A girl whose name she probably knew, but couldn’t pick out of a lineup, for all the face was familiar to her. A girl with sharp black eyes, a quick smile, and a tank top bearing shoulders that made Jemma’s knees quake.

With considerably less smoothness and dignity than she might have liked, Jemma feigned indifference to Fitz’ visitor. She took her usual seat at the large library table and began separating out her books and notes with precision. Still, she couldn’t help peeking every now and then, up at where Fitz and his friend were talking. Her hair was short, about shoulder length, and flared about her face, bouncing as she spoke or animatedly responded. Her bag was slung over one shoulder, and one of Jemma’s covert glances caught her hitching the bag up, causing the muscles of her shoulder to ripple. Jemma’s face flushed at that, and she buried her nose in her books until Fitz and the girl parted ways and he came to sit down.

“Sorry I’m late,” he greeted, scooting his chair in and scrabbling to pull his notes and books out of his bag to catch up with Jemma.

“It’s no problem.” It was a nice view. Jemma bit her lip, and instead tried, with a casualness that was on second thoughts, too forced to have been worth the pretence, asked, “who was that?”

“Who?” Fitz glanced over his shoulder. “Oh, Daisy. Yeah. Daisy Johnson, you know, she’s in Computing with me. She was just after some help with a Physics assignment.”

“Oh. So. She’s not – I mean…You don’t…like her?”

Fitz laughed.

“I used to have a crush on her, actually,” he explained, amused by the memory. “We almost went to the middle-school dance together. ‘Cept turns out she, you know, plays softball.”

“Softball! Of course!” Just in time, she stopped herself from commenting on how those arms would be wasted on anything else. But still, Fitz shook his head.

“No, I mean – well, yes, she does play softball. And football, actually. But I mean she, you know. Plays softball. Plays for the other team, as it were.“

“Oh. Right. Right. Yes. I’m with you now. I follow. I – yes.”

Smooth, Jemma. She stuck her nose into the nearest book and hoped she wasn’t sweating as profusely as it was starting to feel like she was.

And then it happened. The bolt of lightning. The realisation that she might, in all honesty, have an iota of a chance. It was like flicking a switch, turning a fleeting fantasy into a blooming, consuming desire in the blink of an eye. Situational affection? A mind-boggling if temporary crush? Or cupid’s arrow through her heart, turning everything Daisy into diamonds in an effort to lure Jemma into a love story for the ages? Not knowing was half the fun of it. And more than half the terror.

“Why do you ask?” Fitz wondered after a moment. “Do you like her?”

Jemma fidgeted in her seat.

“I was just thinking about trying out myself,” she said, as smooth a derailment as she could hope for under the circumstances. “For softball, I mean.”

Fitz snorted. “I’d like to see that.”

Jemma slapped her pen onto the desk.

“I totally could!”

“I’m sure you could! I just don’t think it’s your style. Hideous uniforms, pointless running around in circles, lots of sweating and effort for no discernable reason –“

“Except fitness! And – and fun! And teamwork! And competition, you know I love competition –“

Soon enough the argument shifted away from Daisy, and even from softball, and onto the two of them challenging each other’s sporting abilities and willingness to suffer hard work and dirt. Jemma’s crush didn’t fade though. It only took a back seat. For a few hours, she even had herself convinced that she should indeed pick up a bat and try out.

Eventually, of course – and for which Jemma was eternally grateful - the heady optimism of inspiration faded and she realised that she had neither the skill, nor the money, nor even the desire to try out for softball, or any other kind of sport really. She would never be able to maintain it, if nothing else. Plus, her running around getting sweaty and failing at everything was, to say the least, not nearly as alluring as she would like to come across. Instead, after a few days of denial and indecision, she picked herself up and sought out Carter’s, the café where most of the campus’s sports and arts – and queer – communities were reputed to hang out. Being a hard science student who spent most of her time across campus these days, Jemma had not been to Carter’s for some time. It was not as she remembered it, and as she walked in, a combination of nerves, surprise and marvel took her breath away.

Only a few steps through the door, Jemma’s purposeful stride faded into a slow turn, like a young woman in a film arriving in The Big City. She stared so wide and for so long she felt like a freshman. She probably looked like one too, but she couldn’t help it. The place was decked out like a 1950s milkshake bar or diner, right down to the stools at the lunch bar, juke box in the corner, and musk-candy colour scheme of pink and green. Not to mention, the pillbox hats and matching collared uniforms that the feminist in Jemma was a little ashamed to admit, made her heart flutter. It felt like she had stepped back in time, or at least into one of those handcrafted, overly perfect horror-movie villages in Florida where nothing was ever as it seemed.

A chill ran down her spine at the sudden expectation that something might jump out at her. Nothing did, but she was unceremoniously dropped out of her timeless bubble and into a world where she should, by all accounts, order something or sit down. One look at the tall, muscled blonde behind the counter, making fiercely cheerful eye contact with her latest customer and smiling that familiar smile, told Jemma she was not up for that yet. So she sat, simply grabbing for the nearest empty table and pulling out her notebook and anatomy textbook. She’d come in here to eat – or at least, that’s what she had been planning to tell anyone who asked – but there was always work to be done.

Soon enough, in fact, she was so absorbed in her readings that she didn’t even notice the true reason for her presence there slip in through the door.

Daisy Johnson.

Carter’s had been a staple of Daisy’s college life. Situated between the gym and the theatre, it was where some of the most interesting people gathered, and where many of the girls on her team – both literally, and euphemistically – worked and hung out. Being near the theatre as it was, and relatively near the food and design schools, Carter’s tended to go through renovations a lot. Its latest incarnation resembled a 1950s diner and aside from its renewal of her love for Back to the Future, Daisy didn’t care for it all that much. She was hoping for something more outrageous next, like a Wild West saloon, or some kind of situation in which everybody wore rollerblades. But for now, at least the food was good and the milkshakes – and the uniforms, of course – were widely celebrated.

“Lookin’ good, Bobbi,” Daisy greeted, as she dropped into the stool nearest the cash register. Barbara was today’s resident supervisor’s intensely loathed full name, and in the spirit of the vintage theme under which she currently worked, she had easily heard it more times in the past three months than in the three years before that. Even so, Daisy had to bite her lip to stop herself bringing it up for a laugh. Bobbi glared, and Daisy beamed innocently and ducked her head below the counter for a moment, trying to reach simultaneously for her purse, and for the pastries under the cover beside the register.

Bobbi rolled her eyes good-naturedly, and lifted the cover for Daisy’s blindly reaching hand.

“Pink or sprinkles?” Bobbi asked.

“Surprise me.”

Bobbi handed Daisy a pink one with rainbow sprinkles, just as Daisy’s head reappeared over the counter. Her eyes widened at Bobbi’s selection and she took a large bite, humming in satisfaction through the mouthful of donut.

“Ah, you know just how I like it.”

Bobbi eyed her with an exaggerated expression of disgust as Daisy fished out coins from her purse, the donut now dangling from her mouth where she had sunk her teeth into it in order to free up her hands.

“Not if you like it like that, I don’t,” Bobbi remarked.

“Shut up.”

Daisy took the donut out of her mouth and added a coffee to her order, but as she did so, looked over her shoulder. It had just now clicked in her brain that she had recognised somebody when she’d come in. Somebody who didn’t usually come here, and who fit in a little too well, with her A-line skirt and pastel colours, and the way she kept twirling her fingers in her stray lock of hair.

“Oh my god.”

Daisy swung back around to the counter and ducked, wishing she had a menu or something to cover her face, though that hardly would have been less conspicuous. Blushing furiously, Daisy tried to recover by taking a sip of her coffee, and burnt her tongue instead. She cursed herself as Bobbi asked, inevitably,

“Who’s that?”

“A girl. Just a girl. No biggie.” Coffee, coffee. Ouch! Damn it.

“No biggie because she barely reaches my elbow?” Bobbi speculated. “Or no biggie in the lesser known, ‘if I hide behind this menu and she never sees me I’ll never have to confront my feelings,’ sense of ‘no biggie.’”

Daisy sighed.

“Ah, I really hope you become a fully fledged bartender one day,” she said, resignation in her tone. “Your talents are wasted here.”

Bobbi pouted, and reached for a towel just so that she could brush it across the counter and lean on it dramatically.

“So this girl, huh?” she inquired.

Daisy sighed again. Feelings confrontation time. “Her name is Jemma, she’s in my Physics class.“

“You take Physics?”

“Yes. What did you think I was taking?”

“The Science of Harry Potter?” Bobbi suggested. Daisy glared.

“Don’t even joke about that. I would kill.”

Bobbi smiled, and prompted: “So, Physics.”

“So Physics. Anyway. She’s there and she’s pretty and, well, I thought that was the end of the story…“

“Buuuuut…“

“Iiiiiiif you’d let me finish….but see, I’d thought she was with Fitz. I’d just assumed. Only, I mentioned something about it - y’know, them – to him today and I’m pretty sure he’ll still be laughing at graduation. They’re just friends! So totally friends! Kinda weirdly close friends, but still!”

“So why the long face?”

“I got my hopes up for a bit. But then I remembered. Jemma’s had certified boyfriends. Milton, Will. So I’m back where I started. At least I was. Til just now. And she’s here. I mean…do you think she knows? About this place?”

Daisy raked her hands through her hair, anxious, only to find Bobbi smirking, a mischievous glint of victory in her eyes.

“Oh, sweetie, she knows,” Bobbi assured Daisy. “And as for that ‘certified boyfriends’ thing…she’s had certified girlfriends too.”

Daisy’s eyes narrowed.

“Me!” Bobbi confirmed, with a flourish. “She’s a bit of a Bambi but don’t be fooled. That girl can go.”

“So what happened with you two?” Daisy wondered. Bobbi shrugged, her expression softening.

“We were both high achievers,” she explained, “and both in the same field. Competing for attention, grants, grades… Neither of us wanted to compromise and well, too much competition stops being fun. It put a strain on us and luckily, we stepped out before we snapped. No hard feelings. Some that suck, of course, but we don’t hate each other, so that’s a plus.”

“Hmph.” Daisy’s shoulders slumped, and she resumed picking at her donut, pensive and somewhat put out.

“Hmph?” Bobbi repeated, curious.

“Well, Jemma’s still a high achiever. She probably wouldn’t have time for me anyway. It’s just going to collapse, it’s not – Never mind, I’ll just get over it.”

Bobbi shook her head, made a note on a cup, and passed it to the coffee girl without taking her eyes off Daisy for more than a moment.

“There’s only one way to know for sure,” she insisted. Daisy moped, but Bobbi slapped down an apricot danish in a napkin and drew her attention.

“Ask. The girl. Out,” Bobbi commanded. “Bring her something, make her laugh, get a conversation going. Come on, Daisy, I don’t have to coach you.”

“I don’t even know what she likes!” Daisy whined, though her defenses were falling left right and centre. “I could get her an Americano, that’s what I have- but then, what does that say about what I think about her? Or me? Cheap, basic, unoriginal. Great. But then if I get her something else, something fancier, she might not like it, or she could be allergic. Or tea? Maybe she likes tea. I mean she’s English, they must like tea right? No, that’s ridiculous. Not all English people like tea. So what then?”

Daisy met Bobbi’s eyes, desperate.

“As the ex, it is my duty to let you work all this out on your own, young Padawan,” Bobbi informed her sagely. But before Daisy could give up, Bobbi received her secret order from the coffee girl and pushed it across the counter to Daisy, alongside the apricot danish. Bobbi met her confused glance with a wink, and added: “As your best friend, it’s my duty to wingman you to the best of my ability. It’s a fine line.”

“You’re fantastic. I love you.”

“Ah, save it for Bambi!” Bobbi shooed Daisy away from the counter and Daisy went, gleefully, singing in her head, over to Jemma’s table. She had a moment to take in the dusky pinks and browns of Jemma’s outfit, and the way the light seemed to fall softer on her, and then Jemma looked up.

“I’m sorry,” she said, “can I help you?”

And just like that, the moment was gone, evaporated by the sudden grip of panic.

Jemma looked up, and she could have sworn her heart skipped a beat. Here was Daisy, so close her eyes were sparkling, and with an absent smile on her face like she didn’t have to think about it. And with an apricot danish in one hand, and what appeared to be a chai latte – though the label was partially covered – in the other. Jemma’s stomach rumbled. It was like a vision from the gods.

“I – I’m sorry,” she stammered, snapping herself out of her distraction. “Ah, can I help you?”

“Um. Yes. Maybe.” Don’t look at Bobbi, don’t look at Bobbi. It had been far too long since she’d had a proper date, especially with someone like Jemma. And even though Bobbi had promised, Daisy still wasn’t sure…

“I was wondering…”

Make her laugh.

“Did you swallow a magnet?”

Jemma blinked. “What?”

“Did you swallow a magnet?” Daisy repeated, her mouth bone-dry all of a sudden. “Because…you’re attractive.”

Jemma snorted. “That’s terrible.”

“I know,” Daisy groaned.

“No, I love it!”

“Really? Because I’ve got plenty more.” Daisy cleared her throat and leaned into the cheese, listing off pick-up lines in a variety of voices as she slid into the seat next to Jemma’s. “’Baby, I’ve got my ion you.’ ‘What’s your sine?’ ‘Are you full of berillium, gold and titanium? Because you are B-E-A-U-Ti-ful.’”

Jemma snorted again and curled up, giggling.

“Ten points for delivery,” she awarded.

“Oh! Speaking of delivery, these are for you.” Daisy pushed the gifts across the table, and Jemma bet into the danish with relish.

“Thank you, my favourite!”

“I had help,” Daisy confessed with a smirk. “A little birdie told me.” Jemma raised an eyebrow over Daisy’s shoulder at Bobbi, who shrugged innocently and went about wiping down and rearranging the counter.

“Well, are you having anything? I don’t have my little birdie on me today, but I’d be happy to return the favour.”

“Not a favour,” Daisy insisted. “A gift. A…hm, a –“

“A date?” Jemma grinned broadly. “With me? Really?”

“Wait, did you not get that?” Daisy frowned.

“No,” Jemma replied sarcastically, “the string of pick-up lines was completely lost on me. Yes, of course I got it! I just thought it was sweet how you got all flustered. I’ve been too intimidated to speak to you all year.”

“Intimidated?” Daisy laughed. “Why?”

“Because…” Jemma blushed. “You’ve swallowed a magnet.”

“Aw! That’s terrible!” Daisy crooned, flattered, as if the word terrible was sweet.

“I know!” Jemma moaned, but she couldn’t help smiling. “I couldn’t even remember your name until the other day, I’ve just been sitting in class pining all year!”

“You should’ve asked Fitz to hook us up! Does he know? About you?”

“Yes! I don’t know why I didn’t think of that. I guess it still feels a little weird to talk to people about it. It’s strange being bi, I feel like I’m faking it half the time. Plus, I mean, I didn’t even know that you were – that you could even be interested until he told me. Oh, I hope you don’t mind about that, by the way.”

Daisy shrugged. “I’ve already told him I’m cool with it. I’m pretty out.”

“Oh. Good.”

“Obviously not out enough, though, if you didn’t pick up on it. I should start wearing rainbow flags to school…or plaid, at least. I could rock some plaid, don’t you think?”

“You already play softball!”

“I do roller-derby too, actually,” Daisy added. Jemma’s eyes widened.

“I have always wanted to try that!”

“It’s a load of fun. You will get the crap beaten out of you though.”

Jemma’s eyes lit up immediately.

“Any gruesome injury stories?”

“Ew! We’re eating!”

“Well, I’m eating,” Jemma corrected. “And I’m a bio student. I’m used to it.”

“You fascinate me,” Daisy said, more sincere than she had been expecting. Belatedly, she realised Jemma was right and that she still did not have her food with her. She glanced over her shoulder at it, and saw the coffee and donut and her bag still by the counter.

“Um. I’ll be right back.“

Bobbi met her eyes pointedly, and pushed the coffee and donut across the counter with a salacious sparkle.

“I’ll bring you guys a lunch menu later.”

“Shut up,” Daisy scoffed, blushing.

She returned to Jemma’s table, to find Jemma eagerly awaiting her arrival.

“We don’t have to talk about gory injuries if you don’t want to,” Jemma clarified. “I can be a bit gross. Sorry.”

“No, it’s okay. I have some killer stories! I just like to keep my blood and bones separate from my icing and sprinkles.”

“Fair enough. We’ll just have to find something different to talk about, then.”

Jemma pulled her anatomy notebook toward her and Daisy frowned, confused. Shouldn’t they be heading away from blood and bones? But as she watched, Jemma turned to a blank page, tore off a corner and started writing on it. A phone number.

“Just in case you wanted to tell me those stories some other time,” she explained as she slid it over to Daisy.

“Can’t wait!”

“But for now, blood-free, hm?” Jemma mused. “Well, okay, let’s start at the beginning.”

She held out her hand for a shake.

“Jemma Simmons. Biochemistry.”

“Daisy Johnson. Counterterrorism.”

From there, they launched into a lively conversation, swinging from favourite foods and seasons of the year to mockeries of dating advertisements, anecdotes, relatives and ancestors, life goals and hobbies and home and everything in between. They had lunch, and then Jemma walked Daisy to class, and grinned at nothing and rocked on her heels and shivered with delight after Daisy went inside. Daisy had given Jemma her number too, and Jemma rolled and flipped the paper between her fingers gleefully. It had been a long time since she’d had a date with someone special, lost track of time, kept them on her mind. It had been a long time since she’d felt this sort of chemistry with anyone, or had it reciprocated so enthusiastically or with a warmth and vibrancy that reminded her this is real.

Jemma ambled toward home without a rush, floating on the high of her blissfully, unexpectedly successful day. She sat on the train, barely but contentedly containing the urge to introduce herself to everyone that walked on with, “hi, I’m Jemma Simmons, I have a girlfriend. She’s amazing.” Then, as they pulled away from the station at last, her phone buzzed. A message from Daisy.

Remind me to show you a proper bat grip tomorrow. McLean Field, 9am.

Jemma smiled so wide she had to bite her lip to contain it, and proceeded to spend most of the rest of the trip home entering their next date, with care and flourish, into her diary.

#skimmons #bioquake #aospositivitynet #aosfemslash #buskidsnet #aosficnet2 #aosadvent2017 #prompt: food #clara's fic tag

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ninja-scenarios · 7 years

Text

Kakashi x reader

Warning: character death

The rain pattered against the window, lining up raindrops for a speed battle. I followed them with my eyes as they ran all the way down the glass pane one by one. Outside was one of the nurses, hurrying to collect the laundry before it got all drenched. Somehow it seemed like it rained quite often in this part of town. It was the calmer part, where a lot of elders lived. There were also a lot of them here around me, although I was barely in my twenties. It was a soothing yet terrifying feeling to be here, shrouded from the busy life of town and most importantly, from the other ninjas. My old uniform hung above a chair, feigning a false image of the long since forgotten hope.

There was no way to deny I missed being a ninja. Sometimes, my old reflexes still kicked in when one of the nurses startled me. But like this, it was impossible to escape reality and the fact that my days as a Jōnin were over. This was the dark side of being a ninja. They didn´t teach that to the young kids at the academies.

The spot in front of the window was the best place to spend most of the day. It was relaxing to let the bright rays of sunshine warm your face while hearing the birds sing and chirp. Some of the staff was worried about me and tried to talk me into going out into the garden instead. I hated when they talked to me like that, I wasn´t a goddamn child! And it saddened me to visit the garden since the other people that lived here were there all the time. Seeing them just constantly reminded me of my own situation.

No matter the circumstances, I still knew how to entertain myself with drawing and reading. My favourite thing to do was watching opera and theatre plays, but ever since I lived here, I had not been to an opera hall many times. It wasn´t like I was hiding. At least not completely. I was simply scared to go outside. People could easily attack me and I was helpless if they did so. This feeling gnawed on me down to my very nerves. The children stared and sometimes even giggled and laughed while adults tried to act normal around me and scolded the young ones for their behaviour. No, it wasn´t like I was hiding, I just couldn´t take all this for long so I barely went outside.

No one forced me to be here. At the start I´d not wanted to come here and thought I could still live on my own. Though after a short time I´d accepted that this was the best solution for me.

My old friends sometimes came for a visit. Anko tried to visit me as often as she could, but the life of a ninja was very busy. She often gave me new books or some souvenirs from the places her missions had led her to. Of course I was jealous since I was used to taking missions and traveling but I did my best to look strong whenever she came for a visit. I gave my best to look strong to everyone. The thought of some of my friends or the nurses pitying me was disgusting.

Being engrossed in thoughts like I usually was, I didn´t notice that someone approached me until I heard the footsteps a few metres before they reached the door to my room. It pushed open and my old friend came in. Actually, he wasn´t only my old friend, but also my old crush. More like current crush. Or rather the one guy I knew I would always have a thing for.

“How did you come here in all of that rain?” My greeting seemed rather could hadn´t it been for the soft smile on my lips.

“Oh it rained? I didn´t notice.” Kakashi said in his usual dry tone, but this time it held a small wave of amusement. The sarcasm literally dripped down from him in the wetness that dripped down from his clothes and messy silver hair. I tried not to calculate on my head how long ago his last visit had been. I tried my best to only feel happy that he was here right now. I´d really missed this little bastard.

Kakashi took his time to take off his soaked flak jacket, throwing it casually onto an empty chair. Then he sat down next to me, pulling up another chair to the window and I couldn´t help but watch how his muscles flexed under his blue clothing.

“Let´s talk for real now. How are you?”

My gaze drifted away from him, out of the window. The raindrops pattering against the window was the only sound in the room. I knew what he wanted to ask with that question. My condition was what he really wanted to know. I mustered up all of my physical strength and very slowly stood up. Because I was so close to the window, I could steady myself on the sill, only with my right arm though.

Kakashi was as silent as I was and I couldn´t stand this lack of words, the anticipation that was almost visible in the room.

“It could be better.” I finally managed to say. Small tones of repressed anger found their way into my voice as I leaned my head against the window. I was angry at myself for everything. It was my fault that I had to be here, that I like this. My condition wasn´t getting any better. In fact, it had only worsened since I got here. I didn´t blame the medic ninjas that tried their best, my case was just hopeless. I should have never went on that mission that day, I should have-

“y/n-chan.” Kakashi´s voice roused me from slumber. Immediately I blushed, disappointed that I´d let my thoughts drift like this when he was around. I felt sorry. My legs gave up under me and for a second I threatened to hit the ground, but strong arms wrapped around my waist and kept me up. I closed my eyes and leaned my head back at Kakashi, enjoying his closeness. He didn´t say a thing and only held me. Probably he understood.

The silver haired Jōnin had been my crush for so long. I had wanted to make a move on him after I came back from that mission but since it didn´t play out as planned I´d never gotten to that. My insecurities had taken their best on me after that accident and like this, confessing to Kakashi was not manageable. My confidence was balanced again, but the nurses had talked about rumours… Oh Kakashi.

“There´s a theatre play tonight. I thought you would like to go there.”

His words shook me.

“That would be great.” I appreciated him trying to lure me out of my self-declared seclusion. Normally, Kakashi would never do something for others. That bastard was way too selfish for that. Maybe he did it because he thought my days on earth were restricted. Well, I wasn´t going to go down that easily!

After the rain had settled, Kakashi made his way into town with me. The copy nin carried me on his back since neither of us were interested in carrying the wheelchair around. And it was way more embarrassing this way. Well, at least for everyone else than me. Being this close to him, it brought back old memories. I did my best to not let the rumours sadden me too much, but it did not always work. The nurses had talked about seeing Kakashi with a young Kunoichi particularly often in the last months. There was no way I could be angry at him about that. In my physical state, no one could seriously plan on spending his life together with me. The sweet pain that seemed to crush my heart whenever I thought about it was all too familiar. I tried to ignore it as I leaned my head on the silver haired ninja´s shoulder. With him, I did not feel vulnerable. He made me feel strong and protected. Probably Kakashi felt the same way when he was around that Kunoichi.

My thoughts kept tying a knot inside my head, and no matter in which direction they went, it kept tangling. As the curtains lifted and the stage play started, my mind went blank for a second, blinded by the excitement and anticipation. Fifteen minutes into the play I first spared my comrade a glance again, and was surprised to see Kakashi actually staring at the actors on stage. His expression seemed rather bored and normally he would´ve gotten out his book to read instead of torturing himself with this evening that was obviously not to his liking. But tonight was different. Tonight he paid attention. Whenever I looked back ahead, there was a pair of eyes glued to the back of my head. I pretended not to notice and the feeling disappeared soon. The only thing I did was letting my mind fully focus on the play as I listened to the words that I already knew by heart.

Afterwards I remember being so sleepy that I had missed the end of the play. Even though I didn´t want to admit it, it had been hard for me to stay at the brink of consciousness before I fell into the depths of sleep. Kakashi had carried me back to my room. I had felt so calm while he was around me, but as soon as my head hit the pillow and I heard him say goodbye, my mind was engulfed in my restless, irregular sleep pattern.

The next day I woke up to a bird chirping outside. Kakashi must´ve left the window open for me. It was a nice yet strange gesture. As if he wanted to tell me that although I lived here, I could still escape and come to the “outer world”. Even though it was the same town, this part of Konoha felt so repellent and devouring. But maybe that was just my point of view.

Getting dressed took it´s time but when I was finished I rolled onto the small hallway. There were other people that lived here besides me, temporary patients or basket cases like me. When I passed the other rooms I did my best not to look through the open doors. Being constantly reminded of all the illnesses made me examine my own wounds. On the surface it was tough, underwater it was much harder to stay sane with the small battles I fought against myself when I looked at my reflection.

Midday was spent in the garden. The nurses had convinced me to enjoy the weather outside since it had rained so much yesterday. I closed my eyes as the warm rays of sunshine warmed my face and forget about the world around me. Time didn´t matter anymore. Since that incident, seconds and days had started speaking another language and I was lost in translation. Whether it was Monday or Friday, I´d spend this day like a Sunday and lazily enjoy the sun. Since I didn´t pay attention otherwise, a visitor came into the garden, unnoticed. Only when I heard my name being said I opened my eyes. This voice was very recognizable.

“Tsunade-sama. How can I help you?”

My words were a mockery of the picture I was. Of course I knew I couldn´t help her in any way. Something flickered over the Sannin´s face. She hadn´t come here for me. Probably she´d needed to talk to an elder and had found me here by coincidence.

“y/n-san. How´s the facility so far? I hope it´s comfortable living here.”

Her tone told me she didn´t really care but it was simple formality to ask.

“It´s alright.”

Suddenly her expression changed and the blonde Hokage looked as if she had just remembered something very important.

“Chizune told me a few days ago that she read in an old scroll about a healing method. It´s a very complicated surgery but it could fix you. Think about it and then contact me, I have to head back to my office.”

Her words hit me like a stone to my face. “Fix me”. She couldn´t have meant that, did she? Nothing could fix me. I don´t remember saying goodbye to her but I think I did because when I looked next to me, there was a small scroll sitting on a close by bench. I picked it up with some difficulties and enrolled it. What I saw there made my hands go numb in anxiety. The procedure of the operation was shortly described. Even though it didn´t contain many words, they managed to turn everything up and down. The scroll had barely mentioned the aftereffects and risks of the surgery, but that wasn´t necessary. I knew everything there was to it. The change of dying was higher than fifty percent and if something went wrong, it could end up destroying even more of my body. Still though, Tsunade-sama was a very skilled medic-nin and if there was only a small chance of being able to heal, being able to go back to the way I was…

Hours later, I was still engrossed in thoughts about the contents of the scroll. I barely noticed how another visitor burst into my room. Some of the nurses must´ve brought me back here.

“y/n-san!”

I looked up.

“I hadn´t expected you here, Gai.”

Even though his big smile and positive attitude seemed kind of ironic at this place, it felt good to see him.

“I came as soon as I heard from Tsunade-sama that she´s planning a surgery for you. I overheard her talking to Chizune and demanded to know what this was about. It looks like there isn´t a high risk, but I still need to convince you to take it! I know you, Dou-san. You love being a ninja. If everything goes well then you can fully recover, just like Lee did. I have faith in Tsunade. Please consider getting the operation.”

I was a bit overwhelmed with the already defined opinion of my former comrade. In fact, my opinion was still in the grey area even though I had thought about it the whole day. But none the less, I forced myself to smile at the always bright shinobi and nodded.

“I`ll consider it. Thanks so much for coming, Gai.”

He gave me a thumps up and eventually left to go back to his duties. Left me here in more thoughts than before. If Gai had heard it, maybe Kakashi knew about it too? He hadn´t come straightly here, though. Thinking about this particular shinobi made me uneasy. It was like a fire inside of me started burning. It gave me strength but at the same time, it used my insides as fuelwood. The determination that it gave, forced me to put everything at risk. Imagining Kakashi with that kunoichi did the rest, then. I was gonna get the surgery. Maybe, if it went well, there would be a future for Kakashi and me. How should I live on like this anyways? I was a living corpse. Not even that, but I knew that I was slowly dying. This wasn´t my first surgery, there had been countless of them before, but none of them had been able to cure me, they had only slowed down the progress. This new method Tsunade had talked about could work. I never knew you could use Chakra like this. It all seemed so promising. I was gonna do it. For myself and for Kakashi.

These thoughts were the last ones in my head as I laid on the cold metal stretcher. They had wrapped belts around my legs and arms. It felt very ironic but they also gave me some kind of mental support. It had been four days since Gai came to me. Kakashi still hadn´t showed up again. But I was gonna fight for us, with or without him at my side. That kunoichi could quit right away. A smile grazed my lips and I slipped into a slumber.

My hands grabbed into white, soft sheets. Free from restraint, I moved through fields of light grass and flowers, down into the ground of the dark, comfortable sea. Nothing could touch me, nothing could break me. High up in the star filled sky I heard someone say my name. Bits of blue coloured pieces stuck to my wrists and the earth underneath was painted in light, mindless colours.

“y/n-chan.”

I remember my mother kissing my forehead.

“y/n-chan!”

The sun tickling my cheeks whenever I faced the sky.

I remember all of the moments I shared in laughter and happiness. They were there, colourful like rainbow and so comforting I couldn´t help but to laugh out in joy. It was all here with me and I didn´t mind getting washed away by the falling tide.

“Dou-chan, I´m sorry. I wanted to tell you, but… I was scared of getting left behind and hurt. I loved you, I always did. But I chose to try and forget, because I knew you would die.

Forgive me.”

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