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awesome-badass-cafeteria-sauce · 5 months

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Peace At Last

A purely self-indulgent Ten x Reader fic because I just love Ten so much okay! (gif made by me)

Let me know what you think!

Read on ao3

Tagging some people I’ve recently followed who I think might like it: @denaliwrites @tatennant @doctor-donnaa @quite-right-too @theetherealbloom @my-lonely-angel @casasupernovas @kbishop @tennant @raining-stars-somewhere-else @davidtennan-t

Ten x Reader, she/her/hers pronouns, one use of Y/N

(Sorry if this causes pain especially since it’s the last episode with Fourteen and David Tennant as The Doctor today. Wishing everyone so much love and hope you can cope with the pain we will all be experiencing in 5 hours!)

They bumped into each other.

Literally.

He wasn’t looking where he was going, just trying to focus on not collapsing in the street before he could make it back to the TARDIS, and she was coming out of a shop.

This was almost the end.

He could feel it.

He felt it when he saw Rose but he couldn’t let go.

Not yet.

He had one more stop.

He wanted to be near where she lived.

He just wanted to be near her.

One last time.

He didn’t want to wipe her memory but he had to.

It wasn’t like it was with Donna but he knew that one day she would die because of him and he didn’t want that.

He couldn’t bear the thought.

It had to be done so she could live and she never would have left of her own accord. She would never leave him willingly so what other choice did he have?

Especially after trying to change time and becoming The Time Lord Victorious. Look how that turned out.

Adelaide Brooke still died only it was his fault instead of it being an accident.

“Oh shit! Sorry! I should have been looking where I was going!” A voice said.

“No, it’s m-” He knew that voice. His luck really was great(!)

He must’ve paused for a beat too long because she spoke again. “Are you okay? Did I hurt you?”

That was her all over. Always worrying and caring about others (him especially).

“Yeah! I’m fine!” He replied, trying to sound nonchalant. “Just feeling a bit under-the-weather. Winter and all, you know?” His voice didn’t sound like him. It was nervous, slightly high-pitched, and shook a little. He hoped that she didn’t know that there was something wrong.

“I know. You might want to invest in some actual winter clothes though to keep you warm. Converse and winter are not the best combination,” she laughed, looking him up and down at his unusual (to her now anyway) attire.

He could’ve cried and hugged her at hearing the jibe she’s told him multiple times while travelling with him. Instead, he forced himself to laugh and smile at her.

“Yeah, I suppose I should. Maybe one day,” he replied, scratching the back of his neck. A habit that he had developed when he was nervous.

She would have noticed and usually tried to comfort him. But not now. The thought made his hearts ache.

“Sorry but do I know you?” She asked, staring at him with a slight frown. His hearts leapt into his throat. “You just seem so familiar. What’s your name?”

He quickly composed himself before replying with a classic phrase. “No, sorry, I don’t think you do. I guess I just have one of those faces. Name’s David. David Smith.”

She had told him to stop with the John Smith alias as “no-one believes that’s your name. I may as well call myself Jane Doe.” So he had changed it as soon as he wiped her mind. Just in case he ever saw her again and the name John Smith made her remember.

“David…” She trailed off, as if she was trying to place the name, still slightly frowning until the crease between her eyebrows eased. “I guess you do just face on of those faces. Sorry about that,” she finished, smiling sheepishly.

He mentally released a breath that he didn’t realise he was holding.

“No worries,” he replied, smiling to try to ease her embarrassment that he knew she was feeling.

She may not remember him but he still knew her like the back of every hand he’s ever had.

They stood there for a few moments, longer than two seemingly strangers should, just smiling at each other before she looked away, a light blush colouring her already flushed cheeks from the cold.

His hearts ached again and pain filled his entire being.

He would never get to see her blush from embarrassment due to looking at him for too long again.

“I should probably go before the snow gets worse,” she said.

He looked around and noticed that the snow had started to get heavier since they had been talking.

“Of course. Get home safe.” His voice cracked. Home should be in the TARDIS with him.

“You too. Before you go,” she said, putting a hand on his arm as he was turning the leave.

He could feel the pain of having to leave her almost bring him to his knees due to feeling her touch again. It had felt so long since he had felt that and he never wanted her to stop.

He would never feel her comforting touch or her hand in his again and he was starting to break

She was rummaging through her bag and took out a blue scarf. TARDIS blue.

“Here,” she said softly as she leaned up on her tip toes and wrapped it around his neck. “I don’t know why but I just bought this. It’s not really my thing and I don’t have anyone else to give it to but there was something in my mind that urged me to buy it. Maybe this was fate,” she chuckled. “There! Looks great!” She grinned, smoothing out the scarf and his breath caught as her fingers grazed the back of his head.

“Thank you, he responded quietly, tears filling his eyes “Truly. Thank you.” He took her hands in his and kissed the back of them.

“You’re very welcome,” she said, just as quietly as him, and blushed once more.

He let go of her hands and took a step back. He swore that he saw disappointment on her face at that.

He didn’t have time to dwell on it for too long as she had thrown her arms tightly around his waist and pressed her face into his chest, taking a deep breath of him in.

He wasn’t sure if his hearts had stopped completely or if they were beating so fast that he couldn’t feel them beating properly anymore.

He wrapped his arms around her and kissed the top of her head, taking in the familiar and comforting scent.

The hug ended as quickly as it had started but before he could feel too disappointed, she had placed her hands on his shoulders, almost wrapping her arms around his neck like the scarf was, and pressed her lips to his cheek.

She stepped back and smiled brightly at him

“Merry Christmas, Doctor,” she said as she walked away.

He was frozen.

Did she just-?

Could she-?

No.

She couldn’t remember him.

Could she?

His brain was working faster than normal.

“Merry Christmas, Y/N,” he called after her before he knew was he was doing.

She briefly turned back and waved, that beautiful smile still on her lips, lighting up her whole face.

“Merry Christmas, my love,” he whispered, turning the corner as quickly as he could to find the TARDIS before him.

He could feel the old girl humming happily in his head and he smiled at her in return.

The image of his love didn’t leave his mind.

Not even as he noticed Ood Sigma.

Not even as he started to feel the pain of death returning.

Even when the Ood started singing to him and he felt himself burning, he could still see her.

Her smile bright and warm, helping him find peace.

At last.

~ A few streets away ~

“Huh. That was weird,” she said out loud.

Shrugging, she entered a café, still smiling and felt a warmth that travelled deep into her soul.

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chaoticdelinqueerwithglitter · 5 months

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Okay, yesterday I had a shared brain riot with @just-sp-in-inginthevoid about Kakucho not having a real birthday and the s62 throwing him unbirthday mad tea parties. More of once in a year because, hey, it's an unbirthday! Mostly because the Haitani brothers wanted a excuse to be extras and dress up, but also because they decided it was a funny way of trying to find out his real birthday (of course, Izana was the one that decided the official date).

In some way, this is the second part of this drabble here. What could be at least in Bonten!timeline.

Kakucho used to loves his unbirthdays. Before everything changed.

(Drabble of Kakucho during Bonten. There is some subtle KakuIza, but it's just a tinny moment easy to ignore and see it as platonic)

Warnings: Angst and hurt without too much comfort. I'm so sorry, I swear the idea was hilarious in my mind, but then Bonten timeline appeared and it refused to not be angsty. So yeah, I'm so sorry, Kakucho 😭

(English is not my first language, so be nice please 🙈)

"Happy unbirthday!"

Kakucho almost jumped when Ran, Rindou and Mochi screamed at him as soon as he entered his office.

He just sighed, because of course, he should've know better. It was Februart 1st, he's official "unbirthday".

But the scarred man thought, that now that they were all adults (and criminals, for god's sake), this surprises parties were over. Or at least, the costumes were over. He should've know better, Ran and Rindou missing a chance to dress up and be weirdos? Not in a million years. Even the poor Mochi was wearing some ridiculous bunny-ears.

"I'm not going to wear a costume, so don't even try it."

Kakucho managed to say as soon as he saw Ran's mischievous smile. Rindou looked disappointed, but the two brothers quickly shrugged that off. They tried every time, but no even Izana himself could make Kakucho dress with an "Alice" costume.

Oh yeah, his unbirthday parties had a theme. Always the same one. A mad tea party in Alice in Wonderland. But the Haitani brothers always wore a different costume. Every damn time. They could repeat characters, but outfit? Never.

Chesire Cat Ran smiled at him, not caring about his grumpy attitude.

"Come on, Kakucho, we deserve some fun. So sit down and drink your tea, before I decide this was a fiasco and we need to throw you another party soon"

Kakucho shivered with the idea. No thanks, he still remembered that times (He tried so hard to forger, yet, he still remembered everything). All the s62 generation throwing him a unbirthday party more than once a year. Because for some reason, the Roppongi rulers decided it was a good way of finding his real birthday. Ran was sure they would get it right eventually, Rindou was convinced that Kakucho would have a big reaction when they finally did it. Of course, both of them were wrong.

So, even if his "official" birthday was the date Izana decided for him, even if it was just supposed to be February 1st, he had more tea parties that he was able to count. Izana used to joke about how Kakucho was at least fourty with so many celebrations.

Maybe is that, he thought, the memory of Izana's laugh being too real for a second. Because now he finds himself smiling softly while drinking tea and eating cake with what's rest of his family. Mad Had Rindou is making jokes about Sanzu's insanity and Kakucho is laughing, he's actually enjoying this.

Kakucho had fun, even if they could only stole a couple hours for that. But he felt good for this hours, less alone. The reminder that there was still people with him that shared the same memories, the same grief. The left pieces of his broken family. Kakucho was not alone and his friends never failed to show him that when he needed it most.

Later that night, after finally finishing the job and cleaning everything up, Kakucho was unable to sleep. The memories were too present this time.

He still remembered the last umbirthday he was actually happy. A few days before the Kanto Incident. Even if everything was getting more dangerous, even with Kisaki's plots, with the raids on Toman, the Haitani brothers decided that it was the best day to do it.

Or maybe it was exactly because of that, who knows. Kakucho certainly needed to relax that day, he was tense with everything that was happening, with seeing that bastard manipulating Izana.

But that day, Izana shone. That day, Izana didn't talk about Mikey or Toman, focusing his full attention on his servant. He dressed up like the queen of hearts, like always. Refusing to wear any costume that didn't show how majestic he was. Kakucho thought the tanned boy always looked like a king no matter what he was wearing. But he never told him that. He never told him so many things...

Kakucho cries himself to sleep that night, curled up in his bed like a kid.

The image of Izana smiling at him printed on his retine.

Overlapping with the last time he ever saw Izana's genuine smile directed at him.

Snow threathening to fill his nightmares one more time.

His own regrets eating him alive.

#tokyo revengers #tokyo revengers spoilers #izana kurokawa #kakucho #haitani ran #haitani rindou #s62 being a found family because i say so #kakuiza #kakucho headcanons #poor kakucho #i broke my own heart #bonten timeline #me writing🌻#i blame tenjiku for the angst #in my tenjiku depression era #tokyo revengers fic #drabble #canon complicit

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iturbide · 9 months

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Personally I wouldn't pay heed to stuff from Archanea to understand stuff from Awakening better. Awakening plays very little heed to the lore of Archanea and there's a tons of plot holes when they're viewed as one continuity.

A major thing to keep in mind is the creator of Archanea and the only one whom knows its mysteries is Shouzou Kaga, and he had zero involvement in Awakening. So again probably best to look at Awakening on its own merits.

That's generally how I approach it, myself! There are certainly fun things to try and weave between the titles -- Tiki's presence, for example, and what that means for the timeline in general -- but Awakening was written to be the swan song of the franchise. It has lots of little nods to previous entries in the name of homage, but I think it makes more sense to take it on its own merits -- for better and for worse -- than to force it into direct compliance with the canon of Shadow Dragon.

#answered #anonymous #fire emblem: awakening #i think it says interesting things when you connect them #but i also think that some aspects need an independent read #it's a balancing act #like most things with canon #canon complicit

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yadaisha · 1 year

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A little something I wrote last weekend. Happy Trans Day of Visibility!

Canon complicit

VMin

Genderqueer Jimin and Tae, Pan Yoongi

Self-discovery

Also posted on Twitter!

I wanted to write a fic about a Jimin who got bullied for his feminine name, for his soft face, for his ‘girly’ hobby. A Jimin who sought acceptance by dancing and dressing as masculine as he could, by hungering until his jaw finally looked sharp and defined.

Who met Yoongi and recoiled. Yoongi should be cold and badass and the epitome of masculinity. But he wasn’t. He was soft-spoken and caring and knew how to sew and cook. He liked doing aegyo and being silly.

He liked kissing boys just as much as kissing girls.

He said there’s no difference, only people.

And this Jimin got confused. Because- there’s only men and women, right? Only being a guy or being a girl, right?

Who better to ask than their leader who hated that he hurt people and went to learn how to never do that again.

So Jimin asked and Namjoon. Namjoon took a long while to answer, well-thought out and trying to explain all those foreign concepts as best he could in Korean. It made Jimin’s head swim, half of it making no sense whatsoever at first.

But then.

Then he had time to digest.

Between fittings and scoldings and heavy makeup.

Where he looked into the mirror and for the first time in years thought he might like what he saw.

When they were doing their own makeup, it was rough and unrefined and very late 2000s. But now that the noonadeul were taking care of it, Jimin saw something… attractive there. The eyeshadow was nothing he’d ever have tried on his own. Neither was the lipstick.

He turned his head this way and that and thought about the definition of masculinity and how it was so, so varied even among the seven of them.

Maybe the yelling in his ears would never die down, maybe those insults would forever cut Jimin when he saw himself like this, but the joy, pure unadulterated joy, would forever be worth it.

It began like this. Seeing the feminine and accepting it. Realising that it didn’t and never could taint his masculinity.

But then.

But then he started to experiment. And realised. That perhaps it wasn’t just a- a feminine side.

Taehyung brought back a pair of heels so high, Jimin was convinced he’d fall over should he try to wear them and yet all he felt was utter envy that Taehyung got to wear them, dance in them. He watched, jaw tight, as Taehyung pranced through the small living room, and left, far too abruptly to escape anyone’s notice.

And sure enough, not a minute later Taehyung came into Jimin’s room without so much as a by your leave. They fought, Jimin throwing around words whose knife-sharp edges he knew all too well, and Taehyung called him a disappointment.

It was never just about a dumpling.

But it was four o’clock when Jimin finally made his way to the playground after a gruelling talk about his feelings with Yoongi of all people. Mostly because Namjoon was busy talking to Taehyung and neither Seokjin nor Hoseok wanted to get involved.

And Jungkook. Jungkook was mostly confused, watching with scared eyes as his hyungdeul fought about something seemingly inconsequential for days.

But it was past four o’clock, almost morning, almost time to start their day, when Jimin stepped onto the playground, sitting down wordlessly next to Taehyung and staring out across the darkened park. It took him a while, the words still lodged in his throat from shame and anger and guilt.

But once he started, he couldn’t stop speaking, only interrupted when Taehyung wordlessly took his hand at some point. He spent a moment staring, their fingers intertwined and comically out of proportion to his tired mind.

And as the sky grew lighter around them, night indeed the darkest just before morning, Taehyung, using words he clearly wasn’t quite familiar with yet, told Jimin just how alike they were, just how deeply Jimin’s words had cut.

Jimin was sobbing by the time Taehyung finished and he was on his knees before Taehyung could stop him, rubbing his hands and begging for forgiveness because how could he ever do what others had done to him? And to Taehyung to boot. To his best friend. His soulmate.

By the end they were both kneeling and crying, their arms wrapped around one another so tightly, Jimin knew he’d feel the embrace for hours to come.

And under the first rays of the sun, Jimin pulled back, just far enough to cup Taehyung’s face, to stroke his cheek and smile, asking for forgiveness one last time before he leaned in and pressed his lips to Taehyung’s cold cheek.

It made Taehyung gasp, but if Jimin expected him to pull away and laugh it off, he’d have been sorely disappointed, because instead Taehyung leaned in, pressing their lips together, something chaste enough to brush it of as friendly. But Jimin felt it down into the tips of his frozen toes, of his fingers clenched in Taehyung’s hoodie.

They parted and Jimin knew they had found stable ground. No more lies, no more masks between them. No more omitted words about shared feelings.

They left the park with held hands and new certainty, but Jimin knew that whatever was between them was a whispered secret in the pre-dawn light. Known to the others by sheer inescapability, but melting as morning mist under the sunlight.

With how many words they had already spoken between the lines, they didn’t mind adding a few more.

And when Jimin managed for the first time to walk on Taehyung’s insane heels without falling, Hoseok was there to cheer him on and Jungkook demanded a turn, completely convinced he’d be able to nail it at once. Thankfully the small bruise on his forehead was easily hidden by makeup though Jimin and Taehyung couldn’t help but tease the maknae for his hubris.

Heels were not the last thing Jimin tried on and out. There were skirts and trousers and tops of all kinds and he became a little daring, tucking away as much as he could and wearing trousers that accented his hips and thighs.

It still got too much some times. Even with Taehyung’s soothing lips and Yoongi’s steady hands. Even with Namjoon’s reassuring words and Hoseok’s warm hugs. With Seokjin’s quiet companionship and Jungkook’s ability to distract him.

There were days where Jimin was infinitely glad about being bone-tired and not awake enough to perceive his body. Where he let the makeup and styling noonadeul do whatever they wanted without checking the result in the mirror before he went on stage.

Days where seeing either side of the coin in the mirror would have been more than he could bear.

And then a time came where he wasn’t being perceived by anyone at all. Not even Taehyung was allowed to visit and Jimin lost all concept of dressing to be seen for a while. He was lost in so many ways, drifting in the darkness he hadn’t felt this keenly in years.

Not dressing in any particular way, not seeing a stylist or makeup artist for weeks for the first time in years, meant a freedom over his looks that Jimin almost forgot.

He didn’t even know what led to him sitting down in front of his bathroom mirror, so late at night it probably was morning again, and styling his hair until it fell the way he’d seen on some of the noonadeul in the company. He pulled out the small makeup kit he’s owned for years now and applied it with a practiced hand, going for a soft look.

When he finally stepped back, Jimin had to squeeze his eyes shut for a long moment before he dared to peek at his full reflection, seeing something he feared for so long which only filled him with quiet contentment now.

With shaking hands he pulled out his phone and found the chat app he and Taehyung used for their top secret discussions of sex and gender. He texted Taehyung, knowing that he wouldn’t be up yet, but not able to stop himself from saying,

I think I’m a woman today, gomdori

A shudder ran through him and Jimin sank down onto the tiles, both hiding from his reflection and hiding his reflection from his own eyes.

He looked down, tracing the tiles with his eyes and fearing, fearing, fearing that today was every day and every day meant- meant pain and lying, even more than he already did.

He gasped when his phone vibrated in his hand and accepted Taehyung’s call with a small smile.

#my writing #bts fic #bts au #vmin #canon complicit

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writingwhywhywhy · 1 year

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Natural

A/N: Day 10 is another drabble

Dean had watched the empty swallow Cas whole. Tears were the natural reaction. The following day waking up to his broken heart was not.

You lost some. That was natural. You didn't grow attached to more than one person. That was the rule. If you loved more than one person, they died. Dean spent his life learning to just love Sam.

Cas was too much. He was everywhere. Cas was his friend and could have been his love. Above it all, Cas was dead.

So in the end a nail felt natural. It felt like an end. It was the way this was always going to end. It was a relief.

#supernatural #death #dean winchester #canon complicit

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samwise1548 · 2 years

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Day 11/200 Dreamer

((my apologies if this one is a bit more difficult to read))

Prev, Next

#tma daily doodles #mag11 #dreamer #ik gertrude prolly never got to read this statemnt in canon but these comics are not very canon complicit anyways lol #oliver banks my beloved<3 #hopefully you can tell thats gertrude and not jon. and if u cant well im telling you now #oliver banks #gertrude robinson #tma #the magnus archives #doodles #my art

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rookflower · 1 year

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Sol’s dad and his siblings?

#warrior cats #warriors #skyclan and the stranger #niche request but sure!!#these arent likely to be canon complicit cos i couldnt find an image of the siblings so had to go off vague descriptions #but thats ok lol

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kyttypeteater · 1 month

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supposed to be a glowy nightcloud design but she just ended up looking like an oc

#warriors #warrior cats #nightcloud #??#will prob tag as wc oc if i like her design that much #not canon complicit wc designs ❤️#< my favs fr

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andersdotters · 5 months

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One thing I really dislike when reading posts is when people state something as fact when it's hearsay at best. "Furina was the first person to receive a vision from Neuvillette." "Arlecchino gets rid of orphans that aren't good enough to become child soldiers."

If something is implied, say it's an implication. If something is assumed, say it is an assumption. Even if someone is guilty by association doesn't necessarily mean they do it themselves. Don't pass things as fact unless it's explicitly stated, no matter how much it sounds like it could be true.

#the arlecchino one is a big one for me #yes the fatui do purposefully take in orphans to become child soldiers #yes they do/have experimented on children #but it is also explicitly stated in lore that when arlecchino defeated the previous and took over the house of the hearth she changed thing #she told the orphans that they need to value their lives and has scolded them for not doing so multiple times #she changed things in the hearth for the better to the point it became a 'safe haven' for the orphans #that being said....#is she using these children? yes #is she training child soldiers? yes #does she actually care about the orphans? we cant say #does she care about all the other crimes the fatui does? probably not #is she complicit in the crimes of the fatui? yes #did she help fontaine out of the goodness of her heart? no #is she sane? no #can she be trusted? no #has she personally done away with orphans that didnt fit the bill? we dont know #same with furina #are archons canonically aware of the people they give visions to? we dont know #was furina the first person he gave a vision to? we dont know #when you do character analysis implications and assumptions only lead to misunderstandings and misreadings #the only text you can trust is what's canonically stated #tbh even the idea that neuvillette gave her that vision casing #maybe all hydro vision users made by him from here on out will have that casing and furina isnt special #we just dont know #only time will tell

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chaoticdelinqueerwithglitter · 4 months

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Let me tell you now, you're the lucky one

(Enemies to Enemies Who Fuck)

(HaruKaku in Bonten timeline)

(some past-MuSan and past-KakuIza with a subtle RanOmi bc why not, it's my fic and I don't have self-restrain when it comes to multishipping)

(link to ao3 in case some one preferes to read it there)

Warnings: Dead Dove: Do Not Eat!

All of them. Bonten is their own warning. Substance abuse. Really unhealthy coping mechanisms. Depression. Mental health problems. Suicide. Major character death. (it's Bonten, they all want to kill themselves and some of them succeed, okay?) Mentions of unsafe sex, but there is no smut or graphic depiction of it.

I tried to not be too graphic with any of this topics, the focus is mostly on what the characters are thinking/feeling. But it's hard anyway, tbh the last scene was actually difficult and painful for me to write. So please, don't take the CW lightly and prioritize your mental health!

Angst and Hurt/No Comfort.

MANGA SPOILERS!!!!

Notes: HaruKaku came as an hilarious idea. Because they are hilarious, let's be real. Soulmates archnemesis, doomed to hate each other in every timeline. But then Bonten happened and of course, I ended up writing some angsty shit instead of focusing in all the other moments when they are hilarious. Kudos for me, yey! 🥲

This is canon complicit (again, is Bonten, beware!)

It alternates from Kakucho's POV to Sanzu's POV. I did that thing again of using "Haruchiyo" when he's in his most vulnerable state because for some reason I like playing with his name like this.

(English is not my first language, be nice please 🙈)

(the art is from @just-sp-in-inginthevoid who is in part responsible for the archnemesis brain riot, but mostly the hilarious part, tbh)

Is not that Kakucho enjoys Sanzu's company. Or that the pinkette gradually started to grow on him. Quite the opposite, to be honest. He hates him a little bit more every day, every shared mission, every time they had to spent hours together.

But with Sanzu, he feels. He feels intensely, he feels with passion. Even if it's twisted, at least he's not empty anymore. The void that threatens to devour him seems to disappear when he's around the other man. Sometimes, Kakucho wants to murder him, but he knows he can't. Others, he wonders what would happen to him if he also loses the only person that it's still able to provoke an intense emotion on him.

Hate is better than apathy, isn't it?

They hate each other passionately. Sanzu finds his reactions too funny for stopping it, always willing to go a little further, to push Kakucho to the edge. It's too easy to pick on him, making him forget about his allegedly righteous patience.

It's disgusting, how Kakucho thinks of himself like he was better than the rest of them. So Sanzu enjoys to proves him wrong, to show him that they are the same (even if he can't stand that fact either, seeing that burning rage in those heterochromatic eyes makes it worth it).

Now that he thinks about it, it was probably a matter of time, considering that his king denied them the right to kill each other, they needed to find a way of releasing all that build up anger. That's probably why isn't that surprising when it finally happens.

It looked like a regular night. Sanzu was high as a kite, trying to forget every one of his lives. Kakucho just seemed to be there, he can't recall exactly why, some type of report, but he didn't pay any attention to it at the moment, too intoxicated for actually caring for something that could wait until tomorrow.

“Why are you still here? You like me that much or what?”

The pinkette man says, slurring his words.

“Are you that high? You know I hate you.”

Is the harsh answer that he earns. It's brutal, but real. Kakucho's honesty has something that grounds him to the present. It's sickening. It's exactly what he wants right now.

“I hate you too, don't worry.” He laughs, finding his own words amusing. “Think about it, me and you. Just us, hating each other all night long.”

“You're crazy.”

“And you didn't say no.”

(If he was more honest with himself, he would admit that he was trying to find another way of punishing his broken mind and his body. But he's not.)

And oh, it actually feels good. Kakucho fucks him with the same brutality that talks to him. He couldn't bear any type of gentle touch (specially not from someone that it's so linked to Mucho, but he isn't thinking in that, he promised himself to forget his old captain a long time ago).

There isn't any type of care between them, only spite. Both men are too broken for having the ability to love someone again. Indeed, this was precisely what he needed. This is perfect.

The next day, Kakucho feels nauseated. How couldn't he? Sanzu was high as fuck, too intoxicated to give proper consent to do anything. So even if he was also a little drunk, even if it wasn't his idea, Kakucho feels guilty for what happened.

Until Sanzu just laughs at his poorly attempt of apologizing, mocking his morals once more. He was about to punch him in the face, but the lingering guilt doesn't allow him to do it. Not that one more bruise would make a difference, actually.

Both are covered in so many marks that more than sex, it looks like they tried to kill each other. Yeah, maybe he should stop feeling sorry for Sanzu, considering this. Maybe that was the best way to get rid of that not-so-pent-up hate.

And it works. At least for a while, it works. Until it happens again. And again.

Is not that they are lovers (Kakucho wants to puke with that idea). They just fuck from time to time. That's all. They hate each other, they wish they could kill the other. But they can't. So, sometimes, they fuck.

Their relationship is not pretty. At all. Or better. If Kakucho had to use only one word for describing it, he would say “real”. They don't lie to each other, what would be the point? Both are too able of seeing between the lies, they are too similar in so many ways. But that raw honesty only makes it worse.

Kakucho knows it's a mistake, that he shouldn't care about Sanzu's fate (he brought it on himself and he doesn't seem to have any complains). But Mikey is worse every day, the king is falling and his loyal dog is falling with him. Kakucho needs to do something, because the uneasiness he feels every time he sees them is now living rent-free in his mind.

That's why, one day, Kakucho tries. He's trying to find his clothes, dressing quickly, wanting to get out of this room that only makes him feel sick. Then, he looks at Sanzu, his pink hair scattered on the pillows, a lazy and satisfied smile than only appears after sex (and never lasts). There is some twisted vulnerability in how content the other man is while lighting up a joint, as if seeing these new swelling (all this pain) on his skin was something he wanted.

(Kakucho can't shake the feeling that Sanzu is using him as another way of hurting himself and that infuriates him so fucking much... Maybe that's the real reason why he decides against his best judgment and opens his big mouth.)

“Is not worth it.”

“Uh?”

Sanzu looks at the other, not sure if he actually heard something. He just wants to smoke and relax, to feel the post-orgasmic satisfaction while it lasts, to enjoy the pain in his body (one more of his little punishments).

“I said is not worth it. Dying with Mikey.”

If it had been anyone else, Sanzu would shoot him in the face just for saying this. Thinking like that, talking like that about his king is treason. It should be. But it's difficult to pretend Kakucho's isn't right about this when, unfortunately, it's the only one Sanzu trusts with Mikey's well-being (It's the one he calls every time Mikey is being suicidal again).

“You wish you could be me, you wish you had died with Izana.”

Sanzu spits his words, burning with all the rage he feels every time he has to acknowledge the reality of how is Mikey.

“That's not what this is about-”

Kakucho is unable to finish his sentence, turning pale in anger when Sanzu cuts him. 'Good'.

“You're a selfish bastard, aren't you? You want me to be like you, stuck here with no purpose, jerking yourself with the memory of a ghost. Pretend it's because of your high morals, that you're worried about me or some other bullshit. But you're just another selfish bastard. And you envy me.”

If it had been anyone else, Sanzu would shoot him in the face. But he can't (he wants to, oh, he wants it so much, but he can't disobey Mikey's orders). So, instead of bullets, he uses his words.

“At least Izana cared about me.”

Is the last thing he hears before Kakucho slams the door. Sanzu laughs maniacally, throwing the first shit he can find to the place the other man was a few seconds a go. He's momentary satisfaction long forgotten, replaced only by hate (and pain, but one that he refuses to see).

The worst part is that in a sickening way, he trusts Kakucho. They don't lie to each other, that makes it so much worse, because both of them know that what the other said is true. He hates him, he hates him with every fiber of his body. He doesn't want this words to be true, he can't accept that. He needs to keep living in this denial, to pretend Mikey is fine (to pretend he doesn't keep mixing this Mikey with that in his nightmares, to pretend they don't look so alike).

It's been three days. Three whole days since Mikey's death was splattered on the news (no one seems to care about Takemichi's death, even with all that footage of how the hero tried to save the most dangerous man in Japan). Kakucho cares, but he knows damn well that he wouldn't be welcomed within the hero's friends, so he would have to say goodbye in his own way (again).

During this days, Kakucho learned some things, like the fact that apparently everyone had some kind of contingency plan in case this happened (no, for when this happened, all of them could see that Mikey was more on the edge every day). But nobody spoke to him about it, keeping him in the darkness, the only idiot that didn't prepare himself for the end. Well, not the only, he knows that, of course he knows that.

(Sanzu would have killed them in the blink of an eye. Anyone who dared to imply that Bonten needed to be prepared to function without a king.)

Kakucho understands the need for secrets, of course he does. The idea of Mikey falling would be considered treason a few days ago, it was taboo to think like that. At the same time, none of them wanted to acknowledge it, like saying it out loud would make it more real. He can't even be mad when the Haitanis (obviously) thought about him on their own schemes, making sure Kakucho was also safe. Or as safe as any of them could be now that Bonten was crumbleling.

It's been three days. Bonten is crumbleling. Mikey is dead. And Sanzu disappeared the same day. Everyone knows he's dead, but they don't say it. Not in front of Takeomi, who's still desperately looking, going out in the rain for hours. Trying to find something, some clue that leads him to his little brother. Clinging to the hope that he's still alive somewhere. That he's going to find him, high as fuck, but alive (Kakucho thinks being able to find Sanzu's body at all would already be a miracle).

Only Ran is able to convince Takeomi to rest a little bit, promising that he and Rindou will help with the search as long as the older man gets a few hours of sleep. Takeomi just nods, mumbling “Today is his birthday, Ran. Is his fucking birthday and he's out there alone.” while Ran drags him softly, a concerned look plastered in those violet eyes.

Kakucho hates it, hates having to see all this sorrow around him (again). He doesn't lament the loss of Mikey and Sanzu, he's incapable of doing it. Grief took his heart for hostage a long time ago, there is nothing more for him to mourn.

More than anything, Kakucho hates himself, because he's jealous of Sanzu. He knows he shouldn't, but he hates that the pinkette man was right about him. He envies Sanzu, who had the privilege of dying with Mikey, of dying with his king.

Kakucho hates the Mad Dog even more right now. But he's aware that once this hate fades away, he would feel empty again. So he clings onto this feeling, he needs this rage as a motor to keep moving.

It doesn't matter if this energy is fulled with rage, he needs it. He can't fail his friends, what's left of his family. Kakucho has to keep living even if he can't remember how being alive felt anymore. Even if he's more dead inside every day.

So, over and over... Kakucho would keep living.

The rain keeps pouring down without truce, Haruchiyo shrinks inside the leather jacket that was always too big for him. Now the only thing that makes him feel protected from that annoying rain (from the world). To be honest, he isn't completely aware how he managed to recover it from his penthouse, but it seemed important in that moment.

The jacket and the old picture that he's still clutching in his pocket, the only two things he cared enough to take. He doesn't even need to look at it to see the four happy smiles stained with watermelon juice. Two pink haired kids that could be confused by twins, one with a shy smile, the other with a cheerful one, happy to be included with his brother friends. Next, a fierce smile showing two small fangs, already a force of nature at his young age. In the middle, a blond kid with the most radiant smile Haruchiyo ever saw, capable of making everything shine just with his presence. Full of life, of dreams. Full of potential. Brighter than the sun, a true leader.

But that was a long time ago and, once again, Sanzu is the only one who remembers. The man staggering in the rain is now the only survivor from that photo. Only him, alone in this fuck up world where nothing and no one matters anymore. Not without Mikey. Even Bonten can burn from what he cares.

He keeps walking (it feels more like floating for him, floating in a cloud of pain and numbness at the same time). Until he finally reaches his destination, an abandoned bowling alley. Sanzu enters in some kind of trance, not sure if he's dissociating or too intoxicated. He doesn't care.

He sits down exactly in the same place his king sat down. How many days had passed since that moment? One? Two? Ages. It certainly feels like ages for him. Haruchiyo hugs himself, trying to make space for his legs inside the big comforting jacket. Completely curled up. And he cries, he cries like he hasn't allowed himself to do so in the last ten years.

He's starting to sober up, he can feel it. Because the flashbacks are coming back. Shinichiro jumping from that bridge. Mikey jumping from this exact building. Mikey falling from the stairs, that awful “clonk”. Mikey jumping again from this building.

Haruchiyo screams, holding his head with both hands, begging the images to stop, unable to continue reliving those memories. He needs everything to stop, to be quiet, his shattered mind can't take it anymore.

He takes out a small box from his pocket, looking at the content. Everything he needs is here, he knows how to do it, how to make sure he's not going to wake up from this trip. His stupid hands are shaking while he gets the syringe ready.

For some reason, he suddenly remembers Kakucho's words a few months ago. He hates it, he hates thinking in that fucker when he's about to die. But the other man was right, wasn't he? Mikey never cared about Sanzu, he spent years of his life trying to keep his king alive and it was all for nothing. Everything blew up in one night.

A manic laugh escapes between his whimpers. Of course is that, he's fucking jealous. Sanzu is fucking jealous because at least Kakucho got to held Izana's hand when he died, he got to comfort his king in his last moments. Sanzu didn't had that, Hanagaki was the one holding Mikey's hand. Always that cockroach, never him.

What did he expect anyway? Haruchiyo is just a failure. He never deserved to be the one making his king last moments less painful. Of course, he should had known. He failed everyone. He failed Shinichiro, unable to protect Mikey, to be the friend he promised he would be. He failed Mikey, watching him falling into the darkness, becoming the same empty shell he already saw in a past that never happened, and doing nothing about it.

Sanzu doesn't have anything left. He also killed his own chance of happiness a long time ago (he also failed his captain, didn't he?). The only thing left for him is to disappear, to follow his king. He's going with him, because he's being following Mikey for so long, that he doesn't see any other choice. He's going with him, because he doesn't deserve to keep living when he couldn't save Mikey.

But it's fine, the drug is already kicking in, his body feels more relaxed. Even his mind seems to be quiet, almost in peace. He looks at the old photo one last time, before drifting out of consciousness, looking for safety in the inner part of the leather, pretending it smells like cheesecake.

It's fine, because at the end of the day... Haruchiyo was just a failure.

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