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[Ace Attorney] Twenty Things I Have Learned From Phoenix Wright

Mon, 20 Apr 2009 00:14:40 GMT

TITLE: Twenty Things I Have Learned From Phoenix Wright
FANDOM: Ace Attorney
RATING: PG-13
WORD COUNT: 982
DISCLAIMER: All characters are © Capcom. No profit is being made from this work.
AUTHOR'S NOTES: I had to, okay? I totally had to. Don't look at me like that.
SUMMARY: Um, it's twenty things. That I have learned from Phoenix Wright.

Twenty Things I Have Learned From Phoenix Wright

Present everything to everyone. Always. Even if it's a blood-spattered shoe you stole from the crime scene. Whomever you show it to will either have lots of information to give you regarding the thing, or not recognize it at all, thus sparing you an awkward explanation of how you came to possess a recently-murdered man's shoe.
When all else fails, OBJECT. TO EVERYTHING. If you stop to wonder if objecting might be a good idea, screw wondering and just do it. It's always a good idea.
There is no such thing as a useless item. In fact, if someone specifically hands you something and says it's useless, it will eventually help in convicting a murderer. No exceptions.
Along the same lines, every piece of evidence must be presented at least once. It doesn't matter if it's a broken cup stolen from your neighbour's garbage six weeks before the murder, it is connected to the case somehow. You will also have to prove this, so have fun with that.
The real murderer never flees the country. Hell, they don't even try to hide. They will always testify in court, presumably for the sole purpose of giving you a sporting chance at convicting them.
Even if it takes you five hours and a million resets to finally figure it out, you will always have exactly the evidence you need whenever the judge demands proof. Always. ...Except when you don't, and 'No, I don't have proof' was the correct answer. Surprise!
You are the only one who can't get away with shenanigans in court. Everyone else is free to run the place however they please, up to and including employing physical assault when irritated.
In the future, prosecutors are unanimously okay with the idea of sending a clearly innocent person to the execution chamber because of a single, shaky technicality despite everything else that's been proven so far. If your lawyer isn't up to snuff, you deserve death. No exceptions. No mercy.
People with authority are either A) corrupt, B) incompetent, or C) intelligent, capable, moral, and very demoted (and are probably holding a grudge).
Your client is innocent, goddamnit. Forget about the bloodstains on their hands, the videotape showing them stabbing old Mrs Catlady to death with an ice pick, the credible witness who heard them plotting to kill the victim. In fact, fuck their confession of guilt! It can all be rationally explained away. The only time you need to worry is if it looks like your client is definitely innocent, and is simply being blatantly framed. Then they're guilty for sure. And probably a complete sociopath.
No one cares about your badge. No one. This should not in any way curb your enthusiasm in presenting it to everyone you meet, every single time you meet them.
It's perfectly normal to be charged with murder at least two (or three) times. Don't worry, no one will start wondering if maybe, just maybe, there's a good reason you keep being accused of murder.
Almost every woman in the game is going to fall in lust with Edgeworth at some point or another and be rather vocal about it, whether in his presence or not. At the very least, they'll talk about how good-looking and clever he is. If he ever notices, you can expect him to be either indifferent or horrified.
Almost everyone you meet who has heard of you probably has some kind of grudge against you. It doesn't matter that you've never met them before in your life and have no idea who they are. They are convinced that you are their arch-nemesis and they are determined to beat you. Don't bother acting confused, by the way. They see straight through your clueless act, as well as the clueless act about them seeing through your clueless act. And so on and so forth. Don't worry. You're only confused because you know exactly what they're talking about, and don't try to convince yourself otherwise.

a. Everyone else you meet who has heard of you wants you to be their lawyer. Don't bother refusing, by the way. Resistance is futile.
If someone is accompanied by cute, winged, harmless creatures, they're the murderer. No exceptions.
As long as you haven't fucked up a lot already, "You have one chance, Mr Wright" almost never actually means 'one chance'. And don't worry; no prosecutor will ever protest your second chance. Or your third one. Or your fourth one.
You will always manage to implicate your own client, apparently irrevocably, on the first day. Always. Don't worry, this is all part of the process of proving them to be completely innocent.
It doesn't matter how much you rip a witness' testimony apart. They will always get at least one or two more chances to revise their testimony and attempt to squirm their way out of trouble. This is apparently only blatant and bothersome to you. Also, no matter how many times they've lied in the past, their "final" testimony is always taken as gospel truth when being used as evidence against other testimonies. No one ever calls to attention the fact that the "true" testimony could be a lie, too. On the same note, no one ever questions the truthfulness of your statements when you start accusing witnesses based on things you, and only you, heard them say the day before.
Evidence Law is apparently pretty flexible, since unless said law is specifically invoked, it seems to be okay to steal extremely incriminating items from suspects' rooms -- such as, say, a wiretap -- and have it admitted as evidence, no questions asked.
If he so chooses, Godot can be the exception to all the rules, even when there are no exceptions. Because he's just that cool.

[Icon Post] #7

Fri, 20 Mar 2009 18:54:27 GMT

PLEASE...
• comment if taking
• credit fire_tears or nosilencehere

[15] Artemis Fowl (quotes)
[28] Marvel Comics
[19] Quotes

The quote in icon #35 is a line from the third chapter of elspethdixon and seanchai's awesome Classicverse fic, Iron Man: Murderer?

*artemis fowl*
1	2	3	4	5

6	7	8	9	10

11	12	13	14	15

*marvel comics*
16	17	18	19	20

21	22	23	24	25

26	27	28	29	30

31	32	33	34	35

36	37	38	39	40

41	42	43
			x	x

*quotes*
44	45	46	47	48

49	50	51	52	53

54	55	56	57	58

59	60	61	62
				x

[Ultimates] It All Seems Limitless

Fri, 20 Mar 2009 07:04:18 GMT

TITLE: It All Seems Limitless
FANDOM: Ultimates
RATING: R
PAIRING: Thor/Tony
WORD COUNT: 1 078
DISCLAIMER: All characters are © Marvel. No profit is being made from this work.
AUTHOR'S NOTES: This is set in Ultimates. As in, having nothing to do with any Ultimate-'verse canon beyond Ultimates #1 - 13. And let's be honest here: In Ultimates, Tony and Thor definitely have a thing going on. Total bromance. Also, I don't actually like Ultimates 'verse, but Tony and Thor (and Peter) are just plain adorable, and need to go off and have wacky adventures in Europe or something and leave everyone else to their Dark and Grittiness.
SUMMARY: Tony doesn't have much time left.

It All Seems Limitless

Thor wonders, sometimes, what he's doing with Tony. It is hardly because he himself is a god and Tony is a mortal human that he questions it; Thor is fond of Midgard, and in many ways, humans are not unlike gods. Humans, in the way of the gods, can be arrogant, and foolish, and wasteful; in fact, they often are. However, they are still mortal, and Thor has accepted that those humans whom he loves will die long before he himself perishes in Ragnarök. Their lives are almost unbearably short, in comparison to his; a paltry eight or nine decades on average.

With Tony, Thor will not have even that small amount of time.

Thor doesn't knock on Tony's front door. Tony had insisted that Thor simply walk in ("After all, old boy, what could you possibly catch me doing that would embarrass me?"), especially since there isn't a point to knocking; indeed, the door is always unlocked by the time Thor reaches it. Tony says that there is a sensor a few feet from the door that recognizes who approaches, and subsequently unlocks the door for friends. Thor cares little for the specifics; it is the meaning that matters. Tony's home is, quite literally, always open to him.

He finds Tony entertaining a young woman, the two of them sequestered together on the couch in the far corner of the oversized living room. She is a beautiful dark-haired woman, though her laughter leaves Thor with the impression of insipidness. Per usual, Tony is nursing a drink, the ice tinkling in the glass as he idly swirls the liquid, gesturing with his other hand while relating a story—a joke, perhaps—which makes her laugh again, though it is too low for Thor to hear what Tony is saying.

Tony breaks off abruptly, however, as he notices Thor, and his grin widens as he sets his drink down onto the table. "My apologies, darling," he says to the woman, standing and gently tugging her with him. "I'm afraid I'll have to cut this lovely visit short."

"Tony," she begins, frowning, and then she, too, spots Thor. Her eyes widen. "Oh!"

"Precisely, sweetie," Tony says, placing one hand on the small of her back and gently propelling her toward the door. "Ultimates' business, you know."

"O-of course," she stammers, still staring at Thor with a mix of awe and disbelief. It's a look he's used to seeing, but it still amuses him. She's still glancing over her shoulder at him as Tony closes the door after her.

"You think your divinity allows you to ruin my dates, O great God of Thunder?" Tony asks, sauntering over to Thor with an eyebrow raised. His tone is vaguely mocking, but he's smiling, and it negates the insult. A gentle teasing, born of friendship rather than disbelief.

Thor wraps an arm around Tony's shoulders, tugging him forward and pressing a kiss to his forehead. Tony chuckles, tilting his head back slightly, and Thor obliges him with a true kiss. As always, Tony tastes of expensive liquor and the promise of sex. It's a taste Thor has grown fond of.

Tony had explained to Thor, with that same careless grin he always wore, that the alcohol was the only thing that numbed his constant pain. Thor had thought it was the tumor that was causing his suffering, but Tony had gone on to describe his unique neural condition.

Which also explains his addiction to sex. The first time, Tony's responsiveness had been a (pleasant) surprise to Thor, though it makes sense. Even with the bio-armor, Tony is still more sensitive than most. The rush of endorphins that come with sex likely block the pain more effectively than the alcohol, if not as long.

"Not here," Thor rumbles into Tony's mouth, tugging him away from the living room. Tony may be able to get away with having sex on the couch with women, but Thor is far too big for the couch to be practical, and Tony, despite being leanly built, is not a small man. They end up in Tony's ridiculously oversized bedroom, on a king-sized bed with more than enough room for both of them.

Tony's reputation is well-deserved; he never disappoints, wrapping his legs around Thor's hips and matching Thor's rhythm apparently effortlessly. Tony pants and writhes and cries out, and moans into Thor's mouth when Thor leans down to kiss him. He kisses back, hard, fingers threading through Thor's hair and tugging him down even as his body arches.

Tony told him once that during sex, good sex, is the only time when his brain isn't doing a hundred things at once. His brain is his entire nervous system, and when he's that high on pleasure, on how good his entire body feels, there isn't much room left for anything else.

Thor doesn't doubt that. Tony's gaze is sharp and focused during sex in a way it never is anywhere else, when he's running a company and working on his armor and having a sixth drink and arranging dates with multiple women, all at the same time. There's always a part of him that's distant, then; he will remember everything you say down to the very inflection of your words, but it's obvious that his full attention is not yours.

When Thor is braced on his arms above Tony, watching him shudder through an orgasm, Tony's body tightening as every muscle tenses up, toes curling with pure pleasure, Thor knows beyond a doubt that Tony's full attention is right here, and nowhere else.

Thor isn't entirely sure whether Tony enjoys cuddling in general, or if Thor is the exception. Either way, Tony just about purrs when Thor pulls him close afterward, no matter the sweat and come slicking their skin. It has not escaped Thor's notice that Tony soaks up affection, maybe even craves it, and it's not exactly a hardship for Thor to give it to him.

Thor has had few genuine, loyal friends in his life, and he recognizes when he's found one. Tony doesn't have much time left, it's true. Thor isn't in love with him, but the type of love he does feel is just as deep, and it hurts terribly to think of losing Tony in such a way, and so soon. Thor is millennia old. Tony will never see his thirtieth birthday.

But Thor has him now, and that will have to be enough.

We get to think of life as an inexhaustible well. Yet everything happens only a certain number of times, and a very small number, really. How many more times will you remember a certain afternoon of your childhood, some afternoon that's so deeply a part of your being that you can't even conceive of your life without it? Perhaps four or five times more. Perhaps not even that. How many more times will you watch the full moon rise? Perhaps twenty. And yet it all seems limitless.
— Paul Bowles

[Artemis Fowl] Degrees of Poison

Tue, 17 Mar 2009 05:03:06 GMT

TITLE: Degrees of Poison
FANDOM: Artemis Fowl
RATING: PG
PAIRING: Implied Artemis/Holly.
WARNING: A very extended metaphor. Oh, and spoilers for The Time Paradox.
WORD COUNT: 5 050
DISCLAIMER: All characters are © Eoin Colfer. No profit is being made from this work.
AUTHOR'S NOTES: If you give me a single throwaway metaphor from a book, this is what I will do to it. I hope I kept Artemis in character. To be honest, though, it's Holly with whom I have far more trouble. Ever since The Arctic Incident, I've pretty much always been on Artemis' side in terms of reasoning, and can never figure out what other people are objecting for. Also, this fic was supposed to be a short dialogue. I have problems with the concept of 'short', so this is what happened.
SUMMARY: Being friends with Artemis, Foaly had said, would be like being friends with a viper. It was not an inapt analogy. After the events of The Time Paradox, Holly and Artemis have a discussion.

Degrees of Poison

It was almost three in the morning when Holly Short flew over the acreage that had belonged to the Fowls for generations. Her destination was, of course, Fowl Manor – it dominated the landscape, and she'd have no reason to cross over these grounds if not for that. Well, more specifically, if not for a certain Mud Boy within the manor. It had been almost twelve weeks since she'd so much as spoken to him, much less seen him. Not since she'd left with N˚1 and Jayjay, returning to Haven City.

On top of all of the damnable red tape that had been dealt with – well, the worst of it, in any case – she'd needed that time to think. About everything.

She found Artemis' room easily; her thermal bar picked up any life forms in the manor, and there was only one occupied room in the house that still had its lights on. She'd had a general idea of where his bedroom had to be, but – and Holly realized this with a bit of amusement – of all the places she'd been in the sprawling manor, including when she'd been attempting to wreck as much havoc as possible after she'd escaped her cell, she'd never actually set foot in Artemis' own room.

The heat signature that signified Artemis suddenly moved; it had been stationary near one of the walls – he'd likely either been sitting on his bed or at a desk, with the latter being by far the best bet – but now Artemis was moving toward the balcony, and then through the double doors and out into the night air. Holly was undetectable; it had to be coincidence that he'd chosen this moment to walk out to the balcony and lean against the railing of the ornate lattice, gazing out over the expansive grounds.

Coincidence. With Artemis. Of course.

She alighted on the corner of the balcony's fencing; it was thick, almost like a miniature column, and supplied more than enough room for her to stand comfortably. It also put her a few feet above Artemis' height, which was a useful psychological strategy. Or rather, it would be with anyone but Artemis. It was difficult to use psychology to intimidate someone who could charm an entire room full of sociopaths bent on murder by way of careful wording alone.

Her landing was utterly soundless, as her boots had been specifically designed to suppress sound waves upon impact. Her weight was slight enough and her control of her wings good enough that she'd have barely made a sound anyway; she could have landed on a Mud Man dinner table while an entire family was eating and no one would have noticed.

"Hello, Holly," Artemis said, before she even had the chance to unshield.

"All right, how did you detect me this time, Mud Boy?" Holly asked with a faint hint of irritation, flickering into the visible spectrum and pulling off her helmet. With these new suits, there was no longer a haze in the air—she should have been undetectable. But then again, this was Artemis.

Unsurprisingly, Artemis shook his head. "Trade secret," he said, with that familiar arrogant smirk, and Holly made a mental note to ask Foaly about it when she got back. It was certainly an indication of a security problem, not to mention that getting a one-up on Artemis was always a plus in Foaly's book. And Holly's. And pretty much everyone's, really.

"We need to talk, Artemis," Holly said quietly. She watched Artemis' face carefully; his skin was bone-white in the moonlight, the same pallor it had been when she'd rushed to his side in the gorilla's cage, certain that he was dead and nearly unable to deal with that possibility.

Even if she hadn't been... herself, exactly, when she'd kissed him – kissed him! – he'd been so close to death that the tears would have come no matter her age. Even though she certainly couldn't love Artemis in a way that involved kissing... after all they'd been through, Holly did love him, and she knew that if he died now it would devastate her just as much as it would have if he'd died in that cage in the past.

That didn't mean she liked him all of the time. Or perhaps, nowadays, it would be more appropriate to say that it didn't even mean she liked him most of the time. A part of her, the optimistic part, wanted to believe that this conversation would be a step toward repairing that. But her optimistic side had taken quite a beating lately where Artemis was concerned.

Once upon a time, Holly had thought she'd understood Artemis Fowl the Second. And while that might have been unconscious arrogance on her part – or maybe just foolish, misplaced trust – she had understood him; at least a little, but it hadn't been enough. She'd come here tonight because she wanted to see Artemis for what he was. For all that he was.

"That is a rather ominous statement," Artemis said, though he failed to sound tremendously concerned. Artemis generally failed to sound tremendously concerned about almost anything, up to and including possible impending death. "Have you decided to renege on your forgiveness, Captain?"

"I'd be offended," Holly commented, "if I didn't know that you know me better than that."

Artemis smiled, though it was obviously an effort. He knew that she wasn't here to chat about the weather. "What is it that you wanted to talk about? What occurred in the past, I presume."

"No, actually." Holly allowed herself a brief smirk at Artemis' faintly surprised expression. Even the great Artemis Fowl wasn't always right. Then the smirk dropped off her face, because Artemis had never yet been completely wrong, not when it mattered. Not when they'd needed him. "I wanted to talk about you."

"That is interesting," Artemis said, arching one eyebrow, "considering most people leave me with the impression that they would rather I refrained from talking about myself."

"Which is why I'll be doing the talking," Holly told him. She carefully sat down on the railing, cross-legged so her feet didn't dangle ridiculously and with her helmet placed on her lap. She was still a bit taller than Artemis this way, maybe half a foot, and the movement gave her a moment to collect her thoughts. Once she'd settled herself, she said, "You've come a long way, Artemis. You're nothing like the boy I first met."

"I would say thank you," Artemis said wryly, "if I didn't expect there to be less flattering observations on the way."

Holly ignored that, mostly because there was no point to confirming it when they both knew he was right. "When we mind-wiped you, after Spiro, I told Foaly that it was a pity, because you and I had almost begun to be friends."

"And what did our four-legged friend say to that?"

"'Sure,'" Holly quoted; Foaly's words that day had left an impression on her. Maybe because of the truth of them. "'Like you can be friends with a viper.'"

There was a long moment of silence, in which Artemis just looked at her with no discernable expression on his face. Finally, though, he offered her a faint smile. It was sharp, but that edge was tinged with sadness. "You know, it is possible to have a viper's venom sacs removed."

She thought it might have been Artemis' strange sense of humour coming through, but for once, she couldn't be sure. She didn't bother to mention that such a procedure was repulsive to her, somewhat because Artemis already knew that it would be, but mostly because she understood the metaphor.

"Yes," Holly agreed, wishing she could simply accede the point and have that be the end of it. But she'd realized something about Artemis, after their most recent adventure. A painful but necessary truth. What was the word, for something like that?

Bittersweet.

Looking Artemis in the eye, she asked quietly, "But the viper wouldn't really be itself anymore, would it?"

"No," Artemis said, his expression suddenly shuttered away. "I suppose not."

It had taken Holly this long to contact Artemis again, partially because she'd wanted to have this conversation in person and needed clearance for the surface, and partially because she'd been doing a lot of thinking. About Artemis; about what he had done— all of the things he had done since the moment they'd met, the bad and the good and the grey alike—and what he was. What Artemis was always going to be, in one way or another.

Venomous.

In the Arctic, when they had rescued Artemis' father... Artemis had decided to actually shoot his own father. She knew it had disturbed him greatly; nonetheless, it had been a ruthless plan, one that only a ruthless mind could have come up with—but if they hadn't done that, what could they have done?

In Spiro's bedroom, when they'd cut off his double's thumb—it had been utterly despicable, but, as Foaly had confirmed for her later, there had been no other possible way to get to the Cube.

Artemis – and, by extension, his plans – were not always ruthless and cold. Some, in fact, were even borderline selfless. His plan to rescue Minerva. His plan to save the remainder of demonkind. He had come back for Holly at the Extinctionists' gathering, despite being put in terrible danger by throwing himself – nearly quite literally – into the lion's den. He'd piloted a plane that might not have flown well, with an insane murderer chasing him whose chances of success were rather high, in order to draw her away from the rest of them.

But sometimes those plans were ruthless and cold, and Artemis would always claim that his way was the only way to succeed. The most frustrating thing about that was that however much Holly argued that there had to be another way, in the end, Artemis was always right.

Artemis' strategical genius had kept them all alive just as effectively as Holly's training and Foaly's computers and Butler's power and skill—maybe more, in a way, because each of those skills wouldn't have gotten them far in the grand scheme of things without Artemis to plot out how best to use them. The 'grand scheme of things' was, after all, his specialty.

But all of the genius in the world wouldn't help Artemis if he couldn't think like his opponent. If he couldn't anticipate his opponent was going to do, if he couldn't even conceive of the decisions that could be made by that kind of ruthlessness, Artemis' plans would fall apart before they were even put into motion. And sometimes, though Holly would rather take a dive in the Bay of Kola again than admit it to Artemis, the only way they'd been able to combat that kind of ruthlessness had been for Artemis to match it.

Artemis needed his venom. It was what made his bite so effective.

"There is a limit to how much I can change, Holly." Artemis was looking at her now, meeting her mismatched gaze with his own.

"Why?" Holly asked, though she knew the answer. "Because you think it's too late to get rid of the last of your criminal urges?"

"No," Artemis corrected, "because there is a limit to how much I truly wish to change. I am not entirely satisfied with my own thoughts and actions at times, but being as I am still growing up, I am confident that I will sort it all out by the time I reach physical maturity."

Holly snorted, shaking her head. "That's one of your biggest problems, Artemis. Everything with you eventually comes down to logic."

"Naturally," Artemis said, unperturbed.

"Which is why I've finally figured out how to trust you."

Artemis glanced up at her, puzzlement on his face. "As much as I am loathe to admit this, Holly, I'm afraid that I am not following you."

Holly almost smiled; under different circumstances, she would have. "If someone offered you all of the gold in world in exchange for exposing the People to the world, you wouldn't take it."

"You're certain of that?" Artemis asked, arching an eyebrow, but Holly's expression didn't change.

"Yes, Artemis. I have no idea what would be going on in your head—when do I ever?—but I know that you wouldn't betray me for that. Or the People. Your conscience, now that you have one, wouldn't let you. You aren't the monster you were when I first met you, and you never will be again."

Artemis' expression had flickered briefly at the word 'monster'; not with disagreement or surprise, but regret. Artemis knew full well what he had been, especially after coming face-to-face with his younger self. Even though young Artemis had some decency in him, 'monster' was still almost too kind a word for that cold child.

Holly continued, "I know that when placed against anything of material value, you wouldn't trade the People's existence for anything in the world. I can trust you absolutely." She paused, and then said, "But."

"But," Artemis repeated, that same sadness-edged smile back on his face. If he'd been doing it on purpose, Holly would have been disgusted and infuriated; but she knew he wasn't, because it was such an awkward vulnerability rather than Artemis' usual polished acting, and so it just made her heart hurt.

"But," Holly echoed, "you're still capable of betrayal, under the right circumstances."

"My mother," Artemis said, inclining his head in the general direction of his parents' room.

"Yes," Holly agreed, though Artemis' statement didn't need to be confirmed. "It was a selfishly selfless decision. You manipulated me, hurt me. Deliberately. You knew I trusted you, and you used that without hesitation. All for your own ends. But your own ends were to heal your mother, no matter what it cost you. Even if what it cost you was everything." She took a breath, then let it out slowly. "Even if what it cost the other people you care about was everything. In circumstances like those, that's when we're back to square one, and I can't trust you at all."

"If I am a viper, then I suppose I shall always be poisonous." Artemis smiled, obviously amused by the metaphor. Even so, that smile was noticeably strained. "I will just have to do my best not to bite."

"That's the problem, Artemis," Holly said flatly, staring him down. "'Your best' isn't always good enough."

"Yes," Artemis answered, his smile fading as he held her gaze unflinchingly. "I am well aware of that. And, as I said, there is a limit to how much I can change."

No, Artemis, thought Holly. As you said, there is a limit to how much you wish to change. You will never give up your bite.

"And I don't particularly want to argue, Holly, but I do have one question," Artemis added. "If you'll indulge me."

Holly frowned. Anything that started with someone telling you they didn't want to argue almost inevitably led to an argument. And at this point, she wasn't sure if her relationship with Artemis could stand another blow. A disagreement, yes. A full-blown argument? Maybe not.

"All right," Holly said warily, nodding.

"You will likely disagree with me, but I personally believe that anyone is capable of betrayal, given the right circumstances." Artemis' gaze was still locked with hers, his eyes as piercing as ever, and suddenly Holly was afraid. Afraid of what Artemis was about to ask her.

"Who would you be willing to betray someone for, Holly?" Artemis asked, voice quiet and, somehow, strangely gentle. "Who would be the one you'd betray me to save?"

My mother. The thought was in her mind before Holly could even try to lie to herself about the answer. Artemis was asking her the very same question she'd asked herself, when they'd been in the past: what would she have done, in his place? She hadn't been able to answer herself with certainty then, but in the last few weeks, she'd figured out the answer to that, too. And it was a truth just as bitter to swallow as the realization that Artemis wouldn't be Artemis without his ruthlessness.

Had their roles been reversed, Holly knew now that she would have betrayed Artemis for her mother's life. With staggering guilt, certainly, and deep regret for what it would cost – Artemis' trust – and for the pain she would cause him, but if it was the only way... if it was the only way, then no matter how much she'd hate herself for doing it, she would take that path.

"I don't think you have the right to ask me that," Holly answered, her voice not quite as steady as she'd like it to be, because for all of that she still wasn't sure she was ready to forgive him. Not yet.

"No, perhaps not," Artemis said, neither agreeing nor disagreeing. "But I merely requested permission to ask you a question; I didn't say that you were required to answer it."

But you know the answer anyway, don't you, Mud Boy? thought Holly, and suddenly, she was furious. Furious with Artemis, for daring to ask her that question. Furious with him for daring to put her in his shoes.

Furious with herself, for how much it had hurt her when he'd lied. The guilt had been almost preferable to his betrayal. So, so much easier to deal with, so much less painful than when he'd looked at her with that broken expression, his calm shattered, and all but begged her to understand. To understand why he'd chosen his mother over her, whatever the cost.

Abruptly, with that thought, the anger faded as quickly as it had come. It drained out of her, leaving her feeling tired and hollow. Discussions with Artemis tended to leave people that way.

Holly knew that some of her anger was directed at herself, for not having completely forgiven Artemis yet. It had been almost three full months since they'd been in the past—Artemis, after all, would have forgiven her by now. And that knowledge burned her, even though she knew why Artemis would have been able to. It was because Artemis was ruthless, and the irony in that was enough to choke her.

Artemis automatically understood that kind of decision, and had their roles been switched, he'd have had no difficultly admitting to himself that he would have done the same thing. He would have been furious with her, too, and hurt; she knew that. It would have taken him time to forgive her. But he would have understood, and no matter how betrayed he felt, in the end it wouldn't have shaken his trust in her.

To him, a situation like that wasn't about trust—just necessity. It was something that had to be done, something that couldn't not be done, so where did trust come into it at all? It had been his mother who was dying; with their roles reversed, it would have been Holly's mother who was dying, and Artemis wouldn't have stayed angry with her indefinitely because she'd chosen her mother's life over his feelings. Had he known that Holly had been forced to choose between them, he never would have expected her to choose anyone else. She knew exactly what his reaction would have been.

"We're from different worlds, Artemis," she'd said. "We will always have doubts about each other."

Holly supposed that made her a liar, too.

"Artemis—" she began, not sure of what she was going to say, but Artemis waved a hand, his eyes uncharacteristically downcast.

"It's fine, Holly. You're correct; I had no right to ask you that question, not after..." He paused, then finished, "after everything."

No, she thought. You did. Because you deserve to know why I haven't forgiven you.

"No," she said aloud. "I can't answer that, Artemis— won't answer it, but it was..." A fair question, she wanted to say, and it had been. But the words wouldn't come. "It's all right," she said finally.

He did deserve to know why she hadn't completely forgiven him, even though Holly herself wasn't entirely certain why. But she wondered sometimes, late at night, just how much of her inability to forgive him was just a good excuse to keep him at a safe distance. A distance far enough that she wouldn't have to look at him, at his mismatched eyes that matched hers, at his mouth, and remember what it had felt like to kiss him. Remember what it had felt like to sit on the hood of the stolen car with him, nearly equal in age, and ask if it would be so bad if it turned out that they had to stay like that.

"And my elf-kissing days are still over, of course," Artemis added casually, pulling her out of her troubled thoughts and turning his gaze to look out over the manor's grounds. But this was Artemis Fowl, and nothing Artemis Fowl did was ever casual. Calculatedly casual, yes, but never truly relaxed. "What was it you said, when you left with N˚1 and Jayjay...?"

"In another time," Holly repeated her own words, though she knew he hadn't forgotten. But in spite of her firm tone, she was taken aback; but had her emotions truly showed so clearly on her face that Artemis had picked up on what she'd been thinking? Or had it just been Artemis, with his uncanny sense of timing, knowing the perfect time to...

To strike, she thought, and immediately felt a pulse of guilt for thinking it. It passed quickly, mainly because it was true. Whatever showed in her face, though, those three words were no less true now than they'd been the first time she'd uttered them.

"In another time, Artemis," she reiterated, just for good measure.

"Yes, of course," Artemis agreed, a little too easily. "The past, naturally. What other time could there be?"

Holly didn't respond. She couldn't, because those six simple words had hit her with such force that she could barely think beyond them. The emotions she'd tried to keep down, tried to attribute to her younger body and to leftover confusion from how she'd been in the past, were suddenly whirling in her chest. She shouldn't have been surprised; Artemis had always done this to her, from the very beginning: kept her off-balance, never entirely sure what to feel, and caused her to end up feeling things for him that she knew she shouldn't.

Mourning him, when she'd thought the blue rinse had killed him.

Sympathizing with him, when he'd told them the price of helping them defeat the B'wa Kell.

Missing him, when he'd been mind-wiped.

Kissing him, eight years or just a scant few months ago.

She'd told herself countless times the very same thing she'd told Artemis: in another time, because 'in another time' made it easier to accept the end of something that hadn't even begun, something that likely should never begin. But Artemis found the loopholes in everything, as he always did.

The past.

The present.

What other time could there be?

"Fly away, little fairy," Artemis said softly, glancing up at her as if sensing her internal struggle. His words weren't condescending; there was a sort of teasing quality to them that seemed out of place coming from Artemis Fowl. But his next words weren't entertaining in the least. "A viper's venom is no less poisonous from lack of use."

Though Artemis' left eye was hazel, his right was still his own, and in that moment it was the blue-black colour Holly so clearly remembered. The colour she'd seen the first time she'd looked into the eyes of twelve-year-old Artemis Fowl.

"Look in my eyes and tell me that I can't."

She'd seen the truth there, when she'd first met his eyes. She saw it now.

"Goodbye, Artemis," Holly said abruptly, replacing her helmet and switching on her shield. "I'll be in touch."

"Until another time, Holly," Artemis said to the supposedly empty air, and from his neutral tone, no one who didn't know him would have been able to tell whether it was a simple goodbye or a deliberate choice of words. However, considering nothing about Artemis Fowl was ever simple and Holly wasn't a fool, she could guess.

Against regulations, Holly opened the throttle wide and shot off into the sky. For almost a minute she tore through the sky at full speed, but she couldn't keep up the pace; she needed time to collect herself, and a long flight home in solitude would provide that.

Of course, she had no solitude, not even while seventy-five feet above the countryside.

"You heard all of that, didn't you, Foaly?" Holly asked finally, breaking the silence of the dark Irish morning.

"You think I'd miss something like this?" Foaly answered, without a hint of shame.

Holly sighed, though she'd expected nothing less. If she'd wanted privacy, she should have thought to specifically ask for it. "What did you think?"

"Well, I wasn't really there," Foaly countered. "What did you think?"

Holly scowled. "You said you were listening."

"I know what I heard," Foaly said, sounding surprisingly serious. "I don't know what you think."

There was a long moment of silence over the line.

"You were right," Holly said finally. "Artemis is a viper."

Foaly chuckled. "Quite the extended metaphor we have going on here, isn't it?"

Holly didn't answer. She wondered if love, in any of its many forms, was just another kind of poison when it came to Artemis Fowl. It certainly hurt enough to be.

"But there's something you might be interested in hearing about vipers," Foaly added, pulling her out of her thoughts. "That is, if we're insisting on calling poor Artemis a venomous snake." Holly snorted; poor Artemis indeed. Foaly didn't continue, though, and Holly glared at the visor in front of her for long moments, since Foaly, as he'd said, wasn't actually there to glare at.

"Oh, fine. What's this interesting thing, Foaly?"

"Something called a dry bite."

"Dry bite?"

"Mm-hm," Foaly hummed in agreement. "In essence, it's when a poisonous snake bites, but doesn't inject its venom into its supposed victim."

Holly frowned. "Why would a venomous snake bite and not inject its venom?"

"Self-defence, usually. When people get too close." He paused, then said, "Vipers are also adept at injecting different degrees of poison, based on both the situation as well as its... ah, victim."

Holly took a moment to process this.

Degrees of poison. Artemis telling her the truth about his mother's infection, when he so easily could have kept both his mother's life and Holly's trust, because who would have known? He'd placed all of that crushing, terrible guilt upon Holly, but then freed her from it rather than continue the deception. Only enough to put things in motion.

For his plan, of course. Artemis always had a plan. Usually one in which someone could get hurt, emotionally if not physically, and Artemis would see it coming. Because Artemis saw almost everything coming. And, needless to say, none of that knowledge would interrupt his plan once he'd decided it was the only way. Artemis, both fortunately and unfortunately, was almost always right.

I suppose it isn't fair, thought Holly, to need a viper for what it is and then condemn it for being that way.

That didn't mean that all of the things Artemis had done in the past were ethically right, or even acceptable under normal circumstances. But Holly knew what Artemis was, and even if she'd been the fairy equivalent of a teenager at the time, she'd still known that when she'd kissed him in the past. She'd seen Artemis' ruthlessness firsthand; in fact, she'd personally been a victim of it. She'd looked into those cold blue-black eyes before leaving the house in which she had been held captive, and seen nothing of mercy or kindness within them.

No matter how much Artemis had changed, Holly would have to be a fool to believe that the cold, icy centre of him had melted completely. Captain Holly Short was no fool.

And she'd still managed to forget all that, to push it all to the side and kiss him anyway, as if none of it mattered. In that moment, it hadn't mattered, and it would have gone on not mattering. Until the viper had turned his bite onto her.

Degrees of poison.

Or perhaps a dry bite.

"And, ah, Holly..."

Holly blinked, and then frowned warily at the tone of Foaly's voice. It sounded almost... gleeful. And that was never a good thing. "Yes?"

"What did Artemis mean, exactly, when he mentioned 'elf-kissing'?"

Holly switched off communications. Not that it meant anything – Foaly could override it in less time it took for him to eat a carrot, and he proceeded to do so – but it got her point across. She could tell, if only because Foaly didn't press the issue.

The chuckle she heard at his end, though, told her that she wouldn't be allowed to avoid answering forever.

As much as she wanted to just switch her brain off on this subject for a while, and certainly didn't want to confess to it, Foaly was the only one of the People she would choose to tell if she had no other choice. He was perhaps the only one who wouldn't raise an utter scandal over it, if only because he knew Artemis almost as well as she did.

Holly could trust Artemis with her life, and the secret of an entire race. She knew that short of the lives of Artemis' family being in danger, there was nothing that could make him betray her. That was enough. For now, at least, it had to be. And for the first time, Holly wondered if she had the right to ask anything more.

Possibly, she would eventually have that right. The right to be placed on the same level as Artemis' family, and be able to trust him absolutely without having to consider the situation; be able to trust that there would be no venom for her in his bite. Perhaps one day.

The future, after all, is another time.

[Hotel Dusk] Ghosts Who Breathe

Sat, 14 Mar 2009 23:01:15 GMT

GHOSTS WHO BREATHE
A Hotel Dusk Fanmix

Because Kyle and Brian are one of the biggest OTPs who ever OTP'd. For serious. It's weirdly subtle, though, despite being glaringly obvious. Kind of like a couple who've been together for years. When you go to visit them, they're not all kissy-face and stupid nicknames, or even really all that demonstrative at all, but you can tell they're a couple nonetheless. Also, short one of them murdering my family, I don't know of many "just friends" I'd give up my entire career for and chase around for three years, no matter what they did to me. Kyle totally hasn't figured it out, though. Which is probably why he can't quite seem to grasp why people are so surprised when he denies that he hates Brian. Honestly, Kyle. The only simple reason a (relatively) sane person would still be desperately searching for someone after three years straight, and with no end in sight, is either because, A) they really, really hate that person, or B) they really, really love that person. And you've already denied the hate part.

I mean, come on, you're doing the exact same thing as Kevin Woodward, and he's both married to and in love with the person he's looking for. Hell, depending on the ending, you've even got a kid in tow, too, by the end of it. The parallels are so glaringly obvious that I can't imagine how the writers could have missed it.

GHOSTS WHO BREATHE

[a hotel dusk fanmix]

KEEP THE CAR RUNNING >> arcade fire
Pre-game. Bradley's in over his head, and he knows it. And he knows that pretty soon, Kyle will know it, too. Brian knows that he has a choice between running and dying. Mila's gone, his life is gone, and Kyle's become part of Brian's past before the poor bastard even knows something's wrong. The hell is there left to live for? But when you grow up in a city like this one, whether or not you've got a damn thing left to live for don't have jack shit to do with whether or not you're gonna keep living. So he'll run.
Every night my dream's the same Same old city with a different name Men are coming to take me away I don't know why, but I know I can't stay There's a weight that's pressing down Late at night you can hear the sound Even the noise you make when you sleep Can't swim across a river so deep They know my name 'cause I told it to them But they don't know where And they don't know when it's coming When it's coming There's a fear I keep so deep Knew its name since before I could speak They know my name 'cause I told it to them But they don't know where And they don't know when it's coming Oh, when it's coming Keep the car running If some night I don't come home Please don't think I've left you alone The same place animals go when they die You can't climb across a mountain so high The same city where I go when I sleep You can't swim across a river so deep They know my name 'cause I told it to them But they don't know where And they don't know when it's coming Oh, when is it coming? Keep the car running Keep the car running Keep the car running
TRUE ROMANCE >> tiger army
Brian betrayed him, and Kyle can't get over it. Hell, can't even wrap his head around it, that Brian would—could—stab him in the back. All Kyle knows is that it hurts, it hurts so fucking bad that even the burn of whiskey can't distract him for long. He turns in his badge; partially because they'll just fire him anyway if he doesn't, but mostly because Brian Bradley is out there somewhere, and Kyle needs to find him. It's the only thing that matters anymore.
I told you right from the start A knife up to your throat for one put through my heart Couldn't hold on and this I should've known Thinking back as I walk the night alone ... Night gives no rest and I cannot sleep When I can see your face, it's tattooed on my dreams Purple heart pumps sorrow through my veins I awaken, I'm calling out your name I often think back to that night ... Felt like I would die; I couldn't stand the pain And there's nothing left except one thing: I've gotta see you again
DROVE THROUGH GHOSTS TO GET HERE >> 65daysofstatic
Three years later, Kyle arrives at Hotel Dusk. He's still searching for Brian, in everything he does, in every move he makes. He just can't let it go, not yet; maybe not ever.
[instrumental]
YOU'RE ALL I HAVE >> snow patrol
What the hell does Kyle think he's going to find, if he finds Brian? Does he really think an answer will be enough to free him, to allow him to finally let go of what he's clung to so desperately for the past three years? Yes. No. The real question is, does it even matter anymore? Every day of his life is spent searching for clues, trying to dig up leads, looking for something to hold onto that will lead him to Brian. He doesn't have anything else. This is it. This is all.
Strain this chaos, turn it into light I've got to see you one last night Before the lions take their share Leave us in pieces, scattered everywhere ... Give me a chance to hold on Just give me something to hold onto It's so clear now that you are all that I have
LAST DAY OF MAGIC >> the kills
Six months ago, Kyle Hyde stayed in Room 217, also known as "Prayer". Problem is, Kyle's never been to Hotel Dusk before. It doesn't take a genius to put two and two together: Brian Bradley was here six months ago. Kyle has a lead for the first time in three years, and it's going to lead him to Brian if it kills him.
We're two parties, Two parties ending What if you move? What if you hide? There's only so much you can miss Before we both collide My little tornado My little hurricano Last day of magic Where are you? ... I'll be the man with the broom If you'll be the guts of the room And there's only so much you can hide Before I corner you ... Coming through The eye of the storm And I hold on to My little tornado My little hurricano I'll be the man with the broom If you'll be the guts of the room And there's only so much you can hide Before I corner you
HAVE TO EXPLODE >> the mountain goats
As Kyle digs deeper into the mysteries surrounding Hotel Dusk, he realizes that everyone has their secrets. And with this much clandestine activity, sooner or later, everything's going to, well... explode. And Kyle's convinced that when everything comes to light, that is when he'll finally know the truth about what happened to his partner, and why their friendship ended with a knife in Kyle's back.
Tile floor of the bathroom Scrubbed clean and bright Checkerboard white and grey Towels from the Ritz-Carlton hotel in Kingston Jamaica I can still see the rust colored stains today The stage is set; Someone's gonna do something someone else will regret I speak in smoke signals and you answer in code The fuse will have to run out sometime Something here will Eventually have to explode Have to explode ... Staring up, up at the hundred-watt light that burns above Name one thing about us two anyone could love We roll out the red carpet When rotten luck comes down the road Five, four, three, two, one Watch for the flash Something here will eventually have to explode Have to explode
EVERYBODY KNOWS >> rufus wainwright
The night wears on as the hours slide by, and Kyle's uncovered almost every mystery... all except for Brian's. But he knows he's almost there, and that's more than enough to keep him going. By tomorrow morning, it will be over. He'll have answers. He has to.
Everybody knows that the dice are loaded Everybody rolls with their fingers crossed Everybody knows the war is over Everybody knows the good guys lost Everybody knows the fight was fixed The poor stay poor, the rich get rich That's how it goes And everybody knows Everybody knows that the boat is leaking Everybody knows that the captain lied Everybody's got this broken feeling Like their father or their dog just died Everybody's talking to their pockets Everybody wants a box of chocolates And a long-stemmed rose And everybody knows ... Everybody knows that it's now or never Everybody knows that it's me or you And everybody knows that you live forever Ah, when you've done a line or two And everybody knows that the plague is coming Everybody knows that it's moving fast Everybody knows that the naked man and woman Are just a shining artifact of the past And everybody knows the scene is dead But there's gonna be a meter on your bed That will disclose What everybody knows And everybody knows that you're in trouble Everybody knows what you've been through From the bloody cross on top of calvary To the beach in Malibu And everybody knows it's coming apart Take one last look at this sacred heart Before it blows And everybody knows Everybody knows Everybody knows That's how it goes And everybody knows

SEVENTY TIMES 7 >> brand new	THERE'S NO "I" IN TEAM >> taking back sunday
Finally, every mystery is solved... the only thing left to find is Brian Bradley himself. Instead, Kyle finds a letter. So, what exactly happened that night, on the docks three years ago? There are two sides to every story, and sometimes they're mirror images. Three years ago, facing Brian on the docks with his gun drawn, Kyle knew nothing. Brian knew everything, but couldn't say a word.
Kyle "Why?"	Brian "Three years ago, I betrayed you. I put your finger on that trigger, and I made you pull it."
I remember I kept thinking that I know you never would And now I know I want to kill you like only a best friend could ... They say you need to pray if you want to go to heaven But they don't tell you what to say when your whole life has gone to hell ... So, is that what you call a getaway? Tell me what you got away with 'Cause I've seen more spine in jellyfish I've seen more guts in eleven-year-old kids Have another drink and drive yourself home I hope there's ice on all the roads And you can think of me when you forget your seatbelt and again when your head goes through the windshield And is that what you call tact? You're as subtle as a brick in the small of my back So let's end this call, and end this conversation And is that what you call a getaway? Well, tell me what you got away with	Well, I can't regret it Can't you just forget it? I started something I couldn't finish And if we go down, we go down together Best friends means, well, best friends means— And I've got a twenty-dollar bill That says you're up late night starting Fist fights versus fences in your backyard Wearing your black eye like a badge of honor Soaking in sympathy From friends who never loved you Nearly half as much as me Broken down in bars and bathrooms All I did was what I had to Don't believe me when I tell you: "It's just what anyone would do." Take the time to talk about it Think a lot and live without it Don't believe me when I tell you: "It's something unforgivable." Best friends means I pulled the trigger Best friends means you get what you deserve

I'LL KEEP YOUR MEMORY VAGUE >> finger eleven

The letter. As much as Brian's tried to leave Kyle behind, he also knows that Kyle wouldn't have been able to let go. And to be honest, Brian hasn't exactly done everything in his power to let Kyle go, either.

"Because I know you. You're a damn bulldog, Hyde.
I knew you wouldn't let it go. I had to believe that."

But this is it. It's over, now. End of the line. This is the last goodbye.

brian:

This won't break your heart
But I just think it could
'Cause I haven't tried as hard as I should
To separate you from everything I do
But I would never want to come between us two

I'll keep your memory vague
So you won't feel bad about me
I'll say the things that you said
Sometimes so it reminds me

Now I'm thinking back
To what I said before
I hope your heart won't have to hurt anymore

'Cause it's really not that sad from here
Because the moments I can feel you near
They keep you close to me, my dear
And if they ever become too clear...

I'll keep your memory vague
So you won't feel bad about me
I'll say the things that you said
Sometimes so it reminds me

kyle:

Now you've gone away
Don't worry, it's okay
That you're gone away
Further than yesterday
But you'll never leave these scenes
My mind replays

I'll keep your memory vague
So you won't feel bad about me
I'll say the things that you said
Sometimes so it reminds me

Where in the world have you gone now?

JUMPER >> third eye blind

The conclusion of the letter. Brian wants Kyle to forget about him; Brian's a ghost, now, a part of Kyle's past and nothing more than a memory, and he wants to stay that way. He doesn't want Kyle to be drawn into the same trap Brian's made for himself.

"Stop looking for me, Kyle. My way is a dead-end street. Let me go. I'm a ghost now."

I wish you would step back from that ledge, my friend
You could cut ties with all the lies that you've been living in
And if you do not want to see me again, I would understand
I would understand

The angry boy, a bit too insane
Icing over a secret pain
You know you don't belong

You're the first to fight
You're way too loud
You're the flash of light on a burial shroud
I know something's wrong

Well, everyone I know has got a reason
To say, "Put the past away."

I wish you would step back from that ledge, my friend
You could cut ties with all the lies that you've been living in
And if you do not want to see me again, I would understand
I would understand

Well, he's on the table and he's gone to code
And I do not think anyone knows
What they're doing here

And your friends have left you
You've been dismissed
I never thought it would come to this
And I, I want you to know

Everyone's got to face down the demons
Maybe today
You could put the past away

Can you put the past away?
I wish you would step back from that ledge my friend
I would understand

I SWALLOWED HARD, LIKE I UNDERSTOOD >> 65daysofstatic

He's finished reading.

[instrumental]

BROTHERS ON A HOTEL BED >> death cab for cutie

It's over, in every sense of the word. Kyle falls asleep in the room that grants wishes.

Hotel Dusk: Room 215

You may tire of me as our December sun is setting
'Cause I'm not who I used to be
No longer easy on the eyes, but these wrinkles masterfully disguise
The youthful boy below who turned your way and saw
Something he was not looking for: both a beginning and an end
But now he lives inside someone he does not recognize
When he catches his reflection on accident

On the back of a motor bike
With your arms outstretched trying to take flight
Leaving everything behind
But even at our swiftest speed
We couldn't break from the concrete
In the city where we still reside

And I have learned
That even landlocked lovers yearn
For the sea like navy men
'Cause now we say goodnight
From our own separate sides
Like brothers on a hotel bed

the end.

e p i l o g u e

GHOST >> indigo girls

Kyle comes home. But nothing you've held onto for so long is so easily set free. This... this has been essence of his life, these past three years. But Kyle knows the reasons, now; knows the how and the why, and now all that's left to do is let go. And maybe one day, he will.

There's a letter on the desktop
That I dug out of a drawer
The last truce we ever came to
In our adolescent war

And I start to feel the fever
From the warm air through the screen
You come regular like seasons
Shadowing my dreams

And the Mississippi's mighty
But it starts in Minnesota
At a place that you could walk across
With five steps down

And I guess that's how you started
Like a pinprick to my heart
But at this point you rush right through me
And I start to drown

And there's not enough room
In this world for my pain
Signals cross and love gets lost
And time passed makes it plain

Of all my demon spirits
I need you the most
I'm in love with your ghost
I'm in love with your ghost

Dark and dangerous like a secret
That gets whispered in a hush
(don't tell a soul)
When I wake the things I dreamt about you
Last night make me blush
(don't tell a soul)

And you kiss me like a lover
Then you sting me like a viper
I go follow to the river
Play your memory like a piper

And I feel it like a sickness
How this love is killing me
I'd walk into the fingers
Of your fire willingly

And dance the edge of sanity
I've never been this close
In love with your ghost

Unknowing captor
You never know how much you
Pierce my spirit
But I can't touch you

Can you hear it?
A cry to be free
Oh, I'm forever under lock and key
As you pass through me

...

And my bitter pill to swallow
Is the silence that I keep
It poisons me, I can't swim free
The river is too deep

Though I'm baptized by your touch
I am no worse at most
In love with your ghost

(You are shadowing my dreams)

In love with your ghost
In love with your ghost
In love with your ghost

*download*
.zip
Keep the Car Running True Romance Drove Through Ghosts to Get Here You're All I Have Last Day of Magic Have to Explode Everybody Knows Seventy Times 7 There's No "I" in Team I'll Keep Your Memory Vague Jumper I Swallowed Hard, Like I Understood Brothers on a Hotel Bed Ghost	— Arcade Fire — Tiger Army — 65daysofstatic — Snow Patrol — The Kills — The Mountain Goats — Rufus Wainwright — Brand New — Taking Back Sunday — Finger Eleven — Third Eye Blind — 65daysofstatic — Death Cab for Cutie — Indigo Girls
Comments are loved and appreciated.

T a g L i s t i n g

Sun, 27 Jul 2008 00:44:59 GMT

BY CHALLENGE

[ x ] 101_ficlets
[ x ] 1sentence
[ x ] philosophy_20

BY FANDOM

[ x ] ace attorney
[ x ] artemis fowl
[ x ] avengers
[ x ] hotel dusk
[ x ] kingdom hearts
[ x ] little miss sunshine
[ x ] naruto
[ x ] non-fandom
[ x ] one piece
[ x ] teen titans
[ x ] tmnt
[ x ] ultimates

BY GENRE

[ x ] drabble
[ x ] gen
[ x ] het
[ x ] slash

BY POST

[ x ] # things
[ x ] fanfic
[ x ] fanmix
[ x ] icons
[ x ] master post

BY RATING

[ x ] G
[ x ] PG
[ x ] PG-13
[ x ] R

BY SERIES

[ x ] adventures in tabloid-land
[ x ] comfort beckons
[ x ] splinters
[ x ] within striking distance

[Avengers] Presence

Sun, 20 Jul 2008 04:54:37 GMT

TITLE: Presence
FANDOM: Avengers
RATING: PG
CHARACTERS: Tony Stark, Steve Rogers
PAIRING: (pre-slash) Steve/Tony
WORD COUNT: 760
DISCLAIMER: All characters are © Marvel. No profit is being made from this work.
AUTHOR'S NOTES: I managed to keep it under 1000 words. Yay, me! Also: on time! By the barest minute, but still: on time! This is probably horrid because I honestly had no idea what to write for this prompt and sort of went with "yay hospital!" and hoped for the best. I like beating characters up, what can I say?
SUMMARY: Oftentimes, having someone there is a comfort all on its own.

Presence

"I want you to know that I'm very, very angry with you right now," a voice says softly, with a pretence of firmness, but the underlying tone of anxiety undermines it. "You should have called us. Or even just me."

There's a faint noise of rustling fabric, like someone shifting to find a more comfortable position.

"You've been... I don't think I was supposed to hear it, but they're saying that you should have woken up by now." A long, deep breath. "Why did you take him on by yourself?" Angry, now; a harsh whisper. "Why the hell didn't you call for help?"

There is a long silence.

When it drags on, the voice continues, soft and somehow a little bit pleading, "You have to wake up soon." A quiet, pained laugh. "Or else I'm going to forget to be mad at you because I'll be too relieved to tell you how stupid of you that was."

Another long silence, this one somehow heavier than the one before.

"You have to wake up soon," the voice repeats, so soft as to be nearly inaudible; all the same, it's almost an order. "You have to."

*

When Tony wakes up, he knows exactly where he is. He's been in a hospital enough times that he identifies his location before he manages to figure out why he's here again. The ache that pervades his entire body quickly reminds him: Titanium Man and two brick walls, and a collapsed roof, and a dumpster that decided to emulate a football. Tony has never particularly liked football.

Tony does clearly remember frying Titanium Man's systems before presumably passing out, so he isn't overly concerned with the details regarding why he needed to end up in a hospital instead of simply in bed with an ice pack or five and some extra-strength painkillers.

He doesn't, however, remember calling any of the Avengers, which is why he's surprised to find that Steve is present, if not awake. He's slumped in the hard plastic chair beside Tony's bed, one hand in his lap and the other resting palm-down on the austere white hospital sheets near Tony's hip.

Tony gives himself a quick once-over, and decides that he's not dying, as far as physical injuries would indicate, though exhaustion is weighing heavily on him despite having just woken up. As for the way his head feels like someone is trying to smash it open with a sledgehammer, he's had enough headaches to know that they're not particularly fatal, even if some of them have been bad enough in the past that he'd almost wished they were. Tony can only imagine that he must look like someone hit him with a truck (or a few hundred pounds of brick, come to think of it) for someone—specifically Steve—to feel the need to apparently keep a vigil by his bedside.

Then again, maybe Steve had just showed up to give a reason as to why Tony Stark ended up looking like he'd been in a fistfight. Tony Stark has gained infamy for a lot of problematic things, but getting into fistfights isn't one of them.

Still, Steve didn't have to stay. Steve's devotion to his friends never ceases to amaze Tony at times.

Tony doesn't want to wake him, if only because Steve looks tired even while sleeping, but he also wants to reassure Steve that everything's fine. God knows that if Steve is concerned enough about a friend to fall asleep in an uncomfortable plastic chair, he'll continue to be concerned until he has some kind of confirmation that Tony isn't comatose or something equally worrisome.

After a moment's hesitation, Tony reaches out and places his hand on top of Steve's. If it bothers Steve, though he seriously doubts that it will, Tony can play it off as shifting in his sleep. If nothing else, if Steve wakes up before Tony does, it'll assure Steve that Tony was aware enough to move at some point.

The warmth of Steve's hand is comforting, and, against all logic, feels like it eases the ache in the rest of Tony's body. And it lets him pretend, at least for a minute, that Steve wouldn't do this for just anyone.

He closes his eyes, shifting his hold slightly and concentrating on the sound of Steve's steady, even breathing as well as the warmth of his skin under Tony's hand. It's comforting, soothing, and it isn't long before Tony's fallen asleep again, fingers twined loosely with Steve's.

And later, when Steve wakes, he doesn't mind.

[Avengers] Paradise Found

Thu, 17 Jul 2008 21:21:23 GMT

TITLE: Paradise Found
FANDOM: Avengers (New Avengers)
RATING: PG-13
PAIRING: Steve/Tony, other canon pairings
SERIES: Adventures in Tabloid-Land
WORD COUNT: 4 827
DISCLAIMER: All characters are © Marvel. No profit is being made from this work.
AUTHOR'S NOTES: Pretty much a prequel to Trouble in Paradise, because I am lame. Also, OH MY GOD THIS WAS NOT SUPPOSED TO GET THIS LONG. 1000 words, I told myself. 1500 if you really feel inspired. I think you can all see how well that worked out. Also, I really tried to make this not horrible. I'm not entirely sure that I succeeded. /o\

Also, I'm horribly sorry about this being a day late. D: I'm at a campground in the Ottawa Valley right now, and I wasn't able to get into the nearest city yesterday in order to access the internet. Forgive me?
SUMMARY: Well, even a stopped clock is right twice a day.

Paradise Found

When you're one of the wealthiest men in the United States, a financial backer to the Avengers, and a superhero on the side, you tend to end up as a media target quite often, even without copious public screw-ups to add to the mix. That said, there's no real way to become accustomed to waking up to a veritable temporary village of news crews camped outside your residence. The fact that Tony was separated from them by ninety-three floors wasn't much protection, considering there were at least three choppers circling Stark Tower.

When he woke up, there was an irritating droning inside his skull, and his head was pounding. While the noise wasn't the cause of the migraine, it certainly didn't help. He sat up, rubbing at his temples with both hands, and tried to concentrate on the massive stream of technological racket that was going on just outside of his home.

<Avengers yet to comment—>

<—an extremely shocking revelation—>

<—all over the tabloids, and although the evidence is uncertain—>

<—the nation is reeling over even the possibility—>

Tony grimaced, and not just because of the blinding headache. Shit.

He closed off all of the feeds, rolled out of bed, and dragged a pair of jeans over his boxers. The t-shirt he'd slept in could stay. In order to deal with this, he first needed to wake up.

Forgoing the Extremis, as he was more or less certain he'd pass out if he accessed it, Tony paused in the living room long enough to punch in a three-digit code on the keypad next to the bay window. Within twenty seconds, all of the non-bedroom windows on the ninety-third floor were covered by solid black blinds which slid down from small slits in the ceiling. Sure, no sunlight got into the penthouse that way, but all the cameras would be getting pictures of would be... well, black blinds.

After you've been torn apart by the media well over a dozen times, you learn to prepare for these things.

"Oh, hey, cool trick with the hidden blinds," Peter said as Tony came into the kitchen. "That'll piss off the camera guys. I mean, I've just been hiding in the kitchen for the past hour, wondering why the heck the living room doesn't have blinds. By the way, do I even want to know what we did this time?"

Tony appeared to be the third person up this morning, which was a surprise. Steve was, unsurprisingly, already up and fussing with the coffee pot on the counter. Peter was seated at the oversized island, and was eating plain Cheerios, which either meant that they were running dangerously low on cereal, or that Peter had decided that Cheerios were a healthy enough choice of breakfast that Jarvis and May would let him get away with dumping truly horrifying amounts of sugar on top. Considering the suspiciously sludge-like look of the milk, Tony was betting on the latter.

Having just woken up, it took Tony a minute to process Peter's rapid-fire sentences. "Probably not," Tony admitted, running a hand through his hair and wincing when his fingers caught on a snarl. "Sorry about not mentioning the blinds, by the way; for future reference, the code is six-eight-eight."

"Hey, no problem. I don't think anyone caught a picture of me in my spidey shorts."

"I don't think we've done anything particularly newsworthy lately," Steve said, coming over and handing Tony a mug of coffee. Being one of those disgustingly energetic morning people, he was already dressed in socks, jeans, and a plain blue t-shirt. "Although we must have, considering they've been out there since six in the morning."

"You went jogging?" Tony asked, surprised. He gratefully took the mug, just about burying his nose in it and breathing in the scent before taking a drink. The human equivalent to his armor's charging jack.

"No. I got up with the intent of jogging, but decided against it."

"Ah." Tony nodded, and took another gulp of coffee. He rubbed at the stitches on his forehead with his free hand; the gash he'd received less than two full days ago wouldn't leave a scar, thanks to the Extremis if nothing else, but the Extremis didn't stop it from itching like crazy.

"Stop that." Steve batted his hand away, frowning at him disapprovingly. "You were only released from the hospital yesterday."

"Yesterday morning," Tony corrected, and made a mental note to grab some Advil only when he was sure Steve wasn't looking. "Early yesterday morning. So," he said, turning to Peter, "you didn't check the news to see what's going on?"

"Are you kidding?" Peter answered, raising his eyebrows. "They had the Channel Six news copter hovering outside the window for, like, half an hour. I am so glad I don't have to work today. They'd mob me to death."

"I checked," Steve offered. "All they said was that they were hoping for confirmation from the Avengers on a very controversial discovery."

"That being..."

"No idea. That's how it is on every channel. They said they'd release details at nine. If you hadn't gotten up by eight forty-five, I was going to wake you up."

"Thanks." Tony frowned. "Where is everyone else?"

"MJ's in the shower," Peter said. "Spider-Jessica's doing something with SHIELD today." He paused. "Or maybe I made that up, I'm not sure. I think I remember her saying something. Anyway, she's not here. Luke and Other-Jessica are still in their room. We got a call from Wolverine about fifteen minutes ago, and he says he's going to bail on us today unless the Kree start bombing the planet or something, and then he'll probably show up late."

"I can't imagine why," Steve said mildly.

"At least he called," Tony said. "I think May's rubbing off on him."

"I'm assumin' it's safe to come out of hiding?" Luke asked, poking his head into the kitchen and gesturing at the blackout blinds with one large hand.

"Yeah, Tony media-proofed the house," Peter said, shovelling another spoonful of liquid sugar and Cheerios into his mouth. Tony's teeth ached just from watching.

"Where's Jessica?" Steve asked; Jessica was usually up by now. "Is she feeling all right?"

"She's fine, just sleeping in," Luke said. "Was her night to stay up with Danielle."

"Ouch," Peter said.

"So, what the hell is going on?" Luke gestured at the blinds again.

"We're not really sure," Steve admitted, turning to Luke. While he wasn't looking, Tony casually opened one of the far cupboards and grabbed a bottle of Advil, downing four of the Liquid-Gel capsules at once with a large gulp of coffee. "But apparently they're going to reveal it on the news in about..." Steve checked the microwave clock, "half an hour."

Peter raised an eyebrow at Tony, grinning, and Tony made the 'cut' motion across his throat and gave him a look as he quietly replaced the bottle and shut the door. Peter grinned wider, but mimed zipping his mouth shut.

In the clear, Tony said, "I caught some of what was said over the air when I woke up—something was mentioned about it already being all over the tabloids."

"If you wanna try to go out and pick up some magazines, be my guest," Luke said, frowning. "Me, I'll wait for the news."

"Oh, come on," Peter said, shaking his head. "This is the information age. I guarantee you, within ten minutes of it hitting the newsstands, someone scanned it, posted it on the Internet somewhere, and made an entire forum dedicated to talking about it."

Tony felt like an idiot for not thinking of that earlier, and blamed the lack of coffee up 'til now along with the headache the Advil had yet to affect. Of course, using the Extremis was out of the question anyway, at least until the Advil kicked in, and the others wouldn't be able to see it in any case.

"Hold on a second," Tony said, retrieving his laptop from the living room and placing it on the oversized island. As the four of them crowded around it (Peter simply leaning over in his chair) Tony typed a quick search and hit enter. And promptly received almost three hundred thousand results.

"Um," Peter said. "Didn't these come out, like, today?"

"Yes," Tony said, clicking on the first link. In less than a second, the website (Celebrity Tracker, apparently) loaded, and splashed on the index page was a full-sized scan of the cover of the Examiner.

"Aw, hell," Luke said, with feeling, echoing the emotions around the table.

In contrast to the usual collage of celebrity photographs, there was only one image dominating the entire cover. Two black silhouettes, blending into each other at the lower torso before disappearing off the edge of the scan, made up the front page. Even the title of the magazine was pushed to the side in order to make room, and two large white question marks were stamped on each silhouette.

It was remarkably unoriginal, but, Tony reluctantly conceded, effective.

In giant, obnoxious yellow font, the front headline proclaimed, THE AVENGERS' HIDDEN ROMANCE. Then, in smaller white font beneath it, THE SECRET COUPLE: YOU WON'T BELIEVE WHO THEY ARE! And that was followed by bullet points: HUSHED DINNER DATES, LATE NIGHT WALKS, THE PHOTOS YOU HAVE TO SEE!

For a long moment, no one said anything.

"You are never," Tony said finally, glancing at Steve, "dragging me out to go jogging with you ever again."

"You're the one who refused to go in the morning."

"You get up at six, for god's sake. No one sane gets up at six in the morning."

"No one sane goes to bed at four in the morning," Steve countered. "And then gets up at eight. On a regular basis."

Tony frowned. "I meant to sleep later today. I think all of the noise outside woke me up."

"What, you can hear it?" Peter asked, sitting up. "We're ninety-three floors up; even Logan wouldn't hear it from—" Peter broke off as Tony tapped his temple. "Oh, right. Creepy computer brain. Got it."

The website boasted scans of the entire article, so Tony clicked the corresponding link, and was bombarded by another image—this one an actual photograph, dead centre of the article, of the supervillain attack on The Palm two days ago, where Steve and Tony had been eating dinner.

Aspiring supervillains should probably set their sights a little lower than Captain America for their big debut. Steve had taken out "Bombs Away" (and Tony had to agree with Peter—supervillain names were becoming less and less original) with one well-placed throw of his shield, but not before the idiot had set off one of the bombs he'd planted above the entrance.

There had been a hail of debris, which had miraculously missed everyone but Tony—who had, ironically enough, been trying to convince people to go out the back way, while looking for an opening to allow his armor to fly unnoticed from his briefcase and assemble itself out of sight so it could join the fight, at least.

Tony had been hit by a sizeable chunk of building—not large enough to kill him, thankfully, but definitely enough to knock him out, cause a major concussion (which the Extremis had reduced to simply a very, very, very bad headache by mid-afternoon yesterday), and gash open his forehead just below his hairline. And panic Steve by waking up for about two seconds, and then passing out again for around two hours, which was apparently the whole focus of the article.

The photograph managed to outshine the article in damage value by at least a few hundred percent, and that wasn't even counting the amount of drama the photographer had managed to fit into one picture. Bombs Away was lying sprawled in the upper right corner of the picture, and in the very centre, Steve was kneeling amid the rubble, his shield lying on the ground beside him and Tony's head resting on his knees as blood ran down one side of Tony's face.

"Well, that's more than a little embarrassing," Tony said after a moment. He rubbed at his forehead, but the headache was already receding as the Advil blessedly kicked in. He reached out tentatively with the Extremis for a moment, just to bring up the website in his mind's eye, and only felt a faint twinge.

"The paparazzi have caught you on film with a transvestite hanging all over you, but being unconscious on Cap is embarrassing?" Luke asked skeptically.

"No," Tony clarified, closing off the feed, "I mean the part where I was knocked out by falling debris. And the transvestite was thanking me for having Iron Man save her club from Electro."

"All that gratitude over Electro?" Peter said, raising an eyebrow. "Seriously? Anyone can beat him, you just need to put on rubber gloves and punch him a few times. I mean, this tiny little teenage girl once kicked his butt for trying to rob her parents' convenience store before I even had time to swing down. I swear, she was like five foot nothing. Granted, she had superspeed and a great right hook and took him off-guard, and he escaped through the city's electrical grid, but still. Five foot teenage girl."

"You try explaining that to Cherry next time you're down near Hunts Point."

"Is it just me, or is every flamboyant transvestite ever named Cherry?"

"Why, have you met a lot of them?" Luke asked.

"I've been a street-level hero for, like, fifteen years, so... yeah, actually," Peter admitted. "Incidentally, they tend to be way more polite than most people I save from gunshot wounds or whatever. Very little hysterical screaming or purse-hitting involved."

"Although that one woman did try to grope you through your tights," an amused voice said from behind them; MJ, her hair still damp from her shower. She was dressed in what she usually wore when she wasn't modelling or going anywhere special: worn jeans and one of what might have been Peter's t-shirts.

"We agreed not to talk about that ever again," Peter protested, turning to give her a wounded look. "My spider-sense actually went off when she did that."

"Did you have to pull me into your lap?" Tony asked Steve. "I wasn't on my deathbed."

"Oh, is that what all this racket is about?" MJ asked, leaning over Peter's shoulder to read the article. "Jerks."

"I was worried," Steve answered Tony defensively, crossing his arms over his chest. "You had a head wound and you weren't waking up."

"Ten months ago, I was dead for half an hour and I got better," Tony told him. "Which, by the way, means that I have a better turnover rate than the X-Men. Why wouldn't I have been fine?"

Steve frowned. Tony knew from experience that Steve preferred not to talk about Tony's brush with death—the joke Tony had tried to make about how Steve ought to be used to it by now hadn't gone over well.

Rather than get into that again, Tony scanned the news channels with the Extremis; it was now a quarter after nine, not that the others had noticed yet, and speculations of his and Steve's relationship had now been released all over the country.

Tony assumed they'd waited on releasing the news because it had only been in the tabloids—and with very shaky evidence, at that—which were notorious for horrifically wrong information. But something like this was big, big news, so they were apparently willing to take the risk.

He hit a station whose reporter was gathering opinions, and tilted his head, letting the physical world 'fade' until the Extremis-generated images and sounds in his mind seemed far more real.

"Well," he said dryly, his own voice far away. "That's interesting."

"What?" The word sounded distant, and Tony wasn't entirely sure who said it. He blinked once, bringing himself back from the immersion, then shifted his gaze to the TV in the living room, turning it on with a thought and ignoring Steve's frown as he did so.

"—rica sure as hell ain't gay," a blond man was saying vehemently into the microphone that a pretty, petite Asian woman was holding up to him. "Cap wouldn't be caught dead screwing another guy." He made a disgusted noise. "Not another guy, and definitely not Stark. The guy's Captain America and he's the leader of the Avengers. He's as far from gay as you can get."

"It's always me who's the problem, isn't it?" Tony asked, mock-plaintively.

"Yep. Except when it's me," Peter replied; he and Tony had bonded partially over the way they both seemed to have a giant media bullseye painted on them. Although, to be fair, Peter hadn't been responsible for most of the bad press sent his way. Or continually given the media ammunition.

On the television, the reporter asked, "What do you say to the reports of them having dinner together?"

The man shrugged. "Stark funds the Avengers, everybody knows that, and Cap leads the Avengers. Probably just a business dinner. Hell, Cap probably didn't even want to go, but when the guy's funding your team..." He shrugged again.

"I love the way people talk as if they know us," MJ said, sounding amused, as the reporter thanked the man and the broadcast cut back to the newsroom. "Have you noticed that? You'd think they lived next door to us and had coffee with us every Saturday."

"What did she say his name was?" Steve asked, turning to Tony. Tony hadn't heard, but a quick mental rewind of the broadcast showed the interviewer introducing the man.

"Garret Barker. He's from Westchester."

"Man," Luke said, shaking his head, "he's living in the wrong area for being an intolerant jackass."

"Are you seriously going to harass the guy?" Peter asked, sounding impressed. "Seriously? Way to go, Cap!"

"Making a phone call in response to slander is not harassment," Steve answered. "Tony, what's his phone number?"

"Calling someone straight is slander?" Luke smirked. "Don't hear that every day."

"Steve," Tony said dryly, "maybe we should give a press conference or something before you call up some yahoo and ask him to apologize for making rude assumptions about your lifestyle choice on national television. Besides, it's not slander; the man's right. You're not gay."

"That's not the point."

"Ooo," MJ said mischievously; she was leaning over Peter's shoulder, her index finger on the laptop's touchpad. "This is interesting."

Thankfully, that distracted Steve from Garret Barker for a moment as he turned to look at whatever it was that she'd found. 'It' was a thumbnail image on the Celebrity Tracker's website. MJ tapped the touchpad, bringing it to full size, and the day abruptly became worse.

Tony had been convinced that he'd lost the ability to feel shame over anything to do with sex, romance, or relationships, but apparently he still had some dignity left to be stomped on.

That article's photo had managed to capture the exact moment Tony's eyes had fluttered open, which, considering his position, meant that he was gazing straight up at Steve. Steve's expression was a very blatant mix of worry and relief, which wouldn't have been so bad, if Steve's fingertips hadn't been resting gently on Tony's unbloodied cheek.

"Oh, jeez," Peter said. "I'm pretty sure I saw that on the cover of a romance novel once. Except the girl was in Tony's spot."

"Thank you, Peter."

"I'm just saying."

"'Romantic dinner almost ends in tragedy,'" MJ raised her voice over them to read out the caption, smirking, "'but a happy ending prevails.'"

"I hate my life," Tony muttered. He was never going to hear the end of this from any of the former Avengers.

"Oh, that's bad," Luke said. "Who writes for them, Danielle Steel?"

Tony blinked at him, then raised an eyebrow, momentarily distracted from the humiliating picture. "You've read Danielle Steel?"

"Of course," Peter said solemnly. "Everyone reads Danielle Steel."

"My grandma read Danielle Steel," Luke corrected. "Usually out loud."

"Everyone and their grandma reads Danielle Steel," Peter amended. Luke shook his head, but didn't comment.

"You know," Steve said, frowning at the picture, "we had dinner together all the time, even before we started a relationship. Years before."

"'All the time'? And that wasn't a hint to you two that maybe something more was there?" MJ asked, raising an eyebrow at him. Steve shrugged, but his ears turned sort of pink.

"We're going to have to go out there some time," Tony interjected, deciding to save Steve from further teasing, as MJ had her best innocent face on, and that never boded well for anyone.

"I'd like to ask if they can really stay out there all day," Luke said, "but I know damn well that the answer is, 'Oh, yes they can.' So if you two would go do something about them, I'd appreciate it, since I'd rather only have to wade through a few hundred crazy media people today instead of a few thousand."

"Okay, I have to know," Peter said, eyeing Luke. "What's so important that you actually have to throw yourself through way too invasive TV cameras and crazy celebrity groupies?"

"Chocolate," Luke replied. "And diapers."

"Ah," Peter said, nodding sympathetically. "Godspeed."

"So what are you guys going to say?" MJ asked Tony and Steve curiously, propping her chin up on her hand. "I mean, you can't really deny it, can you?"

"Technically," Tony said, "we wouldn't be lying if we said that we aren't sleeping together. We're not sleeping together right now."

"For which we are all very damned thankful," Luke said.

Steve rolled his eyes, but Tony could see the hint of a smile on his face. "Somehow, Tony, I don't think the public will see it that way."

"Nope," MJ agreed. "Besides, Captain America pulling a Clinton probably doesn't fit most people's image of the All-American man."

"Neither does sleeping with another man, but point taken," Tony conceded. He looked down at himself, in old jeans he generally used in the lab and the t-shirt he'd slept in, then sighed. "I suppose if I'm going to let the media drag me through the mud for corrupting Captain America, I should at least look good for it." Not that he'd willingly stand in front of judgemental news crews in anything other than a suit anyway—whether fabric or metal.

"You look fine," Steve said automatically, then frowned and gave Tony a Look as what he'd said actually registered. "They're not going to say you corrupted me, Tony. A few bigots don't make up the whole country." Considering his tone, Tony had half expected him to end that sentence with an exasperated, "Honestly."

Steve gave the American people far too much credit sometimes, in Tony's opinion. Tony decided not to remind Steve of the picketers who'd set up at the base of Stark Tower about a year ago, just before Steve and Tony had started the new team, with the favoured chant of 'Guns don't kill people; Stark does.'

"If you say so," he said instead.

*

An hour later, both Steve and Tony were showered, Steve was in costume with the cowl pulled down, and Tony was in a business suit. He was also staring at the elevator with more than a little trepidation.

"It'll be fine," Steve assured him.

"Yeah," Peter agreed, standing with MJ, Luke, and Jessica (who had woken up, been filled in, and allowed to use her quota of poking fun at the two of them) in the hallway. Tony assumed it was meant to be a good luck send-off, but it came off as more of a final goodbye before an execution. "We'll be offering moral support," Peter continued. "I promise, if you need encouraging, we'll be waving at you from the ninety-third floor."

"I appreciate that," Tony muttered, and jabbed the call button for the elevator with more force than was strictly necessary. He'd been all right when they were all joking about it in the kitchen, but now that he and Steve actually had to go down into the snake pit, he was starting to feel a bit ill.

"Good luck," MJ said seriously; when Tony turned to look at her, he was mildly surprised to see that she really was being serious. "Or break a leg, considering dealing with them is pretty much a performance."

"Definitely," Jessica agreed. "I wish you both luck, broken legs, and a quick escape."

"I appreciate that," Tony said again, sincerely this time. The elevator pinged once, and the doors opened. Tony was more or less certain that he only managed to force himself to step in because Steve would have pushed him in anyway.

"Luke," Jessica said disapprovingly, whacking her husband on the arm. "Say something."

"Good luck, and try to clear most of 'em out by noon," Luke called out, and Jessica whacked him again as the doors slid shut, but she was smirking.

As soon as the elevator began its descent, Steve wrapped his arms around Tony—being careful not to wrinkle the suit, Tony noted with amusement.

"You ready for this?" Steve asked, his voice soft.

"No," Tony muttered, face pressed into Steve's shoulder. He was trying not to think about what impact this was going to have on Stark Enterprise's stock, and how much whining (disguised as professional concern) he'd have to put up with from the board over it. "But it's not like I'm ever going to be, so let's get this over with."

A dropped stock percentage wasn't what he was worried about—it seemed to happen at least once a year or so, with every new crisis that threatened to ruin his life, so he was becoming somewhat accustomed to it—but the board would start haranguing him again about putting executive control of the company in someone else's hands, and he was seriously considering redesigning the cell phone they liked so much, if only to have something new to wave in their faces. He was getting bored of repeating the same speech every time. You'd think a simple "no" would sink in after a few dozen arguments, but they appeared to have selective hearing.

The elevator pinged, signalling that it had reached the lobby, and Steve released him, taking a step back. The silver doors slid open silently, revealing an atrium full of mildly traumatized Stark Enterprises employees. The media was being held at bay by the glass doors, but most of the staff had probably had to forge their way past the onlookers, cameras, and microphone-wielding reporters in order to get into the building.

Tony sympathized, and couldn't blame them for the collective relief on their faces when they realized that the media would be harassing Tony Stark and Captain America instead of them.

Granted, the mob outside was a relatively tame mob, having been sitting for three hours with no sign of either Avenger. But glass doesn't make for good camouflage, and while Tony, in a simple (but very, very expensive) black suit could blend in well enough, Steve's costume was both very bright and unmistakable.

They had barely left the elevator when one of the vultures apparently spotted them, and in a scant few seconds, the entire mob had more or less exploded, appearing to triple in size as every single person surged to their feet as one. Even inside the building, the resulting din was almost deafening in its suddenness.

Tony glanced over at Steve. "You know, we can just lean out the door, say 'Yes,' and go back upstairs."

"I would love that," Steve replied, sounding amused, "but we can't."

"Sure we can," Tony countered. "Societal obligations dictate that we shouldn't, but we can."

"Think of Luke," Steve said solemnly. "That'll never get any of them to leave before noon."

Tony ducked his head, grinning for a moment in spite of the assortment of press and civilians who were preparing to mob the two of them over their personal life. "Well, if it's for diapers and chocolate," he said, composing his expression, "I suppose I can give a full press conference."

"That's the spirit."

"Can I mention that in the interview?"

"No," Steve denied, but he was smiling, too. Ah, the things that become funny when hell awaits on the other side of far-too-expensive glass doors.

"Spoilsport," Tony said. He glanced out the nearest pane, and was mildly surprised that no one was squished against the glass yet. However, there were already some flashbulbs going off despite the pane of glass in the way. "You really want to do this?"

"I'm ready when you are," Steve confirmed.

"Good. Let's go back upstairs."

"Now you're just stalling," Steve said. Before Tony could reply, Steve pushed open the door with his left hand and settled his right on the small of Tony's back, and stepped out with him into the blinding glare of flashbulbs.

[Avengers] Trouble in Paradise

Thu, 24 Apr 2008 01:10:37 GMT

TITLE: Trouble in Paradise
FANDOM: Avengers (New Avengers)
RATING: PG-13
PAIRINGS: Tony/Steve, other canon pairings
SERIES: Adventures in Tabloid-Land
WORD COUNT: 1 815
DISCLAIMER: All characters are © Marvel. No profit is being made from this work.
AUTHOR'S NOTES: Pure silliness. That's about it. I work in a bookstore, and we have a shitload of magazines. When it's really dead quiet, sometimes we'll flip through them at the desk, and just... boggle over the crazy shit the tabloids come out with. I'd love to get inside some of the celebrities' heads and just see what their reaction is to some of it, because you just know that, at least at some point, someone has reacted with, "What? Where the HELL did they get that idea? ...HONEY, DID WE DECIDE TO HAVE A TRIAL SEPARATION? SOMEONE FORGOT TO TELL US." Apparently, celebrities have a lot of very talkative friends. No lie. They've got best buddies all over the place willing to spill their secrets despite their wishes. Because when a celebrity needs to confide in someone, apparently what they do is they throw a house party and yell their innermost secrets over a megaphone.

Also, unbetaed and the ~~entire fic~~ article is probably laughably bad. BUT IT'S FOR TRO. Because I <3 her and she's been busy as hell with work things.

Oh, and I definitely based the article on an actual tabloid article. Authenticity, you know.
SUMMARY: Tony and Steve are having severe relationship problems, Steve might have a thing going on with Jan, and Tony's been spotted in a bar. Oh, and Iron Man is having trouble accepting the fact that his employer's bisexual. No, really. Would the tabloids lie?

Trouble in Paradise

TROUBLE IN PARADISE?

Peter read the headline of the Examiner from over MJ's shoulder, having been drawn over by her irritated huff. She was sitting on the smaller couch in Stark Tower's living room with her legs tucked up beside her. Peter loved her legs. And the rest of her, too, but definitely her legs.

"'Trouble in paradise'?" he repeated aloud, frowning at the tabloid. The frown only deepened when he saw a glossy, full-colour picture of Cap and a pretty brunette woman dining together at what looked like a really nice restaurant. That was unexpected. Curious, he began to skim the article—he didn't recognize that lady, but he had a sinking feeling about why the tabloids had printed a picture of her with Cap. The last time they'd had a picture of MJ, the tabloids had said she was sleeping with Tony, and she hadn't even been with Tony in the picture.

      It looks like there's some rough water brewing between the superhero community's most prominent couple. Numerous accounts have commented on the strain that seems to have developed between billionaire Tony Stark and national icon Captain America. When rumours cropped up about the nature of their 'friendship' just a few months ago, the pair shocked the nation by admitting to their relationship on live television, and have been met with varying reactions, from support to anger—and it seems that the stress of that, along with other factors, is taking its toll on their relationship.
      "They've been having arguments lately," an inside source confirms. "They've been trying to keep it quiet, but it's becoming obvious that there's a lot of tension."

"'Inside source'?" Luke repeated from just behind Peter, making him jump. When Peter turned to look at him, Luke's face was drawn in disgust. "More like, 'shit we made up on the fly'. Who the hell talks to these people?"

"I think Logan does," Jessica Drew said, her tone mock-serious. Both she and Jessica Jones had also come over to peer over MJ's shoulder, apparently intrigued by the tell-tale signs of tabloid-induced irritation.

"At least they're not saying that Tony's sleeping with MJ again," Peter offered, and MJ snorted, not even looking up from the article.

"That's because Tony scared the crap out of them the last time they did." She frowned. "'On the whole, Tony's a nice guy,'" she read aloud, "'but he's got a lot of issues and I don't think Cap was really prepared for that. It's one thing to be friends, but being in a relationship with someone like that is a whole other thing.'" She relinquished the paper to Jessica Jones when Jessica reached for it, but didn't look any less annoyed. "'Someone like that'?" she demanded, as if the tabloid would answer her. "What do they think Tony is, some sort of psycho?"

"Um, you did just say that he scared the crap out of them..." Peter pointed out, but MJ ignored him in favour of standing and walking around the couch to examine the paper in Jessica Jones' hands, apparently still irritated enough to want to... make herself more irritated.

Jessica Jones wrinkled her nose in disgust as she took her turn reading over the tabloid. She stopped reading at probably the second paragraph, and looked like she wanted to set it on fire.

"That's revolting," she snapped, thrusting the Examiner back to MJ (Peter grabbed it this time) and sounding personally offended. Well, actually, being a real reporter, she probably was. "Don't they ever think that they might cause half the relationship problems high-profile people have?"

"Oh, hey, look," Peter interjected, trying to lighten the mood before MJ or Jessica Jones decided to go beat up the EIC of the Examiner or something. He pointed at the middle of the article. "Iron Man doesn't approve, either."

Luke stole the paper from him, peering at it, then actually smirked. "Okay, that's funny."

"What?" Jessica Jones frowned. Jessica Drew took the paper this time—apparently it was show-and-tell time at Stark Tower—and read the Iron Man part out loud.

"'Iron Man has been the source of some of the couple's stress as well,'" she began. "Blah blah blah... 'He doesn't want to say anything, but I know it bothers him,'" she continued, now obviously reading what one of the 'sources' had to say. "'I'm not saying he's homophobic or anything, but your male boss sleeping with your team leader—that has to be uncomfortable.'"

"That's impressive," MJ said admiringly, taking the paper back, but held it up for Peter to see when he tried to read over her shoulder again. "I didn't think anything could top the stuff about Tony and me for being so completely wrong."

Peter read a little further, and finally got to the part that explained Cap and the woman he was eating dinner with in the picture at the top of the article. Apparently, that was the Wasp—who was also a fashion designer, but Peter wasn't really up on them; he mostly just liked focusing on how good MJ looked in their stuff—which made sense, since the Wasp had been an Avenger, like Cap and Tony, and people went out to eat with their friends all the time. Except... not, apparently, since the Examiner seemed to think it was weird to have girls for friends. Honestly, Peter had gotten over his fear of cooties by grade three. Four. Okay, five.

      "They've always gotten along great, and there's a lot of history there," a pal admits. "I don't think it would surprise anyone if something more developed between them." The source hastened to add, however, that Captain America would be sure to break things off with Stark before pursuing anything more than friendship with Ms van Dyne. "Cap's not that kind of person. No matter what Tony might do, Cap would never cheat on anyone."

"Man, they imply that Cap's got a thing for the Wasp and Tony's the bad guy?" Luke asked incredulously, crossing his arms over his chest. "Where the hell does that start making sense?"

"It's because he's rich," Jessica Drew answered dryly. "And good-looking. And smart. People find that offensive."

The article had one last barb to throw in its closing lines:

      Most of those who know the couple well agree that this probably spells the end of the relationship.
      "It's sad," a friend says, "because they really do care about each other, but I think they've both realized that it just isn't going to work."

"Wow," Peter said, pointing at that last sentence. "I think someone forgot to tell Cap and Tony."

"Forgot to tell us what?"

They all turned, a little startled, to see Tony and Cap standing in the doorway. Cap had his arm casually wrapped around Tony's waist, and Tony was leaning into him a little bit, which suddenly made the whole situation a lot more funny than annoying. When none of them answered right away, Cap frowned and repeated, "Forgot to tell us what?"

"Did you know," Jessica Drew said, perfectly serious, "that you two really do care about each other, but you've realized that your relationship just isn't going to work?"

Cap stared at her blankly. "What?"

Tony was a bit quicker on the uptake, probably because he had a lot more experience with evil tabloid reporters printing libel about him. He could, Peter thought, probably give Spiderman a run for his tights in the bad press department. Also there was that thing where Tony could access the internet with his brain, and Peter was pretty sure, from the sudden smirk on Tony's face, that Tony had just read the whole story.

Tony pulled away from the arm Cap had wrapped around his waist and turned to face him with a solemn expression. "Sorry, Steve. I meant to tell you. We've been having a lot of arguments lately, and there's been a lot of tension between us."

"There's been—Tony, what?"

Peter could almost pity Cap, considering the totally bewildered expression on his face, but Peter was a little bit busy trying not to start snickering and ruin the whole thing.

"It's perfectly understandable that you went to dinner someone else," MJ told him, her tone really believably sympathetic. "Relationship troubles can be so difficult."

Peter was really envious of her acting skills. His cheek was starting to hurt from biting the inside of it to keep a straight face. In the corner of his eye, he could definitely see Luke starting to grin slightly, which made him feel a little better. Thankfully, Cap was still too distracted to notice.

"But if you really will be happier with Jan," Tony added, clasping one of Cap's hands in both of his, "then I'll let you go."

There was a moment of silence, and then Cap asked, in that scary-calm don't-mess-with-me Captain America tone, "Tony, what is going on?"

Peter tried, he really did, but he just couldn't hold it in any longer. He started snickering, and then Luke joined in, and then he couldn't stop. Not even when Cap gave them a Look that promised bad things if someone didn't tell him what was going on right now.

Tony was grinning. "Tabloid article," he explained, nodding at MJ. She held out the article to Cap, who took it warily and skimmed it. Cap's expression darkened as he read through it, until he was actually scowling at the tabloid.

"How can they say any of this?" he demanded, shaking the paper once. "It's blatant lying; no one we know talks to tabloids, and they wouldn't say this kind of thing even if they did."

"It's a tabloid. They pay for that kind of gossip, and people will make it up and pretend they're connected to get the money," Tony said dryly. "And we're sort of a hot topic right now. Tabloids will take it and run."

"It was just dinner," Cap continued, as if Tony hadn't spoken. "There's never been anything between Jan and I."

"No, but it wouldn't surprise anyone if there was," Tony said, "except for Hank, I think. And you. And Jan. Me. Carol, too, and Scott, and Falcon, and Simon, and Clint..." He paused. "Well, maybe not Clint," he amended. Cap glared at him, which would have made Peter shut up, but Tony's secret superpower was being immune to intimidation by Captain America. Which was sometimes more useful than being able to climb walls.

Tony pulled the paper out of Cap's hand and tossed it on the couch, then took ahold of Cap's wrist and tugged him in the direction of the hallway.

"We'll be awhile," Tony told the rest of them as he retreated toward his and Cap's room. "Working on relationship problems as severe as ours takes time."

"Tony—" Cap began.

"Come on, Steve." Tony's grin was slightly evil. "We're going to relieve some tension."

TROUBLE IN PARADISE?

      It looks like there's some rough water brewing between the superhero community's most prominent couple. Numerous accounts have commented on the strain that seems to have developed between billionaire Tony Stark and national icon Captain America. When rumours cropped up about the nature of their 'friendship' just a few months ago, the pair shocked the nation by admitting to their relationship on live television, and have been met with varying reactions, from support to anger—and it seems that the stress of that, along with other factors, is taking its toll on their relationship.
      "They've been having arguments lately," an inside source confirms. "They've been trying to keep it quiet, but it's becoming obvious that there's a lot of tension."
      Those close to the couple, however, say that the news isn't surprising.
      "We were really shocked when they first got together," a close friend, who wishes to remain nameless, told the Examiner. "It just seemed like such a strange match. I'm not going to name names, but a lot of us are surprised it's lasted this long."
      Iron Man has been the source of some of the couple's stress as well. According to those close to the Golden Avenger, Iron Man has had difficulty with the fact that one of his teammates is involved with his employer.
      "He doesn't want to say anything, but I know it bothers him," the friend told the Examiner. "I'm not saying he's homophobic or anything, but your male boss sleeping with your team leader—that has to be uncomfortable."
      It's also been suggested that Stark's history of personal problems may be playing a role in the failing romance. Although Stark has apparently been sober for years now after a long struggle with alcoholism, reports have placed him in a bar in Nevada recently while on a business trip.
      "On the whole, Tony's a nice guy, but he's got a lot of issues and I don't think Cap was really prepared for that," a source tells us. "It's one thing to be friends, but being in a relationship with someone like that is a whole other thing."
      Even more telling, just last week Captain America was spotted having dinner with Janet van Dyne, wealthy fashion designer and heiress—and also a fellow Avenger, well-known as the Wasp. Although Ms van Dyne has been away from active Avengers duty and out of the country until recently, she and Captain America have apparently kept in contact despite the disbanding of the Avengers.
      "They've always gotten along great, and there's a lot of history there," a pal admits. "I don't think it would surprise anyone if something more developed between them." The source hastened to add, however, that Captain America would be sure to break things off with Stark before pursuing anything more than friendship with Ms van Dyne. "Cap's not that kind of person. No matter what Tony might do, Cap would never cheat on anyone."
      Most of those who know the couple well agree that this probably spells the end of the relationship.
      "It's sad," a friend says, "because they really do care about each other, but I think they've both realized that it just isn't going to work."

[Avengers] Last of Days

Fri, 18 Apr 2008 22:56:11 GMT

TITLE: Last of Days
FANDOM: Avengers (Mighty Avengers)
RATING: PG-13
CHARACTERS: Tony; implied Tony/Steve
WARNINGS: Post-Civil War. Deals with suicide. Written in second-person point of view.
WORD COUNT: 805
DISCLAIMER: All characters are © Marvel. No profit is being made from this work.
AUTHOR'S NOTES: This is basically a slightly expanded (+248 words) version of the interspersed drabbles I wrote in the Last of Days fanmix. No, I don't know why it's all in lowercase and italics, but I feel like it works better that way. I could be totally wrong. This is unbetaed, by the way. Any and all mistakes/crappiness are mine. (There are probably a lot.)
SUMMARY: You won't call it a peaceful feeling. Peaceful doesn't hurt so much.

Last of Days

---

it's only been a few months since that day. none of the pro-registration heroes who knew steve are dealing well with his death, but at least they aren't falling apart. you hold it together on the outside, though, because you have no other choice, and because you owe it to him. but you feel it. you see it. the two of you, this was your city. he always loved that park. you fought the wrecking crew together in that plaza. that was your favourite café, and he almost always ordered the blueberry cobbler. it's the little things that cut into you. every breath is another memory.

---

it happens, as you knew it would. you've screwed up again, but this time, steve isn't there to shield you with his infallible belief in people, even people like you. but you knew that they were more steve's family than yours, didn't you? you knew it would happen eventually, that you'd be finally left alone. you were the emotional charity case. they tolerated you and all of your mistakes—not because of your money, the way some people think, but because steve wouldn't let you go, no matter how many times you fell to pieces and dragged everyone else down with you. he loved you once, you know that, but you'll never know why.

---

everything you've fought for is nothing in the face of what you've lost. what the world has lost. there's a hole inside of you that will never, never close. the alternatives were worse, so much worse. you knew it then and you know it now, and you know how high the death toll would have been if you hadn't committed. but all you can think about is how he asked you to join him, and that maybe if you'd said yes, even if the world had burned down around you, he'd still be a part of it. you hate yourself for that, for wishing you'd given in. you hate yourself for walking away.

---

he's there when you sleep. sometimes he yells at you, the way he's sometimes done in the past, when you've spectacularly failed to live up to the expectations only steve ever seemed to have for you. sometimes he'll strike out at you. it hurts you down to your soul, even in the dream—but always, always you let it happen, because it means he's there. but you still have to wake up. you still have to look at your hands and see all the blood that won't come off. he was everything to you.

---

you don't want to wake up anymore. it's not so much that you want to die as it is that you want the hurting to stop. you want to pretend that you'll hold on, that you won't give in, but you're so tired. you're so damned tired. you've killed the only people who were too stubborn to see the sense in walking away from you, and the blood on your hands is creeping up your arms, as deep in it as you are. so is it selfish to wish that at least one person would still be on your side? is it selfish to want someone to give half a damn? yes. you destroy everything you touch. you've tried so hard, but there's nothing else you can do that won't make things worse. you don't want to hurt anyone else. you don't want to hurt anymore.

---

you've always found something elegant in a carefully written program. the coding is crisp and clean, mapping out a specific course on which to run. you can literally write it with your eyes closed, now. after all, it exists only in your head. it takes you very little time to write the program, simple and straightforward as it is. you come back to yourself, to your body, and listen for a moment, but you can't hear anything. or, more specifically, anyone. the penthouse is silent and empty. scant months ago, there would have been sound; a conversation in the living room, a debate in the kitchen. his voice, drifting down the hall. laughing.

---

shutdown sequence.

---

the sheets on your bed seem strangely warm as you curl up under them. you feel calmer than you have in weeks, months. you won't call it a peaceful feeling. peaceful doesn't hurt so much. but everything's so quiet now, inside. quiet enough that the memories sound almost clear enough to be real. if you close your eyes, it's almost like being there again. even now, you're not delusional; you know it's not truly real. people embellish memories without meaning to, adding details and blurring facts, until the recollection is something better than it ever truly was. in the end, memories are just echoes that will fade away in time. but a memory isn't such a terrible thing to be.

---

execute program.

[Avengers] Last of Days (fanmix)

Wed, 16 Apr 2008 04:46:59 GMT

LAST OF DAYS
A Tony Stark Fanmix

Disclaimer: All characters are © Marvel Comics. No profit is being made from this work.
Dedicated to the people of cap_ironman, because I've been AWOL from TEH PLAGUE (I have asked Tro to return it to Stark for me) and from severe exam stress. My only defence is that I've been keeping up on the comics and the technical comm stuff, and I plan to catch up on what I've missed. And I'm making you guys more icons. =D?

Anyway, this mix sort of has a weird 557-word drabble pieced into it. I didn't really notice it until I looked at the amount of 'notes' I'd written for the songs and was like, "Hey, that's a lot." So, um. Yes. And regarding the "back" cover image: never let it be said that I don't have a sick sense of humour.

LAST OF DAYS

[a Tony Stark fanmix]

o1 . left and leaving ;; the weakerthans

My city's still breathing (but barely, it's true)
Through buildings gone missing like teeth
The sidewalks are watching me think about you
All sparkled with broken glass

I'm back with scars to show
Back with the streets I know
They never take me anywhere but here

The stain in the carpet, this drink in my hand
These strangers whose faces I know
We meet here for our dress-rehearsal to say, "I wanted it this way."
And wait for the year to drown

...

Someone choose who's left and who's leaving

Memory will rust and erode into lists of all that you gave me:
a blanket, some matches, this pain in my chest; the best parts of 'lonely'

[lyrics . download]

(none of the pro-registration heroes who knew steve are dealing well with his death, but at least they aren't falling apart. you hold it together on the outside, though, because you have no other choice, and because you owe it to him. but you feel it. you see it. the two of you, this was your city. he always loved that park. you fought the wrecking crew together in that plaza. that was your favourite café, and he almost always ordered the blueberry cobbler. it's the little things that cut into you. every breath is another memory.)

o2 . alone ;; ben harper

This empty room, it fills my mind
Freedom, it leaves me so confined
Every single bone has cracked
But in this life, you can't turn back

I don't want to live
I don't want to live here alone

As these words part with my tongue
I question why they're even sung
I promise but I lie
I don't even know myself inside

I don't wanna be
I don't wanna be here alone

Today and tomorrow have become one
Every single thing has become undone
Human nature is a beast
What I've done the most, to show I have the least

Please don't leave me here

[lyrics . download]

(you've screwed up again, but this time, steve isn't there to shield you with his infallible belief in people, even people like you. but you knew that they were more steve's family than yours, didn't you? you knew it would happen eventually, that you'd be finally left alone. you were the emotional charity case. they tolerated you and all of your mistakes—not because of your money, the way some people think, but because steve wouldn't let you go, no matter how many times you fell to pieces and dragged everyone else down with you. he loved you once, you know that, but you'll never know why.)

o3 . last of days ;; a fine frenzy

Traffic's slow with broken boats
Heading for the sky
And I'm an island

...

The world carries on without you
But nothing remains the same
I'll be lost without you
Until the last of days

The sun is in the east
Rising for the beasts
And the beauties
I wish that I could tear it down
Plant it in the ground to warm your face

I built myself a castle on the beach
Watching as it slid into the sea

...

The world carries on without you
But nothing remains the same
I'll be lost without you
Until the last of days

[lyrics . download]

(everything you've fought for is nothing in the face of what you've lost. what the world has lost. there's a hole inside of you that will never, never close. the alternatives were worse, so much worse. you knew it then and you know it now, and you know how high the death toll would have been if you hadn't committed. but all you can think about is how he asked you to join him, and that maybe if you'd said yes, even if the world had burned down around you, he'd still be a part of it. you hate yourself for that, for wishing you'd given in. you hate yourself for walking away.)

o4 . my immortal ;; evanescence

I'm so tired of being here
Suppressed by all my childish fears
And if you have to leave
I wish that you would just leave
'Cause your presence still lingers here
And it won't leave me alone

These wounds won't seem to heal
This pain is just too real
There's just too much that time cannot erase

...

You used to captivate me
By your resonating light
Now I'm bound by the life you left behind
Your face it haunts
My once pleasant dreams
Your voice it chased away
All the sanity in me

...

I've tried so hard to tell myself that you're gone
But though you're still with me
I've been alone all along

[lyrics . download]

(he's there when you sleep. sometimes he yells at you, the way he's sometimes done in the past, when you've spectacularly failed to live up to the expectations only steve ever seemed to have for you. sometimes he'll strike out at you. it hurts you down to your soul, even in the dream—but always, always you let it happen, because it means he's there. but you still have to wake up. you still have to look at your hands and see all the blood that won't come off. he was everything to you.)

o5 . easier to run ;; linkin park

It's easier to run
Replacing this pain with something numb
It's so much easier to go
Than face all this pain here all alone

Something has been taken from deep inside of me
The secret I've kept locked away no one can ever see
Wounds so deep they never show, they never go away
Like moving pictures in my head for years and years they've played

...

Sometimes I remember the darkness of my past
Bringing back these memories I wish I didn't have
Sometimes I think of letting go and never looking back
And never moving forward so there'd never be a past

...

Just washing it aside
All of the helplessness inside
Pretending I don't feel misplaced
It's so much simpler than change

It's easier to run
Replacing this pain with something numb
It's so much easier to go
Than face all this pain here all alone

It's easier to run

If I could change, I would; take back the pain, I would
Retrace every wrong move that I made

It's easier to go

If I could change, I would; take back the pain, I would
Retrace every wrong move that I made, I would
If I could stand up and take the blame, I would
I would take all my shame to the grave

[lyrics . download]

(you don't want to wake up anymore. it's not so much that you want to die as it is that you want the hurting to stop. you want to pretend that you'll hold on, that you won't give in, but you're so tired. you're so damned tired. you've killed the only people who were too stubborn to see the sense in walking away from you, and the blood on your hands is creeping up your arms, as deep in it as you are. so is it selfish to wish that at least one person would still be on your side? is it selfish to want someone to give half a damn? yes. you destroy everything you touch. you've tried so hard, but there's nothing else you can do that won't make things worse. you don't want to hurt anyone else. you don't want to hurt anymore.)

o6 . april 8th ;; neutral milk hotel

There is no use in waiting
Offer up your steps so I can climb
Show me all your figure paintings
Etched in the middle of the night
Let me stretch upon your carpet
Let me hear the rain tap on your street
Knowing I am safe on the inside
Blankets wrapped and drifting off to sleep

[lyrics . download]

( . . . )

[ download . zip ]
{ all songs, cover art, text }

[Avengers] Deeper than Bone

Tue, 25 Mar 2008 19:40:05 GMT

TITLE: Deeper than Bone
FANDOM: Avengers (Mighty Avengers)
RATING: PG-13
CHARACTERS: Thor, Tony
PAIRING: Blink-and-you'll-miss-it Tony/Steve
WORD COUNT: 1 298
DISCLAIMER: All characters are © Marvel. No profit is being made from this work.
AUTHOR'S NOTES: For megalotro. Also massive thanks to Tro for her amazing beta job, because this would have been made of epic proportions of fail without her input.

This was written because I firmly believe that Tony really needs a hug right now, and I am ignoring anything to do with current Thor canon. I'm also trying to be realistic about what Tony's mental state has to be at this point, because apparently no one at Marvel has any damned clue what severe emotional trauma and abandonment does to an already unstable human being. They're basically hitting a pane of glass repeatedly with a sledgehammer and expecting us to believe that it shouldn't break.

I have also come to the conclusion that if Thor doesn't eventually give Tony emotional support in canon, then no one ever will again. Either that or Marvel now considers the Classic/Original Avengers' relationships to be officially null and void.
SUMMARY: Thor has already lost one shield brother. He will not lose another.

Deeper than Bone

Thor is truly not sure what he was expecting, when he ventured to Midgard in the wake of the warfare, but it certainly was not this. He has seen some of what has been happening, since the conclusion of the bloodstained conflict, and none of it pleases him; and a great and terrible sorrow fills him at the thought of Steve's demise.

Although his father has long forbidden it, Thor hopes that Valkyrie nonetheless recognized Steve's great worth and swept him to Valhalla, regardless of his humanity and the circumstances of his death.

Thor cannot think too long of the manner of Steve's passing; the fury that comes from it is almost overwhelming, and surmounted only by the sharp pain of grief. Thor is aware that all humans, by nature, are mortal, and all will perish in time. It does not ease the pain. Sif had grown frustrated with him, in his sorrow. She had tried to be understanding, in the face of his pain, but she has never been able to comprehend his interest in humans; much less his love for that particular human.

Two humans, in fact. One whom Thor is flying to see directly.

Thor has also taken account of Tony's actions, and in some ways, he is still disbelieving of them. He cannot reconcile that traitorous creature with the mortal man he had grown to respect and love; Thor's anger is nearly a consuming thing, and yet he still wishes to hear what Tony has to say. Thor has not forgotten that he is not the only one who loved Steve as much, even if he does not love Steve in quite the same way.

And yet, stepping into Tony's room, even the son of Odin could not have predicted this.

It is not Tony whom he finds—whether the former Avenger or the betrayer—but a fragile shell of a man. He is sitting on the floor with his back to the wall, knees drawn up to his chest. For someone who has known Tony so long, it is easy to ascertain the exhaustion written into his form; a deep, reaching tiredness that Thor has previously seen only in the most world-weary of his fellow immortals.

Tony stares at him for a long moment, blank-faced, as if Thor's presence isn't even registering. Abruptly, he jerks, gaze clearing, and he stumbles to his feet. Only the wall behind him keeps him from tumbling back down to the floor.

With Tony standing like this, Thor can truly see the terrible depth of his exhaustion; it seems ingrained into the man's very bones, dragging Tony down and crushing him beneath its weight. He appears to be half-dead already, as if a personification of Hel herself: not yet dead, but far from alive.

"Thor," Tony rasps. "You're—god, you're here." He raises one hand to his own face, taking a shaky breath. "Thor, I know—damnit, I—" He bows his head and buries his fingers in his hair, tugging the dull black strands once before dropping his hands back down to his sides and raising his head. "Say it. It's—I should have known to wait until you—until you got the chance to confront me on this, before I ended—before I—" Tony cuts himself off abruptly, swaying lightly on his feet and shaking his head once as if to deny what he had clearly not meant to say. Nonetheless, a terrible sickness fills Thor at Tony's words, shoving even his mighty anger to the side in order to make room for itself.

He lifts a hand, and Tony flinches and drops his gaze, hunching his shoulders as if expecting a blow and resigning himself to it. It pains Thor far more than it should, that Tony should cringe from him, though Thor understands why he does. Tony is reminiscent of an abused animal, beaten so many times that it flinches from even the kindest of hands.

Thor's original intention had been to confront Tony over such an unthinkable betrayal—the kind of betrayal Thor might have expected from his brother, Loki, but not his shield brother. Raw fury, fed by the sting of treachery, had risen in him at the discovery of the murderous replica two of his former Avengers had created; but now, seeing Tony this way, Thor cannot help but set aside his anger. It is far from gone; he will still confront the issue of that botched abomination of science, as it is not something that can be simply forgotten, but now is not the time to do so.

It may not be the time to do so for a long while. For this, though, Thor can wait. He is also beginning to suspect that there is far more to this than he is currently able to see, for Tony in and of himself has never acted with deliberate malice. Thor does not call someone his shield brother lightly, and certainly he has only considered two mortals as such.

Thor reaches out and grips Tony's left shoulder gently, tugging him forward against Thor's chest and enveloping him in a strong embrace. Tony stiffens against him immediately, body so tense that he's trembling. Though Thor waits for long moments, Tony does not relax.

"Such things may be discussed later," Thor says finally, quietly, "and while I will not deny that I am angry, you are my shield brother still, and there is precious little in existence for which I could not forgive you." Even Thor, in spite of his godhood, has made at least one terrible error in judgement in the past; an unthinking blow he himself dealt to Steve, for which he has long been forgiven. "I will not leave you here alone."

At his words, Tony draws in a sharp, gasping breath, and releases it in a soft whimper. The tremors intensify, quickly turning into harsh sobs. Tony's fingers curl into Thor's tunic, more out of a need to hold onto something than anything else.

Thor wishes to ask where the other Avengers are, and why Tony has not drawn upon them for strength in such a difficult time; but not only is now not the occasion for such questions, Thor fears he already knows the answer. The cause of Tony's shattered state can only be that he has no one left, for the near-desperation with which he holds to Thor's tunic and his reaction to a simple gesture of comfort speaks more truth than words ever could.

It is the other Avengers who spur the anger of the God of Thunder, now. To abandon a fellow warrior like this, in a time of such dire need, is closer to unforgivable than even the foul replica of the son of Odin. Had Thor arrived perhaps an hour later, there would be no forgiveness to be had. He will speak with them of this, even before speaking to Hank—and Reed Richards—alone.

"Thor," Tony chokes out, shaking his head once, the movement hindered by their position. His voice is thick with tears. "I can't do this anymore."

Thor will not – cannot – leave Tony alone, likely not for some time; this he knows, and though it pains him as to why such measures are necessary, Thor has already lost one shield brother. He will not lose another.

"I don't want to be here anymore," Tony whispers, so softly that Thor almost does not hear the words. But hear them he does.

Thor has precious little experience with such a thing as this. Nevertheless, it is a grave understatement to say that Tony is in great need of a friend; and so Thor rubs Tony's back, the way he would comfort a crying child, and waits for the storm to pass.

[Avengers] Paved with Good Intentions

Sun, 09 Mar 2008 07:05:27 GMT

PAVED WITH GOOD INTENTIONS
A Steve & Tony Civil War Fanmix

Disclaimer: All characters are © Marvel Comics. No profit is being made from this work.
Yes, I am late to the party. Anyway. This fanmix is based solely on Civil War: The Confession, because everything else is occasionally so wildly OOC that I remember at some points doing a double take and wondering if there was another character who just happened to look a lot like Steve / Tony / whoever was spazzing out that day. I'm pretty sure that in the decision to write Civil War: The Confession, this is the conversation that took place:

"Guys, we have a problem."
"What?"
"Well, we've had Tony (and everyone else) acting kind of and sometimes totally out of character for most of Civil War, and we've essentially made everyone hate him."
"Yes...?"
"Well, now that we've killed off Captain America, Tony's our main Avenger guy. Major title character and whatnot. Why would people buy a comic about a guy they hate?"
"Oh, fuck."
"I know."
"I was so enjoying making everyone think he's a heartless, amoral bastard, too. How the hell do we fix this?!"
"I think... I think, for at least one issue, we should make him act completely like himself."
"My god... it's so crazy, it just might work."

[/bitter]

Oh, and the quote at the end is by Arthur C. Clarke.

Dedicated to megalotro, for she is made of awesomeness and win. And I totally owe her fic, but I write slowly. Here's hoping this tides you over, Tro. =p ♥

PAVED WITH GOOD INTENTIONS

[a Tony & Steve Civil War fanmix]

SO FAR SO GOOD >> thornley

The beginning: Tony sucks it up and commits.

I feel a little bit left of center
But then again, we've all been there before
Every time I see a lost cause coming
It's nothing less, nothing more

Every time I get lost in paradise
I find a way to screw it up somehow
It's not the way it's supposed to be
But it'll do for now

When you're right, you're right
Everything else in my life just might be wrong
You're wrong all the time

So far, so good; 'cause no one knows I'm faking
I wish I could show you the toll it's taking
Sometimes I live as if there's no tomorrow
So far, so good

I better find a way to cross my fingers;
half the luck'll get me twice as far
I'm sick and tired of coming up for air
It shouldn't be this hard

Every little bit of help I wonder
if it's enough, or did I cross the line?
The kitchen counter is a bad reminder of a better time

When you're right, you're right
Everything else in my life just might be wrong
You're wrong all the time

So far, so good; 'cause no one knows I'm faking
I wish I could show you the toll it's taking
Sometimes I live as if there's no tomorrow
So far, so good

TALK >> coldplay

Steve wants to know what in god's name is going on with Tony.

Oh, brother, I can't, I can't get through
I've been trying hard to reach you, 'cause I don't know what to do
Oh, brother, I can't believe it's true
I'm so scared about the future and I wanna talk to you
Oh, I wanna talk to you

...

Are you lost or incomplete?
Do you feel like a puzzle; you can't find your missing piece?
Tell me, how do you feel?
Well, I feel like they're talking in a language I don't speak
And they're talking it to me

...

So you don't know where you're going, and you wanna talk
And you feel like you're going where you've been before
You tell anyone who'll listen that you feel ignored
Nothing's really making any sense at all
Let's talk, let's talk
Let's talk, let's talk

FAKE IT >> seether

Tony Stark hates Tony Stark. Incidentally, so does everyone else.

Who's to know if your soul will fade at all?
The one you sold to fool the world
You lost your self-esteem along the way

Good god, you're coming up with reasons
Good god, you're dragging it out
Good god, it's the changing of the seasons
I feel so raped, so follow me down

And just fake it, if you're out of direction
Fake it, if you don't belong here
Fake it, if you feel like infection
Whoa, you're such a fucking hypocrite

A DANGEROUS MIND >> within temptation

This isn't the Tony he knows.

I'm searching for answers
'Cause something is not right
I follow the signs
I'm close to the fire

I fear that soon you'll reveal
Your dangerous mind

...

I'm searching for answers
Not questioned before
The curse of awareness
There's no peace of mind
As your true colors show
A dangerous sign

It's in your eyes, what's on your mind
I see the truth that you've buried inside
It's in your eyes, what's on your mind
There is no mercy, just anger I find

I just have to know, while I still have time
Do I have to run, or hide away from you?

SAVE ME >> shinedown

Steve surrenders, and is arrested. This isn't how it was supposed to go.

How did I get here?
And what went wrong?
Couldn't handle forgiveness
Now I'm far beyond gone

I can hardly remember
The look of my own eyes
How can I love this, a life so dishonest?
It made me compromise

Someone save me if you will
And take away all these pills
And please just save me if you can
From my blasphemy in my wasteland

...

The hardest question to answer
Is why?

Why?

YOU NEVER KNOW >> goo goo dolls

Steve is in jail. There are things that hurt more than any physical pain.

You never know
Some folks think the world just moves too slow
But was it you?
Who told me I'm your everything

You hit me like I never felt before
Hit me like a sucker punch, you're rotten to the core
You know you hit me like I've never felt before

...

You never take
A promise from a man who sheds his skin

...

You know you hit me like I've never felt before

WITHOUT YOU >> yoshiki

Steve is assassinated. This isn't how it was supposed to go.

instrumental

COMPLETELY >> art of dying

Posthumous viewpoint. You got what you wanted. Did I ever know you at all?

I see an end
Our sun will dive
Blood alone won't bring you life

Darkness falls
Curtains rise
You and I just can't survive

Like broken glass
I see through you
I can't believe the things that you do

...

Gave me your heart of rusty nails
And now you ask why it impales

What you hide you can't conceal
Through your eyes all is revealed
Watch what you wish for
You know, you just might get it:

Completely without me

THIS IS HOW I DISAPPEAR >> my chemical romance

The Confession.

To unexplain the unforgivable
Drain all the blood and give the kids a show
By streetlight this dark night
A seance down below
There's things that I have done
You never, should ever know

...

And if you could talk to me
Tell me if it's so
That all good girls go to heaven
Well, heaven knows

That without you is how I disappear
And live my life alone forever now
And without you is how I disappear
And live my life alone forever now

Can you hear me cry out to you?
Words I thought I'd choke on figure out
I'm really not so with you any more

...

And now
You wanna see how far down I can sink?
Let me out!
So you can
Well, now so you can
I'm so far away from you
Well, now so you can

And without you is how I disappear
And without you is how I disappear
Forever
Forever now

WHAT I CAN'T FORGET >> jason blaine

Steve never learned how not to forgive him.

It's like they never happened
Those good times that we shared
But you and God and I know you were there
It breaks my heart to see you leave
With nothing but regret
Oh, why can't you remember
What I can't forget?

Yesterday meant something
At least it did to me
But I guess our past is just a ghost
That only I can see

...

Why can't you remember
What I can't forget?

FALLEN >> sarah mclachlan

"It wasn't worth it."

Heaven bend to take my hand
And lead me through the fire
Be the long awaited answer
To a long and painful fight

Truth be told I've tried my best
But somewhere along the way
I got caught up in all there was to offer
And the cost was so much more than I could bear

Though I've tried, I've fallen
I have sunk so low
I messed up
Better I should know
So don't come round here
And tell me I told you so...

We all begin with good intent
Love was raw and young
We believed that we could change ourselves
The past could be undone

But we carry on our backs the burden
Time always reveals
In the lonely light of morning
In the wound that would not heal

It's the bitter taste of losing everything
That I've held so dear

I've fallen
I have sunk so low
I messed up
Better I should know
So don't come round here
And tell me I told you so...

Heaven bend to take my hand
Nowhere left to turn
I'm lost to those I thought were friends
To everyone I know

Oh, they turn their heads embarrassed
Pretend that they don't see
But it's one missed step, one slip before you know it
And there doesn't seem a way to be redeemed

"I've always had a sneaking sympathy for Benedict Arnold...

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...as must anyone who knows the full facts of the case."

[Icon Post] #6

Sun, 24 Feb 2008 05:22:02 GMT

PLEASE...
• comment if taking
• credit fire_tears or nosilencehere

[18] AVENGERS
[08] Quotes [7 Spiderman, 1 Jan & Tony, 1 Puppet Master & Tony]
[04] Steve
[06] Steve/Tony

[04] IRON MAN
[01] 2008 Movie
[01] 2007 Animated Film
[02] Comics

[04] BLANKS
[03] Steve/Tony
[01] Quote [Spiderman]

Avengers
01	02	03	04

05	06	07	08

09	10	11	12

13	14	15	16

17	18

Iron Man
19	20	21	22

Blanks
23	24	25	26

[Icon Post] #5

Fri, 08 Feb 2008 09:18:13 GMT

PLEASE...
• comment if taking
• credit fire_tears or nosilencehere

AVENGERS
[01] General
[01] Steve
[08] Steve/Tony
[01] Hank
[01] Hank/Jan

IRON MAN
[04] Tony Stark
[01] Extremis
[01] Tony/Steve
[02] Iron Man

Avengers
01	02	03	04

05	06	07	08

09	10	11	12

Iron Man
13	14	15	16

17	18	19	20

[Icon Post] #4

Fri, 25 Jan 2008 08:24:59 GMT

PLEASE...
• comment if taking
• credit fire_tears or nosilencehere

IRON MAN
[02] Iron Man
[02] Tony/Steve (or just Tony-centric, if you like)
[03] Tiberius/Tony

In 03 and 04, I did recolour Tony's hair. It just looks weird when it's blond.

Iron Man
01	02	03	04

05	06	07

[Icon Post] #3

Thu, 17 Jan 2008 20:32:25 GMT

Because megalotro wanted New Avengers/Iron Man icons. =] I hope they're satisfactory.

PLEASE...
• comment if taking
• credit fire_tears or nosilencehere

ICONS
[47] Total
[09] Avengers
[04] Cable & Deadpool
[02] Final Fantasy VIII
[03] Ghost Rider
[02] Iron Man
[01] Iron Man (2007)
[15] Iron Man (2008)
[02] Kingdom Hearts
[01] Madness
[05] Non-Fandom
[03] One Piece

Icons 33 through 36 use lyrics from Black Sabbath's Iron Man.

Avengers
01	02	03	04	05

06	07	08	09

Cable & Deadpool
10	11	12	13

Final Fantasy VIII
14	15

Ghost Rider
16	17	18

Iron Man
19	20

Iron Man (2007)
21

Iron Man (2008)
22	23	24	25	26

27	28	29	30	31

32	33	34	35	36

Kingdom Hearts
37	38

Madness
39

Non-Fandom
40	41	42	43	44

One Piece
45	46	47

[One Piece] Fragments

Thu, 03 Jan 2008 07:25:33 GMT

TITLE: Fragments
FANDOM: One Piece
RATING: PG-13
PAIRINGS: Smoker/Ace
SERIES: Splinters
WORD COUNT: 3 638
DISCLAIMER: All characters are © Eiichiro Oda. No profit is being made from this work.
AUTHOR'S NOTES: Spoilers for the Ace and Blackbeard situation; AU from that point on. Unedited. I'm very insecure about posting this, all things considered. Part 2 / 3 ; theme 038: falter.
SUMMARY: Picking up the pieces.

Fragments

Fifteen months. And finally, a body has turned up.

Five of them, in fact.

There's a part of Smoker that's snarlingly, viciously enraged that he didn't get there first—he's not a fool, after all. He'd known who to look for. The other part, though, knows that Strawhat deserved the kill more than Smoker, and that's not even hard to admit. Strawhat may be a pirate, but he loved his brother, and Smoker understands that. Blood and family. There are things that can't ever be forgiven or forgotten.

When he sets foot on the next island, he sees the symbol from that too-familiar sail, painted onto a small white cloth that's tied to a pole and stuck in the ground like a flag. It's far too obvious to be missed, especially by someone who knows it so well. It disturbs him, because this is one of the few islands where the Log Pose takes only a scant few hours to set. Strawhat knows that Smoker is right behind him, and should have been long gone by now.

Smoker was counting on it.

But it's a call if there ever was one, and Smoker is now aware that Strawhat knows damned well why Smoker has been so closely following the same route he has over the past year and three months, and that it had nothing to do with trying to catch him.

He sure as hell doesn't want to heed the call, but there had been nothing left of Blackbeard's ship save for splinters and bodies he hadn't bothered checking because if Ace's corpse had not already been lost to the sea months ago, Strawhat never would have left his brother's body to sink beneath the waves.

Smoker knows. Logically, he knows that Ace is dead, that he has to be dead, but he needs to hear it. He needs to be able to stop watching the horizon for a sail he'll never again see.

Aware of the stir the Buster Call made, he uses his smoke to pick up the flag with Strawhat's mark and throw it far out onto the ocean. No need to give those less inclined to wait for complete information a reason to attack after the pirates are long gone.

The townspeople are mostly scarce; likely having recognized Strawhat's sail and known enough to get the hell out of the way once a marine ship appeared on the horizon, obviously in pursuit of the pirates their island is currently harbouring. Nonetheless, he receives an answer, however warily given, when he asks where the pirates have docked their ship. Apparently, on the opposite side of the island, there is another harbour. He's also told that it cleared out rather quickly when Strawhat made berth there.

He heads toward it with only the slightest hesitation, walking through the narrow streets on a strange sort of autopilot. There's an odd sensation in his gut that feels too close to dread for his tastes, clawing at his chest and kept at bay only by the numbness that holds steady within him.

As he turns out of an alleyway, finally reaching the otherwise deserted south docks, he comes face-to-face with the Strawhat pirate crew.

There is dead silence, and none of them—neither Smoker nor the Strawhats—move. The pirates' stances are wary ones, especially that of the newest member—Franky, a vaguely detached part of his mind remembers from the reports—who has likely been told who they're waiting for, and what he's capable of. Roronoa's looking more threatening than wary, though, placing himself a few feet ahead of his captain with one hand on the hilt of his white katana.

It doesn't matter. Smoker isn't looking at—isn't interested in—any of them. The clawing in his chest has become a steel band, constricting his lungs so that he can't breathe.

It is Strawhat who moves first, putting a hand to his namesake and tipping it over his eyes, casting them in shadow. There is a new mark on the back of his right hand; a deep, jagged scar, barely half-healed.

Without a word, Strawhat turns abruptly and walks back to his ship. His crew follows, just as silent, though a few look back quickly: the redheaded navigator, her eyes reflecting uncharacteristic compassion before she walks up the gang plank; the reindeer, nervous but not afraid; the cook, with a warning glance that, on any other day, would have caused Smoker to grind his teeth.

One after another, until only one of them remains.

He looks like he's been to hell and back, a few times. Scars, some old, some still in the process of healing, litter his chest and arms – and, Smoker presumes, his back. All are deep. There are ones at his throat, too – smaller, thinner, and shallow. After years as a marine, Smoker recognizes that it's the kind of wound gained from being held down at knifepoint.

Ace.

Smoker notes with a strange sort of detachment that his wild black hair is too long, a little bit past his shoulders now, and scraggly at the ends. He's thinner than Smoker remembers; the sharp planes of his body more pronounced, the points and edges of bone more obvious, and there's a marked loss of tone to his muscles. And despite all of that, Smoker knows that Ace likely looks a thousand times better now than he would have when Strawhat found him.

Ace licks his lips, and it occurs to Smoker that there's something in Ace's gaze that has never been turned on him before.

Wariness.

"Hey," Ace says. His voice is quiet, but it carries across the way to Smoker as easily as if he's yelling. "Sorry I took so long. Between fucking up my mission and the fun I was having with knives, I was a bit preoccupied." He tilts his head to the side, a strange smile on his face. "I was going to go right to you, once Chopper stopped having a stroke every time I so much as breathed wrong, but..." He waves one hand, as if that can possibly express all the things he so obviously isn't saying—doesn't yet want to say. "Luffy said you were following him still anyway, so I thought I'd just wait here. Didn't expect him to stay with me, but I guess I shouldn't have mentioned that you're not exactly the 'wait forever' type. Not... not that he thought you were going to attack me, considering I look like shit and you're not an asshole, but..."

He's pausing and hesitating a great deal, which is unusual and a little unsettling, but he hasn't yet stopped talking long enough to let Smoker speak. It's a constant stream of babble, not his usual string of wit and teasing, and that's almost as disturbing as the pauses.

Smoker wants to know, just as badly as he never wants to know, just what it was that allowed Blackbeard to break Ace so badly; still can't wrap his mind around the idea that Blackbeard broke Ace at all.

"It's been a while," Ace continues, finally saying what he so obviously wanted to avoid. His tone is calm, but there's something in his voice that reminds Smoker of broken glass; sharp and uneven. "A year and three months is... is a long time for someone to go missing out here. It wouldn't be weird if after a few months you'd just assumed... that I..." He stops again. "And moved on."

Smoker is about say something – anything – he doesn't know what, harsh or sharp; anything to make something flare to life in those dull eyes, but a tremor passes through Ace's body and he speaks again:

"He didn't come for me."

And just like that, everything clicks into place. It wasn't Blackbeard who broke Ace down, in the end; as if that piece of shit ever could have. It was the realization that someone he trusted, had devoted himself to, knew where he was, knew what was likely happening to him... and didn't think he warranted the effort it would take to free him.

Ace suddenly laughs, quietly, and it's a laugh that makes Smoker want to kill something.

"I shouldn't really have expected it, you know. That was... stupid, really. It was my mission. I failed." He's still stopping and starting, but not nearly long enough to have let Smoker get a word in edgewise since Ace first opened his mouth. "So, anyway. Bridges burned and all that. Just thought I'd... I don't know, let you know that I'm still alive. Just in case you... were wondering, but you—"

"Ace," Smoker snaps, and Ace shuts up immediately, either from the shock of Smoker finally saying something or using his given name. It doesn't really matter why. "I can't wait here all fucking day," Smoker tells him sharply. "If you keep yapping at me, I'm going to run out of excuses to not arrest your brother right now, and with you looking like that I can't imagine you'd be much use to him." Ace is staring at him, his blatant confusion an unfamiliar expression on his face. Smoker narrows his eyes. "Are you getting on my damn ship or not?"

Just like that, a little of the blankness in Ace's dark eyes clears. It isn't a big change, but it's a start; proof that however far Ace has fallen, he's still capable of fighting tooth and nail to get back to where he was. A shudder passes through the pirate's form, and Ace half-turns back to the Thousand Sunny to seek out his younger brother.

Strawhat is sitting cross-legged at the top of the gang plank, his arms folded over his chest and his hat shadowing his eyes. None of the other pirates are in sight, but Smoker knows damned well that they're all nearby.

"Thanks for the lift, little brother," Ace says, raising a hand in farewell. "I'll see you soon."

There's a beat of silence and stillness, but when Strawhat raises his head, he's grinning Gold Roger's grin; the same grin that looked death in the face, and laughed.

"Yep!" he replies simply. His attention is on Ace for only a few moments, though, before his gaze abruptly lands on Smoker, meeting the marine's eyes without any of the flight reflex Strawhat has displayed in the past.

Smoker had been expecting some kind of silent threat or warning, and it throws him off-balance when he doesn't receive one. Instead, there's an understanding; an acknowledgement of a mutual protectiveness and relief. It's startling to realize that there's a certain trust, there, too, because Strawhat is leaving Ace in his hands without hesitation or doubt.

Abruptly, Smoker breaks the pirate's gaze and turns away, intent on heading back to his own ship and knowing Ace will follow.

Strawhat is an idiot who sees far too much.

&

It's surreal sensation, Ace's presence beside him. It's almost like a waking dream—or perhaps a nightmare, because for all its illusory feeling, this feels real enough that Smoker knows that if he wakes up from this it will stab and twist deeper than any blade ever could.

Ace makes no move to touch him as they make their way back; doesn't say anything, and doesn't look at him, either. Smoker feels like their roles have been reversed; it's Ace who is silent, withdrawn, and Smoker is the one who wants to reach out. Say anything. Strange how that, more than anything, unsettles him.

Frustration makes him grit his teeth until his jaw aches, grinding the ends of his cigars to almost nothing. From the scars alone, he has an idea of what Ace suffered during the year and a bit he spent a prisoner.

After nearly a minute of this silence bullshit, Smoker shrugs off his jacket and flicks out a coil of smoke, dropping it in Ace's arms. The pirate nearly doesn't catch it, his reflexes slow, which is troubling.

"You're going to scare Tashigi like that," Smoker says gruffly, partly because it's true, and partly because he doesn't what the hell else to say that doesn't involve murdering someone.

Ace stares blankly at the jacket for a moment before slowly slipping it on, burying his nose in the fur collar. A strange expression flickers across his face, somewhere between agony and something Smoker can't name, and then Ace abruptly drops into a crouch, his arms wrapped around himself and his eyes closed. His breathing is too slow and deep to be anything other than an attempt to calm himself down.

Smoker doesn't know what the hell to do, so he lights two new cigars and waits, grateful for the calming effect of the nicotine. Apparently, this is the right decision, because after a few moments Ace steadies himself and stands.

He looks at Smoker now, meeting his eyes without flinching, and there's a quirk at the corner of his mouth that could almost be called the beginnings of a smile.

"Don't be put off by my being fucked-up," he says, his voice hoarse with repression, but there's a hint of that old teasing that takes some of the sting out of the words. "You'll be cursing at me soon enough."

"I don't doubt that," Smoker snorts, but it's a habitual response more than anything, even after so long. Ace doesn't answer, just holding his gaze, and Smoker gets the feeling that he's searching for something.

Wordlessly, Smoker steps forward to reach out a hand and lightly push at Ace's shoulder, urging him toward the ship and retaining contact maybe a little longer than necessary. Unexpectedly, Ace reaches up and catches Smoker's fingers for just a bare instant before letting them slip away, but it's contact that Ace willingly made.

Some of the tightness in Smoker's chest eases, making it a little easier to breathe.

&

Tashigi's reaction to Ace's reappearance is nothing short of hysterical, in Smoker's opinion. When Smoker first steps back onto his ship, none of the crew gives him a second glance, assuming the worst and wanting to give him some semblance of privacy – but then they take notice of the young man who steps up beside him, and everything goes quiet. Not one person of the regular crew moves.

Tashigi, on the other hand, throws herself – or trips; Smoker isn't quite certain which – at Ace, hugging him tightly and nearly bowling him over. She's making soft noises that sound suspiciously like crying, and if all of this emotional display keeps up, Smoker's going to seriously consider smoking a third cigar.

"Hey, hey," Ace says, some of the distance in his eyes startled away by her reaction to him. He hugs her back, a little hesitantly, still-strong arms encircling her trembling shoulders. "I'm alive, marine girl. Still going to irritate your captain."

"Commodore," Smoker growls at him. Ace blinks at him, taken aback.

"You're not serious."

"He is," Tashigi replies in a muffled voice, half-incoherent, as her face is still buried in his chest and there are tears running down her face.

Ace looks down at her, then up at the rest of the crew. They've converged on the deck, no matter where they're actually supposed to be—even some of the ones who are supposed to be below deck—though they're all keeping some distance away, glancing at Smoker hesitantly.

"Go ahead, you idiots," Smoker snaps, rubbing the bridge of his nose to hide the flush that's forming there, and the crew immediately surges forward, surrounding the pirate and bombarding him with their concern and relief all at once. After four years, most of them had gotten to know Ace well enough that his year of absence hit hard, and those who hadn't were affected by the mood of the rest.

With obvious reluctance, Tashigi finally lets Ace go, wiping her eyes and stepping back an inch or two to give him some room. Her eyes trace the multitude of scars that mark Ace's once-smooth skin, concern and anger apparent in her gaze. It's just as well that Ace is wearing the damn jacket; at least she can only see the lesions on his chest, but even those are obviously upsetting her terribly.

All in all, despicable behaviour for marines.

After a minute or two, Ace gives up on trying to verbally answer any of the crew. They've quieted a bit, just a few of those who know him best speaking while the rest listen, but they still resemble a mob more than anything. Ace is trying to smile, and somewhat succeeding, but there's an echo of panic somewhere behind his eyes and his hands are trembling faintly.

It's too much, all at once. Ace, of all people, is not coping with a crowd. The realization is as sudden as it is sickening.

Smoker plants his heavy hand on Ace's head, scruffing the too-long black hair and lightly shoving him forward.

"Below deck, pirate," he says gruffly. He doesn't know what else to say to give Ace an easy reason to leave the crew without making it look like what it is: a retreat. It's Tashigi, her eyes still red, who saves face for both of them.

"Smoker-san, I think there are some leftovers from lunch." She glances at the head cook, who nods. "If you're hungry, Ace-san..."

"Yes," Ace says, dredging up a smile that's at least half-real, and that's enough. "Thank you."

He climbs down below deck almost immediately with a quick wave to the crew on deck. The lot of them watch him leave, and almost immediately, excited, hushed conversation begins among them; all of them steal a glance at Smoker at least once. He resists the urge to exhale sharply in exasperation; do they really think he can't hear them?

"Get back to your posts," Smoker growls at them, sending them scurrying, but they're livelier than they've been in a while—fifteen months, to be exact. There's a larger volume of chatter, voices too excited and movements too eager, and there's a cheerfulness to the lot of them that hasn't been present for too long.

&

Smoker doesn't even bother considering the galley when he drops below deck, instead heading straight for his quarters despite the fact that the door is shut, just as he left it. He pushes the door open, and isn't surprised to find Ace standing silently beside the entrance and just... looking at the room he hasn't set foot inside in over a year.

Smoker closes the door behind himself. His logia rises from his hands, curling slowly around the pirate's body in faint wisps almost without Smoker's conscious direction, brushing Ace's face and sifting through his hair. Ace shudders, closing his eyes and leaning a bit toward Smoker. After a moment, he opens them again, and speaks.

"I wanted to see you again," he says softly. He glances up at Smoker, and it's a bit of a surprise, how composed Ace's expression is. "You and Luffy. I really did think I was going to die, and that didn't bother me so much—there were times I wanted it to happen a hell of a lot quicker than it was, but dying happens to everyone. That wasn't..." Ace takes a deep breath and exhales slowly, steadying himself. "It bothered the hell out of me that I failed, mostly. That pissed me off. But more than anything, I wanted to see you one more time." A small, self-deprecating smirk flickers across his face for a brief moment as he meets Smoker's eyes fully. "Dying makes you sentimental, apparently. Who knew?"

There really isn't anything Smoker can say to that, so he doesn't. He's not sure he could have even if there was something to say. For the second time today, it feels like the breath has been knocked out of him, and it takes him a moment to remember how to breathe.

"Oh, christ," Ace says, when the silence drags on. The smirk Smoker gets is forced, but the sentiment behind it is real. "Don't be nice to me just because I went off and got myself tortured; you'll give yourself a stroke." Smoker scowls, though he does mean to say something this time, but Ace continues, "I didn't know what might've changed, when Luffy dragged me out of the brig. A year passes on the Grand Line... hell, a day passes on the Grand Line and everything changes. Luffy has a new ship and another nakama. You went and got yourself promoted. I don't think I want to know how the hell that happened."

"Alabasta," Smoker answers shortly, entirely unable to keep the irritation out of his voice—the decision and reason for promoting him still rankles him deeply. Ace doesn't seem to have heard him, though; not really. He's walking slowly around the room, fingers lightly trailing across Smoker's desk, the bulkhead, the bed sheets. Smoker watches him silently, stubbing out his cigars in the ashtray but not yet lighting new ones.

"I was gone for over a year," Ace says finally, his voice a little shaky but with a familiar hint of amusement that feels like the sun after a long, cold night. "Over a year, and nothing else is the same—but you still haven't changed a damn thing in here?"

"I didn't want to listen to your bitching when you decided to show up again," Smoker retorts, finally drawing out two fresh cigars and sticking them in his mouth. He reaches for his lighter, but the ends of his cigars suddenly spark with flame. He draws in a breath, and the tiny flame vanishes, leaving only the normal faint red glow.

Smoker glances up sharply, meeting Ace's eyes, and the corner of the pirate's mouth twitches into a smirk.

It's faint and fleeting, but real.

[One Piece] Lost

Tue, 01 Jan 2008 21:36:45 GMT

TITLE: Lost
FANDOM: One Piece
RATING: PG
PAIRING: Smoker/Ace
SERIES: Splinters
WORD COUNT: 179
DISCLAIMER: All characters are © Eiichiro Oda. No profit is being made from this work.
AUTHOR'S NOTES: Spoilers for the Ace and Blackbeard situation; AU from that point on. Unedited. Part 1 / 3 ; theme 035: waiting.
SUMMARY: When what once was is no longer.

Lost

Seven months after Ace stopped visiting, and there are still no reports. Nothing to indicate where Ace could possibly be, or what he's been doing. He might well have dropped off the face of the planet so far as Smoker is aware.

He tries to tell himself that Ace has simply come to his senses and decided to stop this... thing that they have. But surprisingly, it's the logical part of him that won't let him believe that; the part that knows that Ace, being who he is, would have at least given him some sort of goodbye.

The part that is aware that Ace... wouldn't have said goodbye.

That coldly logical part also tells him that he knows damn well what's happened, if not how; knows damn well that it was only a matter of time. They were—are, damnit—equal in power, and Smoker knows the limits of his own. He is not invincible. He is not infallible.

But there's no proof.

The horizon is a cold and empty thing. But he keeps watching, all the same.

[Kingdom Hearts] Play Your Cards Right

Sat, 15 Dec 2007 22:19:03 GMT

PLAY YOUR CARDS RIGHT
A Luxord Fanmix

Where did this come from? That's a good question. Well, I've been replaying Kingdom Hearts II, and it suddenly struck me how much I like Luxord. His character concept is just really cool to me: a gambler who controls time. Not to mention I love the way he's so well-spoken even as he's being an utter jackass.

As I was playing through, I of course had to face him once again. When Sora defeats Luxord (slices him right in half!), Luxord collapses to his knees. He glances back and implores, "How could you... Roxas..." right before he vanishes (and before Sora yells at him for calling him by the wrong name— quit snickering and get your minds out of the gutter).

The point is, it made me wonder about what kind of relationship Roxas and Luxord had that Luxord would be baffled by the idea of Roxas killing him. Were they friends? I sort of go with the idea that Luxord and Roxas weren't friends, per se, but they understood each other – a nod-as-you-pass kind of relationship, rather than the relative antagonism some of the members had for each other. They could get along, but left each other alone for the most part – except every now and then, they'd maybe play a game of cards or go on a mission together. And that, for Organization XIII, was pretty much as close to friendship as most members ever got.

PLAY YOUR CARDS RIGHT

[ a luxord fanmix ]

THE GAMBLER >> kenny rogers

There's just something about this song that makes me think of Roxas remembering Luxord; the first four stanzas take place just before Roxas leaves the Organization. Right after Sora defeats Luxord is when the last two take place. The setting is the unconscious part of Sora's mind, where Roxas is, just before Luxord's consciousness fades the way his body did.

On a warm summer's eve, on a train bound for nowhere,
I met up with the Gambler; we were both too tired to sleep.
So we took turns a starin' through the window at the darkness,
'Til boredom overtook us and he began to speak:

He said: "Son, I've made a life out of readin' people's faces,
"And knowin' what their cards were by the way they held their eyes.
"So if you don't mind my sayin', I can see you're out of aces;
"For a taste of your whiskey, I'll give you some advice."

So I handed him my bottle, and he drank down my last swallow.
Then he bummed a cigarette and asked me for a light.
And night got deathly quiet, and his face lost all expression.
He said: "If you're gonna play the game, boy, you got to learn to play it right."

...

"Ev'ry gambler knows that the secret to survivin',
"Is knowin' what to throw away and knowin' what to keep.
"'Cause ev'ry hand's a winner, and ev'ry hand's a loser,
"And the best that you can hope for is to die in your sleep."

And when he finished speakin', he turned back t'ward the window.
Crushed out his cigarette and faded off to sleep.
And somewhere in the darkness, the Gambler he broke even.
But in his final words I found an ace that I could keep:

You got to know when to hold 'em; know when to fold 'em.
Know when to walk away and know when to run.
You never count your money while you're sittin' at the table.
There'll be time enough for countin' when the dealing's done.

ACE OF SPADES >> motorhead

Luxord's song.

If you like to gamble, I tell you I'm your man
You win some, lose some, all the same to me
The pleasure is to play, makes no difference what you say
I don't share your greed; the only card I need is
The Ace of Spades

Playing for the high one, dancing with the devil
Going with the flow, it's all the same to me
Seven or Eleven, snake eyes watching you
Double up or quit, double stake or split
The Ace of Spades

...

Pushing up the ante, I know you wanna see me
Read 'em and weep, the dead man's hand again
I see it in your eyes, take one look and die
The only thing you see, you know it's gonna be
The Ace of Spades

THE MEDALLION CALLS >> klaus badelt

I couldn't resist. Luxord steals the chest of medallions with the intent of wreaking havoc in Port Royal.

instrumental

DICE MAN >> the fall

After revealing Organization XIII to be the ones mucking about in Port Royal, Luxord introduces himself to Sora and company.

I am the dice man
And I take a chance, man
Do you take a chance, huh?

They stay with the masses
Don't take any chances
End up emptying ashtrays

But I push, push, push, push
Throw the bones and the poison dice
No time for small moralists

'Cause I am the dice man

MY LAST WORDS >> megadeth

In Havoc's Divide, Luxord prepares to battle Sora—and Roxas. And he knows just how deadly Roxas is... but he likes the odds.

My life's on time
But again my sense is late
Feel a might unsteady
But still I have to play
Six to one's the odds
And we have the highest stakes
And once again I gamble with my very life today

HOW ABOUT YOU? >> staind

Luxord's point of view, directed toward Roxas. As far as Luxord can see, Roxas left them, and is now killing them off one by one without so much as a hint of remorse.

If someone else showed you the way
Would you take the wheel and steer?
It hurts me that you're not ashamed
Of what you're doing here

...

Everyone plays the hand they're dealt
And learns to walk through life themselves
Not everything in life is handed on a plate
When people think your words are true
It doesn't matter what you do
I sold my soul to get here
How about you?

So you choose to force your hand
What a strange way to make friends
And you always change the rules
So the drama never ends
And you blindly go through life
Judging only by its worth
...
I sold my soul to get here
How about you?

POKER >> electric light orchestra

Luxord is not an idiot. He knows that the Organization is going to fall at Roxas' hands—because Roxas no longer cares for, or even recognizes, any of them. Organization XIII is finished; it just doesn't realize it yet. But Luxord, the Gambler of Fate, knows how the dice will roll. They were loaded all along.

Away, the joker's closing in
Reform and they will win
The light is fading fast
I know, you know, they know, we all know:
Everybody's gonna burn down

...

Play me another hand
Lose everything I am
Until we meet again

The ace that's hiding up your sleeve
Will cause the world to grieve
The love you had is gone
I know you know, they know, we all know

...

The game where gamblers rule the night
And get your blood they might
The joker's closing in
I know, you know, they know, we all know

who cares for you?

{ download }

{ 01 | 02 | 03 | 04 | 05 | 06 | 07 }

{ 08; Bonus Track: The Gambler by Johnny Cash }

.ZIP

you're nothing but a pack of cards

[One Piece] Old Souls

Sun, 09 Sep 2007 08:25:15 GMT

TITLE: Old Souls
FANDOM: One Piece
RATING: PG-13
PAIRINGS: Smoker/Ace is the only solid one. You can pair the Strawhats up any way you want, but personally I tend to be of the belief that they're all sleeping together. Yes, all of them. Shut up, it's cute.
WORD COUNT: 5 700
DISCLAIMER: All characters are © Eiichiro Oda. No profit is being made from this work.
AUTHOR'S NOTES: HAY GUYZ I'M NOT DEAD YET. A lot of this was written while listening to Origin of Love by Rufus Wainwright. Listen to it, guys, it's spectacular. It doesn't actually have anything to do with this fic at all; I just thought I'd pimp it out there, because the lyrics are amazing.

This is a very, very odd fic. I don't know what the hell I was doing, or where I was going with it. Considering I haven't written in forever, it's probably doubleplus ungood. Set at whatever time period, although it's apparently when they still have Merry – I say apparently, because damnit, I'm not ready to let her go just yet. <— spoilers regarding Merry in the current arc; highlight to read. No spoilers for anything, really, in the actual fic – it's very vague on actual plot points. Assuming you're to the point where you know who Ace and Smoker are, you're good. By the by, this is completely for megalotro and snarkymonkey, because goddamn. Goddamn. There never was better family anywhere.
SUMMARY: Ace observes, and understands, and belongs. Not necessarily in that order.

Old Souls
soul [sohl] n. The principle of life, feeling, thought, and action in humans, regarded as a distinct entity separate from the body, and commonly held to be separable in existence from the body; the spiritual part of humans as distinct from the physical part.

* * *

Ace has always been an excellent observer. Though at first he seems open and friendly—and he is—there's a part of him that's better at listening than talking; better at watching than joining in. He can step out of the crowd as easily as he can blend seamlessly within it, and he can see things without the trappings of convention.

It's part of what makes him so valuable as a commander; his ability to instantly understand a situation has saved his life – and the lives of his subordinates – more than once, and it's what kept Blackbeard from successfully passing off his comrades' deaths as accidents. Power, even the power that comes from a devil fruit, is not always enough, especially not out on the Grand Line.

It's also not enough to have smarts, and power, and skill out here, either – you need nakama. People bonded to you and you to them; people who will stand beside you, victory or defeat. Life or death; beyond death. Irreplaceable people who take ahold of pieces of you and make those pieces theirs, make parts of you belong to them alone and give you pieces of themselves in return.

In the ever-changing Grand Line, certainty is a power beyond all others, and the only certainty is true family. Nakama.

*

There are things Smoker does that annoy him. Surprisingly, it's not the man's temper, or his severe emotion allergy, though they can be equally frustrating and amusing in turns. It's certain habits, more than anything, and they're stupidly simple little things, like the way he tends to let the ashtray overflow – just because he can't perceive the scent of old, stale, burnt-out cigars doesn't mean Ace can't.

Ace knows that there are things he does that annoy Smoker in return; not the things Smoker pretends to be pissed at, because he's vocal about those, but instead the things that make the older man grit his teeth and glower, though he rarely says a word.

It's probably healthy. For the both of them. He'd be really damned bored if he was happy with Smoker all of the time. Not that there isn't something to be said for happiness, but he'd probably have to drown himself if they were just... constantly perfect.

Well, they're never perfect. They're very close to being the exact opposite of perfect ninety-nine percent of the time. This is a massive plus.

Whatever his faults, Smoker is, at his core, a good and just man; more intelligent than he bothers to let his superiors know, and possessing of a stubbornly hidden streak of kindness that seems out of place to those who don't know him well. It's one of the few things Ace won't tease him about, because he's seen the way Smoker is with kids, and he just can't bring himself to discourage it.

Ace thinks it might have been the sudden drop in room temperature that woke him up tonight. He doesn't feel cold, not the way other people do—but he can tell when his own body temperature suddenly skyrockets in order to compensate.

He sits up, wriggling out from under Smoker's arm to do so; sure enough, the porthole is still open from when he slipped in last night. Apparently, the next island has the set season of winter.

It's no surprise that Smoker didn't notice the change in temperature, wrapped around Ace as he was. Ace glances down at him, brushing his fingers across a broad shoulder, down one heavily muscled arm, then snorts. The man's skin is as warm as it would be from lying under five fur comforters. When he doesn't stir at the light touch, Ace lets himself watch the marine sleep for a little longer.

It's not that he looks overly attractive when he sleeps. Ace heard once that you know you care about someone if you can watch them sleep for a while and still find them attractive enough to have sex with them—and it's true, really. Most people look like idiots when they sleep, or, at the very least, dead. Although, in Smoker's defence, he has yet to pass out face-first in a plate of food.

It's more because these are the most unguarded moments either of them have; Smoker won't growl at him to keep him at a distance, and Ace won't toss off an insult or a grin because otherwise he himself might say something that touches too deep.

In short, when one of them is asleep, the other can be affectionate out of spite.

But it's late—early, rather—and he's tired, so he lets himself drag the covers back over both of them and squirms back under Smoker's arm. Ace is hardly straining himself with trying to be subtle, though, and Smoker twitches and frowns, opening sleep-bleary eyes and glancing down at the pirate.

After a few more tired blinks, Smoker's eyes focus and narrow, and Ace knows that expression—it's the one that tells him that Smoker is going to say something snappish and annoyed, just to try to prove that there isn't much emotion invested in this.

"Just... shut up," Ace says before Smoker can speak, though his tone is a mixture of amused and exasperated. Smoker glares at him, but it's more for show than anything else, because he doesn't protest when Ace presses a kiss to his mouth before curling back against the older man and letting heat roll off of his own body in waves, chasing away the invading chill.

*

Luffy knows. His brother terrifies him sometimes, in the same way a massively lucky coincidence in your favour scares you. Luffy is simple and loud and honest and good, but the subtle is lost on him, and usually the obvious as well; but when he looks at Ace, he knows things.

No details. Not even the basics – if Ace asked Luffy what it was that he knew, the kid would never be able to answer. He wouldn't even try; he'd just look at Ace with that are you a moron? stare that he himself receives so often, until Ace either gave up or Luffy forgot the original question.

"You're happy," Luffy had said abruptly, in the middle of dinner, grinning at his brother like a loon. His crew had barely reacted, used to their captain's thoughts going in a completely different direction from the norm and then bursting out of his mouth with no warning. They did glance at Ace, though, because Ace's visits are also out of the norm and he is Luffy's brother, so his reactions are at times cause for new entertainment. Spectacular, epic fights over steak have broken out more than once.

But Ace had simply replied, "Obviously, idiot," and Luffy huffed at the insult, and the crew had gone back to their meals – and at some point, Zoro snapped at Nami for taking the last piece of roast, to which she replied that her condition was delicate and she needed the extra nutrients, to which Zoro replied that that was bullshit, to which Sanji replied with a kick to the face, and with the air of routine, everyone else made sure that they were ready to duck at a moment's notice, just in case.

Luffy, pleased by the distraction, had immediately stolen food off his first mate's plate; stuffing his mouth full in seconds with his cheeks bulging out like a chipmunk's. Zoro hadn't noticed, so Ace had had to bite the inside of his cheek to keep from laughing and giving his brother away.

Dinner was hours ago, and Ace is in the crow's nest. It's Luffy's watch, technically, but Ace had told him to go back to his nakama – Ace would take his watch.

Luffy is still in the crow's nest, though, even though he isn't technically on watch anymore. He leans into his brother as Ace watches the quiet, surprisingly calm black sea, the younger one's eyes drooping closed every now and again only to flicker open as Luffy thinks of something new to say.

Eventually, though, Luffy falls asleep leaning against his shoulder—just like he did when they were kids, and the world was so much smaller and safer, and so much less fun. He mumbles a few words, mostly incoherent, but Ace manages to deduce that Luffy has told Ace that he loves him. Ace ruffles his younger brother's messy black hair and returns the sentiment to sleep-deaf ears. Love is mushy, sentimental stuff to talk about even at the best of times, but they're alone, and family is more important than things like a manly exterior.

Hell, even Usopp would agree.

*

It's aggravating, sometimes, that Smoker remains a marine even though he may as well just say to hell with it and go rogue; he's been disregarding orders for years, anyway, and that isn't likely to change in the near future.

Aggravating, but not puzzling – Ace understands all too well the obligations and trappings that come with a sense of duty and loyalty, and he knows that it's a benefit to the world in general for Smoker to refrain from defecting. There are too many corrupt marines; too many people willing to sell out their own for money and power. Too few who retain a sense of justice tempered with the understanding that justice is not always synonymous with the law. The world needs as many true marines as it can get.

But there's a piece of Ace himself that wants to be greedy and selfish for just this one thing. Even though he knows why Smoker never will, even though Ace would never ask it of him, every time the man runs the ragged edge of the law again because his superiors don't seem to understand the concept of the absolute justice they preach and Smoker has no patience for their bullshit, Ace has to tamp down that blaze of want and need and hope that maybe, this time, Smoker will finally break away.

It would be so much easier, that way. Not that Ace doesn't get a certain level of fun out of the challenge of sneaking about, but sometimes (a lot of the time) he wishes he could stay.

It's not that Ace is trapped between two loyalties—nothing so complicated. He is loyal to Whitebeard, and short of turning on his brother, he will do everything in his power to help his chosen captain achieve his dream. He has a purpose there; a goal, a duty, an obligation; none of which he will ever shirk or regret. But that goal will one day be reached, the duty done, the obligation fulfilled.

And by the time it occurred to him that he'd be able to go elsewhere if he wanted without being disloyal, and be able to do so with Whitebeard's approval, it was too late for there to be any question of where it was he'd go.

*

Ben had told Ace once that Luffy has an old soul.

Ace hadn't understood it; not then. And though he'd asked for an explanation, Ben had simply replied that Ace wouldn't truly understand, even if Ben told him – and when he finally did understand, he wouldn't have to be told. Aggravating, and frustrating, and even to this day Ace is certain Ben only denied him the answer so he could watch the boy scowl over it for days.

Nonetheless, Ace understands now. He didn't have to be told.

Luffy has an old soul. He understands things he's never seen; knows things he's never been told. It's not clairvoyance, or a special power, or anything quite so blatant.

Luffy has an old soul, and he finds the heart of things that other people can look at their entire lives and never truly see. There are things that lie behind Luffy's eyes that a life that lasts a hundred years could never acquire or understand. Sometimes, in those rare instances where Luffy is serious, there's the faint echo of a thousand voices in his words; all Luffy's, still simple, but potent. Plain steel and uncut diamond; lacking in polish and shine but stronger than anything. Unbreakable.

"Think I'll be stuck with you again if there's a next life?" Ace asks idly, leaning against the base of the figurehead with his back to his brother, who is perched on the very top of it. The midday sun beats down upon them, but Ace can barely feel the heat at all – and what he does feel doesn't bother him.

"Well, yeah, Ace," Luffy replies instantly, as if Ace is an idiot. He wraps his legs around Merry's neck and stretches himself to hang upside-down in front of Ace, one hand holding his hat in place. "We've always been together. You're my brother." He grins then, and laughs, and Ace knows better than to ask for an explanation – so he rolls his eyes and grins along with Luffy, because he can't help but join in.

*

Though large time gaps doesn't happen very often anymore, it bothers him if he hasn't seen Smoker for a long stretch of time. It's not like he's incomplete or depressed when Smoker isn't there, because that's both A) stupid, and B) extremely creepy and unhealthy, but he does miss him and it drives Ace a little crazy sometimes because he really never agreed to that when he got involved with the marine.

He does love the man, and god help him, Ace actually likes him a hell of a lot as well.

It isn't hard to admit that, although there's still that wary part of him that wants to dance around it. But it isn't heart-melting, or a huge revelation, or even something particularly big in his mind. It's just there, like breathing. Quiet and unassuming, understated and simple. You belong with me.

And that's all there is to it, really.

*

Ace is like a son to him – just like all of his crew, but one could make a convincing argument that Ace is one of Whitebeard's favourite sons.

The thing about sons, though, is that eventually, they leave home. He doesn't doubt Ace's loyalty or his commitment – it may be, would be, a different story if Whitebeard ever ordered the boy to take violent action against his own brother, but Ace knows full well that Whitebeard would never ask it of him in the first place. It's a non-issue.

It isn't Ace's loyalty that is in question, or his willingness to do his duty. But the Pirate King's throne can't be empty forever, and though Whitebeard intends to be the one to finally reach that elusive seat of power, ever since Strawhat Luffy appeared he has accepted that there is a chance—however small—that Whitebeard may not wrest that prize from his old rival, even in death.

But if that boy wants to claim that cursed title of Pirate King, he'll have to fight better than the devil himself to defeat Whitebeard.

Ace will always be a Whitebeard Pirate, until the day Whitebeard dies. But as with any human, even humans like Ace, there are pieces of Ace that belong to other people entirely; pieces Whitebeard will never be able to touch.

If that isn't the way of the world, then it's Ace's way – always has been, from the very start. Ace has always played the role of elder brother, loving and worrying for that wild soul even though he's just as wild himself, albeit in a different way. Some of those elusive pieces belong to Luffy, and they'll never belong to anyone else.

Annoyingly, the same could be said for the man whose ship Ace keeps finding his way back to. That man holds the last of those pieces, deep and almost completely hidden, but no matter how much time has passed since he first claimed them, he has never been inclined to let them go.

One day, the title of Pirate King will be claimed. And though always a Whitebeard Pirate, Ace's duty will be done.

*

Ace doesn't bother trying to kid himself into thinking that Smoker is even neutral toward Whitebeard. 'Strongly dislike' is optimistic. Still, it doesn't bother him – it's not that they avoid the subject, but generally they silently agree to disagree. Yes, you hate him, and no, I don't care. Moving onto sex; we both agree on that.

They agree on other things, as well; lots of other things, like basic morality and loyalty owed and what goes best on toast, even if they'd both be damned to admit it – Smoker because of stubborn tradition, and Ace because it's an easy way to get Smoker riled up.

They also both hate paperwork, though Ace loves Smoker's paperwork, because he likes to rub it in that paperwork is something Ace has to do pretty much... never.

Smoker ends up shoving Ace toward the bed with his smoke this time after the pirate hovers over his shoulder too long; not particularly interested in the report's contents – though he skims it anyway, just in case there's something important he hasn't yet heard about – but very interested in doing his best to distract the marine with nips and murmurs and clever fingers.

He's content to sprawl on the bed, though, because it's more comfortable than standing and he knows that he guaranteed a night of good, hard sex the second Smoker actually needed to shove him out of reach in order to continue working.

As Ace watches the motions that signal Smoker is getting to the end of this particular report, he says casually,

"You also discovered that the Stone Dog pirates make berth at night in the coves 'round the south end of Litane Island."

Smoker barely even twitches; they've played this routine out before. Ace does not consider himself kin to those who tear through the world, murdering and raping at will and destroying everything in their path.

"And where did I get this information?"

"You beat it out of some punk kid in a bar who was bragging about it at about two this morning," Ace replies, smirking. "Weird about the burns on him, though."

"Cigars can be persuasive."

"Of course."

"Snailphones can't really be trusted with this kind of information, considering that crew is notorious for intercepting calls. I'll have to send it with a bird... could take about a week."

"Something might happen to it long before the marines have a chance to get there," Ace muses.

At this, Smoker pauses, and turns to look at the pirate sprawled across his bed. Wary, not because of the implication, but rather the invitation that lies behind the words.

"Leave survivors," he orders shortly, dropping the pretense of their word dance and denying the invitation all at once. He doesn't try to tell Ace to stay away from the coves; partly because Ace won't listen anyway, and partly because Ace knows damned well that Smoker, unlike many of his colleagues, has absolutely no interest in keeping bloodthirsty men alive for anything other than interrogation.

"No promises." Ace flashes him a wicked smile. "You know how I get caught up in the moment. 'Course, if there was someone there to remind me not to kill everyone..."

Ace barely registers the shift to logia and back again, and then Smoker is on him, kissing him hard and pressing him deep into the mattress. And though he knows the man's answer is still a no, it sends a thrill through him all the same.

"You've been around too damned long for your age, brat," Smoker growls in his ear when they part. "You and your brother both."

"What?" Ace asks, frozen and startled in Smoker's grip, but Smoker just scowls at him. "No—what the hell did you mean by that?"

"What did I mean by what, Portgas?"

Ace doesn't bother replying, instead choosing to drop it; he's long since accepted that with the possible exception of Ben, he seems to be the only one who can think about crazy shit for too long.

"You need to wear less clothing," he says instead, shoving Smoker's heavy jacket off of his shoulders and dragging him into another heated kiss.

*

"Has it... always been us?" he hedges afterwards, when it's late and they've exhausted each other and he's just relaxed enough to sometimes catch pieces of thoughts and knowledge that don't fit into the puzzle of this life.

He doesn't expect an answer; but then, he doesn't expect Smoker to not tell him to either make sense or go to sleep, either, so the silence is heavier than it should be.

"Just go to sleep." Smoker says the expected finally, roughly, and Ace knows that he isn't withholding an answer – he just doesn't know how the hell to answer the question that he only understands on the deepest, most basic level of existence.

But he does understand it. Ace is satisfied with that, and sleep comes easily.

*

Ace knows that his element, by nature, is a double-edged sword. Fire grants life as easily as it steals it, and in the face of knowing exactly how vicious this particular crew is, even compared to others on the Grand Line, Ace knows which side of the coin his flames will be on today.

He'd meant to make this quick; have a little fun, what with all the wood around for burning, but make it quick—but sometimes that little voice called a 'conscience' shuts up just long enough to let him give exactly as good as his adversaries dish out to others.

He burns through flesh and scorches through bones – hears, in some part of his mind, the screams of agony and terror. Knows that there are men scrabbling at the bulkhead, at the portholes, half-mad with the pain as their very skin melts off their bodies, as their blood boils, as their organs sear.

He burns cleanly. Even the smoke he creates on his own is swept away by his explosive power, and there is no peaceful death by smoke inhalation for these men. Ace is too quick for that; and then, once the burning begins, far too slow. The agony he inflicts is the worst form of torture.

He senses some of them, those who've managed to get behind the worst of it, running for the sides of the ship to throw themselves overboard. Ace throws himself forward, racing to create a ring of himself around the sides of the ship, to trap them on deck. Most scream and flinch back, away from the vicious heat, but a few throw themselves through the inferno anyway.

Some even make it through. They tumble into the saltwater below, quickly going under. Beneath the water, they are safe from him. Had he a human body, he'd've snarled in displeasure; as it is, the fire snarls for him like a beast. He allows parts of himself to tear through the air dangerously close to the water's surface while the rest of him continues its assault on the ship and its inhabitants.

He roars in triumph as the flames just above the waterline fatally burn some of those escapees who are forced to come up for air, needing breath. They twist and thrash and disappear beneath the water again, but Ace has known his element too long to have any doubt over which wounds are deadly ones.

No longer interested in the pitiful few who may have survived both the fire and the water, Ace pulls all of himself back to the ship; back to the final victims who are writhing in pain and more or less already dead so far as the severity of their wounds would indicate.

Some tiny part of him – human? soul? conscience? the egotistical part of him that insists that he's different from most pirates? – looks at what he's doing, and is appalled. There could have been far quicker, cleaner, ways to do this.

Maybe the memories of this will keep him awake some nights.

He sincerely doubts it.

But it doesn't matter now, because deep in the heart of his flames he can sense the approach of the only need and want his fire has ever felt, and so Ace finally, finally allows heat and flame to touch the powder kegs.

*

The explosion that sounds from the coves of Litane Island is so powerful that Tashigi could have sworn she felt the ground tremble beneath her, even though the closest town to the coves is at least three miles away.

There's no screaming or panicking, only wary, concerned stares; the explosion is far even from the homes on the outskirts of the town, and the islanders of this area are accustomed enough to pirates that they have a good idea of what it was that caused that volatile disturbance.

Judging by the way the smoke from the explosion is moving, somehow resisting the direction of the wind and appearing to shove at the flames to push them inward, they're only half right.

As she makes her way out of town as quickly as she can, heading for the coves and gaining a lot of new bruises in the process, she notes when the smoke suddenly begins behaving like true smoke, whereas the fire still twists and crackles and roars, but refuses to spread out any further than it already has. Smoker has broken away, but Ace remains.

After she nearly crashes headlong into a tree, she keeps her eyes on the road.

Sure enough, the man coalesces in front of her not long after she deduces that he's no longer a part of the conflagration, having covered miles in the time it took her to exit the town.

He looks slightly winded, though, which is surprising—he's drawing heavily on the twin cigars, smoke swirling around him in faint, rebellious wisps as if his body isn't quite enough to contain them.

Ace had explained to her once, as best he could, what it feels like to be so wrapped up in someone that you don't know where they end and you begin, or whether you ever want to separate again. The jolt of extra power, the strength that comes from mixing with a force that sustains your own. So she can understand, as much as a non-logia possibly can, how hard it must have been for him to pull himself away from his own element and its counterpart.

"Smoker-san, your orders?" she asks, and despite the way his form is off, his gaze is as sharp and clear as it ever was.

"The Stone Dog pirates, captained by a man named Tove, apparently made berth in the coves where the explosion occurred." Smoker blows out a sharp puff of smoke, annoyed. "There are three survivors of the blast; I've detained them for questioning. I left them restrained near that brass monument, though with those burns, I doubt they'd have gotten far. We'll get them to the brig; have Suzu make sure they don't die before I interrogate them."

The monument... with a jolt, Tashigi realizes that it's behind her, back the way she came. He'd had to double back in order to find her. How fast had he been moving, driven by the fire?

"And the explosion, sir?" she asks, as nonchalantly as possible.

"Apparently," he says shortly, his irritation plain, "someone was careless with a lantern around the powder kegs. Nearly took out everyone on the damn ship."

He knows she isn't stupid or naïve, and so she has to bite the inside of her cheek to keep her face straight. Ace's doing alone, it seems.

He brushes past her, intent on getting back to his prisoners, but she can see the tension in his muscles; the way his gaze keeps drifting back to the strangely contained inferno at the coves. And he does keep telling her that she needs to work on her interrogation skills.

"Ah, sir?" she begins carefully, not sure if she's going too far with this. "Shall I have the prisoners brought to the brig and tell the men that you'll be bringing the fire and smoke under control?"

He stop and glances back at her, surprise in his eyes and a scowl on his mouth, but then abruptly drags his gaze back to the flames. As if in answer, they're moving higher in the air, spiralling up past where any natural flame could rise.

He curses, and she pretends not to hear the way he's swearing at a specific person rather than the supposedly mindless fire. He gives her a curt nod, and then he shifts away, melting into his logia form and darting across the landscape to rein the fire in.

She turns and heads back toward the docks, which is where she knows the marines will be gathering, ready for orders. She'll single out a few of them to help her drag the pirates to the ship, and bring Dr Suzu to make sure they won't die before arrival.

Tashigi jogs rather than runs; she's less likely to slam into the ground, another person, or a poor vendor's cart that way... and she's in no hurry. She knows that the explosion was never a danger to either the islanders or the marines.

She's not afraid to admit to herself that she loves Smoker; certainly not the way that Ace does—and she blushes hard at even the thought of it—but she loves him all the same. He's guided her this far, taught her justice and how to stand on her own two feet (if not how to avoid tripping over them all the time). And more than all of that, he trusts her—trusts her to make the decision that's right by her, trusts her to follow what she believes is justice.

She'd follow him anywhere.

*

He feels strangely lost amidst the fire when the other vanishes from his senses—a part of him, the human part, the part that has a name and a purpose and thoughts and dreams—knows that the other is Smoker, that he isn't gone entirely, has merely become human, but that's the smallest part of him right now. The Fire, it doesn't understand—the smoke is silent when it calls, twisting and curling mindlessly.

It's terrifying and exhilarating, and so Ace's flames roar and crackle all the more fiercely when Smoker rejoins them. He might have been gone a moment or a thousand years; time means nothing in this form. At first, Smoker pushes at the flames, trying to contain and subdue them, but Ace curls through the smoke, around it, inside and out and never completely separate. After a second or an eternity, Smoker slowly ceases his attempts to restrain the fire, mollified by its disinclination to spread and just as lost as Ace in the raging, massive inferno.

Ace has never had so much fire at his disposal that he hasn't dispersed or used immediately, and Smoker has never been with him in this state before. They're larger and more powerful than they've ever been, melded together now and perfectly in sync. Raw force and life ripples through them, and there is nothing, nothing that could stop them right now.

They could burn the whole world; raze it to the ground and scatter the ashes across the seas. Through their elements, they can both sense the blackened remains of the men that once sailed this hollowed, ruined ship. What thought manages to penetrate the haze of power makes Ace wonder if Smoker knows which came first: the deaths, or the explosion. Wonders how much he'd care if he did.

They both have consciences, but neither of them are saints. This, here, now, could be the first casualty of them, the start of it all. They sustain each other, power each other, make up for their own weaknesses with the other's strengths.

Unstoppable.

It's Smoker who pulls them momentarily from the conflagration, both of them half-formed from the waist up, what seems like miles above the island beneath them. They're wrapped around each other even like this, suddenly frail-seeming human forms holding close. Ace buries his face in Smoker's neck, trying to regain himself, but every time he breathes it's fire and smoke. There is no sky, no ground, no water—there is only the maelstrom of flame and smoke, curling and flickering around them, alive but bound to their will.

"Always us," Ace murmurs, feeling delirious with the power and glory of it all, not entirely sure of what he's saying. "Always this."

Smoker just kisses him fiercely, smoke-wreathed fingers tangling in fire-flicker hair, and they spiral into each other, grey and red and white and gold.

It's a long, long time before they come back to themselves, and to earth.

*

"I'm gonna be the Pirate King," Luffy tells him, for the millionth time; he's sprawled out across Merry's figurehead again, his hat held firmly to his head as he stares down into the water – Usopp had claimed he'd seen a tuna fish the size of two whales just a bare half hour ago, and though he had apparently terrified it into swimming for its life with his reputation alone, Luffy is still hoping to find it.

"Whatever you say," Ace says patiently, tamping down a grin when Luffy huffs at him. He tilts his head back to look up at his brother, who has sat up and is looking down at him, brow furrowed.

"You'll see," Luffy insists, sounding both childish and frighteningly serious at the same time. Old echoes, a thousand strong.

"I guess I will," Ace replies, not agreeing or disagreeing.

Either way, he'll be there to see how the world shifts when the title of pirate king is claimed. Thousands of pirates war and kill and steal and destroy, hunting for One Piece with all their formidable strength and power, but Ace pities them in an amused sort of way; it's all for naught, after all. He knows that there are only two true candidates, and though he knows which one he champions...

Well.

He'll see.

* * *

Comments are, per usual, loved and appreciated.

theme 101 : past & future : 101_ficlets

[One Piece] The Most Dangerous Thing

Thu, 28 Jun 2007 15:25:46 GMT

THE MOST DANGEROUS THING
A Smoker/Ace Fanmix
Okay, so, this took forever. No, seriously. I don't want to have to look at any more HTML for at least a week. However, my tables are gorgeous. Shut up, they totally are.

Seriously, though. This thing has been half-done for about... okay, probably over a year. And then in the last few days I randomly decided to work on it again.

BUT ENOUGH ABOUT ME. Let's talk about the mansexin' we have going on here. Okay, the songs on either side correspond with each other. So unless you don't mind the mood of the thing going all over the place, the best way to read the lyrics is from left to right rather than up and down. And ignore any and all female pronouns.

So, yeah, there's sort of a timeline here. Basically it goes:

Smoker	\|	Ace
Sexing Ace Up	\|	Sexing Smoker Up
More Sexing (Goddamnit, I Think I'm Addicted Here)	\|	Ditto
Fuck I Don't Hate You	\|	Word To That
But I'm Going to be Angry About It And No I Don't Care About You At All, Go To Hell	\|	Oh Shit I Think I Love You Maybe (But At Least I'm Rational About It)
Hey Look This Isn't Working No Really It's Not Get Out	\|	You're A Fucking Asshole
Goddamnit I Still Want You	\|	For Christ's Sake You're An Emotionally Stunted Bastard
I Accept That I Am An Emotionally Stunted Bastard And I Was An Ass But I Won't Verbally Admit It Beyond a Non-Committal Grunt	\|	It's About Fucking Time
See This Is Why I Kicked You Out In The First Place	\|	You Are Totally Attached To Me And I'm Going To Gloat About It
I'm Never Going To Be Free Of You, Am I?	\|	Hell No

Actually, that's... basically the meaning behind each song choice. Incidentally, this is also a good way to tell if you have too much time on your hands.

Dedication! Going out to megalotro and snarkymonkey because they put up with my psychotic episodes and still manage to love me anyway. Also because they're just awesome in general.

THE MOST DANGEROUS THING

[ a smoker/ace fanmix ]



FIGHT FOR ALL THE WRONG REASONS // nickelback	WILD // poe
Well, I wanted you I wanted no one else I thought it through I got you to myself You got off Every time you got on to me I got caught up In favorable slavery (Was it wrong? Was it wrong?) I guess it wasn't really right I guess it wasn't meant to be It didn't matter what they said 'Cause we were good in bed I guess I stuck around so I could watch us fight for all the wrong reasons No, it didn't matter what I tried It's just a little hard to leave when you're going down on me I guess I stuck around so I could watch us fight for all the wrong reasons Well, you know my friends Well, they know your enemies I'd pretend Not to hear what they said to me 'Cause I got off Every time you got on to me Was it wrong To go along with insanity?	I go wild Wild because the chips are down Wild because there isn't anybody else around Wild when the waves start to break And God knows they're breaking in me now I go wild because it doesn't make sense For me to cry out in my own defense And wild because I would do anything To tear you off your precious fence ... Wild When I know you're near, I go wild I go wild Tell me what you've come for Moving like a hunter through my back door Leaving the perfume of all you adore To die nameless on my floor Yeah, well, we both know that you don't play fair ... Plan your attack and I am still waiting Did you want something? You wrote the rules to try and contain me You broke them, now you have untamed me And I'm wild I go wild Tell me what you've come here for What is it you adore, won't you tell me? What would you cry for? Swallow your pride for? What would you, oh, go wild for?
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POISON // alice cooper	ADDICTED // kelly clarkson
I want to love you, but I better not touch (don't touch) I want to hold you, but my senses tell me to stop I want to kiss you but I want it too much (too much) I want to taste you but your lips are venomous poison You're poison running through my veins You're poison, I don't want to break these chains Your mouth, so hot Your web, I'm caught Your skin, so wet Black lace on sweat I hear you calling and it's needles and pins (and pins) I want to hurt you just to hear you screaming my name Don't want to touch you but you're under my skin (deep in) I want to kiss you but your lips are venomous poison You're poison running through my veins You're poison, I don't want to break these chains Poison ... Running deep inside my veins Burning deep inside my veins It's poison	It's like you're a drug It's like you're a demon I can't face down It's like I'm stuck It's like I'm running from you all the time ... It's like I can't breathe Without you inside of me And I know I let you have all the power And I realize I'm never gonna quit you over time It's like I can't breathe It's like I can't see anything Nothing but you I'm addicted to you ... I'm hooked on you I need a fix I can't take it Just one more hit I promise I can deal with it I'll handle it, quit it Just one more time Then that's it Just a little bit more to get me through this ... I'm addicted to you
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THINKING OF YOU // a perfect circle	BLACK SUMMER // colour
Unable to lose this image Sleepless unable to focus on anything but your surrender ... Tugging a beat to the sight of you lying So delighted with a new understanding Something about a little evil that makes that Unmistakable noise I was hearing Unmistakable sound that I know so well Spent and sighing with that look in your eye Spent and sweating with that look on your face like Sweet revelation Sweet surrender	What's the rush If Eden's lost to us? ... Flames they burn Oh, in ecstasy Flesh divides, child But you're entangled with me
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(I HATE) EVERYTHING ABOUT YOU // three days grace	COLD (BUT I'M STILL HERE) // evans blue
Every time we lie awake After every hit we take Every feeling that I get But I haven't missed you yet Only when I stop to think about it I hate everything about you Why do I love you? ... Only when I stop to think About you, I know Only when you stop to think About me, do you know I hate everything about you Why do I love you? You hate everything about me Why do you love me? I hate— You hate— I hate— You love me I hate everything about you Why do— I love you	Can you feel my trigger hand moving further down your neck? When you hide, hide inside that body But just remember that when I touch you The more you shake, the more you give away Cold, but I'm still here Blind, 'cause I'm so blind (say never) We're far from comfortable this time Cold, now we're so cold Mine, and you're not mine (say never) We're far from obvious this time Wait, another minute here, time will kill us after all Can you feel its second hand wrapped around your neck? So fall into my eyes and fall into my lies But don't you forget The more you turn away, the more I want you to stay ... Am I ever on your mind? ... (Cold) You broke me from the very first night I'd love you 'til the day that I die I'm far too comfortable this time (Cold) I loved you from the very first night You broke me 'til the day that I die I'm far too obvious this time
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THANKS, THAT WAS FUN // barenaked ladies	FOREVER // papa roach
Did I scare you when I dared you? I stared you in the eye and told you good-bye You mocked me; it shocked me When you walked me to the bus Thanks, that was fun Don't forget: no regrets (Except maybe one) Made a deal, not to feel God, that was dumb Everybody knows the deal fell through I was hoping I could just blame you When was it that I became so soft? This sentimentality doesn't look good on me	In the brightest hour Of my darkest day I realized What is wrong with me Can't get over you Can't get through to you It's been a helter-skelter romance from the start Take these memories That are haunting me Of a paper man cut into shreds By his own pair of scissors ... I'm never forgiving this broken heart of mine
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WHAT IT IS TO BURN // finch	GET STONED // hinder
Today's on fire The sky is bleeding above me and I am blistered I walk these lines of blasphemy every day And still: Like a bad star, I'm falling faster down to her She's the only one who knows what it is to burn I feel diseased Is there no sympathy from the sun? The sky's still fire But I am safe in here, from the world outside So tell me What's the price to pay for glory? Like a bad star I'm falling faster down to her She's the only one who knows what it is to burn	Just hear me out If it's not perfect I'll perfect it 'till my heart explodes I highly doubt I can make it through another of your episodes Lashing out One of the petty moves you pull before you lose control You wear me out But it's all right now ... Without a doubt The break up is worth the make up sex you're givin me Let's hash it out 'Cause your bitching and your yelling don't mean anything Don't count me out I can handle all the baggage that you're carrying You wear me out But it's all right now Let's go home and get stoned We could end up making love instead of misery Go home and get stoned 'Cause the sex is so much better when you're mad at me
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IT'S OVER // goo goo dolls	THE SHAPE I FOUND YOU IN // girlyman
And I didn't think about All the ways I hurt you and myself And I wouldn't say a thing to you I keep it to myself in my mind ... And you know I need you now And this ain't easy to admit But no one needs to know What goes on behind The door in my room	You were spoken for I spent twenty lifetimes at your door But your heart was busy within Building bomb shelters under your skin That's the shape I found you in That's the shape I found you in I was calling to you It was one thing I knew how to do But my heart tried to cheat Building safety nets under my feet So if I fell I would fall right in That's the shape you found me in You were delivered to me We were closed as the stores on Christmas Eve So I felt around in the dark Building rope ladders into your heart Climbing hand over hand to get in That's the shape I found you in That's the shape I found you in
{ & DOWNLOAD }	{ & DOWNLOAD }
OVER AND OVER // three days grace	COLLIDE // howie day
I feel it every day; it's all the same It brings me down but I'm the one to blame I've tried everything to get away So here I go again Chasing you down again Why do I do this? Over and over, over and over I fall for you Over and over, over and over I try not to It feels like every day stays the same It's dragging me down and I can't pull away So here I go again Chasing you down again Why do I do this? So many thoughts that I can't get out of my head I try to live without you, every time I do I feel dead I know what's best for me But I want you instead I'll keep on wasting all my time Over and over, over and over I fall for you Over and over, over and over I try not to Over and over, over and over You make me fall for you Over and over, over and over You don't even try to	The dawn is breaking A light shining through You're barely waking And I'm tangled up in you I'm open, you're closed Where I follow, you'll go I worry I won't see your face Light up again Even the best fall down sometimes Even the wrong words seem to rhyme Out of the doubt that fills my mind I somehow find You and I collide ... You finally find You and I collide You finally find You and I collide
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DO WHAT YOU HAVE TO DO // sarah mclachlan	THE RATIO OF FRECKLES TO STARS // halou
What ravages of spirit Conjured this temptuous rage? Created you a monster Broken by the rules of love And I have the sense to recognize that I don't know how to let you go Every moment marked With apparitions of your soul I'm ever swiftly moving Trying to escape this desire This yearning to be near you I do what I have to do ... A glowing ember Burning hot Burning slow Deep within I'm shaken by the violence Of existing for only you I know I can't be with you I do what I have to do I know I can't be with you I do what I have to do And I have the sense to recognize, but... I don't know how to let you go	I think that if I do or don't It'll turn out the same way But I can't seem to pull myself away And I hope that's okay Even just the very thought Makes me want to stay ... If I wrap you up inside of me Kiss your fingers greedily I will lose track of the floor I will lose track of my feet All that you've conquered Was already yours Walking the night sky Freckles to the stars All that you've longed for Is painted on my arms
{ & DOWNLOAD }	{ & DOWNLOAD }
THE WOLF // tyler bates	FIRESTARTER // the prodigy
instrumental	instrumental
{ & DOWNLOAD }	{ & DOWNLOAD }
TIME IS RUNNING OUT // muse
I think I'm drowning Asphyxiated I wanna break this spell That you've created You're something beautiful A contradiction I wanna play the game I want the friction You will be the death of me You will be the death of me Bury it I won't let you bury it I won't let you smother it I won't let you murder it Our time is running out Our time is running out You can't push it underground You can't stop it screaming out I wanted freedom Bound and restricted I tried to give you up But I'm addicted Now that you know I'm trapped Sense of elation You'd never dream of Breaking this fixation You will squeeze the life out of me Bury it I won't let you bury it I won't let you smother it I won't let you murder it Our time is running out Our time is running out You can't push it underground You can't stop it screaming out How did it come to this? You will suck the life out of me Bury it I won't let you bury it I won't let you smother it I won't let you murder it Our time is running out Our time is running out You can't push it underground You can't stop it screaming out How did it come to this?
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LOVERS IN A DANGEROUS TIME // barenaked ladies
Don't the hours grow shorter as the days go by? You never get to stop and open your eyes One minute you're waiting for the sky to fall The next you're dazzled by the beauty of it all Lovers in a dangerous time Lovers in a dangerous time These fragile bodies of touch and taste This fragrant skin this hair like lace Spirits open to the thrust of grace Never a breath you can afford to waste When you're lovers in a dangerous time Sometimes you're made to feel as if your love's a crime Nothing worth having comes without some kind of fight Got to kick at the darkness 'til it bleeds daylight
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The most dangerous thing to want...
DOWNLOAD [ALL TRACKS + COVER ART]
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*...is more.*

Comments are awesome.

[Kingdom Hearts] Not Your Sister's Dream Boy

Thu, 03 May 2007 23:25:47 GMT

TITLE: Not Your Sister's Dream Boy
FANDOM: Kingdom Hearts
RATING: PG-13
PAIRING: (Eventual) Axel/Roxas
SERIES: Within Striking Distance
WORD COUNT: 2 874
DISCLAIMER: All characters are © Disney and Square Enix. No profit is being made from this work.
AUTHOR'S NOTES: So, seven pages of Axel being an asshole and Roxas glaring and wanting to know how does someone get that fucked up?!
SUMMARY: Axel takes on the task of inducting Roxas. Violence ensues.

Not Your Sister's Dream Boy

Roxas doesn't like this place very much, but he supposes that beggars can't be choosers. It still feels strange to refer to himself as 'Roxas', but it's the only thing he has to go by. Well, that or XIII, but Roxas isn't very keen on calling himself by a number.

When he'd first woken up, it had been in a town shrouded in twilight, lying on his back in an alleyway. Small black creatures with glowing eyes had surrounded him, pawing gently at his chest, not even hard enough to rumple his shirt.

They'd made little noises that sounded almost... disappointed.

He'd sat up, blinking, and asked himself where he was – only to met with the horrible realization that he didn't know himself.

Or this place. Or even his own name.

The little... things... surrounding him had begun climbing all over him, and he'd yelped aloud, fearing them instinctively even as a strangely... weightless, empty feeling in his chest told him that he had no reason to.

Then they'd all frozen, their antennae twitching, before scattering away quickly, sliding into the ground and wriggling through the alley walls.

And a man in a black cloak had stepped through an undulating wall of darkness, standing over him with appraising eyes.

"Roxas," the man—Xemnas—had told him. "Your name is Roxas."

It had sounded almost right. His name, but... not. It hadn't clicked inside of him the way he was sure it was supposed to, but with no memory and no clue, he accepted it. Why not?

Although now he's standing in a room that isn't at all familiar; fairly large, with white-grey walls and an impractically high ceiling. The same strange design on every wall. Big canopy bed, black sheets, black drapes – and aren't those things supposed to be sheer?

Typical. No real memories, but he remembers crap like that.

All in all, horribly gaudy. But he doesn't have anywhere else to go. And this room—his own now, he'd been told—is far more comfortable than an alleyway. Xemnas left him here, telling him that IX would be along soon to instruct him in his element and his weapon.

What that means, he doesn't know. But the idea of a weapon is promising, so instead of ignoring his instructions and exploring, he opts to sit on the bed and wait.

*

This is supposed to be Demyx's job, Axel thinks sourly. Apparently their new—and last—member is close to Demyx's (apparent) age, so Xemnas had ordered (with much subtle threatening about the consequences of what would happen if he screwed up) Demyx to be the one to instruct Number XIII.

The young Nobody had begged off, however, promising to do Axel's domestic chores for the rest of the month if only Axel would do this for him.

Axel had agreed, partly out of curiosity, because none of the other members had been extended even half this much courtesy, and partly because he hated laundry duty. Marluxia was always bitching to him about mixing the darks with the lights (and for fuck's sake, they all wore black, what the hell did he need pink and purple shirts for?), and Luxord had nearly had a heart attack when Axel had washed his coat with his favourite deck of cards still in the pocket.

Half an hour of instructing Xemnas' new fascination versus a month of hated chores? No contest. Still, that doesn't make him any happier about taking responsibility for the youngest and newest member of their Organization.

He takes a deep breath, then blows it out irritably. Half an hour, he reminds himself. Just thirty minutes, and you never have to look at the kid again.

Rather than simply push open the door to XIII's room, he creates a portal of darkness in the middle of the wall and steps through it to the other side.

He's impressed despite himself when XIII – an adolescent male – doesn't jump or look scared. Instead, the blond Nobody slides off the bed and backs a few feet away, studying Axel warily, but without any fear.

"...IX?" he asks after a moment, and Axel shakes his head.

"Nope." He flashes the kid a sharp smile, baring teeth. "VIII. The name's Axel. A-X-E-L. Got it memorized?"

"Memorized? It's four letters. What, is everyone here retarded?"

Either very brave, or very stupid. Possibly both, as the two tend to go hand-in-hand as far as Axel's seen.

"Honestly? Pretty much." The faint glimmer of a smile almost touches the kid's mouth, before he continues, "Must be why Xemnas picked you up; no sense in breaking tradition." It could be taken for a joke, if it wasn't for the malice Axel purposefully put in his tone.

"Nice," XIII says, his eyes narrowing. "I almost liked you for a second there."

"No, you didn't," Axel reminds him calmly, flexing his fingers. "We don't feel anything. Good try, though."

XIII scowls at him.

"What the hell are you talking about? Everybody feels something." He crosses his arms over his chest. "For instance, right now, I'm feeling like throwing something at your face."

"Oh, for—Xemnas didn't explain this shit to you?" Axel hisses, ignoring the pathetic threat. "Great. All right, here's the rundown: did you see any little black shadow things before you got here?"

"I... yes," the kid says warily, as if he's expecting one to pop up out of the floor.

"Those used to be people, until other black shadow things ripped their hearts out. They're called Heartless. Now, us? We're the leftovers of those people. Nobodies. Normally we'd be mindless and wouldn't look human, but if our Other had a strong heart, then we get to think and plan and look human. Except, you know, without feelings." Axel taps his chest. "No heart, after all."

The kid's expression is almost worth having to explain it all. He's gone pale, staring at him with wide blue—very, very blue—eyes.

"You're lying," he says finally, flatly, but there's a faint tremble in his voice. Shit, is he going to be another Demyx? IX had locked himself in his room for almost a week after Xigbar explained his lack of a heart. The depressing songs coming from his room hadn't helped much, either.

"Uh-huh. Look, you can ask anyone else in this castle if you want. They'll all tell you the same thing. Demyx might be a little touchy on the subject, though, so I'd suggest against asking him."

XIII glares at him – it's a look Axel is quickly becoming familiar with. "Trust me, I have no problem believe you're a heartless bastard. But just because none of you have hearts doesn't mean I don't." He presses a clenched fist to his chest as if to protect his empty chest cavity. "I have a heart."

"I do believe in fairies," Axel says dryly, clapping his hands together three times to punctuate his last words. "I do, I do, I do."

"Get out." XIII points at the door, his hand steady. "I'll figure this shit out myself."

"When? In the middle of a fight?" Axel makes his voice patronizing and concerned. "It's a big, bad, scary world out there."

"Sure. If I don't, at least if I get killed, I'll be free of you," the kid snaps.

"Now, that's not very nice. We're all supposed to be a big, happy family." Axel spreads his arms in askance before the kid can answer, and makes his voice sincere. "Okay, I'll admit, I've been an asshole. I think we've just gotten off on the wrong foot; after all, once we figure out your weapon, I'll be leaving you alone. Let's try again. I'm Number VIII, Axel. And you are...?"

XIII stares at him, obviously trying to figure out what the trick is. Axel drops his arms to his sides, but doesn't drop his questioning expression.

"Roxas," XIII mutters finally, his eyes sliding to the floor.

"Hey, that's not a bad name," Axel says consolingly. "Now, Roxas, here's your first weapons lesson: never take your eyes off your opponent!"

Roxas' head jerks up, his eyes widening comically as Axel's chakrams appear in a blaze of darkness and flame, and he leaps at the younger Nobody. Roxas makes a noise, but far from being fearful, it's a snarl of pure fury. Despite his lack of a weapon, he lashes out at Axel as he tries to scramble out of the way.

And all of a sudden, light flashes brightly enough to blind them both at such a close proximity, and there's a weapon in Roxas' hand. Although Axel had been expecting that, he still almost loses his head before he manages to duck just in time.

Quickly moving back a few feet, Axel takes a good look at Roxas' weapons; there are two of them, looking quite a bit like massive, stylized keys – one white, and one black.

Roxas himself looks stunned for a moment, but then his mouth twists into a snarl as he falls back into a defensive stance, holding his new weapons and looking as though he's ready and willing to bludgeon Axel to death with a pair of oversized house keys.

Axel laughs. "Very good!" he encourages, smirking. "Now you won't ever have to worry about locking yourself out. Now, about actual weapons..."

Axel jumps back as Roxas darts forward, lashing out with the black key—keyblade, Xemnas had said (well, said to Demyx, who'd passed it on) it was called. Well, hell if the thing doesn't look sharp and pointy.

The kid is fast, Axel will give him that much. A few more swipes, and though Axel keeps an easy smirk on his face, it's actually much harder to dodge the Keyblades than it should be. Roxas is way more familiar with his new weapons than should be normal.

"See, the black one is passable. Goes with the dress code, stylish demons wings—"

"God, shut up!"

"—and a nice, heavy end for bludgeoning the door down when it won't fit in the lock. Now, the white one... that's not very scary. And what the hell is that on the end, a pointy flower? How are we going to kill people with flowers?"

"It's not a damned flower!"

"Hay fever is annoying, sure, but as for deadly—"

"Oathkeeper!" Roxas yells, his voice rising in pitch in order to drown out Axel's own. He's panting from both exertion and the outburst, his face red with (an impressive imitation of) fury. "Its name is Oathkeeper!"

"See, now, I would have named it Priscilla. The other one's a bit nastier looking, though, so we'll call it—"

"Oblivion," Roxas snarls, cutting him off. He's looking a little calmer now. Axel blinks, then concedes,

"It fits."

Roxas appears to be taken off-guard by that. Finally, he says quietly, "Oathkeeper and Oblivion. Their names. Not—" his mouth twists angrily "—Priscilla, or any other stupid name you come up with." He points Prisc—excuse him, Oathkeeper—at Axel threateningly, and if it wasn't a big, flowery house key with a star charm on the hilt, Axel just might have taken him seriously. As it is, he can't help continuing to poke fun at Roxas. This display of pseudo-emotion is even better than the façades Axel manages to keep up on a daily basis.

"Did you just come up with those names now?"

"No," Roxas snaps, his eyes narrowing, but there's a sudden uncertainty there. "I just... know."

"How?" Axel asks, both to taunt him further and because, yes, he's genuinely curious.

"I just know, okay?" To Axel's surprise, Roxas' breathing accelerates, his eyes clouding. "I don't know how, I don't know why, I don't know—nnn!" Suddenly, Roxas is full-out hyperventilating, the Keyblades dropped to the ground as he clutches at his head and drops to his knees.

Ah, fuck. Is he having a seizure? Great. Now Axel'll be blamed if the kid dies—stops existing, whatever—and Xemnas will probably let Vexen torture him to death in the name of science.

"Hey, calm down," Axel says irritably, nudging Roxas with the toe of his boot, but Roxas simply whimpers in return, his fingers clutching harder and tugging, nearly tearing out his hair at the roots.

Startled, Axel grabs Roxas' hands, yanking them away from his blond hair before wrapping his own fingers around Roxas' upper arms, holding him steady. It's a flashback, he realizes. They've all had flashbacks, but none this violent – he can't even call the kid a wimp in his head, because so far he's shown himself to be a tough little thing. It'll be a shame if he gives himself an aneurysm, really, even if Xemnas won't murder Axel for it.

"Woah, woah, breathe. Breathe."

—

"Woah, woah, breathe. Breathe."

"I know!" Roxas snaps, but it's gasped out. The pain in his head is finally ebbing. As his breathing returns to normal, he realizes that those are Axel's hands steadying him. With a growl, he wrenches free and snatches up Oathkeeper, swiping blindly at the other man. Axel just barely manages to dodge backward, but he still falls on his ass. Roxas smirks.

"Hey, now," Axel says, sounding annoyed instead of superior for the first time. He stands, brushing imaginary dirt off his cloak. "Is that any way to treat the guy who just showed you some compassion?"

"You can't show compassion," Roxas spits out, scrambling to his feet. "You're just an emotionless shell, remember?"

"Oh, you wound me." Axel lays a hand over his chest, his expression one of utmost betrayal and hurt. "Have a heart, kiddo."

Roxas' face flushes at the not-so-subtle dig. Christ, what is wrong with this guy? Without knowing how he knows what to do, and wary enough now to not think about it for too long, he throws Oblivion at Axel, sending the blade spinning through the air at an incredible speed. To Axel's credit, he sidesteps it easily, but that doesn't matter. Roxas knows. Somehow.

Strike Raid.

"You know, throwing away your weapon in a fight isn't the best—"

There's a faint whistling from behind Axel—the sound of something moving very, very quickly, and at the last possible second the older Nobody realizes what it is and jerks to the side, body turning to allow the Keyblade to pass by him rather than through him. Still, the man flinches slightly as the blade slices through the air directly beside his face.

Roxas catches Oblivion perfectly by the hilt, swinging the Keyblade behind him to ease the halting of the weapon's momentum. He brings it up again quickly when he sees a small trickle of blood run down Axel's cheek—no wonder he flinched.

There's dead silence, and despite the tension of the situation, Roxas can't help but note that he's finally managed to get Axel to shut up.

With a calm that's more than a little worrying, Axel's chakrams vanish and he pulls off a glove—the hand underneath is surprisingly slender, with long fingers. Axel touches his fingers to the small slice, and when he looks at his hand again, the smear of blood is bright red.

"Not bad," Axel says casually, pulling the glove back on and meeting Roxas' challenging gaze unflinchingly, but there's something very dark lurking in his expression. His chakrams appear again in a muted blaze of fire and darkness.

Axel's grip on his chakrams tightens, and Roxas takes a step back to ensure his footing, bracing himself and defiantly meeting Axel's eyes. Roxas isn't stupid—he's very aware that Axel has had far more time to get used to his element and weapons than Roxas has—but he's not going to back down, especially not from this asshole. Even if that means taking the full brunt of Axel's attack head-on.

But it never comes. Roxas doesn't let himself relax, waiting for the trick to be revealed, but the other Nobody's expression turns from dark to thoughtful as he tilts his head, as if considering something.

Abruptly, Axel smiles mockingly and bows low—far too low to be anything other than a taunt. He straightens, that smirk still in place, and Roxas curses himself for not throwing his Keyblades at the man while Axel wasn't looking.

"Welcome to Organization XIII, Roxas."

*

Axel heads back to his room after portalling away from a confused and angered Roxas. He'd been hoping to make it there without running into anyone, but no such luck. Not that he cares, but even if he had a heart and was injected full of sunshine and happiness, he still wouldn't be overly fond of dealing with Larxene.

"Aw, Axel." She places a falsely comforting hand on his shoulder, gripping his chin in her other hand and turning his face toward her before he manages to pull away. "Did the new baby with his brand-new toys manage to give you a nasty scrape?"

He smirks at her, making her mockingly concerned expression flicker briefly into one of confusion. A smile is generally not most people's reactions to her taunts. He runs a gloved thumb over the cut, ignoring the sting and rubbing away the crusted blood.

"Cute little scratch, isn't it?" Axel grins sharply, showing teeth. "I like him already."

tbc.

---

I'm going with the idea that Axel really has no reason to treat Roxas any differently than any of the other members. Yet. Not to mention that Roxas looks cute and tiny and relatively harmless, and therefore should be fun to taunt. Oh, Axel. After he practices with the Keyblades for about five minutes, he's going to come and kick your ass.

---

[Teen Titans] Saves the Day

Wed, 11 Apr 2007 06:24:03 GMT

TITLE: Saves the Day
FANDOM: Teen Titans
RATING: PG-13
PAIRING: (Implied) Red X/Robin
SERIES: Comfort Beckons
WORD COUNT: 4 677
DISCLAIMER: All characters are © DC Comics and Warner Bros. Animation. No profit is being made from this work.
AUTHOR'S NOTES: This takes place a month after Impact. In other words, if you don't read Impact, you're not going to know why Red X is limping all over the place or why he feels indebted enough to do what he does here.
SUMMARY: The Teen Titans, Red X, and some guy who has issues with copyright infringement.

Saves the Day

"I AM THOR!"

Some days, Robin reflected, it really wasn't worth it to get out of bed.

"ALL SHALL HEAR MY THUNDER AND COWER IN TERROR!"

"Yeah, yeah," Cyborg muttered, his arm shifting to its cannon form. "Man, Robin, now we're getting villains who're impersonating comic book characters. Not cool."

Robin momentarily took his eyes off the criminal who was currently smashing up cars in a parking lot in order to raise an eyebrow at his friend.

"I thought comics were Beast Boy's forte, not yours."

"Trust me, I had to listen to the whole spiel when he heard the distress call. I know more than I ever wanted to know about good ol' Thor, including his possibly delusional self in another universe. I hung up when he started ranting about some civil war or something." Cyborg rubbed the back of his head. "Man, I almost feel bad that Raven has to deal with him. I swear, he was foaming at the mouth."

"Perhaps we need to once again conceal Beast Boy's collection of picture stories before he and Raven return from their own mission," Starfire chimed in. She floated a few inches above the ground, enough to put her at eye-level with Cyborg.

"I'd rather not deal with his withdrawal phase again," Robin said dryly. He nodded at the self-proclaimed Thor, who was approximately six and a half feet tall, well-muscled, and appeared to enjoy swinging around a massive electrified hammer. About five more cars had been reduced to so much scrap metal during the Titans' short conversation, and a few broken power lines were lying dangerously across the pavement. "Shall we?"

"Fine by me. Hey, your godliness!" Cyborg yelled, taking aim with his laser cannon. Thor turned to look at the three heroes. "This is my boomstick!"

He fired. The laser slammed straight into the villain's torso, forcing the huge man back a few feet.

Thor roared with laughter, and Cyborg stopped his assault in aggravation when it become clear that the rubberized black suit Thor was not only shielding him from his own electric hammer, but protecting him from lasers as well.

"Okay, new strategy," Robin said. Cyborg was glaring at the villain, looking quite miffed that his laser cannon had been ineffectual.

"We repeatedly place the 'smack down' upon him until he yields?" Starfire suggested, pleased at the opportunity to try out the new slang Beast Boy had taught her. Cyborg grinned, mood immediately improved.

"Works for me, Star."

"Titans, go!"

They rushed him, fanning out to attack from three angles. It was all very dramatic and heroic, and it would have worked, had it not been for the fact that Thor's hammer was capable of sending a wave of electricity outward whenever he slammed it down.

Thus, their attack and the resulting counterattack when something like this:

THUD

CRACKLE

"Aaaargh!"

Starfire, who had been flying toward Thor, was the only one of the three who didn't end up on the ground, muscles seizing up and bionic parts overloading.

"Robin! Cyborg!" She likely would have been able to dodge the blow had she not been distracted by her teammates' pain. "You are a very bad ma—oof!"

He swung his hammer sideways, swatting her out of the air like an insect and sending her flying. She slammed into the ground near Cyborg, leaving a furrow of broken pavement in her wake before she finally stopped.

"Star!" Robin forced himself up, and though he'd seen her take worse hits without sustaining more than a slight bruise, he couldn't help but worry.

"I am fi—"

All three of them cried out in unison as Thor slammed the hammer down again.

"Damnit, stop doing that!" Cyborg snarled out in frustration, his bionic parts sparking dangerously. Robin, collapsed on the ground once more (and he was really getting tired of looking at asphalt), glanced over at his teammates. Starfire appeared to have managed to crawl over to Cyborg, and... was she hovering? No, she couldn't—

THUD

CRACKLE

Robin's teeth clenched involuntarily as an even stronger current raced painfully through his body, seizing his muscles and momentarily halting his breathing. A shadow fell across him, and he looked up to see the villain standing over him.

"Let us see how well the Teen Titans do without their puny leader!" Thor sneered, lifting the massive hammer above his head to deliver the final, fatal blow. Electricity crackled around the hulking thing ominously, sparking violently.

His first instinct was to close his eyes, but Robin forced himself to keep them open. He wasn't going to die with his eyes squeezed shut.

Fortunately for Robin, today wasn't meant to be his day of reckoning anyway.

As Thor's hammer was swinging down, someone else's foot was swinging up — slamming into Thor's arms and sending the hulking villain off-balance and stumbling, his hammer smashing into the ground just beside Robin's head. Robin winced, his teeth clenching involuntarily again as electricity from the hammer's proximity alone vibrated through his body for the second time in so many moments. This really couldn't be good for his nervous system, he mused.

Above him, the newcomer's arm shot out, landing a hard punch on Thor's cheek that jerked the man's head to the side. Thor swung his hammer around, but the other simply ducked under the intended blow and leaped to the side, taking the battle away from Robin.

Though he could barely move, Robin managed to crane his head around enough to stare at the stranger in shock. Although whoever it was was obviously more than just the average civilian, they were dressed like one — loose jeans, slightly worn running shoes, and a gray hoodie. The hood was pulled up, and the drawstrings were yanked tight to cover as much of the person's face as possible.

The stranger delivered two more whipcrack-quick kicks straight into Thor's face, driving the now-howling villain back and clutching at his broken nose. Robin's impromptu saviour danced backward gracefully when Thor lashed out, easily dodging the blows aimed at him with a skill that rivaled Robin's.

And suddenly, Robin knew.

"Red X," he breathed. This was him. Red X. The enigma. The unknown. Robin's head reeled with the surreality of it, not truly believing his own conclusion even as the person in question dodged and attacked with a style that was all too familiar.

"Who are you?"
"If I wanted you to know that, would I be wearing a mask?"

And yet, here he was, of his own free will, his identity veiled only by the dubious protection of an oversized hoodie and the way he carefully kept his back to the Titans. It was unbelievable, but how could it be anyone else? Everything fit: body type, fighting style, the ease and familiarity of the movements.

There was a hitch to those otherwise flawless motions, however. It didn't escape Robin's notice the way Red X's hand kept drifting toward his left side, or the faint limp that accompanied that compulsion. Of course; there was no way Red X could have healed that quickly. It had only been a month since he'd escaped the hospital, after all.

Robin's breath caught in his throat as Thor, blood streaming from his shattered nose and half-blinded by pain, raised his hammer again and slammed it down in an arc of crackling electricity. This was a concentrated blow intended to kill rather than a wave of electricity, however; a bolt of white-hot lightning scorched its way toward Red X, but it was badly aimed. Red X rolled out of the way without much trouble, but there was a definite stiffness to his movements now.

Strangely, Red X seemed more interested in a point behind Thor than Thor himself. Tearing his attention from the thief, Robin glanced past Thor's shoulder.

Cyborg. Robin bit back a grin at the sight of his friend back on his feet; the hero was moving as quietly as possible toward the fallen power lines, the laser cannon on his arm already out and ready.

Meanwhile, Red X was keeping Thor effectively occupied. Taunts were flowing from X's lips like water from a stream, though Thor was almost drowning him out with his infuriated bellows of rage. He wasn't even bothering to use his hammer's electricity anymore, instead simply swinging it through the air in desperate, jerky attempts to hit the thief.

Red X had thus far managed to avoid the deadly hammer, but his limp was extremely pronounced now, and his right hand was clutched white-knuckled against his side. He obviously wouldn't be able to keep jumping around for much longer, and Thor showed no signs of tiring — it was only a broken nose and a few bruises, after all.

Robin was well aware that the only reason Red X had even managed to land the hits he had was because Thor had been preoccupied with trying to kill Robin, and it was pure luck Thor hadn't used his electric wave assault again — Red X would have been just as incapacitated as Robin. Soon enough, however, he'd likely be even worse off.

Robin grit his teeth, trying to will his body into action. All he got were faint twitches in his toes and fingers. Not helpful, but at least it was a start. Far from enough to allow him to leap into battle, though. From the corner of his eye, he could see flickers of green as Starfire tried to rally herself into action.

The more he struggled to move, however, the easier it seemed to get. Encouraging. He almost crowed in triumph as he managed to lift one arm a few inches off the ground.

Another yell utterly destroyed his sense of elation, and his eyes widened beneath the mask as Red X's form was sent flying through the air, bouncing against the ground twice before rolling to a stop on the asphalt a scant few feet from Robin.

Red X didn't get up.

With a heroic effort, Robin forced himself to stagger to his feet. Unfortunately, he immediately collapsed into a heap, his muscles trembling. Snarling in frustration, he put his hands to the ground and pushed himself to his hands and knees, crouched awkwardly on the ground.

"Stay down!" hissed a soft, insistent voice. Robin froze. A twitch of a leg made him glance over at Red X; the thief's back was to him, but it was Red X's voice. No question. "Idiot. I'm faking."

Eyes flicking to the battlefield, Robin saw what was happening. Cyborg had hooked himself up to the sparking power lines, and with Red X lying on the ground, he had a clear shot straight through Thor. But now Robin would be hit as the electricity passed through the villain.

He promptly collapsed in what he thought was a rather decently-feigned fit of weakness.

"Puny Titans!" Thor bellowed, hefting his hammer over one shoulder and leering down at the fallen three. "Now you know the wrath of the Thunder God, Tho—"

His Mighty Godness jerked as a massive jolt of electricity struck him in the back. Initially, the insulation his suit provided him protected the massive man from the electricity, but even rubber can't hold against a few million volts of electricity. Just as Robin, Starfire, and Cyborg had done, Thor's entire body seized up, muscles locking as thousands and thousands of volts raced through his flesh. Then, with a noise like the thunderclap the true Thor personified, the villain was thrown a good twenty feet.

Like Red X, he didn't get up. Unlike Red X, he wasn't feinting.

Speak of the devil. Robin glanced over at Red X, who had sat up by this point, his back still to the Titans.

"How...?" Robin asked, unable to understand how Red X had managed to take a blow from that vicious hammer without every bone in his body being shattered. Unlike Starfire, Red X was only human.

"Managed to avoid the hammer long enough, then let him punch me a good one." Red X shrugged.

"BOOYAH!" Cyborg yelled triumphantly as he made his way back over to his teammates, surveying the smoking pile of scorched rubber that was the unconscious Thor. Robin turned his attention to his fellow Titan, and felt a grin stretch his face.

"Nice shot, Cyborg!"

"Indeed!" Starfire was already on her feet, and clapping her hands delightedly. "An excellent plan of action!"

"Star..." Robin said slowly. "How did you recover so fast?"

"Cyborg planned this as soon as we were all struck by the lightning, though you were not close enough to tell," she explained, smiling. "I was to distract Thor while Cyborg... ah, 'got himself juiced up' to take him down." She paused. "I still do not understand where the juice was meant to come from."

"So... you were fine," Robin said, his own body aching from the abuse he'd suffered.

"Oh, yes!" Starfire turned her blinding smile on Red X, who, even with his back still turned, seemed very, very tense. "I was about to interfere to keep you from being crushed by the electric hammer, but the wonderful person jumped into battle and stopped him." Starfire turned back to Robin, offering him her hand, which he took gratefully. "I would have assisted, but Thor may have seen Cyborg had I gotten up. You were not in any danger," she said comfortingly, pulling him to his feet.

At her final words, Red X made a strangled sort of noise. They all looked at him.

"Say, Robin..." Cyborg said, frowning, "who is this guy, anyway?"

Robin felt a smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth.

"So there was no reason at all for him to save me, huh, Starfire?" he asked conversationally, ignoring Cyborg's question.

"No. But we really do appreciate it!" she called out cheerfully to Red X, who was stiffly getting to his own feet.

"Rob," Cyborg said again, his frown deepening, "There's only two people I've ever seen fight like that before, and one of them happens to be you. In fact, the second person, until recently, was also you."

Red X went so still he may as well have been turned to stone. Robin inexplicably felt his stomach flip-flop as he watched Cyborg piece it all together.

"Cyborg—" he said hesitantly, but Cyborg stepped past him and stopped a few feet from the thief's back.

"Red X," he said lowly. Halfway risen, Red X froze with his back to the Titans, one hand still bracing himself against the ground.

"So," Red X said conversationally, as if he wasn't a thief only half-healed from a bullet wound with three justice-driven heroes at his back. "I guess you've caught me."

Robin blinked. That wasn't right—

"Or not," Red X sneered, spinning abruptly and hurling a small chunk of debris he'd snatched up. It flew toward Cyborg's head; the hero flinched, bringing an arm up to deflect the rock. A small distraction, but it was enough. Red X had whirled and begun running before any of them had even registered what was happening.

"Why, you—!" Cyborg snarled, charging after the fleeing criminal. Robin hesitated the barest moment, then entered the chase as Starfire flew past him.

The chase was over quickly. Red X was limping badly, and it was obvious that the blow from Thor had not helped matters in the least. Robin was almost surprised by how much it shocked him when Red X stumbled as he ran, nearly pitching forward onto the asphalt of the street.

Red X never stumbled.

Starfire ended the run by flying ahead of the slowing thief and landing in front of him, causing him to change direction and head left. But Cyborg had that side covered, and Robin had caught up to them by this point. He was blocked on three sides. The Titans closed in until they were each only a few metres away.

Facing them as best he could, Red X backed away from them, hunched over with one arm covering his face and the other held out, as if to ward them off. His stance was tense and wary, but there was nowhere for him to run. The nearest building had a fire escape, but he'd never make it there before the Titans caught him.

Trapped.

"I helped you," he growled, retreating another step.

"And we'll be sure to add that into the police report, right under the list of things you've stolen in the past year or so," Cyborg replied, smirking as his arm shifted into its laser cannon for the third time that day.

"Cyborg," Starfire said hesitantly, looking from Red X to Robin before laying her hand on Cyborg's shoulder, "Red X is correct. He did aid us, and saved friend Robin from the electric hammer."

"Aw, come on, Star!" Cyborg said incredulously. "He's a thief! Rob, tell her."

Frowning, Robin glanced over at the trapped thief. He didn't owe Red X anything; he'd saved Red X's life, and Red X had saved his. They were even. For a split second, their eyes met. Angry, frustrated, trapped...

Green.

Robin's hand moved to his belt.

"Cyborg's right, Starfire," he said regretfully, flipping open a compartment. "He may have helped us now, but that doesn't make up for any of the other crimes he's committed." Robin gave Red X a significant look. "And will continue to commit. We're taking him in."

"Thought you hero-types believed in rehabilitation," Red X snarked, but his frustration was clear. His weight shifted on his feet infinitesimally, and Robin knew that stance. Red X was going to try to run for it again, no matter how low his chances were.

"Depends on the person, X," Robin returned easily, and then, out of sight of his friends, twitched his fingers and tossed a small disc between the Titans and the thief.

The smoke bomb exploded perfectly, blanketing the area in thick, blinding clouds of gray. He could hear the shouts of surprise from Cyborg and Starfire beside him as the smoke enveloped them; even Robin, who'd known it was coming, was momentarily disoriented by the sudden sensory distortion.

A dark silhouette appeared beside him and Red X leaned in close, his mouth next to Robin's ear.

"I'm not so bad, for a villain, kid... and for a hero, you're not so good. Heh. Y'know..."—and Robin could feel the smirk—"I think I like that."

Robin made an indistinct noise of anger, swiping out with his bo-staff and displacing thick clouds of the smoke—but nothing else. Red X had anticipated the blow and vanished into the swirling gray.

It was only a minute or two before the smoke cleared, but by that time, the thief was long gone. Robin would have been disappointed if there had been any trace of Red X; that was sloppy, and Red X was anything but.

"Man, is that guy ever unprepared?" Cyborg complained, waving away lingering traces of the bomb. "Who carries around smoke bombs in their civvies?"

"Red X does," Starfire said helpfully, her voice muffled due to the way she was holding her nose against the smoke.

"We don't have time to look for him," Robin interjected before either of them could say anything further. "We need to take Thor in and make sure that he's properly incarcerated. I don't feel like cleaning up a prison breakout."

"No kidding," Cyborg agreed, "but it just feels wrong let him go like that, man. We had him!"

"Knowing Red X, he probably had a few more tricks up his sleeve," Robin said. "We'll have to see if we can pick up his trail later."

Starfire was unusually quiet as they carted Thor off to the proper authorities, and Robin pretended not to notice the strangely thoughtful glances she kept sending his way.

*

"Not exactly your part of town, kid. Especially at midnight." The voice was familiar; it was the same one he'd heard every day for weeks in Room 406 at the hospital, barely a month ago. "Streets are uneasy about it."

"I know. But I figured you'd know why I'm here. Looks like I figured right."

Robin stood just outside the illuminating circle of a streetlight on the worst side of town; broken-down buildings with cracked or shattered windows, dirty streets, and petty—or not-so-petty—crime everywhere. It wasn't so bad during the daylight hours, but during the night... it was almost like a mini-Gotham.

Sad that he should feel so at home here.

"Let me guess: you want to know why I stepped in to save the hero." Red X stood on the other side of the circle, also just outside the light. A silhouette, just as Robin would look to him.

"Among other things." It wasn't the main reason Robin had sought Red X out, but it was one of them.

"You're so predictable, kid."

"We didn't even know you were there," Robin said, as if Red X hadn't replied. "No one would have known any different if you hadn't, X."

Red X shifted on the other side of the light; it looked as if he was shoving his hands into his pant's pockets. It was a strangely... normal gesture, and it threw Robin off for a moment.

"I would have. I don't like being indebted to anyone, kid. Especially not a hero."

"You have a strange sense of honour."

"Stop trying to give me qualities I don't have." There was amusement in that voice, and just the slightest bit of exasperation. "It's flattering, kid, but you're just disillusioning yourself. I'm a thief. Thieves take, they don't owe. What's your fascination, anyway? Don't you have someone else to obsess over?"

Robin tried, and completely failed, to stop from snickering at that.

"What?" Red X asked, annoyed; he obviously didn't enjoy being laughed at. Surprise surprise. With effort, Robin bit the inside of his cheek and stopped the mirth.

"Nothing." It was easy to stop the laughter when he reminded himself of the real reason he'd come here. "What do you know about the Brotherhood of Evil?"

Red X seemed surprised by the question. "Besides the fact that you flash-froze most of them? Not much, kid. I didn't stick around for that."

"Before that," Robin clarified.

"Still can't help you out. Not that I would, but I'm going to be a nice guy for once and tell you the truth: I assumed I was officially kicked out after I made scrap heaps out of all their vehicles. I didn't stop by the HQ to ask. Criminals aren't exactly the forgiving sort, kiddo." Red X tilted his head to the side; the most Robin could figure of his body language in the lighting. "Why do you want to know?"

"That's none of your business, X."

He just barely managed to duck a shuriken. It embedded itself into a burnt-out light post behind Robin, vibrating where it stuck. Had it connected, Robin would likely have, at the very least, lost an eye—if not been killed outright.

"Fair's fair, kid," Red X said coldly. With effort, Robin unclenched his fingers from where they gripped a birdarang. "Don't think that just because we've helped each other for some reason or another a few times means that we're friends. Or that I like you." He laughed lowly at that; it was strangely bitter.

Robin let out a breath slowly. Of course Red X was still a criminal. Still a villain. He thanked his lucky stars that Batman wasn't here to see how badly he'd let his guard down just now; it was inexcusable.

After Red X's stay in the hospital and the events of today, he'd forgotten, somehow, someway; not that Red X was dangerous—no one who'd ever seen Red X in action could forget that—but that Red X could be dangerous to him.

Stupid, stupid, stupid.

"When we questioned Thor, he mentioned something about the Brotherhood of Evil. Impressing them. We couldn't get any further details out of him," Robin said shortly, all business. Red X nodded, and stepped further away from the light until Robin couldn't see him at all. He himself did the same.

They were both invisible to each other.

"Don't come back here, kid." Red X's voice filtered through the darkness, somehow louder in the pitch black. "Not unless you're looking for a fight."

"I'll keep that in mind."

Turning, Robin walked to where he'd parked the R-Cycle. As he went, he hated how he kept waiting for a shuriken to lodge itself in his back.

"Stop trying to give me qualities I don't have."

From now on, he'd remember that.

*

Red X listened as the R-Cycle started up and roared off; he felt a pang for his own motorcycle, which he was still in the middle of repairing. If nothing else, the time off from thieving to heal gave him a good excuse to spend most of his free time patching up his X-Cycle.

Robin had been getting too close. Taking care of him when he was dying; bringing him to the hospital; spending so much damned time in his room; protecting his identity when he could have so easily exposed Red X's face.

And Red X himself knew he wasn't helping matters. Jumping in to save Robin like that—he'd known it was stupid, but hell, it wasn't as if he'd known what the robot and the alien chick had planned. All he'd seen was Robin in a heap and that electrified moron about to smash his skull in with a hammer.

He shouldn't have interfered, if only for his own sake to keep Robin from throwing little bits of—god forbid—good guy wisdom at him. Robin had helped him escape today, when he hadn't owed X anything. Had sought him out deliberately for information, as if... as if they could do that. As if they were friends.

Red X almost gagged.

Too close. That shuriken was dull and had been aimed at the hard part of Robin's mask, anyway; it would have given him a nasty black eye, but nothing more serious. But he'd known Robin would duck, and known it would make a point:

We're not friends.

His hand on another shuriken, this one sharpened, Red X limped home alone.

*

In the Tower, Robin couldn't sleep. It was three AM, and he knew he ought to be in bed, but his brain kept working overtime. He'd eventually just accepted the fact that he wasn't going to get any sleep and rolled out of bed, plopped himself into his computer chair, and opened up a document entitled MarksTheSpot.doc.

Methodically, he added the fact that Red X had green eyes to the file.

He read over the other notes he had on Red X; they were pitifully few, compared to the other villains he had on file. At least he had detailed descriptions on their appearances, with the exception of Slade, but even Slade had the very distinctive feature of the lack of one eye. Red X had no such irregularities that Robin was aware of.

Well, Robin knew that he had a new scar just above his hip now. As well as some lighter scars across his chest and arms that mirrored Robin's; from old jobs gone bad, perhaps? The hospital had wanted to do some more profiling, but Robin had refused them.

He really wished he could regret that decision. The temptation had been enormous, but the regret from looking would have overwhelmed that.

All he knew of Red X was that he was roughly Robin's height, weight, and build; he was white, with lightly tanned skin; he had green eyes; and he was scarred.

There were also various theories about Red X's background as well as personality notes, but the theories made less sense every time Robin read them. He really was tired. He wished he could sleep.

Robin sat back and wondered if Red X appreciated the irony of it: a thief with green eyes.

Despite everything that had happened in the last few hours, he couldn't help but smirk.

fin.
for now. >.>

A note about Robin's thoughts on the irony of Red X's green eyes: If someone accuses you of having green eyes, they're calling you envious. To envy someone is to want something they have. Red X is a thief; therefore, he steals things that belong to other people. ...Yeah.

I really promised myself I'd stop at Impact. But then the plotbunnies bit me. And wouldn't let go. So... two more follow-up fics in the works. One is a one-shot, the other... either chaptered, or a really, really long one-shot. Be afraid. Be very, very afraid.

[Non-Fandom] Implosion in Motion

Fri, 06 Apr 2007 17:54:35 GMT

Implosion in Motion
a semi-personal mix about depression

When I say 'semi-personal', what I mean is that I've put a lot of my own experiences into the making of this mix. Most, if not all, of the songs have a strong emotional impact on me because of the memories they trigger when I hear them. I admit that I cried at points during the creation of this mix, because pouring out all of this was like cutting into barely-healed wounds.

I don't know how many of the people who are reading or will read this are afflicted with depression, or any other mental illness, but this is for you. One of the worst things about a mental illness is how alone you feel. It's like no one around you understands; they tell you just 'shake it off' or 'cheer up' because honestly, life's not that bad. I was lucky beyond most people's wildest dreams — although my family history of severe depression and bipolar disorder is the reason for my own affliction, it also means that I had people around me who understood what I was going through.

Not everyone's that lucky. I feel this mix is important, because if even one person on here feels touched by it, if even one person can relate and feels even the tiniest bit of comfort, then that's enough. This mix may be my story, but it's also the story of countless others who struggle with depression every day.

So this is for them.

(o1)
wonderful — everclear

I go to school and I run and play
I tell the kids that it's all okay
I laugh aloud so my friends won't know
When the bell rings I just don't wanna go home

Go to my room and I close my eyes
I make believe that I have a new life
I don't believe you when you say
Everything will be wonderful someday

Promises mean everything when you're little
And the world is so big
I just don't understand how you can smile with all those tears in your eyes
When you tell me everything is wonderful now
This is the first of the two completely personal songs on this mix, but I really believe that this applies to a lot of people — even those who aren't afflicted with clinical depression. It's a song about a family quietly (and sometimes not so quietly) falling to pieces. The child keeps up a happy face, and doesn't want to hear about how her/his parents are growing further and further apart as time goes on — and even though she/he knows that things are going to change, the child is going to resist it as long as possible. Even if only in dreams.

(o2)
unwell — matchbox twenty

But I'm not crazy, I'm just a little unwell
I know right now you can't tell
But stay awhile and maybe then you'll see
A different side of me
I'm not crazy, I'm just a little impaired
I know right now you don't care
But soon enough you're gonna think of me
And how I used to be... me
Possibly the most fitting song regarding mental illness I've ever heard. One of my clearest memories during the blur that was the worst low I've ever experienced in my life — a low that almost caused me, on multiple occasions, to take my own life — is when this song came on the radio and I just pulled into a parking lot and broke down into tears. Mental illnesses take away who you are. They reach into the deepest parts of you and change you.

The first thing my mother said to me when, after being put on medication, I had a stable period that lasted a week was, "I've missed you so much."

(o3)
when i'm up (i can't get down) — great big sea

When I'm up, I can't get down
Can't get down, can't get level
When I'm up, I can't get down
Get my feet back on the ground
While it may seem far too upbeat, and just plain not depressed enough for this mix, When I'm Up is the ultimate 'high' song. Whether a person is in a manic state or simply so elated that their mental state is normal, even if only for a moment, this is the feeling: ten feet tall and bulletproof. You can't seem to level yourself back to normal.

(o4)
wasted years — cold

Was it life I betrayed for the shape that I'm in?
It's not hard to fail; it's not easy to win
Did I drink too much? Could I disappear?
And there's nothing that's left but wasted years
There's nothing left but wasted years
The epitome of what depression does to you: it steals away your life. When I look back at the years I spent consistently depressed, I can't think of them as anything but wasted years. My entire high school experience is nothing but a faint blur in my memories. Those four years, plus the two years before high school and the year after, amount to a total of seven years that no longer exist for me. I was so lost in depression that I simply sleepwalked through life, numb. I will never get those years back.

(o5)
white rabbit — jefferson airplane

One pill makes you larger
And one pill makes you small
And the ones that mother gives you
Don't do anything at all

Go ask Alice
When she's ten feet tall
While this song is about illegal drugs, it also applies to prescription medication. It's a common misconception that once a doctor prescribes you anti-depressants... boom, you're fixed. The truth is, it almost always takes a lot of experimenting with different medications before the right dosage and pill(s) are found. And during that experimentation time, you're going through hell. Some pills make you feel larger, and some pills make you feel small. Some don't do anything at all. And some make you worse than you were. It's like juggling with bombs.

(o6)
mad world — michael andrews

All around me are familiar faces
Worn out places, worn out faces
Bright and early for their daily races
Going nowhere, going nowhere

Their tears are filling up their glasses
No expression, no expression
Hide my head I want to drown my sorrow
No tomorrow, no tomorrow
Everything can seem so pointless and washed-out once depression hits. The things you used to love hold no pleasure; the sights you used to see are nothing anymore. You're running as fast as you can, but you're not going anywhere, and you know full well that tomorrow is just going to be a repeat of today.

And sometimes you're not sure if you can face that.

(o7)
breathe (2am) — anna nalick

So cradle your head in your hands

And breathe
Just breathe
Oh, breathe
Just breathe
So sometimes, when you don't know if you can face the day, just breathing is all you can do. Breathe in, breathe out, and try to make it through just one more day. One more hour. One more minute. Just breathe.

(o8)
fix you — coldplay

When try your best, but you don't succeed
When you get what you want, but not what you need
When you feel so tired, but you can't sleep
Stuck in reverse
...
Lights will guide you home
And ignite your bones
And I will try to fix you
The point of view of everyone who is worried about you. This song always reminds me of my mother, because she's fought so hard to get me help even though at every turn, doors were slammed in our faces because of my awkward age — at seventeen, and then eighteen, I was an adult but still a teenager, so no one seemed to know what to do with me. My mother acted as my therapist for years, and she still does – when no one was willing to help, when no one would even talk to me, when the only thing they would say was, "Put her in the hospital's psych ward," my mother never gave up on me. Ever. Even as broken as I was, she always did her best to fix me.

(o9)
all i can do — chantal kreviazuk

You haven't laughed in awhile
When you can't even fake a smile
...
All I can do is love you to pieces
Give you a shoulder to cry when you need it
When the day is long and the night is coming down on you
All I can do
All I can do
All I can do
It's all that I can do
I'll admit it: this is a completely personal song. This is my mother, put to music and lyrics. Every time I hear it, I want to cry, and sometimes I do, because it's everything she did for me and more. For anyone who's never had it, there's no way to put into words what it means to have someone who never thinks you're crazy, who would never shove you into the psych ward at the hospital, who does her damnedest to protect you from yourself. Someone who will never give up on you, who takes as much of your pain as she can into herself so maybe you can go to sleep without crying.

When I was at my worst, when I was one tear away from slamming my car into a tree at 160 km/hr, she slept beside me so I wouldn't be alone. She let me cry and rage for hours because I couldn't keep it in any longer, she went an hour out of her way to drive me to university and then pick me back up because I didn't want to be alone.

There is no way to repay that kind of love except by continuing to live.

(1o)
breaking the habit — linkin park

Memories consume
Like opening the wound
I'm picking me apart again
You all assume
I'm safe here in my room
Unless I try to start again
...
Clutching my cure
I tightly lock the door
I try to catch my breath again
I hurt much more
Than anytime before
I had no options left again
I was eleven years old when I first began to cut myself. At first it was using the shaving razors from the shower on my right thigh — it was extremely painful, but I kept it up until grade nine. Granted, until then, I didn't cut myself very often — the fact is, I was doing it. Grade nine meant graduating from elementary school to high school, and graduating from shaving razors to exacto knives. I began to make little cuts on my left arm. They were small enough not to attract undue attention, but deep enough to scar. I never went near my wrist. This continued until grade eleven, when I managed to stop for awhile — I made two friends, and I took a drama class that boosted my self-esteem incredibly. I made friends with my 60+ history teacher and my 33-year-old media teacher. I was pulling high eighties and nineties in almost every class.

I thought I was better. But the nasty thing about a mental illness is that it's a chemical imbalance in your brain — and your brain isn't going to magically fix itself. Toward the end of grade eleven, I began cutting again, except this time the cuts were longer, and deeper, and I kept picking away at the scabs so that it was harder for my body to heal.

I was falling again. And cutting was the only coping mechanism that kept me from losing all control — even though I was collapsing on the inside, like a great old tree filled with termites, at least I looked sturdy on the outside.

It wasn't healthy. It was an addiction; an escape, and to this day I still struggle with the urge to cut myself. Like someone who used to smoke, you never stop craving the thing that gave you temporary peace.

(11)
not your year — the weepies

Scattered shadows on a wall, you watch the long light fall
Some impressions stay and some will fade
Tattered shoes outside your door, clothes all on the floor
Your life feels like the morning after all year long

Every day it starts again
You cannot say if you're happy
You keep trying to be
Try harder, maybe this is not your year

Movies, TV screens reflect just what you expected
There's a world of shiny people somewhere else
Out there following their bliss
Living easy, getting kissed
While you wonder what else you're doing wrong

Breathe through it, write a list of desires
Make a toast, make a wish, slash some tires
Paint a heart repeating, beating:
"Don't give up, don't give up, don't give up."
This song makes me want to laugh and cry at the same time. It's gorgeous and utterly heart-breaking: you cannot say if you're happy / you keep trying to be / try harder, maybe this is not your year. In my years of being numb to protect myself from myself, I could never tell when I was happy. Half the time, I couldn't even tell if I was sad. Nothing made me feel anything — it was a chore to smile or laugh, and on the whole it was difficult for me to become angry. When I felt emotions, I didn't know what to do with them. It was like they were on the other side of a glass barrier — I could see them, but I couldn't reach them. Not really.

For seven years, it just wasn't my year.

(12)
better days — goo goo dolls

And you ask me what I want this year
And I'll try to make this kind and clear
Just a chance that maybe we'll find better days
'Cause I don't need boxes wrapped in strings
Or designer love and empty things
Just a chance that maybe we'll find better days
Really quite self-explanatory. All I ever wanted on my worst days were better days.

(13)
stand — rascal flatts

Every time you get up
And get back in the race
One more small piece of you
Starts to fall into place

'Cause when push comes to shove
You taste what you're made of
You might bend, 'till you break
'Cause it's all you can take

On your knees you look up
Decide you've had enough
You get mad, you get strong
Wipe your hands, shake it off

Then you stand
The one thing I can honestly say that depression has given me is a true understanding of just how strong I am. If you want to get through some of the darkest moments you're ever likely to have, you need to be able to reach inside yourself for strength beyond what anyone, including yourself, would ever expect of you. You have to be stronger than you've ever been in your life. Other people can only carry you so far — if you want to get better, you have to stand on your own two feet and walk forward.

(14)
believe in you — amanda marshall

Some of us can't move ahead
We're paralyzed with fear
And everybody's listening
'Cause we all need to hear

I believe in you
I can't even count the ways that
I believe in you
And all I want to do is help you to
Believe in you

I will hold you up
I will help you stand
I will comfort you when you need a friend
I will be the voice that's calling out:

I believe in you
This illness doesn't have to be fatal. You can survive. It's hard to believe that there's more out there, better things, when for so long you've seen nothing but darkness. I won't lie; to get through this period in your life, you're going to be in for a tough fight. There are times where you're going to cry, you're going to want to hide under the covers and never get out of bed — but you can't do that.

Sometimes, you're also going to be angry. And, quite frankly, anger is your best weapon. Hold onto that. Rage against the illness — accept it, but never, ever let it beat you down until you think can't get up. You can always get up again.

As Marian Wright Edelman said, "Whoever said anybody has a right to give up?"

you are not alone

kids' help phone
http://www.kidshelpphone.ca/
1-800-668-6868

lamplight
empowering and helping teens make healthy life choices
http://www.lamplight.org/
1-905-765-0775

mood disorders society of canada
http://www.mooddisorderscanada.ca/
1-519-824-5565

download

.ZIP File
| 64.91 MB |
[the zip includes: all tracks, cover art, all lyrics in .txt format, and the .doc format of this post]

.ZIP File
| 64.89 MB |
[the zip includes: all tracks and cover art]

Individual Songs
| o1 | o2 | o3 | o4 | o5 | o6 | o7 |
| o8 | o9 | 1o | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 |