Open perving, random rants and horrible at everything

courtneynus @ 2008-01-27T20:07:00

2008-01-28T02:06:31Z

Even though Naruto dub sucks . . .
Quinton Flynn, Axel, Axel is the voice of Deidara.
XD

courtneynus @ 2007-12-26T12:46:00

2007-12-26T18:46:10Z

I just bleached my hair, wow, my hair has always been blonde, bright but damn almost white now.

Saw Sweeney Todd, and wow. . .just, wow

courtneynus @ 2007-12-24T18:41:00

2007-12-25T00:40:19Z

Type your cut contents here.A daydream spills from my corked head
Breaks free of my wooden neck
Left a nod over sleeping waves
Like bobbing bait for bathing cod
Floating flocks of candled swans
Slowly drift across wax ponds

The men all played along
To marching drums
And boy did they have fun
Behind the sea
They sang (hey!)
So our matching legs
Are marching clocks
And we're all too small
To talk to God
Yes, we're all too smart
To talk to God

Toast the fine folks casting silver crumbs
To us from the dock
Jinxed things ringing as they leak
Through tiny cracks in the boardwalk
Scarecrow, now it's time to hatch
Sprouting sons and ageless daughters

Don't you know
Don't you know
That those watermelon smiles
Just can't ripen underwater
Just can't ripen underwater

The men all played along
To marching drums
And boy did they have fun
Behind the sea
They sang (hey!)
So our matching legs
Are marching clocks
And we're all too small
To talk to God
Yeah, we're all too smart
To talk to God
Oh, we're all too smart
To talk to God

Ooooh

Legs of wood waves, waves of wooden legs
Waves of wooden legs

It's these substandard motels on the (lalalalala) corner of 4th and Fremont Street.
Appealing only because they are just that un-appealing
Any practiced catholic would cross themselves upon entering.
The rooms have a hint of asbestos and maybe just a dash of formaldehyde,
And the habit of decomposing right before your very (lalalala) eyes.

Along with the people inside
What a wonderful caricature of intimacy
Inside, what a wonderful caricature of intimacy

Tonight tenants range from: a lawyer and a virgin
Accessorizing with a rosary tucked inside her lingerie
She's getting a job at the firm come Monday.
The Mrs. will stay with the cheating attorney
moonlighting aside, she really needs his money.
Oh, wonderful caricature of intimacy.

Yeah (Yeah)

And not to mention, the constable, and his proposition, for that "virgin"
Yes, the one the lawyer met with on "strictly business"
as he said to the Mrs. Well, only hours before,
after he had left, she was fixing her face in a compact.
There was a terrible crash (There was a terrible crash)
Between her and the badge
She spilled her purse and her bag, and held a "purse" of a different kind.

Along with the people inside
What a wonderful caricature of intimacy
Inside, what a wonderful caricature of intimacy

There are no raindrops on roses and girls in white dresses.
It's sleeping with roaches and taking best guesses
At the shade of the sheets and before all the stains
And a few more of your least favorite things.

Raindrops on roses and girls in white dresses
It's sleeping with roaches and taking best guesses
At the shade of the sheets and before all the stains
And a few more of your least favorite things.

Inside, what a wonderful caricature of intimacy
Inside, what a wonderful caricature of intimacy

Raindrops on roses and girls in white dresses
It's sleeping with roaches and taking best guesses
At the shade of the sheets and before all the stains
And a few more of your least favorite things.

Raindrops on roses and the girls in white dresses
And sleeping with the roaches and they taking best guesses
At the shade of the sheets and before all the stains
And a few more of your least favorite things.

Come save me from walking off a windowsill
or I'll sleep in the rain.
Don't you remember when I was a bird
and you were a map?
Now he drags down miles in America
briefcase in hand.
The stove is creeping up his spine again
can't get enough trash.

He took the days for pageant
Became as mad as rabbits
with bushels of bad habits
who could ask for anymore?
Yeah who could have more?

His arms were the branches of a Christmas tree
preached the devil in the belfry.
He checked in to learn his clothes had been thieved
at the train station.
Rope hung his other branch
and at the end was a dog called Bambi
who was chewing on his parliaments
when he tried to save the calendar business.
He tried to save the calendar business.

He took the days for pageant
Became as mad as rabbits
with bushels of bad habits
who could ask for anymore?
Who could have more?

The poor son of a humble chimney sweep
fell to a cheap crowd
so stay asleep and put on that cursive type
you know we live in a toy.
You know that Paul Cates
bought himself a trumpet from the Salvation Army
But there ain't no sunshine in his song
we must reinvent love.
Reinvent love, reinvent love.

You remind me of a former love that I once knew
And you carry a little piece with you
We were holding hands walking through the middle of the street
It's fine with me, I'm just taking in the scenery

You remind me of a few of my famous friends
Well, that all depends what you qualify as friends
You remind me of a few of my famous friends
Well, that all depends what you qualify as friends

Take a chance, take your shoes off, dance in the rain
Yea we're splashing around and the news spread all over town
I'm not complaining that it's raining, I'm just saying that I'd like it a lot
More than you think, if the sun would come out and sing with me

courtneynus @ 2007-05-04T18:14:00

2007-05-04T23:19:46Z

Type your cut contents here. If all our life is but a dream
Fantastic posing greed
Then we should feed our jewelry to the sea
For diamonds do appear to be
Just like broken glass to me

And then she said she can't believe
Genius only comes along
In storms of fabled foreign tongues
Tripping eyes, and flooded lungs
Northern downpour sends its love

Hey moon, please forget to fall down
Hey moon, don't you go down

Sugarcane in the easy mornin'
Weathervanes my one and lonely

The ink is running toward the page
It's chasin' off the days
Look back at boat feet
And that winding knee
I missed your skin when you were east
You clicked your heels and wished for me

Through playful lips made of yarn
That fragile Capricorn
Unraveled words like moths upon old scarves
I know the world's a broken bone
But melt your headaches, call it home

Hey moon, please forget to fall down
Hey moon, don't you go down

Sugarcane in the easy mornin'
Weathervanes my one and lonely

Back to the street where we began
Feeling as good as lovers can, you know
Yeah we're feeling so good

Pickin’ up things we shouldn’t read
It looks like the end of history as we know
It’s just the end of the world

Back to the street where we began
Feeling as good as love, you could, you can

Into a place where thoughts can bloom
Into a room where it's nine in the afternoon
And we know that it could be
And we know that it should
And you know that you feel it too
'Cause it's nine in the afternoon

And your eyes are the size of the moon
You could 'cause you can so you do
We're feeling so good
just the way that we do
When it's nine in the afternoon

Your eyes are the size of the moon
You could 'cause you can so you do
We're feeling so good

Back to the street
Down to our feet
Losing the feeling of feeling unique
Do you know what I mean?

Back to the place
Where we used to say
Man it feels good to feel this way
Now I know what I mean

The I.V. and your hospital bed
This was no accident
This was a therapeutic chain of events

This is the scent of dead skin on a linoleum floor
This is the scent of quarantine wings in a hospital
It's not so pleasant
And it's not so conventional
It sure as hell ain't normal
But we deal, we deal

The anesthetic never set in and I'm wondering where
The apathy and urgency is that I thought I phoned in
It's not so pleasant.
And it's not so conventional
It sure as hell ain't normal
But we deal, we deal

The anesthetic never set in and I'm wondering where
The apathy and urgency is that I thought I phoned in
It's not so pleasant.
And it's not so conventional
It sure as hell ain't normal
But we deal, we deal

You've earned a place atop the ICU's hall of fame
The camera caught you causing a commotion on the gurney again

You're a regular decorated emergency
The bruises and contusions will remind me what you did when you wake
You've earned a place atop the ICU's hall of fame
The camera caught you causing a commotion on the gurney again

Is it still me that makes you sweat?
Am I who you think about in bed?
When the lights are dim and your hands are shaking as you're sliding off your dress?
Then think of what you did
And how I hope to God he was worth it.
When the lights are dim and your heart is racing as your fingers touch his skin.
I've got more wit, a better kiss, a hotter touch, a better fuck
Than any boy you'll ever meet, sweetie you had me
Girl I was it, look past the sweat, a better love deserving of
Exchanging body heat in the passenger seat?
No, no, no, you know it will always just be me

Let's get these teen hearts beating. Faster, faster
So testosterone boys and harlequin girls,
Will you dance to this beat, and hold a lover close?
So testosterone boys and harlequin girls,
Will you dance to this beat, and hold a lover close?

So I guess we're back to us, oh cameraman, swing the focus
In case I lost my train of thought, where was it that we last left off?
(Let's pick up, pick up)

Oh now I do recall, we were just getting to the part
Where the shock sets in, and the stomach acid finds a new way to make you get sick.
I hope you didn't expect that you'd get all of the attention.
Now let's not get selfish
Did you really think I’d let you kill this chorus?

Let's get these teen hearts beating. Faster, faster
So testosterone boys and harlequin girls,
Will you dance to this beat, and hold a lover close?
So testosterone boys and harlequin girls,
Will you dance to this beat, and hold a lover close?

Dance to this beat

I won't cut my beard and I won't change my hair
It grows like fancy flowers but it grows nowhere
My hair, my hair

If I could build my house just like the Trojan horse
I'd put a statue of myself upon the shelf
Of course, of course, of course

She's the smoke
She's dancin' fancy pirouettes
Swan diving off of the deep end
Of my tragic cigarette
She's steam
Laughing on the windowpanes
The never-ending swaying haze
Oh, that ever smiling maze
Oh, that ever smiling maze
Ballet

Everything's gone missing
I've lost more songs to floods
I can't prove this makes any sense but
I sure hope that it does
Perhaps
I was born with curiosity
The likes of those of old crows

Holidays

2006-12-25T03:31:20Z

Merry Christmas, Happy Holidays, and whatever that was applied to you by political correctness. I hope you have an enjoy time, a day which greed is not to be subdued. My all your wishes be bought and wrapped accordingly, may Yule times find you!

Here is a present, from me to you, a dick in a box from SNL

courtneynus @ 2006-10-29T07:47:00

2006-10-29T13:50:24Z

Title: "Bar Fight" 1/1
Word Count: 5988
Pairing : Bam/Ryan and Ryan/OC(female)
Rating: Hard R for language and extreme Cliché.
Summary: Cliché classic genderbending of Ryan Dunn, which could just be said of me just wanting to decribe her killer rack.

The bar scene was buzzing with voices, giggles, cheesy pick-up lines, clanging of water stained glasses, the corner T.V. of ignored headlines, and the blared out music. It was a alcoholics nirvana. The bar was lit in dimming, flickering reddish lights, singing in a calling of warm drinks in an equally lit atmosphere. The stools creaked in protest in shifting body weights that nursed heavy through parched lips of golden drink, only to giggle or chuckle in brief pausing of watering. The wooden walling and flooring were coated in various colored liquid, yellow to pinks, to whites and blacks, forming an ill looking rainbow of paints of sin. People were equally painted but with flushed cheeks, tangled hair that hands had run through one to many times, and tinted red from being currently courted by the opposite or even the same sex. The various photographs that had course dust and a less than appealing scent that floated thickly from the corner nook titled the bathrooms. Overflowing the counter was coasters and strong drinks, carbonates seeping to the top rippling nectar, rippling from the beats of dimming music and footfalls whether to the rhythm or of a course to find a seat. Ryan was happily taking in her common nightlife after filming environment.

She rocked herself back and forth as the drink sloshed in her stomach like an angry sea. She watched in little interest as her co-stars, her friends through moronic filming activities of their daily lives paraded around. Johnny was dancing on legs that swayed much like the tress seen through a spider web-scared windows, around the pool table he went with a tooth pick like lance. Bam was circling the table jeering at him, resting his drink against the lip of the table. She had to keep her ears open for when her best friend hit boredom he would direst some slurred comment her way. She would just nod to humor him. She kept an eye on Bam the most. Pontus was flagging around his barely hidden pride and his mock dance like that of a patriotic warrior. Wee-man and Preston sat to her right nursing their drinks through giggles and bickering, the stool under the latter of the two cried in protest more loudly than its wooden brethren. The most amusing characters underneath the buzzing, redneck porch sounding lights were that of the self proclaimed “Lady hunters.” Hindering like snakes on a forest floor, the tables and chairs of the bar were mere leaves of camouflage of their wife beaters, denim clad bodies, Steve-O and Novak stalking their prey with the stealth of horns tied to the bottom of their one shoed foot. The flooring boards bounced under their footfalls and cat calls directed all around the room, Ryan could only sit back and place the rim of her glass to her chapped lips, her savior.

Novak’s head was hung a tad low from his no shame no game walk and talk. The reason was due to the Novak look out time of five minutes of entering the bar and sealing the deal had passed. Steve-O on the other hand was not ready to give in just yet but was following Novak lead to Bam’s position, who was waiting for Johnny to hold his drink down long enough to play. Her gaze turned from the rapidly approaching, down hearted and sexual promise less Novak and giddy on the heels Steve-O to her left, for a slice of counter not sporting a glass. Pushing herself off the stool, with a bit of stumbling, leaving her empty glass of the slice of open bar. She made her way to the boys at the pool table. Walking she found out was harder than she thought. Her feet were heavy like clad in steel boots, her breasts rested stickily to her torso flesh under her black, logo-stamped shirt, her pants rose deep into her crouch and around her ankles, and her hair danced around her like a cotton cape. May be she should have stayed sitting, she hazily pondered. Pushing past the bodies and avoiding slipping of liquid stained wooden panels, Ryan took a stance near the middle of a conversing Bam, Novak, and giggling, stale smelling Steve-O.

“Right, there, see her? See has been given of the eye all night, I say you go over there and seal the deal. She is begging for it. Now go over there do what you need to do, and if you need the car just get the keys from me.” Bam was placing a calloused hand of the cheap cotton fabric of Novak’s shirt, both sets of eyes on a girl at the bar openly staring the two. Her jewelry was tight of her sickly wrists, her clothing was far to short and tight, her heels spilled out ill kept toes, and her hair was in need of her next crimson red dye job, and an apparent body of “begging for it.” Ryan scoffed. Novak with a new bounce in game turned, with one Steve-O less, his side comment of having to take care of something, heading toward the damp nook of the urinals. Novak grinned, nodding, slicking up his hair with the oils of his hands and rock his hips forward, to where the now fully turned around drunken fast company sat. Ryan could only stare until her eyes watered slightly for the Novak courtship swagger was painfully cheap.

“Real Casanova isn’t he?” Ryan tilted her head over her shoulder to where see met cobalt blue eyes shining with mirth or just a tad of alcohol. Bam was standing a full height from flare to eyeliner the watering down of beer seemed to take no effect on his appearance. Ryan was a little bit envious that flashed with the breezing heat for she knew she looked haggard. Ryan regards her best friend with a grin and a nod before regarding Novak again. The man of her childhood was working is magic. He blocked her view of his fast prey with his leaning against the bar counter but she knew by the giggling from the corner Novak was going to get something, if anything.

“Wanna another drink?” Bam questioned in a slur, pressing the rim of the exterior dirt glass to his equally glossy, overhead light catching lips. Ryan watched his throat move to the motion of his swallows. She watched as the glass parted from his lips with a smack, the froth smudging his upper lip. She politely declined though she was never one to turn down booze her sobriety was in an upward need. Bam rested his drink back to his mock coaster of the pool table lip, never turning instead extending his arm back in a sloppy, unsteady motion. Ryan tilted her head until her chin nuzzled her shoulder socket shirt fabric to look out for a barmaid, thankfully none were in sight. Their bounteous giggles of refills in an outline of the far side of the wall. Ryan was happy to momentarily stop Bam’s drinking like a fish.

She grinned and turned her body to face Bam, who she now realized was far to close to her curves. Her grin faded like globs of glue off her chin to her chest to her filching, rocking of her heels legs to the floor, to mingle with the other stains. She hated this Bam. This Bam, was a drunken Bam, a Bam she had little to no control over, where his words spilled like the beer that was drowned down moments ago. Bam’s eyes were in a haze, his teeth sparkling white pearls in a smug grin and his body language that of a hopeless seductive drunk, definitely the worse Bam.

He gave a short borderline chuckle that up lifted to a hiccup at the end as he used Ryan’s shoulder as a vertical pole to support his weight. The fabric around the fingernail clawed gripped Bam tightened uncomfortably but she was used to it. It was like a bad case of the flu or head splinting headache, you knew how to cure it but it didn’t ease the pain. Willing her legs stable, pushing back to twist in her jeans around her groin, Ryan gave an internally heavy drawn-out sigh before getting really for the same conversation that came with every drunk, mildly horny or man in charge Bam. Both of them were promised a might-have-been’s fairytale relationship. Back then she was a young girl fighting for a new identity. Back them he was a boy who was going to be the one of the million to make it, to be someone in his field of passion. They were meant to have a house with the fence, the parents of the patter of shoeless chubby feet against flooring, and ever loving couple of never dying libidos. That was to be Brandon and Ryan, Bam and his Random Heroine, the future Margera couple, the couple who did live happily ever after. That was until Ryan had to fuck it up, Bam ranted in one violent drunken rage in which not even Ryan could calm him. She could only apologize to those heartbroken sixteen-year-old eyes that haunted the back her memories in these situations. She only had the apologies and might-have-been’s in these musky, ill lit, boozed up, and sexually worked up scenes. The apologies and the might-have-been’s were her only lifelines.

“All he has to do is spread those pussy shit pickup lines and they spread ‘m like a piss break,” he said slurring in-between yet laughing half-heartily after his fragmenting of his words. Back to Novak, Ryan noted, which lead to relations, which lead to . . . Ryan cringed. “ Got no car, house, money or his own fucking cloths and gets them, probably by name dropping me.” Yet again no hostility but Ryan could pick up on the want of affection Bam secretly, no openly adored, and a drunk Bam was worse. Worse than an affectionate, brew smelling Bam was that he commonly in this state did two things out of habit, one which was only when in Ryan presence. Ryan would approach Bam in crowds to be humiliated by him pillowing his cheek against her chest, and the other thing a drunk Bam did? Biting. Soon Ryan found her breasts cradling a human head that nuzzled twin flushed hued cheeks against her cheap fabric shirt. Bam was leaning waterily on her, light yet the ripples of harsh, scratchy breathing took note of his presence.

“Ry?” Bam questioned, as if that fact that his was resting between her two flesh mounds didn’t sate her nearness to his being. Ryan’s eyes shifted across the room before regarding Bam, a half-asleep Johnny, leading against his pole, Pontus talking with a newly reappeared Steve-O in another musky corner, Preston and Wee-man still laughing and Novak still a smutty romance magician. She found it safe to respond to the hanging calling, a hm and nothing more. “ We’re all going to this club after shooting, there’s this band. I’m thinking about signing them in the company.” Ryan knew this was nothing more than a plea, which she would be abandoned at an equally crappy bar table while a newly sober Bam would be gushing over the European talent.

“I can’t,” she started slowly. She wasn’t that prideful to admit that she was scared. While a sober Bam copped a fit of slightly clamorous shots and hand gestures, a drunk Bam could bite, punch and puppy dog whimper to get what he wanted, and sometimes not in that order. “ I have plans . . . with Rachel. We’re both going to some lame paint store, she wants to add to the bedroom with more “color,” whatever the fuck that means.” She ended with a joke played off her own gender, of her not being womanly in tuned. Bam didn’t catch the joke. Ryan panicked and tensed as Bam’s back went ridged, his fists locked in tight grasps that could break his paper thin flesh, all that the name that glided over Ryan’s lips. The name that alined and curved in a sort of affection to it. It was a name of a person not apart of the CKY crew, not the Jackass team, not in the camera/technological shit party, or a family member of odd natural habits and behaviors, or even a lyrical appeasing rock star. No a stranger’s name it was. The background sound of the people, the blurs of colorful passing people and the dimming roasting lights and the light coos of the breeze outside were deaf to Ryan’s painfully alert ears. Her chest gave a painful squeeze even as the weight of Bam’s head lifted from her breastplate. The lingering smell of the suds of the washed out shampoo of Bam’s morning shower was her only smell. The twisted curls of disgusted lips that gleamed with beer or saliva were her eye’s rapture. Bam was at full height. His outline of form sent the rest behind in a background of watercolor vision to Ryan. She didn’t flutter foot to foot anymore but held her ground, if Bam saw fear he would feed off it for his amusement. But fuck she was terrified.

“Her, her, what does she want? Christ Ry, you don’t even hang out with us anymore! She is taking all your time, all the time you spent with us, it’s gone! Its all fucking gone! You don’t drink with us, you don’t want to go to skate demos, hell, Ryan you blow off shit to go see her fucking parents!” Ryan’s heart shouted in outrage, her lip pulled back in a curl but she never spoke. Bam’s frame heightened much like the snakes he fear so, his eye aflame with a passion of betrayal. He chest was out, his clothes tightened in the right places to make a fan swoon in a hand-clasped sigh. Bam made himself in emphasis of attention, what he always wanted. He made her notice him and only him but unfortunately, as always it won’t last much like his anger drunk buzz.

Bam wobbled to her side but the wobbling was just as intimating as his current persona. He was close to her side. His exhales hitting her cheek and the rise of his chest encasing her arm and brushing her breast. Ryan payed no mind, only her eyes focused little to the enraged face, the hues of his cheekbones, and the taunt veins in his neck. She could feel the oxygen of her last gasp of air choking her, like a final breath until diving into the unknown, sun forgotten depths of the sea. Her eyes swallowed her face, her lips slightly parted and her world in front of her in a blur, the only of the figure to her side. She was dying. She concluded.

“She can’t do for you what I can. It’s not natural, not normal, she can’t give you normal. I could, we could be what we were meant to be. Fuck, we could be the next Phil and Ape, but I let myself go. Please, Ry, please.” His warm pants tickled the shell of Ryan’s ear. His last statement flicked his tongue in a plea that it came dangerously close to her lobe. The highlights of the lights cupped his face down to the flash of flesh before being cut of viewing by his shirt. The warmth gave him innocence though the words that flowed through his mouth weren’t. Ryan’s heart caved in from the “not natural” part of Bam’s aliment of words of hate, of desperation. She knew Bam was lying. He wasn’t homophobic but an affectionate Bam was on the prowl. He was hungry, hungry for the prey that was promised to him, the only reason she thought to be his pursuit of her. Ryan could feel a choking sense of lies from her own mentality.

“Bam . . .” That was all she said. That all she had say with that tone. She pleaded in rebuttal, a plea for him to stop. He was breaking her, and he knew it.

Bam pulled away as if burn, invisible third-degree burns scorching his skin to a light sizzle that could only be felt by Bam. He pulled back his weight to the heel of his black and white, slightly scoffed Audio shoes, the floor crying out in a watery squeak in rebuttal. Bam’s lower back gave a dull thud at him hitting the cheap pine of the pool table, the balls goggling from their green carpeted rest briefly before resettling. His face in an expression that made her heart twisted more than one to many times. Like a faded memory of a tatty old flick his face, his facial pullback was in a lock. A musty scent of old washed over her in remembrance of when she came face to face with that look, it was like a closed fist punch to the gut. She could feel that lingering sense of being punched several years back never left her. That feeling had rested its knuckles against her naval flesh to wait, and when upon the timing to pull back and strike again, until she was breathless and their knuckles bleeding.

“How could you betray me, you always betray me, you . . .” Bam sputtered off at the end, the word bitch was left to hang in the air. Ryan wasn’t offended, she had no room to be. “For Jesse at first when I wanted to be your best friend, when I met you first, when you didn’t know anyone at school. For Knoxville, when I was your best friend after I won on Jesse I have to deal with this shit again. You go to his side after he comes back, ruin my fucking Hummer, and shit. For your random bitches, for a random shitty cunt, when we were young it was to be me. Me, damn you asshole, me! I hadn’t had a chance, not you fucking chance to prove myself, I could have but you couldn’t fucking wait for me! You ran from me to some whore, I was too fucking young to understand but knew you had screwed over my future. Fuck you, fuck you!” He screamed until hoarse. His pitch in volume was so coarse that she thought his vocal cords may be ripped and caused his face to a hue with internal bleeding. She felt prying eyes but when she looked around no one was looking in their direction. All still drinking, all still borderline comatose drunk, all still sitting with useless chatter, all laughing and looking for sexual encounters for the sheets at home, all involved with themselves, all couldn’t hear them under the lights and the glasses. She was thankful.

She could only stare, that was all she could do. Her staring unnerved Bam, and it was apparent, his swaying and harshened breathing dead give ways. Streaks of lights in his background reminded her of the footage from “Haggard,” and the same sorrowful, dysfunctional relationships of the movie. The lights soaking his pale skin tone bathing him in golden orange, his shirt loosening and tightening with his chest’s movements, his shoes knocking against the leg of the pool table and his face in waiting impatiently. She gave him a flat look of dead eyes. She had to be dead not to melt into him. He had the same thought. Bam stood there pondering. How could she be doing this to him? What does her cunt of the month have instead of him? He could give her things she can’t. He pondered, he wondered, he begged for the knowledge not knowing that he milled over the same questions every time he got to that degree of drunk, and every time she was around at that degree.

It was an overload for Bam’s buzzed brain.. His mind was soaked like a sponge, filled to the scalp with alcohol. Propelling his body in a forceful push off Bam took to his feet in a movement of a newborn mammal. His arms went out to steady him, his only pole of balance. His head was lower in a vomiting hanging position giving Ryan a full view of his locks, of the scar of his flip into Evil Jared’s shitty “lake.” Bam still in a swaying of sea legs couldn’t steady himself and fell forward into waiting arms. Bam breathed heavily, his cheek in blush hue resting against a calm exhaling and inhaling chest that smelled of sweat, stale bodily earth and a hint of cleaning fabric. He closed his eyes in a burning wake of restlessness or the burning of premature tears in brimming corners of eyes. Ryan didn’t even look down into the body warp in her links of fairly thin yet unfeminine toned arms of pores leaking booze. Bam pushed off in unbalanced power, confused, hurt, betrayed, and drunk didn’t mix for him to equal out his power. His nails clung to her shirt clothing a second longer only to come out with his pull and pushing out with a harsh amount of strength. Ryan stumbled back on too thankfully greatly undamaged reflexed sneaker clad feet. Her body stayed in the position of being pushed, her stomach curved in, and her rest her body overhanging it, she gave Bam an awaiting look of his next rash action.

It didn’t take long. “I need to . . . I need to get out of here, I need to leave,” with that Bam encircled Ryan left side in a brush of stale air. Before heading to the flimsy wooden bar doors, Bam’s hands were encased in deep burying of his slink, velvet like shine paint’s pocket. Ryan’s eyes, though strained to the point her pupils, if possible hurt, locked of the wriggling fingers in those pockets. She stared as the fabric creased and emptied, churned like the seas, like her alcohol, fizzing stomach in a mixture of acids, Bam’s fingers locking in his pockets, Bam’s finger lacing in a clawing grip into her diaphragm, metaphorically. Her hearing was back to normal to the useless beer babble and bar scene atmosphere until she heard it. It was a jiggling, a snickering of metal. It was keys. Her heart locked and her feet edged forward in a minimum of invisible friction grasping the soles of her shoes at Bam’s semi-turned, downward gazing back as he found what he needed. Bam flicked his hair in a cheesy “Bay Watch,” or some blonde haired, blue-eyed stereotype was he refocused. He had his keys in trembling, intoxicated man’s palm. In a swirling shadow Ryan watched him go. A cape of rich royal purple fashion encircling him, his pants tightening and breathing out in creases of leather or some other shiny pant material, knowing Bam’s unconcern of cash in could be fucking gold, his shoes hitting like drums on floorboards in her eardrums, and his arms and hair moving to the pace he set, his keys dangling in limp fingers.

She choked. He was planning to drive. Ryan heaved her tried, boozed up body forward, past the limp noodle entrancing bodies of the worn out beats, past the uplifted arms in a cheer or nonverbal call on another fill to the rim frothy drink, past them all for Bam were nearing the shabby oak doors. He was escaping her reach. His body readying to be hit with warm midnight summer fresh, copper smelling air, to the vegetation of unkept proportions, to the gravel of skidding feet and the lingering foamy scent of vehicle purring and engine oil, out of her reach.

No. She caught him with the tips of her fingers felt like sandpaper against the slick fabric of Bam’s whispering jacket. Gripping his arm muscles in a controlling hold, Ryan’s chest pressed against his back to hold him in place. His body jerked under her touch but that wasn’t the focus her attention, it was his throat. Bam’s Adam’s apple bobbled much of that of a fishing rod’s bobble on the paper thin surface of water, of a stormy sea. “Bam, you can’t drive,” Ryan stated in a mock tone of Ape’s commanding like pleading of ill ideas of amusement of her son’s sadistic humor point-of-view. “Your drunk. You’re angry, I understand you don’t what to . . . Bam . . . Bam?” Ryan only had a view of Bam’s chin and cheekbones that were normally winter pale fresh but now, now a sea-green mist, his throat growing taunt in willing of pushing back whatever want to escape.

Bam’s body gradually caved inward, as some invisible force of gravity was directly placed in the core of his abdominal muscles. Ryan laced an arm around his curving lower back, her ashy, slightly dried out arm flesh raspy against the horribly expensive material. Her other arm rested against the quivering stomach. Bam slouched forward further that could be a direct cause and effect of him turning an odd shade of sickly green. He made shallow swallowing sounds of contracting throat muscles, protesting thickly from their enlarging push against his thin throat flesh. Ryan leaned inward as if she could successfully diagnose Bam’s illness though it was painfully apparent that he had a vomiting future. A hand clasped her abdominal encircled arm. Nails dug harshly into her skin in a panic of knowing what was going to happen but not what to do about it. Ryan focused off the crescent moon scaring on her hued skin but more to the pale knuckles and shaking frame of her best friend. His skin shook in trembles off his form and he hunched further into himself but Ryan didn’t take immediate aid of her friend without order.
With ashy lips he spoke, drool heavily spilling in the corners of his mouth in a prelude to tragedy. Eyes that quivered much like the rest of his body, in dilating, iris clouding from sickness, Bam’s eyes locked on her own. She closed so near that they shared the same stale air, the same personal space and the same distress but she listened to the ill air flowing from those to be worshiped lips.

“ Ryan, I think . . . I . . . oh god . . . I-am-gonna-be-sick.”

Ryan took control. She was one to adapt to any situation, the level-headed sense of thought of questioning or speaking out against what seemed to be a golden chuckle worthy idea to others. Basically she was the smartest dumb ass out of a group of jackasses. Ryan gripped the hem of Bam’s pants to gain a grasp of aiding her suddenly taut, popping and locking arms to carry the majority of Bam’s weight. She tossed the noodle limp arm of Bam’s across her buckled down shoulders, his wrist limp on her arm socket but fingers sickly gripping the fibers of her cloth. The grip didn’t last long as Ryan raised her hand to grip the limp one, the grip was soft but strong. The grasp reminded Ryan of the whole hand grasp of her nephew to her sole index finger. It was heartbreakingly reality of weakness, which was how she would but if she was a fucking poet. With a lean-to in place of his best friend, his female partner in crime and a source of steady hold on for a ready start, the two focused in on the destination needed. Shuffling at a pace that would be a mildly sober person would say slow but to a drunk a jack rabbit sprit, Ryan and Bam were a sight to be seen. Bam’s toes were turned was that they hit the oncoming ridges of wooden panels, his shoe bottom completely off the floor. Bam’s head fixed in a limp mock vomiting stance, his hair in a curtain of satin black that were swinging off the play of gravity. His stomach was caved in with a punched style and his clothing seemed to fix him a little less but the sick tint never left his skin, and the choking bubble in his throat never stop bobbing of release.

Ryan was commonly shifting her gaze to studying Bam back to the piss-ridden nook of the corner. Ryan just making out the hanging signs of gender on the equally stained doors of the floors and the corner tops. She was buckling under the extra weight of another body but she made head way, commonly making reassuring small talk to the unresponsive Bam. Her profile was equally haggard in drapery hair of blonde, her skin a tint of dawn hue, and her pants getting hit with a steady dip of Bam’s prelude to sickness drool. They were a matched pair of bar profiles. Dodging the tables, which were clipped and sent to jiggle on their coasters, past the slurring bodies of solid gel with there flow that one would think liquid made up 90% of their body, and past the bar’s decor, old photographs of past thin forms smiling and shaking hands and the audio speakers of busted bass. Ryan pulled them into the deciding turn where Bam was to . . . relieve himself.

She stopped in the barely personal worthy nook that was a fork of female or male needs. Out of basic instinct her left foot pivoted to the direction where a pair of circled ended rectangles, a big show of obesity skirt, and circular head on nonexistent shoulders but the slight nudge died half way. Her toes curled and her stomach dropped in a pulling to match the disgusted frown she wore so beautifully like her loose leave clothing. Moaning, it hit her ear in a muffle calling from the door’s closed off barrier, filtering only the highest pitches through. Growling she shifted her weight and Bam’s to the opposite dividing point where an equally pictured sign of gender. Muttering about how bathrooms were for pissing not for railing was sulking on dark, low hanging around her. She used her foot in a quick kick to open the door with a thunder clap bang. Her kicking action caused Bam to moan, shaking, and slushing his sickness in a blender of bodily organ casing. She gave a quick glaze at her companion knowing that their time was running out. Quicken pace of the two sets of feet, only one truly working the new flooring nearly caused Ryan to tripped over her own feet. Cursing she looked down, quickly disgusted by the sight. Urine littered the ground, staining the tile grout, the small tiles were mismatched like children’s coloring, the sinks had rusted stains and leaked soft beads of droplets of brown tinted water, the urinals and the door less or broken off the hinges of the stalls were painted and mark with “been here,” and various “Fuck,” “Sucks,” and “Cunts,” with odd vomit color tones. She was nearly sent sprawling to the filth ridden flooring has Bam left her side and in a flash of black and purple ran to the nearest stall.

She watched him gripped in yellow toilet lip, his knees hitting dirty brown tiles, and his head bent to project his sick with less that accurate aim. She took in the seen objectively, as objectively she could while standing in a rotten corpse wafting smell hitting her nostril’s tiny hair’s in tickling illness. She walked to his side. She crouched to his level gaining what little room in the flimsy walls and scanning with dispassionate eyes of that of watching licking flames of the phrases that made a mother blush. Her knees popped and her elbows rested oddly on her knees has her gaze flickered in the equally displeasing sight of Bam’s stomach contents and the sides of the toilet of white and brown tones. Raising her head, she was met to see Bam who was staring at her, his head resting of a tilt to meet her. His mouth of slightly opened, his lips plump with acid abuse and his body profile totally in the pitiful position of still gripping the toilet lip as if a lifeline. He moaned in inner pain before swaying of his shaking knees, unsettled on the ridge of the flooring.

He began to fall to his side where only met him was diseased walls. He never met the wall as Ryan once again embraced him in a hold of a mother to an infant just left her once swollen womb. Resting his head close to her in a position that had placed just for Bam in seemed, she cradled him had he moan and mumbled in slurs that were incoherent. Their skins melded in a sticky, tape like meeting, their clothing of rich gothic buttoned clothing to cheap 99% percent cotton, to lower class jean material and the expensive black tight, only to cut of the meeting at the knees has their legs bent to support their body weight. Pillowed on her chest, he nuzzled in her chest blindly. Ryan didn’t know if were out of a pervert manly instinct or for sickly comfort all sought out for. For children sought comfort from their mother’s medicine know-how or their father’s rough, course patting head worthy hands or even a person with the mere title M.D. or Doctor at the begging of their name. She didn’t care. She never did in these meetings, she would hold on, she would be that comfort, if only for the while. She would be April, the mother the home’s doctor. She would be Phil, that fatherly shadow at the doorway watching their children from afar. She would be her their shared peers, Novak, Dico, Rake, they all for the manly moral support. She would even be Missy, the arms of comfort around his torso, the lips of his sore ones, and even the body to shoulder to lean on. She would never be them when he was sober, never the comfort that came with Missy that a man and woman shared through sex, that meeting of messy liquids and various holes.

She sat there, on that dirty flooring, staring blankly off into the forest of wisps of slightly curled hair. She found that she could stay here forever, past the smell, the horrid landscape, and past the people out no doubt not even taking note of their absence. She could wait and hope that she was normal, to give Bam what was promise to him in a way. She could hold him in her arms, encased in folds of flesh in a platonic hold in her point-of-view. She could stay dispassionate to the world, let the time pass to decades and yet her wealthier away like the stone. She just wanted Bam to know that she had equal trouble letting him go. She was trying hard to do what was right, too not lead Bam on, to take what Missy truly wanted. Ryan only wanted to make Bam, no, herself with her guilt feel better. Burying her nose to inhale the deep smell of shampoo, and to listen to Bam’s soft gurgling snores as his body shut down from his body fatigue. She held him there, surrounded by a reality that she pleaded to for a pausing, for a rewind at life. Back to the chubby cheeked youth, the baby fat laced arms and legs, and the short of weathered down life they currently were, she wanted a second chance. No, not a second chance she wanted a change, for she couldn’t relive that heart breaking cobalt blues when she confessed. Her apologies and might-have-been’s were all she had in this playing field just back then as well. Tightening her hold, causing Bam to shuffle in her grip but settle back down. She spoke. She spoke in the layers of satin black, to the stale unresponsive air, the leaking sinks, the pooled up vomit, the mock notepaper stall walls, to anyone not there.

“ I been trying hard to do what’s right, to show how much I love you by letting you go. But I could stay here all night.”

Sorry for degrading you Dunn, and viewers of my poor writing skills. I want to do more of female!Dunn in real situations of the Real Male Dunn's life, but I want to which are to be desired. Comments are free crack for the soul. Hope you enjoyed - courtneynus

courtneynus @ 2006-10-15T07:13:00

2006-10-15T13:10:54Z

Title: Gravity of Love
Author: courtneynus
Fandom: Kingdom Hearts
Pairing: Riku/Sora
Spoilers: All of Kingdom Heart II and Kingdom Hearts I, some of Kingdom Heart Chain of Memories

Sora is rather out spoken, confined, devoted, and selfless when it comes to aiding those in need, those who stumble across his path, of finding his said light, are quickly eyed with worth of becoming a friend, even though reunions may be minimal. Many people seem to take his free sprit of kindness and goofy smiles as a sign that hovers over his bubbly head, flashing that of an imbecile. Sora trusts his heart to lead him, following the road of crumpled dreams and building evil which leads him to where he needs to go, only asking people among this mass of debris if they happened to see what or more likely whom he is seeking. Sora’s destiny of protection lies along with his personality of being the chosen Keyblade master, a welder of freeing darkened hearts from bodiless beings that churn darkness even in the purest heart. Sora had led a simple life on an island that never promised him anything except for an arrogant sense of smaller living where everyone knows the other, and the seas seem to stretch like blue-green rolling meadows and seagulls make mock butterflies, and he never questioned a better life, by himself that is. Throughout life he came to grow only to become stronger, to progress through life laughing alongside his childhood friends that he was worth the life given to him, but like many adolescence beings he fell victim to elder desires, to prove he was brave to take the plunge blindly into the murky sense of nowhere. Sora wanted to follow his idol, Riku, to a new world with their female companion Kairi, to an empty promise that escaped Riku’s lips in a wanton unseeable hope.

Riku is a person with very few emotions, they seem to repeat themselves in patterns, aloofness, amusement, desire, and self-hatred or disappointment which is later seen, but is not apathetic. Riku is often spoken highly of by many of his peers, a prodigy in fighting skills and rather intelligent yet he at a early age focuses his ever seemingly ticking mind to a sole goal, a goal that he plays over and over in a motto of insatiable travel off his fate, the place of his literal destiny, ironically named Destiny Island. Riku’s popularity may have been a source of his ego, leading him to taunt Sora offhandedly in amusement to see his flustered face or to hear the giggle peel from Kairi. Riku’s behavior toward his best friends seems that he loves shocking them, Sora into a babble of blushing denial, a game he plays ever so often and confesses as a joke when Sora beats him in a rivalry set innocent game of who is better. Riku has an unsaid authority of being the leader of the three friends, his suggestions are often picked to be the best and his rare opening of his mouth with wise words captures his companion’s ears, and yearning widened eyes ofadmiration. Riku’s discussions of fleeing the island, with serious comment of never seeing their parents again said in an offhand, aloof attitude foreshadows that his choices may not be the best in well being.

~~~Riku: Once we set through, we might not be able to come back. We may never see our parents again. There's no turning back. But this may be our only chance. We can't let fear stop us! I'm not afraid of the darkness! ! ~~~

Riku’s ignorance of planning ahead, pushes his instinct from his brain, past his growing blackened heart to his gut. This is always right because he is Riku and with that lone establishment of thought is and what makes Sora and Kairi follow him like sheep to the slaughter. Riku chooses the path for now and not for later, which leads to his demise as Riku the idol to all.

Riku and Sora have spent their childhood together, adventuring under Riku’s, even in such a young age, one year elder wisdom. They searched the dubbed hidden place where a birthplace of future jealous and darkness would be born, intoxicating the innocence that found it. Seeing the beast that roar and moaned behind the foliage out of their child’s curiosity, to find nothing more than entrapped winds that curled and bounced back and forth in the carven walls, this was the finding of the opening of doors, where Riku’s unhealthy obsession to sail past those ever ongoing blue-green hills of watery liquid blades of grass to a better place came to a full circle. Both boys work together making every inch of the island a short rowboat ride from the main island known to them, and when everything was known Riku grew to seek a new place even more, he got his wish in the form of a mysterious girl that rolled in with the tide. Kairi was the key, the knowledge of something being out there for Riku, she was also another factor to tease Sora about, to impress the outsider became a daily routine. They had been with each other for so long, probing Riku’s ego to put Sora in his place of being a follower with constant fits of rivalry, bickering that was followed by laughs commonly on Sora’s behalf or pouting. Sora fought with other peers, and could come secondary to becoming best but it was common knowledge that no one could bet Riku, Sora is the following groupie of Riku, a mini Riku never to surpass the original one. With that known Sora never had to think truly on his own. Yet, as time passed and Sora himself wanting to prove himself as an equal but with Riku’s words that wounded his pride, that he masked by pouting, but when the time came to prove to be strong to stand alone with Riku’s constant guiding hand, Sora failed.

Sora chooses to fight to grasp Riku’s hand when his idol fell into the darkness, while Riku stood there smiling as the darkness he egged on, swelled in a pool at Riku’s feet, committed to the thought of leaving his prison surrounded by water. Riku faded into darkness and Sora was left to the light, alone, this is a sickening factor played over and over through the series, Sora was forced to stand without his friends at his side, without his idol in a grasp.

The bond between the childhood friends could be lightly packaged as an idol and the person who idolizes him yet as the series thickens the overflow of words and action’s literally make the platonic box burst from the inside. Just as their home sports its title, both Sora and Riku have a destiny of staying at each other’s side, Sora to outreach his struggling hand to Riku’s once outstretched hand, now recoiled hidden in the darkness in shame and shunning guilt. Both boys have mirrored destinies yet the glass that reflects the other’s said life to the other, but the boys fight to hold the other’s hand through the hardship and the painful events that cut them, especially Riku, like shards of glass, their barrier while apart, one in light and one in darkness.

Sora is a hero that was never meant to be, a substitute, the Keyblade’s alternative user, if anything Sora is a secondary hero. Sora is an abbreviated adaptation of Riku, not in the connotation of physical features but he has the attitude to do distinguished things and unlike Riku he seems to be empathic to those who play no function in his life, strangers. Both boys have calibers of a freewheeling hero, fearless to face a monster, impregnable minded to struggle with what is believed in and the pooling amounts of courage to face the iniquity where illume doesn’t even ventures. Sora’s humility is what set him detached from Riku, Sora knows what it is to compensate and what is unethical there is a bold outline between the two, black and white, and he never questions it, while Riku oppugned the middle ground. The Keyblade selecting him to be its master was a thought Sora scarcely wanted to absorb and determine pleasing, for it would make him step out into the limelight, a distinguished persona Sora would verbally say he wouldn’t be bothered by when in circumference of Riku but internally he would be aware of this being the curbing of his potential.

His morals of assisting always seemed to rear its head in the game, while many heros would ill-advisedly burst down the door, assault the opponent, and relieve the distressed, Sora’s chains of investigation are what makes him the silver medaled hero in a sense. He is a warrior of pure amaranthine self-command and heart, crippling fits of sorrowfulness do not seem to keep the boy degraded for there is always another door, some other way. His habit of butting in and making everything his business to bushel problems could be related to him seeking an equal standard to Riku throughout his life. He is never about to oppugn the sapience of elders or even a younger input, his open-minded conduct and submissive personality to be dominated could be traced back into following Riku, Riku is Sora’s progress to a hero, he is the fuel to his heart of taking the gradation to the side and out of Riku’s overshadow, into garnering esteem by his peers that customarily say after any achievement that Riku could leisurely do it.

Sora’s concerns of the future have no play except when presented, to a thick essay of questioning there is a simple answer that most every other person would use as a detail in their answering. His naive behavior is facetious at times for him to be the knight in shining armor with a posture of a liberated emotional stated minor, but his reinforcement through aiding gives him support, a potency that would clearly overwhelm those who rather abide nonpersonal and haste headlong to the conclusion origin, an organization that would win them the gold but Sora the silver and thecheers of the crowd behind him. That is what Sora is, a lower-ranking hero hiding in the fading shade of the corrupted gold, Riku.

Riku, though he is an invariant blockading through the kickoff game for Sora, is not an individual who can be assorted as a villain. An antihero at best suits Riku as his integral thought litigates to going to fresh worlds. Even since childhood, lamentable to state, he was voiced his yearning for something out there, for him to expose.

Riku was the primary burden barer for the encumbrance that known as the Keyblade. Riku didn’t have the nonvolatilizable personality to turn away from a hope in the mold of the wickedness to get him where he required to go. Riku had a self-importance far too mature for a quest of assaying, Sora luckily never matured throughout his travel, emotionally he was a well-grounded, well-rounded soul.

Riku serves his function of being the forceful kid to look up to, with features that age handsomely with time, impertinent and quick-witted, and an endowment progression. Riku was heading to be olympian. He gains all the tending of his peers of being the unassailable, his male peers wanting to trounce him in combat senselessly. Through the warm smiles Riku incessantly brings up his goals, it becomes more apparent that the thought is engrossing him along with the darkness. Remaining aloof and imperturbable, standing casual by establishing orders, Riku plays a persona that once he gets what he wants, he will certainly turn fickle to protect it, to drive it on others to assume it, for he came up with the design and no one had yet to issue a challenge to his dominance as the island’s prodigy.

Riku could be said to be a tad emotionally evanescent by his frequent atrocious emotions that repeat later in the game, accumulative of his friends, especially Sora, obsessed on a single motto, and piercingly jealous. His superiority hinges back on Sora and Kairi listening to his ideas blindly, this security of being a distinguished power fueled the dreadful emotions of being betrayed. This maintained balance that soaked into their teenage years being disrupted was likened of sending Riku off in a egotistical merit. With Riku’s superbia raising with his confidence of total dependancy, he begins to haunt on new details of betrayal of being replaced in Sora’s world. The egging on over his shoulder by motherly demon Maleficent pushing malice thoughts, Riku grows to regenerate his pride by means of defeating Sora and finding Kairi first. Riku upon finding his new worlds, was healed with a band aid over an invariant bleeding, bubbling wound, only to be ripped off prematurely before it was healed completely by Sora’s replacement of him in his eyes. This wound, now undressed, was left to fester in the airs of whispered words of him being essential, the wound bleed with Riku’s sanity. The wound healed though, as just like he put his hand out to Sora, Sora did for him. Riku refused the hand in disgrace as Sora did in dread of the darkness, put with a force tug Riku returned to the place damn near of to that a hell, but to Riku now a heaven. He probably wishes he never left.

Kairi, Riku and Sora are in the tangles of infatuated love, twisted into a triangle, running in ever which way, Kairi giggling with tinged flirting, Sora babbling in a blushing boyish clueless fashion, and Riku putting himself in-between the two extemporaneously with nonchalant remarks ending with himself sharing a Papou fruit, the fruit rumored to interweave those who share it with together permanently and not always Kairi .

The triangle between the trio runs as Sora usually as the centerpiece. Riku presumptively has a mock puppy love on Kairi. He troubled with her well-being at best of his emotions actually. Riku and Sora were best friends scene very young age , discovering, and attached at the hip as we see in flashbacks in the game yet when a “foreigner,” in the form of a girl found at sea was found Sora’s attention to was Riku sidetracked. To have such a profound friendship of only two, bring flotsam and jetsam to the island’s villagers, and once again it can be assumed that Riku was Sora’s role model, only to be interrupted. This upset would clearly affect the person who was handled like a paragon more than the person who idolizes.

Riku is that of always receiving attention, as I talked about earlier on, to have a newcomer suddenly take away his most faithful would certainly be stymieing on Riku emotional aspect of being insecure in loyalty and bourgeois young man in the future. Riku seems to be utilizing Kairi as leverage to get what he wants, if Sora wants to focal point on Kairi he can but Riku will win her first, only to throw her aside and recollect Sora’s adoration for himself, for Kairi he cannot have. Possessiveness and jealousy are common nature for Riku, after being the aim of all Sora’s passionate emotions. It is raw thought to want to repossess that which is lost. Observed, loved and required is what Riku desires but he doesn’t incriminate Kairi however if she is going to interfere, Riku will use her to his own vantage.

With that Riku’s involvement in Kairi, even when missing is evanescing, this quote below explains the concept I am trying to explain.

Ex. 1 – “I thought she was with you,” Riku remarks upon finding Sora in Traverse Town in the 3rd district, a flippant manner of a serious topic of a friend’s whereabouts.

Riku draws attention to himself by means of rivalry, so when his endeavors to get Kairi’s attention he is attracting Sora’s as well, Riku is a being settled by his competition and friendship with Sora, this unrefined rivalry, is a major part of Riku’s personality and is what he uses to stimulate Sora. Love is complicated, ne?

Kairi passim the series seems to distribute a not-so-friendly attachment to Riku, not really concerned for his whereabouts, condition or him at all. At first Kairi is an unreflective friend to Riku as he was to her, until darkness set him back in place. Her world seems to be of that awaiting for Sora. Kairi in the game makes rather agitating jokes, ending with a just kidding giggle and sprints off. Kairi remarks that she and Sora should run off together and to leave Riku behind. Sora upon hearing this has a moderate shocked face, his eyes broadening from relaxing in the claim of the sound of a typical island soundtrack of roaring waves and swaying palm trees too closely engrossing his face. Kairi has undertones of compassion for Riku when she gets older. She comprehends his leaving and implores him not to leave in Kingdom Hearts 2. When he is shamed by his corporal form, she is not the one who puts Riku back at their side. Once agin it was Sora who pulled Riku across the glass and watched Sora from behind.

Riku and Sora’s relationship has two factors that are entreating to being a building block for a romance, rivalry and friendship.

The first building block is well instituted with the first game ands is a darker setting of a relationshi, Riku being needy and Sora being an unknown love sake due. Throughout the beginning days of pulling weight of supplies and extra furnishes for the raft the trio was building, the group gathered typically on an islet not too far from the main, looking at the set sunning, they would discuss future plans. Never once did Sora interrogate Riku when relaxing against a curved tree trunk, bathing the sun’s dying fingers of rays, Sora had excecate faith in Riku not cognizing Riku was going by wrong means.

Sora’s maneuvering of a dumb card in the beginning of the game by not making himself in-depth in the details of their escapade. This omitted Riku to presume that the path leading to the darkness was chasten. Sora in his trust didn’t agnize Riku’s passionate deliveries, he answering with a common rebuttals of moronic behavior. This idolization lead to Riku couldn’t do any impairment of their journey, that this was an adventure and fun journey. This was the last mistake of Sora’s part was the commencing of the dark themes that began to weave in their affinity.

Ex.

Riku: Well, I haven't really thought about it. It's just . . . I've always wondered why we're here on this island. If there are any other worlds out there, why did we end up on this one? And suppose there are other worlds . . . then ours is just a little piece of something much greater. So we could have just as easily ended up somewhere else, right?

Sora: I don't Know

Riku: Exactly. That's why we need to go out there and find out. Just sitting here won't change a thing. It's the same old stuff. So let's go.

The single person that seems that have Riku’s undivided attention is Sora. His questions are based on Sora’s response, Kairi being only a puppet, an unperceived fact that something is out there. Sora presence to Riku as a negative and positive impression. Even has Riku pledges himself as a servant to Maleficent and the Disney evil Sora’s effect on Riku is ever exhibiting in Riku’s demeanor, best expressed in him fleeing in Neverland. And his remarks as to Sora trying to get into his heart all the time, seemingly angered by Sora compassion.

Sora uses all his cards from scathing languages, to fights in heat clanging weaponry to get him to side away from the darkness. Sora is abrupt to tell Riku that he choice is the inaccurate path. Being cast aside by Sora, Riku’s stalker like activities and butting heads at every world it seems Riku is retaining the enduring thing he had left, the rivalry between him and Sora. Riku became incendiary to trump Sora, from finding Kairi to taking the weapon that was to be his, the Keyblade, from Sora. Riku’s playful banter with Sora upon Destiny Island turned volatile, aggressive until Riku’s psyche broke to the wrecking waves of darkness constructing in floods. This unleashes the demonic side of Riku.Riku began to be a vessel for darkness and lost to the eroding.

Sora once again sways Riku to another favorable way of thinking though. With Riku taking a backseat in his own body, Sora was left to defeat the somatic remains of his best friend. Succeeding, Sora strived to assist Riku but he was too far out of reach, Riku would begin his road to self-redemption alone. The door to the darkness was left ajar, a task that Sora would have to accomplish by closing but his strength along with his companions, Donald and Goofy, couldn’t do with their ability to push. From the other side of the door, from the inside, appears Riku postulating that they could do it together, friendship was restored by this unostentatious comment.

Riku and Sora’s bond is that of forgiving, mostly on Sora’s role and proceeding on, that through the afflicting of battles and treachery, the wounds can mend with phrases of aiding one another, being by each other’s sides. The gouge of push from Sora’s side and pull from Riku’s is the teamwork that the duo showed in flashbacks of puerility when all Riku and Sora had in friendship was each other, with that the door was varnished , Riku sealed in inside. With that door closed, the door to a deeper relationship was opened but first they had to find each other once again.

An fresh story unfolds, the name Sora is forgotten on everyone’s lips except for a young man who strives to be a hero once anew. He does this not for the glory but to help his mania in spirit. His past’s choler, covetous, and a person to struggle against is his now light, his hand to going back home. Sora is in another state of consciousness of data and sleep entrapment. His image is taken by Roxas, a half of Sora’s representing only that of corporal form. To reconstruct Sora, Roxas is needed, this is all Riku has to know. A cloaked man requests Riku to find Roxas while he is still under a black wing of an Organization of beings allegiant to regaining their hearts, the other half to make them unitary. Riku sets off without another development or request, Roxas equals Sora’s reawakening from his slumber, Riku needs no further details. The first encounter between the two boys is that of an epic struggle in the rain. Watching from the heights close to the heavens Riku watches smirking clearly, contend in his abilities. He is quickly has a metaphorical punch to the gut as Roxas’ ascends to his perch in the skies. Though blindfolded Riku can clearly see he is losing this conflict.

Riku is trounced back, appalled that this half of Sora can weald the Keyblade just as the whole being did. Riku crumpled to the street flooring brusquely shouts to the boy why can he carry the Keyblade? This planted the thought in Roxas’ head it seems to be for he would left the Organization if it came to thought earlier. Riku had set in motion the awakening of Sora and the disappearance by Roxas in its aftermath.

Riku after recognizing that the power he escaped from, the domain of darkness, he had to go back to it, requiring its exponent to salvage Sora. He was willing to go back to square one of self-redemption for that of the light in his life. Riku forfeitures everything that his heart has, even though it was all thrown away by Riku as Diz explains for his friends, and their future in his life.

Riku: Tell Me! Where are my friends from my memories?
DiZ: Are you sure you want to see them?
Riku: ...Of course I do . . .
DiZ: But you cast them aside. To reach the outside world, you passed through the door to darkness. Behind you, you left family, friends, home - everything - all in pursuit of darkness.
Riku: But I cast that aside too!
DiZ: And what do you have to show for it? First your home, then the dark. Your heart only knows how to throw things away. It's empty, like that room. Like your memories. That's why no one is in the castle with you. Your heart is hollow except for the darkness you couldn't quite shake off.

With Riku’s desolate came dabbles of a self-hatred for his past motives of trying to turn Sora to damnation, and he being the one to assume it uncoerced. Riku turns into a young man far less blase, after the laming blows to his frame of judgement at having to battle for his life, to break the steady spellbinding hands of darkness. Riku neither walks the door to light, he being to dim in an aura but not the road to darkness, too bright to do so, he walks the road of the dawn. Riku perambulating this path is steadily screening on Sora, leading him back to his best friend, his metaphorically his sun. These are the initiatory steps of reliable freedom for Riku, a freedom that Sora inspired him to go for.

Ex.

Riku: What are you making me choose now?
DiZ: Will you take the road to light- or the road to darkness?
Riku: Neither. I'm taking the middle road.
DiZ: You mean the twilight road to nightfall?
Riku: No . . . The road to dawn.

Immersing himself in darkness, the same inanity that he fought to evade, Riku surmises himself in the ability to take back Sora. As a consequence though Riku is back in bodily form of the being that overtook his embodied will and attempted to kill Sora, Xehanort’s Heartless. To repent his deeds, if on was to look at a symbolic gesture, Riku became a being that represents his foolishness. Riku remained truehearted to the eliminating of the head leader of the Organization but not as a means of retaliation. This step in maturity is a severe step out of Riku’s past persona. He remained to see the end of Sora’s metempsychosis into the world before rousing back into the darkened nooks to protectively observe for the boy. Never advancing out of the shadows, ashamed at his state physically, Riku plays a sideline hero. He aids Sora in somber times of need and giving supplies, such as the mummy pouch to pass down secretively to King Mickey to Sora. This is the bridge and end of the rivalry between the two, Riku treading down his high horse and Sora elevating up into the light..

As Sora’s journey goes on, he is a brisk force. He is totally set on finding Riku, with the same if not more vigor that he did to find Kairi in the first game when she was his macrocosm. Fond remembrances of Riku plays on Sora’s determination from Santa in the Halloween Town ark or the Land of Dragons. Sora’s exhilaration of merely hearing of his constantly fleeing friend meshes with a sorrowfulness that he is out of Sora’s roaming. The most heart murdering words are when Sora’s receives hollow words from King Mickey when Sora pleas about Riku’s whereabouts. Sora is only gratified when King Mickey alludes to Riku being in generous health. Sora has been to many incompatible worlds in search of the boy even after his treason and jumping off an emotional deep in. He even says that saving Riku is in his heart in Kingdom Hearts Chain of Memories to Vexen. Even when Kairi going missing from Destiny Island hits Sora’s ear she too, is secondary next to Riku, just as Riku was to Kairi to Sora in the first game. This is the polarity of Riku and Kairi altering roles in Sora’s cosmos.

Ex.
Vexen: If you remain bound by the chains of memory, and refuse to believe your heart . . . then you may as well throw your heart away. You're no Keyblade master, no master of anything - just a slave to twisted memories. Just like my Riku. You're not fit to exist.

Sora: YOUR Riku? You're so full of it! YOU'RE the one who changed Riku, aren't you? Every word you've said is a lie! I'd never throw away my heart! I'm gonna take you down and save Riku and Naminé. THAT's what's in my heart!

And salvaging Riku Sora did, upon overcoming another opposition, Sora finds Kairi and the bodily dissembled Riku on the landing overlooking his past battlefield. Sora and Kairi distribute an accelerated conversation upon finding each other once again along with a bunglesome hug, Donald and Goofy snickering in the scope. The panorama of a fluffy reunion is an image that Riku, watching from afar, doesn’t see himself in. Riku makes way for doorway compromising of his will from the darkness, the only thing he has left. Before he can leave though surprisingly it is Kairi who stops him, imploring him not to go. Whether her motives are in kindness of affection that she never shows to Riku or an undercurrent of terminating Sora’s journey, in resulting him coming back to her, remains unknown. Sora is discouraged to approach the figure of a man that stole his friend’s body but with Kairi’s begging of him to “say something,” to Riku to make him abide, something Kairi could not do, Sora follows her directions. He finds the real Riku who is encircled in the darkness that is Sora’s eyelids. Sora closes his eyes and his journey of exploring is concluded.

At seeing Riku with his eyes closed, the authentic Riku, Sora finally breaks down. Sora sinks to his knees still clutching Riku’s hands and goes into a wasteweir of words for one fact, Riku is here with him. Sora literally begins skirting on bawling. Having his head downcast to the footing, Sora tells of how he looked for him and that it is not just a dream. This is voicing that Sora may have been stargazing of finding Riku when looking for him, then saying that he desired to see Riku for so long. Now Kairi and Riku have been gone from Sora’s life about the same amount of time, Riku being cachet behind the door and Kairi going back to Destiny Island, while the factor of Kairi known to be safe and Riku a mystery could be said to Sora’s reaction of finding Riku. Still this wave of emotions Sora has upon regarding Riku, is that can be declared as finding a person you can’t live without. Sora also shows this peculiar emotional speech during Riku’s new appearance in front of him, Sora doesn’t even question Riku’s form for he is so awe-inspired to see Riku again.

While storming through the Organization XII’s technological castle, the man, who inquired Riku’s road of choosing, Diz, causes a explosion that in a sonic boom which sends the group, (Riku, Sora, Kairi, Donald, Goofy and King Mickey) flying back. The entire group is thrown
face first into the silver flooring of the castle from the explosion. As Diz is no where to be seen,
he is presumed dead, however the shockwave had another effect other than exterminating Diz. Sora as well as the others struggle to their feet, when he spots something, Riku. Sora immediately gets to his feet and runs to the configuration of a tall, silver haired boy, blindfolded and wearing a dark garment. Riku was returned to his form. Sora gets on his hands and knees to peer down at the older boy, and a grin comes across his face as the Riku he recollected, got up on his hands and knees. The rest of the group gets back to their feet without assistance and without being checked on by Sora, even Kairi, was equally astonied by Riku’s break in his dark appearance. Riku had made it to the dawning of his own new world.

Before Sora and Riku and the gang set of for an accessorial battle, Sora asks if Riku is going to take his blindfold off and Riku compels. Gently taking off his blindfold, a effect because his eyes couldn’t lie, Riku’s eyes slowly opened to adjust to the light that he longed to be a part of. Sora edges closer in wonderment. Sora starts teasing, to whom Riku was trying to schlemiel with blindfolding his eyes, Riku rebuttal by saying himself, Sora adding on that he had no need to because he had friends and why do so much alone, Riku ending the conversation with a good humored, “Cause I’m not a total sap like you,” smirking in benevolent nature. The playful chaffing between the two had return, forgotten when they were fetched away from their home for the journey. Sora goes about the rest of the game asking Riku on what to do, going back it seems to the days where Riku’s cognition was law, Riku responses to defeating their last enemy. Riku sets the pace with Sora in zealous follow.

The beginning of the end of the groups journey dawns when Xemas is defeated the first time, only to come back after more playful back and forth comments between Sora and Riku. Sora eases Riku doubts by comical humor, Sora relying on this to get Riku to come back home with them.
Ex.
Sora (to Riku): You're coming back with us, right?
Riku: I had given in to the darkness.
Sora: Riku!
Riku: How'm I gonna face everyone?
Sora: Like this! (Sora squishes his face in and makes Riku laugh.)

Riku and Sora face of the ending evil with only with each other, as the others pass through a portal homeward that closed on Riku and Sora. They have in-between moments of high tension of finishing each other’s speeches on light.

Ex.
Riku: You're right, light and darkness are eternal. Nothing probably goes on forever, too. But guess what, Xemnas?
Sora: That doesn't mean YOU'RE eternal!

While fighting, both boys rely on each other in series of coagulated struggle tactics working wordlessly between each other, other than calling out to each other in times of emphasizing on seeing the other in a peril.

Ex.
Xemnas holds a beam sword to Sora's head. Riku looks up. Xemnas swings his arms back to hit Sora, but Riku gets up in a flash and blocks with his Keyblade. Xemnas swings around. Riku pushes Sora out of the way and gets a strong hit with the beam sword in his left side. Riku falls. Sora catches himself and leaps forward. He grabs Riku's Keyblade and slams it into Xemnas's chest. Sora smashes Xemnas with his and Riku's blades, spinning him back. Sora crosses the Keyblades and knocks Xemnas high into the air. They both spin around and Sora lands next to Riku.

Both boys endorse each other to defeat Xemas. Riku and Sora take each other’s hand around the Keyblade to kill off Xemas for the last time in a broadcast of light. As the engagement seems done a detritus of the battle comes in the form of Dusks appear. Accented with fatigue Riku wheezes that he cannot go on. This does not retire Sora’s faith in escaping, grasping hold of a barely stomaching Riku, putting Riku’s arm around him and grasp hold of Riku’s hem of pants. Riku limply leaning against Sora gives off his hold on the boy mentally, liberating his aphasic leadership in an exchange of touching words.

Ex.

Riku: Sora?
Sora: Hm?
Riku: You lead.
Sora: Got it.

Sora’s leads the boys lapse through an entree of light into a world of darkness. This land of dull sand and jagged rocks is lapped by dark waters that shines with a light to blanched to be the sun. This is where the span of unsaid rivalry between the young men ends soundly in a world much like their home but without light.

Ex.
Riku: You know . . . I always figured I was better at stuff than you.
Sora: Really?
Riku: Are you mad?
Sora: No. I kinda always thought you were better at everything, too.

Sora and Riku continue their aimless walking as the beach comes to view, it is the end of the road. Still a little away from the beach Riku requests to walk on his own now. Sora softly unwinds himself from the fitting form of Riku’s side. Sora walks to the ocean whispering that the darkness may have gotten to him as well but presumably directing his statement to Riku’s ears however he hears no response. Riku has fallen where Sora had let him go, and Sora, evident by his worry, quickly rushes to his. Riku states that he is fine but makes no attempt to walk by himself again. Riku once again uses Sora as a mock crutch as he requests help to the waterside, and Sora gladly compiles. Once again, the heavy silence of a world so much like home to both boys earns another revelation set into motion by Riku’s lips.

Ex.
Riku: What I said back there . . . about thinking I was better at stuff than you . . . To tell you the truth, Sora . . . I was jealous of you.
Sora: What for?
Riku: I wished I could live life the way you do. Just following my heart.
Sora: Yeah, well, I've got my share of problems, too.
Riku: Like what?
Sora: Like . . . wanting to be like you.
Riku: Well, there is one advantage to being me . . . Something you could never imitate.
Sora: Really? What's that?
Riku: Having you for a friend .
Sora: Then I guess . . . I'm okay the way I am. I've got something you could never imitate too.

This undertone of romance ended with Sora's comment and a light shining over the water, the door to the light has opened. Sora offering his hand to Riku, both agree on going through it together much like they have gone through every adventure together even if not by each other’s side. The boys are welcomed home by friends after swimming to the shore of Destiny Island. They are home.

Later, Riku is seen sitting at the Papou fruit tree, in the position that Sora sat in many years ago. Sora joins the boy at the tree, ironically taking the position Riku had sported as his own of leaning against the tree. Riku states the copious question of nothing altering in his absence, something that is comforting to the new young man that emerged from the detritus of the old’s over sureness. Sora goes on about asking what the door to the light was that appeared before them. Riku laughs full heartily, jumping down from his spot on the tree trunk. Riku lifts his arm, pointing his arm in the direction of Sora’s chest, and extends a sole finger and touches the clothing over Sora’s heart, “This,” he replies.

“This?”

Riku smiles continuing, “Yeah. It’s always closer than you think.” Sora smiles.

Now what Sora’s light was in the world in darkness to open the door was remains to be told yet the only relative light that could have been was the being closest to him at the time. (Riku)

Sum up!

Now here are my opinions added on as a summary of their relationship. Sora and Riku shared a past together before Kairi, this is a sign of a deep bond between the two. Sora never told why he is infatuated with Kairi. I believe he never speaks of him it because Sora is so naive. He doesn’t know what it means to be attracted to the opposite sex other than it is shown throughout the worlds he travels to. As times goes on there are signs of him giving up on this for a lesser shown romance, with a male.

Riku had a strong grip on his feelings for Sora but had a hard time expressing them. He used darker such asusing people to get recognized. The odds didn’t play in his favor and lead him to damnation. However, through this damnation he received points of view through kindness. In a sense it was the darkness that brought these two together, and made the bond needed for a undertone romance.

Multipart - My main favorites

Dying Happily, Living Lonely by Staryday
Everyday by ObessedOne
A Complete 180 by Uzumaki-sama
Broken, Hidden, Stolen by Tinkeu
Strawberry Bubbles by FrozenLioness
The Face on the Soda Bottle Label by Tala Mitena
Only You Would Know Me by RyTen NoDah

One Shots

A Few Redeeming Qualities
by Slashapalooza
Been Far Away For Far Too Long
by serenity denied
If Only You Knew Every Moment In Time
by serenity denied

Communties
Main division of the RikuxSora pairing on LJ: riku_x_sora
A subdivision of the pairing yet as Sora as seme in the relationship: sora_x_riku
A community of mainly RikuxSora but other couples included sora_riku_porn
A Fanfic Rec that houses some of the best and personal favorite fics of the RikuxSora pairing I have seen RikuXSora Sweetness
Another great Fanfic Rec Destiny Isles

Music Videos

Probably my favorite Riku x Sora video, spoilers and beautifully done Gravity of Love by Sora004

Another well established video, great song in the background to pull it all together Beautiful Things by Mikenno

like the beginning of this Song, the audio of Sora finding Riku in english. The Song basically describes the whole Sora looking for Riku in KH2 in a light heart tune to me. A Thousand Miles by YuugiYami

I love this Song, though it gets me thinking of Sakura from Naruto & SasuNaru, this is as a presume a video of Kairi’s sorrow of the viewing of the growing relationship of Riku and Sora. Malchik Gay
by Blue24601

Art Rec

This art Rec is of General Yaoi/Slash Art but most of it being Riku xSora, Warning some graphic images Rec

A lot is Gen but the are some adorable Riku xSora!Rec

Thanks for viewing, sorry for any small or major grammatical I bypassed. Hope you enjoyed - courtneynus