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anyway. think it's about time for a real hiatus. not sure how long it'll last; i'll see y'all when i see y'all.

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hey, just a friendly reminder that the specific term "zi.o" is an antise.mitic ethnic slur against je.wish people coined by the literal K.KK! please don't fucking use it, thanks!

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Lee. I can't believe you're alive. I... It's you. It is you.

MONARCH: LEGACY OF MONSTERS (2023) | 1.10: Beyond Logic

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Keiko feels Theo's eyes upon her. Bears the weight of her words, carrying within them the longest nineteen months of Theo's life that they've still never talked about. Not in the ways they should have long ago.

She wants to touch her. Gods, she wants to touch her - to reach out and stroke the familiar cut of that cheekbone framing baby blues that bore into her with age-old intensity - but bare skin against Theo’s without warning is asking for trouble. There may have been a time when it wasn't, but those days have long since been lost.

"Everything alive experiences a self-preservation instinct, Theo," Keiko settles on eventually, turning her head to meet that electrifying gaze head-on. She doesn't know if that's the answer Theo is searching for, but Keiko is a scientist, not a philosopher. Words have never been her best comfort - yet right now, they're all that's safe. "Even a unicellular organism evolves under selective pressure. Without those conditions, the world as we know it wouldn't exist."

if she looks at it too long, she starts to feel nauseous. there was something about those wicked wings that brought her back to a time she would rather forget. a time that was mostly contained to nightmares and the occasional passing acknowledgement when she would come across a fellow survivor on the street. mainly shauna. mainly when she least wanted to be seen. as the wilderness fate would have it.

was it fate now to be crouched next to her lost love? alone at last. sans-family. her sister or her son were always around in some capacity. something between them acting as a barrier, in hurried conversations and involuntary catch ups almost exclusively contained to a secondary source. usually nell. usually, again, when theo least wanted it. keiko's number sat in her phone, touched only when the need to know she existed pressed down on her too thoroughly. she was looking at her now. if keiko turned her head, their faces would be inches apart.

"do you think it's in their nature or they've been forced to become like that? hungry with no way to help themselves? they persist not because they want to but because they have to. you have to wonder why."

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Though the weight of this revelation doesn't feel very funny to her, Keiko's lips can't help but twitch upward in response to the woman's bright peals of laugher. She herself stays quiet even as her companion gets out her sudden mirth, her own focus turned to the stubborn mess of old bandages still waiting to be unraveled from damaged skin.

Keiko's brows furrow when the soldier continues, however, eyes flicking back upward for a long moment. "Traditional?" Honestly, it's near impossible to tell if she's joking. Once again, Keiko doesn't wait for an answer to get back to work - but it isn't long before she hits her first snag.

Keiko sighs when a bandage finally sticks rather than pulling off cleanly. Taking the cloth waiting on the counter in one hand, she dips it in water and brings it to the problem spot, gently working to coax the material loose, before she continues.

"I'm not unhappy, you know. I know what it's like to be the only woman in a room." Maybe not in the same way this woman must, but still far closer than most would. "But that's still always been as a woman. I don't understand how you got away with it. Especially when a day like the one we met on can't have been your first day on the job, can it?"

Far from it, she imagines. But Keiko doesn't bother to speculate. Not aloud, at least; not when she should have a concrete answer one way or another soon enough.

Oh. Ohhh. Yeah, that one was on her. She hadn't actually explained any of that, had she?

Ankhirmaa burst out laughing just at the ridiculousness of having gotten this far without either of them having realised— it was foolish, silly, made even sillier by the coincidence of them knowing one another at all. It was probably not the most sensible response; there were certainly people who would not consider posing as a man and joining the army to be a laughing matter in the slightest, but there was just no helping it. Hell, after the past few days, didn't she deserve a bit of a chuckle?

Her shoulders shook, a hand coming up to press at the middle of her chest as the laughter cruelly tugged at her existing dressings. "Shit," she managed to get out, something half-apologetic showing in her face as she finally met Keiko's gaze, "God, I am sorry. I completely forgot you wouldn't— and I mean, with the clothes..."

Ankha shook her head, her giggles finally beginning to subside. "Oh, god. My fault. I, um— yes, I am a woman. My, um, superiors were not very happy to learn about it either." She sobered somewhat at the thought, gaze shifting away as Keiko started peeling away the rest of her dressings.

"It's— ah, it's pretty traditional in the army, actually." She was teasing, though there was already strain in her voice. No real way to make this process not painful.

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The edges of Keiko's lips quirk up in answer - first sharply in amusement at Anthony's unexpected banter back, then softened back out when he continues with further sincerity. Like family. Exactly what's been lost, exactly what she - what Hiroshi, far more importantly - desperately needs.

Thanking him again, however, will only turn her into a broken record. So all Keiko does in return is nod, and loosen her grip just a little further on the only piece of her husband's heart that remains.

Anthony's following question, however, takes her aback just as jarringly. After all this understanding, have they already circled right back around to square one? Stopping in her tracks, Keiko turns to look at him - truly look - before she dares to say a word in answer. Much as the request rubs her wrong... he looks sincere.

"I won't lie to her if she asks me," Keiko answers after a silent beat, voice firm. Violet is one of very few people who had helped guide her through far worse storms this past year. The Bridgerton matriarch is more resilient than Anthony seems to be giving her credit for, and certainly does not require Keiko's coddling, out of anyone's. "My husband died under similar circumstances to your father, Viscount Bridgerton, down to your mother and I both still carrying their children when they did. What do you think we've spoken of when we've been together this past year, the weather?"

With a sigh, Keiko shakes her head once more. The weight of Hiroshi sits heavy when she shifts him from one shoulder to the other and asks, "What exactly is it that you're so convinced will happen if she knows?"

He does understand, for what it's worth, the way that men can be. Perhaps not as well as she does, or as well as any member of her sex, but there are things he's seen, things he's heard, and, perhaps, while never guilty, he has been...quieter than he should have been. Which is not to say that he himself is any saint, but only that there has been time, among friends, at the club, at school, that he preferred not getting involved to doing what had been, perhaps, the right thing. He's learned quite a bit since then, though. For one thing, his sisters have grown, and that does quite a number to a man's perception of the world. A rake he may be, yes, but he does try to be a decent man.

She draws him from his thoughts with her comment, and he laughs. "On second thought, maybe he is best with me." His brothers are good men, too, of course, but Benedict takes things even less seriously than Anthony does, and Colin's a kind boy, but he's not entirely sure what he would do, faced with a genuine request of care. Not that he thinks he isn't capable, but, in many ways, he's little more than a child himself.

He takes her words to heart, though, and he certainly isn't going to argue with them. They've done enough arguing, he thinks, and this is certainly not something worth continuing. "You and I may be little more than strangers, but if he is to be under my care, I will treat him as family." And her, if he's being honest. He's a difficult man, but the Bridgerton family loves fiercely.

He walks with her, nowhere near as put off by the idea as he would have been when they first met. Regardless of the boy, he does feel that there's been a gap bridged between him and Keiko, and he feels that it's good. His mother, certainly, will be proud.

A moment passes, then two, and finally he speaks, voice softer than it has been so far. "If I may ask," he starts, then pauses. "I would prefer that you do not tell my mother where it is we talked today. My father's death...still affects her greatly, and I hate to upset her."

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XENA: WARRIOR PRINCESS (1995 - 2001) Season 1, Episode 3: Dreamworker

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While the soldier set himself up, Keiko was swift to do the same. Bowl set to the side, it was her own hands that plunged under the faucet next, and she was careful to scrub every inch of skin as best as she could. The last thing either of them needed was for this to end worse than it began with an infection. As she dried them off and snapped a pair of gloves she'd managed to snag over them both, Keiko was too preoccupied to notice more than the fact he was pulling off his own shirt out of the corner of her eye.

That was, until he spoke again. Only then did Keiko pause, brows furrowing. Why would it matter what he had on underneath? There wasn't anything sensitive to be seen from the waist up, was there? Head snapping up, Keiko turned back his way, mouth poised to question until her eyes dropped to his bare chest, and -

Oh.

Well. That would explain it.

"Wait. You're - a woman?" By the time Keiko's eyes rose to meet her companion's again, they were gleaming with unrestrained curiosity. "How?" It was far from a question she of all people would normally ask, not even quite twenty-one years old yet already far too used to being the sole woman in far too many rooms, but this...

This was different. Women weren't merely discouraged from the front lines of war, but actively barred. How had this one managed to keep her secret through what must have been years of warfare?

Keiko didn't wait for a response to get to work, though. Man or woman, it made little difference in the end; this was still the same person who had saved her life, and those wounds still needed treatment. She was simply more careful with where she placed her hands as she began to peel off what she could of the soldier's old dressings.

There was no reason for Ankhirmaa to assume that Keiko had realised she was a woman, but she sort of had. Perhaps it was just that she hadn't said anything either way— but then, that was just a matter of certainty, which could go either way. Surely Keiko had no particular reason to assume she was not a man either. They seemed due to have their realisation in the most confronting way possible.

Ankhirmaa followed dutifully, leaning against the counter and only for a second almost using her arms to lift herself up to sit on it. Probably better to avoid that for now. She peered sidelong at the supplies, pleased to see that Keiko really had managed to find some decent supplies. Ankha nodded; she was comfortable enough in here, and so long as Keiko was happy too— she was just grateful for the offer of help, given the difficulty of doing it herself.

While Keiko prepared the supplies Ankhirmaa started to unbutton her shirt, revealing a myriad of bruises and scars even in that little strip of skin. Only at the last moment did it even occur to her to offer a warning: she had spent the last however-many months with her chest bound in one way or another, avoiding getting fully undressed in front of anyone for any reason— now that she didn't have to think about it, she had almost forgotten why she might need to. "I don't have anything on under this, by the way. I mean, with the straps and everything..."

A bra was out of the question, even if Ankhirmaa cared, or there was something that would fit her available. A vest only got caught against the edges of the dressings, so she quickly gave up.

Ankha suppressed a wince as she finally pulled one arm out of her shirt. The burns reached near the whole way from hand to shoulder, across her collarbone and upper chest, reaching down the side of her ribs in places. It was clear why the doctor hadn't been able to deal with these without making a discovery— and especially now that she was bare naked, clear why she was here rather than convalescing in a military hospital.

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MONARCH: LEGACY OF MONSTERS (2023 - ) Season 1, Episode 8: Birthright

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"I don't think there's a precedent for that," Keiko murmurs. Fascinating of a question as it is to turn over in her mind, she keeps most of those thoughts on it to herself; it doesn't sound like Karlach wants an answer right now. Not really. "The answer might lie closest in illithids whose hosts used prosthetics prior to their transformations, if you wanted to find it. Not that I know much on that either, but in all of history it must have happened at least once."

She might know more than the average surface dweller, though. Up here, mindflayers seemed to be little more than bogeymen in better times; down below, they were far more than that. Much as the Drow took to darkness, so did their one natural predator that shared their territory - and while most with the unfortunate fate of crossing them ended up either enslaved or turned themselves, alliances between the two species were not entirely unheard of, even prior to this Absolute nightmare. Keiko had of course been worlds away from the rooms in which those agreements happened, but that didn't stop her from hearing the stories, good and bad alike.

When Karlach pulls back suddenly, Keiko freezes, every line of thought grinding to a halt. Eyes dropping on instinct, an urge that isn’t quite her own swells in instant response, visceral and sharp - a survivalist beg for forgiveness crafted to perfection by hands far crueler than Karlach's. It crawls up her throat until she nearly chokes on it, presses urgently at the back of her teeth - even if she hadn't known, even if Karlach doesn't seem angry. It takes more willpower than Keiko might ever admit to shove it back down. "Right. Understood."

Her hand still trembles when she finally yanks it onward.

Thankfully, any lingering tension breaks soon enough. "Kiki?" That gets her eyes back on Karlach again. Expression splitting into a grin, Keiko laughs - half incredulous, half amused - but if she's honest, she nearly preens under the compliment that precedes the sudden, if questionable, endearment. By all but a rare few she's spent a near-century underestimated, denigrated, even tortured for what most of Menzoberranzan considered an aberrant mind...

It means more than Karlach could know, to hear that now.

"Then we'll find one. I'm not leaving you behind." Words falling out quick as lightning, Keiko's certainty doesn't slip. And that's the heart of the matter, isn't it? If there is anything, any point to understanding all too well what it's like to constantly be pushed out, left behind, forced to leave her own family behind to save her life... it has to be this. To do what she can, save who she can; to not let it happen again. "Do you have any idea where one could be found up here?"

IN THAT MOMENT , KARLACH FELT TRUE FEAR . Not for the loss of her life, or the pursuit of her fine red ass across the plane - but for Keiko. Touching her could be extremely dangerous, and while she could try her hardest to keep her engine at a somewhat manageable temperature, it was no easy feat. She feared that she would burn those hands she wanted so desperately to feel against her. Someone's hands, anyone's hands -

FUCK . She could really use a hug. But now wasn't the time for that.

She places all of her focus into breathing. Taking in a deep breath for four counts, and holding - until it releases again. Allowing her thoughts of anger, or rage, of sorrow, to vacate her scattering mind and leave her devoid of those enriching thoughts. Anything that could potentially excite her is abandoned - in favor of thinking of the trees. The grass. The smells. The campfire, the soft chips of insects perusing the woods. The cooling breeze... The palm sliding against her chest. Oh, gods. Her ribs glow with enthusiasm over the deeply entwined infernal creation, blossoming into a warmth that she cannot control - but the Drow does not seem deterred. QUITE THE OPPOSITE . Keiko is fascinated.

Then she's close again, even after getting burned, fingers venturing up to find the vents running over her shoulders, embedded deeply into flesh. Tangled through her nervous system and offering an output for too much heat build-up - a way to breathe, besides Karlach's mouth and nose. Those were typically a last-resort option. Each vent is lined with severely damaged flesh from burns that can never recover. Certainly from Hellfire - what the damned engine runs off of. That, and souls of the eternally damned, but she didn't want to think on that for too long. She nods her head to those words, flickering her eyes open in concern when the smaller woman hisses - but it fades once the Drow seems alright. " Yeah, I mean... I guess. Who knows if ceremorphosis would work the same with me, though? Would I become a mindflayer who just... Spits the engine out? I dunno. Not that I really care to know - cause it won't fuckin' happen, but... " There was a chance it would. That was scary. At the very least her companion made a good point, to help ease her a little further. CALM AGAIN , FOR FURTHER INSPECTION .

Those prying eyes wander up, to her unbroken horn, and Karlach detects the near grimace in her features, albeit as subtle as it was. Enough for the tiefling to feel some rage, some shame. A mark of being Zariel's property, and Keiko didn't even know the half of it. The barbarian did let the brand on her collarbone show much, because although a little more rare, people could learn Infernal. And when they did, they could see the Fury of Avernus was branded like a book was to an author. FUCKING PROPERTY TO A DEVIL WHEN SHE HAD NEVER STRUCK A DEAL . She was the ante - and Gortash bet all of his chips. Her fingers wander up, but Karlach drags her head back before the smaller woman can touch. Although she allowed for a plethora of touches, and gods did she love them, the horns were a different story. They were very personal for a tiefling, and could be sensitive to touch. It was all about intimacy, with her crown, and that was not so quickly given.

" Hey, soldier... Not to deter you, but I'll give you a little tip. I know you prolly haven't seen much of my kind, but - horns and tails? A little off limits. For now, at least. " The tiefling mumbles, and it is in no manner scolding or accusatory. A gentle offer of information, remaining still when the drow measures her pulse. BLAZING EMBERS OBSERVE A CURIOUS UNDERDARK RESIDENT , WHO SPEAKS ABOUT UNCERTAINTY WITH ABSOLUTE CERTAINTY . That had to be good, right? She couldn't help but to crack a smile at her words, tail already beginning to wag with her not.

" You got quite the brain up there in that noggin' of yours, don't you, Kiki? " Was it too early for nicknames? It was a thing of fondness, camaraderie. Karlach tended to build it fast with her experience in war. Tightly knit groups, to keep morale high and dependability with interpersonal relationships at acceptable levels. " I bet there's some books or shit you can find that you could translate pretty well - but what I really need is an Infernal Mechanic. I could see you hitting it off with one - chattering on about that kinda thing. It's not really my forte, but... Thank you. Really. IF WE EVER FIND ONE , YOU BEST BET I ' LL BE COUNTING ALL OF MY LUCKY STARS . "

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Donika Kelly, from “Love Poem: Werewolf”, Bestiary

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Matching your freak is beautiful and all but what you really need is a boy who's infatuated with your freak. Down bad for your freak. Deeply intrigued by your freak. Eager to see more of your freak. Supportive of your freak. Gets bricked up witnessing your freak, even.

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Monarch: Legacy of Monsters 1.03 Secrets and Lies

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The laugh that the sight of Karlach tipping over draws out of Keiko is a loud, unrestrained thing - a rarity of a sound from someone like her. Then again, it’s not every day that anyone witnesses all seven intimidating, fiery feet of a tiefling flat on her back from one single touch. It's... endearing, honestly. There's a vulnerability to Karlach in this moment - showing all her weak points and starry-eyed, not an ounce of joy held back - that Keiko isn't certain she's even fully conscious of.

Keiko herself is all too aware, though. So rarely has she been shown it, least of all from a woman strong enough to easily overpower her if she wanted to.

She can't deny the warmth it blossoms in her own chest.

"A little fire doesn't scare me," Keiko counters with a grin of her own, precisely as bold as she's been accused of. Why it doesn't scare her is another matter, but not one for tonight. Tonight, it is only a shame that she can’t do more: that she can't place her head on Karlach's shoulder or a hand along her arm, now that she more fully understands the comfort it could bring them both.

When Karlach continues, that disappointment only grows tenfold. All Keiko can give as she bares her hurt is her undivided attention, especially when there's nothing to be said. No amount of pretty words can change reality, even if Keiko were someone more capable of finding them.

As usual, however, Karlach doesn't need Keiko to bring herself back. It's she who quips first, she whose words quirk Keiko's lips back up into a smile as well. That smile is unfortunately quick to drop, however; despite the intimacy of this moment, there is one piece in all of it that doesn't align quite right.

"I'm glad, too," Keiko begins, and she means it. Tadpole predicament included, this is somehow still, in many ways, the happiest she's ever been allowed to be. "But other Drow... I've heard of enclaves of Elistraee's followers who live peacefully up here before, but I guess they keep to themselves more than I'd thought they would." A hollow exhale and shake of her head follow as her gaze cuts away. "I guess now I know why." Even Karlach, who Keiko knows means well - who proved that intent with her fists mere hours ago - is back to quantifying her kind already.

"You haven’t met a nicer Drow than me before, because nice Drow in the Underdark get culled for it." Though blunt, the words aren't unkind. How could Karlach know? Even surface elves, who should know better, never seem to comprehend exactly what their shared history has doomed an eternity of Drow to - guilty and innocent alike. "Sometimes I question how I made it for so long down there without ending up either mad or murdered."

Not all of them had, after all. Raw memories sharp as nails swallowed back down, Keiko is determined to finish her thought around them - though she's equally careful to catch Karlach's gaze before she does. "The bar is low because it's been designed to be that way, by the gods and mortals alike. Not because I'm inherently special among my kin. Not any more than you are among your own, at least." Would Keiko have been as bad as the rest of them in a different life, a different family? Would she have simply died young instead, most likely purged by her blood's own hand?

In this life, Keiko knows which answer she would prefer.

She doesn't know which is the more likely truth.

KEIKO TOUCHED HER . Actually touched her, placed her hand against her leg, and squeezed. Karlach wasn't expecting that. She wasn't expecting any touch, given her very combustible circumstances - and yet, here the Drow was. Freely placing a hand against Karlach, unprompted, fully of her own will. The tiefling was a mix of shocked and absolutely overjoyed. She shifted back, with the shock aspect - and ended up falling right out of her seat. She didn't fall far, mind - but it was far enough for her to scramble for a moment, massive tail flailing in circles, before her broad back hit the ground with an audible oompf. It took merely a moment, though, for the slightly flustered and dusty tiefling to be up on her knees, laughing at the situation, and crawling back into her seat.

Despite the blunder, she was grinning so widely and her shoulders bounced with her enthusiasm, warm chuckle spreading through her chest like wildfire, and all of the stars of the sky above filled her eyes. She allows the laugh to bubble away, as if overtaken by some strange spell that caused such an outburst - but it was merely the touch. A TOUCH . It meant so much. That Keiko risked her hand, risked burning herself, for a little bit of contact. Everyone knows well of her affliction - and yet she chanced another touch, anyhow. She couldn't explain the fast rattling of her engine, like it was about to implode.

" You're ballsy, aren't you, soldier? " She asks jokingly, once the laughter fades off, and her own hand subconsciously lays against the place Keiko had squeezed so boldly. As if she could hold that touch right there - remember it well. This woman was the only one bold enough to touch her, given her circumstances, and that meant so fucking much. She hums for a moment, feeling the high of joy wash away, and something a little more somber approaches. She shrugs her shoulders simply, thumb rubbing her knees in thought. " Well... Yeah. We're seen as devils, y'know? Evil, nasty things, looking to make contracts... Or just bastard spawn. They don't like us. Don't trust us. " And she glances aside, releasing a breath, but there is no frown on her face. " Well, they can eat dirt, for all I care. The ones who discriminate against us the hardest are the fuckin' worst, anyways. Not all of 'em, but... " She makes a vague gesture, before cracking a smile again. " Eh, not that important. The only thing devilish about me are my striking good looks. Y'know, I've met a few Drow before, but you're prolly the nicest I've met. Guess what I'm trying to say is . . . I 'M GLAD YOU 'RE WITH US , KIKI . "

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Better men. The chuckle Keiko lets out then is tinged with bitterness, as is the shake of her head that's quick to follow. Anthony has no idea, does he? Frustratingly asinine as he could be, there is far worse out there, far more often. Keiko had been exceedingly lucky that har father was such a strong exception while he lived, and her husband to a lesser extent - but such exceptions were just that. Not the rule.

She'd spent enough time immersed in men's worlds to know that fact even more intimately than nearly all women already did, by virtue of their own subjugation.

"Maybe among your brothers," she begins after a silent beat, meeting his gaze again. While that tease may be lighter than her innermost thoughts, it comes out sharp-edged all the same. The truth it carries is still sharp, even diluted down; it's the same sharpness of experience that has lashed out at Anthony time and time again. Though they may stand on the same side now, her life before this moment hasn't changed. Her life after it won't, either. "But 'better men' aren't so common to find. Not for us. So, again: thank you."

When Anthony accepts, Keiko smiles in return. The motion is reserved, tentative, yet genuine all the same. With a cant of her head, she takes the lead back the way they had both come - separately then, now transversed together.

It is this place, certainly. Later, when the moment is over, he will blame all sentimentality on the fact that they are here. Not a single meter one way or another, but here. He does not believe in fate, does not believe that he has been drawn by the spirit of his father to come here and run across her, to offer her help and vow his support to the boy, but it puts him in a weakened state. Not that he would have declined at any other place, but he has been primed. And if fate does exist, he believes it is laughing at him.

If spirits do exist, he hopes his father is proud. If they do not, he hopes his mother will be. Either way, and, yes, even for himself, for his own sense of what is right, he will do it anyway.

His feelings towards her may be complicated, both of them with their stubbornness, their iron wills, but he is not a cruel person. She is here, and she has been thrown into a world that she likely does not understand, one that he has, reluctantly, become an expert in. He is not necessarily a philanthropic soul, but this he can donate.

He nods, stiff for a moment, because he doesn't otherwise know how to take this. It may have been easier to be her enemy, to believe that there is some animosity between them. He can handle that, can handle barbs and glares, but to find common ground? To swear his support to her and her son? He does it easily, far easier than he would have thought, so perhaps that means that Anthony Bridgerton does still have a heart. She continues, and he loosens, just slightly. He, too, feels that this bridge has gained its supports. "I would not have agreed. Despite what you may have heard, I will not lead him astray. Though there may certainly be better men to follow, but I can promise that I will keep him safe."

He's stood above her all this time, perhaps symbolic of the distance he's chosen to take, but her standing, her offering her company, that, too, is symbolic. They are, if not friends, committed to being allies. He can do that. He wants to do that. He nods again, not stiff, but efficient, and this time he smiles. "Of course."

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"Friends dont look at friends that way" COWARD. I look at my friends with awe in my eyes, my chest is filled with love, im glowing because i get to be near my friends. I look at my friends and i would give them my everything. SO SKILL ISSUE, look at your friends with all the love that you have

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Mari Yamamoto as Keiko Miura Monarch: Legacy of Monsters | 1.03