#It’s his decision to be kind despite the alternative making his life a MILLION times easier that makes him a hero

[righteousruin]

Oh Christ,

Steadfast belief in restorative justice is psychosis, Grant??

[desert-fern]

Bruised Black and Blue - A Former Gunpowder and Lead Extra

Specific Warnings for this blurb: murder, shouting, making of poisons, guns, blood, poisoning, physical violence, swearing (expect this in all of my stuff tbh)

Paring for this piece: OC Fern “Bruiser” Spades X Natasha “Phoenix” Trace

Notes from the author: This fic belongs to an alternative timeline of a fic that is currently being rewritten by the original authors. BUT FERN’S CHARACTER IS MY OWN AND I REFUSE TO DELETE MY HARD WORK

===

Constantly looking over one’s shoulder got exhausting quickly. The CIA offered a million and one perks, but unfortunately for them, being thrust head first into cartels, trafficking rings, mercenary groups, while simultaneously rubbing elbows with some of the most vile people in the world, was not how I imagined spending my life.

So I decided to leave Langley and planned to never look back. But I was dragged from my thoughts by my former handler. “Agent Spades.”

“Sir.” Grant, or whatever he called himself, was watching me closely. “And it’s former agent now.”

He nodded. “Ms. Spades then. Are you certain that I can’t convince you to stay?”

“I’m afraid you can’t.”

The man before me grit his teeth, his jaw so tight I thought it would snap off of his face. “I’m sure we have some more local work that may interest you.”

I smirked. Typical CIA, loosely veiling an order as a suggestion. “Afraid not. I gave most of the life I have lived to you and the organization. I’m out. Besides, Operation Nightshade got me thinking about the simple life.”

Obviously, Grant didn’t like my answer, but I didn’t care. I had spent most of my adult life working for an organization that required blind trust, blind faith that the decisions made by those on high were done for the greater good. However, losing most of my team while running a false flag operation opened my eyes to the reality that the CIA never cared about us. We were always going to be pawns to the organization, and I couldn’t live that life anymore.

===

A year and a half later, I found myself in Austin, Texas living with the man of my dreams, a man named Oscar Moreno. A good, kind man, who worked a 9-5 office job, lived in a two-storey house in the suburbs, a man who cared deeply for me. I loved him, if it wasn’t obvious. We had a dog, a hound that I named Andy, and I could see myself spending the rest of my life in this bliss. I worked in a small boutique downtown as a saleswoman and it was so different from everything I knew. We lived in a bubble, a bubble that I never wanted to pop.

But of course something changed. Maybe it was because I wasn’t used to simple, or maybe it was because I had feigned suburban life many times while working for the CIA that his behaviour started to seem like it was all an act.

I started noticing cupboards that had once opened were now locked or in the case of the middle drawer of the living room bookcase, completely sealed. Oscar started leaving the room to take phone calls, unable to look me in the eye when he told me that it was nothing. He had also started spending more and more time in his office, the door that was once always open to me, now locked tight, even when he wasn’t home. Andy had started growling when he came close to me, whimpering and following close whenever Oscar made a sudden move.

Then Oscar started staying out later and later, sometimes not coming home until 9-10 pm, despite his office shutting down at 6 every day. He’d started taking weekend trips too; not coming back until late Sunday night and he would refuse to answer my questions, sometimes shouting at me to drop it. So I did, but my brain had taken hold of these abnormalities like a dog with a bone and no amount of his aggravated “I’m fine” or “Don’t worry about it” convinced me to let it go.

Either he was cheating, which I doubted, because I would have found something by now, or he was what I had been. A spy for someone, some country, corporation, or crime lord that wanted something. Or I was just paranoid, which was possible. The constant looking over my shoulder that I had hated while operating for the CIA had come back the longer I stayed in that house in the suburbs and I was growing worried.

A year and a half later, Oscar had proposed with a ring that I knew cost far more than he should have been able to afford. His behaviour had settled down a little but I knew he was still hiding things from me. If the locked office door or three separate phones didn’t give that away, then the tripwire in his office and the ink packages in his desk drawers definitely did.

The drawers hid file after file on customs agents at the Austin airport, ID badge templates, building blueprints, and 3D printing guides for weapons pieces. “I guess I was right to be concerned.” I had told all of this to Grant, who said plainly that the CIA didn’t conduct operations on American soil. I had scoffed at his lie and hung up, determined to figure this out on my own.

I had run false flag operations before and they had all started out like this. The realization hurt me deeply. All I knew was that the last three years of my life had been a lie, that Oscar, the man I loved, was all in this to achieve his mission. His betrayal stung like hell, and I remember leaving his office exactly how I had found it, just as Oscar had come bursting through the front door. It was like watching a tornado race through the house as he dug through a few drawers to grab things I couldn’t make out, stuffing them in his pockets. Then, like clockwork, he disappeared into his office.

Only this time, he shouted for me. “Fern!”

“Yes, honey?”

“Come here.” And if those words didn’t send my heart plummeting down, down, down into my ass, I didn’t know what would. I had to tread carefully. I knew more than I should in this moment and that made me dangerous.

I swallowed. “Give me a sec, okay?”

“No. Now.”

Shit. Oscar had never demanded anything of me before.

“Fern!”

“Coming!” I hurried up the stairs to his office, towel in hand to make it look like I had been in the middle of something instead of standing in the hall, staring up the stairs. “Jeez Oz. What’s going on?”

His face was pinched as he watched me come stand in the doorway. “Cut the shit. Where is it?” Oscar was angry. I had never seen him like this, red in the face, the brown eyes that I had grown to love were filled with an emotion I had never seen on him.

This time the confusion that spread over my face was real. “What are you talking about, honey? I don’t come in here. You made that clear, and I respect your space.”

“My flash drive.” He stepped closer, hand dipping into his coat pocket and grasping hold of something. “The green one.”

I didn’t want to find out what he had in the pocket. Not if I wanted him to think I had no idea what he was planning. “Honey? You’re scaring me.” I added a little wobble to my voice, trying to sell the fear as I took a step backwards.

Oscar sighed, hand leaving his pocket to rub at his face. “I didn’t mean to do that, okay? I’m just stressed out. I’m sorry, mi vida.”

I just nodded, not trusting a word that left his mouth. “I know,” I mumbled, wringing the towel in my hands. “I’ll go start dinner.” The door shut the second I turned to head downstairs, the lock clicking shut seemed to echo down the hall, and I found myself tearing up. “Keep it together, Fern,” I mumbled to myself. “He’s just a man. A stupid, stupid man. After this, you’re done with men.”

Dinner was silent. The only noises being the clinking of silverware against our plates and the music playing softly from the kitchen. Then Oscar disappeared again, leaving me by myself downstairs, alone with my thoughts. All I could think about was stopping him. This man, Oscar, wasn’t who I had thought he was. He changed. Scoffing, I pulled my ring off, throwing it at the wall and watched it bounce under the fridge. Good riddance.

While Oscar slept, I sat up late, hiding in the shed in the backyard, carefully mixing a cocktail of poison that would burn as it entered the bloodstream. It was designed for a tortuous death and even worse, it was of my own design. The CIA trained me far too well for me to ever live a normal life.

Other vials I filled with water and, with a gas mask on, very carefully painted on melted thallium until the vials were shiny with the metal. Enough of it absorbed through the skin could kill quite quickly, and I had plans. I stored them carefully in a bag before slipping into bed.

When he got up earlier than usual the next morning, I waited until I heard the front door shut before I jumped out of bed and grabbed my keys and shoes, following him a few minutes later. The bag of poison sat under my seat, while my gun was concealed in the pocket of my hoodie. I was ending this today.

Oscar had gone everywhere except work that day. He went to the bank, where I saw him take a large amount of cash out from the ATM, then to the dry cleaners where he left with a suit bag that was definitely not his. I tailed him to a warehouse on the outskirts of the city, parking far enough away so as to not be spotted, yet close enough to make my getaway.

I found him and four other men huddled around, pulling on what looked like security uniforms as they spoke in Portuguese, finalizing the details of their plan. Lucky me, I got there right on time to stop them before they decided to do something stupid. Unfortunately, Oscar looked up at that moment and found himself staring me dead in the face. “Mi vida, what are you doing here?” His voice was hushed, like he was trying to hide what he was saying from the others, two of which had guns trained on me.

“I could ask you the same. Joaquin.”

The colour drained from his face as anger burned in his eyes. “What are you talking about?”

“I think you know.” My gun was sitting in the pocket of my hoodie, reachable, but I would need a fucking miracle to get to it quickly. “You thought you could hide this shit from me?”

Oscar - Joaquin - stared at me. “You took it!” He bellowed, hand coming up to slap me across the face.

He didn’t make contact. No, I caught his hand in my gloved one and pulled him close, my gun now muzzle-first against his neck. “Yeah. I did. False flag operations usually require a little more planning than just this. Who’s the handler?”

Nothing.

“I’ll kill him and then all but one of you, who will die painfully,” I threatened, waving the gun around and watched one of the men before me slowly put his gun on the floor. “Good boy.”

“I’ll kill you!” The man I knew as my fiancé had begun ranting, cursing me out in Portuguese. “I swear to God, I will kill you and bury you so deep that no one but the spiders and worms will find you!”

The last threads on my resolve snapped. The persona I had embodied too many times on missions came roaring back, and I backhanded Joaquin across the face before kicking him in the chest with my booted foot. “Who. Is. Responsible?”

“I’m not telling you.”

Well then. I grabbed his shirt with one hand, pressing my gun to his forehead, before repeating myself. “I have no qualms with putting a bullet in every joint of yours, so try again.” The look on my face was blank, emotionless. The Ghost eyes, a colleague had called them.

“No.”

Fine by me. I pulled the vials from my pocket, tossing them to each man around me. “I am going to give you boss this,” I wiggled the clear liquid, allowing each man to watch it slosh against the sides. “And one of you is going to tell me what you have planned, and I’ll consider telling you which one is the antidote.”

“Fern!” Joaquin was yelling now, head thrashing side to side as I popped open the vial and poured it down his throat as he lay there twisting under me. The shouts turned into coughing and gagging, and when I removed my foot from his chest, he rolled over, fingers going down his throat, trying to throw up whatever I had given him.

“So? What’ll it be?”

The smallest man in the room immediately began explaining. He told me what the target was, what they had planned, who had ordered it. He told me everything, before collapsing. He and the others had caught the thallium coated vials, the toxin seeping into his skin as he had stood there.

None of the vials had been an antidote, they were realizing this now.

And after one fell, so did the others, each falling unconscious from the amount of thallium that coated each little glass container. Each man would remain there, a bullet passing through each of their temples, silencing them forever. Ever the diligent agent, not a bullet remained at the scene, those I would bury in my flower bed at home, where they would never be found.

Joaquin though, he was still alive. For now. No one except me knew the ingredients of what I had given him and it would stay that way. His voice was nothing more than a gurgle, yet still full of pain so deep that it took every fibre of his being to creep closer to me.

Too bad he wouldn’t ever leave the building. I made sure of that.

===

Months afterwards, I had rebuilt my life in Austin. It took a while, but eventually I was able to open a flower shop that I proudly named Hera’s Orchard. I worked 10-5, putting together bouquets, boutineers, and the like for weddings, events, prom, and just because. It was exactly the life I wanted for myself after the CIA. After Oscar.

I didn’t dwell on him for too long. He had lied the entirety of our relationship, the exact details were still unclear to me, but for once in my life, I was okay with that. He would only be a blip on the radar that was my life, so inconsequential that his name wouldn’t register.

Three weeks after opening, I hired my first and only three employees, Charlie, Mavis, and Lori. Charlie, I could tell, had a huge crush on me. Why I had no idea, but it made me chuckle on the odd night when my house was too quiet with just me and Andy. We were a small florist’s shop, and we got nowhere near enough traffic to require more people than that. And it worked for us.

There was, of course, a back room that was off limits. I told my employees that it was a special climate-controlled environment that required minimal handling and were plants that I had specially ordered. However, this was only a portion of the truth. The special plants were those that produced very dangerous poisons, some of which, when distilled down, were untraceable when combined with others.

It was a hobby of mine. Simple as that.

Plants were simple, but the concoctions they brewed were anything but. It added a new layer to the life I had built for myself and it thrilled me to no end. I built a lab in the basement of the house Oscar had left me. There, I spent my evenings and weekends playing around with different mixtures, testing theories and my own limits. It made it hard not to think about Oscar - Joaquin - some days. His death had been full of agony; a deep, writhing, biting pain that had snaked through his veins, lighting up every nerve ending in his body and it had been my final gift to him. A final thank you for a waste of three perfectly good years.

The relationship might have been fake, but his will wasn’t and neither was his life insurance. So I guess it did all work out in the end.

My creations sat there, gathering dust. Just like I was. I craved excitement, and for the first time, I found myself missing my old job. I had grown complacent, set in my ways. I had to change that before it would be the death of me.

Across the street from my flower shop sat a cute little bakery called Cora’s. I knew from Mavis that the cinnamon donuts were worth killing over, and from my observation, it was frequented by a lot of women. Not that that was anything of note, but after a few months of being open, I had noticed the pattern of women who seemed to shrink in on themselves as they walked in the doors, only to leave minutes later with a coffee cup and something that most of them stuffed into a pocket.

Well, consider me interested. Something was afoot.

I began my own investigation. Coming by every few days, making sure I didn’t have a pattern, and placing orders for my shop while inside as I sipped my drink of choice for the day. Sure I was casing the place, but I learned a lot.

The owners, a pair of women, who I came to know as Emory and Birdie, were kind but intimidating in the sense that they knew something you didn’t. Even their friend, Atlas, a local defence attorney, had the same look in her eyes, and I was immediately intrigued. I watched and waited, eventually introducing myself to the owners as the owner of the flower shop across the way, and I knew that I had an in.

One phrase seemed popular. “A pomegranate scone, please”, “Could I add a pomegranate scone to that?”, “A large coffee and a pomegranate scone.” An odd request to happen so frequently, given that the menu item didn’t exist, and whoever was behind the counter, whether that be an owner, or someone else, almost always paused before sliding something across the counter.

My interest was piqued, and one night I stayed late at the shop, watching the lights at Cora’s shut off, while a queue of people seemed to grow longer and longer by the minute, stemming from the back of the building.

Strange.

I armed myself, slipping into the queue silently before ducking inside a speakeasy. It was electrifying, especially since I had been out of the spy game for a while now, and it was like I was coming home.

I wandered through the building, taking in the musicians and the performers, watching the patrons, noting the clothing, the way they carried themselves. At this point, I caught sight of a woman I had seen at Cora’s earlier that day. One who had used the phrase. She was curled in on herself, intentionally making herself small. Markers of a woman in distress.

Slipping down the hallway after her, I watched her enter a room with four women sitting around a table. What happened there with that woman was none of my business, but she met my gaze when she left. It was full of relief, confidence, and something new that had a pep in her step. “Thank them again for me,” she whispered as she slipped past me down the hall, and I saw her exit through the back door, disappearing into the night.

Now it was my turn for an audience.

I stepped into the room, the pieces of my investigation slotting into place as I watched recognition flicker over three of the faces. Emory, Atlas, Birdie, and another woman had stood on my entrance, their faces torn between confusion, anger, and something else. Something dark lingered in the eyes of the fourth woman. “So. This is where the code gets you.”

“Fern.” Birdie’s voice was so unlike its usually chipper nature. I had intruded on something secret and she did not want me here. “What are you doing?”

“Offering my help. These women you are helping need more than a gun, or being able to smother whoever is hurting them.” There was no humour in the eyes of the usually laughing Emory. She was doing her best to pin me to the spot with her glare. Unfortunately, it wasn’t enough.

“You need my help,” I continued, walking up to the table. “If you really want to protect these women, as you claim to do, then you need this.” I placed a vial of my newest mixture on the table, grinning a little as they turned slightly to glance at it.

The one woman I didn’t recognize, scoffed. “Water in a little jar isn’t going to do anything for these women.” Her voice was sharp, by my guess a woman who had served her country for as long as she could, and she was clearly not a fan of me being here.

I grinned. “If that were water, then I’d be wasting all of our times. I have a specific skill set that is helpful to you and you would be wise to take me up on it.” My tone left little room for argument. I was dead-set on joining this ‘girl-gang’ of sorts. Their cause was admirable, but they needed help. “Besides. I caught you with your pants down, that isn’t a good business model.”

A look was exchanged between the trio of women, before one nodded sharply. “You are the first person to find us like this,” Atlas commented. A part of her seemed impressed, but I knew better than to believe that these women weren’t dangerous.

“And I intend on being the last. You give me a chance to ensure that these work the way I intend them to. I help you ensure that this sanctum is only penetrated by those needing our help. Do we have a deal?”

Emory smirked. “What makes you think we need you?” A typical posturing move, she was unsure and trying to compensate. If I were right, then she was a woman like the kind she helped, using her past experiences to guide her anger at the man who hurt her and channeling it into punishing the abusers, douchebags, and those who deserved it. “You said it yourself, you just walked right on in here. We have been doing just fine without you.”

“You have. I would be remiss if I didn’t acknowledge that.” It would be stupid of me to think that they weren’t capable. I had made a career on men and even other women doubting my abilities, my intelligence. I wouldn’t make the same mistakes that those morons had. “I only think your mission could be better served if your doors weren’t so easily slipped through. You could better protect these women with my skill set in combination with yours.”

“Hmmm.”

I nodded at the vial on the table. “Give that a try. If it doesn’t yield the intended results, then we pretend this didn’t happen. I won’t say a word because I clearly know very little of what happens here. But,” I paused to meet Emory’s gaze, holding it with mine. “If it does its job, you know where to find me. Have a good night ladies.”

And just like that, I walked out of the inner sanctum of the women that I would come to know as the Furies, not looking behind me. I took a risk, a calculated one. I only had to hope that my skills were something that they deemed useful. If not, then as I promised, I wouldn’t say a word. Their mission was admirable, ambitious, but one that was important.

I got word a few days later via a basket of muffins that Emory wanted to chat with me. The basket had a phone number written in dark red pen on the little tag that hung from it, and once my staff were preoccupied with picking the ones they wanted, I stole away to call who I hoped would be a friend and ally soon.

We spoke quickly. Emory had wanted to tell me sooner rather than later that my poison had worked. That it was untraceable.

Now that surprised me.

“And,” Emory began. “We’d like to take you up on your offer of helping us ensure the safety of these women. Plausible deniability is everything in this line of work. It helps us keep them safe.”

“I sense a ‘but’ somewhere in that sentence.” My tone was light, almost humorous. I knew my work was excellent, but proof of it made my heart sing. “What’s the catch?”

Emory paused and the line went silent for a few moments. “There is an NDA. You didn’t come about joining us the usual way. We need to ensure our safety.”

“I understand that, Em. But please consider that if I wanted to harm you and the others, I could and you wouldn’t know until it was too late.” I had to make that fact perfectly clear. “But,” I continued, “I have no intention of doing do. I will sign the paperwork.”

There was a rush of air on the other end of the phone. “Good. Now, about the ad Cora’s has posted. You already know that asking for a pomegranate scone gets you help from us, do you have something you want to add?”

I hummed in thought. In truth, I had spent a long time thinking about this arrangement these women had and what my own involvement would entail. “Have them ask for a custom bouquet of asphodel and other blooms. Only I handle the custom orders.”

“Expect Atlas soon with the paperwork. Welcome to the Furies.”

===

I spent my days arranging flowers and bouquets for the good men and women of Austin, while nights I was either lurking in the darkness of the Underworld, Birdie’s speakeasy or holed up in my lab working on the latest batch of poisons that would debilitate the worst kind of man the universe could make: a coward who beat, belittled, looked down upon the woman he chose to share his life with.

A month after I had joined the ranks of the Furies, a furious ex-husband of a client stormed the speakeasy had made a run for the woman. It had taken me nothing to step in front of him, defending her. “Get out of my way bitch!” He was so drunk that I could practically taste the alcohol on his breath. Red face, twitching eyes, slight slur to his words, and half a stumble every time he took a step, it was a miracle he hadn’t passed out. “Move or… I’llmoveyou.”

Needless to say, I didn’t move. His presence in the speakeasy was a sign that things had to change some more. If one husband could come here after his wife, then the whole point of Persephone’s - Emory’s - mission was wasted. He swung at me, a wild haymaker that missed me by miles. I fired back with two quick jabs to the side, sending him stumbling into the wall. Each swing he took hit nothing but air. He was too drunk to do anything more than stand let alone throw a punch, so I kicked his ass out the door, sending him on his way with a black eye and several bruises to his abdomen.

That one night earned me the nickname Bruiser, and I found out from Birdie that the task force was very interested in how a man had had a run in with a Fury and not wound up murdered that instant. The mere thought always made me smile, especially since he was found dead a week later with fentanyl left in his bloodstream.

It was also the night I met Natasha. She had approached me after I sent that man out the door and to say I was drawn to her was undercutting the entire experience. Soft dark hair, intelligent brown eyes, and just the right amount of muscle to still appear deceptively delicate and she had her sights on me. It was electrifying being in her presence, I hadn’t been so attracted to someone since Oscar, and here she was, her hand on my bicep, eyes cutting into mine in a way that had my head spinning.

“Want to go somewhere more quiet?” The words were out of my mouth before I could stop them, a furious blush covering my face.

Thankfully, all it did was make her grin. “Of course. Where were you thinking?”

“My shop is across the street?”

She nodded, motioning for me to lead the way. I let her into my office, sitting in my desk chair watching as she perched on the desk in front of me.

“So. Was this all a ploy to murder me, Fern?” Her question was full of teasing, but it still sent a bolt of fear down my spine.

“How do you know my name?”

She chuckled. “My best friend is married to Birdie. Bob?”

“Oh yeah. Somehow it’s easy to forget that she’s married,” I mused aloud, ignoring the bright smile on the face of the woman in front of me. “It has to be how she carries herself.”

Natasha smirked as she placed her hands on the armrests of the chair I was sitting in, my words seemingly lost between my mouth and her ears. “What do you want from me, Fern? A chat? A quick fuck?” She’d ignored the words I spoke moments earlier, choosing instead to cut past the formalities of getting to know someone.

Her bluntness made me laugh. “I just wanted to get to know you, Sargeant.” I held up her badge for her to see, grinning as she gaped at me. “You aren’t the only one with tricks.”

The room fell silent. Natasha’s presence filled the room we were in, a cloying feeling that enveloped all of my senses. It was like the summer air after a storm, thick, heavy and it made you sweat. I wanted more at the same time as parts of me wanted to leave. However, Natasha knew she had the upper hand and she didn’t waste it, ducking her head down to snare my lips in a kiss that stole my breath.

I pulled her towards me, sliding her off the desk and onto my lap, as I kissed her back, content to let her have control for the moment. When she pulled back for air, I seized the moment to trail teasing kisses across her collarbones and throat. It made me grin as I felt her breath hitch as I kissed over a spot just below her jaw. A hand gripped my jaw, steering my lips back to hers and her sigh allowed me to slip my tongue into her mouth, pulling her closer to my chest.

One of Natasha’s hands braced itself against the wall behind me, the other bracing my jaw as her clever mouth nipped and teased. I had gotten lost in the feeling of her lips on mine, that a sharp bite to my lower lip drew me back to the present moment. The same moment that this dream of a woman sat straddling my lap, kissing me. She was everything I hadn’t known I needed. Touches that sent sparks racing through my body and kisses that made my head spin. I barely knew her and yet I already knew that she would be my weakness.

I don’t know how long we sat there, making out like teenagers in my office, but it was one of the best moments of my life. Eventually, Natasha did have to leave but she stopped in my doorway, letting her eyes trail over my position in the chair as she chewed on her lower lip. It was enough to have me standing up, a card in my hand. “Next time you’re looking for a ‘chat’, Sargent, you know where to find me.”

“And if I want more?” Her dark eyes were a gleam with an unspoken challenge, and it had my blood pumping like I had just ran a marathon. “What does the infamous ‘Bruiser’ think of that, Fern?”

The grin on my lips matched the mirth in her eyes. “I don’t know, Natasha. You’ll just have to call and see.”

She plucked the card from my hand, kissed me softly once more before slipping out the front door of the shop. I watched her go, leaning against the counter, a hand pressing against my lips, mesmerized by the dark haired woman that had slid into my life so seamlessly. I hoped that she would call, that she wasn’t just a ploy used by the task force to unbalance us.

Moments later, my phone buzzed on the desk, the screen lit up to reveal a message from an unknown number: Does this count as calling? I need to see you again.

Her message made me chuckle as I typed back: I guess I can count it. Meet me at the shop tmw at 6. We can have dinner and talk.

A responding thumbs up flashed across my phone almost immediately. As I stuffed my phone into my pocket, a sinking feeling quenched the thrill that had been lodged deep in my chest. I couldn’t afford to get hurt again and I knew that Natasha would be the end of me.

Flash forward a year later

Natasha and I had been going strong for a year now and she had a difficult job, balancing me and my secrets with her duty as a police Sargeant, and I figured that it was time that she was read in on what was going on.

Except she refused. “What I do know is too much right now,” Nat told me. “My love, I want to know, don’t get me wrong. But I can’t protect you if I know everything.”

That part had confused me. “What do you mean?” We had been laying together in bed, her head pillowed on my bare chest as she curled into me. “I can protect us both.”

“I can still be called to testify against you if you are caught. I don’t want to know. Not yet.” Her voice, while soft in volume, was firm in its tone. She had risen up in her elbow to look at me and I couldn’t help but stare. She was a vision against the pale coloured sheets, her dark hair standing out as she played with my fingers, and like I had known from the start, she proved that losing her would be the end of me.

My voice stuck in my throat and it took several tries until I was able to croak out “You mean you want to wait until we get married?”

She nodded. “I do. That way, I can’t testify against you. I love you too much to put you at risk like this.” Her eyes were nervous, like she was afraid that she had said too much.

Okay. I could deal with that. “I love you too, Nat.”

===

A/N: So this is Bruisey! I had so much fun writing her story from before she was a Fury, and I hope you all enjoyed it too!

🏷️ @dakotakazansky @cherrycola27 @thedroneranger @sarahsmi13s @hisredheadedgoddess28 @roosters-girl @bobby-r2d2-floyd @startrekfangirl2233 @footprintsinthesxnd @genius2050 @angelbabyange @djs8891

[holden-norgorov]

I gotta say it. For all the issues there are in the show, my biggest disappointment is with the absence of Per Haskell, and Inej's freedom being directly dependent on Kaz. This altered the entire foundation of the Kanej dynamic that was present in the books and, as far as I can tell, there's no way it's not going to end up portraying either Kaz or Inej as incredibly OOC at some point. Another huge let-down is also Kaz's main drive and motivator being his love for Inej rather than personal revenge (which is something Freddy himself also confirmed in an interview, other than being contextually evident during the whole season). These two elements combined will lead to unescapable narrative or logical contradictions in the long term.

I was really hoping, until the last minute, that the show would come up with a clever justification as to why Per Haskell was kept out of the picture, without ending up sacrificing the core of Kaz and Inej's relationship. But it doesn't. And Kaz being directly responsible for granting Inej's freedom is a new, giant ethical dilemma that was never present in the books, and whose absence there gave moral context and permission to a lot of what happened in their shared backgrounds.

Inej's freedom being independent from Kaz was PIVOTAL in the books. The nuance and beauty of their relationship vastly came from the fact that Kaz had no actual means for estinguishing Inej's debt, and that her work for the Dregs was not something he could absolve her from performing in any way. At least, not until the giant, life-changing offer of 30 million kruge they got at the beginning of SoC, which was kind of the whole point. Until then, the narrative had made abundantly clear that Inej's agency was entirely dependent on Per Haskell holding her contract, and that despite having played a pivotal role in liberating her from the Menagerie, Kaz really couldn't do anything to absolve her from the criminal life she had decided to dive into in exchange of escaping Tante Heleen's whip. This is what absolved Kaz from any moral judgment, on the part of the reader, when it came to forging the myth of the Wraith and teaching Inej how to fight, kill, pick locks and steal. By having no leverage on her freedom, turning her into a weapon meant helping her staying alive and providing her with a better chance at solving her debts. It was not something he could spare her, only something he could help her master.

But in the show, with Kaz becoming the one and only obstacle standing between Inej and her freedom, the ethical dimension of their dynamic entirely shifted, loosing breadth, depth and complexity. They couldn't afford to make this shift and still keep Dirtyhands' main decision/action motivator being his own revenge against Pekka Rollins without turning Kanej into an abusive relationship. This is why Kaz was softened and why his own motivator became his love for Inej. They just couldn't portray Inej being in love with the one person who was directly holding her back from her freedom and whose character was also mainly fueled by personal revenge, completely utilitarian and without conscience, and perfectly willing to strip agency from his investments as soon as they proved to be useful to his cause, without for the relationship to become morally corrupt and abusive (and kind of Stockholm Syndrome-y). Pre-SoC Kaz not being burdened by the responsibility of Inej's agency and freedom in the books absolved him from moral condemnations on our part when it came to viewing Inej as a mere investment, or naively wishing for her to be tied to him and become Kings and Queens together, because he could not liberate her in any way. Inej was the only one responsible for paying her own debt, and none of the things she had to do to achieve that end were ever optional. This gave Kaz plenty of ethical turf to navigate that enriched their dynamic a lot without stripping Inej of her own agency (whose beholder was Per Haskell), and without having to compromise his own vengeful objectives.

So, what are we left with here? We are left with Kaz inevitably having as a character-defining motivator his love for Inej in order to avoid the glamorization of abuse (which is what this version of Kanej would be otherwise), which is not something workable for the integrity of the characters in the long run.

One of the things I loved the most about Kanej in the books was that the narrative established that they would do anything for each other, without for them to even need to (or arguably, be able to) talk out loud about it. That their bond was almost entirely fueled by introspection and internal monologues, and most importantly, that what they felt for each other never defined them as individuals. Inej's main decision drive was never her love for Kaz, but her own freedom and the newborn purpose of hunting slavers (which is, in its own way, a form of revenge for what was done to her). Kaz's main decision drive was never his love for Inej, but his own vendetta against Pekka Rollins that could silence Jordie's voice inside him and strip him of that feeling of shame that had been slowly eating him whole for years (which is, in its own way, a form of revenge for what was done to him). And they help each other out in achieving those ends by the end of CK (Kaz by bying her a ship, Inej by threatening Pekka's life), but their individual backgrounds still bear too much trauma to lead either of them to be comfortable enough in defining themselves according to what they feel for each other. Still, at the same time, it's established by the end of the duology that both of them are willing to try again, and that gives a hopeful note to their ending.

In the show, instead, Kaz ends up doing everything having Inej's freedom as a main motivator, because it's entirely dependent on him, and the romantic tension between the two would be toxic if this was not the case. But pre-SoC Kaz, Dirtyhands in the making, would spend 0.2 seconds in indulging Inej's complaints, would find himself another spider, kidnap Alina with no remorse or second thought and cash in the million kruge prize to build up his name and reputation, with the downfall of Pekka Rollins in mind.

In S01E02, when Inej is about to kill Arken to be freed from the Menagerie, she turns to Kaz and asks "so you choose him over my freedom?" and he replies "you assume it's one or the other". But this narrative doesn't add up. If Kaz is truly in need of Inej's skills but at the same time is motivated by his feelings for her and is willing to bet the entire Crow Club on her liberation from Tante Heleen, while Inej's main desire is to be reunited with her own family, find her brother (whose addition was completely pointless) and gain her old life back... how can the show make Inej stay with the Crows to, you know, carry out the plot of SoC and CK, in any convincing way? Why would we believe that she would give up her independence and newly-gained freedom to remain a criminal out of personal will?

As far as I can tell, the ending of season 1 left us with two alternatives. Either Kaz keeps his promise to her, gives her her own freedom back, and Inej decides to keep working for him instead of looking out for her family, or Kaz betrays her trust and keeps her under his own authority as the ultimate beholder of her contract, thereby making her own involvement in the Ice Court heist mandatory.

And I'm sorry, but both of these alternatives are deeply OOC and absurd for both characters, whose relationship has been taken into an entirely new direction thanks to the absence of Per Haskell and its narrative implications.

I just can't see how the writers can find their way out of this conundrum without utterly cheapening or entirely deforming the core of what Kanej is in the books.

[wackygoofball]

Moodboard - Jaime x Brienne - Queen Brienne AU

After the death of Aerys Targaryen at the hands of a man of his own Kingsguard, the battle over the Iron Throne ravages across the Seven Kingdoms. The smallfolk suffers for the ambition of the lords and ladies with their eyes set on the crown.

Despite their efforts and the sheer endless bloodshed, no contestant can take the Iron Throne. Instead, the wars continue to not just empty their armies but also their purses. And so, the rivaling alliances come together for parley to discuss what to do with this war-ridden nation.

After the discussions are over, the unexpected surprise is that a new ruler for the Seven Kingdoms is declared by all rivaling parties:

Brienne of Tarth, daughter to the late Evenstar, a plain girl not yet of age and no political ambition or knowledge. Perhaps most surprised about that decision is Brienne herself, when news reach her just what honor was bestowed upon her. She is brought to the capital and is crowned in front of the former contestants for the Iron Throne almost in a rush.

Assigned to her protection is none other than the Kingslayer, Jaime Lannister. A young man turned bitter ever since he slew Aerys Targaryen and since has not just the stigma of dishonor sticking to his white cloak but also the scorns and misgiving of the people who only see in him a man without honor. Brienne, for her part, is little impressed with the man, acting as though she was a fool for ever agreeing to take the crown. As though that was an alternative.

Brienne soon finds herself confronted with the harsh reality her protector lays out in not at all kind words. There is only one reason for her being Queen: The rivaling parties, their resources for war depleted, understood that they could not afford to continue the fight. And so, they settled for a royal candidate they believed could easily be overthrown. An ugly girl from a minor House, without her father’s protection and no good prospects of marriage or an heir, not just for matters of her age but also her looks and character, the Maid of Tarth. The moment the contestants for the Iron Throne have gathered new strengths, of that Jaime is sure, they will usurp her. Brienne is merely there to keep that uncomfortable chair warm until one of them sits down on it in her stead.

The young Queen will not give in without a fight, though. Her father raised her better than that. So long she sits the Iron Throne, she shall rule as justly as she can and protect her people from men and women only ever driven by their own ambition.

But the hardships just carry on without abandon, despite Brienne’s best efforts to grow into the role as the Queen of Westeros. The people don’t much care about her. She hardly knows how to speak in front of a crowd and cannot impress with her sheer beauty or grace. No one is as much as considering alliance with her, which leaves Brienne to run a country massively indebted and with no support to aid her people still suffering from the aftermath of the last war after the death of Aerys Targaryen.

Even her Small Council won’t fill with anyone beside Jaime’s brother Tyrion who is the only one to answer the Queen’s call. After all, why would you side with a Queen you know is not meant to last?

While Jaime finds her efforts admirable, he simply feels done with this whole ordeal, the game of thrones. He killed a man, so half a million could live, and still they scorn and laugh behind his back. His best act is his worst. And the Queen he is now sworn to protect makes it very hard for him to fulfill his solemn duty. Not only does she tend to sneak away in men’s clothes to the tourneys or to walk amongst her people in disguise, but she shows no trust in him as a member of her Queensguard.

On a journey to the Twins to meet with the recently proclaimed King in the North Ned Stark, Jaime lets her know some truths about how he became a member of the Kingsguard, how Aerys just wanted to spite his father with the act, how he did it for an ill love for his sister stuck at Storm’s End now, how people would have burned, had he not acted. And for the first time in his life, he dares to trust someone with his story, with himself. And to his even greater shock, for once, she does not push him away or call him a man without honor.

An attempt on the lives of both the King in the North and the Queen of the Seven Kingdoms is a fortune they barely dodge. Though as a result, a truce is born between the North and the remaining kingdoms, as Brienne wins Ned Stark’s trust by defending his family at the risk of her own life.

Though that solves only few problems. Many lords and ladies disagree with a King in the North staying in power. Thus, not much is gained out of the alliance that may secure Brienne’s throne. Not that the young Queen cares.

Honor compelled her, after all.

In the aftermath, Brienne decrees a change to the old rules and protocols: No man of a Kingsgaurd or now Queensguard should be forced to swear fealty for life. Not all rulers are good, and so, the Queensguard should not be forced to defend a bad King but protect the realm instead. As a result, a man of her Queensguard can choose to resign at any time. Brienne is fully aware that she is thus giving way to Jaime to resign and likely chase the ghosts of old awaiting him in the Stormlands. After all, as he told her, we don’t get to choose who we love. And Brienne cannot, in good conscience, choose to take that choice away from anyone.

To her great shock, however, she finds Jaime training the youths the very next day, with no intention to leave. Instead, he asks her to make him Lord Commander, as Barristan Selmy was gravely injured at the battle at the Twins and cannot continue his service to her. Brienne agrees to his choice and chooses him as her new Lord Commander.

Time seems to fly and moons turn to years that heal some of the wounds of the nation, but the heat of the fires of war is barely crackling beneath the surface of a fragile peace. Jaime is increasingly worried about his Queen. With only one person not against her - and yet no ally ready to ride into battle for her throne - Brienne is exposed to great dangers even a sword can’t protect her from. Jaime, since fully committed to not just her safety but to his Queen, is desperate to keep her safe.

While she is perhaps the most stubborn woman he ever met, Jaime long since harbors romantic feelings for her. Though Jaime knows he couldn’t possibly admit his feelings to her, let alone act upon them. Even if times weren’t as dangerous, Jaime fears that if he were to confess his true feelings and wishes, he would lose what he gained throughout the years: Her trust in him and his honor. Because he’d rather run away with Brienne, to where no one could find them, build a house, have a family, and grow old together. But for that, she’d have to forsake her vow to her country. And Jaime knows he couldn’t possibly ask of her to betray her vows for him without losing her.

As much as it pains him, well aware of Brienne’s own misgiving to such an idea, Jaime advises her to seek alliance through marriage. It is one of the few devices she has left to secure her throne. With a great House to support her, she may stand a chance against the impending war. And if she has an heir, too, all the more.

Brienne shows little care for his suggestion, though, readying herself for a fight instead of wedlock. After all, she is the Knight Queen in the eyes of everyone already. She once had a suitor who only ever sought her father’s riches. And Brienne won’t let herself be reduced to someone keeping the throne warm for a man to serve the duty she has fulfilled ever since the crown was put upon her head. Brienne understands that the people don’t love her, that no lord will ever desire her and choose to be by her side with all of himself, so Brienne will have to do it on her own.

She will fight to keep her vow, or die in the attempt.

Though her decision against an alliance by marriage is not only tied to her suspicion of any suitor’s true intentions. After all, her heart does no longer beat solely for her people, it also beats all the faster for the one man who went through all those hardships with her throughout the years, despite his reputation inspiring little confidence. Even if Brienne wanted to, she couldn’t say the words, take a vow she can only ever mean for her Lord Commander, her best advisor, her friend, her one true love. But she knows it is a futile kind of love, the way it always seems to be for her. And tempting as it may be to envision a life with him by her side, Brienne fears that her love for him may make her forsake her vows to her nation. Because she’d love him more. And Brienne wants to be the Queen he believes in.

After all, isn’t love the death of honor?

And so, while the war parties ready themselves for the next dance of blood and ashes, the Knight Queen and her Lord Commander must not only battle their own feelings but fight together to safeguard that which they swore to protect.

But in the game of thrones, you either live or die playing this most vicious game. So it may well be that their happier times of the past and their small prospects of a merrier future may well turn into faded memories in teh face of a long night...

Additional image sources: The Hollow Crown and The White Queen

[bot-imagines]

Imagine A Human Charge with an Omnitrix

(My favorite aliens were Big Chill and EchoEcho!)

Optimus is very impressed with the technology, but he’s even more impressed with the human’s decision to use this technology to help others. It’s a very admirable thing, and he can’t help but be rather proud of the human. He likes to tell the human that quite often. He understands that the human has their own duties with their powers, but he may ask for their assistance from time to time on mission. Personally, he enjoys Diamondhead.

Ratchet is absolutely fascinated and wants to study the watch. The human insists that it doesn’t come off, but that won’t stop him from trying, fraggit. He wants to spend a lot of time comparing notes he has on alien species with the Omnitrix’s data. He’s shocked to find that there’s far more species included than he was even aware of! He’s a fan of Grey Matter, and wants to see if they can help with the tech around the base.

Bumblebee is in awe. He’s practically got stars in his eyes - it’s so frickin’ adorable. He wants to see all of the human’s alien forms and all of their powers. He’s encountered a few of the aliens, and will gladly tell the human stories about them. They certainly seem eager to listen. He may or may not be debating the merits of challenging XLR8 to a race.

Arcee is of the mindset that the Omnitrix is too dangerous for a mere human to possess. Don’t get her wrong, she knows that the human is clever and more than capable of handling themself, but still - she worries. Considering how weak and fragile humans are in comparison, can you really blame her? But despite her reservations, she’s glad to have their help on missions, especially when they need just a bit more muscle. She’s more than a little impressed with Swampfire and their regeneration abilities.

Bulkhead is at a loss for what to think at first. He kind of takes his cue from the others. He’s curious to learn how the human found the Omnitrix in the first place, and why they decided to use it to help others. He’s down to help the human test their endurance with different species, especially with the aliens he knows from personal experience. Turns out, Cannonbolt makes for an excellent lobball.

Smokescreen is running his mouth a million miles a minute. Surprisingly enough, he knows the most about all of the aliens species inside of the watch, thanks to his time with Alpha Trion. It really comes as a shock to everyone when Smokescreen is able to tell them more about a certain species than even Ratchet or Optimus. The human wants to hear everything about as many of the aliens as possible, and Smokescreen is glad to share. He’s always wanted to see one of Spidermonkey’s species in real life!

Wheeljack has spent a lot of time traveling, and he’s never seen anything like this before. He definitely wants to swap stories with the human and encourages them to push each of their alternate forms to the limit. Make it or break it, he says. He may not have as much scientific knowledge about alien species as Smokescreen, but he has the most personal experience with them. He’s been to a lot of systems, and even been caught up in other species’ conflicts, much to the other Autobots’ horror. He and Humungousaur have been having an ongoing wrestling match for a while now.

Ultra Magnus is under the impression that the human stole the Omnitrix when he first meets them. He had heard a rumor about the Omnitrix prototype some time ago, and can’t see how such powerful technology could end up here, in the hands of a human. Eventually, he’s able to come to terms with the fact that the human didn’t actually steal the watch, and that they are bonded with it forever. He considers the human not just as an ally, but as a possible ambassador for the Autobots. What better way to gain allies than to have an ambassador who can transform into the native species? He claims he doesn’t have a favorite alien, but he won’t argue that Brainstorm comes in handy.

Heatwave is more than a little unsure about the Omnitrix. Considering how accident prone the humans on Griffin Rock are, he’s honestly probably in the right here. He does his best to not worry too much - after all, the human is perfectly capable of handling themself just fine. He’s grateful for Big Chill and their ability to quickly evacuate civilians.

Chase is interested for sure, but he seems to think that he can enforce a lot of laws onto the human’s alien forms that won’t really work - like trying to give Fasttrack a speeding ticket. He’s not a fan of the human using their powers for their own gain, and will tell them as such whenever he sees them doing so. He tends to enjoy watching Chromastone at work though.

Boulder wants to learn everything he can about the Omnitrix. He spends a lot of time gathering data from their ship’s drives to compare to the watch. He wants to categorize and describe every single alien, and the human is happy to show off. He spends weeks trying to understand Goop’s anatomy. He especially enjoys the readings he gets from Feedback.

Blades is a bit nervous to learn that the Omnitrix isn’t just a myth. He’s even more nervous that a human is the one operating it. Not because he thinks humans are weak, but because he knows how reckless and stubborn they can be. He’s a bit hesitant to get close when the human transforms, and secretly hopes that they can’t turn into a Cybertronian. His favorite alien is Pesky Dust solely on the grounds that it’s absolutely adorable. 

[baticorngirl]

Title: “Dad, you’re embarrassing me!’

Rating: Teen and Up Audiences

Relationship(s): Talia Al Ghul/Bruce Wayne (Brutalia), Talia Al Ghul & Ra’s Al Ghul, Bruce Wayne & Ra’s Al Ghul, Dusan Al Ghul & Ra’s Al Ghul, Nyssa Raatko & Ra’s Al Ghul, Talia Al Ghul & Dusan Al Ghul,

Characters: Talia Al Ghul, Bruce Wayne, Ra’s Al Ghul, Nyssa Raatko, Dusan Al Ghul,

Summary: Bruce Wayne, an average (other than his parent's death) billionaire, was nervous. Very, very, nervous. It was a simple task, really, but meeting his girlfriend's family seemed rather intimidating at the moment. She has mentioned her father being strict or whatnot many times, and it had gotten many worries to arrive in his mind.

Unfortunately, Bruce had every right to be worried.

A/N: I don't own the characters, DC does.

This fic was originally made (or at least started) for @brutalia-week​ Day 4: Family. Since I wasn't able to finished it in time, I tried to make it a "day 8" kind of thing.... although I'm a teeny bit late for that, too, lol. It was originally just supposed to be a short humor fanfic, but... let's just say it got out of hand. Fair warning that some of the characters may be a teeny bit OOC (nothing too bad, though) because of humor or just plot-convenience.

For context, this takes place in an alternate universe where Bruce doesn't become Batman, but that's the only big difference. Anyway, enjoy!

Related Links: Read it on FF.Net (x), Read it on Ao3(x),

Day 1(x), Day 2(x), Day 3(x), Day 5(x), Day 6(x), Day 7(x),

______________________________________________________

Bruce was uncomfortable. His tie felt itchy, and hot, like a fever that somehow didn't spread to his forehead. In fact, his whole body felt hot, and the tiniest bit shaky. Bruce's stomach twisted up in a knot, making his face turn visibly red with discomfort. His breathing was a bit quicker and shorter than normal. He was nervous. Very, very, nervous. But considering the situation, he had every right to be.

Talia and him had been dating for quite a while now. Over 6 months, actually. They met up when they could, and every time they went on a date, they started enjoying each other's company more, and more, and more. Talia often had things she needed to do, though, and they would often come up out of what seemed to be nowhere. She'd always say she just had an assignment from work of some kind, but it often occurred to Bruce that she never mentioned what she did as a profession.

Perhaps, today would be the day he found out. Now that their relationship was feeling more serious, Talia had finally decided she would introduce her boyfriend to her parents, and the rest of her family. It had taken some convincing for her to do it, but her father had been adamant that meeting and evaluating any of her potential husbands was necessary.

"What if they're not worthy?" He had insisted, pacing back and forth in urgency. "What if they plan to spy on you, or hurt you, or are simply a failure? Besides, my Dear Daughter, what's the issue with him meeting us? Please, tell me you're not seriously acting embarrassed of your own family at this age." Ra's stopped to look at her, a disappointed look on his face.

"I-" Talia hadn't wanted to upset him, or even worse, make her view her as immature. She sighed, "Fine, but please…. try to stay calm with him. Be understanding if he's not quite up to your qualifications of worthy, and…. Just try not to kill him, okay? You can be very overwhelming, and although he's a very nice man, he's not used to murderers." She had tried to put it lightly, but truthfully, she wanted to yell the list of commands in his face. It was ridiculous -absolute ludicrous- that she had to tell him such simple things.

"Of course, Daughter. Whatever makes you most comfortable." Ra's smiled at her, and leaned in to kiss the top of her head affectionately. Yet again, she was reminded by why she had spared his feelings, but quickly forgot it as he spoke again. "But you can't truly expect me to hide my whole personality, can you? I'll try to make sure there's minimal stabbing at the family dinner that night, but you can only expect so much of me."

Talia had stared at him, with her eyes squinted with concern, but she pushed a smile on her face regardless. "J- Just do your best, Father. Thank you." The minute she had gotten out of the room, though, her smile immediately dropped. She let out a huge, tired, sigh. She loved her family, but sometimes she just wished they could hold their murderous instincts in for a moment.

Now, as her and Bruce inched towards the door, Talia felt that wish more than she ever had before. Even if Bruce was nervous, thinking of the times Talia had mentioned her Father being strict, controlling, and painfully traditional, he was nothing compared to Talia. She flinched every few moments. Her every instinct told her to lead Bruce away, to come up with an excuse, but it was too late now. She gulped. Maybe, if she had the best luck in the world, her father would only talk about his Endangered-Species-Saving Programs, and not his Murder-Most-Humans program.

But when Bruce looked down at her, he felt a sense of excitement. He surely hadn't heard the best things from Talia about her family, but if they have raised someone as wonderful as Talia, he was sure they couldn't be too bad. He knew they may not have the most similarities, but wasn't caring about Talia the most important similarity of all?

Despite his slight optimism, inside the Al Ghul house, not everyone was on their best behavior. Screams echoed through the dining room as everyone got settled down. Nyssa and Ra's, specifically, were the ones having the heated argument. Heated arguments were not uncommon for them, so much that no one had any clue why she was even invited to the family dinners. She didn't even consider herself part of that family, but Ra's was convinced that it was such a special moment, no one could miss it. His little girl has her first boyfriend! Inevitably, he lived to regret this decision.

"You're a dirty excuse for a father, Ra's! You left me to fend for myself when I needed you most!" Nyssa yelled, standing up from her chair. Her breath was heavy with rage. "You should be ashamed of yourself!" She quickly picked up her fork, throwing it as hard as she could in Ra's' face.

"No, you should be ashamed of yourself! You're the one that betrayed me, before I had done a thing to you!" Ra's screamed back, throwing the fork aside. Fortunately for Ra's, the fork hadn't done any damage. He quickly pulled himself out of his seat to balance the dominance in their positions. "Everything that happened was your own fault, so stop pushing the blame on to me just because I blatantly decided you weren't worth saving from torture!" Unaware of how bad that sounded, he picked up the fork again and threw it back at her.

They continued throwing things at each other, screaming endlessly. The danger of the things thrown escalated as they went. At first it was simply things like forks and spoons, things that wouldn't do too much damage. But it started getting worse, and worse…..

Outside, at least Bruce was getting some kind of a warning. Talia stopped him just before he opened the door, turning him to face her. She stared at him, a glint of dead seriousness in her eyes.

"Beloved, you are not ready to meet my family. You never will be. They're a lot to deal with." She warned. Talia's hands gripped his shoulders even harder than a villain does when threatening a hero. "Every single one of my family members is weird. Very, very weird. A bit absurd, even. Albeit a nice guy, you're also only a simple billionaire, so it's definitely going to get on your nerves. They even get on my nerves, they-"

Bruce gently tugged her arms off of her, "Talia, I can handle it. I'm not a judgemental guy, I swear. It's fine if they're a little weird." His face rested in a blank, -but more importantly, not a horrified or angry- expression. "Come on, let's go inside. They're probably waiting for us." He pointed towards the door, beginning to open it. Talia, still frazzled, immediately swung her arms over to stop him from opening it.

"Please, Beloved, you don't understand! It's not a difference in culture, tastes, or even opinions! I swear on my life… they're crazy." She stared into his eyes. Her pupils were huge, and her hands were shaky as she held him back. "I don't care if you don't believe me, but just… promise you won't blame me for them?" Talia looked down desperately. Her words slowed for a moment.

"Of course," Bruce nodded, but before she could even communicate her gratitude, he abruptly swung the door open. "I've told you a million times, though, I'm sure I won't even be blaming them! You're worr-" The second he took his eyes off of Talia, and on to the room in front of them, his mouth dropped. Every word he said about it being fine was regretted almost immediately. It was so very, very, not fine.

Bruce had looked just quick enough to see Nyssa cross a final line with the throwing… a full, sharp, assassin knife. It shot directly into, and right through, Ra's' guts. Blood dripped down his stomach area and onto his shirt and cape. Ra's looked down at the injury for a moment, before quickly realizing that Talia and her boyfriend had officially arrived.

"Look what you've done now, Nyssa!" Ra's scolded, pointing to Bruce angrily. "Our guest has arrived, and you've done this right in front of him! Look at him, so startled at your audacity to stab me that he can't seem to speak…. Congratulations, you've embarrassed the whole family!" Bruce couldn't seem to listen to Ra's, with his eyes stuck on his stomach. Blood kept spilling out of it, yet Ra's hardly seemed to mind.

"...Are you okay?" Bruce took a slow, hesitant step towards the dinner table. His eyes were as wide as he thought they could go. "Shouldn't someone call an ambulance? You're bleeding out!" With the pure shock of it all starting to fade, he whipped out his phone and started navigating to the dialer.

Now dripping even more blood on the ground, Ra's pranced over to the front door to greet Bruce. "No, no, no! Don't mind my other daughter's ill manors. She's never well-behaved anymore, I'm afraid. But you're the guest, you shouldn't worry about this. Just sit down and relax." He led Bruce over to his seat, nudging him to sit down onto it. Ra's turned his stomach away from the chair to be sure he didn't get any little drops of blood on it. As he made his way back to his own seat, he gestured towards his stab wound. "If you'll excuse me, I'm going to have to get changed and cleaned up. I'm afraid this stab wound has created quite a mess."

Still recovering from the shock of the stabbing, Bruce attempted to reason with him, "But don't you need to get medica-" Before he could even finish his sentence, though, Ra's was already out of the room and down the hallway. As hard as Ra's had tried to keep the floor from too much damage, there were still drips of blood every few feet. Bruce considered following them to make sure he was okay, but quickly realized that with all the servants here, at least one person would help.

Talia sat down next to him, surprisingly unstartled by her own father's stabbing, "Try not to worry too much about it, Beloved. This happens a lot -sometimes even ending in the opposite- and as you can see, it has never resulted in his -or even Nyssa's- death. Oh, and don't worry for your own life, the stabbing is very personal. I doubt Nyssa thinks you have enough of a connection with him to be worth hurting." She explained matter-of-factly. Her hand gently reached over to pat his hand, in an attempt to sooth him.

"Okay… I just, I don't want you to lose him. I don't want you to feel the same pain of losing your parents as I did…" His voice quivered at the thought of his own parent's tragic murder. Talia nodded, understanding his pain, but in no way attempting to agree with him.

"As I've said before, don't worry. I'm afraid my mother already died when I was a child, and her death frightened me, but him? No, no, no, he's quite the survivor. He's survived so many ridiculous situations, in fact, I believe he's practically immortal!" She exclaimed the strong statement, seeming a bit excited, but not quite cheerful. Seeing the statement as a casual joke, Bruce laughed nervously. Talia did not laugh with him, though. To his discomfort, she stared at him, just as dead-serious as she was with her original warning.

The sound of her father's pattering footsteps knocked them both out of their odd conversation. Ra's entered the room, his blood now nowhere in sight. Despite how formal the arrangement was supposed to be, he was shirtless. A new shirt, looking very similar to the one he was wearing when Bruce arrived, was tucked under his arm.

As Ra's started pulling the shirt on, Bruce noticed something. The place where the stab wound had been just a moment ago was perfectly visible, with no clothes covering it, and yet it just… wasn't there anymore. Certainly no blood, but not even any bandages, or any kind of scar! The only thing in the victim's gut area was skin. Pure, undamaged, skin. Talia's family was starting to seriously freak Bruce out.

Once Ra's had gotten his upper-half dressed, he promptly began making his more formal greeting to Bruce, "I'm afraid, with all that chaos, I never got the chance to introduce myself! I'm Ra's Al Ghul, Talia's father. You can call me Ra's…. At least as long as I haven't found you unworthy of casual nicknames." He narrowed his eyes, scaring away any joy in Bruce for the moment. "...And you are…? I'm afraid I don't think Talia's mentioned your name."

"I'm Bruce… um, Bruce Wayne." Bruce stuttered, trying to shake away the strong sense of uncomfort Ra's was starting to give him. Ra's smiled politely, and shook his hand.

"Welcome to our home, Bruce… Or Mr. Wayne, whatever you prefer to be called." He gestured to the grand mansion they were having dinner in. Having had enough of leaning over to be eye-to-eye with Bruce, he slumped back down onto his chair. His grand, collared, cape got thrown back in the process.

"..Bruce is fine," Bruce answered, still a bit nervous. Ra's nodded at him. Surrounded by a thick layer of eyeliner, his eyes seemed to stare into Bruce's soul. Bruce hated to judge someone for their clothing style, but the way Ra's dressed was certainly off for a meet-the-family type dinner. In fact, with the gold button on his cloak looking eerily like a demon's face, he was practically dressed like a supervillain.

Everyone began eating the food in peace. Nyssa did not try to stab anyone during that time, and neither did Ra's. It was pure silence at the dinner table, with everyone focusing purely on their plates instead of making conversation. Eventually, Ra's finally brought his head up from it and started speaking to Bruce.

"So… You want to marry my daughter?" Ra's asked, looking at Bruce sternly. His eyes carefully moved up and down, evaluating every single part of Bruce to see how worthy it was. He squinted at Bruce's jacket, his shoes, his expression… everything. As much as Bruce tried to seem calm and collected for Ra's, both the sudden assumption of marriage and the intense staring were only making him feel subconscious.

Fortunately, Talia immediately cleared it up, "We haven't even spoken about marriage yet, Father! Please, you're going to overwhelm him. Didn't I already tell you not to do this?" She pleaded. Talia gulped, just as she had been doing consecutively for this entire dinner. Watching her father act this way always felt a bit off, but having her boyfriend there just made it so much worse. She could easily feel what Bruce was feeling, -or at least what she thought he was- and she knew it was far from positive. Talia looked back down at her plate, hiding her face as it turned bright red. She didn't think she'd ever felt quite this embarrassed in her entire life.

"I apologize, but you do realize, Talia, that if you ever want your relationship to go anywhere you must marry him at some point. How long have you two been dating, again?" Ra's looked back at Bruce, waiting for him to finally speak for himself.

Bruce took a deep breath, "Somewhere around 6 months? Or possibly 7, it's hard to get it exact." Ra's raised an eyebrow at the number.

"You two… have not even been thinking about marriage yet? Let me tell you, every single one of my marriages has always started with a month -at most- of prior dating, and I have had at least one perfectly good marriage. You all remember Sora, may she rest in peace, and we had the happiest of marriages. Yet, we married out of convenience! We hardly knew each other! Sometimes, you young ones must just let-" Ra's rambled, only to be cut off by Talia sighing. The gush of air was so loud and obviously exasperated that it completely cut off his story. After a second or two of silence, he continued despite it, "As I was saying, sometimes you young ones need to understand that dating isn't going to secure a marriage. A good attitude will! Both Sora and I had a good attitude, and she managed to be the light of my life. But of course, that only lasted so-"

This time, Talia simply used her words to stop him, "-So long because she got strangled to death in front of your eyes. We all know, Father, and frankly I don't think Bruce needs to know your life story. Why can't we just talk about something a bit more.. Conventional? We already talk about murder and death so much, can't we just lighten up a bit?" She begged, biting her lip uncomfortably. Her eyes looked at Ra's softly, almost as if she was attempting to do puppy eyes.

"Fine, fine, I really should get to the point, anyhow. We must tell if he is worthy enough to even date you! Only the finest in the lands are worthy of you, my darling, and so far I doubt he's up to that standard." Ra's scoffed, and Bruce couldn't help but roll his eyes in return. Talia looked down again, rubbing her temples. She was just about ready to fall asleep on her father's nonsense. "Hmmm…." Not paying any attention to his daughter's misery, he stared into Bruce's eyes for what must have been the fifth time.

"He's…. Very….. Wealthy…." Talia stated. Each word was separated by a ton of sighs, groans, and deep breaths of frustration. Even as she spoke to her father, she kept her eyes locked down on her plate, in a painful stare. Ra's rested his chin on his hand as he considered her words. He looked side to side, while tilting his head every which way in correspondence.

"Well… I suppose a bit of extra money surely isn't hurting his worthiness." Ra's titled his head one last time, glancing up at Bruce from a different angle. Slowly, he adjusted his head back to normal. His arms were lightly touching down on the table, propping up his hands to wrap their fingers in between the other one. Ra's leaned forward, with his face now less than a foot in front of his hands. "But… you can already get as much of that as you'd ever possibly need from me. Worthiness, you see, is about much more than that. It's about the intelligence. The skill. The strength. The willpower…. The grace." His index fingers, now pointing up from the rest of his hands, tapped against each other. Each tap was methodical, rhythmic… like the ticking of a clock, clacking each second away.

Bruce felt a cold, thick, drop of sweat roll down his forehead, "I… I once took an IQ test. Mine is… higher than normal. Quite a bit higher, I believe." He picked up his napkin and quickly wiped the sweat off, attempting to push a smile onto his face. Or, just some sign of confidence, at the very least. Unfortunately, he was just a billionaire -and not a very emotionally-mature billionaire at that- so it wasn't exactly helping his case.

"Good. That's very good…." Ra's nodded approvingly. His index fingers tapped together again each time his head bopped up and down. Finally looking up from her plate, Talia started to smile, a glint of hope in her eyes. "But if you really have such an impressive intelligence quotient, you better start acting like it. Hit it where it really counts, not just some meaningless quiz. If you want to receive my daughter's hand in marriage, you will prove yourself worthy of such a thing in real life." His head's nodding quickly came to a stop.

Talia sighed again, but didn't even try to bother stopping it. Her mind was much more focused on the worse tests she reckoned would come after… the ones her beloved, as wonderful and skilled as he was, was still bound to fail. She glanced up at Bruce, noticing how wet his forehead looked. Her warnings had not done a thing, as even now, he was acting as if this was a big problem in comparison to the other thing her father most valued.

As she silently brooded, Ra's began to start his opportunity for Bruce to prove his intelligence, "Bring. It. In!" His voice boomed through the room as he looked at his assassins servants expectantly. To his dismay, they all simply stared at him, waiting for some more clarification. Their eyes blinked unknowingly. Ra's cringed at his servant's lack of understanding. "I said, bring. It. In!" Yet again, he got nothing brought in at all. A long, exasperated sigh, -almost as heavy as Talia's had been all night- escaped his mouth.

One of the servants, still unsure what to do but eager to help, went over and stood by his side. The servant bowed, but didn't dare ask for clarification. Not wanting to anger the master, the servant made sure to be patient and let Ra's have time to explain himself.

Ra's turned directly towards the closest servant, looking him in the eyes desperately, "You know, it. The thing. The one you should be bringing in right now. Whipping up out of nowhere." The servant nodded, but continued to wait for even more of an explanation. Ra's waved his hand in front of the person, unsure if they were even listening. "Come on! Get to it! Bring. IT. IN….. Ah, forget it! I was really hoping I wasn't going to have to ruin the suspense and the drama like this, but the chess board! The one I always pull out dramatically when attempting to test whether I should respect someone! The grand assessment!"

"Ohhhhh…." The servant slowly nodded. They spun on their heels, beginning to make their way off to get the chess board. Every breath Ra's took was long and agitated, gushing out like the wind as he watched the servant disappear into the next room.

He turned back towards Bruce, "I apologize for that mishap. It seems I really should just keep my chess board nearby in these kinds of situations, but I promise you, my assassins did say they'd have it handy." He scoffed at their incompetence. Bruce, on the other hand, was a bit more focused on another thing. He stared at Ra's, his eyebrows furrowing.

If this family wasn't already freaking him out, they certainly were now, "A… Assassi-?!"

But before he even got to finish expressing his frantic confusion, Ra's quickly interrupted him. These 'assassins' of his were back, now with the chessboard that he desired so badly. Ra's rapidly swiped the chessboard out of their hands and slapped it down in front of the two of them.

"Finally, we can begin!" He exclaimed, a tint of annoyance still in his voice. He turned back towards his assassins for a moment, gritting his teeth. "We'll talk about this whole 'ruining my drama' thing later. All of you." Ra's pointed at his own two eyes with two of his fingers, and then pointed the fingers back down on the League of Assassins members.

"And I think we need to talk about this whole assassi-!?" Still more focused on the other matter at hand, he persisted in attempting to get some kind of explanation. But yet again, Ra's was simply not listening.

"You may go first. It's only fair that the guest gets privileges. Besides, I think you'll need every advantage you can get when playing with someone who's been playing this game for centuries." Ra's pointed to Bruce's end of the board, waiting. Bruce's lips quivered as he stared at it. From the corner of his eye, he watched as Ra's folded his hands together calmly. "Go on,"

Bruce chuckled nervously, "You're exaggerating… right?" His finger slowly inched towards the board as he thought about his first move. It was a strategy game, and Bruce was good at such games, but the claims Ra's was stating were more than intimidating. He bit his tongue, thinking back to all the games he'd won against Alfred.

"Exaggerating? Oh, hardly." Ra's shrugged, "You see, young man, this game has been going on far beyond even an old man like me's lifetime. I've been playing it for a long time, and I haven't gotten bored. But I have, as a matter of fact, learned many, many, strategies. I'd find it incredible for this to even last more than 30 minutes before you lose." Bruce leaned towards the board in concentration, attempting to ignore the chills running down his spine.

After what felt like forever of them playing chess, Talia finally saw an ending as she looked at the chess board. All of Bruce's pieces were blocked, in some way or another. She sighed in relief. Not only was this game not going to last forever, but her boyfriend wasn't even going to lose.

"It seems we've ended with a stalemate…" Ra's grinned at the outcome. He pulled out a clipboard from under the table, scribbling down the points this gave Bruce. Quickly tucking the clipboard back under the table, a look of awe sparkled in his eyes. "This is… incredible. Quite entertaining, actually! I haven't had a good opponent like this in years! Decades, even… if not centuries!" Bruce smirked, a sense of confidence raining over him. Talia rolled her eyes. She had certainly stalemated with Ra's at least once.

"Good, but now, can we please focus back on the fact that you called these… people around us... assassins?!" Bruce shook off the pride as he finally remembered the eerie mention. Talia's face flopped back down to face her plate. Her breaths were thin and short as she held back the urge to stand up and run straight out of this embarrassment.

"I did, didn't I...? Is that a problem? Did I offend you with that term?" Her father's voice rose. Despite the innocent questions, he fought back the urge to roll his eyes or scoff yet again in annoyance. "Would you prefer them to be called ninjas, murderers, or simply 'the people around us'? …..You're the guest."

"Murdere-?!" Bruce leaned back, unsure how to even say such a terrifying word. His mouth dropped open as his eyes anxiously darted back and forth. "These people are really… actual….." Talia reached over to Bruce, squeezing his hand.

"Are you alright, Beloved?" Talia asked. Her hand was warm, or possibly even a bit fever-ish to the touch. As was her cheeks, so very red with nerves. Bruce stared at her face, observing the not only embarrassed, but almost shameful expression smeared across it. A thought suddenly occurred to him… a quite unnerving, but eerily plausible one.

Bruce sighed, "...yes," He muttered through gritted teeth. Talia's shoulders slouched down, feeling her tense muscles relax at the reassurance. Bruce turned back towards Ra's, pouting his lip in a disapproving frown. "But… I don't want to stay here any longer than I have to. Let's get on with it, Ra's." Talia's muscles tensed right back up.

"Very well then, young man," Ra's aggressively shoved the chess board to the side. He pushed himself up from his seat, pulling out a sword that he had apparently been hiding in his pockets. "The next test is all about your ability to fight. Not only do I expect you to protect my daughter if the need comes up, but you also must be capable of winning wars if you want to win my daughter's love."

Talia pulled herself up from her seat, as well, "He already has my love, though, Father! No offense, but your tests and evaluations are all for yourself, and yourself only. We've already dated for long enough that it's ridiculous to act as if we aren't already in a romantic relationship." She crossed her arms, starting to get seriously fed up with her father's absurd behavior.

"Yes, yes, of course. But if you want me to treat you as my son-in-law, much less, my equal, you need to complete this test. It's about the respect! You've already shown competence in a battle of wits, now you must show you are just as skilled in physical battles for me to respect you." Ra's pointed his sword towards Bruce, making a stabbing motion towards the air. Bruce flinched as the sharp blade reached towards his chest. "Go on, get your blade out. This may not be a duel to the death -since Talia did go out of her way to make me promise I wouldn't stab you- but it's still a battle that you need to be prepared for."

"My… blade?" Bruce raised one of his eyebrows in confusion. He shook his head and squinted his eyes at Ra's. "I was just trying to go to a formal dinner, to meet my girlfriend's family. Why. Would. I. Have. a. Sword. With. Me?!" After having to listen to Ra's constantly scoff throughout the dinner, he finally managed to gather the courage to scoff back.

"You must always be prepared, young man. Always. You are obviously immature. You know strategies, but you lack the true wisdom to use them properly. But, I suppose that is only to be expected with your young age, so…. I will still give you a chance." Ra's slid his sword back into his pocket. His lips rested in a strict frown, but began to curve up ever so slightly for a moment. "Besides, you already stale-mated me. I love a good stalemate! I can't believe I found someone who could achieve such an outcome! You're wonderful, Bruce. Just wonderful… Assassins, get him a sword!"

Bruce could only stare as a woman, dressed in all black attire, handed him her sword. He opened his mouth to reject it, but only a small, frantic, l uttering sound sputtered out. Everyone, including Talia, Nyssa, the assassins, and a man who's name hadn't been mentioned yet, stepped back, leaving Bruce and Ra's alone. Bruce slowly wrapped his hands around the handle of his weapon, still adjusting to the odd feeling of holding such a sharp object in his hand. By the time he realized what was happening around him, it was much too late to eat his last bite of food.

In fact, it was too late to even stretch before the battle. Ra's, who was seemingly having enough of Bruce's shock, was already lunging over. His sword slashed at Bruce's. With Bruce's fingers barely even holding on to it, Bruce's sword immediately got flung to the ground upon feeling any kind of impact.

Clang! The metal blade chimed as it hit the hard floor. The sound instantaneously knocked Ra's out of his intense battle-focus. His teeth were not gritted anymore, and his eyes widened from their stern glaring. He looked down at the stray weapon, then back up to Bruce. Now realizing what had happened, Bruce's face turned red. A tiny spray of sweat appeared on his forehead as he looked down with embarrassment.

"With all due respect, I have never had a weaker or less skillful opponent." Ra's blinked at the pathetic sight, shaking his head. He bent down to the ground and picked up the sword. The woman who it belonged to eagerly reached out to take it from him. Ra's turned back towards Bruce, who gulped as he saw the disappointment in his eyes. "I suppose I should've expected this kind of thing from such an average billionaire, although that chess game had sure gotten me hopeful. I mean god, was that a good game!" Ra's mumbled, holding back a smile.

Bruce sighed, "Let me guess, you want me to never date or even speak to your daughter again." He looked back at Talia, his shoulders slumping at the thought of leaving someone so lovely. But almost just as quickly, his shoulders pulled back up again. "Because if I may just say, this is completely unwarranted! You could've at least given me a warning about this nonsense…"

"You.. have a point." Ra's nodded, "Which is why I haven't completely ruled you out. That chess game still proves your utter excellency in nature, so perhaps it is rather cruel to blame you for this one time. But-"

Out of pure instinct, Bruce punched Ra's in the gut and kicked him to the floor. Ra's quickly jumped back up and dusted himself off, hardly bothered physically. But mentally, he was shocked. Talia ran to her father's side to make sure he was alright.

"Why would you do that, Beloved?" She yelled at Bruce. With Ra's obviously unarmed, she took a step towards her boyfriend. "You already weren't doing very well on his evaluations, so how do you think attacking him is going to help you?"

"I've proved I can defeat him." Bruce narrowed his eyes, still confident in his reckless behavior. Talia sighed, resisting the urge to roll her eyes. "He was doubting my ability to fight, but I've proved that I'm perfectly capable of throwing a punch or two. Since he's so obsessed with my fighting, it should help me be 'worthy' or whatnot." He crossed his arms.

Ra's rested his forehead against his hand, facepalming, "Yes, you got me on the ground for a bit, but at what cost? Ambushing may be a great strategy, and I already admitted you knew many strategies, but what kind of true warrior would use it on his own friend!?" He snapped. His large boots rattled as he stomped his foot on the ground. "A little agitation and frustration towards me does not take away the fact that you never declared us at war!" He began to stomp back to his seat at the dinner table.

"For goodness sakes, you're really going to lecture me about my morals when you've got a freaking assassin cult surrounding us!?" Bruce yelled back in return, "In my defense, when I see assassins, it really seems like anything I do would be in self-defense… Even if you weren't currently attacking me…" He argued. Every sense of nervousness had spiraled into anger.

"Exactly, we never attacked you except for a formal, well-mannered, spa-"

"Shut up! Can't you both just agree to disagree?!" Now shaking from frustration, Talia finally let her voice really rise and scream at them both. She tugged Bruce back to the table, and motioned for them both to sit down. "Apparently you're both a bit crazy, but two different kinds of crazy that apparently don't mix. I just- I just want this dinner to not be the worst experience of all of our lives…." As she settled back down into her own chair, her voice began to lower again.

Bruce and Ra's both begrudgingly nodded. Everyone's muscles began to relax, and their breaths were much slower and calmer. The ticks of an old clock clacked in the background as everyone went back to eating calmly. After a few minutes of peaceful silence, a soft conversation began again.

"I don't think you two ever introduced yourselves." Bruce pointed to another man and woman who were seated at the table with them. They had been simply watching and speculating as him and Ra's did their shenanigans. "You're Nyssa, right?" He pointed to the woman who had stabbed Ra's not long ago.

"Yes, and it's been quite amusing to watch him be kinder to you than he is to me." Nyssa sent him a cold glare across the table. He shuttered. "I'm Talia's older sister… or technically half sister, but you get the point."

Ra's quickly took up the introductions once she was finished, "Yes, yes, she's my other daughter. Much older than Talia, but nowhere near as wonderful." He smiled at Talia, who blushed uncomfortably. Being the favorite was better than being the least favorite, but it could certainly be embarrassing, too. Ra's turned towards Dusan, "He's… my son? I think. I'm sorry, it's been a long time since his birth, so I sometimes forget it even happened! His name is… hmm… I'm fairly sure it starts with a C…"

"It's Dusan, Father. It doesn't even start with a C…" The man corrected. He sighed at his father's forgetfulness. Ra's titled his head at Dusan, displeased at the answer. His expression was questionable, with an eyebrow raised, like he was about to question Dusan on his own name. Dusan sighed even deeper.

"I… supposed that's his name, then…" Ra's gave in, his tone still indicating his lack of certainty on the matter. He looked Dusan in the eyes, making direct eye contact, "But don't call me Father! You're hardly my son if I can't even remember my name." Dusan returned the eye contact with a look of sadness and disappointment.

"If it makes you feel any better, Dusan, I still consider you my big brother." Talia stated, smiling towards him shyly. Dusan shook off the eye contact with Ra's to send a bitter glare back to his younger sister.

"Oh really? Like I care, Favorite! One day, he's going to realize that I'm the better child and you're going to be forsaken considering how much trouble you've caused him!" Dusan scowled at Talia. She groaned, but stayed quiet in an attempt to avoid another embarrassing argument.

"Don't you dare speak to your superior that way!" Despite her silence, Ra's was far from quiet. He immediately looked back towards Bruce as he finished speaking. His speech was completely polite to Bruce now, as if the spontaneous attack had never even happened. "I apologize for his foul behavior, Bruce. It seems that sometimes immature children will act out if you forget to treat them kindly."

"Um… okay." Bruce squinted at Ra's, concerned but still confused. He was still certain that despite the uncalled-for attack, Ra's was still indefinitely the crazier one. But of course, in an effort to not upset Talia, Bruce kept this thought to himself. "I… suppose you must have another test for me, right?"

"Of course! Even though your manners aren't the very best, I will admit you did get me on the ground for a bit there, so… I still haven't counted you out. With a little teaching, you could be a very worthy man." Ra's complimented, "I'd just like to ask you a few questions, to get a grip of your personality just a bit better." He explained, pushing his food to the side.

"Go ahead," Bruce said. Despite his encouraging words, though, he was frowning in utter disinterest. He slowly pushed his food to the side to clear a path between them. Ra's pointed to Bruce before he asked the first question.

"How do you feel about the environment? More specifically, the planet. Innocent animals made endangered by man-made devices and pollution!" Ra's began. He eagerly stretched his hand over to grab a nearby globe, pulling it into his clutches. His thick, strong, fingers spun it nonchalantly.

Bruce thought about the question for a moment, "I feel bad for the animals. Since I have so much money, I've donated tons to helping them, and I feel the environment is a very important cause. I will admit I haven't done a ton of work with it myself, though…" He answered the question as truthfully as possible, figuring it probably wasn't too important.

"That's good… although I would appreciate a bit more enthusiasm for such an important cause." Ra's nodded, quickly moving on to the next question. "How about… murder? Assuming there's a good cause for it, of course."

Bruce froze, "Do I… do I have to answer truthfully?" He whispered into Talia's ear. She nodded, pointing towards her father. With a couple of her fingers pressed up to her neck, she made a cut-throat gesture. Bruce shuttered and shook at such a threatening signal, even if it was more of a simple warning. "I think it's horrible. One of the worst crimes imaginable. I would never commit it, even if it cost me my life. I don't think there's any excuse for taking another human being's life, no matter what that human being has done."

Ra's frowned at the blunt response, "But what if it saved other lives? The animals, which we've hurt so much with pollution's lives, perhaps?" He argued, continuing to spin his globe fidgetly. His eyes peered down at the bright blue paint, thinking of the dolphins, fish, seals, and whales that all inhabited that precious space. The space humans were constantly taking over, with their plastic, machinery, and oil spills. To Ra's, such horrid actions seemed surely worthy of the death penalty.

"I said no," Bruce shook his head stubbornly. "No one deserves to die, period. I'm not going to be persuaded on this." He glared at Ra's, starting to get more and more confident by the minute. Ra's glowered right back at him.

Talia sighed, "You know, Beloved… You didn't have to be this blunt about it." She leaned her head on chin on her hand wearily. Her eyes began to close softly, having no energy left after all the messes that had gone on. "I just didn't want you making up something too-good-to-be-true…."

Bruce rolled his eyes, "Well maybe I want to be blunt-"

"Well, I'd like to remind you that my father isn't exactly the person you want to upset!" She gestured back towards all the highly-trained assassins surrounding them. Every single one had belts with an arsenal of weapons tucked inside, and half of them had enough muscles to take down most people without the help of the weapons. "Only a fool would mess with such a man. After months of dating you, I hope I am not misled when I say you're not that much of an idiot."

Bruce gulped, immediately realizing his mistake, "I…. I'm sorry, Mr. Al Ghul." He looked back at Ra's nervously. He quickly tightened his tie and fixed his posture, hoping even that small of a change could make a difference. . . Whether that difference was a matter of life or death, or simply whether Talia and him were allowed to keep dating.

"You know... '' Ra's considered his options, peering at Bruce judgmentally. "That kind of rebelness does show courage, if you squint. I'll be fair and say it's bound to come in handy at some point in your life… so, I have decided that you two may keep dating. From what I've heard, you make my daughter happy, so I suppose I'd feel bad being too judgemental." He smiled at Talia. Getting up from his seat, he wandered around the table to kiss her forehead lovingly.

Despite the loving gesture, though, Talia was much more focused on the wonderful news this meant for her and Bruce. The minute her father was done giving her the kiss, she ran over to Bruce and hugged him. Bruce wrapped his hands around her as well, squeezing her against him.

"Thank you, Father," Talia turned back towards Ra's for a split second before leaning back into Bruce's hug. She rested her cheek against him affectionately. "You're alive. I can't believe you're still alive. Everyone's still alive…." She smiled, tilting her to the left to peck him on the cheek.

"Yes.. although I will admit it's a bit sad that we even questioned that.. Not that we didn't have the right to." Bruce glared at Nyssa and Ra's bitterly. Fortunately, they were both looking the opposite way. He really had to stop doing so much of this rebellious, impolite, glaring at those he was attempting to make fond of him. "But more importantly, we get to stay together! I knew I had made the right move by attacking your father." He smirked.

"Sure you did," Talia's smile twisted into a smirk along with his, "There's a reason he didn't kill you, though, Beloved. You were wonderful… and the stalemate? That's more than impressive. It took me my entire childhood of playing chess with him to start being able to get those! You're so intelligent, and brave, and… well, I'm just very glad I fell in love with someone as wonderful as you. Even if you did punch my Father." Her eyes softened for a moment, now taken over by a bittersweet gaze.

"...Thank you," Bruce smiled softly back to her, but it was quickly taken over by a more solemn, concerned, expression. "Can we talk outside for a moment, Talia? After all this, I think there's a lot we need to go over… privately." He nudged her out of the comfy hug.

Talia's smile immediately dropped, "Of… course," She stuttered, now remembering that Bruce had just learned tons of secrets in this one evening. Her head turned slightly back towards Ra's, "Please excuse us for a moment." Taking Bruce's hand, Talia led him outside to a nearby courtyard.

Once they got there, Bruce let out a long, painfully loud, groan. He flopped down onto one of the benches drowsily. Talia sat down with him, letting out a smaller groan herself. They sat there, with all masks and forced smiles dropped for an awkward minute or two. Their eyes were closed for the most of it, only flickering open every few seconds.

"I assume you want to break up with me, anyway." Talia finally spoke, her words slow and quiet above the peeps of nearby crickets. She stared straight down at the ground, neglecting to blink or let the aching tears stream out of her eyes. Bruce slowly looked up at her. Both their heads were still dropping forwards for the most part, but he peered at her from the corner of his eye. Another gap of silence stood between them before he finally opened his mouth to answer her question.

"...No, not necessarily." Bruce finally answered. He looked back down at his lap, avoiding any kind of eye contact. Her chin twitched upwards at the good news. But as he spoke again, Talia's chin lowered. "But… out of curiosity, if I did, would your father kill me?"

"Well… yes, probably." Her skirt gently flew up, caught in the airy breeze. She breathed in and out, as slow and soft as the wind. Bruce bit his lip, pouting ever so slightly. He swallowed in consideration. "But I would try my best to stop it from happening, Beloved. As much as it would ache me, I would never want you to die, of course. …..You could fake your own death." She suggested, finally lifting her chin enough to really look at him.

Bruce flinched, but kept his head down, "I'd… rather not do that." A muffled groan escaped his lips. Talia's lips quivered at the uncomfortable sound. Her head dropped again, spinning towards the opposite direction. As she turned away, Bruce continued thinking over his options. Everything felt wrong, but somehow right in an odd way. They sat in silence for another couple minutes as he fell deep into his thoughts.

"You promised," Talia suddenly blurted out. Tears had begun to well up in the corners of her eyes. She continued to look away from him, hiding the weak, desperate look on her face. "You promised you wouldn't blame me for them….. You promised." Her voice was careful as she attempted to keep her tone as calm as possible.

Bruce nodded, "You're right," He stated. For a second, but only for a second, did his voice crack into a much shakier tone. It pained him to look at her, to hear her faltering voice, and most of all, to know that she hadn't truly done a thing. At least, as far as he knew. "Your father's a criminal. The leader of a league dedicated to murder. So, with that knowledge in mind…. How many people have you murdered?"

Talia gulped, "You- You don't want to know." She shook her head shamefully. Bruce winced at the cold, gut-wrenching answer. "You and I both know you don't truly want to hear the answer to that question." She repeated. Talia pressed her eyes closed, letting tears seep out out and on to her trembling cheeks. Bruce was going to go. She was sure of it.

"Why…? Why would you-" Bruce stuttered. He finally fully lifted his head to face the apparent-murderer. Talia turned even farther away from him in response.

"Can't you see? My father is an ecoterrorist, Beloved. A mass-murderer. A genocidal maniac. I spent my entire childhood in his care… Of course I've killed for him!" Her voice rose a bit. Talia's eyes peered back at Bruce to see his reaction, but she didn't move a muscle in her neck to truly look at him. "I swear on my life, I didn't enjoy it. But I couldn't let him down. I still can't let him down. He's still my father, and… I can't betray my own family, can I?" She wrapped her arms around herself. A sad look sparkled in her eyes, almost mirroring the stars above them.

Bruce felt a tinge of anger run up his spine, "But…. you want to, don't you?" Talia's neck shook as her head flopped even closer to her lap. He moved his hand a bit closer to her, considering whether he should place it on her shoulder or not.

"Maybe I do," Talia whispered, her words barely audible. It was if she was simply mouthing them to herself. She squeezed her eyes shut as she spoke the tiny, quiet, little words. As she slowly opened them again, she gradually turned her head to finally face him. Their eyes met for a moment, "But maybe I don't. It's more complicated than that, Beloved ..." Her head still faced him, but her eyes broke out of the eye contact. They wandered in the opposite direction wistfully.

Bruce sucked in his lips, every muscle in his body cramping together. He resisted every urge in himself to touch her, hug her... or simply just reach a bit closer to hold hands. She was a murderer. He shouldn't have felt this way, he knew he shouldn't, but the urges were there. Bruce. Still. Loved. Her. It hurt to say the words inside his head, but not quite as much as it hurt to deny it. He kept his hand still, worried even a small vibration of movement could result in him fully wrapping his arms around Talia. But as he focused on stillness in his body, Bruce felt another hand reach over and squeeze his.

"All I know now, Beloved… is that I don't want to betray you." Talia looked straight at him now, adjusting her entire body to lean towards him. Bruce looked straight at her, as well. Her green eyes were glossy, with wet tears glistening in the moonlight. "We could still work out. My father actually seems to admire you, and I do, as well, but…. I'm not sure if you return such admiration…. After everything you've learned."

"You have a point," Bruce pushed himself off the bench. He began to tread forward, wandering around the courtyard. "I lose nothing from staying with you… except perhaps my lack of relations with murderers. It's not like I'm completely innocent myself. I may not have taken anyone's life, but I certainly started some fires against people who didn't completely deserve it. My poor math teacher…. Besides, I made a promise." He paced back and forth, gradually walking faster and faster|.

Talia sighed, "But that promise only included what my family did," She stood up with him. "They are my murders, not my-"

"Yes," He looked down for a moment, lost in thought yet again. His mouth rested in an aloof frown. Bruce's eyes narrowed. "But even then, it's more than clear you wouldn't be such a murderer if it weren't for where you were raised. Blaming you for such a thing could be considered breaking my promise either way." His hands spun up and down, gesturing as he explained his logic.

Talia's hand reached over to his, "Please… I'm not some kind of damsel in distress. I may have tears coming out of my eyes, and I may look pathetic right now, but…you still must make the choice that suits your heart. I don't want your pity." Her eyebrows arched, a stern focus taking over. Bruce's hands stopped twirling. A stillness crept over, with her hand just barely resting on his arm peacefully.

"-And I will not give you any, Talia," Bruce cleared his throat. Finally giving in to the undying urges, he wrapped his arms around her. Talia felt him pull her into a soft embrace. "Even through mistakes, and even, well... crimes, there is one thing standing. One thing other than pity- and that is love. It may make me crazy for doing so, or even a criminal, but I will give you mine."

"What does that even mean, though?" Talia asked, looking downwards. Her eyelids flapped up and down as she quickly blinked. "I… suppose it doesn't even matter, does it? Not now, anyhow… If you will give me your love, then I will give you mine." She quickly peeked back up, now with a wide smile across her face.

"I think we both know what that means, then… and what it doesn't." Bruce sighed, carefully taking a step back from Talia. Their loving embrace loosened. Talia's smile began to drop, but still not fully hit a frown. "I'm sorry. I… may have gotten lost in the fairytales there. Or maybe I was right. I'm not even sure anymore, Talia…"

Talia took deep breaths as she thought everything he was saying over, "You… you said thought we both knew what it meant… and what it didn't, of course. But perhaps…" Her hand, hesitant and unsure, began to slowly nudge him back towards her. Despite his overall reluctance, he easily let her lead him in the movement. "Perhaps for now… we can just focus on what it does mean, Beloved." She whispered the endearing nickname, a hopeful smile appearing on his face. Bruce couldn't help but smile back.

With their arms already wrapped tightly around each other, Talia slowly began to lean in for a kiss. Bruce closed his eyes, gently following her affectionate behavior. Both of their soft hugs towards the other one tightened even more as they leaned in close. The soft glow of the moon shimmered behind them as they finally kissed. Talia and Bruce held the other one happily. Happy. Even for just a moment, they were happy.

[codedredalert]

atop the wall, wisdom cries out [One Piece, Robin] -- oneshot

Robin-centric character study || 1052 words

She has the split-second to wonder if all great turning points in history are like this—destiny at the mercy of a momentous decision—

(Written for the OP Tarot Project High Priestess and Eight of Wands cards.)

High Priestess Upright: Intuition, insight, sacred knowledge, things yet to be revealed, reflection. Reversed: Secrets, information withheld, disharmony.

Eight of Wands Upright: Movement, action, alignment, abrupt changes, quick decisions. Reversed: Delays, frustration, resisting change, internal alignment.

Explanations of references in the end notes.

Warnings: canon-typical violence

(On Ao3)

===/\===

.

             (1) Lesson: A cup of water is not yours until you drink it. Likewise, knowledge.

All scholars of Ohara memorise via the method of loci, and Nico Robin, at eight years old, is no exception. Her favourite is a temple hewn from stone, a wise king's magna opus as reconstructed from academic blueprints. There, she stores the lessons she learns: a kind elderly lady still calls for the marines in the night after she's fed you; a knife in the hands of a frightened child can still slit a soldier's throat; a powerful man is still not quite immune to the intrigue of a beautiful woman.

She drinks deeply from the cup of knowledge and suffering, and two pillars form in the forefront of the temple. The first is who she has always been—the pursuit of good things, knowledge for knowledge's sake, building up, preserving, and leaving a legacy for all humanity. The other is who she discovered she was when the world government placed a bounty on her head—an immovable strength, manifesting in guile, bloodshed, and conquest.

Her surprise is only at how readily she accepts these as her foundation—the twin load-bearing columns of the woman she now is.  

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===/\===

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             (2) Aphorism: Scientia potestas est. (Translation: Knowledge is power.)

"Read it," demands Crocodile. Then he raises a hand to call her to pause and adds, almost smugly, "Out loud."

He thinks he's clever. Robin smiles. He's not stupid, but Robin is really,  really clever.

She hadn't intended deception when she'd first sought out the most comprehensive history of Alabasta. (Three archaic hand-scribed manuscripts and a yellowed but hardly-used guide. It was technically restricted access, though that hardly mattered in the face of Robin's devil fruit.) She had merely wanted to know—the first pillar of Nico Robin.

She recites this knowledge from memory, trailing her fingers along the runes of the poneglyph before her, retrieving the words  verbatim as she walks through the temple rooms in her mind. She fully expects Crocodile to interrupt her, to point to one word or the other and demand its meaning. She already has the textbook explanation on why translation is an imperfect art on the tip of her tongue. She doesn't get that far.

He's never been a patient man, especially when it comes to failure.

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             (3) Quote: Death never takes a wise man by surprise; he is always ready to go.

He deals her a mortal wound and leaves her to bleed out in the collapsing tomb of this country's kings. The age-old stone crumbles and groans, weary and slow to return to dust. She closes her eyes and waits.

It's surprisingly peaceful.

.

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             (4) Comment: As implied ibid, "life is full of surprises".               (5) Fallacy: Appeal to pity.

Straw Hat Luffy saves her and she demands 'why' but receives no answer. As she dusts herself off, she decides a fitting consequence for his unwelcome charity. She invites herself to his crew.

A strange group—they actually accept her, welcome her into their lives and their home despite being enemies three days before.

Over time, she learns that if she drops into a light doze below deck beside Nami, the next morning will come with warmth, the smell of breakfast wafting in from the adjoining kitchen, and that strange, unconditional acceptance.

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             (6) Study: Repeated exposure to similar situations without negative stimuli result in dissociation of situation and stimuli.

.

. . . and she is . . . happy?

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             (7) Supra (4).

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===/\===

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             (8) Truism: Nothing lasts forever.              (9) Quote: Only a fool can be happy.

The government finds her, as they have many times before. This time, however, she can't bring herself to offer these people as sacrifice in her place. She tries desperately to think of an alternative to the offer laid before.

She becomes the illusion of stillness, there is no stillness in her. Her mind is structure and movement all at once—the earth in revolution beneath the temple's foundation stone. Her mind moves as the celestial bodies, a million miles a minute, yet imperceptible. She is perfectly grounded as the centrifugal force tears her apart.

A lifetime ago, she was taught to smile when she wants to cry, so she smiles now. A mind built by the wisest men in history and it yields no solutions, so what use is it? What use is she? She's only good for secrets, sabotage, and smiles like sweet poison.

Even the greatest temple cannot stand forever.

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             (10) Quote: The only way to have a friend is to be one. Nb. This implies friends are worth having. Comment: The author agrees.               (11) Quote: There is nothing worth living for, unless it is worth dying for.               (12) (Non-)issue: Hobson's choice.               (13) Principle: Occam's razor.

 .

She takes the offer.

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===/\===

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             (14) Policy: No man left behind.

The friends she tried to save came for her. They stand in proud defiance of the authorities that have wronged her all her life, figures of would-be legend backlit by the sun, their shadows stark and black, bridging the deep chasm she stands on the other side of, alone.

It borders on the absurd. They shouldn't have, it makes no logical sense. And yet, there they stand.

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             (15) Quote: When we are no longer able to change a situation, we are challenged to change ourselves.

She fails to understand and finds that for once, she does not need to know. Equally illogical hope wells up in her. (The temple is shored up, its glory to be restored. Not yet, but in the future promised.)  

"Say you wanna live," shouts Luffy, and he waits for her answer, as if he has all the time in the world. As if time itself will yield to his force of will.

It almost does. The mad rush of adrenaline blocks all noise except the rush of blood in her veins, her captain's voice ringing in her ears. She has the split-second to wonder if all great turning points in history are like this, destiny at the mercy of a momentous decision, all the world in bated breath.

She doesn't stop to wonder if she dares. The second pillar of her identity commands her to be bold.

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             (16) Proverb: Fortune favours the bold.

"I want to live," she cries across the divide—

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                                   —and—

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             (17) Supra (4).

.

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                                               —she is saved.

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===/ENDNOTES\===

 At the risk of these notes being longer than the actual fic (I got too hyped by the thought of pseudo-academic formatting and used way too many probably-obscure references), here's helpful notes so you don't have to ask google:

 the method of loci— (loci being Latin for "places")— is a strategy of memory enhancement which uses visualisations of familiar spatial environments in order to enhance the recall of information. The method of loci is also known as the memory journey, memory palace, or mind palace technique.

 magna opus— Latin for "great work", especially the greatest achievement of an artist or writer.

 aphorism— an observation which contains a general truth/ a concise statement of a scientific principle, typically by a classical author.

 ibid— a citation signal to refer to a single work cited in the note immediately preceding. The abbreviation of ibidem, being Latin for "in the same place".

 supra—  a citation signal used to refer to an earlier-cited authority. Supra is Latin for "above".

 truism— a statement that is obviously true and says nothing new or interesting.

 nb— a citation signal to draw the reader's attention to a certain aspect or detail of the subject being discussed. The abbreviation of nota bene, which is Latin for "note well".

 Hobson's choice—  A forced or false choice. It is believed that the phrase derives from Thomas Hobson (1545–1631) who ran a horse rental business in England. He rented out horses but insisted that customers took the horse nearest the stable door. The choice his customers were given was "this or none"; making it effectively Hobson's choice of horse. — (source)

 Occam's razor— Occam's razor (or Ockham's razor) is a principle from philosophy that the simplest solution is usually the best one.

===/END\===

(On Ao3) ( patreon ) ( kofi ) ( paypal )

[elyvorg]

Here’s an AU with some delicious potential: what if Kokichi had chosen Shuichi for his plan, rather than Kaito?

And, no, despite Kokichi’s decision being the one initial difference in this AU, this really doesn’t significantly change anything for Kokichi himself. He still explains his plan to someone and then ends up just as dead. This is not about him.

Rather, as my illustration suggests, this AU would really be about Kaito, and what’d happen if he were in Shuichi’s position for the events of trial 5. I don’t quite have the focus necessary to write this as a full-on fic, but instead, how about a nice lengthy outline of how this story might unfold?

Daily Life

  -      The initial point-of-no-return at which Kokichi finalised his decision to use Kaito in his plan in canon was after his mastermind reveal, as he captured Kaito with an Exisal. So in this version of events, he’d capture Shuichi instead.

-      Kaito would still get himself knocked out by one of Kokichi’s Exisals, mind you. This might happen exactly like it did in canon out of general anger at Kokichi, before Kokichi then brushes Kaito’s unconscious body aside and grabs Shuichi instead. Alternatively, Kokichi could grab Shuichi first, and so Kaito gets himself knocked out in a desperately reckless effort to save him.

-      As Shuichi is carried away, still conscious but completely powerless in the grip of totally-the-evil-mastermind’s Exisal, worrying about Kaito and despairing over the outside world he just saw, he kind of just shuts down in defeat. Like, literally, to the point that his protagonist status shuts off. (At least, if we want to imagine this AU happening just like the game.)

-      …And the protagonist status switches back on as Kaito as he regains consciousness. He’s immediately panicking over Shuichi being gone, blaming himself and feeling like he’s failed Shuichi yet again. (Given this, I think I prefer the option where Kaito gets knocked out after Shuichi gets grabbed, so that his very first thoughts as the protagonist the second he regains consciousness are worrying about Shuichi.)

-      also the world’s ended apparently and that’s probably something he should be freaking out about too, but the whole Shuichi situation is much more immediately urgent and easier to wrap his head around, so he’s focusing on that

-      Maki manages to convince him not to immediately go recklessly charging after Kokichi. Everyone’s exhausted and mentally drained, and Kaito’s injured on top of that (not to mention sick, she thinks, not that she voices that because she knows he’ll deny it). Right now they just need to try and get some sleep.

-      Which, of course, is something Kaito’s been sick enough to be barely capable of for like the past week. He spends the whole night worrying ferociously about Shuichi and trying to think up some kind of plan to rescue him… but he ultimately accepts that he has no idea what he’s doing and he’s best off getting the others’ input on this, especially Maki’s.

-      He also has plenty of time during the night to actually freak out about the end of the world, and in true Kaito fashion (and exactly like he did in canon), he copes with it by clinging to a completely baseless hope that maybe the world just hasn’t ended. What they saw out there could just be a huge elaborate lie, somehow? That’s the only way this situation wouldn’t be as unbearably awful as it seems – it’s the only way they’d have a reason to not give up – so Kaito’s sticking with that thought.

-      And if that is the case, then he has absolutely no clue how to prove that – but Shuichi would be able to, with his awesome detective skills. That’s all the more reason they need to rescue him as soon as possible, then!

  -      The next morning, Kaito and Maki are already up and about without needing anyone else to prompt them. Both of them, for rather different reasons, are able to not let the despair of the outside world stop them from focusing on the obvious most important task of rescuing Shuichi.

-      Since Kaito’s up, however, he also wants to get the others on board with this, too. He doesn’t like the idea of all of them moping around in despair, not when it’s possible (he has no idea how, but it is, he’s definitely not just baselessly clinging to this in order to cope!) that things aren’t as bad as they seem. And if he can get them focused on helping him rescue Shuichi, that’ll be a nice distraction for them.

-      So Kaito drags everyone to a breakfast briefing that same morning, meaning that the killing game hasn’t gotten boring at all. Which means that Tsumugi doesn’t need to make a Flashback Light to spice things up again. Who needs artificial motivation from that when Kaito’s giving them real motivation? So there’s no Hope’s Peak nonsense at all in this version of events.

-      Kaito’s pep talk manages to convince Himiko and Keebo (and Tsumugi’s act) that maybe things are better than they seem and that they’ll need Shuichi if they’re going to prove this. They all band together for a Shuichi Rescue Operation that looks a lot like the Kaito rescue operation from an alternate universe where Kaito was captured instead.

-      Unfortunately, Himiko, Keebo and Tsumugi didn’t have the presence of mind to charge their Electrohammers last night. Kaito and Maki did, but they’re still only half-charged by now anyway, so it looks like the Shuichi Rescue Operation will have to wait until the next morning for the best chance of success.

-      Maki is still feeling somewhat like murdering Kokichi is their best option because he’s supposedly the mastermind. However, she’s a lot less determined to do so when she hasn’t been brainwashed by any of the hope-must-defeat-despair bullshit from the Flashback Light. That plus Kaito being able to pick up on her intentions and talk her down from it means that, ultimately, she decides against it. Letting Kaito run around did exactly the opposite of making the killing game start up again – funny, that.

  -      While they’re waiting, for the sake of feeling like he’s doing something and not just wasting his very-limited time, and because he’s still just incredibly worried, Kaito goes to the hangar in the hopes of checking on and maybe being able to talk to Shuichi.

-      (He still kind of feels like a huge failure about letting Shuichi get captured in the first place and not even being able to rescue him without everyone else’s help. But then again, there’s still something Kaito can do for him, right? Anyone, even a hero as awesome as Shuichi, would be feeling lost and needing some encouragement after what they all saw outside, and Kaito can at least do that for him, if nothing else. Maybe heroes aren’t completely invincible after all.)

-      Shuichi has indeed just been listlessly in despair since he found himself in the hangar’s bathroom. But hearing Kaito’s voice calling out to him, seeing that familiar bright grin, having Kaito tell him with what sounds like complete conviction that the outside world might just not be destroyed, and you’re the one who can prove it, and that’s why we’re all coming to rescue you tomorrow morning… that really, really helps perk Shuichi up again. Kaito is the best luminary.

-      Several other parts of that conversation go roughly as they do when they’re on opposite sides of that window. Kaito’s health is fine of course why is Shuichi even asking; and meanwhile Shuichi bringing up Gonta just prompts Kaito to praise Shuichi and tell him even more how awesome he is and how everyone’s relying on him. They are friends.

  -      One way or another, Kokichi has got wind of the fact that everyone’s coming to rescue Shuichi the next morning, meaning that tonight is the last chance he realistically has for his plan to go down. So, even though Maki does not enter the hangar to try to murder Kokichi and nobody gets shot with any poisoned arrows, Kokichi tells Shuichi the plan and gets him to carry it out that night.

-      (Honestly, it’s not completely certain whether Shuichi would agree to the plan given that he has none of the desperate-to-be-a-hero motives that Kaito did. That’s got to be why Kokichi chose Kaito in canon despite the million other reasons why that version of the plan would obviously fail. But for the sake of making this AU an interesting story, let’s assume Shuichi goes through with it. It was definitely always possible that he would.)

-      So, the next morning, with Kaito rallying everyone into high spirits as they all charge into the hangar to rescue Shuichi…

-      …Kaito is abruptly confronted with a familiar pinstriped sleeve sticking out of the hydraulic press amidst an enormous pool of blood.

  Deadly Life

-      Everyone else, even Maki, immediately assumes that Kokichi murdered Shuichi. They were all relying on Shuichi to solve the mystery and properly end their reasons to despair; of course Kokichi, the evil sadistic mastermind who enjoys their suffering, would have killed him horribly like this before they could rescue him, all to make them suffer even more. It just makes sense. Plus, Kokichi’s the mastermind and the killing game’s still going, so how could he be the one who’s dead?

-      Kaito is having none of it. Shuichi’s gotta still be alive somehow. It’s Shuichi! He’s bound to have pulled off some super-clever trick to escape this and already secretly be in the process of figuring out the killing game and ending it all, right? That’s exactly what Shuichi’s always been good at! Don’t they all want to believe in Shuichi like this?

-      Someone points out that if Shuichi is alive, then wouldn’t that mean he’s probably the one who killed Kokichi? And nope, Kaito’s also not having any of that. Shuichi’s obviously not the type to kill anyone; can’t they all see that!? (But then again, Kaede and Kirumi and Gonta weren’t either, and yet, in an attempt to save everyone… And Shuichi’s always cared about saving everyone, hasn’t he?)

-      (But no, that still can’t be true, because if it were that’d mean Kaito would have to watch Shuichi being executed and still have failed to protect him, and NOPE nope nope. Shuichi is somehow alive and also not the blackened, that’s definitely possible, it has to be.)

-      Also let me please stop and remind everyone that Shuichi is not at all dead and is hiding inside the red Exisal in the hangar, hearing the pain Kaito is in over this and feeling thoroughly responsible. Still, it lifts his spirits at least a little to hear that Kaito really does want to believe in him this much!

-      Maki tries to tell Kaito that he’s behaving exactly how he was in Gonta’s trial and that simply believing in something won’t get him anywhere. Kaito probably responds to this by getting more riled up and angry, which only kind of proves her point. And he knows that’s what he’s doing, but he can’t stop himself.

-      (Shuichi can’t be dead. All of Kaito’s words and encouragement to him would mean nothing if Shuichi just died anyway because Kaito was still too useless to save him. He’d be nothing but a failure as a hero, just like Gonta’s trial had already proven he was, except worse. Kaito can’t have failed Shuichi this badly. He just can’t.)

-      Himiko, Keebo and Tsumugi start to comment because of all this that maybe Kaito really is just too naïve to accept the truth; maybe they should never have listened to him trying to insist that the outside world isn’t dead when they saw it with their own eyes. Maybe there really is nothing at all to hope for in this situation at all.

-      This does not help Kaito’s mood.

-      Kaito ends up snapping that, fine, if they’re all just gonna give up on Shuichi like that, then he’s gonna do this investigation himself and prove that he’s right about this, dammit!

-      Kaito begins a very pointedly determined investigation – look, guys, he’s not giving up on Shuichi – but… who the hell is he trying to kid? He’s always been terrible at these things. Shuichi was the one who could do all of this, could look at all these random clues and somehow just know what everything meant and piece it all together like magic. Not Kaito.

-      (which also gets him caught up in thinking about what if Shuichi really is gone – not only does that mean Kaito’s a horrible failure, but it also means everyone else is screwed and never going to get out of here because they need Shuichi for things like this)

-      (but no he’s not thinking about that; he’s not worrying about anything, because Shuichi’s definitely alive and spotless and he’s going to prove it)

  -      After Kaito’s spent several minutes wandering around the hangar staring fervently at things and not really taking any of it in (because his mind’s too caught up in warring with himself over how dead Shuichi definitely isn’t to focus properly), Maki approaches him.

-      (Maki is able to be a lot more level-headed and rational here than she is at this point in canon, because she didn’t break into the hangar and accidentally murder someone she cares about last night.)

-      Awkwardly, without looking Kaito in the eye, she mentions that if he wants an investigation partner, she’s here.

-      Kaito can’t help but stare at her kind of bitterly. He thought she was perfectly willing to give up on Shuichi and assume he’s dead, wasn’t she?

-      Maki still thinks that’s the most likely scenario, but… Kaito’s right. She wants to believe Shuichi could still be alive. So maybe, if she investigates with Kaito, he can help her find a way to believe that it could be possible after all.

-      Something within Kaito hears he can help her and latches onto it without another thought. He manages a grin from somewhere, and with a “Why didn’t you say so sooner, Maki Roll!?”, they’re investigating together.

-      Maki is, of course, doing the majority of the observations and deductions, while Kaito is mostly just cheering her on and praising her (specifically whenever her observations manage to have a vaguely positive outlook about Shuichi’s possible survival). There’s something comfortingly familiar about it all.

  -      On Maki’s end… she still isn’t actually sure if she can truly believe Shuichi is alive. That’s not really why she approached Kaito. She did it because she couldn’t stand seeing how much he’s suffering and how alone he feels with it.

-      Really, she’s grimly expecting this whole mess will end with Kaito being forced to face the agonising truth that Shuichi really is gone – but she can’t bear the thought of him having to face that alone. She’s hoping that being there with him during the investigation and trial might mean he’ll be more willing to accept her support when the time comes.

-      Obviously she can’t tell him that, though. He’s in a fragile and volatile enough state as it is, and she saw what he got like towards the end of Gonta’s trial. Telling him that she’s trying to help him at all is a bad move, never mind that she’s specifically trying to help him accept the truth that he’s still refusing to acknowledge could even be true.

-      So, really, the only reason Maki’s saying she wants to believe in Shuichi being alive is because she knows it’s the only way she can approach Kaito right now without him pushing her away.

-      Even so… it’s not a lie. Maki does want to believe Shuichi is alive. She doesn’t want to lose another friend. She’d never have bothered to say it if not to get Kaito to listen to her, because what she wants has never mattered next to the uncaring reality she’s always been stuck in, but… it’s true.

-      And… it really does matter to Kaito, doesn’t it? Not only that he wants Shuichi to be alive, but also – he’s grinning at her and encouraging her every time she observes that something doesn’t necessarily indicate Shuichi’s dead, because her wanting Shuichi to be alive matters to him. And she can tell it’s not just in the sense of having someone agree with his desperate denial, either. Kaito really cares about the fact that she’s not giving up.

-      So, while she’s determined to be there for Kaito if the worst does come to pass… maybe Maki really won’t give up on Shuichi, not just yet.

-      It’s not exactly the reason she actually turned to him, but Kaito is helping her believe that the impossible could be possible all the same. He’s so good at that. It really would be nice if she could see Shuichi again and they could train together like before, all three of them, wouldn’t it?

-      It’d hurt so bad if she turned out to be wrong, but – it’d hurt Kaito even more, and yet he’s still willing to take that risk. To him, that’s infinitely better than just giving up and accepting defeat from the start. Maybe it does make some kind of sense, in that ridiculous, reckless Kaito way, for her to hold onto what she wants and fight for it despite the whole world being against her.

  -      During the investigation, Kaito picks up a small handful of Truth Bullets based on Maki’s observations. But also, towards the end, despite still not having found anything conclusive pointing to Shuichi being alive, Kaito reaffirms in his head how definitely alive he is anyway and gains a final Truth Bullet called “Shuichi’s Survival”. It’s very clearly not actually based in any evidence and is just fuelled by Kaito’s desperate insistence that this is totally the truth, with a description something like, “Shuichi is alive somehow. He’s just gotta be.”

-      Monokuma announces that the trial’s about to start and makes a pointed comment about how everyone has to be there. Maki observes that he’s talking about the unidentified survivor, and Kaito’s spirits lift. Shuichi’ll be there in the trial! Of course he will; why did Kaito never think of that before!? He’ll help everyone figure out this whole mess!

-      (But… why isn’t Shuichi already showing up to help them, if he’s alive? That’s what he’d obviously do. Kokichi hiding from them makes perfect sense, but, not…)

-      (But no, it’s fine. Shuichi’s gotta be alive and Kaito’s not gonna think about anything else.)

  Class Trial

  -      Shuichi still isn’t there in the trial. Monokuma is hiding him behind the scenes, spouting some nonsense about a “unique opportunity” to keep things mysterious. Shuichi’s podium contains a death portrait with a question mark on it, which Kaito finds to be in incredibly bad taste when Monokuma knows full well that Shuichi is obviously alive, dammit.

-      Things feel weird and wrong and kind of awkwardly aimless without Shuichi there to lead the discussion and know how to solve things. Still, Kaito does his best to keep everyone on the same page like he always does, and Maki isn’t doing a bad job at all of filling the gap left by Shuichi in terms of being the most logical voice in the room.

-      In every single Nonstop Debate, “Shuichi’s Survival” is one of the available Truth Bullets. It is never the correct answer, of course – but if you fire it anyway, there’s specific failure dialogue for it in which Kaito desperately baselessly insists Shuichi must be alive somehow. The others – even sometimes Maki – respond in a way that indicates they’re gradually losing faith in Kaito’s ability to approach this rationally, which of course takes a chunk out of his Influence gauge.

  The Exisal

-      After a few minutes of inconclusive discussion over whether Shuichi’s sleeve being in the press proves he’s under there or not, Monokuma realises they aren’t getting anywhere interesting and decides to bring out the survivor to spice things up.

-      Kaito is relieved that finally they’re gonna see Shuichi again and this trial can get back to feeling like normal. He definitely isn’t even a little bit terrified of any other possibility, because there is no other possibility.

-      In walks not a person but an Exisal, and Kaito marvels that, man, Shuichi’s really going for style points here, huh—

-      —and then everything falls apart as the Exisal speaks, taunting them in what is very unmistakably Kokichi’s voice.

-      Kokichi is alive. And if that’s the case, then, doesn’t that mean… the victim has to be…?

-      (And why does Kokichi have the gall to taunt them while referencing a Frank Sinatra song that Kaito happens to like? Geez, he can’t even sing it right, the annoying moron.)

-      Kaito furiously demands for Kokichi to show his face and stop hiding like a coward (like a murderer, like the person who murdered Shuichi—)

-      (…In amongst his desperate totally-not-deflecting fury, though, Kaito can’t help but also notice that there’s something weird about Kokichi here. Well, Kokichi’s always weird, but something about this is weird for Kokichi.)

-      Exisal Kokichi claims that he can’t open the cockpit because “that horrible assassin over there” would kill him if he did. Scowling at hearing Maki called that, Kaito is sure she wouldn’t – but it does kinda make sense that Kokichi might assume she would and want to protect himself. He is the mastermind, after all. (Isn’t he?) Hiding like this is the kind of cowardly thing that fits Kokichi – and the mastermind – perfectly well. (That’s not the weird part, but something’s still definitely weird.)

-      Wait, but… if he won’t show his face, they don’t know that it’s really Kokichi, right? Then maybe…! – but someone else points out that, even so, it’s obviously his voice coming from the Exisal.

-      Kaito is stumped for a moment, until he suggests, utterly grasping at straws, that maybe… maybe the Exisal has like a voice changer or something???

-      At this, Monokuma suddenly pipes up to confirm that, actually, Kaito is right on the money, the Exisals do in fact have voice changers!

-      Everyone is rather bewildered that Monokuma would just offer that suspiciously-convenient information up so readily… but then again, Monokuma never lies about information for a case. So it must be true, then?

-      Exisal Kokichi sighs and switches to Exisal Shuichi for a single line to tell them that, true, the Exisal does have a voice changer, but that alone isn’t enough evidence to prove or disprove anything about who’s inside it. Then he switches back to Kokichi and seems very gleeful about everyone’s reactions to hearing Shuichi’s voice – especially Kaito’s.

-      Someone looks at Kaito and asks, even though he was right about the voice changer, is he really going to try and suggest that Shuichi is somehow in there and just pretending to be Kokichi for some reason?

-      It does make way more sense that this was just Kokichi taking the opportunity to cruelly mess with them – but still. (And if it is Shuichi in there, why would he be deceiving them like this?)

-      Kaito settles on the stance of “I dunno, I’m just saying it’s possible that Shuichi’s still alive, okay!?” because hell if he has any idea how to actually prove anything from this, but it’s something that he can hold onto.

-      With that – with everyone else assuming this is still just Kaito being in denial – they all drop the voice changer subject, and Exisal Shuichi is never heard from again.

  The video

-      Apparently quite eager to move on from talking about the voice changer, Exisal Kokichi brings out the video to prove that it’s definitely him in here anyway.

-      Kaito is, uh. Not Happy. at seeing the moment Shuichi was apparently horribly crushed to death. But even this, and even Exisal Kokichi asserting that the video couldn’t have been edited, is still no match for Kaito’s powers of desperate baseless optimism and never giving up no matter how impossible things seem.

-      In the debate about the video, shooting “Shuichi’s Survival” gets not just failure dialogue but an entire back route in which Exisal Kokichi taunts Kaito about his denial and how gruesomely Shuichi was killed. This is much like the back route in canon, except instead of taunting that it’s hard to believe a “smug idiot like Kaito” got squished, Exisal Kokichi says it’s hard to believe that happened to an “invincible hero like Shuichi”. Oops, looks like he wasn’t so invincible after all! (Shuichi was probably rather bewildered when he saw himself described like this in the script.)

-      (this version of the back route also has no nonsense like Kaito internally claiming his emotional reaction to this is a lie, because it sure freaking isn’t (just like it made no sense for Shuichi’s to be either, grumble))

-      Of course, the actual way through this debate is pointing out the press’s safety function. When the others conclude that this just means Shuichi was killed beforehand, Kaito argues that, sure he’s not moving and it’s too far away to tell if he’s breathing or not, but Shuichi doesn’t look dead in the video before the press descends!!!

-      Maki informs him that there are any number of ways Kokichi could have killed Shuichi such that it didn’t leave a mark on his body that would be visible in that video. She shrinks a little at Kaito’s betrayed look at her when she points this out. She’s just saying that it would have been possible and so his argument doesn’t prove anything, that’s all.

-      Meanwhile, Kaito still can’t stop being hung up on the fact that Kokichi’s acting weird. Not in the sense that showing a video that apparently proves him guilty is weird – or, well, that too – but there’s something else, something about the way he’s talking, that Kaito can’t quite put his finger on.

-      (Shuichi’s people-understanding skills aren’t as sharp as Kaito’s, and so his acting skills aren’t either. He’s doing his best, but the fact is that he’s just not quite as good at pretending to be Kokichi as Kaito is – and even Kaito wasn’t perfect at it. Meanwhile, Kaito’s people-reading skills are top-notch, albeit in a very intuitive way that doesn’t have any conscious reasoning behind it. So, without realising it, he’s starting to pick up on the ways in which Shuichi’s acting is just a little bit off.)

  The other suspects

-      Kaito insists that they can’t just give up and assume Shuichi is dead this easily, so he keeps pushing them to think of other possibilities. One thing that’s at least a little worth discussing – not that Kaito’s super happy about this either but it’s better than the alternative – is whether one of the five of them could be a suspect.

-      Like in canon, Himiko still wandered towards the hangar and had a brief chat with Shuichi, although nothing much came of it (no crossbow delivery request). Keebo went there later to try in vain to talk Kokichi down. And, of course, Kaito also visited the hangar to talk to Shuichi that afternoon. So there’s a slight chance that one of the three of them could be the culprit.

-      Perhaps someone (definitely not Maki, and especially not Exisal Kokichi) suggests the idea that, of those three, if it really was one of them, isn’t Kaito actually the most likely to have killed Shuichi? He’d had that whole falling out with him – so maybe he was still so angry with Shuichi about Gonta’s trial that things got out of hand?

-      Kaito is horrified that it could even cross anyone’s mind that he’d ever do that to Shuichi, that he’d ever even still be angry at him after he’d calmed down from the lashing out during Gonta’s trial that he never should have done.

-      (And wait, did they all think he was still angry at Shuichi in the following days, and that was why he couldn’t face him? Is that what Shuichi thought was going on and why he didn’t ever try to talk to Kaito? Geez, Kaito really messed up so bad with that whole thing, didn’t he.)

-      Kaito asserts that obviously he’d never hurt Shuichi – and besides, when he went to the hangar yesterday to talk to Shuichi, he made up with him! Things are good between them now! (Emphasis on the present tense, of course.)

-      This is the first Maki’s heard of this – Kaito wasn’t exactly in the mood to mention it until now and she didn’t want to ask. She makes sure Kaito knows that she’s glad to hear that; Kaito confirms it with a grin and probably apologises for worrying her with the whole thing and definitely isn’t at all thinking about how little this will end up meaning if Shuichi is actually dead. (Though Maki is relieved that, if Shuichi does turn out to be dead, at least this’ll make things a bit less painful for Kaito than they would have been if he hadn’t made up with him at all.)

-      Exisal Kokichi is probably pretty quiet during this whole discussion, because I kinda doubt Kokichi would have predicted this topic and scripted any lines for it, and Shuichi very much does not trust himself to convincingly ad-lib about this.

-      Kaito glances at the silent Exisal and muses that wouldn’t Kokichi normally be spouting some of his usual bullshit about how you can’t trust anyone right now? He was quite happy to jump on the idea that Kaito could have been the culprit last case. Huh. Huh.

-      (Or, alternatively, maybe Kokichi did script something for this. In that case, either Shuichi decides that no he is not reciting that bit because it’s not worth it to hurt Kaito even more, or he does recite it and instead Kaito picks up on Exisal Kokichi sounding slightly off yet again.)

-      Ultimately, whoever half-heartedly accused Kaito drops it. They didn’t even really want to think he did it and just suggested it because, well, it was Kaito who insisted they try to think of other possibilities. But in the end, there just isn’t any evidence that anyone except Shuichi and Kokichi ever went into the hangar itself.

  Kaito is (not) fine

-      At some point during the trial, Kaito would definitely end up coughing up blood. It’s late enough into his illness that this’d be a pretty frequent occurrence by now, and in a class trial situation, he’s forced to spend hours around everyone else without any chance to quickly go cough his guts out where they can’t see. He’d hold out for as long as he could, but at some point he wouldn’t be able to any more.

-      Everyone else reacts with frantic concern – they knew he was still sick; he should have been letting them help him! – which Kaito desperately tries to brush off. They’re in the middle of a trial, dammit; they don’t have time to be worrying about him right now! This isn’t a big deal; he can handle it!

-      …And, to be fair, he can. He’s been in so much pain this whole time and just carrying on like it’s nothing, because he has to, especially right now. They really unfortunately don’t have time to be giving Kaito medical treatment when Monokuma refuses to let anyone leave their podiums until the trial’s over. So Kaito’s just going to casually continue the trial with flecks of blood all over his shirt like it’s nothing while stubbornly ignoring the worried looks everyone keeps giving him.

-      Exisal Kokichi joins in with this conversation to taunt Kaito about how pathetic he is and how much he’s been hiding from everyone. Because this would very definitely be something Kokichi predicted and put in the script.

-      Shuichi was probably rather alarmed when he saw the “here’s how to react to Kaito coughing up blood” section in the script last night. Part of him was hoping this was Kokichi exaggerating to mess with him, but, nope, he had to use it after all.

-      Even so, seeing Kaito in so much pain, realising that he really has still been so sick this whole time, makes Shuichi desperately worried enough that it’s rather hard to put on the Kokichi act and pretend to be callously gleeful about the whole thing.

-      And… Kaito notices. Even through his pain, he can tell that there’s something really obviously off about the way Kokichi’s taunting him. It’s not the words – the phrasing is still exactly like Kokichi. And of course it’s still technically Kokichi’s voice. But the intonation just sounds all wrong.

-      This isn’t how Kokichi would say this stuff at all. Heck, it’s never sounded quite like him this entire time – but this time stands out even more than the rest. Kaito still can’t put his finger on why not; he just has a hunch.

-      (The others haven’t noticed anything at all. Maybe they’re too busy worrying about him to see, or maybe they just aren’t as good at picking up on this kind of thing.)

-      Kaito’s sure of it now. That’s not Kokichi in there.

-      And if it’s not Kokichi, there’s only one person it could be…!

-      In that instant, “Shuichi’s Survival” gets updated in the Monopad. The description of it now reads, “Shuichi’s definitely alive! It’s him inside that Exisal! I’m positive!”

-      Kaito has no freaking clue how this could be possible, but that doesn’t matter, because he knows he’s onto something here. His hunches are never wrong.

-      He hasn’t said a word about this to anyone else, though. No matter how much he knows he’s right, hunches aren’t evidence in a class trial. They wouldn’t listen; they’d just assume it’s baseless wishful thinking. Which, to be fair, it really kind of was up until now – but not any more.

-      (The others don’t even seem to have noticed him having this revelation, either, probably because it happened while he was still doubled over in pain from his coughing fit and they were too focused on worrying about that.)

  The truth

-      Kaito almost tells them that he’s sure Shuichi is alive anyway, if only for Maki’s sake – he was trying to help her believe this, and surely at least she would trust his judgement?

-      But he doesn’t quite yet. Something tells him he needs to figure this out better before he goes blurting anything out. It’s definitely Shuichi in there, but, never mind the how of it – why?

-      If Shuichi’s in that Exisal, not only is he alive, but he wants them to think he’s Kokichi. He wants them to think that Kokichi killed him. Why the hell?

-      And, wait, if Kokichi having killed Shuichi isn’t the truth (and Kaito finally genuinely believes that it isn’t and is no longer just desperately running away from that apparent fact), then, doesn’t that mean that Shuichi killed Kokichi?

-      The only other option would be that Shuichi is trying to protect the real person who killed Kokichi – that might make some kind of sense – but Kaito’s also sure at this point in the trial that nobody else in the room is hiding anything.

-      The only one who’s hiding something is Shuichi. The only one who makes any sense as the culprit in this case is Shuichi, and he’s trying to get away with it.

-      At this point, Kaito is having an outwardly horrified enough reaction that Maki does notice that he’s realised something bad, and she asks him what’s wrong. (Completely oblivious to what he’s thinking about, she’s starting to worry that this is reaching the point where Kaito begins to face the painful reality that Shuichi really is gone.)

-      Kaito brushes her off and insists it’s nothing important. His stomach just still hurts pretty bad, that’s all. (Which, to be fair, isn’t exactly a lie.)

-      He can’t tell her yet; it doesn’t make sense yet.

-      Shuichi would never be trying to get away with his crime and get everyone killed; that’s just not possible. The only reason he’d ever want to do that might be something like the reason Gonta had, but that’s not relevant now they’ve all seen the outside (which is still definitely not the truth) anyway.

-      Hell, Shuichi wouldn’t even kill someone without a very, very good reason. Not even Kokichi, the mastermind, because he’d never want to repeat Kaede’s mistake.

-      (Though, wait, if Kokichi’s really the victim and the game’s still going, is he even actually the mastermind? …Whatever; that doesn’t matter right now.)

-      Kaede, Kirumi and Gonta all killed someone, too – but that never meant that Kaito was wrong to believe in them. They were still exactly the people he always knew they were. They only killed because they had reasons Kaito couldn’t have known at the time that made them genuinely believe they were doing it to save everyone.

-      So that has to be why Shuichi’s doing this, too. Kaito has no idea how, but it has to be. It’s the only thing that makes any sense.

-      The others were mistaken or misguided in their belief that this would save everyone, but… if anyone would ever be right about it, surely it’d be Shuichi? He’s always known what to do. He’s always known how to save everyone.

-      Kaito believes in Shuichi, more than anything. Not just that he’s a good person even despite being a murderer, but that he’s an amazing hero who’s going to save them all. Kaito doesn’t have a clue why or how Shuichi pretending to be Kokichi and convincing them all Kokichi is the blackened is going to save everyone – but he doesn’t need to. If Shuichi wants this to happen, that’s what’s gotta happen.

-      Everything makes sense now – at least, as much as Kaito needs it to – but he’s still not going to tell Maki what he’s realised. He can’t.

-      (He won’t let Shuichi down again. Not this time.)

  The lie

-      During Kaito’s big internal epiphany, the others have been continuing the discussion, but they haven’t exactly been getting anywhere. There’s just so little to talk about.

-      Exisal Kokichi has kept chipping in to taunt them about how ambiguous everything is; maybe he did it, maybe he didn’t, you idiots don’t have a clue! – and Kaito can tell now, now that he knows and is looking out for it, that every single word of this is clearly not the real Kokichi.

-      Part of the reason the trial has ground to a halt is because Kaito’s been so quiet. Despite his lack of conclusive arguments, he’s still been one of the biggest driving forces of the discussion this whole time. So Maki prods him to speak up again, asking him what he’s been thinking about.

-      (Some tiny part of her is hoping that he’s somehow figured out some impossible Kaito miracle that proves Shuichi really is alive. But… he hasn’t, has he? That was always too much to hope for. It makes far more sense that his silence is just because he can no longer deny the inescapable truth of Shuichi’s death and doesn’t know how to cope with it. So really, this is her trying to gently coax him into facing it at last.)

-      With Kaito still silent, things suddenly shift into a Nonstop Debate. Everyone prompts Kaito to say something, explaining that they still haven’t been getting anywhere without him and asking if he has any more ideas. The debate rounds out with Exisal Kokichi, taunting that of course Kaito doesn’t have a clue; he needs to just face reality already, because there’s not a single shred of conclusive proof that Shuichi’s even alive!

-      Both of those bolded statements are agree spots. The correct way through this debate is to take “Shuichi’s Survival”, turn it into a Lie Bullet, and fire “Shuichi’s Death” at Exisal Kokichi’s statement.

-      There… there really isn’t, is there? Everyone’s been working so hard to try and prove it this whole time, but… they’ve found nothing. And he can’t think of a damn thing either, despite how badly he wants to believe it. Damn it… does that… does that really mean…?

-      …It isn’t even that hard for Kaito to act out his reaction to finally accepting Shuichi’s death. We know he’s a good actor when he needs to be – and here, he’d be playing himself, in a state of mind that he’s been this close to genuinely falling into for the past several hours. His act is very convincing, and nobody else in the room is a good enough people-reader to see through it.

-      Even Maki completely buys it. While she’s been trying to hope for a better outcome, this whole time she’s still been expecting that this is how things would end for Kaito. This is what she always assumed his long silence was about. Rather than question it, or try to be the one to encourage him not to give up, Maki just wants to support him through it.

-      She reaches out to him, telling him that she’s so sorry, that she hates it too, that she’s here for him. Kaito just mumbles something about how they don’t have time to worry about him now when they still need to finish the trial.

-      (Kaito’s not sure he could quite convincingly act out actively grieving for someone he knows isn’t actually dead, so he’s trying to make it look like he’s basically accepted it but is putting off the grieving part until the trial’s over. That’s something that a lot of people have been doing in this killing game, so it’s a pretty convincing lie to tell.)

-      But there’s one person who doesn’t buy it: Shuichi. It’s not that he can tell that Kaito’s acting is fake – it’s that he can’t believe that Kaito would ever, ever just give up on him like this without seeing absolutely conclusive proof that he’s dead. It’s easier for Maki to accept that, because giving up is so instinctive to her that she doesn’t quite grasp how completely impossible it is for Kaito – but Shuichi is certain that Kaito never, ever would.

-      So in this moment, it hits him all at once – Kaito knows. He’s putting on an act to help Shuichi succeed, even though he can’t possibly understand why Shuichi would even want them to get it wrong when that’d usually get them all killed. Kaito really does believe in him that much, huh?

-      (did you know: they are FRIENDS.)

-      Despite Kaito saying they need to finish the trial, there really isn’t much else left to do. Without being able to discuss the idea that Shuichi could be alive, what happened really does seem obvious. Kaito – the fake Kaito who’s accepted Shuichi’s death – still believes in everyone else enough to be sure that none of them would have ever wanted to kill Shuichi, so there’s only one possible culprit. Kokichi must have killed him to make them all suffer, just like they thought from the start.

-      Possibly some of the others muse that it’s still weird that Kokichi being the culprit is so obvious an answer. In a quick ad-lib, Kaito claims that Kokichi figured they’d be so utterly lost without Shuichi that he wouldn’t even need to bother hiding his crime to get away with it. But Kokichi underestimated them! There’s still plenty they can do if they work together! He killed Shuichi to try and make them fall apart and suspect each other, but they’ll show him that they’re not gonna let that happen! Which still is very convincingly Kaito, trying to keep a positive outlook and encourage everyone else despite being the one in the most pain himself.

-      It crosses Kaito’s mind, now that he’s no longer in desperate denial over Shuichi being possibly dead, that killing someone just to make everyone suffer doesn’t even really make sense to him as something Kokichi would do, actually – but of course he stays quiet about it. He sticks to some very convincing fake glares at the Exisal, knowing full well that he’s actually glaring at a Shuichi who is currently being the most awesome.

-      There are probably scripted reactions to Kaito accepting that Kokichi totally killed Shuichi. Shuichi’s recital of them might just be off in such a way that Kaito starts to suspect that Shuichi has realised he knows. That’s okay, though, so long as they can both keep up the act for everyone else. Even though they can’t directly communicate at all, even though Kaito doesn’t even understand why Shuichi’s doing this, they’re a team.

  The reveal

-      Ultimately, despite Monokuma asking them more times than usual if they’re really sure they’re decided on the culprit, not much more of note happens before they go to the vote.

-      Everyone is a little surprised to see that even Kokichi voted for himself. Except Kaito, who claims that Kokichi had just seen how they’d all beaten him and given up! …Which, of course, is not at all the reason Kaito is not surprised.

-      They turn to Monokuma to wait for him to announce the blackened. This has to be it, right here – the moment Shuichi blows everyone away with whatever awesome plan he’s been fighting for this whole time.

-      (…right?)

-      After a longer-than-usual post-voting pause as Monokuma just stares at the still-silent and unmoving Exisal…

-      “You’re absolutely right! The blackened in this case is Kokichi Oma!” – and Kaito’s heart stops—

-      …only to start again a second later as he hears a gloriously familiar “No, that’s wrong!”

-      Everyone stares in disbelief as Shuichi emerges from the Exisal. Except Kaito, who can’t help but blurt out “I knew it!” in triumphant relief, causing everyone else’s bewildered stares to shift from Shuichi to him.

-      Shuichi, of course, isn’t bewildered at all. As his protagonist status switches back on, the first thought we hear from him for half a chapter is, Thank you for believing in me, Kaito… He goes on to recap – since the players weren’t in his head at the time – that the moment Kaito started lying was the moment he realised Kaito knew, because there was no way Kaito would ever have truly given up on him like that.

-      Along with apologising for deceiving and hurting everyone, Shuichi immediately confirms that yes, he did kill Kokichi, and not to worry, none of them are going to be executed for this.

-      Kaito’s first proper words to Shuichi are that, geez don’t scare him like that again, and man he is gonna need one hell of an explanation for all this – but damn, whatever Shuichi just did, that was awesome. Nothing less from his sidekick!

-      Maki puts in that, while she really needs to hear an explanation too – including from Kaito for that matter… she’s glad Shuichi’s alive. Kaito beams at her. He’s so proud of her for trying to believe in it the whole time. They are friends.

-      So Shuichi goes into a lengthy explanation of the hows and whys of the plan, interspersed with Kaito explaining why he hid the fact that he’d figured it out.

-      Shuichi is generally very modest about his part in the plan; after all, Kokichi thought up the whole thing and even gave him this script to follow, so Shuichi was basically just following instructions the whole time.

-      Kaito’s having none of that. Sure, it was Kokichi’s plan, which Kaito begrudgingly admits was pretty clever, but Kokichi got himself killed and took the coward’s way out before it’d even really begun to unfold. Shuichi was the one who took on the burden and did all the hardest parts, all by himself. Kaito can’t even imagine how tough it must have been to deceive them all and act like Kokichi that whole time, knowing that if he messed up, he’d end up being executed – or worse, everyone else would.

-      Shuichi doesn’t think he even did that good of a job at it, though – after all, Kaito saw through it, didn’t he? It’s only because Kaito believed in him that things still worked out. And Kaito’s act, once he started putting it on, was way better and more convincing, so… (He trails off there, realising that what he was about to say is… not exactly a compliment in some ways.)

-      Picking up on what Shuichi almost said, Kaito comments that nah, no way Kokichi would have picked him for the plan. Maybe he could have put on that act too (not that Kaito really wants to think about what that would have been like, never mind the murder part), but with Shuichi there like normal in the trial, he’d have been able to unravel the whole thing in no time! Sure, Kokichi’s plan was pretty clever – but the smartest thing he did was realise how amazing Shuichi was and rope him into it rather than anybody else.

  To be continued…?

-      With the explanations over and Monokuma squirming in his seat, it becomes clear that he really does have no right to execute anyone. Nobody dies at the end of this trial!

-      And I mean nobody. I know what you’re thinking – Kaito should be doomed to die here from his illness anyway – but, remember back in the Daily Life? How the group didn’t mope around in despair for a whole day thanks to Kaito being up and about? That means this entire case and trial happened one day sooner than it did in canon. Which wouldn’t usually affect anything – except it makes all the difference for Kaito. This means his illness won’t kill him at the end of this trial after all. He has one more day left to live.

-      I’d assume that Monokuma wouldn’t just immediately let them go free simply because he broke the rules – where’d be the entertainment value in that? Instead, I imagine he might pull basically the same thing as in chapter 6 of DR1: allow them to investigate everywhere in the Academy and challenge them to solve the whole mystery of the place.

-      So we’d basically enter the same situation as the canon chapter 6 of this game, without any need for Keebo to lose his inner voice and fight the Exisals (in fact, we wouldn’t need to see the Monokubs again at all, woohoo). And with the much more important difference that Kaito is still here.

-      The investigation for trial 6 would happen in the afternoon rather than overnight, because this trial 5 was a lot shorter than in canon, and nobody needed to take a few hours off to grieve. With that plus Kaito having that extra day, maybe that’d be just enough once they escape to get him to a hospital in time to save him. Maybe.

-      (I mean, logically speaking, it’s got to be, because in this AU, Kaito doesn’t go to space at the end of this trial. So obviously he has to survive this, because he can’t die before he’s gone to space! That’s just an Unshakeable Kaito Fact.)

  As for chapter 6 with Kaito still alive? That’s a topic for maybe another AU post sometime, since there’s other possible ways that outcome could be reached as well.

(When I get around to making that post, I’ll put a link to it here, so if you’re reading this note, I haven’t done so yet. I still intend to sometime, though!)

[kiribakuhappiness]

hellooo, you like to ramble (okay deku) and I like to read what you ramble about soo, any chance for you to ramble to me about how you headcanon bakugo and kirishima?? You talk a lot about characterization on your blog cause it helps to write them (I assume I'm not a writer but you know) so I thought you'd probably have lengthy descriptions for them haha! :)

The ‘okay deku’ fucking decked me in the throat.

Oh anon... oh dear, precious anon. What have you done. What have you started. What have you awoken.

I’ll go through different ‘sections’ of how I characterize the boys, I guess, cause if I just free ramble this it’s gonna get way more out of hand than it already is about to be. So...

Bakugou Katsuki

- A prickly, feral fellow who would annihilate anyone who tried to call him ‘fellow’ to his face. - Who is obsessed with being number one in more than just hero-related activities. - Whose room is neat and tidy like 98% of the time, with hiking gear in the corner and a toolbox shoved into his closet (Bakugou is a handyman and no, I will not take criticism on that. He probably knows how to do basic level house maintenance and could probably construct a whole ass bomb, if he ever needed to - in the bnha ova he knew about short circuiting wires and shit so I just feel like he probably knows a lot about useful stuff like that). - Who wears alternative clothing and listens to alt rock or rap or anything about being the best and working their ass off and shit that gets him super motivated and pumped (cause idk the dude runs around like he’s got a fuse lit up in his ass and he’s shown a few times with his earphones in so I just think he has to have a dope playlist otherwise where does he possibly get all that chaotic energy from, I just???) - Who, at first, would not appreciate cats or dogs in any way until he’s forced to spend some time with one and then (just like with people) he’ll bitch and moan about how he hates them but then when he thinks no one is around he’ll squat down by the couch and pet the cat or carelessly ruffle a dog’s fur and give them aggressively-affectionate nicknames like “Little Asshole” or “Shit Stain” or something like that. - Who doesn’t really use his phone (unless it’s to play music) so his knowledge of meme culture is laughable and he hates texting (cause wtf? Just call him, like, he doesn’t have the time???) and whenever someone forces him to make a social media account he doesn’t follow more than 15 people and he never posts anything unless it’s something he thinks is super fucking cool (like new grenade bracers or whatever) and he takes like a million years to answer text messages and he has never once used an emoji that wasn’t the middle finger (Kaminari showed him that and now it’s the only one he uses) - Sharp. Collarbones. - That’s it for that one. Just... - Strong jaw... but then soft, chubby cheeks? - !!!!! - Friends: I headcanon that Bakugou and Todoroki are the best of friends (even though Bakugou would never admit it) cause like... I don’t know, Bakugou is brash and loud, and while Todoroki is generally quiet, he’s also kinda snarky and sarcastic - you can’t tell me those two don’t have the same sense of humor. - Friends: I like to imagine that Bakugou just - slams Todoroki’s door open and stalks inside like he owns the place whenever he wants to, and Todoroki is always just like, this fucking guy, but he doesn’t even look up from what he’s doing because he knows Bakugou cares too much about getting reactions out of people. Meanwhile Bakugou collapses onto his bed and starts scrolling through his phone like he hasn’t just invaded someone’s privacy cause it’s just IcyHot and he can get the fuck over it. - Friends: And honestly, they probably gossip a lot. Not in the same way that Mina tries to gossip with others (about relationships and stuff) but real life shit; shit that other people probably think is too personal or whatever to openly discuss (about themselves or about others) but Bakugou has never given a fuck and Todoroki doesn’t really see what the big deal is, so they probably talk a lot about other people (Bakugou mostly talking shit, Todoroki silently agreeing most of the time but at least polite enough not to add onto it - but also not really telling Bakugou that he shouldn’t be talking shit because... well... sometimes he just spits straight facts, ya feel?) - Friends: I just think Bakugou’s and Todoroki’s personalities, despite having a lot of general issues with each other in the beginning, clash really well in a lot of ways, once they’ve gotten past all that other surface level shit. - Friends: Plus, they’re both socially inept, and you can’t tell me otherwise. - Friends: So yeah... brotp for fucking life. - Friends: I also like the idea of the 1-A band hanging out together, even after the school festival. - Friends: Jirou sometimes tracks Bakugou down to ask him to play the drums for this song she’s working on (kinda stammering and not really making eye-contact) and Bakugou (after some obligatory grumbling and complaints) always relents, cause damn... playing the drums again is actually kind of fun and Bakugou (so caught up in hero shit all the time) kinda forgot what it was like to do stuff just for the fun of doing it. - Friends: Kaminari + Bakugou brotp as well, we cannot forget; the one energetic friend who is always annoying the angry one, love/hate relationship, I dig it. - Friends: I also really like Bakugou getting along with Tokoyami. Like, maybe they’re not great friends or anything, they don’t really hang out or whatever, but Tokoyami is a spooky dude and sometimes he says or does weird/crazy/spooky shit and Bakugou is all for that (especially when he can go to Todoroki’s room later and talk about all the crazy weird shit Tokoyami is into it, and Todoroki will nod along and try not to smile or make a sarcastic remark when he realizes that Bakugou genuinely likes all that crazy weird shit too, even if he pretends that he doesn’t). - Pining: I headcanon Bakugou as a 100% tsundere (furious stammering whenever he feels overwhelmed by ~the feelings~ and/or blushes, taking extra time out of his day to prepare meals for those he cares about, aggressively shoving jackets or hoodies at people when they’re cold and just not acknowledging their insistence that they don’t need it, etc.) - Pining: And while that’s all fun and well, I also headcanon that he’s Bakugou - the waste-no-time-take-no-shit kinda guy that he is - he would not be one to pine for very long. He’d have to say something, eventually, because fuck, he’s impatient as fuck, yaknow? - Pining: But alas, he’s also a dumbass who doesn’t have a filter and is emotionally stunted and can’t for the life of him figure out why he has these stupid feelings, he’s just begrudgingly come to terms with the fact that he does. So, in my headcanons, Bakugou pines for a bit, then grows frustrated with himself (and the other person, cause he’s dumb and feral), so it’d probably only be a few weeks of him being like “What the fuck, I treated this person like a decent human being, why haven’t they figured out that I’m horribly, grossly in love with them yet??” and then he’d say something. - Pining: But Bakugou... I mean, Bakugou likes attention, yaknow? Or maybe he doesn’t like it, but he definitely has never done anything quietly before. Like... ever. Sooo I always picture him confessing to be some kind of spectacle done at a horrible time in a horrible place that is not at all private. - Confessions: I feel like he’d go about it in multiple different kinds of ways, depending on the situation. But the straight-forward is always my go-to. Like, super blunt, super to-the-point, no bullshitting or beating around the bush. He’s made a decision, dammit, and he’s no goddamn coward! - Confessions: But again, he is a dumbass. - Confessions: So I headcanon that maybe he stomps up to the person, scowl and all, and just kinda glares at them for a minute (he’s Bakugou, he didn’t like... prepare what he was gonna say) and then he just: “I fucking like you, so what the fuck are we gonna do about this shit cause it’s distracting as fuck.” - And by some miracle of God, probably, the person (yes, I’m imagining Kirishima but really probably any ship works?) is used to him by now, so that horrible confession is somehow endearing and now Bakugou Katsuki is in a relationship - In a Relationship: Now, Bakugou (in my headcanons) has never been a boyfriend before. Sure, he’s like, kissed before and shit, a few times maybe, but that really doesn’t even count cause that’s different from being someone’s boyfriend. - In a Relationship: But Bakugou is the best, goddamn it!, and that includes being the best at relationships! - In a Relationship: So I like to imagine Bakugou in his dorm room, hunched over his open textbooks at his desk, scowling in concentration down at his phone while he googles shit like “how to be the best boyfriend” and “shit awesome boyfriends do” and after trudging through all the really repulsive, gross romantic shit that he won’t even touch cause there’s no way anyone really wants that stuff, he makes it into a sort of challenge for himself - In a Relationship: And then once he starts doing some of the stuff suggested (dates are a plus - the more fun the better!, hand-holding, movie nights, making food), he realizes that yeah, being the best is great and all, but seeing the person get all giddy and smiley because of something he’s done might be even better.

Kirishima Eijirou

- Kirishima is best boy, we can all agree on this, yes? - The kind of guy who would offer to carry someone’s bag or hold their umbrella for them while they walked somewhere, who holds doors open for people and waves at little babies in the aisle of supermarkets when their parents aren’t looking. The kind of guy whose eyes get all sparkly when he sees a dog in public, who would race across the street to ask if he can pet it. The kind of guy that old ladies flirt and laugh with cause he’s just so sweet and handsome and charming. - Hella dorky, dude-bro, boy-next-door vibes, you know what I mean? - Like, your best friend’s older brother who plays basketball a lot in the driveway without his shirt on, who always offers to drive people around in his kinda beat-up car but it always smells nice even if the leather seats are a little torn and uncomfortable, who hugs a lot without realizing how flustered he makes people when he does that cause he just likes hugs! - High-grade empathy. If someone else is crying, he’s probably gonna start crying too. If someone else gets pissed, he’s probably gonna get pissed off with them. If someone else is happy, it probably makes him happy. Unfortunately, if someone pukes near him... well... - The guy who you go to when someone is harassing you or making you uncomfortable and he’ll totally say something to them and maybe even get in a fight just so they get the message to leave you the hell alone, cause harassment isn’t fucking manly! No means no! - He drinks his respect women juice every single day. - His. Forearms. Are. Immaculate. - Like... always rolling his sleeves up to his elbows??? Yes yes. - !!!! AND !!!! - Vein-y, strong hands. - I also really really like Kirishima’s scars (his eye scar and then also I like headcanoning scars from his fight during Eri’s mission). - BANDANA KIRI IS BEST KIRI AND NO I WILL NOT ELABORATE! - Friends: Kirishima and Kaminari are brotp, for fucking sure. They’re both kind of chaotically dumb, yaknow, and they both have to put up with Bakugou a lot, so they’re on the same wavelength. Plus, Kirishima helps to corral Kaminari about the creepy girl stuff he picks up from Mineta. They’re the best wingmen to have ever wingedmened (if you ask them). - Friends: I also really like Kirishima and Midoriya being friends (maybe a little secretly, cause no one is trying to make Bakugou jealous and/or blow his lid) but they’re both so sweet?? And encouraging?? And kind?? Like bruh, they definitely cross-paths in the kitchen and end up talking for an hour or so while sharing a meal; two fanboys getting all starry-eyed about their favorite heroes and Kirishima definitely texts Midoriya all the time as like a sort of Bakugou-Guide. - Friends: I like the idea of Kirishima being friendly and kind to just about everybody, but I don’t know, I feel like he doesn’t have a ton of close friends. I think he picks them very carefully - who he chooses to be extra close with and tell everything to - cause friendship is important to him, the bro-code matters, and he’s got strong morals that not everybody thinks is always necessary or important. - Friends: Kaminari is his best bro, and he likes being around Bakugou because Bakugou motivates him and he thinks Bakugou’s behavior is funny (cough-cough and he loves him cough-cough), and he enjoys talking to Sero, and Mina has known him for forever so obviously, and we can’t forget his dude-man-bro bestie Tetsutetsu! But everyone else? He likes them, and they’re all friends to some extent, and he’s kind to everyone because everyone deserves kindness! - Friends: But I don’t know, I always headcanon that Kirishima is a little picky when it comes to ‘best bros’ because that’s an important title that comes with a lot of responsibilities and commitment, and he cares very deeply about those things, so his friends have to as well. - Kaminari believes in the bro-code just as much as Kiri - Bakugou’s moral code is like, engraved into his very being - Sero respects women just as much as Kirishima does (he’s always telling Mineta that he needs to chill the fuck out and get it together) - Mina has always rushed out to help others; something Kirishima admires and tries to replicate himself - Tetsutetsu is just as chivalrous as Kirishima is (he proved that at the sports festival) - So yeah, being kind to everyone doesn’t automatically mean being friends with everyone, cause friendship is treasured and sacred and Kirishima wholeheartedly believes that friendship is something that best when it’s earned! - Pining: I love blushy, awkward, fumbling Kirishima when he’s pining. Just... yessss, precious baby is easily flustered, love love love that - Pining: But also - Pining: Kirishima likes to live a life without regrets! And what’s manlier and braver than outwardly showing your emotions! - Pining: So I always headcanon that Kirishima is a big ole flirt when he’s pining. He pulls out the big guns, yaknow? Cheesy pick up lines, lots of accidental (totally planned and on purpose) touching, giving people hoodies, buying them little gifts, the whole nine-yards. - Pining: I almost feel like Kirishima’s pining overlaps a little bit with confessing, because really, if you just take the time to notice it, he’s very obvious about it - there’s no reason to hide it! It’s manly to be straight forward and up front with people! - Confessions: However, if it’s someone who either didn’t take the hint or didn’t say anything about all of Kirishima’s advances, he’d have to say something eventually, if he wants to take it to the next level. - Confessions: Cue blushy, fumbling Kirishima. Who would probably try to pull them aside before class or - the lovable idiot - would try and have a serious talk in the middle of a sparring session where it’s just too damn loud and half the conversation is just: “WHAT?!” - In a Relationship: Kirishima would be, like, the best fucking boyfriend to have ever walked this Earth. He probably would go a little too hard (at least for me lmao, I’m not a big romantic or anything) but I could picture him hitting all the marks, you know. - In a Relationship: On his way to class, he’d probably stop and pick cute little flowers he saw on the side of the road. If he stops at the store, he’d probably pick up his partner’s favorite drink or snack, just as a little surprise for them. He’d probably love going on movie dates and out to eat, and oh lord is he a cuddly little shit. - In a Relationship: On the bus, in class, in the common room, it doesn’t matter where he is; constant hand-holding and hugs from behind and leaning his head on his partner’s shoulder is a must. He’d do everything in his power to make sure that his partner knew how much he loved and appreciated them - even if he does like to annoy them with harmless teasing and little pranks every now and again, just to keep them on their toes!

[greycappedjester]

If it’s ok, could we get a small clip of the next chapter?

Sure!....which story?

Um, here’s one for all of them. It’s long (very, very long) so I’m putting it under “Read More”

(All story segments are not fully edited and may change)

Tooru Oikawa and the Triwizard Tournament

Yamaguchi squinted towards the other side of the Great Hall. “So have they….made up now?”

A few tables down, Kageyama and Hinata seemed to be in the middle of a very loud and very spirited argument on whether condiments could ever count as side dishes. Grievous insults to intelligence had been made and threats of murder were likewise issued.

“I think so.” Ennoshita didn’t sound confident.

Hinata attempted to tackle Kageyama off of his bench.

“But, they’re still not playing together for Quidditch,” Yamaguchi confirmed

Kageyama shoved an apple in Hinata’s face.

Asahi watched wide-eyed. “They said they couldn’t yet.”

A resulting debate over the term 'breakfast fruit’ emerged. It was somehow even more heated.

“But, they’re not fighting?” Yamaguchi had to confirm.

“Suga says they aren’t,” Daichi said.

They had now decided to share the apple. Yachi beamed from beside them. Lev booed.

Yamaguchi decided there and then. “I’m never going to understand their relationship.”

“They’re idiots,’ Tsukishima concluded.

And, thus, the most watched and highly contentious fight of the entire school year--Tournament included--finally came to its baffling end.

--------

After the Fall of Olympus

(Sorry, it’s a depressing one--partly because I can’t take out much from the chapter without giving away a really major spoiler that’s revealed in the first scene)

Dick and Donna have this thing they do. 

It started maybe three years after the invasion, before Kory’s ship landed, and when everything was still raw but finally slowly trying to get better. 

They’d been in the tower alone, both on monitor duty, when Donna had turned to him and out of the blue asked, “Dick, tell me about Wally West?”

“What,” Dick had asked, too surprised even to feel the pain that sharply.

“You and Roy mention him every now and then. He was your best friend, right? I want to know more about him.”

Dick had just stared. Stared until Donna had admitted in a too quiet voice. “I’m tired of not being able to talk about them.”

So Dick had talked. At the start, it wasn’t even about anything important. Just about what a huge chemistry nerd Wally was. How he flirted with girls non-stop. The time he’d tried to phase through a wall and got half way through before panicking. And then, slowly, Dick moved on to important things. When Dick first told him his secret identity. How Wally had wanted to grow up to be just like his uncle. What Dick had felt when he saw his body.

Donna talked, too. About her sister. About growing up with Diana, about the numb shock watching her death on the news, about wondering if her sister would be proud of her and the a million and one times she was scared of living up to the reputation.

It became a routine. Not every day. Not even every few months. But, now and again, one of them would seek the other out and Donna would talk about Diana or some of her other Amazonian teachers lost in the invasion and Dick would talk about Wally and M’gann and Artemis and Connor and Kaldur and….and Bruce. One time, Dick even talked about Superman.

They talked and the pain didn’t go away--not fully, not ever--but eased until they felt like they could breathe again, until they could remember a past that was colored by more than just the pain of their deaths.

-------

Walking With My Eyes Open

Gen wasn’t a kind man; he was pragmatic.  And he’d long decided he’d do absolutely anything, sink to any kind of low, be however ruthless he needed if it meant saving Senkuu’s life. 

So….

Decisions, decisions.

He shredded a petal under his nails and tossed it down.

“Gen?” A blonde head popped up beside him. “What are you doing?”

He smiled, making sure it was a soft one despite his mood. Because he absolutely believed in playing favorites and when it came to the village--to his entire life, actually--it wasn’t hard to guess the people that rested on top.

Suika smiled back, a glimpse of bright blue eyes shining through the shadows of her mask. Then, she tilted her head and lowered her voice. “Are you hiding from work?”

Gen laughed, pressing a finger to his lips. “Maybe a bit. Don’t tell on me, okay?” He winked. “Besides, I was considering some options. Thinking counts as work, too, doesn’t it?”

Suika nodded, glancing down at the growing pile of mangled petals then to the daisy Gen was still steadily demolishing. “And the flowers are helping you think?”

Actually, Gen had just been feeling murderous towards flowers lately. Call it enacting justice vicariously.

“Not particularly.” He picked up another flower from beside him and instead of shredding it, started to fold. “You’re right. I think there’s a better use for these.”

A few more quick movements and he wove a flower bracelet, just small enough to slip over Suika’s wrist. 

Her grin brightened, looking at it like it was the next great marvel--so, at least Gen had accomplished one thing today.

“It’s so pretty,” Suika said, looking up to see it closer. “And the flowers are so close together. Can you teach me?”

“Sure, once we get some more flowers.” He picked up the last one, winding his fingers around the stem. “You know, now that you mention it. There is an old game about flowers and decisions. Want to hear it?”

Suika sat patiently in front of him, eyes fixed on the daisy because of course, she wanted to learn. What other village could this be?

“It’s very simple.” Gen counted off with one hand, flower in the other. “Two phrases, you pick a petal on each and the one you land on is your answer.” Gen picked a petal. “He loves me.” Another petal. “He loves me not….” 

Suika gave a small gasp. “Flowers can tell you if someone’s in love?”

Gen didn’t laugh because he knew it would be bitter.

“No,” he said quietly. “It’s just a game. Back before--ah, before even me and Senkuu, that is--ladies would play it to see if their beloved would ever return their affections. It’s silly.”

“So…,” Suika thought a bit, “it’s like a wish, then?”

“I think I’m using it more as a hex,” Gen muttered as he got to the last petal and glared.

He loves me.

Well, fuck. 

Gen supposed that’s what he deserved for trusting flowers.

He gave his largest, most theatrical sigh for Suika’s sake. “Ahhh, Suika-chan, look at that! It seems like I lost. More’s the pity for me!”

Suika grinned up at him, hopping to her feet and wrapping her arms around his hips. “It’s okay! I still love you.”

Gen patted her head, smiling despite himself.

“Maybe you were using the wrong flower,” Suika told him.

“Could be.”

“I’ll go get more,” Suika promised. “Then, you can find one that’ll work.”

“More flowers is a good idea,” Gen agreed. “But, I think I’m tired of this game. Why don’t I teach you how to make the best flower crowns in the entire stone world? Then, we’ll both have to be the most beloved people in the whole village, won’t we?”

Immediately, Suika ran off to the woods and Gen watched her go.

At least, flowers could do good somewhere. 

He looked down at the mangled flowers. A daisy, purity and innocence.

With a shift of his heel, he ground them a little further into the ground..

Flowers were an awfully pointless thing to blame; but, Gen was petty and they were easier than the alternative.

Still. He taught Suika how to make flower crowns and when she pressed one last bloom into his hand, so excited to find the last one of the season, he took it like his heart hadn’t plunged to his feet.

It was hard to look at black nightshade and forget it was a poison.

-------

Call Me Your Home At Night

(Note: very, very subject to edit. Part of the reason this one has taken awhile is rewrites while I work on tone)

Atsumu was shouting--voice tinny over the phone speakers--and Hinata’s blender was doing its best impressions of death throes while Hinata frantically tried to keep both the chord at the one angle it worked and hold the blender’s lid down so the entire kitchen didn’t end up coated in a weird grey mix of protein shake and bananas. Again. For the fifth time. 

In other words, it was a normal morning. 

From the part of his mind that noticed these things, Hinata thought it was kinda funny that Atsumu had learned to time his complaining to coordinate with the aggressive disaster that was Hinata’s morning routine.

Like the world’s weirdest symphony, the opposite of harmonizing. A disharmony! That was it!

“Seriously, what the fuck is a ward court and how is it different than a family court? Why do we even need two courts for divorce? Huh? Why not just shove a paper at us and have it done!” Atsumu’s voice got increasingly petulant. “Shouyou, it’s like the entire country is trying to keep good, decent people married! Why does it hate us?”

It was a close call; but, in a competition between one aggravated setter on speaker phone and the relentless whirring of the cheapest blender Hinata could find on the internet, Atsumu still managed to fight his way through.

Hinata gave the phone a sympathetic look even if he knew Atsumu couldn’t see it. He turned off the defeated foe and mentally crowned Atsumu the winner of Disharmony 2016: Blender vs. Atsumu edition. Not that he had much doubt. 

“Find anything you like with grounds for divorce?”

Atsumu grumbled which meant no.

Then, Atsumu huffed which meant no and the world wasn’t fair!

So, apparently, divorce was harder than it looked. Actually, a lot of things about this “being married” thing were more complicated than they thought and, in the month since they’d been technically married, Hinata had frequently and strongly fantasized about grabbing his past self by the shoulders and shaking him while screaming ‘WHY?!’ right at his face.

Like taxes!

Who knew how to do taxes? Who knew that taxes were apparently due this month? Including married people taxes which apparently were more complicated and had things like joint filing or separate and dependants and a bunch of other words that Hinata still didn’t understand completely. It wasn’t like he could ask his Mom for help after everything or even beg Yachi or Kenma like usual because that would bring up the whole marriage thing and, ugh, no, no, no, no.

Hinata was pretty sure he and Atsumu had figured it out. Enough, at least. Getting arrested for tax evasion seemed like something that only happened on the news so it was probably fine.

Uh, so, yeah, between the whole moving to Brazil thing and figuring out stuff like rent and utilities and meeting the indoor volleyball team he’d be working with plus some of the beach volleyball players and trying to get his new roommate Pedro to talk to him about things other than laundry and groceries and trying to remember the difference between bolo and bola and finding a job and Atsumu dealing with MSBY promotion stuff and interviews and getting ready for pro-volleyball next season and then them both having to deal with stuff like taxes and still being weirded out about all the accidental wedding stuff in general, they…..well, they hadn’t gotten much done about the whole divorce thing.

Okay, more like they’d gotten exactly one thing done and that was figuring out a time to freak out about all the things they hadn’t gotten done. The good news was that the exactly twelve hour time difference was sorta perfect since it meant Hinata got back from his morning jog about the same time Atsumu came home for dinner, which meant that quickly became their agreed time to call with updates.

….which usually tailed off into both of them talking about volleyball instead because volleyball was a whole lot more fun.

Hinata very carefully pushed aside the resulting mental montage of sand scraping along his arms on a missed receive and feet sinking into the ground and landing face first in burning sand that was happening way more than he’d expected.

Hinata shook his head, scraping the not-very-blended protein shake out of his blender. “I’ll try to look some stuff up this afternoon.”

“Isn’t your laptop still being screwy?”

“...Maybe.” It was more like Hinata’s ancient laptop had given a sudden death kneel--complete with hisses and the screen flashing--and Hinata was sorta scared he’d get electrocuted if he even touched it. “I’ll use my phone.”

“I could just buy you a laptop, you know,” Atsumu muttered. It wasn’t the first time; Hinata even knew his next line.

Hinata grinned. “That’s really sweet, Atsumu. Absolutely not, you’re already doing enough of the research anyway.”

“Shut up,” Atsumu grumbled. “I am not sweet, this is a trade. Your laptop’s a piece of crap, like actually the worst and I--like any normal human being--am doing my part in putting it out of its misery. Basic compassion right here.”

“But, I don’t need a new laptop,” Hinata insisted like he always did. “I’ve got my phone. That’ll work until I get a job.”

Which he was totally going to get. Soon, too. It was just a little harder than he thought when he didn’t really have a great grip on the language yet.

“Hinata, I’m begging you as a friend here, please don’t resort to selling your organs on the black market.”

Hinata rolled his eyes. “I would never do that. I need them for volleyball.”

“Is that seriously the only reason?”

“Think about how long surgery recovery would take,” Hinata teased. “I only have two years here.”

“I worry about you. Like fundamentally.”

Hinata tilted his head. “But what if I could get like super organs instead.”

“Like Terminator?”

“Yeah! I’m pretty sure I read a manga where that happened once.” He paused. “Oh my gosh, Atsumu, imagine how amazing volleyball would be with superpowers!”

“There’s no way the V.League would approve that.” Atsumu breathed in. “But, what if…”

“I’d get super speed,” Hinata broke in excitedly, “or maybe flying. Oh, or super strength! Imagine hitting a spike with super strength!”

“Awesome!” Atsumu’s voice was speeding up. “What if I had one of those specialty powers like super precision or something! It could get around so many blockers; Suna would be so pissed off! I could set the ball anywhere!”

Hinata huffed. “You already do that.”

Atsumu broke off, sounding pleased. “Really?”

“Of course,” Hinata said. “Hey, wait, how was practice? You got to meet the new libero, right?”

“Yeah, Inunaki--he’s pretty cool. He was mainly working with--” Atsumu cut off, “Fuck, Shou, I gotta tell you about this thing Barnes and I did!”

Atsumu started rambling--words choppy and quick as he got deeper into the retelling of practice in a way that had Hinata hanging off every word. In an abstract sense, Hinata knew that he himself was a people person; he’d always been good at making friends and deeply appreciated every single one he was able to hang onto.

He’d never had a friend like Atsumu.

-------

Shuffling the Deck

(Since it’s late, have an entire opening scene)

ooooooo- 30 Years Prior -ooooooo

Once there was a girl who grew up with her grandmother in a barely patched house, closed in by cliffs.

She was a quiet girl, a pretty face and delicate hands always kept clean despite the threadbare clothes that hung more like rags. The girl did not like to play with the other children which was fitting as they didn’t much like to play with her either.

Instead, she liked to read.

And, more than that, she liked to watch the garden.

Which is what she chose to do, one day at eight years old on the same morning a prominent merchant staggered in to see her grandmother--a terrible illness spreading through his veins and blood in his cough.

The girl was fine with blood but didn’t care for coughing so she stayed exactly where she was, laying on her stomach with head propped in hands while she took in the delicate threads of a spider web.

She always thought the webs were the prettiest part of the garden. They were so very thin and frail that one could barely notice them until they got up close. And, then, once they saw them, they could see the patterns and shapes so carefully woven as if by an artisan.

Sometimes, she even saw the spider. 

Sometimes, she tried to get it to crawl to her hand.

 It never did though. No matter what she did. The spider was too cautious, too scared of what it believed had power over it.

That was how spiders worked, really. They spun their masterpieces with so much care and precision and, then, they waited patiently for the art to be observed.

The girl was not the only one who found the spider web this morning.

A fly had come across the threads first--likely by accident but the girl liked to imagine that it was the beauty that had drawn the fly in the same as it had done her.

She wondered if the fly still appreciated the art of the web.

It was still alive.

She watched it struggle. Its wings beat uselessly, its many legs trapped in the delicate threads, and a buzzing cry sounding so frantic for such a small creature.

For a moment, she debated on saving it.

She could, of course.

But, that would mean tearing down the gorgeous web that she adored.

But, that would mean the spider may starve and there would be no new web tomorrow.

And, besides, why did she care about dirtying her hands for the sake of a dying fly.

The door of the cottage opened and the girl glanced up idly.

The merchant was stumbling out, gratitude and lavish promises on his breath and a healthy glow back in his cheeks. Her grandmother was smiling kindly, accepting the praise yet turning down the offers same as she always did until eventually the merchant went away.

The girl looked back to the web.

The fly was dead, quickly being wrapped up by the spider to save for later.

She turned back to her grandmother. “He was rich, you know? I heard the other kids talking about him in town. His shipping business goes all the way up to the wealthy islands in the north. If you let him do even half the things he offered, we could live in a mansion and you wouldn’t have to hurt your fingers so much mending clothes.” The tone wasn’t accusing, merely curious. “Why did you say no?”

“Oh, my dear,” Her grandmother leaned down to kiss her hair and the girl allowed it, “because our powers are a gift. They’re not meant to be hoarded and offered for a price. They’re meant to be shared. Besides,” the woman sighed as she watched the road, “what kind of price would that be? Who would I be to demand it? Those who are desperate--for their lives, for those they love--would pay anything. They’d do anything. Who could ever put a price on such a weight? It’s beyond human measure.” 

She smiled down at her granddaughter. “Do you understand, my darling Mimi?”

Maemi frowned before nodding, looking down at the spider web. 

“Yes, I understand.”

There was no way to know what would have happened if the old woman took up the merchant’s offer. Likely she never would have. She was not that type of person. All that there was to know is that the grandmother and the little girl remained at the patched up cottage, just like they had the girl’s whole life and her grandmother’s life before hers.

They were there six months later when the oceans swelled and brought the waves into shore. 

They were not both there after.

Six months later, a man and a girl waded through water as they searched a broken down cottage for survivors.

Well, the man searched at least.

The girl had stopped beside a tree, tall and strong enough to survive a tsunami.

On the bottom branch, at the lowest hanging twig, was a spider’s web just barely managing not to be swept into the water.

The spider was still alive.

But, it wouldn’t be for long.

It struggled, trying to climb up faster even as the bottom of its beautiful web was destroyed by the current.

For a moment, she debated on saving it.

She could, of course.

So, she did.

She snapped a twig from another branch and held it out for the spider to crawl, too. It did willingly, anything to avoid the water below.

It had never crawled to her hand before.

Not like it did now when it was desperate for life.

Maemi watched her dear spider crawl into her open hand.

And, then, she plunged her hand into the water and watched her dear spider drown.

“Yes, grandmother, I understand completely.”

[isoscele]

Lumberjanes Week Day 6 - Ghost Stories/Land of Lost Things

.

In Xian’s bullet journal, in purple gel pen, the four of them wrote their last will and testament. It was an incontrovertible fact, said Presley, that they were going to die here. One, it had snowed every single one of the four days they had been here, and showed no signs of stopping. Two, despite their best efforts to ration their fruit leathers and peanut-butter-banana sandwiches, they had run out of food. Three, Ana’s ankle was sprained and they were probably not going to be able to get back up on the cliff they had fallen from. Four, despite what fantasy books said, kids on hiking trips did not actually survive tripping into a desolate, war-torn alternate dimensions, no matter how much moxie and general perseverance they showed.

It was hard to argue with that. So they divvied up their belongings among parents and siblings and pets, taking turns with the pen in a kind of grim ritual.

Once they finished, they surveyed their work.

“Don’t give your rollerblades to Peter,” Ana told Xian. “He’s going to break his collarbone immediately.”

“If I have to become a ghost, I want to spend my afterlife watching Peter eat it in the Walmart parking lot,” Xian said firmly.

The sky here was a kind of burnt-rubber color. The snow kept coming down, so there must have been clouds up there somewhere, but it was difficult to distinguish them from the blank slate of horizon.

There were no plants, no animals, nothing but a long line of snow-covered earth. If you dug down to the surface, as Siobhan had, there was only scorched dirt. There was a little rubble, but not much. As far as otherworldly apocalyptic wastelands went, it was disappointingly barren. There were no helpful clues, or conveniently-placed newspapers with pictures of mushroom clouds. Even the breaks in the landscape looked harsh, a continual jag of cliffs and valleys and something that smelled like it might have been a swamp, a long time ago.

When they’d first set up camp, Siobhan had knelt down to wrap Ana’s ankle and Presley had started clearing space to make a campfire, and so Xian had gone around looking for something to help start it, trudging through the knee-deep snow with her windbreaker tied around her legs to keep herself from getting frostbite.

Mostly, she had been walking towards a massive rupture in the snow that looked like it might have been a felled tree. Probably, it would be too damp to burn, but Presley had mad survivalist skills wrapped up in her little band-geek brain, so maybe she would be able to scrape the bark off or something. Or maybe there would be something they could eat. Even then, back in the halcyon days when they still had two out of four fruit leathers left, that was a pressing concern.

As Xian approached it, though, it started to look less and less like a tree. It was curved in a weird way, and it didn’t have any branches. It took a long time for her to reach it, so by the time she reached out one hand to wipe away the snow, there was a part of her that already knew what she’d find.

It was a rib. More specifically, it was the rib of something that had ribs the size of a school bus. It was picked completely clean of meat, as pristine as a museum exhibition.

Xian had to take a step back and stare at it. It filled her whole vision, and she couldn’t get over how clean it was. Her first thought was scavengers! Her second thought was HUGE scavengers! Her third thought was no, that’s dumb. It’s just old.

Siobhan’s theory had been nuclear war. Presley agreed with her–maybe not with the method, but she thought they were in an alternate dimension that had destroyed itself somehow. Ana had suggested time travel, like they’d tripped into Earth’s first ice age.

But something bad had happened here. With that understanding came a powerful, terrible relief. Of course they were standing on a graveyard too vast and ancient for them to ever understand. Of course this was a place of tragedy. It still was, the white of the ground and the orange of the sky and the way that Presley had said we should find some kindling, as if they were ever going to find any kindling.

Xian had looked at the bone for a moment longer. She thought about how, in horror movies, the characters always tried to find some justification for what was happening to them, had some big why-me breakdown. From an audience’s perspective, though, it was easy to tell who was earmarked for catastrophe. From the moment they stepped onto the screen, they were tasked with telling a story. They were suffering because they were only ones who could tell it. It wasn’t their fault.

Xian didn’t know what that meant about them. They were teenage girls, which could make some sense within certain narratives, but they were teenage girls who were probably not going to get out of here. Girls who were plucky and inquisitive and charming and still would not be saved.

Then again, sometimes the answer to why-me was just you were there. Sometimes, it was as simple as an extinction event, coming to wipe you and everything you knew clean.

Xian turned around and started the long walk back to camp.

.

The hike had been Siobhan’s idea. School had just ended and it was Presley’s last summer before she moved away, so everything was terrifying and big and moved in slow-motion. It felt like every minute the four of them weren’t doing something amazing together was a minute wasted. Siobhan imagined growing up like a skin you shed in reverse. The more you crammed  into those early layers, the harder it was to lose them.

She’d packed the bag, which was another mark on her ledger. If she had brought a first-aid kit, if she had brought more food, if she had brought a second water bottle, things might be different. Never mind that it was only supposed to be a day trip, and her mom would’ve lost her mind if Siobhan had packed for an overnighter.

The third thing that she could never ever be absolved of was that she was the one who saw the fox.

It had streaked through the trees, a blur of formless red, but for a second it had looked at her and–and Siobhan wasn’t exaggerating, time stopped. Its eyes were golden and a million years old, and somehow she had known exactly what it was saying to her.

They’re leaving you they’re leaving you every second they are getting farther away from you and you can’t do anything to stop it and you’re the only one who wants to anyway, you’re the only one selfish enough to ask for forever.

And then time had unstuck and it had leapt back through the trees, and Siobhan had pushed past Ana and almost tripped over Xian and she hadn’t even realized that she had started running, it was more like she knelt into the air and kept going.

She hadn’t realized the others would follow her, but of course they had.

So Siobhan couldn’t sleep. She was cold, and she was hungry, and she was ashamed that during their will-writing she’d made up people to give her things to because she wanted her friends to think that she had friends other than them, that she too had cool cousins in New York and family members she could trust with the contents of her bedroom.

And she was ashamed about everything else, too, every dumb decision she had made in possibly her whole life, and then Presley said “Siobhan?” and she realized she was kind of crying into the snow.

“I’m okay,” Siobhan said, “I’m okay, I’m fine.”

Ana reached out and touched Siobhan’s elbow. Her fingers were cold, but steady, and it did make Siobhan feel better.

“I think I’m gonna go look for food,” Siobhan said. She hadn’t realized she was going to say it until she did, but it felt right. She couldn’t stay here. She couldn’t just lie down and try to sleep through another night that looked exactly identical to the day.

“Okay,” Xian said. She pushed herself onto her elbows and tried to brush some of the snow off her shirt. “We’ll come with you.”

This was how they got into all kinds of world-ending trouble, but Siobhan supposed there were worse things.

She didn’t think she could get any words out if she tried, so instead she reached out and helped Xian get the snow off her shoulders.

.

Ana’s ankle didn’t hurt much anymore, but Presley still stoically bore the task of giving her a piggyback ride. Ana liked this arrangement because Presley would kneel down and wait for Ana to loop her legs around her waist and then she would say, with all the seriousness of a soldier about to pull the knife from his dying comrade’s stomach, I’m going to do it, get ready, get ready, and then she would stand up.

They didn’t have a direction, and none of them were entirely sure which way they had come from, so they were just kind of walking. Most likely, they had already gotten turned around three or four times, but Ana was hoping it would eventually cancel itself out.

But then again, it probably didn’t matter whether they got anywhere new. Already, the snow had probably completely concealed their old campsite. Everywhere they stepped was a new world, fresh and footprintless. Packed with promise.

Presley and Xian were talking, but Ana was a little too tired to follow the conversation. Instead, she tried to catch Siobhan’s eye and silently communicate something deep and necessary to her. She didn’t know what that deep and necessary thing was, but she trusted Siobhan to figure it out.

They walked for a long time without finding any kind of break in the landscape. Ana let herself feel reassured by the steady rhythm of Presley’s footsteps below her, the slow thread of Xian’s voice. It almost felt like home, pacing circles around Siobhan’s trampoline or getting marched to the principal’s office for “disturbing the classroom environment.”

So of course, she was the last one to see the cave.

It looked a little like a wasps’ nest, fat and bulbous and buzzing from the inside out with a pale yellow light. Shadows stretched across the entrance, flickering in stop-motion. The cave, whatever else it meant for them, was inhabited.

Ana looked down at Xian, who tended to be the most genre-savvy of them all. But Xian wasn’t looking at the cave; she was staring into the sky with a look of abject terror on her face.

“Presley,” Ana said. “I think we should–”

Presley locked her arms around Ana’s ankles and took off running towards the cave.

Ana had to duck so they could get inside, pressing the side of her face against Presley’s crown of braids. Then, the light was everywhere, and she had to blink hard to disperse the pink clouds that spotted her vision.

“Oh my God,” Siobhan said from somewhere behind her.

Xian shuffled closer. “What is that?”

In the center of the cave, a candle had burned almost to a stub, giving off the unmistakable smell of pine. Behind it, half-submerged in the pool of light, lay some kind of abomination.

It was a wolf and yet it wasn’t, couldn’t be. It had thick white fur and a distinctly lupine body, but it had human hands, bent and weathered. An old woman’s hands.

Oh Grandmother, Ana thought, inanely. What big teeth you have.

And if it was dead, which it could very well be, it had not been dead for long.

As slow as the shifting of a tectonic plate, it lifted its head and opened one blazing eye. Ana understood with a jolt that it had known they were there the whole time, that it had been listening.

It surveyed them, looking very old and very tired. It locked eyes with Ana. Then it spoke, in a voice so gravelly and ancient that Ana had no problem believing that it had been here for as long as there had been a here to be.

“Kids come with two heads these days?”

“Yes,” Ana said automatically, because even in her mindless terror she had to indulge her favorite hobby, which was tricking old people into believing things about The Youth. “But only the ones who are on social media too much.”

Presley frowned so hard that Ana could feel it from her shoulders, like an earthquake. “That’s not true,” she said. “We’re two separate kids. Stacked on top of each other.”

Wolf Lady huffed and closed her eyes again, apparently done with the conversation.

“Hey!” Siobhan said. “Hey, ma’am, please–can you help us?”

“We fell down a portal,” Presley supplied. “We’ve been here four days, and we’re going to die here.”

Wolf Lady smiled. It was the smile of a rotting jack-o-lantern, and it showed a glint of teeth. “Not a bad place to die,” she said, almost to herself. “But most people deserve better.”

“Do you have food?” Xian had crouched down, like she was speaking to a sleepy child. “Or–or do you know how to get some?”

“No,” Wolf Lady said. “No. You don’t need to get food. You need to get out.”

Silence. Outside, the wind wailed.

“What happened here?” Xian asked. Her voice was tight, thin. “I found these–all these bones.”

“You what?” Siobhan said.

“War,” Wolf Lady said. There was something inarticulable in her voice, a kind of grief that had exhausted all other avenues and therefore had no choice but to live forever in this cave.

“They were huge bones.”

“Big war.” Wolf Lady opened her eyes again. “Maybe you’ve noticed it. Wasn’t the kind of thing you can get out of the carpet. You, two-headed one. Grab my specs.”

“Specs?” Presley said, confused, but Ana tapped her head and then pointed to one edge of the cave, where a pair of thin, cracked glasses had gathered what looked like years’ worth of dust and melted snow.

Xian was the one who picked them up, but she handed them to Ana. On some old impulse, Ana slid them over the bridge of her nose.

Immediately, the world exploded in a paroxysm of color, spreading across the four of them like an oil slick. Wolf Lady seemed to be the center of it, bleeding orange from every inch, but there was so much of it coming from everywhere that Ana had to pull them off again.

“You can use those to get home,” Wolf Lady said, in the tone that one might say you can use salt to improve this soup. “Find the portals. For the love of God, get out of here.”

Ana cradled them against her chest. Siobhan looked openly skeptical, but she hadn’t tried them on. Ana believed that the glasses could do whatever they had to. Could reach through time and bring them back to some soft, scared world where everything they needed was still in one piece.

“Are you coming with us?” Xian asked. Her voice had gone quiet again, the way it did when she already knew the answer. Like when she predicted the endings of movies, the sad, certain everyone dies.

Wolf Lady laughed. As strange and animalistic as the rest of her was, her laugh seemed very human. “A very, very long time ago, I worked at a place where the only rule was that the kids had to make it out okay. The rest of us–well, it depended on how the forest felt. But we made it a long time, on that rule. I’m not breaking it now.”

“Thank you,” Presley said. Every word out of Presley’s mouth had an incredible gravity to it even in the silliest of situations; now, Ana could hardly bear to hear it. “We’ll remember you forever.”

“Oh, don’t do that to yourselves,” Wolf Lady said. “My name is Rosie. Think of it every once in a while, and forgive yourselves for the rest.”

.

Outside, everything was degrees of white and black, the snow bracing itself against the sky. Presley’s stomach was a black hole, and the rest of her was so numb as to cave in on itself.

She took one of Siobhan’s hands and one of Xian’s. Ana reached down and squeezed her shoulder.

They began to walk, and across the end of the world, a portal blinked into being

[timextoxhajima]

Playlist Feels

*SHORT SERIES

Member: *falls off his chair* juyeon

Genre: BIG ANGST + drama with chaebol/lawyer juyeon

A/N: i may or may not fucking cry writing this. on the account that this is the last chapter, it might be a little long, so i apologise for that. i wanted to cap it at 10 chapters, but i overshot and decided to pull it to 11 in honor of 11 boys :”) i started following tbz only after hwall left, but i know the pains of losing a member along the way. (exo/suju/shinee/fx you name it). if you cry, i’ll totally take it as a compliment. it means i’ve truly found my place as a writer, and it’s to break hearts. 

Links to other parts:

I Never Wanna See You Again

Frustrated (light smut)

Love Somebody (light smut)

Play With Fire (smut)

Stigma

Bourbon

Highway To Heaven (smut)

I Like Me Better

All Time Low

Falling

~ (final)

“life has a way of putting you in places you were meant to be.”

chanhee: it’s only been two weeks since you found out

chanhee: are you sure about this?

you hesitate before you punch in a reply. the cold air of the hotel room was making the hairs on your arms stand, despite being in a long-sleeved turtleneck and leggings. eyes travelling up to the mirror and meet the ones of your reflection. you turn to the side and scan your abdomen, not sure if you were looking at the baby bump or your breakfast from this morning. 

you: yeah, i’m sure. 

the receptionist at the counter was the same lady who discharged you two weeks ago, now with the knowledge that you were here for an abortion. 

the staff gets you changed into your hospital gown and let you wait in a ward similar to the one you were in previously. you tried to discourage them from giving you the most expensive ward in the building, but knowing that your father was big-shot deterred them from listening to you. 

you were worried the ward was going to be filled with baby magazines or something, but the lack of anything relieved you. your operation was scheduled to be in three hours, so you spent most of it watching television and bawling your eyes out over marley dying in ‘marley and me’.

dragging the already soaked tissue across your eyebags, you look down and berate your tummy quietly. “it’s because of you i cry so easily now.”

you pout, letting the movie dehydrate you even more by making you whimper in your own bed. this was the only reason why you were comfortable in your own ward. it would’ve been too embarrassing to let anybody else see you bawl like this, especially when you’re not one to cry easily. 

you’ve spent the last two weeks walking around amsterdam with the weight of the world off your shoulders. though you were carrying a child, but being alone and away from everybody you knew was so liberating. 

the mass in your abdomen had forced you to go through some shitty cramps, and it’s slowed you down in many of your trips out of the city to go sightseeing. but because of that, you spent more time admiring the views and the scent of the air, people asked you if you were okay despite not knowing who you were. it was so strange to have dogs coming up to you and sniffing you, paws landing on your thighs and their snouts around your stomach despite your efforts to keep it hidden.

you don’t think twice until the owner looks at you with a smile and asks “how far along are you?”

chanhee called you every night for the last two weeks, constantly checking up on you and never really asking about your decision, knowing that you needed the space to think. so when you told him what you wanted to do, he simply offered his understanding and support. 

your father was nowhere to be seen and your mother hasn’t contacted you since, so you could only guess that your father took your advice and told her to keep her nose out of it. 

you found it funny at the possibility that she might think this entire situation was her fault, especially after meeting juyeon’s mother. there was guilt for believing that she might be blaming herself, and that’s why she isn’t bothering to contact you, but the satisfaction in having her keep her nose out of your life was overwhelming. 

knock knock

“come in!” you say a little too enthusiastically, and the nurse pushes the door open.

“it’s time for your operation.”

you give it time for the words to dissolve into your blood. the expectation was there, but hearing it for yourself felt like you were stepping into another world. 

the lights and ceiling were alternating between themselves in your vision as you were wheeled along the hallway. your fingers were anxiously folding the material of the blanket over and over again, pressing it down with so much strength that when you released it, the folds remained. 

you close your eyes and take in a deep breath, and the sight and scent of the water you remember from sightseeing around amsterdam brings you back to the little bus rides you took home. 

the gentle lapping of the water against the post by the lake at home and the river banks here. the silhouettes of the birds and people that cover you for split seconds as they flit past you. horizons of the water body disappearing beyond your vision. the gentle breeze combing through your hair. 

“later when you’re in the theatre, they’ll be giving you some anaesthesia--”

“wait.”

your focus travels up to look at the nurses, and you find your hands clutching your stomach. they look at you with eyes that you were sure they were used to, and they stop pushing the mattress. 

“i’m sorry,” you sit up, gulping as your mind struggles to piece your thoughts and actions together. “i don’t think i can do it.”

the nurses exchange glances and one of them nods at you. 

“alright. we’ll bring you back to the ward. we’ll get someone to let you fill up an administration form and after that they’ll discharge you.”

your heart was strangely calm the entire time. from the moment you left the hospital up till this very moment, and you were in kind wonder with yourself. 

had you already known this was going to happen? 

had you already known you were going to keep it?

even if you did, it doesn’t explain how calm you were when you decided to abort it. neither does it explain how calm you are when you just said you wanted to keep it. 

“i’m sorry for the trouble,” you sit up in the bed as to nurses take off, leaving two with you. 

“no, it’s alright. many women struggle with unplanned pregnancies, we just hope you’re doing what’s best for yourself.”

a weak smile spreads across your lips and the nurse helps you off the bed. someone pushes it away and the two nurses start walking you back to your ward. 

the trip up to your ward felt so long, and random thoughts start filling your head. 

how were you going to raise this child? are you going to tell your parents? are you going to tell him?

then you realise you didn’t.

the lift arrives and the doors open.

doesn’t matter anyway, you’re not getting an ab--

the nurses look back at you when they notice you don’t step out of the lift. 

time freezes, and a mixture of loss, love and anger fills you. 

your eyes lock with his when he turns around at the sound of the lift doors opening. it’s been nearly a whole month since you’ve seen him.

it’s not very long.

but it sure as hell felt like it.

“uh, sir? are you here to visit a patient? have you been authorised with a visitor p--”

“it’s okay,” you call out, taking a step out of the lift and aligning your footing with the nurse. “he’s here for me.”

the nurses nod and inform you that they’ll be returning shortly with a visitor pass for him as part of the hospital protocol, and they leave you alone with juyeon in the hallway that leads to your ward. 

you were well aware of the mild frown you had on your face while you looked at his. his hair was done up as per usual when he was out for work, but he looked like shit with those eye bags under his pupils. 

you slowly and reluctantly walk towards him, each step closing the gap between the two of you and the weight of the atmosphere starts to rest on your shoulder. 

you were a safe distance from him, your eyes angled at a comfortable height. your arms were limp by your sides, while his fingers were anxiously gripping onto a small paper bag.

you were ready to go off on him and walk away for good, because the sight of him did nothing but remind you of how he let his jealousy get a hold of him. 

but before you could even make a sound, he drops to his knees. 

your eyes widen as you take a step back, your pupils frantically searching for any sign that someone was pulling a prank on you. 

the ache that filled your gut when you realised how much pain he had to be in to physically resign to his feelings washes over you. 

“juyeon,” his name rolls off your tongue so naturally, leaving a bitter-sweet taste. “get up.” 

you were kneeling before him as well, the view of his body crouched over and his head hanging low breaks your heart into a million pieces. 

“juyeon,” your hands trail up his arms and find his face, and you see now, up close, that his face was bloated and the eye bags were caused by crying. the sight of such a broken version of him pains you to the core, and you feel your stone-cold attitude toward him melt away.

“i gave the firm to sang yeon and i told my parents i didn’t want to do what they wanted me to anymore.”

the amount of effort he needed to get those words out engulfs you like waves on a stormy day. each word rests lightly on your heart, like feathers, and some weight on your shoulders disappear. 

“i can lose anything and everything...” his eyes well up with tears and your feel your heart start to rush. “but i can’t lose you.”

“juyeon--”

“i’m sorry,” he started to hiccup, and it shouldn’t be possible, but it broke you even more when you realise he was on the verge of breaking down. “after i apologised to chanhee, i begged him to tell me where you’ve run off. i wanted to ask your mother, but that would be using my business connections--”

another hiccup. 

“he didn’t want to tell me, and it felt so bad because he wasn’t angry with me at all... and i just couldn’t do it without knowing if you were happy...”

he gulps a large amount of air, tears finally dripping off his chin and hitting the floor.

“and then chanhee left me a message, with an address that he said he asked from your father... and chanhee told me you were pregnant, and i just--”

“okay, okay,” you cut in, pulling him into your arms and stroking the space between his shoulder blades. “please don’t cry anymore...” you whisper quietly into his hair, feeling all your tears and emotions welling up in your face and threatening to explode.

“but--” he abruptly pulls away and finds your hands, his eyes unable to meet yours. “i don’t want you to stay with me just because i gave the law firm away and ran from my family.”

your hands naturally reach up to his face and brush away the tears off his reddening, swollen face. 

“i want you to stay because you want to.”

suddenly, you remember saying, ‘life has a way of putting you in places you were meant to be.’

you’ve spent so much time running away from situations that didn’t offer you a choice... that you’ve forgotten what it felt like to have the freedom to choose. 

juyeon giving you that option to decide your own happiness was all you ever wanted. 

when he pulled that boss card on you, you felt suffocated from the fact that he was pushing you into a corner, that you had no choice but to listen to him. 

that was what pushed you over your edge. 

you were so calm in deciding what to do with the baby not because you didn’t care, but because it was solely up to you and there was nothing to interfere with your decision.

not your family, not money, not juyeon.

you didn’t know what you were searching for all this while, but juyeon saying this tells you that you’ve found it. 

life has a way of putting you in places you were meant to be, and this was it.

the gravity of your choice doesn’t add to the weight to your shoulders, instead, it completely eradicates it. 

“you can say no, it’s fine. and the baby... you can choose whatever you want to do with it. it’s your body, and it’s yours as much as it is mine and i won’t--”

you lean forward and cut him off, pressing your lips into his as you feel your entire existence dissolve and merge with his. the overpowering, intense feeling of completion and happiness that you’ve finally found in life swallows you whole. you wrap your arms around his neck and his hands find your cheeks, cupping them in his pool of warmth. 

and in that moment, you chose. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

FIVE YEARS LATER

you couldn’t help but to smile softly at the sound of your father going off about something that had gone wrong with his laptop at work. the document he was working on wasn’t saved and he was about to curse when your mother hit him on his arm, harshly shushing him.

you pull out your phone while your father’s complaining doesn’t cease, and you see the notifications flood your phone screen.

eric and sunwoo were off on a well-deserved holiday with sangyeon and jaehyun in the maldives, the photos doing nothing but flooding the group chat. 

chanhee: will you guys cut it out i’m still in a meeting with the other firms

sunwoo: yah nobody told you to work so much this holiday! you’re your own boss so can’t you give yourself a break?

chanhee: i make myself do all the hardwork so you people can enjoy yourselves!

jaehyun: i still can’t believe sangyeon stepped down and went back to being a manager so you could become ceo

chanhee: hey what does that mean

sangyeon: don’t worry chanhee, his money is in my bag

eric: they’re fighting now, hold on i’ll send a video

you smile to yourself and your mother finishes berating your father and takes a sip of her tea, plates of crumbs surrounding you on the table. 

“oh, would you look at the time?” he quickly looks at his watch and gets out of his seat. you thought he was just using it as an escape route, but you look at your phone’s clock and the numbers strikes you.

you reject a ride from them and they watch you get into a bus, hands waving but you knew your mother was still telling him off about overreacting about the document not being saved.

you watch the city whir past you and your phone starts to vibrate.

“y/n, have you looked through the contract for the swavroski’s ownership deal?”

“ah,” you fumble through your suitcase, looking for the familar blue file that the contract has been sitting in for nearly six years. “i have actually. it seems alright to me. i’ll get it to you tomorrow over lunch during my break.”

“dinner is fine. i know your lunch breaks are short.”

“aw,” you chuckle into the receiver. “he told you?”

“don’t push your luck.”

you laugh heartily, looking out the bus and pulling yourself out of the seat. “sorry mother~”

“i’ll see you tomorrow evening then.”

“okay, take care.”

you get off the bus and throw your phone into the suitcase. big strides take you across the pavement and you reach the glass door. someone inside spots you through the transparent surface and points to you, and the door swings open soon after. 

your little ball of sunshine screams the moment he sees you, and you pick him up to let him litter kisses all over your cheek. you look into the kindergarten and watch juyeon get off the tiny stool meant for children, bowing to the teacher as he takes his leave.

“i thought i said i’ll pick him up today?” you take a step back to let juyeon wear his shoes, arms wrapped around your son. 

“i heard you when you said that,” he takes your suitcase and pats down the creases of his blazer and pants. “but the charity house finished up early today and since everybody’s been working really hard recently, i decided to let them off.”

“that’s nice,” you let him kiss your forehead and he ruffles the little boy’s hair.

“has my mother contacted you about the deal?”

both of you walk around the building and head to the car park.

“yeah, it looks alright. you could look at it if you want to,” you strap your child to the baby seat as juyeon leaves the suitcases in the backseat, picking up a toy and handing it to him. 

“what, the contract?” you simultaneously pull out of the car and make your way to the front seats. “nah, it’s been too long since i’ve seen those kinds of contracts.” he smiles at you and starts up the car. 

mrs jung was the first person to greet the boy the moment the lift door opened. all the familiar staff members greet you and juyeon, everybody cheerfully rushing to play with the little boy. the rest of the evening and night was spent as per normal, with juyeon helping his son with his simple homework and coloring sheets in his office, while you were in your own working on the case that chanhee gave you. 

the penthouse was the only thing your mother-in-law insisted for juyeon to keep after he told them he didn’t want to take up the responsibilities she and her husband wanted him to take. after much persuasion, she gave in, recognising his desire to channel all his ability into charity.

the swavroski deal was transferred to his mother, and you were in charge of making sure there was nothing wrong with the contract before she signed it.

unlike eric and sunwoo who left the law firm to work in a production company, chanhee couldn’t bear to leave the law firm after what he did. sangyeon ended up relinquishing his position as ceo and went back to being a manager after promoting chanhee. 

chanhee begging you to return to the firm now that your husband was no longer the ceo was a whole drama to watch before you sleep. 

you sat by the glass panels in the bedroom with the cars driving through the city night-life, case file in hand and a cup of tea on the coffee table next to you. the opening door catches your attention, and you straighten yourself while juyeon crashes into bed. 

“is he asleep?” you close the case file and place it on the coffee table, taking a sip of tea. 

“yeah,” he rolls onto his side so he could look at you. “took him awhile though. i had to tell him his mom was busy.”

a laugh escapes your lips. you turn and look over your shoulder at the sound of a plane taking off, a low but obvious rumble travelling through the air. you hear a soft shuffle and juyeon’s arms wrap around your waist, his chin resting on your shoulder after he pushes your hair away. 

“thanks for looking through the contract for my mom,” he whispers into your ear, planting a kiss on your neck under your earlobe. 

“that little thing? it’s nothing,” you turn around in his arms, reaching up to his cheeks and pulling them towards you. 

“i guess owning swavroski is a good distraction from her son withdrawing from being a lawyer in practise.”

his words come out between kisses, and you feel his hands reach for your rear. the contact sends a low groan up your throat.

“lee juyeon--” you scoff into the kiss, your feet being lifted into the air as he picks you up. 

“what? he’s asleep,” he smirks before burying his lips between yours, laying you into the bed. “and besides, you did say you want another baby.”

a wide smile spreads across your lips as you push your hands through his hair. 

maybe life wasn’t so fair to you at the beginning. 

maybe you were just too immature to understand the true weight of responsibility, and everything just snowballed into the pain and restraint you spent so long trying to run away from. 

so, even if it meant living through the same amount of ache and heartbreak again, to be with juyeon, to be one with your family, to be happy... 

you’d gladly do it all over again. 

- fin -

------------------------------------------------------------------------

A/N: if you’ve been here since the start, i’d like to thank you for being so patient with me. i might have a ton of errors here and there in my writing which i didn’t pick up/change even after proof reading, so i apologise if it’s diminished your ability to appreciate/understand the story. i’d like to thank nessie, my first fan, who’s fed me bits and crumbs of ideas to fuel this story. i will forever hold this one close to my heart because i’m in a difficult time right now, and this has been my route of escape for the last three days or so. it’s always bittersweet to finish a story, because as much as the readers form a bond/attachment to the characters, the writers themselves find it difficult to let go; we find it difficult to give the characters the ending they deserve. so while i still feel slightly unsatisfied at how quickly this whole plot was thought out, i hope i’ve given my characters the due happy ending they really deserved. 

thank you for reading, and i’ll totally see you soon! <3

- love, dana

[thebibliomancer]

Song of the Dark Crystal liveblog pt 24

Song of the Dark Crystal by J.M. Lee because time to go back into a claustrophobic tunnel, oh boy!

Last times on book: On the way to Ha’rar after failing to retrieve the firca of Gyr the Song Teller from the Tomb of Relics (because it was broken), Kylan discovered that Tavra was a spider-imposter. He, Naia, and Amri managed to outsmart and trap angry Spider-Tavra and in the confrontation Kylan accidentally saved Tavra’s life by dream-stitching her mind into the spider’s body. So she’s a spider now but she’s being very chill about it. On her advice, the group returns to the Caves of Grot to try to save the Grottan from MILLIONS OF ANGRY SPIDERS and to try to create a new magical firca. Slight complication, the only way to get there in time is through a mostly flooded tunnel.

Chapter 24

The group travels through the harrowing Tide Pass, Kylan meets a Satirist

Amri finds the Tide Pass right as the morning sky is beginning to lighten. Kylan is sad because he wanted to be above ground to see a sunrise. Alas poor Kylan. When’s the last time these poor goobers got any sleep anyway?

Actually I feel like the sunrise/sets are pretty well documented. You could figure out exactly how much time this has all taken so far. I’d bet less than it has felt for the characters.

The group makes a decision to leave all their supplies and excess clothes outside the tunnel rather than make traveling in an underwater tunnel more difficult by adding in the possibility of getting tangled on something. He’s hesitant to leave Tavra’s pearl amulet or Raunip’s book but better safe than drowned.

Amri sniffs the tunnel draft to deduce some tunnel things. I guess he can do that.

“The tide will stay low for a few more days, and there are no currents here, so as long as we keep calm, there’s no danger of being washed away. I’ll lead. Naia should be at the rear in case of… Well, just in case. If we could walk it, the path would not take long, but crawling it will take longer. Remain calm, and your body will thank you for it.”

“Ready?” Naia asked. It was to the group, but specifically for Kylan. He took what he hoped would not be his last breath of open air.

“After you, Amri.”

The Tide Pass…. Is one of those places that drunk college students would keep drowning in until they had to put a metal fence over the entrance. There’s no bioluminescent plants or cave fish here so its so dark that Kylan might as well be blindfolded. The tunnel floor drops away so instead of walking, they have to propel themselves by handholds on the cave wall. The water is so high and ceiling so low at points that Kylan has to tilt his head up to breath, dunking his ears in the water. And also, Tavra makes matters worse by riding on his head and tickling him with her spider feets.

Hashtag, my friend turned into a spider problems.

Even with Naia occasionally touching his back to let him know she’s there, its really rough going.

AND GETTING ROUGHER!

They reach a section that’s entirely underwater!

Amri and Naia have to go ahead to scout to make sure there’s a clear way through, leaving Kylan alone in the dark with only a Tavra-spider for company. And he has to lie and says that's fine because there’s no real alternative!

Kylan is having a bad time.

But at least he has a Tavra-spider sitting on his head to talk to. That’s something.

“We are close. I can hear the voices of the other spiders. When Naia and Amri return, we will pass through this tunnel and enter the Sanctuary… but I fear we are too late to warn the Grottan that fled Domrak.”

=(

Oh and Tavra-spider’s voice is so small that Kylan feels like he’s basically just talking to his own conscience.

Tavra, ever the spider pragmatist, says that even if its too late to save the Grottan, they can still get a bell-bird bone and make a firca to warn everyone. That’d be a victory too. 

“This is the beginning of war with the Skeksis… Lives will be lost, and sacrifices made. To endure, we must focus on the greatest good.”

It’s an interesting take on the pragmatist, really. Tavra was the one that first brought up that they should return to help the Grottan so she’s not like ‘sometimes sacrifices have to be made’ type pragmatist. She’s just a realist. She’ll do whatever she can (which is less now) to save lives but will focus on the bigger picture. ‘We have to focus on the ends’ not ‘the ends justify the means.’

Probably why she’s just rolled with being a spider now. ‘Well this sucks but I gotta focus on the greatest good.’

Kylan couldn’t help but think Tavra was speaking to herself. Her brand of optimism was that of a seasoned soldier, a sort of bitter take on the constant bright hope Kylan had tried to commit himself to for so long. Even Naia’s optimism came from a place of wishing for the best; Tavra’s words, though not exactly comforting, were nonetheless realistic.

But she is optimistic about the firca, even while Kylan doubts. Since she’s a spider now she has spider-sense and she senses her spider senses are sensitive to sound. And since the spiders are close to the heart of Thra, if the bell-bird’s song can’t make them submit, she can’t think of anything that would.

SO! Good premise for the quest. Find the bone, toot on a flute, save the Grottan.

Kylan realizes that its been a while and Naia and Amri haven’t returned yet. He’s not sure whether they should have or not but the absence makes him nervous and he decides that if they got into  trouble, he has to go ahead through the terrifying underwater passage without their guidance. 

Because, I mean, if they did get into trouble, they’re never going to return to let him know that they did and he can’t backtrack out of the tunnel on his own. 

“Can you see in this dark?” he asked.

“Yes. Are you going after them?”

Her question was mostly neutral, though it had a hint of what Kylan hoped was pride, or respect, or something like that. He didn’t want to. Every nerve in his body was ringing in alarm and fear, but it didn’t matter. He was here, and if he was going to get out of this place, there was only one way to do it.

“Try to tell me if I’m about to die,” he said.

Tavra gave a very dry chuckle.

“I will do my best.”

Aww, frens.

Also, AAHHHHH UNDERWATER TUNNEL

Pros: there’s no branching paths so no chance of losing his way. And Tavra can stab him with her stabby spider feets to warn him when he’s nearing sharp rocks or sudden turns.

Cons: Its so dark that he can’t tell whether his eyes are open or shut. He bangs into rocks with his head a lot despite Tavra’s help. HE HAS TO DO IT IN ONE BREATH.

But he does do.

His lungs are burning by the end but Tavra spider pokes him to tell him to swim up toward a light and he finally finds air again.

Eesh tense tense tense. Do not like. Lets use another exit when its time to leave again. Surely there’s a tunnel that isn’t underwater or where you have to squeeze through a cave-in. Surely.

“Be careful,” Tavra hissed into his ear, in an even tinier voice than usual. “The enemy is all around us.”

Kylan can’t be careful initially because all he can do is gasp for breath.

But when he recovers… Ooof. I am once again warning arachnophobes.

... all around him, the rocks, walls, nooks, and crannies were coated in spiderwebs. Some of the webs were elegant, glistening like silver thread, while some were so thick and gauzy, they looked like fleece laid upon the rocks. Crawling on every surface of the cave and along every web were spiders of every shape, every size, and every color. Some had long thin legs like Tavra. Some were large, squat, and furry. Some were small, like blast dust, and others much larger. One spider, reclining on its hammock of netted webbing, had legs the size of Kylan’s arms.

=T

Well, that’s like. Out of one phobia frying pan and into the phobia fire.

But, hey, I was wrong. THERE ARE GIANT SPIDERS.

Although, I have to wonder if there’s even enough crawlies in these caves to support this kind of spider population. There were crawlies in the caves by previous descriptions but not like so many that they can support this kind of spider mass. I think the bats were eating them all. I guess the bigger spiders can eat the hollerbats and then the bug population will jump up.

Kylan is fretting about how he’ll get to the Sanctuary and where Naia and Amri are when he has to duck down into the water because a Skeksis in a black and red cloak and carrying a crystal topped staff comes striding into the room.

… skekSil?

“skekLi,” Tavra whispered in Kylan’s ear. “The Satirist… The Skeksis’ entertainer. Krychk’s master. Be careful!”

Oh. I guess the Chamberlain wouldn’t come out to a cave if he could help it.

And I guess a Satirist could be the opposite of a Storyteller?? Weird that the Skeksis’ favorite form of entertainment is speaking truth to power although maybe its more like the ‘don’t you get satire’ / ‘it was a joke’ style of “satire.”

I sort of imagine insult comedy is the Skeksis’ style.

Hm. I know that probably most people didn’t read the books vs the show and that all the Original Skeksis buzz was taken up by skekSa FOR GOOD REASON but I feel like I haven’t seen a lot of fanstuff about skekLi.

I mean, part of it could be that he’s showing up in person on page 212 out of 261. That’s not nothing but that’s not a lot of time to make a lasting impression. skekMal showed up pretty late in the book too but his menace was built up. He was Kylan’s motivation, he showed up in that story, Naia mistook the Archer for the Hunter. They have two separate encounters with skekMal in the woods AND one in the castle. Also, to be fair, he could lean on his show appearances too, at least for me. But skekLi is showing up as the man behind the man style villainy when it already felt like Spider-Tavra was the final boss. I hope he gets to do something memorable because I like having more interesting characters. And also something satire-based. You can’t just call a guy the Satirist and have him be a generic Skeksis.

Said Satirist spots Kylan hiding in the water, plunks a hand in the drink and just fishes him up.

“You!” he crowed again. “So you took the Spriton after all! We thought you would fail us. Yes, we did. But here we are.”

What was he saying? Took the Spriton?

He thinks you are the spider, Kylan answered himself.

What a hilarious mixup! What a hilarious, exploitable mixup!

For reasons of ‘no duh’ Kylan plays along and hopes Tavra-spider does too. In-character as Krychk, Kylan tries to subtly find out where Naia and Amri are.

The Skeksis set him down with surprising care, though the carnivorous sneer still cut beneath his pointed beak. He was thinner than the other Skeksis that Kylan had seen, with a long neck and sinewy fingers. On each finger he wore a ring, and each ring was connected with a web of silver chain, decorated with dangling charms. The same chain-and-charm decorations cascaded from a three-pointed fascinator, pinned to the Skeksis’ head with a pair of long narrow feathers.

OKAY whatever else, skekLi knows how to Aesthetic. Shame the illustrator didn’t include this rad hat on the picture a couple pages later. Or his finger bling.

skekLi tells Kylan-pretending-to-be-Krychk that the Grottan and the Drenchen are being kept in the Sanctuary, commenting that two Drenchen would have been better. Not naming any names, of course, but that was Krychk’s fault.

The Skeksis whirled, flourishing with his staff, and strutted out of the cavern.

Aesthetic.

Kylan immediately becomes spider paranoid because all of the spiders seem to be watching him and he frets that they know that he’s not Krychk.

He didn’t want to wait to find out, and pulled his chin up as he had seen Krychk do when in control of Tavra’s body. With a forced sense of self-importance, he marched after the Skeksis toward the Sanctuary, heart fluttering with worry at what he might find there.

My wild guess is that its going to be just a ruinous amount of spiders. I think its going to be an excess of spiders for the rest of the book. This is Kylan’s life now. Spiders.

[confused-stars]

hawksweek2020 - Day 3: Crossover

@hawksweek2020 ___ Phoenix Drifting (or: it’s Pacific Rim time, my dudes) „I just don’t think this is a good idea.” Toshinori Yagi looked tired. That was really the only adjective needed to describe the man, and maybe the only one that was appropriate. Gone was the hero millions of people had watched on tv and cheered on. There was only this skeleton of a man who looked like a stiff breeze could knock him over.  “How will we know if we don’t give it a try?” said Keigo’s handler, calm and rational as always.  Yagi just shook his head with a long, drawn-out sigh. “I’ve drifted with Enji enough times to know what he’s like. And I can only assume it would be even more difficult now, after…” He trailed off, but no one in the room actually needed him to finish the sentence. “Assigning him a new recruit as a partner, and someone he’s never even met?”

But they had met, Keigo almost wanted to protest. He bit his tongue on the basis that there was no way Enji Todoroki would ever even remember the tiny brat he’d saved that day. Or that he’d recognize the young man he’d grown into.  “The alternative would be him drifting with his son, you are aware of that?” the commission president pointed out, one perfectly shaped brow raised. Keigo sometimes wondered when she found time to do that. The world was sort of ending every couple weeks, and yet there were people who would just… sit down and have their eyebrows plucked.  “Natsuo is a medic. He’s not a pilot,” Kayama said from where she was leaning forward on crossed arms, a tiny crease between her eyes.  Keigo’s handler paused. “Oh, no. I’m talking about Shouto.”  “Absolutely not.” It was the first time Aizawa had spoken since they’d opened this discussion. Keigo had been sure the man had dozed off at some point, but apparently, he’d been listening the entire time. Stupid, of course he had been. Never underestimate people, especially those that you know are skilled.  “We’re not putting a kid in a Jaeger. He’d be ready, skill-wise, but he’s still a teenager.”  “Todoroki specifically requested for his son to be partnered up with him,” the president said, unmoved. “He’s been training for this purpose alone. If Takami doesn’t work out, Shouto would be our fallback plan.”  Aizawa’s glare was terrifying enough that Keigo wouldn’t have been surprised if someone was about to drop dead. “Takami’s barely more than a kid himself!” He gestured at Keigo, who couldn’t help but straighten up, making a low noise of offense in his throat. “I’m old enough to fight! I’m old enough to drift. My simulator scores are better than All Might’s ever were. I’m ready.”  Aizawa scoffed. “Simulator scores hold nothing against a real fight, kid.” Though his glare wasn’t as prominent looking directly at Keigo. Seemed like his anger was directed at the commission. Which, understandable and Keigo could relate. But they knew what they were doing. He’d been trained for only this since he’d been a tiny kid. He knew he could do this.  “They might not even be compatible,” Yagi said, almost placating, “Maybe we’re arguing for nothing. You know what Enji is like. Him and Takami don’t seem like a very good matchup at first glance.”  “Enji wasn’t a good matchup with Touya, either, but he pushed through anyway. And look what happened,” Aizawa replied darkly. There was a ripple of tension, and then the dark-haired pilot stood from his chair. “It’s not like we can stop you from doing what you want anyway. I’m just putting it on the record that I was against this.” He paused. “No offense, kid.” And stalked off.  Keigo didn’t… think he was offended. Was he?

__ The thing was, despite spending the majority of his life training to be the perfect Jaeger pilot, despite having honed his reflexes and his tactical thinking and his ability to make split-second decisions, Keigo had never actually seen a Jaeger up close. When he’d been saved by Enji Todoroki – callsign “Endeavor” – as a child, that had been before the Jaeger program had really been a thing. Or at least not in the public eye. No, Enji Todoroki had been a special ops agent at the time he’d blown the criminal operation Keigo’s parents had been a part of, and his fame had only come about a year later when the first Jaeger – Golden Inferno – had been revealed. Keigo had known from that moment on that he wanted to be a pilot, and he’d worked hard to get to his goal, until he’d been picked up by the commission’s scouts when he’d been eight years old.

So, no experience with real Jaegers. Only the training facility and the simulations.  He really, really couldn’t be blamed for sneaking up onto the walkway to take a look. Surely with all the young recruits living here, this was something that happened regularly. Why shouldn’t Keigo be allowed to do the same? He was about to step into one of these soon enough, if he proved to be compatible with Endeavor.  There was currently only one active Jaeger in this Shatterdome, along with two more being kept ready for pilots. They desperately needed another team out there to help against the kaiju attacks that had just been stacking up, and that was why Keigo was here.  He felt… kind of inadequate for the task next to the Jaegers though. They were so much bigger than he’d been able to even imagine.  Even stood on the walkway, at eye level, Keigo was suddenly and entirely aware of how tiny he was. How tiny he was compared to one of the kaiju, too. Actually piloting a Jaeger had to be quite something if it made you feel strong enough to take on those monsters.  “Do you have authorization to be here?” That voice… Keigo turned his head with an easy smile, and threw a lazy salute at the man who technically outranked him. For now. And, hey, even if they teamed up, Endeavor would always have seniority over him.  “No, sir, but that’ll change come tomorrow,” he chirped, dropping his hand again. Endeavor was frowning at him, but as far as Keigo could tell, he was always frowning. “… Takami, right?”  Keigo nodded, wondering if Endeavor remembered his parents at all, or if that had just been one case in a long line of forgettable ones.  If he did remember, Endeavor wasn’t showing any signs of it. Instead, he stepped up beside Keigo, leaning his arms onto the railing of the walkway as he peered up at the Jaeger in front of them. This one was a newer model, the finishing touches were still being worked out, and the colors were muted and grey. Keigo thought she would look beautiful in red and gold.  “Do you trust yourself to handle her?” Endeavor asked after a moment. Blunt and to the point. Keigo kind of appreciated that.  “I’m a quick learner, and a great pilot,” he replied, “And I’ll have an experienced partner to show me the ropes.”  Endeavor turned his steely eyes on him. “I’m not here to pick up your slack.”  Keigo raised his hands in a placating gesture. “Oh, I promise you won’t have to! I know what’s at stake here, and I’m ready.”  That got him a nod. Endeavor turned back to the Jaeger. “… she has booster jets on her back, and she was built lighter than any previous models. She’ll be the first Jaeger with the ability to fly.”  Keigo had heard that much. He knew it’d be more of a hover, but that they were working on full flight and would be modifying her when there were no immediate fights to be won. He leaned his elbow on the railing and rested his head on his palm. “Got any name ideas yet?”  Endeavor was silent for a while. Maybe he didn’t care for frivolous things like names. He seemed entirely stoic, just like on tv, and in the one memory Keigo had of meeting him. “… Phoenix,” Endeavor finally said, voice quiet but still clearly audible in the relative quiet of the hangar this late.  “I…” Keigo loved it. It was perfect. He could already imagine the accents of red in an almost feather like pattern, and the Jaeger had flames, too, because it had been built with Endeavor’s preferred fighting style in mind. “… Rising Phoenix?” he suggested.  He could feel Endeavor’s eyes on his face, scrutinizing, but he was too busy staring up at their baby. “… if you can keep up with me in the drift, we can name her that.”  “Oh, them be fightin’ words,” Keigo murmured, and he couldn’t help but smirk. __ Their compatibility was evaluated within a single fight the next day. As soon as Keigo went in for his first blow, he could almost physically sense something connecting them. As fast as he was, Endeavor blocked every single one of his attacks as if he’d known exactly where Keigo was going to move.  And in turn, Keigo managed to dodge every one of his opponent’s slower, more forceful blows. It wasn’t like sparring with other recruits, or with his trainers. It was… lighter, like his mind didn’t have to be constantly running, his thoughts fading to a pleasant humming in the background.  When they parted, Endeavor was smiling.  Keigo returned his expression.  And they were deemed ready to drift only an hour after that.

__ They had an audience, Keigo knew. Everyone was anticipating a successful drift, and everyone was worried what would happen if it didn’t work out. No pressure. Keigo felt good about this, about himself. They could do this. Right? It didn’t matter that Endeavor had so many years on him, that he’d lived through what had happened to his first and second co-pilot, that their traumatic memories were probably about to mix up and create an incredibly explosive cocktail… Keigo took a breath and exhaled slowly.  He needed to focus on his surroundings. The feeling of the suit against his skin, the lights of the cockpit, the voices in his ear.  “Takami.”  Keigo jerked his head over towards Endeavor, who was standing calm and seemingly ready for the challenge ahead. “Yeah?”  Endeavor frowned at him. “Don’t think too much. It’ll only distract me.”  “Roger that,” Keigo murmured. Because that was so easy. Damn, what if this didn’t go right? Then they would lose so much more time trying to find a suitable copilot for Endeavor, and one for Keigo, too. This needed to work. It had to.  “Initiating neural handshake,” said a voice that Keigo was too nervous to assign to any one of the people he’d just met yesterday. “3…2…1.”  He was standing over an empty hospital bed, the sheets still mussed up from the body that had been in it only minutes ago. “It was my fault,” he murmured, fists clenched at his sides. A hand touched his shoulder. “Enji…” He whipped around and glared down at Rei, and she shrunk back from the look on his face.  He was twelve years old and had just broken a bone for the first time. He lay on the mat in the training hall, trying desperately not to cry as he clutched his arm. “We’re not finished, Hawks,” said the trainer coolly, “You won’t be able to take breaks when you’re in a Jaeger. You’ll have to keep fighting with broken bones. Now, get up and use your other arm.”  He was holding onto a gun, heavy and comforting in his hands, and leading his men down a darkened corridor.  He was in his bedroom with his father sneering down at him. “I know you’ve been stealing from me, little brat. Using my own teachings against me, are you?”  He gave his men a hand sign to swarm out as he pushed through the next door on his own.  He cowered from his father’s wrath, tiny body shaking. “N-no! No, I haven’t! I haven’t!” He’d taken food, but that wasn’t… he’d needed it so bad… he’d been so hungry… “D-Dad, please, I promise, please don’t-“  “Dad, please!” Touya was backing away from him with tears in his eyes and bruises on his face. “I’m tired, it hurts. Can we stop now? Can we please stop?”  “Don’t hurt me!”  “You promised we could stop if I did well in this one!”  “… losing connection…” “… unstable…” “… rabbit…”  Touya went up in flames before his very eyes, the entire cockpit was on fire, and he was burning, too, but he didn’t even feel it in his desperate attempt to rip himself away from the controls and get to his son. “Dad!”  The door to his bedroom was kicked open, splinters of wood sent flying as a broad man dressed in black pushed his way inside. “Step away from the child.”  He looked down at the little boy curled up on the ground, trying to make himself small. God, he looked so much like Touya like this, so scared. Enji looked back up at the man he’d come here for. At Takami.  Keigo looked up at his savior, at the gun in his hands. He scrambled to his feet and hit behind the stranger’s legs, clinging to him as if he was bound to disappear any moment.  Enji’s grip on the gun was unwavering.  “Don’t let him hurt me… please don’t let him,” Keigo whimpered.  “I won’t,” Enji replied.  Keigo held on tighter.  “… stabilizing…” “… fuck, that was close.”  The vividness of the memory began to fade, only bits and pieces fluttering through their joined minds now.  Seeing the man who had saved him on tv. Forming the word ‘Endeavor’ on his lips for the first time, in awe. Shouto, two years old, putting another block on his tower and clapping his hands. Walking into his new home at the Commission headquarters for the first time. Being given his uniform. Toshinori smiling at him at they stood in front of ‘Golden Inferno’ together for the first time. Toshinori on the floor and coughing up blood. His mom yelling at his dad’s friends, pointing a gun at whichever one moved closer to her. Holding Rei’s hand in the park. Passing his first piloting test with flying colors. Fuyumi’s awe as she saw his Jaeger the first time. The name ‘Hawks’ given to him by another recruit. Burn scars running along his body, but none hurt as bad as knowing Touya was gone. Pickpocketing strangers on the street and trying to buy food with the money before he was expected back. Giving Natsuo a piggyback ride. Shooting a gun in the training range. Facing down a kaiju with his partner at his side.  Keigo raised his hand. Enji did the same. They brought their fists together.  “Neural handshake initiated.”  The memories stopped. The connection flowed freely between them, almost like a lazy stream of consciousness.  Keigo gave Enji a playful, mental nudge. Enji huffed on his side of the cockpit.  “Let’s show these kaiju who’s boss, eh?” Keigo asked, both with his mind and out loud.  He could feel determination, and amusement, and relief. “I’ll show you how it’s done.” Hawks, Enji thought, I won’t let you down.  Keigo… Hawks smiled and leaned into their connection, allowing himself to feel the exhilaration of it all. “We’re gonna kick some ass.”  He mimicked an explosion with his fist, and Rising Phoenix did the same.

[imagineclaireandjamie]

HRH?💏😍💔😥

Part I: The Crown Equerry | Part II: An Accidental Queen | Part III: Just Claire | Part IV: Foal | Part V: A Deal | Part VI: Vibrations | Part VII: Magnolias | Part VIII: Schoolmates | Part IX: A Queen’s Speech | Part X: Rare | Part XI: Watched | Part XII: A Day’s Anticipation | Part XIII: The Location | Part XV: Motorcycle | Part XV: Cabin | Part XVI: Market | Part XVII: Stables | Part XVIII: Alarms | Part XIX: Visitor | Part XX: Cuffed |  Part XXI: A Woman’s Speech | Part XXII: The Harlot Queen

Her Royal Highness (H.R.H.)Part XXIII: Rarer

Claire’s teenaged fingers had been nicotine yellow when the King – her uncle – told her that she needed to manage her reputation. A shamed and orphaned royal for whom money could no longer buy silence, Claire had been brought to London quietly after her boarding school declared no more. To prevent a scandal, a cover story had been constructed. She would never forget the disappointment in his voice when he explained, “Your future rides on it.” She had been different then – lashing out against loneliness and authority in the senseless, minor ways that seem significant only to a teenager. 

And while her indiscretions had been charming when there was still time for an heir – a real heir, her Uncle Lamb’s progeny – they were not when she was lined up to succeed him to the throne. At that time, her youthful dalliances had made her The Accidental Queen and The Party Queen. Newsink had made it so, and a nation had laughed, picked her apart. 

Now she was something different. Her new monicker, designated by a headline, had been brought to her attention just as Mrs. Fitz’s calming influence had taken hold, and she was quiet. As she finished straightening her jacket and pinning to its lapel the brooch her Uncle Lamb had given to her for her seventeenth birthday (“a hummingbird, a free spirit for my free spirit,” he explained), one of her staff entered her bedroom suite with the paper. 

 The Harlot Queen. Newsink again had made it so. 

“Ye dinna need to read that… that… rag,” Mrs. Fitz said, giving the newspaper’s bearer the kind of look that quite possibly could kill in an alternate dimension. Despite Mrs. Fitz’s firm protestations, Claire took the paper. She looked utterly happy in the photograph that they had chosen, and she recognized it from Frank’s private cache of holiday snapshots. He was holding her hand tight, half of his body out of the frame. Her hair was loose and she was wearing sunglasses, ones that did not really fit her and were constantly slipping down her nose. She remembered arguing with him endlessly on that holiday – nothing was ever quite right, really. Her eyes scanned over the article, picking up bland bits here and there about her ring, a biographical sketch and dashing, quite young portrait of the uniformed suspect – Colonel James Fraser, discredited war hero from a small town, about whom little was known save that he was never quite right after the war according to acquaintances. 

 “Came back from the war completely mad, but you canna blame the lad. Word is that they tore him up in that war camp – tore him up good, disfigured him. It doesna surprise me that the poor chap turned on the hand that fed him.” 

Claire’s stomach soured as her heart sank. 

This was what she had wanted to prevent.

“Leave then,” Fraser had said to her, his eyes flashing when she told him that she was going to take them public before someone else did.

Disfigured him. Completely mad.

She wished that she had a way to contact him. To have the time to reach out, to explain that she was doing this to make it better, to redirect the spotlight. He didn’t understand what it meant to be in the spotlight like this, to have millions of pairs of eyes scrutinizing, judging. Absently, she prayed that the first edition of this particular printing had not made it around the jail before he was whisked away. Perhaps he hadn’t even had an opportunity to see it. 

She kept skimming. Then, there in the center of it all, was a quote from Frank. It was a monologue transcribed as truth by a man with ambitions that were decidedly political, not as the ranting of a disgraced, disgruntled lover:

“It makes me worry about her health, really. She was erratic in the final days of our engagement before she gave that dreadful, meandering speech. She frequently slipped away to the stables, and I attributed it to the fact that she could not bear the weight of the crown that rested so easily atop the King’s head. However, now I fear that she was being manipulated by someone – or rather some scoundrel – on her staff. Groomed for him to accomplish some ends. Would I forgive her for what she has done for me? Of course. Do I have concerns about her judgment? I cannot answer that for a nation. However, I can pose an alternative question. Who among us would not have such concerns? This nation, this continent, has seen more than its fair share of what misplaced trust can bring.”

Claire did not taste bile or see red. Instead, she carefully folded the paper, set it on the side table, and stood. “Are we ready?” she called to Mrs. Fitz. When the woman nodded, Claire responded in kind with a tight little tilt of her head towards the newspaper. “Throw that in the fireplace. Find every copy. I do not want to see a single trace of the bloody thing when we are finished with this.” 

Again, Mrs. Fitz nodded. By the time the instruction was firmly given, Claire was already gone. One room over, she had taken a seat on the couch where she had delivered the first of her Christmas addresses to the empire for which she was Queen. She inspected her fingertips. They were pink, scrubbed, filed, and polished a her-nail-color-but-better neutral. 

 Claire swallowed, fixed her eyes on the cameraman, and nodded. 

7:58 a.m. 

 She felt as though her entire life was about to change, though she knew that it already had. 

 She turned her hands over, studied them. She had expected her palms to sweat, to go clammy, for her fingers to tremble. But she was dry, still. She laid them to rest on her thighs, crossed her legs at the ankle, watched the cameraman do some last-minute fussing with the lens on his equipment. When the lights clicked on, she didn’t even blink, just lifted her head. 

7:59 a.m. 

 She brushed a curl back, not out of nerves, but for the mere fact that it had been tickling her cheek. It had been a firm refusal when she declined some sort of helmeted, serious chignon. If she was going to expose herself on television, she figured she might as well really go for it. 

 8:00 a.m. 

 “Yer majesty, on three,” the cameraman said, his voice smooth. The countdown was hardly over when she started. 

 “On this day, I am taking the opportunity to speak to all the peoples of the British Commonwealth and Empire, wherever they live. I speak to you today from my home in Edinburgh before I depart for the Highlands, which I have come to hold so dear. My priorities as Queen are to secure for my people the inalienable rights of health, happiness, security, and freedom. They have always been so, and they will always remain as such. It is from this important business that some seek to distract this great nation.” 

She paused, catching her breath for a beat.

Fraser. 

 That headline. 

 The article.

She prayed that he had made it, that he was far from all of this. 

“I assure you that despite the cluckings of small men, I am well and truly in possession of all of my faculties. You see, some weeks ago, I made a decision. It was a the type of decision that was unheard of, not just for a queen, but for a woman. I decided that I would not put my happiness or myself last. In that vein, I ended my engagement to Frank Randall.” 

She paused a second time, fought the urge to wet her lips, and leaned forward. 

“I did so in the service of finding something rare. Based on the examples set for me by the King, my parents, and their parents, I knew that love was dear, but I had not experienced it. Never with Mr. Randall or any other man. But I have found that now. With a man – a solid one, someone captivatingly different, one who I was bound to through no particular effort or ingratiation on his part. When I met him, I felt a connection more profound, more fundamental than any I had ever felt.” 

She was beyond the point of no return, and she knew it. Fraser had taught her to save herself, not to need saving. Now, she would save him. 

“His name is Colonel James Fraser. He served this nation at a great personal sacrifice, he has served his Queen. He has no agenda other than to love me, and at a great personal cost. It has been at the cost of his privacy, his honor, and his dignity. And by loving me as he does, he has now been accused of doing something ugly, of being something ugly. Of being a thief who stole brazenly from the Crown. He stands accused of taking a ring that is dear to me and that is made of stones that were dear to my uncle and that have been in my family for as long as any historian can trace. He did not do it.” 

Having long forgotten the script, she swallowed, spoke from the heart. 

“While I was with him, I left the ring in a certain place where it was discovered not on Colonel Fraser, but someone related to him. Now, a horrible misunderstanding has caused an innocent man – Colonel Fraser – to be ripped away from his job and family, and to be put into an Edinburgh jail. While some seek to use the Crown for fame or glory, Colonel Fraser was prepared to forsake both, to sacrifice himself for me. Because he loves me. And because I love him – because what we have is rarer than the gold or gems he was wrongly accused of taking – I sit here now, speaking to you from the heart.  As Queen and as a woman.”

She could feel the twist in her stomach, the throb in that heart that produced the words her mouth spoke into the public space where their relationship now lived.

“Colonel James Fraser is a good man, better than the small, insignificant man who has attempted to smear him and to smear me. Do not harbor small-minded conclusions about Colonel James Fraser or the man he is.”

Enough. It was enough.

What was rare was sacred, private.  She was a Queen, but she was also Claire. She would never not be both.

And so she concluded, “Although I have found the great love of my life, I declare before you all that my whole life, whether it be long or short, shall be devoted to your service, and to the service of our nation. God help me to make good my vow, and God bless all of you who are willing to continue to share in it.”* 

 When the lights switched off, she rose. Her palms were still dry as she turned to Mrs. Fitz. 

 “Get him a message. I am going to our place. He will know.”

* the first sentence of the speech and this *’ed part were adapted from Queen Elizabeth’s 21st birthday speech, which you can read here, if you’re so inclined 

[multiverseforger]

Like her brother, Android 18 usually displays a cool and confident character, especially in battle, although her sarcastic humor is the most prominent trait of her personality. This is demonstrated when Goku takes notice of her assembly with the Dragon Team at the 25th World Martial Arts Tournament, leading to the retort "Look, he noticed. How cute." (in Japanese she says "Took you a while idiot!"), as well as saying "Spare me" when Krillin reveals to Goku that not only have they married, but also had a child. Shortly after this, she is asked by the World Tournament Announcer if her real name is legitimately "No. 18", to which she responds "My father was pretty dull" (in Japanese, she replies that "It doesn't matter" before tossing the number at the World Tournament Announcer). Although she isn't characterized for this, 18 can be very curious if she is really interested in something, to the point of activating her comrade Android 16, and wondering what present she will give to her husband Krillin during a dispute of a wish with the others using the Dragon Balls. She often expresses herself in her cool and downplayed manner well into her marriage with Krillin, often smiling in a somewhat subdued fashion that conveys her very laid-back personality, in Super, however, she is often seen smiling. However, 18's sense of humor is not always tactful, as she jokingly expressed to Future Trunks that she wanted reimbursement for him killing her alternate universe counterpart, much to Future Trunks' displeasure. This is a rare instance where Android 18's humor was anything but tactful, as per her usual timing. This failure is likely due to Android 18 being unaware how murderous her counterpart was and how much Future Trunks had suffered because of it, as she likely would have been more sensitive had she known the full extent of the destruction and suffering caused by her and her brother's counterparts. She is also shown to be rather prideful, though not to the same extent as her brother had been during the Imperfect Cell Saga.

As an older sister and delinquent, and later as a wife and martial artist, Android 18 is shown to be outwardly commanding, insisting that she and her brother 17, and later she and Krillin, have to make strides to improve the family's financial situation, insisting Krillin to join the Tournament for the prize money, forcing Mr. Satan into a deal about giving her 20 million Zeni to the point of destroying his property and multiplying the prize money a hundred-fold, wanting Shenron to grant her wish for a present for Krillin, and initially saying that she would only fight at the Tournament of Power if she gains money for it although she later decides to enter because she suspects that the tournament is not really a game. In Dragon Ball Z: Supersonic Warriors, Android 18 is hinted to dislike driving solely because of Android 17's insistence on driving around aimlessly without anything better to do. However, 18 still exhibits some of her sensitivity and even protective side, especially towards her twin brother, daughter, and husband. This is in stark contrast to her alternate self from Future Trunks' timeline, where she is a murderous sociopath who cares for no one but herself and her brother though this is mainly due to the fact that Future Dr. Gero had altered Future 17 and 18 to hate humanity, which never occurred in the main timeline. 18 also possesses a vast distaste if not outright hatred of violence against children, to the point that after witnessing Lord Beerus's attacks against Gotenks she lost her temper and proceeded to assault him, despite his decisively superior power. This is likely due to her instincts as a mother and fondness for her friends' children despite being frequently annoyed by the underage Super Saiyans. Unlike her brother, she, like Goku and any other fighter, sometimes has the tendency to let her guard down during battle, allowing her opponents to take advantage, primarily because of her cool and laid-back attitude, as demonstrated by Shosa in the tournament.

Like her brother, she developed hatred towards Dr. Gero for modifying them against their will, though interestingly, she still uses the name No. 18 instead of her original name Lazuli and in the dub even sarcastically refers to Dr. Gero as her father (as he was the one who gave her the name No. 18) when asked about her name during the World Tournament. It was this shared hatred of Gero that convinced 18 that Cell was only imitating 17's voice to trick her. Though she lacks her future counterpart's sociopathic and murderous personality, she does share her counterpart's love of shopping and interest in fashion, as well as taking care in maintaining her appearance and dislikes having her clothing or hair damaged in battle. In the anime, she is shown to dislike Chi-Chi's Chinese dresses while trying her clothes when the Androids come to Goku's House looking for Goku. This is in contrast with her future counterpart who had no problem with the Chinese dresses she tried on while shopping for clothes during The History of Trunks special, showing that she and her counterpart apparently have different tastes in fashion.

By the time of Dragon Ball Super, Android 18 seems to have grown kinder and compassionate, is often seen smiling and is closer to Krillin and Marron compared to Z, where she is shown always folding her arms and looking withdrawn from the characters (like Vegeta and Piccolo, with the former before being accustomed to earthly society), only smiling when she sees her daughter and participating in some activities with the characters, like in the God of Destruction Beerus Saga, she participates in the bingo tournament. When she encounters Future Trunks after so many years, she is shown to be more kind and friendly to him than the last time they met, giving him a fist and joking about her future self's death. Android 18's close relationship with Krillin had led her to want to give a present for him, which she wanted to use the Dragon Balls to wish for a present, when Bulma told #18 that having her and Marron is better than having any present, she was struck with flattery, causing her face to blush, implying that she really loves her husband, and even cheers for him during Universe 6 and Universe 7's baseball match. In addition, she also ended up joining the Tournament of Power, not due to money, but because she suspected from both the increasing prize money, Goku and Gohan's increasingly desperate offers to have them join, and Gohan's serious disposition that the results if they lost the tournament would be very severe. However, she is cold towards her brother after reuniting with him for the tournament and tells Krillin not to force it when he tries to break the ice by initiating a friendly conversation with his brother-in-law. She also threatened to kill her brother if he mispronounced Marron's name as "Maron" a second time (however this may be due to it reminding her of Krillin's ex-girlfriend Maron, or it could have been a sanctimonious, empty threat), indicating that she and her brother have grown distant since the Imperfect Cell Saga.

Despite this, both siblings are still capable working well together as a team during the Tournament of Power and even strategize together to take advantage of their infinite stamina. Android 18 also nevertheless still deeply cared for him, as she was very distraught when he seemingly killed himself to save Goku and Vegeta along with Universe 7. In Xenoverse 2, she states she has been working with Krillin on attack coordination and that it reminds her of the old days fighting alongside her brother, though notes that she and 17 would never actually try and attack deliberately together, as they simply just naturally had good timing due to being twin siblings. However she notes that it is not the same with Krillin as she needs to focus more on Krillin and use more concentration when coordinating her attacks with his, though she doesn't mind it really.

However, she still at times retains some of her original cool nature, as evidenced by the Peaceful World Saga, where she offhandedly mentioned that even the likes of Krillin could beat Wild Tiger after seeing Pan beat him.

In the events in Dragon Ball GT, Android 18 has a very close attachment to her now older daughter, Marron and protects her when she is in danger. When Krillin was killed by her brother, Android 17 due to Hell Fighter 17's control, Android 18 emotionally cries over her husband's death despite being a cyborg and admitting she loves him as she shows her vengeful rage to her brother for what he had done. When she confronts her brother for the second time, she smiles at Goku due to his friendship with her husband as she assists him to avenge Krillin's death.

Relationship with Krillin

Android 18 and Krillin's relationship began as a mutual yet unspoken attraction despite their meeting as enemies in battle, as she spared his life and gave him a kiss on the cheek. It is unknown if Krillin had feelings before this kiss or if he developed a crush on her from that point on. Afterward, by the time he could have shut her down with Bulma's remote control device, Krillin's feelings had already progressed to the point that he chose instead to smash the controller and warn her of Cell's approach despite the danger this presented to the world. Just before her absorption, 18, after hearing Krillin being knocked away by Cell, attacked Cell in a fury and denounced the latter as a monster, despite being rendered temporarily blind earlier due to Cell's use of Solar Flare. Following the battle with Cell, Krillin used the Dragon Balls to remove the bombs implanted in 18 and 17 in a selfless act he believed would allow them to live happily together. 18 angrily corrected him on the fact that 17 is her brother, not her boyfriend, before leaving, flattered by Krillin's feelings.

Krillin's courtship of 18 beyond was not shown but it is clear, by the time Majin Buu surfaced, that 18 had consented to marry Krillin and even had a daughter with him. Despite openly requesting to improve her family's financial situation, 18 inwardly admired her husband intensely, once stating that he was "So cool" as he flew away. She is also seen tending to his wounds after his mock-fight with Goku with a gentle smile on her face. As parents, both 18 and Krillin were shown to be intensely protective of their daughter Marron. In the Majin Buu Saga, Battle Of Gods Saga, and Resurrection F saga examples were shown of one or both of them focused on who will protect their daughter before major battles.

It has been shown that 18 is an emotionally supportive wife, offering kind words and wisdom to Krillin in his moments of self-doubt, such as when Krillin wondered if giving up martial arts was the right thing to do, but when Marron walked up to and smiled at them, 18 told him as she tended his wounds that he was exactly where he belonged. 18 also can be playful and works well with Krillin in many situations, both in combat and in leisure. One humorous instance of this was seen on the Lookout, with 18 helping Krillin in a card game against Master Roshi, with 18 giving him directions from behind Roshi's back through head gestures.

18 is shown to have a somewhat difficult time expressing her affections towards her husband, as she intended on one occasion to use Shenron to wish for the perfect gift for Krillin. Upon receiving a heart-to-heart conversation from Bulma, 18 realized that she and Marron were all that Krillin needed to be happy, bringing 18 to a new level of understanding towards her husband, deeply touched by Bulma's words and kindness towards her. 18 is also known to worry about Krillin's safety due to his job as a police officer, as he has been known to suffer bullet wounds despite his superhuman conditioning and abilities. 18 is clearly devoted and dedicated to Krillin's happiness and well being due to this tendency of hers. However she does have a bit of a jealous streak as shown in the Bio-Broly film when the researcher Nain hugs onto Krillin as they fly her and her colleagues to safety as Mei Queen Castle fills with Culture Fluid, Android 18 notices him blushing as Nain hugs him causing her to coldly push Nain and Krillin away while telling them to hurry up and go, though neither are hurt by this. This jealous streak also implied by her reactions to Zangya's comments about Krillin being cute in the Budokai Tenkaichi series. It is also implied in the Dragon Ball Super anime she may be aware of Krillin's ex-girlfriend Maron, given she angrily threatens her brother when he mispronounces her daughter Marron's name as Maron.

In Dragon Ball FighterZ, Android 18 is torn emotionally when Android 21 (when overcome by her evil persona) orders her to fight with Krillin though she agrees to prevent Android 21 from attacking him. She orders the soul inside her not to kill Krillin and they manage to defeat Krillin without killing him though Android 21 loses control of her cravings, forcing Android 18 to have the soul inside her link with Android 21 to stop her from eating Krillin. After subduing her, they leave Krillin behind to learn more about Android 21 who Android 18, 17, and 16 resolve to help overcome her evil side. After 21's fission into her good and evil halves following the death of 16, Android 18 is relieved when Krillin arrives to save her and the good Android 21 from the evil 21. She is touched when Krillin admits he realized she had gone easy on him when they fought and correctly assumed she had own reasons for helping 21. She is not surprised when Goku and Krillin want to help the good Android 21 stop her evil counterpart. Android 18 is also shown to have developed animosity towards Frieza for his murder of Krillin in the past, which even extends to the Clone Friezas as she convinces the good 21 and her brother to help her avenge Krillin by killing a Frieza clone they encounter much to good Android 21's confusion as she recognizes that Android 18's desire to avenge Krillin by killing a Clone Frieza is itself irrational as it is not the true Frieza. Presumably, she would hold similar animosity towards Tambourine as well as Super Buu (though in Super Buu's case, it would likely be greater as he killed both her husband and daughter, as well as 18 herself). Though Android 18 loves her husband, in a special conversation between Krillin and Yamcha in which Yamcha mistakenly assumes that Krillin has a thing for female Androids due to Krillin agreeing with Yamcha that 21 is attractive, Android 18 overhears Yamcha's careless remarks, causing her to comically seethe with anger and glare sinisterly at both Krillin and Yamcha who are so terrified they do not dare turn around and instead focus on fighting the enemy, hoping that 18 will go easy on them afterwards. However, Krillin himself is shown in FighterZ to love Android 18 and is enraged when he sees her injured in the Super Warrior Arc and Enemy Warrior Arc, to the point he is willing to bravely confront the likes of Perfect Cell (and Frieza, the Ginyu Force, and Nappa in the Enemy Warrior Arc) and is shown to be protective of her, though he can be overprotective as he is reluctant to allow her to work with her brother, 16, and Android 21 because he was not trusting 21, owing to her association with the Red Ribbon Army, though after she holds back against him he, understands she had her reasons for doing so and ends up coming to her rescue when she, 17, and good 21 confront the evil 21, having learned what was going on from Dende while staying on The Lookout.

Dragon Ball GT showed an, even softer side of Android 18. When 17 returned in a brainwashed state and attempted to compel 18 to join him, Krillin was able to break the mind control. 18 was distraught enough over her husband's subsequent death to attack her own brother in a rage and it was a combined attempt to avenge Krillin that helped 18 and Goku finally put aside their differences and become friends.