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catiecat1320 · 3 months

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Chapter 8 of 11! [MasterPost]

Grinning stupidly while editing this chapter

Read Below🔽

Shadow didn’t respond for a second, leaving Sonic to stare at him expectantly with those big emerald wells of his. They sparkled with an emotion that he couldn’t interpret, as if they knew something he didn’t, held a secret that he hadn’t been told.

A secret he was dying to know.

“W-what?” He finally squeaked, tearing his gaze away, because the last thing he wanted to do was explain why he was staring into Sonic’s eyes like an idiot.

“Dance with me,” he repeated. “Do you know the basic waltz?”

“U-um…”

“You do! C’mon, don’t be nervous, it’s just a dance,” the idol chirped. As if it was that easy. Obviously he could say that, dancing was his entire career. But Shadow?

Shadow was going to die.

A hand found its way to his side, the other to grip his own, urging him to accept. “It’s okay, it’s simple, just follow my lead.”

And with that, it was too late to make an attempt at changing Sonic’s mind, though he doubts that it would’ve worked anyway. So he lets himself fall into position, awkward as it was. He hasn’t in a long time, but he remembers. How could he forget? When Maria had felt well enough for them to spin around the living room, peals of laughter tumbling from their mouths, her favorite blue dress swishing like the sea, they’d do this.

But now was different. The cool night air does nothing to tame the heat rushing to his head as the idol puts an arm around his waist, warmth seeping through fabric as he gently takes the first step.

Of course Shadow stumbles immediately. Oh, no no. He didn’t think he could get any more embarrassed, but apparently the world likes to prove him wrong. In a desperate attempt to redirect Sonic’s amused gaze from his furiously blushing muzzle, he chokes, “W-why… why are we dancing with no music?”

All he gets is a knowing smile. “There is music. I want to see if you can hear it.”

Cryptic as always. For once Shadow wanted a straight answer more than anything else, even if it was completely made up. Something to distract himself with, because he was sure Sonic could feel his frantic heartbeat thumping like a drum. But he didn’t ask again, for the dancer began to guide him onward and the fear of bumbling yet another time shuts him up.

There’s something lodged in his throat, making it hard to breathe. It takes every bit of willpower not to clench his fists, palms clammy with sweat. Shadow opts to stare down, watching every step they both take. It’s easier when he knows what’s coming next, what’s happening, and it prevents him from tripping on his own two feet.

Gosh, waltzing with Maria wasn’t this hard, was it? The few times that they did it together were fun. This was a whole other cause for anxiety. To think that Sonic was dancing to a beat he couldn’t hear didn’t help.

Maybe it’s the proximity, but he swears he feels that the other hedgehog is dissatisfied with his performance. He’d say something soon, Shadow thinks. And sure enough— “You’re thinking about it too much.”

He bit his lip, fangs poking at the soft flesh, threatening to draw blood. Breathe, breathe. “I… I can’t help it, okay? Not everyone is a natural like you,” he snips back, and it’s sharper then he’d like to admit. The hand holding his own drops and the two pull apart, and despite his discomfort a second prior, the pianist can’t help a feeling of loss, barely suppressing a shiver.

“Shadow.” Sonic pulls his chin up, forcing their gazes to connect. There’s seriousness to him that the pianist only ever sees when he’s deeply focused. This is important, it signals. It beckons him to listen, whether he likes it or not.

But the sheer softness that tints Sonic’s voice is a whole different world to his expression, and despite having heard such before, it’s something that doesn’t fail to melt him. “We can stop if you’d like. If you’re uncomfortable dancing with me.”

Shadow… Shadow can tell that beneath the sincerity is a layer of sadness, and though he doesn’t fully understand it, he knows in his heart that it’s caused by him. And that makes his insides scrunch up in panic, his mind screaming at him to do something, make it better.

“I… it’s not that. I. Just… haven’t danced in a long time,” he stammers, sight flitting around as if the scenery held answers to his problem. It’s not that he didn’t want to dance with Sonic, of course not. He just…

He finds this a daunting challenge, he realized. Because this is important. Because there’s a part of him that wants to show the idol as much understanding as he got when he opened up about Maria, and he’s afraid that he can’t. Can’t return the kindness he’d been given.

There’s silence, and he’s scared that he may have done exactly what he didn’t want to do.

Then warmth envelops him and an airy laugh tickles his ears. “It’s okay.” Sonic squeezes Shadow’s hand, taking up the leading position once more. A breath he hadn’t known he’d been holding escaped the musician, and the tightness in his chest unknotted itself. “I’ll teach you again. But you have to listen.”

“Of course,” he nods. He can feel the hand by waist start gently tapping out a beat, following music he could not hear. And as he hears quiet whispers count in time, signaling steps, he tries, he tries, but he still feels far out of his league as he trails behind Sonic awkwardly, unable to match the fluidity of the dancer’s movements.

“First things first, Shads,” Sonic murmurs, “relax. Breathe, okay? It’s simpler than you think. Just mirror me. I’ll go slow.”

Breathe. Good advice.

He sucks in an audible breath, chest puffing up with air. His heart drums in his ears, and it’s dizzying, trying to focus on his steps, along with Sonic’s, as well as the beat against his body, the voice by his head, and trying to slow his errant breathing all at once. This was hard.

It’s a wonder that he hadn’t yet been declared a lost cause.

“Are you sure you want to do this? It doesn’t… feel like it. I don’t want you to stress.”

“I-I’m fine,” he states, shifting his weight to his other side to see if it’d help. To try to make it more convincing, he adds, “I promise.”

“Alright then…” the hand snaked around his waist abruptly tightens, pressing him against his dance partner a little too closely. Shadow’s eyes widened in surprise and it takes every bit of willpower to prevent his quills from bristling. It feels like his ribcage is compressed like an accordion, all of the air he took in forced out within a second. Oh, oh Chaos. His face flushes instantly and it’s not helped when Sonic gently lays his forehead to his own.

Shadow swears he’s doing this on purpose.

“Son…ic?” He hics, his voice going painfully high on the second syllable.

The dancer doesn’t react for a second, leaving Shadow staring at blue, his stomach doing cartwheels in his gut. Then eyelids lift to reveal an intense gaze and Sonic whispers so quietly, Shadow could barely hear it over the frenzied everything bouncing around his mind. “Do you trust me?”

“...What? Yes. I… why?”

“Close your eyes.” The dancer ordered, and at Shadow’s hesitance he assured, “Don’t worry. I’ve got you.”

Was… this some sort of trust test now? His thoughts spun like a whirlpool. Ugh, this was going all over the place, again. He wished it would stop.

Yet despite that, he thought back to all the time he spent with the other; thought back to the way the idol bent to accommodate him, make him comfortable; thought back to the Q&As and touching moments; heck, he thought back to mere moments ago, when Sonic took him by the arms and led him here, shared with him a wonder, and he knew that there was no one he trusted more.

So he complied.

Wisps of colors swirl beneath his eyelids, forming unrecognizable shapes. It feels so weird to do this blind. He stumbles, narrowly avoiding tripping, yet confusingly, he feels safer. It’s comforting to be held like this instead, it feels less formal of a setting, less… less important, and he relaxes, slowly.

It’s actually easier to feel the rhythm, the shifts as his partner leads him, the ground beneath his feet, even though he can’t see it. His hearing heightens, straining in the absence of sight. The rumble in the voice keeping count becomes clearer, and beyond that, a peacefully ambient sound. There’s a beat between them, but he can’t make out whether it’s his heart or Sonic’s.

Maybe he can do this.

The more they move, the looser he lets himself go. There’s a strange thrill in not knowing where he is as they waltz. There’s bare recognition of what he’s stepping on, yet every time he moves he wonders if his footfalls would lead him to open air, especially with the knowledge that there’s a drop somewhere beside them. There is his resolute trust in Sonic, and there is also the knowledge that the dancer isn’t looking either; security existing alongside danger, and he wasn’t sure which to listen to. One thing was certain, and even it was confusing— there was something very special occurring, and Shadow simultaneously held all the power to stop it and no control at all.

He chooses to stop worrying, and let it happen.

As time went on, his perception of the surroundings warped, and it felt as if they were stationary and the world was moving around them instead. Everything around them seemed to blur in his mind’s eye, drowning in nothingness as he stopped trying to place himself, as he embraced the familiar void behind his closed eyes. And in his mind there is only the steady tap of the hand at his waist, in time with the beat in their chests as if their hearts dictated the tempo, and the almost instinctual movements as he stepped in unison with the dancer against him.

It’s so… weird. He can’t explain it. He feels like he’s floating, yet at the same time, he feels more connected with the world than he’s ever been. It’s an addicting feeling, that’s all he knows, so he chases it. Immersed in his mind, he almost didn’t notice when Sonic broke his steady counts, despite it being right next to his ears. “Can you hear it?”

For a moment, he doesn’t understand. But when he focuses on the sounds around him… the chirp of crickets, the rustling of foliage, the wind and the swaying grass, his and Sonic’s quiet breaths… he listens, he hears, it weaves itself into something wondrous. And the greatest of all, connecting everything with a golden strand of foundation, is a soft hum, a fading melody, a low thrum of the Earth that everything follows like law, including the two hedgehogs in each other’s arms, slow dancing to the music of nature. It’s… it’s…

“You can look now, Shads.”

So he does. It takes a moment for his eyes to adjust, but oh, if it was magical before, he didn’t know how to describe it now. Physically, it looked no different, yet there was something so much more to it. He’s giddy, happiness swelling in his chest. Is this what had been eluding him all this time? The incomprehensible, unexplainable something that Sonic was always on about? Was this the key?

“Shadow?”

Emeralds reflected the starlight, and it looked as if they glowed, the curious gaze holding a hope to them that told him yes, this was that. He can’t help a sense of pride that he’d managed to crack the puzzle, and he finally understands why it was so hard to explain. Because he can’t do it either.

Sonic spun them around one last time before letting their outstretched arms fall, although their hands didn’t come apart. Looking back, if Shadow were to pinpoint the exact moment he realized love, it would be then. Silver upon blue, haloed by the moon, shining like an angel with a face portraying as much innocence, nothing could compare to the way Sonic looked right then.

“You’re beautiful.” He blurted, the words dropping like rain on the open ocean, and it was true. But of all the things that could have tumbled out, that may have been the most embarrassing. Watching the dancer blink in surprise, he clamped his mouth shut, feeling heat fill his muzzle instantly. It may as well stay there permanently now. He was sure that the blush would complement his stripes nicely.

In response, Sonic… laughed. Like this was funny. He didn’t know whether it was bad or good, but he did know that butterflies spawned in his stomach at the sound. Shadow thinks that if you struck a star like a triangle, it would make the same bright chime. Then the idol rested a hand on his very warm cheek and leaned in, so close, unprompted.

His breath caught in his throat, the butterflies did acrobatics in his gut, the quiet hum in the back of his mind rose in pitch like a glissando, grew in a crescendo and held there, in tension, waiting for the drop. He… oh, he felt like one of those protagonists in a cheesy romance, about to be kissed by their crush. And that analogy did not help at all.

“You’re cute when you’re flustered,” Sonic whispered with a cheeky grin, brushing the tan fur on his muzzle. Shadow could only squeak in response. He was… what’s the term… blue screening. Which isn’t really the best comparison, seeing as he felt very, very red at the moment. Amused snickers sound from the dancer as he pulls back and pats the pianist’s shoulder, as if he had any dignity left to save by that time.

There’s a stupid smirk on Sonic’s face. “I think you’re beautiful too.”

“I—!” Shadow chokes, and his face somehow grows even hotter. You could probably cook an egg on his head by now. “Y-you’re doing this on purpose…” he complains, drawing out the last syllable into a whine. His voice is at least an octave higher than normal.

“Doing what?” Sonic chirps coyly in response, bumping the pianist with his head like a cat. “I have absolutely no idea what you’re talking about. Now come on, we should head back, hm?”

The hand by Shadow’s waist traced down his forearm, ignorant of the very embarrassing noise that was emitted, and laced their fingers together carefully. The two backtrack the way they’d come, slightly quicker and less careful, as the path was a little more familiar to both parties now, making navigation easier.

Shadow looks back, and maybe it’s to avert the questioning eyes of the guide. He catches a glimpse of the moon through the trees, and the ethereal image of Sonic standing under its light flashes back through his mind, making his breath hitch once more.

He’s got it bad, hasn’t he?

#sonic big bang 2024 #sonic #sonic the hedgehog #shadow the hedgehog #sonadow #writing #writers on tumblr #writeblr #fanfic #ao3 #cross posted on ao3 #CatieCatWorks #The Rhythmic Nature of Chaos #Music Love & Chaos AU #MLC AU #sonic au

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tiramisiyu · 3 years

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【未定事件簿】 Tears of Themis: “Romantic Rail Getaway” Zuo Ran Route, Day 5

Translation Masterlist | Themis Event Masterlist

Zuo Ran Route: Day 1 | Day 2 | Day 3 | Day 4 | Day 5

Videos, where applicable, are hyperlinked on the headings in the post.

See under cut!

Part 1 – Forenlo Commerce Street – “Trailing Forenlo Palace”

A warm late-spring wind blew over from the lake surfaces of Forenlo Palace’s banks, brushing over the tips of my hair and bringing a fresh and clear breeze.

The deep green trees shaded the groups of classic buildings, like a romantic picture scroll, making it impossible to look away.

MC: Forenlo Palace is so beautiful… it’s over, I kind of don’t know what I should take a picture of.

Zuo Ran: We can look for a staff member to ask what places nearby are suitable for picture-taking.

MC: Mhmm, I was thinking this too!

Tourist Inquiry Booth

Staff: Hello, how may I be of service?

MC: Could you please introduce us to sceneries nearby that are suitable for picture-taking?

Staff: There are lots of gorgeous scenery locations near Forenlo Palace.

Staff: Are you interested in cultural attractions, or natural sceneries?

INTERROGATION START

Cultural Attractions

MC: Hm… could you recommend some cultural attractions?

Staff: For cultural building attractions, I recommend you go visit the Noblewoman’s Embankment and Cari Temple.

Noblewoman’s Embankment

MC: Where is the Noblewoman’s Embankment?

Staff: The Noblewoman’s Embankment is on the left side of Forenlo Palace. You can head straight there after walking out the inquiry booth and boarding a tour bus.

Staff: This embankment was built at the time of Rumbaliya’s old nobility and is an example of the combination of classic and artistic design amid the group of Forenlo buildings.

Staff: You could say that it’s an embankment that’s witnessed the historical development of Rumbaliya.

MC: (Hm, taking a picture of buildings with history in their structures… would be an excellent choice.)

Cari Temple

MC: Hm… is Cari Temple the place on the right side of Forenlo Palace that looks a little like an art gallery?

Staff: Yes, that was a Gothic-style palace built by old aristocracy. Now, it’s been converted into an art gallery.

Staff: Cari Temple’s external wall is very particular – it’s one of the popular trip photo targets.

Staff: Right, they often host some art exhibition and cultural exchange events there, and it’s very popular with tourists.

Staff: You might as well go see – I’m sure you’ll get something out of it.

MC: I feel like I’ll be able to take great pictures in Cari Temple.

Zuo Ran: Then let’s go see Cari Temple first in a moment.

MC: Sure, so it’s decided.

Natural Sceneries

MC: I’m somewhat interested in natural scenery.

Staff: Then I think… Angel Garden and St. Nove Flower Garden are the best choices for you.

St. Nove Flower Garden

Zuo Ran: I remember that St. Nove Flower Garden… was originally a private garden that wasn’t open to the general public. Is it now open to the public?

Staff: Yes, it was once the private garden of a duke.

Staff: Before the duke passed, he donated the garden, and after renovation, St. Nove Flower Garden was officially opened to the public.

Staff: There are lots of rare flowers planted in the garden. I’m sure it’ll be a feast for your eyes.

MC: (A romantic flower garden theme… hm, I’ll definitely be able to take lots of beautiful pictures!)

Angel Garden

MC: Angel Garden?

Staff: Though Angel Garden is called a garden, it’s actually the largest arboretum in Forenlo City.

Staff: The most well-known within the park is the tulip sea and the flower tree waterfall attractions within the arboretum area.

Staff: Right now, it just happens to be tulip blooming season. I’m sure that if you go see it, you’ll definitely be shocked by the gorgeousness of the fresh flowers.

MC: (A tulip sea… it sounds really dreamy…)

MC: Lawyer Zuo, I want to take photos at the Angel Garden!

Zuo Ran: Okay, I’ll look up the route.

INTERROGATION END

Staff: Esteemed guests, are there any other things you’d like to ask?

MC: No need, I’ve pretty much got my targets set. Thank you.

Staff: No problem, I am very pleased to be of service for you. Then, I hope you have fun.

Part 2 – Noblewoman’s Embankment

[Gameplay]

Part 3 – Bridge of Angels

[Gameplay]

Part 4 – Cari Temple

[Gameplay]

Part 5 – St. Nove Plaza

[Gameplay]

Part 6 – The Most Beautiful Scenery

Forenlo Palace Cultural Street

On the last day of the trip, Zuo Ran and I checked out all the popular attractions near Forenlo Palace.

The gorgeous Forenlo Palace, the old-style art corridor, the elegant sculpture park… I recorded each view with my camera lens.

MC: Lawyer Zuo, help me see – which set of photos should I pick?

It may be easy taking pictures, but it’s very hard to pick them. After struggling back and forth on the camera preview screen…

I decided to directly seek external assistance from Zuo Ran to help pick photos that I would be sending to Yao Yu soon.

Zuo Ran: Hm…

Zuo Ran tapped at the camera touchscreen and pointed towards a set of scenic photos of Forenlo Palace taken with a wide-angle lens.

Zuo Ran: The view of these photos gives an open feeling.

MC: Our aesthetics really are similar. I actually really like this set too!

MC: Only…

I personally also liked this set of pictures, but I simultaneously had some concerns.

MC: Lawyer Zuo, do you feel like this photoset isn’t all that different from the ones from before?

Zuo Ran: Why do you say so?

MC: Because when we were touring Rumba City, I’ve taken photos from similar angles… but Yao Yu…

Zuo Ran: You’re worried that after sending this set of scenic photos, your friend will still be dissatisfied?

MC: Mhmm…

Zuo Ran: I feel like you don’t have to worry too much. What your friend wants is “the most beautiful scenery that you experience during your trip”.

Zuo Ran: If you see this group to be the most beautiful sceneries, then it is the most beautiful.

MC: (My experience?)

I unconsciously flapped my hand beside my cheeks, trying to calm down and think.

Zuo Ran: MC, let’s find a place to sit and relax.

Zuo Ran: If you can’t decide right now, you might as well let yourself relax. Perhaps you’ll have new ideas later.

MC: Mhmm, sure.

Zuo Ran was right. Struggling the whole time was not a good method. I might as well do something else first and enjoy the vacation.

We found a long bench on the roadside and sat down to rest.

The cool, gentle wind increased the feeling of contentment slightly as it delivered a sweet scent into my nose.

Following the sweet scent, I saw an ice cream truck on the other side of the road, with “Only Hand-made Ice Cream for a Hundred Years” written on its billboard.

MC: Ice cream that’s been handmade for a hundred years? What would that taste like?

Zuo Ran: Want to taste it?

MC: Yes!

That billboard really did catch my interest, making me want to see exactly what ice cream with a hundred years of handmaking history would taste like.

Zuo Ran: You can stay seated, I’ll go buy it.

After speaking, Zuo Ran got up and stepped over the road, walking towards that ice cream truck.

I watched Zuo Ran from far away…

Watching him interact politely with the truck booth owner, watching him take the cone, watching him heading back with an ice cream cone in each hand.

The retro-style camel-coloured windbreaker on Zuo Ran’s body cut straight lines, clean and neat, adding a few more touches of outstanding handsomeness to him.

MC: (This piece of clothing really makes Lawyer Zuo look handsome. Weird… how come I didn’t notice a few days ago?)

While I faced him in a trance, Zuo Ran had already walked up to me…

The retro buildings on the two sides of the road served as a background for him, reflecting a peaceful moment.

That was a landscape painting, frozen before me.

MC: (What your friend wants is “the most beautiful scenery that you experience during your trip”.)

Thinking back on what Zuo Ran had said, something murky in my mind became clear, with a distinct silhouette.

I held up my camera and waved at him.

MC: Zuo Ran, look here!

Zuo Ran: Hm?

Through the camera lens, his line of sight collided with mine, the faint smile on his thin lips frozen in this moment.

Zuo Ran: Why did you… suddenly…

MC: Because this shot is excellent. I’ve decided – I’m sending this photo to Yao Yu!

I held up the camera with both hands for him to see. He glanced at the photo, then looked at me.

Zuo Ran: You…

MC: What each person sees and thinks is different. I feel like a happy me should be courageously shown for others to see.

The “most beautiful” was a matter of individual opinion. The sceneries seen by each person are different, so what they see as beautiful will be different.

So, the answer is very obvious.

What Yao Yu wanted was my appreciation in the trip, and what I got during this trip was the bit of happiness with Zuo Ran.

MC: I think the most beautiful scenery…

MC: Is you.

Zuo Ran smiled, looking at me, serious and sincere.

Zuo Ran: In my eyes, you’ve always been that.

His calm voice created ripples in my heart, complicated and surging.

Warmth emerged on my cheeks, and the air right then seemed to become somewhat sweet, intoxicating me…

Zuo Ran: Alright, how about putting away the camera for now – the ice cream is going to melt.

MC: Ah! My ice cream!

I’d only been focusing on taking pictures, and the ice cream Zuo Ran had bought was already starting to melt. A few droplets were dripping down from the softened edges…

I rushed to put away the camera and take the ice cream cone.

MC: Delicious – as expected, a hundred-years’ worth of craftsmanship is superior.

Zuo Ran: It’s very sweet.

Though it was slightly embarrassing to eat the melting ice cream, the rich taste of milkiness brought a wonderful feeling between the lips.

Just like this moment, with the gentleness and warmth flowing between his and my eyes.

That was an indescribable yet true feeling that saturated the depths of the heart.

I was very convinced that that was the most beautiful scenery I had found in this journey…

#Tears of Themis #tears of themis translations #zuo ran #artem wing #mihoyo #未定事件簿 #tot translation #man i had so much trouble figuring out how to spell the foreign names #anyways zuo ran route finished!

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blackcloverdatabase · 5 years

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English Translation of Novel 3: Chapter 3 – The Sun Doesn’t Set For Troubled Women (Part 2 of 2)

Here’s the second half of the rom-com chapter! This one goes deeper into Bell’s feelings than I ever thought we would. It also gives a little reminder of how cool these girls can be before reminding us that they are still, in fact, walking disasters.

--- The Sun Doesn’t Set For Troubled Women: Part 2 ---

“Okay, that’s three separate purchases, right? Please wait for a moment while I wrap these.”

After explaining their circumstances to the shopkeeper and nearly a full hour of discussing things with her, they each peacefully decided on a book pouch to give as a gift.

‘We did it……,’ Charlotte and Noelle thought as they placed their hands over their chests in relief. However, for some reason, Bell sat on Noelle’s shoulder with a dissatisfied expression on her face.

“…….What’s wrong, Bell? Is there still something worrying you?”

“……I wouldn’t say I’m ‘worried’ about it, but…… how should I put this? I was thinking…… is it really alright to settle on a gift for someone important to you so easily?”

“……Isn’t this fine? You may say this was easy, but we spent quite a lot of time on this, and each of us chose a gift with earnestness…... I-I wouldn’t be embarrassed to give a person i…important to me a gift like that.”

Charlotte sat down on the bench as she said this. She was self-conscious of the fact she stuttered at the end, but, completely unaware of that fact, Bell responded with downcast eyes,

“It’s not that I’m embarrassed, but, for a present like this…… I feel like we should try our very hardest to look around at all kinds of stores before we choose a gift.”

“I don’t think you need to fuss over this to that degree, though?”

“I have to fuss over this. I mean, I’m with Yuno because I love him. That’s why I feel like I shouldn’t cut corners when I’m trying to convey how much love I feel for him.”

“I-is that so……?”

A bit surprised by the serious side Bell was showing her, Charlotte couldn’t help but nod in agreement…… she also felt a little envious of how honestly Bell could convey her feelings. Then, Bell continued,

“Also, I might be digressing a little, but…… I chose to be with Yuno because I love him, but…... it’s not like Yuno chose to be with me, you know?”

For just a moment, a glimpse of fear could be seen within her determined, unyielding eyes.

“That’s why…… sometimes, I can’t help but wonder…… what Yuno thinks of me……”

“……….”

Bell’s words caused Noelle and Charlotte to fall silent.

“Of course, I’m pretty sure he needs me in battle, but…… every once and a while…… I worry about what he thinks about me outside of that. ‘Needing someone’ and ‘loving someone’ are pretty different.”

Charlotte and Noelle couldn’t find a response to these words either, but they sort of understood where Bell was coming from. There could a mismatch in feelings between the person who did the choosing and the person who was chosen…… it seems that Bell felt anxious about this at times. At first glance, it might seem like a strange thing to be worried about. Being chosen by one of the great spirits is one of the highest honors a mage could receive, and lending her power to Yuno has helped him accomplish many great things.

However, that wasn’t the point. Bell was not worried about whether Yuno accepted her as a “Great Spirit”, but as a “person”. That’s why Noelle and Charlotte didn’t know how to respond. They felt that it would be too irresponsible for the two of them, who knew very little about what Yuno is actually like, to say anything. Realizing that she just made the atmosphere incredibly gloomy, Bell waved her hands in a panic.

“Ah, but it’s not like I’m all that worried about it or anything! I mean…… I’m just saying that I feel like I should choose a gift for him with extra enthusiasm to convey my thanks to him, since I chose to be with him on my own convenience!”

She said with her usual tone of voice before looking at the clock in the store. After confirming that it was just past noon, she looked at Noelle and Charlotte once more,

“And so, we still have plenty of time, so I’m going to look at the other shops for a bit longer.”

Then, while sounding a little bit embarrassed but also somehow happy, she added,

“Today was exhausting for all sorts of reasons, but I’ve never gone shopping with someone else before, so…… um, that was… kind of fun…… thanks for coming with me.”

“………”

In response to those words, Noelle and Charlotte exchanged glances, smiled, and then nodded. As they thought earlier, they didn’t know how Yuno and Bell usually were around each other, so they couldn’t offer any advice on their relationship. However……

“…….Sigh~ You leave me no choice. If that’s how it is, then I guess I can stay with you for a little while longer.”

It was Noelle who responded first. Charlotte then followed with a tone of voice that would make one think this was all a bother for her,

“Agreed. However, before that, let’s take a lunch break. You won’t be able to come up with any good ideas on an empty stomach.”

“Huh……?”

Noelle and Charlotte laughed when they saw how surprised Bell looked.

“It’s good that you’re being so considerate about him, but you might be trying a bit too hard. Why not try relying on someone else every once and a while? …… W-well, not that I can give you very good advice.”

“Even so, we can do it if we all think about this together. We’ve come this far, so let’s see this through to the end!”

That’s right, they may not be able to give Bell any relationship advice, but they can all choose a gift together. They can, at least, stand from her point of view and share her worries. Bell had said that she wasn’t too worried about it, but, at the very least, they could tell that she looked sad as she was talking. That’s why they couldn’t leave her to worry about this alone. Noelle and Charlotte knew all too well how painful it is to worry alone.

“……You guys.”

Bell said with a dumbfounded expression on her face, which only remained there for a second before she turned downward to hide it. When she looked back up, her usual determined smile was back as she fluttered in front of Noelle’s and Charlotte’s faces.

“Just so you know in advance, I’m going to have you two follow behind me until your legs fall off, so prepare yourselves!”

“Hey! We get it, so stop flying in front of our faces! The scales from your wings are getting into my eyes!”

“O-ow, my eyes! They sting! What is this!? Is this also part of your powers as a great spirit!?”

While the three continued with such antics, the clerk approached them with a paper bag and a wry smile.

“Thank you for waiting. Here are your things.”

“Ah, thank you.”

“Also…”

When Charlotte took the bag, the clerk also handed them a sheet of paper.

“…...Please use this as well, if you’d like.”

“……Oh!”

All three of them exclaimed when they saw it. What the clerk handed to them was a map of the local area used for sightseeing. Moreover, it was practically a guidebook, filled with all the information they could want, such as which stores sold what, recommended items for each store, and more.

“I don’t mean to be nosy, but I overheard your conversation earlier, and……”

“No, no, no! You’re not being nosy at all! This helps us out a lot! Thank you!”

Bell flew around the clerk’s face as she said this.

“I’m glad to be of hel-ow, OW! Your scales got in my…… come to think of it, what are you anyway!? Some sort of magical tool!?”

The clerk sputtered in alarm while Noelle and Charlotte stood beside them, their gazes affixed to the map. If they have this, then even they, with their terrible sense of taste, might be able to find a good gift. They saw hope, but then,

“KYAAAAAAAAH!”

“Woah!? W-what’s with you! That’s dangerous!!”

They heard two screams in quick succession from outside the store, and they could hear the main street gradually becoming noisier. All three of them knew that there must be trouble.

“……Let’s go.”

Charlotte headed toward the exit with Noelle and Bell following behind her as they prepared themselves for battle. At the same time, in the corner of her heart, Charlotte thought to herself,

‘Has it come for its revenge after all……?’

“Ah, Big Sis! Perfect timing!”

The moment the three of them arrived at the scene, Sol, who was riding a broom, stopped in front of them with a halt. Looking toward where Sol was headed, the three of them could see a man escaping away on a broom above the crowd of people, pursued by several members of the Blue Roses. Charlotte asked Sol,

“What’s our current status?”

“Well…… he’s some thug named Carlo who holds a copy of the Original Sin. He managed to get away before we could restrain him…… which is why me and the rest of the squad are chasing after him!”

Sol said awkwardly, causing Bell to respond in a panic.

“You shouldn’t do that! If you make an owner of the Original Sin feel cornered, then you could cause it to go wild! You need to take him to a place without a lot of people and fast…… It’ll be really bad if it goes off in town!”

“Yeah, we know that, but……”

Sol’s voice became more and more quiet as she said with frustration,

“……We don’t know this area too well, so we couldn’t find a place like that.”

Certainly, this area was filled with couples and families. There’s no doubt that the members of the Blue Roses tried to find an unpopulated area, but this area was a business district, and today was a holiday, so there probably was no such place to be found. As Charlotte was agonizing over what to do, Noelle handed her something.

“Captain Charlotte! Look at this!”

What Noelle handed her was the map they received from the clerk earlier. Charlotte looked at her with a troubled expression. What could that map possibly have to do with a situation like this…… Wait.

“I see……”

Understanding what Noelle wanted to say, Charlotte asked Sol,

“Sol, how many transmitters did you bring with you today?”

“Uhh, I thought we’d mostly be asking people questions today, so I brought six or seven of them.”

“Excellent. Give one of them to us. Also, please lend us a broom.”

“Sure, but…… Big Sis, what’re you planning to do?”

In response, Charlotte pointed at the center of the map and said,

“Everyone should drive the culprit to the center plaza. We’ll guide everyone there as we look at the map. Please have someone go to the plaza before everyone else and evacuate the people there.”

“……I see! That’s Big Sis for ya! With a wide space like that, even if a fight breaks out…… hm?”

She inched her face closer to the map as if she had just noticed something.

“This shop’s sweets have become super popular with high school girls! Perfect for a gift!”

“The manager of this shop is the best beauty consultant you can find! You might be able to schedule a consultation with him……”

Looking at the annotations scattered throughout the map, Sol looked at Charlotte with a strange-looking face.

“Hey, Big Sis, what’s this? What’s up with this weird map……?”

Charlotte’s face steadily became more and more red and, in an attempt to distract Sol, shouted,

“This is a state of emergency! Let’s mobilize at once!”

“Teams 1 and 2 should surround and barricade the main road to the East! Teams 3 and 4 should remain on standby in the sky!”

While Charlotte navigated on her broom, Noelle sat behind her and relayed her orders to the others using a magic tool used for transmission. While she did this, Bell clung to her shoulder, commenting on their next action.

“That’ll be fine as long as the culprit continues to go straight, but it’ll be trouble if he tries to escape through the alleyway a bit further ahead! I think you should have that area blocked off as well!”

“I see…… tell teams 3 and 4 to block that alleyway!”

The three of them rode on a broom they borrowed from Sol as they chased after Carlo, giving orders to the other members of the Blue Roses in order to guide the culprit and steadily drive him toward the central plaza. Charlotte turned back a bit toward Noelle, who was currently carrying on such a leader-like role.

“You’re amazing, Noelle. To be able to give out such exact instructions…… even with a map, most people wouldn’t be able to guide others as well as you are doing right now.”

“Huh? T-this is nothing…… nothing special about this.”

It was because she had been wandering about this area since early in the morning…… she couldn’t admit to that, so she simply gave a vague reply instead. Bell smiled as she pushed Noelle’s cheeks, unaware of Noelle’s attempts to hide her embarrassment.

“You’re being so modest~ Ah, that store we just passed is famous for its fashionable accessories!”

“I-I’m not trying to be modest! …….By the way, I’ve heard that store will throw in a cute handbag for free if you spend more than 1000 yuls.”

With a small smile on her face, Charlotte turned her head forward as she listened to their conversation.

“That sounds like a good deal…… Let’s go there after we’ve made our arrest.”

In their moment of levity, Sol’s voice came through the transmitter.

“This is Sol! We just finished evacuating the plaza! You can come whenever you’re ready!!”

“Good work. We will be arriving shortly. Prepare for battle and remain on standby for now.”

After that, Noelle’s skillful guidance led Carlo to flee toward the plaza, just as they wanted.

“W-what’s with this place!? There’s nobody here…..!?”

He felt suspicious the moment he realized that there was nobody there, but, by then, it was already too late for him. Noelle’s wand was already pointed toward the plaza as she cast her spell.

“Water Creation Magic: Sea Dragon's Nest!”

WOOSH

A hemispherical dome of water covered the entire plaza in an instant, forcing Carlo to suddenly hit the brakes on his broom.

“Give up! You’re completely surrounded!

Noelle declared as she and the others descended to the ground. “Sea Dragon’s Nest” protects those inside from outside attacks. It doesn’t prevent people on the inside from getting out. In other words, she was bluffing, but that was more than enough to keep Carlo in place. It was an illusion that kept him “trapped”, both visually and psychologically.

Large roses bloomed from the hilt of Charlotte’s sword as she said coldly,

“Hand over the Original Sin this instant. Otherwise, we will take it from you by force. Choose whichever option you prefer.”

Sol, who had joined up with them at the plaza, yelled with a provocative smile as she clenched her hand into a fist,

“Well, there’s nothing you can do when faced with the power of Big Sis’s and my love!”

Charlotte was about to deny that they had such a power, but then Carlo gnashed his teeth in frustration.

“Damn it……. Why was your response time so quick…….Guh! Aah, GWAAAAH!”

His whole body began to convulse unnaturally in anguish. The four of them quickly raised their guard as Charlotte asked Bell,

“…….Is that an omen that the Original Sin is about to go on a rampage?”

“It does feel that way, but…… somehow, this feels a little different from the other times……”

Immediately following Bell’s reply, Carlo’s body swung forward dramatically, his upper body becoming slack as if all force had left it. However, then……

“Kishi~ As I thought, this person is no good. To think he’d get cornered so easily.”

He lifted his upper body back up slowly and whispered with a mischievous smile,

“Hey, won’t one of you girls become my new host? I was able to manifest myself like this because this person’s wavelength matches mine quite well, but it’s troublesome how weak and stupid he is~”

His expression, tone, and even the air around him was different than before. It was eerie, as if someone else was speaking through Carlo’s body. Charlotte tightened her grip on the hilt of her sword.

“What the……. You bastard, what are you talking about?”

“Yeah, that’s right! You’re talking like some parasitic host, some sort of manifestation, or like you just experienced puberty! Either way, you’re gonna be embarrassed about this five-years down the road!”

In response to Bell’s heckling, Carlo lightly tilted his neck and said,

“You’re spot on…... well, aside from the puberty. Right now, I’m talking to you because I’ve taken over this person’s body. “

He pulled out a pure white grimoire, the Original Sin, from his chest as he informed them,

“I’m the incarnation of this grimoire…... what you call the Original Sin.”

“…….Huh?”

Noelle said with a frown, but at that moment,

“…… Get down!!”

Charlotte shouted, grabbing Noelle’s and Sol’s heads and pressing them toward the ground. Right afterward,

WOOSH!!

Something invisible but very, very large flew over their heads. A moment later, the broom that they left behind and the surrounding stone pavement shattered into pieces.

‘What the heck is going on……!?’ Noelle thought with a shudder as Charlotte stood up and pointed her sword at the enemy.

“Everyone, activate your mana skin to protect yourselves! Most likely…… this guy is using invisible tentacles to attack us! Focus on your mana perception!”

Everyone froze when they heard her instructions. Even if she tells them to focus on their mana perception and detect his attacks, if his attacks are that fast, their bodies won’t be able to react in time. If his attacks continue like this, they won’t be able to protect themselves.

“Kishi~ I’m impressed that you were able to sense that attack…… I like you. You seem like you’ll be able to resonate on my wavelength, too.”

Just as everyone had become cognizant of the danger they were in, Carlo…… no, the Original Sin said this in admiration, but then,

“Well, whatever. I’ll make you all half-dead and then take my time choosing a new host~”

He struck the stone pavement with his invisible tentacles and then launched his attack.

“……Briar Creation Magic: Limb-cleaving Briar Lance”

“Earth Creation Magic: Rampaging Mother Earth”

Charlotte conjured her thorns while Sol conjured a giant clay doll as they launched their attacks on the Original Sin. However, Charlotte’s thorns were repelled by the invisible tentacles, and the clay doll was showered with blows. As they expected, it was difficult to deal with a target whose attacks you cannot see. Feeling that she couldn’t simply stand back and do nothing, Noelle pointed the tip of her wand at the Original Sin.

“Water Creation Magic: Sea Dragon's Roar!!”

However, her spell crashed into an invisible wall of tentacles that had stretched around her foe, turning her spell into a mere splash of water in the blink of an eye.

“Oh, you’re impressive, too. Moreover, that wasn’t your full power, was it?”

Hearing him speak in such a carefree tone made Noelle click her tongue. The tentacles served as both a means of attack and a shield to protect him. If you can’t see his shield, then there’s no way to know where to attack.

‘How are we supposed to capture an enemy like this…….!?’

“……Huh!?”

While Charlotte was feeling anxious, she noticed some unexpected movement in the water which had scattered about from that last attack. Though the tentacles were invisible, they repel the water, making their movements and shape visible.

‘With this, we could…!’

To give more substance to the glimmer of hope she spotted, Charlotte instructed Noelle,

“Noelle! Keep firing your water magic at him! There is nothing to fear if we can see his attacks!”

“Ki shi shi~ I wonder about that. I don’t think that’ll do much for you unless you can halt my movements.”

The incarnation said to provoke them, but then Charlotte replied as if she already had taken that into consideration,

“……Then, we’ll just keep you from moving.”

At some point during the battle, Bell flew overhead, right above the incarnation. With a smirk, she took a deep breath.

“Sylph’s Breath!!”

Bell exhaled, creating a prodigious torrent of wind which headed toward the incarnation with tremendous speed.

“……Hmmmmm. The wind spirit is here, too? Just who are you people?”

Perhaps he had determined that this wasn’t an attack he could take on, but he used his tentacles to leap to the side to avoid it. Because he took the time to evade, his onslaught of attacks ceased. Taking advantage of that momentary interlude, Charlotte moved between the gaps of his tentacles.

“We’re nobody in particular. Just some girls who were in the middle of shopping.”

Charlotte fired thorny briars from the hilt of her sword, shooting straight through the true form of the Original Sin, the white grimoire, before the grimoire was finally torn into pieces by the briars which spread radially from where it was struck. The grimoire turned into particles of light, dispersing into the air. At the same time, its invisible tentacles also disappeared.

“……I see. That was…… rude of me. Please continue enjoying your little shopping trip.”

The incarnation didn’t seem particularly bothered by what just happened, and said in an uninterested tone,

“……To make up for getting in your way, I’ll tell you this. I’m simply a ‘manuscript’, one that was born from the first Original Sin. The first is much stronger than me, and is capable of much more than I am.”

“…...What, are you making excuses because you lost?”

“……. Maybe. I might be feeling a little frustrated after losing so easily after all that talk. I shouldn’t even have such a “function”…… jeez. Maybe my consciousness remains imperfect, or perhaps this is just his residual thoughts.”

After hearing him speak so mysteriously for the second time that day, Charlotte couldn’t help but ask him,

“Just what are you……?”

“……I’m nobody. Just like what you were saying earlier.”

The incarnation responded as if in revenge for the answer Charlotte gave him earlier before looking straight at her. She could see a mixture of black emotions in his eyes - deeply held resentment, vengefulness, but also fear.

“We are the “Original Sin”. We were born from the first sin that you, the human race, had committed.”

“………”

With those parting words filled with hidden meaning, the man’s body fell limp like a puppet whose strings were cut, and the Original Sin completely disappeared. Despite the many mysteries that remained, the current situation was resolved, so everyone began cleaning up the aftermath. Shortly after the battle, many other Magic Knights rushed in to help clean up, so everyone was able to finish in no time at all. What did take a lot of time was their report to the magic tool researchers. This was the first time anyone had heard of the Original Sin hijacking a person’s body, so they needed to explain what happened very thoroughly. They also had to relay the apparent danger that the first Original Sin poses, as well as the fact it was looking for strong mages as its host. By the time they finished conveying all this and more, the sun had begun to set. That fact by itself was normally not a problem, but……

“………”

After changing out of their soaked clothes, they stood in the plaza illuminated by the red of the setting sun. With a sorrowful expression on their faces they stared…… at the book pouches they all bought as a present, which became completely soaked and tattered after their battle with the Original Sin’s incarnation. Charlotte didn’t even know how many times she sighed already before saying,

“I’m sorry. This is all because I fastened these onto the broom. I should have just left these at the store.”

That’s right. The bag the book pouches were in was fluttering in the wind as they were chasing after Carlo, so she ended up tying the bag onto such a dangerous place. She thought that was better than holding onto it herself, but her decision backfired. To think it would be demolished in one shot……

Noelle shook her head slowly and said,

“There was nothing else you could do in a situation like that. Besides, by that point, that book pouch store was already closed……

While they were running around town dealing with the aftermath of this incident, they saw that the store had turned off its lights and closed for the day. They also noticed that many of the other stores were closed, probably as a precaution after an incident like that.

Bell spoke with an apologetic expression on her face,

“No, I should’ve taken them and hidden them somewhere safe. I’m sorry……”

“There’s no way you would have found time to do that in a hectic situation like that. If you’re going to go there, then I’m the one who should’ve hidden them in my clothes. I could’ve done that since I wasn’t the one driving the broom……”

Noelle responded without a moment’s delay, but Charlotte furrowed her beautiful brows as she objected,

“No, that wouldn’t have been possible since I tied them to the broom from that start! It’s my fault!”

“No, this is my fault!”

“That’s not true at all! It’s my fault!”

For a short while, the three glared straight into each other’s eyes, but then……

“……Pfft, fu fu, ku fu fu fu”

Suddenly, Bell started to laugh, and, as if they were pulled in by her laughter, Noelle and Charlotte began to laugh as well. This exchange was just too weird, and they were happy to hear such sympathy from the other two…… with their hearts filled with such emotions and more, they couldn’t help but burst out laughing. The three of them continued to laugh for some time before Bell stretched her back and said,

“Okay! Then, let’s choose a new present for everyone with all our might!”

She said this cheerfully, but the store where they had bought their original book pouches was closed, and many of the other stores were closed as well. Moreover, the ink on the map was now too blurred to read. On top of all that, they were all exhausted after today’s incident. Faced with such unfavorable conditions, choosing another present was sure to be an arduous task. However……

“……Right. Let’s hurry up and go buy a gift!”

“Yes. First, let’s go to that store that sells small accessories that we were talking about earlier.”

Noelle and Charlotte responded with a smile and a nod, as if going out to choose another gift was only natural. Certainly, choosing another gift will be tough. However, they won’t be doing this alone. After overcoming a day full of turbulence and adversity, they will be shopping with their reliable comrades. Maybe all of them have terrible taste, but after overcoming as many challenges as they have, such a problem was trivial at worst.

The sun was still setting, not quite fading into twilight. If they unite their powers one more time, then they’ll surely find a way. These troubled women were bad at giving up. Filled with such emotions, the three began to walk with a spring in their step. However, at that moment,

“……Huh? Prickly Queen, is that you?”

Suddenly, they heard a man call out to them from behind.

“!!”

Charlotte timidly turned her head around. There, she saw……

“Oh, I was right. What the? Why’re you dressed so girly today?”

The man she was planning to buy a gift for, Yami, was loitering around with a cigarette in his mouth. To make matters worse, to his left and right were…...

“Oh, Noelle! I didn’t know you were here! I was looking for ya!”

Asta waved at Noelle while the mysterious bird Nero sat on his head with an unpleasant look in its eyes.

“Bell, where were you? I know you said you were going out, but you were gone for way too long.”

Yuno said with his usual expressionless face.

‘………..You’ve gotta be kidding.’

Faced with the day’s biggest adversity just as the day was about to end, all three of them turned as white as a ghost. To think they would run into the very people they were planning to buy gifts for…… It would have been fine if they had already bought gifts for them. However, since they were here before their gifts were bought, they were going to have to explain why they were here. In other words, they’ll have to explain that they came here to buy a gift for them…….

As the three’s heads were spinning with such chaotic thoughts, Yami opened his mouth and let out a puff of smoke as he asked,

“So, what are you girls doin’ here…..?”

“I-I could ask the same of you! What are you doing in a place like this!?”

Charlotte bitterly answered his question with a question of her own. Though he felt a little out of place by how frantic Charlotte seemed to be, Yami pointed to Charlotte as he answered,

“What do you mean? Today’s Three-Leaf Day, isn’t it? That’s why I was lookin’ for a gift for ya.”

“!!”

In an instant, Charlotte’s face turned completely red, and she felt her consciousness suddenly begin to fade. However, this time, she managed to stop herself before falling down, and she calmed down just enough to say,

“A-a-a-a a g-gi-gi-gi gif…… gift…… f-for me?”

She didn’t calm down completely, but it was enough for Yami to nod and say,

“For once, I won big when I was gambling, so I got some gifts for my squad, but then Vanessa said, “It doesn’t feel right for you to buy a gift for me, but not for my rival…… Captain Charlotte!”. I really don’t get it. Anyway, she told me to buy a gift for you.”

“H-how meddlesome…… Plus, I have no idea what she could be talking about.”

She somehow managed to regain her composure and cleared her throat as she responded. She was a little bothered by the fact he was told to do so by someone else, but still, this was more than enough.

‘A gift from Yami…… I-I’m so happy…… I’m so, so…… HAPPY!!’

Actually, this was perfect. Rather than being told to, if he had said he bought a gift for her on his own accord, she would have, without a doubt, collapsed on the spot. As she was thinking this, Yami added casually,

“Well, frankly, I was plannin’ to buy a gift for you anyway. I sorta feel like you’ve helped me out a lot, especially this year…… Hey, wait, are you okay? Your eyes just rolled to the back of your head.”

“S-shut up…… SHUT UUUUUUUUUUP!”

“Wait, what’s with you all of sudden……. Hey, HEY! Why are you attacking me!? What do you want from me!?”

“I want you to disappear from my sight! Please!”

While Charlotte was launching her briars at Yami, who was uncharacteristically frazzled by what was happening, Noelle asked Asta as she fidgeted,

“……W-why did you come here, Asta?”

“Me? I’m here to buy a gift for everyone in the Black Bulls!”

“……I see.”

‘Everyone’…… As that word echoed in her mind, Noelle fell silent.

“Ah, that’s right!”

For some reason, Asta started to complain,

“Where have you been since this morning!? I was looking everywhere for ya!”

“I-it’s not like it matters……”

“Yeah it does! I was planning to go shopping with you today so that I could buy something you liked!”

In an instant, Noelle’s face turned completely red. He was basically saying that he was planning to buy a gift just for her. Moreover……

“I-in other words…… y-y-y-you wanted to g-go on a…… date with me?”

Immediately after she let that slip out,

‘Oh no!’

She thought immediately after. By letting those words slip out, it’s going to seem like she thinks of Asta as a man. Before she could attempt to retract her words, Asta blinked and said,

“Date? I’m not sure what that is, but I wasn’t sure what you wanted, so I figured we could stroll through town, and then I could buy anything you wanted. I was also thinking, while we were at it, we could stop to eat somewhere and look for gifts for everyone else.”

‘That’s literally a date!’

While Noelle was thinking this, she shouted without thinking,

“Stupid Asta! Why didn’t you search for me harder!”

“Why are you being so unreasonable!? There’s no way I could have!”

“……Y-you’re lying. You’ve got to be lying! It doesn’t matter anyway! I wouldn’t have wanted to go with you, anyway!”

“You’re scaring me! What’s with that attitude!? For now, just calm down!”

Next to Asta and Noelle, who were engaged in a lively but puzzling conversation, Bell asked Yuno awkwardly,

“……Did you come here, um…… to buy a gift for someone, too?”

“No, while I was walking through town searching for you, I ran into these two.”

“……I see…… That makes sense.”

Bell muttered as she subconsciously lowered her head. She was a little disappointed, but, on the other hand, it’s not like she was expecting anything different. Bell is a spirit, so the idea of giving a gift to her might not even occur to Yuno.

……It’s just, Bell planned on buying a gift for Yuno, and yet Yuno didn’t plan to do the same. That was a major misunderstanding. It turned out that she didn’t understand Yuno’s feelings at all. She thought that he needed her, but only as a spirit. She had no idea how much he thought of her as a person. He may not even think of her as one, as a person he likes, or even as a person he hates.

Exhausted by the day’s events, such uncharacteristically negative thoughts began to invade her, but……

“Besides, there wasn’t any need for me to buy any gifts today…… I already bought them.”

“……Huh?”

Bell raised her head. Yuno reached into his book pouch and pulled out a small paper bag. From that, he pulled out small clothes, no larger than the palm of a human hand, and held them up to Bell’s body.

“……Good. I had these done as a special order from a clothing store, so I’m glad these are the right size.”

“Yuno, this is……?”

Bell asked, dumbfounded. Yuno put the clothes back into the paper bag as he replied,

“You must be sick of wearing the same clothes every day. With this, whenever you want to change your look, you’ll be able to.”

He presented the bag to Bell as he continued,

“Thank you for everything, Bell. Because you’re here, every day is lively and fun.”

“………!”

Before she could even take another breath, tears began to pool in her eyes.

“……R-really?”

“Well……because I grew up in a pretty noisy environment, I feel calmer when I’m next to someone as lively as you.”

As Yuno said this, he pushed the paper bag toward Bell…... he sounded a little shy as he said this, but he spoke clearly as he continued,

“That’s why, I hope you continue to support me in the future. Thank you for choosing me.”

“………!!”

Her tears began to spill out, and she found herself unable to respond to his words. His delivery may have been blunt, and not all of her anxieties have been expelled, but the unsociable and taciturn Yuno conveyed his feelings clearly to her. He said the words she most wanted to hear, and that made her extremely, extraordinarily happy. Hearing him tell her his feelings, she couldn’t help but cry.

“…….Bell, why are you crying?”

Unusually for him, Yuno looked concerned as he said this. Not seeming to notice this, Bell hugged his face, her own face a tear-covered mess.

“Sniff……sniffle…… I’m the one who should be thanking youuuuuuuuu!”

Bell pushed even her wings into his face as she hugged him. He struggled to peeled her off. In the end, this turned into one of their typical exchanges, but Bell was content. Does Yuno accept her? That was the anxiety she held in heart, but Yuno’s words from earlier blew those anxieties away. He essentially told her that he was fine with her doing what she has always done. That’s why, for sure, staying like this will be fine…… no, not just fine, but best.

While Bell was playing around with Yuno, her thoughts filled with satisfaction, Yami was finally set free from Charlotte’s mystery attack.

“Damn, what the hell was that…...?”

He cursed, before finally returning to the original subject.

“Come to think of it, you’re dressed in those fancy clothes because you were out shoppin’, too, right?”

He let out another puff of smoke from his cigarette before suggesting,

“Then, how ‘bout we all go shop together? That eliminates the step of giving it to you later.”

“!!”

Internally, Charlotte and Noelle were grinning from ear to ear, but they strained not to show that on their faces. Since the guys are being so insistent, they should do them a “favor” and go shopping with them.

‘If we take a position like that, then it’s not so bad……!’

The two of them came to that idea instantly, but it was Noelle who responded first.

“Sigh…… I guess there’s no helping it~ If you’re that desperate, then we’ll go with you.”

“When you say it like that, it’s difficult to refuse…… Good grief, what a bother.”

Charlotte agreed with a disinterested tone of voice. These troubled women sure were troublesome.

“Nice! It’s more fun to go shopping with everyone! Well, I don’t know much about stores and such, though.”

“That why we’re askin’ these girls in the first place. Do you know any shops you can recommend?”

In response to Asta and Yami, the three women secretly exchanged glances with each other and, with a small smile on each of their faces, made their replies. First, it was Charlotte who responded, who brushed her fingers through her smooth hair as she said,

“I know of a general store that sells small, fashionable accessories. Let’s start there. I’ll guide you.”

Noelle followed by puffing out her chest, a smug expression floating to her face.

“When you buy their products, you get a cute handbag for free!

Finally, Bell added information that she remembered from earlier today.

“Also, there’s a sweets shop that’s super popular with high school girls! Let’s go there next!”

Today may have had its ups and downs, but this was the way the girls of the Magic Knights chose their gifts from the boys of the Magic Knights. Incidentally……

“No, I already bought a gift, so I’m good. Plus, I want to start training for the Royal Knights Selection Exam.”

“What are you talking about!? You’re already here, so let’s go shopping together!”

Asta solidly clamped his arm on Yuno’s shoulder and forcibly took him along.

That night, at Vangeance’s office.

“The Original Sin can take over the body of any human who matches its wavelength. Moreover, it’s looking for a stronger host…… I see, that truly is troublesome.”

Vangeance said quietly as he read the report that had just come to his office. At the opposite side of his desk stood a member of the Golden Dawn who was fiercely loyal to him, a man named Sandler.

“Speaking of troublesome, this incident at the royal capital has caused its citizens’ anxieties to rise.”

“I see. That might be just what we need……”

“……Huh?”

Unable to think of why Vangeance would say this, Sandler couldn’t help but falter. With a thin smile on his face, Vangeance waved his hand lightly as he elaborated,

“Sorry. I was thinking about what we could do about the poor atmosphere spreading throughout the country because of today’s event and the attacks from the Eye of the Midnight Sun. I just thought of a countermeasure that should work. I’m sorry that it came out so weird.”

“……No need to apologize.”

While replying so, doubt continued to smolder in Sandler’s heart. He couldn’t help but feel that Vangeance starts acting strangely whenever there is an incident involving the Original Sin. There were many moments where he seemed to understand much about the Original Sin when presented with only a little information.

……He talks as if he has known about the Original Sin since long ago.

‘What am I thinking…...?’

He shook his head lightly to disperse such ridiculous thoughts. If he had known about it that long ago, he would have made his move a long time ago, before the Original Sin ever became a public menace. The captain Sandler admired was that kind of man.

“Well then, I’ll take my leave.”

Sandler said, turning around to leave, but…...

“Ah, could you wait just a moment?”

Vangeance opened the drawer of his desk and pulled out a small box. He went out of his way to walk to where Sandler was standing, and said as he held the box.

“Thank you for everything, Alecdora. Will you please accept this?”

“………V-Vangeance-sama, this is……?”

Sandler stammered, overcome with surprise. Vangeance informed him with a smile behind his mask,

“Today is Three-Leaf Day, isn’t it? You’re always trying your best, so I wanted to thank you for that. Well, this isn’t all that valuable, but…...”

“N-no…… that’s no problem at all. I gratefully accept.”

Sandler took his gift, said goodbye, and left the office. Then, after finishing his work for the day, he flew into the middle of an unpopulated forest. He carefully checked to make sure that nobody else was around, took a deep breath, and,

“YYYYYYEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!”

While holding his present up to the sky with both hands, he shouted with great joy, but then……

Well, that’s a different story.

--- The Sun Doesn’t Set For Troubled Women: The End ---

Glad everyone gets a happy ending. Noelle, Charlotte, Bell, and even Alecdora (?). I kinda wonder what he got from William, and what happened to him at the end there…

But the boys got their gifts, too, right!? The story ends with them going to the stores the girls discovered throughout the chapter to buy them what they like, but Asta, Yuno, and Yami get their gifts in the end, too, right!?

What did they get!? How did they react!? Don’t tell me Charlotte fainted again! (　ﾟДﾟ)＜!!

#Black Clover #noelle silva #Charlotte Roselei #Asta #yami sukehiro #Yuno #Bell #sol marron #Book of Yuno #my translations

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katyatalks · 5 years

Text

Animestyle 2019/12 - MP100 Interview Translation

The December 2019 issue of animestyle contains ~50 pages of interviews, and I was lucky enough to be sent every page to read through. Interviewees include Tachikawa Yuzuru (director) & Kameda Yoshimichi (character designer). Contains a bunch of information regarding characters & topics like season 3, so please enjoy!

[Note that this Tumblr compilation misses out quite a few things from the original Twitter thread. If you’re curious, that thread is here.]

TACHIKAWA YUZURU (Director)

Wanted to go for a darker colour scheme for the characters and settings to fit the more dramatic themes in MP100, but Kameda disagreed, wanting to go for something more colourful

Considers S2 more ‘focused on humanity’ than S1

S1 was made without expectation of S2

When cutting bits of the manga from the anime adaptation, a “the viewer will still understand the point of the scene without these lines” approach was used

Considers S2 as having two parts; the character focused part, and claw arc. The decision was made to squeeze claw arc into 4 episodes as Tachikawa hated the idea of sacrificing content from the earlier part for a half-half split

He's well aware of how loved Reigen is; fans tell him so at mob events all the time

Considers the “who exactly am I” question that many of the characters deal with; finds it most impactful with Reigen, as he simply pretends to have powers, whereas Ritsu Mob Teru etc. actually have them

He holds Reigen arc dear to himself, in particular the “be a good person that’s all” conversation that gets put into the anime more than once

He considers Reigen’s growth one of the core themes of S2, alongside Mob’s own

Episode 8 was not in the original plan - S2 was meant to be 12 episodes much like S1.

The omake in which Tsubomi comes to the office was actually drawn for the purpose of giving the team something to put into ep 8 of the anime - team was struggling to find something from the manga to put in (“S&S team doing something for Mob”) so ONE created it

The reason why all the characters in Mob Psycho are so lovely is likely because ONE is a genuinely lovely person so it’s a reflection thing

In response to Reigen’s rant at Mob in ep 6 that causes their rift, Tachikawa says; “we’ve all had moments in which we know saying anything else would be the worst thing to do but we haven’t been able to stop ourselves”. It’s why the scene leaves an impression

In the manga you don’t get to see Reigen’s face after Mob tells him he’s a good person. They added it into the anime, and Tachikawa states that Kameda had a lot of trouble trying to figure out exactly what expression they should give Reigen

Discusses American highschooler Weilin Zhang (of ~17 years old), who drew up around 1800 frames for the purpose of S2E5

Reigen’s website was designed with the brief of it having to look cheap and shoddy

Considers Mob Psycho 100 as having the message “its okay for you to do the things you’d like to” at heart

Mention of not only Japanese fans but international fans increasing with S2

Describes Serizawa as becoming handsome after his haircut in the final episode of S2

On the topic of animating what’s left of the manga, says he’d like to give it a go

KAMEDA YOSHIMICHI (Character Design)

Slightly more time pressure on S2 than S1, which meant there was a bit of detail lost with the drawings for S2

Describes Shinra as a charming character

Goes on to say that he SUPER loves Shinra and really likes drawing him. Discusses how people tend to love attractive characters in anime and as a results there’s not many chubby characters, so he latched onto Shinra

Found the thoughts & feelings of characters a lot easier to read in S2 compared to S1, which made drawing their expressions easier. The more he worked on mob the more he found he understood the characters

Small discussion of Reigen’s behavioural shift from Ep3,4,5 to 6 & complexity of his character. Makes him hard to understand. But he understood Reigen’s feelings of regret in Ep7

Reigen shirt scene segment in Ep6 intended as fanservice

ONE has described Reigen & Mob’s relationship as being similar to that of the main character and the kid from the film “About A Boy” (Will and Marcus)

Compares Reigen to Sakai Masato’s character from “Legal High” (リーガル・ハイ), in that they both do bad things but aren’t ‘bad’

Regarding the choices they made with character shading (blurry on skin, but sharp-edged on hair & clothing), this was inspired by Disney (Aladdin, specifically). Originally they went for blurry-edge on clothes too but decided against it ultimately

Describes how each mob character is pretty distinct and it’s easy to recognise who is who; ie. if they have bobbed hair + no eyebrows, mob; a standoffish countenance, Ritsu; blond hair, Reigen

Describes how in contrast to the simplistic character designs, the atmosphere they’re surrounded by is complex

Amount of young animators working on mob psycho increased from S1

Final manuscripts for S2 were compiled in 2017

States that when he read the manga, Reigen Arc really touched him and it’s the main reason he decided to work on MP100. he was very upset that S1 ended without reaching Reigen arc, and he’s glad they got to tackle it in S2

He considers the growth that Reigen & Mob go through from S2E3 - E8 a principle part of what mp100 is all about

When asked about parts of the manga that haven’t been animated yet, Kameda says there’s a LOT he’d love to bring to the screen. He wants to finish off the anime as “we’ve gotten this far already”

Regarding a potential S3, Kameda is asked if there's really enough material left in the mp100 manga to fit 12 episodes... he agrees that there's probably not, so they could go for 10 episodes much like Attack on Titan S3 Part 2, or a movie. (This is not the first time Kameda has implied S3 could be a film instead.)

If/when they proceed with animating mp100 is dependent on director Tachikawa's schedule, as it's looking a little busy right now

TSUCHIGAMI ITSUKI (S2E11 storyboard, production)

Lead animators for MP100 tended to be young; mostly in their 20s, 2-3 people in their 30s, no one in their 40s

Never felt like he was in an atmosphere where he was under hellish time pressure to get things done

On being asked his thoughts on mp100 S2 as a whole, Tsuchigami says he enjoyed it but felt like it could've been longer. He was happy w the pace of E1-3, but felt dissatisfied with E4-5. Was happy with E6-8, but then with E9 onwards felt a bit dissatisfied

Felt like the story-related elements had to be cut down in order to fit the length of the season they were given; this is where his dissatisfaction stems from. Regardless, he very much enjoyed S2

OGASAWARA SHIN (Animation director, animator)

The staff working on MP100 were allowed a lot of creative freedom

Animation director for S2E3, and animated for E3 (from Reigen repeatedly pressing the doorbell of the stalker to Reigen saying let's go out for soba) and E11 (around the Justifiable Self-Defence Rush)

Reigen's Justifiable Self-Defence Rush was animated with the intention of giving it a manga-panel-like feel

S2 was completed without any huge blunder happening

UCHIDA NAOTO (Animation director, animator)

Originally did work for S1, but felt like nothing but a hindrance and wanted to crawl into a hole. But the workplace atmosphere was great and everyone was very kind, so it ended up being a good experience

Animation director for S2E4, and was split animation director with Nakamura Hayate for S2E10. Did animation for the opening, E1,4,5,10. E1 animation: around when Emi + pals are with Mob at the embankment. E4: from 'Nakamura's flashy explosion' ((Reigen cut by glass scene?)) to when the espers are being kicked around. E5: when Reigen and Dimple are having their back-and-forth. E10: layout of the awakening lab.

Found season 2 very enjoyable. Being an animation director was excellent. Character design? Godlike. Felt incredibly lucky that he got to take part

NAKAMURA HAYATE (Animation director, animator)

As stated above Uchida & Nakamura worked on S2E10 as animation directors. Uchida covered the first part of the episode, and Nakamura the latter half

Nakamura animated for S2E4 + E10. E4: around when Mob attacks Minori attempting to exorcise Mogami from her, E10: Suzuki + co's entrance, when Mob possessed by Dimple & Shibata exit the building, Telepathy Club scene, and from Mob + Body Improvement Club's parting to the final scene

Felt like he could've done a little better for S2. And on a personal level wishes he got to draw more action scenes

ETC.

We've had confirmation from ONE already that REIGEN is complete with a single volume, but we've got that confirmation again here too with the way the sales description is written

Thanks for reading!

#mp100 #mob psycho 100 #reigen arataka #kageyama shigeo #serizawa katsuya #is mentioned i suppose? they dont really mention too many characters #my stuff

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erintoknow · 5 years

Text

Something Is Wrong With Ariadne Becker

aaaah it feels like a dog’s age since i finished any writing. but here we go!! cross your fingers for the weekend fam!!!

fallen hero fanfic, spoilers from the alpha? charge step, but also mostly a lot of blurbs from different characters pov ~2.3k words [ao3]

–––

Lady Argent

Step into the break room, and lo, there she is, the weirdo who wears shades indoors. Well, alright. She did help put a name to who was behind the attack, even if you still haven’t been able to dredge up any trace of Locus. Julia liked her, and you’re not sure if that was a point for or against her.

Take the sandwich out of the fridge, sit down at the table with her. Notice how she tenses up. There’s something not quite right about her. Metal where there shouldn’t be? You’d have to really scrutinize to puzzle it out, and frankly, it’s not worth the bother. Apparently she used to be Sidestep, back in the day? Hard to believe – jittery, anxious, mess like that.

“Here for Ortega, again?” You ask. She keeps showing up now that Julia’s back out of the hospital. You don’t care what Julia says, there is definitely something going on there.

“Mmhm,” She nods her head, and then stands up, grabbing her purse. “S–s–sorry, I’ll get out of your way.” She makes a hasty exit out of the breakroom, leaving half a chocolate bar on the table.

Give a minute for her to come back for it.

She still doesn’t show.

Okay. This is, what? The third time now? You’re pretty sure now that she’s deliberately avoiding you. It’s starting to make you anxious. Did she go snooping around when she was in your head? You glance back to the door before swiping the candy bar for yourself. Something’s up.

There’s something wrong with Ariadne Becker.

Marcia

You’re not sure what you expected when you started the job, but near total freedom from any managerial supervision hadn’t been remotely on your radar. The guy who interviewed you, a gruff sounding young man was nowhere to be seen. Instead this redheaded stick of a girl gave you the rundown of the place. The shop looked several decades into its slow decline.

“Well… I work in the back so we probably won’t see much of each other, but it’s good to meet you.” Her smile is a little lopsided, uneasy, as she brushes back the tangled curls from her face. Her face is a little too pale, and she doesn’t offer a hand to shake or hug. Just disappears into the workshop behind the storefront (with the carefully organized storage system you had been repeatedly warned not to mess with).

You had been ready to write her off.

Three weeks into the job, you’re convinced there’s nothing and no one stopping you from spending all day chatting up Marcy and girls using the store phone. Friday night you’re locking up, and it’s not until you flick out the lights you realize the workshop light is still on. That woman better not still be at it. It’s just a two-bit job.

Poke your head in, and she’s still there at her desk alright. Only she’s fallen asleep, facedown in a pile of computer parts. Oh dear. Carefully step through, pick up the few pieces on the floor; you don’t really know where they go so you just put them on the table near the computer tower thingy. There’s a weird sense of unease. It’s only increased as you’ve gotten closer, like an itching in the back of your brain.

The girl mumbles something in her sleep, an apology? Something personal anyway. You prod her awake, a gentle shark on her arm. No coherent response. Harder pull, and she jumps in her seat with a start, grabbing your wrist and yanking hard as you bang your side against the work table.

“Ow! Shoot!” You bite back a curse as pain shoots up your hip. “Easy dear!”

It takes her a second but redhead lets go you, a strangled noise coming from her body. “S–s-sorry! I’m so sorry!” She staggers out her chair and steps away from you, almost tripping over herself.

“Goodness, no need for that now!” You force a laugh, try to put her at ease. Hadn’t anticipated such a forceful reaction.

As the confusion fades from her face, she fixes you with a cold stare. “D–don’t touch me ever ag–again.”

You frown, even as you step away. Well, that’s a little extreme isn’t it? There’s something wrong with Ariadne Becker.

Herald

“C–come on.” Ariadne squares up her shoulders, staring you down. “Let’s try th–this again.”

You ready yourself, putting yourself stance she suggested, feet planted wide. And then– something in her eye, you hesitate. “Are– are you sure? Do you need a rest after–”

“I’m f–f–fine,” she says, a little too quickly. “Doesn’t even hurt.” Her frown tightens, and then she’s going for your side again. You push off just before her hand would have hit, moving with the blow and twisting around to grab her arm.

Ariadne grunts as you pull her off balance, recovering with a headbutt into your chest. Winded you reflexively let go as you drift backwards to a safe distance. When she lunges after; rise up and out of her reach and – oh, that’s a little close to the edge!

“Hey! Hey uh– lets back up a bit?” You call down, moving back towards the middle of the roof.

Ariadne huffs, “D–don’t hesitate to use your environment against your enemy.”

“Okay, that’s great,” you concede, “but I really don’t want to have to catch you falling from a ten story building.”

“I–” She purses her lips, as if lost for words. “Fine. Fine.” She walks and you fly back to the middle of the roof. “Happy now, wonderbread?”

“Thank you,” you nod as you touch back down to the ground.

She takes a quick jab with her fist as your head and you swerve to the side. “N–n–never gonna take out Adrestia with–” She sidesteps your counterpunch and pushes you off balance. “–th–that bleeding heart of yours.”

You stop your fall before you can heart the floor, roll to the side. “Take out?” Cut the thought in time to dodge Ariadne’s kick. “I’m out to–” Her fist hits your hip as you fly out of range. Wipe the grimace from your face. “I’m want to stop Adrestia. Not kill her.”

Ariadne narrows her eyes up at you, still tense, ready for any sudden moves. “Why not? They’re a villain.”

Is Sidestep seriously asking you this? “We don’t need to kill them to stop them.”

“That’s not exactly a kind–” She stops herself, shakes her head and shoves her hands in her pockets. “In a fight – a real fight,” she adds before you can object, “there’s none of this pulling your punches crap. She hunches her shoulders, drawing in on herself. “If you want to win, you have to accept the reality that the other guy might die. And that you might die if you lose.”

You drift back to the ground as she talks. Ariadne’s staring a hole through the floor, another one of those moods again then. “Are you sure you’re okay…?”

A tight frown pulls at her face and she avoids meeting your eyes. “I’m just tired. Lesson over today, okay?” She shakes her head, runs a hand through her hair.

You sigh, have to watch your thoughts or she’ll yell at you again. But still. There’s something wrong with Ariadne Becker.

Chen

You had to take a second to double-check the identity of the figure on the park bench, but who else could it be? Ariadne Becker in shades, hunched over, watching dogs at 6:30 in the morning. Chancing across her here once was a coincidence. Twice, chance. But three times now?

Well, if you’ve noticed her know, she’s doubtless noticed you. Might as well do the polite thing. Maybe the two of you won’t even fight this time.

Too much doesn’t add up. Too many secrets kept. Some of that might be your fault. You can see that now. Shutting does she had been trying to open. You had to. Had to put the team first. But then again…

Things are supposed to be clearer in retrospect not murkier.

You put rest a hand on the back of the bench as you approach.

Ariadne raises a hand in a weak-waved greeting. “Chen.”

“Ariadne.”

“We meet again, old man.”

“Mm.” You sit down on the other end of the bench. Ariadne doesn’t look up. “Another hard night?”

Watch how her shoulders tighten then sag. “Y–yeah. You… you know how it is.” For once her hands are still, curled up in fists at her sides. When she doesn’t elaborate, you shift your attention back to Spoon, playing with a group of other dogs.

Take a deep breath, focus on Spoon. “I’m��” pick your words slowly, keeping any internal monologue to a minimum, “glad you’re back.”

“Really now.” She doesn’t bother hiding the sarcasm in her voice. “Y–you’re just thankful someone c–c–competent is finally showing Herald the ropes.”

You shake your head, watch her from the corner of your eye. “Julia’s really pulled herself together since finding you.”

That catches her off-guard, wipes the smile off her face. “W–what?” Ariadne looks away from you. “She seemed just f–fine when we first met.”

“You don’t have seven years of context.”

“…y–you going to share with the class, Steel?”

Take a deep breath, ready yourself for any hint of a mental intrusion. It doesn’t come. Has it ever? Would you really know if it had? “That’s not my story to share.”

Ariadne makes a sound somewhere between a groan and hushed scream. “Th–then why bring it up!?

“Because,” you shift on the bench so you can stare her down straight-on. “You’ve been good for her.”

“Good for her!?” Ariadne makes a face, something between surprise and disbelief. “I’m nothing but a–” She cuts herself off, huffs as she hunches down, hugging herself.

“I don’t think she can take losing you again.”

She stares out at Spoon and the other dogs. “I– I’m retired, Chen.”

“So you keep saying.” Spoon barks, grabbing your attention as he runs back to you, and you cup his head in your hands. Despite your focus one stray thought leeks out, but if she picks it up, then there’s no indication. There’s something wrong with Ariadne Becker.

Ortega

You tie off the loop of string around the push pin and step back to look at the whole of the cork-board, a dissatisfied frown on your face. This all leads back to Hollow Ground somehow, but there’s something missing.

Ariadne had all but confessed to having been held prisoner by someone. Who would go to the effort of faking her death and holding her captive? She’s a telepath. A run-away, who was desperate to avoid having her actual face caught on the news – Can’t help but feel guilty there. After five years, you let yourself get a little too comfortable, all that work trying to draw her out of her shell. Was it your fault they found her? And who is ‘they’? Well, who does Ariadne look like but Hollow Ground herself? Hollow Ground didn’t hesitate to kill Hood for getting too close to the truth. What would she do to her own family?

Just thinking about what they might have done to Ari is enough to send static discharge crawling up your arms.

Ari says she escaped but… She didn’t go to the Rangers. Didn’t tell anyone she was alive. Why? Why wouldn’t she tell you? Why was Ariadne so guilty around Angie? She visited you in the hospital, the same night Adrestia debuted. She looked ready to fall apart on you that night. Always knew Adrestia’s next name. Always avoiding your messages, playing hard to get, afraid to get involved with the Rangers again.

Why did Adrestia fight like her?

And yet… had Adrestia killed anyone? If anything, reports suggested Adrestia was increasingly going out of her way to avoid any injuries. Chen had the strangest story of Adrestia sticking around to help him save people trapped in a burning building.

Adrestia made a lot of noise about overthrowing the government, but what had they really accomplished so far?

But… why would Ariadne do that?

And then there’s Jane. Jane, who looks like Ariadne and Hollow Ground both. Another relative? She’s made a big splash in the underground circuit. First hiring out various mercs and crooks for odd jobs and now working almost exclusively as a go-between for her ‘boss’ Adrestia.

But was Adrestia really calling the shots?

Jane looking like Hollow Ground doesn’t mean anything on its own, but when you dragged Jane out on work she hadn’t been happy. She’d be even less happy if she had realized you caught that moment of recognition between her and Hallow Ground’s goons. So she’s not just a criminal fixer for Adrestia, she has some tie to Hollow Ground. Probably more the just a ‘tie’ but you can’t prove that any more than Ariadne’s connection.

Why does Adrestia’s fixer with ties to Hollow Ground live directly below Ariadne? What else could it be but to keep tabs on her? Whatever job Ariadne’s taken its running her ragged, and forced her back into shape.

Stringing Jane along as long as you have in hopes of her tipping her hand isn’t exactly your proudest action as a Ranger. It’s kind of a relief now to have have to cut things off with her, even if that’s only going to make keeping tabs on the woman harder. It’s your own fault really. Sometimes she just… seemed so much like Ariadne, but… more open? More willing to flirt, to see where things would go.

You’re not sure what that says about you. Nothing flattering, you’re sure.

Meanwhile, the actual Ariadne is.. trying to push you away with one hand and pulling you back with the other. She’d always been scared of closeness, but this is…

There’s something wrong with Ariadne Becker.

You have to get through to her somehow. Show her there’s still a way out.

#fallen hero #fallen hero fanfic #fallen hero: rebirth #fhr #fanfiction #wlw fanfic #trans character #fhr/Ariadne #mostly i'm just glad to be done and move on #i think maybe i was a little too ambitious with this concept given my free time constraints

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hua-fei-hua · 5 years

Note

4, 6, 7, & 10 for orchid!! C:

4. If you could change anything in orchid, what would it be?

oooo well i was actually thinking about this yesterday. i was reading up on queer chinese history, and found that a bitten peach is a very well-known symbol for gay relationships. after reading that i was like, “ah, i wish i’d introduced kiri eating a peach or something” as just like “*eating food* what’s up it’s nice to meet you” kind of deal, but at the same time, this is a japanese anime, and most of my readers would be more familiar with japanese. momo in japanese is both 百(her name) and 桃(peach). i’m definitely overthinking this, but i feel like if i mentioned that kiri eating a peach was significant w/o really elaborating, people would get confused.

before publishing, i was actually pretty dissatisfied with chapter three or four-ish, when i introduced kiri bc his portrayal also felt forced and just Bad, but luckily i edited it before publishing so that’s good

i’d probably also play more with the villains. i’m hella bummed out that i killed kurogiri bc that manga development, and i seriously have no idea how i would retconned that without cheapening that battle in orchid. plus, i basically never showed any of them interacting, which is also kind of a bummer now.

otherwise, i’m mostly just dissatisfied with the first chapter or two. the portrayal of aoyama especially was forced, but i remember writing it that way specifically bc of the way my friend and i joked abt orchid’s casting in the very early stages of planning. the final line also feels a bit off. like to me it doesn’t feel fully satisfying; it’s like a cop-out or a cliche in my mind, but that’s also okay bc it was never planned to be the end-end, just the stopping point for that particular story.

6. Which scenes did you cut, and which were added in orchid?

you know that one scene with kmjr where jirou falls asleep by the fire and so then kaminari brings her back and is like “if you were awake i’d kiss you but since you can’t say yes i’ll just leave”? that happened like by itself in one afternoon or morning i don’t remember.

a lot of the scenes after chapter ten (but especially so on the interval of [11, 16]) were not planned too much. probably bc the chapters eleven through sixteen were added in, as many of you know, after i watched the 2009 live-action version of mulan produced in china, but honestly i think that’s the best thing that happened to orchid bc it gave the fic the flair it needed to become its own thing outside of just a retelling of the disney version.

as for cutting, i don’t actually cut scenes very often. there are scenes in the later chapters of orchid when it rejoined the disney version that became heavily altered due to their recontextualization (things like the discovery of momo as a woman n shoto banishing her; her response to nezu when he thanked her (surprisingly, the reveal of jirou as a girl was kept mostly intact)), but the one scene i remember specifically cutting was added in as a flashback in the next chapter anyway

7. Who was your favorite character to write in orchid?

honestly. hawks was actually a ton of fun to write. the words just came out and i was like “oh, is this what we’re doing now? cool beans” and i was allowed bc i introduced hawks at around the time he was introduced in the manga. luckily, bc i didn’t develop his character a whole lot, his portrayal still holds up in my opinion.

on that note, dabi was also a lot of fun to write, and i remember rereading it around when you were rereading so that i could annotate the chapters, and at first i was like “wow i wrote dabi a lot gayer than i remember” and then a few paragraphs later i was just like “there is no heterosexual explanation for this anymore”. i know i wrote him as this super chill, kinda chaotic neutral guy who was mostly around to mess with shoto, and that’s bc i like the idea of an asshole older brother whose favorite hobby is messing with their younger siblings even though i am that younger sibling. (it’s part of the reason why in my hc children for tdmm, their first is a boy who’s literally just this chaotic asshole nuisance). however, i sometimes feel like i did him a disservice by giving him very little allegiance bc found family league of villains. they’re hilarious.

as for the main cast, i honestly think kaminari was my favorite to write. i just really love to write chaotic chill characters who are very brazen about their feelings i guess. it was also a lot of fun being able to flaunt my bi denki headcanon all throughout the fic bc 1. it would be kind of weird if he only started liking her after he learned she was a girl and 2. i’m very picky and stubborn about my ships, so the fact that i have all these headcanons abt their romantic preferences that i’ll otherwise never get to show just makes me sad

10. What are some facts readers may not know about orchid?

well obvs i have an (incomplete but shh) annotated version up on my blog for a lot of these things, but i’ll pick out some highlights c:

1. in chapter 11, i posted an apology author’s note chapter bc i was rlly nervous over my ap chem score (which was a 4 ;--;) so i didn’t have a chapter ready, and while a lot of people thought i was crying in relief bc i passed, in truth, it was bc i was so disappointed in myself for not getting a 5. in the annotated version, i kept the apology note as an interlude, and i used it to explain how the main message of orchid is how when people are faced with extreme external pressures, they will turn to actions no one ever would have expected in an attempt to live up to them

2. technically speaking, orchid takes place in the late tang era, bc they had gunpowder but no foot binding. however, i’m not a history buff, so i just went the lemony snicket route and didn’t care if things i put in were all from different eras

3. i was originally planning to start publishing orchid in around may i think, after i’d gotten to probably around chapter six or seven so i could have a good queue of chapters to buffer my weekly updates in case i couldn’t meet a deadline. however, someone wrote tdmm as that one scene at the end of mulan where it’s like “would you like to stay for dinner” “WOULD YOU LIKE TO STAY FOREVER” and mentioned they were thinking of doing a full multichapter so i suddenly went into jealous protective mode and published the first chapter to establish dominance lmao. haven’t seen anyone else try their hand at as large a scale mulan au for bnha since, though i’d be hella curious abt other people’s takes

and there’s more if you don’t mind sequel spoilers!! ( •̀ ω •́ )✧

#asks #long post #mmmm boi gonna finish listening to an episode of taz and then get back to writing!!#hehehe i'm just trying to finish it before i start publishing #even though i know if i started putting it out now i'd be done by the time the time comes bc there's not a lot-lot to finish #but just so that i don't have another fic on my profile that's stuck in wip purgatory #stardust-make-a-wish

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whenimgoodandready · 5 years

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You know, if this were the old days, I’d be writing my reviews by hand on a sheet of paper and posting them on a board to the public about my thoughts and feelings for certain things. Glad we now have modern technology to make things more effeicent, but is it really better? Are the modern things more advanced or are they just eliminating traditional custums that made it original? The debate begins now!

*Bakerix-The episode opens with Nadja Chamack on the news w/ the mayor unveiling the newest form of transportation called the Startrain! A train that can go from Paris to the UK underwater! (Hmmmmm, isn’t there an episode with that name coming up soon?). Boy how well we’ve upped the ante with our industrialism! We’ll get back to that supertrain later, but first, our heroine! Marinette is sewing up a new sweater for her father for his 40th birthday today (oh boy😒we all know where this is goin’), but then she overhears her mother failing to convince her father-in-law to come over to the party on the phone (again) and it’s relived that he’s “traditional” and hasn’t spoken to Marinettes father in 20 years! Marinette never knew anything about him and when she asks more about him, but the parental figures keep saying what they say when they don’t want to answer a youngster. Ask the next parental figure! Womp! Womp! Womp! So Marinette decides to go find her grandfather herself.

Turns out, her mother was right and her partental grandfather, Rolland, is old fashioned 💥TO THE EXTREME!💥. His place looked like it hadn’t been updated since “The Lone Ranger” primered and had become a shut-in (more so than a certain fashion designer/supervillain father). After a few failed attempts, she finally gets in by inpersonating a “delivery intern” (idk why she doesn’t just say “Hey grandpa! It’s me, Marinette! The granddaughter you never knew and I didn’t bother to tell you cuz I know you’re a stubborn old turd who can’t adapt to modern times!”. Her excuse was that he’d say no faster, so she just resorts to trickery) and finds that he’s a grouchy old geezer who hates all things modern and has mice friends like Cinderella. He even has his own catchphrase, “That's not how it's done!”. Marinette continues her disguise and asks him about why he’s so estranged from his son to which he reply’s that he (Tom) used rice in his bread dough that he believes “it’s not how it’s done” and how he doesn’t bother to even try it to see if it’s better, so she challenges him to a bread baking contest, Tradtional vs. Innovative, to see which bread tastes better. During that she hums Habanera (a popular opera song from “Carmen”) and Rolland recognizes it as his and Toms song that only they sang when baking bread and is shocked to find out it’s his own granddaughter he never knew.

He gets upset by this betrayal and is akumatized as Bakerix...................can I say something here.............this is only my opinion and I don’t mean to be harsh but, this is the most stupidest supervilliain I’ve ever seen in the entire show! I’ve seen stupider, but this, this one takes the whole bakery! I mean, sure there was Mr.Pigeon, but at least he had something that was associated with his name, then there was Sandboy and although I was dissatisfied with his appearance, he still had powers befitting him, but Baxerix here, he was a Viking looking pastry man sculpture who’s goal was to destroy all things technologically advanced! WHERE DOES THAT FIT!? Huh? Honestly, where!? When I read comments that if Tom were ever akumatized, he’d be some sort of pastry esque villain, but since that was debunked from this season (“Weredad”), we got his father doing that instead and guess what, I’m very disappointed :P. His form did not suit him on what his theme was and yes I know it “sorta kinda” fits that his main problem was that he was mad at Tom for using a different style of baking bread that was also combined with his hatred of modern technology, but THAT’S NOT HOW IT’S DONE!😳 Holy Sh*t! I sound just like the old turd! Um, I’m gonna take a minute to compose myself after this review.

After his rampage of destroying all things technologically modern (and a good drinking game for this ep every time he says, “That's not how it's done!”) he goes after the Startrain and of course it’s gonna be okay cuz of Ladybugs “Miraculous Ladybug” power and cuz we need it for “Startrain” later in the season. If I thought his supervillain form and goal of using his new powers was stupid, then get a load of how the dynamic duo stop him, it’s-wait for it!....................Defeat by Sandwich! Womp! Womp! Womp! Seriously! Just like what happened to Mama Cass. Only hers was tragic while this was undigestic (that’s not a word, but idk, I’m just trying to make my point here).

God! How I missed writing these reviews! I was busy (and lazy) with my other review (svtfoe finale) and that took forever! But it’s all done now and I can move on to my other shows reviews! These ML eps are commin’ in fast and I hope I can catch up before the seasons all over. As for the ep, we’re foreshadowed on Startrain which I heard that Max’s mother will be akumatized in and I’m guessing from this relieve that she’s probably the conductor for it. We get more family tree history on Marinette and how we meet her paternal grandfather. He’s a family member we can all relate to cuz what child doesn’t have that one stubborn old relative that’s stuck in the past and is strictly traditional and refuses to learn the more modern ways of the current era they’re livin’ in? Totally relatable, but honestly, I’m leaning more towards her maternal grandparents since I hope to God that special, “The Chinese Legend”, where Marinette meets her grandmother from her mothers side, isn’t officially cancelled cuz they said they’ll air it if this show gets a 4th season and Hello people! We’re getting a 5th season and a movie! So yeah, I’m hopeful. I’m still not favorable on Bakerix (the villain) and even though I lashed out about his look being pathetic and his goals of destroying all things modern that didn’t quite fit with it as the critic that I am, it was sorta kinda alright. The detailing on him was crafty, but he’s still at the bottom of my list of least favorite villains on ML. I personally thought his power would be to change all modern day things as old fashioned stuff (ex.a sports car into a buggy and a smart phone as a house phone with the dial ring), but that still wouldn’t have fitted with his akuma name which confused some people on making them think his powers were turning Paris into a gingerbread town! A bit too complex there. The debate on traditional vs. modern was concluded thanks to Cat Noir who points out that both are equally good, but in their own unique ways. The traditional ways are what started the best there in its creation marking it in history and we wouldn’t have our innovative ways of perfecting them to make it more efficient if we didn’t start from scratch while the modern ways help us discover new possibilities to further increase our ever changing lifestyles on a more productive manner. Rolland learned this and even to the point where he had a change of heart seeing as there are some things more important than livin’ in the past. Family. So after 20 years, all it took was a clumsy little “delivery intern” to see that change is a part of life and that it’s best to move on and not stay stuck. Yea Marinette!

#miraculous ladybug #bakerix #miraculous ladybug bakerix

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fordarkisthesuede · 6 years

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At the Brink of Midnight - Chapter 15

IT’S THE ONE YOU’VE ALL BEEN WAITING FOR.

(And guess what, kids???? I made another big mistake! Turns out the Gotham Train Line, aka the Sky Line, already has a map! And I totally got the colors wrong. I knew there was the standard yellow-blue-green-red, but I got it a little messed up – the Gold Line is the one that runs all the way through Gotham. I'm going back and fixing everything in the last chapter asap. I’m really glad I got the urge to re-watch Season 1 or I’d be…(gasp) inaccurate!)

Important Spoiler Tags: Canon-typical violence, non-con drug use, hallucinations

(Read on Ao3 or continue below:)

Chapter 15: At the Brink of Midnight

“Are you kidding me?! It’s practically five to midnight on the doomsday clock, and you’re going off over my flying skills?!”

Bruce would have covered his face with his hand if he hadn’t been gripping the steering wheel so tight while talking to Gordon through the microphone in his cowl. He knew having John and Tiffany work together would be difficult, considering both of them held onto grudges and had tempers, but he didn’t imagine it would be like this. This was more like having two bickering kids, rather than two adults baring teeth at one another.

He supposed he should be grateful, but he was finding it hard to concentrate on talking when he heard three other voices in his ear. If he wasn’t so annoyed, he’d wonder if this was what John felt like while he was off his medicine, constantly hearing voices chatting at him in the background.

Tiffany huffed over the ear-piece. “Those are my drones! You have no idea how long it takes me to repair them! And I’m driving, how the hell am I supposed to watch you fly them?! If you break one-”

Joker was practically steaming at the ears in the passenger seat, a laptop perched on his knees, flying a drone through the cityscape of Old Gotham, heading towards the Green Line’s train depot. Bruce knew it was smaller than the Gold Line, where they were heading now, but it was still important that they scout it out first. Tiffany had made a good point before they left, advising they look into it first as it was closest to Crane’s hideout and more likely to have unmanned gas bombs. “I’m not going to break one! Just because I learned to fly them in a day-”

Bruce was very close to just reaching over and slapping his hand over Joker’s mouth to shut him up. Iman Avesta thankfully came to the rescue, sounding appropriately tired: “Both of you, please, stop arguing – it’s way too early in the morning for this. And Tiffany, concentrate on the road. Our drones are doing fine.”

Bruce saw Joker stick his tongue out, like either of the women on the communicator could see it, but continued to pilot the drone like he was supposed to.

Commissioner Gordon’s voice crackled slightly over the line. “Batman, I’ve got cars already heading out to the Blue Line’s holding station and the last station at East End, just in case anything’s there. You said the Green Line’s station might have some?”

“We’re checking that out now,” Bruce answered, his voice distorted into a growl by his cowl’s modifier, “I’m on my way to the Gold Line’s depot now.”

Joker tilted his shoulders like he was flying along with the drone. “You know, the more I think about it, the more familiar this sounds,” he commented, his piercing green eyes never leaving the screen nestled in his lap, “Wasn’t there something about a train being tampered with a couple of years ago?”

Bruce couldn’t answer, still being on the phone. “Gordon, we’ll tell you the second we’ve got confirmation on the Green Line’s bomb placements.”

“Thanks, Batman. I just hope they’re easier to take dispose of than last time.”

Click. Bruce’s phone disconnected, and he was instantly transferred back onto the cave’s communication line.

Joker continued. “Something like, ‘blah blah blah, train dismantled, heavy commute traffic, blah blah Children of Arkham’?”

“Yes,” Bruce answered, “Vicki Vale and the Children of Arkham had tampered with one of the train cars so it would disperse her drugs through the sprinkler system at the busiest station. I stopped them.”

Joker giggled, his voice coming out cold and mocking. “Ohh, old Scarecrow’s not going to like hearing that. He always prized his originality.”

Now that he thought of it, the Fear Toxin Crane made was a little similar to the drugs Vicki Vale had created as Lady Arkham. It made him wonder if Crane hadn’t been somewhat inspired by her, despite the vastly different ingredients to their formulas.

Iman Avesta’s voice phased in from the ear-piece. “If you guys are right about what he’s planning, it sounds like Crane decided to take the idea further.”

“I’m kinda surprised Lady Arkham didn’t think of using all the cars,” Tiffany chimed in; Bruce heard tires squealing in the background and wondered if she didn’t take a very sharp turn at a red light.

“Ehh, that was just a terrorist gig,” Joker replied, tilting himself as he flew into the Green Line’s train depot, “Scare the bourgeoisie and all that jazz.”

Bruce practically heard Tiffany’s eyebrow raise in mild derision. “I didn’t think they took public transport.”

Joker didn’t seem to notice dry tone, and continued as if it was a casual conversation. “No, no – middle class are included in that crowd, too; you need to brush up on your French! Hey, Iman, you manage to open the pod bay doors here?”

“Almost… Are the lights inside on?”

“Yup!”

“Good – I’m looking around the Gold Line, I saw a van parked below… Okay, the train doors at Green should be wide open. Batman, how far away are you?”

Bruce calculated his speed and time as quickly as possible. They had sped away from the cemetery while Tiffany was still bundling herself into her car – they had needed all the headway they were going to get. Bruce didn’t like the idea of Tiffany finding Crane first; he was too dangerous, and she still needed some serious combat training. Jackie had watched them leave, leaning against the door of her battered sedan, looking almost dreamily at the nitrous burners. “Two minutes. Three at the most.”

“Right. I’ll start scouting for Crane’s whereabouts. Joker, you find anything yet?”

“Patience is its own reward,” Joker replied with a haughty sort of air to his lower tone. “Though this heat-seeking feature really isn’t helping…”

Bruce took a sharp turn, causing Joker to clutch the laptop as he forcibly leaned in his seat. “The bombs at the diner weren’t professional grade – he had a timer on the one made from the fire extinguisher. He’s either using more basic timers, or clocks; neither will put out much heat.”

“Would’ve been nice to know before I wasted power,” Joker grumbled. “Ooh, wait, I found one!”

Just like that, his tone had shifted from annoyed to genuinely excited. Bruce wondered if that was just how he was, and Bruce had just kind of been ignoring it, or if the fact John hadn’t had a mood stabilizer in his system for nearly three days was enough to make his emotions fluctuate more than normal. It was a part of him that Bruce always liked – the unpredictability, the fascinating range of emotion John could put in a single sentence – but he knew it wasn’t an entirely healthy thing to have. Six months of being back on his medication had made him seem a little more balanced, making it more obvious where he was going to go next… Of course, John had just been around him for a couple of days. The past few hours he’d managed to talk to more people than usual, and two of them were still wary of how he was going to pan out. Maybe Bruce just noticed the fluctuations more because he knew John was being scrutinized, or maybe it was just because of the very stressful situation they were running towards.

“…now what?” Joker asked, a little bit of the thrill leaving his voice. “This thing doesn’t come with any lasers or anything to cut the cables with, does it?”

Tiffany swore under her breath, and Bruce heard a car horn in the distance. “All the drones come with an EMP pulse generator. It should be enough to shut it off.”

“For someone who calls themselves ‘Oracle’, you don’t seem to have God’s all-knowing eye firmly connected to yours,” Joker panned, the corners of his reddened mouth pulling up in Bruce’s peripheral vision, “I’m preeetty sure that an analog alarm clock isn’t going to be hurt by an EMP.”

Tiffany swore again, sounding more frustrated than before, and Bruce took another sharp turn down an alleyway acting as a shortcut. “Iman,” Tiffany grumbled over the microphone, “which drone are you flying?”

There was a clicking noise – Iman was probably looking at the Batcomputer’s remote drone map. “…Fox-2.”

“Does Joker have Fox-3?”

“Yes.”

“Joker, yours has a laser installed on the front, you can control it by pressing Alt.-Function-L and moving the W-A-S-D keys. It’s only good for short bursts. Don’t you dare break it.”

“Really?!” Joker squealed, “Oh, that’s so cool! But…wait, does the other one not have one?”

“No,” Tiffany growled out, suddenly honking as a pair of tires on the other end of the line squealed, “Hey, watch it, asshole! Ugh, if the rest of the bombs are like that, I’m going to have to cut them by hand.”

“You can borrow my knife,” Joker added helpfully, “I’ve always got some aces up my sleeve… Say, Bats, is it always the red wire, or the blue wire your supposed to cut?”

Before Bruce could even open his mouth to correct him, Iman’s voice cut in with a sense of complete control. “Joker, let’s switch drones – I’ll defuse it.”

“…oh, alright,” John muttered with a dissatisfied pout, “Take away my fun… Then again, I guess you’re the expert in this kind of situation! But it is the blue wire first, right? One of my newer neighbors in Arkham told me he always switched up the colors so no one could guess what the negative one was.”

“Generally speaking, yes,” Iman replied coolly, “keep your drone on the floor, and we’ll switch at the count of three.”

Bruce tried his best to tune everything out. He had to think, had to go over the memories of the last time he encountered someone in the train station… There were six trains held there at once, four of them he was sure were for the long Golden Line alone. The other two were likely for the Red and Blue tracks, despite the Blue Line having its own holding station at its tail-end. More than likely, Crane would move numerically, which meant he was likely somewhere between stations four and six, depending on how much work they had gotten done in a night.

He tried very, very hard to pay attention to his mental map of the facility, planning for the inevitable and the potential, while Joker insensitively asked Tiffany why she was so concerned over flying machines, and got the firm reply of ‘they were my father’s,’ which sent him fumbling for an attempt at an apology he didn’t know he had needed to give until now.

He knew that having three other people working around him at once would take some getting used to. He knew it was just technically noise.

But he used to have just one person to worry about, outside of the slim worries regarding his own mortality. Now there were three, two of which were about to be put in mortal danger.

He wasn’t even counting the fourth person he fretted over, currently sleeping on the other side of the world, who was going to wake up to some grim news, regardless of what happened tonight.

“Batman,” Joker called, his voice shaking Bruce from his thoughts, “I’ve found a bomb in the first train car. It looks like it’s glued under the back seat.”

“Then there’s going to be one in the second. Pull out and look in the third docking station. If Crane or his goons aren’t there, look in the fifth. I have a feeling he’s farther along than we want.”

“On it.”

Tiffany’s voice crackled slightly, and Bruce wondered if there was something interfering with the line. (Iman’s hearing aid, perhaps? But no, that should only be on her end…) “What’s the plan here, exactly?”

Bruce took a steady breath. He felt Joker’s eyes on him. “Joker and I are dealing with Crane. You’re going to dismantle the bombs in the rail-cars he’s already tampered with.”

“…okay.”

He heard the disappointment in her voice. Slight, but there, mixed with worry. Over him, or his choice of combat partner, he wasn’t sure. “Iman, have you found any more bombs?”

“Yes. There was another in the front, by the operating cabin. I can dismantle these in about a minute, provided they’re all made the same.”

“Good. Keep disarming them and send a message to Gordon when you’re sure you’ve found them all. His men should be on the way there.”

Joker stopped moving for a moment. “I found them.”

“Where?”

“Train five. Looks like they’re wrapping up… They’ve got a cart with them.”

He was transporting them all at once. “Oracle, how far away are you?”

“Less than a minute!”

“Good – we’re here.”

Bruce jolted the Batmobile to a stop in the Sky Train Depot’s parking lot.

The exterior of the station was as gloomy and utilitarian as before, the vaguely art-deco shapes of the roofs blending in well with the rest of the surrounding city. The orange lights perched near the giant doors did nothing to soothe him. They were candles in the gloom, mere glowsticks in the mouth of the path leading towards destiny.

Beckoning him forward, even as the wind pushed at him, swirling his cape the second he opened the car door.

Even through the layers of tight Kevlar and metal, Bruce could feel it was going to rain again.

Tiffany’s tires screeched to a stop beside the Batmobile, and Bruce heard the laptop John had been carrying click shut.

Bruce saw two unmarked vans in the distance. Crane was still there.

His stomach clenched along with his fist.

“Tiffany,” he said firmly as her car door opened, “Head to dock one and start dismantling the bombs.”

“What do I do if they go off?”

Bruce opened a hatch in the side of the Batmobile. There, amongst the empty spots for his gear, laid the gas mask for his cowl. He had several shots of antitoxin on his person, and several more stored in the car, kept stable.

Joker knew what to expect when hit with the toxin; Bruce had a fairly good idea of it, seeing the effects first-hand.

Tiffany had no idea.

He pushed the gas mask and one of the antitoxin shots into her hands. “These should help. Are the goggles you were wearing earlier real?”

“They’re older than you,” she answered, cocking a smirk, “but they’re waterproof. I don’t cheap out on my costumes.”

“Then wear them. If you start to hallucinate, get out of the area and take the antitoxin. I’ve got more in case we need it.”

Tiffany stuck the orange-hued injector into her own belt and let the black gas mask hang around her neck. “What about you two?”

“Oh, we’ll be just fine,” Joker answered for him, throwing his hat behind the car seat. “I’ve got more experience with Crane’s little formula than either of you two – I’ll make sure to take the hits in your places.”

The red smile and dark gleam in his green eyes spoke of yards more confidence than Bruce had thought he had. If the situation had been any different, Bruce might have likened it to when John had laid back on the Wayne’s king-size bed, ready and willing to take all of him on.

“Let me know if you need help. The drone can still send out enough sound to distract or deafen them…at least temporarily.”

“I’ll keep it in mind,” Bruce replied as Tiffany geared up her tablet. “Get going.”

The Batmobile locked itself down, and Bruce whirled away with John keeping right behind him, his grappling gun in hand.

With the trains being held below, it meant Bruce couldn’t waltz in through the lower door. He’d have to take the elevated one. They had a good chance of being heard, but it was the best way.

He turned to Joker as they carefully made their way in, stepping softly over the metal plates.

He looked determined. Poised. Fiery.

For once, he didn’t meet Bruce’s gaze. He was entirely focused on the group of people below them, working in low light.

Bruce peeked over the railing.

Several people were below.

One of them – Kip, he realized – was lifting one of the gas canister bombs off a small hand cart with the help of a very burly-looking woman with a buzz-cut. The train car next to them was empty, it’s lights on, and another woman with a dark purple ponytail was fixing a smaller-looking canister to the front cabin, where the operator sat. Bruce wasn’t sure what she was using to keep them in place, but she kept reaching for something on the floor. At least he was sure they weren’t being held in place by duct tape.

“Oracle,” Bruce whispered into the comm-link, “there’s a second bomb placed in the driver’s cabin. One of you send a warning to Gordon.”

“Got it,” Tiffany replied; Iman cursed in Farsi, but Bruce felt that was an agreement.

A fourth person was speaking, but Bruce couldn’t see them. It must have been Ivan, guarding the doorway below.

“You don’t have to hover over shoulders,” Ivan grunted, his Ukrainian accent just as thick as ever, “We have experience with delicate weaponry such as this.”

“I don’t care how many years your old boss made you cart dynamite around,” Dr. Crane’s voice replied, just as calm and stinging as ever, “You’re handling delicate gas canisters that are rigged to release its entire contents in half a minute. One slip-up will cost me more than just what I’m paying you.”

Joker was frowning in disgust, his teeth bared as he gripped the railing, acting like he wanted to leap over it.

Bruce squeezed his shoulder. “”Don’t,” he instructed in the quietest voice he could muster, “Wait for my signal.” He ignored the frustrated look he got in return.

Bruce made to softly walk around the catwalk, to get a better vantage point. It would be easy to glide down and start punching, but he’d have to wait until the bombs were placed. He didn’t want to risk the chance of the gas leaking into the air.

For a fraction of a second, it looked like a scarecrow had walked off its pole and wandered into the station.

Dr. Crane stood underneath the doorway railing, clad in a wrinkled flannel shirt, dark jeans, and oddly crisp work-boots, with what looked like a very dirty old square flour sack pulled over his head. There were two holes for his dull eyes – Bruce could see the gleam of glass underneath them reflecting the red light nearby – and a shoddily-stitched frown for a mouth. It was as if he had cut a hole there and decided to fix it back up with wide x-shaped stitches, not knowing how to sew. Dark stains were littered around the mouth and the frayed edges of the base, almost looking as if liquid had seeped out of the mouth like blackened drool or excess drink.

“This is my life’s work on the line,” Crane continued, flat and threatening, his voice lightly muffled by the rag-like mask, “If any of you ruin it in any way, I will ruin you… And it will be far worse than what your pathetic excuse for an imagination tells you… Now do what I tell you and keep a look out for me. You have only yourself to blame for Kip taking your place.”

Ivan crossed his arms and stood still with a ‘hmph’, surveying the place and the main doorway for any sign of movement that wasn’t of their little crew.

Dr. Crane moved back to the train car, where the woman at the front had just finished mounting the bomb, and seemed to be inspecting her work, truly hovering over her shoulder as the other two thugs worked on applying some kind of putty to the space underneath the back corner seat, away from the eyes of the doors. The canisters were long and painted beige, matching the interior paint of the train car, and once mounted Bruce could see how no one would notice them.

He thought quickly. The bomb was on the floor – it was still volatile, but if he yanked the woman out of the car with his grappling hook and threw a Batarang at the other, they shouldn’t be able to touch it… He might just have to wait until those two left the car, or else make a distraction to get their attention. The woman at the front was more of a liability, but with such a small amount of gas, it wouldn’t be as dangerous, and Bruce could easily apply the antitoxin. He should be able to hit Crane easily in the confusion -

There was the telltale whirr of a grappling cable, and Bruce knew his plan was practically moot as he turned to see Joker use his own colorful gun as a rope swing, descending with his back at Bruce as he swung out wide, stopping the cable just enough to stretch his legs out and plant his boots into the back of Ivan’s head.

Bruce took a glided leap down onto the floor.

Ivan shouted as Joker landed on his feet, grinning wide and brandishing what looked like several playing cards between his fingers.

Bruce threw a Batarang at Kip, aiming for his exposed shoulder as Tiffany’s voice rang in his ear, telling them she’d finished cutting the wires in the second train car; the woman beside Kip noticed the movement and pulled him out of the way.

“BATMAN!”

The thick-set woman stood, and Bruce saw her reach for the small of her back.

Dr. Crane finally looked up, the light in the train glinting off the glasses behind the holes in his hood.

Ivan cried out, and Bruce stole a glance - several playing cards were stuck into his shoulders and chest. Joker was already sliding out his riot baton, readying himself to swing.

Bruce threw several more Batarangs as he dodged a shot, managing to hit the collar of Ivy’s thug, and made for the head of the car, where Crane had whirled around, scrambling for his pistol.

Bruce dodged another shot from the woman, readying one of his electric bombs – he could easily throw one through the open doorway.

Except he heard the thundering footsteps of Kip.

Kip was roughly the size of a retired quarterback, and he was making his way to slam into Bruce with full force, a knife in hand.

Bruce held up his left arm defensively, the dull spines on his gauntlets jabbing into Kip’s outstretched arm. His heart pounded in his ears as the weight still barreling forward attempted to throw him off balance.

He saw Joker in the distance, jabbing the baton into Ivan’s stomach and sweeping his leg under the grunt’s feet, and felt a surge stem from his gut.

Bruce turned, letting Kip fall forward, and felt the flesh of his throat give into his fist.

Several loud bangs echoed in the station, and Bruce felt something push hard at his side and arm as little metal dings sounded at his feet.

Bruce met the woman’s steely eyes for only a second before they squeezed shut with a loud shout as several playing cards hit her forearm.

The handgun clattered to the floor, and Bruce felt something slice into the back of his calf.

One quick electric bomb to the floor took care of Kip, but Bruce felt the familiar hot ache of something being jabbed into raw muscle – the knife was buried in his calf.

At least he hadn’t needed to waste another Batarang – a barrage of playing cards hit the Ivy goon, and she fell to her knees.

“That’s quite enough,” Dr. Crane called out, his voice ringing from inside the train car.

The other woman tried to reach out for her partner from the front of the train, but she was being restrained in a choke-hold with the muzzle of Crane’s pistol pointed at her temple. “Mary…!”

“Hush, child,” Crane hissed, pressing the gun firmly into her head, “or I squeeze the trigger. I see you managed to escape just fine, Mr. Doe,” he said, seeming to shoot a glare over at Joker, who was advancing towards the car, “And you brought a new patient for me… How thoughtful.”

Bruce clenched his fists. “Let her go, Dr. Crane!”

“Oh, it’s not Crane any more. All of your foes have titles, don’t they, Batman? You can call me Scarecrow.”

Joker snorted, his grappling gun clenched in his hand, aiming at Crane’s head. “Ooh, very original. Decided to steal that off a movie poster, too?”

“Better that than a playing card,” Crane shot back coolly, “and I am quite original, thank you. At least I made my own look, rather than deliberately molding myself into someone else’s image. We all know how well that turned out, didn’t we?”

“Let her go,” Bruce growled, feeling his blood simmering dangerously.

“No. You see, I’m very annoyed right now. I’m going to have to dispose of three more bodies later, plus yours if I’m lucky, on top of having an experiment to oversee.”

Joker blinked, casting a look at the fallen goons on the floor. The woman dotted with sharp cards was still bleeding on the floor, but she was semi-conscious, watching everything unfold, her eyes trained on the woman in Crane’s choke-hold. “But they’re not…”

“I don’t like paying for services not fulfilled; those three obviously weren’t up to snuff. So I’ll tell you what, Batman – you step in here, let me probe that bat-brain for a little bit, and I’ll let her go. I’ll even tell you where the rest of my bombs are.”

“I know where the rest of your bombs are. I’ve seen your plans, Crane.”

“Scarecrow, please, let’s be formal. And I doubt you know about the ones I left behind in Arkham. All those so-called innocent lives… I’m sure you wouldn’t want to see any of them hurt.”

His blood might have run cold, if it hadn’t been on the edge of boiling.

The woman on the floor spoke up, her voice heavy. “Boss… Please, don’t hurt Dotty…”

Crane didn’t even spare her a glance. “That’s not up to me, my dear. That’s up to Batman.”

Bruce couldn’t risk the lives of Arkham, even if he could find it in himself to risk the life of the gang-banger in Crane’s arm.

Stepping into that train might as well be a death sentence. There was little room to run from a bullet, and with a life on the line, Bruce couldn’t risk much.

He stepped forward, forcing himself to breathe steady. “Fine.” He heard Tiffany and Iman’s voices on the earpieces, but he tuned them out.

“Wait!” Joker cried out.

“Not another step, Mr. Doe. I’m sure Dr. Leland would be very disappointed to find that you were responsible for a hostage’s death.”

Joker looked furious, and his shoulders and fists were as stiff as boards. He was clearly forcing himself not to just run at him. “Just… Leave Bats out of this! I’ll take his place; I’ll tell you anything you want to know!”

“No. I’ve already exhausted what I can from your pathetically clingy brain. I want to have a personal insight into Gotham’s dark knight.”

“Joker,” Bruce breathed steadily, meeting his eyes – beautiful, brilliant green, full of anger and desperation – and hoped it wasn’t the last time he’d see them. “It’ll be alright. Move those two out of the way.”

“Helping the people you just beat up? How noble of you,” Dr. Crane jeered.

Acid greens bore through white lenses for a moment. “You know I’ve got your back.”

Bruce nodded.

“Batman, I’m running out of patience. Please enter through the end door there.”

Bruce did as he was told, hating every moment, feeling heavy even without the additional sting of the knife in his leg.

“Very good. Now I’ll just close these so we can have some privacy – my dear, can you reach over and hit that yellow button for me? I’m afraid I can’t move my hands.” Dr. Crane moved backwards, tugging the nervous young woman with him to the control panel, keeping the gun muzzle pressed against her head. The doors closed with a weighty swish and a thunk that made Bruce’s heart feel like it was sinking. He heard John’s voice call out along with the wounded Ivy gang member. Bruce couldn’t hear anything over the comm-link; the thick metal of the train must have been blocking the signal. “That’s better; thank you.”

“Dotty,” Bruce said, trying to meet the gangster’s eyes, “I’m going to get you out of here.”

Dr. Crane lowered his head, and Bruce got the impression he was frowning. “No talking to the hostage, Batman. I know our arrangement isn’t ideal, but just pretend she can’t hear you.”

“What do you want, Scarecrow?”

“Just a few answers. I’m a man of science first and foremost. You see, I was studying you for some time, before your mysterious disappearance, and I was quite intrigued by you. A man who tries to stop crime by dressing up as a flying rodent – you either belong in a room next to John Doe, or at the head of the Agency. I’ll decide which.”

Bruce tried to concentrate on his breathing. The smell of old metal and dust lingered in his nostrils. He stared firmly ahead, at the burlap sack of a mask, rather than at the anxious face of the woman with the gun pointed at her face. He would not linger on the sight of the gun, and would not think back to that alleyway.

“I take it you decided on this…crusade because of a personal loss, due to a crime? What was it that drove you to do this?”

He was not thinking of that alleyway, and the smell of gunpowder. He was not thinking of pearls clattering to the concrete.

“And no lying,” the doctor instructed, “or Dotty here dies.”

He could lie, at the risk of the woman’s death. He could speak outright and risk exposure.

He knew Dr. Crane had suffered loss, too. His parents had also died by accident. Perhaps he could reason through that.

“You also lost something, Doctor. Your parents died almost thirty-three years ago, at a haunted house that caught fire. Was your survival what triggered your fascination with fear?”

“I’m the one asking questions, Batman,” Dr. Crane pressed, “Though I’m guessing by such a vague reply that you and I suffered a similar tragedy in our formative years. I’m sure it had a factor in both our lives’ paths, but it wasn’t the ultimate driving force behind it, was it? Mine was watching the birds on my aunt’s farm learn to scatter at the sight of me, or else risk an untimely demise. I’m guessing yours had something to do with watching a bat fly over the city…or perhaps flap by your face at just the right moment of reflection.” He was quite wrong; Batman was born in Crime Alley, he just hadn’t chosen his unique look until he rediscovered the cave underneath the house a couple of years later. “Let’s try a different approach – if there are a group of strangers strapped to one track, and a close personal friend one strapped to another, with a train on a split track careening towards them at high speed, who would you divert the train to save?”

Bruce frowned. He always hated that question. “I’m not working alone, Scarecrow. I can easily find a way to save them all.”

“Of course you would,” Crane groaned. “Such a heroic idealism you have… You know, I’m surprised you’re working with Mr. Doe. Did you know what his answer was? He’d save the single person. I can understand saving someone like Dr. Leland, given that she has almost a maternal role in his life, but I found he’d risk the lives of innocent strangers to save the likes of someone like Bruce Wayne. Can you imagine, choosing to save the greedy son of a notorious mobster who only visits him out of guilt? He’s really not cut out to be a hero, is he?”

Bruce grit his teeth. He knew Crane was just trying to rile him up. “I’m not here to talk about him. You said you wanted to talk about me.”

“Oh, but I can do both,” the doctor emphasized, squinting across the train car at the vigilante. “He’s fixated on two things, you see, and you’re the lesser of them. I want to understand what he sees in you – especially given that he almost killed you. Do you still think of it, sometimes? Sitting in that control room, watching him struggle to get your ridiculously-shaped tool out of his hand? How does it feel, watching someone who looked up to you fall so far from the proverbial tree?”

Bruce didn’t want to answer; he scrambled for something to say that wouldn’t let Crane know he was getting to him. The doctor actually let out a little laugh in response to his brief moment of silence – it was disturbing, to say the least, to hear a man with almost no expression let out an actual chortle.

“Oh, your expression says a thousand words… I’ve heard a great deal about you – from both my patients and my little colleagues, like Dotty here. They tell me you’re quite the rough customer; intriguingly enough, though, you’ve never reportedly killed anyone. How curious.” He tilted his head, like an animal trying to puzzle out an unusual toy. “Are you afraid of death, Batman? Does the idea of having blood on your gloves keep you awake at night?”

He seemed to be asking, more than taunting. Bruce willed himself not to move. It would take nothing to rush him, but it would cost the young woman her life.

He wasn’t about to prove Crane right by example. He thought back to the doctor’s published papers.

“It’s human nature to fear the inevitability of oblivion. It’s what ultimately drives us as a species,” he quoted, keeping a level tone, “but I strive to save lives, Scarecrow, not destroy them.”

“…you’ve read my work, I see. Plagiarizing me to append your own run-of-the-mill heroism isn’t getting any points from me, Batman. You must know you can’t possibly save everyone… I suppose I should have set the bar lower for you. Still, I’ll keep my bargain – Dotty, child, I need you not to struggle when I pull my hand away, or I’m going to have to shoot you. Nod if you understand.”

Dotty nodded, her frightened eyes flicking to the gun, and then back to Batman. Pleading.

Bruce wasn’t going to move a muscle until she was out of the car. He wouldn’t put it past Crane to shoot her the second she got free.

Bruce cast a look out the train’s side window. Empty. Joker had clearly moved the two thugs out of the way, likely near the door.

Dr. Crane released his hold on the young woman’s upper arm, and reached behind him into the control panel. “On the count of three. One. Two.” He threw the smaller gas canister into the middle of the car, the nozzle spewing green smoke, and suddenly every nerve Bruce had was on edge as he gave a helpless gasp, reaching for his belt automatically. He could get his grappling hook, fire at Crane-

“Don’t even think about it, Batman. I’ve still got a hostage.”

Dotty was clawing at Crane’s arm, struggling to kick away from the fumes filling the car, but Crane’s grip was clearly firm, just as the gun replanted against her head was.

“I did tell you not to struggle, Dotty.”

“You said you’d let her go!” Bruce shouted, his voice sounding more distorted than usual.

“And I am. I just want to see how my little drug affects you. It doesn’t really do anything to me, you see – I don’t fear anything.”

Bruce’s mind was whirling. He was becoming very aware of the lights, the sounds, the weight of the armor on his body…

“Three.”

The train doors opened, and Dotty was all but tossed out. Bruce stumbled forward, his blood pumping as he clutched a Batarang.

He had to hit Crane.

Had to get out of the train - the gas was filling the whole place.

Had to cut him, drive a blade into his chest, hurt him for everything he’d done…

Bruce lurched forward with an electronic whirr.

They were moving.

The train was…moving.

He heard distant shouts…screams…

He looked out of the window, only to see the bone-white paint peel away like rapidly decaying skin, revealing rust and black metal. There was no reflection in the glass there; only black, and two glowing white lights.

He could hear something new whispering in his ear. Groans. Gasping breaths. A strangled, rattling noise that sent his nerves on edge.

Familiar sounds of injury. Death.

He turned to look at Dr. Crane, and the length of train car between them seemed to expand like a long tunnel. White lights winked at him beneath dark holes of the Scarecrow’s eyes, and something dark and coppery dribbled down its mouth.

“Normally people grow quite aggressive, due to the adrenaline rush they get, but it doesn’t usually work instantly. It takes a bit of seeing their worst fears come out. What are you seeing, Batman?”

Bruce was hardly listening to the eerie voice coming from the scarecrow’s mouth. His eyes darted over the rusting car. The walls were warping, bubbling with something pressing at them like thin membranes.

Figures.

Faces.

A crowd of people pressing towards him from the walls of the train, groaning in pain. He recognized them.

The Children of Arkham. Oswald. Harvey. Alfred. Iman. Edward Nigma. Selina. Frieze. Bane. Harley. John. Tiffany. Jackie.

And scattered among them, those he knew were dead. Vicki Vale. Hill. Falcone. Countless citizens he’d witnessed the death of over the years, the bodies he’d seen.

Lucius Fox reached for him; his burnt face was gaunt and mangled, his glasses askew on his disfigured nose.

Thomas and Martha Wayne, pale and judging, watched from the ceiling, in the middle of the throng.

The windows were dark, but the outside showed a ruined city. Decayed. Corrupted.

He couldn’t save them.

He could never save them.

“Most people would have throttled me by now. Stabbed me, perhaps. I saw a man come out of the Main Street Diner brandishing a steak knife – he stabbed the first person he saw, thinking they were something from his hallucinations. You truly don’t want to kill anyone, do you?” Scarecrow taunted, tilting his head slightly. “That’s why you and Mr. Doe fell apart, isn’t it? You couldn’t stand the sight of him after that little bloodbath he made in the chemical plant.”

Bruce looked at his own hands. They were sharp and stained red. Dripping.

His fault.

“He couldn’t either, of course. He’s still attempting to put himself back together. I’m not sure he actually thinks what he did was wrong – I believe it’s more like he’s afraid of disappointing you. Does the thought of him killing again frighten you? Can you still see him there, blood on his mouth and hands, laughing at you, making a mockery of your pathetic beliefs?”

He could see John, reaching for him, black and crimson smeared on his face.

He could feel his blood surge. He was finding it hard to breathe.

The floor was rusting, red, and shining like liquid.

“They are pathetic, you know. There’s nothing wrong with doing everything to get your way. It certainly helped me – I finally fulfilled my goal of getting to work in Arkham. All it took was the lives of two doctors. It wasn’t a big loss for the asylum, anyway – they wrote such drivel. They didn’t understand what I wanted to do – what I’m doing now. I’m sure you can understand, now, can’t you? How I want to save people?”

Bruce blinked, stepping forward, his muscles tense. Something dull ached in his leg. He heard a sick splash, like he’d stepped in a puddle of something thicker than water.

He had to do something.

He couldn’t save the people around him.

But couldn’t he save just one?

Just one person, outside, in those ruins?

“The only way people can truly live is to be set free – and the only way to set them free is by having them overcome their fear. The undercurrent of your worst nightmare is always death… Facing death changes you. You said it yourself: my parents died when I was young, and it changed me.”

Scarecrow faced the window, looking out into the decaying, rusting ruins of the city, not seeing the corpses that made up the wall.

He couldn’t save him, could he?

He couldn’t stop him, could he?

He was a man. Just that.

Just one person.

He’d tried. Tried to save them all.

But how could he do anything – save them, save the city, clear away the corruption, the disease, the past – when he was just one person?

“I lost them from a simple accident. I blamed myself, as children do – but I realized I didn’t have anything to fear again.”

Gun. Alley. Pearls. Death.

Darkness shrouded them.

Bodies squirmed and moaned, pressing against the flesh of the train.

“I already saw my worst fear come alive, after all. But this formula – my work – it brings you that fear without the true cost. There are bumps, of course. People kill other people in fright. Kill themselves, too. They’re unpredictable like that. It’s quite fascinating, really… But sacrifices must be made for the future. The deaths of some will rebirth more.”

Terror.

No more death.

Guilt.

He’d survived. They had not.

Resolve.

He could try. He could be something. For them. All of them. For Gotham.

Renewal.

B a t m a n.

He lunged. His fist connected with Scarecrow’s chest.

A snap and a scream.

Scarecrow stumbled back.

Bruce hit the window where the mask had been. The armored knuckles made a spider web.

The control panel door slammed.

Bruce tore it open, the sliding metal screeching against the slotted floor, mixing with the yowls of the walls.

He felt a kick to the stomach.

Pathetic.

Bruce yanked Scarecrow into the air and threw him into the train car.

The train was slowing, the brakes squealing, the lights flickering back on and off, casting shadows.

“You think you can intimidate me?” Scarecrow coughed, scrambling to stand, reaching for the small canister. Bruce advanced on him, ignoring the blood splashing and sticking to his boots. “I’m not scared of you.”

Bruce heard his voice come out low and guttural. “You will be.”

He swung for his jaw – Scarecrow ducked and slammed the canister into his chest. Bruce stumbled a little, feeling a new dull throb under the black bat symbol. A Batarang found its way in-between his fingers.

The train doors opened, and Scarecrow ran.

Bruce’s feet splashed through blood momentarily before pounding on decaying asphalt. He threw hard, aiming for his back, missing by inches.

“Is that all you’ve-?”

There was the grotesque sound of meat being stabbed, followed by a gurgle.

A Batarang was sticking out of Scarecrow’s shoulder.

“You scum.”

Joker stood there, at the top of the station’s cracked concrete steps, his red lips stretched in a wide grimace.

Scarecrow backed away into the space between them, reaching for his wounded shoulder. (It looked familiar.)

“You think you can just run?” Joker continued, the dark green hairs of his head flickering like smoke in the wind as he skulked forward. “From me – from us?”

Bruce stomped towards the masked man, his fists clenched, blood pounding like a jackhammer.

(Adrenaline. Fear. Determination. Excitement. How it always was.)

Scarecrow aimed the pistol at Bruce. “Take one more step and I’ll-” Playing cards sliced into his hand, and he fired with a shout.

The bullet hit a crevice between Bruce’s chest and shoulder. He recoiled, hearing pearls clatter to the pavement.

He still stood, ignoring the pain, trying to tune-out his mother’s voice behind him.

More playing cards. Bruce’s fist smashed into Scarecrow’s jaw.

The gun smashed against Bruce’s head, tossing him aside. His ears were ringing.

There were fast footsteps, and Bruce blinked, his vision blurring for a moment as he refocused.

A knife jabbed into a spindly arm, and brown leather fists curled into flannel. Holding him still.

Bruce threw another punch, landing into Scarecrow’s stomach. A loud cackle reached his ears, high and familiar – so he did it again. And again.

Blood seeped from the burlap mouth. Disgusting.

Bruce shoved the thin figure to the ground.

Joker’s eyes were wild, the acid green pools practically boiling.

“Batman…are you alright?”

His leg and shoulder hurt, but he wasn’t alone in the decaying mess of Gotham. Not anymore. Maybe he never really was. Maybe the city watched him back. Like the gargoyles on the buildings. “I will be.”

Scarecrow coughed at their feet. “You’ll…be having nightmares…for weeks…” Dark holes stared up at him from the pavement. “Knowing…that I’m out there…”

Joker’s lip curled, his eyes blazing with what looked almost like real fire, and pressed a hand to Bruce’s back to guide him towards a rotting, wooden bench that surprisingly held his weight.

“You’ll have…to kill me to sleep! But you won’t!” Scarecrow taunted, wheezing a laugh. Then he was out of sight, blending in with the bloody concrete like he had melted away.

He didn’t care that Joker’s red mouth was too wide and dark, and that the dark tresses of his hair curled and whipped in the air, dissipating at the ends constantly. He couldn’t feel anything but a rapid heartrate, the aches in his body, and the weight of everything on his shoulders – he wanted to feel him, taste the blood and flesh to make sure he was as real, that he wasn’t the body in the pile of people he’d failed, that he wasn’t going to crumble and bleed in front of him.

“Wait here for me,” Joker whispered, pressing leather fingers against his cheeks for a moment.

Bruce watched him go, reaching out for him. His body told him to move. To run to him. He couldn’t let him be hurt. Not by Scarecrow. Not by anyone.

Bruce’s will held. He was told to wait. Joker would be back.

Joker was stepping towards the train, his low heels clicking on the pavement. Stopping at the red lump on the ground.

“You want to know the difference between you and me, doc’?” Joker taunted, anger and humor bending together, “People will say you’re crazy, after all this. They’ll say you’re a psychopath, or a sociopath, or something like that. But I’ve known since I met you – you’re not crazy. I’m legitimately ill. You’re just a monster.”

A cough.

“You liked watching us all writhe in front of you, didn’t you. Watching us suffer.”

The lump cried out – Joker’s heel was grinding into something on the ground.

Joker laughed. (Bruce blinked – he was not at Ace.) “Aww, what’s wrong? Can’t take a little pain?” A grunt. “This isn’t even the worst of it, you cheap pencil! You know this whole scheme you’ve got? It’s not original. Lady Arkham tried this kind of thing two years ago! Batman stopped her at the Sky Rails, too!” A crunching noise, like joints popping, following by another grunt. “Terrorizing the city? Planting chemical bombs on trains? All the same!” A crack, like breaking bone, near the front of the red thing. “Ha ha ha ha ha! Thomas Wayne had been using patients as lab rats before we ever arrived! You’re nothing but a knock-off!”

A wheeze from the ground. “You…don’t scare me…”

Joker frowned, amusement slipping from his face like it had been washed away. Thunder rumbled from above. “Oh, yeah? I know what might.”

Joker moved, dragging the lump into the empty train car.

Bruce strained to stand. He couldn’t… He wouldn’t…

“Revenge, huh… How selfish…”

“Oh, that’s where you’re wrong, Scary. This isn’t personal. This is for Arkham – for Gotham – for all those people you’ve hurt with your little experiment,” Joker spat, tugging the large gas canister forward, “See, I know you. You’re a monster - you’re going to heal, and then you’re going to talk, and that will cause a lot of trouble for Brucie and little Jackie – she says hi, by the way.”

Scarecrow’s body was in the doorway. The canister was in the middle of the car. He was straining to move as Joker backed away, a playing card in his hand.

Bruce strained forward. No…

“People will say you’re crazy anyway – so why not just make that the honest truth?”

In the blink of an eye, the proverbial clock was one to midnight, and Bruce was standing on the precipice of a choice all too clear to him as he stood in one of Gotham’s corroding Sky Rail stations: Bruce Wayne’s potential life or death.

A potential leap into darkness.

Someone’s sanity, in exchange for his normal life, the man behind the bat.

…he couldn’t.

It was too cruel. It was something his father would have – had – done.

Bruce couldn’t bring himself to become that. He couldn’t let Joker become that, either.

(There should never be another Thomas Wayne roaming the streets.)

“Joker,” he gasped, “no…”

Green eyes met his, fiery and dangerous, wild and manic. “You…! Don’t you understand?” His hands clutched at Bruce’s cape, desperate and pleading for mercy. “I can’t let him ruin Bruce’s life! Not again!”

“Please,” Bruce begged, his hands finding Joker’s arms and clutching. (He’d held them before.) “Please…” He pulled him forward, not feeling the aches or pains, just a weight pressing against his. Just his arms around him, like they were the only two humans left in their broken city. “Don’t go backward.”

He felt a breath release against him. The hands on his cape relaxed. It was like something washed away from the rust and decay surrounding them.

Scarecrow laughed weakly, crawling towards the center of the car. “You’re afraid. You think…dirtying your hands will ruin you…” His hand clutched the nozzle of the tank, and dark eyes glinting white leered at them both beneath the burlap hood. “And you’re afraid…of letting him down…! You have to…confront your fears…to be reborn…!”

Bruce reached out, desperate to save what he had tried so hard to stop. “NO!”

Joker pushed Bruce away with all his might, rolling to the ground as pressurized gas sprung into the air with a hiss.

Bruce’s vision swirled as dark laughs floated into the air, disturbing and gasping, like nothing he had ever heard before.

A rattled breath came.

Not his…not Joker’s…

“Wait…what is…”

Bruce winced, looking at the green smoke billowing out of the train car, and the lying figure looking at him, with wide, brown eyes glinting behind glass, all hidden beneath the Scarecrow mask.

“What… No…! NO!”

A shriek the likes of which Bruce had only heard on film screeched at him. Scarecrow writhed, flinching backwards, trying to curl in on himself as he hit the back wall of the train.

“I’M NOT SUPPOSED TO…!”

Bruce took shallow breaths. He was far away enough from the train car, but the gas might still have an effect. He sat up, feeling his leg scream at him as he jostled the handle of the knife still buried in him, and tried to stand.

Scarecrow flinched further away. “KEEP AWAY FROM ME!”

Joker blinked from the ground, rubbing his head. “Did he…?”

Bruce shook his head. “He inhaled it.”

“…I think I missed the set-up,” Joker mumbled. “Why did he go and gas himself?”

“He wanted us to confront our fears - to be reborn, like he thinks he was, thirty-three years ago.”

“Yikes,” Joker grunted, standing and straightening his back with a wince, “and I thought I had image problems…”

Scarecrow retreated further into the car, kicking and trying to get away as if Bruce and Joker were advancing on him.

Joker put something in his ear from his pocket and wriggled his finger. “Oracle?” He winced, and Bruce heard someone shouting. Oracle…Tiffany. “Look, just – WILL YOU SHUT UP FOR A MINUTE? Geez… Look, Bats and I are fine, Crane is…uh, rounded up, so to speak…”

Silence, for a moment, and Bruce decided to go back and sit on the bench. He’d gotten fear gas into his system, hadn’t he? That was why everything was looking…wrong. Gotham wasn’t like this, normally, was it?

“No, he’s just gone off the deep end… What? Ha! No, no, he got a face-full of his fear toxin…”

Bruce looked on his belt. He had something for these situations. He usually always did.

“Oh..? Oh, good, I was going to ask, I just… Yeah. Um…thank you. We’ll be waiting.”

Bruce found a syringe. Was that it?

Joker parked a seat next to him. “Clean up crew is on the way.” Green eyes darted down to his belt. “You got hit by the gas earlier, didn’t you? I saw the smoke as the train was barreling away. Oracle had to use her shot on that hostage girl – she was screaming like a banshee in heat!”

Bruce blinked, and his vision wobbled. “Joker… I can’t…”

“Oh! Yeah, no worries, let me.”

Bruce felt the frigid air hit the skin of his stiff arm, and a moment later felt a pinch there.

“Don’t worry, Batman,” Joker grinned at him, his eyes soft despite the sharp edges of his face, “I’ll take good care of you…”

With a red grin blurring in his vision, Bruce fell into darkness’ waiting arms.

Notes: Ahhh, wasn’t that fun? I hope it was. I can write emotion and horror and romance, but fight scenes are always hard. >:T Tell me if it turned out okay.

As always, thanks to all of you for supporting this story by any means. I’m truly honored and flattered that so many of you enjoy my work!!!! You guys make me feel like I can take on the world!!! >:D (And a super special thanks this time to @i-bet-you-wish-i for this sweet fanart!!! Remember, if you have fanart, I WANT TO SEE IT! @ me or tag me so I can find it easily on here, please!!!)

We’ve got at least one more chapter, and the epilogue. Expect it within 1-2 weeks, and keep circulating the links. :)

#batjokes #telltale batjokes #atbom #telltale batman #juce #at the brink of midnight #fight scene guides are all the same #and none of them are helpful :(#at least it feels like it #please tell me what you think #and if you have any pointers so i may write better in the future #i love you guys very much!!!!!!!!!!#see you next time!#^3^#canon-typical violence #non-con drug use #hallucinations #horror #what do you expect it's fear toxin

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winetae · 7 years

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1 year blog anniversary ♡

So I made it to the one (1) year mark earlier this week !!!! And I can’t help but feel a bit emo… When I look back I feel like I’ve changed a lot, not only as a person, but as a writer. I can still remember the night I posted my first fic… How I sat there for half an hour and debated on whether or not to press ‘post’. My first ever story was barely 2k words, so I can’t help but feel like I’ve grown a lot… But honestly, there were times when I felt immensely dissatisfied with my writing, and times when I thought I lost the interest I had for it as well. I’m not sure if I’ve said this before, but I don’t get the opportunity to write fiction or write in English, period. So being on this blog has been a fun way to channel my creativity, but has also been difficult because I didn’t know anything about proper grammar, etc. I think that even if I were to close this blog, I’ll have learned a lot !! That’s why I don’t have any regrets - even if there are some moments I’d rather not have a repeat of dlfkjdfl

In hindsight, I think the most rewarding thing was to know that other people enjoyed my writing… Writers have the tendency to be too harsh on themselves, and I think that being on here has made me realize that I don’t need to meet impossible standards for my writing to be enjoyed by others. So thank you, thank you, thank you to everyone who has sent me nice messages, or left nice things in the reblogs… I don’t say it enough, but it means the world and brightens up my days by a mile !!!!!!

Also, I really want to thank the fellow writers on here who have given me encouagement and advice !!! There are a lot of people that I want to name, but in true Ave-fashion I’m fcking tipsy right now and I’m afraid I’ll forget people if I start making a list djkfkdfj but i’m making one anyways

- during the past year, thank you for giving me advice when I asked for it and sending me nice messages !! I think that in some shape or form your words have influenced my writing. I’m just really, truly thankful.

@dailydoseofdia @trbld-writer @the95liner @fireheart-namjoon @btssmutgalore @ellieljade @noona-la-la-la @bxebxee @yoongihime @chimdeer @bendthekneetobangtan @hungline @jeonhoney @workofteaguk @hobibliophile @drquinzelharleen

- even if we go days without talking, i always feel very comfortable speaking with you all, i never run out of things to talk about :’’) tbh all of you have brought me a lot of laughter when i needed it the most ily all dklfdjsflk words cant express how much

@oilblotter @kittae @chinnychimchim @wonhopes @mint-tape @vankoya @rohobi

And I’d feel weird if I didn’t mention these people because 1. i love them and would sacrifice a kidney for them and 2. i think i’d have a hard time irl if i didn’t have them as friends

@joonbird - my bby i love you i’m sorry i haven’t been on social media often, but u know that you’re the only one i would talk to about shrek. thank you for always making me laugh and i miss you sm i hope that we can see each other again soon and eat lots of cake and cry over how much we want hoseok to *** us ok

@kimtrain i miss you sooo much djfdhflkdfj i think about you often and i’m so kdfjlkdfj i hope you’re doing okay i love you lots and lots like 80% of my heart is full of mj !!! TT thank you for always giving me advice and cheering me up and just DFGDFGKFGPFGK IM SO EMO i don’t know if its the wine but i’m tearing up i love you…. u really…. u really deserve the world and more

@taesthetes - my sunshine child i actually love u sm dlfkdfjkf i wish i could phrase this better but i know that i can talk to you about anything for hours and hours and that (for some reason) you’ll listen to me. you’re honestly the nicest person i’ve ever met in my life i want my kids to be like you dkfdjlg i love u thank u for always hyping me up and supporting me even if u don’t even read smut. i don’t even remember how we became friends but i can’t imagine being on here w/o you

@tayegi dfkljfdgkjfgjj could write a five foot long paragraph on how much u mean to me but i have to keep this somewhat short right ?? anyways i think the thing i want to say the most to you is i’m sorry,, i know that you keep a lot of things to yourself bc you don’t want to burden me but i hope that i can give you lots of strength and cheer you up like you’ve done to me. i know that things are difficult rn but i’m rooting for you the most !! ily ty for believing in me even if i’m that annoying younger sibling who likes to pat ur tummy

@floralseokjin T_T well… i mean you already know that i love u the most so it feels kind of redundant to say it again..it just feels …..weird…. when i don’t talk to you, even for a day. no one else understands me like i do thats why i’m emo rn…. bc we have similar interests, i know that i can always talk to u about whtvr (be it crack porn or cheesecake) and i had a lot of fun watching things with you like pd101 every friday or the fckign edward penishand video dfkljgdklg and you can always read my mood, it feels like? like you give me space when i need it, or you encourage me when i’m frustrated and it means the most;;;;; wow i’m actually emo.. anyways now that u’ve almost got ur passport come see me soon so we can go on that bread and cake tour

edit. dkljdsfkdjf i forgot to mention my beta reader @sexiimochi pls ur the sweetest and you’ve been so helpful also 50% of the reason my writing doesn’t suck is bc of u !!! ilu

#this was not eloquent at all dkfjdlfjdf #but i don't think there are any typos so !!!!#THANK YOU #really truly sincerely #i love u #i hope i haven't forgotten anyone #dklfjdgkljfg #1 year anniversary #:)#personal

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littlesupernaturalwords · 6 years

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Run And Don't Look Back Chapter Ten

Summary: Running from her past she finally settles down in a new town. But as it turns out, helping the wrong person will throw her even deeper in the life than she had ever been before.

Word count: 4 168

Warnings: angst, bit of fluff, fear, panic, mentions of torture and injury, MOC!Dean

Series Masterlist | Masterlist

"Okay, let me get things straight," Sam said, "you've been having visions since we rescued you from Crowley and didn't tell us about it?"

Jane ran a hand over her face with a sigh. They had asked her to tell them about all of her visions and she had, but that still didn't go well with either of the brothers; Dean had gone to the store right after she had finished and Sam had been pacing around the room with a dissatisfied frown for the last five minutes.

"I know how it sounds, but I thought-" she stopped to correct herself, shutting her eyes in frustration, "- I hoped they were just dreams." She was sitting at the table in the Library and watched as Sam finally took a seat opposite to her. She wouldn't admit it out loud, but she was glad that Dean wasn't in the Bunker; she was on edge ever since their conversation in the Kitchen. Sam wasn't possessed and that was a good thing, but Dean's behaviour that morning was something else. Her heartbeat quickened every time she remembered the way he had looked at her - with so much anger, so much hate. And the way his whole body vibrated, like he was getting ready for a fight... She shook her head to stop her streak of thoughts.

Sam leaned on the table with his elbows. "And it had never happened before?" He seemed genuinely interested, concerned even, so unlike the anger she had feared she would receive from him.

Jane shook her head. "No, never," she answered honestly. Dean hadn't shouted at her, but he didn't need to to let her know he was angry; his silence and quick departure said enough.

Sam frowned and leaned back in his chair. He crossed his arms over his chest. "Why didn't you tell me?" he asked. Jane's heart sank at the words. There was the anger. "Why didn't you tell me when I found you here? I mean- you told Dean."

Jane swallowed hard before answering, trying her best not to let her voice shake. "I- I was afraid you were still possessed by the angel," she confessed, shame weighing her down. Sam's face softened slightly at her words. "I don't have the best experience with them," she added, trying to explain her actions more to herself than to Sam.

Sam cleared his throat. "Yeah, well, that makes the two of us," he said with a soft smile.

Jane felt the corners of her own lips twitch upwards slightly as weight lifted from her chest before her face returned to a concerned frown. There was more behind Sam's words than just being possessed; something had happened, that much she gathered from Dean, but felt like it wasn't her place to ask. Not being able to control her own body, seeing how her hands did things... she knew that feeling. It was personal, way beyond the awkward friendship the two of them had began to build. She absent-mindedly rubbed the back of her neck where her anti-possession tattoo was before a yawn took over and she lowered her head to hide it. Heavy silence fell on them. Jane could nearly taste it on her tongue as her throat tightened. She anxiously watched Sam, trying to figure out what to say next to make the situation better. She had already argued with Dean before, but didn't want to go through that with Sam as well.

"I'm sorry," she said softly after a moment.

Sam's eyebrows shot up. "W- why are you-"

"I should have told you," Jane didn't let him finish and lowered her gaze.

Sam shook his head with a faint smile. "It's okay, you told me now," he answered. But Jane wasn't convinced.

She fidgeted with the hem of her shirt, her forehead and chin wrinkled with anxiety. She opened her mouth to talk, but shut it without making a sound; she wanted, no, needed information, but Dean didn't want her to be a part of their problems. But she wasn't one to take orders from anybody and Dean was not an exception. The corners of her lips shot up with that realisation; she might have been injured and tired, but she wasn't going to be useless. Not when she could help. She remebered the way Dean's hands clenched and a muscle in his jaw twitched when he looked at her before he had left. She quickly pushed the memory aside.

"What happened to him?" Jane asked. "To the angel that possessed you, I mean," she explained quickly.

Sam ran a hand through his hair. "He, um, he works for Metatron," he answered hesitantly, visibly uncomfortable with where the conversation was heading. Gadreel was still a sensitive topic for him, the memory of what he had done too fresh.

"And do you have a plan on how to take Metatron down?" she asked, leaning forward.

Sam watched her with a scowl. She wasn't even trying to hide how interested she was. She knew Dean wouldn't tell her a word about what was going on, but Sam wasn't as stubborn as either of them and they all knew it. He noticed a scar on her bottom lip, now clearly visible with her skin so pale. The bruises on her face were nearly gone, but she looked far from healthy; the first word that came to Sam's mind was fatigue.

He cleared his throat to stop his thoughts. "We don't," Sam admited, "not yet."

Jane furrowed her brows, deep in thought. "But even if he's playing God, he's still an angel, isn't he?" she contemplated out loud.

Sam sighed. He knew he shouldn't tell her what he was about to tell her. Dean was against the whole idea of dragging her into this mess, but then again, she herself was like a smaller, younger version of Dean. It wasn't just her determination and stubborness that reminded him of his brother; he had seen Dean build up his walls many times over the years and he had seen Jane doing the same, not wanting to bother anyone with her feelings and struggles, even if she had let him in the morning before. No, he wasn't about to hide this from her. He knew she would find the information one way or another, presumably losing sleep which she desperately needed.

Sam breathed out sharply, his lips pressed into a thin line. Jane held her breath in anticipation. "He is, technically," Sam said. "But he's... stronger." Jane furrowed her brows in confusion. "Do you know how to capture an angel?" Sam asked her.

"A ring of holy fire," she answered matter-of-factly.

Sam nodded. "And Metatron just- he just blew it off, like it didn't affect him."

"But- but that shouldn't be possible," Jane argued. "Holy fire is supposed to work even on archangels."

"It does work," Sam agreed. "But we think Metatron is drawing power from the Angel Tablet which makes him kind of invincible."

Jane blinked and pursed her lips. "The Angel Tablet?" she repeated hesitantly. "As in the- the Word of God?" Sam nodded. "Wow," she exclaimed with a shake of her head and ran a hand over her face. That was way beyond anything she had ever faced before, even with the Men of Letters. How were they supposed to kill something that powered itself with God powers?

Sam watched her with concern. "You still wanna be a part of this?" he asked. He saw her struggle, but what he saw wasn't fear, not even anxiety. It was something else.

Jane cleared her throat and sat up straighter. "Yeah," she said with a nod, "yeah, I do." There was determination in her eyes as well as her voice, not a sign of hesitation in her whole demeanour. She wasn't scared. She wasn't afraid of the consequences of her actions. The time when she could turn her back on big problems was gone. It was time to make action and she wasn't one to back down. Not now. Even if she couldn't fight, she still could do something.

She hadn't even noticed she had clenched her hands into fists, but Sam had. He saw a hunter, not just a kid like Dean did. She knew what was at stake and even then she didn't back down.

"Okay," Jane said to herself, "so-" she rubbed her hands together and looked up at Sam "- we need a plan."

Sam felt the corners of his mouth shot up. Yes, they did need a plan, but couldn't make one unless they knew how to get to Heaven.

"So, we know that Metatron is powering up with, um, the- the Angel Tablet which basically makes him a God," she summarized. "Which means that in order to kill him we need to get the Angel Tablet," she continued slowly, her face twisting into a frown. "And the Angel Tablet is in a secure location... and the best one would be in Heaven." She sighed at the realisation. "Which leads us back to square one, because we can't get to Heaven." She ran a hand over her face to cover another yawn. "Great."

Sam patiently waited for her to come to the same conclusion as him. "Yeah," he breathed out.

She raised her head. "And your angel friend doesn't know anything new?" she asked hopefully. Even though she knew his name she didn't like the idea of using it any more than the idea of actually meeting the angel.

"Cas?" Sam asked. He was surprised that she even thought about him considering the two of them had never even met. She was thinking of all possible sources and Sam could see the military training she had talked about when she had first mentioned the British Men of Letters. He cleared his throat to sort his thoughts. "No, he- he doesn't know anything new."

Jane leaned back in her chair in resignation. "Great," she repeated. Another yawn forced its way through her body. She blinked a few times to clear her vision before clapping her hands together. "Okay, back to research then," she said in a tone that sounded far from happy.

"Maybe you should go to bed," Sam suggested as he watched her fail to hide another yawn.

"Why?" she asked innocently, but her voice betrayed her, sounding breathy and tired.

Sam sighed. "You were yawning the whole time we've been talking," he pointed out.

Jane grimaced. She thought he hadn't noticed, but was wrong, obviously. She shook her head. "I'm fine," she said, "and we have work to do." She reached for the book she had been reading the day before, but Sam stopped her, laying his hand over hers. Heat was radiating from his body. She reluctantly raised her eyes to look at him.

Sam's face was crooked with worry, his forehead wrinkled and his lips pressed together tightly. "Is it because of the visions and nightmares?" he asked sincerely.

Jane lowered her gaze. She noticed how huge Sam's hand was in comparison to hers. It wasn't hard for her to see why Dean was trying to keep her away from what they were dealing with, but she had to make him see her as more than just a kid. "A little bit of both," she admited hesitantly before she gave him a shy smile, silently laughing at herself, "and the fact that I'm used to sleeping with a gun under my pillow."

Sam chuckled. "Yeah, me too." He watched as her smile disappeared in a matter of seconds before he spoke again. "I can get you a gun if you want."

Her head shot up. "Really?" Jane asked in disbelief and withdrew her hand. "Aren't you afraid I'll shoot you or something?"

Sam laughed at that. "You had plenty of time to kill us both," he answered. "So no, I don't thing you'll shoot us." He furrowed his brows. "Unless you can't shoot."

"Are you making fun of me, Winchester?" she asked playfully.

Sam raised his hands in surrender and shook his head. "Never would have dreamed of it," he answered.

They both laughed, but Jane's smile froze on her lips. Breath hitched in her throat when she remembered the way Dean had looked at her and she quickly placed her hands in her lap, resisting the urge to curl into herself. Sam looked at her with concern, the light atmosphere disappearing. She wasn't afraid of nightmares; she had been having them her whole life. But she didn't want to fall asleep and see the elder Winchester doing what she had thought he had been ready to do in the Kitchen. She shook her head at Sam's silent question. "Nothing," she said, "it's nothing."

Sam watched her with worry. "It doesn't look like nothing," he commented. Her face was twisted in thought; forehead wrinkled, eyes cast down and her lips chapped from where she had been biting them.

"Does Dean seem nervy to you?" Jane asked instead. "Angry almost?" Sam had asked her whether she wanted to talk about things multiple times and she knew he would try to get her to talk eventually. Dean on the other hand never made her share things she didn't want to talk about, not since they had arrived to the Bunker. He hadn't pressured her into talking, just stayed close and made sure she was alright. He hadn't pressed her even after she had told him about her family and still hadn't said anything about it when Sam had returned from his run. But right now she needed to talk.

Sam blinked, surprised by the question. He knew what she was talking about and knew the answer. The Mark of Cain. The Mark made him always be on edge, ready to fight. But the brothers had agreed to keep it a secret, at least for now, until they found out more about the Mark and more about Jane.

He cleared his throat. "Did he- did he hurt you?" Sam asked hesitantly.

Jane's eyes widened. "No!" she answered quickly. "No, he- he never..." she trailed off and fell silent. He hadn't, at least not intentionally. But had he wanted to? She had seen the way he had looked at her, the way his eyes bore into her and his body shook. She had pushed her fear aside, but what if it hadn't been just a normal feeling? What if it had been her instincts trying to warn her?

"Jane?" Sam asked after a moment. Her eyes were unfocused and she had bitten her lip so hard it started bleeding.

She finally snapped out of it and raised her head, looking around the table. Her eyes landed on the white container with painkillers. She didn't even flinch when she forced five pills down her throat, not bothering to wash them down with anything.

"I think I'll go to bed," she said quietly and stood up. She needed answeres and even though her visions had so far given her just more questions, but she had to give it a try. Whatever had made Dean behave the way he had, she was determined to find out. Sam shot to his feet and quickly walked to her to pick her up. Jane stopped him with her hand on his chest, keeping him at arm's reach. Her blue-green eyes were wide with realisation. "You don't see me as a kid." It wasn't a question, but Sam shook his head nonetheless.

"No," he said, "no, I don't." He had shared everything they knew with her and didn't try to persuade her to back down once. Jane watched his face with wonder; he cared about her and yet he didn't bench her, making her feel completely useless. She let her arm fall down to her side.

Sam picked her up carefully and carried her to her room without a word. He could feel her eyes on him the entire time. He set her down on the bed and left to find a gun for her.

When he came back she had already changed into an oversized T-shirt and fuzzy socks and had let her hair fall freely down her back in shiny ginger locks. She was facing away from him with her head down, her fingers absent-mindedly running over the cuts on her arms.

Sam cleared his throat.

Jane turned to him with a faint smile, but Sam could see through the facade. The painkillers were taking effect and made her eyelids heavy and her mind numb. She hadn't been thinking about anything, just let her hands wonder over her wounds in hopes of staying awake long enough for Sam to come back. Sam came to her and awkwardly handed her the gun.

"I probably don't have to tell you to be careful," he said while watching her examine the gun.

It was a black Beretta pistol with stainless slide. Jane was trying to fight off sleep, but didn't even have to think when she checked the gun was safe and loaded, the actions automatic after years of practice. She made sure the safety was on before she looked back up at Sam, who fell silent at her movements. No, he really didn't have to tell her to be careful.

Sam cleared his throat. "Alright," he said with a hesitant smile, "call me if you need anything." He turned to leave, but Jane caught his sleeve. Sam looked at her expectantly. She was barely awake, her breathing even and her eyelids heavy.

"Thank you, Sam," she whispered, "for everything."

Sam didn't even get a chance to reply before she fell asleep.

She had seen the room only once, but that was enough for her to recognise the subtle changes from how she remebered it; everything seemed brighter and warmer - all the things the Dungeon wasn't supposed to be. Her breath hitched in her throat when she noticed who else was in the room; Crowley. He was chained up in a chair right in front of her, unable to do anything, but she still felt her heartbeat quickening and her breathing becoming heavier.

It was him. The same person who had tortured and starved her for days. Who was responsible for her having been in a coma. Who had sent demons after her. Who had made sure she would most probably never hunt again.

She was shaking. Her clothes stuck to her body with sweat. She couldn't let it happen again. Tears prickled her eyes. She had to get out of there. She had to get away from him. But as much as she tried, her body was frozen on the spot, shaking in fear, as memories of torture invaded her mind; blood pooring out of her wounds, smell of burned flesh, her knee-

"What do you want, then?" Jane jumped. She had been so focused on Crowley she hadn't noticed Dean and a dark-haired man standing next to her. The stranger's voice was deep and rough with unsaid threat.

"Well, for starters..." Crowley said and stopped to think for a second. "A massage." The stranger next to Dean rolled his eyes, but Crowley wasn't finished. "Between the sitting and the shackles, a body gets a little stiff." His voice haunted her. It brought back memories of hunger and pain. But those weren't the worst ones; the moments when his touch had become almost comforting, when he had caressed her cheeks or wiped away her tears, those were the ones that terrified her.

"Yeah, I ain't rubbing you," Dean responded, discusted by the thought.

"God, no. Get Kevin," Crowley purred. "His tiny fists can really work wonder –"

"Kevin is dead," the stranger interrupted him.

Crowley seemed to be taken back by that. Who was Kevin? "Oh," he only said before falling silent again, his face impossible to read. "I'm sorry to hear that."

"Don't pretend you care," the stranger said harshly. He walked towards Crowley and leaned with his hands on the table. "You tried to kill him."

"I told him this was gonna happen," Crowley responded almost sadly. "I was the only person who tried to warn him." He fell silent for a split second, his eyes baring through the man in front of him. "I told him to run."

"From what?" Dean asked. He sounded tired, defeated even. When was Sam in all of this? She had always seen the brothers together in her visions.

"You," Crowley answered simply. "How many times am I gonna have to say this? People in your general vicinity don't have much in the way of a life-span."

A sound made Jane whip her head around, but when she turned the warm colours of the dream began to blend together. She remembered all the times her visions ended this way, but this time the colours swirled together and didn't fade. They made her head spin and she felt like she was falling. She tried to catch onto something, her fists grasping the air, unable to draw in a breath. And as soon as the last vision disappeared, a new scene shaped in front of her. She breathed in deeply. The feeling of falling was gone, but her head throbbed and she knew something was different.

She was in the War room and saw Sam and Dean talking, but even though she heard them, the meaning of their words escaped her. She was standing, felt the hard floor under her feet, but at the same time, she was lying down, curled up in bed, feeling the soft covers around her body. She shifted her hand, but it didn't move, at least not in her vision. But in reality, where her mind was right on verge of consciousness, her fingers curled around the handle of a gun.

There was a noise, the same one that had made the Dungeon disappear. She watched the brothers, saw their lips move and heard them form words, but couldn't focus. Her head was spinning and the floor seemed to sway under her feet. There was nothing she could do as her body hit the ground. She tried to keep her head up, tried to hold onto the vision, but her sight was blurry and she could feel herself slip.

The same noise sounded again, louder this time. It seemed to be closer and Jane quickly looked around the room, but found nothing. She could hear her frantic heartbeat in her ears. Her breathing changed into panicked panting. And then her surroundings started to blend together once more. The colours swirled and danced in front of her eyes, hugging her with their warmth, and she could no longer feel the cold ground underneath her.

She caught a scent. It was just a hint at first, a distant memory of male's cologne, but it intensified by second. She knew it, recognized the the bitter aftertaste it left on her tongue, but couldn't place it. She inhaled deeply, still floating in the warm blanket that remained from her vision. She felt like she was at two places at once; her body lay in bed, her injuries throbbing and stinging, but her mind was weightless, surrounded by the feeling of familiarity. She didn't think about the sounds that had made her so alarmed; her mind was at peace.

Her breathing was deep and even and the fresh scent of cologne remained. It was familiar and brought back memories of caressing touches she wanted to melt into. But then she smelled something else and her blood ran cold.

Sulfur.

She no longer tried to hold onto what remained of her vision. She needed to wake up and she needed to do it now. The memories weren't pleasant or safe. Her heart was racing in her chest as she tried to push the layers of colours out of the way with her shaking hands. Panic clouded her mind. She had to wake up. She had to.

The colours began to fade. They became darker and darker, the false sence of comfort gone and replaced by blackness of remaining sleep.

Her mind and body became one. And yet, the threads of sleep weighed her down like stones in water. Her breathing was no longer deep and even, but changed into panicked panting, just as it had in her vision. She slowly opened her eyes and blinked away her sleepiness, forcing her body to wake up. She gripped the gun from under her pillow and aimed it towards the door, sitting up, all in one swift movement.

And there he was, standing at the foot of her bed with hands in the pockets of his dark coat, a smug smile on his lips. She knew the gun was useless. She knew she should scream for help to alert Sam and Dean, but any sound she wanted to make got caught in her throat. She tightened her grip on the gun, but every logical thought she might have had was gone, replaced by pure fear.

"Hello darling."

#run and don't look back #chapter ten #spn series #spn series fanfiction #spn fanfic #spn #supernatural fanfiction #supernatural #supernatural fanficiton #my writing #jane lees

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buddicat · 3 years

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eclipse chapter 1!!

Dongmin paced around in his room. There's no way Sanha is the sun, there must be no way. He's probably just insane, Dongmin thought. As Bin walked into Dongmin's room, he laughed. "Still can't get over Sanha saying he's the sun?" Bin asked. Dongmin had been too lost in his thoughts to hear Bin. Dongmin finally got back to his senses and looked at Bin. "Well, you don't have to believe everything Sanha says. Sometimes, he can be a bit insane and nonsense. It's probably one of those times again." Bin said. Dongmin thought. "Yeah, I guess so." Dongmin said.

As Dongmin spent the rest of his day in his room, he also spent all day trying to figure out whether Sanha was actually the sun or vice-versa. But, even if what Sanha said was true, the rest of ASTRO wouldn't believe him, nor would they even pay attention to him. Dongmin knew that; everybody knew that. Dongmin knew that taking Sanha's side while Sanha spewed absolute nonsense would get them both punished. And, of course, Dongmin knew that; everybody knew that.

Sanha would call himself the 'Star of Shine', but nobody believed it. Not even Dongmin himself. But, Dongmin raised suspicions that this was true, when he heard Bin calling Sanha 'Star of Shine' in the hallway one day. Dongmin didn't believe anything Sanha said at first, but now, this may have gotten real, and that Sanha is trying to say something. Of course, it left Dongmin with the urge to find out who Sanha really was. Dongmin wasn't the type of person to completely abandon an ongoing case - in his eyes, of course.

Then, Bin called himself the 'Bright Night-rock'. And just like Sanha's problem, Dongmin didn't believe this either. He just thought that Bin and Sanha made up really silly code names - those childish men, Dongmin thought. He had wished that the past Dongmin would've just believed it, he just wanted his past self to believe it. Everyday, he'd roam recklessly around the block of the Fantagio building, muttering to himself, "Lee Dongmin. Everything is false. You must not believe Bin and Sanha. They're just playing."

'They're just playing.'

Dongmin wished that he'd never lie to himself like that ever again. Dongmin knew that Sanha was serious - including Bin - from the very start. He'd just mentally make up excuses to lie to himself. One day, when Minhyuk accused Dongmin of breaking Myungjun's phone - which he actually did, he just said, "Sanha did it." - Sanha, poor Sanha. Every time Dongmin did something and cause a scene, he'd just frame Sanha for almost everything. Sanha wasn't the kind of person to fight back at an accusement. One day, Jinwoo took note of this and raised suspicions.

Of course, Dongmin had finally surrendered one day, and apologized to Sanha. Dongmin had been very bad at lying, so that's why Jinwoo noticed this immediately. Sanha had Dongmin as his favorite hyung, but out of the blue, lately, Dongmin had been rude to Sanha. He suspected this was because of a weird mutation in the universe's stars, which was announced months ago. Every time he saw a star, Sanha would wish for his hyung to be nice again. Dongmin had heard Sanha's wish one day, and started to tear up and become more nice to Sanha.

"Sanha. Where is my phone?" Dongmin asked, staring into Sanha's eyes. "I don't know." Sanha shrugged. Dongmin grasped Sanha's shoulders as Sanha let out a small yelp. "Liar. Where is my phone?" Dongmin asked. "I-I don't know!" Sanha repeated. Dongmin's grip on Sanha got harder and firmer. "You're just lying to me. Last time I saw my phone, you were on it. Where is it?" Dongmin asked. "Hyung, that was Bin-hyung's phone. I don't know anything!" Sanha's voice got louder. Dongmin then punched Sanha, which got everyone's attention.

"Dongmin! Why did you do that? Sanha wasn't lying!" Bin yelled. Dongmin looked at him. "He wasn't lying?" Dongmin asked. "Dongmin, we didn't raise Sanha to lie." Myungjun said. "Okay then." Dongmin huffed and walked away. "Hey! Lee Dongmin! Apologize!" Jinwoo yelled. Sanha was still on the floor, getting up and grasping Jinwoo's arm. "Hyung, no.." Sanha coughed as a small amount of blood trickled down his jaw. "Sanha, it's not alright! Dongmin just punched you.." Jinwoo pulled his arm from Sanha and walked towards Dongmin's room.

Dongmin wished he should've done it, yet he did. Dongmin never gave back Sanha the love Sanha deserved. Dongmin would be cold, sometimes he'd not. It was confusing to others, but to Sanha, it was normal. Dongmin was not that understandable, and he was not that normal. Nobody could decipher his weird moans in his sleep, nobody could even understand what he says during breakfast. They thought it was just because Dongmin just woke up - but it became a habit. Moaning in his sleep, mumbling in the morning. It was abnormal.

"Hyung! Dinner's ready!" the faint voice of Bin yelled from downstairs. "Coming!" Dongmin yelled back. The pressure overcame its fear of Dongmin, as Dongmin started sweating. Will Sanha forgive me? Dongmin paused for a second. His hand that once overlapped with the door handle he retreated, as he got worried. The thought of Sanha being mad at him scared him. The once happy Sanha, turning into the mad and cold type. Dongmin wouldn't want that, no one would want that. They all wanted Sanha to be extroverted and warm-hearted, just like how Dongmin used to be.

"Hyung! Come down!" the used-to-be faint voice of Bin got louder. "Coming!" Dongmin yelled. Then after a while, Bin slammed open the door. "Hyung, the food is getting cold. Come here!" Bin tugged at Dongmin's sweater. Dongmin sighed and followed after Bin. Suddenly, he stopped in his tracks. "I'll just fix the stuff I left in my bedroom." Dongmin said. Bin scowled. "Fine. Make it quick." Bin sighed. Dongmin nodded and ran to his room. There he slammed open the door, and the book about the universe was right infront of him. He tucked it under his bed.

"Lee Dongmin!" Bin was so frustrated that he didn't even call Dongmin 'hyung'. "Yes!" Dongmin ran out the room and went infront of Bin. "How much stuff did you have scattered on your floor?" Bin started huffing. Dongmin started to sweat. "I was just reading books. I had alot on the floor-" "Bin hyung! We're finished eating!" the voice of Sanha yelled from the first floor. "Let's just go." Bin scoffed and walked down the stairs. Dongmin nodded sheepishly and followed after Bin.

"Bin hyung! Why'd you do that?" Minhyuk yelled, as Bin laughed. Of course, they were playing a game of rock paper scissors to decide who gets the last snack. Bin screamed in victory, as he forcefully ran to the snack on the counter, leaving Minhyuk, dissatisfied. "The rock just picked rock in rock paper scissors and lost." Bin tiptoed to his room while firmly gripping onto the snack, so that he can't wake up the sleeping Myungjun next to his room. Minhyuk sighed. "Well, at least he can suffer by having to be quiet." Minhyuk laughed.

And, of course, Sanha was asleep aswell. As Minhyuk and Jinwoo walked upstairs, Dongmin stayed on the first floor. He gently tapped the cat who was next to him on the couch. The cat meowed softly. "If only you knew your owner was the sun." Dongmin said. "If only you knew." The cat dropped to the ground and ran back to the upper floor. Dongmin followed after it. Well enough, the cat went into Sanha's room. Dongmin walked to his room and closed the door. He opened the lights and brought out the book about the universe he was reading out from the bed.

Dongmin spent the night writing in notes his theories about Sanha being the sun, as he partly read the book about the universe. "The Sun's light can be split up into a spectrum of colors, most often seen as a rainbow. In the 19th Century, astronomers studying this rainbow realised that it contained dark bands.." Dongmin read out loud. Colors. Red is his anger. Orange is his creativity. Yellow is his joy. Green is his disgust. Blue is his sadness. Purple is his fear, and black is his insanement. Dongmin wrote down on the notes.

_______

As soon as he finished reading the chapter about the sun, he looked out the window. It was the sun, shining bright. As Dongmin quietly opened the door, he went over to Sanha's room. As he opened the door, Sanha wasn't in his room. "Day boy." Dongmin said. As he went to the first floor, Sanha wasn't seen either. "Wh..what? Where is he?" Dongmin yawned and stretched. "Oh man, I need to get sleep." Dongmin said. As he walked on the stairs, Jinwoo was coming down. "Hyung? What brings you here?" Dongmin asked. "Dongmin, it's 10:52 am." Jinwoo yawned.

Dongmin sighed. "Hyung, Sanha is missing." Dongmin cleared his throat. "W-what? Dongmin, Sanha might just be in his room, or in the toilet. What makes you think he's gone?" Jinwoo asked. "Hyung, I checked his room and no one was there. He's not even here." Dongmin said. "Oh dear.." Jinwoo worried. "When did you wake up?" Dongmin gulped. "I...didn't sleep." Dongmin said. "Oh. Why didn't you sleep?" Jinwoo asked. "I was busy reading books." Dongmin yawned. "You silly old bookworm." Jinwoo scolded Dongmin gently. "Come on, let's look for Sanha."

Dongmin and Jinwoo looked in different parts of the house, hoping to find Sanha, but they didn't find him. Then, the door suddenly opened. Dongmin looked outside, and it was the one and only Sanha, looking exhausted and panting. "Where were you?" Dongmin asked in a scolding manner. Dongmin saw the faint lump in Sanha's throat. "I...was having a run around the block-" "Sanha!" Dongmin and Sanha looked behind them and saw Bin. Bin ran to Sanha and grabbed his arm. Bin pulled Sanha to the back of the wall.

Dongmin got confused and walked towards Jinwoo. "What's up with them?" Dongmin asked Jinwoo. "I dunno. For some reason, Bin and Sanha have been really close lately." Jinwoo shrugged it off. Dongmin started wondering. If Bin was the moon, or Sanha was the sun, then was there a chance that Bin and Sanha were helping eachother hide their identities? "Dongmin. Minhyuk is calling you from upstairs." the blunt voice of Jinwoo whispered in Dongmin's ear. Then, Minhyuk ran down the stairs. "Hyung! Why's Sanha so distant from us lately?" Minhyuk asked.

Dongmin had a dream. A dream where Sanha was the sun. A dream where Bin was the moon. But, to Dongmin, it turned out to be real. He lived in a world where Sanha was the sun. A world where Bin was the moon. But to Dongmin, he couldn't change it. But, neither could Sanha or Bin. They lived in an exhausting world, where they had turns to run away from home and fly to the sky, just to care for the living humans on earth. But, even if it was true, no one, not even the most silliest member Myungjun, would believe it.

It would be straight up nonsense to tell everybody 'Sanha is the sun', or 'Bin is the moon'. It would be abnormal for humans who are just fine to be a star and a rock. It was completely abnormal; nobody would believe him. Nobody would believe a tale just like that. But, it wasn't just a tale this time, it was...real. Years ago, that had Dongmin know that no one would believe a joke, Sanha had told Jinwoo "I am the sun". Jinwoo, of course, didn't believe it. Jinwoo isn't the foolish type of person, while Sanha isn't the lying type of person.

Dongmin knew - everybody knew - that saying weird things would make you insane. It wasn't too surprising. "Good morning!" the yawn of Myungjun echoed throughout the house. "Good morning, hyung." Dongmin greeted. "Good morning." Jinwoo playfully nudged Myungjun. "Where's Bin and Sanha?" Myungjun asked. Dongmin looked at the wall. "I guess they're stilltalking about something." Dongmin replied. "Welp, 'kay." Myungjun said and walked towards the kitchen.

"Yoon Sanha! Get yourself together!" the hurtful voice of Bin yelled. Sanha felt tears stream down his face. "I-I'm sorry, I thought the hyungs weren't awake yet.." Sanha whimpered. "You idiot! You should've came back earlier!" Bin shouted. He punched Sanha to the floor, as blood started trickling from Sanha's jaw. "B-Bin hyung-" Bin cut off Sanha by punching him again, as Sanha coughed blood. "I-I'm sorry I d-didn't d-do be-bett-better, h-hyung.." Sanha started to cry. "What's going on?" Dongmin's head peeked from the curtain, as his jaw dropped.

"Bin!" Dongmin shouted. Dongmin grabbed Bin's shirt and punched him. Bin fell to the ground, as Dongmin growled. Dongmin looked at Sanha, as he charged for Bin again. Then he felt a firm grasp on his arm. "Hyung, no.." Sanha coughed. Dongmin growled - until saliva fell from his mouth - but he was able to console himself. He sat down on a chair and grasped his forehead. He could feel the heat rising from his head. Bin sat up and sighed. "Bin, control your temper again next time!" Dongmin scoffed. Bin sighed.

"Look, it wasn't my fault. I couldn't stop it." Bin sighed. "Excuses." Dongmin muttered under his breath. Sanha felt blood continue to drop from his mouth as he stood up. "Why can't you two just make up?" Sanha asked. He walked towards Bin, until Dongmin blocked him. "Stop." Sanha growled. Dongmin, in defeat, pulled away his hand, as Sanha walked towards Bin. "You good?" Bin asked. "You punched me which made me hurt, now you ask me if I'm okay?" Sanha scoffed. He walked away.

Sanha, rather than resting after a long morning he's had, paced around his room at a fast speed. "What will I do? Eunwoo hyung knows who I really am now." Sanha started to worry. Was there still time to protect his identity? "Breakfast is ready.." Jinwoo yelled from downstairs. "Coming!" Sanha yelled back. He ran from his room and to the kitchen. As he sat down on the chair, Minhyuk noticed the bruise on his face. "You good, Sanha?" Minhyuk asked. Sanha looked at Minhyuk. "Oh, it's nothing, hyung."

Minhyuk sighed. "We have a concert today. How will we perform if you have that bruise?" Minhyuk sighed. Then, Dongmin looked at Sanha and sighed. "Bin, did you even realize that?" Dongmin asked Bin, who was behind the wall. Bin sighed. "Yes." Bin muttered. Dongmin scowled. "So you bruised Sanha on purpose so we wouldn't perform?" Dongmin's fists hardened. Bin took a deep breath. "No." Bin replied. "N-no?!" Dongmin dug his fingers in the wall. "What do you mean 'no'?!" Dongmin screamed.

"It was just unexpected. As if the Bright Night-rock's spirit possessed me there for a minute." Bin mumbled. "The....Bright Night-rock?" Dongmin asked. Bin looked at him. "You heard me?" Bin asked. "I thought you weren't listening to me." Bin added. Dongmin scoffed. "How could I ignore you if your voice was as loud as music that was at one-hundred percent with headphones?" Dongmin teasingly asked. Bin laughed sarctastically. "Look, hyung, my voice wasn't that loud. I was talking to myself." Bin said.

"There you go, making excuses again." Dongmin cackled. "Again?" Bin asked. "What do you mean 'again'?" Bin asked. Dongmin laughed as he waked towards Bin. "Listen, Bin. Stop lying. You know what happens if the hyungs find out that you lied." Dongmin threatened Bin. Bin cackled. "You really thought I'd not know that? I'll just risk everything just to cover my shenanigans." Bin spat. Dongmin grit his teeth. "Bin, you really think that I'm gonna let this slide?" Dongmin growled. Bin laughed.

"Lunch is ready!" Jinwoo exclaimed. He brought the plates to the table. Suddenly, he paused and looked at Sanha. "What happened to your face?" Jinwoo asked. Sanha sighed. "Who did this?" Jinwoo asked. "Who?!" Jinwoo yelled. "Bin hyung." Sanha sighed. Jinwoo's teeth grit. "Bin!" Jinwoo yelled. "Oh damn." Bin muttered. Jinwoo ran to Bin and punched him. "You hit Sanha!" Jinwoo yelled. "Fine. Yes, I did." Bin spat. Jinwoo growled. "And you knew we had a performance today?" Jinwoo asked.

"....no." Bin replied. ".....what's this man saying?" Jinwoo asked, confused. "He's saying nonsense." Dongmin scoffed. "That's not nonsense, hyungs. Bin hyung's telling the truth." Sanha sighed. Dongmin looked at him. "Do you have anything to say, Sanha?" Dongmin asked. Sanha sighed. "I told you all, I am the sun, the Star of Shine, who helped Bin protect his identity from the Rockhunters that were on the loose." Sanha's voice softened as tears formed in his eyes. "....Sanha?" Jinwoo asked.

"Bin, is this true?" Dongmin asked. Bin cocked his head to the side and looked at the now crying Sanha. Bin took a eep breath. "Yes." Bin felt a small tear fall from the corner of his eye. Jinwoo sighed. "Now that both of you are saying it's true, I have no choice but to believe it." Jinwoo sighed. He looked at Sanha, who felt guilty. "It's fine. We'll help prevent the Rockhunters from locating Bin." Dongmin smiled faintly. Sanha lifted his head up and looked at Dongmin. "Really, hyung?" Sanha's eyes widened.

Dongmin laughed. "Really." Dongmin pat Sanha's fluffy hair. Bin smiled. "Thanks, hyung." Bin said. Dongmin replied with a nod. As Jinwoo walked to the kitchen, Myungjun leaned against the wall. "What'cha doin', leader-nim?" Myungjun enthusiastically shot a finger gun at Jinwoo. "Hyung, I need to tell you something." Jinwoo said. "Sanha is the Star of Shine and is helping Bin protect his identity from the Rockhunters." Jinwoo whispered into Myungjun's ear. "We've got our own humanplanets at home?! Brilliant!" Myungjun exclaimed loudly - a little too loud.

"Hyung, what does MJ hyung mean?" Minhyuk yelled from across the floor. "Oh dear." Jinwoo sighed. "Rocky heard it." Jinwoo looked at Myungjun. "Stay quiet, hyung!" Jinwoo shushed Myungjun.

"You just need to help me."

#astro #fanfiction

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thejamesoldier · 7 years

Text

Bucky & the Beast

Hi all! So this ficlet is for my darling friend Erin’s ( @theassetseyeliner ) AU Writing Challenge! I submitted a request for this prompt on her original post! Please go support her and all the participating authors who worked hard on their submissions :) Now onto the story xxx

Prompt #22: “You were an asshole back in high school but now you’re my boss.”

Overall Tags: a teeny weeny bit of angst, although mostly stifling fluff, some potty mouth language, spicy humor, s l o w b u r n but in ficlet form tho?

Part 1 of 2

It’s not that you weren’t a nice person...on the inside, very very very deep inside. You just didn’t allow any form of slacking amongst your employees.

And seeing as you not only own this multi-billion dollar company but also actively run it, you’re pretty sure you have the right to dictate everything that goes on under your nose when it comes to this business. You drove yourself into the grave to get this company where it is now, and you continue to work yourself down to hell every damn day to keep it as successful as it is.

Of course you know most of your staff views you as a complete tyrant. Of course you know your nickname on all sixty-eight levels of your high rise company building is ‘Bitch’. Of course you know you’re often compared to Miranda Priestly, the star of Devil Wears Prada. Of course you know you’ve been harsh enough to earn some of that resentment.

But you also know you have the undying respect of every major corporation in the world (which wasn’t easy to get since most of them are fat privileged older men who have too many cultural and moral deficiencies to count). The likes of which was solely earned by unignorable success, brutal consistency, and fear. You wished you didn’t have to be feared in order to be respected by some (most) people, but the ways of the world weren’t going to change that fast unfortunately.

It surprised you at first how many people tried to take advantage of you, of your company, of your money, of your weaknesses, of practically everything they could manage to find. You were always pretty blunt and a bit maniacal about perfection even back in high school, but having been beaten by an ocean of manipulative greedy people for years now, wave after wave after wave, you’re pretty jagged and dulled to it. You’ve found the only way to survive in this business world is to always expect the worst of people. It keeps you prepared for every situation even if it is an exhausting way to live.

Sometimes you worry if it is all worth it, but you then remember how much money your company is making and how all of it goes to support people, companies, philanthropies, arts institutions, and schools who need it. If the cost of good being put into this world is your warped personality, then so be it.

“Barnes I need those write ups on the work Ms. Romanoff’s team did this quarter. I asked for final copies yesterday, why are they late?” You question your head personal assistant in clipped efficient sentences as you strut down the long stretch of a modern elegant hallway, the sleek double doors of your main office looming at the end of it.

With your Prada high heels clicking sharply (if not a bit ironically) against the marble floor as you make your way to your gilded office, you scroll through an email on your phone sent from one of your board members while you wait for Barnes to put together an answer. The email consists of a polite reminder that you have a Skype call with Stark Industries this afternoon.

As if you’d forget.

With a punctuated scoff you burst into your glass office, not having to slow down your stride at all as Barnes moved with practiced haste to hold one of the doors open for you. You don’t bother with a thank you (even if you feel the manners your mother ingrained in you cringe and shriek in horror) but instead head nose up to your simple but stately desk. As you situate yourself behind it, booting up your desktop and quickly scanning some sticky-note reminders Barnes left for you the previous night before crumpling them in one ball and dropping them in the waste bin by your feet, you feel the very short leash you have on your patience strain.

Without glancing up at him you bark out, “Well?”

You hear the man clear his throat and know automatically that he’s preparing to take the fall for Romanoff’s team. Barnes always has had this habit to take the heat meant for someone else’s mistake himself, and allow whoever the guilty party is an extra second to fix whatever the problem was. It’s never effected the success of your company, so you’ve always let it slide. If you were being completely honest with yourself you know deep down that that’s why you’ve kept him around so long. James Barnes is the one person (okay maybe besides Natasha Romanoff) who holds the all time record of longest employment in your company. He’s also never been promoted from his place as Head Personal Assistant when you hired him into it a good few years back.

He’s only craftily brought up the issue of never moving up a few times, not wanting to push his luck with you, but other than that there’s never been a word of complaint like other employees you’ve had. One day when you’ve finally been run down enough, when the world has finally sucked all the life from you, you’ve decided that it’s James who you’ll give the company to. Of course no one knows this, but you made the decision quite some time ago.

“Ms. Romanoff had an issue with getting a closure on the deal,” Barnes starts up in his trademark baritone tenor of compassion, “She had all the finished documents written up by yesterday, it was me who failed to pass them to you.”

Still you don’t look at him, but you do silently translate what he’s saying as you open up your email account and start sorting through your inbox for the most important emails. Basically, Barnes is saying:

“Ms. Romanoff had no trouble badgering the client for the final papers, it was the client who failed to turn in everything on time. And since you never blame the client, its professionally Natasha’s fault. So therefore she did not have all the documents written up yesterday but pulled an all-nighter to finish everything and send said polished summary of the transaction to me first thing this morning. I’m lying for her (and probably without her knowledge) because I’m an annoyingly considerate man with pretty eyes and a wicked sharp jaw who is used to your unforgiving nature and shall take the fall for everyone because I am this company’s sparkling hero.”

Resolutely put-off with the very unprofessional way your mental translation ended up going, your mood sours sufficiently from its already foul natural state. You feel your face pinch deeper into its usual dissatisfied scowl.

“It is very unlike Ms. Romanoff to have any delays in her work. Give her one of my warnings.” You say in a mildly bitter tone as you reach a hand blindly over your desk towards Barnes in silent demand, while clicking on an email with the other hand and scanning it halfheartedly at the same time.

A packet of paper is slid gently into your expecting fingers and as you place them on the desk space beside your angled keyboard, you hear Barnes tap his thumbs across his phone as he sends you an e-copy of the papers you were just handed. When the email arrives in your inbox with a ding, it serves as the only acknowledgment that you received the email. It also is simultaneously Barnes’ dismissal.

Only when you hear your assistant sit down at his own smaller desk across the room from yours and start shuffling papers and things around, do you realize that you had automatically begun reading through the transaction summary he sent you. After you triple proof it (even if Natasha has never once made a mistake on her write ups), you forward everything to the cooperation partnering with you on this deal. Your trademark punctuality and promised results the only things that matter to you much these days.

You cut a quick side glance across the room at Barnes hunched over his own pile of work and wonder if you said thank you the next time he held the door open for you, if he’d make a big deal out of it. With an internal scoff you brush your gushy feelings swiftly away and replace them with your self-made workaholic robot.

Bucky’s patience with you is growing shorter and shorter each year, month, week, day, and second he works under you. Outwardly he’s mastered himself, but inwardly he’s been stewing and is quite near his boiling point. As he halfheartedly unclips a review packet from one of the company’s specialty divisions to go over before he hands it to you -- Miss Wicked Bitch of Best -- he wonders if it would kill you to say thank you when he opened the door, or maybe look at him when he talks. Bucky doesn’t even know what color your eyes are because he doesn’t think you’ve ever actually looked him in the eyes before.

And sure you take him to all the fancy business galas and parties and soirees and events and fundraisers, but you always maintain this formal professional wall. Even late nights at the office when it’s literally you, him, and a couple janitors (hell, you’ve both even slept at the office before) you still remain aloof and unapproachable. It’s not like he wants to get to know you, because honestly you seem like a pretty lonely sad bitter person anyway, but it’s downright unnatural how little anyone seems to know about you. Even when he wades through his high school memories, all he can remember about you is vaguely labeling you an asshole. Which really doesn’t help your case.

But if Bucky knows anything, it’s that no one is an unfeeling robot.

Even if they pretend to be, even if they believe themselves to be, there is always something down there. At the bottom of a soul there is always a nugget of brilliance. Bucky knows you’re not oblivious to what people say about you, but he wonders whether you just don’t care or you’ve crafted it that way to wield as a tool. He’s not sure which one is worse. Either way he thinks that you could handle things a bit more considerately and still have the respect you deserve. Because if there is one thing Bucky has to admire, it’s your resilience and unyielding desire to see things through. Your dedication to the company and all the good it brings is your one redeeming quality. You also have never done under the table deals or slipped into black market territory, its one of the reasons Bucky hasn’t quit. This company is clean and good and successful. Which is saying a lot in this economy. You also never under pay or over pay your employees, and you’re brutal but you’re fair.

And as Bucky’s thoughts circle back to stifling aggravation as he watches you type away unfussed and unpleasant as ever at your elevated desk, he goes to curl his hair behind his ear, per habit, to shake himself free of his thoughts, but realizes quite abruptly that he can’t. You had asked (well more like threatened and demanded) him to cut his long hair, claiming it ‘ruined the aesthetic and feel that this company represents’ and finds his aggravation churning into poorly bottled fury. Other people in your employment had long hair, I mean you didn’t really uphold any restrictions on hair, hats, head-dresses, or any type of clothing as long as you were put together. So it literally made no sense that Bucky was singled out.

Little did he know you asked him to cut it because those dark luscious locks were distracting as hell and made him too handsome for you to be able to rationally handle. I mean you were around him practically 24 hours a day, bless your soul. You know it was a horrible play on power, and probably earned you a one-way ticket to hell, but you’d rather come off posturing and domineering than love sick or undisciplined. I mean he was just as good looking with it cut short, but you told yourself the short hair made it easier to ignore him as a man and see him only as your assistant.

But much to your chagrin it really, really didn’t help.

“Barnes close out the rest of this meeting. Summarize it to me in detail on the way to the fundraiser.” You bark after you politely dismissed yourself from the Skype call with Tony Stark, the call on mute as you stand from your chair and crisply motion for Barnes to replace you.

Bucky grits his teeth and nods when you brush past him, trying not to let the fact that you assumed (as you always did) he’d be attending the fundraiser with you tonight and left him to clean up after you with the meeting pleasantries, anger him to the point of hysteria. He wasn’t your maid for Christ's sake, and just because he wouldn’t miss the fundraiser because of the opportunity to meet clients and business partners, why the hell did you always hitch him to your wagon for the evening?

You exit the conference room with a blooming confidence and a rare small smile the second you’re in a private enough area to let the expression soften your face. The itch to go back in there and make sure everything finished okay spreads under your skin like a rash but you breathe and stay rigid with yourself, knowing that in order to properly groom Barnes for your job one day, you had to learn to delegate to him more than you used to. And closing out a deal, especially with one as important as Stark Industries, was major. Barnes is more than capable though, and a small part of you is...proud of him.

You’re not sure when this nugget of utter blind faith in him started to become something much more complicated than trust in an employee, and developed into something dangerous. Dangerous like awe and adoration dangerous. Dangerous like fond dangerous. Dangerous like love dangerous.

The long clean leather seat of the limo separates you two.

You give Barnes your (mostly) undivided attention as he dutifully regales the deal closure with Stark this afternoon. You’re scrolling through your email, then your calendar, then your messages trying to avoid looking up at Barnes. The second you spotted him in one of his gala tuxes, it’s your favorite one of his actually since he rotates through them (I mean you don’t expect him to buy a new one for every event, you’re not that unreasonable), you knew it would be a long goddamn night. The subtle navy shine of the tux catches in the corner of your eye under the dimmed lights of the luxury car no matter how hard you stare at your phone screen.

When he finishes his report you nod your approval knowing that’s all he’s used to getting from you in terms of praise. With a knot of anxiety growing by the second in the back of your throat, making it almost impossible to breathe, you glance up at him from under your lashes. He’s mirroring you across the car, phone out, focus down, and body held with the formality you insisted be constantly upheld between you.

The first thing your eyes land on is his exposed clavicle where his collarbone frames the base of his neck. In this rare indulged moment of weakness you allow yourself to wonder what the hollow of his neck would taste like, what would it feel like against the texture of your lips. With great effort you drag your eyes away from the tempting oasis of his skin to sprawl along the sleek dark navy of his outer coat. The button up underneath is a stark crisp white, accenting the tan of his skin and drawing your gaze back inevitably to his revealed skin. The first few buttons of the dress shirt are undone and the stiff folded collar is laid open in a roguish carefree type fashion.

Since the fundraiser is more lowkey and relaxed, you don’t have the excuse to reprimand him for no tie, to demand he cover up that tease of skin and hint of peck muscles. No, you were doomed to suffer because the tailored pants did little to help either. The clean line of the material hugs his thighs, two long strong twin muscles that bunch a bit when he stands or sits down. You cross your legs as something heavy and hot settles in your core, startling you a bit out of the spell Bucky unknowingly put you under.

A bit desperately you try to find a fault, something to pick apart, some straggling imperfection to prove to yourself that you are uneffected by this man. And you quickly realize you can’t because when you look past his attire, the naked allure of his features takes you by storm. His hair is as rich as ever, styled lightly to allow the slight wave in the coffee locks the freedom to curl away from his forehead and settle in a small wave atop his head. Strong brows stand guard over the softness of his eyes, the glacial blue of the irises protected further by a swath of sooty lashes.The straight nose and full generous mouth sit atop a sturdy chin, a gentle cleft runs down the middle of it adding to his seemingly endless good looks. His jaw as you’ve observed many a time is as sharp and wicked as ever.

“You didn’t shave.”

The observation escapes your lips before you could wrangle it back behind the bars of your clenched teeth. Bucky’s eyes jump up at you like you had yelled at him instead of spoken in a normal tone. But its then you realize that it wasn’t a normal tone at all, it was, you...you spoke to him softly --

“Um no.” Bucky answers a bit uncertainly, not sure where you’re taking this. You never comment on his appearance or attire unless it’s to criticize it. He waits inevitably for the verbal lashing.

When the lashing doesn’t come and you both just continue to stare at each other in throbbing silence, Bucky feels awkwardness lay like a heavy blanket over you two. It’s almost startles him when he sees that you’re looking at him. And not just looking at him, but looking him in the eyes.

“It, It’s just a bit of stubble,” Bucky struggles out, trying to make any kind of sense of the current situation, “I thought since it’s going to be a more, um, relaxed atmosphere I could get away with it. I can go buy a razor and shave it off before we get there if you...want...”

Bucky mentally kicks himself for offering, I mean how pathetic. But the stumbling words were better than the silence because for some reason the silence felt different then usual, it felt dangerous.

“No, no,” You eventually say as your brain continues to churn itself into fluffy goo when Bucky shifts his phone and his bicep pushes up protestingly against the smooth sleeve of his tux. “It’s fine.”

Without another word you lock down the vulnerability you feel leaking onto the canvas of your face and shove your gaze back down to your phone.You will yourself not to blush.

The rest of the car ride passes in tense silence. It’s the most exposed you’ve felt in a while, to say the least.

The fundraiser has been going like all of them do: clinically well. Bucky expects no less when you’re in attendance though. The dinner wasn’t the best he’s ever had but he made sure not to leave anything on his plate weary of wasting food. You sat perched and cool as ever beside him, engaging in the usual articulate oratory games with the clients and business partners seated at your large table.

Why Bucky kept expecting you to act different confuses him. He keeps waiting for something to change, for a small tiny hint that something has shifted in you, or maybe between you and him, he doesn’t know. Just something. And when you make him feel like a fool for assuming such a thing by acting the exact same way you always have, Bucky kicks himself. One weird conversation in the limo and he’s hoping for...hoping for what?

With an internal scoff he tunes back into the conversation, and just in time because you hand the topic reigns to him in that moment and suddenly Bucky is leading everybody into his own oratory arena.

You take a measured sip from your water glass as Bucky effortlessly accepts the responsibility of the conversation and takes it away. Being able to hold a conversation in a small meeting is one thing, but being able to lead an entire table of sponsors, clients, partners, and whoever else into complex discussion is quite another. You try not to let your pride produce too many butterflies in your stomach as you continue to sip your water and listen to the man beside you prove to you how very deserving he is of what you plan to give to him one day.

“Ms. Y/l/n,” Bucky says as everyone starts getting up to dance when the live band plays something easy and fun for the guests. You turn towards him slightly in your seat and bring your glass down from your lips as an indication to speak. “May I go say hello to Ms. Romanoff and Mr. Rogers?”

Your eyes zip over Bucky’s shoulder and land across the reception hall on the table where all your best employees are sitting laughing and enjoying themselves, some of them getting up to dance. For a quick beat you consider keeping Barnes all to yourself but know how selfish and petty that would be. You know Barnes is nearly sick of you.

“Please,” You relent as kindly and professionally as you can manage, motioning with your glass towards his friends, “Go enjoy.”

With a quick (if a little bitter) thank you, Barnes blasts away from you to join the merriment across the room. You heard the hint of potent distaste Barnes had having to ask your permission to leave your side and wonder if you’ve let yourself become to much of the monster you thought you had to be in order to be successful.

And maybe it’s not just to be successful, maybe you donned a monster’s skin to protect yourself.

You know that if you took away the pretty cool collected skin of that monster, a jagged scared furious soul would be revealed. A sigh and another sip of water is the only outward sign you give that broadcasts your constant inner turmoil.

“Damn! Wicked Bitch of the Best let you go? Impossible,” Nat croons as Bucky plops into the seat Sam offers him as he hurries out onto the dance floor with a chick from accounting.

“Ha ha very funny,” Bucky bites back as he relaxes down into the chair while pouring himself a brimming glass of champagne, chugging it all back in one go.

Steve, sitting on his other side, raises his eyebrow at his friend’s large shot, “I take it business is done for the night.”

Bucky places the glass flute down carefully on the tablecloth and rolls his lips in as he swallows.

“Yep,” Bucky breathes, catching his breath a little, “I believe ‘Please, go enjoy’ were her exact words.” He states in heavy sarcasm as he runs a hand through his hair, pouring himself another glass.

“How generous of her,” Nat allows before standing up and offering her hand down to Bucky, “And now something generous from me.”

Bucky eyes Nat’s hand suspiciously over the lip of his glass. Natasha was pretty nice (if she felt like it), but she never gave out freebies. He follows the line of her arm up to her severe beautiful face. He squints at the look in her eye.

“Dance with me,” She says with a roll of her eyes at his well placed suspicion, “It’s a thank you for covering my ass the other day even though I specifically told you not.” Natasha informs in jesting but fond reprimand.

Bucky smirks at her, appeased, and takes her hand.

“No complaints here then doll.”

Steve laughs as they zip off to the dance floor.

Watching Bucky with his friends, then dance with Ms. Romano -- with Natasha, that familiar haunting feeling that you know is loneliness begins to seep into your bones and saturate your soul. It’s loneliness that is so thick, so inexorable, you have trouble breathing. Trying not to make your movements too jerky as to call alarm you stand and make your way out of the hall. You’re intercepted a few times, making your final formal goodbyes and thanks, before heading out to the street.

You call your driver and have him take you back to the company.

It takes all your self control and dignity to keep from out right running to your floor. When you make it there about a century later, you burst into your moonlit office and shut off all the security cameras in it. That’s when you lose it.

With harsh tears running down your cheeks and ruining your make up you violently through yourself into your desk chair and start going through files of successful projects. You slowly but surely remind yourself why your doing this, why life has to be so hard. All the good you’re giving to the world is worth something, its worth this loneliness...it is.

It’s worth it, its worth it, its worth it, its worth it, its worth it...

You repeat this in your head as you continue to review years old projects and partnerships and lives that you have bettered. Though the tears and throat-wracking sobs never stop, you eventually convince yourself it’s enough.

Bucky was informed first thing this morning by the front desk that the security cameras in Ms. Y/l/n’s office were turned off at about 11:30pm last night and have not been turned back on. Seeing as it’s only you and Bucky who have the codes to do that, Bucky wasn’t too concerned because the other cameras proved it was you who had entered the office last night. Bucky wasn’t quite sure why you felt the need for that much privacy but he shook himself free of the disturbingly instinctual urge to care.

When he gets to the fogged-glass double doors and pulls on the sleek handles only to realize they’re locked, he hesitates in opening them with his copy of the key. Instead he finds himself knocking.

“Ms. Y/l/n?” He calls politely, professionally.

You jerk awake at your desk. Your head pounds with dehydration and the entire right side of your face is stiff and indented with red lines that make up about half of your keyboard. The desktop in front of you is asleep, the large black screen serves as a mirror to reflect to you your less than put together appearance.

Your make up is a crusting mess, your hair is sticking out every which way, and your eyes are about as puffy and red as Rudolph's nose.

“Ms. Y/l/n? Are you, are you alright?”

At the sound of Barnes’ voice on the otherside of the office doors, a horrible twisting flare of panic lights up in your gut. Trying to remain calm, you stand up only to collapse back down into the chair because one of your legs fell asleep.

“I’m fine Jam -- Barnes, just go do the morning rounds, please.” You stutter as you limp like Gollum (sans your heels from last night) across your pristine office to the private bathroom with a closet you keep extra clothes and things in.

Bucky is near speechless and knows something is wrong now. You almost called him James for one, and even more disturbing...you said please. He’s unsure if he should leave you in such an obviously confused state of mind, but figures he’d only earn himself a punishment if he intruded or was somehow wrong that you were indeed having a, a moment.

“I’ll be back in twenty to discuss the profits made last night.” Bucky found himself informing, not sure why he felt the need to give her a time to be ready by.

What an odd feeling to know that for once, you weren’t thirty steps ahead of him. It’s the first sign of humanity he’s seen you display and it’s tripping him out.

You listen carefully as his footsteps fade away down the hallway and you throw yourself into getting ready. Twenty minutes later Bucky knocks and you call him in. You can feel him analyzing you, looking around for something out of place, but you made sure to hide any evidence of a disturbance or weakness.

Bucky finds you pristine and cool and severe as ever, and he realizes that the sinking in his gut is disappointment. Not that he wants to see you struggling, but for a sign you are more than a robot. That you trust him enough to reveal at least that. But you carry on normal and cold and Bucky reminds himself again to stop searching for something that isn’t there.

“Oh god!” You shriek, you shriek, in surprise as you burst into a storage closet intent on finding an ink cartage (since you had Bucky in a minor meeting with the board, you know power delegation and all, and were more than capable of finding ink on your own dammit), and instead find Steve Rogers and Peggy Carter engaging in some...heavy petting.

The two of them share your immense shock and separate like oil in water, cheeks, ears, and necks red as roses. They both wait for you to do something, but you continue to stand there like it was you who was walked in on. Slowly you walk across the small room, thanking every god you could think of that the ink cartridges were on the opposite side of the space than Steve and Peggy were standing in, and retrieve your ink with their eyes guiltily following your every move.

Before you leave you heft a neutral glance over your shoulder and say,

“Rogers those charts better be in four, and Carter if I don’t have those reports in my inbox by the end of the day I’ll be very displeased.” And with your face safely turned back towards the hallway you say with a little smirk on your face, “Excuse the interruption.”

You hear the two collapse into hushed horrified laughter muffled behind the door as you strut back to your office with a poorly concealed smile on your face and the urge to giggle bottled up tight in your throat.

Barnes returns from the meeting with a muted breezy expression on his face which you’ve learned to interpret that meant things went well. You listen to him summarize the meeting for you while pretending to read one of the charts Rogers just sent you on your computer. The memory of finding them in the closet this afternoon hits you hard and you have to cough in order to stop the laugh bubbling along your throat and tickling your tongue.

Bucky pauses thinking your cough was a sign to stop talking, but when you glance side ways at him and raise an eyebrow he hurriedly continues on. It’s not until you both have settled at your respective desks across the room and Bucky gets up and heads to the printer stationed on a desk against the wall, that things start to head down hill.

It’s not until you notice him fiddling with the printer making grumbling sounds of obvious annoyance (which you don’t find adorable, you don’t) that you realize belatedly that you still hadn’t put in the new cartridge. Wordlessly you stand, grabbing the ink cartridge off your desk, and head over to the printer. Bucky moves over and watches you take out the empty cartridge and drop it in the waste bin by your feet. And when you take the new one out of its thin box and plastic wrapping, you feel your resistance to the hilarity you went through to get it quickly dissolve.

You stand frozen staring down at the ink for long enough that Bucky thinks you might not know how to put it in, even if you did just take out the old cartridge.

“Would you like me to do it?” He offers as neutrally as he can, getting all sorts of weird vibes from the expression that keeps flickering across your down turned face.

And you break.

It might have been Bucky’s words, or just the ink cartridge sitting oh so innocently in your palm, but it was most likely the vivid memory of walking in on Steve and Peggy. You start laughing. At first it’s under your breath, but the more you try to contain the sound the more out of your grasp it gets. You look up as your laughter gets more confident, brighter, and you find Bucky staring at you like you’ve finally lost it. Maybe you have because you burst into even louder laughter, the noise colorful and easy, falling into snickers when you need to breathe before returning with a cackling vengeance as you push the air back out.

Bucky doesn’t know whether to be disturbed or entranced. It hits him hard then that he’s never actually seen you laugh, or smile for that matter. And not a business smile but a real one, the one you’re giving him right now. He finds himself smiling to, grinning ear to ear as he watches you collapse into infectious gorgeous laughter.

“Oh god,” You wheeze as you try to mop up some of the tears from the corners of your eyes, but the words only remind you how you had shrieked them earlier and another peel of giggles wrings themselves out of you.

Bucky is utterly speechless. He’s in complete awe. The woman standing before him is alive and vibrant and laughing. So this is what he’s been hunting for inside that cruel robot all these years. This is who he’s unconsciously been holding out for. She’s real. She’s here with him finally.

“What,” Bucky stutters and loses his train of thought as you face him again and he’s left stupefied by the happiness in your face, how beautiful it makes you. I mean you were always beautiful, but in a cruel removed wave. Like you would eat him alive instead of grace him with a smile.

“It’s nothing,” You attempt to recover through another giggle, “I just intruded on some, some frivolity earlier.”

Bucky nods not satisfied in the least with just that, not wanting this moment to end. Not wanting this woman to disappear behind a maze of masks to a place he can’t reach. But the inevitable happens and he watches, silently mournful, as the walls come back up and the monster’s skin is pulled back on. With a sniff you efficiently change the cartridge and turn away without another word, your scowl returned to the throne of your lips once more.

Part 2

And yes it’ll only be two parts...probably. lol. leave a comment in you wanna and your support is always appreciated! I promise to answer all my asks and respond to all my messages soon! xxx

Masterlist / Mobile Masterlist

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pyropsychiccollector · 7 years

Text

Danganronpa: Another IF (Chapter 3, Part 1)

“Um… Naegi?”

It was the night following the second Class Trial, and everyone had headed for their dorm rooms. The Luckster had been moving to do the same, hand on the door handle, seeing as how Maizono had still been keeping her distance. He was worried about her, but he didn’t want to force her to say anything.

“Yeah, what’s up?”

… But seeing as how she was appearing shy again, he figured he’d be amicable and listen to her. It was the least he could do, after the hellish trial they’d gone through… and the gruesome execution they were forced to bear witness to once again.

“M-Maybe I have no right requesting this from you… Y-You’re free to turn me down. But… could… Could we talk in your room, just for a little bit?” Maizono was unable to meet Naegi’s eyes as her cheeks pinked. “I w-want to tell you something, and I just… want to make sure no one else hears…”

“S-Sure!” Naegi’s face was heating up, too, and he felt his heartbeat racing. Before he made the situation awkward, getting caught up in the moment, Naegi opened his door and gestured invitingly. “C’mon…!”

Before Naegi knew it, he felt a pair of arms wrapped around his neck, and something soft on his lips. It took the Luckster about five seconds to realize that Maizono was… kissing him… And he was fully frozen in place the whole time the idol was doing it. When Sayaka pulled back for breath, there was a genuine smile on her face, and she was blushing up a storm.

“Sorry~. I couldn’t hold it off any longer!” She giggled at his gobsmacked expression. “I wanted to wait until we got out of here… but I don’t want to leave any regrets. I want to reaffirm my feelings for you before I lose my nerve!”

With sweaty palms, Naegi took ahold of her hand and brought her inside his room, blushing just as much as she was. The idol’s tinkling laughter following them inside as he shut the door.

~*~

The next morning, only ten people showed up to breakfast. Naegi, Maizono, Leon, Kirigiri, Sakura, Mondo, Fujisaki, Junko, Celes, and Yamada. As expected, the Ultimate Affluent Progeny was nowhere to be seen.

“I suppose our first order of business should be deciding a new leader…” Sakura solemnly spoke as they all sat down.

“I guess so…” Leon agreed. “Morale’s not lookin’ too good, huh?”

“Why not appoint Miss Celestia Ludenberg?” Yamada proposed. Celes merely giggled as she folded her bands beneath her chin.

“That is very sweet, but I could not possibly lead when my subjects do not listen to me. Such as with the curfew… and the ability to adapt…” Practically everyone sweatdropped with the first example. She’d broken her own curfew, after all.

“U-Um… Leon could do it?” Fujisaki suggested. “O-Or Mondo…”

Leon rubbed the back of his head sheepishly.

“Bein’ the Ultimate Baseball Star, I guess I give off a ‘leader’ type of vibe, but I’m not really cut out for that…”

Mondo also shook his head.

“Sorry, kid… I’m still out of it. I wanna do that eventually, pick up where bro left off. But… just not now.”

“I dunno…” Junko swung her legs back and forth lazily. “Sakura seemed okay-ish with it, kickstarting this meeting. Why not have her do it?”

“I… must politely decline.” Sakura said, frowning. She cited no reason for her refusal.

Celes giggled again.

“Here is a novel idea… Why not have Makoto take up the reins?”

Makoto blinked in shock as he gestured at himself.

“M-Me? I’m not on the same level as you guys… I don’t have any… leadership qualities…” The Luckster scratched his cheek sheepishly.

“Out of everyone here, Monokuma has yet to truly break you.” Kirigiri pointed out. “Moreover, you keep everyone united as best as you can. In an environment like this… we really do need undying optimism such as yours.”

“She’s right!” Sayaka beamed at the Luckster.

“No complaints here~.” Junko grinned and flashed a peace sign.

“Sounds good!” Leon consented as well. It quickly became obvious that that would be the trend. Even Mondo, who’d punched his lights out on the first day, agreed he could get behind that. If Togami had been present, he likely would have challenged Naegi’s qualifications, but he wasn’t there, so no one was opposed.

“At any rate… What should we do from here?” Yamada pressed on. “We can’t find an exit… and nobody’s coming to save us… Guh! Just saying so depresses me…”

“We just need to make friends and live here together peacefully.” The Ultimate Gambler suggested. “Forget about the outside world and embrace our new lives here. That is our one glimmer of hope right now.”

“I can’t imagine… living in this place forever…” Naegi shook his head.

“We have food and clothing in abundance, and no lack of conveniences… What is there to be dissatisfied about? I ask you, what more does the outside world have to offer?” There was something about how Celes looked as she asked that those questions that got Naegi starting to think her mantra about ‘adapting’ was a lie… Quite frankly, the gambler looked miserable… though, this place tended to have that effect on them. And just as quickly as that depressed look had flashed across her face, it disappeared. “Competition, discrimination, sacrifice, violence… As society grows in size, so too does its sadism… On the contrary, we’re better off here…”

“’Heretical Angel * Super Squishy Princess’…!” Yamada abruptly blurted out, confusing Celes and everyone else.

“What was that?” The gambler snorted out in amusement.

“Drillshop Megu, The Bunny-Eared Amazoness, Catgirl Dogboy, Galactic King Justice Robo… And, and, and…” Yamada let out a shriek of frustration. “At any rate, there is no 2D in this place!!!”

“It is because you and everyone else cling to your desires that the Puppetmaster has so much control…” Celes tsk’ed.

“Anyway…” Leon sighed as he didn’t like the routes that conversation was leading to. Yamada being an otaku, and Celes being… Celes. “Shouldn’t we be headin’ out soon? There’s gotta be new places open to us now.”

Mondo rubbed the back of his neck.

“Yeah… That’s how it went last time. Trial, then exploration.”

“Very well. After breakfast, we shall split up and begin the exploration. Is that agreeable, Celes?”

The gambler giggled pleasantly.

“I’m certain there are discoveries just waiting to be made that will further enrich our lives here…”

“Yeeeah…” Junko drawled. “Clues about the mastermind and ways of escape are still our highest priority…”

Naegi didn’t feel like much of a leader just sitting there, but he supposed everyone’s decisions were sensible… He still wanted to talk to Celes again at some point, try to understand her better.

~*~

“So… the third floor of Hope’s Peak Academy opened up this time…” Naegi muttered as he reached the top of the stairs. There was one door immediately close to the stairs, but he didn’t peek into that room yet. Around a corner to the right of the stairs, there were a couple more classrooms, which Sakura and Mondo were looking into.

Deciding to leave the classrooms and windows to them, Naegi and Maizono went back to the room closest to the stairs. When they entered, they found Leon and Celes in what looked like a rec room.

“Yo, Naegi! Looks like they got a pool table! Darts, too!” The baseball star grinned.

“Billiards, darts… Othello and Shogi… They even have some magazines~.” Celes gestured to the rack. “We have no dearth of cures for boredom.”

And then, Monokuma had to rear his head…

“Dun dun-dun-dun dun duuun! I has some additional intelligence!” The bear proclaimed proudly. “While there’s fashion, motorcycle, martial arts, gaming, baseball, soccer, PC mags, and more… you won’t find anything dirty. I mean, this is a school. You’ll just have to live with a few risqué pinups!”

“When new issues of these magazines are published, will they be made available to us?” Celes asked curiously. Monokuma rubbed the back of his head bashfully.

“No can do~. Even if I wanted to, the magazines themselves…” The bear ‘caught’ himself, giggling. “Ack! Nevermiiind! That’s all the intel for now, buh-bye!”

“That was… weird.” Maizono mused. Leon rubbed the back of his head in aggravation.

“Always teasing out new info… Just when are we supposed to get some answers here?”

“Well... There’s nothing that can be done about it right now, I guess…” Naegi muttered.

“It’s a pity… It would quite enrich our lives if we were to receive new reading material from time to time.” Celes lamented.

After looking around the rec room a bit longer, Naegi and Maizono parted ways with Celes and Leon. And as they navigated through the halls, both the Luckster and idol realized it was a sizeable floor. There was a ton of hallway space, lots of twists and turns. They found Kirigiri loitering in the halls, deep in thought.

The next room they found looked to be an art room – canvases, statues, statues, chairs, and art tools littering the room, and a wall toward the back that was peppered with sketches that looked to be drawn by high schoolers. There were some lockers, too, but they were empty. Yamada was in this room,

“Well, well, well… what a fine establishment this is. My artsy sense is tingling!” Yamada proudly placed his hands on his hips. “Not only is there a bounty of painting supplies, there’s quite the selection of sculpting tools!”

“You’re into sculpting, Yamada?” Naegi asked curiously. The otaku fiddled with his glasses, grinning.

“Generally speaking, I partake not of the 3D world. But ah, figures are different – they’re practically 2D.”

‘Not sure how he’s defining ‘practically’…’

“I’m particularly fond of the works of Charanbo, Pumpkinhead, and Saburou Roppongi… ‘Mama Cat’ exemplifies Charanbo’s distinct style through his sublime rendering of the feline form. Pumpkinhead produces the highest-class faerie model prototypes of anyone this century… Saburou Roppongi, master of the posable figure, went overseas proselytizing about mech-girls… All of whom are perfectly suited to be named the Elite Four of the Figure World!”

Naegi and Maizono blinked.

“The Elite Four? But there’s only three…”

“’Elite Three’ simply sounds foolish! Furthermore, the reason one seat remains unclaimed… Precisely! ‘Tis for myself! Heh heh heh, and so begins… The Legend of Hifumi Yamada: Conqueror of the Apocalypse…”

“Mmm’kay… Good luck with that…” The Luckster sweatdropped. Maizono seemed to have a bad feeling about Yamada’s…. mood… and she tugged Naegi along toward the room in the back, which appeared to be a storage room. Various supplies were stored there, like a trolley and wooden hammers.

The thing that drew their attention, however, was not the tools, but a single picture lying on the floor. What was intriguing was the occupants of the picture. It looked to be some sort of festival, and there were a couple of booths depicted – booths that were run by Hagakure and Fukawa. The former was telling fortunes and laughing, while the other was doing a book signing and looking bashful about getting attention from fans.

“Wh-What is this…?” Maizono wondered aloud.

“Why the two of them?” Naegi also wondered. Question after question flooded their minds; the picture didn’t look like it was taken at the academy, and the two looked happy. It was all so bizarre…

“Give that back! It’s mine!” Monokuma suddenly appeared, swiping the photograph. He laughed at their dumbfounded expressions. “Uh-oh~! Didja see it? Them’s some nice smiles, huh? They’re enjoying the academy life… It’s like a page out of the book of youth~!”

“What do you know about that picture?” Naegi demanded.

“Not telling~!” Monokuma teased and abruptly left.

The Luckster and idol shared confused glances before they reluctantly left the storage and art rooms. They weren’t going to get answers by staying there; there was more of the third floor to explore, anyway. They eventually came across another gate, which appeared to lead to a fourth floor. And a few more turns in the hall led them to what was apparently a physics lab…

“Ya just missed him,” Junko said as the two got a look around the lab that appeared more like a research facility, “But the bear said this huge machine is an air purifier. It’s kinda the reason we’re able to breathe in here, with the academy sealed off as it is.”

Fujisaki looked a bit depressed.

“Yeah… But he was cruel about explaining it, saying it was a time machine at first…”

Junko just sighed exasperatedly.

“I can’t wait to get my hands on the jerk controlling that thing…”

Attached to the physics lap, there was another storage room that seemed to function as a prep room for the lab. But the main thing that captured everyone’s attention was the camera on a table in the physics lab; it had a bizarre anime character imprinted on it, and it was a bit dusty, but it looked like something Yamada would own.

~*~

Sometime later, they all met back up in the cafeteria to discuss their findings. As expected, Togami was missing from that meeting, too. Apparently, he’d grabbed some books from the library, and was reading in the changing room for the sauna.

“The third floor has a physics lab…” Fujisaki started them off.

“Yeah, it’s got an air purifier as its main attraction.” Junko remarked. “Supposedly provides all the clean air in the academy since we’re, y’know, sealed off.”

Mondo rubbed the back of his neck.

“Yeah… On that note, the metal plates covering the windows are screwed on just as tight on the third floor… Still no way out.”

“I’m sad to say, it hardly comes as a surprise at this point…” Sakura murmured.

Yamada tried to lift their spirits up.

“Well, there’s an art room now, at least! I can finally draw my anime characters!”

“Oh yeah… we did find a camera in the physics lab.” Maizono said as she held it up for everyone to see.

“A digital camera…” Kirigiri noted.

“Does it work?” Leon asked.

“Seems to.” Naegi replied.

Fujisaki hung his head sadly.

“Yeah, but the picture quality is low… There’s only room enough to save five photos, and there’s not even a self-timer. I’m sorry…”

“Jeez, there’s no need to apologize…” Mondo tried to cheer Fujisaki up. “It looks like a kids’ toy, anyway.”

“The design looks to be some sort of cartoon character,” Celes agreed.

Yamada was clearly affronted.

“Excuse me?! That’s Princess Buuko from ‘Heretical Angel * Super Squishy Princess’!”

“Do you know what this is, Yamada?” Naegi scratched his cheek nervously.

“Do I know what it is!? This digital camera was awarded to the victor of the bingo tournament… held at the special event commemorating ‘Heretical Angel’s’ anime adaptation… It’s stupendously rare. I managed to convince the victor to bequeath it to me for a large sum… Hey! That’s mine!”

“What?!” Naegi, and everyone else, was flabbergasted.

“Wh-Where did you find it?!”

“L-Like Maizono said, it was in the physics lab…” The Luckster answered hesitantly.

“I brought it with me because it’s my treasure, but it vanished on the first day with my cell phone…” Yamada explained.

“Why would something like that be in the physics lab?” Celes wondered.

“And why…” Yamada demanded. “… is it so dirty? I feel like a stamp collector who’s come home and found his collection used on a bunch of love letters. Oh, whatever…”

“Whatever?” Maizono tilted her head curiously.

“It’s no longer pure… I have no need for it…”

“It sounded like you really cared about it, though…” Naegi pointed out. Celes smiled pleasantly.

“Then is it alright if I hold onto it? It could prove useful. And if anyone finds themselves in need of a digital camera, feel free to call upon me.”

“I can’t see a camera getting much use here…” Junko bluntly replied. Naegi shrugged neutrally.

“You’re probably right.”

Leon ran a hand through his hair casually.

“Well, the only other thing on the third floor was the rec room.”

“It will undoubtedly enrich our lives here quite considerably.” Celes remarked. “Ehehe… I would very much like to play a game of Othello with someone.”

“While it isn’t related to the third floor, it would appear the infirmary is now open.” Kirigiri reported.

“Is there any protein? Even supplements would suffice.” Sakura asked curiously. The mysterious girl shook her head.

“Only medicine and other medical supplies.”

“I see… that is quite unfortunate.”

“I guess that leaves me and Maizono…” Naegi mused. “We saw all the stuff you guys did, but I guess the unique thing we found was a photograph…”

“Yeah, that photo was weird… Monokuma ran off with it, though.” Sayaka mumbled.

“Weird like perverted?” Leon cocked his head.

“Not that kind of weird…” Naegi corrected him. “It was a photo of Hagakure and Fukawa. It looked like they were at some kind of festival, running some booths.”

“Those two?” Kirigiri asked.

“Yeah… the weird thing was they looked really… happy. I dunno, it seemed like they made it outside, somehow.”

“When could a photograph like that have been taken? With the two of them happy…” Yamada wondered.

“I never heard that they knew each other before the academy…” Celes mused.

Sayaka nodded.

“True… I mean, the booths weren’t side-by-side or anything, but they would’ve at least seen each other if they were at a festival like that. It’s weird how they seemed like they’d never even seen each other before.”

“Surely you were just seeing things.” Yamada asserted. “’Twas an illusion conjured by Monokuma’s Malignant Gaze…”

“But Maizono and I both saw it!” Naegi objected. “It’s kind of hard for two people to have the exact same hallucination…”

“That’s true…” Leon conceded. “But think about it, dude. It couldn’t have been taken before they got here, and it definitely didn’t happen while they were here. And they shouldn’t have been able to have escaped somehow, ‘cause… well… We saw ‘em, y’know? They’re definitely dead.”

“M-Maybe it was photoshopped…” Fujisaki proposed.

“I can’t see it being anything other than a fabrication…” Celes confessed, agreeing with the programmer.

“Just forget about Monokuma’s stupid pranks.” Mondo spoke frankly. “We ain’t got time to be scratchin’ our heads over that crap.”

“Yeah… We should focus on getting out of here, and getting ready for Monokuma’s next motive… That guy just won’t quit.” Junko agreed.

Fresh out of leads, the group settled into an uncertain silence. While there were new accessible areas, the fact remained none of them would help in the long run. A rec room, an art room, and a physics lab. All were interesting, but not practical for their circumstances.

Fujisaki particularly looked contemplative, before he piped up with a peculiar request.

“Hey, um… Would you all mind joining me in the changing room?” Not bothering to elaborate, the programmer stood up and shuffled off nervously. Too curious not to follow, the group left the cafeteria.

~*~

Apparently, Togami was not in the changing room anymore. And quite a few of them were happy for it.

“So, what’s up, Fujisaki?” Makoto asked. Leon scratched his head.

“Why meet in here?”

“O-Oh. Well, this is the only room I’ve found where there aren’t any security cameras!” The programmer explained. He then pulled out a laptop from a locker. “S-So… When I got this computer working again, I figured this was the best place to hide it! It’s my way of trying to help everyone!”

“That’s the laptop from the library… I see.” Kirigiri mused. “Were you able to find any information?”

“Well… I think I’ll let my program explain. It’s an AI called Alter Ego!” The programmer beamed.

“AI?” Junko cocked her head.

“Alter Ego is the reason Fujisaki is called the Ultimate Programmer.” Kirigiri explained. “Alter Ego is a program, residing on a computer, that learns and develops through communication. It’s an innovative, revolutionary artificial intelligence, built upon and refined… from the concepts of support vector machines and reinforcement learning…”

“Vector machines? Reinforcement learning?” Naegi was among the confused.

“To put it simply, it’s a way for machines to learn… As the artificial intelligence continues to grow, it becomes more than just a simple assistant… They say it can eventually be used in place of humans for the majority of tasks.” Kirigiri finished her explanation, and Chihiro seemed a little relieved to not have to say all that.

“You sure know a lot, Kirigiri! I’m impressed!” He giggled.

“So that’s why it’s called Alter Ego… An apt name indeed.” Celes complimented Fujisaki. “It develops by building memories and using them in its thought process – just like a human. An artificial intelligence raised in that manner could indeed be considered one’s alternate personality.”

“A perfect personality – one that never forgets, never weakens… That is his program… That is… Alter Ego…”

It was hard not to be impressed. Even to the people who had little to no knowledge of computers, it sounded like Fujisaki had made something incredible.

“Ah, you’ve come for me, My Lord!” Fujisaki’s smiling face was suddenly on the computer screen, and the program even had his voice.

Mondo looked between the screen and Fujisaki.

“Th-There’s two of ‘em…” He muttered.

Yamada stroked his chin excitedly.

“Mmm! She calls you, ‘My Lord’! I see, I see… That’s so unbelievably… adorable~!”

“What happened to being 2D-only, tubs?” Leon raised an unimpressed eyebrow, arms crossed.

“She is a fine specimen of the second dimension!” Yamada cheered.

“Do you not even remember the last trial? Fujisaki’s a guy! So Alter Ego’s a guy! And he’s an artificial intelligence!”

“I see no problem here~.” Yamada nodded sagely. Leon just groaned.

After a short bit of typing on the keyboard, Alter Ego started speaking again.

“There’s a large quantity of files on the hard drive that My Lord wanted me to analyze… He thinks they’re documents concerning the academy, but they’re surprisingly well-secured… So it’s taking a bit of time…”

At their inquiring gazes, Chihiro elaborated.

“I’m not sure yet, but the files might be related to the secrets of the academy! That might be why they’re so well-encrypted.”

“How long will it take you to decrypt them?” Kirigiri asked.

“It’s definitely going to take some time…” The programmer apologized. “Alter Ego just started on them yesterday, and he’s got a ways to go still… I’m sorry…”

“No need to apologize!” Sayaka assured him.

“Any information will be helpful, so it’ll be worth the wait!” Naegi chipped in.

“We’ll need to keep Alter Ego a secret…” Kirigiri decided. “Can he lie low without drawing attention to himself?”

“It’ll be fine!” Fujisaki promised. “Like I said, there are no cameras in this room, and Alter Ego will be able to call out for help if he sees anyone suspicious through the webcam!”

Celes hummed doubtfully.

“While that will be no issue during the day, I’m worried about nighttime… Do recall that our rooms are completely soundproof…”

Kirigiri cupped her chin thoughtfully.

“I’ll leave the door to my room open during the nighttime… That way, I won’t fail to notice if Alter Ego starts to scream.”

Mondo’s hand twitched in concern.

“But if you leave your door wide open like that…”

“Yes, there’s a chance I could be killed.” Kirigiri did not deny the possibility. “But… could any of you really kill me? I don’t think I’ll die that easily.”

Sayaka ran a hand through her hair nervously. There was something about Kirigiri’s tone that put them on edge, but at the same time made them confident that their newest source of hope would be safe at all times.

“L-Let’s leave it to Kirigiri… She hasn’t let us down yet.”

“Y-Yeah…” Leon agreed with a nod.

Kirigiri calmly closed her eyes and started walking toward the exit.

“Well, I think that will do it for today… If we stay here too long, the Puppetmaster might take notice.”

No one objected. Fujisaki set the laptop back in the locker and left it open a crack, as it had been before. Admittedly, that first night putting Alter Ego in the changing room had frightened him; but now that he had told everyone else, he felt he’d made the right call. Even if he had a long ways to go yet, Chihiro Fujisaki felt like he was making progress to becoming stronger – not just in body, but his character as well.

#Danganronpa #Makoto Naegi #Sayaka Maizono #Mukuro Ikusaba #Makoto x Sayaka #Makoto x Mukuro #Naegi x Maizono #Naegi x Ikusaba #Naezono #Naekusaba

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iztarshi · 7 years

Text

The Eleventh Hour -- Episode 45

"Announcer: I hope our boys have a very big salt shaker! I don’t actually know if salt kills worms, it’s hard to think of things to say sometimes. The Adventure Zone!"

You know, they actually do? But I think all the magic one would do is tell them whether the worm is safe to eat.

Yeah! Get a part time job! Go cook!

Taako's only got an hour, so I hope he can get an advance on his paycheck, but I am really invested in him actually having to cook.

Oh, I see, the ruffians are the ones dissatisfied with the bubble. Which is fair? I'd be dissatisfied if my town got bubbled.

Taako's such a con artist. I'm not even sure he needs to con Ren into offering him a job, but he is anyway.

I thought you were getting a JOB Taako, not trying to hold a seminar.

*laughing* This conversation with Ren is amazing.

"Taako: Great! I do just have to say, my lawyers, this is funny, it’s gonna sound like a joke, but my lawyers have told me to say that if there isn’t a tomorrow this is null and void. But, [laughter] of course there will be a tomorrow! Right?!"

Does Taako just say everything that comes into his head, but fortunately most of what comes into his head is glib lying?

I'm disappointed there will be no cooking, but that was amazing, and Taako has ten diamonds.

Zoooooone of Truth!

So, Cassidy's been in jail for a few months, since she saw the worm. The giant worm is angry because it got separated from its babies by the bubble? In which case I guess this IS the fault of the chalice. And Cassidy is not the one who has been setting up traps in lockers, so that's probably Isaak. He's probably behind the second door? The one with the bubble over it.

A god named Istus or Isthmus. Who, I think, remains a character? Pretty sure I've heard him mentioned, but not enough I know which of those is actually his name.

Griffin's retcon does speed things up, but Justin was the one who had Taako only go for ten diamonds. Taako could easily have asked for more.

Okay, I recognise the colours of this second teardrop that's about to shatter and they're the same colours as the gem-glass that didn't connect to a plane, that the red-robe-lich used to represent the Hunger.

"Paloma’s Prophecy Voice: In the future, you will be offered a terrible choice between two options that will determine the fate of reality itself. In this moment of crisis, remember. There is always a third option."

BIGGEST prophecy. The overall situation not just for the town but for reality and the overarching plot.

Taaakoooooo. No, I do think he was listening, he just has to mess with people.

Hm. Small prophecies are a LOT more focussed.

Okay, the rusted hands of the clock are a bit suspicious. Would it rust in a few months? …okay, I guess it would, not suspicious then.

"And she’s represented by a woman who kinda moves between these different ages, uhh, is sorta, in summary, sort of thought of the keeper of fate and time."

Person with a chalice or actual goddess? It's not unreasonable that an actual goddess of time might turn up, in the same way Kravitz was acting on behalf of the Raven Queen when people started messing with death.

No one's been to the temple for what looks like a thousand years. So, it wasn't in use, apparently. Or it's aged really really fast.

Ooh. Merle's prayers get answered.

"Clint: W-we have kinda established the dynamic of him barreling in, me trying to make him stop, and Taako hangin’ back."

Yep.

*laughing* Travis' wanting to know if the skeleton was alive is justified it seems.

"Taako: Give us your secrets! Skeleton: Okay, stop, stop, stop, stop, stop, stop."

*pfffffhahahaha*

"Griffin: I debated about this because you’ve talked about looking for a thing and people were like “why wasn’t that staticked out?” but I think if you just reference a chalice it’s not-"

Oh, I see. I wasn't sure, because I was pretty sure "gauntlet" was getting stacked? But anyway. It's good to have that explained, because it means Roswell not getting staticked wasn't because they're an earth elemental. That's one less complication.

Although in this case I THINK this guy is probably dead? And we've established that dead people don't get staticked.

"Luca: I was in the temple just doing my prayers, doing my scribing and such, counting the offerings, when it just… Something happened. Everything inside the temple aged very quickly... And luckily I was the only person inside, and none of my- none of the followers of Istus were harmed but I- that’s how I ended up in this sorry state and how the temple ended up in its sorry state. I don’t know what did it but I suspect it’s the same thing that’s causing everything to be all screwy in this town."

Ohhhh, interesting. Well. Luca hasn't been to the, drat, not the ethereal plane. The dead plane. And back. He's more like our boys, I guess? He didn't check in. Not that much like them, though, because he's a skeleton.

This was a few months back, so it's neither at the same time the bubble went up nor the same time that time started repeating, which was, town time, an hour ago. I've been saying a day, but no, it's an hour. It's been four years of ONE HOUR.

Okay, so Redmond's trying to force his way out of town. MAYBE with the help of the purple-kercheifs.

And the old woman is lying on the floor which probably means they're getting close to the solution, because Griffin wants to ratchet up the tension not set them up to fail.

#TAZ #actual liveblogging

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sulkyprince · 8 years

Note

Okay so I saw the picture you reblogged about Prompto with stretch marks and I was wondering if I could request some Prompto being insecure about them and his s/o comforting him? Sorry if you aren't doing them right now! ^^;

!!!! Yesss @choconope, I certainly am and I also want to thank you for this prompt because it’s perfect!! ALSO sorry it took so long, I just really wanted to do it justice!!! Anywayy I hope you like it! (warning: very fluffy)

—————————————————————————————————-

“Aaand this is my room, “Prompto said cheerfully as he switched on the light.

The room was small and tidy. Sunlight crept in dimly through the thin curtains covering the two windows, the AC blowing them along softly as though it were trying to mimic the breeze. Next to the window at the far end of the room was a desk, piles of books were stacked neatly on top of its smooth wooden surface. Your eyes traced a path to the bed on your left, then up the wall that it sat against where a large cork-board was mounted, numerous photographs pinned to its surface. Your eyes scanned across a few heartwarming selfies of Prompto posing with his group of friends, then a silly one with just him and Noct, then another of a breathtaking jasper-tinted desert scene. Prompto was looking at you in order to gauge your reaction, smiling at the captivation you seemed to hold towards his photography before he stepped into the room.

Prompto had invited you over for a quiet dinner and a movie. Nothing fancy, just some take-out and the opportunity to finally give you a tour of his place since you’d asked to see it so many times. He went to grab a cleanly folded blanket from atop a small dresser across from his bed, something he could use to snuggle up close to you with as you sat on the couch together to eat. As he lifted the blanket he turned around to you sitting on your knees on top of the bed, leaning in close to the board to inspect the pictures in more detail. Prompto lowered the blanket quietly, a mischievous smile playing at his lips.

“Ah! Prompto!” you shrieked.

Your hands flew to your sides as Prompto grabbed at them with his fingers to tickle you, sending a jolt down your spine that caused you to double over. He caught you as you started to fall backwards, laughing and using the opportunity to tickle you harder, now under your arms. Your laughter climbed octaves as you struggled to get away, rolling back and forth further into his prying fingers. He buried his face into the crook of your shoulder, additionally tickling your neck as he laughed along with you in that excited, boyish tone. Then, he snorted rather loudly right by your ear, resulting in his head dropping embarrassedly and a muffled, “sorry, ” followed by the two of you losing yourselves in laughter.

You sighed, attempting to catch your breath before spinning yourself around in his arms, getting back on your knees again so that you were eye-level as he stood at the side of the bed. You placed your hands on the sides of his face, holding it there as you looked into his eyes, still bright with amusement. His gaze shifted downwards a few times, smiling crookedly as a blush started to play at the freckles on his cheeks. You pulled his face forward for a kiss. He melted into your palms, stepping forward as his legs met the corner of the soft mattress. You felt the warm leather of his gloves tenderly rest on your shoulders. You brought your hands down to caress his collarbone soothingly, wandering to his back, all the way to his hips and resting them there softly before-

He yipped as he broke away from the kiss, your hands attacking a sensitive spot on his sides, enacting your revenge. You couldn’t help but be both startled and amused by the piercing sound that escaped him before breaking out in laughter once more. He tried to back away, holding his arms out straight in front of him. You took off in pursuit, taking a step off the bed and following him around the small room, sneaking your hands up Prompto’s shirt to tickle him more. You pushed the cottony fabric up, feeling the warm curve of his skin and tightened abdominal muscles with your grabby fingertips as he fought back your advances.

“No, no! Stop! P-please!, “he blurted out urgently, swatting at your hand.

He was a flustered mess at this point. You backed down slightly, his desperate pleading and the tears forming at the corner of his eyes starting to get to you; he was too adorable to torture, even with tickles.

His laughter died down musically as he wiped his eyes, inadvertently glancing to the side. He seemed to start rather subtly as his eyes caught the floor-length mirror that was positioned next to the dresser. His smile dropped and his eyes fell to the floor as he lowered his shirt over his stomach, a look of remorse dusted over his rosy pink complexion. Although faint, you recognized that dissatisfied little gleam in his eyes. You’d seen that sort of insecure rush to cover one’s midriff a dozen times, perhaps having been guilty of it yourself at one point or another. You couldn’t imagine what he’d have to hide though, that boy was built. Still, you’d seen something… Scars, maybe?

“Prompto? What’s wrong?” you asked, a wrinkle of concern on your forehead, your hand on his waist as the fabric of his shirt fell softly over your fingers.

He seemed genuinely surprised you’d said anything. He became a little restless as he brought his hands down to wrap around yours a little defensively, shifting his weight back and forth. He smiled, but it wasn’t convincing.

“What? Nothing. Nothing’s wrong. Just, thinking about food, is all. We should probably eat now, you know, while the food’s still warm, “he said, his eyes shifting past you in the direction of the kitchen.

You stopped him as he tried to rush past you, holding him by the waist. His eyes met yours before dropping to the ground in a knowing expression. He could tell you weren’t gonna let this one blow over that easy. You brought a hand up to his cheek, the defensiveness in his eyes receding away to something more apprehending as he looked back at you. He brought his hand up to yours, his delicate grip tightening as the intensity of your gaze made his heart race.

“You’re so gorgeous. You know that, right? “You said, staring at him longingly, enjoying the red-tinge flooding into the barrage of freckles on his cheeks as he bit his lip.

You kissed him before he could respond, deep and hard and full of the strongest desire to show him just how beautiful he really was to you. He whimpered softly, a blissful little note as he exhaled through his nose. His hands went up to your face, then through your hair until he brought his arms around your shoulders. He let you sweep your fingertips slowly across the rippled texture of skin on his hips, wrapping your hands around them before moving them up, bringing the material of his shirt along. He made a small noise as his body tensed, bringing him arms down swiftly to hold onto your hands.

He laughed nervously before asking, “W-whatcha doin’ there?”

You giggled softly, explaining that he didn’t have to hide from you, that you meant what you said about him being gorgeous, and you just wanted to admire and be with him. Your finger traced a line up his arm, peppered with freckles and blemishes as you pointed out that it was just the two of you. Your nose scrunched gleefully at the look of unadulterated shock on his face when you told him that you’d take your shirt off, too, so he wouldn’t be the only one. His mouth hung open for a moment, face burning before his wide eyes softened and settled back down to the floor. His jaw twitched as though he were going to say something, nothing but a small sigh leaving him. You waited for him to gather his thoughts, urging him on with soothing touches.

“You know… I, haven’t always looked like this. By that I mean, well… Here, “He turned around, approaching a drawered organizer that sat next to the window. He crouched down, shuffling through one of the drawers a bit before making a quick and confirmative, “ah-hah” sound and standing back up. He showed you a picture of a small boy, heavy-set with glasses and a tuft of blonde hair. The freckles really gave it away, though. He stared at you awaiting your reaction, his mouth a hard line of worried anticipation.

“Woah! That’s you? You wear glasses?” Was what you had managed to blurt out upon seeing the photograph.

Prompto looked at you in disbelief, trying to figure out if you were making a joke or not.

“You were so cute!” You said after taking the image in for a moment.

Prompto rubbed the back of his head, laughing again, “What? No way!” He paused, giving you a subtle double-take, “…Really? Nooo. I was kind of a dweeb.”

You nodded your head, verifying that what you’d said was true.

He chuckled bashfully before his voice dropped to a more serious tone, “Yeah, well, as you can see, I lost quite a bit of weight. Now don’t get me wrong, I am proud of that and all, but… My body is still far from ideal.”

You rolled your eyes, assuring him that you had no idea what he was talking about, that he was perfect. He chuckled half-heartedly, trying hard to believe you as his expression grew serious again. He sighed somewhat shakily before stepping back.

He kept his head down low, trying to focus his eyes to the thatched mat on the floor or really, anywhere but on you. His expression seemed… troubled, as he stood there, heat rising to his cheeks. He brought his jacket off his shoulders, letting it drop to the floor dramatically. You wanted to sigh impatiently but you held your breath. He lifted the bottom of his shirt up over his abdomen, revealing pale skin speckled with patches of pink discoloration, freckles, a few faint scars, and ripples of glossy stripes that billowed up from the hem of his pants like soft, rosy wildfire.

His eyes darted up to yours from under his bangs, searching for something. You smiled reassuringly and he continued to remove his top. You had already stepped towards him when he pulled his head through. He twitched as he felt your hand on him. His skin was warm and soft. He watched your fingers as they traced a path across the smooth furrows of tissue that branched outward from the concave dip between his hips.

He sighed again, “Yeah, I know. I hate them. There’s not much I can do about it, though… I’m sorry I’m not, chiseled and irresistible like the other guys. I’m sorry I’m, so… flawed.”

The words came out heavy, hinting at a whole storm of insecurities inside that he could be referring to, the worry over the stretch-marks just a product of that. Your fingers danced over the ripples more, playing them like strings on a harpsichord as your eyes fluttered up to meet his.

“I love them. They’re beautiful, “you muttered.

He took in a small, audible gasp of air as he startled under your fingertips, looking at you in disbelief. You continued to praise him. Doing everything in your power to shoot down his daemons, just as he did for the rest of Eos on his long nights journeying with the boys. He asked so many times that you decided to just hold him and press your lips up to his ear, telling him over and over that yes, you really meant it. Yes, he really was beautiful. Yes, you really thought his stretch-marks looked like bad-ass lightning bolts scattered across his tummy. You felt his shoulders tremble as he rested a hand on yours, followed by a soft, inconsistent pattering on your back, so you held him even tighter.

He pulled back, a sheepish grin stretching across his face as he tried to underhandedly wipe his watery eyes on his gloves, “Heheh, sorry about that… It’s just, no one has ever said that before. No one has ever, called me beautiful before, “he squinted his eyes at the word as he stared off distantly in serious contemplation.

Then, his glistening eyes brightened, a smile returning to his face, warming your heart like a midday’s summer ray of sunlight. He hugged you so tight you felt your ribs cave in. He honestly couldn’t believe what he did to deserve you. You sat a moment holding each other, playing with each other’s hair. The warmth in his smile twisted into a sleazy grin, squinting his eyes as they jumped from your torso to your face.

“So, I’ll go set out the food. But now, isn’t it your turn? “he said as he tugged at the bottom of your top before skipping off, smiling back at you over his shoulder and hitting the doorframe on his way out.

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