#but of course the battle morphs are defining

[imperfectskeleton]

The kids battle morphs are so rooted in their personalities (as they should be)

So of course, let’s start with the bear. There are a lot of things important about the bear, but the most striking one on this read is its short sightedness in the heat of battle.

Rachel is eliminating distractions. So very Rachel, and both a help and a hindrance. It leads to occasional friendly fire when she can’t see right and wrong, but it also helps her lead others into battle, even when the case is she’s “[not brave], just blind.”

She says as she goes to acquire it, she can’t afford to be scared and have a normal life. Can’t worry about all of the options. She needs to fight the Yeerks.

The short sightedness paired with sheer aggression also makes Rachel and Tobias more dependent on one another. This book brings up a few times that Rachel can’t opt out when Tobias doesn’t even have one option of a normal life anymore. As far as the kids are concerned, the Ellimist weaponises the concept of Tobias having a happy family against them. So now Rachel has a protective morph to make up for Tobias’ fragility and Tobias is her eyes. (I’m pretty sure she’s blinded more than once in elephant morph too).

And bears are also famously protective. Mess with bear cubs, deal with mama bear. Mess with any animorph, you will deal with Rachel.

The elephant was still a good tanky morph of course. Incredible useful for protection, but more passive, protecting with bulk rather than attacking.

So let’s go for Tobias next. His father freed him from the life the Ellimist forced them to leave while also trapping him in it. Ungrounded, disconnected from humanity, with a different view of the world to the rest of humanity. Essential to the team because of his uniqueness (that’s true of all the animorphs actually). No good thing comes without a price.

Marco is holding onto humanity and normality. He’s also clever, and subtle, and the only one with thumbs a lot of the time. Plus, how else would he be able to drive?

Jake stumbled into an incredibly dangerous morph by chance and was lucky to escape unharmed. Initially the only apex predator of the group, he is also protective. As the series progresses, he needs skill and strategy - sure, as much as the others he has to cut out distractions and get the job done, but he also needs awareness of his surroundings and the ability to respond quickly to keep his team safe. It’s a very flashy morph that sets him apart from the group, and plenty capable.

Ax is his brother’s flag bearer. He’s the proxy of the Andalite military. He’s also proud, efficient, and like Marco, needs dexterity at times. Not having a battle morph sets him apart from the group, a reminder that he missed the animorphs’ initiation. An earth animal simply wouldn’t do him justice.

Cassie has the least flashy battle morph, and also possibly the least dangerous one. She’s there for her pack, not to do harm to others. And unlike Tobias, she is very grounded. Wolves and birds are both pretty traditional choices for humans in animal form, and Cassie and Tobias both have the most connection with something resembling real magic.

[gold-for-xp]

Defined Space: The Solar Unity and the Ammonite Line

The story goes like this:

Humanity faced a crisis. The warnings had been answered too late and too little. Earth was wracked by climate collapse; a glass marble that threatened to crack at any moment. Several governments pooled their resources to craft massive colony ships and launch them towards earth-like planets in the far reaches of the galaxy. Several of the corpo-states that had themselves been the driver's of Earth’s decay hastily went through with terraforming efforts on Mars and the Jovian moons. 

Eventually a new paradigm established itself. Mars became a second home for much of humanity, and an eventual separation of corporation and state (after a great deal of bloodshed and hollow compromise) led to the rise of a Unified Mars, which would become the founding member of the Solar Unity. The nascent interplanetary government began working on harnessing the nearlight tech first used on the colony ships to create flash gates within their borders.

The corpo-states, which at this point had been consolidated into a handful of mega-conglomerates, saw their influence begin to wane. After years of crude orbital conflict they struck a bargain with the Unity: they would share their terraforming technology in exchange for access to flashgates and nearlight engines. Additionally, they would relinquish their control of Earth in exchange for exclusive access to a swath of systems at the edge of the Galaxy's spiral arm. This region would eventually become known as the Ammonite Line, and the corporations that inhabited it came together under the banner of ALE: Ammonite Line Enterprises.

Of course, it took ALE a long time to control the Line in more than name only. During initial forays, they discovered that some of the colony arks from Old Earth had settled into the Line. This deep-space culture had, over the long years of travel, morphed the position of Captain and Bridge Crew into a near feudal system of government. This group called themselves New Damascus, after their flagship. Fighting broke out, and while the Solar Federation did step in and create an Accord between New Damascus and ALE, there were some for whom the battle did not end.

ALE Chief Naval Officer Commodore Horace Rho still saw some worlds of New Damascus as rightfully ALE space, and there were many who agreed. He never heeded the ceasefire order from ALE and the Federation. Instead he set up shop in the Orion Constellation, and declared himself First Emperor of Orion's Belt. 

Now, a war is waged between the Beltway Empire and the New Damascus Compact. The Solar Federation sends troops and supplies to New Damascus, and some see New Damascus as an extension of the Federation itself. Meanwhile, ALE is more than happy to supply their former CNO with their left hand and their Accord-mates with their right.  The Ammonite Line bleeds, and stains the stars red.

[lochnessies]

So. I just found out that Adrestia is the name of a minor greek god.

yep!! she’s the god of equilibrium between good/evil and revolt. the daughter of aphrodite and ares who follows her father into battle and was called “she who cannot be escaped.” i feel like the name was an intentional double entendre for both rhea and edelgard.

for rhea, or seiros in this case, defines herself as the warrior who fights to right the wrongs of nemesis and the elites. the war of heroes is a vague time that we have to fill in the pieces of ourselves (yes anon i got ur ask i’ll get to it i promise lol) but we do have a few canon events:

41 years before the imperial calendar seiros arrives in enbarr → wilhelm founded the empire there to honor seiros → an oracle gave adrestia its name

at the time of adrestia’s naming the war of heroes had not started (that won’t be until year 32) so seiros still hasn’t rocked nemesis’ world yet and then begin to systematically hunt down his elites. i believe that the divine oracle knew what was to come and saw that there was no escaping her judgement and named the empire accordingly. it’s like an ominous warning to those who pillaged zanado that they can run and hide but they cannot escape.

then there’s edelgard. she of course doesn’t come into play until over 1k years later so there’s no way that the empire was named after her. however, i feel like she spiritually fits the title of “she who cannot be escaped”.

edelgard is strong willed, ambitious, nationalistic, and will never stop until she sees her goals through to the end. her number one priority on all routes is complete imperial control over fodlan in an attempt to recreate adrestia’s glory days. we see just how far she is willing to go in both her success and her failures depending on the route.

on azure moon she will not surrender even if it means that she must use her citizens as cannon fodder and morph her own body in order to attempt to destroy her enemies. and even on her knees she rather use her last breath to cause harm rather than to mend what was broken.

on silver snow and verdant wind she admits that unless you kill her the war will rage on. she will not end it and so the only path to peace is over her grave.

on crimson flower we witness the garden of corpses from the church, kingdom, and alliance that didn’t escape the flames of her war so their ashes were used as fertilizer to grow her new world.

[umbran6]

Hogwarts Houses for the Heroes of Olympus, Apollo, and Meg.

I’ve seen a lot of people do this, so I thought I should do this and explain as to why I wanted them there. Spoilers are abound through Heroes of Olympus and Trials of Apollo as I explain my reasoning. 

Percy Jackson: Hufflepuff. Look, I know a lot of people place him in Gryffindor. That’s a reasonable outcome one can reach, considering his feats could be considered immensely brave. However, Percy has often participated in his quests out of a sense of loyalty towards those he loves, whether it’s his mom (The Lightning Thief), Camp Half-Blood (The Sea of Monsters), Annabeth (Both The Titan’s Curse and Battle of The Labyrinth), and in The Last Olympian, all of them. What really pins him in place is when he willingly fallis to Tartarus alongside Annabeth by the ending of The Mark of Athena, which is a remarkable yet insane feat of both love and loyalty. He also has a work ethic, which is revealed during The Tower of Nero. Rather than just go straight to New Rome and live a happy life, he went to a hellish military school just so he could graduate from there with a high school diploma. If that’s not a work ethic, I don’t know what is. Loyalty and work ethic are key Hufflepuff traits, and Percy has shown all of them. 

Annabeth Chase: Slytherin. Annabeth has often shown a lot of intelligence, but also a lot of resourcefulness and cunning during her time in the series. She literally tricked both Arachne and Nyx in what were impossible situations, and her goals are extremely ambitious, with her wanting to become an architect so she could build something that could last a thousand years. She also has a lot of Ravenclaw traits, to the point she repeated Odysseus and listened to the Sirens so she could learn what she desired the most. However, that was only once, and most often she used the knowledge she was given in resourceful and cunning ways, such as during the Last Olympian where she used the statues from Daedalus as a way to defend Manhattan. Needless to say, in my opinion she is a Slytherin first and Ravenclaw second. 

Jason Grace: It’s quite tricky, considering we don’t get to see any key defining traits, but I have decided to put him in Gryffindor. Jason’s shown plenty of bravery, fighting Giants and Titans during his quest, but he also has honor and chivalry, which he shows during Blood of Olympus, and later on, The Burning Maze. Specifically, in the scene where he makes a deal with Kymopoleia, promising to make shrines not only to her, but to all of the hundreds of minor gods of Greek Mythology. As we later see during The Burning Maze, Jason was completely willing to honor such a deal, working on the shrines even while he was living the closest thing to a normal life one could achieve as a demigod. And of course, we can’t ignore the fact that he was brave to fight Caligula just so his friends could escape. 

Piper Mclean: Slytherin. This is because during most of the time we’ve seen her, Piper fights dirty. She doesn’t stab a monster in the dagger, but charmspeaks the monster and stabs him in the back while he’s distracted. When claiming the position as Cabin Counselor in the Aphrodite Cabin during The Lost Hero from Drew, Piper uses the rules against her to get the position, rather than straight-up fighting her at the very beginning. Furthermore, rather than fight Khione upfront during the House of Hades, she bides her time and stalls the goddess until she can find a way to win. Though she has some traits that could go along with the other Houses, Slytherin tends to stand out the best. The only way she isn’t Slytherin in terms of traits is that she lacks ambition — we never see her have a higher goal beyond the quest, or any plans for what she’s going to do after everything’s done. Overall, she’s Slytherin through her actions, not her words, ironically. 

Frank Zhang: Gryffindor. This is because Frank performs a lot of actions that are by any standard, brave, and often selfless and self-sacrificial. Specifically, a lot of the sacrifices he performs throughout the series. In Son of Neptune, he was willing to be the distraction against the Laestrygonians so that Percy and Hazel could start their escape plan. He was literally willing to burn his own life force (his stick) so that Thanatos could break free despite the very large risk it posed to him. He even stood in the way of a Giant, pushing him all the way to the Canadian border. And as we learn in The Tyrant’s Tomb, he was willing to repeat his sacrifice if it meant Caligula and Commodus were killed.  Frank is a Gryffindor through and through, though he does have some minor Ravenclaw traits such as his use of tactics against his opponents, way of making plans, or recalling ancient Roman history. 

Hazel Levesque: Once again, this was another difficult one. Mainly because Hazel is split right down to the middle between Hufflepuff and Gryffindor. On one hand, she was so loyal to her mother that despite the fact that the lady got them into this mess, Hazel willingly sacrificed Elysium so her mom wasn’t punished. On the other hand, she was also willing to sacrifice herself so Alcyoneus couldn’t rise again despite the fact that it would lead to her and her mom’s death. Finally, I decided she deserved to go to Gryffindor, because of the fact that she willingly went towards the quest to rescue Thanatos in The Son of Neptune despite the fact that it was very likely that the god of Death would take her back to the Underworld. That takes immense amounts of bravery, not only because it’s the right thing to do, but she’s also putting herself at immense risk of being dragged down to the Underworld. 

There are some Slytherin traits, such as when she made a plan to trick Sciron during the House of Hades, or the plan to trap Nike. However, Hazel’s a lot more defined by her bravery and empathy, which are more Gryffindor traits. If she had more ambition, a big goal after the quest it could be understood, but overall her Gryffindor traits are more prominent. For example, let’s compare how she got to Praetor and Octavian got to Praetor, and later on, Pontifex Maximus. Octavian often used a lot of word-twisting and dirty tactics to get his position, and only got there because Reyna left her post so she could help Jason. In comparison, the legion willingly raised her on a shield and collectively voted her into the position due to her bravery during the fight against Tarquin in The Tyrant’s Tomb. 

Leo Valdez: There have been arguments over where he should go. All of them want him in one house or the other, but the most convincing ones were either having him in Slytherin, or in Ravenclaw. And I can definitely agree with both — Leo has shown immense amounts of intelligence and cunning throughout the series.  He’s also intelligent in the sense that he created the Argo II, multiple weapons, the Holographic Scrolls, and even Buford. 

However, after looking through his actions, I found that he leans more towards Slytherin. Although his façade of cheerfulness and humor was used to disguise trauma, he also used said humor to make himself appealing towards bullies so they didn’t beat him up. He often used his cunning to morph himself to social situations such as his façade as a jokester to look less threatening in comparison to others. 

During the times we see him fight, he’s also the one to not only play it smart, but also using tactics and dirty tricks, rather than focusing on swordplay or his own fire powers. The only time we see him go ham with his pyrokinesis is when he’s fighting Khione during The Lost Hero. Furthermore, in The Mark of Athena, rather than straight-up fight the nymphs and Narcissus to get the celestial bronze he needed to make repairs, he uses himself as a distraction and has Hazel manipulate the bronze in a place where she can’t be seen, which is a plan that needs a lot of manipulation of the opposing parties.

What finally acted as the nail in the coffin for me was his plan to defeat Gaea during Blood of Olympus. It involved a lot of manipulation of both enemies and allies, and in the ended it succeeded so brilliantly that everybody got what they wanted, with none of them being aware of the plan until Frank and Hazel explained it, and they were the very few people in the know regarding Leo’s sacrifice. Developing such a plan takes immense amounts of cunning and ambition, which are both Slytherin traits. Although he may be chaotic, mischievous, and annoying, Leo is the guy you don’t realize is a Slytherin until it’s too late.

Nico di Angelo: The thing about a guy who was pretty much a loner throughout most of his time in the series is that it’s hard to tell what values he has. Ergo, we should look at his actions rather than his own words. Nico, although mainly dominated by his naïveté during his younger years, has shown himself to be extremely brave. For example, there was him openly defying his father by saving Percy from his imprisonment, and later actively convincing Hades to stop his vow of neutrality and fight alongside the Olympians in The Last Olympian. Finally, there’s his excursion to Tartarus and later his willingness to transport the Athena Parthenos during Blood of Olympus. Nico willingly went there to see if the Doors of Death were over there, and later transported the Athena Parthenos to Camp Half-Blood even if it meant he would fade into the shadows forever. All feats are insanely brave, and therefore I argue that he should go to Gryffindor. 

Reyna Avila Ramirez Arellano: Hufflepuff. Most of Reyna’s actions aren’t inspired by bravery, honor, or chivalry, though from a certain point of view they are brave. Reyna often performs most of her actions out of loyalty for those she cares about, almost in a Percy-ish kind of way. Her interrogation and cold nature towards Percy in Son of Neptune? Suspicion that he would be a threat to Camp Jupiter. She metaphorically fought against Octavian’s power advances because she knew his own ambitions wouldn’t help New Rome. Willingness to cooperate with the Greeks before the Eidolons screwed up everything? She believed that it was best for New Rome. Willingness to brave the Mare Nostrum all by herself? Both her loyalty to Jason and that she believed that waging war against Camp Half-Blood was not the best for the legion. Her loyalty and ethic just make her a shoe-in for Hufflepuff. 

Apollo/Lester Papadopoulos: Oh boy, he’s kind of at an in-between when it comes what house he should be in. If we were talking about him pre-Lesterfication, I would honestly say Hufflepuff, but he takes a good chunk of those traits and turned them into a darker way. He defeated Python because the snake monster had chased his mother off of Delphi. He alongside Artemis murdered Niobe’s kids because the goddess insulted Leto by saying she was better than her. When Asclepius is murdered by Zeus, he retaliates by murdering the Cyclopes who made the weapons. And finally, he punishes those who broke their vows He shows loyalty, but in a lot of darker ways that we don’t expect. He’s got Hufflepuff morals, but they’re in a darker, more warped way than we expect. 

If we’re looking at him post-Lesterfication, I would still say Hufflepuff, but now he does it in a brighter way and is also more Gryffindor. He was more willing to sacrifice himself if it meant saving those he cared about, such as when he willingly tried to kill himself during The Burning Maze if it meant Caligula would stop holding his friends hostage. He was also willing to commit more honorable gestures such as bringing Jason’s body to New Rome during The Tyrant’s Tomb. He was even willing to own up to his mistakes right in front of a god who had every right to hate him if it meant Meg and Reyna could be spared. He’s still a Hufflepuff, but he’s a more idealistic and less warped version of the values he had before he became Lester. 

Meg: In a way, she’s pretty much like Apollo. She’s a Hufflepuff, but in all the wrong ways at first. We see this in The Dark Prophecy when its clear that during that time, she was more loyal to Nero of all people rather than her fellow campers, to the point of accepting Nero’s gaslighting if it meant she could see the positive view of him. However, she’s also loyal to Apollo and her father, which we see in The Burning Maze because the main reason she guns for Caligula is because she often compares him to The Beast aspect of Nero, the person who killed her dad. She in the end is also willing to accept and finish her father’s legacy, planting the seeds that eventually become the Meliai. Tower of Nero is when she gains the will to stand up to Nero after support from Apollo and her friends, and is later on seen taking care of the other children Nero abused. In the end, she’s a Hufflepuff despite the fact that she may not look like it. 

Now, before you guys getting up in arms about there being no Ravenclaws, in my opinion the house is a lot more knowledge-focused, whether its discovering more knowledge, but also using it in a more academic and experimental way. Considering we don’t see this attitude or its corresponding values too much during the stories that we see since they’re more save-the-world mission focused. While Slytherin does have an intelligence-centric value such as cunning, its more focused on using such intelligence to manipulate and trick others, while Ravenclaw uses such intelligence in the discovery for knowledge. 

[wlw-lovestruck-fiction]

Any fic for Yvette

(Written by @evoedbd.  Minor spoilers. Minor swearing.  Minor violence. Questionably a monster kink. 100% a Yvette kink)

It was there. The Void. Maw opened, pained groan echoing through the air like melancholy sobbing even as it began drawing the world into it’s oblivion. The darkness crept in, tainted by swirling dust on the supernatural gust summoned by the Void. That soft breeze somehow whipped, whispers of the disaster ready to strike as the Void awoke, as it settled, hollow eyes focused solely on Ni.

The mechanic froze.

Yvette’s terrified screams echoed, her battle cry of Ni’s name echoing for every demon she cut down, blue flames blazing in her sapphire eyes and down the length of her blade. Vuzgamad’s chosen was showcasing why she had been chosen to destroy the world, or perhaps what being chosen had done to her. She spun and slashed; a hundred demons inconsequential in the face of her greatest sin. Her Greed. For so long, her greed had gone unsated, filled with the cold comfort of riches that could feed a third world country. The void within her expanding through the twinkle of her humanity for every grandiose illusion. A price she paid for a cost she did not even care to know. Now, there was no illusion that could hide the fear, the desperation as she clawed from the molten core of the earth, through an army of hell, towards a solitary mortal. She, an insatiable storm wreaking havoc on all that stood in her way.

Just like the Void.

The creature was terrifying, deterrable but unstoppable. The two should not exist within the same being. This insatiable creature that fed upon everything Ni loved. That hounded her movements just as Yvette’s gaze did. The mechanic blinked. She was on the cusp of understanding, fingertips brushing serenity even on the middle of a battlefield. Surrounded by lava bursting through the Earth’s crust to Yvette’s desperation. Surrounded by the screams of her team, the family that had chosen her, by the snarling of demons that cloyed to them like drunken in-laws one couldn’t escape. All disaster that should have been swallowing her whole. Should be melting her flesh from her bones, heck, even her bones at these temperatures. She should be dead or fighting for her life at Yvette’s side. This was the end. Literal Hell on Earth, yet here she stood, suspended in a moment with the creature who had been hunting her since Yvette had emerged from that volcano. Standing upon what was perhaps the only undisturbed ground within the battle, as if nothing dared cross the sanctity of the Void.

Her brows furrowed. Why had this creature saved her?

It had saved her, afterall. Dragged her from the edge, taloned hands so unimaginably gentle. Its swallowing void merely teasing across Ni’s skin, swallowing the flames and blows destined to collide with her flesh. The flames Yvette had struck at the creature with to protect her. Now, Yvette was closing in, her flames devouring the demons who drew too close. Her sword was not enough, not anymore. Blue flames danced at her fingertips, forming the talons her hands tore at the world with. Hands that had forged her fortune, had carved a place for her existence out of the stone of misfortune. Hands that Greedily claimed Ni again and again, even before the blessing of skin against skin was possible. Hands Yvette would see filled with the one thing she so desperately desired.

It was an unfortunate demon who drew too close who filled Yvette’s hands this time. The Assassin’s hand gathered around the back of the Demon’s head, gathering a fistful of auburn hair to wrench an unkempt head sideways. Already, the demon burned at the brush of a thumb across its cheek, yet that was not enough for Greed. She tossed the demon aside, barely pausing to step over its slumped body before a sharp slash of her blade left its throat rendered open, gushing black sand as it gargled on the last of its existence.

Its existence hardly mattered to Yvette, not when her hand was extended desperately towards Ni, flaming talons and fingers curled, a gesture so strikingly familiar Ni almost staggered. If This was Yvette’s gesture, then… Her head whipped back to the Void.

There was something captivating about the Void. A torso defined by the swirl of an aquatic tinged galaxy. Pure energy, bubbling and twisting as if about to implode, contained within a tangle of veins of unpolished obsidian acting like an exoskeleton. These veins thickened into form, defining an extended hand like the gauntlets of a dark knight of legend. A hand mirroring Yvette’s so precisely that Ni was left speechless. Carbon formed the Void’s face, features that slowly became more familiar the longer Ni was allowed to stare. The tendrils of void and smoke emanating from the creature could no longer conceal the truth bubbling within Ni’s mind. The curl of its chin, although skeletal and masculine was so familiar to her. As familiar as gentle skin and feminine beauty. A mirror. An echo. How had she never noticed the jawline? Was it the gauntness of cheeks? The slits of eyes, shining brighter than the moment of a supernova birthed into existence, that held such a similar angle. It took so much, yet so little to recognise the mannerisms within the creature. That it was not rage that carved its features into such a violent sneer, but the features that morphed such an innocent expression into something so monstrous. Agony. Misery. The crumbling expression when its one true desire was torn from it. The hopelessness that it could never be enough. Could never be the part Ni desired of Greed. It was the ugliness, yet now Ni could only recognise the beauty.

“Yvette.”

Just like she was the rope in some twisted game of tug-o-war, tearing her from Yvette’s side had only awakened the desperation within Greed. It was so obvious now, a truth they’d all spoken but never realised. The spirit of Yvette’s Greed given form, seeking the truth of its nature, only to be denied by the human mask it had worn for so long. A piece of Yvette she could not control. A piece she lived in conflict with, a piece she’d never been able to feed. A piece forced upon her. Of course, her hatred for it might blind her, it made so much sense Ni almost cursed herself for never considering it before this moment. This was not Yvette’s to control, it was Ni’s.

“Yvette.” Again, she spoke the name, only this time she addressed it to the Void.

“I get it now. I’m sorry. Oh, Yvette I am so, so sorry. I was so caught up that I could touch you, that finally we could… I never realised how you’d hurt yourself. You tore yourself to pieces, but you still kept coming back to me. I was so blinded by our light that I couldn’t see you weren’t casting a shadow. I see it now, though. I see you.”

“Ni! What the fuck are you doing? Get back!” Vinca’s voice cut across the din, chaotic flares of red announcing her twisting a path closer to the creature. Dark knives had demons dropping with spectacular flicks of her wrist, disrupting the curtains of red hanging like charms from her shoulders. Ni turned back to the Void, catching the moment it’s face contorted to focused wrath, calculating the threat approaching. Hurt. Afraid to lose now that it finally had the understanding it sought. Ni could only shake her head.

“Don’t you get it? She won’t hurt me!”

“She? Have you lost your fucking shit? Yvette is in the pit and you-”

“You don’t get it! We didn’t see. None of us could understand what we were doing! Yvette didn’t just empty her soul into that Volcano… she split it!”

“Split it? Wouldn’t that mean there’d be two of her?” Trudy questioned, pausing to duck under a Demon’s fist. Vinca was there, a sharp flick of her wrist ending the threat before Trudy even stood up.

“Think about it! My light can destroy almost anything. Especially with Yvette by my side, reminding me why I shine so brightly. If I can split mountains and demons, why can’t I do the same to The Void. The only thing I can’t make it hurt, that it can’t exist to hurt, is the reason it shines.”

“You’re not saying-” Laz’s sentence faded into a grunt, struck in the chest by a demon’s foot.

“The Void is Yvette. Not a by-product. Not some monster. It’s a piece of her! It’s been trying to come back, and we’ve- Fuck! We’ve been trying to destroy it. Destroy Yvette. That’s why this is happening! How can she control her fire when she isn’t whole?” Ni cried, voice echoing moments ahead of another tremor. The depth of her message was lost in the ensuing chaos, to tendrils of molten earth attempting to swallow anything in the path. Still, the Demons fought, descending upon the group, tearing them from Ni’s sight as walls of flame spat forth. The bars of a cage ensnaring her, trapping her alone with the Void once more. Ni smiled. If the end of the world was to occur, it was almost romantic fate would trap her with her reason to shine.

The Void floated there, hanging silently in the horror filled air. A torso emerging from a matted cluster of tangled dark matter, as if tearing through the fabric of reality itself to be by Ni’s side. The mechanic could only smile, recognising the determination. It was Yvette. The life she had carved for herself, her bare nails digging into the rock of the mountain. Blood and tears eroding her place in the world. Of course, the Void would reflect that beautiful stubbornness. The wilful woman that called fires, just as she called to Ni. Who commanded woman and flame alike to burn for her.

“Yvette. You told me that you needed all of my love. That happily ever after needed all of me. Your love for mine, a trade we’d make forever. That you were too Greedy to accept anything less.” Ni began, taking a tentative step across the sands towards the Void. The Void flickered, pulsing like the increased fluttering of a nervous heart, even as its face barely changed. A fanged maw closed; a lipless line carved across the bone of her face. Talons reached for Ni, extended as if they might catch her should she fall. Step after step drew Ni closer to the Void, barely resisting the gentle pull. The gravity of inevitability. She answered quietly, basking in the warmth of her love, which combatted the heat of the flames devouring the world around her. It was as the Lava demon said, Ni would not burn… Not for any save Yvette.

“But I’m greedy too. I was too greedy to let you go, to let you become an intangible memory I’d love until eternity became nothingness. I need you too, Yvette. I love you. From the beautiful and easy things to the jagged scars and everything you think is too messy. You’re my reason to shine, the reason I burn with every breath I take. The reason no demon can burn me. Not Vuz. Not the Lava Demon. Not this hell on Earth. The only one who can burn me is you, and I want you to. I want to burn for you, only you, until this world turns to dust. Until the concept of existence is forgotten, and beyond. I’m yours.” Ni’s breath hitched as the Void’s claws circled her waist, holding her as if the wind might blow her away like a crumbling paragon of ash.

“I want everything… and to have that,” She whispered, tenderly reaching up to the Void’s cheeks. Her thumbs gently ran across the ridges of the Void’s cheeks, the exoskeleton to her galaxy held gleaming within such a delicate cage. She knew, in the back of her mind, that this being had withstood everything they could throw at it, that it was near indestructible. So far from the definition of delicate. Yet, beneath her hands, the Void melted, leaning its cool forehead into Ni’s sweaty one. Calm washed over Ni as her eyes drifted closed. This was Yvette. Ni loved this woman in her entirety, how could she not adore this Void? Love warmed her, burning brightly in her chest, gently expanding through her limbs, filling her with the sense of tingling. The tender delight that had every hair standing on end, each reaching for the Void. For Yvette. Ni shuddered, relishing the feeling of the Void moving against her face, tendrils of dark energy licking across her skin like phantom kisses. Just as when Yvette bumped their noses together, or when she scattered loving kisses across Ni’s face. Ni quietly hungered for more, pressing her face to the living stone with a soft coo, a little noise answered by a deep grumble from the Void. One chance. She had one chance to say this, to try to… she didn’t even know, only that she was going supernova in The Void’s grasp, glowing brighter and brighter, until the gleam of her light that was the Void’s eyes were no longer definable. Only the mask of black.

“I need you to be whole.” She concluded, finally daring to close the distance between her lips and the Void’s. If this was her one chance to reclaim Yvette in her entirety, she was going to take it. She would shine until the world became her shadow if only to illuminate the way for Yvette’s soul to heal, for the fragments to finally mend together. Like a fairy-tale, she kissed what everyone considered a monster. She poured her soul into the Void’s waiting darkness, using her body to fill the abyss even as the magic curled around her, as it soaked up every ounce of her light, feasting upon the energy Ni offered so freely. Feeding. Absorbing. Reflecting. Returning. A prism burning in the palm of destiny, reflecting radiance across the battlefield. A glowing ember, a spark erupting into a storm that devoured and rejuvenated simultaneously, a feedback loop neither dared interrupt. One by one the demons fell, consumed like grass in a wildfire by Ni’s light. Their death sands coated the ground, crawling through the molten crevices splitting across the face of the Earth. Beneath Ni’s lips, stone softened, eroding like water as the warmth and fire finally embraced the darkness. Just as the darkness needed light to swallow, the light needed darkness to shine.

She burned. Finally, Ni burned. Fire blistered across her flesh, devouring her in a thousand memories. The whisper of sheets between them. The subtle scratch of lace gloves across her hip, cupping her cheeks ever so sweetly. The bite of the diamond across her chest, beneath her palms as Yvette so willingly delivered her sweet gifts. The softness of hair against her nose as she burrowed into Yvette’s neck. The gentleness of their palms connecting as Ni finally touched the untouchable woman for the first time. Everything spiralling and blazing from a single moment. A single spilt coffee upon an alter to Ni’s destiny. Her path to forever. How cliché, that it would be a moment of spilt coffee that would decide the fate of the world.

“My Lodestar.”

That was what Yvette always called her. Her compass. Her guiding light. Like a star, Ni fell towards the ground, falling from the skies. Entwined with her lover’s void, her light spluttered, littered with flames the colour of sapphires. The girl shone, resplendent as she finally settled to earth, into the arms of destiny. Like a shadow, the Void whispered across Ni’s skin, a brief echo of what was. A shadow of what was to be. The shadow cast from Yvette’s extended arms swallowed what remained a half blink before she pulled her mechanic into her embrace, holding her burning star to her heart. The sapphire flames spread, dancing across the veins of darkness creeping along their skin, a fine netting to the angelic gleam of Ni’s skin. For the flames of Yvette, Ni’s light only became more determined, braided together by the lingering darkness of the Void. Formless, only the shadow of fangs behind Yvette’s parted lips betrayed that such a creature had ever existed. The way the blues seemed to flicker into the whites of her eyes, swallowing the light with darkness, even as Ni’s eyes finally opened, meeting the void burning within Yvette’s.

“Yvette.” She whispered, voice cracking as she raised her hands to Yvette’s blue locks. Before her fingers even met the strands, they reached for her, whispering upon the memory of a breeze. Flames reaching for the only oxygen. If that evolution surprised her, Ni never let it show, instead pulling herself to Yvette, nose to nose. A laugh. A tender bump. Relief. For a single breath, everything was calm, perfect. The taste of the Void lingered on her tongue, smoke escaping her parted lips to tease across Yvette’s. The Assassin gasped, the darkness dripping from her maw, dissipating in the air between them. Questionably, a trick of the light, something for them to address another day. The following rumble of another quake was another matter.

“You might want to fix that.” Ni commented playfully. Greed groaned; sharpened teeth bared in frustration as she extended a hand towards the roaring flames.

“Stop.” She commanded. The husk of a monster’s growl teased her voice, sending a shiver down Ni’s spine. The world froze at Yvette’s command, the lava leaving scars of black across the sands, as cold as if they’d existed a thousand years prior. The breeze teased the sands, an eraser helping to conceal the dark scars the longer Yvette willed they should not be seen. Fires ceased to burn, all rushing to Yvette’s palm like faithful pets seeking their master’s affections. They danced down Yvette’s arm, curling like tails around Ni’s body, pulling her harmlessly closer to Yvette’s side. The mechanic could only laugh, curling into her Lover’s body. She waited patiently, content to let Yvette take her time to contain the chaos. For the flames to slowly go cold against their flesh, only to lend their heat to the desire in Yvette’s devouring gaze, her eyes every inch as destructive to Ni’s sanity as the Void was to the world. The fires may no longer be fit to consume the world, but that did not mean they were stilled. In Yvette, they burned. In the dark veins riddled across her limbs, in now white less eyes, on heated breath escaping from behind darkened fangs as she whispered.

“Home. Now.”

Ni shivered. If she was to be the world Yvette consumed, then she was all too okay with that.

[like-rain-or-confetti]

Nineteen Years Prior (Draco Malfoy x Reader)

You watched the sea of people hurry around platform nine and three quarters. Few amongst the strangers were ghosts of familiar faces, older, more experienced. All different people from which they had first been when coming here nineteen years prior. 

You couldn’t help but smile fondly as though recalling a memory. In someways it was, with only a few minor details changed. Some would have thought that aging or losing friends and family wasn’t so miniscule and shouldn't be dismissed. From your perspective it was. The pain of loss, aging and moving on with life. It was all apart of the story. You stood alone on that platform. Without a family of your own, yet it wasn’t sad. It was enough to be witness to your friends. Your gaze stopped at Ron, Hermione, Harry and Ginny. You recognised them instantly. 

Hermione kissed her daughters forehead, pulling her in close. Meanwhile, Harry fixed his sons shoe lace. His son said something, distracting him from the task. Your eyes returned to find another familiar face. Draco Malfoy’s hair was slicked back just as it had been in the first few years of Hogwarts and just as blonde. The boy he was looking down at with a soft smirk had to have been his son as he too had the Malfoy blonde hair that every Malfoy seemed to inherit. He led his son closer to his mother to enveloped the boy in a hug. He acknowledged Harry, Ron, Hermione and Ginny. Tension was still apparent but it seemed more on Draco’s side in terms of guilt. What could he have said after everything that had happened nine-teen years prior? Draco looked away from his family and caught sight of you across the platform. His eyes widened, smirk vanishing. He looked shocked to see you and you couldn’t help but smile in amusement. Nevertheless, you waved at him as you continued to smile at him. He shifted slightly, seemingly uncomfortable before giving you a discreet nod. You weren’t too surprised. Rumours spread about the Malfoy’s after the Battle of Hogwarts and they shut out themselves in shame. Draco cut contact with everyone. No one heard from the family, only the rumours about them. You never caught any detail of those rumours, only that they existed. Then again, such stories never made it to Hogwarts, only students ever kept them alive and even then, they were barely a rare whisper. 

You had shared many classes with Draco as well as Hermione, Ron and Harry. Much like them, you and Draco got off on the wrong foot. In fact, you were enemies for the first three years. 

With every year, Draco Malfoy had become more and more insufferable, or at least that’s how it seemed. Although whether it was being accustomed to his antics or the desire for a change of scenery with some fresh air, an example would have been in Hagrid’s class. You thought he was doing pretty well. Draco, on the other hand, was insistent on mocking Hagrid through out, making it very known that he didn’t have the seal of Malfoy approval.  “Right you lot, less chatter, form a group over there and open your books at page forty-nine.” Hagrid ordered. A few looked down at their books, Draco and yourself included, in slight confusion. "and how exactly do we do that!?" Draco snapped. "Just stroke the spine, of course! Goodness me." Hagrid called back. You looked down are your book. "I didn't see that coming." You mumbled to yourself. Draco turned his head to look at you before running his fingers down the spine of the book. 

Seeing Harry with Buckbeak was amazing, although you couldn’t help but feel a little jealous, wishing it were you. Although Draco wasn’t so impressed. Your jaw dropped when Draco stormed up to Buckbeak, all the while antagonizing the creature. In retaliation for being too close, Buckbeak immediately stood upon hind legs before tearing into Malfoys arm. Next thing you knew, Draco was whimpering, cursing Hagrid and 'his bloody chicken'. 

You saw him in Lupin's Class, arm now bandaged up and in a sling. He leaned against a pillar as everyone waited for Lupin's next instructions. "You alright?" You asked quietly as you turned your head to Malfoy. Draco looked surprised you had said anything. His eyes darting to you. He hadn't even noticed you had been standing beside him. "Yeah." Draco said gruffly. "Figured I'd ask that one looked like it hurt." You responded. "It did, bloody chicken nearly took my arm off." You weren't sure if Draco was being dramatic, it certainly didn't look that close. However, you didn't really know Draco enough to know if he was the type of exaggerate. 

Draco was surprised, just as his face had shown before morphing back into a scowl. He almost didn't answer your question but was so dumbfounded, he did anyway. Not even Crabbe or Goyle had asked him if he was feeling alright today. You had been the first and you were one of the last he'd think would ever think to ask. Then you surprised him again by actually keeping the conversation going. Draco had two options, tell you to shove off or actually take the conversation. Before he could make the decision, once again he had already responded. 

As Lupin began his lesson, you heard Draco mutter to Crabbe. "This class is ridiculous." "Alright! Everyone line up!" Lupin called out as the class suddenly scurried into one line. Everyone pushed and shoved into a line. Neville started and the Boggart twisted and turned into Professor Snape. Within seconds of Neville's cry "Ridiculous!", he wore what resembled the very outfit he had just described his grandmother to have worn. For Ron, a large spider that was suddenly on roller skates. Pavarti, a snake that became a clown before it could strike. For each, down the line, the Boggart morphed into their worst nightmare before turning into something utterly ridiculous. Much like the spell had been named. You couldn't help but shiver when your turn came along. 

You looked to Professor Lupin before the Boggart would morph. "How do I do it again?" You swallowed hard, your mind drawing blank at the thought of what the Boggart could turn into. "Other than the spell, what do I do?" The Boggart began to twist, morphing into your own fear. "Think about what would make it funny." Lupin said calmly with a reassuring look. The Boggart stretched, tall and thin, morphing into a man in a suit and bowler hat. He had no hair but it was the only defining feature you could make out. He never had a face. His arms longer than they should have been as well as his legs. You only ever saw his silhouette. You knew the figure well.  Usually children feared the monster under their bed or hiding anywhere else. Your monster never hid. He stayed in the dark and there were many terrible nights you awoke to him at the bottom of your bed. That man had haunted your nightmares for so long that you had made up stories about him, even when very young. He had a wife with a neck that was so weak it couldn't hold up her head. The two had a son who looked to be nine years old at most. Due to his mother's weak neck, her son had weak legs. They had never worked since birth and were lifeless. It meant the boy had a solid tight grip that you had felt in your sleep before, the pain being enough to wake you. Since then, you looked at the boys hands that were gripped upon his wheelchair. You knew if there was more than one Boggart, you'd face the whole family that haunted you. However the tall man was the one who never left you alone. 

You heard the discomfort in your classmates from behind you but didn't dare take your mind off of it. His movements were stiff, like he had to fight himself to move his own legs. His steps were small, his dress shoes clicking against the stone flooring. His knees lifting higher than necessary with each step, mimicking walking as if each step he took was his first. Just as he always had. His upper half was rigid and unmoving, making his movements even more unsettling. To your horror, the man head begun to reach out and that was when you snapped out of your frozen state. "Ridiculous!" You cried out. The man reeled back and his hat grew in size. It became to big for his head and covered his face. The man swiped at the air, unable to see. The scene gradually became amusing as suddenly the lack of vision seemed to render the man useless and unable to stay up, falling over himself and unable to stand up straight as though he had completely lost his balance. You felt relief rush through you as a few of the class chuckled, including Lupin. "Excellent! Goyle! You next!" 

When class was over you realised the only person your had your next class with was Malfoy himself. You sighed, unable to stop the sinking feeling in your chest at the likelihood that you'd be his next target. Yet Professor Flitwick's class was surprisingly calm, even when you were paired with Malfoy. "Is there a reason you have a stupid look on your face?" Or perhaps it wasn't so peaceful but rather peaceful as it can be around Draco Malfoy. You shook your head. "Just thinking about how we've went from Lupin's class to this class. Dealt with Boggart's and now we're in charms? Seems a little-" "Ridiculous." Draco said flatly. "Charms is pointless. First year stuff. Hardly worthwhile of a whole class in my opinion." You nodded. "Especially after a Boggart." You agreed, it was rather comical how such a light hearted class was unintentionally put after a challenging one. "I thought yours was a dementor." You admitted. Draco scoffed. "Why would I be afraid of a dementor?" You shrugged. "They aren't the most pleasant of creatures. It was a grim reaper right?" Draco said nothing but nodded once, not meeting your eyes. He had a fear of death.  "What was yours?" He asked much to your surprise. "You'll think it's dumb." You warned him. "Of course, I will. It's coming from you. Tell me anyway." Draco responded. "Thanks, Malfoy." You said with sarcasm and Draco's impatient glare told you to get on with it. "I'm prone to nightmares. I don't really get them here but I do at home. I think it's because the house is so old and creepy that my mind goes wild. That man the Boggart turned into has been around for a long as I can remember. He always stood at the dark corners of my room or the foot of my bed. Just a nightmare. I haven't a clue where he came from." You shrugged. Without warning, Draco sneered at his quill rolling it off his desk before reaching for another students quill. Plucking it from their desk like nothing ever happened and began to write in his book. The student beside him looked for his lost quill, noticing the one of the floor and assumed it was his, swiftly swooping down to reach for it. "Did you...did you just take that?" You asked in disbelief. "No, I borrowed it." Draco responded with a slight furrow in his brow. "Yeah right, you totally stole that!" "Are you an idiot? I just told you I borrowed it!" Draco said sharply. "Okay, do you intent to give it back?" Draco didn't respond and you hummed in satisfaction. 

After that it was a matter of convenience for you both to claim you were enemies. Although, it was apparent that you weren't. Whilst not quite friends, hatred wasn't present, even on the days you didn't get on.  It really shouldn't have been much of a surprise that Professor Slughorn paired both you and Draco Malfoy for potions class. Draco sent you an eye roll and a sneer whilst you looked utterly bored by the reaction. You moved to him, of course, because Draco Malfoy didn't move for anybody. 

Slughorn put a piece of paper on the desk in front of you making the two of you lean over the desk. He made it clear that whilst these potions were harmless, "Alihotsy Draught? What's that again?" You furrowed your brow at the paper with the given potion the two of you were to create. "Alihotsy as in the plant." Draco scoffed. "Are you an idiot? It's a potion that causes uncontrollable laughter." "Shame, just when I thought I'd be lucky enough to get a jaw binder spell for you." You responded pointedly. Draco scoffed again. "You should know better than speak that way to your superiors." You turned to stare at him in the eye. "Do you really want to play that game right now?" Draco ignored that question. "You're wasting time. The sooner we do this the more decent potions we'll make in the future...more useful ones. Also we're testing this on you." "Me!? Why me!?" "Because I said so." Draco left no room to argue. "I’ll cut this. What does it say to do next?" 

When the potion was done, there was a sweet aroma that came off of it. A smell that reminded of sweets and oddly enough childhood. Although you couldn't pinpoint just what made such a description come to mind. It was a purple bubbling liquid with an opaque purple smoke rising from the small cauldron. You grimaced, knowing you'd have to drink it. Whilst it wouldn't be the worst outcome if the potion was correct, if it was wrong then who knew what would happen. You generally just didn't want to be on the receiving end of potions. Draco handed you a small vial of the potion of which you were reluctant to accept but did so. Suddenly a different smell intruded into your nostrils. You felt very dizzy suddenly. You swayed slightly and immediately Draco steadied you with one hand, covering his nose and mouth with the other. "Blaise! Get that away!" Blaise looked up at the two of you before pulling the potion further from the two of you. "Don't think we should have used that much-" You didn't catch the rest of what Blaise said to Crabbe as Draco tugged you firmly. "Hey, are you okay?" You nodded, blinking past the now fading dizziness. "Yeah. Sorry, I don't know what happened." "It's their potion." Draco nodded towards Crabbe and Blaise. "Are you going to faint?" You shook your head. "No, no, I'm fine now." You looked down at the vial in your hand once more. "It's a small amount so it shouldn't last very long." Draco said. Although you were unsure if he was informing you or trying to subtly make you feel better as your unease was very clear. You sighed. "I hate potions." You mumbled to yourself before tipping back the vial into your mouth. 

It was as sweet as it smelled. Not the most unpleasant tastes by definitely too much if in larger amounts. If anyone were to drink it, it would not be on it's own. You hummed slightly with a smile. Although you had no idea why. Gradually, you had begun to giggle until it was completely uncontrolled laughter. It was safe to say the potion worked. Professor Slughorn strode up to your table, double checking the potion you had created. "Ah, I see your efforts have been a success!! Excellent work you two!" He praised both you and Draco. Whilst Draco would have usually felt pride in the praise, something else had him distracted. Or at least, that was until you were crouched down, clothing the desk in hysterical laughter. Slughorn seemed to somewhat have sympathy despite his own poorly hidden amusement at your state. "What are you doing!?" Draco asked, looking at you now on the floor. You couldn't stop laughing long enough to tell him coherently that you couldn't stop laughing and it was really beginning to hurt.  "Have this, it'll clear the effects within moments." Professor Slughorn handed Draco the small vial, nodding towards you as he figured it highly unlikely you'd be able to take it yourself. 

Somehow the sight of you was the most uplifting thing Draco had experienced in days. You looked absolutely ridiculous and your laughter was more contagious than he'd have liked to have admit. "Don't...laugh...at me!" You said in breathless laughter which only made Draco chuckle a little more. "I can't help it." Draco crouched down. "Stay still! How am I supposed to give you this whilst you squirm around like that!" Even then, he couldn't be completely annoyed at you. He was certain you didn't even realise that you had made him laugh. Something he very much needed as of late. "Swallow it! Swallow it! If you spit that out, you'll be stuck like this." Draco said hurriedly.  Eventually you were able to and as assured, your laughter subsided, leaving you coughing. You took a breath, giving him a small smile. Draco smirked although his stare in you remained, lingering longer than usual. 

Draco seemed to grow more hostile yet isolated. His group of friends always behind him as usual but you couldn’t help but notice that it took him longer to notice them. Furthermore, it seemed more difficult for his friends to retain his attention. You noticed but didn’t ask. Not that you had high chances of a response. It seemed better to think that unless Draco approached you, keep out of his way. You got on with him better than your other friends did. 

As the year continued, it seemed Slughorn was more interested in Hermione, Harry and Ron. As a matter of fact, it seemed the three grew closer, the more Harry grew suspicious that Draco was a death eater, the more Hermione and Ron seemed to develop a tension between them. You weren’t oblivious to the tension, even if they were. It was no big surprise that the two liked each other. You figured it was only a matter of time before they realised. Whilst they were at Slughorn’s get together - an invite you didn’t receive- you were asked to deliver a book from Professor McGonagall. Once you had done so, you were eager to get back to your dorm, not wanting to be caught wandering the halls. 

As fate might have it, you nearly collided into both Draco Malfoy and Professor Snape as you turned a corner. Luckily you halted before you could walk into the two. You couldn’t help but notice how alarmed the two looked but before you could think anything of it Professor Snape spoke up.  “What do you think you are doing wandering the halls at this hour?” Snape demanded icily.  “I-I’m sorry, Professor.” You said hurriedly. “Professor McGonagall asked that I return a book for her. She permitted me specifically. I was on my way back to my dorm now.” Snape eyed you with skepticism. “I trust you two can both find your way back to your appropriate dorms without delay.” Snape said somewhat dryly before turning on his heel and marching back down the hall, leaving both you and Draco. 

You exhaled as soon as he was out of earshot. “I thought he was about to rip my head off.” Draco seemed to lightly smirk at your statement. “He probably would have, if it wasn’t for that.” Draco gestured behind him.  “You were at Slughorn’s party?” You raised an eyebrow as the two of you began to walk in the opposite direction.  “No!” Draco said with disgust. “I was crashing it.”  “Why?” You asked unable to hold back a smile. “I wanted to know what all the fuss was about.” He replied.  “Well? Are we missing out?” You asked. Draco scoffed. “We’re the lucky ones.” Draco did a double take. ”Weren’t you invited?” It was his turn to ask. You shook your head. “No. Too pureblood to even dream of getting an invite.” You gave him a playful smile.  “Disgusting...” Draco said to himself, thinking of the group that were in attendance.  “You look great though.”  “Thanks.” Draco smirked. 

You did a double take when you found Draco, alone, reading a book. You hurried up to him. “Hey, can I sit with you? I promise I wont bother you.” Draco’s gaze lifting to you. He rolled his eyes. “Fine. What’s up with you?”  “I’m hiding from Harry, Ron and Hermione.”  “Finally seeing how pathetic they are? Come to your senses?” You sent Draco an unimpressed look. “Ron took a love potion when he and Lavender were previously all over each other. I don’t even want to talk about that. If i have to hear “Ron-Ron” one more time i will hunt own a dementor and make it kill me.” Draco couldn’t help but chuckle but continued to listen to your rant.  “Hermione is almost heart broken and Harry wasn’t quick enough to the idea i had. Run like hell and hope it all blows over.” Draco crinkled his nose in disgust. “Weasley under a love potion?”  “It’s weird.” You responded. Draco paused. “Lavender who?”  “Lavender Brown.” You responded.  “Oh...her.” He said and you nodded slowly in slight dismay.  “I mean, get me some fire whiskey and maybe i could stomach it a little longer but I beg of you don’t make me go back there.” Draco chuckled. “I won’t.” He leaned into your side slightly. “Who was the love potion for?”  “Harry.” You said flatly.  “From who?”  “Romilda Vane.”  Draco burst out laughing.  “Draco, shush! I’m not even supposed to tell you this!”  “Tell me more!” Draco laughed.  

You shook your head at him in disapproval but the smile was still clear on your face. The atmosphere surprisingly light and peaceful considering who you were spending time with. "How have you been?" You asked. His smile faltered slightly. "I've been fine. Busy." You nodded. "Yeah, I haven't seen you around as much. Dare I say it, it's weird without you." Draco smirked. "Miss me?" "I wouldn't go that far." You smirked back before you let out a laugh. The two of you stared into each other's eyes. You forgot the world in that moment. It was just you and him in the peaceful quiet...and he didn't even think to ruin it which was always a plus. It was also short lived in the end. Whilst the time with him had you convinced that perhaps you could consider him a friend. You couldn't help the slight flutter in your chest from seeing this side to Draco. A much preferable one. 

The next time you saw him, he was hurrying around the corner and nearly collided into you. Before you said anything, you noticed that Draco was most certainly not okay. Immediately, you were worried and jumped into action. Draco looked ill, his face pale but his eyes wide in terror. "Are you okay?" You asked him caught off guard. His breathing quickened, not far from hyperventilating. "Hey. Hey. What's wrong? Come with me right?" You grabbed Draco by the wrist pulling him along. You knew something was very wrong as he allowed it without even as much of a protest or sly comment. You left him to a quiet and peaceful part of the castle. "Here, take a breath." You said rubbing his upper arms and looked into his eyes for any sign of pain or injury. Draco swallowed hard, trembling slightly. "Look at me." You coaxed him. "You are okay. Just breathe for a second yeah? Are you hurt?"  After meeting your gaze, Draco shook his head. You visibly looked relieved. "Okay, good. Now deep breaths. Take your time. No one can see you here." 

Any other time, Draco would have taken your kindness as insufferable but now, now he was more than thankful for it. Even if he didn't really want to be around anyone. Regardless it surprised him to see you so concerned when usually you could be dismissive of him, even send him a piercing glare when he made comments about you, Harry, Hermione and Ron. 

You were even more thrown off guard when tears slid down his face silently. "Hey. What's wrong? What do you need?" Draco wasn't sure what he needed. Ideally an escape from his task that the Dark Lord had given him. Some reassurance that he wasn't a terrible person for what he had just done to Katie. He didn't know what he needed and yet in his silence you seemed to have an idea. You pulled him into a hug. A hug hadn't been something Draco considered would help yet much to his surprise, your hold on him was very comforting. Much to your own surprise, you felt Draco's trembling arms hug you back. You held him tightly. 

"You're going to be fine." You said to him quietly. "Whatever is going on, you'll pull through." You stayed like that for roughly five minutes. Suddenly, he abruptly pulled back, wiping his eyes. "Not one word of this, (L/N)." You heard Draco grumble, refusing to meet your eyes before storming off. You didn't follow. Only watching him go in concern and confusion. 

Later, you heard that Harry and Draco had gotten into a fight. Harry told you what he had done. Everything happening so fast that he hadn't realised what was happening until it had happened. You demanded to know where he got such a spell, at the very same time Hermione did. Suddenly the book Harry clutched and kept with him at all times didn't seem so much as a cheat sheet- it was a weapon. "For enemies?" You ground out as you stared at Harry. "I didn't know what it did and he attacked me! I'm not proud of it, I just don't understand what that kind of spell is doing in there!" "Listen, I get where you're coming from. You've had your suspicions of Malfoy and its not like you were best buds from the beginning but do you really want to be the person who fires off dangerous spells like that?" You said. 

It was true, whilst you were furious Harry had done it and the stupidity it took to use a spell that you didn't know what it did, you understood Harry's predicament. Much like many situations, everyone could regret what they did in hindsight. 

"No! Of course not." Harry said rubbing his forehead in stress. "You're sure? That Malfoy did that to Katie?" You asked him. "I think his response confirmed it." Harry said flatly. You nodded. "Okay." You hugged him. "I'm not going to give you hell over something I already know you're putting yourself through. 

At seven in the evening, you waited outside the Slytherin common room. You couldn't just walk in and since you hadn't seen Draco, it was likely he was inside. Much to your relief, Blaise was heading back to the common room. "Zabini!" You called out, stopping him in his tracks and he turned to you. He looked confused as to why you were around and even more so why you wanted him. You gestured for him to come over and almost reluctantly he did. As though you were playing a trick on him. "If you see Draco in there, can you tell him that I'm looking for him? I need to talk to him." You asked. Blaise looked unconvinced, uncertain why a friend of Harry Potter would want to speak to Draco Malfoy. "Please." You said quietly with a pleading look. He exhaled, a war clearly in his mind as he turned away and headed into the Slytherin common room. There was a chance both Zabini and Malfoy would ignore you but you stayed put on the chances that Blaise would tell Draco and Draco would come out and see you. 

Five minutes later you Draco emerged, looking around and locking eyes with you. He looked fine, tired if anything but seemed to be completely unharmed. "What?" He asked sharply. "Move over here so no one over hears." You said cautiously, eyeing the Slytherin students passing the two of you. Draco looked almost impatient as he tugged you further down the hall and out of prying ear shot. "What?" He asked pointedly. "I heard what happened today. Harry told me things and-" "Potter must be relishing the victory but he'll get what's coming to him!" Draco snapped. "Draco, I know about Katie. Harry told me." You said quickly. Draco didn't seem surprised, annoyed if anything. "Of course he did, but neither of you know a damn thing." Draco sneered. "Draco, stop. I'm not here to pick a fight. I'm here to ask if you're okay." You responded and this time a flicker of surprise flashed in his eyes, his rigid composure had begun to relax. "You what?" "Harry hurt you." You said softly. "He hurt you bad and I had to come by and see if you were okay." Draco relaxed, taking a breath. "I'm fine. Tired but I'm fine." "Was that why you were upset earlier?" You whispered. "Because of Katie...?" Draco swallowed hard, looking down momentarily and you knew the answer immediately. "Draco, I don't know what's going on at home and I don't want to make assumptions about you. Believe it or not. I just want you to know that...regardless of everything, I consider you a friend and I'm here for you." Draco tried his best to remain composed and was mostly successful if it wasn't completely obvious that is what he was trying to do. "I can't tell you what the truth is or what's a lie but thanks for being there for me. As weird as it is." You cracked a smile. "Glad it's both of us that find this weird." Draco gave you a small smile in response. "You're a good friend, (Y/N)." He said quietly. "I mean it, I'm here for you." You assured him. "I'm just glad to hear you're okay. Did Madame Pomfrey heal you?" "I can't tell you." He said quietly. You nodded. "Fair enough, it doesn't matter. As long as you're okay... I'll leave you alone now." You took a step back. Draco nodded. "Don't let Filch catch you. Go back to your dorm." He smirked slightly. "Draco Malfoy, do not manifest Filch on me!" You called back. 

You had no idea what was coming, the Great Hall was destroyed and you just so happened to be out of the dorms. A cold tight grip grabbed your hand. Draco quickly dragged you down the corridors wearing all black, no longer wearing his uniform. "Draco? What's going on!?" "You can't be here! Not now!" Draco said hurriedly. "What do you mean?" You asked. He eventually took you to Crabbe and Goyle. "Malfoy? What the hell?" Crabbe began but Draco cut him off. "Take them to Gryffindor commons, if you don't, I'll crucio you into next week!" Before the two could comply you spoke up again. "Draco, what is it!?" You asked hurriedly. He stared into your eyes. "Were you really my friend?" Draco asked. You nodded, fear in your eyes. You grew more frightened, the more he dodged the question. Draco said nothing more. Sending a pointed look to Crabbe and Goyle. Immediately after that he watched you go, with a lingering stare. 

You only saw Draco a handful of times after that. He didn't return that year, neither did Hermione, Harry and Ron. It made you very lonely, although Neville and Luna were quick to change that. Perhaps it was easier to think that Draco was just a friend back then. Although the time without him told you otherwise. Those lingering looks always resonated with you after he had gone. Friends don't look at each other for that long, do they? Ironically, it was easier to forget your feelings when he was around. When he wasn't, you missed him and thought of him constantly. By the time you had acknowledged your feelings for Draco Malfoy, it had been too late. You never stopped believing that Draco wasn’t the cruel death eater he was ‘destined’ to be. You saw more of him and were determined to see that through to the end.

Perhaps it would have been easier for Draco to see you again after all of these years if he hadn't found your lifeless body back in the Battle of Hogwarts. Perhaps he couldn't stomach looking at you knowing that you never made it out that day of the battle. Although nevertheless you smiled at him from across the platform. If he took anything from it, you wanted him to know his old friend didn't blame him one bit. 

Draco sprinted towards your lifeless body, falling to his knees and scooping you up. "(Y/N)!? (Y/N)! It's me!" Draco said hurriedly, shaking you lightly. Your wand rolled out of your hand as realisation sunk in. You weren't breathing. Draco shook his head, tears in his eyes. "No! (Y/N), please!" He hugged you to him. "I'm so sorry." He cried before tearing himself from you and running off. 

Draco looked up from his son and wife to the place you stood. Your pleasant smile still in place. A man walked past you and by the time he was out of his line of sight between you both, you were gone. No evidence you had ever been there. Harry, Hermione and Ron didn't seem to catch sight of you even once. He gave a small smile to his son as Astoria said her farewells. Whilst at first, seeing you filled with unease, he couldn't help but feel comforted knowing you were okay in the end.

[hypexion]

Farewell, Celeste!

After many trials and tribulations, I have finally obtained the very special strawberry in Celeste’s Farewell chapter, freeing me from it’s evil clutches. Truly a good game has never been made worse like Celeste.

Okay, so the warning signs were there in some of the C-sides. The A and B sides are packed full of well proportioned challenges, short enough to not be grating, but long enough to challenging. The A-sides serve up a platter of delectable platforming, while the B-sides twist things around into ways that exploit every mechanic of a chapter. Then the C-sides swing wildly between super-dense challenges that want to harm you, and super long rooms clearly stitched together from smaller, more reasonable parts. Sure, is this super post-game ultra hardcore content, but could its design at least be consistent with the rest of the game?

Farewell, being the special DLC chapter, forgoes the usual ABC-side structure in favour of just being really long. There are transitional points where you’re effectively moving along the alphabet, but Farewell is ultimately one big thing. It starts off well enough, introducing new, fishy elements to deal with. You’re thrown in at the deep end, but that’s to be expected for the super post-post-game DLC. It’s difficult, but it’s that well-worn Celeste difficulty, the fluid, exactly concise gameplay that defines the game.

Then everything goes a little sideways when wave dashing is introduced. It’s a weird physics trick that lets you launch Madeline to far-flung places, yet retain your dash. Now every room can begin with a gap that can only be crossed with a wave dash. Or if the designer was feeling spicy, it can end with that. While the wave dash is indeed a neat trick, I don’t feel like it really adds anything to the experience. Sometimes you even need to chain wave dashes, which is really overdoing it after the first time. The good news is that overall, Farewell doesn’t lean on wave dashing too much - rather it shows up, makes a nuisance of itself, then largely leaves for the final stretch.

Of course, Farewell does bring in one element from the base game I detest greatly, and even expands it - the beat blocks. I have nothing against them in theory, but their implementation is lacking. In a game with a whole host of assistance features, the audio-only nature of beat blocks stands out. Plus it’s a tad jarring for the precision platformer to suddenly morph into a rhythm game, even if it’s only for a short amount of time. I get why they exist, because of the whole B-side of a music tape thing, but that doesn’t mean I have to like them.

The gameplay finale of Farewell is also a little strange, since it’s a whole marathon of a room that takes minutes to complete. It’s vast and full of high-end platforming, and while it isn’t actually as long as it might seem from the viewfinder, it’s still longer than any other room in the game by a signifigant margin. This, I feel, really cuts against the game’s strengths. From it’s roots in Maddy Thorson’s Jumper games (although it has perhaps more in common with FLaiL, another of their “ancient” titles), Celeste cuts down the time between failing and trying again to the bare minimum. You die, instantly respawn and get right back into it. But a long, extended room breaks that pattern, and it’s really not for the better. Once you’ve cleared a section, there’s little benefit in having to redo it over and over as you slowly grind away more of the room. At some point, it feels like the game is deliberately wasting my time, which is a bold move for sure. It’s still satisfying to complete, don’t get me wrong, but it’s not playing to the games strengths.

The special “Moonberry“ then goes even more overboard. The finale room gets extended some more, and yes you have to do the whole thing again if you die before an unmarked checkpoint. There’s a hilariously comedy room, and then there’s the Moonberry room itself. The glorious answer to “but what if Celeste was bad?“ that no one really wanted. Rather than being buried by a finger-and-mind-melting ultra-challenge, you instead do the same thing a dozen or so times. With minimal variations. The only saving grace is that it doesn’t have any parts that move by themselves. It’s just a particularly dull ascent to the part that’s somewhat interesting. Game design!

Once you get past the bad points, however, the rest of Farewell hits on everything you’d want from a high-end Celeste experience. The design is razor-sharp, with rooms testing your mind just as much as they test your fingers. The whole thing is beautiful, as you travel through a strange outer-space ocean and beyond. And all but that one room with the moving block (you know the one) still manage to compel, pushing you forward with the thought that this time will be the time you get through.

tl;dr - Celeste is great, 10/10, would climb while battling a manifestation of my inner conflicts again.

[empyreansmoon]

Title: Let’s Get Physical!

Pairing: Ot4!Empyrean, Ot3!DarkMoon, Empyrean/DarkMoon

Main Character(s): Changyun, Jaejin, Daehyeon, Deoksu, Eunjae, Chan, Yeonjin ( @thedarkmoons​ )

Summary: Empyrean Moon’s monthly sports night gets an addition, when brother group Dark Moon decides to tag along with the former group as they all drive up to a hectic game of volleyball at CEO Kim Taehui’s house. 

The sharp noise of the whistle piercing through the large backyard of Kim Taehui’s residence, albeit without the presence of said Kim Taehui. It was around 7pm, and it was the much awaited night: Empyrean’s monthly sport night. The CEO had suggested that the boys could always go over to his house in Busan, and have their nights at his place, considering how he spent most of his time in his apartment at Seoul anyways. Thus, the tradition of traveling to Busan to do whatever their heart’s wished (that would not work in their dorms) was born. 

Tonight’s challenge: winning the volleyball tournament, losers will be forced to do the winner’s bidding for a week, while the winner secures bragging rights until their next tournament.

However, it was a bit different from normal. Rather than the four boys of Empyrean battling it out like always, this time around the three boys of Dark Moon had tagged along. 

The two groups were, in the simplest of terms, close friends. Having known each other since they were trainees, it only made it more heartwarming to see one another debut. Being considered literal brother groups with opposite concepts, the boys had always made attempts into solidifying their friendship, especially since brothers Yeonjin and Daehyeon were hellbent on making the two groups friends. 

And what better way to build their friendship than through healthy competition. 

The sun had just dipped below the horizon, allowing for the warm day to fade and the city of Busan to slowly become a bit darker. 

“Listen up-”

“Hey, just because you’re the oldest doesn’t mean we have to listen to you.” 

“What?” Changyun’s face quickly morphed into one of absolute confusion, to that of a playful smile as he shook his head at Deoksu’s response. “Thanks for reminding me of my crippling old age. But, since I am the oldest...listen up!”

“Hey!” Yeonjin’s voice cut through the backyard as he pushed the sliding door shut, his hand holding a few plastic bags, while Eunjae rushed towards him to help him carry the bags. “We called a break, don’t start the game without me!”

“Of course, how could we ever forget the MVP?” Jaejin retorted in a joking manner, eyeing the food that had been delivered, his stomach grumbling. 

“Guys, pay attention I’m laying down the rules and-”

“Hey, did you get spicy wings?” Chan interrupted Changyun again, grabbing some of the boxes inside the bags and beginning to open them to inspect the food inside. 

“This is so rude.”

“Maybe you just don’t have the needed leadership-skills.” Deoksu teased the elder as he bumped his shoulder with the latter’s, making Changyun groan jokingly and wrap an arm around Deoksu’s neck before ruffling his hair.

“Okay, listen up guys” Eunjae shouted from his spot at the table that was in the backyard, dressed in black and white to show off his status as a referee. “Let’s get this game finished so Empyrean can finally secure our position as the superior group!”

“Wait,” Daehyeon frowned towards the younger as he got up from tying his shoes. “How does this work when the referee is clearly biased?”

“I am not!” the younger rebutted, his hands flying to his hips. “Stating facts is not being biased.”

“We’re going to be the losers even if we pull of a win.”

“Gosh, Dae, how can you be a sore loser when the game hasn’t even finished?” Yeonjin teased his older brother as he eyed him through the volleyball net, his smile making Dae roll his eyes. 

“Let’s just play!” Changyun announced, kicking up the ball that was by his feet before throwing it over the court, “You guys are supposed to serve.”

Deoksu smiled before grabbing the volleyball and throwing it back to Chan, before running to the back of the court getting ready to start the game. 

The game had started earlier in the day, the teams consisting of the Dark Moon trio versus Deoksu, Chan, and Yeonjin. Eunjae had opted to sit out to make the teams more even, and he claimed his height was already a natural disadvantage. 

Originally, the seven boys had juggled with the prospect of switching stuff up, and making the teams merged from both groups to make it more interesting, but when the idea of making the losing team be the winning team’s minions for the next week came up the teams were set: Empyrean v. Dark Moon, so they could establish which brother group was more superior. 

The game was a dead-tie, both groups neck to neck in their points. They decided to remove all the normal rules for the games, and simply play until whichever group hit 30 points first, regardless of any fouls or anything. 

“Serving 28-27, get ready to lose, losers.”

“Yeah, losers.” Yeonjin gigged while nodding and high fiving Chan. 

The ball went into the air as Chan smacked it towards the opposing side, allowing for Jaejin to leap for the ball and bounce it against his wrist for Daehyeon to jump and spike at the other team. 

Yeonjin went in to receive the ball, allowing for a clean pass to Chan, who once again decided to spike it right towards their sides, in hopes that Jaejin would flinch away like a previous time. 

Truth be told...as intense as the boys visualized the game to be (and trust Eunjae, they were visualizing it as if they were in Haikyuu, slow-downs occurring in their minds, and dramatic shots happening every time a member breathed), Eunjae was bored out of his mind. 

The boy genuinely felt like the best part of this tournament was finding a cute outfit to wear, in order to be dressed up as the referee. He had a black and white striped top on, and his black running shorts, with black paint smeared onto his cheeks as if he was ready for a fight. 

Although his job was to monitor the game and the boys, Eunjae couldn’t really be bothered since there were no set rules. At all. No out-of bounds, not rule about how many times a team could keep juggling the ball on their side. Maybe Eunjae volunteered just to watch them sweat up a storm, but what they didn’t know didn’t hurt them. 

The sudden high pitched laughter caught Eunjae’s attention only for him to look up and see Yeonjin laughing and pointing to Daehyeon who was flat on the ground, with Jaejin right on top of him. 

“Jaejin!”

“It wasn’t my fault!”

“You were in a fucking trance!”

“Dude, when an ass like his,” Jaejin pointed at Dae’s face, who had a slight blush on his face but was still laughing to himself, “ends up in your face, you can’t help but freeze a little. Sue me!”

Changyun sighed to himself, his heads reaching up to rub at his temples, trying to ignore how his team-members were failing in comparison to Empyrean, who were playing rock-paper-scissors to see who was going to serve next. 

“Let’s finish this game up, there’s only one more point left I’m starving!” Eunjae whined from the sidelines, as if he wasn’t already opening up several of the boxes of chicken to dig through his own order.

The game started once again when Chan served the ball. Eunjae felt like it was more intense this time around, each of the boys were (sadly) playing like their lives depended on it, throwing themselves around at full force in order to make sure they win. 

The defining moment seemed to be when both Jaejin and Daehyeon had decided to go for the ball that was coming towards them without announcing that either of them would, allowing for them to collide into one another and completely miss the ball. 

“We won, losers!!!” the happy, and extremely loud voice that belonged to Yeonjin boomed across the backyard. He quickly rushed to embrace Chan and Deoksu into a small but tight hug. 

Eunjae let out a laugh watching the three aforementioned boys celebrate their win, while Dae was still on the floor as if he was dead to avoid Changyun’s nagging that was to come, while Jaejin was blaming Dae with the look in his eyes. 

Eunjae smiled at the boys, the overwhelming sense of happiness that was always around whenever they were together was one of Eunjae’s favorite things. He hopped out of the chair he was in to rush into the group hug, knowing damn well he was secretly hoping these moments wouldn’t just become a memory. 

[primedirection]

Hopelessly Devoted

Y/n reaches a breaking point

Another several days pass without really speaking to him and it becomes somewhat routine.

Although, thanks to his insane schedule it was definitely difficult to notice. There was no time to talk or argue for that matter when Harry was in Italy, Harry was in Tokyo, Harry was in Paris, Harry was in Los Angeles—Harry was basically everywhere and with everyone but you.

On one or two occasions you did observe that he'd been in places where she was also present. But he never mentioned it of course, he never had to. The tabloid's and social media sunk their teeth into it like a juicy steak. In which he whimsically dismissed as work coincidence's.

So once again you let it slide. As they say: Pick your battles wisely!

But today you were kind of happy you did. Today was his first day back for a week long break and Anne and Gemma were in town visiting. They promised to come along for a scheduled cake testing for the wedding some time ago. And since neither of you had made arrangments to reschedule it, you would be forced to play nice, even if only for a few hours.

Picking them all up from the airport was fairly cordial but awkward nonetheless given your current limbo status. You didn't skip a beat in putting your engagement ring back on and Harry didn't either, greeting you enthusiastically with a hug and kiss. Though whether or not it was all for show you'd never know. Not to mention the enormous elephant between you two just for the simple fact you weren't sure if the wedding was still actually on. You assumed that the opportunity to discuss that would eventually come along when you were properly alone.

As the day went on and you were on your fourth cake, you realized that this was the perfect activity for bonding and not just with his family.

Despite being wedding reception centric you talked more than you had in weeks, laughed ridiculously hard at each other in what felt like ages, and shared simple trivial affection that you hadn't realized that you'd been craving. You almost cried when he thoughtlessly reached for your hand while waiting on a highly recommended red velvet cake.

It made you take notice of just how much you actually missed him. So you swallowed your pride and relayed it aloud. Genuinely professing, "I missed you."

At that Harry seems to smile with his eyes more than his lips. Interlacing your fingers and kissing the back of your hand. "Missed yeh more pet." There's a nervous flutter in your gut from the gesture and anticipation to be alone. Part of you can't help wondering if this was just an act too good to be true.

"So is anyone allowed to make a speech or toast? Or like are you keeping it limited..?" Gemma curiously asks.

Harry nervous looks to you for the answer. In which you shrug, "Everyone can say and do as they please so long as I don't have to,"

"Oh, lovie you have got to stop being so hard on yourself. Your speech was beautiful! It even made Gem cry,"

"No one was supposed to know that, but she's right. I'm still upset I missed it, if I didn't have that ridiculous conference I swear I would've been there,"

"I know," You smile sadly removing your hand from Harry's underneath the table. "It's okay,"

In the corner of your eye you spot his discomfort on the topic at hand, and it only gets worse when Anne asks, "What did you think? Didn't you love it?"

At the sudden attention Harry flushes a deep crimson from the neck up and nervously proceeds to scratch the area, "Haven't.. Em.. Heard it yet. I honestly didn't know she had one,"

Both women proceed to eye him incredulously, "Are you fucking joking?"

"Gemma!" Anne scolds at her foul and loud choice of words in the small posh cake shop.

"Sorry mum, but come on! You are joking right?" She deadpans, "I mean she poured her heart out for you just for her world to see and now the entire world has seen it!"

Embarrassed he clears his throat and shamefully admits, "I um... No,"

Gemma eyes widen twice their size completely taken aback, "Dickhead, it's a five minute video— hell less than that! All over my feed and it's still all over my feed because people wont stop tagging the three of us in it. How in the holy hell did you not see it?!"

In a matter of seconds tension has shifted, all of it negative and all of it aimed specifically at Harry. Words couldn't begin to explain the utter relief and justification you felt watching on as Harry is forced to listen to everything you felt and couldn't say, and everything you tried to say but couldn't get across clearly. Not only empathetically come from someone else, but the only two people on the planet that meant the most to him.

As much as the vengeful part in you enjoyed watching him squirm. It didn't feel right to have him bludgeoned over the head with it in order for him to get it. Most likely he still wouldn't understand the problem.

So you miraculously find yourself taking up for him with a forced smile. "It's not his fault. He's been busy, especially with this new album," Causing everyone to stare at you perplexed, including Harry.

Also making the dynamic of frustration shift towards you as well. Gemma is flabbergasted, "Please tell me you're joking now? There's no excuse on earth that is ok-"

Instantly this bothers Harry and he makes no secret of it. Irritably interrupting, "We're working on it Gem, alright? Chill out."

There aren't words to define the weird and borderline chaotic atmosphere going on and just when you think things can't get worse. For some God forsaken reason, when the red velvet cake finally arrives to your table, Harry's phone simultaneously starts to ring from his back pocket. Everyone at the table pretty much stops what they're doing just to watch him retrieve it and check the screen. Your stomach uncomfortably drops at the sight of the name 'Kenny'.

He answers it chirpier than ever, even allowing her to akwardly greet his mom and sister. All the while you remain dead silent, willing for him to just end it as soon as possible and yet things just so happen to continue on a downward spiral. As Harry mentions your location at first it spirals into him inviting her to come which is bad enough. But then it spirals further out of control when he volunteers to just meet up with her today instead.

It takes everything in you not to let the raw emotions show on your face. Though not just because both Anne and Gemma were skeptically watching you. In that moment you swear you could've kicked him between the legs.

Eventually he stands from your table before even hanging up the phone. Having already decided, "Today's her only day in town, figured we could hang out for a bit. I don't think we'll pick in one day anyway. Might have a better time picking out a dress," he not so subtly suggests.

"Well you actually have to try the cakes in order to pick one..." You happily hear Gemma retort.

It goes completely over his head anyway, "Dinner later tonight?" He asks at least being polite enough to kiss Anne goodbye. Yet he doesn't exactly wait for a reply either coming around to place a rushed kiss on your cheek. At which you stoically accept.

"You lot have fun. Well.... Not too much fun." In no time he's out the door and on the move. Forcing you into taking on his suggestion because it felt really pointless to stay.

About an hour later and a rib crushing corset deep with six more dresses lined up just like it to try on, reality starts to set in.

First off it takes awhile to even get started because you and Harry haven't even agreed to what theme or color scheme you wanted. So you had to get ahold of him to ask for some ideas and of course as luck would have it. Since he's out and about with his precious Kenny there's no way to get ahold of him. Ultimately leaving you to make something up all on your own.

Aside from the discomfort, the sight of yourself in the beautiful gown didn't feel right in the least. You're supposed to be overjoyed and excited with your bestie trying to get you somewhat drunk and your mom should've been there too. Speaking of moms, you don't register Anne announcing herself before coming inside the dressing room.

One of her hands clamps over her mouth in awe while the other holds an off white dress shirt you presume is for Harry, "Y/n lovie you are down right gorgeous!"

You have to force yourself to smile back at her and utter a strained, "Thank you," not because of how depressed you feel but for some reason you literally felt like you couldn't breathe.

"I don't know what we're going to do with that boy.. Do you know what color shirt is going under his suit? I reckon this colo-" The curiosity on her sweet face easily morphs into concern at the sight of you panicking, "S'wrong lovie?"

Instantly your hand shoots up to stop her from approaching any further because the the room felt small enough as it is. Hoping that with a little time that the feeling would blow over. Though the more time that passed the more over heated you felt. The tip of your ears on fire and the rest of your skin flushing just the same with it. At some point the nude colored stall even begins to shift around you to the extent that you stumble around to grab onto it in order to steady yourself.

Anne's voice floats in and out of distortion and so do the other's in the distance. Somehow you catch her soothing, "Y/N lovie just stay calm. Let's go to the main room for a bit yeah?"

You shake your head, unable to move, suddenly overwhelmed with intense grief. But you force yourself to answer her initial question anyway because it bothered you the most, "I don't- I don't know... anything these days. It's like- it's like... I could have a gun to my head... and he still wouldn't care." You gasp and cry.

"Don't cry hun, it's alright shh," Anne finally eases close enough to hold your trembling hand steady and attempts to comfort you but you only feel worse.

"It's really... not, I- I-... I put him off somehow and it's not how it should be. He's always running off.... with k-" You stop yourself realizing that she didn't need to know that, "It's like... he can't be far enough."

While you talk Anne uses that as a distraction to usher you out of the fitting rooms and into the main area, "That's not true, lovie. It's okay, you're okay breathe!" She reassures slowly but surely getting you to a chair just in time, just before you feel the need to collapse. Gemma and the sales woman are hovering around worried too but you physically can't even begin to focus on them. 'Is she okay' and 'panic attack' seems to be the topic of conversation.

"God I don't know what else I can do to keep up. I- I can't- I can't go through with this." You shamelessly cry out to Anne.

Who's retrieved something from the sales woman that you come to find out is a hand held fan. Anne wastes no time waving it back and forth quickly to blow bigger and stronger wafts of air. Cooling and calming you down all at once. You start to assume that she keeps you talking to keep you distracted, "With what? The wedding? Lovie I'd be worried if you didn't have cold feet."

Your head shakes in denial, unable to find humor in what honestly has been stressing you out the most. "No... be with him..." You gasp out, hating to admit it aloud. Nonetheless in front of his mother, and at the sight of her very own shock. Immediately you wished that you'd never said anything at all.

After awhile something about that confession finally made the deep inhalation part of you your lungs start working again, and slow to follow was everything else. The room stopped spinning and you were able to take in the terrified expressions of Gemma and the sales woman. Going back and forth on whether or not to call an ambulance and eventually they decided not to.

But even worse than the tabloid articles that were bound to come out about this, was none other than Harry Styles making a reappearance. Apparently Gemma had called him and unlike you, actually got through.

He dropped to his knees right between yours, "Came as fast as I could, thank God we were only down the street,"

"It's fine— I'm fine," You immediately lie, loathing the spectacle that this was becoming. You just wanted to go home, "I think I just... overheated."

Wait... We?!?! You pause to look over his shoulder and low and behold there she is. Kendall fucking Jenner standing next to Gemma and she has the audacity to look concerned.

Harry grabs your cheeks to redirect your focus on him obviously worried, "Alright? S'wrong? What happened?"

He's a little breathless as he probably ran inside. But you manage catch the smell of his breath through the gusts of air as he speaks and the close proximity. It reeks of beer and once you realize that the more glossy his gaze is.

"Are you- are you really drunk right now?" You feel like you're gonna cry yet you somehow manage to ask it angrily.

"What?" He's unsurprisingly confused. Possibly a symptom of his haze.

But you're too angry to care, roughly tearing his hands away from your face and standing on numb legs, "You left... You fucking left me to go drinking?!"

Harry frowns still thrown by your reaction, "Will you calm do-"

"No! What the fuck are we doing Harry?!" You cry overwhelmed and over emotional. "Today was supposed to be about our wedding! Does that not mean anything to you?"

"Y/N, lower your voice," he pleads grabbing onto your wrist and uncomfortably glancing at the audience around you.

"No no, don't!" You yank away and stumble a bit from the force. Completely forgetting the restrictive gown you're in, "I am so sick of this shit... I'm done— I am so fucking done!" Frustrated, you gather up the skirt of the gown and rush towards the dressing room to get out of it.

Even then Harry follows close behind until Anne and Gemma protectively intervene, "Just give her a minute to cool down H."

"Jesus Christ," he groans irritated, dragging his hands over his face. Unable to properly formulate what the hell he just walked in to.

He needed to talk to you before you did something irrational. Because right now he got the feeling that the clock was ticking.

(An: I hope y'all like this one let me know)

Final Part

[aion-rsa]

Line of Duty: the Best Crime Thrillers to Watch Next

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Line of Duty is over, perhaps for good. It’s time to dismantle that evidence wall, file the exhibits away, and close the door on AC-12. With H unmasked, we can all rest our adrenal glands and get back to a healthy, Jimmy Nesbitt-free sleep pattern.

Once that’s achieved, if you start to feel the itch for more seismic shocks and sleights-of-hand, here are a few suggestions of what to watch next – eight TV thrillers that provide similar doses of double-dealing, truth-concealing, witness-squealing, case-breaking shenanigans. Add your own recommendations below!  

Bodyguard

Bodyguard proved that there was life after the Red Wedding for Richard Madden. His performance as  David Budd, a former combat soldier living a new – and equally dangerous – life as a Principal Protection Officer (PPO) in the London Met deservedly netted him a Golden Globe and a Scottish Bafta award.

Budd’s job protecting the abrasive yet vulnerable British Home Secretary Julia Montague (Keeley Hawes) is complicated by their conflicting ideologies, Budd’s fractured home-life and PTSD, and a wide-ranging conspiracy that brings together Islamic terrorism, organised crime, intra-governmental malfeasance and dodgy cops.  Be prepared to watch from behind half-closed eyes, wincing in anticipation of the oblivion that’s promised around almost every corner.

Bodyguard has the kinetic ferocity and explosive twists of 24; the grim and gritty characterisation of a Jimmy McGovern project; and the ‘Oh my God it was them along… or was it?’ twists of Line of Duty, which follows as it was also created by Jed Mercurio and World Productions.

Watch on: Netflix UK

The Americans

What if you were so deeply embedded with your enemies that you were indistinguishable from them, both inside and out, and even started to become increasingly disillusioned about what side you were supposed to be on? That’s the central conceit of FX’s slick and superlative spy drama The Americans, set in Washington DC during the height of the Cold War. Russian operatives Philip and Elizabeth Jennings have fake pasts and fake identities, but they also have very real American teenage children, who have been raised oblivious to the devastating secret thumping Poe-like in their parents’  hearts. Other shows trading in similar tropes may well deal in deception and corruption, but the cross that the Jennings have to bear in the name of ideology makes even the biggest conspiracies in Line of Duty and Bodyguard seem like a fib told by a child to avoid punishment for stealing freshly-baked muffins from their mother’s windowsill.

The heat on the Jennings is turned up even further when an FBI agent tasked with uncovering Russian agents moves next door with his family; further still when the two families become friends, further blurring the lines between truth, lies, identity and loyalty.

Whom do you trust when you can’t even trust yourself? 

Watch it on: Amazon Prime Video UK (available to purchase)

Edge of Darkness (1985)

Edge of Darkness is steeped in the same Thatcher-tainted, Reagan-ruled, greed-is-good, hyper-capitalist era as The Americans, but is a contemporaneous piece rather than a period piece, having debuted in 1985. 

The tragic tale follows tortured policeman Ronald Craven (Bob Peck) as he tries to unravel the truth behind his eco-activist daughter’s murder, while he himself starts to unravel in a sea of lies, half-truths, hard truths and shifting allegiances. Craven snakes his way through a colourful cast of misfits, agitators, loudmouths, snobs, yobs and psychopaths, as the battle for power – nuclear, economic, hegemonic – and perhaps the survival of the earth itself, swirls and dances and ricochets around him.

It’s a series that’s unafraid to immerse the viewer in complexity; leaving them to fathom the ever-morphing labyrinth of motivations and revelations on their own; leaning heavily into ambiguity whenever it serves the shape and tone of the story. Often, the viewer is left as bemused and perplexed as Craven himself in the face of this deadly puzzle, but they will still find themselves – also like Craven – unable and unwilling to rest until the pieces fit together.          

The late Bob Peck – whom many will only know as the game keeper from Jurassic Park, who utters his memorable final line, ‘Clever girl…’, seconds before becoming a velociraptor hors d’oeuvre – puts in a mesmerising, career-defining performance as Craven, effortlessly embodying the full gamut of the man’s grief, guilt, obsession, melancholy and mania. Craven seems at once mythical and otherworldly, and yet solidly, painfully, exquisitely human.

Watch on: Amazon Prime Video UK (available to purchase)

The Shield

“Good cop and bad cop left for the day. I’m a different kind of cop.”

So says LA Detective Vic Mackey (Michael Chiklis) seconds before demonstrating his no-holds-barred interrogation technique to an obfuscating paedophile. It’s not that Vic considers himself above the law, more that everybody else is below his. He often does the right things for the wrong reasons, or in the wrong way, or the wrong things for the right reasons. Or at least for reasons that he thinks are right. And he’s got a justification for everything, from bribing fellow officers, to partnering with organised criminals, to even murdering suspects.

Impossibly corrupt, relentlessly self-righteous, fearless to the point of psychopathy, Vic is the badge-wearing heir apparent to Tony Soprano, but burdened with little of the gabagool-guzzler’s guilt. Viewers are left under no illusions about the lengths Vic will go to protect himself and his kingdom, nor about the sort of show they’re watching, when at the close of the first episode he executes an officer who has been placed in his Strike Team to investigate his corruption, framing a similarly deceased drug kingpin for the crime.

So begins the toxic, spreading rot of secrets, lies and double-dealings, each action an effort to cover over and stay a step ahead of the misdeed before. Vic’s three-man Strike Team would follow him into Hell, which is just as well, because that’s exactly where he leads them, along with his family, and anyone who ever associated with or went toe-to-toe against him. The Shield begins as a punchy, kinetic pop-corn spectacle of a series, but slowly evolves into an almost Shakespearian tragedy, rich in sadness, sacrifice and betrayal. The final act – hell, the final few seasons – will leave you in no doubt as to The Shield‘s place in the pantheon of small-screen greats.    

Watch on: All4 (UK)

Read more

TV

Celebrating Jimmy McGovern’s Cracker

By Jamie Andrew

TV

Line of Duty Series 6 Episode 7 Review: H Unmasked At Last

By Louisa Mellor

Dexter

If Internal Affairs set up an office in the Miami Metro Police Department, the last person they’d suspect of foul play would be the handsome, unfailingly polite blood-spatter analyst Dexter Morgan, doyen of the Homicide bowling team and daily bringer of doughnuts. Whereas Vic Mackey flaunts his corruption in plain sight, Dexter has to stay in the shadows. Dexter’s corruption is a little more extreme than Vic’s: he’s a highly active serial killer. That he only kills according to a strict ethical code – only other murderers, and only those who’d escaped, or would escape, justice by more legitimate means – makes him a complex, compassionate and compelling figure, one with whom we sympathise easily: perhaps too easily. Dexter makes us complicit by proxy. We find ourselves rooting for a serial killer, hopelessly lost in the hedge-maze of his amorality.

Dexter’s relationships with his sister, Deborah (Jennifer Carter) – a detective at his precinct – and Rita (Julie Benz) – first his girlfriend, then his wife and eventually mother of his son – are his only toe-holds on humanity, which is why the show regularly has them dancing on the edge of his dark secret. No more so than when Dexter has to help the department investigate the crimes of a serial killer the media dubs The Bay Harbor Butcher, a serial killer who just happens to be… Dexter.

While it’s true that Dexter came to a perfect natural conclusion after four great seasons, it’s also true that it limped on for another four seasons after that, capped by a finale that is quite possibly one of the weakest and worst of any drama series ever made. Thankfully, it’s coming back for a ninth season later this year, hopefully to right past wrongs.   

Watch on: NOW (UK)

Cracker

If you only know the larger-than-life Robbie Coltrane as the much-larger-than-life Hagrid in the Harry Potter series, you’d do well to check out the mid-90s UK crime-series Cracker, and see Coltrane at his most searing, endearing, dangerous and iconic. Here he plays Eddie ‘Fitz’ Fitzgerald – quite simply the role he was born to play – a sharp-witted, full-blooded, foul-mouthed, fast-living psychologist who impresses (and largely imposes) his way into a consulting gig with the Manchester Police, helping them to solve their more grizzly and unusual crimes. The storyline that sees Fitz investigating one of ‘his’ own is perhaps its most harrowing and heart-breaking – a network of tragedies dovetailing into one other – with a denouement that casts a long, sad shadow over the rest of the series.

Warning: If you are a Harry Potter fan, and you decide to watch Cracker, do take the time to psychologically prepare yourself for the sight of Hagrid in bed with Harry Potter’s mum.  

Watch on: Britbox (UK)   

Luther

Detective John Luther (Idris Elba) has the presence of a bear, the heart of a lion, and the mind of Columbo. With his razor-sharp stare, long, lived-in coat and propensity to stick his neck precisely where it’s needed but never wanted, Luther’s ‘Oh, one more thing’ is just as likely to be a fist as it is a verbal death-blow.

Over the course of five seasons Luther is betrayed by those closest to him, mangled by loss, framed for murder and even strikes up an unusual but oddly touching relationship with a serial killer. It’s electric, captivating TV, and Idris Elba wears and lives Luther’s rage, sadness, regret and fuck-you-ness so intensely that you won’t be able to draw your eyes away from him. A barnstormer all round.

Watch on: BBC iPlayer (UK)      

State of Play

The cast-list alone is enough to commend this early 2000s conspiracy thriller: John Simm, Philip Glenister (prior to the duo teaming up in Life on Mars), David Morrissey, James McAvoy, Bill Nighy, Amelia Bullmore, and Line of Duty‘s own Kelly MacDonald. Thankfully, almost everything else about this mini-series also screams excellence, especially the crackling, incisive and deeply honest writing from Clocking Off, Cracker and Shameless-stalwart Paul Abbott.

State of Play follows a group of journalists as they stumble onto the greatest story of their lives – ministerial corruption, contract killings, corporate greed, industrial espionage, illicit affairs – that pits the police, the government, and even their own friends and loved ones against them. It’s a twisting, turning, shifting, shocker of a masterpiece: a true titan of the genre. 

Watch on: Amazon Prime Video UK (available to purchase)

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Line of Duty series one to six are available to stream now on BBC iPlayer.

The post Line of Duty: the Best Crime Thrillers to Watch Next appeared first on Den of Geek.

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[butterfly-winx]

Eraklyon

Eraklyon is known for its riches, political intrigue and peculiar standing in the magical society. The lavish lifestyle of its inhabitants is supported by the ores and minerals hidden in the crust beneath the country, that has caused many an envious eye to be thrown at it.

Eraklyon is located on Manubra 47, a mid sized planet they share with 27 other countries spread over the continents divided from each other by unique freshwater oceans. Two of their most prominent neighbours are Nishii and the island country Callisto.

Eraklyon, like Magics has the means to supply basic amenities to its inhabitants free of charge, though on Eraklyon they do mean the barest necessities: shelter and water. Nevertheless those two taken care of the general stress level about self-sustenance among the low economical classes is staggeringly low compared to other countries of the Magical Universe.

Just like on Solaria, the favourite trade products are gems and minerals that they gladly share with their more famous business partner. A lot of jewellery is is made on Solaria, but mined in Eraklyon. Though semi- and precious stones may be what they are most know for, their other mining products such as oil and carbon gases is what gets them into tension with their neighbouring countries.

As nice as a life in such a well-off stable society sounds like, Eraklyon has never been the object of envy for most people who know what lies beyond the exterior. The country is almost always locked in war with one or the other bordering region in a never ending conflict over territories and mining rights on ground and on the colony planetoids. Borders have shifted considerably over the centuries, the people being displaced adopting a bi-lingual and bi-cultural lifestyle fluent in both Rak (the language of Eraklyon) and the other language of their residence. The instability this introduces had many people flee overseas to Callisto, or straight up just as far away as possible,  onto another planet.

The war at current times is tame. It has morphed, and had to because of the massive causalities it has reaped in the past. Neither Eraklyon, nor Nishii, the two main perpetrators in the fight, are technologically underdeveloped. They had the means to employ weapons of mass destruction against each other and not too long, only two centuries ago they did, nuking most of the people and inhabitable zones of the planet. Magic may not be able to solve all problems, but with the use of the nature core most life was salvaged, the only evidence of  it ever happening a scar on the surface that is slowly being filled by the seas. It was a grim reminder to the ruling class, that at the end of they are nothing without the people they are sworn to lead, serve and protect. The very ways of warfare had to be rewritten.

At this point, no one on Manubra 47 is allowed to hold an army at steady whose sole purpose is to lead wars. Military and its deployment are only permitted when the purpose serves the well-being of all people of the country, say an outside invasion or criminal activity, but never for the personal interest of the ruling classes. They are permitted personal protection units, but even those are limited in size. So the tension moved, the stress of being a casualty moved from the people’s shoulders with the war being solely confined to the royals and rulers themselves.

What began there is known as the Bello Sicarii, the personal war of assassinations, hits and extortion among the members of the royalty. This experience is what shaped Sky’s life growing up and necessitated employing Brandon as a body double for most of his life. It is not rare that it happens, because of the specific rules that further define the Bello Sicarii. In the first years, hits had an extremely high success rate, neither party really used to the new rules and the implemented security measures were lacking, leading to a much too frequent change of regents. That left countries destabilised and at the brink of another civil crisis that neither party on Manubra could afford. 

The new postulations drafted specified, that in order to retain a ruler for as long as possible, adults would be largely spared but their progeny would not. Children before reaching adulthood were fair game, as interrupting the succession line of a ruler carried almost as much weight as an assassination itself. After an heir has reached adulthood, matters would get much more complicated with the young royal being able to sign contracts, make diplomatic agreements and get entangled in business relations, as to such that their “removal” would have significant consequences for the planetary peace and economy. This is something frankly normal to Sky, but he is sweating up a storm thinking if he had to ever explain that to Bloom in the event that they got married and were thinking of having children. (This is also the reason why Bloom’s impersonation of Princess Varanda of Callisto passed for so long, since Varanda has truly never left the protective hideout she had been brought up in and no one off planet has ever seen her.)

Religion on Eraklyon is a double edged sword. Their main belief is a strong doctrine that aims to lead people down a very predestined, rigid path of moral righteousness. In doing so, painting one lifestyle as supremely right, it has the tendency to demonise anything else that deviates from it. Especially magic.

Eraklyon, like Earth, operates a split society where non-magic people and magic users and creatures live in almost separate societies with a hierarchy of their own. While non-magic Eraklyonites know of the existence of magic and do use it in certain amounts, they fear it more than they appreciate it. Especially witchcraft, which has become a notorious example of why magic is bad in the eyes of religious people. In ancient times witch covens liberally offered trade and magical problem solving to those who were willing to pay a certain price for it. It snowballed into a sort of worship that angered the rising power of religious folk, who protested this kind of exchange because of the missing toil in the magical solutions. In their eyes there was no moral lesson, no growth in allowing oneself to rely on spells and magic alone, so they despised the the craft so much that witches entirely left the planet at some point.

The religious doctrine permeates almost everything concerning social life. The rigidity of it demands clearly defined social classes that are largely kept separate, like castes. Elevating oneself is of course possible, so the spiritual leaders say, if only one behaves according to the path of the right. Otherwise every misfortune that happens to one is justly brought upon punishment. This idea is by the way remarkably at odds with the motto of the country that states, Imbalance is paramount for progress, as it keeps social mobility at stagnation.

Imbalance and asymmetry are also beloved design elements that set Eraklyonites apart from other cultures off planet. They are not as avant-garde as people from Zenith, but favouring rich hand-woven fabric, brocades, taffeta and silhouettes that remind of 19th century Earth fashion. No two sides of a building, dress, or haircut are the same but the overall picture is never off kilter, both sides of the design packing incredibly high detail density. For this reason clothing is still hand-crafted and is not a mass market product like in other countries or planets.

One happy thing though that everyone will be able to tell you about Eraklyon, is that they celebrate a lot. They have 18 religious and commemorative days that are bank holidays, but on top of that they also value birthdays very much. Every person automatically receives the day off on their day of birth and may request other ones off for those of their immediate family - meaning spouse, sibling, children, parents, even up to grandparents. Job applications in Eraklyon typically start with a big wall of birth dates requested to give the employer an idea of when one might not be available to work. For seasonal work, people are preferred whose family doesn’t have predominantly summer birthdays, just to make sure harvesting is done on time without Celebration Delays, as they call that.

Eraklyon is a core member of the Company of Light. Being constantly at war gave them the advantage of having armies at the ready to be deployed to protect people from the Ancestresses attacks, plus their experience in battle strategies has come handy more than once, latest in the fight against Tritannus. The people of Eraklyon are a proud people, infused with blind love and trust in their homeland despite its shortcomings. However, they offer the same fierce love and loyalty to all the people close to their hearts.

[crystalelemental]

Antagonists of Elibe

When I was writing up the Limstella character piece, there was a point I wanted to fit in but couldn’t find a good way to introduce without breaking the flow.  My wife insisted I should make a separate post about it, so here it is.  The main point is that, across both Elibe games, a big emphasis seems to be placed on empathy and understanding the other side of things, and how that ties in to the antagonists, how they’re presented, and why each outcome is so impactful to me, personally.

Empathy in Elibe Starting with the main prospect, I think empathy is kind of a central theme for Elibe.  Not in a specific sense, but in the broad sense of having empathy and compassion for all life, not just your own.  Our protagonists, Eliwood and Roy, are almost entirely defined by their kindness, understanding, and acceptance of others.

Eliwood’s supports with Ninian are entirely around this.  Ninian is hesitant with him at first, and with others, given her history.  Her mother was killed in a war with humans, the remainder of her people were driven into exile beyond the dragon’s gate, and as a high-profile oracle in their world, she deals endlessly with the dragons who seek revenge upon humans to reclaim their world.  Dragons and humans have always seemed to have bad blood for one another.  Yet here’s Eliwood, who can honestly tell her that her background doesn’t matter.

Ninian: “It’s strange.  All of you treat my brother and me so...normally.  Doesn’t it bother you?  Our powers, our looks.  We’re different from...people...” Eliwood: “Has that been bothering you?  What’s wrong with being a bit different from other people?  When I look at you, I don’t see other people.  I see Ninian.  A normal, kindhearted girl.”

The entire basis of their relationship is because they can look past the differences, and find commonalities.  They’re able to see the good in the other, and that in turn paves the way for Roy.

Roy is similarly able to see the good in everything.  He comes to the aid of others, and seeks to protect all life, not just his own.  This culminates in his battle with Zephiel, his proclamation of faith in the good in humans, and finally his decision to protect and save Idunn.  The entire focus of these games is about a family starting to correct the ills of the past, and reaching out to the other side in friendship.  Sound familiar?

I feel like Fire Emblem, as a series, really likes to play with this.  It’s the entire basis for the Tellius games, and is the central theme of Fodlan, which is why I believe Claude’s route is the true route.  But that’s something for another day.  The main reason I bring this up is to shift into the antagonists, and how their actions and histories play with the central theme.

Zephiel I’m gonna start with Zephiel, since I have the least to talk about with him.  Zephiel’s history is that, as a child, he excelled as a leader, a soldier, at pretty much everything.  Yet his father only hated him for it.  He believed that Zephiel could not possibly be his legitimate heir, and felt jealousy toward Zephiel’s accomplishments.  So much so that he tried to have Zephiel assassinated.  Twice, if Binding Blade’s explanation if different from the event in Blazing Blade.  Zephiel has grown up surrounded by hate, even within his own race.  Humans from different countries can’t even get along, and everything with them is about seizing power and siding with those who are strong.  The entire progression of Biding Blade is to accentuate Zephiel’s point: every minor antagonist sides with Bern for selfish motivations.  Humans can’t be trusted, so we should turn leadership over to dragons, who will do a better job.

Roy disagrees, and because we’ve lived the adventure with him, we can see Zephiel’s point, but we also see Roy’s.  Whenever something has gone off course, humans corrected the problem.  Turning leadership over to dragons to rule is just keeping the same problem, but changing which hand is holding it.  Dragon leadership alone would be no better, and the true ending route confirms this belief.  We learn about the earthly dragons, how they chose to lead and respond to the Scouring, and the lengths they went to.  They’re no better than humans.  They were willing to torture a child into becoming a living weapon for them, claiming survival.  But we know from Blazing Blade, if survival were all they sought, they could have fled beyond the Dragon’s Gate.  This was an act of domination against humans, and Zephiel’s aim was to facilitate that dominance.

Zephiel serves as a villain because he fails to empathize with the full picture.  He’s simply lashing out at humanity, which has done awful things to him, in fairness.  But he’s willing to deny any wrongdoing on the part of dragons, and willingly uses Idunn as a tool of war, just as the dragons did before.  That’s the villain path.  Even if Zephiel truly believed that humans are better off living under dragon control.  Even if Zephiel believes that dragons were less cruel than humans.  The fact that he’s willing to sacrifice and use the lives of others to achieve an ambition is where he’s gone wrong.  Life cannot be sacrificed for a greater good, and that alone is what sets Zephiel up as the villain.

Nergal Nergal is very similar to Zephiel, but in a different direction.  For those not familiar with his history, Nergal was alive at the time of the Scouring.  He was a practitioner of the dark arts, who had married a dragon, and even had two children with said dragon.  However, when the Scouring was picking up, his wife was captured by humans.  Nergal set out to get her back, but left his children on the Dread Isle near the Dragon’s Gate, and told them to pass through it if he hadn’t returned in ten days’ time.  Though he sought to keep them safe if he failed, the end result was that Nergal was too late to save his wife, and then too late to return to his children.  His family was gone.  For hundreds of years, he wandered the world, until he met Athos, a hero of the Scouring.  They traveled together for a time, and eventually found Arcadia, a hidden oasis in the desert where humans and dragons lived in harmony.  It was here that Nergal found the secret art of manipulating quintessence, known only to dragons, and likely divine dragons.  Using this art, Nergal would kill living creatures, and began to create Morphs, entities with human likeness, but allegedly no emotion or drive beyond serving their creator.  I talked a lot about whether this is true in the Limstella analysis, so please refer to that for the rebuttal.

The point is, given the history, Nergal is set to be a sympathetic villain, much like Zephiel.  He lost his entire family to a meaningless war, found a way to possibly revive his wife, then loses his reason for this and seeks only power.  It’s a tragedy, right?  Well, yes, but honestly I think there was no other outcome.

When you dig into Nergal, there’s one thing that’s clear: Nergal steadily lost himself.  It wasn’t all at once.  When Athos confronts him, it’s unlikely he’s lost himself completely by this.  And even if he had, starting out, Nergal knew what he was doing.  He weighed the choice, and determined that sacrificing other life to bring back his wife was a good trade.  There’s no empathy for other life, only its use for his own purposes.  He doesn’t see past his trauma.

What’s more, Morphs clearly have souls.  They think and feel.  Limstella’s dialogue makes this clear, Kishuna’s existence makes this clear, Canas and Renault’s supports make this clear.  Yet it’s very directly stated that Nergal creates his Morphs, then abandons them.  Unless they’re part of his ultimate goal, he has no use for them.  And he makes a lot.  When Kishuna was created, he was, I believe, #252.  This was when Nergal still had care for his successful creations, as opposed to the later flashback where he’s telling Kishuna to rot as a worthless creation.  Even before Nergal devolved to the point of only seeking power, he was creating life and casting it aside, as if it were nothing.  He even tells Kishuna that “it won’t do to refer to you as a number,” implying that most of his creations are just numbers.  He thinks very little of other life, even from the start.  There was never enough care for others, and thus this path to villainy was almost guaranteed.

The Limits of Empathy The previous two antagonists bring up a compelling thought: what are the limits of empathy?  When has a person gone too far to give consideration to the past and circumstances that led them here?  I think Eliwood’s confrontation with Nergal sums it up nicely:

Nergal: “It confirmed some things for me.  That trust brings betrayal.  That friends bring weakness!” Eliwood: “If that’s what you learned from your encounter, then you are a fool.  Do you believe for a moment, than when Athos struck down his dearest friend, he felt nothing?!  His heart was torn in two, and yet you refused to understand that!  Nergal!  I will defeat you! Here!  Today!  But, even now there is no hatred in my heart.  You, who were born human.  You, who lost the heart that defines your humanity...  For you, I have nothing but pity.”

There are two answers.  One is “never.”  Even at the end of their conflict, Eliwood never holds hate for Nergal.  After everything, there’s still a level of human connection that triumphs over hatred.  The second is, when they become dismissive of other life.  Nergal was always dismissive, and when Athos fought against him, all he learned was that friends betray you, rather than that his actions were wrong.

I’ve only played Binding Blade once (as opposed to the like 50 times I’ve played Blazing Blade), but I don’t recall Roy holding any hatred for Zephiel, or anyone else, either.  Rather, he recognizes that what they’re doing brings harm to people, and seeks to stop them because he must.

That’s the limit these games suggest.  When someone is actively endangering life, using life as a tool for their own gains.  That’s when you can’t let understanding of their circumstances stay your hand.  But it’s equally important to never lose that empathy, that heart that defines humanity.

Idunn Idunn is the odd antagonist out, and my personal favorite of the three.  Idunn’s history is...honestly the opposite of the other two.  She embodies the first answer but neglects the second.  Idunn is a divine dragon.  During the Scouring, the earthly dragons sought aid from the divine dragons, requesting the creation of War Dragons.  They were losing the war because dragon reproduction is significantly longer than human reproduction, and so they were essentially outnumbered.  War Dragons could be spawned by divine dragons, likely in a similar fashion to the creation of Morphs, and could turn the tide of the war.  The divine dragons refused the request, and left Elibe entirely.  Except one.

Idunn was the only one to hesitate.  As it’s explained in the endgame of Binding Blade, she felt empathy for the earthly dragons, and worried about their circumstances.  This allowed them to catch her, and subsequently destroy her soul, creating the Demon Dragon that would obey their commands to flood the world in War Dragons.  When the dragons lost the war anyway, Idunn was sealed away for 1000 years, until Zephiel awakened her.  Zephiel then used her to again bring War Dragons into the world, in an effort to turn the world over to dragons. 

Idunn is such a unique case to me, because the only defining personality trait we get from her is her empathy.  She couldn’t just abandon the earthly dragons without attacks of conscience.  Yet because of that, she was captured and betrayed.  The divine dragons were right to leave the earthly dragons behind, knowing what they would do.  Perhaps it’s because Idunn was young, or perhaps it’s because she was a divine dragon and had never associated with the earthly dragons or humans, but she didn’t understand that some people could be cruel.  She didn’t realize that, despite feeling that empathy for the dragons, there was a good reason to turn them down.

It also established another important point.  Jahn, the last dragon standing with Idunn, expresses that dragons don’t have emotions, and that dragons and humans could not possibly live together because of these differences.  He calls Brunnya incomprehensible, and seems to look down on emotion as a weakness exclusive to humans.  Yet we see that empathy from Idunn, we’ve seen Arcadia where humans and dragons do coexist, and in Blazing Blade we see Ninian and Nils, who are definitely expressive.  Jahn seems to have internalized this sense of hatred toward humanity, such that he rejects any possible similarities to connect with.  Jahn is a symbol of the hatred the dragons had toward humans, and likely that humans felt toward dragons.  Idunn and Jahn together paint the picture that dragons and humans are more alike than they seem, and that the earthly dragons made a choice to continue the fighting, and to continue hating humans.

This isn’t lost on Roy, either, whose final act is one of compassion.  In absolute threat level, Idunn is a bigger risk to keep around than Zephiel ever was.  Zephiel started a war, but Idunn had the potential to endlessly flood the world with war dragons, and end humanity entirely.  Yet in applied threat...Idunn was never a threat at all.  She was a victim of the war, someone who never sought to hurt anyone, and never had a choice in her role.  Comparatively, Zephiel and Jahn both cast aside consideration for her and others, and sought to use her as a weapon for their own ends.  Roy’s final act is stopping Idunn from carrying out her orders, but then saves her life, bringing her to Arcadia to restore her soul.  Chronologically, this is when the mistakes of Elibe’s past are finally righted, and relations between humans and dragons can begin on a grander scale.  In any other circumstance, had someone cast aside empathy when doing what needed to be done, Idunn would be killed and a threat removed.  It is specifically because Roy maintains empathy toward others, even his enemies, that old wounds can finally heal.

Conclusions Elibe is still my favorite.  Blazing Blade may have been my first game, but I really feel it holds up, even now.  While there are people who say the stories aren’t that strong, or that the casts aren’t that strong, I feel like what stands out with Elibe is how it integrates its themes and the understandable nature of their villains.  A lot of games in the series either don’t go for sympathetic villain, or try in a way that doesn’t quite hit home.  The Blades games manage to present villains with a compelling and sympathetic history, while simultaneously expressing that some people are beyond redemption.  And I think that’s a good balance to strike.  It’s important to always consider what impacts another, and what their lives were like.  But there have to be limits in what’s tolerated based on a sympathetic past, and sometimes you do have to stand against someone who’s wrong, no matter what they’ve been through.  But at the end of the day, the one thing you can’t abandon is that empathy for others.  Even when taking a stand against evil, hate can’t be the reason you do so.

[philipsgaiamemories]

Secret Meetings

Fandom: Kamen Rider Gaim

Relationship: Kumon Kaito/ Kazuraba Kouta

Summary: No one could find out how Kouta got his extra cash. No one

Rating: Explicit!

[SOMETHING WHILE YOU GUYS WAIT FOR MY OTHER REQUESTS TO BE FILLED]

‘How did it end up this way?’

The current leader of Team Gaim, Kazuraba Kouta, sighed gently as he walked up slowly to a familiar tall, expensive building.  Somehow he kept coming back here, back to this place which held Team Baron’s fancy club house.  As much as he hated himself for coming here, this place kept calling him.

It all started in Kumon Kaito’s, Baron’s leader, apartment not too long ago.  In his dimly lit hallway, Kouta had tripped over himself, and in the heat of the moment, he found himself peeling away at Kaito’s perfectly pressed pants.  The stand-offish man attempted to resist, but gave in quickly to Kouta’s impulsive nature. Gave in to the energetic boy’s mouth…What happened after was a blur. The two were suddenly wrapped up in one another, Kaito refusing to let Gaim’s Leader go, demanding more.  The small boy could feel his cheeks flush hotly, remembering the warm gel against his skin, the heat of being entered, and the pleasure of being violated.

Ding-Dong

And after all of that, as he was trying to leave the apartment, for some reason Kaito shoved money into his hands. It was an strange interaction, but, the face of Baron’s Leader had an even stranger expression.  A mixture of uncertainty, of awkwardness, as if he wanted to say something more but couldn’t.  And since then…

The door opened to Baron’s clubroom, but its occupant did not hang in the door way, retreating into the hallway.  This wasn’t unusual treatment though…yet, ever since that night, and seeing that puzzling expression, Kouta had returned multiple times, as if drawn to see it again.   Shutting the door behind him, Gaim’s leader followed the soft footsteps through the dimly lit hallways, until they reached the quiet, dark, clubroom.  The blinds to the empty clubroom were drawn, shielding them from the public eyes.  It was just Kouta and-

Stealthily from the shadows came a taller male, dressed in scarlet and black, wrapped his arms around the smaller dancer.

“K-Kaito!” A small breath left Kouta, feeling the warmth of Baron’s leader’s lips against his neck.  

Kaito’s voice was dark, and low again Gaim’s ear. “Back again, Kazuraba?”  

The smaller boy turned around, a slow smile crossing his lips. He stood on his tip toes wrapping his arms around his rival, feeling the heat radiate from his body. Kouta nodded his head, staring into the dark hard eyes of Kaito.

“Hm…I figured with all of this…you could blow some steam. And Christmas is around the corner…”

It was a lie of course, he didn’t need the money that badly.  But, to be here, to get this close to the elusive Kumon Kaito, Kouta had to stretch the truth a little.

Baron’s leader scoffed, “Heh, I guess it can’t be helped.” With that, Kaito’s large hand lifted, and grabbed Kouta’s chin.  Lifting it slowly, the taller man lowered his face, and pressed his lips roughly against the small dancer’s.  

There it was…that warmth and intensity of his lips that was the cause of his addiction. Everything that Kaito did, everything that he was, was full of wild unbridled passion.  It was a drug which he craved more and more, his fingers sliding into the soft, perfectly styled hair urging the taller boy closer. It didn’t take much, the gentle teasing was all that was needed for the taller boy.  

Kaito’s hands lifted up, and cupped around Kouta’s small face, pulling him closer. Normally such an act would be affectionate but for the leader of Team Baron, it was more of a power move, a show of dominance. It caused goose bumps to crawl all up Kouta’s skin, and his heart to pound against his small chest.  He would never admit that though, he couldn’t admit that…that, he enjoyed all of this.  

The two began to move backwards in the room, their lips still connected, Kaito refusing to let go. The sound of chairs, scraping against the floor echoed through the empty space, as they were forced out of the way. It was barely noticed though by the boys, because Kouta’s hands were too busy grabbing at the small black buttons to Katio’s vest.  The last time, the young Kamen Rider was too eager, and pulled at the buttons, popping a few right off his expensive Baron uniform.  Of course, that lead to some consequences…luckily all the scratches that he sustained, healed quickly, so all that was left now was faint lines.

But as Kouta was finishing his work on the vest buttons, and half way through the dress shirt, Kaito had already lead them across the room.  Suddenly, Gaim’s Leader, felt the cold metal of the car against his back.  Slowly, his lips were released, as Baron grabbed at Kouta’s jacket unzipping it in one fluid motion.  

“M-mph…”  

Kaito’s dark, hazy gaze flicked down, and glared hatefully at the Gaim shirt Kouta wore underneath.  Slowly, Baron’s large hand slipped underneath the shirt, his fingertips stroking across Kouta’s sensitive abs.  The muscles underneath twitched anxiously, as if aching to be touched more, and of course Baron was eager to comply.

The smaller boy let out a hot breath, his lips hovering right below his secret lover. His mind now completely fogged, feeling flames crawl up and down his stomach with each stroke of Kaito’s fingers. Kouta’s hands shakily reached out, and grabbed at the buttons again, quickly undoing them.  Pushing the fabric aside, the fingers of Gaim’s lead traced across the curves of Baron’s defined muscles.  

An incoherent sound came from Katio’s throat, as he buried his face against the smaller boy’s neck.  Kouta could feel pressure, pricks, against the sensitive skin, and he automatically knew he would have to hide bruises later.  This sensation was also followed by the Kaito’s warm hands slide across his thin waist.

“K-Kaito!” Kouta let out a soft whine, unable to control himself.  The holder of Banana Arms felt the need to leave marks all over the smaller boy, another way he would show his dominance.  Or maybe, a way to mark his territory?

With a soft growl Kaito pushed his hips forward, pressing his finger’s into Kouta’s firm rear; causing the small boys hips to thrust up immediately in surprise.

“Mmph!” The taller Leader captured Kouta’s lips immediately, silencing him and his whimpers. Their hips grinded up against one another, as the smaller male was pressed up against the car, unable to move. Lightening crackled up their bodies with each rub, small gasps escaping from their desperate kiss.  Then, through the thin fabric separating their warm bodies, the smaller boy could slowly feel a hardness growing from Kaito’s waist.

Against Baron’s lips, Kouta smiled, normally the composed boy took his time enjoying the teasing, but today…Today, Kaito was riled up and frustrated, his large hands sliding across Kouta’s skin towards the front. Finally, those hands grabbed at Gaim’s front, pulling at the buttons undoing them with ease. The quiet sound of a zipper slowly becoming undone danced in the air, causing Kouta to shiver in anticipation.  No, Kaito was not the only one who was anxious and riled up.  

“A-Ah!~”

As the zipper went down, the taller man’s fingertips brushed against his hardened length which was protruding from his jeans.  

Kaito scoffed, his face morphing into that amused sneer, “Already?...I hardly touched you…” His long fingers slipped within the pants, and rubbed against the moist cotton boxers teasingly.  Each touch released pleasured moan and whimpers from the smaller boy, encouraging Kaito even more. As riled up as Baron’s lead was, he truly took pleasure out of hearing those noises from Kouta.  Sometimes those whimpers lead to –

“A-ah…Kaito!”

That.

The smaller boy couldn’t help, but shift his hips uncontrollably, rubbing themselves up against Katio’s long fingers.  It wasn’t just on the dance floor, or battle field where Kaito wanted to be the best, he had to be an expert on everything, and, it felt…incredible.  His length was throbbing and aching with every stroke adding fuel to the fire boiling within him.  The breath coming out of Gaim’s leader was becoming sporadic, into a deep, heated panting.

Kouta’s mind was spinning, unable to form any rational thought beyond just the base desire for more pleasure.  Kaito was a drug, and the smaller boy willingly because an addict for it.

The sweet torture did not last long though, as the taller man lifted his hands, and grabbed at Kouta’s pants.  Tugging the waist line, Kaito forcibly turned the boy around, Kouta’s hands grabbing at the model’s cold car door for support.  He knew what was coming next as he felt the cool air rush up his hot skin, causing him to shudder. Baron’s leader had yanked his pants and underwear down with one swift move, reveling Kouta’s hardened length for the other mans amusement.  

From behind, Gaim’s leader could hear the rustling of clothes, and in his minds’ eye he could see Katio’s pristine pants, and expensive briefs, falling into a pile on the floor around his feet.  Suddenly, Kouta felt warm fingertips crawl up his legs, until-

Smack

He felt the pleasurable sting of Kaito sharply slapping his rear, “Ah! O-Oi Kaito!”    

Baron snorted, his tone annoyed, but Kouta knew there was a smirk across his handsome face. “Quiet.”

The hands returned, rubbing Gaim’s firm ass, before he felt something hot press against his skin.  He could feel his butt-cheeks spread and before Kouta could prepare himself, he felt the sharp pain of being violated.

“AH!~<3” The small fingers of Gaim’s leader pressed into the cold car door, with the overwhelmingly painful sensation. He could feel Katio’s length press further into him until he could feel the man’s waist against his rear.  

Biting his lip, Kouta let out a loud whimper, feeling the taller man’s length slide back from within him, and glide back in, in slow thrusts.  Katio’s fingers pressed into Kouta’s thin waist, holding him in place, as he slowly rocked back and forth.  

“Mmmh!”

The soft rhythmic sound of flesh colliding, alongside the soft sounds of grunting and whimpering from the two boys, filled the room.  At first, the pain rocked him, knocking the breath out of him.  But now…after it melted away, the sensation was incredible!  Kaito filled every inch of Kouta’s being, stretching him out from the inside.  Some sort of strange mixture of pain and pleasure, that caused his body to go haywire.  

Gaim’s leader felt licks of fire crawl up his pale back, feeling the taller man’s lips brush, and drag across his skin.  Each movement was methodical, going over each sensitive spot as if Kaito was indulging on a treat, and didn’t want to gobble it up too quickly.  All the while of course, the brash man was claiming him.  

“A-Ah!”

Kouta let out sharp yelps, feeling Kaito’s teeth bite into his back, leaving dark bruises all over his skin.  From behind him, the small boy could hear Baron’s lead let out an annoyed sigh, his breath hot against his skin.

“So noisy…”

Suddenly Gaim’s leader felt his short chocolate hair being grabbed, and then pulled back. Gasping softly, Kouta’s head was forced back, a shock of lightening racing down his body, from the sudden show of force.  

“Kai-to” A soft needy whine came from the smaller boy, as his head was held up feeling his hair being pulled.

Scoffing, “Heh.”  Kaito then quietly growled, his other hand holding onto Kouta’s waist firmly.  Their rhythm started to speed up, as the taller man began to violate his secret lover harder.  The bent over boy bit his lip trying desperately to keep his cries at a minimum.  But the more and more that Baron’s leader thrusted into him, the harder it was to do. Kouta’s back arched perfectly, his rear sticking out, as he rocked with the other body, desiring more and more sensations. His whole body was becoming slick with sweat, his nerves raw, and completely working in order-drive.  

The smaller boy could feel Baron’s large hands clutch his chocolate hair even harder, in that perfect sort of way, that caused his rear to tighten in pleasure.  The sounds of flesh pounding against one another got louder, mixing with the sounds of gasping, and moaning.  By this point, even Kaito’s voice was heavy, coming out in short growls.

“Ka..zu…ra…ba…”  There was desperation within the movements of the two of them, fast and hard, seeking the ultimate pleasure.  

Kouta, still grasping onto the car for dear life, began to tremble underneath the taller male, his body reaching uncontrollable climax.  It felt like his whole body was on fire, set ablaze with each squeeze, touch, and pull from the other man.  

“…Don’t…” Kaito softly hissed in his ear,   “…Don’t you go first…” Baron’s leader thrusted hard into the small boy, as if emphasizing his point.

There was a soft whimper that released from Kouta, a smile crossing his lips. Yes, this was how it was, even in the heat of the moment, Kaito demanded to be first at everything.  He craved that sense of being on top, first and in control.  And with each stroke, and thrust, he wanted to exhort that control.  By this point though as much as Baron’s lead wanted him to wait, Kouta was shaking under him, his body threatening aching to release.  

Kaito, sensing the urgency growing within the other boy, did not waste any more time. He slid his hand from the boy’s chocolate hair, and firmly grabbed onto the boys waist thrusting unmercifully into him. Kouta rear tightened up just perfectly, causing his whole body to quiver, fire rising within his abs.  Baron’s leader was being pushed to the edge by his lover, and he moved furiously seeking to fall off the edge.  His body’s desperation, and the sounds of Kouta’s whimpers, moved him, drowning him in a sea of passion.  

“A-ah…Hmmph!” Burying himself deeply into Kouta, Kaito hissed sharply between this gritted teeth as he felt the fire leave his abs.  The pressure built within him now dissipated, as he violently released everything he had into his lover.  

Kouta gasped softly in response, feeling hot liquid spread within him.  “A…Ka-ito…”

He shifted, Baron’s leader may have felt the sweet release of climax, but the smaller boy was still bursting inside.  Kouta’s body quivered, a soft needy whimper escaping from his throat, tilting his head slightly sideways.  His eyes, dark, and hazy lifted their gaze to stare into Kaito’s, eyes, from behind his long bangs.  That was it…that look at Kaito had, was one of the biggest reasons Kouta kept coming back. A look of pure bliss, of unhindered emotion, that no one else has seen in this world.  Something that only Kouta got to see.  

Kaito felt his heart almost skip within his chest, a heavy breath leaving his lips. The look Kouta gave the taller man was downright dangerous.  Needy, and hot, begging to be touched.  That look was going to be his undoing…It just made the tall man want to ravish the young dancer even more.  

His large hand slid around Kouta’s thin waist, whispering hotly, “…I guess…I should take care of this…”  The small boy’s rear shifted anxiously, as the hand reached around, slowly until…

“Mmmm…!”

Rocking his hips forward eagerly, Gaim’s leader felt Kaito squeeze his hardened length. “A…aa..”

The taller man slowly pumped, controlling the rhythm between the two.  Kouta’s length was dripping wet, with pre-cum and sweat, making it easier to glide and tease. The smaller boy couldn’t help himself, trying to move the motions faster, seeking the release.  But Kaito kept his pace, slow, using his thumb to tease the slit. And soon, his smaller, hidden lover caught the pace, and rocked with him, until his eyes rolled back in his head, and he released violently in Baron’s hand.

“O-oh..m.mmmm…” It was a soft purr that came from Kouta, as he slumped against the car, completely spent.

The two stood still for a moment, their breathing ragged, and heavy.  The taller man’s hand slid across the boys waist, wiping himself clean. At the same time the lips of Kaito brushed up against the back of Kouta’s neck, almost uncharacteristically tender.  Yes…no one ever got to see this side of him…and Kouta loved that he was the only one.

“A-AH!” Suddenly the smaller boy felt an emptiness overcome him, and the warmth and heat that filled him, go cold.  Biting his bottom lip, Kouta turned his head slightly to face the other boy, but before he could completely turn, a towel was thrown in his face.

Slowly he stood up straight removing the towel from his face, and watched as Kaito slowly began to wipe himself clean. “Hurry and clean up.”

And there it was, Kaito turned back to his stoic self, his face back to being unreadable and hard.  Sighing lightly, Kouta slowly wiped off his pleasure juice shivering at the cotton against his sensitive length. His whole body was on pins and needles, still feeling the ghostly touches of Baron on his body, as he grabbed his clothes from the floor. The two dressed in silence, and as Kouta began to zip up his jacket, Kaito quietly came up next to him.  In his hand was a few colorful notes of money.

“A-ah!” With a gentle smile Gaim’s leader reached out and took the money, his hands brushing against Kaito’s. Yes… this was normal too… “Thanks”

He had to take the money and smile, even though he didn’t want to.  They kept their relationship hidden, knowing how much it would rock both their worlds if they let it out.  But Kouta kept his own secret, he wanted to be here, wanted to touch Kaito, and to see this side of him.  Shoving the money in his pocket, he diverted his gaze away from the taller man. For now, this, this would have to be enough to be close to his secret lover.

“I should leave.” He said finally, knowing that their time was coming to an end.  If he stayed for much longer, then he would risk getting caught by the rest of Team Baron.  

Kaito scoffed, walking slowly towards the entrance, “You didn’t have to tell me that Kazuraba.”

Running his fingers through his hair Kouta rolled his eyes, following closely behind. “Anyway, Ill see you later…okay?” His voice was soft, but the last word gently held a hopeful tone.

“Hmm.”

It wasn’t the most energetic answer, but, as Gaim’s leader passed by Kaito in the hallway, he spotted the slightest of nods from the man. Kouta’s lips turned into a silly grin, satisfied with the response, as he poked his head out the door, verifying no one was around. Brushing past Kaito he went out the door trying to look as nonchalant as possible.

He could feel his heart leap as it always did when he left the clubhouse, each time they met like this, it got harder and harder to want to leave.  Sighing heavily, he shoved his hands in his pockets, his mind already counting the days until their next secret encounter.  

[rakkoran]

                                    𝛀  a rakkor’s heart

The  children  began  their  day  when  the  sun  had  just  broken  the  horizon.  The  shimmering  cloak  of  twilight  was  steadily  ignited  by  dawnbreak,  the  dark  blues  and  indigos  of  a  waning  night  sky  morphed  into  purples,  oranges,  and  golden  yellow.  Fifty  or  so  feet  below  him,  Pantheon  heard  the  loud  thuds  of  wooden  training  weapons  smacking  against  shields,  and  the  shouts  of  pain  and  victory  when  those  weapons  found  skin.  

Pantheon’s  spear  and  shield  rested  against  a  stone  wall  behind  him.  The  rising  sun  reflected  off  the  shield  of  the  aspect  in  a  glow  just  as  brilliant  as  the  great  star’s  own  rays.  The  tip  of  his  spear  gleamed  with  the  dawn,  bright  as  a  comet.  Pantheon  sat  on  a  ledge,  it  was  a  natural  overhang  that  let  him  look  down  on  the  sparring  grounds.  One  of  his  legs  was  over  the  edge,  swaying  slightly  in  the  wind,  while  his  other  leg  was  drawn  up  with  his  arm  loosely  draped  about  the  knee.  

Generations  of  battles  were  won  and  lost  in  those  training  arenas.  Great  warriors  were  forged  from  the  grueling  hours  spent  fighting,  losing,  winning,  getting  knocked  down  and  getting  back  again.  

It  was  a  cycle  of  life  that  Pantheon  was  all  too  familiar  with.

Among  the  throng  of  children  and  young  teenagers,  two  Rakkor  elders  strode  through  the  numerous  sparring  bouts  going  on  with  long  wooden  sticks  in  their  hands.  Pantheon  remembered  those  sticks  all  too  clearly.  Just  the  sight  of  them  made  Pantheon  feel  phantom  pains  along  his  arms,  back,  and  legs.  The  elders  struck  with  strength,  but  also  with  great  accuracy.  

When  Pantheon  was  young,  just  another  one  of  those  Rakkor  children  with  constant  aches  and  bruises  across  their  skin,  he  was  told  to  perform  a  spear  thrust.  The  two  elders  observing  him  were  eagle-eyed  and  grey-haired.  Even  in  their  age,  they  stood  with  straight  backs  and  defined  muscles  along  their  arms.  Pantheon  remembered  how  his  heart  was  thunder  in  his  ears;  his  spear  and  shield  already  felt  as  though  they  were  boulders  in  his  hands,  they  had  been  training  for  three-hours  already.  But,  you  couldn’t  say  no.  An  order  was  an  order,  be  it  one  from  elder  to  child,  or  from  Paragon  to  warrior.  Young  Atreus  executed  the  thrust--  nearly  perfect.  Nearly.  

He  felt  a  hot  bite  across  his  forearm,  the  thin  but  vicious  smack  of  the  stick  against  his  skin.  Without  even  explaining  what  he  did  wrong,  the  elder  shouted,  “Again!”  Again,  he  executed  the  thrust,  and  again  the  stick  smacked  against  his  skin.  Again,  and  again.  After  the  sixth  attempt,  the  smack  from  the  stick  made  him  drop  his  weapon  in  pain,  the  skin  of  his  forearm  had  burst  open  and  blood  streamed  onto  the  dirt  at  his  feet.  With  a  heavy,  disapproving  glare,  the  two  elders  continued  on  to  the  older  children  and  left  Atreus  to  pick  up  his  weapon  alone.  A  lone  tear  coursed  down  his  cheek,  his  jaw  clenched  from  both  pain  and  embarrassment.  

A  cry  similar  to  the  one  that  Atreus  let  out  all  those  years  ago,  rang  out  through  the  air  now.  Pantheon’s  chin  was  in  his  hand,  and  his  eyes  shifted  down  towards  the  source  of  the  noise.  A  young  boy  was  on  the  ground,  clutching  his  leg.  Across  from  the  boy,  an  older  girl  stood  above  him  with  a  smirk  on  her  face.  

The  boy  who  cried  out  slowly  pushed  himself  back  to  his  feet.  Even  from  his  perch,  Pantheon  could  see  that  his  arms  were  shaking.  It  was  too  early  to  show  signs  of  weakness  like  that,  the  day  had  only  just  begun.  

The  boy  rose  to  his  feet  and  held  his  wooden  sword  before  him,  and  the  spar  resumed  again.  Pantheon  watched  him  with  some  interest.  Though  the  girl  was  taller  and  wielded  her  spear  well,  the  boy  was  doing  well  to  stay  in  close-range  with  her,  neutralizing  the  reach  advantage  of  her  weapon.  His  swings  were  relentless,  the  girl  was  on  the  defensive.  Constantly,  she  was  catching  the  swings  of  the  boy’s  sword  against  the  shaft  of  her  spear,  then  barely  readjusting  to  block  his  follow-up  swings.  

Just  as  the  boy  was  about  to  break  her  guard,  a  second  spear  shot  out  from  the  side  and  slapped  against  the  back  of  the  young  boy’s  knee.  Pantheon  remained  unmoving,  impassive,  but  his  eyes  shifted  to  see  that  a  boy  from  a  duel  going  on  beside  the  first  had  intervened  with  a  powerful  swing,  and  brought  the  young  boy  to  his  knees.  The  girl  seized  the  advantage,  and  instantly  kicked  him  in  the  shoulder  and  sent  him  rolling  backwards  across  the  dirt.  

She  was  without  mercy,  and  her  spear  rose  up  and  cracked  across  the  prone  boy’s  back  once,  twice,  and  then  a  third  time  before  the  boy  managed  to  roll  away.  Pantheon  looked  about  the  arena  for  one  of  the  elders,  but  it  seemed  that  their  attention  was  diverted  to  other  Rakkor.  

Hm.

For  the  rest  of  the  morning,  Pantheon  watched  as  the  young  Rakkor.  Each  time  that  the  boy  would  get  close  to  scoring  a  victory  against  the  girl,  the  two  boys  in  the  arena  beside  him  would  intervene  by  cheap  shots.  It  was  always  when  the  elders  were  occupied,  though,  their  timing  seemed  to  be  practiced.  The  boy  never  sought  out  the  elders  for  help,  though,  even  when  the  odds  were  unfair  Rakkor  were  taught  never  to  complain,  simply  to  be  better.  

Two  hours  of  exhausting  sparring  passed  before  a  break  was  called.  Pantheon  watched  as  the  three  older  children  lingered  around  the  young  one.  From  his  ledge,  Pantheon  could  hear  them  laughing  at  the  young  boy,  leaving  him  with  a  number  of  rough  shoves  before  heading  back  to  the  camp  for  their  break.  

The  boy  remained.  Pantheon  watched  as  the  sparring  area  cleared  completely,  save  for  this  young  boy,  and  then  the  young  Rakkor  approached  the  cliff-face  some  distance  to  the  left,  and  then  begin  climbing  it.  

The  boy  made  it  ten  feet  up  the  wall,  before  his  grip  slipped  and  he  was  sent  plummeting  to  the  ground.  It  was  then,  finally,  that  Pantheon  pushed  off  of  the  ledge  and  dropped  to  the  ground.  

His  left  hand  braced  against  the  ground  with  his  impact.  The  ground  directly  beneath  his  feet  released  a  small  shudder.  Pantheon  raised  his  head  and  began  walking  towards  the  child,  who  was  again  pushing  himself  back  up  to  his  feet.  The  boy’s  skin  was  littered  with  bruises,  his  hair  was  short  and  shaved.  His  nose  already  looked  like  it  would  be  crooked  as  he  grew,  a  black  ring  circled  his  left  eye,  and  he  looked  up  to  Pantheon  first  with  shock,  then  hesitation.  

“What  is  your  name,  Rakkor?”  Pantheon  asked,  he  reached  down  and  grabbed  the  boy’s  upper-arm  and  lifted  him  to  his  feet.  

“A-Andre,”  he  said.  

 “Andre,”  Pantheon  squatted  down  to  eye-level  with  Andre.  

Andre’s  initial  reaction  was  to  blink,  Pantheon  could  tell  that  he  wished  to  look  away  or  take  a  step  back.  But,  Pantheon  saw  him  swallow  hard  and  hold  his  gaze.  

Good.

“Why  did  you  try  to  climb  the  wall  instead  of  taking  your  rest?  Respite  is  scarce  for  a  young  Rakkor.”  

Though  Andre  held  Pantheon’s  gaze,  what  faltered  would  be  his  voice.  

“I--some  others  said  that  I  couldn’t  make  it  to  the  top.”  

Pantheon  looked  to  the  left  and  craned  his  neck  back.  About  a  hundred  feet  above,  he  could  see  the  edge  of  the  wall  beside  them.

“Why  would  they  say  that?”

Andre  finally  looked  to  the  ground.  His  sandaled  feet  shifted  in  place,  left  and  right.  Nervous,  he  couldn’t  have  been  more  than  ten  or  eleven  years  old.  

“They  said  that  I  would  die  like  my  father  did.  To  a  cold.  I  told  them  that  I  would  be  stronger  than  the  three  of  them  combined,  and  then  they  said  that  I  couldn’t  even  climb  to  the  top  of  this.”  

“They,  being,  the  girl  and  the  two  boys?”  

Andre’s  breath  caught  in  his  throat,  and  he  quickly  shook  his  head.  

“N-n-no,  just,  others.”  

“Still  you  choose  to  fight  your  own  battles,”  Pantheon  rose  to  his  feet  and  placed  a  firm  on  hand  on  Andre’s  shoulder,  “That  is  good.  Every  Rakkor  must  fight  their  own  battles.” 

Pantheon  turned  Andre  to  face  the  stone  wall  that  he  had  tried  to  climb.  Andre  looked  up  towards  him,  and  now  with  less  shakiness  in  his  voice  he  said,  “You  are  Pantheon,  aren’t  you?  There  are  stories  about  you,  cleaving  hundreds  of  barbarians  in  one  strike.  You’re  him.”

“I  am  a  Rakkor,”  Pantheon  said  in  response,  “Just  like  you.”  

A  cool  wind  blew  across  Pantheon’s  skin.  His  neck  remained  tilted  back,  he  stared  up  at  the  top  of  the  wall  above  them,  then  he  spoke  again.  

“Now.  You  know  that  a  Rakkor’s  strength  comes  from  the  Rakkor  beside  them,  yes?”  

Andre  nodded  quickly.  

“Those  three  have  one  another,  that’s  what  makes  them  stronger  than  you.  But  now,  as  we  stand  here,  you  have  me  at  your  left,  and  I  have  you  at  my  right.”  Pantheon  looked  down  at  Andre,  the  faintest  hint  of  a  smile  lingered  at  the  corners  of  his  mouth,  “I  feel  stronger  with  you  beside  me  already.”  

Andre  smiled  back  at  him,  “And  I  feel  stronger  with  you.”  

“Good.  Then  we  can  scale  this  wall,  together.”  

Pantheon  dropped  into  a  crouch.  Andre  instantly  leapt  onto  his  back  and  wrapped  his  arms  around  Pantheon’s  neck.  

“Hold  tightly,”  Pantheon  said  as  he  approached  the  wall,  “A  grip  made  of  stone,  that  is  what  the  mountain  gives  us.”  

“Yes  sir,”  Andre  said.  

With  Andre  on  his  back,  Pantheon  began  to  climb.  With  each  leap  from  one  handhold  to  the  next,  Andre  let  out  a  gasp  of  excitement.  Pantheon  climbed  faster  than  any  man  could,  he  pulled  his  weight  up  by  the  tips  of  his  fingers,  and  vaulted  five,  ten  feet  upward  from  the  slimmest  purchase  beneath  his  feet.  Soon,  the  sparring  arena  that  they  had  begun  from  had  grown  smaller  and  smaller,  the  cold  breeze  that  greeted  them  at  the  base  of  the  rock  wall  grew  stronger  with  each  foot  they  ascended.  

Once  the  edge  of  the  wall  was  only  a  few  feet  above  them,  Pantheon  paused  his  climb.  With  his  left  hand  holding  onto  a  crack  in  the  stone,  he  pointed  with  his  right  hand  towards  the  next  handhold  above  him.  

“Complete  the  climb,  Andre.  Find  your  strength.”  

Andre  nodded  his  head  again,  and  with  a  shaky  exhale,  he  slipped  around  from  Pantheon’s  back  and  now  rested  with  his  feet  pressed  against  Pantheon’s  knees.  Andre  hesitated  for  a  moment.  He  looked  down  at  the  height  that  they  were  at,  and  Pantheon  heard  Andre  gasp.  But  the  boy  was  a  Rakkor,  he  was  determined  now,  his  goal  was  within  reach.  Andre  reached  upward,  hands  raised  and  feet  searching.  One  grip.  One  straining  pull,  and  he  climbed  up  the  edge  and  laid  across  the  top  of  the  cliff.  

Pantheon  followed  after  him,  a  small  grin  was  painted  across  his  lips.  Andre  stood  by  the  edge  with  his  arms  clasped  on  the  top  of  his  head.  His  eyes  were  wide,  his  body  shook  with  residual  adrenaline  and  excitement.  From  here,  the  morning  sun  looked  all  the  more  beautiful,  it  looked  closer  now.  Instead  of  a  star  in  the  distant  sky,  it  looked  like  one  could  reach  out  and  grasp  it  in  their  hand.  

Andre  let  out  a  loud  WHOOP,  his  voice  carried  in  the  wind,  and  the  boy  laughed.  

“You  did  well,  Andre.  Your  father  is  watching  over  you  now.  From  here,  he  can  see  his  son  clearly.”  

Though  Andre’s  smile  remained,  Pantheon  could  see  his  lip  quiver,  a  wetness  entered  his  eyes  and  a  few  tears  streaked  down  his  dirtied  and  cut-up  cheeks.  Pantheon  placed  his  hand  on  Andre’s  shoulder,  and  a  comforting  silence  draped  over  them  like  a  warm  shawl.  

Every  Rakkor  carried  with  them  loss,  pain,  and  fear.

Pantheon  looked  down  at  Andre’s  face  again,  it  was  illuminated  by  the  morning  sun.  His  tears  stopped,  and  he  stared  out  over  the  expansive  horizon  with  wide-eyes,  full  of  determination.  

But  they  also  carried  strength,  goals,  and  hope.

[mahkaria]

There are none so blind

Here is my gift for @empathique I really hope you’ll like it ! 

Prompts : Fluff, Hurt/comfort, Mutual Pining (well I tried to put Mutual Pining, I don’t know if it worked)  I tried to mix a bit of all those ideas. 

Warning : Chuuya’s language and attempted suicide

A special thank to @dazatsu-exchange for organizing this event and for their work. Thank you very much. 

English is not my mother language so I apologize if some sentences are clumsy or don’t make any sense. I swear I did my best to avoid grammar mistakes.   Far from the main road, in a dusty bar not as popular as it had once been, stood two people. Despite the lively conversation they were engaged in, it would have been complicated to call them close friends. One of them had the careful tone of a trapped beast and the other watched his interlocutor, almost scrutinizing him, like a predator waiting for his prey to commit one mistake. 

“The agency has been getting less job those days, hasn’t it?”

“Not really, we just mainly get small cases like investigating murders and robberies.” The other said, taking a small sip from his drink.

 Not for the first time, the man, Sakaguchi Ango, wondered if it would work. 

After the fight against the Decay of Angels, once the whole chaos which had almost destroyed Yokohama had finally subsided, Dazai and he had put forward the idea of reforming their friendship. Ango because he missed the close bond they used to share and Dazai… well it was complicated to know what was really going on inside his mind. 

The detective hadn’t protested when Ango had asked him to meet at Lupin’s but his tense behaviour was proof enough there was still a long road to cross. Dazai didn’t really talk. He didn’t except for answering to Ango’s question. This lack of motivation wasn’t really a surprise. Yet, Ango didn’t know how he’d manage to endure it. “You still had to take care of an illegal organisation a few weeks ago.”A small smile appeared on Dazai’s lips. 

“It didn’t take a lot of time. Ranpo-san found their base in a second and Atsushi-kun dealt with them. They didn’t stand a chance.”

“He didn’t get hurt, did he?”

Dazai glanced at him as if to say “Why would you care? You didn’t mind when it concerned Odasaku?” but didn’t comment. 

“Of course not, Atsushi-kun is strong, he won’t get hurt so easily. His control over his ability is really amazing especially if you consider how short it has been since he learnt about it. Not everyone could have done what he did.”

It would have been hard to describe the emotion behind those words. During their acquaintance, Ango had never had the opportunity to hear it. It sounded like a mix between pride and affection. “Can you tell me more about him?”

“What would the military want with Atsushi-kun?”

“I’m just curious.”

“Are you?” He asked with his usual mischievous tone. Ango noticed with surprise it didn’t have any bitterness in it. 

“If you like him, he must be interesting.” He explained.

“He really is.” 

After this, the evening went swiftly. Ango could see the other gradually relax and let one or two genuine smiles break his careless mask. Ango inhaled deeply. Maybe everything still had the potential to be alright.

Because of his involvement with the ADA during the whole Decay of Angels’ crisis, Ango had officially been nominated as a (babysitter) Liaison officer. It mainly meant that once a week he’d have to deal with the agency’s shenanigans. Mostly Dazai’s. And sometimes Kunikida’s.

(His superiors had found the perfect way to punish him. This was a true anxiety-provoking place. It had also increased his paperwork to such an extent he barely remembered what sleep felt like.)

However, despite his new responsibilities, he had never got the opportunity to properly meet Nakajima Atsushi. He knew about his abilities, a bit about his past but nothing about the kind of person he was.

A part of him almost feared he’d be as… chaotic (?) as Dazai. It would explain why the former mafioso was so fond of him. Was fond the correct expression?

 He didn’t have enough datas to define their relationship. 

He walked toward the building. He had a meeting with the agency’s president. His younger, more innocent self could have thought it’d be an easy task but it seemed the agency never took a break. The first time he came, he had almost received a chair to the head. 

Sure, the agency seemed to be quite a serious organisation, worthy of acknowledgment and respect. In theory. After a few months of collaboration, Ango knew it was just an over glorified madhouse.

Climbing three floors in his physical conditions didn’t happen to be the easiest task. He arrived to his destination with relief and knocked.

A beautiful (but nonetheless terrifying woman) opened the door. Her face contorted with displeasure.

“Sakaguchi-san, do come in.” She said.

He knew from experience that Yosano Akiko was a nice and cheerful person. Today, however, she looked ready to murder a puppy on the spot.

Ango looked around. What could have caused such a change in her personality?

That’s when a second strange detail came to his attention. All the other members seemed to be entirely focused on something. He followed their gaze.  

A young man with startling white hair was typing, not noticing anything around him while Dazai was rubbing his face against the boy’s cheek.

His friend was busy acting like a very content cat.

“Atsushi-kun, pay attention to me!”

A red haired boy, Tanizaki Junichirou if he remembered correctly, actually whimpered at this.

“Why are they like this? Why are they like this?”

His sister slowly rubbed his shoulder in a comforting manner. She, also, had a look of utmost disbelief. Still blind to the outside world, Atsushi blinked and looked at his mentor.

“Please, get back to work, Dazai-san.” He said, patience and a hint of tenderness obvious in his words.

“But work is boring. I want Atsushi-kun to spend time with me.”

The youngest underboss in the history of Port mafia, the most feared man after Ougai Mori the boss himself, the one seen as his most probable successor was whining.

How the mighty had fallen…  

At least, Ango could now say with say with absolute certainty what kind of relationship they shared. “Dazai didn’t tell me he was dating someone.” He whispered to himself.

Yosano glared at him. He felt a rush of primitive terror cross his spine.

“If only it was this simple.” She sighed.  

That’s how Ango became acquainted with The Situation.

He still hadn’t spoken to Nakajima.

Another night at Lupin’s. Outside, drizzle freshened the atmosphere as Yokohama’s citizens lazily walked among the street without a care in the world. 

This relative state of peacefulness filled him with satisfaction. It was for this kind of moment, this brief period between two battles, that he liked his job so much. 

The bartender brought him his drink. The same boring tomato juice as usual. Soft footsteps made themselves heard.

“Good evening, Dazai-kun.”

“I wasn’t expecting you to come back.”

“We said we’d try, didn’t we?”

“Indeed.”

A drink was put in front of the newcomer. It seemed the manager still remembered about them.

“So, what’s up?” Dazai said, his voice muffled by the glass. “Still doing your boring governmental job?”

“Why do you ask questions you already know the answer to?”

A deep chuckle. It could have almost sounded genuine.

“I came to the agency this afternoon.”

“I know. Is that all?”

“I’m afraid the rest is classified. And you?”

“Nothing, nothing. Just the same boring routine ~”

“Is that so?”

“Were you expecting me to say something else?”

“Of course not, it’s fine if you don’t want to talk about it with me.”

Dazai tilted his head. He didn’t seem to understand what he meant.

“I’m not sure I see what you’re aiming at.” He confirmed.

“About Nakajima-kun?” Ango continued.

“You already knew he was my subordinate, didn’t you?” He blinked. After a moment he kept talking. “What did you think we -”

Shock stopped him but it quickly morphed into mirth.

“Don’t tell you thought there was something more.”

“The idea did cross my mind.” He admitted. Chuckles escaped Dazai’s throat.

“He’s nice but I’d never think about dating him.” Dazai said.

Ango stared at his “friend”. Dazai had always been a secretive person. No one, even Mori, could totally decipher what he was thinking. Oda had been the only one able to. At least, to some extent. 

Yet, at this moment… Maybe it was a trick of the light… However, Ango would have sworn he had seen sorrow on his face.

“Da-”

“Ango.”

“Yes?”

“It’s none of your concern.”

Cinnamon eyes full of deadly promises. Ango knew better than going against his will when Dazai was like that.

“Let’s keep drinking.” He proposed.

“Very good idea !”

Kunikida had yet to come back from his many appointments. Exactly like the day before, he had spent the day outside, meeting with people Dazai didn’t even try to remember. 

A dozen of minutes before, Atsushi and he had received a phone call asking them to wait at the office. From what Dazai had gathered, they had to speak about a case from the highest importance. 

Well, everything was “from the highest importance” for this guy so Dazai couldn’t care less. He was on the sofa, staring at something or rather someone far more interesting.

Despite his relative efficiency, Atsushi still was one of the most hardworking member of the agency. He knew it. When drunk, Kunikida-kun often cried about how his prayers had finally been heard.

Finally someone who shares my ideals ! Maybe you should have tried to drown in a river sooner.

Dazai often protested at this affirmation. How could his partner - the one for who he’d do anything (as long as he had fun) - say this ? 

Sure, Atsushi did more paperworks, listened more, often helped Kunikida, didn’t do any caprices… Okay maybe he could see the other’s point. But still !

He quickly got his concentration back. Atsushi had adapted to the agency like a fish to water and unraveled his hidden potential. He had managed to hold his promise to Odasaku.

But, you can no longer see him as a way to fulfil his dying wish, can’t you? A saccharine voice whispered inside of him. Dazai looked at the younger man asleep against his shoulder. After a day doing nothing but writing reports, he had earned his rest.

Indigo was starting to appear above the horizon and Kunikida still wasn’t here. Haruno and Naomi had left a few minutes ago.

It’s going to be fun, Dazai thought, to annoy Kunikida-kun about how late he is.

Atsushi had started to snuggle against him. The honey light from the window associated to his sleepy expression made him look like an ethereal being. Light surrounded him like a golden halo. An angel among men.

Dazai took out his phone. It seemed he had found a new wallpaper.

As he clicked on his screen, the door of the office was violently opened. Atsushi jumped in surprise. Purple eyes watched the electronic device in front of his face.

“What are you-” He started but the soft and pleasant voice of a furious Kunikida interrupted him. 

“The traffic was infernal ! I don’t even want to know how I’m late I am. Stupid Dazai, you better not try to run away and come here right now.”

The boy blinked and tried to stand. Sleep still had a strong hold on his body and had him stumble like a newborn fawn.

On instinct, his hands shot up to catch his waist and brought him back on the sofa.

“Not too fast, I’m sure Kunikida-kun can wait for you to wake up, Atsushi-kun.”

The mumbled apology he got as an answer brought another smile to his face.

A few months ago, this moment of proximity would have been impossible. 

Atsushi wouldn’t let anyone touch him, be it to carry him away from danger or just to congratulate him after a job well done. He’d just jump away and look at the person as if they had just tried to strangle him. 

After the first time, Dazai had started to notice how his subordinate would almost dance in overcrowded streets in order not to touch anyone. How his hands would sometimes start to shake if someone was too close to him but how he had relaxed when Kyouka had jumped in his arms. 

How he craved for something but didn’t believe he could obtain it. As if the mere idea of someone showing him kindness and affection was unimaginable.

Really, seeing Atsushi evolves through months was fascinating. No one could have predicted how far he’d come. It made him curious. How different would he be in a few years?

I really want to find out the answer to this question.

“Are you alright, Dazai-san?” Atsushi cut his thoughts.

“I’m fine, I’m fine. Can you stand?”

“Yes. Thank you.”

“Perfect, then let’s go see why Kunikida is being even more uptight than usually.”

“Please don’t talk about him that way.”

“You know I’m right.”

“Absolutely not !”

“Really ?”

“Yes !”

“Seriously, when did my subordinate stop respecting me?”

As Atsushi was about to respond, his brows furrowed in an adorable manner, Kunikida interrupted them once again.

“I can hear both of you. Stop flirting this instant and come here.”

Kunikida could have thrown red paint all over Atsushi’s face and he still wouldn’t have been as crimson as he was right now.

“Kunikida-kun, you broke Atsushi-kun !”

A group of terrorist named Origine had recently arrived to Yokohama. They were already well-known for the destruction which always happened when they were somewhere. The government had requisitioned each task force they could put their hands on.

As Dazai was leaning over Atsushi, reading the file about their case which had been given to them, Kunikida dropped an information which would soon result in a few headaches for him.

“What do you mean Atsushi-kun and I won’t be working on this case together?”

No matter what some people liked to affirm, Dazai was a mature adult (often, most of the times, sometimes?... Whatever) so he definitely wasn’t whining.  

He was just expressing to an awful Kunikida his displeasure to what his partner had just said. Next to him, Atsushi, the traitor, was hiding his laughs with his hands.

“We need you for another assignment.”

“Didn’t you say I couldn’t be trusted when Atsushi isn’t with me?”

At least, it was the reason he always gave when he asked why all his missions were now done with the tiger. (Not that he complained)

“You’re not a child, you don’t need him to be your babysitter.”

“But what if-”

“Stop being a damn drama queen or I’ll kill you.”

“Please do, as long as it’s not painful of course ~”

Maybe he deserved the punch in the nose he got.

“What do you want me to do ?”

“The Port Mafia is going to get involved. They don’t really like having bombers on their territory. The director wants you to arrange communication between them and the agency.”

“So you’re saying it’s the mafia’s fault? How interesting.”

“Dazai, don’t do whatever you’re thinking about.”

“Don’t worry, Kunikida-kun ! I won’t do anything which will bother any human being ~”

Nakahara Chuuya showed up at the agency the next day. Thanks to him, they lost a very fine door which had never done anything wrong apart from meeting a very short-tempered redhead.

Tough luck.

“Where is this damn fucking mackerel?”

Atsushi, Kyouya and a few secretaries were the only one remaining in the agency. They didn’t really know how to deal with a small tornado.

Azure eyes watched all around them.

“Where is he?” He screamed.

“Dazai-san left an hour ago. Do you want me to pass him your message, Chuuya-san?”

“Are you willing to punch him in the throat?” Chuuya asked as he hugged Kyouka.

“Not really, no.”

“Then I’ll wait for him to come back.” He concluded as Kyouka started talking to him about her recent passion for drawing.

Atsushi sighed and stood up to make tea. Haruno and the other secretaries didn’t intervene, far too used to the presence of the mafioso.

A few moments later, the three of them sat in front of each other in the space reserved to clients.

“What has Dazai-san done this time?” Atsushi finally put an end to the silence.

He couldn’t remember how many times Chuuya and he had had this kind of conversation. Sometimes, he felt like he had given him his number only so he could complain about his former partner to someone.

Chuuya breathed deeply. It often meant he was going to talk a lot.

“Do you know how many times I have changed my security lock, kid? Thirteen times. Thirteen ! But no matter what I do, this damn shitty fucking son of a bitch keeps being an annoying fucktard (wow, five curse words in the same sentence, new record). I came back home at 9 pm, not having slept in three days, my only wish was a nice glass of wine. And do you know what I found out?”

Atsushi knew where it was going. He just hoped he was wrong.

“I found out that this fucking bastard emptied all my bottles and put vinegar inside them instead.”

Firstly : Atsushi was worried to notice he had reached a level where he could predict what Dazai did.

“So I decided my revenge would be terrible. When I’m done with him, he’ll be crying tears of blood.”

Secondly : How could two twenty-two years old be less mature than he was?

He felt Kyouka shake against him. Despite her blank expression, a glint in her blue eyes betrayed how amused she was by the situation.

He sighed. If he didn’t appease the mafioso, it would turn into an all-out war between the Double Black. No one wanted that. 

Last time, Kunikida had ended up with pink hair and Tanizaki with a fear of spiders he refused to explain.

Fun time.

“By the way, do you both want to have lunch with me?” Chuuya offered.

If Atsushi hadn’t been so eager to appease the other’s temper, he would have noticed the evil smirk which had spread all over Chuuya’s face.

They had gone to a place famous for their tofu based recipe. And also probably for their overpriced food. He’d never understand how someone could pay so much for a simple salad (three thousands yen? Why?). 

When he had started to protest, Chuuya had quickly explained he’d be the one to pay before giving his attention to his phone once again. He had been on it for a dozen minutes and couldn’t stop grinning. 

What was going on?

Mackerel guess what?

[picture sent]

Atsushi is really a nice kid, don’t you think?

Next time, I’ll burn your hats.

Maybe, I should invite him to go shopping with me?

Don’t corrupt Atsushi-kun with your poor tastes in clothes !!!! (ʘ言ʘ╬)

Do you think he’d look good with a choker ?

jhbh,nilkninnbbd

Enjoy your meeting ~

Say goodbye to your car, slug.

When Atsushi came back from his job, he found Kunikida yelling at Dazai once again.

“Good afternoon, how did the meeting go?”

“This idiot threw his phone against his face in front of the boss of the Port Mafia !”

“It wasn’t my fault !”

“You shouldn’t have been on your phone during work !”

Slimmy arms encircled his waist in a tender yet strong way.

“Atsushi, protect me from the evil guy !”

“Evil? Who are you calling-”

Before the two partners could start a new argument, Atsushi intervened. He took out papers from his desk and slowly started.

“We may have an idea about the place where the organisation is remaining for the moment.”

Kunikida’s business mode immediately activated. The red of anger gave his place to a focused frown.

“Some citizens working witnessed people going around an abandoned factory during the night a few days ago. They called the police but when they investigated they didn’t find anything. Also, the factory is far away from the port so it would be the perfect place in order not to be noticed by the mafia.”

“Maybe one of their member is able to cast illusions. It would explain why they saw nothing.” Dazai said.

“Well at least now we have a starting point. Good job, kid. You and Kyouka will go check on it tomorrow.” Kunikida added.

“Understood.”

As orange melted into purple, Atsushi walked home to the dormitory, Dazai and Kyouka in tow. When they had left the agency, the older man had spent a good deal of time inquiring about their meal with Chuuya. It would have been funny, had they not had this conversation a good dozen of times before.

“You mustn’t let yourself be manipulated. The chibi is an awful person. He’ll smile and all and before you know it - bam! - you’ll think his hats are fashionable.”

“They are not that bad.” Kyouka intervened. 

“They’re only a poor tentative to earn a few centimeters. An awful deviation really. No matter how hard he tries, he’ll always be smaller than most five years old.”

“You’re exaggerating now. I don’t understand why you like annoying him so much.”

“As if he doesn’t pay me back a hundredfold. I just don’t like how he’s always lurking around you. He must have some wicked ideas which can only be understood by dwarves like him.”

Kyouka sighed as the conversation proceeded. It was both depressing and entertaining to see how in denial they were. Atsushi wasn’t stupid, how could he not have noticed the green eyed monster which had invaded Dazai’s mind, she mused.

Far away from the center of Yokohama, where no infrastructure could be found miles around, stood a factory made entirely of red bricks. The main entrance had been torn open so it was easy to enter it. It usually was used by unimportant delinquents wannabe which went there to drink and smoke. All around stood barbed wires so full of holes it hardly prevented anyone to enter.

Behind it, a small spot full of weeds which hid the service door. That’s the one they would use to go in.

“Can you explain once again why you’re here, Dazai-san?” Atsushi repeated.

“I just wanted to make sure my kouhai were going to be fine. Since Ranpo-san isn’t available right now, he can’t tell us what we may encounter inside. Surely you can’t blame me for this.”

“It’s only an observation mission.” He retorted. 

“It could go wrong.”

“Since this type of mission is mainly based on stealth, you being with us is only going to complicate things.” Kyouka whispered with her usual calm tone.

“Et tu Kyouka-chan?” Dazai complained dramatically. 

Despite his mock hurt, it was obvious Dazai was having great fun. His usually dark eyes had taken the shade of melted chocolate.

“Shouldn’t you be at work?” Atsushi whispered as they entered the building.

“Kunikida-kun wanted to torture me so I left.”

“Is paperwork a form of torture?” Kyouka wondered with curiosity.

“Yes.” Dazai said at the time as Atsushi protested.

Their bickers continued until they had proceeded into the building. Atsushi activated his ability and felt his senses improve. The smell of rust, sulfur and humidity invaded his nose. He could hear the discrete steps of bugs and the sound of the wind as it went through the building.

“Have you found anything, Atsushi-kun?”

“Not yet.”

Kyouka opened the door of one of the office. Still no trace of any human being. It was as devoid of human presence as the moon. 

Yet, Atsushi couldn’t get rid of the feeling, he was missing something. He focused his whole attention on the room and finally asked.

“Don’t you think it smells of tobacco?”

After a moment, Dazai nodded.

“Probably teenagers who want to smoke without anyone noticing them.”

Before Dazai could offer an answer, a ruckus made itself heard. Startled, Atsushi bursted out of the room. “I’m going to check what it is. Please, stay here.”

Before Kyouka could offer to accompany him, he started running. His unease hadn’t improved. He still had the feeling he was missing something big. 

Inside him, he could perceive growls. The tiger was on a rampage, it kept pacing back and forth in his mind like a trapped beast. It knew something.  

Atsushi walked into the center of the factory. Just a huge rectangular space occupied by machines no longer functional. At the opposite side : a door. He went fastly toward it and opened it. It didn’t even protest, it had been perfectly oiled. Behind it, Atsushi found stairs which dived into the dark entrails of the factory.

Well, it’s a bit too late to run away.

Fortunately for him, despite his old age, the whole place hadn’t suffered too much from time. This, added to the tiger’s night vision allowed him to reach the bottom quite easily. 

The flavour of cheap cologne tingled his nose.

Someone was here.

“Who are you?” He said as loud as possible.

He didn’t expect any answer yet a rough voice answered :

“That is the last of your problem, detective.”

“What do you -”

That’s when he heard it.

A soft tick tocking noise as if death was slowly walking closer.

“You-”

“It’s a shame you’re just a kid but you are an enemy nonetheless. Our organisation won’t let you get away. Farewell.”

A shot in the dark. The man had killed himself. 

This explosive sound reignited Atsushi’s mind. For his life, he had no fear. His only worries were for Kyouka and Dazai.  

He ran.

You won’t be able to save them. It is useless. You can’t save anyone.

Shut up. Shut up. Shut up !

He barely was conscious of where he was going. When he reached the ground floor, two pairs of familiar eyes looked at him with worry. 

He’d never let them be dulled by death. Atsushi jumped forward. His body screamed in agony in reaction to the violent movement. He couldn’t care less. 

His hands - well, claws now - caught Kyouka and Dazai. He made sure not to touch the later’s skin.

The tickling got faster. Soon, death would strike. He ran and ran and ran.

 Then, they were outside. It wouldn’t be enough.

Tic

Tac

Tic

Tac

Tac

TAC

… .... …..

Silence. 

He focused his whole power in his arms and threw his charges away. As far away as humanly possible. 

Then fire overthrew the world. No more color. Just red.

Oxygen had left Dazai as he was violently moved. He breathed deeply. His chest hurt. Two eyes as beautiful as the sky at sunset were looking at him with panic. Tears had started to fall down his cheeks. He wanted to touch them. To make this person’s pain go away. 

When he suddenly understood what was going on, what Atsushi was about to do, frost paralyzed his heart. 

No. Not him too.

Why- Why can I never do anything when it really matters?

Light disappeared. Black overcame his vision, a disgusting, oppressive, inky black. Heat burnt his face. 

Dazai lost consciousness.

Sentience escaped him again and again. 

The man remembered opening his eyes and seeing faces above him. They whispered about important things, things he couldn’t understand.

The man opened his mouth. Dryness prevented him from forming words. A woman came close to him and poured a fresh liquid inside it. 

Time had no meaning in his state. Yet, he had seen a particular face, her eyes full of pain and sorrow, take his hand and say : “They don’t know when he’ll wake up. But you… you’ll be fine, right?” Then after a sob : “You have to be fine, *****-san.”

Life hurt, Dazai concluded after opening his eyes for a few seconds. Light was everywhere which didn’t help his already worsening headache. At this moment, if he had had the power, he would have canceled the sun. But, since he still was (despite what he and many people thought) a human at the end of the day, he settled for the second best option and threw his pillow over his eyes. 

His mind was fuzzy and his thoughts lacked their usual organisation. 

Judging by the overwhelming smell of antiseptic he was in an hospital. Great. What had he done to arrive here this time? Welp, he really didn’t have the time to laze around at the hospital so time to leave !

Atsushi-kun will be furious when he sees I left before being cleared. He couldn’t keep a small smile off his face as he thought about it. His legs were weak and couldn’t hold him well. How many days had he slept? 

In front of him, the door to his room opened and a beautiful young woman entered, her face contorted with worry. She blinked when she saw him awake.

“Thank god, at least one of you woke up.” She sighed with relief. 

“Good morning, Yosano-sensei ! How are you in this fine day?”

“Don’t try to distract me, Dazai. You better go back in your bed before I use you for shooting practise.”

This didn’t sound like a painless nor a clean death so he obeyed. Yosano nodded with approval and left him. She came back a few minutes after, her medical material in hand.

After a thoughtful examination, she finally said.

“Be careful with your ribs and you should be okay. It could have been so much worse, you were luckier than - well, no need to talk about it, focus on getting better. Kyouka should come see you when she finishes working.”

That’s when it all came back. Their mission, the explosion, and -

“Yosano-sensei, where is Atsushi-kun?”

She didn’t look surprised. She had expected this question to come but it didn’t make the answer any easier.

“He’s alive. Don’t worry. Focus on healing.”

“Alive doesn’t mean well. Where is he?”

“Try to sleep a bit and I’ll bring you to him.”

“I don’t -”

“It doesn’t matter. I’m your doctor, you’ll obey to me, understood?”

“Yes.”

Was he already making plans to escape his room? Of course not ~

Once the nurses had stopped sending him evil glares, Dazai went up and walked. He relaxed his shoulders and started whistling. One thing you learnt in the mafia was that people only paid attention to you if you seemed suspicious.

 No one would care about you if you had enough confidence in your moves.

He walked around, trying to find an hint which would tell him where Atsushi was. There still was the possibility for him to be at the agency but it didn’t seem probable. The factory was miles away from the agency. It would have been easier for the emergency department to bring them directly here. If Atsushi still hadn’t woken up, Yosano wouldn’t have taken the risk to shift him.

At the end, his steps led him to the reception. Women in uniforms were talking.

 In another conditions, he might have tried to flirt with them but he was definitely not in the mood right now. As he was about to keep exploring, muttered words made him stop.

“Can you believe it? He’s so young.” One of them started. 

“I can’t believe this so-called agency would employ a teenager.”

“He didn’t to seem to be such in a shape to me this morning. From what I’ve heard, this explosion should have killed him.”

“Hush. Don’t say this kind of thing. You’re going to jinx it, Kobayashi-chan.”

“Sorry, sorry.” A young nurse apologized.

So he had a name and a proof she had been in Atsushi’s room. Perfect. 

Finding the nurse’s planning didn’t turn out to be as complicated as one might expect. Just annoying. He had to wait for them to start their break but at the end he found what he wanted. 

He just had to check the rooms the woman had visited. 

Maybe he ended up disturbing a few old men and some children but no one needed to know. Room 505. It’s the last one.

Nothing was worse than an hospital room when you weren’t sure the patient was going to make it.

Dazai walked forward. The sun enlightened it and gave it a warm atmosphere.

 However, it was hard to forget this same comfortable place could morph into a tomb at any moment. Just a short instant would be enough… 

Atsushi’s expression was peaceful like a child napping. His legs were bandaged as if he had decided to imitate Dazai. His body was devoid of any syringe. It would have been useless anyway. The tiger’s healing prevented the use of any drugs. They would just slow down Atsushi’s recovery. 

Bangs of white hair fell in front of his closed eyes. Instinctively, he moved in order to push them aside but managed to stop himself. He couldn’t touch him.

 His ability had been the only thing  preventing him from joining Oda in the silent kingdom. Dazai couldn’t cancel it. 

An empty chuckle shook his body. How strange it was to see the liveliest person in his life turns into a stringless puppet.

“I hope you wake up soon, Atsushi-kun. Being here doesn’t suit you at all.”

A greyish smoke flew around the man as he carried his tobacco stick to his lips.

“A government employee smoking? That’s not very serious now, is it?” A voice lacking his usual happy go lucky tone asked.

“We are all entitled to our own vices.”

“I won’t argue with you on that.”

Ango turned around and looked at his friends. His hair had lost its shine and he looked like nothing but a poor copy of his usual self. Asking him how he was seemed like a poor question and he settled on another one instead.

“I take it Nakajima-kun still hasn’t woken up?”

A wild light appeared in his interlocutor’s eyes but it quickly faded under Dazai’s tiredness.

“He hasn’t. Yosano-sensei doesn’t understand why. Physically, he is fine. Well, as fine as you can be after something like that but still nothing.”

“He suffered a great shock.Give him time.”

“It’s already been two weeks.”

“Everything has its own rhythm.”

“That’s stupid.”

“That’s how it is. You’re just impatient, Dazai-kun.”

Dazai lazily ran a hand over his chin. It was rough to the touch. He couldn’t remember the last time he had shaved.

There was an organised way in his neglected appearance. As if he was trying to control his concern. It didn’t quite work but a stranger would have been unable to see it.

“Didn’t your partner order you to come back to work?” Ango asked.

He knew he shouldn’t have but even a clever mind didn’t always do the right thing. Instead of answering, Dazai extended his hand toward him. Without a thought, he handed over his cigarette packet and his lighter. The detective nodded in thanks.

“When the ER arrived and found us, they saw Kyouka-chan and me. One of them left their group and went to see if someone else was here.” A puff. “From what I’ve heard, it didn’t even look like something alive. The pain turned him into the tiger but it still wasn’t even enough. Only a calcined body remained. He screamed like a banshee when Atsushi took back his human form.”

“I’ve read the report.” A laugh.

“Words never really show the truth no matter how hard we try, do they?”

“They don’t.” Dazai agreed.

All the members of the agency came to visit. They often glanced at Dazai with worry as if he was going to cross the fine line between sanity and madness at any time. Only Kyouka and the president (and maybe Ranpo but if he did, he never showed it) seemed to understand him. 

His mind was as clear as crystal.

After all, the reasoning was quite simple. He wanted to make sure Atsushi was still alive and so he remained by his side. He would often go home to clean and sometimes eat and come back with books to read. He’d also bring his work so he didn’t totally fall behind. 

Those acts weren’t motivated by any reasons. It just seemed to him like the right thing to do.

Without noticing it, he had fallen into a terrible, disturbing routine.

“That was Flint’s treasure that we had come so far to seek and that cost already the lives seventeen men from Hispaniola. How many it had cost in the amassing, what blood and sorrow, what good ships scuttled on the deep, what brave men walking the plank blindfold, what shot of cannon, what shame and lies and cruelty, perhaps no man alive could tell.” Dazai read, his voice focused and controlled.

He noticed he had almost reached the end of the novel.

“I really hope you appreciate the sacrifice I’m making right now, Atsushi-kun. I haven’t opened The Complete Suicide Manual in days.It’s quite annoying, you know.”

Still no answer. That’s okay, he really wasn’t expecting one anyway. 

His back had started to hurt a few minutes ago. It was times to go back to the dormitory. 

He looked at Atsushi’s frozen stature. This lifeless image had almost replaced every memory of his happy subordinate.

Dazai stretched and started to walk away. A soft sigh interrupted him. He turned as quick as lightning toward the bed. It wasn’t the first time he had imagined Atsushi waking up. His traitorous imagination liked to torment him with this kind of fantasy. It was always easy to ignore them. 

As he opened the door once again, he heard someone moving around in the bed. The first signs of movement  in days !

Eyelids fluttered around like a butterfly’s wings when it was about to fly away. 

Creamy white gave its place to golden and purple.

“Atsushi-kun?”

“D-Dazai-san?” Atsushi croaked still not fully back in the living world.

At this moment, hope and despair, pain and pleasure, light and darkness merged together. He felt light. As if someone had pitied him and decided to take his twenty-two years old burden from him.

“And Kunikida-kun says I am lazy ! Do you know how long you slept?” He teased him. But his eyelids had once again closed. However, this time, his chest kept going up and down. He was merely asleep. 

There are some things you can only reflect upon when the initial emotion which created them fade. For Dazai, it was this moment. 

He felt the cruel dark thing curling up in his chest. It kept growling and muttering about how those people would pay, how he would make them bleed.

 An unknown force which refused to let him get away and who would stare at the boy as if he was the sun.

Something surprising he didn’t expect to feel one day. He had always known he felt something for the younger boy. A bit of indulgence on his part.

He didn’t mind those emotions as long as they didn’t disturb Atsushi.

But this was just -

Downright dangerous and possessive.

He couldn’t expose such a good person to it. The consequences would be terrifying.

And Dazai had never been brave. 

He left and didn’t look back.

It quickly escalated from here and for days the ADA barely was productive. 

They kept coming and leaving Atsushi’s room. The first week, when Atsushi took examination after examination, someone always accompanied him, be it Kyouka (most of the time), the Tanizakis, sometimes even Ranpo. Yosano spent all her times at the hospital as an official supervisor.

After it, when it was deemed reasonable for Atsushi to go home, Kunikida had to wrestle with him in order for him to have another week of rest.

“I can’t continue missing days.” He protested. 

“Yes, you can ! You’re not coming until you are at the top of your form.”

“The tiger healed me totally.”

This debate often ended with Kunikida catching Atsushi by the collar and bringing him back to his dorm.

“You didn’t go to see, Atsushi-san.” Naomi noticed one day.

Everyone was in the office as they caught up on their paperwork. The only absent one were Atsushi and Kyouka - who often followed the boy like his shadow more often than not those days.

“I had a lot of things to do.” He explained.

Ranpo snorted.

“Is that how you call it?”

Had he still been in the mafia, they’d never have found the sugar-addict’s body. 

Yosano hummed and looked at her friend. They conversed without a word and the woman snickered. Not in a cruel way but like a parent seeing their child do something stupid.

Tired of this, Dazai glanced at the papers in front of him and stood up. He had lost the narrow motivation he had and left the room, his headphones in his hand.

“Should I have stayed silent?” Naomi asked.

“Don’t worry, it’s not your fault.”

“City dwellers really ask themselves a lot of questions.” Kenji commented. 

“It doesn’t have anything to do with where he lives, he’s just an idiot.” Ranpo said.

“Please, get back to work.”

“You’re no fun, Kunikida.” Yosano complained.

Eventually, new wounds faded into scars and Atsushi came back. Well, as long as he promised to take it easy. The only remnant of his accident was a small mark under his right eye. Dazai wondered if there was a limit to his healing ability. Why hadn’t the tiger managed to cure this?

“Is everything alright, Dazai-san?”

He had stared at him too much.

“Shouldn’t I be the one to ask this?”

“Yosano-sensei told me you also got hurt.”

“Nothing too awful. I am as well as usual.”

“Good, then.” He answered. A strong disbelief could be read in his eyes.

The attention became too much in no time. He couldn’t stand it. 

Atsushi’s return couldn’t be described as a ‘bad’ thing but it also meant it’d be harder to avoid him. Before this, they had both talked quite a lot during breaks, they had gotten used to interacting regularly. To stop without any reason was bound to make him react.

“I forgot I had something to do.” He singsonged.

An hand on his shoulder. Dazai gulped.

“Try to run away and you’ll experiment true pain.” Kunikida whispered.

O ! His partner was stressed and furious, it would have been a wasted opportunity not to bother him. This was going to be fun. 

(Atsushi-kun, who?)

His nap was interrupted by a soft hand touching his back. Dazai blinked and looked at the person who had disturbed him.

“What’s wrong, Atsushi-kun?”

“Do you want to go explore libraries today?”

“I think I’ll have to pass.”

Silence overcame the room.  

When Atsushi had started to work at the agency, he had often gotten lost in Yokohama. The difference in size between the city and where he used to live had disturbed the young man. That’s why Dazai had endeavored to show him every interesting place he knew. Mainly shops and tourist attractions. Once he had become comfortable with his surroundings, they continued doing it as a tradition between the two of them. Sometimes, Kyouka would come with them.

 She had however quickly stopped.

They’d go to the museum Dazai liked or to librairies where Atsushi could find new books to devour, at least once a week.

In sickness or in health, Dazai had never said no. 

Not once. 

For him to change his habits so suddenly was as far away from normal as it could get. Atsushi knew it. The whole room knew it. Hell, even the slug and Akutagawa knew about it.

However, Atsushi, as sweet and kind and usual, smiled and didn’t ask.

“Then I’ll see you tomorrow. If I find something interesting I’ll bring it to you.”

“You don’t have to.”

“But I want to.”

For a moment, Dazai thought about forgetting his promise to himself. He had never been a saint, why start now?

But for once in his life, he wished more than anything not to mess things up with his subordinate, he’d resist and wouldn’t touch the apple in front of him.

Atsushi wished everyone a good evening, thanked them for their job and left. 

The ice in Dazai’s lungs had started to infest the rest of his body.

“Seriously, what is wrong with you?” Kunikida mumbled.

Now, that was a question Dazai also would have wanted to know the answer to.

Thus, the descent to hell continued. Dazai would no longer try to talk to Atsushi of work and if he did, his tone always carried the cold, unmoving tone you might use to converse with a stranger. Most of the times, he felt himself drift away. A machine which accomplished his tasks and then stopped working. Logics, not emotions, are the key to succeed in this world.

This endless, consuming void which had grown back in his chest. It felt like being in the Port Mafia once again. 

His steps led him to Lupin’s. He knew what was around him without fully understanding it. He sat and ordered their strongest drink. The old bartender stared at him but brought him a glass without saying a word.

“You shouldn’t be drinking this state.” Someone reproached him. “I’m drinking because I’m in this state, mom.”

Ango sighed and came next to him.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“You already know what is going on. Kunikida-kun never stops sending you reports about everything.”

“Dazai-kun, don’t act stupid, you know it’s not the same.”

Sometimes, your body just couldn’t accept positivity and kindness. You wanted to hurt those who tried to help you. That’s how Dazai felt at this moment. His dark thoughts had begun growing like weeds once again.

“Listen, if you care about Nakajima-kun, it’s a good thing. You should try to - I don’t know? - develop your relationship. Odasaku-san would want you to -”

“Don’t you think it’s a bit immoral to talk about someone you killed?”

Horror bloomed on Ango’s face. He had managed to wound him. Good.

“You’re trying to keep me away. It won’t work. I’ve already told you : you’re my friend. I won’t give up on you.”

Positivity once again. Dazai couldn’t deal with this right now. He stood up.

“I want to be alone.” He merely said.

“Then I won’t bother you for the moment.” Ango replied. “But if you need anything, don’t hesitate to call me.”

Dazai forced himself to put his mask back.

He could resist. 

He walked and walked and walked. He didn’t know where to go nor what to do.

 A ghost among the living.

Sunset colors had overtaken the sky and almost no cloud covered them.

I’m tired.

Water stood in front him. He had reached Yokohama’s suburb. Or at least the bridge which led to it.

A soft odour of iodine flew in the air. Under him, the liquid kept shifting and moving calmly. A silent danse so fascinating to watch. Like Narcissus, he felt himself attracted to the river. It would be so easy to go over the edge and let gravity do his job. 

He climbed over it and kept moving forward.

Dazai fell.

He couldn’t hear anything. The river was as silent as his mind as he descended toward the bed of the waterway. Floating freely was nice. Coldness burnt his skin and he felt his lungs tense inside his chest. All his thoughts were leaking out of him, the positive, the negative, everything. The water was cleaning his being.  

The cold lips of death came closer and closer. He could feel her breath against his face. She was smiling and cradling him.

Well hello, Lady Death, I hope our acquaintance will last.

Death’s hold on him was growing stronger. It had caught his arms and pushed on them with strength. If his mind hadn’t so fuzzy, he would have noticed those were very human hands.

And suddenly air invaded his body again. He gasped with surprise. 

Deaf to his protests, someone drew him toward the riverbank and pushed him on the ground. Seconds later, heterochromatic eyes were upon him.

“Are you alright?” Atsushi almost screamed.

“Are you the one who interrupted me? Again?”

Strong arms encircled him.

“Thanks god you’re fine.” He mentally thanked Ango for his text. 

Shaky hand pushed apart the bangs which had fallen in front of his eyes.

“Do you - Do you want to talk about it?”

“I shouldn’t.” He whispered.

“Does it matter if you need to?”

Of course he had heard him. Damn his tiger senses.

“Don’t bother, Atsushi-kun. I just wanted to take an evening bath.”

Considering his doubtful expression, he probably didn’t believe him.

“You shouldn’t worry too much. I’m your superior, I’m the one supposed to worry about you.”

“Of course I worry. I really care about you, Dazai-san.”

It would have been so much easier if this boy didn’t offer his light without any hesitation.

“It’s not the first time I try to kill myself, Atsushi-kun. You should stop worrying so much every time.”

“I can’t do that. No matter how long and how many time I need to do it, I’ll always be here.”

“You’ll get tired eventually, you know. I’ve been told many times, it is quite painful to be my babysitter.”

“You really are stupid sometimes, Dazai-san.”

“How dare you ? I’m stil your superior.” He chuckled. 

“You don’t need someone to take care of you. You can do it by yourself but it doesn’t mean no one should try to help you from time to time, don’t you think?”

Atsushi was biting his lip. He was obviously trying not to add something, Dazai understood.

“And you’d like to be this person?”

“As long as you’ll have me.”

“You’ll regret it.”

“That’s something I should decide for myself. I personally don’t think I will. You’re a good person.”

“No I’m not.”

“You’re trying to be. Most people don’t bother with it. That’s a good starting point.”

“Has anyone ever told you you’re far too positive?”

“You can thank yourself for this.”

“You were already like this when we met.”

“I don’t think so.”

Laughter bubbled in his chest as he looked at Atsushi’s expression.

“Well, your obsession with chazuke isn’t my fault.”

Indignation erupted on his interlocutor’s face but it quickly melted away to reveal relief.

“Is something wrong?”

“You seem to feel better.”

Maybe he did, at least a little bit but that’s not all the younger man wanted to say.

“And?”

“It’s selfish of me to think about myself right now but I’m really glad we’re talking again. I was afraid I had done something to offend you.”

“It’s not your fault.”

“Then what happe - You don’t have to tell me anything, of course !”

Cold was shaking his whole body and his lips had taken an almost blue shade.

Maybe I can give him the truth.

Atsushi’s hand went back to his shoulder.

“You don’t have to force yourself. If you don’t want to tell me-”

“I do but it’s a bit complicated.” 

“O, I see.”

Dazai hummed. This wasn’t the perfect setting. They were both soaked to the bones and sat at the riverbank. If anyone could see them right now, they would think they were asylum escapee.

“Do you know what I did, Atsushi-kun, when I was in the mafia?”

“I can imagine it a bit.”

“I’ll never be a good person, I’m selfish and revengeful. Not the type of person you should associate with. I could hurt you and not regret it a bit.”

He expected protestations but Atsushi said instead :

“Pity yourself and life becomes an endless nightmare. Aren’t you the one who told me that?”

“Don’t use my own words against me.” He whined.

“Those are smart words.”

“Well, I sometimes have bright ideas.”

“It surprises me really. You’re able to see value in others but you’re totally unable to see it in yourself. Kyouka wouldn’t live in the light without you, the agency wouldn’t work as well -”

“I’m going to tell Ranpo.”

“Please don’t. We wouldn’t have won against the guilt and Dostoevsky and the Decay of Angels.”

“Are you trying to kill my modesty?”

A weak punch in the arm. Dazai chuckled.

“I would have probably died or ended up in the Guild’s hands. I’m glad I met you. And if you really think what you said, well, don’t worry, if you do anything stupid I’ll stop you. Or at least I’ll try as much as I can.”

“Is it a confession?” Dazai joked.

What was one supposed to do in this kind of situation? Doubt it? Smile about it? Panick? Maybe blush about it? (well, yes, Atsushi was adorable when he had this determined expression, but it really wasn’t the moment). 

He could only trust him and fear what this promise would lead to. Until now, Atsushi had always reached his goals. Even Akutagawa hadn’t resisted him and he was to stubborness what the slug was to bad tastes in clothes.

In reaction to his question, pink coloured the weretiger’s pale skin.

“Please don’t make fun of me.”

“I won’t, don’t worry !”

… …. …….

“Can I really not?”

“Dazai-san !”

People always had ulterior motives when they showed him this much support, Atsushi wasn’t this kind of person. First of all, you could see through his lies as if they were made of glasses. He had the nature of an earnest man. He wouldn’t pretend. Of that he was certain.

Despite those facts, he couldn’t help but probe the other. Was he hiding something from him? 

Under his glaze, the pink shade had deepened into scarlet.

“Why are you looking at me like that?”

“I’m only admiring you, Atsushi-kun!”

“Keep those compliments for the waitresses, Dazai-san.”

“You don’t want them?”

“Not when you’re only pretending so you can have fun.”

“I’m always serious when I flirt with someone as pretty as you.”

Atsushi looked ready to strangle him. Because of embarrassment or anger, he didn’t want to know.

“Please stop making fun of me.” Atsushi repeated.

“But it’s so funny !”

He could no longer see his eyes. They had fallen behind silver locks and didn’t look in his direction. This marked the moment he finally understood what had laid behind Atsushi’s words.

No lie had been in his previous words. He could hurt people and not even understand why.

“Atsushi-kun, I-”

“That’s okay. I didn’t expect it to be mutual if it bothers you-”

Two hands fell on his shoulders.

“Atsushi-kun, how smart do you think I am?”

“You’re the smartest but also dumbest person I know, why?”

“Because I���m going to prove you how stupid I am.” He inhaled. “I honestly hadn’t noticed how you felt for me.”

This time, surprise illuminated Atsushi.

“But I was terrible at hiding it.”

“And I terrible at noticing it, it seems.”

He wanted this. Dazai couldn’t deny it. Maybe for once, it would be okay to let go. An anchor had appeared, someone who would help him stay on the path he had promised to follow. Odasaku, am I taking the right decision?

“Now that we’ve established how utterly unintelligent I am (this remark earned him a warm laugh), let’s move to a decision we’ll probably regret. Are you okay with it?”

“Are you going to ask me something dangerous?”

“Not at all.”

“Then, yes.”

Slowly in order to allow Atsushi to leave, he lowered his head. Destroying the space between them was easy. He had wanted this for a long time. A soft feeling appeared on his lips.

Their kiss didn’t stand out from any other. Their faces barely touched. The contact was as soft and ephemeral as a butterfly but it held promises, something which would last.

Immediately after, Dazai withdrew. A sneeze escaped from him.

“I hoped it’d be a bit more romantic.”

“Let’s go back to your flat, you’re going to catch a cold at this rhythm.” Atsushi chuckled.

“So bold of you ! We haven’t even gone on our first date !”

New exasperated fond sigh. Atsushi stood up and offered his hand to the older man.

“Can you stand?” He asked.

Dazai nodded and caught his hand.

“Let’s go home, Atsushi-kun.”

Spring had come.

Kunikida Doppo considered himself a very patient man. Any other person would have tried to murder his lazy partner a long time ago. However, the recent events were too much, even for him.

“Atsushi-kun ! Pay attention to me !”

“Dazai ! Don’t distract him while he’s working.”

Always the same old song. Dazai pouted (How could this man be an adult?) and sat back. His brown eyes didn’t leave Atsushi and he kept staring at him while he was typing his reports. An expression so soft on his face Kunikida almost couldn’t look at him. How can the brat not notice his feelings? If this keeps going they’re going to drive us crazy!

One day, they both came to work, Dazai glued to Atsushi’s side. The brat was laughing at something the bandage-wasting device was saying. Kunikida screamed.

“How about we both tell them to go somewhere. They discover they’re both at the same place and decide to spend time together. Then, later they both understand it was a date and decide to go out together.” Yosano hiccuped as she emptied another glass.

“It sounds a bit too much like a cheesy romance novel, don’t you think?” Kunikida answered as he also took a sip of his. “We should threaten them into admitting their feelings !”

Their conversation had stopped being productive at their sixth drink. Ranpo stood next to them, a shit-eating grin on his face.

“How long do you think it’ll take those idiots to notice they’re already dating?”

Poe stuttered.

“I-I-”

His start of answer was cut short by Yosano throwing her arm around his neck.

“Why aren’t you drinking?” She asked.

“I don’t really like-”

The woman took out her chainsaw.

“I wouldn’t mind something to drink.” Poe stuttered.

“That’s what I thought.”

One day, Naomi got tired of this. She walked up to Atsushi, her brother asking her not to cause trouble behind her. Dazai had left a dozen minutes ago muttering something about “slug eradication”.

“Atsushi-san!”

The said person put his cup of green tea on the table and turned his head toward her.

“What’s wrong, Naomi-san?”

“Don’t you think Dazai-san is amazing?”

“I’m probably going to receive a message about how he’s annoying Chuuya-san but apart from that I agree with you. Why?”

“You should totally tell him then !”

“Naomi...”

As Atsushi was about to answer, his phone rang. He picked up.

“Hello, Chuuya-san, how are you?... What do you mean he tried to paint all your hats yellow?... I see... No I’m not laughing !... Please don’t throw him out of the window !...  Yes, I’m coming. I’m really sorry, Naomi-san, I need to go.”

Once her friend (prey) no longer was here, the young woman pouted.

“Why can’t they see they are made for each other?”

“Let them figure it out.” Her brother proposed. 

“But we could go on double date if they were together !”

“Is that your only reason?”

“What are you plotting today?” Kunikida finally asked with a grunt.

Dazai stopped humming and stared at his partner.

“Do you want me to be plotting?”

“I’d rather eat your cooking.”

“How did you want me to know you weren’t supposed to mix chocolate and beef?”

“Common sense?”

“Rude. Anyway, why were you asking?”

“You seem to be far too cheerful right now. It usually means something unpleasant is about to happen.”

No answer came apart from soft chuckles. “Do you really want to know?”

The anticipation wasn’t worth it.

“No.”

“Really?”

“No.”

“Kunikida-kun?”

“I said no.”

… …. …..

“Just tell me already.”

It was like talking to a child. A very hyperactive and manipulative one but a child nonetheless. A small part of him couldn’t stop thinking Dazai had acted this way so it could lead to this discussion. Considering his wide smile, Dazai probably saw what he was about to reveal would stress Kunikida.

“I have a date tonight !”

“I’m sorry what?”

Probabilities flooded his mind. Was he lying? Was it another one of his attempt to commit a double suicide? Had a woman agreed to die with him? He really hoped not.

“Is that a joke?”

“Of course not !”

“I’m not going to receive complaints about how you tried to drown with someone, right?”

“It will be a perfectly normal date.”

His definition of normal kinda scared him.

“We’ll eat together and spend time together in general. Actually, we’ll go on our first real date next weekend but we wanted to spend time together so we agreed on this.”

It sounded reasonable. A word he would have never thought to associate with Dazai.

But it brought another problem.

“Does the brat know?”

“Atsushi-kun? Of course ! Why wouldn’t he know?”

You told someone who likes you you were going on a date with someone else. How blind are you? That’s what I’d like to say but I can’t intervene. What do I do?

This question occupied his mind until they went back to the agency.

(Meanwhile, Dazai was just happy to think about his date with Atsushi. And if it stressed his partner a bit … well, it still was a nice bonus) (Though he didn’t understand why)

One day, you’ll understand how things can while still remaining the same…

Dazai had never been the kind of person to think about romantic relationship.

 He had Odasaku and Ango and that was enough for him. They were enough to fulfill his loneliness. If he wanted to find physical satisfaction - which was not as enough as others would expect - he’d just find a woman willing who would not ask too many questions. 

It hadn’t changed when he had left the Port Mafia. He just wasn’t interested by this sort of thing. There were times he had thought about it by sheer curiosity but never would he have imagined himself dating someone.

His feet curled around Atsushi’s and he felt him laugh against his side. Things could have been much worse.

It felt almost natural to be here, watching a movie with Atsushi.

“You’re not bored?” The young man asked.

He thought about it. Boredom hadn’t weighed his mind for some times.

“No.”

“That’s good then.”

Atsushi’s hand kept moving. A lost traveller which didn’t know where to go. As carefully as he could, he caught it. If he didn’t feel comfortable, he could take it away at any moment.

He did not.

“Yes. It’s good.”

“Atsushi-kun is not paying attention to me!” Dazai moke whined.

“I’m cooking, Dazai-san.”

“Giving up on your boyfriend for chazuke, I knew this day would come !”

“I- I”

“O, Is the “boyfriend” part getting to you?”

No answer was given to him, Atsushi’s focus only offered to the boiling water.

 Yet, there was a soft rose shade on the top of his ears. It would have been a shame not to darken it. 

“Don’t try to distract me.” He scowled me. 

“I’m merely stating we’re dating. It hardly counts as a distraction.” And if he almost purrs the last words well he would accept any blame. The other was on his way to become a traffic light, he couldn’t have missed this opportunity.

“You’re really cute !”

Being threatened by a wooden spoon wasn’t the most terrifying experience of his life. Atsushi’s reddened face, however, was probably one of the most adorable.

Now, how far could he push the little tiger?

Later, when it was times for Dazai to get back to his flat, they found themselves in front of the apartment.

“So… did you have fun?”

They were both alone. Nothing could be heard apart from distant car noises.

“I did, thank you, Dazai-san.”

“Despite the fact you had to make dinner?”

“I don’t mind.”

Dazai hummed.

“I’ll apologize with a proper date, then !”

“Please don’t overdo it.”

“But it’s my first date with Atsushi-kun, it needs to be memorable.”

“Nothing I say will change your mind, right?”

“Nope, you’ll just have to wait and see what kind of perfect idea I had for next week.”

“Alright.” Atsushi smiled.

Now would have been the perfect moment to get closer, Dazai thought. As he was about to follow this idea, a voice interrupted them.

“It’s too late for you two to be so lovey-dovey. Just stop.”

“Ranpo-san !”

A few days weeks later, a weird event shook their life. 

Atsushi had been doing his paperwork quietly. He had finally caught up on everything he had missed, something he was proud of. Maybe this productivity had to do with his neighbour’s absence. Toward 10 AM, Dazai had disappeared. What should have been another of his attempt to ditch work had turned out to be a full morning off.  

Maybe he just wanted to be alone. It happened. Days where everything around him was too much and he decided to isolate himself. But this morning, Dazai had been in a good mood. At least from Atsushi’s perspective.

Maybe he should send him a text to ask if he needed anything…

“Atsushi-kun.”

“What’s wrong, Yosano-sensei?”

“Come with me for a moment, I need your help.”

“Of course.”

In retrospective, Naomi’s determined stare and Ranpo’s snort should have been a clear indication that something was going to happen.

They walked out of the agency and toward the storage room. The place which contained every objects they might need such as paper and ink.

“I can’t seem to reach the higher shelf.”

“But you’re taller than-”

Before he could utter a single more word, he found himself being pushed inside without any warning. 

Clic

The door was closed. Atsushi shook the door wrist as strongly as he could.

“Yosano-sensei?”

No answer.

He was locked inside.

“So someone joins me in my imprisonment.”

Against the back wall sat Dazai.

“So that’s where you were. Are you alright?”

“I am perfectly fine, for once, Kunikida-kun won’t blame me for not working.”

“As if you care when he does.”

“I will not answer to this very obvious provocation.”

Atsushi sat down and felt himself be brought against Dazai’s side.

“You don’t mind?”

“No, it’s fine.” His head fell on Dazai’s shoulder. “Do know why they did this?”

“I warned you that every ability users was a bit messed up in the head.”

Yet, Atsushi rose a very valid question, why did they do this out of the blue? 

He thought about it for a moment. How each of the agency members had acted the last days. 

Oh, interesting ! The sadistic part of his mind immediately started thinking about how far he would have to go for them to understand how their relationship had evolved. Then, Atsushi took his hand and well it stopped there.

He had far more important things to take care of for the moment.

“Atsushi-kun.”

“What’s wrong?”

“I just noticed something.”

“What is it?”

“We’re both locked in a closet.”

Atsushi groaned at his bad joke.

“Do you think they will mind if I forcefully open it?”

“Kunikida-kun will.”

“You can’t pick the lock?”

“Do I look like the kind of person who can do this?”

“Dazai-san…”

“I started reading another book from Stevenson.”

He had done better in terms of change of subject but it did the trick nonetheless. Atsushi’s eyes started sparkling with curiosity.

“Which one was it?”

“The strange case of Dr Jekyll and Mr Hyde. It’s - interesting.”

Maybe “started” wasn’t exactly the right term. It was the second time he read it. He just liked understanding and exploring every aspect of something be it a novel or a painting.

Atsushi nodded, understanding what he meant.

“There are lots of different ways to interpret it.” He agreed.”And the themes developed in it are still of actuality so it’s a good book to read.”

“But you still prefer Treasure Island.” 

“But I still prefer Treasure Island.” Atsushi smiled. “I don’t think I’ll ever get tired of coming-of-age stories.”

“I’m not sure pirates really are one-legged and have parrots.” Dazai said.

When Atsushi spoke about novels and literature, a spark as bright as a firework in the night exploded in his eyes. A deep passion for life, a beacon in the dark. He wanted to protect it more than anything. 

That’s why when Atsushi started his whole presentation about how Stevenson had been a big influence for the adventure genre, Dazai smiled, put his arms around Atsushi’s waist and listened.

Someone eventually liberated them. As Dazai was about to speak to Atsushi about The catcher in the Rye, another novel the young man might enjoy, Fukuzawa opened the door.

As per usual, their president didn’t say anything. However, his tense shoulders showed his worry. “Freedom at last !” He chirped. 

“I have paperwork to finish.” Atsushi immediately added.

Fukuzawa shook his head.

“That won’t be necessary. You can just finish it tomorrow.”

“But-”

“Being locked inside must have unpleasant for you. Just go home and rest.” Fukuzawa almost ordered Atsushi.

He seemed to evaluate what their boss had said but finally accepted. 

When they went inside the office to get their belongings, they found a yelling Kunikida. “How could you do that? You’re supposed to be members of a well-respected organisation, not middle schoolers !”

If Naomi appeared remorseful, Yosano barely paid attention to it. Her eyes were set on Atsushi and Dazai. It was like being watched by a hawk.

“Tch, nothing changed.” She whispered.

Instead of getting back home, Dazai had brought Atsushi to the closest arcade.

 At this hour of the day, no one really occupied the place. It would still take a few hours for students to invade it. If Atsushi had been surprised by their destination, it had quickly yielded in front of curiosity. Apart from hearsays from the Tanizaki siblings, he had never set a foot inside it.

“Today, Atsushi-kun we’re going to discover the marvels of claw machine?”

“Aren’t those totally rigged?” At least that’s what he remembered Junichiro saying. 

“Nonsense, it is quite easy once you know how to do it.”

This said, he walked like a conqueror toward the machine he had spotted while wandering in Yokohama. Atsushi watched everything around him. Neon lights stood everywhere around them like exotic frogs. He wouldn’t have been able to say if he found all those machines original or just blinding.

“Ta-da!” Dazai proclaimed once they had reached their goal.

The other watched and immediately proceeded to groan.

“Dazai-san…”

“Is there a problem, Atsushi-kun?” He grinned happily. 

“Just, why?”

“It’s another Atsushi-kun ! We may need it !”

“Why would we need a giant tiger plushie?”

“That’s the question you’ll need to find an answer to once I have won it.”

Behind them, one of the employee - a woman in her early thirties - said to her colleague.

“It reminds of my first date with my husband. This idiot wanted to impress me.” She chuckled. 

“Did it work?”

“Not really. He ended up trying a dozen times and totally failed.”

“Is that so?” She giggled.

Oblivious to the two women (or at least as much as he could be with mafia induced paranoia) Dazai focused on what was before him.

“Now, behold my great mastery of this machine !”

“Have you ever come in this kind of place?”

“A few times. But it was infested with slugs so I didn’t stay long.”

His hands ran over the two buttons. As he finally caught what he wanted, he saw his prize go toward the exit only to fall down.

“It won’t resist me for long.”

“Please, don’t waste your money on this.”

“Next time will be the right one.”

Spoiler alert : It was not.

Later, when they went out, a far too big plushie in his arms, Dazai was pouting in mock deception.

“I will pierce this machine’s secrets.” He promised. 

“You really shouldn’t have wasted this much on it.”

“It was a question of personal pride. I won’t be bested by a thingummy of glass and iron.”

Atsushi tried to resist. He really did. But there was a limit to how long he could hold back when Dazai bore this expression full of disappointment and promised revenge.

The terrorist organisation had laid low since the explosion. A good part of their effort went to finding them but considering no trace of them was found well… maybe the mafia had already taken care of them. 

That’s what each of them hoped at least.

They didn’t worry about being able to defeat them. As far as they were concerned they could take care of it. Few organisations could resist the agency. No, the real problem was the anticipation. Nothing had been found on Origine, they had disappeared like snow at the end of winter and without any clue, even Ranpo’s genius couldn’t help.

However, one day, something confirmed their worries. A policeman had recently been found dead. When Ranpo came back from his investigation - an almost gleeful smile on his face - and said :

“I know where they are.”

Both Kunikida and Yosano rose immediately.

“Thank you.” The man congratulated him. “As usual, we can count on you, Ranpo-san.”

“Perfect, I’ve wanted to have a conversation with them for quite a long time.”

Her taking a cleaver out of her bag didn’t leave any doubt about the nature of the “conversation”. “Do we have the time to plannify our attack or will they leave their hideout before?” Fukuzawa asked. Ranpo took a while to answer.

“We have two days but we should hurry.” He concluded. “You really don’t want them to carry out what they are preparing.”

Daikoku Futo was one of the most well known artificial island of Tokyo Bay. It served as the link between the main cities of eastern Japan since the seventies thanks to the creation of the Bayshore Route. 

You could - if you knew how to - go under it which would lead you to the room where the foundations had been built. An area of an hundred square meters totally devoid of any civilian. 

The perfect place if you didn’t want to be found. 

From rumors, they had learnt a few members were powerful ability users. It made Dazai’s presence vital even if he wouldn’t fight on the frontline.

They warned Ango about it and once everything was set, they went. Going down without being noticed wasn’t an easy task yet Atsushi noticed each member had a sort of grim resolve in them. Kyouka stood next to him, her eyes attached to him like a dragon to their gold. “Stay close.” She almost ordered.

Yosano was with them. The three of them would lead the attack. Tanizaki and Kenji would serve as backup if needed. The rest would block any other issue to prevent them from escaping. 

As they waited for Kunikida’s signal, Atsushi saw Yosano sharpen her cleaver with the most terrifying smile he had ever seen on her. 

Seriously, what was wrong? “Are you sure everything is alright?” He asked. 

“It will, once those bastards have paid for what they did.” She grinned.

“Did you know the policeman?”

An almost sad smile answered him.

“You have no idea, don’t you, kid?”

“No, he doesn’t.” Kyouka nodded.

As he was about to ask what they meant, Yosano’s phone vibrated. “Better go back to work.” She sighed.

Everything had been fine. They had been as quick and deadly as a snake. As people said, those who angered the Armed Detective Agency never stood a chance. 

All of them had received the correction of a lifetime and would have a lovely chat with the military. 

Atsushi looked around him. Tanks all around full of products he couldn’t identify, wires and what should have been supports for the bombs. Tanizaki had found a map of Yokohama with red crosses all over it. The location they had wanted to destroy.

Half of the city would have been razed. It would have led to millions of death.

“Well, good work everyone !” Dazai cheered. 

“Were they also looking for the Book?” Atsushi wondered.

“Not really. From what their file says a conflict erupted between them and the Port Mafia. They wanted to take revenge and apart from his subordinates, this city is the only thing Mori-san really cares about.”

“No matter their reasons, it still concerned every gifted organisation. We couldn’t let them do what they wanted.” Kunikida added. 

“Kunikida-kun looks so virile when he says this kind of-”

A punch in the face kindly ordered him to fuck off.

“Anyway, the military should arrive soon, try not to - Dazai, behind you !”

One of the man stood up. It was one the ability user who had fought against Dazai. His power allowed him to control sound waves. The corner of his face had taken a plum color which increased his almost insane look.

“I won’t let you win. Don’t think about it for a moment.” He spat.

A bandaged hand came near his face but not fastly enough. The man  activated his ability and threw his palm toward the closest pillar.

A moment of silence.

The kind your heard before an Armageddon.

“Dazai, get away from him !”

Crac

The whole zone seemed to split like dead wood.

Atsushi jumped forward. A stillborn scream clawed at his throat. Like in a slow-motion movie, he saw the rock start his deadly fall toward Dazai. No

No No

The pillar continued collapsing and with it a part of the ceiling. If it reached Dazai, nothing would be able to save him this time. 

In the back of his mind, he could hear the sinister laugh of the Origine’s member.

I can’t just look at this. He felt rather than understood his body shift. His tendons and muscles hardened and in the blink of an eye he was on him.

In opposition to the last time, Dazai awoke quite quickly. His whole body hurt but his mind was as clear as water which was great. Concussions were a nightmare. 

“Don’t move.” Someone ordered.

He was a middle aged nurse who was busy writing on his notepad.

“We’re getting you ready for an operation. You should go back to sleep.”

“Is Atsushi-kun alright?”

“Just rest, you have a broken arm, sir. Don’t worsen it by moving around too much.”

The man took out his phone and texted.

“The anaesthetist should be here soon.”

“Is that necessary?” He said as pleasantly as he could muster.

“I’m afraid so, sir. Your radial bone was broken in three parts. It won’t heal by itself.” Then after a thought he added. “Yosano-sensei asked the best doctors of the hospital to take care of you. You can trust us.”

If only it was so easy.

God, he hated hospitals.

“Brat, would you keep calm?” A very tired Kunikida said. Making sure all the Origine members were recaptured had been a trial. He no longer had any glasses, those had been broken during the collapse and a blue mark had been painted under his eye. Next to him the rest of the agency was sitting, waiting to know if their friend was fine.

“Atsushi-kun, I’m sure Dazai-san is alright.”

Kunikida nodded : “For a suicidal maniac, he has the strongest vitality I have ever seen. He’ll be fine.”

Dazai’s operation had just ended. From what the nurses had said, it should be no big deal but there was still a very low risk he’d lose his arm. This hadn’t calmed Atsushi’s already very strong distress. 

When they were still at the organisation’s base, the tiger’s body had protected Dazai from most of the danger. Only his arm had been almost crushed. If the tiger hadn’t reacted so quickly no part of his member could have been saved.

I’ll never be able to hate you ever again, he thanked the entity inside of him.

A soft roar echoed in his mind and the feeling of fur brushing against him grew on his skin. It made him feel a bit better.

“Excuse me, are you “Atsushi-kun”?” A man asked. It was the nurse who had taken care of Dazai earlier.

“Yes, Nakajima Atsushi. Can I help you?”

“Are you part of his family? He has been asking about you.”

“I don’t think he has one or if he has, he never speaks about them.”

“So what’s your relationship? He wants to see you but the protocol only allows those who are close relatives.”

“We’ve been dating for almost two months now. Would it still work?”

A strangled noise made itself heard, it was followed by a “Excuse me, what?”.

“I think it should. Follow me please.”

“Thank you very much.”

“What the hell?” Yosano screamed, ignoring the employees asking her to remain silent. “How could we not notice? HOW COULD WE NOT NOTICE?”

Then after a moment she turned toward Ranpo.

“You knew it.”

“Well, yeah they weren’t really hiding it.” 

“Now that I think about it, Dazai-san was always stuck to Atsushi-san.” Naomi said. 

“He was already like that before they started dating though.” Yosano retorted. 

“And he kept inviting Atsushi to have lunch with him.”

“Stupid Dazai already did it in order to skip work.” Kunikida intervened. 

“And he’s always praising how hard Atsushi-san works and how cute he always looks.” The young woman concluded. 

A beautiful moment of silence took its place among them. 

“Their behaviour didn’t change.” Yosano sighed.

“They were already acting like a couple well before they started dating.” Naomi said, awestruck.

“I’m really happy for them.” Junichirou muttered.

“At least it won’t give me more paperwork.” (this one was obvious)

“This whole discussion made me hungry. Now that we know Dazai is alright, can we go buy sweets?”

“I’m still furious at you for not telling us.” Yosano commented. 

“But I’m not the only one who knew. Kyouka-chan also did.”

“What?”

“I saw them kissing on the sofa.” She declared bluntly.

“Interesting.” The doctor purred. “What else have they done?”

“Yosano-sensei !”

“Are you awake?” Atsushi whispered. The body in front shifted under the blanket and messy chocolate hair escaped from under it. 

“I hate hospitals.” He groaned, his voice raspy from sleep.

“Do you want me to bring you anything?”

“Just stay here.”

“Alright, I will.”

He took the chair the next to the bed and sat. Dazai’s healthy hand immediately found his as if controlled by sheer instinct.

“I just had an idea to feel better.”

“No, Dazai-san, I’m not going to kiss you while you’re injured.”

“You could just come closer, it won’t be a problem if you don’t touch my arm.”

It would have sounded smooth had he not still been under the effect of the anesthesia.

“It’s not reasonable. You need to heal quickly.” That’s what his reason wanted him to say. However, the image of Dazai imminent death kept haunting his conscience. He needed to feel he was still alive. “If it hurt at any moment, you will tell me, right?” He asked. 

“Of course !” Dazai approved as he moved over to give him place.

He didn’t really believe him but he could only hope the tiger’s senses would tell him if it was becoming too much.

Finding a comfortable position turned into a wrestling match. At the end, they stood face to face, their legs tangled together. Atsushi rose his hand and moved aside the few strands which disturbed Dazai’s sight.

“Thank you for being alive.” Atsushi whispered. 

“It’s thank to you.” The man answered as he softly went back to sleep.

Soft lips fell on his forehead. “Good night, Dazai-san.”

Inside a graveyard stood a man. His eyes set on the stone in front of him. “You don’t have to worry anymore, Odasaku-san. He is in good hands.”

Author’s note :  So that’s the end? I really hope it corresponds to what you wanted. It ended up being far longer than what I thought it would be. 

I’m sorry if it’s boring or clumsily written.  PS : The novel  Dazai is reading to Atsushi is Treasure Island from Robert Louis Stevenson. RL!Nakajima Atsushi was said to be a fan of his work so I thought it’d be a nice detail to include.  

Have a nice day or evening. 

[thedistantstorm]

Phoenix Protocol 29

Zavala x Awoken Female Warlock | Mid/Post Forsaken | Slowburn | Gratuitous Descriptions of Light | Self-Confidence/Self-Worth Issues | Redemption

When the Traveler’s Light was returned to the Guardians after the defeat of the Cabal, it did not manifest itself the same in everyone. Miyu, an Awoken Warlock, finds herself struggling with her abilities, her Light feeling different and not her own. With her Vanguard preoccupied with grief and all eyes turned to the Reef, she finds herself turning to an unlikely source in an attempt to rediscover her connection to the Light and define what it means for her as a Dawnblade.

Previously

-/

“Let me come with you!”

“No.”

“Please!”

Miyu swings her sword around, blocks her opponent's swing and ducks under her arm, punching the other Warlock in the gut. “You aren't ready.”  She returns to their starting stance while Lilith breathes hard, gasping breaths with a wheeze on the end of them. When she gets back to her first form, the blade moving ever so slightly with each breath, Miyu frowns. Her blade shouldn’t be moving. Lilith corrects it with a better grip. “Again.”

They begin as mirror images, their blades perfectly aligned. From afar, it might even look like a dance, something intricate and ornate, perfectly choreographed. It stops looking that way when the stances change, their forms no longer looking exact.

Lilith has good instincts. She does not rely on them enough. More, for certain, than she had previously, but not now. When she believes she is doing well, she grows cocky. That's dangerous.

Not that Miyu was ever going to let her follow her into the Shattered Throne this time. She can't. This time, she has to go alone. They need to know if changing the variables changes the outcome.

The smaller exo lunges, and Miyu strikes her down. Her Ghost, a quiet little thing with a voice like an elf, waits for enough Light to coalesce to revive her.

Fireteams of three have been infiltrating the stolen Throne world of Mara Sov like clockwork. The battle is fierce, but they always, after a time, are able to put down Dûl Incaru.

The Techeuns have wondered if a different number would change the outcome. The portal closes after three cross it. The last time, Miyu and Lilith went alone, the two of them together. Petra watched icily from the other side of the swirling entrance and allowed no others to pass. This time, they've asked for only one to go into the darkness that is Eleusinia. Of the several they approached, only Miyu reluctantly agreed.

She has spent almost five months now, in this decaying city. She is ready to go home. She does not have the connection Kamela Rior believed she might rekindle, she does not find herself reminded of someone she was before but is no longer. Home to Miyu is terran skies and the Traveler, the smell of wind and earthen incense, not this strange, sweet perfume.

The only one who seems to understand that is Sedia. Sedia, who is fraying at the edges, knowing that this cycle is divining to send her into madness. But Sedia understands her duty. She'll likely die in this city, at the hands of the Taken Queen, and forever become what she's been morphing into until she's erased permanently.

When that time comes, she asks for brutal, violent mercy. If she is Taken for good, she does not want her own queen to come for her. Miyu has not seen hide nor hair of Mara Sov. She does not believe that she'd come, even if Sedia begged.

But, even so, Sedia understands. She has shown Miyu around their City. She has spoken of the Darkness, of their enemies. Sedia understands that the Darkness is their true enemy, Corsair or Guardian, Techeun or Ghost. None of their differences matter.

Before Lilith had approached them, the conversation took on a different tone. Sedia does not want her here, when the pieces fall. And she believes they will.

'You're of far better use to us teaching them,' She'd said. 'Sending you on this quest is a fool's errand. You'll test your abilities, and, if you survive, feel as though you've gotten what you've came for.'

'I will not lose to her,' Miyu replied, firm. 'Nor her Fatesmiths.'

'Perhaps not. But promise me this: if you defeat her, go home.'

'That was my plan.'

'Teach more than just one of your brethren,' She had motioned to the returning Exo, all but skipping through the Divalian Mists, hand on the sword she'd recently received, 'How to perfect what you've achieved.'

Lilith barely takes a breath before she's up, charging at the Awoken. Blindly. Miyu dodges. She trips the girl and flips her, pushing her blade to the side of the synthetic mesh that comprises the outer layer of her neck.

Once again planted in the present, Miyu steps back and sheaths her sword. She offers her pupil a hand, to pull her to her feet. Lilith allows it, and rises, scratching the back of her head sheepishly.

“Would you show me that kata,” She asks. “From the Okuden? I always mess up the footwork on the uke… uka-”

“Ukenagashi.”

“Yes. I think I do better when I’m focused on my technique and my breathing.”

Miyu nods. “You do learn,” She comments mildly. Lilith pouts.

“I’d learn more if you let me come with you, you know.”

The older of them hums. Of course she’d tie in her argument somehow. “I have to do it alone,” Miyu pushes back, drawing her weapon and taking the initial stance in the kata. “Take up some strikes, find something else to do. Maybe see some other part of the system than this place.” She walks through the positioning slowly, each move precise and dangerous.  Lilith watches the demonstration studiously.

When the other woman’s sword is safely sheathed, Lilith tilts her head and questions, “Will you come back after?”

“I was going to tell you to meet me at the Tower,” She says. “Assuming you still think I have things to show you.”

“I mean,” She laughs a little as she moves to stand in Miyu’s place, to try and recreate the move she’s just seen, “How many more katas do I still have to learn?

Miyu braces Lilith’s abdomen and straightens her back. “Only about a million,” She teases.

-/

The Tower's only bar is relatively dead on a weeknight. Most Guardians worth their salt are at home, preparing for the next day's strike, or a few rounds in the Crucible. Most of them.

But not all.

The Commander sits at the end of the bar, nursing a lukewarm beer. Shaxx is next to him, but he's the type who never lets his beer run cold. Then, there's Ikora, on his other side, drinking a mixed drink. Shaxx suspects it's some fizzy beverage that's loaded with vodka.

It's strangely comfortable. The Crucible Handler hadn't been expecting much - certainly hadn't expected Zavala to message him, much less show - and had gotten way more than he'd bargained for.

The two Vanguard were sitting at a table when he'd come in. They'd been having dinner. It was almost too domestic for him. He had almost had to leave and come back, scrub at his eyes to make sure they weren't deceiving him. He had many questions. How long had it been going on? What triggered this? Had it changed anything?

“I hope you don't mind,” Zavala had said to him, while Ikora finished what looked to be a rather bloody cut of beef. A woman after his own heart, he thought briefly, before looking back at the Commander.

“Not at all,” He'd recovered quickly. “By all means. “Finish your supper and I'll wait for you at the bar.” When Ikora looks up, subdued enough, he revises, “Both of you.”

They conversed quietly when he'd walked away, but both of them had joined him ten minutes later.

“Dare I ask,” He starts, when it's been a while since any of them have spoken, “What has brought you two together?”

Zavala sighs, and Ikora smiles sadly into her drink. “Politics, for one,” The Warlock Vanguard answers flatly, rather than self-degrading or menacing. “We've been doing some thinking.”

“Is this to do with that idiot you've allowed to move into the annex? I don't trust-”

“Yes and no,” Zavala says, cutting him off. “He is necessary, and that is all I will say on the matter.” The Commander pauses, sips at his beer. “He's not responsible for our… meetings, though.”

“No.” Ikora echoes, looking Shaxx over. Eventually, she sighs and asks, “Why have you never shown interest in becoming the Titan Vanguard? You're certainly capable.”

His laugh is a short bark. “I believe Zavala is less of a hothead, as he's so eloquently told me throughout the centuries.” He looks to Zavala who smirks with only his eyes, but levies his head in a nod. He's asking Shaxx to answer the question honestly. “Truly?”

“Tell us,” Zavala beckons. Ikora hums as well.

“Let’s assume that no one ever discovers my previous… position,” Shaxx begins. “Though the theatrics would be hysterical. In any case,” He redirects, “Though I assert my opinion now, whether you lot like it or not,” He looks at his hands, clenches them in a fist, “I am not satisfied with leadership unless I am in total control.”

Ikora gestures ambiguously, clearly unsurprised by his reasoning.

“That and I'm not about to be thrown into that snake pit every time I make a bloody decision someone dislikes. I'm a warrior, not a politician.”

At that, Zavala and Ikora share a glance, leaning forward, looking around him. Shaxx realizes he's missed something. It comes to him in an instant, though. While he may not desire to be a leader in this day and age, he sees more than most will ever know.

“Everything would collapse,” He says, in the softest, mildest of tones. “You know that, right?”

“The Guardians all but govern themselves,” The Commander counters.

“We certainly wouldn't disappear overnight,” Ikora continues for him. “It would be a process.”

“It would, or it is?”

Both Vanguard exchange another glance. It only serves to ignite Shaxx's growing fury. “Nothing is certain yet,” Comes the alto voice to his right. “We’re just considering possibilities.”

The Crucible handler pushes back his mostly full pint glass - the barkeep had just given him a refill. “Sounds a lot more like you’ve both decided what you’re doing, just not the when.”

“We aren’t-”

“It isn’t-”

“Have you asked the old man about this?”

“Shaxx,” Ikora presses, when Zavala doesn’t answer, “We’ve just begun discussing this ourselves.”

“Oh, bollocks. If he wasn’t afraid Saladin would march right down off his mountain to come here and beat the sense into him, he’d have asked for his opinion already.”

“Listen here,” Zavala says.

“No,” He retorts, deadly quiet, voice quaking with emotion. “You listen. The both of you. If you don’t wish to hold your positions - to hold this City,” He looks pointedly at Zavala, “Then go. Find someone else to take up the mantle and be done with it. But do not sit here and tell me we don’t need a Vanguard. Maybe next time enemy forces come for the Traveler, we’ll just roll over and give it to them.” He rises, vibrating with the weight of his feelings. “Have the two of you ever entertained the idea of balance or has Cayde’s death made you both vy for the position of stupidest among you?”

“Leave him out of this,” Zavala growls, noting Ikora’s look of hot rage.

“Why? He valued you both. He’d be ashamed at what you’ve reduced yourselves to. He might not have liked being cooped up here; Hell, he thought it was a death sentence. If he left, whether he should have or not, he always meant to return. And he never once told you he’d abandon his post like you’ve both just inferred to me.” Shaxx drops a handful of glimmer - enough currency for all of their drinks and then some - on the counter. “I’ll not stay and hear another word of your self-pitying drivel.” His voice is soft still, but far more evocative than it would be if he we're yelling at the top of his lungs. “Enjoy each other's company.”

They wince when the door to the establishment slams loudly, the only indication the rest of the patrons have that Shaxx might have been less than his boisterous, happy self. Ikora and Zavala regard each other warily.

“I thought he would understand,” She whispers. “He's always had an issue with City leadership.”

Zavala looks down at his hands and sighs. “I think I've finished drinking.”

The Warlock Vanguard leaves her seat, her drink only half empty as well. “Shall we go then?”

He follows wordlessly, taking an extra step to hold open the door for her. The skies are dark, heavy with clouds. Any second now, it will start raining.