#find it. and be clever enough to connect odd things together. you know really search.

[katnissandpeetamellark]

“There is a point to everything. Or nothing at all. Depending on your world view.”

OK FUCK ME UP SUZANNE

[deepdarkdelights]

Read Pursuit and re-read Perfection. First off, I like that you titled every story in the universe with a P. Really connects them together. Pursuit was very interesting. I loved the concept of the MC's sister getting killed by Hoseok first then going to Briar Hills in search of what happened. It was intriguing to read the scene where Hoseok was turning her since he took a different direction when doing so. In a lover way, which was something that wasn't shown in the other stories. I originally read Perfection first but now after reading all the other stories, everything made more sense. Seokjin actually figuring out Namjoon's and Yoongi's identities was interesting/surprising. No other characters have figured it out before, especially the MCs. It's also pretty funny how other vampires are not mentioned or shown in the other stories and are kept hidden, but yet the MC found that underground club because of Jimin haha. Even Namjoon was unaware at it. Also upon you saying that Seokjin's gift is compulsion it made the scenes where the MC would deny his demands intriguing but funny. Kinda like his gift doesn't have an affect on her. Also compared to some of the other members like Jungkook and Jimin, he actually falls in love with the MC. The ending was pretty bittersweet. Namjoon saying to Jin at the end "Don’t you find it odd that this is all happening now? Yoongi and the fledgling, you and your pet, Taehyung and the little human he keeps in his studio, and now Hoseok?" got me thinking. Damn, why are all the MCs suddenly appearing in their lives? It's crazy that it seems to be happening back to back.

Reading all these stories was fun. Can't wait to read the Namjoon story once you're. It feels like a grand finale haha.

Hello again! Woah, I can't believe you read so much so quickly!

Lol, it was so funny because the idea to title all of them with a word beginning with P came to me after writing Purgatory. At that point, I thought it would be fun to continue the trend for the rest of the fics! It's also quite a problem now though because I just realized just how many of my fics begin with the letter P 😅 With the current fic I am writing I made sure to stray from that to avoid confusion.

And yeah, Pursuit was super fun because it was almost like a detective-style fic from the MC's point of view while she is also being tormented by the very person she believes is helping her. I can't remember who gave me the idea for the fic, but I believe I credited them on the post? I'll have to go back and check!

As for Jin's fic, yeah he was pretty special in the sense he was the only one paying close enough attention to figure out what was going on. The thing about the scenes with the MC though is that he is actively choosing not to compel her. Jin likes to try and use his natural persuasion because it's more challenging and more fun that way. He really only uses compulsion when he absolutely needs to.

AND, there is actually a reason why all of them are finding MCs! I don't know if you guys are going to like it but I thought it was pretty clever. Do I reveal it now or save it for Joon's fic? I'm not sure 😂

Joon's story definitely will be the grand finale. And I can already predict what will happen - I'll say okay, no more interconnected series for a while and then like a month later I'll change my mind and make myself suffer more 😂

[ambertea]

clever

Read on AO3

She’s six years old and she’s just won a certificate for Maths.

Her mum’s sitting at the back of the assembly, exchanging whispers to the single dad sitting next to her. Rose keeps looking back, trying to catch her eye, but instead watches her mother’s hand sneaking up a strange man’s thigh.

The headmaster smiles at her strangely, in a way she will later define as ‘condescending’ but in the moment she can’t wrap her head around.

“Well done, you clever girl.” He says, and Rose hates it. His clammy hand engulfs hers and Rose just blinks as he shakes it up and down.

The school claps dutifully and her mum is still not looking at her.

She’s eleven years old and she hates everyone in her class. They tease her in the playground, mock her in the classroom and the only safe haven is the tiny library. The librarian is old and odd, and she strokes Rose’s hair like she’s nothing more than a tiny doll.

“Don’t try so hard to be clever,” she tells her. “They’ll leave you alone.”

Rose leaves the library and never comes back.

She’s fifteen years old and GCSEs are utter bullocks. Mickey has already failed them all, already told her they don’t matter in the real world. She stays behind after school to sit in empty classrooms to figure out algebra and tells her mum she still does gymnastics.

She gets her results in a thick brown envelope and takes a quick glance at a long list of A’s before she chucks it in the bin.

“Pure shit.” She tells her mum. “Didn’t even try, anyway. I’m just not clever enough.”

Her mum throws her a party regardless, and Rose ignores the ache in her chest.

She’s seventeen and he’s fucking hot.

She’s told her mum she’s doing A-levels because she hasn’t figured out if she wants to do hairdressing or childcare. Instead, she doodles equations on the back of English papers whilst she waits for everyone else to finish.

She meets Jimmy outside the school gates and he’s smoking cigarettes and the smell gets right into the back of her throat. She tells him that it’s bad for him, and he tells her he could be bad for her. He’s right.

She drops out of school and her mother approves because it was giving her airs and graces. What her mother does not approve of is the filthy bedsit she moves into, where she cries as her boyfriend screams at her.

“You think you’re clever, do you?” he yells, and she shakes her head and whispers no, no, never.

She’s nineteen, fucking shop window dummies are after her, and a strange man is standing with her in the lift.

“’Cos to get that many people dressed up and being silly, they got to be students.”

“Good point. Well done.”

She’s wrong, but the praise bounces around her brain.

She runs off with him because apparently, that’s just what she does. Runs off with charismatic men, leaves her mother worried sick, because she is Rose, and Rose is not clever.

This man, however, is no Jimmy. He’s smart – so smart, any small attempts at intelligence still leave her feeling dumb. This is a comfort. She argues with him, thinks around him, and starts to feel a bit better about herself.

He’s sweet as well, and kind, and doesn't care when she asks too many questions. He shows her how to strip wires and repair parts of his precious ship, and they tinker away together in comfortable silences. Now and then, she properly impresses him, and he ignores the beauties of the universe and beams at her instead. It’s strange and wonderful and she tries her best not to disappoint him.

Then she is sent away, he is trapped, and it’s time for her to use her bloody brains only she’s not sure they even work anymore. He is dying, far in the future, but still dying, and she is watching her mum scoff down chips. She doesn’t want to go back to her old life, doesn’t want to play stupid anymore.

“Why, because you’re better than us?”

No, because she has learned what life is like when she tries, and she is not yet ready to stop.

She makes it back, using her brain and a fucking massive truck, and it is worth it if just for the way he is looking at her. He tells her she is fantastic and then explodes into a whole new man, with a lankier frame and wilder hair. He takes a long nap, and she is left to be useless once more.

She stands up in front of actual, breathing monsters and tries to copy words she’s heard, but her voice shakes, and her hands are trembling. They laugh at her, and she is eleven again, being teased by the nasty girls in her class.

He saves the day, because that’s just what he does, and she runs off with him again because his smile is still kind and their hands fit nicely. Cassandra sits inside her brain and hums with curiosity, poking around her mind like it’s a mildly interesting boutique.

“Not as thick as you seem, are you?” She whispers into Rose’s mind.

She’s inside some sort of spaceship and he is gushing over the accomplishments of Reinette de Pompadour. She already knows all this, knows who she is, but he is enjoying the sound of his own voice, so she keeps quiet.

She watches him carefully, notices the lipstick marks around his face and the ridiculous angle of his collar, and stamps down the familiar feelings of jealousy rising within her chest.

It had felt like they were growing closer. Their hugs had been lingering, hands held tightly at any available moment. She had thought something was growing, something small and precious and good. Clearly, she was wrong.

Reinette dies, and Rose isn’t glad, not really, but she watches him carefully afterward and wonders. Wonders why he keeps her around if he even wants her there. She tries to ask, but the words die on her tongue.

She has almost let the feeling go when she meets her father, a man who does not know her and apparently does not care to. She calls him dad and he runs, leaving her crying and shaking and so very vulnerable. She wonders, afterward, why. Why no one has ever wanted her properly, why it feels like no one has even met her in the first place. She sobs into her mum’s shoulder and wishes she had told her about the GCSE results.

Maybe it’s a good thing, she thinks later, that she’s alone. She has no real connections that make her want to stay at home, no real relationships that don’t leave her mentally exhausted. He is her grounding point, her focus, and he doesn’t think she’s stupid, not really, but he doesn’t think she’s clever either.

She knows she loves him; knows she will spend the rest of her life pining for him. It aches, having so much unspent emotion coursing under her skin. Feels like she could explode and implode simultaneously. But his eyes are so soft, and he is so worth it.

“We’ll always be alright, me and you.” She tells him. He just stares into the sky glumly.

“There’s a storm approaching.”

She hopes for a bit of rain but instead gets a fucking earthquake.

She’s twenty-one, she’s in a different universe, and she’s absolutely fine.

“How are you doing?”

“Are you okay?”

“Speak to me, Rose, please.”

She doesn’t speak to anyone. Doesn’t even look in the mirror.

It’s hard to assign blame on a talking pepper pot, so instead, she blames herself. If she’d been stronger. Tried harder. Been cleverer.

She tells her mum this over a bottle of wine, and she just laughs.

“People like us aren’t clever, Rose. We’re survivors.”

She doesn’t want to be a survivor anymore.

She starts working at Torchwood. Starts sleeping at Torchwood as well. Pete gives her the job out of pity but is quickly astonished by the scale of the work she’s doing.

“You’re brilliant.” He tells her one night. Jackie scoffs.

“Brilliant? Hark at her.”

Rose ignores her. It doesn’t matter.

She sits through A-levels, and then university lectures, and then physics conventions with groups of boring boys who follow her like a bizarre squadron. She has a brother now, a tiny boy with eyes just like hers, and when she tucks him into bed, she whispers stories of the stars.

She creates a dimension cannon and brings it home to show Pete. He marvels over it whilst Jackie sniffs like she’s got a nasty cold.

“Just glorified jewelry. Face it, sweetheart. You’re stuck here with the rest of us. It’s time to get used to it.”

“Shut up,” Rose says, and she can feel her pulse banging away in her ears like a marching parade.

Jackie is spluttering, Pete’s eyes are wide, and Rose isn’t quite sure what she’s doing but she’s doing it anyway.

“I can do this. I am going to do this. So just shut up.”

She does do it. She flits around universes like students backpack around Europe, and it’s strangely healing to spend so much time by herself.

She meets tiny aliens made of glass who kiss through the refractions of light and hugs ginormous bear-like creatures who are surprisingly friendly and incredibly soft.

She searches for him, and it hurts and it’s hard but it’s also fantastic.

She gets through finally to a universe that should be right but is oh so very wrong. A red-haired woman screams at her, and Rose is finding it difficult to breathe.

“I'm nothing special. I'm a temp. I'm not even that. I'm nothing.”

“Donna Noble, you are the most important woman in the whole of creation!”

“Oh, don't. Just don't.”

She tells her mum about her GCSE results because she can’t stop thinking about it. Her mum stares at her for a long while and then looks down at her hands. Rose has never seen her mum speechless before, doesn’t like it, so she just nods and leaves.

She finds him, and the feeling rushes right from her toes to the top of her head. She has done it. After all the effort and pain, she has found him, and the uncurling pride is like nothing she’s ever felt before.

He gets shot and utterly ruins it, but the feeling lingers.

Her mum shows up at the worst possible time, but she is there, and she is looking at Rose so fiercely. When the situation calms down and they are safe, she pulls Rose into a tight hug and rubs her hands in circles across the small of her back.

“I’m so proud of you, sweetheart.” She whispers, and Rose quickly wipes her eyes on her shoulders.

She is dumped on the same beach she has had nightmares about for the last five years. She is left again, but this time she is left with a familiar man who whispers promises into her ear and holds her like she is something important.

He is looking at her like he’s hoping she might lead the way, and she knows how to do this now, knows how to think and plan and strategize. She kisses him on the cheek, watches the blush that spreads across his cheek, takes his hand, and leads him back to England.

She doesn’t take him straight back to the mansion, hates the idea of speech and silence in equal measure. Instead, she takes him to her lab, and he stares at her designs through startled eyes and stolen glasses. She fidgets in the corner of the room, and wraps her arms around her waist, waiting for his verdict.

He turns to her, whips the glasses off of his face and a look of quiet wonder spreads across his face.

“You’re brilliant.”

She squirms under his gaze, picks off an invisible bit of fluff from her jacket. He is still looking at her, and she tries her best to smile.

“Thanks.”

“No, seriously. These are so impressive.”

She’s still not sure what to do with the praise, but it warms her and fills all the cracked pieces of her soul with new and growing tissue. She kisses him, both because she’s not sure what else to do, and because she can, and he smiles against her lips. They break apart and he runs his fingers over her work, his eyes soft and curious.

“How did you do this?” He whispers, and something tender and precious burns gently in her chest.

“I guess I’m just clever.”

[of-muppets-and-men]

A Rose and Her Thorns

A piece I finally found the time to finish.

Spring.

Arguably Raven’s least favourite season. Summer was always warm and inviting; never sullied by the rain. Autumn was cool, its winds delicate and gentle; not to mention the breathtaking beauty of the forest. Winter, while bitter and unforgiving, at least gave her a reason to hunker down in her tent; warmed by fresh tea and heavy blankets. But Spring?

Spring was what it always was: Groggy and Wet.

The near constant rain seeped into everything it could; her clothes, her tent, and more annoyingly, the earth. The ground became a thick field of mud, making setting up camp a pain. Trees and foliage damp to the touch, making campfires all the more difficult to light. Raven had been through this time and time again, and with every passing year, she hated it even more.

And so, Raven sat quietly, trying to enjoy a cup of jasmine tea. A steady beat of raindrops pelted the roof of her tent, causing the bandit queen to seethe. With a deep sigh, she took a slow sip from her porcelain cup. The tea brought warmth to her numb fingers as she relished in her favorite tea. But her bliss was rudely interrupted when she heard the loud stomping of boots headed towards her tent.

The Bandit Queen nearly dropped her cup as Vernal and two of her scouts came fumbling in, trodding mud with every step. Raven was surprised to see her scouts so badly beaten. They may not have been her, but they definitely knew how to handle themselves. One of them was basically being carried by Vernal while the other stumbled inside, clutching his ribcage. Raven half-heartedly walked over to inspect the damage of her comrades; Vernal dressed the injuries best she could.

“Who did this to you?” Raven asked abrasively “C’mon. Speak up.”

“No idea.” Her scout spoke “This chick just ambushed us out of nowhere. Didn’t even have time to fight bac-”

The well built man winced in pain as Vernal bandaged his broken ribs. His partner was nursing her concussion with a bag of ice. Raven scoffed in disappointment, but led onto the more pressing question.

“This woman… Was she a huntress?”

“Maybe.” The other scout piped up.

“What did she look like?” Raven questioned again.

“Short. Couldn’t see her face under her cloak though.” The scout explained.

“Cloak?” Raven spat, eyebrow cocked.

“Yeah… big white and red cloak surrounded by flower petals.”

The Bandit Queen’s eyes grew wide in realisation. She stood back up, fists clenched and body tense. A deep sigh followed as her subordinates looked on in bewilderment. Raven had long dreaded this would happen. The day she left her family, her team; she knew one day they’d come looking for her.

“You okay, Boss?” Her scouts asked in unison.

“Vernal. Get these two patched up in the medical tent. I’ll tend to this myself.” Raven declared.

Her lieutenant attempted to protest “Raven, Are you sur-”

“Yes, I am. Now go.”

A tone of voice Vernal knew well and she knew it wasn’t wise to stick around. The lieutenant ushered the scouts of the tent, hoping not to exacerbate their injuries. Raven ambled toward Omen, clutching her weapon’s scabbard intently. She fastened it to her hip, unsheathing the crimson blade. The red glint comforted her in its own strange way, a poignant reminder of her own strength. The Leader of the Branwen tribe resheathed her blade, donned her mask, and set out in search of the trespasser.

In a moment’s notice, she flew above the treeline.  As much disdain as she held for Ozpin, this was far and away the best thing he’d ever done for her. Raven glided through the air, relishing in the freedom of flight. There she gazed upon the earth for a sign, any sign of human life.

And sure enough, a plume of smoke protruded from the canopy; an obvious signal to lure her in. The smoke was too thick to be just logs. No, someone had intentionally let it billow. A clever ploy at the very least. Raven dived back into the forest to better trace the source, noticing hints of flame through the damp thicket.

With a surge of magic, Raven returned to her human form and hid within the treeline. A move she’d learned as a child and perfected as a huntress; She laid an eye onto the clearing. And the lack of… anything, worried her. Other than the fire, there was nothing; no bedroll, no provisions, nobody. Every bit of this reeked of a trap. Raven gripped Omen tight; the mechanism swirled and locked in a blade. Hesitant to expose herself, the bandit queen waited for the perpetrator to act…

*Swish*

Three dust bolts flew past her head, embedding themselves into an adjacent tree six inches above her. Her cover blown, Raven blitzed out of the treeline. Her gaze zeroed in on the direction the bolts came from; a large oak tree. The closer she got, the silhouette of woman became more apparent within the branches. Another volley wisped past the brush. Raven sidestepped them before lunging at the trespasser. But before Omen could connect, the mystery woman exploded into flower petals. Raven’s eye widened in disbelief, only to sharpen once more as she turned around.

The edge of Omen’s blade nearly an inch from the woman’s throat; countered by the fact a blade hovered over Raven’s heart. A smirk formed on the Bandit Queen’s face as she breathed the woman’s name.

“Summer. Long time no see.”

“Likewise Raven. Do you… want to continue?” Summer inquired.

The old friends chuckled before resheathing their weapons. Their eyes remained locked on one another; hostility not entirely off the table. Raven could see her former leader’s eye glimmering in the shade; a sight that made her nervous.

“Let’s talk over there.” The smaller woman said, gesturing over to the clearing.

Raven nodded and followed Summer back into the dim light of the afternoon. With a couple cleaves, Raven had made a tree into something relatively comfortable to sit on. They awkwardly sat at opposite ends, facing away from each other to avoid eye contact. Silence enveloped them as they both pondered on what to say. After all, in the grand scheme, Raven had only departed one and a half years ago. Such a long time and yet equally not. But ever abrasive, the bandit queen started her inquiry.

“What the hell are you doing here, Summer?”

“A girl can’t catch up with an old friend?” the smaller woman answered coyly.

“You could… But I highly doubt you roughed up my men just for a chat.”

“Hmph… I missed your skepticism.”

Summer let out a deep sigh, her hands trembling as she did so. A thing Raven found odd to say the least. Summer, as far as she knew, was the most cheerful beacon of hope she’d ever had the displeasure of meeting. So seeing her former leader downtrodden was alarming to say the least.

“I really am here to talk, Rae. I have a thing I need to vent about. I can’t tell Tai and I sure as hell can’t tell Qrow, so if you could bear with it without bitching at me; That’d be great.”

It took a moment for Summer to realize she had begun to cry. She half-heartedly wiped the tears away with her sleeves, only for more to take their place.

A sight profoundly alien to Raven. In the many years she’d known her, she’d never seen Summer with anything less than a grin. And now to see her former leader falling apart at the seams, it… scared her. In ways she hadn’t felt for a long time.

Raven shuffled closer to her old friend, rubbing her back to calm her down.

“Summer. What’s wrong?”

A still teary Summer looked up at her old friend and managed to whimper out an answer: “I’m pregnant, Rae.”

Her answer lingered in the air for a spell; Raven’s shock telegraphed by her eyes. She didn’t know how to feel about it. Should she be happy? After all, despite her current position, this was still a momentous occasion. Or should she be angry? Considering Summer and Tai had been living together. A fact she knew as a result of her snooping. The latter would have to do…

“That’s… incredible, Summer.” A stale attempt at enthusiasm.

The soon-to-be mother didn’t respond. She only continued to lazily wipe away her tears.

“It’s no wonder you haven’t told Tai. The blond idiot couldn’t stop celebrating when I told him. Couldn’t imagine it happening all over again.” Again, Summer remained silent.

“Y’know Sum? I’m almost proud. Snatching up Tai as soon as I was out of the picture. Didn’t think you had it in you if i’m being honest…”

“Raven, stop…”

“No, I’m serious Sum. I didn’t think you had an assertive bone in your body, yet here you are carrying my ex’s ba-”

“IT’S NOT TAI’S!!!!” Summer snapped, standing now with her fists clenched.

Once more, Raven sat dumbfounded, “Not Tai’s? Then who’s?”

With her hood pulled over her head, Summer spoke: “Qrow’s”

Silver eyes shone through the shadow of her hood, fear and uncertainty shrouding their beauty. The mirror-like gaze matched by deep scarlet. Raven was at a loss for words. Today was turning out to be far more eventful than she had thought. She hadn’t seen anyone from STRQ in well over a year. Now, in a matter of a few fleeting minutes, her former best friend drops back into her life and tells her she's going to be an aunt.

But Qrow? Qrow?

Her pissant little brother was going to be a father. The cursed brat of the Branwen tribe. She could barely believe her ears. Raven stood in stunned silence while Summer gave that annoying look of hers.

“See my problem, now?”

It took a moment for Raven to find the words. Where should she start? Her entire perception of life as a student was just uprooted. Summer and Qrow. The thought of them together made her stomach churn. But how long had they been this way? And how did she never pick up on it? Too deep in thought, Summer piped up to give the answers she required.

“Second year.” Summer voiced.

“What?”

“We’ve been together since second year.” the little woman clarified.

“You’ve been keeping this secret for 3 years?” Raven fumed, nearly impressed by the resolve. “Does Tai know?”

“No. And It wasn’t our intention for it to be this way. We were going to tell you two when we graduated, but then you left… Tai was in a bad place and I chose to help him. We both decided it wasn’t the time or the place, which is why I’m here now.”

The Bandit Queen scoffed, her fists clenched with frustration, “So that’s why he stayed...”

Raven shot up from her makeshift seat, Summer puzzled at her sudden change in temperament. The Bandit that was once her friend started to make her way back to the tribe she’d left them for. The smaller woman followed close behind, intent to change her mind. Their boots sloshed in the mud as Summer grabbed her wrist.

“Where are you going?” Summer badgered.

“Home. I’m done with our little talk.” Raven snarled in response.

“Then you’re going the wrong way.”

Scarlet eyes whipped back, clearly laced with insult. Summer looked back defiantly, unfazed by Raven’s temper.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You have a home, but it’s not here. It’s back on Patch where your husband, daughter, brother, myself and now your niece are waiting for you.” Summer lectured, clutching her abdomen. “Your FAMILY.”

Raven said nothing in return. Only rolling her eyes as she pulled her wrist from Summer’s grasp. Family? What a joke. The wilds were the only place for her now, as much as Summer begged to differ. It was Qrow’s too, but he was a fool, just like Oz and the rest. Raven would have no part in it. She stormed away, back through the thicket and loose earth.

It stung. Watching her friend choose a group of lowlifes over the family they made. A low scoff wisped passed her lips.

“You were a lot of things, Rae. Strong, Stubborn, Proud. But I never took you for a coward.”

Coward. The word struck Raven like a punch. In a flash of rage, she lunged at her former best friend. Omen’s blade sliced through the air, narrowly missing Summer’s head. The Tiny Huntress flowed around the weapon’s edge, sidestepping it entirely. With a solemn look, Summer then kicked Raven clean in the jaw, sending her tumbling into the mud. In her anguish, she’d forgotten to engage her aura.

Raven rubbed her aching chin, looking up at the woman who beat her. Summer gazed back, her expression dripping with disappointment. And with a shake of her head, she left, dissipating into a shroud of flower petals, leaving Raven alone. The bandit picked herself up and made the walk back to camp.

Vernal stood waiting for her, pacing by the gate. As soon as her leader appeared from the treeline, she rushed over to assess what had transpired.

“Raven? Gods, what happened out there?” The lieutenant questioned.

“NOTHING.” Raven barked as she trotted back to her tent.

Vernal watched her leader vanish behind the vestibule. Raven tossed Omen aside in a pile of cloth. She angrily poured herself more tea, recounting the day she’d had. Gods above, she hated spring, but summer was becoming a close second.

[ashtheshortstack]

make them learn - ch 2

Rating: T Ship: Adrinette (sorta) Chapter 2/3: tired of pretending

Tags: Princess Justice AU, Akumatized Marinette, Bullying, One-Sided Reveal, Angst, Hurt/Comfort

Read on Ao3

Previous Chapter/Next Chapter 

Adrien laid on his bed, arm shielding his eyes from the light of day shining in from the large windows. Guilt swirled inside of him. There was a heavy feeling tugging at his heart that hadn’t left him since he saw Marinette run off in tears. That wasn’t fair. Lila was way off base after this incident. 

Besides, it wasn’t fair to him either. If Marinette really had feelings for him, and the blinding evidence displayed in front of him clearly confirmed that fact, then she deserved to tell him herself. That wasn’t Lila’s, or Hawkmoth’s for that matter, right to tell him. He didn’t blame her for fleeing the scene. But, he longed for a text back. For her to answer him. To meet him. 

He had to admit… he was confused. Adrien’s emotions were entirely jumbled in his mind. Suddenly, nothing seemed true. The feelings he had long believed were no longer believable. Ladybug… he had always loved her. Been madly head over heels for her for so long. He vowed to wait for her, even if she liked someone else. But then Kagami came along, and while Adrien thought she was beautiful and great company… and he enjoyed having her as a friend, there was still a nagging feeling that it wasn’t right. That Kagami wasn’t who he was supposed to be with. 

If he were honest with himself, Kagami felt more like a crush rather than love. The strong feelings he had for Ladybug were beyond anything he felt for anyone. He was attracted to Kagami, but was he really? Was there attachment there? Did he really love her? No, he didn’t. And Kagami was a good person. She didn’t deserve to be his second choice or his replacement for Ladybug. Someone else out there was much better for her than him. 

So, where did that leave Marinette?

Finding out she liked him… it made him happy. But why? Why was he so happy that Marinette had feelings for him? 

Marinette was beautiful and talented… A bit clumsy at times, he had to admit. She sputtered her words around him, but maybe that was just because she had a crush on him. Which would actually make sense. It had nothing to do with her not liking him, but instead, actually loving him. Did Marinette see more of him than he realized? Had he really been that oblivious to the feelings of someone he considered to be a best friend?

Oh… She had been around him and Kagami a lot. He couldn’t imagine what that felt like for her. Sure, finding out that Ladybug liked another boy had stung, but he never saw her with this other guy. But Marinette was with them. Friends with both of them… Saw he and Kagami flirt and laugh and bond over their strict parents. And he never noticed. He never noticed the pain she was in watching them be together. Besides, Adrien just assumed that Marinette liked Luka. But maybe… it was the same way he felt for Kagami. It was a crush, but she had stronger feelings for someone else. For him.  

But he didn’t know how he felt about her. If he really did love Ladybug as much as he thought, he couldn’t choose Marinette over his lady either. He’d be hurting Marinette too if he tried to pursue anything… wouldn’t he?

“Hey.” 

Adrien moved his arm, looking up at his kwami who floated over him. “Plagg?” 

“Are you okay, Adrien?” 

Sighing, he sat up. He grabbed a pillow, hugging it to his chest. “I don’t know.” 

Plagg’s antennas hung low as he shot his chosen a defeated look. “Do--Do you like Marinette?” 

“I don’t know… Maybe?” he said with a shrug. 

“What do you like about her?” 

Adrien laughed at that. “What’s not to like about her? She’s clever and smart. Beautiful and amazing. Marinette’s the nicest person I know, Plagg. That’s why I just--I don’t want to hurt her.” 

Plagg nodded before he seemed to mull something over. “Uh, so, Ladybug was acting weird today, huh?” 

Blinking, Adrien gave his kwami a confused look. Why the sudden change in topic? Why was Plagg acting so… weird? He was usually able to hold rather consistent conversations with his kwami (most involving cheese, of course), but now it seemed like Plagg wasn’t sure what conversation he wanted to have. Adrien was going to develop emotional whiplash from the topic jumping. 

“Ladybug? What about her?” 

“She defeated the akuma before you even had a chance to transform.” 

He shrugged. “Y-Yeah, but I still broke the inflicted object.” 

“You did.” 

But Plagg was right. Ladybug screamed at Lila after all was said and done. It seemed like she was going to hurt her if he hadn’t brought his lady back to reality. Adrien knew that Ladybug didn’t like Lila. She must’ve found out from Marinette what happened, and it set his partner off. Her sense of justice was rather stubborn. 

Still, it was odd for Ladybug to get so upset that she nearly hurt someone. His lady didn’t like Chloe either, but she never threatened her. Maybe there was more of a connection between Marinette and Ladybug than he realized?

“Sugar Cube!?” 

Yanked from his thoughts, he looked up at his kwami with surprise before viewing Plagg’s line of sight. With a gasp, Adrien shot to his feet when he saw the tiny red kwami phase through his window. As he got closer, he realized Tikki held the earrings in tow. 

“Tikki? What’s going on?” 

The kwami was in bad shape. Tikki looked so heartbroken and defeated. “Ladybug has been akumatized.” 

Adrien felt his jaw fall slack, stunned that his lady had fallen victim to their enemy. “W-What!? What happened?” 

“She…” the kwami trailed off. “She told me to bring the miraculous to you. She said that you could transform and save her.” 

“Isn’t it dangerous? What if she leads him to Master Fu?” 

Tikki sighed. “I asked the same, but Master Fu has been changing locations since Hawkmoth found out his identity. There’s no way for Ladybug to know where he is.” 

With a nod, he took the earrings from the kwami. He slipped the ring from his finger before stuffing it in his pocket. Adrien glanced up at Plagg. “You’ll be okay if I transform with Tikki, right?” 

“As long as you give me cheese.” 

Adrien laughed at that. “You got it.” 

As he snapped the earrings in his ears, he idly wandered his gaze to the clearly upset kwami before him. “Hey, Tikki,” she looked up. “I can do this. I’ll save my lady, okay? I just--I need to know what happened.” 

“She was humiliated at school today. In front of the boy she likes.” 

Suddenly, the gears matched in his head. A clear picture Adrien didn’t even know he was searching for became apparent in his head. Not only had he allowed his lady to get akumatized, but his best friend as well. His best friend that he hadn’t even realized he had feelings for. A best friend that he’d fallen for twice. 

“Oh, Marinette…” he sighed, burying his face in his hands. “I should’ve gone to talk to her. I was so worried about my own feelings. Trying to call and text her wasn’t enough. I should’ve found her. Been there for her.” 

“You wouldn’t have known what to say,” Plagg pointed out. “You would’ve rejected her, and I’m sure that wouldn’t have helped.” 

“But I--” 

“It’s okay,” Tikki said. “She’ll be okay. However, you can’t tell her who you are. Or that you know who she is. Master Fu would take your miraculous. But I know you’re supposed to be Ladybug’s partner. Her Chat Noir. She can’t do this without you, Adrien.” 

He nodded. The kwamis were both right. His feelings for Ladybug--for Marinette --were the last thing to worry about. He’d tell her someday. He’d tell her after they defeated Hawkmoth. Now that he knew, he could at least stop hurting her. He could… well… they couldn’t date . But he could tease her. He could be closer to her. 

Adrien wasn’t going to let her down easy or reject her like he thought he’d have to. He’d just… tell her not now. 

“Tikki, spots on!”

[goldenkamuyhunting]

Ramblings and crazy theory time about GK chap 237 “Underwater Breath-Holding Contest”

And after a chapter which gave us precious info about Sugimoto’s past we get again one that’s more action oriented, although from it we could still get some info.

For who’s wondering the ‘Kiss of Life’ is merely a trope.

Anyway, back to the story.

While Boutarou talks with the passengers, Sugimoto and Shiraishi talk about what to do… without bothering to involve Asirpa. Really, somehow they feel more disjunted than usual as a group, out of late.

Shiraishi points out that according to what Boutarou has said, the guy might have already discovered where the gold is hidden.

Sugimoto counters that Boutarou had however admitted knowing where to search isn’t enough to find the gold.

Shiraishi asks him what they should do in regard to the rumor about how useless it would be to collect the tattooed skins. Sugimoto, after a moment of hesitation, insist they should keep on gathering them.

This is a good moment to point out that keeping on gathering the tattooed skins brings up the following consequences:

- they’ve to hunt dangerous convicts that are all but willing to hand them their skins and might try to kill them

- they might end up killing said convicts

- they have as rivals to get the surviving convicts the Tsurumi group and the Hijikata group who also want the skins

- they will have to fight them anyway as both groups have part of the skins so if they want to get them all they’ve to steal from the others the skins they have

- the others will try to hunt them for the skins they own

- in the process they can also lose Asirpa who’s also hunted because she knows how to solve the code

- it will take them much more time

- they don’t know how many skins the others have so they’ve no idea when the convicts will all be found

In short, if collecting the skins is useless, pursuing them means only getting themselves in unnecessary danger and unnecessarily murdering people. In short is a bad combination that both Wakayama and Boutarou, seasoned criminals who don’t hesitate in killing people, rejected.

It’s beyond stupid to pursue the tattooed skins if there’s nothing to gain from them, Wakayama and Boutarou were intelligent enough to figure it out and stop. Wakayama gave up completely, Boutarou was smart and capable enough to devise a plan B as he didn’t intend to give up on the gold even if he understood plan A wasn’t worth being pursued.

So why Sugimoto, who’s not bloodthirsty and doesn’t want to put his friends in danger, wants to keep on chasing them?

Well, probably exactly for this reason.

Accepting that hunting the skins is useless means accepting what he did for more than a year was useless. He wasted time, he put his friends in danger, he murdered people ALL FOR NOTHING.

Sugimoto could likely accept doing it when the game was worth the candle, when the outcome would provide him much more benefits. But if all he had gone through was for nothing… well, how hard it becomes to swallow all this?

He has wasted time, he has suffered, he had murdered, he had almost lost Asirpa and it was all useless, a mistake.

For Boutarou and Wakayama it was easy to pull back, they had, at the time, invested too little in this, but Sugimoto had bet everything over how, if he were to collect all the skins, he would get the gold. While the clever thing would be to pull out like Boutarou and Wakayama had done, Sugimoto’s psyche is likely fighting it with all its strength, so that’s likely why he wants to reject the rumor and keep on going that way even if everything is starting to tell him it’s a wrong choice.

Shiraishi doesn’t pressure him, but suggests to pretend to ally with Boutarou and see how things will go.

Sadly this implies they can always betray and skin Boutarou later as there is no genuine wish to join hands in them, it’s just a situation of convenience.

And this is a good moment to remind everyone in this story there’s not a side who is with justice, that will be honest, that won’t betray an alliance. This isn’t ‘Saint Seiya’, here everyone is for himself and it’s meaningful that Noda presented Sugimoto as the first to break alliances, first the one with Asirpa, when in chap 14 decided to break their partnership without even telling her, thinking it’s for the better if you want, but still acting arbitrarily and leaving her on her own without even considering she might not just drop the search just because he’s not there but keep it up on her own and then with Tsurumi in chap 19 when he tricked him into giving him medical help in exchange for the skins.

Having the main character do this is our hint NO ONE is obliged to keep a deal, that all the deals are done out of self interest and can be broken exactly when interest conflict.

However, as Shiraishi and Sugimoto are thinking they can only pretend to join hands with him and then betray Boutarou later, Boutarou has found Heita’s skin, his cigarette case and the note with the rivers from which the gold came as well as his name, all hidden in Sugimoto’s backpack.

From this it’s easy for him to assume that no, despite what they had said, Shiraishi and Sugimoto didn’t come to his same idea as him by chance but murdered Heita and, from what they found on him, they came up with the same plan… or, more probably, they were trying to use the info they got to find and skin him the way they had done with Heita… and he’s not wrong because this was part of the plan and we know still is.

So Boutarou collect his accomplice and prepare himself to deal with Sugimoto and Shiraishi.

He tells in a cheerful tone (look at his balloons and how they aren’t just oval shaped but they look like small clouds) they’re about to reach Ebetsu and asks them again if they want to join forces with him. He then asks them if they know how much the gold is, if they believe it’s 75 kg as it was told to the prisoners. Then he tells them that the Ainu old man told him the amount of gold has to be much more, as it was put up in a huge pile of deerskin bags.

The info is interesting but again it opens the question of how they managed to move it all. It would have taken a lifetime for Wilk to do it on his own, if he did it with the Ainu who were killed, who supposedly weren’t that young (they included Ariko’s father and the brother of an old man), it would be better yet still be a big work.

I wonder if they used water to transport it as it would allow them to move it farther with more ease and speed than, let’s say, a carriage.

Too bad I find unlikely they could connect the place in which the gold was and the place in which they wanted the gold to end with water pipes in which they could just pour the dust and let the water do all the job of carring it from a place to another.

Still they could probably put it on boats, to move it far away from where it was. It’s still a big work though for few men who might not be that young anymore.

Oh well, when we’ll get an idea of the place in which the gold was, we might get hints on how it was moved.

Anyway Sugimoto at this confirmation that the gold is a huge amount sweats with a small smile while Shiraishi has an ecstatic air.

And they both react likely like Boutarou wanted, so caught up in this information that they lower their guard, all lost in their little world of how they’ll become rich and are caught completely on surprise when Boutarou tells them it’s a pity he can’t pursue his dream together with them, his accomplice pointing his gun at them from behind them.

Luckily for them there’s Asirpa who, having been cut out from adults’ conversations, had thought well to go back check Sugimoto’s luggage which had been left open and had realized Boutarou should have seen Heita’s cigarette case in it, as the case is now out of the bag.

Asirpa is no fool nor blinded by gold and immediately understood if Boutarou has seen the cigarette case and pulled it out, he should have also seen what it contained and Heita’s skin and would be less amicable with them than previously.

So, as Boutarou’s accomplice is about to shoot them, she throws one of her arrows to the gun, causing the tip of it to slide between the cylinder and the lower part of the frame, effectively blocking the cylinder from rotating and therefore rendering the gun unable to shoot.

So again Asirpa saves the day, after saving the day the chapter before. Really, as I said in a post long ago, when in troubles call her, she’s the most reliable to save the day.

As Peter Venkman would say ‘She came, she saw, she kicked their asses!’

Asirpa is great, that’s it.

A fight ensues… or better it would have ensued if the captain hadn’t rotate the ship’s wheel and caused it to move on a different track, a track that brought it close to the tree, causing their branches to basically sweep the bridge and send Sugimoto, Boutarou and Boutarou’s accomplice in the water, Shiraishi having the good sense to toss himself on the ground because Shiraishi is awesome like that and not enough apprecciated.

Boutarou’s accomplice… well, at a first glance I thought he ends up hitting his head against the waterwheel… but it can be he actually ended up being sucked by it as we see blood spraying out of it and then he starts drowning again, one of his legs bent to an odd angle and his body bleeding heavily.

So really it could have been much more gruesome than him just hitting his head... and I’ve to admit Noda toned down the gruesome scenes if I compare Golden Kamuy to when it started. I mean... Tamai’s face or lack thereoff is something I think people will remember for a long time... or do we want to talk of Noma hung on a tree with his intestines trailing down of it?

Sugimoto sees the scene but Boutarou is immediately behind him, grabs him and starts pulling him deeper underwater.

It’s worth to remember not only water is Boutarou’s element, in which he moves much better and much faster than Sugimoto but that he can hold his breath much longer than a common human so Sugimoto is hugely at disadvantage here. Boutarou was also very clever in this.

Not only he placed himself behind Sugimoto, making harder for the latter to hit him, but grabbed his left wrist, making difficult for Sugimoto to swing the bayonet he was holding with his left hand.

If anything Boutarou’s mistake was he didn’t manage to also grab Sugimoto’s right wrist but only the sleeve of his right coat, leaving him some measure of movement with his right hand.

Meanwhile outside Shiraishi asks Asirpa if she can swims… but it turns out she can do it only as long as she can touch with her feet. I wonder if this too will become a plot point or it’s just random info.

Anyway, wanting to help Sugimoto, our brave and awesome Shiraishi tosses himself in the water.

Meanwhile Sugimoto manages to grab with his partially free right hand the bayonet and tries to hit Boutarou with it. Boutarou let him go and, from Sugimoto’s face, we can see he’s pretty short of air, bubbles escaping from his mouth and nose and eyes open wide.

Boutarou grabs his foot, pulling him down again as Sugimoto waves desperately his arms and more air escapes from his mouth and nose.

At this point Shiraishi appears and grabs Sugimoto’s face.

Shiraishi is weak and can’t fight Boutarou so he planned to use the mouth-to-mouth breathing technique so as to give Sugimoto air and allow him to keep on fighting.

It’s a plan, it normally won’t work that easily in life but in manga and anime it hardly fails.

Sugimoto though, tries to push Shiraishi away and also moves his face away, causing Shiraishi to miss his mouth when he tries to give him air and then, for good measure, Sugimoto hits Shiraishi, the blow causing Shiraishi to partially lose consciousness and starts floating away, toward the air, stopping him from further attempting to give air to Sugimoto.

Overall I get the whole thing is played for fun, from the mouth-to-mouth breathing that can be viewed as a kiss to Sugimoto’s reaction. I’m not really amused though as it’s overall stupid.

Sure, normally this sort of things work solely in tv shows and manga/comics but Sugimoto is depicted as desperately needing air so he should have been extremely cooperative in the whole thing (have you ever tried drowning? You won’t be picky, you’ll literally kill to get air) because otherwise he could very well die, and harming Shiraishi might have caused him to drown as well, instead than do them any good.

I get that due to the rule of funny they would obviously both survive and that Sugimoto could pull out of his hammerspace new air without the need of Shiraishi’s help but really, I would have preferred if this fight between two cool guys was kept serious after Boutarou’s accomplice died in such a gruesome way. Sure, maybe Noda wanted the humor to make us forger exactly that but… well, as far as I’m involved it didn’t work.

Of course maybe it’s just me, not everyone must react the same to a joke.

Anyway, while Boutarou keeps pulling him down, Sugimoto losing more air from his mouth when the rule of cool comes to his rescue in form giant sturgeons deciding to swim close to them so that Sugimoto can... hum... yell so as to waste more air from his mouth (is he trying to say he’s immortal?)...

stab his bayonet in a fish and have it drag him away.

But it’s not like the fish swims toward the air and Boutarou doesn’t let go of Sugimoto’s foot while Sugimoto instead let go of more air and it’s only a mix of rule of funny and rule of cool that keeps him still perfectly aware and strong enough to hold onto his bayonet because everyone else at this point would have had his lugs completely filled with water, lost consciousness and drowned.

But I guess Noda realized one could pull this on only for so long.

Boutarou should have more ability to hold his breath underwater than Sugimoto, so keeping this up either undermines this because Sugimoto is faring way too well for someone who shouldn’t have even half of Boutarou’s ability or Noda would need to end this with Sugimoto finally drowning due to lack of air.

So, since Noda can’t kill Sugimoto but Sugimoto can’t get out of water to get air nor can beat Boutarou underwater, Noda decided to have luck save Sugimoto again this time not in form of giant fishes but in form of Boutarou’s long hair getting trapped in the waterwheel, pulling him to it.

I think the idea is that if Boutarou doesn’t free himself, this time he’ll either drown or, more likely, will end up making the same end of his nameless accomplice.

In fact, while Sugimoto manages to pull his head out of water and breathe, with Asirpa’s obvious relief, things take a turn for worse for Boutarou as his body is starting to get trapped in the waterwheel.

At this Noda shows us Sugimoto. I think the idea is that this means Sugimoto knows what’s happening to Boutarou and now he has to decide if he has to let him die or do something.

Meanwhile things are getting worse for Boutarou as he’s starting to lose air from his mouth and…

and that’s the moment Suggimoto cuts his hair free, saving him and probably willing, if not his loyalty, his possible cooperation.

Boutarou liked him already and likely attacked him only in self defense, because correctly figured out Sugimoto was out there for his skin and, like Sugimoto, he preferred to kill than to be killed.

They’re similar in many things those two and I like to think Sugimoto didn’t merely save him to get info but also because he felt a kinship through their similar pasts.

Honestly I would love for those two to become friends, Boutarou has a different cheeriness from Shiraishi, while Shiraishi is cheery because he doesn’t worry, Boutarou is positive but he’s also practical, a good thinker and tries to go for the best outcome. I think he could bring something good to the group.

Of course it always loom in his back the fact that Vasily, thinking he’s an enemy, might shoot him down. We’ll see.

Then, while a box gives us some info, we see that the rule of funny ensured, as expected, Shiraishi’s survival… but I kind of have the feeling this played again like the final page of chap 211. Shiraishi got the short end of the stick and no one cares as it was supposed to be ‘fun’.

Oh well, he was given the role of comedic relief so I guess not much can be done but I’m still sorry for him. He tried to help the way he could and his attempt was rejected, with Sugimoto putting him in danger only to make readers laugh. Honestly I think Shiraishi deserves more apprecciation but it might be just me.

[ryik-the-writer]

Marinara on Main (11/?) - Burnt Bits (2/1)

previous

A03

“…Hello.” Belle greeted in an attempt to break the heavy silence that had befallen her small apartment.

Her father’s unexpected guest, Cora, continued to smile politely, though it reminded Belle of a snake that had successfully cornered its prey.

And like prey, Gold hadn’t moved.

Cora took Belle’s hand gracefully, giving it a quick shake.

“Hello dear,” Cora said, some of the light fading from her eyes. “Your father has told me so much about you.”

Belle’s eyes turned up to her father, who gave her a full smile.

“And he was saving you, I suppose,” Belle said.

Cora chuckled. “You were right, Maurice, she is cunning.”

Belle blinked. No one had called her father Maurice for years. It was too proper, he used to say, made him sound more like a silk merchant than a pizzeria owner.

Cora gaze turned back to Gold. “It’s been a long time.”

“Not long enough,” Gold croaked finally.

Cora seemed unperturbed, her gaze shifting to the confused teen holding his hand.

“Why, you must be Baelfire,” she said, her voice becoming sultry sweet. “I haven’t seen you since you were a baby.”

Gold took a sharp hold of his son’s shoulder as if protecting him from Cora’s apparently harmless words.

“Let’s go,” He said, pulling his son along.

Bae looked back at Belle, confused and apologetic. Gold didn’t even say a word.

Belle’s fingers still itched from his touch, the heat from her cheeks still fading after his impromptu proposal. Barely a moment had passed since then, but somehow the tension in the air made it seem like years.

Or, she thought as he began to drag Baelfire out the door, non-existent.

“Um,” Belle began to protest, slipping past Cora and Moe. “Where are you going?”

Gold didn’t answer, didn’t make eye-contact with anyone in the room.

Bae looked back, however, eyes as wide and confused as hers, unable to break his grip from his father as he drug him down the stairs.

“He hasn’t changed a bit,” came Cora’s low, sultry voice.

Belle looked at her, her mind whirling.

“Always avoiding conflict,” Cora finished, giving Belle this strange smile.

Belle blinked, a defensive fire rising in her. What the hell was going on, and who the hell was this woman insulting her boyfriend?

“Well anyway, it was lovely meeting you,” Cora said in a tone that left no room for conversation—one that demonstrated that she was accustomed to being in charge. “I just wanted to get a look at the place, but I do have other plans I must attend to.”

“Um, of course,” Belle said, waving Cora off after she said goodbye to her father.

A moment later, Moe poked his head out, seemingly oblivious to the confusion and hurt his daughter was experiencing.

“Dinner’s done?” he inquired.

Belle felt her eye twitch. The hallway felt smaller. She was suffocating.

“I…I need a minute.” She gasped, tearing off her apron and heading down the stairs.

The cool November air bit at her cheekbones, calming her enough as she searched for her boyfriend.

His car—the thing they spent so much time in, had built the majority of their relationship off of—was gone, the faint hint of gas in air.

Belle swallowed the knot in her throat, trying to find something to do with the pain and uncertainty boiling inside of her.

This was supposed to be a good day. A day for her and her family, no crazy pizza orders, no otherworldly shenanigans. Just a day where they could all relax.

She couldn’t have that, which only made her hype on the idea that the happiness she’d been building towards for months now was just a passing phase. She wasn’t meant to ---

“Darling?”

Belle rolled her eyes at the sound of Ana’s twinkling voice.

“Please, not now,” Belle groaned.

“Everyone’s waiting in your restaurant to see what happens next,” Ana explained. “It’s a lovely space. It’s so…simple.”

Belle’s teeth gnashed together. “I really want to be alone right now.”

Ana moved closer. “Are you alright?”

Belle growled and shot around, meeting the blonde’s startled gaze.

“No, I’m not alright, darling,” Belle snapped. “My dinner is ruined, my boyfriend just iced me in front of my entire family and somehow he has a connection to this mysterious woman my father dragged in, who might just be eyeing my business, I don’t know!” she paused to gasp, swaying her arms. “Not to mention I’m having to converse with a rich princess who thinks she’s better than me!”

Ana flinched. “What? I don’t think I’m better than you.”

“Yeah, right,” Belle scoffed, collapsing on a nearby bench. She buried her head in her hands as small hot tears escaped.

After a moment, she felt another presence slip beside her. They were both quiet for a while, not sure what to say until finally Ana sighed.

“You know, I never tried a hot dog before I met Will.”

Belle blinked and turned to Ana, wondering if the blond had suddenly snapped.

But she seemed just fine, reminiscent in fact, judging by her dreamy smile.

“In fact I hadn’t tried a lot of things before him. Ice skating, buying my own coffee, riding a city bus…though I could have done without that one.” She laughed.

“I loved how, well, simple he was, how he could do just about anything with nothing,” she chuckled slightly. “I also thought he was kind of a pest, but I grew out of that.”

Belle actually laughed. “I did too. He kind of grows on you.”

Ana agreed, but Belle noticed her smile had faded a bit.

“I was so excited to introduce him to my mother and sisters. I knew he’d be a spectacle, but I loved him so much I thought they’d just overlook it,”

Belle thought about how cool she’d been towards Will. Had he expected that from her? To overlook anything different between them and accept her?

“Yesterday, he’d put on his nicest clothes and even splurged for a decent bottle of wine. I thought we might just pull it off.”

Belle remembered that. He had borrowed a shirt from Merlin and Belle had hemmed it just enough to fit him.

“But, the second my mother laid eyes on him…”

Belle didn’t have to guess where she was going next.

“She rejected him?”

Ana nodded, the frown on her face not at all suiting her.

“She went on and on about she wouldn’t have someone like him in her house, and that it was them or him,” she straightened her shoulders. “And so I said him, of course, and that we were only stopping by because Will had already invited us here.”

Belle laughed so hard her chest began to hurt.

“Well played.”

Ana shrugged. “I practically dragged him to Storybrooke.”

Belle wiped her eyes, the guilt quickly overtaking her.

She’d completely misjudged Ana. Sure she was a bit lost when it came to real-world living, but she didn’t look down on it. She admired it, and she had stood up for working people like Will. Like her.

“Ana, I’m sorry,” Belle said. “I shouldn’t have said what I said to you.”

Ana scoffed. “I’ve had friendships build from worse things, Darling.” She stood and offered Belle her hand.

“Will says you’re someone who doesn’t give up without a fight. I’m no good in a kitchen, but I’m a damn good coordinator. You devise a plan to feed this crowd and I’ll be sure it comes together.”

Belle nodded affirmatively and wrapped her arm around Ana’s shoulder as they went into the restaurant.

Will, Jefferson and Merlin were harshly conversing with each other, trying to figure out a plan themselves. They paused when Belle approached, eyebrows lifting when they saw the newly forged bond between her and Ana.

“Alright, listen up,” she stated, causing the men to stand at attention. “We have a dinner to get going, and it’s actually dinner time.”

“Past if you ask me,” Will said, causing Ana to nudge him.

“We can pull this off, but we got to act quick before everything either dries out or clots,” Belle said. “Everyone go upstairs and grab a dish, even the turkey.”

“It’s burnt,” Merlin pointed out.

“Not what’s under the skin,” Belle winked.

Merlin smirked. Clever girl.

“Once again, hands in everyone.”

Four hands, roughed up from years of hard work, stacked on each other. Belle looked at Ana and motioned for her to join in.

“Oh!” Ana gasped in delight, adding her well-manicured hand into the mix.

Belle smiled. They were an odd group, but they knew how to get things done.

“Alright, let’s do it!”

“Yeah!”

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

Bae was staring oddly at his father, noticing how his hands were shaking as he carefully worked on getting the antique diamond ring off of his—thankfully— shrinking finger.

His father had been completely silent since he whisked him away from French Bread’s. He hadn’t even scolded him for getting into this whole mess!

His odd behavior was bordering frightening, but Bae didn’t show it. He was able to mask that fear with irritation.

His father and he didn’t keep secrets. They didn’t have to with it being just the two of them (three when Belle came in).  When mistakes were made, they came out immediately, less they fester and ooze, Gold had always teased.

Now Gold was oozing to death, and Bae needed to know why.

“Are we going back to Belle’s?” Baelfire asked.

His father grimaced but focused on the ring.

“Dad?” Bae begged. “Please tell me what’s going on.”

“I’m trying to concentrate.”

Bae tried to yank his hand away, nearly cutting himself from the sharp tweezers his father was using to pry it off with.

“Bae!” his father yelled in a tone the teen hadn’t heard in a long time: fear.

“Give me back your hand, now,” he ordered more softly, but the secret was out. His dad was terrified.

“No,” Bae said, though his hand began to hurt once more. “Tell me who that woman is, why did we leave Belle’s?”

“Bae this is none of your concern!” Gold dejected.

“It is if you act like this!” Bae protested. “Is it because of me?”

“No, no,” Gold protested. “This is all me, son, I promise.”

“Then why won’t you tell me? I can help.”

Gold’s throat went dry. “No, no you can’t. I can’t let you.”

“Why not!”

“Because I said so now drop it, damn it!”

Bae flinched, feeling a spike of fear he had never known before. The man before him wasn’t his loving father, with who he could always speak openly with.

Before he was this trembling creature Bae couldn’t recognize, one who didn’t know compassion or honesty.

At that moment Bae needed Belle’s easygoing nature to flood his home. Belle would know what to do.

“Bae I—”

Bae pulled away from his father, yanking at the ring one last time.

It popped off with ease.

Bae placed it on the desk and made a quick escape out the door, his father begging him to come back.

The bell above the shop door screamed when the door slammed, and Gold was set to do the same thing.

The rage and fear and guilt boiled up inside him, spilling over instantly. Gripping his tweezer tool until his knuckles were starch white, he hurled the thing at the nearest wall, breaking a mirror for sale.

Gold gripped his counter, trying to calm down.

Maybe it wasn’t as bad as he was fearing, maybe Cora’s return was just a horrifying glitch that meant nothing.

But if she was here, that meant her psychotic daughter was close behind.

The thought created a pool of bile in his throat. He couldn’t handle this. He needed—

Belle.

“Oh Belle,”

He’d abandoned her to that woman. Left her completely and utterly alone.

After every terrifying misadventure between them, she’d never left his side, yet he’d left her without a second thought.

It’d been to protect Bae, but he could have protected her too.

He couldn’t call her now, no doubt that she was hurt and angry at him. His son was probably on his way to her to cool off. They’d be safe with each other.

And he’d be better alone.

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

Dinner was not … horrible.

True everything was a bit dry, but the turkey pizza was surprisingly good, especially with the cranberry glaze reduction Ana had suggested she drizzle on it.

Her father had helped himself to a large plate, but as usual, was not contributing much to the conversation around him.

Meanwhile, Ana was retelling a rendition about an amazing meal she’d had years before that reminded her of what she had just eaten.

It was actually humorous, and Belle found herself chuckling while the guys howled in laughter. Still, she couldn’t completely enjoy herself.

Gold had taken something from her tonight, something she couldn’t pinpoint just yet, but it made her feel empty.

Merlin was the first to notice her mental absence and nudged her with his beer bottle to get her to come back.

“Where are you?” he inquired.

Belle smirked. “Everywhere but here, it would seem.” She shrugged. “It’s just been a hell of a night.”

“Usually is, but this one was different,” he said cautiously. “What happened with Gold?”

Belle picked at a napkin crumpled up in her hands and scowled.

“I don’t know. I don’t know what the hell is going on with him, or that woman my dad brought in, or anything.”

They both stole a glance at Moe who seemed oblivious to any tension in the restaurant. It made Belle want to scream at him, for everything he had and hadn’t done.

“Why not put all that aside?” Merlin suggested. “Just let it all go tonight. We need you Belle, and we love you.”

Belle smiled at him – the older brother she wanted desperately as a child. Merlin was the one who always had an extra layer of control. Her second right hand.

And apparently enough sense for her to see how ridiculous she was acting.

Her family was around her and she was thinking of her boyfriend. They’d work this out later—of course they would.

But she was wasting the holiday moping when she should be celebrating.

She stood, nudging Merlin on the shoulder.

“I’m some air, and then we’ll get this party started.”

He chuckled and saluted her as she stepped out into the frigid December night.

Belle let the cool air wash over her, take away all the thoughts.

As the cold set into her bones, a panting figure plopped against her store wall.

Belle gasped before she noticed who it was, and sighed in relief.

“Bae, what are you doing here?”

The teen looked up between his locks, panting as he tried to compose himself.

“I…you see…dad…” he panted, bowing sheepishly.

Belle saw the hurt on his face and felt a strong surge of parental instincts.

“Does your dad know you’re here,” she inquired, earning Bae’s nod. “Come on in, we have some pizza left, and desert.”

Bae perked up at the idea of food. After all, he’d burned a lot of energy today.

Belle received him warmly, welcoming the boy in for desert.

She watched her odd cozy family, focusing solely on them and not the blank space that her boyfriend’s absence left.

They were what was important tonight, and all the secrecy and mysteries could wait tomorrow, on a normal business day.

She grabbed her place and joined them, feeling truly at peace for the first time that night.

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

 Regina Mills did not like surprises, or really anything that did not go along with her clean-cut plan in he day-to-day life.

Some said she demanded absolute perfection with everything from a city council meeting to her son’s school projects—and that would be a correct statement.

Sure, she tolerated the occasional miffed citizen who stepped up to speak without signing up in advance, and maybe she allowed her son to keep (most) of his privileges even if he brought home anything less than a A.

But it was just that: tolerance. And Regina Mills had very little of it to go around.

She certainly didn’t have it from her estranged mother who came knocking at her door at dinnertime (actual dinner time mind you, not the strange 2 p.m. one that came with the Thanksgiving holiday).

“Mother,” Regina had gasped. “What—”

“It’s good to see you dear,” Cora greeted, kissing her daughter’s cheek hastily as she stepped inside her home.

Regina closed the door, her pulse rising as her mother turned to face her.

Barely a minute in her home, and she’d made it hers.

“We have much to discuss, dear,” Cora said, her voice calm and low, sickeningly sweet. Complete Authoritarian.

Regina gritted her teeth. “I try not to discuss business on a holiday.”

“I’m sure Henry is used to it,” Cora dismissed. “Where is he, by the way? It’s been ages since I laid eyes on him.”

Regina’s heart skipped a beat, thinking about the precious creature – her entire world – who was in the next room playing a board game with Mal and Ursula (Cruella had long passed out on the couch), no doubt wondering who his mother was talking to.

Mal would instinctively keep him back, blessedly, and by her enough time to get her insane mother out of here.

“Busy. What is it mother?”

Cora’s cold smile remained intact. Fair enough. There was no need to rush into a glorious family reunion yet. There’d be time for all of that later.

“Send your company home, dear,” Cora said. “We need to talk about Gold.”

[psychosistr]

Chariot’s Companions

Summary: Taking place in the Eyes of Heaven universe, Jotaro and the crusaders get sent to the coliseum alongside Giorno and his gang. What they find there is a haunting reminder of Passione’s past and a startling realization about one of the crusaders’ future.

Notes: This is the first story for my 100 Follower Giveaway, written for my little sister who has always been my biggest fan and greatest supporter in everything I do. Love you, T, happy valentines day!

Extra Note: Warning, this is a long fic with canon-typical violence for JJBA xD

Edit: Decided to start tagging my sister on the stuff I mention her in ^^” Go check her out, she’s very sweet and really intelligent, often posting stuff about Transformers and comic books: @mark-xeen

Everything seemed calmed for once on the usually busy streets of Morioh, Japan. There were a few people walking around on the main street, but not too many as it was the middle of a weekday and most people were either at work or school at this time. One of the few people walking around was a tall teenager dressed in a dark school uniform with a torn black hat and a large golden chain on the front of his jacket.

The tall boy rounded a corner behind the local convenience store and glanced around once he was out of sight of the general public. He then reached into his jacket and pulled out something rather odd: A turtle. Specifically, a turtle with an odd key embedded in its back.

The boy set the turtle down in a shaded corner behind the building before reaching down and touching its back. He was quickly sucked into the red gem embedded in the turtle’s key.

Inside of the gem was what appeared to be a hotel room. It was fairly plain with only the most basic of furniture and no bathroom, but it was still a safe enough hideout for the time being. The only downside was that it was..well..rather crowded by this point..

The boy’s name was Jotaro Kujo. He had recently found himself caught up in a series of bizarre adventures starting with the appearance of what he at first thought to be a ghost haunting him turning out to be some sort of guardian spirit called a stand that was actually protecting him. He soon became part of a world-traveling adventure to save his mother’s life when an ancient evil vampire that was an enemy of his family from over a hundred years ago stole the body of his great-great-grandfather and received a stand of his own and, in turn, caused Jotaro, his mother, and his grandfather to all manifest their stands too. On his mission to defeat the vampire, Jotaro had teamed up with others like him and his grandfather who had stands and, at the tragic cost of half of their group’s lives, they succeeded in defeating the nearly immortal vampire. Just as they thought their journey was over, though, the remaining three members found themselves caught in an entirely new adventure that involved traveling through space and time itself to stop an alternate-universe god-version of the vampire they all fought so hard to defeat and were trying to prevent him from gathering the pieces of a “holy corpse” that came from an alternate timeline and provided guidance to Jotaro’s bloodline- the Joestar family.

Along the way they gathered more allies- friends and family and other members of the Joestar bloodline, and even some alternate reality counterparts to a couple of them. The turtle they currently found themselves residing in had come from the timeline of a boy in Jotaro’s family who had a bit of an odd connection to the others- Giorno Giovanna. He was the bastard son of the vampire they were fighting, DIO Brando, who had conceived him with a woman before he had fully integrated his DNA into the body of Jotaro’s great-great-grandfather, Jonathan Joestar, resulting in a son that was part Joestar and part Brando. He was turning out to be a strong ally with a sharp mind and powerful stand.

The only thing that bothered Jotaro about Giorno and his group was that they seemed to know something about him and his friends that they had all unanimously agreed to keep quiet about. Specifically, they seemed to know something about Jotaro’s friend Jean-Pierre Polnareff. When they first met him, the group had called him “the turtle man” then quickly tried to cover it up by calling it “Italian humor”. He would have been fine if that were it, but what really bothered him was that Giorno and the others seemed to keep a cautious, almost fearful eye on Polnareff. They all seemed especially jumpy whenever he called out his stand, Silver Chariot. Narancia and Bucciarati had both flinched the first time they’d seen it come out and Giorno himself had subconsciously tightened his hand into a fist as if he was preparing to fight before forcing himself to relax.

Jotaro had no idea why they were so cautious around Polnareff and his stand. Polnareff was loud and annoying, but he was still a good man with a good heart. He was so noble that, even while under the mind-control of one of DIO’s sinister flesh buds, he’d still shown respect and consideration for his opponent- another member of their group named Mohammed Abdul- and had formed a quick but close friendship with every member of their group. Polnareff had been the only one besides Jotaro and his grandfather, Joseph Joestar, to survive the fight against DIO and his minions. As such, the three had formed a strong bond from both the fight as well as their shared grieving of their dead friends. Polnareff had sworn to Jotaro and his grandfather that, if they ever needed him, he’d come running to help them from anywhere in the world, and Jotaro knew he meant every word of what he said.

So, with all that he knew about Polnareff, it made no sense to him why Giorno and his gang would be so distrusting of him, even though they acted friendly enough on the surface. Either Polnareff was unaware of the looks the Italian group gave him, or he was just choosing not to say anything- either way, it annoyed Jotaro to have one of his only friends treated like some sort of ticking time bomb.

As Jotaro weaved through the crowded hotel-like room of the turtle’s hiding space (which was actually the doing of a stand), he found his group hanging out around one corner of the couch. His grandfather was sitting on the couch himself as he told some story, likely about one of his adventures from his youth, as usual. Polnareff was sitting on the armrest nearby, laughing loudly every now and then at a particularly funny part of the old man’s tale. Abdul (the fortune-teller that first taught Jotaro and his grandfather about stands and was the one to fight Polnareff then realize he was being controlled by DIO) was leaning against the wall beside Polnareff, listening with the occasional nod and a calm smile. Sitting on the floor facing the others was a boy about Jotaro’s age with red hair and a green school uniform, his name was Kakyoin Noriaki and he had also been controlled by DIO but had become a loyal friend after Jotaro freed him from the vampire’s control. Lastly, sleeping on the backrest of the couch by Joseph was a small black and white dog- he was a stand user named Iggy who tended to be grouchy and violent, but was still clever and had been willing to sacrifice himself to save Polnareff’s life.

Jotaro hid a small smile behind the high collar of his coat as he watched them all talking freely. While this adventure was odd and stressful, it was proving to be worth it to have their group back together again.

DIO, in his attempts to take out Jotaro and the Joestar bloodline, had used his powers to resurrect and/or control many of his family’s allies. Quite a few of the people currently in that very room had died and been brought back to life under DIO’s control as weapons against their friends. Thankfully, after using the parts of the holy corpse that they’d gathered, they had managed to break DIO’s control and save their friends from his influence.

Kakyoin, Abdul, and Iggy were all prime examples of this. It was a shock to have their friends suddenly return from beyond the grave and call them enemies, but Jotaro and the others were relieved to have them back after so much strife. Now they were all together again, fighting alongside each other and telling stories just like before. It may have been a roundabout way for it to happen, but getting his friends back had been worth the hard work he’d put in to tracking DIO’s movements.

Now, though, Jotaro was tired and needed a break before continuing the search. It was exhausting being the main one to walk around while everyone else got to rest inside the turtle-room, damn it…

Polnareff looked up at Jotaro with a grin. “Oi! Jotaro!” He waved as Jotaro took a seat beside Kakyoin on the floor. When Jotaro’s only response was a grunt that vaguely resembled a greeting, Polnareff laughed at his friend’s usual cranky demeanor. “Getting tired again already?”

“I’ve been the only one walking around for days now.” Jotaro shot back while pulling his hat down to cover his eyes, leaning back to lay on the floor and get some rest. “If one of you wants to carry the damn turtle, be my guest or shut the hell up.”

Abdul shook his head with an amused chuckle. “While we sympathize with your plight, Jotaro, I don’t think it would do much good for one of us to carry this burden- after all, none of us have any holy corpse parts and would have no direction on where to go. Perhaps you could try asking one of your relatives to take over if you need a break?”

“I’ll think about it..” Jotaro replied while settling in for a decent rest. The rest proved short-lived, though, when he felt a familiar pulsing from within his jacket after only a few minutes on the floor. “You’ve gotta be kidding me..” He grumbled while sitting up. Reaching into his jacket, Jotaro pulled out the now familiar glowing holy corpse part that had been with him throughout this particular journey. Looking around to see Giorno also holding his corpse part in his hand but no one else doing the same, Jotaro rose to his feet. “Yare yare..” He jerked his head at Giorno, motioning for him to follow. “Lets go..”

“Right.” Giorno said while rising to his feet as well, giving a quick wave to the members of his group before joining Jotaro.

The two raised their hands and were teleported back outside of the turtle.

Giorno wasn’t really one for conversation unless it was necessary, which was fine with Jotaro since he wasn’t either. He was definitely the least annoying out of his relatives, even if he did share blood with DIO. All of that meant that he didn’t really mind being around the other boy and was okay looking for the next lead from the holy corpse with him for a while-

Actually, it turned out they didn’t have far to go at all, as there was a familiar golden fissure in the ground only a couple feet away from the turtle’s resting spot. The two boys approached the portal to who knew where, but were stopped when the corpse parts physically yanked them back.

Jotaro looked down at the corpse part in his hand with a scowl. “What now?” As if in answer, it tugged him back towards the turtle ever so slightly. He noticed Giorno’s doing the same. “Yare yare..make up your mind already..”

They re-entered the turtle to the surprise of the room’s occupants, earning a few confused stares from their comrades.

Polnareff was the first to speak up, calling over to him from his spot at the couch. “Wow, that was quick! Or did you just miss us that much?” He grinned at his own teasing, enjoying the glare that Jotaro shot him.

“Shut up, Polnareff..” He grumbled as he allowed the holy corpse part to guide him. It led him over to his group and, understanding its meaning, Jotaro looked them over with a flick of his eyes. “Looks like you guys are coming with us, so get up- I literally can’t go without you.”

Polnareff grinned and jumped up to his feet. “Alright! I was getting tired of just sitting around, anyway.”

Kakyoin and Joseph stood up too, Joseph grabbing Iggy off of the back of the couch despite the growl of protest. “You’re coming too, get over it.”

Iggy’s response was another growl and an attempt at biting Joseph’s metal hand, but he calmed down after Joseph gave him a stick of gum and reluctantly allowed himself to be held as they were all transported outside of the turtle.

They were soon joined by Giorno and his gang outside, Narancia looking them over curiously. “It wants ALL of us? Wooooww, this must be a big one!”

“That can’t be good..” Fugo muttered.

Giorno joined Jotaro at the opening. “I agree with them- this is a bit strange and likely dangerous.”

Jotaro looked at the fissure in front of them seriously. “Yeah..” He didn’t like the feeling he got from this at all. At most the holy corpse usually only sent out one or two of them, never this many at a time. It made him feel uneasy but he did his best not to let it show as he stepped into the light with the others.

For a few moments, everything around him was blinding gold and he had to close his eyes until it passed. When everything finally settled down, he found himself in a familiar location.

“The Coliseum?” Trish asked from somewhere behind him while he was looking around. “Why would it bring us back here?”

He looked back at Giorno and the others, but, after doing a quick glance over them, noticed that someone who was normally very hard to miss was, in fact, missing. “Where’s Polnareff?”

After he pointed it out, everyone looked around in search of the large Frenchman.

“How..?” Abdul looked confused and worried, as Jotaro noticed he often did when it came to Polnareff. “He was right beside me when we went through..”

“It wouldn’t be the first time we’ve gotten separated going through there.” Joseph said while crossing his arms with a contemplative expression. “That’s why we had to start using the turtle in the first place- it made sure everyone stayed together..”

Kakyoin nodded in agreement. “He shouldn’t be far, though. The portals usually deposit us where and when we’re meant to be.”

“That is reassuring..” Abdul replied, though he didn’t look any less worried for Polnareff’s safety. “Still, I hope he doesn’t get into too much trouble…”

“Knowing Polnareff, that’s a pretty real possibility.” Joseph uncrossed his arms. “We’ll have to keep an eye out for him while-” Joseph stopped when he heard what sounded like metal scraping against metal nearby. “Huh? What the hell was that?”

Jotaro scowled slightly as he headed towards it. “Whatever it is, it’s probably why we’re here in the first place. We’ll look for Polnareff after we deal with it.”

While everyone was still worried about the missing Frenchman, they had more pressing matters to attend to for now- namely, finding out what brought them there in the first place.

They all rushed towards the sounds, hearing the bang of an occasional gun shot as they drew closer. When they arrived to the source, which was in the center of the coliseum, they saw three people fighting in the ancient arena.

Two were immediately recognizable as DIO’s henchmen: The lovely but conniving Mariah, and the cunning but cautious Hol Horse. Though it was very obviously them physically, there was something off about the way they were acting.

“Damn it! I can’t get off a shot like this! How the hell do you run around with all this weight?!” Mariah said while gesturing to her own top. Strangely, she was holding Hol Horse’s Emperor gun in her hand as she tried to fire it at their opponent.

Hol Horse shot her a glare as he touched the ground nearby. “Stop complaining, my chest isn’t that bad!” An electrical outlet appeared beneath his fingertips on the ground, sparking with electricity.

Mariah tried firing off another round, but the bullets seemed to have a mind of their own and flew off in random directions instead of hitting their target. “I was talkin’ about all the damn metal you keep in here! Seriously, why the hell would you walk around like this?! It’s heavy and I can’t move without somethin’ stabbin’ me!”

“I said stop complaining!” Hol Horse snapped while touching the ground to leave another outlet, effectively setting up a line of them to act as a trap. “Lord DIO wants that arrow, no matter the cost! If we fail him just because of your whining, then I’ll make sure you never get any use out of your ‘second gun’ again!”

Mariah shuddered and backed away as their target got closer. “You’re one heartless witch, y’ know that?”

Jotaro and his group were beyond confused by the verbal exchange, as well as what they were witnessing from Hol Horse and Mariah.

“What in the world is going on?” Abdul was the first to say what was on all of their minds, a look of confusion clear on his face. “I have fought against both of them in the past, and they are acting completely out of character. Not only are they behaving differently, but their stands have also switched users. How is that possible?”

Bucciarati looked at him with a worried expression. “Wait- did you just say that their stands were switched?”

Abdul nodded as he pointed to Mariah holding Emperor. “That is Hol Horse’s stand, the Emperor.” He then pointed to the electrical outlets that Hol Horse was leaving on the ground. “And that is Mariah’s stand, Bastet.”

Bucciarati looked like he was about to say something else, but his attention, as with Giorno and the others in their group, was suddenly stolen by a soft “kah” sound coming from the direction of the battle before them.

Jotaro looked at the third figure that had previously been obscured because of Mariah and Hol Horse’s angle: It appeared to be a man dressed in black- no. Upon closer inspection, it would be more accurate to say this “man” was completely black, meaning he seemed to be made of shadows. Everything on him, from his skin to his clothes to his very being was like looking at a walking, three-dimensional shadow with the only other color on it being its hollow white eyes and mouth whenever it opened it to reveal a similar whiteness. In its hand it tightly clutched a golden arrow, but it made no move to attack with it in any way.

“No..No way..!” Narancia gasped while staring at the dark figure. “It can’t be! Y-You guys said you beat him, right?!” He looked between Giorno, Bucciarati, Trish, and Mista.

“We did!” Trish confirmed, looking equally as terrified as the rest of her group (minus Fugo, who seemed a bit lost on what was going on). “Bucciarati finished him off!”

“Yeah!” Mista nodded, not taking his eyes off of the shadowy being. “We saw it disappear with our own eyes!”

Giorno looked away from the figure, glancing around as if he was searching for something. “The one from our timeline was defeated..but..there is another possibility..”

His words hung heavy in the air between him and his gang. Narancia looked around too, trying to spot something. “Wait, Giorno..you don’t mean..”

“I do.” Giorno confirmed Narancia’s fears with a serious expression. “Use Aerosmith- see if you can spot Polnareff anywhere nearby.”

Narancia nodded and summoned Aerosmith, having his stand fly high up into the air and begin circling the coliseum in a sweeping motion as it searched high and low.

“What does Polnareff have to do with this?” Jotaro asked while taking a step so he was directly in front of Giorno and looking down at him. “What exactly is that thing?”

Giorno frowned slightly before regaining his calm demeanor. “That is Polnareff’s stand: Silver Chariot Requiem.”

Everyone in Jotaro’s group, Jotaro included, were shocked by this news.

“THAT’S Silver Chariot?” Kakyoin said with a shocked expression. “How..? We’ve seen his stand hundreds of times- it looks nothing like that.”

“Not to mention it’s a fairly short-range stand.” Joseph added while looking back at the stand in question. “At most I’d call it a mid-range stand, but even that’s being generous. Polnareff should still be close enough that we could see him if that was actually Chariot.”

Giorno shook his head with a solemn expression. “You are correct, but, as I said, that is not merely Silver Chariot- that is Silver Chariot Requiem. This is Silver Chariot after it has been empowered by the arrow in its hand. Unfortunately, Polnareff is unable to control his stand when it is like this and it becomes autonomous- moving with the singular goal of protecting the arrow.”

“You guys seem to know a lot about it.” Jotaro looked down at Giorno with growing suspicion. “You fought it, didn’t you?”

“We did.” Giorno admitted while looking Jotaro dead in the eyes. “We had no choice in the matter, unfortunately- it was out of control and we needed to get the arrow from it to defeat Diavolo.”

“And what happened to Polnareff when you defeated his stand?” His eyes narrowed dangerously, looking like he might resort to violence depending on Giorno’s answer. “You guys said that Bucciarati ‘finished him off’ and that you ‘saw him disappear with your own eyes’. So, answer me..” He was practically looming over Giorno at this point. “What happened to Polnareff?”

To his credit, Giorno did not look intimidated by Jotaro’s towering figure in the slightest. “We did not hurt Polnareff.” Giorno chose his words carefully. “He asked us to stop his stand, since he was unable to. He thanked us after it was over.”

He was leaving parts out, that much was obvious. If a stand is damaged or destroyed, then the user will suffer the same injuries or die too- that was a truth that they had all come to learn over the course of their journey. To say that they defeated Polnareff’s stand to the point of it disappearing without harming Polnareff was suspicious, to say the least.

Before he had a chance to call Giorno out on it, though, their attention was drawn back to the fight. A loud gunshot was heard followed by “Mariah’s” voice yelling in pain.

“God damn it!” They looked back and saw that she had a bullet wound in her leg. “It’s no good! Emperor’s turnin’ on me when I use it!”

They then saw “Hol Horse” barely managing to dodge a spark of electricity from a nearby outlet. “Bastet isn’t listening either! We’ll fall back for now and contact Diavolo!”

The two then retreated, “Hol Horse” having to carry “Mariah” since her body was injured and unable to run.

Once they were gone, Narancia’s Aerosmith returned to him and he looked back at Giorno. “Hey, Giorno! I checked everywhere, but I didn’t see Polnareff anywhere on Aerosmith’s radar.”

Giorno brought a hand to his chin as he thought the information over. “Hm..I see..this is still a strange turn of events, but he may simply be outside of the coliseum at the moment.” He looked back towards Chariot as it continued its slow pace forward. “At any rate, we should leave Chariot alone for the time being. Its main focus is protecting the arrow, so as long as we don’t try to touch it, we should be safe.”

“……” Jotaro looked back at Chariot. He didn’t like the idea of leaving it like this, but he was more concerned with making sure that Polnareff was okay and keeping the rest of his group safe. “Fine. We’ll leave it for now- at least until we know Polnareff’s okay.” He started to walk away, following Giorno’s group since they knew the coliseum better than his own group did. He was stopped after a few steps, however, by a firm grip on his arm. “..?” He looked back over his shoulder and saw that Star Platinum had materialized behind him and was holding onto his arm while looking at Silver Chariot. “Star Platinum? What-?”

He soon saw that Star Platinum was not alone. Magician’s Red, The Fool, and Hierophant Green had also materialized and were looking at Silver Chariot Requiem alongside Star Platinum.

Before he could get the attention of the other stands’ users, he watched in stunned silence as Star Platinum opened its mouth and let out a loud cry while still looking at Silver Chariot Requiem. “ORA!!”

Everyone turned to look at Jotaro and his stand in surprise. Abdul and the others noticed their own stands out as well, him and Iggy looking as confused as Jotaro when Magician’s Red started letting out its loud screeching bird calls and The Fool began howling.

“Magician’s Red?!” Abdul tried to call back his stand, but it didn’t seem keen on obeying its master. “What?! This..This has never happened before- Magician’s Red has always listened to me!”

Iggy was barking at his stand, apparently trying to do the same as Abdul, but with the same results.

“Giorno!” Jotaro turned his head to look at the blonde. “What the hell’s going on?!”

Giorno, for once, looked completely at a loss for an explanation. “Silver Chariot Requiem has the power to control souls, as well as stands, but we’ve only ever seen that happen when one of us attempted to attack it. This..This is completely new..”

“Guys, I think we have a problem!” Trish said while pointing to the other side of the coliseum.

They looked at Silver Chariot Requiem and saw that it had actually stopped walking and was now staring directly at them with its emotionless gaze. “……” It turned so that its body was now facing the group and began walking directly towards them.

“It changed direction?!” Mista asked in a worried tone. “It’s never done that before! It’s always walked in a straight line and only turned long enough to grab the arrow! What the hell did your stands do?!”

“Don’t ask us.” Kakyoin shot back while looking at his Hierophant Green with a confused frown. “This is all as new to us as it is to you.”

“We need to get out of here.” Bucciarati said while looking towards the exit. “Silver Chariot Requiem is too dangerous to fight- any damage you try to inflict on it will be reflected back onto you. Not to mention it can regenerate as well as control both souls and stands. There is a way to defeat it, but I don’t know if it would be wise until we know where your Polnareff is..”

“Agreed.” Giorno said while using Golden Experience to open the nearest gate. “For now, our best option is still to retreat.”

They found their exit blocked, however, by a combination of thorny purple vines and green tendrils. All eyes turned to Kakyoin and Joseph, the older of the two staring at his hands in confusion as the purple vines grew from them seemingly without his consent. “What the hell?! I swear, I’m not doing this!”

“Neither am I..” Kakyoin said while looking at Hierophant Green’s lower half that had detangled into its strand-form before weaving with Hermit Purple’s vines at the exit. “It would seem our stands don’t want us to leave.”

“Damn it!” Mista swore while grabbing his gun from his pants and taking aim. “Looks like we’ve got no choice but to fight it. I’ll try hitting the things around it instead of attacking it directly- hopefully that’ll be enough to slow it down without Sex Pistols going crazy again. Fugo! Narancia! Back me up!”

The other two boys called out their stands as well. “Right!”

As the three of them began firing at the ground and objects around Silver Chariot to trip it up, Giorno looked to Bucciarati. “Bucciarati, see if you can open up a doorway with Sticky Fingers.”

“Got it.” Bucciarati said while summoning his own stand. “Sticky Fingers!” The stand appeared and went to one of the walls, forming a zipper on it and attempting to open its portal to the other side. Unfortunately, before they could make use of it, a red string of flames suddenly shot out and wrapped around Sticky Fingers. “Ah!” Bucciarati gasped when he felt the bind tightening around his stand, as well as himself.

They looked to see Magician’s Red, its arm outstretched as it used its Red Bind to keep Sticky Fingers from moving and opening the portal out of the coliseum.

“Bucciarati!” Trish summoned Spice Girl and the pink stand attempted to strike Magician’s Red, but was intercepted by The Fool and a barrier of sand. Spice Girl tried to soften the sand, but, as it was already a loose and shifty material, it did not do much good. “Damn it!”

“I’m okay, Trish!” Bucciarati got her attention, looking frustrated but otherwise unharmed. “It’s only restraining me, so don’t worry. Try creating a soft spot in the wall for us to break through. Giorno, cover her!”

They both nodded and went to their assigned tasks. When Trish rushed to one of the walls and started to soften it using Spice Girl, The Fool attempted to pursue her. Giorno and Golden Experience stood in its way, however, and proved to be a much better opponent against the animal-like stand.

The Fool howled as it tried to knock them over with a small wave of sand, but it failed due to Golden Experience’s power: Sand is technically inorganic, so, when Golden Experience touched it with its ability, it was able to convert the sand into simple green leaves and flower petals that flew away harmlessly in the breeze.

It growled and continued trying to attack the pair to get to Trish and Spice Girl, ignoring Iggy’s annoyed barking at it.

Jotaro watched the chaos around him unfurl without being able to do anything about it. Nothing was making sense here! Their stands had turned on them, they couldn’t recall them or command them in any way, Polnareff was missing, and Silver Chariot Requiem was getting closer by the second. It had been a while since he felt so powerless and he was racking his brain in an attempt to find a way out of this situation, but nothing was coming to him.

“It’s getting closer!” Mista called while stepping closer to the group with Fugo and Narancia. He looked back at them with a serious expression. “Look, I know you guys may not like to hear this, but we’re running out of time here- we need to destroy Silver Chariot Requiem!”

Abdul, who had previously been preoccupied with attempting to regain control of his stand, turned his attention instead to Mista. “No! We still do not know where Polnareff is and what will happen to him if his stand is destroyed in this state!”

Mista held up one of his hands. “Look at yourselves!” The hand he held up had started to peel apart in certain spots, revealing some sort of secondary body growing beneath it. Startled by his exclamation, Jotaro and the others looked at themselves, as well as Giorno’s group, to see that they were all starting to show similar symptoms- as if something was attempting to grow from within their bodies. “This is what Silver Chariot Requiem is capable of! It may not be doing it on purpose, but if we don’t destroy it, then we’ll be completely switched with something from another world!” He glanced over his shoulder as if he was looking for something that no one else could see. “Bucciarati found Silver Chariot Requiem’s weakness before: There’s a light that’s casting a shadow behind it in a way that anyone looking at it will always see it facing away from them. The source of the light is attached to the soul, so, if you look behind you, you should see a ball of light. If you crush it, it’ll destroy Silver Chariot Requiem and undo all of the damage it’s done.” He grabbed something from behind his shoulder and tensed in preparation to break it.

“No!!!” Abdul shouted and ran up, tackling Mista and forcing the boy to release his grip on what he was holding. “I will not allow you to harm Silver Chariot until we know that Polnareff is safe!!”

Mista struggled against Abdul’s strong grip. “If Silver Chariot’s in its Requiem form, then Polnareff’s probably dead already!”

Abdul froze, eyes widening slightly. “What..? Polnareff is..?” He shook his head. “No! His stand is still here, so he must be alive somewhere!”

“Some stands can survive after their users die! We’ve seen it happen before!” Mista managed to take advantage of Abdul’s brief moment of worry over Polnareff’s life and worked a leg in between them, using it to shove Abdul off enough that he could free himself. “Sorry! But I’m not planning on dying or turning into whatever’s taking over our bodies!” He reached behind himself and attempted to grab what he’d gotten before.

“Magician’s Red!!” Abdul shouted with anger blazing in his eyes. To everyone’s surprise, his stand finally turned to him in recognition. “Red Bind!” Abdul called out his command while pointing at Mista.

The fiery bird stand actually obeyed him and raised its unoccupied hand, firing off a second binding rope of red flames that wrapped around Mista.

“What?!” Mista struggled against the ropes that had him trapped, Sex Pistols even trying to tug them off but the tiny stands weren’t strong enough. “How the hell-?!”

Abdul stood and stared down at him with a piercing gaze, Magician’s Red moving to stand behind him as it usually did. “I was willing to give my life to save Polnareff before- I will gladly do it again. That is still his stand- it is as much a part of him as Magician’s Red is a part of me! Neither of us will allow you to harm them!” Magician’s Red echoed its user’s words with a loud shrieking-birdlike cry, flames erupting behind the pair menacingly.

“Abdul..” Jotaro watched his friend’s reaction for a moment, confused and intrigued about how Abdul seemingly regained control of Magician’s Red if it was truly being controlled by Silver Chariot Requiem.

“Ah! Hey! Stop it!” Jotaro turned his head and saw that Iggy had stopped his barking at The Fool, and had instead moved over to where Trish and Spice Girl were still working on softening a hole in the wall- the work was taking a while as the stone was very old and one wrong move could make the entire wall collapse before it had time to soften. Iggy had bitten Trish’s skirt and was pulling it in an attempt to drag her away. “Let go!” She tried pulling her skirt back from the dog’s mouth, but he kept a firm grip with his teeth. “What’s gotten into you?!”

“Grrr!” Iggy growled, barking around the fabric in his mouth. “Rrrf! Rrr! Arrf!” (Translation: “He’s right! Polnareff’s around here somewhere, we can’t just leave him!”)

Once again, everyone was surprised when The Fool suddenly dissolved into sand before reappearing behind Iggy with a protective growl. It formed a shield of sand over the area that Trish and Spice Girl had been working so hard on, stopping them from further affecting the area.

“Iggy..” Jotaro looked between the dog and the Egyptian, feeling like all the pieces were suddenly coming together. He tuned out the arguing that had started between his group and Giorno’s about what to do next and instead looked up at his own stand. Star Platinum was still watching Silver Chariot Requiem and had a firm grip on Jotaro’s arm. Looking closer at its hand as he moved, though, Jotaro saw that Star Platinum was only preventing him from moving towards the exit, not when he moved towards Silver Chariot Requiem. He then looked up to his stand’s expression- it was serious as usual, but it also looked oddly..concerned..maybe even worried as it looked at the approaching dark figure that was once its friend- “…!” Jotaro blinked as the realization finally struck him. “Shut up..” He said once, but no one could hear him over their own shouting. “EVERYONE SHUT THE HELL UP!” He yelled firmly above the roar of voices, everyone instantly doing just that as they turned to look at the teenager. Jotaro moved his arm out of Star Platinum’s hold, his stand allowing it as it read his intentions. “Our stands aren’t being controlled by Silver Chariot- they’re trying to help it.”

Kakyoin looked at his Hierophant Green with a tilt of his head. “Are you sure, Jotaro? I’ve never seen Hierophant Green behave like this before.”

Jotaro glanced over his shoulder at Kakyoin. “Have you ever argued with yourself about whether what you were doing was right or wrong? Or doubted yourself so much that you weren’t sure what you wanted?”

“Not particularly, no.” Kakyoin thought while tapping a finger to his chin. “I’m usually fairly certain of my own actions. Why?”

“Our stands are a manifestation of our will, right?” Jotaro looked back up at Star Platinum. “I didn’t always command Star Platinum- he used to move around on his own, but he still did whatever I wanted, even if I didn’t know what I wanted. He’s always done that because that’s what stands do: They move according to our will, not just our thoughts.” He looked back to Silver Chariot Requiem, the stand now only about 20 feet away. “Regardless of what it looks like, that’s still Silver Chariot. It’s still Polnareff’s stand and we don’t want to leave it or Polnareff behind..or let them get hurt.” He started to walk forward towards the stand, more layers of his skin peeling away to reveal eyes and muscles and other body parts forming underneath. “Our stands figured that out before we did- that’s why they wouldn’t let us leave.”

Joseph looked at Jotaro with a serious expression. “Jotaro…” He followed Jotaro’s lead, Hermit Purple retracting and allowing him to follow his grandson. “I hope you’re right about this.”

They were soon joined by Kakyoin, Abdul, and Iggy, each member of the group being followed by their respective stands. The closer they got, the more deformed they became, but they all ignored it in favor of reaching Silver Chariot Requiem.

When they finally reached it, their stands floated past them to gather around Silver Chariot Requiem. The Fool nudged at Chariot’s leg with its head in a typical gesture of animal affection. Hermit Purple began to very loosely wrap around Chariot’s legs as it walked, connecting with it but not hindering it in any way. Hierophant Green and Star Platinum each gave one of its shoulders a slight squeeze as it walked by them. Magician’s Red, being the last one that it passed, made a soft cooing noise and carefully grasped its free hand for a moment, nuzzling its head into Chariot’s shoulder. Chariot spared it a look that somehow felt softer than its usual blank gaze before Magician’s Red released its hand and allowed it to take the final step to Jotaro and the others.

“……” Silver Chariot Requiem stared at them with its empty white eyes for a while before raising the hand that clutched the arrow. It looked at Jotaro expectantly as it held its hand out and Jotaro understood its silent request. He held his own hand out underneath it and the stand carefully placed the arrow in his waiting palm. Once Jotaro curled his fingers around the arrow to hold onto it, the shadowy stand’s once expressionless face relaxed into a calm but tired smile. It opened its mouth and they heard a faint, raspy voice speak- it sounded like the voice they’d hear when Silver Chariot would shout “Hora hora hora!”, but breathier and without the metallic echo. “Mi..ssion..com..plete…”

It closed its eyes and its body began to dissolve into tiny sparks of white light, starting at its feet and slowly working its way up towards its head. As it disappeared, the tiny lights floated around Jotaro and the others and they all began to hear Polnareff’s voice like distant echoes through the small sparks.

“I..I’m done..I can’t go any further..”

“Chariot..you..have to complete my mission..”

“Please..this arrow..it’s..too dangerous..”

“You have to protect it..”

“Don’t let anyone else take it..”

“Jotaro..Mr.Joestar..my friends..please..get it to my friends..!”

“Get it to my friends..”

“Protect it..”

“Don’t let anyone take it..”

“My friends..”

Everyone’s bodies returned to normal as the last of the lights faded away into nothingness, the last thing they saw of Silver Chariot being its calm smile.

All of them were shocked by what they’d heard. Pain pierced them from the strength of Polnareff and Silver Chariots’ convictions. But, what shook them the most was the haunting thought of what those words really meant…

Jotaro’s head was tilted down as he led his group back over to Giorno’s gang on the sidelines, the shadow of his hat over his head obscuring his eyes and leaving only his mouth set in a hard line visible. “……” The other members of his group all had a similar look about them, their eyes hidden in shadow and faces tense with clenched fists at their sides. When they reached Giorno’s gang, Jotaro was the first one to speak. “Tell us the truth. Now.”

Giorno stepped forward for his group to speak on their behalf. “We already told you-” Giorno was suddenly knocked onto his back by Jotaro’s fist slamming into his cheek. “!!”

“Giorno!” Mista was quick to rush to Giorno’s side and check on him, kneeling down to help him sit up.

“H-Hey! What the hell was that for?!” Narancia tried to sound defensive and angry, but it came off as scared when speaking earned him a warning growl from Iggy.

“I’m tired of your bullshit.” Jotaro walked over to where he’d knocked Giorno over.

Mista tried shielding his friend with his body while looking up at Jotaro. “We didn’t lie about Polnareff! I swear!” Star Platinum grabbed Mista and held him away from Giorno while Jotaro leaned down and roughly picked the younger teen up by the front of his jacket. “Giorno!”

The other members of Giorno’s gang tried to get to him, but were blocked by Jotaro’s group, each one of them looking as angry as Jotaro about the situation.

Jotaro stood to his full height, easily lifting Giorno off the ground with one arm and scowling up at him. “You may not have lied, but you sure as hell didn’t tell the truth, either. Now..” He grit his teeth for a moment, his hand tightening in a white-knuckled grip on Giorno’s shirt before looking up at Giorno again with a hard glare. “You’re gonna tell us why we just heard what sounded like our friend’s dying thoughts!!” He gave Giorno a rough shake, his other hand clenched tightly around the arrow. “You said that you defeated Silver Chariot, but you never once said what happened to Polnareff. You know, though, don’t you? You’ve been hiding it since the first time you saw him, always looking at him like he was some sort of ticking time bomb about to go off..” He lowered Giorno just enough to barely stand on the ground- just enough that he’d be able to talk properly. “So, talk- was he your enemy?”

“No.” Giorno answered while meeting Jotaro’s hard gaze unflinchingly, even as a dark bruise began to form on his cheek from the punch he was given earlier. “It’s the opposite: Polnareff was an invaluable ally. He was the one that told us the true secret of the arrow’s power, as well as the one to finally figure out the truth about Diavolo’s identity. Without him, we never would have been able to defeat Diavolo. We were nervous about his stand because we knew how powerful and uncontrollable it could become, but we consider Polnareff our friend.”

“Then what happened to him?” Jotaro pressed on, knowing that Giorno was still withholding information. “What happened to him when Silver Chariot Requiem appeared?”

“……” Giorno glanced away, his calm expression faltering for a moment before he took in a deep breath, exhaled it slowly, then finally said the words they had all obviously been avoiding out loud. “He died.”

Magician’s Red began to spark up with flames swirling around it as Abdul narrowed his eyes at Giorno dangerously. “How?”

“Diavolo killed him for knowing the truth about his identity.” Giorno elaborated while glancing in Abdul’s direction, Jotaro’s grip preventing him from turning completely. “As a final act to prevent Diavolo from getting the arrow, he had Silver Chariot stab itself to unleash its full power. By that time, though, his body was already dead-”

“So..” Jotaro cut him off, his glare not softening at all. “What you’re telling me..is that you KNEW how Polnareff was going to die..and you didn’t bother warning him about it?”

Giorno looked as if he felt slightly guilty for half a second before he regained his calm expression. “We were concerned with how he would take the truth about what happened to him-”

Once again, Jotaro stopped Giorno with a firm punch to the cheek, managing not to stab him with the arrow in the process. “Bullshit! I told you to stop lying!!”

“Please, stop!” Trish pleaded with him. She tried moving closer, but was blocked by Kakyoin and Hierophant Green. She looked up at him beseechingly. “He’s telling the truth! We weren’t sure how he’d react to the truth, so we agreed to keep it a secret- that way he wouldn’t panic!”

Kakyoin gave her a cold glare as Hierophant Green loomed behind him like an imposing shadow. “Why don’t you just come out and say why you REALLY kept it a secret: You were afraid of what would happen to your timeline, weren’t you?” The way Trish froze up and was unable to reply right away was all the answer that they needed. “You were scared that if Polnareff knew the truth about how he died, then he wouldn’t come to Italy and you would all die instead when you lost.”

Bucciarati stepped out in front of Trish protectively, Sticky Fingers floating behind him as backup. “It was a reasonable fear to have. We lost much in our fight against Diavolo, and we stood to lose even more if we failed. The timeline as a whole could have been damaged by-”

“Get off your god-damn high-horse!” Joseph suddenly cut him off and stepped forward, jabbing a finger into Bucciarati’s chest and paying no mind to his stand at all. “The timeline’s been fucked up long before any of us even got involved! I’m going around interacting with a younger version of myself, I’ve met my grandfather and uncle when they were both younger than me, and events in my past happened weeks ahead of schedule! Hell, half the people here are supposed to be dead, just like you, but I don’t see you offing yourself to protect Jolyne’s timeline!” He glared at the young capo, his eyes showing no mercy or tolerance for Bucciarati’s words. “I stopped my best friend from running off and getting himself killed because I didn’t want my younger self to live through the same pain that I did. Yeah, sure, I was scared of how it would affect my time line- hell, if Caesar lived I may not have had the resolve needed to win against the Pillar Men and Jotaro may have never been born- but I still chose to save my friend’s life. If any one of you actually considered Polnareff a friend, you’d have done the same ages ago!”

“He’s right.” Jotaro said while glaring at Giorno. “For weeks you’ve all gotten to sit around, share a room, eat, talk, and laugh with Polnareff, all while thinking about how he’d die and not saying a damn thing about it. Now it might be too late and there’s a chance that our Polnareff is dead because you decided to keep your damn secrets and save your own asses. You might as well be accessories to his murder..” He tossed Giorno to the ground roughly before turning his back on him. “Guess you had more of your old man in you then I thought.”

Giorno had started to sit up after being tossed aside, but he froze when he heard Jotaro say those words. “……” He looked back down at the ground, saying nothing, but the way he hung his head spoke volumes to how deeply Jotaro’s words had cut him.

“Let’s go.” Jotaro said while heading towards the exit. “We’re gonna go find Polnareff. The rest of you can do whatever the hell you want, just stay out of our way.”

Kakyoin and the rest of his group followed Jotaro out of the coliseum, leaving behind Giorno’s gang to mull over what just happened.

“…” Abdul was the first to speak once they were outside of the old building. “Do you think that Polnareff..could he actually be..dead..?” He seemed uncomfortable with saying it out loud- hell, all of them were uncomfortable with the idea of it, but they all knew how close Abdul was to Polnareff and they understood his worry for the other man.

“He’ll be around here somewhere.” Jotaro replied after a minute. “One way or another, we’ll find him.” They didn’t come this far, go through all this hell to finally get their group back together, just to lose someone yet again. No matter the cost, they WOULD find Polnareff.

Iggy suddenly stopped and sniffed the air. “???” He walked away from them, sniffing along the ground. His ears perked up and he started barking. “Arf! Arf! Arf!” He looked back at the others before taking off towards the town. (Translation: “I smell something! This way!”)

Jotaro and the others trusted Iggy’s sense of smell and direction, so they followed the small dog into town. It didn’t take long for them to hear the sounds of a fight (things breaking, bodies being tossed about, etc.) coming from a vacant street.

They arrived to see a figure that Jotaro recognized from his fights alongside Giorno’s group: A man with pink hair in a mesh top by the name of Diavolo. This was the mob boss of Passione that Giorno and the others had worked so hard to defeat.

This was also the man they were told would one day kill Polnareff…

“You can’t hide forever!” Diavolo called while looking around, his back currently turned to Jotaro’s group and unaware of their presence yet. “I defeated your worthless stand when it was ten times stronger- this version is nothing against the power of my King Crimson!” He was suddenly blindsided by a wooden crate that was thrown at him from the side while he had his head turned in the opposite direction. “!!” He stumbled slightly but quickly righted himself and attempted to look at the alleyway the box came from, but it was already empty. “Come out already, you cowardly French rat!!”

“I think not, mon ami.” A familiar voice called tauntingly in a way that echoed around the area, making it impossible to pinpoint its exact location. “See, I’ve been warned about what your stand can do and what its range is, so I’m not taking any chances.” To accompany his words, a potted plant was suddenly thrown at Diavolo.

Unfortunately, Diavolo saw it coming that time and was suddenly in a different location than before, the plant now lying broken on the ground where he previously was. “Then your plan is to hide in the darkness and throw things like a child? Pathetic! At least when I fought you before, you had the decency to die like a man!”

“So sorry to disappoint you.” The voice called back. “But I’m not planning on dying today!” Jotaro and the others caught a glint of silver on a roof top before it ducked away again.

“That voice..” Abdul said quietly.

“Yeah..” Kakyoin nodded while looking around. “There’s no doubting it..”

“Looks like we got here just in time.” Jotaro started walking towards Diavolo. “Let’s lend him a hand.”

He gestured for Kakyoin to circle around and get in position at a close enough distance from Diavolo before nodding towards Polnareff’s voice while looking at his grandfather and Abdul, telling them to try finding him. They nodded and ran off quietly to their assigned positions. Meanwhile, Iggy jumped up onto Jotaro’s shoulder, already guessing what Jotaro would want from him and not complaining for once.

Once Kakyoin was in position, he called out his stand and tried using the Hierophant’s tendrils to bind Diavolo. He seemed to know what was about to happen, though, and he was up in the air above where he just was, looking as if he had disappeared and reappeared before they even had time to blink.

He looked at the trio with a scowl. “Damn it..more rats crawling out to cause trouble..”

Jotaro was the one to approach him with Iggy on his shoulder while Kakyoin stayed back, all of them glaring at Diavolo. “Normally I’d ignore something like that and give you an option to back off before using Star Platinum to beat the shit out of you.” He held up his hand that was still clutching the arrow. “But we just found out that you caused some trouble for one of our friends- so we’re gonna skip the warning and go straight to the part where you get your ass kicked!”

Iggy followed his lead perfectly and summoned The Fool behind Diavolo. The stand quickly transformed into a wall of sand that spread outward, blocking Diavolo’s main route for retreat.

Jotaro wasn’t 100% sure what Diavolo’s stand could do, but he had enough information for a vague idea: It was a powerful and close-range stand, meaning that it wouldn’t be able to touch him till he got within at least 5 meters, so he’d have to wait until the last possible moment to strike. It also seemed to have some sort of perception ability, since Diavolo was able to avoid Kakyoin’s binding attack even without being seen. His final bit of information came from what he’d heard about Diavolo’s fight with Giorno- his power was similar to DIO’s in that it affected time.

With all of that in mind, he charged forward with Star Platinum. The stand looked just as angry as its user, both clearly ready to beat the pink haired man to death for what he did to their friend. It let out a loud “ORA ORA ORA ORA!!” when it was close enough to fire off a barrage of punches.

Just as Jotaro predicted, however, the fists missed their target and the man was suddenly a few feet away. He scowled as his back hit the wall of sand behind him, his eyes searching for a way around the barrier but apparently finding none. “Damn it! I don’t have time for this!” He had his stand out now- an angry looking red spirit with a white face and an odd pink growth with a second face on its forehead. “It was a mistake coming here without Giovanna and his group- you left behind the only person ever able to defeat me.” Diavolo said with a sneer. “Without him, even five against one, you won’t be able to touch me!”

“Only five against one?” A voice called out from a distance behind the sand wall. “Wow, that crate must have hit you harder than I thought- you’ve forgotten how to count!”

Jotaro saw something silver begin to pierce through the barrier of sand right behind Diavolo. Diavolo seemed to be aware of it too and looked like he was preparing to dodge it.

Seeing his opportunity, Jotaro activated Star Platinum’s trump card. “Star Platinum: The World!!” There was that familiar, odd feeling of everything freezing around him. He didn’t take the time to dwell on it, though, since his window of opportunity was limited.

He and his stand moved quickly, closing the distance between himself and Diavolo. He grabbed onto Diavolo himself while punching him in one of the legs with Star Platinum.

Time resumed and Jotaro felt Diavolo try to move in his grasp. The silver thing was no longer piercing through the wall of sand, but was now embedded in Diavolo’s side- it was the blade from Silver Chariot’s rapier. Jotaro didn’t even see it move after he let time resume, so that meant that Diavolo must have used his stand’s own ability right after Jotaro did before he even had time to register what happened.

“!!” Diavolo looked at Jotaro, his stand, and the wound in his side with a shocked expression. “Impossible! How-?!”

Jotaro held tight while his stand prepared for a point-blank barrage. “I guess DIO didn’t tell you- he’s not the only one that can stop time.”

“ORA!!” Star Platinum cried while surging forward with a punch aimed right at Diavolo’s face.

“Jotaro! Behind you!” He heard Kakyoin call to him and saw something from the corner of his eye dodging through the tendrils of Kakyoin’s stand.

Before he had time to respond, someone tackled him from behind and grabbed him. “?!”

Surprised, he turned his head to see what looked to be an exact replica of himself grabbing him in the same way that he had grabbed Diavolo. The replica even had the same expression on its face..except..it seemed to have a digital timer on its forehead? What was going on?

The timer on the fake Jotaro’s forehead ran out and it changed shape with a clicking sound similar to a phone hanging up and a weird distorted effect around its body- like looking at the static from a TV set stuck between channels before settling on a proper signal. It revealed itself to be a stand. A humanoid one with a purple and white color scheme and eyes that reminded Jotaro of the speakers on a cassette player.

Taking advantage of Jotaro’s surprise and confusion, the stand in question used the hold it had on Jotaro to toss him away from Diavolo. “!!” The distance forced him to call back Star Platinum and release the wounded man.

“Jotaro!” Kakyoin caught him and Iggy using Hierophant Green and set them down on the ground, keeping his eyes on the duo in front of them and eyeing the new stand cautiously. “Anyone you know?”

“No.” Jotaro said while also eyeing the stand in question.

“Of course you wouldn’t recognize my Moody Blues- you haven’t been to Italy yet.” A voice said from somewhere above them.

“!!” Looking up at a nearby building, they saw someone watching them from the second floor balcony.

Seated casually on the railing and looking down at the fighters below was a man dressed in black with long white hair. He had a dark aura around him, similar to what Kakyoin and many of their other allies had while being controlled by DIO.

Diavolo glared up at the man above him while removing Silver Chariot’s rapier from his still bleeding wound. “You certainly took your time..”

“I do not work for you, Diavolo.” The man stated with a scowl on his painted lips. “The only one I answer to-” He tipped himself forward to fall off of the balcony, the purple stand- presumably his own- catching him and setting him down on the ground in front of it. “-is the one who will cleanse my past.”

“Great, one more headache to deal with..” Jotaro glared at the newcomer disdainfully.

“Jotaro!” They all heard Polnareff’s voice calling from somewhere above them. “Don’t hurt him- he’s with Bucciarati’s gang!”

Jotaro glanced up towards the other man’s voice, narrowing his eyes a bit when he couldn’t see the source up there. “How did he..?” He looked back over to Diavolo and his unwitting accomplice. “Guess it doesn’t matter right now. Think you can handle the new guy on your own?”

He didn’t need to say anything more for Kakyoin to know that Jotaro was talking to him. “His stand’s a bit odd, but nothing I can’t handle.”

“Good.” The taller teen adjusted his hat, his usual serious look on his face as he returned his focus to Diavolo. “Now, let’s try this again.”

In perfect sync, the trio of stand users went on the offensive. Kakyoin attacked the unknown stand user with Hierophant Green, attempting to wrap him up in his stand’s long limbs. With a wave of his hand, though, the stranger’s stand moved in front of him and transformed into a version of Star Platinum with a timer on its head- the imitation stand repeating the barrage of punches that the real one had attempted to use on Diavolo earlier and using the motions to knock away the green tendrils.

Meanwhile, Iggy summoned The Fool behind Diavolo again and created another wall of sand to block his possible exit. With his path blocked off, Jotaro called out Star Platinum and had him use his “Star Finger” attack in an attempt to keep some distance between them. Diavolo’s own stand appeared and, once again, he was able to dodge the attack with ease. He even avoided the spears made of sand that The Fool launched out from the wall behind him, proving too slippery for them to land a clean hit without getting closer.

Preparing himself to do just that, Jotaro noticed something out of the corner of his eye near one of the buildings, something metallic like gleaming silver- Ah.

“Yare yare daze..he always likes to put on a show, doesn’t he?” Jotaro tried to keep his face neutral, eyeing the rapier that had been tossed to the ground by Diavolo’s feet. “Oi, Iggy.” He nodded towards the abandoned blade once the dog was looking at it. “Fetch.”

“Grrrr..hmph..” The slight growl that Iggy gave, accompanied by the shift in his stance, seemed to say “I’m not your pet…but I guess I’ll play along this time.” With a bark, Iggy commanded The Fool to return to its usual form, the animal-like stand grabbing the rapier between its teeth and attempting to dash away with it.

“King Crimson!” Diavolo called his stand and the angry red faced being appeared instantly. It attempted to beat The Fool down with its speed and strength, but was surprised when its fists only broke away sand. “What?! The stand doesn’t just manipulate sand- it’s MADE of sand as well?!” Before he could do anything with his newfound revelation, The Fool moved outside of King Crimson’s range. “Damn it!” His attempts to follow it were impeded by purple vines that suddenly wrapped themselves around his feet. “?!!”

“Hey now, you weren’t thinking of leaving, were ya?” The voice of the vine-stand’s owner asked as he came into view. Joseph smirked at the crime lord, pointing back towards Jotaro. “You haven’t finished playing with my grandson yet!”

“Yare yare..” Jotaro approached Diavolo with Star Platinum at his side. “Jiji, don’t talk about this like I’m a little kid on a playdate.” In his peripheral vision, he could see Magician’s Red assisting Hierophant Green against the other stand user- the fire attacks of Abdul’s stand being much harder for Moody Blues to counter or copy and leaving it wide open for Hierophant Green to tie it up. “If we’re gonna treat it like anything, let’s make it a game.” Once he was within five meters, he had Star Platinum prepare his attack. “How about my stand’s favorite game?” The stand began to surge forward with a punch right on Jotaro’s next word. “TAG.”

“ORA!!” Star Platinum shouted as its fist swung right at Diavolo’s face.

“King Crimson!” As expected, Diavolo used his own stand’s abilities to dodge the attack and slip out of Hermit Purple’s vines. “Your attacks are useless against me! As long as I can see what’s about to happen, my King Crimson is invincible!”

“Oh yeah?” Polnareff’s voice called from above them. “I bet you won’t see THIS coming!”

“!!” Diavolo looked up towards the building, preparing for an attack from above. “You won’t hit me with that tw-”

“Star Platinum: The World!” Jotaro said quietly, activating his stand’s ability and freezing time once more. He moved quickly, getting everything in position before letting time resume.

“-ice!” Diavolo finished his sentence from earlier. As he prepared to dodge, though, he found a wall of sand quickly springing up in front of him again. “When did-?!”

“HORA HORA HORA HORA!!” A familiar cry to the crusaders sounded through the air as a silver rapier swiftly slashed and stabbed into Diavolo multiple times from behind.

“!!!!!” Diavolo gasped, soon coughing up blood from the assault. “Impossible- nothing can escape my Epitaph’s predictions!” He managed to turn his head enough to see Silver Chariot in all its gleaming glory standing behind him. “H..How..?!”

Jotaro pulled his hat down slightly as he explained everything. “Your stand lets you see into the future and jump ahead of it, right? That’s one scary ability..if it didn’t come with such a big weakness.” He looked down into Diavolo’s eyes as he said the other’s weakness aloud. “You can’t see what happens if time is paused. Your stand couldn’t predict it earlier when Star Platinum broke your leg, messing up whatever future you saw where you avoided Silver Chariot’s attack. Then, just now, you couldn’t see me bringing the others closer, throwing off whatever prediction you got before I stopped time.” Star Platinum grabbed Diavolo by his arm, the other too injured now to properly escape again. “Let this be a lesson to you and everyone else you work with..” He glared at Diavolo, looking him right in the eyes with a more intimidating energy than should have been possible for a teenager going up against a mob boss. “Don’t ever challenge us- past, present, or future.”

“ORA ORA ORA ORA ORA ORAAAA!!!” Star Platinum cried as he delivered a barrage of strikes against the pink haired man that nearly matched Silver Chariot’s earlier attack in speed and precision, all culminating in a fierce uppercut that sent Diavolo flying far into the distance and crashing through several buildings. “ORAAAA!!!!!”

“Très bien, Jotaro!” A voice laughed from behind Silver Chariot. The stand soon disappeared to reveal its owner, Jean-Pierre Polnareff, smiling at his comrades with one of his usual bright grins. “I knew you’d come up with something good in the end!”

Abdul’s face lit up with a smile nearly as bright as the Frenchman’s upon seeing him in the flesh. “Polnareff!” He ran towards the other man, leaving Kakyoin to watch with an understanding smile from where he stood beside his own stand (which had the unnamed and unconscious stand-user tied up securely).

“Abdul! Good to see you too, mon ami-” His greeting was halted when Polnareff found himself being firmly embraced by the Egyptian. “Huh? Abdul??” He looked to his companion in confusion- while he himself was undoubtedly a very physical person and had trouble understanding boundaries at times, Abdul wasn’t usually so forward unless the situation called for it (such as restraining one of them to prevent a violent altercation). “Abdul, what’s going on? I know I disappeared for a bit, but I couldn’t help it! The stupid portal spit me out over here and I tried to find you, but I couldn’t, and then that Diavolo bastard showed up, and-”

“You’re alive..” Abdul said quietly as he clutched to the tall-haired man like he might disappear if he relented his grip in any capacity. “You’re ALIVE…” He repeated, holding on just a little bit tighter.

“Eh?? Of course I’m alive.” Polnareff put one arm around his friend, leaning his head back enough to look him in the eyes. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

“After we saw what happened to your stand at the coliseum, we thought something might’ve happened to you.” Joseph explained while walking closer to the rest of the group.

“My stand?” Polnareff still looked confused as he summoned said stand. “Silver Chariot’s fine, what are-?” He stopped and blinked, his eyes going wide as a thought seemingly struck him from out of the blue. “Ohhhh, I get it now!” He patted Abdul twice on the back to make him let go before running off towards one of the buildings. “I’ll be right back!”

“Yare yare, where is he going now?” Jotaro tried to sound annoyed, but, to the others who were familiar with his mannerisms by now, they could see from his posture and the slight upturn of his lips that just barely peeked out from behind his collar that he was just as relieved as the rest of them to find their missing member safe and sound. Turning his attention to Kakyoin and his knocked-out captive, Jotaro walked over to the pair. “So, what do we do with him?”

“Polnareff said he was with Giorno’s group, right?” Joseph joined his grandson in looking over their prisoner. “If that’s the case, he’s probably being controlled like the others were.”

“Which means you could fix him with your piece of the holy corpse.” Abdul suggested.

“True..” Kakyoin looked down at the man being held by his Hierophant with a mild look of disdain that wasn’t necessarily directed at their prisoner. “But it’s not like we owe them anything after what they’ve done.”

“I get where you’re coming from,” Joseph sighed, scratching his head under his hat. “But it’s not like this guy was a part of it.”

Abdul folded his arms and looked to Jotaro. “In the end, the decision is not ours to make. What do you think, Jotaro?”

Jotaro looked down at the unconscious silver haired man as he mentally weighed his options. On the one hand, Kakyoin was right- after the way Giorno and his group had kept secrets from them about Polnareff’s fate and been so willing to potentially kill him earlier, they hadn’t exactly earned any favors from Jotaro. On the other hand, though, his grandfather was also right- whoever this guy was, he hadn’t been a part of any of that and it probably wasn’t fair to punish him for what his team did when he hadn’t even been there for it.

What finally motivated his decision, though, was glancing around to his friends- to Kakyoin, Abdul, and Iggy, who’d all been lost to them at one point and brought back as puppets against their will. In the end, NO ONE deserved that.

With that in mind, Jotaro reached into his jacket, pulled out his piece of the holy corpse, and held it out towards the unconscious man. “If we don’t deal with him now, he’ll just be another pain in the ass later.” Just like usual, the corpse piece glowed and its light dispelled the darkness surrounding the stand user.

“Nhh..” The man in question slowly opened his eyes and looked around in confusion, Kakyoin recalling his stand so the man could get to his feet. “Where am I? Wait…is this…Rome..? How did I..? Ah!” He gasped, his eyes going wide as he recalled something urgent. “That’s right! I have to find Bucciarati!”

“If you’re looking for him, he’s probably still at the coliseum with Giorno and the others.” Kakyoin gestured in the general direction of the aforementioned building.

“!!” The longer haired man finally took notice of the others around him and assumed a defensive position, his stand soon appearing to further protect him. “Who are you and how do you know about Bucciarati and Giorno?”

“We’re..” Jotaro almost said friends, but stopped himself. The title didn’t feel right anymore after what had happened earlier. “On the same side as them.” That answer seemed more accurate.

“And I’m just supposed to trust that you’re telling me the truth?” The man’s defensive stance did not waver even slightly.

“If I may?” Kakyoin cleared his throat to get the suspicious man’s attention before speaking again. “We’ve been forced to spend quite a bit of time with them in a fairly small location, so I’ve picked up a few things: Bucciarati’s favorite movie is ‘The Postman’. Mista has a superstition around the number four that boarders on a phobia. Narancia’s favorite drink is orange juice and he is terrible at basic math for his age. Fugo has stabbed Narancia in the face with a fork before and they both still argue about it. Giorno enjoys music by Jeff Beck-”

“Okay, that’s enough.” The man’s posture finally relaxed. “You convinced me the moment you mentioned Bucciarati’s favorite movie- he only admits that in friendly conversations.” He allowed his stand to disappear for the time being. “My name is Abbacchio. Now, you said Bucciarati and the others were back by the coliseum?”

“That is where we last saw them, yes.” Abdul replied with a shrug. “However, that was quite some time ago.”

“Well, I can just track their movements, even if they did leave.” Abbacchio started to walk in the indicated direction right as Polnareff returned.

The Frenchman ran up to the group, panting to catch his breath while holding something behind his back. “Sorry, I just didn’t want to leave this behind!” He grinned as he began to move his hands. “You’ll never guess what I found here!” He presented the group with something that surprised them all.

“Is that…the turtle?!” Joseph stared at the creature in question with a look of disbelief.

“I thought we left it behind back in Morioh?” Abdul was just as surprised as the others for a change, having no explanation for this bizarre turn of events.

Abbacchio turned back to them when he heard their exclamations, raising an eyebrow. “Coco Jumbo? What’s he doing here if the others are at the coliseum? They wouldn’t leave him behind..”

“Long story.” Polnareff waved off the others’ questions without a second thought before holding the turtle out towards his group expectantly. “You guys have to go inside. Trust me- there’s something you’ll DEFINITELY want to see in there!”

Jotaro eyed the smiling man suspiciously but, after seeing no signs of this being some sort of prank or joke, he reluctantly moved his hand to touch the key on the turtle’s back. “Fine…but call us out if there’s trouble.”

After receiving a nod and a thumbs up from their companion, everyone but Abbacchio and Polnareff moved to touch the turtle’s key (Iggy jumping up and perching on Jotaro’s shoulder so he could be taken inside as well).

The inside of the turtle’s stand was almost exactly as it had been when they left- minus all of the people from before and a slight rearrangement to the location of certain small pieces of furniture. At first, they thought the room was completely empty, and likely would have continued to think so if the sound of the refrigerator behind them opening hadn’t caught their attention.

“Let’s see if I still remember this..” A voice they knew all too well spoke from the same area.

“!!” They turned to look at the only other occupant of the room and they stared in shock at the figure currently pulling drinks out of the fridge.

“One regular cola for Mr.Joestar.” A glass bottle of cola was set down on the coffee table in the middle of the room.

“Hey now..I haven’t gotten so old that my eyes are playing tricks on me, right?!” Joseph rubbed at his eyes to make sure what he was seeing was real, but the image did not change.

“A cherry cola for Kakyoin.” A dark red can was set next to the bottle.

“It’s not your eyes, Mr.Joestar…unless we’re all getting too old…” Kakyoin didn’t take his eyes off of the person at the fridge.

“Small coffee-flavored milk for Iggy.” A carton of the flavored milk was opened and poured into a saucer before being placed on the ground by the table.

“Arroo..?” (Translation: “Who..?”) Iggy made a confused sound before moving closer to sniff the person curiously, his eyes widening as he recognized the scent. “!!” (Translation: “You’re-!!”)

“Iced Americano for Jotaro. You probably haven’t tried this yet, but trust me- you’ll be living off of this by your second year of college.” An iced coffee bottle with the described name was placed by the other drinks on the table.

“……” Jotaro watched the person carefully, torn somewhere between confused and concerned.

“And one green tea for Abdul- sorry it’s cold, I know you prefer it hot, but I don’t have a kettle or tea leaves in here.” A can of green tea joined the other drinks on the tabletop.

Abdul tried to voice the thought they all had on their minds, but it seemed hard for him to get the words out. “You…You’re-”

“Think I’ll stick with a bottle of Perrier this time- can’t beat a classic.” The man at the fridge stood to his full height, giving the others in the room their first complete look at him.

“-Polnareff?!” Abdul finished his exclamation right as the man turned to face them.

He grinned in response to their surprised expressions. “Good to know it really was impossible for you to forget me.”

The person they saw was indeed Jean-Pierre Polnareff, but he was quite different from the one they’d left outside of the turtle: For starters, he had dark bags under his eyes that spoke of many sleepless nights and years’ worth of hardships. One eye in particular looked worse than the other, though, bearing a long scar and a cloudiness that was still recognizable even under the sheer eyepatch he wore. The damage on his face (as well as the artificial fingers he still had like the version outside), was nothing compared to what had become of his legs that were apparently cut off mid-thigh and replaced with prosthetics that, logically, should not allow him to stand at all, let alone with the ease he was demonstrating.

Jotaro was the first one to recover from the shock of seeing Polnareff’s appearance. “You’re the Polnareff that worked with Giorno’s group, aren’t you?”

Polnareff took a seat on the couch while opening his sparkling water. “You’re as sharp as ever, Jotaro- or I guess I should say ‘you’re as sharp as I remember’, huh?” He gestured to the other seats around him after taking a quick swig of his beverage. “Go on, sit, we’ve got a lot to talk about.”

After a moment of unspoken deliberation, the group grabbed their drinks (minus Iggy who sat on the floor by his milk) and sat in the various chairs around the small room. Joseph took one of the armchairs directly across from Polnareff with Jotaro taking one closer to the opposite end of the couch. Kakyoin sat on the far end of the couch next to Jotaro while Abdul opted for the spot directly beside Polnareff.

“What happened to you?” Abdul gave the (now older) man beside him a concerned frown while looking him over from head to toe. “Was this Diavolo’s doing?”

“Ah, so you’ve already heard about all of that, huh? Younger-me was pretty surprised to see all of this, so I’m guessing you just found out about it pretty recently.” Polnareff’s smile faded slightly, giving him a more somber appearance as he began to speak of his own death. “Yeah…this was what happened after my original fight with Diavolo. I survived our first encounter, but he didn’t make it easy for me. After that I went into hiding before I found out about Bucciarati’s group and met them at the coliseum to give them the arrow.”

“You mean this?” Jotaro pulled the arrow they’d received from Silver Chariot Requiem out of his jacket and tossed it over to his older friend.

Polnareff caught the arrow easily with his good hand and looked it over with a melancholy smile. “You got it..I can’t believe it..I told Chariot to make sure you got it, but I didn’t think you’d actually…” He gripped the arrow tightly in his hand, looking down at his reflection in the metal. “I went through so much to keep this thing safe…I thought we’d finally succeeded after Giorno’s group managed to defeat Diavolo…but then I found myself here in this strange alternate version of the world and I could feel Silver Chariot Requiem moving around again, even though Bucciarati already defeated it..”

“Did you really ask them to destroy your stand?” Joseph popped the top off of his cola before continuing. “Weren’t you worried about what would happen to you?”

“My body was already dead by that point…as far as I was concerned, my life was over- I’d accepted it.” Polnareff sighed, waving off the question with his free hand and a shake of his head. “When Silver Chariot first changed into its Requiem form, it ended up switching the souls of everyone in the city- Giorno’s group swapped bodies and I ended up being swapped with this turtle. It’s a bit of a letdown, being stuck in this slow body all the time, but it ended up being a blessing in disguise since it kept me from dying.” He reclined back against the couch, looking up at the red ceiling that let them see the sky outside of the room. “This will probably take some getting used to, but at least I can stick around a bit longer and help Giorno, Mista, and Trish when this is all over.” After a moment of silence that felt awkward and tense, Polnareff looked back at the others and noticed that they all had pensive looks on their faces. “What? Was it something I said?”

Seeing after a moment that no one else was going to fess up, Kakyoin reluctantly bit the bullet and did so himself. “We…may have gotten into a fight with them because of you…”

“Quoi?!” Polnareff blinked twice while looking around the room. “You-You’re serious?”

“Mhm..” Abdul nodded slightly, resting his forehead on his hands with his elbows braced on his knees. “We used our stands on them…I tied up Mista with Magician’s red…Iggy bit Trish’s skirt…Mr.Joestar yelled at Bucciarati…Jotaro punched Giorno in the face…twice…”

“WhaaaaaaaAAAT?!” Polnareff nearly fell off of the couch with a startled sound. “Why would you DO that?! You guys are supposed to be on the same side, right?!”

Joseph cleared his throat, his fingers absentmindedly toying with the cap from his cola. “We thought you- well, the younger you- was dead and the Silver Chariot Requiem in the coliseum was his.”

“……” Polnareff stared at them for a few more minutes before he threw his head back in a hysterical fit of laughter. “Mon dieu! I can’t believe you actually did that!” He wiped away the tears of joy from his eyes, looking at the embarrassed expressions everyone had on their faces with a shit-eating grin. “I can understand Iggy and Jotaro..even Mr.Joestar…but Kakyoin and Abdul, too?!” He held his sides as another bout of laughter overtook him.

Jotaro scowled, pulling his hat down over his eyes to help hide his own embarrassment. “Yare yare…you’re too noisy..”

“Sorry, I’m sorry..” Polnareff gasped for breath, trying to reign in his laughter but keeping the grin on his face. “It’s just…I missed this so much! I missed how you guys would rush to defend each other and all of the bizarre, insane situations we’d find ourselves in. I mean, really: You guys got mad at a mafia group because they knew how I died in the future- which was THEIR past- and you thought that meant the past version of me was dead because my stand- which was already defeated before- showed up in its arrow-powered form…it doesn’t get any more bizarre than that! Who else would I hear a story like that from?” He looked at everyone, the joy in his voice changing to something more tender and caring. “It’s been so long since I got to be in the same room with everyone and laugh like this.” He smiled fondly at Joseph. “Mr.Joestar’s memory’s gotten so bad that he barely remembers who I am half the time…” He smirked at Jotaro. “I still get to see Jotaro pretty often, but Mr.Big-shot-working-dad is too busy between his career and Jolyne to take breaks for very long.” His smile softened as he looked to Abdul and Kakyoin. “And…well…it’s not like I had many other friends left to go to, you know…?” He wiped a few more tears from his eyes, though they didn’t seem like the same joyous ones from before.

“Polnareff..” Abdul gently placed one hand on Polnareff’s shoulder, offering him what small amount of solace and comfort he could.

A sound somewhere between a broken laugh and a sob left the Frenchman’s mouth as he tried to smile more despite the tears that continued to fall. “When younger-me found me…when he told me about what happened at the airport and about all of you coming back to life…I…well, I didn’t THINK I would lie to myself- not about something THAT important..it’s just…I couldn’t believe it…the idea of all of us sitting together, getting to talk, enjoying each other’s company one more time…I didn’t think it would be possible!” He attempted to scrub away his tears using his arm, leaving only the broken smile on his mouth visible. “I’m sorry…I’m happy, it’s just-!”

“Yare yare…” He heard Jotaro’s voice, suddenly sounding much closer than it was a moment ago. “Just shut up already.”

Suddenly, there were multiple hands on his arms and shoulders, along with a distinctive set of tiny dog-paws on his lap.

When he lowered his arm, Polnareff was surprised to see that it was not just Jotaro who had moved closer- everyone else had as well.

They were all holding him in an embrace similar to the one he had once shared with Jotaro and Joseph at the airport when they all said goodbye. Abdul was pressed against his side with one arm wrapped around his back. Kakyoin was beside Abdul with his hand on Polnareff’s forearm. On his other side, Joseph had an arm wrapped around Polnareff’s shoulders. Iggy was standing on his lap with his hind legs while his front legs steadied him against Polnareff’s torso so he could look him in the eyes easier. Lastly, Jotaro was beside his grandfather with one hand firmly gripping Polnareff’s arm.

“…!” Polnareff’s eyes widened at the feeling of the embrace before the tears started up again. He sobbed once, crumbling within the hold of friends he never thought he would see again. “Merci...Merci d'être mes amis.”

None of them needed to know French to know what those words meant, they each just gave Polnareff their usual smiles- however big or small- to let him know that they felt the same way about him.

They all stayed in the room with the future version of Polnareff for as long as they possibly could, knowing that it may very well be the last time he got to see any of them again. When they finally left, he gave them some parting words:

“Thank you…all of you…for both our time together now, as well as the time we spent together back then. I hope younger-me knows not to take the time he has with you for granted- and that he doesn’t make the same stupid mistakes I did when I was his age! He’d better tell you guys how much he cares about each and every one of you and how much he loves the time he’s spending with you because, for me, those months we spent together were the best days of my life. Oh, and TRY to go easy on Giorno and the others, okay? I know you’re mad at them for not saying anything about me, but they lost just as many people fighting Diavolo as we did fighting DIO…so..cut them some slack, okay? For my sake? I’d appreciate it…take care, everyone- of each other, and younger-me too. And…thank you…for being my friends.”

As they exited the turtle, they found themselves back at the entrance to the coliseum. Polnareff had been waiting by the turtle and, before the others could ask what they missed, he put a finger to his lips and gestured for them to follow him.

The Crusaders entered the coliseum together, arriving just in time to see a much needed reunion…

Giorno’s group had stayed in the coliseum, sitting down for a few minutes and taking care of any bruises or scrapes they’d received during their minor scuffles with Silver Chariot Requiem as well as Jotaro’s group.

“Hold still, Giorno.” Mista had improvised an ice-pack for the swelling bruise on Giorno’s face using some cold pieces of metal (softened by Trish and Spice Girl to avoid adding unnecessary pressure) and some spare cloth.

“Thanks, Mista…” Giorno’s eyebrows twitched slightly from the sting of the cooling pack touching his bruised face, but his gloomy expression remained otherwise unchanged as he stared at his hands where they rested on his lap.

“Seriously?” The word was accompanied by the clacking of heeled shoes over dirt and rock. “I rush over here to find you, and you’re all just sitting around licking your wounds?”

“!!!!” The eyes of everyone sitting within the coliseum suddenly snapped up to the figure who had just walked in.

“N…No way..!” Mista stared with wide eyes.

“He’s..!” Trish’s eyes began to mist over with tears, her hands going to her mouth as she gasped.

Fugo looked at the others with a frown. “Hey, didn’t you guys tell me he was-?”

“He was..” Giorno’s eyes remained locked on the new comer. “But…so were Narancia and Bucciarati…”

Bucciarati initially had the same surprised reaction as the others, but his look of shock quickly melted into a relieved, teary-eyed smile. “You’re-”

“ABBACCHIO!!!!!!” Narancia cried as he sprang to his feet, practically sprinting to cover the distance between himself and the older man so that he could throw his arms around him in a bone-crushing hug.

Abbacchio nearly fell over from the force of the tackle, digging his heels into the dirt to just barely remain standing. “Oof!” He began pulling on the back of the boy’s shirt, trying to dislodge him. “Hey, Narancia, you’d better not be wiping your snotty nose on me, you little sh-!”

“You-You-You were dea-ead! We were o-only gone for a few mi-inutes, and-and-a-and when we got back, you were..you were..!!” Narancia sobbed, refusing to let go as if he were afraid Abbacchio may disappear if he did so. “We-We h-ha-a-had to leave you beh-h-hi-ind! I didn’t want t-to, but-but Bucciarati said we h-had to-o-o!”

“……” Abbacchio’s annoyed glare softened slightly and the hand that had been trying to pull the boy away instead patted him on the back. “Alright, alright, I get it..it’s fine. Bucciarati made the right call- it was too dangerous for you to stay there.”

Bucciarati was the next one to walk over, giving the ex-cop a caring look and tender smile that said far more than his mouth did. “Welcome back..Leone.”

Abbacchio returned the look with a slightly softer (well, soft for him, at least) smile of his own. “Sorry I took so long..Bruno.”

The rest of the gang steadily made their way over to their newly revived comrade, happily welcoming him back…except for Giorno.

Giorno’s eyes drifted to the coliseum’s entrance where he saw Jotaro’s group silently observing them. He made his way over to them after quietly placing the make-shift icepack on the ground. “Thank you,” He said once he was close enough, looking up at Jotaro with an expression that was slightly more open than his usual looks. “For bringing him back to us.” He looked out to where his friends were celebrating Abbacchio’s return, a soft smile on his face as he watched the older man try once again to pull Narancia (who had stopped crying as much and begun to laugh while stubbornly clinging to the longer-haired man) off of him. “He was the first casualty in our fight against Diavolo..losing him..was one of the worst things that we went through..” He returned his attention to Jotaro’s group, looking up at Jotaro himself with a slight frown. “You were right about us…we were scared of changing our timeline…we lost Abbacchio, Narancia, Bucciarati, and even Polnareff, all so we could defeat Diavolo and keep him from getting the power of the arrow…each loss broke us more and more, but they all contributed something that ultimately led to Diavolo’s defeat…after everything we lost to get that far, the thought of changing something and having to go through all of that again- to lose everyone and risk losing EVERYTHING to Diavolo with all of our sacrifices meaning NOTHING…it was terrifying to think about.” He bowed his head, no longer meeting the taller teen’s gaze. “That doesn’t excuse what we did..what we hid from Polnareff and risked putting him through..and for that, I am sorry.” His fists clenched at his sides, a barely visible tremor going through his shoulders. “With time, I hope that you may see m- see us in a different light-”

“Yare yare daze..” Jotaro’s annoyed voice cut Giorno’s apology short. “Just shut up already.”

Giorno looked back up at Jotaro with an expression that bordered on pleading. “But, I-!”

“Don’t waste time saying things that don’t need to be said.” Jotaro’s hand came down to rest firmly on Giorno’s shoulder. “We all said things we didn’t need to already…so let’s just keep moving.”

“!!” Giorno understood the unspoken sentiment all too well, and it made the slightest of smiles return to his face. “You’re right…we have far too much to do to dwell on the past.”

“Exactly. Now come on, we’ve still got work to do.” Jotaro gave the shorter boy a slight smile of his own, letting go of his shoulder and heading inside the coliseum with the rest of his friends.

There was still a lot that needed to be done. Bridges to mend. Wounds to heal. But, in the end, if there was one thing that both sides could come to an understanding on, it was the hardship of losing cherished friends and comrades due to tragic and bizarre circumstances beyond their control.

Perhaps that understanding would be enough to bring them together- just as it always seemed to bring the Joestars and their allies together in the end.

End Notes: So, this idea was one that my sister and I came up while eating at a sushi buffet one day. I love the Eyes of Heaven game and have probably played through the story at least 5 times. While we were eating, we talked about how the different stages you could fight in were different in the story mode versus the regular modes and how they had more interactive elements outside of the story mode. On that topic, we talked about how the coliseum had both Silver Chariot Requiem and Polnareff’s soul in the turtle body present, and how messed up it would be if the stardust crusaders (among other characters) could react to that sort of thing- thus this premise was born!

I also decided to add Abbacchio because he does technically appear in the picture alongside the rest of Passione in their little “Happy Ending” universe picture, but he was tragically one of the characters that got cut from the game in its early stages because, according to my sister, they couldn’t figure out what to do with him mechanics-wise. Which is a shame because I would’ve loved to see the entire gang reunited, so I added him in here for that reason alone x3

[abigailnussbaum]

She-Ra and the Princesses of Power, S5

Overall I’d say this was the best season since the first one, and the ending it gives the story is a satisfying and moving one. I really liked how the show gestures back at some canonical She-Ra concepts - the rebels hiding out in the Whispering Woods, for example - while at the same time doing things that are completely outside the original canon’s scope - She-Ra in Space! And I thought the ensemble was well-used, main characters, side characters, and antagonists all getting their own storylines and resolutions in a way that isn’t easy with such a wide cast of characters, but was handled with elegance.

But look, if you’ve read anything I’ve written or tweeted about this show over the last four seasons, you know I have fundamental issues with how it chooses to direct its storytelling and characterization energies. It doesn’t come as much of a surprise that the concluding season didn’t address most of those issues. A big part of that is that the show I wanted She-Ra to be clearly wasn’t the one Stevenson and her team were making, and that’s fine. But I find it genuinely strange that of the three series that are obvious thematic and emotional successors to Avatar: The Last Airbender - She-Ra, The Legend of Korra, and The Dragon Prince - none of them reach the same heights of plotting and characterization, and at least in She-Ra’s case I think this is rooted in an unwillingness to complicate a rather simplistic central theme. 

(Also, at least part of the problem has to be that the show’s five-season, 52-episode run spanned only seventeen months. Even if you add in the production period for the first season, that’s a truly bonkers schedule that must have told in the depth and complexity of the final product.)

Take Catra, for example. If you’d asked me where I thought her storyline was going before watching the season, I would have said pretty confidently that she was going to get at least some level of redemption story. After all, her situation at the end of S4 perfectly positions her to switch sides by stripping her of all the things she thought she wanted and placing her in a precarious position that she might not be able to talk or manipulate her way out of. The season premiere establishes those facts even further by making Horde Prime a literal monomaniacal monster. And yeah, it’s pretty clever that in a series that places so much emphasis on the importance of friendship as the path towards moral growth, the villain is narcissism personified, a person who has no use for others except as they reflect himself, and subjugate themselves entirely to his will. So it’s not surprising that, finally cut off from any realistic path towards power and made to feel her own vulnerability, Catra would finally start doing some soul-searching and realize how badly she’d treated the people who cared about her. 

(Though if you’ll allow me a snide moment, I can’t help but point out that in the Best Redemption Story Ever, Zuko actually gets all the power and approval he’d thought he wanted before realizing that it means nothing without his honor and self-respect. I think we all know that if Catra had gotten a position of power from Horde Prime, she would have felt no loyalty towards Adora and Etheria, and helped him to conquer them.)

Similarly, I think I would have given you better odds than even that the series would end with some romantic storyline between Catra and Adora. And I don’t want to downplay the importance of depicting a story like that - before the end of the season I found myself wondering why Bow and Glimmer’s romance was being depicted so chastely, before realizing that the writers wanted the first kiss on the show to be between two women. I respect that impulse and the representation the show ends up delivering - we’ve come a long way from Korra and Asami holding hands at the end of their show. But at the same time, I can’t help but feel that the way that the show arrives at this point requires a significant rewriting of Catra’s personality and character arc, not to mention the history of her relationship with Adora.

As the fifth season argues it, the root of Catra’s resentment of Adora is romantic disappointment. She complains that “Adora doesn’t want me. Not the way I want her”, and leaves the team when Adora decides to risk her life by destroying the Heart of Etheria because she takes it as a personal rejection. But this is, to say the least, a massive whitewashing of what we’ve seen of Catra and Adora’s past relationship. In flashbacks, particularly the ones from S4, it’s made clear that even when they were on the same wavelength, Catra and Adora’s friendship was toxic and dysfunctional. Catra may have always loved Adora, but it was a selfish love, one that saw Adora as an instrument for the validation of Catra’s confidence and self-image, and denied her any opportunity for pursuing her own interests and desires. 

There’s room for a story about Catra growing past that selfishness and learning to love generously and openly, of course, but we don’t get that story in S5. When Catra complains that in sacrificing herself for Etheria, Adora is refusing to want things for herself, it’s not an honest character moment. Catra has never cared what Adora wants - in fact, her refusal to acknowledge Adora’s right to make her own choices and take a path in life that left Catra behind has been the crux of their enmity since the series premiere. Having her suddenly change tunes doesn’t feel organic, but like a parachuted-in personality transplant.

To put it back in ATLA terms, Catra was never Zuko. Adora is Zuko - someone raised with bad principles who nevertheless has enough innate compassion, and a powerful moral compass, that with a little support - emotional or magical - they can break through their indoctrination and become a hero. Catra is Azula - obsessed with power, possessed of very little compassion for others, and, most importantly, seriously emotionally unbalanced. I’m not saying someone like that can’t be helped and can’t become a better person, but it takes a great deal more than what the last season of She-Ra has given us.

Meanwhile, if you look at Adora’s storyline, on one level it gives us what I’ve wanted for a while. I’ve complained a lot about how Adora has remained static throughout the middle seasons of the show while other characters - Glimmer, Catra, Scorpia - got character arcs and changed meaningfully. One effect of that has been to create a strange disconnect between the show’s central themes and its main character. In a story that is supposedly all about the importance of friendship and personal connections, the heroine is someone who achieves her heroic destiny by rejecting those connections in favor of a more global morality, and who then had to struggle with balancing her sense of global responsibility with personal attachments - to Glimmer and Bow as much as to Catra.

The fifth season finally circles back to these ideas and places Adora at its center. I thought her conversation with Mara about having the right to be more than She-Ra, and to do more with her life than sacrifice it for others, was a really powerful moment. I just feel like, once again, the foundation wasn’t laid for it. First because Adora’s growth has been mostly ignored during the intervening three seasons, and second because this is a character arc that clashes with the show’s friendship-above-all message in ways that aren’t really acknowledged.

When you think about it, the moments when Adora has been the most herself are the ones when she rejects toxic friendship and stands up for herself - in her confrontations with Catra, especially over the course of the first season, and when she defies Glimmer’s decision to use the Heart of Etheria and the end of S4 and destroys the sword. So to the already complicated issue of where to draw the line between the things you want for yourself and the things you owe others, you add the thorny matter of when to detach yourself from toxic friends who see you only as a means to an end. Except that She-Ra never really grapples with this extra wrinkle - and again, Catra’s hasty personality transplant plays into this, because we get to pretend that the only problem she and Adora ever had was romantic miscommunication.

In a season that is all about putting aside differences and personal grievances to fight for a common cause, there is a refreshing number of instances that remind us that those grievances are still relevant - the fact that nobody will ever really trust Shadow Weaver, for example, or the other princesses calling Entrapta out on her seeming indifference to the consequences of her actions (though in this case, and yet again, Entrapta’s neuroatypicality is used as a get-out-of-jail-free card from taking personal responsibility). Even Glimmer gets to spend a bit of time in the dog house, at the same time that she and Bow work together and save each other’s lives. But once again, when it comes to the main character, we can’t let pesky matters like a lifetime of toxic friendship get in the way of a happy ending in which lesbian love conquers all.

There was a good story to be told here, one that could have easily ended up in the same place as the series actually did. But it required actually delving into the complexity of a character like Adora, and dealing honestly with the problems in her relationship with Catra. She-Ra ends - as it did throughout it run - by choosing to paper over those difficulties in favor of a friendship-conquers-all message that is a great deal less convincing.

(Also, am I wrong or are there a lot of loose ends still? I don’t think we ever find out who Adora was, what Greyskull is, and what She-Ra actually is.)

[atamascolily]

Lily liveblogs: “The Rise of Skywalker,” part two

Neener, neener, world-building is for losers. Not to mention plot, character development, and general coherence.

(Or, fifty ideas in a trench coat pretending to be one movie.)

Look, you get ONE fetch quest per film, and we've already exceeded the limit here, please stop... [does not stop]

Poe literally has to ask to kiss Zorii because she's wearing a mask, lol. I mean, I like to think he would anyway, but... just saying.

They literally slot the medallion into the designated coin slot and that's it, it's over so fast, lololololol.

Like, the FO lets them in because they have a medallion and then only sends two troopers to investigate because Something Is Clearly Up? LOLOLOLOLOLOL.

Okay, they're just going to straight up assault the Star Destroyer. 10/10 for style. Refuge in audacity and all that. Fine, whatever.

Finn ought to have some idea about the layout of the place, didn't the FO teach him that stuff when he was a stormtrooper? Or at least enough to have a hint. Or are they just going to wander around without a clue and magically find the right spot??

Oh, Rey's mastered the mind-trick now, good to know. (*Legally Blonde voice* "What, like it's hard?")

Poe's question if Rey does that to him and Finn is 100% spot on and he is RIGHT to ask that because the mind trick is SUPER INVASIVE and can be badly misused.Given how recalcitrant Poe’s been, I’m sure she’s been tempted.

Rey is so concerned about Chewie until she gets distracted by the dagger, sigh... [Han Solo voice] Convenient. [/Han Solo voice.]

Why do they need the dagger macguffin if they already have the coordinates? What a stupid thing to get Rey alone so she and Kylo can have a moment.

Kylo searching through Kijimi for Rey like he's got no fucking clue, lololol. So much for their "Force bond" here.

Does Finn feel, like, anything for the troopers he's shooting? I mean, obviously not in the heat of battle, but like, ever? Considering that his friend's death on Jakku was what snapped him out of the FO brainwashing in the first place... so he knows it's possible for the others to change. So... what a wasted opportunity here.

Literally, all of the troopers are patrolling either in pairs or alone, that is so dumb if there's actually an alert out on the ship for them.

Is Poe having PTSD flashbacks to the last time he got captured by the FO? Because I would, if I were in his shoes.

Rey picks up the dagger and has flashbacks again PSYCHOMETRY PSYCHOMETRY PSYCHOMETRY PSYCHOMETRY

Okay, the FUCK is going on with this fight scene. Where is she, really? Is she Force projecting? How can she do that when it killed Luke? How can BOTH of them be in two places at once? Ie, it's not that Rey is suddenly having an out-of-body experience and fighting Kylo on a spiritual plane in Kijimi - she's also fighting in Kylo's room, and even though I could see her body moving in time with her mind, is Kylo projecting himself into his room with HER, too? What is happening?

I feel like this scene would be so much more powerful if we established some parameters for HOW THIS POWER FUCKING WORKS so I know what the stakes are. Wouldn't it be interesting if this moved used life force, for instance, the same way that healing did? What are the restrictions/limitations? Why is none of this ever explained? It just happens... waaaaaahhhhhhh

I really love it when this is an open question in works that are thematically ABOUT "is it a dream? is it real? is it a mindfuck?" [see: Inception] but that's NOT THE POINT OF THIS FILM, this is a side issue, so it SHOULDN'T BE A MYSTERY, it should be actually intelligible to me what is going on even if I don't understand all the intricacies.

It does look cool, though. I'll grant them that much. The aesthetics of a night fight in the falling stone are ON POINT. Too bad the fight doesn't really use much of its scenery to any advantage. This could be literally anywhere for all that the characters draw on their surroundings.

"Wherever you are, you are hard to find." So smooth, Kylo.

Rey VERY CLEARLY SAYS "I don't want this!" in response to Kylo's "I've been in your head". Because consent is for LOSERs, am I right? [/sarcasm] ugghhhhhhh

"Your parents are no one...." but turns out they were actually someone! Never mind we never get their names or backstory anywhere! That might make them... interesting! Or even RELEVANT.

Okay, so stuff from Kijimi is literally spilling into the star destroyer and vice versa, is that actually happening or is that just a visual metaphor/dream sequence, I really need to know wtf is going on here.

Kylo using his knowledge of/from Palpatine to manipulate Rey is terrible but actually something he would do... and kinda clever. I'll grant him that much.

Ochi looks just like a twisted version of Maz, except taller... does that mean anything? probably not!

We literally have no connection to these two random new characters so their fate does not resonate as much as it SHOULD HAVE. Which one was Palpatine's kid? How did he HAVE kids in the first place? What was said kid's life like? Why did they grow up to run away and defy their dad? How did they meet the other partner? How did all this, you know, HAPPEN??

And why did Palpatine send an agent to kill them instead of killing/tortuing them himself, since they clearly had info he was interested in? THE FUCK.

I was hoping the Vader mask would finally be destroyed, but NOOOOOOOOOOO.

Lol how Kylo's like "I'm gonna only tell you the rest of the story in person" as if they weren't already fighting face to face in some weird dream-reality hybrid thingy. Kylo, you are so desperate and so so so so dumb.

LOL, Hux being all dramatic here. "I'm the spy!"

This just gets funnier when you remember how Poe trolled the SHIT out of him at the beginning of TLJ, so Poe has NO CLUE (because the writers didn't either until just now, natch), AND why Poe's reaction when Hux says he's gonna "do it himself" (ie, murder Poe) is so on point.

I approve of Rey looting Kylo's room before running off. Too bad she doesn't smash the Vader mask and be done with it. At least Chewie gets his crossbow back.

"I don't care if you win. I need Kylo Ren to lose." 10/10, excellent character motivation, and I approve. Hux is such a bastard and Kylo totally deserves this betrayal. (also: the Imperial philosophy in a nutshell.)

I'm not averse per se to Rey Palpatine, but this way of handling it is total bullshit and an asspull, sigh.

Oh, no, here comes the Force dyad nonsense. "We have no choice but to be together because we're SOULMATES! I'm stalking you because I LOVE YOU and it's DESTINY, Rey!" </sarcasm>

Oh, the destroyer is still in the atmosphere over Kijimi and not in space, I see. getting bespin feels here. This should have happened in the second movie not halfway through the third.

Yup, there's the "join me and rule the galaxy" offer right on cue.

Taking off your mask does not help here, Kylo. No one cares about your puppy dog eyes, you fucking stalker.

yeah, she would have jumped if the Falcon hadn't shown up right at the last minute, lol.

[Honestly, I would have had her jump and land smack on the back of the Falcon, but that may just be my twisted sense of humor talking.]

love kylo's dismay as she gets away. EXCELLENT LEAP. And Finn is wearing an oxygen mask, which is a detail which I <3!

Hux just dies with no drama, which is too bad, but also soooo typical of Imperial/FO management style. Live by the sword, die by the sword. Good thing your pettiness lives on!

(Pryde is clearly the Real Villain now that Hux is Actually Good, I see what you did there.)

I hate how Rey literally shuts Finn out here, when he is TRYING TO DO THE RIGHT THING AND REMIND HER SHE'S A GOOD PERSON and Rey is so confused by Kylo's constant gaslighting that she ignores him. Like, psychologically understandable (and sad) but I fucking hate it. Finn deserves so much better than this.

Palpatine talks in Kylo's head... how? why? Why does Palps have this kind of connection with Kylo when he had to make hologram calls to Vader the old-fashioned way? (I know they established at the beginning of the film that they had this relationship, but it's still odd and inexplicable. Like the whole thing that was supposed to make Mara Jade special was that she could hear his voice anywhere in the galaxy... and Kylo's just... got that... for no reason? Because Palps targeted him since he was a kid???

(Keep in mind Kylo was concieved RIGHT AFTER ENDOR, so I dunno what Palps was up to or how long it would take him to get a body or LITERALLY ANY WAY IN WHICH THIS WOULD MAKE LOGISTICAL SENSE.)

It's a moon of Endor, but a DIFFERENT moon of Endor, fine, okay, and we're going to ignore the whole "How did the Death Star ruins get here, anyway?" because that's a world-building problem of an entirely different order of magnitude and just roll with it.

I do believe Rey is mentally running the numbers on Death Star scrap/value of kyber crystals on the open market here, because old habits die hard. And that is such a gorgeous shot, with the cliffs and the churning sea and the ruins.

Oh, I see, the wayfinder was on the moon because it was in the Death Star with Palps and somehow... didn't explode or get sucked out into the vacuum of space. That's a leap, but okay, whatever, fine.

using a macguffin to find another macguffin, wow.

I don't literally don't understand how this dagger is supposed to work as a compass, but fine, whatever. now we will never see it again.

Jannah looks great, I love her character design, but unfortunately, this movie is going to spend very little time exploring the world she lives in because we have to rush onto the next thing, sigh. And apparently, they know about the Resistance! Okay. And they know Babu Frik... or Babu Frik knows them enough to call in some favors...? WHAT.

So it's too dangerous to travel on the water because the waves are so big... which means some killer tides! That is actually interesting, but Rey just overrides everyone and goes anyway (alone!!) so I don't even know why this comes up as an obstacle if it is instantly resolved. This film keeps doing that, and it is not as cute as the director thinks it is.

Finn and Jannah bond over being ex-FO, and this film should spend wayyyy more time on this than it does. THEY BOTH HAD "FEELINGS" ABOUT WHAT WAS RIGHT AND THEY OVERCAME THEIR BRAINWASHING -- Finn is talking about the feeling and calling it "the Force," this is great, AND MY HEART IS DISSOLVING IN A MILLION FEELS AND I JUST... WANT THIS TO FREAKIN' MATTER... why is Finn so sure the Force is real? Faith? Or because he's actually a Jedi, too? (You already know which one I believe here. MAKE HIM A JEDI YOU COWARDS.)

Rey just fucks off and steals Jannah's boat? Where... was it? How did she find it? What... how does that even make sense??

too bad they don't have a working ship, they could just FLY over the ocean instead of surmounting the waves for extra unnecessary drama, lol.

Please keep in mind that Rey grew up in a fucking desert. That she cannot (despite what TLJ might have told you) swim. Yet she is on a boat in an ocean alone. This is a terrible idea. (I'm not going to say it's OOC, because Rey would, in fact, totally do this--just emphasizing how bad an idea this is.)

Finn says, "You have no idea what she's fighting" to Poe... who does know, actually. Kylo tortured him at the beginning of TFA, just like he tried to do later in that film to Rey. Surely Finn should... know this?

If Finn and Poe are going to fight here, fine, this is just a stupid argument. Finn says he and Leia know what Rey is up against and Poe says, I'm not Leia, YES WE NOTICED POE.

Whyyyy is Poe the Team Skeptic here and such a grouch?? not cool.

"That's for damn sure." OH SNAP. And also, actual profanity in Star Wars? Whoa!

Of course Finn is going to go after her.

I will say this: the Death Star ruins look hella cool. also, a nice callback to the beginning of TFA where Rey is exploring the Star Destroyer ruins.

my goodness, the upper arm strength required. I love this scene. they should have made Palpatine's ghost haunting the ruins so we could have the final boss fight here - that would make so much more since than him fucking off to Exegol of all places.

(the ruins are totally my aesthetic, tho.)

And the Sith wayfinder.. is just floating in midair. In the ruins of the Death Star that shouldn't exist. In some sort of chamber with no security whatsoever. wowwwwww. Oh, okay, it's in some sort of suspended chamber thingy, but still.... security measures??

Hey, Rey touches it, and experiences a creepy vision--PSYCHOMETRY, ANYONE? A security measure? Oh, no, just a crazy Force vision... maybe? I don't know anymore. I don't know why.

The double-bladed quarterstaff lightsaber is super cool, though.

Rey fighting her evil self in the crumbling tech ruins is TOTALLY MY AESTHETIC YESSSSSSSSS.

since Rey gets a vision when she touches the wayfinder and is released when she lets go of it, I honestly wonder what the other wayfinder said to Kylo, if he experienced anything when he touched it.

speaking of which, there's kylo! ughhhhh.

Like, literally Rey could have stolen the Sith wayfinder from Kylo if he had left it in his room, and she blew up at least one of his TIE fighters that had it so... I don't even know if Kylo has one anymore. Maybe he doesn't need it? WHATEVER.

Rey is not amused. GIVE ME MY MACGUFFIN!

This is, for the record, the THIRD FIGHT between Kylo and Rey in this film, please just kill him already.

Kylo trying to gaslight Rey about not being a Jedi and how she's proven she's not and she'll disappoint Leia. HOW THE HELL DO YOU THINK LEIA FEELS ABOUT YOU, KYLO??? PROJECTING MUCH???

"Like I can't [go back to Leia]." Ooooohhhhhhh, forced teaming there, way to make your move by claiming to show vulnerability. YOU CHOSE THIS. YOU CHOSE THAT PATH. SHE SENT HAN TO BRING YOU HOME AND YOU MURDERED HIM BECAUSE SNOKE TOLD YOU TO SO YOU COULD LEVEL UP IN HIS STUPID DEATH CULT AND SNOKE TURNED OUT TO BE A PUPPET SO IT WAS ALL FOR NAUGHT, YOU ASSHOLE, and NOW YOU'RE TRYING GASLIGHT REY BY PROJECTING YOUR FAILURES ONTO HER.

And he shatters the macguffin rather than let her have it because he's that much of an asshole.

He doesn't pull out his lightsaber until several seconds in, just moves around because he genuinely doesn't want to hurt her even though he just provoked her into losing her temper to prove a point.

It's raining back on Jungle Planet for ATMOSPHERE and Leia is having a Force Vision of DOOOOOOOM, this was oh so clearly supposed to be for Han's death in TFA, but noooooooooooo we're using it here.

(Also, how is it not raining on the tech, I think there are roofs, but it's so hard to tell.)

Maz is so dramatic about this. "Leia knows what must be done, Artoo." Yes, Kylo is going down.

The aesthetics of the ocean ruins fight scene are 100% my jam, not gonna lie, it looks very cool.

So, once again, the Supreme Leader went off on his own... without backup... not even his own private biker gang.... AGAIN. I just.... can't even... what an idiot. What an absolute idiot.

Good thing Finn and Jannah are here, though I doubt the narrative will actually let them do much. I wish Finn and/or Jannah would just shoot Kylo here once Rey gives them an opening, but no, they're just going to stand there helpless.  

I get why Rey pushes them away so Kylo won't use them against her as hostages, but STILL. THERE ARE THREE OF YOU AND ONE OF HIM. USE THAT TO YOUR ADVANTAGE, REY.

drenched unhappy Kylo Ren is excellent, yesssss.

This is the first time I've seen anyone use the Force to halt the blade of a lightsaber... interesting.

Rey is treating her lightsaber like it's one-half of a quarterstaff, I LOVE it, but it also begs the question why didn't she just make a double-bladed saber (with, say, a split kyber crystal from TLJ?) in the first place instead of using a weapon that clearly doesn't work for her as well????

Leia could have reached out to her son at any moment, but she chose not to because she needed to save her strength... but Palps can talk to Kylo across the galaxy and he's fine?? And Kylo and Rey can be in two different places and be just fine (yeah okay, Force dyad soulmates whatever whatever)??? THIS MAKES NO SENSE.

Rey stabbing Kylo with his own damn blade is POETIC CINEMA and also justice. FINALLY.

I think if there were any questions about whether Rey has killed someone, the answer in this scene is no. I can't tell if she's crying for Leia, for shock, for relief, for grief and regret over murdering Kylo, or what.

WHY DOES SHE USE HER LIFE FORCE TO HEAL HIM? WHY? WHY? WHY??????????? (give me a motivation, I dont know what her motivation is here, I dont know why she makes this sacrifice to HIM of all people and I feel like I really should know for this scene to have emotional impact but it doesn't).

LEIA SACRIFICED HERSELF FOR YOU, REY, AND YOU'RE JUST GOING THROW IT AWAY LIKE THIS???

Now, if this movie were actually serious about Kylo and Rey being a Force dyad or two halves of the same whole, then we, the audience, would realize along with Rey that she can't let Kylo die without hurting herself... which I'm not sure I would enjoy, but would at least be COHERENT and fit into the ESTABLISHED WORLDBUILDING even if said worldbuilding is dumb and personally offensive to me. I'M JUST SAYING THERE ARE OPTIONS HERE, YOU TOTALLY HAD OPTIONS THAT WOULD HAVE MADE NARRATIVE SENSE SO I DIDN’T HAVE TO DO IT FOR YOU ON THE SPOT. 

"I did want to take your hand. Ben's hand." We know that. That was the whole ending of TLJ. Why is this such a shock now??? She already said that at the end of the last movie, so what have we accomplished since? Absolutely nothing has changed on that front, Kylo!!

Also, Kylo--she saved your life when she didn't have to, and you can't even say Thank you? YOU UNGRATEFUL ASSHOLE.

{there's one hour left in this movie WHATTTTTTTTTTTTT how is that even possible}

lol, she just straight up steals his ship.... which is just perched on top of the ruins nearby and hasn't been damaged at all by spray... and which should ALSO have the wayfinder macguffin in it.... so she's going to Exegol, right? The thing she's been wanting to do for the whole movie? The thing that they only have what, four hours left before the attack or whatever?

NOPE. She goes to Ahch-To. Because of course she does.

I hate this fucking movie so much.

[loudest-subtext-in-tv]

A Study in Fate teaser

Here’s the first 2200 words of a novel-length fanfic that I’ll finish sometime this year. It’s a WiP on an atypical schedule: At a later date I’ll release the rest of the first chapter, but then I’ll release everything else all at once.

Some authors don’t like if you hassle them to hurry up, but I may find it motivating. I’m going to attempt to get better at answering my asks/comments so feel free to ask me things about this fic, but keep in mind there’s a lot of things I won’t answer. Please be aware that no one cares if you don’t like first person perspective.

Though a big aspect of this story is about how to manage depression, it starts in a relatively dark place and weaves in and out of it. If you can’t handle unresolved distant thoughts of suicide right now, maybe wait until the entire story is posted.

Finally, I am doing okay financially right now, but two of my fandom friends are not. If you’ve ever wanted to give me money, I now have a Patreon. Anything you give me will help me help them.

Description: After the events of The Empty Hearse, Sherlock struggles to figure out who he is now that John no longer seems willing to play a prominent role in his life. As his mind runs in circles trying to parse their relationship and determine who threw John in the bonfire, his world is shattered by an enigmatic visitor: himself, bearing bad news from the future.

Series 3 time travel remix; series 4 compatible.

Tags and warnings: first person present, agonizing slow burn, explicit but romantic, depression, suicidal ideation, NOT FLUFF, self-actualization

Read on AO3 or under the cut:

Chapter One - The Curtain Rises

One can’t get far without an organizing principle. Every man needs one drive to which all others are subordinate, a touchstone that seizes him with purpose.

I had one once.

Now I have chips.

Dreadful organizing principle, chips: once you’ve got them, there’s nothing propelling you forward anymore. Have enough of them and you hardly want to move at all. God. I was in the best shape of my life, body and mind, and now I’m turning into Mycroft.

Except Mycroft has already transcended these struggles — or so he claims. Yet again, I’m lagging behind on a path I never wanted to follow. Splendid.

Any moment Mrs Hudson will come out and start chattering away about you. That will set me back the rest of the day, yet I won’t ascend the stairs. Does no part of my mind demand control of my brain stem? I’m meant to be some kind of genius: Any visionary corner of my psyche eager to make something of me? No takers?

No. Life is now nothing more but the wandering of here to there. And thoughts like that are why everyone thinks I’m a baby, so for god’s sake stop.

I am all too stopped.

Depression is a dowsing rod: shows you where to dig. So: Why do I halt here, at the bottom of the stairs? Why can’t I face the only place I’ve ever belonged?

It’s not merely that you don’t live here anymore. Not quite. That would be too easy.

Where are you wandering now, John? You got off work an hour ago. No one's called to alert me you've been kidnapped, so there's one thing I didn't miss today.

Still figuring that out, darling. Off my game. Maybe was never on it. Against my better judgment I let romance rot my mind, and you're the one who's suffered most. But I've recovered from less noble chemical weaknesses than your company. Against all odds I still draw breath. If I make myself do nothing else, I will turn this around. I'll prove you can rely on me.

Any threatening emails? You don't just attempt to incinerate a man and move on. For god's sake, give me something.

Oh. A text. Not a threat; a video from the homeless network. Must have been delayed whilst I was on the tube.

There you are, alive and unwell, and here responds my heart but it's nothing. Mere streets away from me, and nowhere near her flat. Why do you do this, John? Is your phone broken? We could just talk about this. Give me another chance and I swear I won't come on so strong. I was too presumptuous when we last spoke weeks ago. I broke your heart, I'm monstrous; you're no longer fond. I get it.

You're no longer fond, but you're in need of a hit. Which is curious, you realize. You understand how a man would get the impression... But no. I won't presume. Life is boring and I'm dangerous and bless you, you need a hit. Just come get one. I'll pretend I'm managing, I'll find a way to switch on that whole persona for you and you can do your hero worship thing. I won't act desperate.

Just show up, and I will respect your wishes.

Do anything but pensively stop on the sidewalk in front of shops you have no intention of entering. It just screams, I'm distracted! Kidnap me! It's been an age and I know you despise me, but if you keep doing this I'm going to have to conduct surprise drills again.

Maybe you're trying to get kidnapped. I wouldn't put it past you. Maybe it would be charity to send a car around for you to blithely climb into. Do you even think about how that would make Mary feel, John?

Of course, it's me you're thinking about right now. The tension in your posture, the unconscious clenching of your hand, the conflict evident on your face even from this distance: definitely me.

You know, I wasn't the only one who presumed. The papers presumed, the entire British populace presumed, even your sister presumed and surely she'd -- No matter. You've made yourself clear. Just: spare a thought for "the best thing that's ever happened" to you. I've no talent for consoling women on my best days, and I'd hate to see how I'd fare in a worse state than her.

No, I don't know that. I don't know that I love you more than she does. She's never broken your heart.

Oh. Wait, why...? For god's sake, Pilar, why would you approach him? He'll notice.

Well. Can't complain about seeing your eyes more clearly. Not good for my recovery. And there, yes, you've noticed. Paranoia in full swing, hackles raised, and a step forward. 'Can I help you?' in your usual tone that fashions a threat from etiquette.

Not good for my recovery, no. The things you do to my blood, John.

'Got a pound?'

'For someone recording me?' You scoff, narrow your eyes. 'Are you...?'

'Say, aren't you John Watson?' Oh, clever girl. Look at him, pretending he's not pleased to be recognized.

Yet nothing is ever simple with you, John.

'Yeah.' You're either too smart or too suspicious for your own good. (Freud would presume. I'm only saying.) 'Did he...?' You look directly at the camera; at me.

Come on! You assume it’s me? When roaming bands of criminals have set you aflame? Oh here we go, that spark in your eye -- you're going all in:

'Did you put her up to this?'

Oh well.

'Who? What makes you say that, sir?'

'Uh, well he does it all the time.' I don't. 'You know what? Just send it to him.'

'Not sure what you mean, sir.'

'Oh,' you laugh, 'you're not sure what I mean. Stop bloody recording me.'

And that's the end of that.

So. Guess you won't be coming over this week either. Or will you? Are you angry enough to confront me? It's not stalking when it's for your own protection -- just ask my brother, John. God knows he could use the conversation.

I’ve got to find more discreet operatives.

> Next time don't be so obvious.

When did she send this? Ten minutes ago. No, if you were going to come over, you would have arrived by now.

I suppose you’ve already said everything you have to say. But not even a text for stalking, John? I thought we had a connection.

Or we did. Before Moriarty won.

Not your fault. All mine. I underestimated him, failed to foresee the lengths to which he'd go for his insane plan. Didn't realize how many pieces he'd put on the board. Stupid.

A ping:

i thought youd like it? before you whinged you cant hardly see him

It was only supposed to be months, John. Then dozens of pulled threads later and you'd already gone and shacked up with a woman! That's what I get for being thorough.

And not even thorough enough. But if I wasn't thorough enough then neither was MI6, John. If Moriarty still had operatives in London, that's on Mycroft. And me. But definitely on Mycroft.

I don't know. Hate not knowing.

Are we really never going to talk about this? I took down an international crime syndicate for you, and you broke up with me on your blog?

No, no -- sorry. I take full responsibility.

This is ridiculous. I don't know why anyone comes to me to solve their problems. I can't even make it up the stairs.

Ah.

That's it, isn't it? I don’t live up there anymore, either.

Yes. Everyone says you can find Sherlock Holmes just up those stairs, back from the dead and cleverer than ever! Like most things everyone says, it’s not true. I search for him in these rooms daily, and all the evidence points to this: Sherlock Holmes was a character created by John Watson. An exciting story. A fairy tale. (Dare I say a fantasy?)

People will believe anything you tell them, John, and they did. You were so sure I was a hero that even I came to believe it in the end. Now they only keep believing it because I lied. I was never steps ahead, never as infallible as you made me out to be -- and now that you've quit writing me I'll never be anyone at all.

But I'm doing it again. Getting histrionic. I'm not the first nobody to have his heart broken. They all get on with life.

Well: usually. Technically speaking, the most invested ones turn to murder or suicide. On the upside, murder is still in the cards: Assuming I can pull it together long enough to hunt down the appropriate parties, they are murderers and it would be doing the world a favor to murder them right back. In the course of any such investigation there will tend to arise situations in which I would have no choice but to murder them -- or, fortune willing, sacrifice myself so that you may live. Or both! Now that would be a power play: cleanse the board of evil, preserve the king. The ideal way to die may yet fall into my lap.

It's nice to have things to look forward to.

But say it doesn't pan out. Given my recent track record it would be foolish to place undue faith in my forecasting abilities, and after all, I don't know for certain this has anything to do with Moriarty's network. He pulled so many rugs out from under me I'm always half expecting yet another rug. I may grow as paranoid as you, John, with him skulking about in my head. For all I know everyone involved was in Moran's network, and I'm chasing after people who are already in custody. Maybe there's no grand end, no power plays, no relief.

That leaves suicide.

I'm not saying I will, John. I refuse to break your heart again. And it would be no way to honor the lengths to which you've gone to preserve my life. They're mere thoughts. They come and go -- always have, and I always haven't. I'm not going to do it, and if I am, I can always do it later.

But no appealing alternative has revealed itself. Only the obvious path for the invested: live like everyone else, and finally sever myself from aspiring to anything meaningful or exciting. Growing up, they call it.

Freud called it repression, so let's hold off on drastic measures. I made this life work before and I can make it work again.

Of course, that was easy for Freud to say: Being invested in life isn't an exercise in masochism when you have a lifelong companion. Not to be maudlin, John, but I wasn't making it work until you came along. Not truly. You were the gear that made it all click. I couldn't become Sherlock Holmes until you facilitated it.

It felt like the strength you granted me persisted during our years apart, but it's no surprise I drifted off course the moment you weren't at my side. That's not superstitious, John, that’s just a cold fact. You would have caught the little things I didn't. You would have kept my ego in check.

But what's done is done. I'll muster some strength for you. Reinvent myself again. Reorder my mind, keep myself off the needle and the pavement until I tie up these loose ends. Then... who knows.

Maybe someone else will come along.

Well. Feels good to laugh.

I’ve got to get on with it. Life may be a flight of uncarpeted stairs, but I'm sick of being down here.

'Going out, dear? John didn't call, did he?'

Will I always be this damned slow?

I sigh loudly, not that it will make any difference. 'No, and no.' You scowl like you do when I talk about him. 'Just getting in.'

You frown. 'But we were just talking.'

My heart leaps. 'You and John?'

'No, silly.' My heart falls. You tilt your head; smile. 'You and me.'

'You were talking. I was out.'

You shake your head and laugh, a cheery, infuriating tinkle. 'You had quite a lot to--'

'Mrs Hudson.' For god's sake, do not go senile on me. Not one more straw.

'Is it drugs, dear?' Terrible, hushed pity. Everyone always leaps straight to drugs! 'Oh don't get angry, I know all the signs! The nerve of him, putting you in this state. I'd say a few things to him, if only he'd come around once in a--'

Anything has got to be better than this.

'Project much?' The stairs are fine two at a time.

'I need those for my hip!’

'Adjust your dose! You're clearly...’ What?

What in the world?

'That would explain so much,' he says, and the room tilts.

Through the door. There I am. There he is.

Sherlock Holmes.

End notes:

In The Lying Detective, Sherlock tells Faith that chips are “the only perk” of being suicidal. In The Empty Hearse, he was eating chips when Mary told him John had been kidnapped.

John’s most recent blog entry before this story takes place is The Empty Hearse. It’s a mindfuck minefield for poor Sherlock, but we’ll get into that more soon. For now, know it contains this doozy: “Oh, and in other news, I’ve got engaged. But, it’s not something I’m really going to talk about much here. I want to keep some things private. I will say, though, she’s the best thing that’s ever happened to me. Sorry, Sherlock :)”

I borrowed the name Pilar from Sherlock Holmes and the Baker Street Irregulars: The Fall of the Amazing Zalindas, a novel by Tracy Mack and Michael Citrin. I’ve never read it, mind, it just seems like it wouldn’t be the sort of thing Sherlock would assign to Wiggins, and Wiggins would never be so sloppy.

Sherlock is obsessed with Freud. One Freud reference in The Abominable Bride, which was constructed entirely from Sherlock’s drugged out brain, came from Mycroft, who asked John if he was aware of theories of paranoia. Freud believed paranoid people were closeted homosexuals, heavily insinuating that Sherlock believes John is a closeted homosexual. Freud meta to come later; he’s very important.

Freud was with his wife for 57 years.

“Life is a flight of uncarpeted stairs” is from the poem “Spring” by the early 20th century queer poet Edna St. Vincent Millay. She ended up dying of a heart attack that made her fall down the stairs, which is itself poetic. Though she was a woman, I think it’s realistic Sherlock would know about her: the Casebook notes that Sherlock reads the agony aunt columns in women’s magazines because they contain all of life and are pertinent to his line of work, and in the same spirit I’ve made him familiar with all old famous love letters, for which she’s renowned. We also know Sherlock is familiar with Shakespeare and moved enough to remember entire soliloquies, so there’s no way Sherlock could read “Spring” and not retain some of it — especially as John and Mary had been aiming for a spring wedding, and the poem references April, which is just wrapping up as the fic begins.

[tcrmommabear]

Merry Christmas Wolfie!

Oh, my dear @wolfiethewriter, I had a lot of fun writing this!

It’s funny how ideas and connections will hit suddenly. And then you wonder where they’ve been hiding for you to not have noticed before!

I hope you enjoy this short story about Toto, and his life before the Bureau (and a brief snippet of his life with them!)

All that we see or seem is but a dream within a dream.

-E

There was a tapping at his window.

The two things in question- his window and tapping sounds- weren’t typically a cause for concern. But the two coming together, at the dead of night, on a second story window, was reason enough to be concerned. Maybe a touch frightened.

It was storming terribly outside. Snow buffeting against the walls and windows, the old home creaking slightly under the stress. Perhaps a tree branch, or a stone? Yes, surely he could reason away the tapping that had awoken him from his dreamless sleep.

Except there were no trees and stones near his window, and as much as he didn’t want to admit it… There was the shape of a raven pecking at his window. Was the creature seeking sanctuary? He’d seen them be clever creatures, in odd ways. Never often enough to prove a thinking mind behind the eyes, but enough to be curious.

He arose from his warm bed, crept to the window, and threw back the latch. Within a moment, the window roared open, grasping fingers of wind and cold caressing his cheek. The bird flew in, racing to the shelf above his bed, and he shut the window soon after, locking the panes back into place.

“An unfortunate time to be compassionate,” he muttered, eyeing the wet floor and strewn about (thankfully blank) papers. He glanced at the bird, who sat preening at the moment, nudging wayward feathers back into place. He shook his head, stepping around the mess to the chair and fire, tossing another log.

With the bird in his room, he’d rather hold off on sleep, so neither were trapped with the other. His leg bounced, hands clasped in his lap. It was fascinating to see such a creature up close, some sort of haunting feeling lingering in the air. Like the bird was all too aware of everything around it.

“I don’t suppose,” he asked lightly of the bird, “you could spare an apology for waking me from sleep? Or for the mess left upon my floor?”

It stopped its preening, turning instead to focus remarkably intelligent, black eyes upon him. He felt exposed for a moment, like staring down at the dizzying height of his home, the ground unreachable.

The bird gave a smile.

“One is due, in any circumstance. Along with my thanks,” a deep voice spilled from the beak.

He scrambled, limbs frantically working to get him up and away. He crammed himself into the corner behind the chair, never breaking eye contact with the bird. He grabbed the fire poker, held it up with shaking hands. As intimidating as a mouse to a lion.

The bird watched him. Waited. Cocked its head as the two stood there together, opposite corners of the room and battling for the space. At least, he felt he was in battle. An outright war between his logical, insistent mind that none of this was real, and the morbidly curious side of his mind. The one that watched crows peck at the leftover corpse of a squirrel.

“Surely,”- he licked his lips-“surely those words were not spoken by you, bird? Otherwise, I may have to admit that I’ve gone completely mad.”

“But I did speak. Specifically to apologize and to thank you. I thought I might frighten you, but you’re taking this all really well,”  the crow laughed, slightly. The sound, though disagreeing with his understanding of the world, was warm, kind. He didn’t quite know what he had to be afraid of. It’s a crow.

A talking crow.

“If I may, sir,” the crow began, flapping wings and jerking his head towards the fire, “might I take a perch by the fire? I’ve flown all day and night in this snow, and I’d like to get warmth back into my bones.”

He used the fire poker to loosely gesture over towards the fireplace, dropping it when the bird took flight and landed near the flames. He slowly worked his way around his chair, dropping into it without breaking contact with the bird. Surely, there must be some reasoning or idea behind this madness.

“You’re just a dream, yes?” he asked hopefully, pressing his clasped hands against his mouth.

“That’s a question with an answer only we can decide for ourselves,” the bird answered, simply, “but I like to think of myself as quite real.”

“Right, of course.”

They lapsed into silence, the wind’s howls and the fire’s crackles more than eager to fill the space. The bird seemed as content as could be just to watch the flames, quiet company and all that. He felt like a bomb ready to go off, examining ever feather and piece of skin he could find.

“You speak well,” he blurted out once the fuse lit the dynamite, “taught by your master? Did he give you a name?”

The bird blinked in surprise, if he had to guess. He felt foolish at the idea of asking for a name, expecting much of the creature that (he was beginning to reason to himself) could only speak what little its master had taught.

“I’ve had many names over the years,” the bird told him, staring into the flames, “none have really stayed. Call me what you like.”

He shifted, fraught with nerves. He glanced about the room, searching for a bolt of lightning to strike him. A small bust caught his eye briefly, the features sculpted delicately, the war helmet upright and sure.

“Would “Pallas” be a suitable name?” he asked after a moment of thought.

The bird gave a bark (caw?) of laughter, fluffing its feathers while it turned to catch his eye.

“After Pallas Athena, I see? I’d be honored to take her name,” he chortled out.

He gave a relieved smile, still flicking between the two, looking for some sort of riddle to be solved. Hardly noticing the final, mournful howls of winter’s snow. But the crow- Pallas- took off towards the window ledge, pausing to glance about what survived of his desk.

“I thank you for your kindness and warmth,” Pallas called out, reading his works that he’d tried and scrapped. “Could I have your name to thank you properly?”

He hesitated a moment, before responding, “Allan. You can call me Allan.”

“Sir Allan,” Pallas said, puffing their chest, “I thank you for the fire and the company.”

“Will I see you again?” he blurted, crossing halfway to the window with a hand raised. He had questions, needed answers, wanted to discover how far reality and dream came to be. How mad he really, truly was, to seek after a bird.

Pallas cocked his head, left then right, then read his papers one more time.

“Morning nears, and the storm has finally stopped. But perhaps I can stay in town a few more days, just to be sure the snow will leave us.”

Pallas grinned at him, jerking his head at the window, and he realized the crow lacked what was needed to get outside. Cold air burst against his cheek, the wind tugging stubbornly at the pane to fly open.

Pallas took off into the night, gone with the inky black sky, and he quickly closed the window after. He stumbled into his bed, pulled the covers up to his chin, then to his eyes, hiding under the blankets as he counted down from ten. Twas just a dream. A dream within a dream, and one so curious and frightful.

“Never again,” he whispered to his heart, “never again. Nevermore shall that crow visit me.”

***

“Baron, who’s this a bust of?” Haru called, standing before the stone torso of a Greek woman, dressed in robes but bearing a helmet upon her head.

The plaque saying her name was Greek (literally) to Haru, having travelled to said country for a Bureau investigation that she wasn’t entirely sure was going well. But hey, a day spent at public places that don’t care if you’re suddenly calling out for a person who’s not nearby was a day she could enjoy.

Toto flew in, landing a foot or two on the ground, trying to look as casual as a crow talking to a human girl could be.

“Baron’s over trying to stop Muta from attacking the gelato cart,” he told her when she gave a confused look, “which bust are you talking about?”

“This one,” Haru said, flapping a hand at the woman and nearly smacking her hand on the stone.

“Pallas Athena,” Toto replied, “or plain Athena for those who don’t know epithets. Famously known as the Greek Goddess of wisdom and strategy.”

“Huh,” was Haru’s response, tilting her head, “that explains a lot about that poem.”

“Poem?” Toto asked.

“Yeah, the one by Edgar Allan Poe. He mentioned a bust named “Pallas” and I was always really confused on who that was.”

Toto narrowed his eyes at the bust, echos of memories just barely coming through.

“Haru, what was this poem called?”

“Hmm? Oh, uh, “The Raven”, I think.”

Toto cawed out a laugh, catching Haru by surprised.

“I always thought he lied about his first name. Truly scared you, didn’t I, Sir Allan?”

Haru blinked, turned towards Toto, and ignored a surprised audience when she yelled-

“Wait you knew Edgar Allan Poe?!”

[velerodra-valesinger]

In Search of a Lost Spark

Mentions:   ( @longveil, @revthepunchbear, @eilitheduskbringer, @kurel-andiel, @theshalthera )

Vel glanced over her shoulder as she walked hastily away from the building where Seraanna dwelt.   Sera was a curious entity and Vel had already divulged enough to her for one night.   

She’d seen what others had on occasion glimpsed.    Pain.    In her temples, in her fingers, and along her spine.   Usually when these bouts of pain began, it began with her fingers.   A twitch at the tips.   Eventually her entire hands would ache from the odd contortions of her fingers.    Sometimes it never went beyond a few pangs.   Yet there were times where it spread.   When it was crippling. 

The monkette was not a stranger to pain but this pain was abnormal.   It was - physical, yet, somehow - impossible for it to be physical.   It was a pain that shouldn’t have been able to exist.   And when it escalated there was no hiding it.   No concealing it.   Normally she just removed herself from others in order to wait it out.    However, on this night, Sera was able to see it.   Vel had allowed her to see it.    

She’d told Sera, ‘not to make a thing of it’.    

Vel also made sure Sera was aware that this condition, these chronic bouts of intense pain were a liability.    And she made sure to point out that when they occurred there was nothing that could be done other than to wait.   There was no relief.    

Vel rarely offered such information without cause to do so.   

And in this case, it was a way of evaluating Sera.

Would she listen, and not make a thing of it?   

Would she acknowledge that this condition was indeed a liability that made Vel less useful?   Would she still see Vel the same way?   

Or would she see her as Vel saw herself?   

Objectively - less useful than she used to be.   

Vel’s feet carried her to the cemetery, where she sat with her back pressed against a tombstone.    The dead made good company.   They were quiet and kept their concerns to themselves.   And they kept things to themselves.   At some point Vel lost consciousness.   

When she awoke, it was still dark, and her body felt itself once more.   Her muscles were stiff, and some sore.  Not much time had passed.    Not this time.   

She pushed herself up, and began to walk, eventually she’d wind up at the Chariot.   Then in Dead Sun.   Behind a locked office door.   There was but one item that sat on her desk.    A letter.   A letter from Eilithe.    

A letter she’d read many times over, and yet still, her weary eyes scanned words she’d memorized by now:

Velerodra, 

I think I would have done much better if I were more like mist.

The thoughts began to swirl through her head, as if she were speaking with Eilithe, as if she were sitting right in front of her.    She wasn’t, but in Vel’s mind, she might as well have been.  

If better means - less hurt, less sadness, less joy, less love - you’d have done better.   But I am not sure that is better at all.   Rev, she feels things, so instantly…   and strongly…   and mist is slow to feel.   And rarely does it understand what it feels…  too nebulous.   That is what mother used to tell me, that I was too nebulous.  I do not know if I am any more or less nebulous now than back then…   mists are difficult to track like that.   As they shift and swirl.   And bits are lost and left adrift.   You are better as you are, with your anger, and your hurt.    With spite.   And hatred.   And love.   I may not understand it all, but I think I may envy it.   I would not have you become a mist, I wouldn’t wish it upon anyone.   I did not wish it upon myself.   But it made me -  more useful.

Please don’t worry yourself– I’m going to handle things that can no longer be put off. When I return, I think I will feel much better. 

Yes.   I know.   You always come back.   I do wish you’d have told me - what it is that need to be dealt with.  If not for this letter, I would be burying my head beneath sea level, trying to make connections with the denizens open to such things.   After that night with the portal, I felt useless.   Some forces are beyond me.   I am part of some collection.   But I have no idea what that means.   I had no idea.  No plan.  No advice.   No moves.  No tricks.   Your right hand - was paralyzed.   I intend to refocus my energy somewhere I might be useful.   

While I’m gone, find Quel’Vuran. I want to believe that people can be saved– the way you do, Vel. It’s probably too late for the warlock– but not for Svetloba.

More thoughts spiraled, less coherently than before.    More - desperate. 

This.  I will do.   This is something I must do.   More than find her.   This is something I can do.   Something perhaps an older version of me may have been able to do.   I once convinced Illidari and Blood Knights to aid me in rescuing a demon….  Without ever lying to them.   I used to be - sharper.   I will retrieve the souls of Svetloba’s family.  

I will convince her to give them to me - willingly.   I do not know how.  

But I must. 

Because if I don’t, I fear, I am becoming a shadow of the creature I once was.    I know you wish for this woman to die, but she cannot die -yet-.   I do not wish to save anyone.   For I do not believe anyone requires saving.   Creatures are what they are, and what they will become.   They can be counted upon to be what they are.   The warlock will die, but not before - she serves a purpose.   I will - figure something out.   I need to know, I am still capable of being what I once was.  For I fear, in some ways, I am weaker.

I love you dearly,

Eilithe

I love you too.   And I will not doubt your return.   For you have always returned.    

PS Help Reveria to be patient– be the steady had that quells her emotions. You’re both capable of leading– but together you’re all the more a force to reckon with.

I have done my best.   I have tried to keep everyone calm.   Reveria has done well.   Her emotions get the best of her, and I envy that.   But it is at times counterproductive.   I have attempted to try and keep her steadied.  It was a fortunate boon, that An’set proposed to her.   As I believe he has kept her calm too.  However, tonight, An’set - seemed less clam than he usually seems.   I should not be shocked to learn An’set hates Kurel.  An’set is normally rather collected.   Last night he - seemed - riled up.    I do not know where Kurel is currently.   I have not seen him since I last checked in with you and the others that night at the Keg.  The night you wrote this letter…   the night you must have left.   I hope things - do not get out of hand...   As it could delay me from pursuing my objective.

PPS Tell Seraanna that my grandmother will be by to speak with her

PPPS Rhemi has my vote, tell Reveria too.

Check.   This matter has been attended to. 

Context would have been helpful here Eilithe.  I told Reveria.   But I am not sure what we are voting on.   I trust your judgment on it - so Rhemi will have my vote as well.  Unless it is for - something weird.    Actually I abstain.    Just in case…    we can discuss this when you are back.   Which should be — soon.   Any longer and people may begin to start telling me that something is wrong.   And I will not accept that.   I will not hear it.   I know you will return Eilithe.   I do not lie, and I will not let you make a liar out of me.    So you will return….    And I must ... return as well.    

For this night has highlighted to me - it has been a long while since I was the creature I used to be.    I used to be sharper.   I wasn’t plagued by these fits of pain that can cripple me.  My body didn’t betray me.   I was not so indecisive.   I was bolder.   Willing to take risks.   I have twice given my soul to demons and gotten it returned to me.   I was not afraid of being called a fool.   I embraced it…   I must - reshape myself….   for this current iteration - is objectively less useful.   And inefficient.   And were I you, I’d advise against keeping me around.   You must return.   And I must - depart…   for Quel’Vuran.   To prove to myself, that I am still, capable of - being ….  half as clever as I once was…   I may never be free of these fits of pain that have haunted me since Argus.   But I will adapt.   As I always have.    

Vel focused.   Her thoughts had wandered for too long.  Words she might never speak out loud.   Problems she might never share.   Ideas of what she was and what she is now.  A mixed muddle of ideas.   Tangled and unclear.   Yet there was a clarity as she put ink to page.   

Eilithe, 

In the event you return first.   Welcome back.   I love you.   I will return once I’ve dealt with the issue you requested I locate.    I confess, I have no idea what I intend to do.   Hopefully I’ve not forgotten how to improvise.   

—Vel

She put this small note on Eilithe’s door.   There were of course some doubts in the depths of Vel’s mind.   Some worries.   But - Vel never really let such things creep into the forefront of her mind.  

Vel wasn’t an honest creature - she was misleading, selective about what she said, she left blanks, gaps for people to make assumptions.    She was subtle in her dishonestly and as a rule she never lied directly. 

With the singular exception being the occasions on which she lied to herself.   

But when she did lie to herself, she was exceptional at it.   

So when she told herself Eilithe was going to be fine, there was nothing to worry about and that she would return - she always believed herself.  

She intended to seek out Lady Quel’Vular.    She’d let Rev know first.   Just in case.    But other than that, Vel planned on winging this.     Granted, many things could get cause her a delay or two.    She had to make sure things were still running smoothly, and that Rev was - calm.   

She wouldn’t have been able to get away with this sort of thing if Eilithe were around.   But Vel, in a way, needed to try.    She needed to see if she - still had the spark she once did.   

[katehuntington]

Title: My Brother’s First Hunt Fandom: Supernatural Timeframe: Pre-series (1993) Characters: Dean Winchester (POV), Sam Winchester, John Winchester (mentioned), Jessica Moore (mentioned) Pairing: Dean & Sam (platonic) Summary: Fourteen year old Dean takes his younger brother on a simple salt and burn, but soon regrets his decision when the hunt goes sideways and Sam finds himself in harm's way. Warnings: angsty, canon typical violence, swearing, mentions of smoking. Further than that Weechester feels and brotherly love. Word Count: 2427 words. Author’s note: I love to write these little insights of their lives before 2005. Thank you so much @littlegreenplasticsoldier for beta’ing this one shot! I gave it a once-over before posting, though, so all errors still in there are on me.

    “Wait, I thought you were supposed to bring that.”

    My ten-year-old brother Sam stared at me with wide open eyes, curtained by his fringe. He had frozen mid-action, holding the jerrycan over the six-foot deep hole in the ground as the last drops fell. Beneath our feet, the remains of Josephine Henrey were bared for the stars above to see for the first time in over a twenty-five years. Gasoline shimmered upon the bones, and enough salt to keep the road to Hell from freezing over covered the body like snow on a winter’s day. Because on my first hunt without Dad, I just had to be safe. I’d stuffed enough supplies in my backpack to light up this entire graveyard... If I only had a lighter.

    “Why am I supposed to be the one with a lighter, Dean? You’re the one who smokes!”, Sam returns annoyed.    “I do not!” I denied, lying through my teeth.     “Do too!” Sam countered, triumph in his stance. “I saw you with Jenny under the bleachers after practice.”     “That was one time!”     “Uh-huh.”     I glared at him, not too happy with the attitude my little brother was giving me. Maybe he wasn’t as tall as me just yet, but the days I could have fooled Sam were in the past.     “Fine. So maybe I do. But don’t even think about snitching on me and telling Dad, because I’ll kick your ass,” I warned him.     “Is that really the point now? Because we just dug up a body of an angry spirit without anything to start a fire,” my clever brother reminded me.

    He had a solid point. The fact that this situation was going from bad to worse became clear as soon as the atmosphere around us changed. A cold wind sent shivers down my spine and the temperature dropped below freezing point in only a few seconds. Suddenly the local cemetery did not seemed like such a peaceful resting place anymore. The pitch black shadows of the trees and crypts drew long silhouettes, creeping closer, like they were trying to gulp us down. Something was coming, and we had to hurry.

    “Dean?” Sam whispered, scanning his surroundings.     “Don’t worry, we’ll figure this out.”     I kneeled down next to the backpack, pulled out an iron steel pipe and started searching the extra pockets for anything that could ignite the fuel. My little brother held the flashlight above me so that I could see what I was doing, his unsteady hands giving away his fright. Truth be told, he wasn’t the only one, because I was scared shitless, too.

    At the age of fourteen I’d had a couple of hunts under my belt, always with Dad. He would track the thing, he would figure out what it was, he would kill it. I was just there to watch and learn, maybe assist if it was easy enough. Never had I ever hunted on my own, but when I read a suspicious newspaper article in the local newspaper, I was crawling the walls of that motel room. Dad was on a job in Minnesota and was gone for at least three weeks, so I couldn’t wait for him to get back. Something had to be done. I lasted one day after reading that article. My old man was going to kill me, that was a sure thing, but I couldn’t let anyone else die.

    Research turned out to be tough, and that’s where Sammy came in. In no time, he’d figured out whose ghost was haunting the old warehouse and where she was buried. But now that he’d had a part in the case, the little pain in the ass wanted to come along. I was gonna get in a lot of trouble for hunting solo at the age that didn’t even allow me to drive a car, let alone if I took a ten year old with me on the job. But Sammy begged, gave me that puppy dog stare that I have always been a sucker for.

    Those same eyes shimmered fearfully now, trying to read in mine if I had a plan to get us out of here. Boy, little Sam must’ve been regretting this field trip. The beam from the torch began to flicker and soon our only lightsource died. Sammy slammed the flashlight in the palm of his hand a couple of times, but it wasn’t faulty batteries, nor the wiring, that caused it to fail. I stood up, my brother mirroring me, as we alertly scanned the cemetery. Suddenly Sam yanked the sleeve of the leather jacket that Dad gave to me, and stared at a dark figure about thirty yards away; a bony old woman with dark messy hair hanging in front of her face. I gulped, my eyes widening, but before I could respond, the image vanished into thin air.

    Seeing her was scary, but not knowing where she was now ignited a whole new level of anxiety. Shit! This was so not how I planned this. For a few terrifying seconds the spirit was gone and I gripped the pipe.     “Listen to me, Sammy,” I said, keeping my voice down. “I need you to think of everything that Dad taught us so far. Don’t be scared, okay? I’ve got your back. We need to keep our heads together now.”     He only nodded, jaw clamped shut as his eyes darted from shadow to shadow. Then, out of nowhere the elderly woman flicked into my sight, right behind Sam, claws out to get him.

    “Sam, get down!”

    Without hesitation he dropped as I swung the iron bar over his head, tearing through the spirit of Josephine. She dissolved into smoky fog and reappeared, obsessively focusing on Sam again. Then I remembered the connection the victims had: all were younger siblings. In shock, I watched my little brother stumble back until he tripped over the backpack at the edge of the grave and fell.     “Sammy!”

    The helplessness, the desperation; I could see it in his eyes. Even at ten years old, the little guy knew he was facing death. No way in hell I was gonna let that bitch touch my brother, so my instinct kicked in. Every fiber in me suddenly knew exactly what to do. I had to fulfill the task Dad gave to me when I carried my baby brother out of the fire ten years ago. I had to protect him, with my life if necessary. That urge pushed all the fear that I carried for this supernatural being out of the way and I marched on the ghost, my weapon above my head as I lunged at her. Furious, the spirit threw me off her back, but I got on my feet and held the line.     “You wanna kill someone that bad? Pick someone your own size!” I challenged her, arrogantly spreading my arms.

    A frightening hissing murmur erupted from her throat. Her eyes sank deeper into the dark holes of her sockets and her mouth opened so wide that I heard her jaw crack. Moving faster than my eyes could register, the spirit sped towards me and then froze. Suddenly I was lifted from the ground like a feather and I found myself in mid-air, being thrown several yards away. My course of flight was interrupted by a tree and I hit it head first. A sharp pain shot through my skull, a wave of nausea disorientated me. The impact made me lose long vital seconds.

    Sammy? Where’s Sammy? It was all I could think of. I had to make sure the ghost kept her focus on me, I had to give Sam a fair chance to get away. Fighting to keep my ground I sat up at the roots of the tree, trying to blink the black spots and odd colors from my blurred vision. By the time I’d managed that, the spirit of Josephine Henrey was hovering over me and there was no way I could escape her grip. She placed her hand on my chest and I felt every muscle in my body tense, my heart rate increasing to a pace that was just plain unhealthy. The pain was unbearable and I cried out as her nails penetrated my skin. This is it, I realized. My first solo hunt was destined to be my last, I was going to die.

    Then without a sign, the ghost backed off, arching her back as she let out a horrifying scream. Flames engulfed her until there was nothing left but a few burning embers that twirled up the night sky. Unsure of what just happened, I laid my head back against the bark, out of breath as the discomfort wore off. Then my eyes caught Sam, standing next to the grave from which an orange light shimmered on his features. His innocence didn't seem compromised by the setting nor by his actions, but nevertheless he looked years older. His hair, due for a haircut was messy, and the hoodie I used to wear got muddy at the cuffs, the sleeves too short for him now. Although my brother was only ten, right there on the spot I became aware of how fast he was growing up. That growth wasn't just physical, it was his bright mind too.

    Sammy’s hazel eyes now jumped to me, still wild.     “You okay?”     “Yeah, yeah....” I muttered as I got to my feet. “What took you so long?”     “You try starting a fire without a lighter or matchsticks with a angry spirit looking over your shoulder,” Sammy scoffed.     He crouched down, collecting the empty jerrycan and his flashlight from the ground. After testing my balance first, I approached the fire pit slowly, feeling my forehead.     “How did you light up Josy anyway?” I wondered.     Sam picked up two pieces of rock and showed them to me.     “Two strike stones. Oldest survival trick in the book. Dad taught us, remember?”

    That he thought of Dad’s survival lessons was impressive, but how he stayed calm enough to get a spark while I was under attack by that spirit, I didn't know. I was sure, though, that Sam had what it took to become exceptionally good at this job. He would fill Dad with as much pride as I carried in that moment. Sammy was an outstanding hunter in the making. I smiled at my brother, but masked my true feelings with my usual bullshit.     “Awesome. But then, of course, you had all the time in the world, while I had that ghost on my ass.”     “No, I didn't,” Sam objected, as we started walking back to the road. “You would have been dead if I hadn't been so fast.”     “I was handling it,” I shrugged.     “Really, huh? Yeah, you dad everything perfectly under control.”     “I did!” I kept it up, resting the wooden handle of the shovel on my shoulder.     “Sure. You weren't scared either.”

    Sammy now glanced up at me, victory shining in his eyes. Of course, I wasn't going to admit that I was so frightened I nearly pissed my pants when that spirit worked me over. Fact is, though, that I love my little brother, and  it unleashed a new form of bravery I never thought I had. Fear never stood a chance.     “I wasn't,” I returned, cocky.     “Why did you scream like a girl then?”     “I didn't scream like a girl!”     “You so did.”     “She was trying to rip my heart out, jerkface!”     “You still screamed like a girl.”     Bickering, we strolled down the path, our walks synchronized like siblings often do. When we arrived at the main road, the lamppost shined a light on my brother much like one does now on Halloween night in Palo Alto, California, twelve years later. Sam is taller, he even outgrew me, but he still has the same hair, the same lean posture and that same innocence. These days he wears clothes that fit him, not my hand me downs. He’s his own person now.

    We just wrapped up a case considering a Woman In White, but since we didn't find our Dad like we set out to, I’m forced to drop him off at campus. An interview tomorrow morning is the reason our paths separate once again and there is nothing left for me but to face the road alone.

    From behind the wheel of my car I watch him walk away towards the apartment he shares with his girlfriend Jessica and I sigh as I lay my arm on the back of the seat. The passenger’s side already seems cold and empty and a tightness in my chest brings to mind how badly I want him to get back in the car and help me find Dad. But I can’t, I can't expect him to. This is the life Sam wants. A normal one, without monsters, weapon training and shitty motels. How many hunters get out? How many hunters get to go to university and live a normal, apple pie life? Few, but Sam is one of them. And if there is anyone who deserves that chance, it’s him.

    “Sam?” I call out.     He turns around, questioning eyes meeting mine. There’s a breath that escapes his throat when he sways and shifts his balance, a trace of annoyance, even though he tries to hide it and be patient with me. His body language makes me hesitate, but I tell him either way.

“Y’know we made a hell of a team back there.”     Sam keeps a hold of my gaze, then nods slightly as a small smile forms on his lips.     “Yeah…” he acknowledges.

    I grant him a few seconds to change his mind, but then I straighten my back, put the car in ‘drive’ and steer the Impala back onto the road. I bite down the frustration, my jaw flexing as I do so, doing my best to cast out my emotions. I've been here before, when Sam left for Stanford in the first place. An uneasy feeling settles in my stomach now that we’re apart, torn between what I’m supposed to do and what I truly want. Pain stings my heart now that I find myself alone, without my brother by my side. And as I drive off only accompanied by old tunes on cassette tapes, I don't see that Sam watches me leave. I don't hear the shuddering sigh that leaves his lips as the rumble of the engine fades in the distance. 

    I don’t know that deep down, Sam feels it, too.

Thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed it. Feel free to send me a message or leave a comment!

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[douxreviews]

American Gods - ‘The Beguiling Man’ Review

"Their whole life they’ve been hearing a story about who you are. And you’re the enemy in that story."

In episode two of its second season, American Gods finds a reason to tell us the tragic story of Shadow's past. And it's... basically one of the less interesting episodes of Daredevil.

That's disappointing.

To be more specific, it's disappointing that they felt the need to devote half an episode to telling us the tragic story of Shadow's teenage years, because the story they tell here is essentially the same 'outsider teen moves to a new town and encounters local bullies' story that we've seen a thousand times before. It's The Karate Kid, in which the role of Mr. Miyagi is played by maternal cancer.

The underlying problem here is that there is just no reason for them to be telling this story to us in the first place, either in the metanarrative or the narrative sense. Mr. Town, played by the always welcome Dean Winters, has Shadow rigged up to a big ominous machine, and mentions Shadow's mom once. That's it. That's all the narrative justification we get for why we're being told this story at this time. Somehow that one mention of his mother inspires him to remember how his mom brought him back from France to live in Brooklyn, and how he got beat up that one time, she started dying of cancer, he got so upset about that that he went right out and beat up the guys that attacked him earlier, then she died and that was that.

And I hate to say it, but just reading that last paragraph gives you pretty much the same experience as watching it play out over twenty odd minutes of this episode's runtime. Which is too bad, because it's not like there isn't a lot of good stuff just waiting to be explored here. Olunike Adeliyi, playing Shadow's Mom – and how telling is it that she never gets identified as more than that – is actually really good when her dialogue stops being a stream of character information and 'deep meditations on the human soul.'  Watch the moment when she breaks from doing that to tell Shadow that she's going to stop for drinks with somebody named Jerry, and you witness a revelation. In that moment, she goes from being a mouthpiece for things the scripts wants to have said out loud and becomes an actual, interesting person. And I want to know more about that person, because she honestly sparkled at that moment and you could see why Shadow loved her. But we don't get to see more than a moment or two of that, because the script wants to make sure that we know that she's read Siddhartha.

It feels like a case of a screen writer not trusting the audience to understand the subtext, and this show is above that sort of thing.

Similarly, Shadow is mugged, he gets his CD player back and runs for it. And the Brooklyn cops see a black kid running with a portable CD player and arrest him, either instead of or along with his attempted muggers, it's not entirely clear. That's a huge moment that is way, way too true about America still today, but it gets completely thrown away because Shadow's Mom just wants to talk more about how much light is in him. Honestly, I wish that they'd either explored the more interesting stuff that gets sidelined here, or just told us through dialogue that Shadow's Mom had died of cancer and left it at that, because the story that they chose to tell here just ultimately didn't feel like it had anything in particular to say. I feel like I should add though that Gabriel Darku did a good job with the material he was given, and was believable as a young Shadow Moon.

OK, enough about that, because there's a whole other half to this episode and that's where all the good stuff really was.

When we left our heroes, the restaurant had been shot to Hell, Zorya Vechernyaya was dead, and Shadow had been spirited off into the night via helicopter. Here the show seems to run into a bit of a problem with not knowing what to do with all of the characters currently in play. They deal with the situation by generally having them all disperse in pairs on separate missions, which more or less works. Ifrit the Jinn and Salim ride off to the corn palace to fetch Odin's spear, not to be seen again this week. One can only assume that we'll catch up with them later, and how absolutely adorable was Salim, sitting in the sidecar and beaming at being allowed to come along. You two drive safe, we'll see you, presumably, later in the season. Probably right at the end, I would guess.

Wednesday and Mr. Nancy head off to Cairo, Illinois, although they don't get there this week, and I honestly struggled to remember where they were going every time the action cut back to them. They were basically in a holding pattern while other events got into their proper placement for what's going to happen in Cairo. But damn if it wasn't an enjoyable holding pattern to watch. I would tune in weekly for the road trip adventures of Wednesday and Nancy, even if nothing ever happened besides the two of them bantering. The entire exchange about the bucket of fried chicken, which I will not spoil here if you haven't watched it, was better than 95% of broadcast television.

Shadow, we see, has been hooked up to the previously mentioned big ominous machine, which doesn't actually appear to do anything except hold Ricky Whittle up in a sexy and dramatic way, but I suppose that's a noble enough goal. It would be nice if we ever got any clear indication of what exactly Mr. Town wanted out of the situation. Sometimes it seemed like he was trying to convince Shadow to switch sides and join the new gods, sometimes it seemed like he was trying to get information, and sometimes it seemed like he was simply torturing him for no particular reason. Unfortunately, we're not likely to ever get an explanation, since he appears to be dead either just before or immediately after the end of the episode. Ah, well.

But the real MVP, and the only real reason to ever watch this episode again, is the continuing adventures and burgeoning friendship of Laura Moon and Mad Sweeney. Pablo Schreiber and Emily Browning have great chemistry together, and both excel at playing broken, friendless assholes who make a connection with one another despite both of them trying as hard as they can not to do so. When Sweeney says, 'Is that how you ask for a favor,' you can tell by the look on his face that he'd pretty much die to help Laura and this point, and he'd definitely die before he'd ever admit it. Everything they do together is wonderful and complicated and they're by far the best thing the show has going on that didn't come from the book.

Quotes:

Wednesday: "Mama-Ji, you hear the battle cries. May I count on your blades?" Mama-Ji: "You brought the fight to my doorstep. I have no choice but to resume the lopping of heads, drinking of blood, and liberating of souls. That is, if I can swap my weekend shift with Arjun."

Sweeney: "…And God didn’t f**k up your life. You did a great job of that all by yourself." Laura: "Well, it was my life to f**k up." Sweeney: "Indeed it was. And you f**ked the shit out of it, didn’t ya?"

Bulquis: "Love and war may sit on opposite sides of a coin, but only so they may never meet."

Sweeney: "Last week you could have lifted an entire f**kin’ elephant. Two f**kin' elephants if my nuts are the judge."

Laura: "What do you usually drive, horse and buggy?" Sweeney: "Says the corpse who flipped an ice cream truck."

Bits and Pieces:

-- Apparently Bilquis was supposed to talk the old gods out of joining Wednesday, but didn't try that hard.

-- They showed us that Shadow was on a train early on, then wasted a lot of time having us watch Laura work that exact same information out. That's sloppy plotting.

-- I can only assume that Ricky Whittle was excruciatingly uncomfortable filming this week.

-- What is up with the restaurant owners and staff? They just got shot up and people died, and yet there are no cops on the scene, and the restaurant is somehow still serving pancakes for Sweeney.

-- Technical Boy's search for Media got a little further this week. Going to Times Square was a clever idea to find her what with all the screens. The show is still playing coy on revealing Gillian Anderson's replacement as New Media, though. All in all, that changeover has been very well handled. Looks like we get the reveal of New Media next week. Let's see if they stick the landing.

-- There's no way they could have known this in advance, but it was so very nice to have a respectful and peaceful representation of Islam this week.

-- What does Ifrit think of Salim's prayers and faith? I'd be interested to know.

-- Ricky Whittle is 37, and Young Shadow appeared to be about 17 or thereabouts. That would imply that the Brooklyn segments were taking place around 1999. I really dislike using the World Trade Center as a visual signifier for 'in the past,' by the way. It's a personal thing.

-- We were clumsily shown this week that Shadow doesn't know who his father is and his mother won't tell him. We pretty much all know where that's going, even if they had been remotely subtle about it. Which they were not.

-- Wednesday's eulogy for Betty the car, as he waits for Shadow's train to plow into her on the railroad tracks, is a thing of strange beauty and inexplicable dignity.

-- Seriously though, you need to stand a lot further away than that if a train is about to hit a car. I know this from experience.

-- Sweeney takes Laura through something he refers to as 'The Hoard' to get catch up with Shadow.  I'm assuming that that's 'hoard' as in a big collection of treasure.  They don't appear to have passed through James McAvoy.

I really hate to say this sort of thing, but the show just hasn't felt the same without Fuller and Green. The strange ambient noise and slow motion shots of fluid in motion are pretty much all gone, the storytelling is significantly more linear, and I really think the show is weaker for the change. But, of course, we're only two episodes in. I really shouldn't judge too much yet.

Two out of four buckets of chicken. Almost entirely due to Laura and Sweeney. Just fastforward to their parts, and assume everything else works out all right.

Mikey Heinrich is, among other things, a freelance writer, volunteer firefighter, and roughly 78% water.

[sweetalnazar]

I Won’t Forget

Just another day in Muriel's life, watching over the shop and the energetic airhead apprentice living there while Asra's away. As usual. At least it was supposed to be just the usual...

4.5k words. Pre-canon. Fluff (can be read as romantic or platonic). My apprentice, Mine/Muriel/Asra.

It was a warm night, too warm for Muriel. It was still early into summer, which meant the heat would only worsen in the coming days.

The forest was always cool, shielding him from the sun’s harsh rays, but the city seemed to absorb the heat into its very stone. Even after sunset, everything felt hot and sticky. He almost wanted to take off his cloak.

But he didn’t.

People didn’t like it when Muriel took off his cloak or even just pulled down the hood. They didn’t like him much when he was wearing the cloak either, but it wasn’t as bad. Not as bad as when their eyes dropped to the mess of scars across his body or locked onto his face, their expressions pale and fearful.

At least there weren’t many people coming this way after dark.

If only the person he was waiting for would hurry up and pass through, then he could finally , finally  get home to a nice, quiet evening by the fire with Inanna.

He glanced at the door of the magic shop, almost as if it would make the apprentice living there appear. He knew staring at the door and thinking hard had never made Asra appear; Mine would certainly be no different.

He drummed his fingers against his thigh. Where in the world were they? It had been hours since they’d left the shop, hours since Muriel had tried and failed to keep up with them through Vesuvia’s crowds.

In the end, he had returned to the alley and waited.

True, Mine was often out running errands– and generally running around the place– when Asra was not around, but….had they ever been out this long? This late?

His throat tightened.

Were they alright?

No, it was Mine, sunny and careless and a little too loud, but always pulling through, regardless of the odds.

But what if, tonight was the night they couldn’t beat the odds?

No, no, it couldn’t be.

And yet...this was Mine, the one who got into bar fights and fist fights and verbal fights, all kinds of fights really. The one who came back bleeding and bruised more often than anyone liked. The one who always came back with a smile and their head held high, no matter how badly they were beaten up.

Yes, they would come back. Of course they would. Of course...

With an irritated sigh, Muriel slipped out of the alley into the street and began casting a search spell. He thought of Mine, that soft, chubby figure that could never keep still; those big brown eyes that always seemed to be laughing; that loud, clear voice that he could pick out anywhere.

He felt a twinge, a tug at the edge of his consciousness, and he let it pull him to where Mine was.

As the pull grew stronger, his worry grew deeper.

He was making his way to a dangerous part of town. It had been old and poor even before Lucio had come along. After the plague, it was nothing but crumbling brick and garbage, most of its inhabitants had either fled or died.

Now the most desperate lived here, trying to take what little shelter the ruined buildings had to offer.

Of course, Mine would end up somewhere here. Where else would they be?

Certainly not somewhere safe.

Sensible was not a word Muriel would use to describe Mine.

He stopped in front of what was maybe a government building at some point, or possibly an apartment many years ago. Much of the building was exposed, the walls falling apart. All of the windows had been smashed in, one of the frames sticking haphazardly out, threatening to fall on any passerbys. Weeds sprung out from numerous corners.

There was a brick staircase at the side leading to the roof. Well, almost, if some of the brick hadn’t collapsed partway.

Sitting some ways up the staircase was a lone, familiar figure.

“Mine!”

“Yes?” They stared down at him, a dreamy vacant expression on their face.

He opened his mouth to scold them, before realizing what he was doing. He wasn’t supposed to be here, in front of them, talking to them. He should, he should be in the shadows, watching and waiting like he always did.

He took a deep breath. It didn’t matter they were seeing him now, they’d forget soon enough.

In a calmer voice, he said, “What are you doing here?”

They shrugged. “Looking at the stars, I guess.”

“You couldn’t do that at the shop?”

“I could.” They looked back towards the sky and Muriel came closer until one foot rested on the first step. “It’s so calm, isn’t it?”

“.....It, is.” He supposed it was, for a place like this.

They closed their eyes and sighed, sounding content. “It’s times like this, y’know, when everything is quiet and slow, it feels like, like you could stop and take a breath. Like the whole world is slowing down.”

Their expression was almost serene, and their entire posture was relaxed. He’d never seen them so calm and peaceful.

All of a sudden, they turned to him, as if seeing him for the first time. “Sorry, who are you again?”

“Uh….” They couldn’t have already forgotten him. They hadn’t even looked at him properly to begin with!

“Are you lost too?”

Oh. That explained, a lot.

Mine patted the spot beside them. “Do you want to join me?”

He pulled back for a moment, but thought better of it. He trudged up the stairs before plopping himself next to them.

They gave him a smile before their attention went back to the sky. Looking closer, they did seem to be tired.

“Do you…. want to sleep?” he asked. He didn’t mind watching over them, and he could carry them back to the shop if they were really tired.

Mine shook their head. “Asra said it’s dangerous to sleep outside. In Vesuvia, at least.”

Muriel nodded. Previous experience had proven that to be true.

“I tried looking for the way home earlier. I ended up here, and I was too tired to look anymore. I’ll wait until the sun comes up.”

“Why?”

“Maybe it’ll be easier in the daylight. It’s definitely easier to ask for directions in the morning.”

“.....OK.” That didn’t make much sense, but Mine didn’t seem to mind.

He leaned back and tilted his head upwards. In this area with its poor lighting, it became much easier to see the mass of stars above.

“Look.” Mine lifted a hand and started to make shapes in the air. “If you connect the dots– stars I mean– you can get shapes.”

Like constellations.

“See, that’s a narwhal, not a whale ‘cuz it’s got a horn like a unicorn. Over there’s a frog and it’s got raindrops floating around it– wait, no, they’re bubbles! Hah, that fits much better.” They nodded, looking satisfied.

He stared at them in disbelief. “Those aren’t constellations!”

“Oh, I don’t really know those. Isn’t it kinda hard to tell? My thing’s way more fun.”

“It’s not about fun.”

“It isn’t?”

He pointed to a group of stars. As he made out the shape with his finger, he said, “That, is Ursa Major. If you follow it…”

“Ooo, hey, that star over there is really bright, huh? Is it a part of a constellation too?”

He nodded. “It’s part of...mine.”

“Yours?”

“My sign... Virgo...” He faltered, feeling embarrassed.

“Virgo, eh? How do you make that shape?” They waved their finger wildly. “Hey, I think I can make a face out of them, look, it’s a granny. And she’s smiling!” They laughed, their teeth flashing.

“You’re silly.”

“Yeah, I am.” Mine grinned. “And you’re smiling.”

“No, I’m not,” he mumbled, his face burning. It was a good thing it was so dark. “I’m not going to show you Virgo.”

“What? Nooo, don’t be like that. Please? I’ll listen properly, promise.”

“O-OK. As, as long as you’re not noisy.”

“Zipping my lips.” They made a zipping gesture, looking at him earnestly.

Somehow, his face felt even hotter.

“Uh, then... here’s how you find Virgo.”

“Is it supposed to be a horse? No, a bird?”

“It’s….a person.”

“Ohh. Huh?” They scrunched their face at the stars. “Constellations are so weird.”

“They’re not.”

“You’re cool though, knowing all this stuff.”

“W-what?? You, you don’t know what you’re saying!”

“Yes I do. Betcha know a ton more, clever clogs.” Their grin was a lot like Asra’s, mischievous and teasing. If it was a little brighter, it would be very easy to tell Muriel had turned the shade of a tomato.

“I don’t. Go home already.”

They pulled back, and for a moment, Muriel worried they were upset.

“Can’t, dawn’s still far away.” Their tone remained unchanged, which made him relax. “Speaking of home, don’t you need to head back to your place too?”

“No.”

“So you were lost!”

He really wasn’t.

“That’s fine, we can just stay here together. You and me, watching the stars and stuff. Hmm, maybe we should talk about other things–hey, do you like magic?”

Muriel knew very well about Mine’s deep obsession over magic, and he wasn’t about to give them a chance to launch into a spiel about the syntax of magical incantations. Asra’s stories had told him all he needed to know.

“Let’s...not. Uh, I could show you the way back. If you want.”

“Really?” They perked up. So they had wanted to return after all. They stood up, bouncing on the balls of their feet. “Lead the way, friend.”

Friend. Did they only know how to say embarrassing things?

“We’re not friends,” he mumbled.

“We’re not??” While the exclamation was loud, it also sounded genuinely hurt. They deflated, looking disappointed.

“Because you don’t know my name,” he said quickly.

“Oh.” They brightened. That was easy. “What’s your name then?” This was not.

He paused. “....Muriel.”

“Muriel, what a lovely name.” They giggled. “Y’know, I’m so bad with remembering names. It’s sooo embarrassing to ask, especially when the other person knows your name. I’m glad you figured me out.”

He hadn’t.

“Sure,” he said, starting to walk in the direction of the shop, while Mine took hurried strides to catch up.

“I won’t forget your name this time. I’ll write it down!” They paused, rummaging through their bag, then their pockets. “When I get home.”

“You don’t have to.”

“I want to.”

“Why?”

“I don’t want to forget you. My, my memory’s pretty bad as it is. I, I...I don’t want to lose anything else important.”

His heart ached, to his surprise.

Mine had lost almost everything during the plague. Their family, their loved ones, their magic, and it wasn’t sure if they’d be able to return to their life from before. Not with the way things were currently going.

What could he say? What could Muriel say that Asra hadn’t tried already, always with disastrous consequences? What could be said that wouldn’t end up hurting Mine?

“....I’m sorry, Mine.”

“Eh? What for? Seriously, you have nothing to apologize for. If anything, I should be saying sorry, forgetting your name and all. Oh, I should thank you too! Since you’ve helped me so much today.”

“I didn’t do anything.”

“You did. You hung out with me and showed me constellations. You’re helping me get home. And we’re friends now too. You’ve given me a lot, I’d say.”

He grunted. Even if he said no, they would barrel on ahead.

But… it wasn’t unpleasant, to be liked by someone like this.

“Hey, are you gonna be around tomorrow?”

If Asra was still away, he would. “....Maybe”

“If you are, drop by my shop. I’ll treat you to a loaf of pumpkin bread. The one at the market’s really good.”

“...I don’t like crowds.”

“Oh, well, I’ll just buy the loaves and we can eat them at my shop. I’ll make tea too.”

He didn’t respond, still thinking of a reply–excuse– in his head.

“Or do you not like pumpkin bread? I love it, but to each their own I suppose. Hmm, what else could we get– ooo, what about–”

“Pumpkin bread is fine.”

“You sure?”

“Yes.”

“OK! I’ll buy the bread tomorrow and we’ll enjoy them together.” They were close to the shop now, their surroundings more brightly lit. That also meant Mine’s bright smile was much clearer as well.

Muriel didn’t want to make a promise he couldn’t keep. He didn’t want to lie to them, not when they seemed so excited at the prospect of the two of them meeting again.

But he knew things would end the way they always did. Mine would forget and go about their life, and he would always be watching from afar.

“I don’t know if I can come,” he managed at last.

“You’re not gonna be here tomorrow? When will you be here then? I’ll mark down the date.”

“That’s, that’s not what I–” He sighed. “I don’t know if we can meet again.”

They frowned. “Why not?”

He stopped and jerked his head in the shop’s direction. “Here we are.”

Mine turned back. “That was faster than I thought– wait, wait, no, don’t distract me. Why can’t we meet again, Muriel?”

“It’s….hard to explain.”

“Try then.”

He sighed. “I can’t.”

“You don’t like me? You, you–” They continued in a quieter voice, “don’t want to be friends?” They looked like they might cry.

“No, it’s not that… I…” He threw them a pleading glance, hoping they would understand his inner turmoil, somehow. “I can’t. I’m sorry, Mine.”

They looked away, their trembling lips pursed together. Their eyes started to glisten.

He twiddled his fingers nervously. One second passed, and another, and another, and another, and then it seemed like too much time had passed for him to say anything.

Should he just leave now?

“I’m still going to do it,” Mine said firmly, breaking the silence. “Tomorrow, I’ll buy an extra loaf and I’ll wait right here.”

“But–”

“It doesn’t matter if you come or not. I’m going to be here anyway.” A tear escaped their eye and they wiped it away with their finger. “I want to be your friend, Muriel. Please.”

“...You already are.”

They immediately turned to look at him, eyes wide and hopeful. They whispered, “Really?”

He nodded.

Their entire face lit up. At the same time, tears started rolling down their cheeks.

Muriel gaped, internally panicking.

“It’s fine, it’s fine, I’m just really happy! Well, I’m happy now. I was upset earlier, but it’s fine, really. I get like this a lot.” They rubbed their eyes with their sleeve, before giving a wide smile. “See? Totally fine.”

“OK…” he said, unconvinced.

“I really am happy.”

“Just from that?”

“Yup!” Their smile wavered. “You, you meant it, right? That we were friends.”

“...Yes.”

“Then I’m definitely happy.” They reached out their hands, only for Muriel to flinch back. “Sorry, sorry, I’ll keep my hands to myself. Are you OK? Sorry, Muriel.”

“‘S fine. Just... no sudden movements.”

“Got it.”

He nodded. “I’ll be… going now. I guess.”

“OK. Thanks again, Muriel, for everything.”

“It was nothing.”

“It wasn’t.” They unlocked the door and the wards. “I’ll still be here tomorrow.”

“You don’t–”

“Well, we never know what might happen. Just in case your plans change or something, I’ll have an extra loaf ready for you.”

Nothing would change. He knew that, he did, and yet…

“We’ll see,” he said gruffly. “Don’t get your hopes up.”

They beamed. “I’m looking forward to it!”

“I said not to get your hopes up.”

“OK, OK.” They pulled the door open and took one last look at him. “I hope I’ll see you again though.”

“Goodbye, Mine.”

“Goodbye, Muriel.”

The door shut with a click, and only after he heard the sounds of the locks being turned did Muriel leave.

When he reached the alley, he turned back to gaze at the shop, and a small part of him couldn’t help but hope too, that maybe tomorrow would be different.

When Mine came downstairs the next day, they weren’t alone.

“Faust!” they exclaimed, running towards the snake. They lifted up their arm and Faust happily coiled around it. “And hello to you too, master. Welcome back.”

“Good morning, Mine,” Asra said, planting a kiss on top of their head. “How were things while I was away?”

“Pretty good. I delivered all the orders, found out what aquaculture was–it’s not about underwater societies so that was disappointing–, and um, what else...oh I got lost yesterday.”

“Did you get into any trouble?”

“Nope. I took the wrong turn or something, and basically spent hours wandering the city until I got tired. I almost gave up y’know. I found a nice staircase to rest on, see, and I was gonna stay there until dawn, and then…” Their voice trailed off, and they frowned.

“Then what?”

“I don’t... know. I’m sure I must have moved at some point because I woke up in bed, in my pyjamas, and, and I remember coming in through the door, and telling myself over and over to write this reminder–” They looked down at one of the cloth knots around the base of their finger. On it was  scrawled ‘ Extra Loaf’ .  In a quiet voice, they said, “Why did I write this?”

“Mine.” Asra grasped their shoulders, his touch firm but gentle. “Deep breaths.”

They did as they were told, inhaling and exhaling a few times. They placed a hand on his. “I’m, I’m OK, nothing...hurts, but why don’t I remember what happened last night?” Brown darted up to meet amethyst. “Did something happen?”

“It’s nothing,” Asra assured. He shifted his hands to pull them into a hug. “You, you just had a little episode yesterday. A headache. It wasn’t anything big.”

“Then, then you brought me home?”

“Yes. I’m glad you’re feeling better now.”

“I, am.” They slowly rested their head on Asra’s shoulder, their free arm wrapping around his waist.

That was a plausible story. They’d had a headache on their way home, Asra just happened to arrive that same night and he had saved them. Like he always did.

But why had they entered the shop alone last night? What about the new cloth knot on their finger?

“Do you want me to get breakfast? I can get your favorite bread.”

“No.” They pushed him off gently, while Faust slithered away to curl around his shoulders. “I want to do that myself today. You just came back, right? You should take a break, master.”

Secrets. There were always going to be secrets between them, hanging unspoken and heavy in the gaps.

The two of them had agreed to trust the other, and Mine did trust him, always. It’s just, it was times like this that he felt very, very far away, despite being so close.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, worry flashing in his expressions.

“I just missed you. I always do. Please rest, master, and let me take care of everything.”

Before Asra could say anything, Mine was already out the door.

“It’s OK,” they said to themself. The how and what of last night’s events didn’t really matter. Mine had returned home safe and sound, and Asra was here with them. They would just have to forget all their questions for now.

Mine trusted Asra, and they had to trust that he was keeping those secrets for a reason.

He trusts me too. Maybe not enough to tell them everything, but enough so they knew he believed in them.

And I believe in him.

That was the most important thing, wasn’t it? That the two of them had faith in each other.

“Alright, let’s go get that bread!” they exclaimed loudly, causing a few stares. Ducking their head, they rushed in the direction of the marketplace.

Despite Mine’s requests, Asra did not take a rest.

Instead, he had found out exactly what happened last night. There was no scent of myrrh but his magic traced a familiar aura that had been present at the shop last night.

“No wonder Mine forgot everything.” Maybe Muriel had been the one to guide Mine home, and as usual, all memory of him disappeared the moment the door closed. “How did they write the reminder then?”

He shook his head, and went about preparing the table for breakfast. Summer meant cold lychee, and for an added twist, Asra added a few drops of color to the drinks. A bit of berry juice, some crushed leaves, all edible.

The drink looked magical as wisps of orange, green and pink made paths in the colorless liquid. “Perfect.”

He heard the door open and shut, then, “Master, I’m home.”

“Upstairs,” he called back.

Mine appeared at the doorway, two– three loaves in hand.

“Lychee!” Their face lit up with delight. They came closer, cooing at the colors. “You made it all pretty too.”

“A little treat for you. I brought back some more lychees, they’re in the kitchen. They’ll last a few days, and a few more drinks.”

“Does that mean we could drink lychee every day?” they asked, their voice hushed and filled with wonder.

“Naturally, Mine.”

“Yay! Thank you!” They threw their arms around him, pressing the fresh loaves against his skin.

He squeaked in surprise at the sensation.

“Oops, sorry.” They backed away. “But thank you so much, master! You’re my best magic teacher ever.”

His lips quirked upwards. “I’m your only magic teacher.”

“And that makes you the best.”

“I see.”

Both of them sat down and Mine placed two loaves on the table, leaving one in their hand.

“Hungry?”

“It’s not for me.”

He raised his eyebrows. “For me?”

“If you want. It’s just, I kept thinking about that reminder, and I thought why not, y’know. It was obviously important enough that I kept repeating ‘write extra loaf reminder’ until I wrote it down.”

“You did? How does that work?”

“My memory’s bad, right? Like, sometimes, I’ll go into a room and immediately forget what I came in for.”

He nodded. That did happen a lot.

“So if I want to remember something, sometimes I’ll keep repeating the thing I wanted to do until I do it. It works, more or less. Like even if my mind can’t remember, my mouth does.”

That’s how they had written down the reminder. “That’s a pretty good trick.”

“Hehe, thanks. Let’s dig in. Jemput makan.”

“Jemput makan, Mine.”

“Hey, you said it right this time!”

“You’re not the only one who’s been practicing their Balayu.” He winked, and Mine giggled.

Without another word, they dug into their meal with great gusto, spending the rest of the morning talking and exchanging stories.

The afternoon sun beat down on the forest, but the canopy filtered out the heat so only tiny rays of sunshine got through. Just how Muriel liked it.

“Muriel~” a familiar voice called out.

He turned, and gave a small smile to the person running over to him. “What are you doing here, Asra?”

“Came to see you, of course. How’s my best friend doing?”

“Fine. What do you want?”

Asra burst into laughter, lightly slapping Muriel’s arm. “I can’t visit my best and oldest friend out of the goodness of my heart?”

“...Have you ever done that?”

He guffawed some more, and Muriel felt his smile widen.

“I’m actually here to give you a little something.”

Had he gotten something strange again on one of his trips? “I don’t need–”

“It’s not a trinket or a decoration, even if your house could use it.”

Muriel huffed.

“A splash of color wouldn’t be bad once in a while,” Asra said in a singsong voice.

“So is walking through poison ivy. What did you want to give me?”

“Here.” Asra reached inside the bag and pulled out a still-warm loaf.

A jolt of surprise went through Muriel.

“Mine bought an extra loaf today, and I thought you might like it.”

“What about you?”

Asra smiled. “The thing is, Mine bought  three loaves today. I was there when they woke up so they were already going to get my share.”

He blinked, words failing him for a moment. His voice dropped to barely a whisper, “....why?”

“Apparently, after Mine came home last night, they wrote down a reminder telling them to buy an extra loaf. They didn’t know why or who it was for.” He glanced up slyly at Muriel. “But I can guess.”

“That’s…” It was a lot of things, to be honest. “Impossible.”

“They were very insistent on getting this loaf. It felt important, they said.”

Muriel hesitated, but with Asra’s gentle, encouraging gaze, he managed to accept the loaf, his hands shaking. “...thank you.”

“You shouldn’t be thanking me. I should be thanking you really, for bringing Mine home last night.”

“It was nothing.”

“It wasn’t.”

Muriel snorted. “They said the same thing last night.”

“You two had a good night then.”

His cheeks flushed and his eyes darted away. “We...sat on some stairs. Looked at the stars.”

“Sounds like a lovely date to me.”

“It  wasn’t. ”

“Whatever you say, Muri. Did you, like it?”

Muriel was silent. He pinched a piece of bread off, rubbing it into a ball between his fingers. “...I think so.”

“That’s great.”

“They forgot me, didn’t they?”

A shadow passed over Asra’s face.

Muriel popped the piece into his mouth. He already knew this would happen; there was no reason to feel disappointed.

“They didn’t want to. They tried to remember.”

“It doesn’t work like that.”

“They managed to write down a reminder this time! You, you could–”

“No. It’s...better this way. It’s what we’ve been doing for years.”

“Muri…”

“You didn’t teach them constellations properly,” he interrupted.

“Excuse me?”

“Last night...they were just making up shapes with the stars. It was, silly.”

“Was it now? That must have been fun.”

Without realizing it, Muriel had been smiling again. He turned his face away, covering the lower half with his hand.

Asra chuckled. “Just be honest, Muri. Come on.”

“No. Go away, Asra.”

“Do you really want me to go away? Hmmm?”

Muriel rolled his eyes. “You’re annoying.”

“But you love me.” Asra wrapped his arms around Muriel’s arm and squeezed it to his body.

“Wrong. Go home to Mine already. Clingy.”

“I’ll go after you’re done with the bread~ Let’s talk for a while. Hasn’t it been ages since we’ve just hung out and talked?”

“...I don’t want to.”

“Awww, Muri, please? Pretty, pretty please? Pretty just like your eyes?”

He could feel the blush creeping up his neck. “...Fine. Just, be quieter.”

“I’ll try~”

He sighed, shaking his head, and started trudging on the path to his hut, with Asra on his arm filling the silence with chatter.

Muriel glanced down at the bread, before bringing it up to his mouth and taking a large bite.

It was warm and sweet, too much like Mine for his taste. But for a heartbeat, with Asra talking, and the wind making music amongst the leaves overhead, it was almost like the three of them were all together.

Even if everyone else forgot this moment, Muriel never would.

Notes: - 'Jemput makan' is a Malay phrase commonly uttered before/during meals. The literal meaning is 'let's eat' and can also mean an invitation to a meal

- Cold lychee refers to this