#first. Max is so brave. I love love love her. she fought and fought.

[idyllicwillowtree]

A Good Pair (of Skates) - Part 3

Genre: Steve Harrington x fem!reader, afab!reader, skater!reader

Summary: Steve’s in love with his childhood best friend and he does everything he can to keep his feelings a secret from you. A rollerskating injury might change that.

Word count: 4.4K

Warnings: swearing, friends to lovers, slow burn, injury, broken bones, mutual pining, mentions of drunk driving, surgery, anesthesia, medication, mentions of selling drugs, steve’s feeling very insecure

Author’s note: Please read part 1 and part 2 before reading this one or else it probably wouldn’t make much sense! 

Thank you so much for reading my first story! I had so much fun writing it and I can’t wait to share more. Feel free to let me know if you have any feedback or comments, I love hearing from you!

Part 1 | Part 2 | main masterlist

Part 3

It had been eight whole months since you had broken your arm and Steve still hadn’t made a move on you yet. You two have had some close calls, but nobody was brave enough to cross that romantic threshold yet.

It was driving Robin and Eddie insane.

Steve assured them that he would ask you out eventually but in reality, he probably never will. He’s convinced that his whole self-worth would come crumbling down if you said no, it just didn’t seem worth it.

He even thought about distancing himself from you for a while. Steve figured he could get over you, he just needed time. But that plan crashed and burned the second you saw him and smiled. You hadn’t seen him for a week so you jumped into his arms and told him how much you had missed him. After that, he was too weak to leave you for that long ever again.

“You’ve fought actual monsters before, but you’re too scared to ask out a girl?” Dustin said with a teasing smile.

“Hey! I seem to recall a nervous little middle schooler who had similar problems,” Steve glanced away from the road to look at the curly haired boy.

“I wasn’t…okay, maybe I was a little nervous. But this is Y/N we're talking about, the sweetest person ever!” 

“Exactly! That’s what makes the stakes so high. I don’t want to ruin the friendship and lose her forever.”

“Even if she did say no, you’d at least have the closure to move on.” Steve’s eyes widened, “but she’s not going to say no, so you don’t have to worry about it,” Dustin added.

“You don’t know that.”

“Sure I do! And the longer you wait the more likely it is that she’ll find someone else.”

Steve was actually counting on that. He’s hoping that if he could see you happy with someone, even though he knows it would break him, it would at least give him a good excuse to move on. Since the “avoiding you at all costs” plan didn’t work, he thought this one might.

Dustin eyed him suspiciously, “you don’t actually want that to happen, do you?”

Steve stayed silent, the car turning into the school parking lot. Once he stopped his BMW at the drop off area, Dustin turned to him. 

“Steve, you’re a great guy. She’d be lucky to have you. Stop being stupid and go get her, she doesn’t deserve to just wait around for you.”

Before Steve could ask him what he meant by that, Dustin was already out of the car and heading towards Hawkins High. 

-

“Yes ma’am, I understand. Unfortunately, we don’t get movies that are currently in theaters.”

“Oh, but my husband loves sports films. And I just think that Rob Lowe is so handsome,” the elderly woman reiterated for the third time.

“It would be nice if we had Youngblood, but like I said before-” Steve stopped as he heard the gentle purr of your Volkswagen Kleinbus outside. Robin rolled her eyes, already on her way to assist the woman once Steve inevitably abandons her to greet you.

He opened the glass doors and stood in the doorway. Steve watched as you ushered the younger kids out of your car and into the arcade next door. You gave Max a handful of quarters before turning towards Family Video, locking eyes with Steve.

You took a deep breath and approached him with a small smile. Steve noticed something was off, your smile not quite reaching your eyes. You were anxiously squeezing your left wrist and chewing on your bottom lip.

“Hey, Stevie.”

“Hey, doll. You okay?”

“I-I need to tell you guys something.”

-

“So, you guys know how I fell outside in the parking lot back in the summer?”

You were pacing slightly in front of Steve and Robin as they sat in the Family Video  breakroom. 

“When that drunk asshole almost ran you over? Yeah, I think I remember,” Steve said sarcastically.

Unfazed by his sarcastic tone, you continued to pace, “well, I went to the doctor–”

Steve stood, his chair legs squeaking against the floor, “is everything okay?”

“Y-yeah, yeah totally,” you stuttered, trying to calm Steve’s worry. You know he’s about to get even more worked up with what you were about to tell him, “well, sort of…”

“Okay…” Robin said expectantly.

You chewed your lip, “It turns out my left wrist wasn’t sprained… It’s been broken this whole time.”

Robin and Steve’s jaws dropped to the ground. The silence was tense as your eyes shifted from one friend to the other.

“It’s- you…broken?” Steve stammered.

“How are you even functioning?” Robin translated for him.

“Honestly, I have no idea. I mean it hurts a bit when I’m at work but I just figured a sprain takes a while to heal and I’d be fine after a bit. But then eight months went by and it still hurts.”

You work at a 50’s themed drive-in restaurant that makes the wait staff use roller skates when serving the customers. Those four weeks you worked while your right elbow was healing  were stressful enough for Steve, but now he knows you’ve been doing it all with an untreated broken wrist too. 

Steve looked at your left wrist, you were still anxiously rubbing at it so he gripped it gently to release it from your hold. It looked the same as it usually does, no obvious swelling or bruising. 

“Why don’t you have a cast?” Steve asked.

“Umm…I will after.” You said, trying to avoid eye contact.

Steve glanced over at Robin, checking to see if she was as confused as he was. “After what?”

“...surgery.”

“WHAT???” screeched Steve, causing Robin to jump slightly.

“Y-yeah, I need surgery,” you laughed awkwardly.

Steve was not amused, “it’s been broken for eight months and now you need surgery?! It was that goddamn doctor at the emergency room, wasn’t it? Let me call my dad, I’m sure he knows a good lawyer-”

“Steve,” you gripped his wrist with the hand he wasn’t already holding, “it wasn’t his fault.” You were surprised by his willingness to call his father and wanted to shut that idea down immediately. He never called him.

“What do you mean? Of course it was! He probably didn’t even look at your x-rays.”

“Well, that’s the thing. Apparently, fractures in the bone I broke don’t even show up on an x-ray until, like, 10 days later. So he was technically right, I guess.”

Your shoulders were slumped and you were avoiding eye contact. Steve realized his first reaction probably didn’t help you that much. He was quick to assign blame when he should’ve been comforting you.

You let out a quiet “oof” as Steve wrapped his arms around your waist and squeezed. You slithered your arms around his broad shoulders and let him hold you, breathing in his floral scented hair products. 

“I’m sorry you’ve had to deal with this for so long, I had no idea,” Steve said, voice muffled by your hair.

That wasn’t completely true, he had some sort of idea that your wrist was still troubling you. You started doing everything with your right hand once your elbow healed up. Putting your seatbelt on, opening doors, and carrying shopping bags all became right-handed tasks. After a while, Steve thought he was reading into things a little too much. He felt a bit obsessive so he chose to ignore it, now he was hating himself even more for letting you go on like this. The guilt was already starting to eat away at his gut.

“It’s alright, Stevie. It’s not your fault,” you pressed your nose further into his neck. Steve could’ve sworn you read his mind.

“Dude, that sucks!”

Steve almost forgot Robin was here. He reluctantly let you go so you could receive a hug from her too.

“The good news is we can have a bunch of movie nights while I’m recovering, if you guys are down.”

“You’re not even going to be able to get Steve out of your house this time,” Robin said with a smirk. She remembered how insistent Steve was to take care of you when you were in a cast the first time. All the doting would’ve driven her insane but you were so patient with him and had even made sure he was taking care of himself at the same time. 

“Shut it, Robin,” he hissed.

-

The day of the surgery approached faster than you would’ve wanted it to. It felt unnatural to willingly let a bunch of strangers force you to sleep while they cut you open and screw a piece of metal into your bone. The worst part was that Steve had to work today, you were hoping he’d be the one to take you to and from the hospital. You knew he’d make you feel relaxed and safe but you had to settle for Eddie instead.

“M’lady, your chariot awaits.” Eddie bowed dramatically at the waist and gestured towards his van. Despite it being 4 AM on a Saturday, he was still as hyper as usual. You would’ve laughed at his theatrics if your nerves weren’t overwhelming you so much.

The chill hit you immediately when you opened your front door, reminding you to get your coat. The phone in your house started ringing as you turned back inside, but you ignored it. It was probably just a telemarketer.

“Hang on, Eddie. I just need to grab my coat.”

Eddie followed you inside and looked around, “your folks home?”

“Nope, why do you think I need you to drive?”

He shrugged, “I dunno. Maybe you just wanted to hang out with your favorite person.” He smiled at you innocently.

“I already asked Steve, but he’s working this morning,” you deadpan.

“Ouch, sweetheart,” Eddie grabbed his chest, “I didn’t have to wake up at the ass crack of dawn to take care of your sorry ass.”

“I know, but you did, because you love me,” you said smugly. Finally, you found your coat right when the ringing of your phone had stopped. You walked up to Eddie and kissed him on the cheek, “thanks for your help today, Eds. I really do appreciate it.”

“Of course. C’mon, let's go.” Eddie wrapped a comforting arm around your shoulder and started steering you towards the door. He stopped when the phone rang through your home again, “you need to get that?”

“Nah, I’m sure it’s just someone selling something. Let’s go before I lose my nerve.”

As you approach Eddie’s van, you hear the distant slaps of shoes running across the sidewalk. Not paying it any mind, you assumed it was just an early morning jogger. That was until you heard your name.

Looking down the street, you spot Steve sprinting towards you and waving his arms frantically. He was wearing his flannel pajama bottoms, and a sweatshirt he must’ve thrown on last minute. His hair was sticking up at odd angles and as he got closer you could see the wrinkles from his pillow imprinted on his face. He was stunning.

“Hang on…give me…a minute,” Steve said through gasps of air.

Eddie’s eyebrow quirked up behind his bangs, “jeez, Harrington. Has it been that long since you’ve done cardio? You only live a few doors down.”

“Shutupmunson,” Steve managed to breathe out. His hands were on his hips, head tilted towards the sky. You couldn’t help but stare, Steve looked so beautiful, all flustered and tired. “I just needed to make sure I saw you before you left.”

“You did?”

“Yeah, I tried calling but you weren’t picking up so…I ran and, uh, now I’m here.” Steve said as he scratched the back of his neck.

Eddie’s eyes widened. Was this it? Was Steve finally going to confess? He wished there was a phone handy so he could call Robin, but in the meantime he’ll just wait in the van.

“Steve, you didn’t have to wake up so early. You need your beauty rest,” you said teasingly.

Steve had been going around in circles in his mind thinking about your upcoming surgery. It isn’t a risky procedure but you never know, things go wrong all the time. He just wouldn’t be able to live with himself if something happened to you and you didn’t know how much you were loved. Loved by him. 

 A last minute confession before you went under the knife seemed like the perfect romantic gesture. At least that’s what Robin told him.

“There’s- I should- I should say…” 

“What is it, Stevie?”

But alas, his nerves got the better of him.

“Uhh… good luck! I know you’re feeling nervous, but you’ve got this!” Steve’s voice raised a couple octaves higher.

“Thanks. I guess I am a little nervous,” you said with a shy smile.

“Come here,” Steve pulled you closer, holding your head to his chest and rubbing a comforting hand up and down your back. He felt as you squeezed him back, refusing to let go.

Eddie rolled his eyes. He had been watching from the rearview mirror, ready for the declaration of love, but of course, Steve chickened out. Again.

-

Robin dropped the stack of tapes on the counter that Steve was resting his head on. He jumped up at the sound and tried rubbing the sleep from his eyes.

“What the hell, Robin?” Steve mumbled.

“Eddie told me what you did. Or rather, what you didn’t do.”

Steve blinked at her. Robin was glaring at him with her arms crossed against her chest.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” he deadpanned.

Robin huffed and walked off to return the tapes back to the shelf. Steve watched her go with a raised eyebrow.

“What? Now I’m getting the silent treatment?”

“Yup.”

Steve rolled his eyes at her lack of commitment, “the silent treatment? From Robin Buckley?”

Robin spun around to face him, “yes, Steve! Maybe I’m just annoyed that my friend is hopelessly devoted to someone who…” doesn’t have the nerve to ask her out. Robin trailed off, realizing half way through her point that she was about to tell Steve your secret.

“I’m not hopelessly devoted to her, okay? That seems a bit dramatic, even for you.”

Robin and Steve jumped as the glass door swung open, causing the bell on the door to rattle violently. Eddie came busting in, eyes wide and scanning the store for his friends.

“ROBIN, I can’t fucking take it anymore!”

“Eddie, don’t,” Robin warned, like he was a dog about to do something he knows he’s not supposed to do.

“What the hell, Eddie? Did you just ditch Y/N at the hospital?!” Steve interrupted.

“Seriously, Robin. It is causing me actual physical pain,” Eddie said, blatantly disregarding Steve’s question.

“I’m in the same boat, Eddie, but we promised.”

“I know, but-”

“EDDIE! Did you leave Y/N alone at the hospital?” Steve yelled, getting tired of being ignored.

“Yes,” Eddie said simply, “what are you gonna do about it, Steve?”

“I can’t- you were-...what??” Steve was deeply confused but mostly he was just pissed off. You were all alone at the hospital, probably in surgery now. If something were to go wrong, there wouldn’t be anyone there for you.

“Go do something about it, Harrington! If you leave now you should be able to get there before she wakes up.”

“B-but what about the store?”

“Why are you questioning it? Just go, Steve!” Robin yelled.

“Don’t worry, I’ll cover for you. Putting away tapes can’t be that difficult, can it?” Eddie said, directing the last part to Robin because Steve had already vaulted over the counter and was out the door.

-

“Surgery went very well. She should be waking up in the next few minutes,” a nurse said, leading him through the post-anesthesia recovery room. Steve was anxious to get to you, he felt bad that you were here alone, even though you weren’t conscious for most of it. He needs to see you with his own eyes before he can allow himself to relax even a little. 

Steve took a deep breath as the nurse slid the privacy curtain to the side, revealing your sleeping form.

The only new thing about you was the thick plaster cast on your left hand that was tucked in a sling and elevated by a couple pillows. Steve smiled down at you, relieved to see your face again. You were sleeping so peacefully, deep and slow breaths expanding and contracting your chest. He didn’t hesitate to grab your uninjured hand to bring to his chest as he sat on the edge of your bed. The nurse left him alone so he leaned down to place a delicate kiss on your knuckles. His thick fingers brushed a wayward strand of hair away from your face before delicately grazing the back of his hand against your cheek.

Steve thought back to Robin and her insistence on getting him to admit his feelings to you. She seemed to think you liked him back but Steve never allowed her to get his hopes up. That never stopped him from dreaming about what he’d say to you, if the moment were to ever present itself.

I guess I could try it out to see how it sounds… 

Steve glanced around the room to make sure no one was listening in on him. “Hey sugar… glad surgery went well,”  Steve looked at the ceiling before puffing out a breath, feeling a bit silly all of a sudden, “look, I’ve been having difficulty telling you this because I didn’t want to ruin our friendship but…I don’t know, you’re just so amazing, and sweet, and caring and it’s just gotten harder and harder to pretend that I’m not completely in love with you anymore. You’re the greatest person in my life and you make me feel so secure and loved. I always find myself thinking about you and smiling from ear to ear and I just…I love you so much.”

Before Steve could think, you moved your hand out of his grip and face palmed him, pushing his head back.

“Get the fuck outta here,” you slurred. “Woah, is that your real hair?”

“O-oh, hey Y/N. How’re you feeling?” Steve said nervously. He’s hoping you’re too drugged up to have heard his little confession.

“Y’know, I rather you didn’t,” you said lazily, your hooded eyes not focusing on anything in particular. 

Steve’s brows furrowed, “didn’t do what?”

“Love me.”

Steve paled. Any sliver of self-esteem Steve had was ripped from his grasp. He knew you could find someone better but a small part of him thought you liked him back. Those lingering gazes, soft touches, and the teasing from his friends were all just some sort of facade. Some sick joke at his expense. Of course this is how it ends.

“S-sorry,” Steve mumbled, trying to blink away the tears gathering in his eyes.

“I don't love you, ya idiot! Cause I love Steeeevie,” you sang. “I love Steve with all my heart, and more.”

Steve’s eyes widened and his cheeks flushed. What is happening?? “uh, I-I think you’re a bit confused, doll.”

“I thought you knew? You’re always teasing me ‘bout it,” you said, swatting at him lazily. “Y/N’s feeling real good right now, Eds. Like, reeeeal good. You should totally sell whatever they got me on, you’d make a fortune!”

-

Eddie looked so silly with his new Steve haircut. You made sure to tell him that a few more times.

“Ser’sly, Eddie you even smell like him. Did he tell you his Farrah Fawcett secret?” You tried leaning into him to get a better whiff of his hair but he was easily able to pin you back down to the bed.

Kinky, you thought. 

You probably just exposed Steve’s deepest secret but for some reason you didn’t care. All you could do now was laugh hysterically at Eddie’s attempt to look more like Steve.

Eddie seemed uncomfortable. Maybe embarrassed was the right word. You were probably being really loud, but you were on cloud nine with whatever drugs they’ve got you on so you weren’t worried about anything at the moment. Plus, Eddie dressed like Steve to make you feel better, and it worked. Your friends were so thoughtful. 

“One time I braided Steve’s hair. It was soooooo soft, and it smelled like flowers. Pretty, pretty, flower boy.” Eddie was just staring at you owlishly, so you kept going, “I just always feel the need to smush his face onto my face, y’know? I love him so much! He makes me feel like– holy shit, what happened to my arm?”

-

Steve was a bit stumped.

On one hand he desperately wants to believe in your drug influenced love confession but he couldn’t help but feel a bit skeptical at the same time. He didn’t want to put you in an uncomfortable position if you didn’t actually mean it. He didn’t want to get his hopes up just for it to come crashing down. Again.

Steve drove you home and put you to bed where you immediately fell asleep. He sat by your bedside, contemplating his next steps. Overthinking everything, as usual.

Once his restlessness started to set in Steve made himself busy. He spent the next couple hours cooking meals you could save in the freezer and tidying up your house. It helped keep his mind busy so he wouldn’t go crazy thinking about what you had said in the hospital. 

Eddie, Robin, and Max stopped by in the evening with your favorite takeout but you were still sleeping. Steve wasn’t hiding his huffy attitude towards Eddie, still mad he left you at the hospital. Eddie just ignored him and did his best to hide his smug smile.

“So, did you tell her?” Robin said.

“Robin,” hissed Steve, “not in front of the kid.”

“Oh, Steven. It’s so sad that you think I don’t already know,” Max said condescendingly. 

Steve rubbed his face in embarrassment, “am I really that obvious?”

“Yes,” Robin, Eddie, and Max all said at the same time.

“Great, that’s just great” Steve grumbled as he leaned back in the armchair he was sitting on.

“I’m just surprised Y/N doesn’t see it,” Eddie added.

“What don’t I see?”

Everyone’s heads whipped towards the doorway of the living room where you were now standing. You still looked tired but you were standing on your own and not slurring your words anymore. You adjusted the arm resting in the sling with a slight wince, the strap digging into your neck. It had been a few hours since the surgery and you haven’t had any pain killers since.

You were trying to hide how uncomfortable you were but Steve saw right through it.

Steve stood to greet you, “hey doll, how’re you feeling? Let’s get some food and medicine in you,” he said, trying to change the subject.

“Okay, thanks Stevie,” you smiled but furrowed your brows at him, like you were trying to remember something. The adorable tilt of your head was making his knees weak as he escaped to the kitchen. 

Steve brought you a pill, a glass of water, and some food to nibble on as you sat in his previously occupied chair. He kneeled next to you, offering the pill and then the water to wash it down.

“How’re you feeling, Y/N?” Robin said from her spot on the couch she was sharing with Max.

“Fine, I guess. I’ll be better once this medicine kicks in.”

“Well, you look like shit,” Max said bluntly. 

“Thanks, Maxine,” you said sarcastically, “Geez Eddie, you letting just anyone in my house while I’m passed out, huh?” You chuckled before noticing everyone’s confused looks, “what? I’m just kidding.”

“Y/N, I didn’t take you home from the hospital. You don’t remember that?”

Over your shoulder, Steve’s eyes widened as he started waving his hands around, trying to get Eddie to shut up. Steve didn’t want to jog your memory, hoping you two could just live in blissful ignorance in hopes of saving you both from embarrassment.

“What? Yes you did. I woke up and you were…” 

Steve watched in horror as your face dropped and your cheeks reddened in realization. Steve could practically see the memories coming back to you as your breathing started speeding up and your jaw kept opening and closing. It was all coming back to you and you were absolutely mortified.

“Wait, what’s happening?” Robin asked, observing the matching blushes on yours and Steve’s faces.

“NOTHING,” you and Steve said at the same time.

You finally looked at him, taking in his wide eyes and pink ears. You groaned in embarrassment before standing up quickly and slapping your hand to your forehead. 

“Sorry, I’m gonna…I just need to, ugh sorry,” you were scrambling to come up with a good enough excuse to leave but it was just making you more flustered. “Steve, I’m sorry I didn’t– I didn’t mean to say, fuck, I mean maybe I did. I just…shit, shit, shit,” you started smacking yourself in the temple in an attempt to get your brain to work properly.

Steve observed you for a moment. This wasn’t the reaction of someone who regretted what they said because it wasn’t true. Your reaction showed Steve that you regretted it because you thought he didn’t feel the same way. Steve didn’t wait any longer, he couldn’t.

“Fuck it.”

Steve took one big step towards you and took your face in his hands. Before he could chicken out, he pressed a soft kiss to your lips. He felt your body stiffened on impact, but it felt too good to stop. He slotted his lips perfectly into yours as he took it all in. Reluctantly, Steve slowly pulled away as it hit him. He just kissed you.

Holding his breath, he hesitantly opened his eyes to apologize but he sees you unable to move. You keep your eyes closed for a few moments, letting your mind process what just happened. The moment it all clicked was when you finally looked back at him and grabbed his shirt collar to bring him back for a desperate kiss. Steve furrowed his brows as he kissed you more passionately, trying to savor the taste of you. It felt like you were having an out of body experience, although that could have been the drugs kicking in.

You both forgot about your friends that were still in the room until Max said “I’m gonna call Mike, he owes me ten bucks.”

“It’s a little weird watching our friends make out, isn’t it?” Robin turned to Eddie, expecting to exchange a long-suffering look with him.

Eddie sniffed hard before aggressively wiping at his eyes, “you kidding? It's beautiful.”

-

main masterlist

[allyricas]

Let me rest, safe from harm

Day 4: Familiar / Hurt/comfort / Here Come the Tears by Judas Priest @steddie-week

"Ohhh...I want to be loved... I need to be loved... Won't somebody love me..."

If there is one thing that Eddie Munson knows, it's that he is an outsider. A freak. The town of Hawkins decreed it the moment he shuffled into middle school. His head shaved, his clothes a little too big and a little too worn. He learned to use it as a shield. He leaned into the word freak. Threw up his devil horns and shouted at jocks from lunch tables. He played Dnd and had his band. Sold drugs and blared metal from his beloved yet shitty van. Swore to protect the other little weirdos he came across. He was fine with it. He fought to be unapologetically himself and he would never let this small, close-minded town wear him down. The hate he received from Hawkins was familiar and expected at this point.

Okay, watching Chrissy Cunningham, literal cheer captain and Hawkins High sweetheart, die a gruesome a supernatural death in his trailer was certainly not on his radar. Then to realize the entire town believed he actually fucking murdered her? He might be a freak, but did they really believe he was capable of murdering people. So yeah, he runs because he knows how this situation will end.

He hates that the thought running through his mind on repeat is 'so much for not living up to that Munson name' and how fucking terrified he is.

How much it hurts that the entire town would think he was actually evil enough to kill someone. It's like his heart is literally cracking in two. It's agony.

Then the strangest group of people show up and they actually believe he is innocent. Dustin isn't a surprise. He's one his little sheeps, always watching him during DnD with wide, awestruck eyes. Dustin thinks Eddie is cool. Max Mayfield is slightly more of a surprise but she is his neighbor. He sees her riding her skateboard around with sad eyes and an angry frown. Robin Buckley and Steve Harrington are a shock. First of all, how the hell do those two even know each other? King Steve and band geek Buckley, what the fuck? Yet, they are clearly close, like inside jokes and fully comfortable with one another close. It makes no sense. Nothing makes sense. Eddie feels like the whole world is falling apart. At this point, time doesn't even feel real.

Turns out Hawkins is fucking cursed. Vecna's real. There's some shit called the upside down and Eddie isn't sure if he can do this. He wants to run so fucking bad. He watches the way the others bravely throw themselves right into everything. Steve is diving into lakes and looking way too hot while he does it. Nancy and Robin are diving after him and fuck, he goes in after them.

To watch Steve rip a mutant bat off of him with his teeth. Ozzy style. Eddie might be in love. He is yearning. Steve is so different than what he expected. He's funny and almostly stupidly protective of his friends. He's a bit dorky and he's not glaring at Eddie at all. In fact, he catches Steve watching at him. He sees the way Steve's eyes dart down to his lips. He knows what attraction looks like. So he flirts. Hard.

The others come up with a plan to kill this Vecna-Henry-One which involves purposefully going back into hell. Things keep getting worse and worse only for it to end with Eddie trying to be a hero. He plays the most badass guitar solo ever and tries to buy time for the others.

And now he's fucking dying. He's getting eaten alive by these stupid ass bats and everything hurts. He hopes his distraction helped. He's thinking that he's gonna die and he won't have ever been in love and that really sucks. He wanted a chance to experience that. Bizarrely enough, Steve's face flashes across his mind. Eddie had been hopeless and crushing from the moment he saw Steve fighting those bats. When he'd flirted with him, Steve just gazed back with his pretty eyes. There'd been some confusion but no disgust there. Alas, too late for those thoughts now. He was dying alone in a hellscape. 86' was not his year after all.

He comes to with Dustin crying over him and Eddie finds himself mumbling words to him about sheeps and love you man and then nothing. No heaven or hell, just darkness.

"Take me now, in your arms. Let me rest, safe from harm."

He wakes up to harsh light and antiseptic smell of a hospital room. So, he isn't dead at least. His entire body hurts and he can't stop the body wracking sobs escaping from him. He's alone and handcuffed to the bed. He hears yelling outside of his room and assumes the worst. The town has come with their pitchforks and this it.

He survived the upside down to get killed by ignorant, small town puritans. He's scared and alone. He wants his uncle. He wants his friends. Somewhere along the last week, he's come to consider Robin, Steve and Nancy friends alongside Max and Dustin. He desperately wants to know if they succeeded. If Max is okay and if everyone got out alright. Who carried him out of there? How did he survive long enough to even get to a hospital. The answer is made clear when he hears Steve screaming to be let into the room.

He's using that voice. The 'do you know who my parents are' voice. A voice that would have once grated on Eddie to no end. It's comforting right now. It's wild that Steve would care enough about seeing him that he'd threaten the police and the hospital staff, but it warms Eddie's heart.

The door opens and Steve is standing there. He looks stupidly handsome and rugged. He's still wearing Eddie's vest and he's filthy and covered in blood. It's so unfortunately hot. Steve runs to him and collapses into the chair next to his bed.

"Eddie, we're trying to get them to take of the handcuffs. It's unbelievable. A man nearly dies for this town and they handcuff him to the goddamn bed. Idiots." Steve clasps Eddie's hand in his own.

Eddie's heart start to race for a very different reason. Steve glances over at the machine tracking his heartbeat. Shit.

"Are you in pain? Did they give you anything for it yet? I can try and get them to give you something. Robin and Nancy are trying to get ahold of Hopper. Oh, he's alive. Something about a russian prison."

Steve is still holding his hand. He's staring at Eddie like he's important to him. And Eddie can't say a word, he just starts sobbing again.

"It's going to be okay Eddie. If I have to break you out of here and smuggle you out of town, you are going to be alright. What can I do to help right now?"

Eddie just cries harder and attempts to pull Steve closer to him. Thankfully, Steve understands. Looks at the hospital bed and carefully climbs in next to Eddie. Gathers him into his arms as if Eddie is precious and delicate. Holds him as he cries.

It's more intimate than anything Eddie ever expected from him. It's rewiring his brain chemistry and Steve whispers softly to him.

"Hey, I've got you Eddie. Shh, I won't go anywhere. As long as you need me, okay? I almost lost you before I had a chance to figure this out, these feelings I have for you." Steve sounds like he might cry and Eddie cannot believe this is happening.

There is a safety in Steve Harrington's arms that Eddie has never experienced before. He's in pain and he might be going to jail, but in this moment he feels hopeful.

"You're safe now Eddie, you can rest. I promise I won't let anyone hurt you." Steve says this so earnestly, so softly and Eddie believes him. He falls asleep with a million questions, but content that the boy holding him wasn't going anywhere.

[frenchgremlim1808]

Milkshake’s is toxic

Hello everyone today subject is about the toxicity of my mother aborted me (mileven for the uneducated) from season one to the current season, season four.

Introduction

                 Milkman is for the general audience the main ship of the series since el is the protagonist (who of course by accident forget than will is too but anyway…), and mike was the main force of action in season 1 and 2. They’re the average perfect couple, a “normal teenage romance” even. Eleven is the badass, powerful super hero who always save the day with of course no flaws and Mike is the first boy who showed affection to Eleven. He was charmed by the beauty and perfection of our god lord Jesus Eleven, who he is completely obsessed with and want the rest of his life with her. They love each other so much that they are each other favorite person and of course the most endgame ship of all.

                 Well what if I told you that every, sentence I just told you was utter crap. Because in reality it may be one of the more toxic ship which is still canon in the show right now.

Chapter one: Eleven perspective.

Paragraph one: Who is she....Really?

In season one, when mike nearly died at the end of the bullies, mike reassure her that she wasn’t a monster and that her actions were justified. Eleven saved him and he loved her

In season 4, El defended herself from bullies just like in the past (she broke troy arm and broke Angela nose) but this time mike treat her like she’s a monster. Why? Because it wasn’t eleven, the invincible superhero, it was just Jane, the vulnerable Jane.

( This is my edit, you can clearly see it, it’s shit. Also i forgot most of the text but normally mike says “ your not a monster “)

El was always used as a weapon even when she became free from the lab, when there was a problem, well it seems like we need eleven!          

“Hey eleven you were nearly sent to jail but you need to save not only your best friend from an horrible death and the entire freaking world from this psychopath who is one of main source of trauma or everyone is gonna freaking die, so get inside the shit and live again that traumatic experience”. Like bruh. Eleven always had her powers, they defined who she was to most, when peeps talk about her it’s mostly by her capacity. It’s never about her funny personality, her talent in art and craft, her love for cheesy romance and Miami vice, no it always was for her powers. She was just eleven.

Without her powers she felt miserable because now, in reality she felt like nothing. When Bitchela and the others bullied her she felt helpless. Before she defended herself with her powers but now she as to live without that part of identity. She was just Jane.

Eleven always was a super hero but Jane was just nobody, who would need a nobody.

Everyone need Eleven and her differences make her special, but Jane she a freak because of who she is. Only a few realize that being her is not cool all the times and can be so difficult (Will my boy...). Jane is a girl who can learn by herself and love, a girl who is just a girl with teen drama. Eleven is the lab rat who opened the gate and caused the death of good people.

So in the end who is she?

The perspective that others have on her change the way that see herself. Everyone pushed on her this ideal that it’s her power who define who she is. Expect some exception like our queen max. But it was max who gave her for the first time the chance to be her, the true her.

Not eleven not Jane, El

El is a young girl who loves eggo waffles, shopping and art and craft. El is a girl who like cheesy romance, she’s curious and creative. It’s the independent, strong and brave young girl who fought against the pain and the trauma for people she cared about. It’s the vulnerable, the emotional and emphatic girl who make mistake but always try to learn. Oh, and also she has powers.

This is the true her, the girl that she developed to be slowly towards the course of the story. Her journey to become her is slowly getting close to the end. She still has one obstacle to finish it...

Mike.

[indigobackfire]

But I wanna say the good things cause I need to keep my blood pressure in check

So big spoilers in the tags

[ktwritesstuff]

Nebraska (a stranger things fanfic)

Title: Nebraska Fandom: Stranger Things Rating: Explicit Characters & Pairings: Steve Harrington x Max Mayfield (future!fic) Word Count: ~2,000 Summary: When Steve had dreamed of a cross-country roadtrip, this wasn’t what he had in mind.  Dark!fic. Unbeta'd. May God have mercy on my soul.

Notes: Be forewarned, this has been called the most depressing smut ever.  The world is ending and Max & Steve are the last ones left. Why would I ship Max with Steve when Lucas is literally right there? Truly there is no excuse for this...Title and lyrics from Bruce Springsteen's "Nebraska." Tropes & Content Warnings: age difference, angst, character death, first time, hurt-comfort, p-in-v, trauma-bonding, unprotected sex

I can't say that I'm sorry / For the things that we done At least for a little while, sir, me and her we had us some fun

Vecna had burrowed into Max’s psyche like a virus, lying dormant and biding his time.  Somehow she had fought her way free of him, but it was too late.  Their homes destroyed, their families gone, they did the only thing they could: they ran.  Nowhere in particular; all they knew was they had to keep moving.  Hopper and Joyce stayed behind with El for one last Hail Mary. Mike begged to stay with her, but El wouldn’t have it.  

They didn’t know what happened, but it couldn’t have been good.  Once Hawkins fell, it didn’t take long for the darkness rooted there to infect the rest of the country.

They lost Nancy first.  Vecna wanted her–that bastard–to make her pay, but she was strong and defiant until her last breath.  After that was Lucas–too brave and too in love for his own good.   

Years passed and their numbers continued to dwindle.  Steve still had nightmares about the look on Robin’s face, begging him not to let her go, something on the other side of the gate pulling, tearing, ripping until she went slack in his arms and Dustin had to drag him away.  

Sweet Dustin–after a week delirious with fever, despite force-feeding him the last of the meds that they had hoarded–had succumbed to an infected bite.  It nearly broke Steve–he spent three days in bed, not sleeping, refusing to eat.  The sound of Max stumbling around the RV–determined to keep herself fed and warm and alive despite everything they had suffered–finally broke the spell.  

She couldn’t see and although she had recovered from her injuries better than anyone could have expected, she’d always walk with a limp and couldn’t move fast or very far without stopping.  It was just the two of them now, and Steve realized if he gave up, he’d be taking her with him and he couldn’t do that–not ever.  So he did what he always did; he got back up.       

They had run out of gas just west of Lincoln, but nestled like spoons with the windows sealed and the curtains drawn over the little cubbyhole bed of the RV, swaddled in moth-eaten blankets and the warmest clothes they could scavenge, the cold was almost bearable. 

Though there wasn’t much difference now between the day and the night, a soft purple light on the horizon signaled that somewhere, impossibly, the sun was rising and setting despite the shadow and gloom that covered everything.  It had been three days and although they were both losing hope, in the morning Steve would drag himself out of bed and go out in search of a petrol station or abandoned farmhouse that might still have enough fuel to get them moving again.

Steve woke from his fitful sleep as Max turned over on the thin mattress to face him.  He figured she must have been cold and hugged her into him.  

Max’s hands creeped over his arms and chest.  He didn’t mind, supposing she was just reassuring herself that he was still here and whole.  Max touched his face, her fingers moving feather-light across his cheek, his jaw, his chin.  Once she had found his lips, she leaned in, softly pressing her mouth to his.  Steve blinked, fully awake.

“Hey,” he said softly, not wanting to startle or upset her.  “What are you doing?”

“I want you,” she said, her voice shaking.  “I want you to touch me.”

Steve was surprised and not surprised. Back when they were both kids, he had suspected Max harbored a little puppy crush on him—the kind that never would have come to anything if their lives had turned out the way they were supposed to. 

“Max,” he sighed, reaching for her hands as they tried to loop around his waist.  “You know that’s not a good idea.”

“I haven’t bled in months, so I’m pretty sure the baby factory is closed if that’s what you’re worried about,” she protested.  

It was, but it wasn’t the only hang-up he had with what she was proposing.

“Max–it’s not that simple.”

“I know I’m not the one you want,” she said.  “But you can pretend; I don’t care.”

“It’s not that,” he said.  “It’s not.  You’re just–”

He almost said ‘just a kid,’ but that wouldn’t be true.  He could feel the soft swell of her small breasts pressed against him, the jut of her pelvic bones and the slight curve of her hips.  She wasn’t a child anymore, but a young woman–at least 20–which made him…he didn’t want to think about it.

“My responsibility.”

A fat tear dropped from the corner of her eye and pooled at the bridge of her nose and he gently wiped it away.  

“Please,” she pleaded, so desperately it broke his heart.  “I don’t want to die a virgin.”

“You’re not going to die,” he snapped, holding her head in his hands.  She couldn’t see him, but he needed her to know he believed what he was saying.  “I’m not going to let that happen.”

He remembered the horror, when Will’s mind had finally broken.  How scared Max was that she would be next to lose the endless struggle against Vecna’s hold over her.  Steve told her that she wouldn’t; she wouldn’t lose, because she was stronger.  It wasn’t Will’s fault–he had been through too much, held out longer than anyone had the right to ask of him–but girls were stronger.  They had to be.  Like Nancy.  Like El.  And Robin, too, but they were all gone now.    

“We are both going to die,” she said.  “Maybe not today.  Maybe not tomorrow, but soon.  And when we do, it won’t be your fault.  None of it; you did everything you could to keep us safe.  To keep me safe.”

For the first time, Steve was glad she couldn’t see his face as his expression crumpled, but he was sure she could feel him shaking as he stifled a sob rising in his chest.

“But I need you to do this for me.  Please.”

Her voice was strong and assuring now.  She really was all grown up. 

“Okay,” he relented finally, wiping his eyes and taking a moment to catch his breath.  

“But you gotta let me do it right,” Steve explained.  “Kiss you and touch you and make sure you’re ready.  It’s not supposed to hurt; that’s just bullshit propaganda guys spread so they don’t have to put the work in to make a girl feel good.”

“Yes,” Max nodded. 

“Okay,” Steve’s breath hitched.  “If you change your mind just say the word and I’ll stop.”

He took her waist in his hands.  She was so thin–they both were–and Steve lamented all the times he had given up ice cream, pizza, burgers, and fries for the sake of his vanity.  He swore if he ever got the chance, he was going to get fat and not give a damn what anyone had to say about it. 

Steve kissed her, gentle pecks at first, open mouthed no tongue, then more deeply.  He moved his hands down her body, across her backside, sliding one leg between hers and hitching her thigh over his hip.  Max sighed, relaxing into him.  He worried at first he had lost his touch, but it really was like riding a bicycle.

He stroked her thighs, her breasts, her neck–all the places he could remember girls liked to be touched–and Max seemed to mirror his movements.  Her hands moved across his chest, and arms; she ran her fingers through his hair.  It felt good to be touched so gently and carefully.  

“I’m going to get on top of you.”

Max shucked off her tattered sweater and he eased her onto her back.  Steve guided her thighs apart and knelt between her legs.  

He tucked his fingers under the waistband of her panties.  

“I’m going to take these off,” he said.  

Max nodded her ascent, and he slid her threadbare underwear down her thighs as she drew her knees up to shimmy them off the rest of the way.  She had pale scars on her arms and legs from surgeries to set the bones with screws and pins.

“You’re beautiful,” he said, reaching out to brush a strand of hair off her face.  “Really fucking beautiful.”

Max smiled, but it never quite reached her eyes the way it used to.

“I mean that,” he said, bowing his head to kiss the space between her collarbones at the hollow of her throat.

He wondered what image of himself she held in her mind—comforted by the fact that the last time she had laid eyes on him he had been a better version of himself. Before he had gotten so pale and his eyes had gone dull and his hair had lost its shine. 

But laid out in their bed, trusting him, wanting him, she was still as beautiful as ever.  It made him feel like his old self, like there was still something to hope for, even if it was just to give her a moment of pleasure.  To make her feel desired; to make her feel loved.

“Do you ever touch yourself?”  Steve asked.  

“I used to,” Max said.

“Show me how,” he said.  “Show me what feels good.”

Max bit her lip, moving one hand down, fingers brushing through the wiry hair covering her mons, through her inner lips stroking up and down.

“Can I touch you now?” he asked.

“Yes,” she panted.  

Steve slipped one hand between her legs, taking up the firm up and down strokes over her clit.  She was wet, but not wet enough.  

“What else do you want me to do?” he asked.  

“Kiss my neck,” she said.

Steve obliged, leaning over to press his mouth against her throat, across her collarbones and chest.  Max ran her hands through his hair, kissing the crown of his head, his temples, anywhere she could reach.  Still stroking her clit, he could tell the thick dew of her entrance making things slippier.  

“I’m going to put my fingers inside you,” he said.  “Tell me if it’s too much.”

Max moaned and nodded, clinging to his neck.  

Steve slid a finger into her, stopping two knuckles deep at the first hint of resistance.  Max spread her legs a little wider as he traced small circles against her inner walls until he felt her relax a little more.  He pressed a little further, curling his finger up and inward until Max gasped.  That was the spot–a little hard to reach, tucked away in the curve of her pelvic bone, but he could make it work.

He drew his finger out, adding another, scissoring them just a little as he massaged her from the inside.  Max sighed and arched her back into him.  She gripped his shoulder hard, her eyes were pressed closed and her mouth hung slightly open.

Steve withdrew his fingers, sliding them up and down her folds before adding a third, pressing them into her while circling her clit with his thumb. Max whimpered and wet her lips, taking slow, deep breaths.  

“I need you to come for me before I put my cock in you,” Steve said.  “Can you do that for me?”

Max nodded.  “I think so.”     

He kissed her again, soft and slow, still massaging her with long firm strokes.  Max squeezed her thighs into him with a gasp and let her head fall back against the mattress.  

“That’s my good girl,” Steve said, stroking her hair.  “Tell me how it feels.”

“Good,” Max sighed.  “Like waves…pulsing.”

“Do you want to keep going?” 

“Yes.”

Steve sat up, peeling his shirt off and pulling down his shorts.

“I’m getting undressed, okay?”

Max reached up, placing her hands on his bare chest and he shuddered.  She combed her fingers through the hair on his chest–God, when had he started to go gray.  Steve held her hand over his heart, reaching down with the other to stroke himself.

He couldn’t even remember the last time he had masturbated–let alone finished.  He couldn’t think about sex without remembering Nancy–a vision of her at the end springing into his mind unbidden.

Steve squeezed Max’s hand a little harder, grounding himself in the warmth and softness of her skin.  She was here; she was real and she wanted him.  

Max ran her fingers down his ribs, across his stomach, following the path of his happy trail to his half-hard cock.  

“Let me do it,” she said.  “Please.”

“You can do anything you want.”  

Steve slid his hand down her arm as she gripped him gently, running her hand up and down his shaft.  Her thumb slid across the tip, wiping away a droplet of precum and stroking the taught band of tissue on the underside of his shaft.  

“Is that good?”

Steve cleared his throat.  

“Yeah, that’s good.”   

He bowed over her, supporting his weight on his arms.

“I’m gonna start to press into you,” he explained.  “You gotta tell me if it hurts.  We don’t have to stop, we just gotta make sure you’re relaxed enough, okay.  You promise?”

“Yes,” Max nodded.

Steve positioned himself at her entrance, pressing in just the tip.  Max gasped, digging her fingers into his shoulders.  Steve froze.  

“I’m okay,” Max said after a few deep breaths.  “I’m okay.”

Steve drew back slightly before pressing in a little deeper, a few quick, shallow strokes, before pressing into her all the way.  Max whimpered, drawing him closer.  

He continued, following each series of short, teasing strokes with deeper and deeper thrusts until Max arched into him, nearly keening.  He could feel her walls pressing in around him.  Steve moaned, nearly losing himself in the sensation. 

“I’m close,” he warned.

Max squeezed her knees into his sides.  He tried to pull away but she only gripped him tighter.

“Max, let go,” he said, trying to press her thigh away with his hand.  “I gotta pull–”

Steve came inside her with a wave of relief.  He could feel her inner walls contracting around him–it should have felt good, but he couldn’t shake the sense of icy dread settling over him.  Max stretched out under him, languid and relaxed.  He rolled over, panting, and covered his face with his hand.  Beside him, Max sighed in satisfaction.

“I have to pee,” she announced at length.

Max climbed over him, drawing the bed curtains and feeling her way down to the door.  Technically there was a toilet in the back, but it was such a bitch to maintain they mostly used the space for storage now.  Steve sat up, still in a daze, to watch the top of her head through the sliver of exposed window.

He found a rag that was still mostly clean and wiped the sweat from his face and chest, waiting for Max to come back inside.  She felt her way up the steps with practiced ease; finding the curtains with one hand and feeling for the mattress with the other.  Her hand landed on his thigh.

“You’re letting all the warm air out,” she warned.  

“I wish you hadn’t done that,” he said, draping a thin blanket over her shoulders.  

Max frowned.

“I’m sorry,” she said.  “I didn’t mean to–I got excited.  Please don’t be mad.”

“I’m not mad, I’m scared,” he said.  “If anything happened to you, because of me–”

“Nothing’s going to happen,” Max said, climbing onto his lap, holding his head in her hand.  “Not from this…one good thing.  Don’t we deserve one good thing?”

She leaned in, her nose bumping against his chin before she pressed her forehead to his.  He rubbed her back and arms; Max rubbed her nose against his cheek. 

"You forgive me?"

“You'll freeze if I let you go to bed wet,” he said. He tried to sound stern, but with Max's weight on his lap and her arms around his neck he felt more at-ease than he had in weeks.  

“It won’t happen again,” she said.

“Again?” he said.  

“We are going to do it again,” she said.  “I hope.”

Steve smiled in spite of himself, stroking her face.

“Let’s just get some rest.”    

[hmmdelicioussoup]

So I just finished The Lost Book of the White and I really want to talk about Simon.

I’d tried reading this book sometime last year but didn’t really get into. Then after listening to the TMI audiobooks and TFSA I was motivated to try again since I knew it took place after Simon lost George. Second time round I absolutely loved it, Malec, baby Max, Magnus x Ragnor x Catarina friendship, all so good. But Sizzy! My god so so good. Getting to see them finally be together as a couple honestly made me so happy. But despite the happy moments, it’s also occurring during a time when Simon is grieving, and that grief is very fresh. TLBOTW takes place only 4 months after Angels Twice Descending.

So, throughout the whole book I was waiting for Simon to crack. From his first scene in the book it’s mentioned how different he seems.

Magnus says upon the TMI gang arriving at his apartment about Simon:

“…it was obvious [Simon] wasn’t doing well” pg 36

From the start I was strapping myself in for some pain. Even just a couple of pages later Magnus notes that Simon is acting ‘very unlike himself’ pg 39.

Simon has gone through a lot, they all have, but I think it’s different for Simon. Just on the basis that he kind of got dragged into the shadow world. He wasn’t raised in it like Jace, Alec, and Isabelle. It wasn’t his birthright to be a part of it like Clary. He’s had to fight stay beside Clary, to earn the respect of the Shadowhunters who even though they would eventually become his friends, didn’t think much, if anything of him, when they first met him. He had to really fight to show he was worthy of their respect. And he did. He fought beside them, lost beside them, sacrificed himself for them and all the while maintain his morals. I’m not saying he never changed, on the contrary, he developed significantly throughout the series and throughout it all always managed to be the optimistic one. Magnus says of him,

“Through all of it, Magnus had grown impressed with his morale, his willingness to persevere and keep a brave face even when the situation seemed worse than impossible” pg 40

Even knowing all Simon has been through, even Magnus who kind of seemed the least invested in Simon during TMI, expects him to have the same attitude he has always had. They’ve legit been to hell twice now and all seem pretty chill about it. They’re all making jokes, Magnus and Alec get it on basically every time they’re alone lol. I think they feel almost invulnerable. There’s very much this energy of well we’ve survived one hell dimension before, surely we can survive another. But they seem to be forgetting that they very nearly almost didn’t survive Edom. They only got out because of Simon. And I think Simon is painfully aware of this. He’s not one to brag about saving them but he understands maybe better than anyone the risk of having to make sacrifices.

Simon’s truly at his tipping point throughout TLBOTW. Despite all he went through in TMI, mainly with him losing half his memories and as a result losing important pieces of himself, he’s able to find himself again throughout TFSA or at the very least gain some idea of the type of Shadowhunter and person he wants to be. But then he loses George, once again he’s faced with unbearable loss. One as well that didn’t come from noble sacrifice or dying in battle protecting the people you love. George died drinking from the mortal cup and even though he was a good person, even though he was more than worthy, more worthy than Simon according to him, the cup didn’t want him.

“[George] was no different to me. No less worthy of Ascension. If anything, he was more worthy than me.” pg. 283

So when they all travel to Diyu and Simon is taken and tortured by Sammael, and Magnus has been stabbed by Svefnthorn and Isabelle gives herself up to demons, it’s all just reinforcing Simon’s worries about loss and how easy it is to lose what you love. Honestly I am so glad to have content where Simon is appreciated and allowed to show how much he cares and be more than just comic relief.

When they are in the Cathedral and Simons calm finally wavers I was so keen for it. And boi was I not disappointed. We get to really see how Simon is coping, how the loss that made him stronger is now what’s making him fall apart. Everyone else is so shocked and confused by his reaction:

“[Clary] looked wary…“This isn’t like you,”” pg. 282

“….“This isn’t even your first trip to a hell dimension,” Jace pointed out” pg. 282

It really shows how no one expected Simon of all people to be the one to break. It gives the others the chance to crumble a bit too. Isabelle who has always been very noble, always ready to fight, doesn’t know how to answer Simon when he asks how they all keep risking their and their loved ones lives. Before this book we never really got to see how they coped with the trauma they gained from TMI. We saw them in TDA but that was about four (I think?) years later, in the midst of someone else’s story and another fight. (As someone who very much prefers character over plot being able to read moments like this with some of my all time favourite characters really is my favourite thing. Like yes it’s sad as hell but oh isn’t it the best kind?)

Simon needs this moment. They all do. The desperation in Simon’s voice, everyone else’s inability to give him an answer. Because he has a point.

“How do you risk yourself and everyone you love, over and over again?” pg. 284

The Shadowhunter motto is just as much ‘we often die young’, as it is ‘facilus descensus averno’ and George’s death made this painfully clear to Simon. I think that Simon is definitely prepared to risk his own life, we’ve seen him do so many times before, but it’s the risk to the lives of the people he loves that he cannot deal with. The others kind of accept it, they definitely don’t love the idea of it but they know it’s a dangerous job. Both Jace and Alec literally say so.

It’s a moment that makes everyone grateful for their love.

- Clary tells Simon and Isabelle she loves them.

- Jace wraps his arms around her ‘drawing her close’.

- Alec reflects on the choice to love someone.

Writing this is really making me realise that maybe that’s what the whole story is about. Love. They’ve all found their epic loves, their families, they should all be happy. And they are, you don’t go through what they went through and not come out of it happy to still have the people you care about. But with the presence of love now it’s apparent, especially for Simon, that fear of losing it. And while it’s a hard thing to cope with, as Alec and Simon put it:

“That’s being a Shadowhunter,” said Alec.

Simon shook his head, “No, that’s being a person,���

[fireballhot]

Stranger Things Season 4 Characters Part 1

THE MVPs

Eddie Munson

For me, the one true real MVP of the season. Despite his terrible father he grew up to be a pure soul who wanted to make something out of his life. He was an outcast, wrogfully blamed for Chrissy's death but still, he never lost his spirit.

I hate that he died. I hate that they didn't bring him back for a proper burrial. I hate that the world will never find out that he was a true HERO. His death made me soooo angry but he went out like a true Metal God.

Never change Eddie Munson, Never change!!

Max Mayfield

I don't understand why this character had to go through so much and in such a brutal way. She had the balls to go us against Vecna for a second time and her last scene...oh my. So raw and honest.

Her strength, her courage, her batlle with depression was inspiring. She fought with all her heart to get out of that dark hole and deserved to be saved.

I really hope she somehow manages to come back to us.

Dustin Henderson

Once again, a true loyal friend to all and especially to Eddie. That last scene with the uncle just broke me. Not to mention the actual death scene. He is always the brains of the group and without him they have lost a lot sooner. He is a pure soul and I hope no one and nothing will ever corrupt him.

It's heartbreaking that Eddie died in his arms and I believe he is broken inside, even though he won't admit it.

Nancy Wheeler

I don't think she gets enough praise. She is a total bad ass, smart and all in all strong female character done. In all seasons she jumps into action without a second thought. Even though she saw first hand Vecna's power, she didn't think for a second to back down.

Steve Harrington

Awww the babysitter of our hearts. What a great character development. Though he didn't personally know Eddie, he trusted Justin and gave his all to protect him. He was injured by the bat-gorgons but chose to go for a second time to the upside down to protect his friends.

Robin

Like everyone else, she didn't think twice before joining the team to save the world, AGAIN!

Awkward but brave and quick witted I was excited that she seemed to find a ray of light in this darkness towards the end.

Erica Sinclair

I Have to be honest, when she was first introduced I was not impressed. I thought she was just a nutt cracking spoiled little brat. But man was I proved wrong. Just because someone is a "nerd" doesn't mean they are weirdos with no social skills and Erica is a fine example of that. Eleven could take some lessons from her but we'll get to that too.

Lucas Sinclair

I was so sorry for him when his friends ditched his big game. They are supposed to be a group, best friends and yet they couldn't be happy that he found something fullfilling.

I love how he stayed with Max till the end and I pretty sure this whole experience is going to break him in the next season.

Joyce & Hopper

Again, in all honestly I found their story arc a bit boring. It could have ended a lot sooner but they chose to drag it. If it wasn't for jaqen h'ghar....I am sorry Enzo, I wouldn't mind skipping those scenes.

Nevertheless, they make a terrific duo and I can't wait to see more of their dynamic.

[aeempress]

Apritello Express Evidences, part 3

Apritello, my dear friends, is really all hints, devil in details, little pieces that, in the end, become a huge picture.

I can't say that there are a lot of episodes with April and Donnie spending quality time together, no. But all episodes are important to understand how their relationship are involving, growing. If you have sharp eyes and think about all of this even a little bit, you will be surprised how gracefully their relationship changes and grows, how characters evolve.

Dear passengers, we're about to start. Mind the gap!

Episodes “The Gumbus” and “Mrs. Cuddles”. 

I think it would be appropriate to analyze these episodes in bunch, because they have common situations of spooky supernatural stuff and reactions of characters to this.

When you watch these two eps in raw, it's easy to see how alike are reactions of Donnie and April in some scary, really odd situations. 

Adrenaline ‘n’ reclessness

April is really into all spooky things in “The Gumbus”, she's not afraid of some creepy stuff and she's really brave girl who easily copes with stressful and life-threatening situations.

Donnie is incredibly calm and collected when alive doll talked to him.

But still, April was frightened about plush rabbit because it was really unexpected for girl, she wasn’t ready to realize that plush doll that she’d worked with is alive fear-eating monster who will hurt and intimidate to get their precious screams. But point remains: Donnie and April share crazy fearlessness, which turns into an adrenaline addiction.

And here I am, a science guy, who tell you: adrenaline is a big deal for our body. This hormone can even provoke an onset of romantic feelings. Chemistry and anatomy come to fill the gaps: when a person is afraid, their pulse quickens, a cocktail of hormones is releasing into the blood, which sharpen the senses and reflexes. It will create a strong emotional bound, that's important for maintaining romantic kind of feelings. The more impressions there are (even negative ones), the higher the chance that person will remember his|her partner, and want to see them again – the body gets hooked on adrenaline, like a drug.

That’s why D&A have so strong, unshakeable boundaries. They are so alike: their attitude to scary things, the way Donnie and April cope with them, the adrenaline addiction their share. They even express feelings the same way.

And one tiny detail: April and Donnie start the teasing Raph for his fear of mrs. Cuddles. So they become the first victims of plushie.

Friendly reminder: they were the 1st victims, and what’s happened with them we don’t know, because it wasn’t shown due to not ruin the atmosphere of suspense.

But we have a beautiful quote of mrs. Cuddles and this precious shot which explain everything

Raph: Where’s Donnie?

Cuddles: In a happy place where he’ll scream and I can grow forever and now you’re gonna join him!

In a happy place, huh? Tied up with April in Splinter’s bedroom, a really happy place. Hold a sec, are they -

And after that Donnie’s responding is killing me.

Donnie:[OS] I'm afraid of togetherness.

Yep. All normal here. We should continue.

"Operation Normal" even though doesn't show a lot of interactions between April and Donnie, however continues the general outline highlighting the topics that were mentioned earlier in the show.

Firstly, April's relationship with her classmates. We're able to see how poor her scholar life is in "Hypno Part Deux" and "The Purple Jacket". She has no "normal", human friends except some strange remora guy, more like acquaintance than friend, though. But still, having "be normal" kick she's fine with Donnie's weirdness ( Mikey is always beyond all normal comprehension, Raph goes weird while he's alone, without brothers, and his fear of miss Cuddles is no big deal to fam, Leo didn't show any weird stuff during the series, like, reeeeal weird, m'kay?).

Conversation between April and Donnie at pizza spot

Really interesting and smooth scene. We’ve got Donatello who stares at April while he’s waiting his favourite pizza, no big deal.

And his legs.

If a person is interested in you, during a conversation, they will put their right foot forward (a left-handed person is more likely to put their left foot forward) in order to close the distance between you. - Check.

being in company, peson will point the sock at the most pleasant interlocutor for them. - check.

April’s legs are ponted at Donnie. Checkmate.

Yeah, April is hanging out with Donatello and Leonardo, but the main focus of hers is on Donnie. 

All these scene makes me think that Donnie, knowing about how badly sometimes April  wants to be normal, is up to help her overcome this. Fight fire with fire:  fill up her life with all of this weird, mystic stuff so it will be normal with time. Regular people go to pizza spot to spend some quality time together, so we have pizza restaraunt here, in Hidden City. Make all odd normal, and problem will solved.

Donnie really tries his best, look at his face. Dee’s fine with all this bizzare things what happens to April, he’s fine with her. But still he fails, because April’s concept of normalcy differs drom Donnie’s.

And again, for Donnie it’s not a problem at all. He’s always was at the opposite side of normalcy and it doesn’t matter for him if April is in the same boat with him. Cause, as I said, Don’s fine with that.

Second, how much Donnie knows about April.

- Scoff! Are you really still on this whole "I want things to be normal" kick?

- Yes, what big city girl doesn't have a kayak and has hazmat suit?

Interesting detail here: this line launches Donnie’s flashback (because the first scene is from “Purple Jacket”, it’s Dee’s episode, obviously). And Don, as far as I can tell, has in his flashback moments with April when she did something reaaally impressive. His face is way more louder than any words.

- Short answer: no. Long answer: nnooooooooo.

- Oh, no! You know how April freaks out around the cosplay wizards!

These tiny lines are containing a lot of background, stories, intimate conversations that April and Donnie share. This show always does the same trick: we never see a direct action, we are only able to see a result or statement of the result. But series do a great work telling us with such small and imperceptible gestures that their bonding at this point is mutual. Not only D tells April about his inventions, family and fam's issues he has and even his falls, mistakes and failures. April does the same thing, sharing with Donatello one of the most important things to her. Problem that really bothers her.

C'mon, he'd even memorized Sunita's name, though April messed up with this situation a bit. It seems Donnie memorizes facts about April - he remembered the wi-fi password from old April's work as we can see in "The Longest fight" (he could hack it easily, he's a genius, why he's been keeping in mind some piece information that useless for a year? It doesn't make any sense)

Oh, and that. Just a coincidence, I guess?

Just alike suits, no big deal. Plus, the whole family has it (and something tells me that guys have suits at the behest of Don, so probably April does). But Donnie and April has a lot in common like emotional expressions, reaction about some kind situations, fight style and even tastes in fashion.

Also, it seems like Donnie's been watching April for sometimes.

While Leo was hiding in trash can, to not catch anyone's eye rather than April. He definitely couldn't know who was passing by, but there was Donnie to observe from above. That's why he was hanging down the stairs when Leo spoke to April.

It’s not the first time Donnie dress up as old lady to monitor April’s day.

Leo: Why do you always make us dress up as old ladies? Donnie: №1: confort, №2: to blend in as we monitor April’s day for max normalcy.

 3. Even when D took away this cosplay wizard, he's still keeping eye on her.

Oh no, you don’t. Grandmas here!

Donatello changes his foe to save April exactly. He fought all evening with Brutus, but when April slightly gets in danger, Donnie just attacked anyone who has intention to hurt her and ruin her evening.

Is that a flying turtle in an old purple dress?

April, who all evening was trying to look “normal”, hiding her real friends because they are mutant turtles and pretending that nothing unusual happens here, finally gives up when Sunita mentioned Donnie. Even though new April’s friend has asked her before about Leo.

His eyes. 

Donnie is really impressed but what he saw, and the reason - April O'Neil.

The episode "Warren & Hypno, sitting in a Tree" is another incredible piece of whole picture.

Turtle tank is decorated for April birthday in purplish scheme, definetely Donatello's work.

Dee's nonverbal speech.

• He seems more interested and softer than usual looking at April. It's easy to say comparing him with brothers. Mikey is in anticipation of fun mode, Leo relaxed and show his "whatever it will be fun" attitude, Raph is listening carefully, but still, Donnie could just turn his head in April's vouce direction, not a whole body.

• Warren felt Don's gaze while talked with April, so worm made the remark. Pay attention to the construction of the frame of neighboring scenes. The second frame is April's perspective. And Don is looking namely at her.

Indignation. Disappointment. Spark, storm, madness (i love this russian meme, sorry not sorry)

• Donnie seems sincerely sorry for this situation with April's b-day. And again, this soft gaze and "Raph, shut the shell up, your nonsense is upsetting her"-eyes.

• Donatello is kind of person, who’s avoiding a proper confrontation, so he rarely stands up for someone.  He were remaining silent, when Raphael tried to cheer April in the most radiculous way, but when Hypno tried to play with April’s feelings, Donnie blew it. 

He’s obviously in wrath as D emote that expressively. Yeah, he had much on his plate at April’s birthday, but it’s her b-day on the line, not his pride.

Warren used April, playing with her fan feelings. Her idol betrayed her, she was locked up in a cage, and now we have Hypno who wants to use her again by pitting and pushing for her compassion, because, it’s obvious - boys would do everything she said. 

And Donnie tries to keep Hypno away from her, protect her feelings from another betrayal. 

As he’s already stated - “For you, anything”.

The show always tells us: if you wanna trigger Don, bring April in. 

Hypno tried to turn this thing around, Leo did the same in “Al be back”. 

If Hypno-tamus did that accidentally as he found out that April O’ Neil is a birthday girl, so her wishes that day were laws, Leo did it on purpuse.

Leo is good at manupulating and pulling some strings, plus he knows his twin as back of his hand. That’s why Leo mentioned April in the end as she was always the most powerful argument, the reason and motive for Donnie. At second he’s even panicked, but remained calm. He almost blew up his coolheaded image because of one certain girl in yellow.

• Donnie is really happy to present Warren's arm to April. He even holds it like a rare, priceless treasure. D is really proud of himself right now: he saved the day, after all. The emotional reaction of hers is exactly what Donnie wants to get. And then, his final pose, while April is on 9th cloud from happiness - that's really territorial gesture, D claims his supremacy and confidence, telling "See? That's my happy birthday girl".

Leapfrog with a composition

Donnie and April are more and more eager to be together in the frame. Composition’s boners, m’kay.

Special ride for April

Yeah, Donnie used to offer his battleshell to give April a special ride. It even has  a seat and handlebars for her comfort. She can control the flight as well as Donatello, they are like co-pilots. But he never carried her on his back before.

Usually, April is carried by Raphael, on his neck/shoulder, and she’s fine with it. Raph is strong enough to carry her without any difficulties or slowing down.

It’s not Donnie’s weak to carry her - no, he strong enough to carry his battleshell with a lot stuff in it everyday, Don can carry Splints on his shoulder without any apparent difficulty. He strong enough to hold the weight of his battleshell+April. Oh, c’mon, D assembled the Turtle tank only by himself and this for sure requires a lot of physical strength in order to engage in auto mechanics. Try lifting the wheel with tyre, and you'll see what I mean. Of course, there is a jack, but it will not solve all the problems. Don could use hydraulics and Archimedes ' laws, but I'm sure he did most of it with his own hands. Lifting and carrying, all by himself.

Not the strengh what’s matter but another point.

The sequence where Donnie carries April on his back doesn’t last long, it’s pretty easy to miss, while Raph openly do that with April on him. 

Plus April’s gaze: she’s staring right at us with her “ninja-eyes” as if they were caught in the middle of something. The duration and length of the sequence, the way it is made all of this arouse certain thoughts. 

It’s like nobody should see this. Too personal. To be more specific - too close and intimate? 

Donnie stated a few times that he’s not into togetherness, tactile interaction and phisical side of contacts. Although he's fine with his brothers, don't forget that April is a girl. Even if she feels like part of family, she’s not his relative. She’s not his sister. 

Some people tend to avoid physical contact with the objects of their interest. And this behaviour fits in Don’s character. He’s anxious type with a lot of psychological and emotional issues. Yeah, he tries to cover it up, built a shell to protect himself, behave as confident extravert but he’s nothing like that. Sometimes D tends to distance himself from his family, to hide in his shell, and we've seen that throughout the show. 

Don hangs by his phone quite often, he addicted to this as his comfort zone, his peaceful cave, where everything is much easier,

Don pretends he’s so busy with his science stuff to ward off his brothers (ep. Mind Meld), 

Don went to the lab to work on his projects, while he could hang out with April and the brothers (ep. Mrs. Cuddles). And he left for what? To work on self-cleaning tooth pick, or the titan bust of himself? It’s seems like lame excuse to be alone. He’s definetely an intovert, who sometimes needs some space and time with himself. 

All his cocky behaviour is showing off to hide insecure, diffident and vulnerable creature, softshell purple turtle. Yeah, Donnie has confidence in what he’s great in: tech, science stuff, where he’s only one is capable of. But if someone steps on his domain or doubts his authority, his true colours exposed.

And, once again, “Mind meld” is a great evidence of that. Would callous, unsumpathetic guy without heart have a wall with pictures of his fellows? I’m afraid not. Donnie has a soft, caring heart.

There’s an alley of his the dearest moments, because photos - are always memory, precious moments we want to keep. 

1 - from “Minotaur Maze”. Don loves good pizza, loves his brothers, and they have a little adventure together. Yeah, this photo isn’t on champ wall, but still.

2 - from “Mascot melee”. Important day for bros as they show themselves to people at daylight to rescue Raph and their operation to buy a new robe for his father. It’s their joint brothers dance, and D is loving to dance, remember? Definetely special occasion.

3 - from “Mascot melee”. Splints was really glad to receive a gift from boys. And Donatello, as we know, is always eager to achive for pop’s approval. This for sure must be in his precious moments collection.

5, 7 - from “Donnie’s gifts”. He even keeps a dorky photo, which Raph uses as profile pic at Donnie’s number.

8, 9 - “Down with the sickness”. It was funny to survive all the 7 stages to achive what boys wanted. They failed, but still.

10 - from “Al be back”. Who knows that Splints is so good at singing?

4, 6 - from “The Fast and the Furriest”. Strange choice, cuz, you know, photos ten seconds before his collision with April bat?

And yeah, he HAS April’s photo here. And at this pic it’s April, and April alone,without his brothers. 

Don’s a real softie, see?

And avoiding physical contact is a way to protect Donnie’s already shattered self-esteem. To not cause any doubts in front of girl which he’s interested in. That’s possible reason why we did not receive any heartwarming hugs in “The Purple Jacket”.

But Donnie carries April, because it’s her birthday. On the one hand, the girl claims that  her b-day is cursed, and Donnie could, by any chance, do something nice for her, and on the other hand - any request of the bithday girl - is the law, as we could see earlier.

Gift for birthday girl

There is no Donnie in the scene after Draxum throw off Warren's arm. While Raph comfort April about her birthday, Donnie was looking for it to present it to April.

He knows the best what is the most precious gift for her. Warren Stone, her idol, goat of making news; she have been in Stoneheads fanclub for 9 years. Also, it seems that Donnie is the one of turtles, who collected info about this worm.

Also, he stopped immediately when April stepped between them and show no disappointing (remind you about Donnie's sadistic science guy nature). The reason is April.

And another cute detail: their glasses are the same form.

Another episode "Mystic library" has slightly touched D&A interaction. But were talking about Apritello, it's all hints but quality.

When Mayham trapped in the mirror and Raph, Leo and Mikey obviously are not coping, April decides to call Donnie to clear situation up.

Donnie, mister "I ruin everything", she's going to call for help. I repeat this. April calls for help Mr. Science to solve mystic problems with her pet. MYSTIC PET.

 And he AGREES.

Turtles dissuade their friend from calling Donatello but after a while, April returns with Donnie, and sees the bathroom in ruins.

I'm gonna clear this moment.

1. April haven’t called Donnie.

2. Some time later she returns with Dee.

3. Our girl is pretty shocked to see her bathroom in ruins, argo she didn't see/hear Raph chose to solve problem with smashing.

It must mean only ine thing: April went for Donnie by herself. We don't know where was he, we don't know what the reason April brought Donnie with her by herself, 'cause we know that if she call Dee, he will definitely get to her immediately.

Something is definetely off.

By the way, April changed Don’s profile pic.Yeah, the first one is very informative since Donnie is a turtle and he’s purple and he has bandana. Seems like April have done it by herself, editing the photo of real turtle. She didn't put a lot of effort into this, this image doesn't show her real attitude towards Don. But second is more personality-tinged. Sleeping Donatello in all his gear - this detail can tell us about only one thing - he was photographed when he fell asleep after his sleepless night(s) working hard at something - is something she can catch or receive by boys (namely speaking, it’s Leo, according to Ben Schwartz stated in an interview, that if Leo had an Instagram account, that 60 to 70% of his photos would be his brothers caught sleeping or slipping on things). And still. April has a dorky and little embarrassing pic of Donatello and this is... Interesting and cute?

This profile pic remind me about ROTTMNT: Sound off! (2nd issue)

The next station is “The Purple Game”.

Another episode in which the interaction of the characters is small in timing, but great in content.

And once again: they have a lot in common. I’d never tired of repeating this thing ‘cause the series do the same trick, showing one thing from different points of view. April and April shares the same taste in games, the same attitude, the same mojo. 

But the most important thing here is how D&A interacrions are shown in this episode. Unlike other episodes, the interaction here is indirect, is provided by gaming.

Their customized avatars reflects their personality. I mean, the colour schemes (though Donatello has never shown any interest in yellow, he used it for customization of his persona), the way their avatars looking. Game even refering to Sherlock_Corn as “she”, albeit it’s impossible to refer to her avatar in female pronoun. Because, you know, design and nickname?

And the in-game interaction of the avatars resembles D&A irl relationships. Bootyyyshaker 9000 don’t like togetherness, he’s looking like Donnie’s expectation of himself (cool and tough guy, as D sees himself in his own dreams)

Their dialogue

Actually. Actually, Donnie and April are not able to hear each other as game has no voice chat, but their lines make an perfect dialogue nevertheless.

April:Bootyshaker9000? Donnie? 

Donnie:April? You’re the last person I need to destroy to achive rank №1!

April:Ditto!

Both:There can only be one!

Donnie said the cheat combination, so April would know for sure what he is supposed to do, but she has no idea.

So, once again: their sync is incredible.

And can we talk about that?

April’s attack

As it seems, attacks may be customized by players. Bootyyshaker has attack that refers at Donatello main feature - superior intellect.

And this attack isn’t effective, because REAL April O’Neil has a resist towards it. She has known D for years, she knows what he’s capable of, she’s aware of his nerd side. April’s immune to it, so Sherlock_Corn is.

 Sherlock_corn has a default attack - kernel cannon. It’s nod to her nickname: kernel, corn, the same book. But her second atteck is something reflecting her personalitiy. Plus, April is aware of Donnie’s “fear” of togetherness. All’s fair in love and war, right?

April took a lot of BS9000 hp by her “friendly hugs”. And, by the way, his sweet reaction for hugs.

So:

The selection of the final opponent. It might be literally anyone, but we wouldn’t be able to see Dee’s obsession in that case. Yeah, he’s already had a  demon possesion ™, but it was too easy to him to win. No challenge. No “kill or be killed”, “It’s me or you” mojo.  He needed some tough gamer for challenging, to develop his character, push him too far. And  April, actually, is an excellent choice to reveal the character of certain purple turtle.To expose his true colours. And April do a great job: they know each other, so battle will be spicy, they are both compepitors, they are so alike, so it would be intersting to watch Donatello vs April. And it will, ‘cause In-game April and In-game Don is somewhat different than them usual.

April is Don’s slayer for sure. She’s good at gaming, her last attack was almost fatal for him. So he had to to cheated on her. 

Captain Cuddlecakes. Yes, she know about his afraid of togetherness. And there’s lovey-dovey attack animation with this cuddling and Donatello’s persona behaves like him. And it was SPECIAL RUN, so... I haven’t the foggiest why. Cute detail, I mean.

Just look at it.  Isn’t it cute?(at least we got their hugs somewhere... kinda. kinda.)

“Snow Day“, albeit  being family episode, shows a lot about D&A relationship through “family war”.

First of all, the same taste in films.   

Donnie’s already shown the same attitude to fashion, scary things as Cap O'Neil, April shares the same gamer’s mojo as Donatello, but now? We have Donnie and April that are loving the same movie.

For love of purple supernovas, of all the Jupiter Jim’s movies (and there are more than 60 of them), that's a convinient coincidence, they like the same movie.

It stated in series several times that Dee is fond of Atomic Lass. He had crush on her when he was child, he admires her by all his heart, so it will make sense if films with this character he would be his favourite. It’s logical, isn’t it?

Atomic Lass, even if she is part of JJ-universe, however, isn't in every movie. Leo described "JJ: Pluto vacation IV" and there is no sights of Atomic Lass. Like, at all. 

Nevertheless, April’s claimed that “PV-4” is the best movie of the time, and Don agrees. 

April:What the whaaaat? Hold up, Skip. “Jupiter Jim Pluto Vacation 4″ is the best JJ movie  of all time.

Donnie:Ranked, by us, just now. So it’s basically official, no arguing.

And they do this thing again. Reflecting each other. Facial expressions, intonations, poses and etc. Haven’t I mentiones that? Mirroring is natural way to build communication. People, who communicate enthusiastically, who have sympathy to each other, feelings of certain nature, unconsciously copy each other's poses.

Direct reflection and close contact have a strong effect. This is used between lovers, people with close relationships or interested in each other.

And you can see that during not only episode, but through the whole series. 

Poses, gestures, facial expressions they share constantly. Even if they are apart, they are mirroring each other, showing their bound. Because Apritello is not always about sitting close, holding hands and blushing. Apritello is about staying together even if they are not.  It’s about solid foundation, about synergy, about chemistry Donnie and April share. And all of these are not always so obvious and clear, evident. But so realistic nevertheless.

And that’s why they splitted off the fam - they are too close and alike. 

I stated it before but DonniexApril team is way more effective than Donniexbrothers team. Donatello and April are equal, worth each other. They are comfortable with each other, their teamwork is amazing. 

They are always near, close to each other for the entire episode. Stand up for each other, side by side. They have no need to do team-building, because their sincronization is incredible. April works well together with Donnie, their skills compliment each other. 

I love that April in a first place look at Donnie to check is everything alright.

And a cherry on top?

This inviting gesture. Donnie just watched all along how his brothers and April try to throw some cold water on this situation (khem, it slipped). But when April call him with this inviting gesture, he’d like to help. 

In other words, he was waitng when April requests for his help.    

Composition’s boners

Sometimes it happens during the show, but this episode beat hte score at this point. I say only one word: physics. Or, more precisely, the force of attraction. Or, maybe Mayham.

... Anyway.

Fitting in the type

April can play not so nice against her enemies, she got steady hand and meanness, merciless and reclessness. She’s passionate and kinda badass, sassy - in a positive way, she’s baddest girl who can kick your butt if you mess with her, and she really good at this. 

She has a fire, and Donnie likes that. Dee never stated that directly but miss O’Neil impressed him so many times and in different way so it’s kinda pretty obvious. 

Just look how Donatello reacted the way April took Raph down a peg. Her actions are elegant, relaxed but really sly. She almost dare Raph to put his flag on top only to bring him down to Earth in really painful way. She destroyed Bros’ team so easily just by waiting a bit and by calling Mayham. 

She’s definetely got some pepper.

Pretty cute but baddest, don’t you think?

And Donnie was impressed for sure, he admitted it - “That is fun for me”. He don’t even stand a chance, c’mon: she’s smarass and elegant, she can be mean and cute at the same time. 

Even though that’s it for season 1 analysis (the last series is more appropriate  to review as part of 2nd season, plus it was a reaally big post, I need some time)

You can refresh this whole situation in the car 1 and the car 2 or follow the hashtag #apritello express as you please. It’s a pleasure of mine, keep in touch :)

[purrincess-chat]

Marinette Dupain-Cheng’s Spite Playlist: Remix CH6

Here we are! Chapter 6 from last week. I will share 7 either tonight or tomorrow to space them out a little bit, but 7 will be coming soon to make up for not posting last week. Only a couple more chapters until the fun begins ;)

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Chapter 6: Call It Off

“Chloe?”

Adrien and Marinette stared at her with equally bewildered expressions. Chloe glared daggers at Marinette, frosty blue eyes piercing through her.

“What are you doing here? In my house? Who let you in?” Marinette bristled.

Chloe rolled her eyes and crossed her arms over her chest. “I came to your pathetic hovel to…ask for your help,” she said the last word with a hint of disgust.

“You want my help?” Marinette scoffed.

“Oh, don’t get all sappy on me, Dupain-Cheng. I still hate you, but I hate you less right now, so I’m calling a temporary truce,” she explained.

“And just why should I help you?” Marinette leaned back in her chair with a skeptical glare.

“Because I think it will be mutually beneficial to both of us,” Chloe replied. She glanced around the room with a wrinkled nose. “Ugh, how do you live like this? It’s so tiny.”

“What exactly do you want, Chloe?” Adrien asked.

“What are you doing here?” she asked as if noticing him for the first time. “It’s bad enough that I’m desperate enough to come to Dupain-Cheng for help. I don’t need you two canoodling to make my day worse.”

“Adrien and I are friends, Chloe. He can hang out with me if he wants.” Chloe held up a hand to silence her mid-sentence, but Marinette ignored her.

“No, I know you two are friends—it’s a fact that’s made me question Adrien’s sanity for a while now—but I thought you ditched everyone at Francoise-Dupont,” Chloe said. She shook her head. “We can discuss it later, right now I have bigger things to deal with. I know you hate Lila, and now I hate Lila because she’s getting in my way. You were the only real annoyance I had at school, so if anyone can help me destroy her it’s you, so I’ve been thinking-”

“Chloe, do you really think taking Lila down is the best way to go?” Adrien chided.

Chloe blinked at him before throwing her head back with a laugh. “Adrikins, how long have you known me?” She placed a hand on her hip. “Taking people down is what I do.”

“So then why do you need my help exactly?” Marinette asked.

“Because unlike the other losers at the school, Lila is crazy connected, and as much as I hate to admit it, you aren’t so bad-off either.” Chloe cringed. “After seeing your performance with Jagged Stone, I thought I might have an in.”

“Chloe, don’t you think it’s time you stopped trampling over people?” Adrien asked. He stood up and placed his hands on her shoulders with a pleading look. “Be nice for once. I know you know how.”

“Why? So I can be a pushover just like you? No thanks.” Chloe slapped his hands away.

“I’m not a pushover.” Adrien huffed.

“Please, Adrikins, I’ve been walking all over you for years. You’re as spineless as a snail. Marinette used to be which is why I loved picking on her, but even she finally grew a backbone. So annoying.” Chloe sighed, turning to Marinette. “So, are you going to help me take down Little Miss Exotic or not?”

“Adrien’s right, Chloe. Lila will just lie her way out of anything we throw at her. Besides, I’m over that whole mess. I don’t want to put up with her,” Marinette said.

Chloe held up a perfectly manicured hand, eyes narrowing. “You’ve always been on some trip about her being a liar, tell me more,” she said.

Marinette exchanged looks with Adrien.

“Chloe, I really don’t-”

“Wait.” Chloe cut her off, eyes widening. “She is a liar, isn’t she? And you two are the only ones who know, which is why you’re still in cahoots. I should have known. No one that famous would have such horrible split ends.” A grin stretched across her lips. “This is excellent news! So, what is our plan to destroy her?”

“There isn’t one,” Adrien said.

Chloe made herself comfortable in his chair, waving him away. “Adrien, be a dear and fetch me some tea. Marinette and I have big things to discuss, and we don’t need your moral compass getting in the way.”

“I don’t even live he-”

“Tea.” Chloe gave him a stern look. He chewed his cheek before storming downstairs to the kitchen, and Chloe turned back to Marinette. “Now then, we need a plan.”

“No, Chloe. I told you. I’m not getting into this,” Marinette said firmly. “I’m done.”

“Oh, are you?” Chloe arched a smug brow. “Lila has been tarnishing your good-girl reputation.”

“I don’t care.”

“She’s got everyone at school wrapped around her little finger, especially that brat with the blog you used to hang out with.”

“Not my problem anymore.”

“Today she made Rose pick out all of the tomatoes from her salad because she’s ‘allergic,’” Chloe said.

Marinette swiveled away, crossing her arms over her chest to hide how her fists shook, so Chloe continued. “In gym class, she convinced the teacher to let Kim carry her because she has asthma. She has Max doing her homework because she doesn’t want to fail after missing school to help so many poor people.” Chloe rolled closer, leaning into her ear. “She’s using all of the people you care about. Doesn’t that make your blood boil?”

Marinette fought back angry tears, her fingernails digging into her palms until they broke the skin. She took a deep breath, swallowing the lump in her throat before replying. “I’m not helping you. You know she’s a liar, so you figure something out,” she said with a finality that left no room for arguing. “You’re usually pretty good at getting what you want.”

“Not as good as I thought, obviously,” Chloe grumbled before stalking to the trap door. She paused, turning to look at Marinette over her shoulder. “Ya know, I came here to ask for your help because I thought that if anyone could set things right, it’d be you.”

“Why?” Marinette’s eyes narrowed.

“Because you love helping people and you always get things done.” Chloe averted her gaze stubbornly. “As much as I hate to admit it—and if you ever tell anyone that I said this, I will deny it and sue you for slander—but you’re a good leader, and I thought that maybe you’d care about your friends.”

Marinette pressed her lips into a firm line, fixing her gaze on the wall in front of her. “They’re not my friends.”

The floorboards creaked as Chloe shifted her weight. She stood there likely contemplating a way to get Marinette change her mind, but Marinette wasn’t going to budge. Chloe must have realized this because she crawled back through the trapdoor without another word. Her footsteps pounded down the stairs with the same ferocity they had coming up.

Marinette waited until the front door slammed before her stubborn countenance fell. She hunched forward to catch her face, hot tears streaming down her cheeks. Tikki flitted up to nuzzle her face, but when footsteps sounded up the stairs again, she darted for Marinette’s sewing drawer.

“You okay?” Adrien asked, setting a fresh teacup on the desk and wrapping an arm around her shoulders.

“No.” She shifted to bury her face in his chest. He smelled like expensive cologne. Marinette could have breathed him in all day, but now wasn’t the time for that.

“Chloe is a steam roller. She doesn’t stop until she gets her way,” Adrien said. He rubbed her back, leaning his cheek against her hair with a sigh. “You and I know that better than anyone.”

“It’s not that.” Marinette shook her head. “It’s just that she’s right. Lila using my friends makes me angry. I hate seeing them being manipulated. I want to help, but I don’t want to fight this anymore. I just-” Her voice cracked, and she nuzzled into his shoulder, squeezing her eyes shut.

Adrien held her tightly, but she was in too much pain to enjoy it. All that time she’d spent daydreaming about being enveloped in his strong arms but never once did she imagine it would feel like this. Empty, helpless, lonely. Adrien was the last buoy above water in the storm, and Marinette was clinging for dear life.

“You’re really brave for standing up to Chloe. I admire that about you,” he said when her sobs quieted. “Can I ask you something?”

Her heart skipped a beat. It wouldn’t be the question she wanted, and even if it was, she didn’t necessarily want Adrien to ask her to be his girlfriend while her snot was still drying on his shirt. Oh god, she got snot on his shirt.

“About what Chloe said… Do you think I’m spineless?”

It definitely wasn’t the question she hoped, but it left her dumbstruck, nonetheless. “I- no! You’re really nice. You just don’t like conflict that’s all,” Marinette said.

“Spineless.” He leaned back in his chair and nodded. “My mom taught me that pitching a fit causes more problems than it solves, and that I should never make a fuss. I guess I just have a hard time abandoning that mindset now that she’s gone.”

“People like Chloe walk over those they think are weak. You just need a little more confidence.” Marinette assured him.

“I don’t have the luxury of causing trouble with my father breathing down my neck. As if he needs another reason to keep me at home. If I step out of line, he could take everything away from me.” He shook his head. “Sometimes I wish I knew how to stand up for myself, like you do. I’m just so afraid of disappointing people and losing everything.”

“Sometimes it’s good to stand up for yourself, especially if something is making you unhappy or hurting someone you love. I had to learn that the hard way.” She took a thoughtful sip of tea. “I’ve been thinking about it a lot…if people have a problem with you doing what’s best for yourself, then are they really people you want in your life?”

“That’s why you broke things off with Alya.”

Marinette nodded, and Adrien tapped his fingers on his thigh as if choosing his next words carefully. “Will you teach me how to be more assertive?” he asked. “I would ask Chloe or Kagami, but I feel like they’re a bit…extreme. You’re always assertive in a good way.”

“I- uh, I could try.” She nodded, cheeks burning. “I’ll always help you.”

“I know I can always count on you. You’re awesome, Marinette.” He pulled her in for another hug before abruptly pushing away. “I- hopefully, I’m not asking too much. If I ever stress you out or if you don’t want to, I can leave you alone…”

Marinette giggled at that, bringing a flush to Adrien’s cheeks. “Assertive lesson number one: stop assuming that asking for someone’s help is a nuisance. You’re my friend, and I want to help you,” she advised. “I think it’s good that you’re aware of how other’s might be feeling, but you don’t have to apologize for everything.”

“Sorry!” His cheeks darkened as he caught himself. “I- sorry, what I meant was sorry for doing that, and I- see what you mean.”

“Have more confidence in yourself, and don’t be afraid to say no. I still struggle with that sometimes,” she said. “Just don’t let it go to your head. There’s a big difference between being assertive and being a jerk. N-Not that I think you’re a jerk, just there are times to be assertive and times to let it go, so just…balance.”

“How do I know when I should stand up for myself or not?” he asked.

Marinette weighed her answer and shrugged. “Well, with me it’s just…I get a feeling in my gut that it’s the right thing to do. I don’t know how to explain it.”

“You really are a natural leader, Marinette—a true Ladybug,” Adrien said.

Her stomach jumped up to her throat, heart pounding. “What? I’m not Ladybug! I mean- she and I are nothing alike. Totally different. We don’t even have the same hair- I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she said with a nervous titter.

“I think you’d make a great Ladybug. Just as good as the real one.” He chuckled. “Don’t sell yourself short.”

“I- you really think so?”

“Of course.” Adrien nodded. “Anyone who doesn’t think so is blind. Jagged was right. You really are miraculous, Marinette.”

Her heart hammered, bringing a rush of warmth to her cheeks. So much praise made her dizzy, especially knowing he meant every word. She’d be up late for many nights replaying this exact moment—the moment where all of Adrien’s attention was on her.

Feeling brave, she met his gaze and bit her lip. “Adrien? I-”

“Marinette! You’ve got a letter from your nonna!” her dad called up the stairs, cutting her off.

“Okay!” Her heart sank to the floor, moxie fading.

“I should probably get going. I have to practice piano tonight.” Adrien stood up and stretched. “Thanks for having me over. I’ll come by again soon, okay?”

“Yeah, totally.” Marinette nodded, following him down the stairs.

He paused at the door, fingers tapping the handle before he turned back to her. “If you ever need anyone to talk to about everything… call me. I’ve got your back.” He flashed her a warm smile. “See you later.”

“Bye, Adrien.” She waved as he disappeared down the stairs, letting out a deep breath once he was gone.

She paced over to the table where a thick envelope rested and tore it open. Inside was a long, multi-page letter wrapped in a small bracelet. She smiled, trailing her fingers over the beads before flopping onto the couch to read about her grandma’s latest adventures. As her eyes scanned the page, her heartbeat accelerated before a shrill scream escaped her lips.

[yikesharringrove]

Not sure if you’re still taking prompts but can you maybe write something about Billy and Steve and the 5 love languages please? Thank you!

1. Giving and Receiving Gifts

Steve just stared at the box.

He had found it in his mother’s closet, obviously placed in there by a maid.

His birthday was next week, and his parents were giving him a record player.

The same one they had given him last Christmas.

Steve figures his father’s assistant picked it out. He’s had four since Christmas.

He sighed at the box. Maybe he could sell the record player, maybe he could buy himself something with the money.

He knows he’ll end up giving it to Dustin, or maybe Will.

-

There was a carton of cigarettes on the kitchen table.

Unopened Marlboro reds. Next to a plate of pancakes. Susan’s yearly peace offering.

Billy slid into the table quietly.

“Thank you, Dad.”

Neil just hummed.

2. Physical Touch

Steve sighed as he sank into the crisp sheets.

His parents’ bed was huge, far larger than two people needed.

He had sprayed his mother’s perfume on one of the pillows, curled up in their silk sheets.

If he pretended hard enough, he could imagine being held.

Someone caring for him enough to touch him, run fingers through his hair, pet down his back.

He set up one of the down feather pillows behind him, felt like someone was there.

-

Billy spat into the sink.

His tooth had chipped, but hadn’t come out completely.

His lip was split and he could feel the bruises forming on his back.

He rinsed the blood out of his mouth, cataloging dark fingerprints on his wrist.

He should head to the quarry, be alone for a little bit.

He pushed out of the bathroom, nearly colliding into Max on his way to the door.

She reached for his wrist, the one already marked by another hand.

Billy dodged out of the way, kept going to his car.

3. Acts of Service

“Look, I wouldn’t ask if it wasn’t an emergency-”

“Hey, don’t sweat it. You know I never mind driving him.”

Mrs. Henderson sighed in relief.

“Thank you, Sweetheart. You’re a life saver.”

It was true though, he really didn’t mind driving Dustin around. Gave him something to do. Helping felt good, made him forget about things for a little while.

-

He had only been in Max’s room once before.

It had been to yell at her about stealing his Walkman.

It hadn’t changed since then, still just as cluttered, still as California beachy as before.

He placed the skateboard on the unmade bed.

He noticed her wheels were getting torn up on the shitty roads, installed new ones for her.

It was as close to an apology as he could get.

4. Quality time

Steve’s house was empty.

And he hated it.

No matter how loud he turned on the television, no matter how much music he played, or how many lights he turned on, it was still an empty house, with no one but a sad lonely boy rattling away inside.

-

Billy doesn’t like sitting in silence.

He guesses Susan doesn’t either, as she shakily tries to fill the dinner table with a poor anecdote from her day.

Billy smiles where he should, and eats quickly, but not too wuickly, and compliments Susan’s cooking, and only leaves the table when his father dismisses him.

He retreats to his room, listening to music to drown out whatever game Neil’s watching in the next room.

5. Words of Affirmation

“You’re not stupid.”

Billy’s brows were furrowed.

“Yeah, I am. But it’s okay though I’m-”

“No, you’re not.” He said it with an air of finality. “Your mind just works different. But you’re really smart.” Steve smiled weakly. “I mean it. You’ve got this creative brain, always thinking outside the box. You have a knack for detail other people miss. You’re smart”

It was the first time anyone ever told him that.

Fitting, as he’d had a lot of firsts with Billy already.

-

“You’re not a monster.”

Steve’s voice had an air of authority. His eyes were wide.

“Steve, I, I hurt-I killed so many-”

“You weren’t you, though. You were, were possessed. You couldn’t have stood a chance against that thing.”

“I should’ve fought it sooner.”

“It took all your energy to fight it off. And you did, in the end. You saved us all. You’re not a monster. You’re a hero.” Billy’s nose twitched. “You’re selfless, and brave, and a fucking hero.”

4. Quality Time

Steve’s house wasn’t empty.

And he loved it.

Billy seemed to take up every room, fill the space with snide remarks about the decor in Steve’s house, or laugh loudly at family portraits.

He had put music on in the living room, and turned on lights as he looked through his house.

Steve felt warm, and for once, for fucking once, he didn’t feel lonely.

-

Billy likes the quarry, although he would never say that to another human being.

It’s quiet there, and if he closes his eyes, he can pretend the water lapping at the rocky shore is the ocean, that he never left California.

But then he looked to his left, and smiled at the sight.

Steve was always pretty, but something about moonlight made him ethereal.

He was quiet, looking out over the water.

Billy liked that Steve knows when to let the moment sit, when quiet is okay.

3. Acts of Service

“Noticed your breaks were starting to whine, so I changed your break pads. Ended up doing the oil and wiper fluid, too.”

Steve stared at the car.

“You didn’t have to do all that.”

“Good for pt.” Billy’s hands were working much better, he had more articulation these days.

And rebuilding things, fixing things, it made him feel better than any talk session ever had.

It was nice seeing Billy like this, a little closer to his new self.

It made Steve’s stomach flip over.

-

“I finished unpacking your stuff while you were out applying places. I don’t know how you like things organized, so you’ll probably want to redo it I just thought-” Steve was rambling away, all nervous.

“Thanks, Stevie. I appreciate it.” Steve’s face went red.

They had moved into a two-bedroom apartment in the shitty part of town. Billy’s window opened onto a dingy parking lot, while Steve’s showed the gas station below.

“I was just finished, thought I would move your along, too.”

He tamped down the way his gut rolled, the way his heart pounded against his ribs at Steve’s slight flush.

2. Physical Touch

“Do you, uh, do you think I could sleep in here?”

Steve felt like he was going to throw up his heart, hands still shaking from his nightmare.

“‘Course.” Billy’s voice was gruff in the darkness, but he held up the side of his blanket.

Steve slipped underneath it with him.

He was still breathing too fast, stiff as a board on Billy’s bed.

“It’s okay.” And then Billy’s arm was around him, and his back was against a warm, solid chest, and it was all too easy to melt into the touch, maybe let a few tears fall.

Billy was warm, and grounding.

And Steve felt a tiny bit better.

-

Billy tossed himself down onto the couch.

It was two small for how both of them sprawled across it at once, their bodies pressed together.

Steve wiggled his way out from under Billy, leaning against his side, legs tucked up under his hips.

“Long day?”

Billy never replied.

He turned his head to look at Steve, and he was so close, his breath fanning over Billy’s cheeks, dark eyes nearly going cross eyes as they dropped down to look at his lips.

His hair was soft as Billy sank a hand into it, guiding their kiss.

It was a long time coming, the soft brush of their lips.

Steve pressed his body closer to Billy, who let out a desperate whine.

Steve’s hands were soft and warm, one cupping his cheek, one gripping his wrist.

They took shaky breaths after parting, still close enough to feel the other’s breath, neither boy wanting to break their soft little bubble.

They kissed all night.

1. Giving and Receiving Gifts

“Happy birthday, you pain in my ass.”Steve laughed as he accepted the small box from Billy.

“You’re a terror.” He leaned forward to press a kiss to Billy’s cheek.

It was Steve’s first birthday since they moved to California.

He tore open the wrapping paper, tossing the lid of the box onto their bed.

He gasped.

“Bill, this is, thank you.”

It was Billy’s necklace. Steve didn’t even realize he wasn’t wearing it.

“Wanted you to have it. Since you’re my guy, and all that.” His smile was dazzling, lazy and warm.

Steve turned around, placed his palm over the pendant as Billy clasped it for him.

“I love you.” Billy pressed a kiss to the back of his neck, right over the clasp.

“Love you too, Pretty Boy.”

-

“Uh, here.”

Steve’s cheeks were flaming as he pushed the small box into Billy’s hands.

“Happy Birthday.”

Billy just smiled up at him, taking his time with the neat wrapping.

It was a ring, a simple gold band.

“You know, it’s been eight years since we got together. And I know we can’t get married, or whatever, but I thought, we could, we could have this.”

Billy was fucking speechless.

“Sorry, it’s dumb.” Steve reached for the ring, but Billy clutched it to his chest.

“Do you have one too?”

“Yeah. Matching set.”

“Go get it.” Steve looked nervous as he re-entered their living room with a matching gold band.

Billy took it from him. He took his left hand, slowly sliding the ring on his finger.

“With this ring, I thee wed.”

Steve barked a laugh, happy and bright. He slid Billy’s ring onto his finger in the same fashion.

“With this ring, I thee wed.” Billy’s smile was hurting his cheeks.

“Now with the power invested in me, by the great state of California, and the fact that no one can tell us fuck all, I pronounce us, husband and husband. Now gimme a fuckin’ kiss!”

They both laughed into the kiss, the sun setting outside their apartment, dousing the little makeshift wedding in gold.

[beclynn-herondale]

Inside TMI Gang's diaries part 3 - 2/2 for CoG

Clary: Dear diary, so what can I say a lot has happened, me and Sebastian went to find Ragnor and instead found. Magnus, he pretended to be Ragnor. And Sebastian kissed me and it felt wrong, but also he took me to the place where the Fairchild manor use to be, he took me to a burned down manor, and everything felt wrong. Anyway me and Jace also made the Wayland Manor collapse and figured out my father was torturing am angel. Jace is also mad at me so yay.

*Later*

So um... Where do I begin, a lot has happened Idris was attacked, Max... Is dead and the Lightwoods are in pieces, Jace wrote me a love letter and ran off to go after Valentine and get himself killed most likely, Izzy I think probably still doesn't like me, my mom's back but I am mad at her, and she informed me that Jace isn't my brother and now all I can think about is how I want to tell him. Now we are preparing for the next battle so gotta make a rune brb.

*Later, later*

So my father was trying to raise the angel to destroy all the Downworlders, right, so um he killed Jace and I kinda replaced his name in the sand with mine and I used the wish to bring Jace back but like what will people think, oh well, I'd do again if it meant to have him back, safe and alive, to get to love him and make him happy, though idk does he still want me? either way I'd do it again. Also I can't wait to get back to new york and get some COFFEE!, but also please don't let Jace not love me anymore.

Jace: Dear diary, you'll find me in a bad spot at this moment, things have fallen apart, Hodge is dead but I don't feel much for him, Max was killed and I can't help but blame myself, after all it is my fault. The manor where I grew up collapsed and while I knew it was my childhood home, it also felt freeing watching it all fall apart, like watching the bad memories in that place being crushed, like seeing that you can heal. But as I am watching Clary sleep, I know I won't get the chance to ever heal myself, I love her but will never have a future with her, and I have to go after my father and stop him, I know where my journey ends and I always knew it would never be a happy ending for me. So I'll write her a letter and leave with her, I'll tell her all my feelings and let her know what she means to me. I know Izzy and Alec will understand in time. And I probably won't be coming back.

*Later*

So I died but was brought back, I also fought Clary's creepy brother and my father is dead, I feel empty in so many ways, apparently my actual parents were Stephen and Céline Herondale, which would mean Imogen was my grandmother, I don't know what people want me to say or do, I don't even know who I am anymore. Amatis gave me a box with stuff that belonged to my father in it, but I don't know this man, and I know nothing about my mother, I am sitting here looking through it but what am I supposed to feel? I am sitting here thinking about how Clary asked for me of all the things she could have had but maybe she didn't actually want me now, maybe she felt she owed me and that was it, I wouldn't blame her, but I love her, I love her more than anything, I want to see her so bad, she always knows what to say to me and how to comfort me, I miss her. We are also going back to new york soon and thankfully the news that I am apparently a Herondale hasn't gotten to far out yet and hopefully I'll be gone before it does, I don't want to see the stares or hear the whispers. And I'll be back to my room and my blades.

Alec: Dear diary, I write to you today with mixed feelings, of loss and gain, Max is gone and it's all my fault, I spent so much time trying to protect Jace and Izzy that I forgot Max needed protecting too, me and Magnus are a thing now I think, but I can't help but feel guilty because I shouldn't have something so great when I failed to protect my baby brother. Mom and Dad probably will hate me now and Izzy is too shocked and upset for anything honestly, she blames herself but it really isn't her fault. Jace ran off and if I lose him too I don't know if I'll be able to go on like I use to.

*Later*

Somehow our gang is still alive, i have no idea why or how but we are, the pain and hurt and grief is still strong but we will have to carry on. Jace is a Herondale and honestly I don't know how to feel, but he must be so conflicted, I am giving him space cause I know that's what he needs right now. Izzy is hanging with Simon who got her to get out of her room and maybe there will be some friendship between them, me and Magnus are apparently going on a trip and it is what I need, I can't be around at the moment with everybody staring and grieving. And I think everyone needs some space right now, hopefully we'll all be able to get through it, hopefully me and Magnus will be together.

Magnus: Dear diary, there is much to say but no time for it, the Shadowhunters are at war, not surprised, Alec asked me why I never called him back in the middle of a fight, honestly this man, but also he kissed me in front of people in the accords hall which is all I needed him to do to tell me he is serious, although he has also lost so much and I can only hope for the strength he'll need to get through it, we are going to war but Biscuit has made a rune to unite Shadowhunters and Downworlders, honestly this girl is gonna surprise the Clave in many ways and cause so much chaos, I can't wait to see it.

*Later*

We are all pretty much are alive, many were lost but we won the war, if you can call it a win. Me and Alec will be going on a trip, I hope maybe it will help him cope a little, Shadowhunters aren't known for grieving too long, but I think it would do good for them to grieve longer for their lost. Jace is a Herondale and now everything makes much more sense as to why he is the way he is, he has a journey ahead of him though and I can only imagine what he must be feeling, Isabelle I have much respect for and I hope she'll find the comfort she needs in the ones who care for her, Simon Lewis is a brave boy and deserves more credit than people give him, Biscuit is the bravest and I wish her well on her journey to becoming a Shadowhunter, although I don't think Jocelyn will be pleased. I am heading back to new york after the party tonight to deliver the news of Ragnor's death to Catarina and Raphael, and to catch up on some stuff before me and Alec leave, I still wonder if it is all over though.

Izzy: Dear diary, I don't know what to say, so much is lost and I don't know what to do, it's the first time in my life I have felt this lost, it's all my fault that Max is dead, I should have protected him, I never should have trusted that piece of trash Sebastian, if I could kill him I would and if I get the chance I will, Hodge is dead as well but honestly don't care. Simon came to see me and comforted me, he is the only one who didn't say that I need to be strong or that it will get better, he just held me and said it's gonna hurt for a while but your aren't alone, and that's all I needed. And Jace ran off, I wasn't gonna follow him cause I respected his decision but I can't let him die thinking there's something wrong with him or that Clary is his sister, he deserves to know.

*Later*

Sebastian is dead and I am happy about that, many were lost but not my loved ones, I thank the angel for that, Jace is a Herondale and I don't know what he'll do but I won't let people take him, he's my brother, him and Clary can finally be together and I wish them happiness, if the two idiots would realize that they still want each other lol sometimes I wonder about my brothers, Alec is with Magnus now and all I can say is finally. I'll see where things with Simon goes and I actually kinda hope it goes somewhere, but I'll never say that out loud. I still blame myself for Max but I got to keep going, I know he'd want me to.

Simon: Dear diary, my prison friend turned out to be Hodge and he is dead now, idk how to feel, I almost burned tho, at least I was saved, that Sebastian killed Max and I feel terrible for the Lightwoods, Izzy is a wreck and I comforted her after everything, Clary and Jace aren't siblings and I am happy to hear that, it means they won't be suffering anymore and the angst will stop but Jace ran off and he may not come back so maybe it will be worse, Jocelyn is awake and idk what will happen when we get back but I don't think Clary plans to stop being a Shadowhunter, also speaking of my badass best friend, she made an alliance rune, and put the mark of cain on me she feels terrible about that last one but I asked her for a reason, it will all be okay.

*Later*

Everything is okay, thank God, mostly everyone is alive and we can go back to somewhat normal life, tho I don't know how they expect the Lightwoods to, Jace is a Herondale and I guess that's basically a kinda Royal Shadowhunter family? Idk, Clary and Jace appear to be okay, they walked up to us holding hands and it seems they worked things out, I am happy for them. Things with Izzy may be going somewhere but also things with Maia are going somewhere, idk what to do but it may end terribly, Magnus and Alec are a thing now and that's good, I just want to get back to new york and out of here.

Sebastian: Dear diary, these dumbasses have no idea who I really am, father said they wouldn't but I thought maybe they were smarter, especially Jace, you were raised by father as well you pathetic boy, but I guess you fell in love which is exactly what father told you not to do, although he is punishing you for it and trying to get back control over by making you believe Clary is your sister and making you think you are a monster, I am enjoying the show, honestly maybe you'll end yourself that would be fun to watch, although I'd like to kill you myself, after all you were always father's favorite and I would love to see father's face when I kill you, I hope you know I will kill you if I can.

*later*

Well apparently I am dead.

Church: Dear Cat diary, the idiots all lived except the kid, I feel bad he had so much more life to live, the Herondale figured out he was a Herondale congratulations Dum dum, maybe his tragic love will end now that he knows, also Jem seriously I miss you and still want you to save me. Magnus and Alec are together now and it's about damn fucking time, Isabelle is gonna be Isabelle, I feel that Simon kid will be around more now, Clary will probably be a Shadowhunter now, so much fucking happened and honestly the Shadowhunters need to get their shit together. Valentine may be dead but the stuff he caused isn't, there is much to be rebuilt, I just hope the drama is over, I am getting to old for this shit. Jem again I miss you and you are the only other intelligent one, end my suffering please!, Also I want some tuna, I'm gonna go find that Herondale to get me some.

(again not my best but the others will be better, I can't wait to continue, hopefully you enjoy these)

[moonandblossoms]

For- "Give me a character and I will answer."

1. Kane Yamashita

2. Tala Valkov

3. Julia Fernandez

For all! 🤪🤪

If you keep sending me so many asks, when will I have time to type.... alright leave it.

1. Kane Yamashita

Why I like him- I find him to be amazing, well-written, complex, tricky, cool, calm, intelligent, sexy, hot, and what not? He is kind, caring, has great leadership skills and overall he is an amazing character.

Why I don't like him- N/A

Favorite episode- Fine with all of his episodes in the V-Force arc, but I will tell that I specifically liked him in episodes 17, maybe 19, 20, 25, 27, 43.

Favorite season/movie- He comes only in V-Force.

Favorite line- "Okay Salima, let's show the freaky doctor were good as his new made monsters!"

Favorite outfit- As much as I like him, I expected him to have cooler outfits, but I pick his first one. The third one made him look like a naive boy.

OTP- W/Salima, OCs are fine as well.

BROTP- Tyson, Ray, Ozuma, Mariam, Jim, Goki, Mariah, Zeo, Julia, Tala, Brooklyn, Hilary, Queen, Max and Kai.

Headcanon- He has an older sister.

Unpopular opinion- He is well-written than most of the V-force characters, including even the bladebreakers (I can make an exception for Ozuma and a few characters, maybe).

A wish- Let him end up with Salima, please! And I want him to have a red-haired and blue-eyes daughter with her. Also, have a nice bit-beast.

An oh-god-please-don't-ever-happen- Wearing the Psykicks' uniform again, please no.

5 words to best describe him- Smart, attractive, intelligent, independent, courageous.

My nickname for him- That handsome genius.

2. Tala Valkov

Why I like him- I think Tala is really cool and amazing.

Why I don't like him- N/A

Favorite episode- Episode 36 of G-Revolution

Favorite season/movie- G-Revolution

Favorite line- Sorry can't remember anything at the moment ^^'

Favorite outfit- G-Revolution outfit.

OTP- W/Queen and maybe Julia. OCs are fine as well.

BROTP- W/his teammates + Kai.

Headcanon- He is immune to cold weather.

Unpopular opinion: I think that he got stronger in season 3. I mean, G-Revolution Tala is stronger than part 1 Tala. I have heard many people telling that he was nerfed. I don't really think that he was nerfed. He just fought with strong opponents.

A wish: MARRY QUEEN. Idk how I ended up shipping them, I have come this far to ship them. Also I want him to meet his parents (Idk if both or either of them is deceased, I suppose his father is dead).

An oh-god-please-don't-ever-happen- Don't go to Boris again.

5 words to best describe him- Kuudere, cold, mysterious, power-packed, brave.

My nickname for him- Ice Prince.

3. Julia Fernandez

Why I like her- Julia is extremely badass, likeable, and I love her big-girl persona.

Why I don't like her- N/A

Favorite episode- Episode 26, and even episode 22.

Favorite season/movie- She appears only in G-Revolution.

Favorite line- "Do you know why I have so much of confidence in battles? Because you are always there to back me up! Without you here, I wouldn't be as glorious as I am!"

Favorite outfit- Of course her main one. I too liked her Egypt one but that was for a very short span of time xD

OTP- W/Kai Hiwatari and Tala Valkov (more of the former one)

BROTP- Queen, Mariah, Hilary, Kane, Emily, Mathilda, Michael, Mariam, Salima, Rick, etc.

Headcanon- She is so much into dark shaded lispticks, pedicure, facial and grooming. She is a trendy fashionista.

Unpopular opinion- I think that Julia is not sassy everytime. There would have been times when she could actually feel down. Those are the ones which could give room for courage.

A wish- I'd like her to date Kai because she would be the best type of girl who will suit Kai. She is ain't too disturbing in love, she is just natural in that regard. Kai would come to like powerful girls like her. I wouldn't mind even if it is Tala.

An oh-god-please-don't-ever-happen- Don't need to feel sad about you being an orphan dearie, be happy!

5 words to best describe her- Brave, courageous, sassy, beautiful, flawless.

My nickname for her- Lightning Queen

[kyndaris]

Braving Tried and True JRPG Tropes

When Bravely Default II was released, one of the first reviews I stumbled upon spoke about the person’s disappointment. Some of it came down to personal taste: the art style. Others were a bit more valid: the weak narrative and carbon copies of protagonists from other games. While the fan in me wanted to contest many of their claims, the more I played of the latest Japanese role-playing game (JRPG) from Square-Enix, I could not deny that there was a lot of tropes being used to prop up the strong gameplay loop and to give players the chance to try out the different jobs on offer. Still, many of these grips failed to deter me too much from my playing of the game. After sinking a hefty amount of time into it, I was able to push my way through the multiple endings and give Seth, Gloria, Elvis and Adelle the happy ending that they deserved.

As the faithful readers of my blog, you should know that I bought Bravely Default II while on a road trip with family. Though I should have been luxuriating in the February sun, I was much too engrossed in my Nintendo Switch to pay much mind to my surroundings. And even if Zac Efron or Chris Hemsworth had walked past, I’d probably barely bat an eyelid.

The first few hours of Bravely Default II had me busy reengaging with the mechanics that I knew from the first two games on the Nintendo DS and Octopath Traveler. Considering my familiarity with old-school JRPGs, it came as no surprise that I quickly managed to level up Freelancer as I cut a swathe through the grass surrounding the starting city of Halyconia. In fact, I realised quite quickly that the best way to get good items without paying a cent for them was to play the game like Link, eager to find rupees in the bushes. By the time I fought Dag and Selene and Horten, they went down like flies even though I hadn’t even bothered to change from my default jobs. 

Truth be told, when I read about the difficulties many people supposedly had with these earlier battles, I was scratching my head. Perhaps it was simply the method I play the games - grinding out each job to my satisfaction that had simplified what should have been difficult. On a side note, I thought that the job levelling was much better balanced than Yakuza: Like a Dragon and an infinitely more fun experience because of it. It allowed me to experiment with my team and find the best balance for taking on the various mobs in a given area.

The only time I actually prepared properly for a fight was when I took down Adam and the last few bosses. But even they were a considerable breeze when one had access to so many abilities. Paralysing everyone that stood in my way, inflicting poison and contagion, then having a maxed out Freelancer with Thief skills using Godspeed Strike? Child’s play.

Now, onto the weaker elements of Bravely Default II. The various plot-holes and unexplored characterisation of the heroes and villains. While Elvis and Lonsdale stood out to me, many of the others could have been interchanged with someone else and I would have barely been able to tell the difference were it not for their individual Asterisk attire.

Let’s start with Seth, shall we? Our main protagonist despite the ensemble set-up could have been ripped from any Japanese role-playing game. The ones he reminded me strongly of were Tidus and Vaan. Tidus, because he was a fish-out-of-water that had fallen in love with the woman that would have to sacrifice her life to bring peace back to the world. Vaan due to the fact that he never truly stood out and was simply part of the story just because of Wind Crystal shenanigans. Later on, he was made a bit more special due to his status as someone that had come from the Outer Seas.

In a way, it was a clever voice direction for Seth to be the only character with an American accent. This helped paint the fact that he was different from the others. Still, it would have been much better if we could have seen what his life had been like prior to the events that brought him to waking up on a beach in Halyconia. And while there are scenes in several sidequests that explore a little of Seth’s backstory, there’s little to sink one’s teeth into.

Gloria, on the other hand, is very much a stereotypical princess of a mystical kingdom. Though the voice actress is very good at expressing the pain she has gone through as one of the sole survivors of Musa’s destruction, I feel like it would have connected better with players to have seen the invasion and perhaps played a small part in controlling her escape. Though these things are just little nitpicks, it adds to the characters and allows people to emotionally invest in the happenings of the world. 

That, in and of itself, is probably Bravely Default II’s key problem. The fact that it tells rather than shows.

Elvis, of course, is the star of the show. His quirky traits, affable nature make him a clear favourite and much more human than his other counterparts. The narrative around Wiswald was also great example of fleshing out his past and the people he knows. It is much more personal, pulling on our heartstrings to learn about the death of a young child, and thus carries more weight than the water shortage in Savalon or the fairy hunting in Rimedhal, which was clearly meant to mirror witch trials. 

While Folie, the main antagonist behind the happenings in Wiswald, could have been better written and with a more tangible tie to the people of Wiswald, the fact that she manipulated Roddy, Lily and poor Galahad with visions of the dead Mona meant that a bit of pathos was achieved when she was finally brought down.

Adelle, a little cliche, was still an intriguing character that rounded out the team (I still can’t place her accent). The reveal that she was actually a fairy was a delight. It was also nice that her goals also aligned with the main narrative of stopping the Night’s Nexus, instead of being as superfluous as Elvis trying to solve the riddle of a book he had in his possession or Seth just tagging along for the ride. 

As for the foes that we faced? Most of them seemed like excuses to dress up how players obtained their Asterisks. Many of them seemed like caricatures. And honestly, Martha’s excuse to fight the Heroes of Light was abysmal. But, of course, the developers needed a way for players to experience what it might be like fighting a foe that had the Dragoon Asterisk before they could use it for their own.

I will admit, the story just felt like a vehicle to pick up each Asterisk along the way. Oft times, I had to wonder why so many of these people felt compelled to stand in the way of the Heroes of Light. And while it would have been much better to have a more personal reason for why we fought these enemies besides the fact that ‘Oh, they have an Asterisk and something, something Crystal!’ I still managed to push my way through.

Still, the fact that Dag and Selene managed to snag more character development in the sidequests was great. Gladys’s attempt at atonement and her brother’s grief was also good ways to delve into topics that might have been a little too dark for a title that had such gorgeous backdrops and adorable character models.

Now, to the meat of the matter. The plot holes and the things that were never truly explained. Edna’s descent into madness though Adelle often insisted her sister had always loved humans. How and where Lady Emma found the book that actually contained the memories of the Night’s Nexus? Where does Seth actually come from? How did he die? Why was he chosen by the Wind Crystal? Why was Adam so invested in trying to conquer the world? Did he experience something bad in his past that informed his current need to stop war by starting it? Where did Folie come from? Who is she and why did she feel the need to torment the people of Wiswald for her art?

So many mysteries. So little explanation.

Overall, Bravely Default II has quite a few flaws and missteps. Yet, despite that, it’s a sum greater than its parts. The narrative might not have been captivating, but it managed to keep pulling me through until I saw the true ending. Anticlimactic as the final boss battle might have been, I still felt a certain satisfaction in seeing Gloria tackle Seth to the ground. And honestly, who doesn’t want to Godspeed Strike their way to victory?

P.S. I will say that after witnessing Adelle save Martha, I had hoped for a blossoming romance, but the dialogue between her and Elvis during the second bad ending got to me. It may not be my one true pairing, but Elvis x Adelle was an arrow to my heart. My only question is: how old is Adelle? She looks like a child and yet, because she’s a fairy, she could be like a century older. Maybe better not to think too hard, eh? After all, why sweat the details?

[flyinghome-againstthewind]

the best by far is you: chapter 8

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Previous Chapter

For all the things my hands have held The best by far is you -  Cecilia and the satellite

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Summary: An exploration of Claire & Jamie’s story if their firstborn had lived and they had the chance to be parents together of wee Faith Fraser before the Battle of Culloden.

Special thank you to @let-the-dream-begin​ for the beautiful moodboard for this chapter! 

Chapter 8

Late August 1745

Jacobite army encampment, near Kingussie

“Mo nighean donn?”

It was his voice that yanked her sharply back to him. He could see it in her eyes, how they went from vacant and far away to truly seeing him for the first time. He’d watched her crumble beside the wagon, out in the open here where the men were training, but her mind hadn’t been here. For several days now, he hadn’t known what it was to have his wife present with him.

“Claire.” He pulled her up into a sitting position from where she still laid on the damp, cold ground and wrapped her in his arms. His heart ached for how he couldn’t seem to reach her, even now as he held her. When the distance in her eyes appeared, he thought at first that it must be Faith ‒ that missing their baby was taking its toll.

She had assured him she was fine, brushed off his concerns the handful of times he brought it up. Kept moving, as was expected in this place.

But seeing her sink to the ground and curl in on herself for no visible reason made him damn sure that she wasn’t fine.

“Tell me,” he uttered hoarsely. Her hands grasped tightly to him, holding his arms about her. And it was like this, with her back pressed to his chest and the wind whipping around them, that she started to tell him about the war she’d already fought in France, the men she’d met as eager young soldiers, and the ways she saw so many of them lost to the world.

At some point, he brought both of them to their feet, not wanting the dampness of the ground to sink into them. And she started to tell him about two American soldiers in particular, about one night that she could never forget, as hard as she tried.

When it was over, the haunted look in her eyes still lingered. He tried to assure her it wasn’t her fault, but he watched her carry on as if she hadn’t heard him.  

“I should have tried to get him.”

“If you had, you would be dead,” he said firmly. His hands squeezed at her upper arms subconsciously to feel her very much alive and real under his palms.

“I know that. Because I told myself the same thing right after it happened. And I just… closed the door on that night and walked away. I haven’t looked back ever since until now.” Her eyes were seeing him again, but the darkness of that night was still trying to push in on her, he could see. Christ, he hated that such darkness had ever touched the pure light of her. “Now I look at Ross and Kincaid and all the others… being turned into soldiers, being trained, putting up a brave front. All I can hear is Max Lucas crying out for his mother in the dead of night. And for two years, I’ve tried to stop this war from coming. Now that it’s here, I’m not sure I’m ready to go to war again.”

“You don’t have to.” His words came swiftly in a response that had been building since she started to describe that night on the side of the road. Since she first started to withdraw from him, if he was being honest. Shame sank heavy in his gut that he had brought her here, that because of him she was reliving the horrors of another war. “You fought your war.  We’ll fight this one without you. I’ll have Ross and Fergus take you home to Lallybroch.”

“No.”

“Claire‒”  

“I can’t do that either. Listen to me, if I‒ if I go back, then it will just be like lying in that ditch again, helpless and powerless to move like a dragonfly in amber, except this time it will be worse. Because I’ll know that the people out there dying alone are people I know. People I love. I can’t do that, Jamie. I won’t lie in that ditch again. I can’t be helpless and alone ever again. Do you hear me?”

“I hear ye.” He breathed out, slow and steady. His fierce lass... “I promise, whatever happens, you’ll never be alone again.”

“I’m going to hold you to that, James Fraser.”

Despite it all, he felt the tug of a small smile at his lips. “You have my word, Claire Fraser.” He kissed her then, soft and with the promise of his words, and he held her tight, too, not caring if his men were watching.

“Jamie,” she said so quietly, he almost didn’t catch it. He felt her straighten up in his arms, steeling herself, but as she drew back to look at him, her hands came to rest gently on his chest. His hold on her lower back never loosened. After all she’d just said, he couldn’t possibly let go of her.

She kept her gaze on the collar of his coat where her fingers were worrying the fabric between them, smoothing it out, tugging it into place. Buying time while her head sorted out the right words. He could see it all there in her face.

“Don’t offer me the chance to go home again. Not even one more time. I meant what I said… I can’t be helpless like that again. But I‒” Her lip trembled and she tucked it between her teeth.

“I won’t,” he promised. His hands slid up her spine and pressed her close, meeting no resistance as she burrowed back into his embrace. “I’m sorry.”

He felt the shudder of her cry against him and bent to kiss her neck. The temptation ‒ the physical ache in his chest ‒ to abandon all this and to hold Faith again was overwhelming for him. He couldn’t imagine how it was for Claire. No, he wouldn’t dangle that in front of her. It had been cruel of him in the first place to offer that.

“What d’ye think she’s doing right now?”  

She eased back only enough so she could look at him. Her eyes were watery with unshed tears and the depth of longing there was almost enough to bring him to his knees. This was killing her, this time apart. Out of instinct, he kissed her forehead and felt her lean into it, taking his comfort to soothe the empty arms where their baby should be.

“I’ve been trying to imagine how she spends her days at home.” He nuzzled in against her temple. “I ken she misses us, but I like tae think she’s still happy wi’ Jenny and Ian and her cousins.”

They hadn’t talked like this, not in the past several weeks since they left Lallybroch. The subject of Faith was a wound too raw and exposed to touch at first, but she’d never been far from either of their minds. And as soon as Jamie had broached the subject, he felt the sharp jab to the open wound, still too tender, but he needed to speak of her, and with the only other person who loved Faith as much as he did.  

“It’s mid-day,” Claire surprised him by uttering softly, opening herself up to a conversation. “And it’s gorgeous out, even with the wind. I bet she’s outside with Maggie. They’d be… well, it’s almost harvest season. I’m sure the girls would try and get involved somehow, though it would probably result in them getting in the way and needing to be removed.”

“She is a verra curious lass.” He chuckled lightly. “Aye, I can see it plain as day. Our stubborn wee thing. Mind the time she was starting to pull herself up and stand, and she saw the basket of clean laundry that Jenny had just pulled off the line?”

He couldn’t see her face still, but he felt the soft exhale of what he knew to be a laugh, pained though it was. “She didn’t know that the basket wouldn’t hold her weight,” Claire replied. “She and the fresh linens tumbled over into the dirt when the basket tipped. She was so quick, I didn’t notice until it was happening.”

The memory was so achingly normal and he clung to it. They’d lived the life of their dreams once and if they could make it through this war, Jamie knew what would be waiting for them when they returned.    

----------------------------------      

September 21, 1745

Jacobite army encampment, near Prestonpans

Claire never knew a greater feeling of relief than she did that day, watching Jamie burst into the cottage where they’d set up a field hospital. He’d never looked more alive to her in that moment, never felt stronger or steadier under her touch than when he wrapped her up in a tight hug. They’d won ‒ as she knew they would ‒ but that fixed number of 30 casualties had hung over her head like a dark cloud. They had won, but more importantly to her, this battle hadn’t claimed her husband or Murtagh or‒

Fergus.

She slipped out his grasp when he told her to look outside. Squinting against the sudden light, it took her a moment to find him. Sitting there, still as a statue, he looked perfectly fine.

“Fergus! Oh, you wretch!” She pulled him into her arms, relief and concern and disappointment all coursing through her. “What do you mean by sneaking off like that? I should box your ears until your head rattles,” she threatened, but only held him tighter.  

“Milady,” he said very softly while she eased back to look at him. She cupped his face gently in her hands, fighting back tears at how close she’d come to losing him, unable to put to bed the worst thoughts that kept her company while she waited for news.

“Do you have any idea‒” She broke off abruptly to stop the cry that threatened to break loose. “I’m already separated from one child, you can’t just risk your life like that, Fergus!” She held his face a little firmer, gave it the slightest shake as though it might allow him to absorb her words better, to understand what he’d put her through. “I can’t lose you!”

Her chest was heaving from her outburst and Fergus only stared down at her, completely dazed and teary-eyed. The relief of finding him alive was short-lived as alarm over his appearance and demeanor quickly took over. “Say something. Are you alright?”

“I… I killed an English soldier, Milady.”

Her eyes went wide with horror at his revelation. “Don’t tell me that.”

“I think I killed him,” he amended, rather calmly. Shock, she noted in some part of her brain. “He-he fell down. I had a knife. I struck him.”

“Oh, god, Fergus.” She clutched his head against her, wanting to erase that moment for him. “Oh, I’m so sorry.” Sorry for the memory that would surely stay with him for his whole life. Sorry that he was anywhere near this hell of a war at all.

She jumped suddenly, realizing she hadn’t actually checked him for injuries yet. “You aren’t injured, are you?”

“No,” he said softly but she ignored him, turning him by the shoulders and looking him over for any apparent wounds. “I’m just… tired. Very, very tired.”

She felt the pressure of tears building up in her eyes and pulled Fergus’s head back under her chin, tucked safely against her. The fear that had gnawed away at her all evening and into the morning finally began to dissipate. He was here. He was safe. They’d deal with the rest later. “Come with me. I’ll get you some food and somewhere to sleep.”

It felt as natural as breathing for Claire as she fell into the fast-paced rigor of triaging in a war zone. She was proud of her small band of women, all of them mothers or wives who had followed their men and refused to sit by the wayside. None of them had major experience in dealing with the casualties of war, but they’d followed her lead and when the injured came streaming into their small cottage-turned-field-hospital, they’d risen to the challenge.

By late-afternoon, they’d cleared out those with minor injuries who had been properly tended to. Though after Angus, Claire had insisted on personally giving each man a thorough physical exam before letting them exit, which had left some of them waiting if a more serious patient took a turn for the worse.  

When her mind finally swam to the surface, escaping the chaos of hemorrhaging wounds and shredded limbs, it was growing dark outside. Jamie, whose urine had come back clean and who was thus allowed to leave the cottage, had returned to her. She wasn’t sure how long he had waited, sitting patiently near the front door and keeping an eye on her, but when she finally had a moment to breathe, she found his tired gaze and ached to leave all this behind and be with him, to have the comfort of his warm embrace.  

Instead, she sequestered Jamie to a quiet corner of their field hospital and sat him down next to the pallet where Fergus slept. She brought a basin of warm water and a clean cloth and after wetting it, she proceeded to wipe at the blood and dirt caked to his face. Blood that had been there since the early morning.

“Can’t believe you were stepped on by a fucking horse today and you’re just fine, bruises not withstanding. Do you know how lucky you are?”

He chuckled mirthlessly at this and watched her carefully. “It wasna a very pleasant experience, all the same.”

“Yes, well, next time… try not to throw yourself into the path of a trampling horse, thank you very much. I’d like to avoid tempting fate again.”

“I’ll do my best, Sassenach.”

She sighed and swiped at his cheek, a little softer this time.

“Have ye had anything tae eat?” He asked.

“Oh, um…” Her brows wrinkled together as she thought about it. “Not since you brought me some bannocks and fruit earlier, whenever that was.”

He looked displeased with that answer and she knew a proper meal was in her near future, however it could be scrounged up within their camp. She wouldn’t turn it away, not with how she suddenly felt her stomach’s empty quaking at the mention of food. “Bring something for Fergus, too. He’s slept the day away and I’m sure he’ll be hungry when he wakes.”

At the mention of their boy, Jamie’s gaze flicked down to the sleeping ten-year-old. His jaw clenched under her fingers as she finished wiping his face clean. After the relief of finding Fergus just outside, physically unharmed, she hadn’t let herself dwell on the horror of his words ‒ hadn’t had the time to dwell on them, honestly. But now, each word felt like a punch in the gut as they ran through her mind once more.

He fell down… I had a knife… I struck him.

She breathed in sharply and blinked quickly, trying to stave off the rush of tears she felt building behind her eyes. “What are we going to do about Fergus?” She whispered in a tight voice. “Do you think he’ll try to fight again?”

He stole the wet cloth from her and dipped it into the bowl of water. With one hand holding her chin steady, he brushed at the skin of her forehead just below her hairline. From her fingertips up to her elbows, she had scrubbed herself clean several times today, but she hadn’t looked at her reflection once since well before the battle and wondered now just how much blood was there.

“The only reason I let him come along is because I knew if we told him tae stay and he didna want to, he would’ve tried to find his way to us on his own, stubborn wee fool that he is.” She had wondered… from the moment he had allowed Fergus to join them, she had wondered why. Jamie was seldom careless and certainly never in regards to those he loved. But his assessment of Fergus rang true, especially with the day’s events in mind. “I thought if we brought him along on our terms, we could keep him safe.” His jaw clenched again and he didn’t continue right away. He tilted her chin to the side as he found a spot just below her ear that needed cleaning.  

“No, I dinna think he’ll fight again, Claire,” he said at last. “He’s had his taste of war and the romance of it always dies once ye’ve had to see it up close. I’ll talk wi’ him tomorrow.” His gaze swung back to her and he smiled gently, though it was tinged with sadness. “Make sure he kens I dinna appreciate how he made us worry.”

He then dabbed gently at a spot on her neck and she realized she knew when that one had occurred. It was Angus’s blood on her neck.

Thirty casualties sounded like nothing when only focusing on the number. She knew it was an impressive feat, an unlikely victory that stunned and impressed even in her time. But of those thirty had been Angus and Kincaid, men that she knew well. Of those thirty, she’d been at the sides of more than half of them as they slipped from this world. She could put names and faces to that number now and when she thought of the possibility of facing Culloden, of the thousands of losses—

“Dinna go there, Sassenach,” Jamie said softly.

She blinked slowly, puzzled.

“Whatever dark thought ye’re havin’...” His thumb brushed over her wrinkled brow, trying to smooth out the worry there. “Dinna let it linger.”    

Despite his attempt to soothe her, she felt the toll of the day finally catching up. Her brave front was beginning to crumble and without any resistance, she found herself gathered into Jamie’s lap like a child. He tucked her head under his chin and murmured a soft string of Gaelic words, as comforting to her as his touch was, even if she didn’t understand it all.  

“What do you think she’s doing right now?” Her voice wobbled as she asked the question that had become something of game between them, a way to escape from the horrors around them if only for a moment, and think about one of the very best things to ever happen to them, tucked away safely at Lallybroch. But it was a stupid time to ask, she realized, because it was night and there was only one answer. Still, Jamie hummed softly and rested his head against hers.

“I think she’s dreaming of our family, Sassenach, and she kens that she is loved.”

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January 1, 1746

In retreat, near the Scottish Border

The Prince’s army had been encamped in the north of England when their wave of victory finally crested and broke. Retreat would be their next step. For Jamie, that moment also marked the first buckle of doubt in his previously unflagging belief that he and Claire would be successful in their own cause.

That string of victories followed by the decision to retreat had happened exactly as Claire had recounted to him. His strongest chance at changing the outcome slipped right through his fingers when he was unsuccessful in rousing the others to join the Prince’s call and march on London.  

As punishment for his insubordination, a new directive was issued to him: to lead his men ahead of Charles’ retreating army and prepare provisions for them in Inverness.

They left within a day of the order, their small band of Lallybroch men skirting quickly but carefully back toward Scotland with no small amount of fear that they would encounter English forces on their way. No one spoke of it. But it wasn’t far from anyone’s mind, on enemy soil and woefully outnumbered in most encounters with the British so far.

That encounter with the British came about a week later. The first of their journey’s delays started with Claire being taken to Belmont by British forces. And with Jamie and Murtagh’s retrieval of Claire came the second delay: returning Mary Hawkins to her family’s estate. They had decided altogether to set Mary up in the nearest town to her estate and hire a lady’s maid there to return with her in the morning to her family and avoid causing any further scandal for poor Mary by being escorted home by none other than Red Jamie.

By the time they reunited with their men in Keswick and marched for the border, Dougal greeted them with news that they had actually fallen behind the rest of their retreating army.  

Claire lost track of their days by the second week. There was nothing to mark where one week ended and the next began. Not for a while at least. But because she was traveling with Scotsmen, it didn’t escape any of their notice when Hogmanay arrived while they were still on the road, back on Scottish soil at last.

It was nothing like the way that Claire and Jamie had marked the holiday just one year prior, in the comfort of their home, alight with a naive hopefulness for what was ahead and an appreciation for what the year prior had given them.

Instead, there was the passing of whisky around an open fire in the woods. Rupert’s long-winding stories told in his lilting, pleasant voice. A few toasts to the new year, led by one James Fraser after a small amount of cajoling. The small party stayed together well into the night, though no one could say with exact certainty when one year bled into the next.

But the feelings of joy and expectation never quite saturated the group as it had for many in every year prior.  

In the harsh light of the morning on the first of January, nothing about the year felt shiny and new, brimming with hope.

Despite the ruckus that was made around the fire the night before, nobody made a sound at daybreak, lest it draw unwanted attention from possible nearby soldiers.

Jamie built a small fire near their tent for warmth and Claire and Fergus flocked to it, pressed so close together that Fergus was practically in her lap. They waited for their breakfast while rubbing the sleep from their eyes and stifling yawns. It was cold enough to see their breath linger in the air, but they created their own pocket of warmth between them and the fire.

She turned and pressed a kiss into Fergus’s curls, her heart a bit heavy. “Happy birthday, Fergus dear.”

“You remembered?” He sounded delighted by this and she felt a wave of tenderness and protectiveness for him. He deserved so much more than whatever they could give him today.

“What would you like for your birthday?” She asked. “Keep in mind this will have to wait until we return home.”

Jamie added a log to the fire and caught her eye, a curious glance there for her to see. Yes, they never did plan for themselves past this bloody war, but Fergus was only a boy ‒ he was their boy ‒ and he deserved the hope of something on the horizon. She shrugged one shoulder at Jamie. He gave her a tight-lipped smile in return. They’d make it work, somehow.

Fergus, on the other hand, pondered Claire’s question very seriously, oblivious to their nonverbal back-and-forth. “A horse,” he said at last.

“What?”

“My own horse. To have at Lallybroch when we return. I want Milord to pick it, though.” His gaze flew to Jamie and to his credit, there was nothing amiss in Jamie’s expression as those words landed.

“A horse, ye say?” A teasing glint shone in Jamie’s eyes as he moved toward them to squat down on the other side of Fergus. “Rather stubborn creatures sometimes and an awful lot o’ work. Ye sure ye dinna want something more manageable, like a pig? Or mebbe a dog?”

“No,” Fergus laughed and Claire wanted to bottle the sound, save it for later. “I want a horse. I’m certain, Milord. And you will pick the best one for me.”

Jamie grinned broadly at him and ruffled his hair affectionately. “Aye, I ken ye’re sure, mon fils. And ye’ll get yer own horse someday, I promise.”

Murtagh appeared, moving quietly through the trees, and walked toward their small campfire. He held something behind his back and as he reached them, he stopped in front of Fergus and dangled a fresh-caught rabbit. “How’s that for a breakfast feast, hmm?”

“Thank you, Murtagh.” Fergus beamed up at him.

“Well done, Murtagh,” Claire added. Jamie stood and clapped him on the back. To all of this, Murtagh grunted softly and moved off to skin and cook the rabbit, apparently flustered from all the praise.

They fed him rabbit for his birthday, which he relished, and never once acted as though there should’ve been a better alternative. As they packed up camp and headed out, Jamie made a show of telling all of the men during the march that the day was Fergus’s eleventh birthday.

His very presence created a lightness among them. But it wasn’t until that day, trudging against the bitter January wind with hardly anything in their bellies, that she saw how beloved he was by the men. How they welcomed the chance to return that joy to him for his birthday.

When everything else felt cold and hopeless, Fergus had helped to ease the burden of war just by being present with them, a child who was still brave enough to wish for better things despite their dire circumstances.

And at the same time, it was its own kind of torture for Claire to have Fergus there. While she ached to see Faith again and hold her, she knew in her very marrow that her daughter was safe from the dangers they faced. And though Fergus had never again stepped onto a battlefield since Prestonpans, there had still been a number of close calls during the war, not to mention the very real risks of starvation and sickness. The fear that something should happen to him… that he might be taken from them…

“Sassenach?”

She startled out of her reverie and forced a tight smile ‒ for no one’s benefit. Jamie always saw right through that. “Don’t mind me. It seems I can’t help but think about the worst, even on a good day. I’m fine, Jamie.”

“We’ll reach Edinburgh in a few days. It’ll be easier once ye’ve had a night’s rest in a real bed and have eaten to yer heart’s content.” He smiled at her, a touch sadly, and she knew he didn’t believe that to be a balm for her heartache, but it was all he had to offer.

“I’m sure you’re right.” It was all she could offer in return, to pretend that if her basic human needs were met, then surely the slow and painful breaking of her soul would stop.    

----------------------------------  

February 15, 1746

In retreat, north of Edinburgh

They’d reunited with the rest of the Jacobite army in Edinburgh and it was there that they held their claim over the city until Cumberland and his men laid siege on Edinburgh. From there, the Jacobite army pushed further north, eyeing Inverness once more as refuge. But for Claire and Jamie, it felt like surrendering themselves to the verdict of history, for every step toward Inverness in the name of retreat felt like a step toward the Battle of Culloden, powerless to stop the trajectory of events.

“What d’ye think she’s doing right now?”

Claire’s footsteps faltered in their pace against Jamie’s. “I don’t know.” Her voice was soft, almost drowned out by the rustle of movement around them and the clomping of horse hooves. “It’s been months, Jamie… maybe she’s running to meet her cousins for breakfast instead of walking, talking to them in short sentences with words she didn’t know before we left.” She stopped in her tracks, causing Jamie to cease as well. “I know she’s safe. But I can’t picture how she spends her days anymore, because I can hardly picture her. Has she changed so much since we left? She’s growing every day and we’re‒ we’re missing it.” She swallowed roughly, heart in her eyes. “So I don’t know what she’s doing right now. I can’t even guess.”

It was the last time the question was asked by either of them.

They stopped at the nearest tavern for the night, the temperature too cold to brave making camp under the stars. They had scraps for their dinner, for it was all they could afford with dwindling supplies and funds. Six months at war was taking its toll in more ways than one, but the most pressing to Jamie was the gaunt frames of Claire and Fergus.

“Come warm me up,” Claire called to him from under a pile of threadbare blankets as he built up the fire in their room. “And where did Fergus run off to?” She asked suddenly.

“The lad wanted tae stay up wi’ the men a little longer.” He caught her soft snort as he moved toward the bed.

“Are you sure he’s alright in their company?”

“Aye, he’s Murtagh’s charge for tonight. If they get too rowdy, Murtagh will send him up to bed.” He crawled under the covers and gasped suddenly when Claire’s icy hands slipped under his nightshirt and pressed against his back, trying to draw him in towards her. “Christ, ye’re freezing, lass.”

“Mhmm.”

He sank down beside her and felt the tip of her cold nose nuzzling in at his neck. “My puir lass,” he started to tease her, only to gasp again at her cold hands drifting lower on his back. “I ken what ye have in mind. Ye better warm those wandering hands first or it willna have the effect ye’re hoping for.”

“Oh really?”

Christ, the teasing lilt of her voice already had his blood rushing south. He yelped and jerked away from her when he felt those icy fingers wrapped around his cock.

Claire laughed and withdrew her hand from him. “See? That was exactly the effect I was hoping for.”

“Ye’re a wicked woman, Claire Fraser,” he growled at her, though his own smile peeked through.

“What are you going to do about it?” She murmured, looking up at him through hooded eyes. He drew himself up over her, seeing the look of pleased anticipation cross her face. She tugged the blankets back up over his shoulders, keeping them cocooned with what warmth they’d managed to create.

“Well,” he dipped down and stole a kiss from her. “I dinna see that I have any other choice but tae warm ye up myself.”        

She sighed happily at the prospect, her mouth chasing up after his. “I think that’s a very wise choice.”

She was light and warmth for him in the middle of a godforsaken war. And for as much as he wanted to lose himself in her, the reminders of their circumstances were never-ending, constantly plucking at their shared joy. The bed that was not their own, the raucous sounds of the tavern below them, the hunger pangs in their bellies from never quite having their fill to eat… small as they were, those things chipped away at him.

“Jamie,” she called to him, in the midst of their lovemaking, when she must’ve felt the change in him, the drift of his mind away from their connection. Her voice was the only siren song that could reach him. “Come back to me. Back to us.”

He dropped his head to the juncture between her neck and shoulder and shuddered a sigh there. Her fingers curled into his hair at the nape of his neck, held him there.

He wanted more for her. He wanted her to have plenty where everything was sparse ‒ food, warmth, shelter, safety, love. Instead, she was half-starved of all of those. She was his light when everything else was darkness ‒ his sorcha ‒ and he couldn’t even feed her well enough that the notch of each of her ribs wasn’t visible to the naked eye. Seemingly all he could do for her was to love her, keep her warm, keep her safe… and even that didn’t feel like enough. He didn’t feel like enough.  

In the afterglow, he held her, their foreheads touching, their exhales mingling. She curled into him, still seeking his heat. “Are ye warm enough, mo ghraidh?”

She hummed an affirmative and her fingers came to rest alongside his jaw, gently framing his face. They were warm to the touch. He turned his head into the heat of her palm and kissed her there.

“Good,” he sighed.

At some point in the night, he fell asleep curled around her, his knees following the bend of hers, his arm holding her protectively. His body was so entwined with hers that he woke promptly from the slight shake of her shoulders.  

“Mo nighean donn?”

The room had grown dark and the sounds below them had fallen to a dull rumble. So even though Claire tried to muffle her cries, the stillness of the room gave her away.

“Claire,” he whispered tightly, trying to sit up, to see her better, but she held fast to his arm that wrapped around her, keeping him in place. “What’s wrong?”

“Don’t…” she cried. “Just hold me.”

He was powerless to deny her that one simple request and settled back in behind her, holding tight. “Was it a dream?”

Claire shook her head. “No… I just‒” He felt the sharp, shuddering breath she drew in. “I miss her.”

With that, her stronghold broke and the tears came, after months of quietly grieving the separation.            

“I’m sorry I took ye from her.” He said softly into the stillness of the night, when her tears had ceased and the room had grown quiet again. He wasn’t even sure if she was still awake until she tilted her head back to look at him.

“You didn’t.” She said firmly, though there were still tears in her voice. “If I blame anyone, it’s Prince Charles. Not you.”

He huffed a cheerless laugh and fell silent, his thumb wiping at her tears. “Still. Ye are a brave wee thing. My Sassenach.” His inhale was sharp and bracing for the words he knew he needed to get out. “You could’ve stayed. At Lallybroch. Would ye? If I had insisted, would ye have stayed with Faith?”

“No.” Claire whispered hoarsely. Her arms tightened around him reflexively. “My place is here with you. I couldn’t have stayed, knowing what I know of the rising. And knowing what I know of war from a healer’s perspective.” She rolled onto her back so she could look up at him. “And I couldn’t have lived with not being with you. Never knowing if you were safe… it would’ve eaten me alive.” She snuffled quietly. “It does all make me sound like a rather terrible mother, though, doesn’t it?” She tried to pass it off with a laugh, but her lip quivered and Jamie was quick to cover her body with his own.

“No, Claire, never. I’m sorry I posed the question. ‘Twas foolish of me. I’m sorry.” He kissed her hair and felt her clinging to him. “My place is with you, too, and I couldna be where you aren’t,” he assured her. “But I promise ye, Claire, I’ll see you and our lass safe and back together. No matter what comes.”

She turned back on her side and he curled around her, his body again molded to the slope of hers, engulfing her. His arms stayed secure around her and she sighed and relaxed back against him.

“I’ll see ye safe.” He repeated, holding tight to Claire and, unknowingly, the small spark of life they’d created between them.

[echo-bleu]

life would lose its touch

I told myself I wouldn’t write episode codas while the season is airing, but my brain does its own thing. I don’t know where this comes from. I think I’ve been writing setting fire for too long, because it definitely bled into this.

Alex & Maria, a little Michael, with mentions of Malex and the end of Miluca, 2x02 coda.

“Have you at least talked to Alex?” Maria asks suddenly, putting down a shot glass in front of Michael.

She's been thinking about Alex a lot, since Michael parked his Airstream in the parking lot two days ago. Alex who spent his one day off distributing missing posters with her and checks at least once a day if there's anything new on Mimi, whether by texts or by stopping by. He saw the trailer today, and something about his face isn't sitting right with Maria.

“Yes,” Michael answers absently. “He doesn't care. I told you it was over. He said he understood.”

Maria frowns. “What did he say exactly?”

“He said if he could be with you, then he would be.”

Maria's thoughts come to an abrupt stop at that. “He said that? He actually said that?”

Michael nods mutely, taken aback by her outburst.

“Fuck,” Maria mutters. “I need to talk to him.”

“Why? He's moving on, and so am I. It doesn't matter.”

“Michael. Alex is my best friend, and I know him. This isn't him moving on.” This is him sacrificing himself.

“What?” Michael frowns uncomprehendingly.

Alex sat in the exact same seat Michael is in now while Maria swore to him that her and Michael was a one time thing.

Fuck.

“I'm going to go talk to him tomorrow,” Maria says. “Now, I need to work.”

Michael looks like he's going to protest−it's early, and there's almost no one in the bar−but he doesn't. He drinks, instead.

*

Maria has only been to Alex's house twice, even though it's been over six months since he came back. He's come to her apartment, they've met at the bar and the Crashdown, but she never comes here.

“Maria,” he says, opening the door. He's become guarded, sometimes in the last few weeks. Or maybe in the last ten years.

“Alex,” Maria answers in kind. “Can I come in?”

“Sure. Why are you here? Did you hear anything from Mimi?”

Maria shakes her head sadly. “Still nothing. I'm getting plenty of joke calls and racists who say she deserves what she got, but not anything resembling a lead.”

“I'm sorry,” Alex sighs. “I wish I could spend more time looking with you.”

“You have to work, I get it. You're already doing a lot. Aren't you getting out soon, though?”

Alex bites his lip. He waves her in fully before answering, and waits until she's sat down on his couch. She doesn't remove her shoes. She doesn't feel welcome enough, though she can't quite tell if Alex is making her feel that way or if she's doing it all by herself.

“I'm not getting out. I've already re-upped.”

“What? Alex, why? You wanted to−”

Alex doesn't meet her eyes. “I've come upon...things that my father was doing, these last few months. There's some loose ends to tie up.”

Maria decides to let the half-truth lie. “How did I miss this? This isn't a small decision, you've been thinking about it for a while. Have I been such a bad friend?”

Maybe she's making a rod for her own back, but she feels like she deserves it.

“You've had a lot to deal with,” Alex says. “We all have. Liz with Max, you with Mimi… It's okay, Maria. We're all doing our best. Can I get you something to drink? You still haven't told me why you're here.”

“I could do with a beer, if you have some,” Maria answers. It's early enough that going directly for something stronger is not a good idea. She has the late shift at the bar, her bartender is handling the opening today, but she'll need to be clearheaded then.

She could have used some liquid bravery. She'll have to muster the bravery all on her own instead, and it's going to take a lot. It feels like too much, all these things going on in her life. How is time not stopping, while her mama is missing? How can things still go on like nothing's wrong?

“Maria?” Alex calls from just above her. He has his arm outreached, a beer in his hand.

“Sorry,” Maria apologized, shaking her head. She's zoned out for long enough to worry him.

“Are you okay?”

Maria shrugs. “Not really.”

“Scoot over,” Alex says, sitting down beside her on the couch. “You look like you could use a hug.”

“I'm screwing everything up,” Maria murmurs. She can take this one moment for self-pity, before she makes herself be brave. She'll have lost a boyfriend by tonight, if Guerin can be called that. She really hopes she won't also have lost a friend.

“What do you mean?” Alex asks. There's a cautiousness in his voice that's new, too, with her.

“Everything's wrong. Mom's missing, a month ago there was a fucking body in my parking lot, Liz won't tell me what's going on with her, why she left and then came back, Guerin...I messed up with Guerin.”

Alex tenses against her.

“I wanted to believe him, that you two were over. I just really wanted someone who...I don't know, he was sweet and he was there, you know? Then he kissed me and bailed on me, and he's been a dick since, but he was clearly not okay, so I wanted to help. You know me, always weak for the people who make me feel like I can be useful.”

Maria laughs bitterly. Alex doesn't. He's so still it's almost unnatural.

“Maria−” he starts.

“He told me you talked. He said...he said you were okay with him dating me, but he also told me what you said and...fuck, Alex. Fuck you. Fuck him. Fuck me, most of all.”

Alex shifts. “Maria, you're not making sense. What are you talking about?”

“You're not moving on. You're removing yourself from the equation. You're pretending you're okay with it so he can move on.”

Alex closes his eyes, and carefully lets go of her, bringing his arms back against his chest as if to curl up on himself. “It's what he wants,” he says. “It has nothing to do with you. You deserve to be happy.”

“I don't think I can be happy knowing I screwed you over,” Maria says.

“Michael doesn't want to be with me. He was quite clear about that. You're an amazing person, Maria. I was honest when I said it, I understand what he sees in you, and I want him to be happy, too. I think you could be good for each other.”

Maria has to look away as Alex's eyes fill with tears. He doesn't let them fall, but he swallows with difficulty.

“But you love him. And I'm fairly sure he loves you.”

Alex shakes his head. “It doesn't mater. It's not what he wants.”

“No,” Maria murmurs. “It does matter. Since you came back, I kept seeing all the ways that you've changed, and I didn't see that you really stayed the same, Alex. There was always one constant. You keep sacrificing yourself for the people you love, because you think you need to atone for existing. That's what you're doing again.”

Alex looks away, and she knows her words have hit their mark.

“I was blinded by my feelings for him,” she continues. “And I thought that if you weren't fighting harder for him, it was because you didn't care that much, that it was just a high school fling you'd hoped to revive and it didn't work out, that you'd understood that it wasn't worth it. I convinced myself of that. But the truth is, you're not going to fight because you think you're not worth it.”

They're both silent for a moment, as Alex stares out the window instead of looking at Maria. She starts thinking that she's gone too far, that he's going to throw her out or something, but he turns back to her instead.

“I did fight,” Alex says slowly, his voice unsteady. “I fought for so long. I went to war, and I did unspeakable things, and I kept fighting to survive, like I've done my whole life.” He swallows again. “I almost died out there, and all I could think about was that I'd wouldn't get to see him again. So I fought my way to recovery, and I came back here, and I found myself untangled in my father's business again. I'm tired of fighting, Maria.”

His shoulders slump, and he leans his elbow on his knees, burying his face in his hands. Maria wants to shake him, almost, to hug the breath out if him, to run screaming. She does none of these things.

“No you're not,” she says firmly. “I don't know exactly what it is you're doing, but you're not done fighting. You reenlisted, and I know there's a reason for that. You're still fighting your father, and your brothers, and Guerin told me you're trying to help him with whatever it is he's doing that he won't tell me about. You're helping me trying to find Mimi, and you're helping Liz get over Max. The only one you still won't fight for is yourself.”

Alex stays silent, his head still in his hands. When it becomes obvious that he's not going to answer, Maria leans over.

“Let me try this another way,” she says. “Are you okay, Alex?”

Alex looks up in surprise at that. “What?”

Maria goes with her intuition. She knows to follow it, and this is where it's leading her right now. “Who's the last person who asked you that?”

“Therapist,” Alex says. “She makes a point to ask every session.”

“Apart from her,” Maria clarifies. “When's the last time someone really checked in with you, Alex?”

Alex leans back, staring right in front of him. “I...I don't remember,” he admits.

Maria knows that if she hadn't backed him into a corner first, forced him to open up and left him vulnerable, he would have just evaded, guided the conversation toward something else, and she wouldn't even have noticed. He's too good at that.

“Maybe you,” Alex says. “When I moved here.”

“Fuck,” Maria sighs. “We've been the worst possible friends, haven't we?”

Alex shrugs. “We were best friends in high school, Maria. It doesn't mean we still have to be now. Don't get me wrong, I'm really glad to be able to see you and Liz regularly again, but you don't have to...force yourself to be close, just because we used to be.”

Maria feels her eyes widen. “Is that what you think? That I'm just hanging onto a past friendship that doesn't mean anything anymore?”

“I think that...I love you, Maria. Always have, and I always will. But you said it, I've changed. A lot. I'm not a nice person to be around anymore. You don't need to pretend.”

Maria can't even comprehend what he's saying for a moment, gobsmacked.

“Alex,” she starts. She shakes her head, and reach out to him with her hand, but he flinches away. “Is that really what you think of yourself? You're a nice person. You're more than a nice person, you're incredible and selfless and resilient and...do you really have no idea how much I love you?”

Alex just stares.

“Fuck, I don't know how I've missed this but I've really been the worst friend, haven't I? How on Earth did I manage to make you think I don't like you?”

“You didn't do anything,” Alex says in a low voice.

“Yes, and that's the problem.” Maria stands up, too restless to stay in place. “It's going to change from now on.”

“What?” Alex looks up at her, confused.

“First, I'm going to break up with Guerin.”

“Maria−”

“No. I may have feelings for him, but it's not worth that. I love you, Alex. You're my best friend. I've been an awful friend to you, but that stops now. I'll be sad for a while, then I'll forget about him and we'll be fine. I don't think it's the same for you, is it?”

Alex's faraway look is admission enough.

“I'm going to break up with him, if we can even call it that, and then I'm going to talk sense into him. If that's what you want. I wouldn't blame you for wanting to let him simmer a bit. Or even rot.”

“No,” Alex shakes his head. “We spent too long doing that.”

“Right. Spite is not like you, of course. But don't let him crush your spirit, Alex. Your father didn't manage. Guerin isn't worth that, either.”

“I love him, Maria. Maybe to the point where it's unhealthy, I don't know. I don't know if I care.”

Maria bites her lip. “Then I'll try to care for you, okay? You have friends. We've been very remiss at our job lately, but I'm going to atone for that by pestering you all the time from now on, okay?”

[kareofbears]

blinding lights, chapter 4/4

Their height gap is a wide one, but in no way is Sumire going to let Akechi keep looking down on her. “It became my business the minute we wanted the same thing: to fix this reality."

---

Akechi and Sumire have to traverse through the events of the third semester without Akira (or rather, against him).

read on ao3 or under the cut :)

No matter how long fate will allow him to live, Akira would never forget Ryuji’s awakening.

Blood splattering on the carpet as he rips the mask carved into his face, the explosion that erupts from his very core like an airstrike, the scream so raw and guttural and unleashed, as if a part of Ryuji that’s always been strapped down and chained has been freed after years of confinement.

But it was the look on his face, the manic grin that emerged from the pitfalls of anguish is the part that’s burned into his memory. Any hesitation that was there was wiped clean—all that’s left was triumph and sheer rage, an insurmountable amount of it laid bare on his face and in his eyes so prevalent that Akira had barely noticed Captain Kidd behind him.

“What the hell—” Akira stammers, unable to process that Ryuji’s here, in Maruki’s Palace. There’s a sag in his shoulders, the effect of the curse attack probably causing him to feel heavy and drained. That’s why they should always be wary of curse skills; they’re a direct attack on their physical and mental state. (Once, it had hit Ann particularly hard in Futaba’s Palace. If Akira’s hits became harder after that as a precaution, nobody mentioned anything.) “Why are you—”

Ryuji turns and anything that Akira might’ve said dies in his throat. He barely looks like someone who took Eigaon head-on, but it doesn’t stop Akira from feeling waves of nausea anyway.

“Are you hurt?” Ryuji asks tersely.

“No, but—”

“Good,” the look on his face was one of pure, irrepressible fury, one to rival his awakening. “Then I can get pissed off without having to feel bad.”

Akira nods and touches his mask. “We will, I know you’re probably confused but you got hit pretty bad—”

“I didn’t—”

Personas burst in and out, flickering like shadows from TV static. “Sorry, just give me—”

“Stop looking for—”

“You got hurt, at least let me—”

“God dammit, Kurusu!” he snaps, and grabs his wrist, grip lax. “Why aren’t you listening? I said I was fine, wasn’t I? I’m not hurt, I don’t want your effin’ diaharan. I just want you to talk to me about why you’re here and I wasn’t.”

“Ryuji, it’s a long story,” Akira starts, forcing his voice to be steady.

“Long story, my ass!” Letting Akira’s hand fall, his glare hard as steel. “I was in some messed up world where Kamoshida didn’t slap my leg like a toothpick and everyone was in it with me. I have zero clue if you were in it from the start or if you got out if it later on, but I know one thing:” he jerks his thumb behind him. “I had to rely on Yoshizawa and Akechi Goro of all the damn people in the world.”

“They told you?” Akira hisses quietly.

“Jesus Christ, this isn’t about them!” Ryuji shouts, and his hands are clenched into tight fists. “Why does it matter that they told me? The point is that you didn’t, and it really fucking sucks that my leader, my best fucking friend would let me live like that!”

“It’s because I’m your leader!” he snaps, and he realizes his voice is raised. “It’s because I’m your best friend that I did that!”

“What are you even saying?” His fists are shaking, his frustration threatening to break out.

“I’m saying that the crap you guys went through was hell. God, just look around! Yusuke lost what was supposed to be his father figure, Haru actually lost her dad and had to put up with some predatory douchebag, and Futaba…” Akira clenches his teeth. “She’s fifteen, Ryuji. She’s a year younger than us, and she’s gone through so much—”

“And they still moved on, didn’t they? They still get out of bed everyday, still go out and live life, they still have a purpose. They want to live in the reality they fought for and you just want to, what, take that away from them?” his jaw locks tight. “Did you forget that it’s always, with no damn exception, supposed to be a unanimous decision?”

A long, heavy beat fills every crevice of their bones.

And then: “Your mother.”

“What?”

“You love your mom more than anything,” Akira says. Early memories of Ryuji roll in his mind, and even those are filled with him raving about his ma, about how she was the only one on his side when it felt like the entirety of Japan was against him. And how she just smiled when she found out Ryuji lost his scholarship. “You want to be in track for her again, to help her. That’s what you wanted—”

“Are you seriously bringing in the mom card? She’s moved on, Akira! She’s swallowed what happened, and we’re fine. Yeah, it’d be a hell of a lot easier to have that scholarship, but she’s over it. We all are.”

“But don’t you wish it never happened?” Akira insists, urgent. “You don’t have to put up with it, Ryuji. You have that choice.”

“And my choice is to live in a reality that we all decided to live for! It’s our choice and you almost took that away from us! I just don’t get why you would do that, Akira. You’re so damn smart, but why couldn’t you see that we learned to be happy?” Ryuji takes Akira’s face in both of his hands. “What were you thinking, Kurusu?”

He opens his mouth, ready to argue, but he finds himself looking into brown eyes instead—still furious, but beneath it all is confusion, and above all, hurt. It was the one thing Akira wanted to prevent above everything else.

He realizes, a bit belatedly, that’s he’s so, so stupid.

“I just want every single one of you to be happy,” Akira whispers.

“I know.”

“I thought this is what you wanted.”

“I know,” Ryuji begins to deflate a little, the tension seeping out of him.

“I’m—” Akira swallows past the lump in his throat, and averts his gaze. Shame burns hot as fire inside of him. “I’m sorry.”

“For?”

“For not talking to the group first. You’re right—I forgot about the unanimous decision part.”

“Damn right you did.” Ryuji lets go of his face, sighing. Scrubs his hair. “I’m still mad at you. Like, crazy mad.”

Before Akira can say anything, Ryuji pulls him by the shoulder and incases him in a tight hug. “But I forgive you.”

Slowly, he hugs him back. “I won’t do it again.”

Ryuji squeezes him tighter. “I know you won’t.”

They stay like that for awhile—in between realities and in each other’s arms.

—

Footsteps. Lots of them. Not as fast as Ryuji’s, but louder, overlapping one another. Approaching fast.

“You’re screwed, dude,” was all the warning Akira got before he was released and promptly tackled onto the ground by two separate entities screaming into his ear.

“Akira!”

“I’m gonna punch you so hard—”

“Kurusu, I am so crazy pissed at you—”

“What did you expect?” Makoto sighs as Ann grabs him by the collar and shakes him vigorously. “It’s only natural we react like this since you abandoned us.”

“I—did—not—abandon—” Akira tries, but Mona clambers onto his shoulders and is attempting to restrain him in a headlock. He doesn’t have the heart to tell him that he can barely even feel it.

“You didn’t tell us anything!” Ann yells. “We had to rely on pancakes over there—”

“I had believed that the relationship we had forged was an admirable one, but I would have thought you’d talk to us about it first—” Yusuke says, but stops short when his eyes land on Futaba.

The group quiets down, and even Ann and Morgana cease their harassment.

Hands gentle and heart thudding, he coerces the two off of him and sits cross-legged on the cold tile, awaiting his execution by the hands of a fifteen year-old girl.

Her Metaverse footwear adds about two inches to her stature, barely breaking into the realm of five feet, but as she slowly walks to where Akira is, he can’t help but feel her towering presence.

She stops an arm’s length away, her goggles perched on top to reveal her expression; blank except for the slight twist in her mouth.

Unconsciously, everyone else had forced a semi-circle around the two like a mediocre street fight, waiting on bated breath for the verdict. It takes some effort, but Akira manages not to look away from her gaze.

For a moment, only the buzz of the lights can be heard.

“I have some guesses about what’s going on,” she says eventually. “But you know everything, I think. And you didn’t tell us.”

Akira swallows and Futaba pushes on. “I get the feeling of wanting to be alone. I’ll help you have that if that’s what you want. But,” her blank expression cracks and her voice begins to wobble. “Don’t try and leave like that. You helped me, back in the summer. And you won’t even—” her breath hitches, and Akira’s chest clenches. “You won’t even let us do that for you.”

“...Futaba—”

She reaches forward towards him and he tenses for the hit, only for her to pat his head firmly. “I know,” she says softly. “Ryuji chewed you out pretty good, and there’s no hecking way I’m letting you pull something like this again. I just wanted to tell you what I was feeling.”

Akira nods and tries for a smile. It probably doesn’t come out right. “As if I could ever leave behind my annoying, genius key item again.”

“You’re such a loser,” she snorts before throwing herself on Akira, arms opened wide and crushing every ounce of air out of him.

Somewhere behind him, Ryuji yells out: “Group hug for the dumbass leader!”

“I am not a—” Akira gets out before his breath is snatched out of him four, five, six more times.

“Ouch, Yusuke that’s my back—”

“Don’t be mean. You know he’s got a lot of sharp angles cause he eats six times a week, max—”

“Mona-chan, your fur is so soft. Do you use a conditioner?”

“Well, sometimes when Akira is in the bathhouse and I’m feeling a little brave—”

Voice muffled, Akira groans dramatically. “I can’t breathe…dying…”

“Oh, puh-lease, you can’t die from too much love!”

“Besides,” Makoto pops her head out from somewhere in their impromptu football pile. “I doubt Ryuji would let you die after he took the hit from—”

“Oh, hell,” Akira blinks. Patting random limbs around him, “Let me up. I need to check-in with Akechi.”

“It’s okay, senpai.”

A pause, and they all gradually turn their heads to the sound of the newcomer’s voice.

With a little struggling and some light shoving, Akira stands. “I missed,” he says quietly. “I got sloppy.”

“Did you really believe that that messy attack would cause lasting damage?”

Akechi comes up from behind Sumire, face gaunt and trudging, but his contemptuous expression immovable. “It’s insulting that you believed I’d be anything less than fine.”

The group tenses, all sense of levity evaporated—in its place is wariness, layered with a thick coating of distrust. Akira opens his mouth, but Haru beats him to it.

“I’m glad you’re okay, Akechi-kun.”

A few gasps were let out, and Sumire’s mouth hangs open. Akechi’s shoulders tense ever so slightly.

“...Thank you.”

Haru shakes her head, smiling. Whether or not it’s forced or legitimate is anyone’s best guess. Next to Akira and Akechi, she has the toughest mask to crack. “I should be the one thanking you. You assisted us greatly in supporting Akira-kun. Ah, and Yoshizawa, too!”

Haru, Akira had learned very early on, can wield an axe better than a lifetime-trained lumberjack can. Yet her ultimate weapon is being able to kill people with kindness despite—no, because of what happened to her. The strength to pursue compassion in the face of vile circumstances is what compelled Akechi to silence now.

Sumire spoke for the both of them. “It’s no problem!”

“Well, I don’t know about you guys,” Ann says. “But I’m beat.”

“As am I, but I can’t find it in me to return to dorms after all this,” says Yusuke.

“Me neither,” Makoto pipes in.

“I think we all want to keep hanging out, right?” Futaba asks. “So I’ve got two words, bolded, italicized, underlined, and highlighted: Leblanc party!”

Ryuji squints. “That’s three words, dummy.”

“Ooo, that’s a great idea, Futaba!” Ann exclaims, clapping her hands together, “I can get the cupcakes and some sweets!”

“I can get chips and snacks!” Haru beams.

“Drinks are on me, y’all!” Futaba says.

“Fear not,” Yusuke says, self-satisfied. “I will let Boss know.”

“I want sushi!” Morgana yowls.

“Not too sure I gave the okay to this, given that I live there,” Akira says, only to be booed from all sides.

“No one likes a tsundere, man!” Ryuji yells.

“Akira isn’t violent,” says Makoto, frowning.

“That’s ‘yandere,’ Mako-chan.”

“I’m expecting everyone in Akira’s room in two hours!” Futaba announces, and hesitates, before looking at Akechi. “Everyone! And I mean it! At least...just for today.”

Akira blinks before Haru cuts in. “Yes, I completely agree. A celebration for being together again, and to everyone who helped us get here.”

They all nod in agreement. It’s incredible; it’s the people around him that elected him to be the leader of their little group, but he will only ever be half as strong as they are. For them to be able to set aside their feelings, their hate, for one day just because they’re grateful that Akira was saved from his own delusions—Akira really doesn’t deserve them. (But there’s no way he’s saying it out loud. They’ll all eat him alive if they even suspect that he’s thinking that.)

“I’ll politely have to decline—” Akechi attempts, before Ryuji scoffs.

“Dude, come on. One party ain’t gonna kill you and there’s no way you’re beating Haru in a manners competition.”

“Or Futaba in a battle of obstinacy,” Yusuke finishes.

When Akechi looks like he’s about to argue once again, Sumire clears her throat and levels him with a loaded look. Looking away, Akechi accidentally meets Akira’s eyes with a carbon copy of the same expression.

You’re not getting out of this one, detective.

Eventually, he relents: “One evening.”

—

After a quick group discussion about who’s getting what, Akira offers to get sushi and all but drags Akechi with him, saying that if the restaurant recognizes the Detective Prince they might get a discount; though judging that Akira had tipped a generous thirty percent and the way he had pulled Ryuji aside to make sure he wasn’t hiding any wounds or pain (“the only pain I have is you. You’re a pain in my ass, ‘Kira”), Akechi assumes that Akira had an ulterior motive.

They stand outside the restaurant somewhere in Ginza, the empty alley more bearable than the crowded inside. For once, the weather is approachable—gray clouds in the early evening sky, though the chill is as present as it always is. Few are out and about on leisurely walks and mundane errands, finding no need to celebrate on an arbitrary Wednesday, but every once in a while there are those with laughter and frivolity trailing them; a reminder that their work is far from over.

Someone in the distance buys a drink from a vending machine when Akechi’s eye twitches.

“Do you mind?”

Immediately, Akira averts his eyes from Akechi. Embarrassment isn’t present in his expression, but the disgustingly thick layer of concern couldn’t be clearer. “Just checking.”

“For what? If I was bleeding out over a scratch?”

“Because I know you could've avoided that scratch,” Akira says, voice hard. “Yeah, my aim was shot, but that shouldn’t have hit you. You’re good in short, all-out fights like that. It’s your element. Yet I still hit you.”

“We all have our off days.”

“I guess,” he says, and the corner of his mouth tilts up, just a bit. “You looked pretty tired by the end of it.”

Akechi throws a glare at him. “I suppose I’m not used to someone who acts like he’s in the middle of a dance contest while he’s in battle.”

“Okay, okay,” Akira chuckles and the last dregs of uneasiness seems to wash away, the hard line of the corner of his eyes fading. His fingers gravitate to his pockets. “You’re too feisty right now to be injured.”

He feels himself about to retort against ‘feisty’ (Akechi’s never been called feisty in his life and he isn’t about to start today) when Akira looks up, staring at the sky. “Mind if I say something?”

Akechi gestures a gloved hand and Akira turns to give him an unreadable look. “How’d you convince them?”

An odd question. “After seeing you be triggered by mentioning or seeing memories from the real reality, it wasn’t too difficult to create a plan surrounding that.”

Akira was shaking his head before he even finished. “No,” he says. “I mean how did you know what to say to them?”

Squinting, Akechi thinks on his next words, wondering if it’s some sort of trap, not unlike a traveller poking at the ground in case of quick sand. He comes empty-handed. “Have you forgotten that I, however unwilling, worked with your thieves for a good chunk of time?”

“Huh,” Akira muses. “That’s nice.”

He feels his teeth clench. “What?”

“I always wondered how much of it was, you know, an act. Like which one was the fake detective spiel and which was the real Goro,” his mouth twists into a sour expression, but Akira doesn’t notice. “But you got to know them. At least, enough to know what to say.”

“Don’t speak like I had any intention of using that in any condonable way. Information and trust was what I needed to get the upper hand, fruitless as it was,” he replies. “Or had you conveniently forgotten my past actions?”

Akira smiles, though it could just as easily be a tight grimace. “Unless Maruki decides on a do-over, I’d have to say no on that one.”

“That’s what I thought.”

“But wow,” he scuffs at the pavement—whether it’s flipping a pen through his fingers or tugging on his forelocks, he never seems to stop moving. Akechi hates it. “I know you think we’re naive and stuff, but Haru and Futaba sure are something else by inviting you, even if this,” Akira gestures between them, “Is temporary.”

“Temporary, hmm?” Akechi ruminates. “I was fairly baffled as well. I don’t believe I’d have it in me to be able to recreate what she did if it were Shido.” Looking back to the restaurant, he wonders if their order will ever be ready. “Truth be told, Sakamoto not taking the green light to summon Taisai the moment he saw me is almost as surprising, given his temper.”

“He’s working on it,” Akira shrugs. He side eyes Akechi. “Are you?”

“Am I what?”

“Trying.”

Him and his stupid games. “Trying to what?”

“You know,” Akira waves a hand. “To be a good person. Or a half-decent one.”

Silence stretches on. The clattering of plates and cutlery fill up the empty space.

And then: “Do you think I did this for you?”

“No, jeez!” he rolls his eyes. “I get that you hate me, despise me, loathe me, whatever. You don’t like me. I just thought that—”

“That somehow empathy bloomed within me?” Akechi scoffs. “Hilarious. What would be the point of that? Are you honestly telling me that if I got down on my knees, tears positively streaming down my face and apologized with my whole being, you’d forgive me?”

“Maybe?” Akira answers, and Akechi freezes, not expecting a genuine response. “Only if everyone else does.”

He tries not to make his relief obvious—he wouldn’t know what to say if Akira had said something as ridiculous as actually forgiving him, especially when in Akechi’s mind, he’s already accepted what is and isn’t possible. “Given the possibility of that, a simple ‘no’ would be more efficient.”

He raises a shoulder half-heartedly. “Who knows? With enough time, anything could happen.”

Akechi stays silent.

“Oh,” Akira blinks. “Speaking of time—”

“This sushi place is scamming us?”

“—you and Sumire are pretty friendly with each other.”

“Hardly,” he crosses his arms. “She’s always insisting on teamwork, and communication,” he spits it out like a curse. “Too much time was wasted on useless endeavors. I had to watch her eat half the table at one point. However, in fairness, she provided valuable insight about the other...what?”

Akira’s looking at him with a strange expression—the lovechild of awe and disbelief. “Nothing, it’s just…” he trails off for a second, before his eyes crinkle in mirth. “I’m happy for you, Akechi.”

Before he can reply, make a comeback, quell the sudden cold in his fingertips, Akira lights up.

“Looks like the food’s finally ready. Let’s head to Leblanc—Mona’s probably gnawing on the stools by now.”

He moves past him, and Akechi swallows back the bile in his throat.

—

“You think Boss’d mind if I grab a couple of glasses?” Ryuji’s muffled voice leaks through the thin walls of the cafe. To a nosey passerby, they’d be able to hear conversations with a concerning amount of clarity. It’s a miracle no one’s called the police on them before.

“Nah, he’s too big of a softie to mind. Since I’m the heiress to his grand, lackluster estate, I want you all to feast and be merry without worry! Am I right, Haru?”

“Absolutely, Futaba-chan!”

“Is it me, or is Mona acting kinda...rabid?”

“I’m sorry to act so garish, Lady Ann, but I’m starving and Akira’s probably already stuffing his face with—”

The bell chimes and Akira’s eyes lock with a wild, salivating cat. “—Sushi!”

Like an untamed beast, a ball of fur sprints at Akira. “Yeah, it’s all here, just—ow, Morgana, let me—okay you know what?” Akira tosses the bag to Ryuji, who catches it by the handle with ease.

“Ann, grab lover boy over there before he claws into the furniture.” Ryuji takes out the paper boxes as Ann picks up Morgana, and his face looks stuck in a euphoric state; awaiting sushi and cradled by Ann, Morgana looks like he could die happy.

Akira takes a moment to examine the small, overflowing cafe—Yusuke and Makoto are behind the bar setting up drinks (orange soda and water, no alcohol lest they want to taste nukes by the hands of Johanna), with Yusuke making sure that each glass has the same amount of liquid and ice cubes (more than once has the ice slipped out of his hand and onto the floor). Sumire smiles at him, and waves when Akechi saunters to her, rolling his eyes. Futaba is still trying to explain to Haru how they’re basically the same person given their ‘societal circumstances’ and he can see that Haru is genuinely agreeing with her. Ann is chiding Morgana when he starts purring so intensely he’s nearly vibrating out of her grasp.

“Whatcha smilin’ about over there?”

Prying his eyes away from the sight, Ryuji paused his rummaging to look up at him.

“I wasn’t smiling.”

“You weren’t,” he agrees. “But your eyes kinda—” he gestures vaguely at his face. “So it’s pretty much the same thing.”

Of course. Let Ryuji figure him out in four seconds or less. They can make a gameshow out of it. “Maybe it’s because I’m excited for sushi.”

“Well, tough luck buddy,” Ryuji crumples up the now-empty plastic bag. “Cause you forgot the soy sauce.”

“You what?” Morgana crane his head backwards to glower at him. “Akira, please—”

“Doesn’t Boss have soy sauce in here?” Ann asks.

“This is a coffee shop, so I wouldn’t think so,” Makoto says.

Akechi mutters under his breath, “That sushi place is truly vile.”

Sumire whispers back, “Is it because they didn’t have a dessert menu, or…?”

“Shut it.”

“No biggie,” Akira says, feeling his pockets to make sure his wallet is still there. “There’s a 777 down the street, it’ll be quick.”

“I’ll come with,” Ryuji hops the bar, inciting a ‘Ryuji!’ from Makoto. “Forgetting can be such a pain, yeah?”

He nods, and the two of them set off, Mona yowling behind them.

—

Yongen-Jaya never gets old.

The back alley is jam-packed with small businesses, motorcycles, vending machines, stray cats and much more—it’s the equivalent of shoving all the clutter to the back of an already cramped closet. But it’s not the organized chaos that tugs at Akira’s heartstrings; it’s the memories that come with the mess, with the atmosphere of Yongen that makes him ache. It’s how Morgana whispered what he should get in the grocery store, or watching a movie 20 minutes late with Ann, or Yusuke tripping over a bike.

Right now, walking side by side with Ryuji, he thinks about how he had insisted on walking Akira home after he awakened Arsene, making sure he got home safe even though his apartment was on the other side of the city.

Even then, Ryuji was always looking out for him.

They’re silent as they walk, footsteps falling in time with one another. There’s no rush between them, despite Morgana’s insistence. It could just as easily have been a nightly stroll between two people who find comfort in the crisp, nighttime air.

But Akira knows better than that. Ryuji isn’t as slick as he thinks he is, and his jumping at the chance on soy sauce is as subtle as a neon sign. So he waits—as long as he needs to for Ryuji to speak, which never takes long. (He’s so honest and forthcoming, it’s insane. As someone who insists on having two meters of caution and deliberation up at all times, it’s a trait Akira’s always been a little jealous of.)

It took some time, but Ryuji finally starts. “Yoshizawa explained what happened while you were out getting food.”

“Oh yeah. Sorry, I forgot to catch everyone up to speed.”

Shaking his head, “S’fine, we get it. She let us in on the whole Maruki thing, how it worked and stuff. The whole...what did she call it? Reality? Yeah, how our reality kinda molded around our desires. It fits the bill with everyone—Yusuke with Madarame, Futaba with her mom. Me with the track team.”

He must’ve seen something in Akira's eyes, because he puffs out his chest. “No, this ain’t me second-guessing my decision.”

“I didn’t say it was.”

“Damn right,” he huffs. “Well, after Yoshizawa explained all that, Makoto—y’know, she’s got a big brain and all—asked her something that’s still on my mind. Then Yoshizawa kinda got a little nervous, didn’t give a decent answer.”

“She knows as much as I do, but I can try my best to answer.”

“Good,” Ryuji shoves his hands in his pockets. “Cause Makoto was wondering what your wish was.”

Akira’s footsteps stall for a split second. Ryuji keeps walking.

“I got these memories, ‘Kira,” he says, slowing down, and Akira directs his eyes to the ground. “Don’t really understand it—like flashes of pictures, of people, of places, but it’s real annoying. Keeps slipping away like those crappy prizes in claw machines. Wanna know something though?” he stays quiet. “I asked around, and no one else was getting them.”

“That’s odd,” Akira manages, despite the frantic rhythm of his heart.

“See, the memories are crap, they’re no good. Can’t remember them. But the feeling that’s there—” he lets out a long, shaky breath. “I dunno if I can ever shake them, man.”

Silence.

Ryuji stops and turns. “Akira.”

Slowly, Akira looks up. Ryuji’s frowning, brows wrinkled together like unfolded laundry (he wants nothing more than to reach up and smooth it away), and his fingers are flexing as if he wants to squeeze something to get rid of his confusion. That’s the thing about Ryuji; he always feels so much more than anyone Akira’s met, and it translates to physicality. More than once during a Thieves meeting did Ryuji have to take a break and go for a run to process.

“You’ve got to tell me because—” he scrubs at his hair, sighing. Clenches his jaw. “Because if those—those memories, that feeling isn’t what I think it is, I’m gonna go fucking nuts.”

“Why?”

“What?”

“Why do you need to know?” Akira asks. “What if knowing would make everything worse?”

“That’s impossible.”

He frowns. “Why?”

“Because this feeling is the best thing I’ve felt in a really long time.”

Speechless, Akira doesn’t know how to respond. He stares at Ryuji, his palms facing up like he doesn’t have anything left to give, his eyes open and sincere. There isn’t a hint of malice in them and it makes Akira feel like he can tell him anything and receive nothing but support in return. Like he had a hundred times before.

And then, in a single moment of clarity, Akira realizes that Ryuji’s seen him, has been with him since the very beginning of everything, and still calls him his best friend without a drop of hesitation.

If Akira can’t tell him this now, can’t respect what Ryuji’s been giving him, then what would be the point of any of this? He won’t (can’t) lie to Ryuji, and he’s not about to change that now.

A small gust of wind comes and Akira’s hair gets blown back, just a bit.

“My wish was for us to be together. For you to love me in the way that I love you.”

At that moment, a meteor could have struck. An airplane could have crashed. The ground could have swallowed him in his entirety. The world could have destroyed him, but nothing could’ve possibly taken the feeling of sheer relief that thrums through his veins. Like a concrete block that was pressed against his shoulder blades, relentlessly weighing him down everyday, suddenly gone.

Ryuji’s eyes widen, his mouth falling open (he wills himself not to look at his mouth). It doesn’t matter what disaster could possibly arrive; Ryuji’s next words would crumble Akira more than anything else could.

The Metaverse had never once terrified him like this.

“Seriously?” he asks, voice hoarse. “You can’t mess around right now, Kurusu.”

“I’m dead serious, Sakamoto.”

Ryuji blinks. And again. And then takes a step forward, and all but sprints towards him.

“Wha—”

“You are—” he bends, arms extended. “So annoying!”

“Ryuji!” Akira yells as his feet are suddenly swept off the ground.

“I wanted to say it first!” Ryuji screams back, and then he starts to spin and Akira has to hold on to him for dear life. (Did he hear that right? Probably not. He must’ve said something else.) “But nooo, Joker over here has to steal the kill!”

“Wait, wait—” it’s hard to think when the world is blurring together mercilessly, but Akira knows that Ryuji will never drop him.

“I guess ain’t no time like the present.” The spinning slows, and Akira gradually feels the concrete beneath him once more. Hands find their way to his shoulders and despite his coat, Akira can feel their warmth.

“Kurusu Akira,” his eyes are bright and his grin could’ve led ships back to the coastline. “You are, without a doubt, the best that’s happened in my existence—you’re my best friend, super cool, and obnoxiously good-looking. I am so fucking in love with you.”

Oh.

Oh.

Ringing. Akira’s ears are ringing as he processes what came out of the other boy’s mouth. It was impossible—so impossible that Akira had thought it needed another impossibility to make it possible. It was a fantasy so buried that he never let himself think it, and only let himself indulge in the idea in moments of weakness. It was a hidden shame, a chain that binds him, a broken record that mocked him for ever believing it could happen.

Yet here they were; Ryuji’s still grinning and Akira gradually, ever so slowly, starts to smile. That smile morphs into a grin, and eventually—

“You love me,” Akira laughs, unable to hold back his joy. “You love me, Sakamoto Ryuji.”

Ryuji joins in, doubling over, shoulders shaking, his hands still glued on him. “This is crazy!”

“So crazy!”

They both laugh even harder. They must’ve looked like a couple of idiots, standing around some random alley and practically crying of laughter for no reason. Neither of them give a damn.

After a bit, they sober up, mirth still clinging in their eyes and cheeks sore.

“So…’ Akira says, unable to stop smiling. “That feeling you were mentioning before…”

“Yeah, dude?” Ryuji has these tiny little dimples at the very top of his cheekbones if he’s grinning hard enough. It drives Akira crazy.

“Was it this? Was it love?”

He tilts his head. “Hell no. What I’m feeling right now, y’know...love,” Ryuji fumbles over the word, despite his brazen confidence from early. “I’ve been feeling that since Kamoshida’s castle.”

Akira’s mouth twitches. “Same here.” Shoving his hands in his pocket, he gives Ryuji an inquisitive look. “So if it wasn’t love, then what was it?”

Ryuji hums. “It took me awhile to realize what was going on with me, and it took even longer than that to let myself feel it. And, y’know, I was scared shitless that you wouldn’t feel the same way, so when we were—” he gestures between them. “Even if it was Maruki that made it happen, I guess I felt… accepted,” his expression turns sheepish. “And let me tell you, that feeling? It sticks with you.”

“I get that,” Akira says, voice hushed like confessing a sin.

They stare at each other, at a loss for words but finding no need to find them right away.

“Oh,” Akira blinks. “I haven’t even properly said it yet.”

Ryuji gives him a questioning look, and he responds by lifting one hand and places his fingertips to Ryuji’s cheek (where his dimples would be), touch featherlight. “Sakamoto Ryuji, I love you in every reality.”

To his delight, blood rushes to Ryuji’s face. “Quit it, ‘Kira,” he mutters. “You’re not fooling anyone with that cool bullshit, you’re embarrassing me.”

“Oh yeah?” letting his hand drop, Akira takes a step back. “Is that a challenge? Because I’ve been wanting to do this since the festival.”

He squints. “Don’t you dare.”

Akira takes a deep breath and cups his hands over his mouth.

“Akira, I swear—”

“I love Ryuji!”

“Oh my God—” Ryuji slaps a hand over his mouth, face beet-red. “Someone’s gonna call the cops on us now, thanks to your dumbass!”

Voice muffled, “So what?”

“So your ass goes to jail, for real this time.”

Akira says something incomprehensible.

“What?” he drops his hand.

“I said that you’ll probably just bust me out, won’t you?”

Ryuji snorts. “Duh. Give me a week, and you’ll be out on the streets making a mess again.”

“You know it.” If he doesn’t stop being so ridiculously earnest, Akira would have no choice but to squeeze him until he pops. He readjusts his glasses instead. “We should probably grab that soy sauce before Mona—”

He stops when Ryuji showcases a handful of soy sauce packets from his pocket, expression smug.

“First rule of thievery: a slick hand is a slick man.”

“That is definitely not the first rule of anything.”

“Thievery is a crime, Akira.”

The two of them banter as they head back, side by side. Despite everything, there’s still a bit of a shyness between them, but that’s okay—they’ll take things at their own pace, the way they want to do it.

Their shoulders bump, and if Maruki had asked him for a second wish, Akira would decline without hesitation.

—

“Give it up, Futaba. You’re playing to lose.”

“Ha! I haven’t lost a game since I misclicked in Solitaire when I was eight.”

“Ladies, neither of you know the art of the hustle in the way I’ve perfected it.”

“You going around random parks and picking up cans for three hundred yen isn’t a hustle, Yusuke.”

“And who taught him that word?”

“Ryuji.”

“Definitely Ryuji.

“You bet I did.”

“Um, no one’s played anything for two minutes now.”

“Trash talk is gameplay, Haru.”

“This is less trash talk and more senior citizen bingo chitchat.”

“Shut up Akira, winners can’t join the banter.”

“‘Heavy is the head that wears the crown.’”

“Wow. That’s deep, man.”

“Don’t fall for it, it’s from Spider-Man.”

“It’s Shakespeare, Ann.”

“See, this is why Makoto’s college bound and you’re not.”

“I don’t want to go to college. It’s a scam.”

“You wanna know what else is a scam?” Futaba slams her cards down hard enough to rattle their drinks. “A revolution!”

Groans fill the air, and Akechi looks over Ann’s shoulder from the next booth. “Mind if I mention that you’re done for?”

“I’m blonde, not stupid,” Ann whispers back fiercely. “And besides, it’s not like you could’ve predicted a revolution.”

He leans over and points to one of her cards, careful not to touch her. “Judging by the way Sakura and Kitagawa are holding their cards, they’re chock-full on pairs. If you use this,” he flicks one of her cards. “They’ll have no choice but to—”

“Time! Red flag! 911!” Futaba stands, pointing an accusatory finger at the pair. “No outside help allowed, it’s cheating! Akira, make them stop.”

“Oh, so now you want me to talk?”

“Yes, I command you.”

Akira turns to give Akechi a stern stare. “Stop cheating, it’s making Futaba upset.”

“Then why hasn’t she said anything about Sakamoto giving you strategies?”

“Pfft,” Futaba snorts. “That’s more of a handicap than anything.”

“Hey!” Ryuji tips his chair towards Futaba, balance precarious. “‘Kira, she’s bullying me!”

“You think I can stop her?”

“Good point,” he scans the room. “Yoshizawa, stop her abuse!”

“Huh?” Sumire tears her eyes away from Yusuke, who started rearranging his cards by pattern instead of… anything that can help him win. “Why me?”

“You guys are the same age, so,” he waves his hand in a need I say more? gesture.

“Can you just get on with the game?” Makoto sighs. “I’ve been wanting to play, but all you do is argue.”

“Don’t worry Makoto,” Futaba’s glasses glint like an anime villain. “This won’t take long.”

Three minutes later, Ann shoves her head into her hands, brutally defeated. “Akechi, you suck. Yusuke beat me.”

“You did the exact opposite of what I told you to do, how is that possibly my fault?”

“I thought it was reverse psychology!

Sumire can see Akechi physically restrain himself from commenting any further.

Their impromptu party has been nothing short of a success—surrounding them and littering the bar are empty sushi boxes with Morgana snoring one of them. After everyone ate the (ridiculous amount) of food, Haru suggested a casual game of Tycoon, but there had been a glint in her eyes that told Sumire it would be anything but. It was an array of cutthroat games topped with poor trash talk and a complete lack of camaraderie with one another; the opposite of what had happened in Maruki’s Palace.

When Ryuji had sprinted past her, swift as a lightning strike, Sumire was ready to join him until a hand gripped her forearm. Ann shook her head. The rest of the Phantom Thieves were geared up and ready to go, yet none of them made a move towards Akira. It was as if there’s a silent agreement from all of them. She explained to Sumire why, all while keeping an eye on the two boys fighting with each other.

“Akira… he takes his role in the group seriously,” Ann said. “Sometimes a little too seriously, but that’s because he has to. Nothing bugs him more than someone on the team getting hurt, so he ends up trying to do everything himself. And Ryuji,” she nodded at him. “He hates it. Tells him off every time. Akira doesn’t usually lose his focus like this, but whenever he does, it’s just better to let them sort it out. It may not seem like it, but Ryuji’s been doing this as long as Akira has. They’ll make it work.”

Her voice had been so certain, so confident and sure of that fact that Sumire could only nod and wait for them to finish.

Now though, everyone seems to be enjoying themselves. They had accepted Sumire with open arms, had made her feel comfortable and welcomed in what’s clearly a tight-knit group.

“Okay, who’s next?” Akira calls, gathering the cards with deft hands and begins to shuffle the deck. “Makoto called dibs already.”

“I’d like to give it a try,” Haru says. “Many older fellows from the company seem to judge power through the hierarchy of cards, so I’d love to get more practice in.”

“Sounds problematic,” Ryuji comments.

“It is, but I’ll never back down from the chance to see defeat flood into their eyes.”

A beat.

“...Okay, so Makoto and Haru are in, anyone else? Winner gets to poke Morgana while he’s in a coma.”

“Speaking of—elephant in the room,” Ann leans forward and drops her voice. “Was it just me, or was Mona—”

“Super, really, mega, ultra weird as a human?” Ryuji finishes eagerly.

Sumire gasps, “Oh my God, you too?”

“Duh!”

“I’ll admit it: it truly made my stomach hurt to witness such a sight,” Yusuke shudders.

Haru frowns. “Don’t be rude to Mona-chan.”

“I ain’t saying he’s ugly! I’m just saying it’s effin’ weird to see our not-cat actually not a cat.”

“He looks like he’d hold a skateboard but not know how to skate,” Futaba says.

“He looks like he’d be carded for a PG-13 film,” says Ann.

“He looks like he’s a throw-in for an up-and-coming J-pop band.”

Everyone turns to Akechi, who raises an eyebrow. “What?”

All at once, everyone bursts out laughing, the sound filling up the every crevice of the room.

“You’re all mean people,” Akira crosses his arms but is unable to keep the humour out of his eyes.

“Don’t act all high-and-mighty, leader,” Ann snorts. “There’s no way you didn’t think that human Morgana wasn’t insane.”

“I absolutely did not see anything insane.”

“Probs cause you can’t see, period.” Ryuji moves forward and pushes Akira’s bangs up. “Christ, how can you see with this mop in front of you?”

With his hair no longer obscuring his view, nothing is hiding Akira’s smug lilt of his chin, his eyes seeming to glow blue when he says, “Third Eye.”

Ryuji rolls his eyes. “Impossible in the real world, dude.” Without seeming to realize it, his hand was combing back Akira’s thick locks. “You’re just too nice to that damn cat.”

The act seemed so gentle, so tender, so natural and unhesitating that it’s almost as if she shouldn’t be seeing it. Maybe it’s because Akira seemed to almost lean into his touch, or the way Ryuji reached out like he was drawn to him. Or maybe it’s because no one even comments on it, like this was so common that it wasn’t even worth mentioning. Whatever it was, it’s enough to make her look away.

Only to see Akechi bring up his phone.

“I have to take this,” he stands, grabbing his coat.

Sumire frowns. “Who’s calling?”

“Business,” AKechi pushes past the door, bell ringing as it swings back.

Yeah, right.

“That reminds me,” she says, pulling up her own phone (dead, but no one needs to know that). “I have to call my father.”

“You can head up to Akira’s room,” Futaba suggests.

“No, it’s alright,” she notes that she didn’t suggest that to Akechi, but Sumire can’t exactly blame her. “I need to speak to Goro anyway.” She stands and bows to everyone deeply. “Thank you very much for inviting me.”

Grabbing her coat, Sumire follows Akechi out, leaving the warm glow of Leblanc behind her.

—

Somehow, she isn’t surprised to find him at the rundown laundromat once more, back pressed against the unmoving dryer.

They regard each other for a long moment.

“It’s a little chilly, compared to the last time we were here,” Sumire says.

“No one’s using the bathhouse right now.”

“That’s a shame,” she walks over to the washer on the far right, and with a little hop, makes herself comfortable on the off-white steel. “I quite miss the scent that was here. Kind of like a gust of wind wearing perfume. Now it smells like… well, nothing really.”

“I never liked the scent. It made me prone to headaches.” Akechi crosses his arms. “What are you doing here?”

“Your phone didn’t ring,” she says simply. “And you never put your phone on silent. Really, it was like a light in the sky that says ‘Goro is in trouble, send help!’.” She leans forward, propping her chin in her palm. “I’m just responding.”

Akechi stays silent as a brick wall.

“Why did you leave? I don’t know about you, but I thought it was going pretty well, all things considered. You hate them, I know, but you seemed to be… well, not repulsed by them at least. And they seemed to get along with you alright.”

“That’s why I left,” he says, expression impassive. “They just had their perfect reality ripped away, everything they could want, and they’re all in there pretending that they’re fine. Lying to each other. It makes my skin crawl. They fight for the truth, yet cower behind a mask, an act—”

Sumire’s gaze turns icy. “Don’t try and make them out to be like bad people. It’s not an act. You know it’s not.”

They study each other, and then Akechi’s shoulder drops slightly. “I know. It would be considerably easier if it was. That group…” his eyes slide sideways. “Is perplexing, to say the least. I don’t understand how they function, I don’t understand how their dynamic doesn’t turn vicious over time, and I especially don’t group how they can forgive Kurusu despite his—his meddling of their lives.”

It’s the most candid she’s seen Akechi without him bordering on a breakdown. Sumire chooses her next question carefully, one that’s been bugging her.

“Why did you ask Akira for help back then?”

“Here, you mean?” At her nod, “I told you—when he’s feeling cooperative, he can prove to be of value.”

“Why did you come back to Leblanc with them today?”

“Allies are advantageous,” he answers a hairsbreadth too quickly.

“Why are you still here, Goro?”

Akechi hesitates. That’s a first. “I don’t know.”

“You seem to always have an excuse, don’t you?”

“What are you getting at?”

A silence falls over the two of them, heavy like a weighted blanket. The vending machine whirrs loudly behind her.

“How long have you been in love with Kurusu-senpai?”

Akechi stares at her, long and hard, as if he was considering his handful of moves in a game of chess. And then he walks towards the other washer, leaving the middle one empty between them and jumps on.

“Not as long as you, I don’t think.”

Immediately, blood rushes to her cheeks relentlessly. (Of course he figured it out.) For all her insistence of teamwork, she forgets that this isn’t a one-way mirror. “That’s probably true,” she admits.

Rotating on the smooth steel, Sumire faces him. “It happened pretty much the day I met him. Damsel in distress, knight in shining armor—the works. He was nice, I was flustered. Ripped straight out of a textbook shoujo manga,” she chuckles. “Considerably less cherry blossoms and way more weapons, though.”

“I’ve never found the appeal of those,” Akechi muses. “Then again, I don’t think I’ve ever picked one up for myself.”

“They’re really sweet if that’s what you’re into. I have a collection at home, I can—” she stops. Clearing her throat, she instead asks, “And you?”

“Are you asking me to gossip with you?”

“Less gossip, and more a conversation.”

He hums. “Perhaps I should’ve corrected you before,” he shifts his torso to her direction. “Kurusu Akira is something of an anomaly. He’s on probation, an outcast, hated by his peers and authority in his life. Barely a penny to his name, he was a nobody living in an attic at the top of some cafe. And yet, he ended up leading the phenomenon, the internationally acknowledged and polarized group of the Phantom Thieves of Hearts.”

His tone is flat, inscrutable when he says: “And I have never met anyone I hated more.”

The smile that was nestled in Sumire’s face drained as she watched Akechi’s expression: eyes glazed over and posture completely relaxed—like he was informing her of the weather next week. “By rule of the formula, he shouldn’t have had the success that he did. He doesn’t deserve the victory the Thieves did, the friends he made. Because if someone like him can possibly be more than the scum he is…” he trails off, shaking his head. “I don’t know if what I’m feeling towards him is love. It’s possible. But just as possible as that is a simple, unencumbered infatuation towards him, an unhindered obsession.”

Akechi crosses his legs, and the action makes him look younger. “Take that information as you will.”

“That’s how I figured it out. The way you spoke about him was very…” she struggles to find a suitable way to describe how Akechi speaks about Akira—it was loaded with backhanded compliments (heavy on the backhand). Every time he spoke about him, for or against, it was like a battle of semantics; he was almost arguing with himself half the time. “Telling,” she finishes lamely.

Sumire shifts from where she’s sitting, almost wishing that someone would go into the bathhouse if not to create enough steam to warm her up. Though she considers herself lucky to finally be having this conversation, the venue is much to be desired.

“Diction aside, you have strong feelings for senpai. Be it love or hate or some sort of amalgamation of the two. So why didn’t you wish for him? It would’ve been easy. You wouldn’t even notice the change.”

He considers this for a moment, fingernails tapping away at the hollow of the washer. “Do you know much of existential topics?”

Blinking, “Like those tarot card tables in Shinjuku?”

“Not quite. Moreso on topics such as karmic retribution, fate, ‘destiny,’” he air quotes, mouth twisting in mockery. “Basically, the idea that certain things are out of your control.”

“Sure, I know of them. I can’t say I’m anything more than a casual believer, if I can even say that.”

“When I was young, I was as well. But I learned early on that the concept of the universe providing aid is nothing more than a fever dream,” he fiddles with his glove absentmindedly. “So everything I have, I fought tooth and nail for: my reputation, my studies, who I am. I made it happen, not anyone else,” Akechi shrugs. “So why on earth would I start now relying on someone else to get what I want when I know that it won’t work? Clearly, the universe—if such a thing exists—doesn’t give a shit. ”

“Wow,” is all she could say.

“Wow indeed.” He runs his hand over top the panel and comes up with dust. “I have a question for you, now.”

“Go for it.” Admittedly, she’s curious about his question. Akechi simply exudes the aura that he just knows everything there is to know. She wonders if he calculated that into himself, along with everything else.

“Since what Maruki did was essentially getting your call answered by the universe, how did you get over your wish so easily?”

“I didn't.” Raising an eyebrow, “Did you think I did?”

Her question is answered by a lack of retort. She tries not to feel satisfaction from it.

“I’m not over it,” she admits. “Of course I’m not. I still struggle with it, when I’m alone. The guilt gets crazy at night, so it helps to keep busy. Busy is… busy is good, usually,” Sumire looks down and swears she sees blood on her hands—flashing in and out like bad reception. “It helps to treat it like a regimen. A muscle to train.” Looking up, the corner of her mouth quirks up at him. “Kasumi was always the one to remind me to stretch when I overdid it.”

“I never figured out how altruism like that works,” says Akechi. “How do you live, serving others even at the expense of yourself? What’s the point in all of this if it isn’t for personal gain?”

The way he says it so matter-of-fact stops Sumire from dismissing him right away. There isn’t an ounce of malice in his words or any intent on meanness—only pragmatism.

“I get it,” Sumire says. “But in a way, selflessness is easier. It’s straightforward, helping others. For many cases, people don’t even know themselves well enough to be selfish.”

“Can’t say that I can relate. Not knowing the end goal is practically a death sentence.”

Sumire hums. “Figures. It’s almost scary how sure you are of what you want,” her eyes meet his, red on brown. “Are you so sure that you’d die for it?”

Akechi’s eyes narrow ever so slightly. “What are you really asking?”

“If we defeat Maruki and return everything back to before,” she swallows. “What happens to you?”

Surprise morphs its way into Akechi’s face like watching moss grow on timelapse. And then he suddenly snorts, startling Sumire more than anything they’ve faced in the past week.

Akechi clears his throat, but there’s still traces of humor. “Nothing gets past you, does it?”

Despite how morbid the conversation has shifted, Sumire still feels her lips stretch wide. “Not like you gave me much choice.”

“Point taken,” he says. “How’d you figure that I’d die as soon as all of this is over?”

“Maruki mentioned something back then, about people losing their wishes if this was all reversed. And that, partnered with what Kurusu-senpai said back then,” she shrugs. “It’s hard not to assume.”

“You’d make a fun verbal sparring partner, Sumire.”

“Oh, no way,” she waves her hand, hastily trying to hide delight. It’s not everyday you can pull a compliment out of Akechi Goro. “I’m all about the practice—put me on the spot without prep and I’ll fold like a bad poker player.”

“Like Takamaki?”

“Worse.”

He wrinkles his nose. “Impossible.” Akechi rests his elbows on his bent knee, propping his chin up on his hand. “Are you going to ramble on with some mindless monologue to try and talk me out of it?”

“I don’t know. Probably not,” she admits. “You’re too stubborn to fall for something like an intervention.”

Sumire understands, though, the extremities of the situation aside. If she gained the ability of hindsight and saw herself still pretending to be Kasumi, she’d probably be revolted enough to choose death, too. “There’s a good chance that Kurusu-senpai would try to stop you though.”

“He can try,” Akechi sniffs. “It’ll be a waste of time on his part.”

She makes a noise of agreement, and they lapse into a comfortable silence once again (they’re starting to make a habit of it, but she doesn’t mind), with only the buzzing of fluorescence serving as white noise.

Whether he’s doing this for himself or not, his sacrifice would ensure that reality would return to normal for everyone, granted that they can stop Maruki. His intentions are self-serving, completely indifferent to how this would affect everyone else, yet his forfeited life would mean that everyone would get their reality back. Even if it’s a means to an end, an egocentric reason, Akechi is willing to act as a martyr to achieve normalcy.

She lets her eyes drift towards him, lost in thought yet posture still perfect; no doubt another addition to his handcrafted state of being, and wonders if his accidental philanthropy is enough to atone for what he’s done.

Sumire almost cracks a smile—she’s stressing more about this than he is, but she can’t help it; she sees herself in him. Not completely, but in chunks. Specifically how they see Akira—his pride would never let him admit it to himself, but Sumire has no such reservations. There’s a substantial way they both revere him, place him on a shiny pedestal complete with those red velvet stanchions wrapped around.

Everyone must see him like this, she thought. Like fog on a mountain, something impossible to grasp. But then she saw how Akira was with his group for all but one evening and realized just how wrong she is.

Stretching her legs over the center washer, her knee bumps against his ankle. He doesn’t jerk away.

“Have you really not tried reading manga?” she asks.

“No. But once, I picked it up and pretended to read it for a publicity stunt,” says Akechi. “Why do you ask?”

“Because everyone reads manga.”

“Clearly not.” A pause. “I’ve caught a few episodes of Featherman, however.”

Sumire claps her hands together. “Really? That’s amazing! My sister and I used to cosplay them when we were young.”

“Oh, I only started watching recently. In Leblanc, actually.”

“You have to watch it from the beginning,” she frowns. “How else do you understand the plot?”

“Are you implying that Featherman has a plot?”

Akechi is not a good person, in the grand scheme of things.

“Of course! How else do you feel the pain of episode eighteen?”

Because of that, any place that he may have had with the Thieves had been scrubbed clean.

“Death of a Condor? Did you actually feel anything when you watched that? I thought it was a filler episode.”

And for Sumire, she didn’t have a place there to begin with.

“Interesting. I thought you were a casual fan?”

(But maybe—)

“I know a trap when I see one.”

They can form a place for each other, instead.

Sumire’s about to retort when Akechi cocks his head. “Why are you here, Sumire?” he asks again.

“For good company.”

“You were with them.”

“I was,” she confirms. “And then you left.”

A palpable beat passes.

“You’re wasting your time, befriending a dead man.”

Sumire’s mouth curves into a bittersweet smile. “Maybe we’re both wrong about that. There’s always a chance that we’ll see each other down the line, you know.”

“In a cemetery, maybe. When has optimism ever worked for me?”

“It could start working now.”

“I doubt it,” he scoffs, and then his expression softens ever so slightly. “If that did happen, us meeting again down the line… I don’t think I’d be against that idea.”

Akechi gives her a warning look and rushes, “But odds are—”

“Let me worry about the odds,” Sumire says. “I think I’m allowed to spend my time doing what I want. I mean,” she shrugs. “That’s what we fought for, right?”

He smiles, just a little. “I suppose it is.”

Chattering and laughter can be heard from the inside of Leblanc, but they don’t bother to listen.